Warrior Moon Read online

  They mounted up and Lone Wolf led the way with Muaahap behind him and Vanessa coming last. As they left the camp, she turned to look back at her Comanche friends, glancing at the tipi where she had spent nights in Lone Wolf’s arms.

  She felt a twisting loss for the world she was leaving behind. It had been an idyll in her life and the thought surprised her, She had worked harder than ever before, helping prepare the meals and sew the skins into dresses, yet camp life had seemed a very special time and place. Her gaze went beyond Muaahap to Lone Wolf, who sat straight-backed on his horse, and she knew why.

  Mid-morning, she saw White Bird wriggling in Muaahap’s arms. Vanessa started to flick the reins, to ride alongside Muaahap and take White Bird; but before she could, Muaahap pulled the long pole free. She leaned forward and reached out to jab Lone Wolf in the back.

  He swung around and scowled at Muaahap.

  “Sua yurahpitu!” Muaahap said and pointed at the ground, reining in her horse and staring at him.

  He shook his head and motioned to keep riding, turning his back on her.

  Muaahap leaned forward to jab him again, giving him two swift stabs. His head swung around, his expression fierce.

  “Sua yurahpitu!” Muaahap repeated, reining her horse and dismounting quickly.

  Vanessa halted, too. She lifted down White Bird, who wriggled to get free and run around. Muaahap tucked the pole back in place. She scurried away after the child as Lone Wolf came toward Vanessa, an angry glint in his eye. He reached for the pole.

  Instantly, they heard a loud shriek and Muaahap dashed back to fling herself against the side of the horse and grasp the pole.

  “Kee!” she snapped, wailing loudly. White Bird began to cry and Vanessa turned away swiftly, leaving Muaahap and Lone Wolf to settle their dispute. She hurried to White Bird as Lone Wolf said something in a quiet, deep voice to Muaahap, whose shrieks became louder.

  Quiet suddenly descended, and Vanessa turned around. Looking serene with a faint smile on her face, Muaahap approached. She took White Bird’s hand and wiped the child’s tears away, talking to her softly in Comanche.

  As they walked away through the trees, Vanessa looked at Lone Wolf, who stood with his hands on his hips. His forehead was creased in a frown. His gaze shifted from Muaahap to her. He came toward her and she pursed her lips as she tried to hold back a smile.

  “She is nothing but trouble. I don’t care to have that old woman stab me in the back every time she wants to stop!”

  “I think White Bird was growing tired.”

  He shook his head. “Muaahap should not cause trouble when danger comes.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  “Tell her I don’t like her stick.” His gaze returned from Muaahap to Vanessa. “Why does she obey you instead of me? That is not the way with Comanche or Kiowa women. She knows you’re white and don’t speak her language or mine.”

  Vanessa smiled and shrugged and saw amusement finally flare in his gaze. He tilted up her chin. “She is trouble, but she is with me because of you. You are the wind storm in my life, Vanessa Sutton,” he said softly, and her heart drummed. “And when we part, you will leave her with me,” he added. “I suspect unless I beat her or abandon her, she won’t obey me. It’s my misfortune to travel with the two most obstinate women on the earth.” Lone Wolf took her arm, his fingers warm and light on her flesh. “We’ve stopped. We’ll walk and let the horses drink.”

  “I want you to teach me to use a revolver. And I want to learn a few words of Kiowa. I’m becoming familiar with sign language—”

  “I’ve noticed,” he said dryly. “I’ve seen you with Muaahap.” He looked down at her. “And so, Vanessa, as I said before, I teach you to use the pistol and the next argument, you will turn one on me,” he teased, smiling at her.

  The smile was warm enough to kindle a fire within her. His teeth were even and white, a sharp contrast to his dark skin, and she stared at him, enthralled. “I like your smile.”

  “And I like your smile,” he said softly, tracing his finger across her lower lip, a soft touch that ignited a flame of longing. How easily he could make her heart race! “Go tell Muaahap that I will teach you to use my revolver.”

  As he led the horses to water, Vanessa hurried to tell Muaahap, feeling amused that Lone Wolf asked her to deal with the other woman as if she were the one who spoke Muaahap’s language instead of him.

