Comanche Eagle Read online

  Travis raised his head to look at her. “You will,” he said quietly.

  “It’s good, Crystal,” Zachary said, always complimenting her even as he sawed away at the thick slab. She doubted that she could do anything to displease Zachary. He seemed to accept all of them without question, trailing after Travis and Turtle River, beginning to use some of their phrases and mannerisms. She suspected Travis might be a substitute for the father Zachary despised.

  When they finished eating, they followed the same pattern they had nearly every night: Travis and Turtle River carried Jacob outside to play with him while Zachary remained behind, helping her clean. Once they had put the last dish away, he sat beside her at the piano and they played and sang for another hour.

  When the baby was asleep, Travis returned Jacob to his cradle. As she sang, Crystal turned and watched her tall husband stride through the door and knew he wouldn’t be back until breakfast.

  The next morning she heard the creak of a wagon approaching the house and the jingle of harness. Drying her hands, she picked up Jacob and stepped outside. The men had started building the framework of a new barn. Travis set down a board and turned for the house. Her pulse jumped as she stared at him, unable to pull her gaze away.

  He yanked his shirt over his head, but not before she had a clear glimpse of him striding purposefully along, bare-chested, his shoulders a solid bulwark, his black hair loose over his shoulders with an eagle feather hanging from a red headband. Sometimes she suspected he missed his former life badly.

  He bounded up onto the porch and moved to her side to wait for the arrival of the wagon. He stood close enough that she could feel the heat from his body.

  “That’s Lester Macon coming to get his mare and foal.”

  “Invite him in for a cool drink and to join us for dinner. I haven’t burned the biscuits yet,” she said, smiling shyly at him. He looked startled at first and then the corner of his mouth lifted in a slight, crooked grin before he stepped off the porch and went to greet Lester Macon.

  In minutes the two men and a boy were heading toward her, Macon and his son as blond and fair as Travis was brown and dark.

  “Crystal, this is Lester Macon. This is my wife, Mrs. Black Eagle This is one of his boys, Elmer Macon.”

  “Happy to meet you,” Elmer Macon said. He smiled as sunshine splashed across his freckled face.

  “Morning, Judge,” Lester said. “I believe we met when you settled a dispute recently with my neighbor over rights to the creek.”

  “Yes, to your satisfaction as I recall. Come have a cool drink.”

  They all sat on the porch, and she served tall glasses of well water and sugar cookies that were only slightly burned on the bottom.

  It was an hour after lunch when the Macons climbed into their wagon with the mare and foal tied behind. Travis came back into the house with her, opening his drawer and taking out the box with the money to place the money inside he had just been paid. Crystal carried dinner dishes to a pan of water. She glanced at Travis as he put his hat on his head. Drying her hands, she crossed the room to follow him to the door.

  “I’ll be back tonight,” he said.

  “Travis,” she said when he strode toward the door. Self-conscious about calling him Travis for the first time, she flushed. He swung around only a few feet from her.

  “You didn’t enter the purchase in your ledger.”

  His dark brows drew together and his face flushed. “I will later.”

  “If you’re in a hurry, I can enter it for you.”

  He shook his head and started toward the door.

  “Travis,” she said, acutely conscious of her familiarity, yet her curiosity grew.

  He paused and faced her.

  “You’re leaving the money here with me, so I know it isn’t because of trust. Why don’t you want me to record it for you? I kept all the records for my father and my grandfather in their business.”

  To her amazement his dark face flushed again, and his lips thinned as he stared at her. He stood in silence, a muscle working in his jaw, and the longer he stood staring at her, the more her curiosity increased.

  “I won’t interfere,” she added quietly, wondering if he would not allow a woman to meddle in his affairs. Yet he had no qualms about letting her know where he kept his money or letting her see his books in town.

  “I haven’t brought my records up to date.”

  “Then I can do it,” she said. “I’m accustomed to that.”

  To her amazement, he looked uncertain. He blinked and then stared at her as if he were mulling something over.

  “Perhaps it would be better to have a record of the ranch expenses,” he said quietly, his face flushing again. “Right now, I don’t keep one.”

  “You don’t have any account at all?”

  A muscle worked in his jaw and he stared at her with a belligerent scowl. “It isn’t necessary.”

  “You’d know where your money is going and whether you are earning money or losing it.” Scowling, he glared at her and she felt she had angered him, though she couldn’t guess why.

  “I know whether I’m earning or losing.”

  “I’ll set up books for you so you can keep a record here as you do in town.”

  “I don’t keep the one in town. Andrew does.”

  Puzzled by his discomfort, she stared at Travis, trying to sort out why Andrew kept a record in town yet here none was kept and Travis seemed so disturbed by her suggestion to keep an account. “Even if you don’t want me to maintain a record, you should keep one.”

  “Damnation. I can’t read,” he admitted, his voice stiff, and his face flushed darkly again.

  Startled, she stared at him in disbelief. “You were taken back to civilization. Surely they put you in school.”

  He shook his head. “Not for long and I missed most days. I was in a class with very young children.”

  She realized how painful that must have been for him to be uprooted, thrust into a classroom with small children. Accustomed to keeping records of her family’s household and her grandfather’s law practice, she spoke without hesitation. “I’ll keep your records then. And I’ll teach you to read.”

  “No, I think not.” His scowl deepened. “Judge—”

  “Of course, I can. It’s not that difficult and we can spend time after the others have gone,” she said, suspecting he would not want to be taking lessons from her in front of Turtle River and Zachary.

  “I am too old to learn.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! You can’t be much older than I am. You have a mind and you can learn. You should know so you can deal with people in town.”

  He glanced at Jacob and she could guess what was running through his mind. He nodded. “I had only a few months of the white man’s school.”

  “It will be easier than you think,” she said, smiling at him.

  His dark eyes flickered and he moved close to her, reaching out to lightly touch the corner of her mouth.

  “So the judge can smile,” he said in a deep voice. His finger tickled slightly and he stood close, his dark eyes studying her, and she forgot their conversation and their plans, gazing up at him.

  “There has been little to smile about since I came to Wyoming,” she said solemnly, thinking he smiled even less than she did.

  “You have a nice smile, Crystal,” he said softly. “We will try the reading, but I think I may be beyond learning.”

  “No, you’re not,” she said, suddenly lost in dark eyes that seemed to pull on all her senses. “I rather suspect you can do whatever you decide you want to do,” she added in a whisper, without thinking about what she was saying.

  Dropping his hand to his side, he turned and left, striding across the porch and then breaking into a sprint to the barn. She stared at him from the door, watching his black hair fly as he ran. Her cheek still tingled where his finger had traced an arc and she could remember his words, his tone, and his dark mesmerizing gaze—that seemed to swa
llow her whole.

  Don’t fall in love with him! The warning danced through her mind again—sensible, prudent, a message from her brain that her heart never heard. She watched him until he disappeared from sight and then she thought about the past few moments with him and the touch that had been so slight, yet so lasting.

  In late afternoon the men began to build a sturdy wooden fence around the horse pen to replace the flimsy rope one that served now.

  She took down washing from the clothesline that was strung from the house to the shed. While she watched them work, her gaze was continually on Travis as he carried lumber and hammered boards in place. She couldn’t stop watching the play and flex of muscles, the grace of his movements. She glanced over the three men, two powerful, dark warriors who looked so masculine and formidable and the brown-haired, fair-skinned youth that worked alongside them.

  Zachary was changing, filling out and developing muscles. Thank heavens no one had come looking for him! She couldn’t bear the thought of turning him over to the beast that had inflicted the beating. A new law needed to be on the books—one that protected children from such beatings. And probably one for wives, too, she thought grimly, thankful for her own lot in life. While she felt her husband was a man capable of great rage, he also was a man capable of great control and he had been good to her.

  She watched him swing an axe and yearning filled her. He was good to her, but he cared nothing about her. And he was an enigma with so many unanswered questions. Why hadn’t he returned to his people? Why was he at this outpost of the frontier? She had assumed he was in Cheyenne because he was still close to his own people, but that had been a mistaken assumption. He was hundreds of miles from his people. He couldn’t read. He could write his name; she had seen it on their marriage license. How could he have been an officer in the army if he couldn’t read? Yet that had been wartime when formalities were gone, so she could concede the possibility of an illiterate officer because she was certain he was an excellent warrior.

  A week passed and she was never alone with him except for the ride into and out of town when she went to court.

  One summer night after the others had gone and Travis knelt beside the cradle, gently rocking Jacob to sleep, she stared at Travis’s bare, broad shoulders, nervousness assailing her.

  “Travis,” she said, her heart drumming, afraid she would insult him and send him storming away. “I think we should begin on your reading.”

  His lips firmed and he stared at her until she wondered whether she had angered him or embarrassed him. He shook his head. “We will do it another time.”

  “I think Jacob’s father should be able to read.”

  Travis’s chest expanded as he drew a deep breath and his face darkened like a thundercloud. He stood and she expected him to bolt from the cabin, but instead he nodded. She knew he was hot when he was shut in the house and he preferred to be bare-chested. He wore a shirt to supper each night, but shed it as soon as he moved away from the table. Now, to sit close beside him and work with him and try to avoid looking at his bare chest was going to be difficult. Trying to be brisk and keep her mind on reading, she moved to the table and pulled two chairs side by side and picked up pen and paper. He sat beside her and she was aware of their shoulders brushing, of his large hand holding the corner of the paper.

  Her heart drummed and she hoped she could keep her attention on the letters instead of him. She carefully drew an A and began.

  He was attentive, doing what she said, catching on quickly, and she knew it would be easy to teach him. Turning in her chair, she faced him to teach him the sounds of the vowels.

  His dark gaze watched her mouth intently, and her nerves prickled and came alive. Sitting only inches, actually touching shoulders until she’d twisted to face him, she was acutely conscious of his body. His steady scrutiny made it difficult for her to keep her mind on the simplest instructions.

  “Ahh—” She mouthed the sound of a short a and watched when he followed her lead. His lips were finely sculpted, his underlip sensual, and her curiosity flared. What would it be like to feel those firm lips against her own?