  When she rejoined him, he stood in the sunlight, his dark hair framing his face, muscles outlined by light and shadow. He was imposing, handsome, and her heart raced as she approached him. “We’ll move away from the horses and Muaahap and Tainguato.”

  “Will they be safe?”

  “The old woman would let out such a screech that no one would want her,” he said dryly.

  After walking far enough away, he halted and removed his revolver from his holster. It looked big and deadly to Vanessa, yet she knew she must learn to shoot.

  “Take it and don’t point it at anything you don’t want to shoot.” He placed her fingers around the grip, and she put her index finger on the trigger as she had seen him do. He moved behind her and raised her arm, his breath fanning on her ear as he talked softly. “Now raise your arm and choose a target.”

  His body was warm against hers, his breath tickling her slightly, and she was more aware of him than the revolver in her hand.

  “What is your target?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered, dazed by his closeness.

  “Select something, Vanessa,” he said softly. His voice changed, the tone becoming deeper. “The base of the trunk of the mesquite.” She held out the heavy revolver with Lone Wolf’s arm steadying her. “Now look down the barrel and line it up with your target,” he said quietly. “Is it in line?”

  “What line?” she asked and looked over her shoulder at him. His eyes narrowed as they stared at each other. Her pulse leaped and all thought of shooting vanished.

  “Are your thoughts on your target?”

  “It would be better if you didn’t stand so close,” she answered, knowing her voice was breathless. He towered only inches from her.

  “Vanessa,” he said, frowning, and then he shifted, taking the pistol from her hand and sliding his arm around her waist to lean forward to kiss her.

  She clung to him, returning his kiss, knowing it forged a stronger bond between them, yet wanting his arms around her. Then he released her and looked down at her, desire clear in his expression. He stepped back and handed her the pistol.

  “We will concentrate on your shooting. When you look down the barrel and it is lined up with your target, squeeze your finger against the trigger,” he said quietly.

  Her gaze drifted down to his mouth. With an effort she turned away from him and tried to concentrate and follow his instructions.

  She pulled the trigger, and the gun fired. Her hand flew up from the kick, and leaves fluttered off a branch of the mesquite yards to the right and considerably higher than the base of the trunk.

  “Look down the barrel,” he repeated. “See how it should line up.”

  “I think I would have less distractions if you would move farther away from me,” she stated, blushing and staring ahead.

  He stepped away. Concentrating, she aimed again, and this time her shot was into the ground a half-yard away. She turned to find Lone Wolf watching her. He stood with his arms akimbo, his gaze steady. Crossing to her, he took the pistol from her hands and showed her again how to fire and how to reload. He stepped away as she began again.

  Lone Wolf watched as a breeze blew the gingham skirt around her long legs and caught strands of her red hair. He thought about her request for him to move away from her. The attraction was strong and he wanted to possess her. He had waited long enough.

  His body reacted to his thoughts and he shifted until he could look across the rolling land. Within days, he would have to turn north.

  He clamped his jaw closed, torn between warring desires. He wante
d to protect her, but he also wanted to take her back to camp with him and keep her.

  She had fit into the Comanche way as easily as if she had been born to it. Her interests were in the people around her, not possessions, and he suspected she cared nothing about a fine house or beautiful, expensive furniture. And if he got her with child, he knew she would love the baby. He studied Vanessa’s slender body that was ripe for loving.

  Disturbed by the feelings she stirred in him, Lone Wolf raked his fingers through his hair. He would never have allowed Muaahap to travel with him if it hadn’t been for Vanessa. The old crone was trouble. He thought about the jab in the back this morning and Muaahap’s demanding they stop. He looked at Vanessa. She had more control over Muaahap than he did. Vanessa turned around to face him and smiled. “I hit my target!”

  “Fine. Now hit it again.”

  She shook her head. “My wrist hurts, and my hand is shaking. This weapon is heavy.”

  He walked over to her to take the revolver and reload it. Then he tossed a rock into the air and fired, striking and shattering it. He lowered the revolver and moved closer to her. “We go back now, and I’ll show you how to clean the weapon because you must care for one if you have it.”