  Her gaze lowered, drifting over the magnificent chest that was only inches away, so close she could easily touch him and draw her fingers over him.

  Realizing how she was studying him, her gaze flew up and met his. Curiosity was in his eyes. His gaze lowered to her mouth and Crystal thought she couldn’t get her next breath.

  “E. Now here are the sounds of the letter e,” she said in a rush, refusing to look at him as she mouthed the sounds and gave him examples in words.

  “I think you do hide how you look,” he said quietly, and her head jerked up in surprise. She felt the hot flush of embarrassment and touched her hair, suddenly aware of all the escaping tendrils that wantonly curled around her face.

  “Of course I don’t hide! That’s absurd. I try to look the way a judge should look. Are you listening? Say the e sounds back to me, please.”

  The hint of amusement in his dark eyes made her nerves prickle and made her feel uncertain with him. She could cope with the stoic, disinterested male that he usually was better than she could deal with him when he turned his attention on her.

  “Now, you write,” she said, handing him a pen and pushing the paper in front of him. He dipped the pen into an ink bottle and traced what she had written. He started incorrectly, and she reached out to take the pen from him.

  “Do it like this. It will be easier. See, start here.”

  She drew another capital A and handed the pen to him, watching him trace over her lettering and then do his own. He tried to draw another capital A, but paused.

  “Now I’ve forgotten what you just showed me,” he said.

  “Here, like this,” she said, closing her fingers over his to move his hand. The moment she placed her hand on his, tiny currents shot through her. The contact was intense, and she could barely think about what she was supposed to be doing. Instead, she was far more conscious of his warm, strong hand beneath hers … big, powerful, dark.

  “Damn,” he said softly and tossed down the pen and stood abruptly. He inhaled, and when she met his gaze, she knew something about her touch or something they had done must have triggered his memories of Elizabeth.

  “I’m through tonight,” he said sharply and strode into the darkness.

  She stared after him, knowing he was hurting, sorry again he had lost his love. She capped up the ink and put away the paper, looking at the scrawl of his letters and remembering the feel of his hand beneath hers.

  Later that night when she lay alone in bed, she prayed it took a very short time to teach him to read because she was a bundle of tingling nerves and aching longing after spending an hour sitting only inches from him and working with him on letters.

  The next night was worse. She was even more keenly aware of him, tempted to ask him to wear a shirt, yet not wanting to make an issue of it and scared it would bring that teasing amusement to his eyes that made her feel foolish. There were moments when he lost his solemnity, and then she had an even more difficult time dealing with him.

  When he faced her, mouthing letters in imitation of her, her pulse raced and she couldn’t resist letting her gaze roam over his chest. Smooth brown skin was taut over powerful muscles and she tingled, remembering being held in his arms, feeling his heart beating against hers.

  And later, she held his hand, moving it over letters, wondering if more sad memories would send him storming from the house. Instead, he seemed to concentrate diligently on what she was showing him and carefully read the alphabet back to her, writing a few letters.

  “That’s good! You’re progressing fast,” she said, looking up and smiling at him.

  His dark eyes studied her and a faint smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “The second smile is even prettier than the first,” he said quietly, touching her cheek and making her blush.

  “Thank you,” she said, flustered. She turned to the paper. “Now, r
ead these letters,” she said swiftly, trying to keep her mind on what they were doing while her senses spun over his remark and his faint touch.

  Three nights later as she rose from the piano and told Zachary good night, she went to the desk to get out pen, ink, and paper for the reading lesson. When she turned around, she saw all three men striding back through the door.

  “Crystal, I told Turtle River and Zachary what we have been doing late at night.”

  “Yes,” she answered cautiously, wondering exactly what he had told them since she had felt he wanted to keep his reading lessons from everyone.

  “They know you are teaching me to read. Will you teach them also?”

  Startled she stared into three pairs of curious eyes. After the first moment of surprise, she realized they were waiting quietly for her answer.

  “Yes, of course! Come sit down and you can all learn.”

  Immediately she was surrounded, Travis on one side, Turtle River on another, and Zachary facing her. They were an avid audience and consequently learned quickly. Now that she was no longer alone with Travis, it should have been easier to deal with him; but to her dismay, it was not. She was as conscious as ever of him, and each slight contact left her more tingly than the one before. And even more disconcerting, when she brushed hands with Turtle River or with Zachary, she felt none of that tingling awareness that she did when she had even the merest whisper of contact with Travis.

  Travis slammed an axe into a log and split it, then brought the axe down again. He worked methodically, flexing muscles, glad for the chance to do hard physical labor and clear his thoughts. He’d had a wagon load of pine logs brought down from the mountains, plus the lumber he had purchased in town.

  He was learning to read and write and it astounded him. That part of the white man’s world had been closed to him, and he had thought it would always be out of his grasp; but thanks to Crystal, he was learning. Now he felt better when he walked into the bank and he felt more certain of himself when he dealt with townspeople at his livery. So far, he hadn’t done anything in town to indicate his newly acquired knowledge, but the ability gave him more confidence in his dealings.