  “Did you learn to shoot when you were young?”

  “Not with a revolver. I learned with a bow and arrow and then a rifle. I learned to fire this with accuracy when I was an army scout. I don’t want to forget because we must fight whites with guns, not bows and arrows,” he said, thinking about the recent battle and the cannon the soldiers had used with such a catastrophic effect on his people.

  Once they returned to White Bird and Muaahap they ate, and then Lone Wolf stood up. “Now we go.”

  In minutes they were on the trail again. As they traveled, they angled to the southeast. Vanessa’s pulse leaped and she wondered if Lone Wolf had had a change of heart and would accompany her closer to McKavett. The land began to roll; the mesquite grew thicker, and weeds and cactus covered more ground.

  In early afternoon, when White Bird began to wriggle, Muaahap pulled up the long stick and once again jabbed Lone Wolf in the back.

  Ten

  Lone Wolf jerked his head around, his gaze fierce. Muaahap motioned with her fist to stop as she reined her horse.

  She lowered White Bird to the ground then dismounted spryly, rushing to join the child. Then both of them hurried away from Lone Wolf.

  He scowled as he watched them go, and then he walked over to Vanessa as she dismounted and took down a canteen from the saddle.

  “Will you tell that woman to stop jabbing me with her stick! I’d like to break the damned stick into pieces, but she might set up such a howl we would never get her quiet.”

  “Why am I the one to tell her? You two speak the same language,” Vanessa said with great innocence, and his head swung around.

  “You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

  She placed her finger alongside her nose and tried to gaze at him solemnly. “It’s interesting to travel with her.”

  “Vanessa, she’s here solely because of you. Do something about her.”

  “Yes, sir,” she answered, grinning.

  He shook his head, looking at Muaahap, who was picking acorns with Tainguato.

  Vanessa crossed to the pair, and he watched as she and Muaahap struggled to communicate, both using signs and a few words—Vanessa’s in English and halting Comanche, Muaahap in Comanche. He understood them and wished he had never said Muaahap could travel with them. She had no intention of getting rid of her long stick.

  Vanessa came striding back. “She says her stick is the safest way to get you to stop traveling because it makes no noise.”

  “That woman is trouble.”

  “Has she hurt you with her stick?”

  His gaze focused on Vanessa and he moved closer, his long arm stretching out to block her. “No, she has not hurt me! She tries my patience!”

  “It’s time you had women in your life again.”

  “That is not the woman I want when I decide to share my life again. You’re amused by this. I ought to teach you a lesson, Vanessa, about having someone bully you.”

  She laughed and tried to duck under his arm, but he caught her and turned her to face him. “You’re the trouble here, woman,” he said in a husky voice. “You’re the one who causes me worries and who robs me of sleep.”

  “I rob you of sleep?” she asked in surprise.

  “Yes,” he said, his amusement vanishing as his gaze lowered to her mouth. He bent his head to kiss her, a long, lingering kiss that he didn’t want to end. All too soon, he raised his head, wanting her, knowing he should move away from her now.

  Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her breathing as ragged as his as she looked up at him and then she pushed away, hurrying around the horse and putting distance between them. He gazed after her, aware that Vanessa was changing his life, making him feel alive again.

  He followed her as she knelt to splash water from the creek on her face. He opened a canteen to take a long drink and then offered it to her.

  She accepted it, tilting it to drink.

  “Who were the men your father wanted you to marry and why weren’t they interested?”

  “There was Major Dempsey. He was in his fifties and had gout and thought I was insubordinate.”

  “And how many times were you with this Major Dempsey for him to get to know you, Vanessa?”

  “We had two dinners together with friends of his. He was quite happy to send me home.”

  “Well, I agree with Major Dempsey. You are definitely insubordinate. Who else?”

  She smiled at him. “Captain Cantillion. He found me hopelessly shy—”

  “Shy?” Lone Wolf asked, arching his brows.

  “I was shy with him. The man seemed to have a dozen hands, all trying to grasp me. With Colonel Van Thoff, I was too talkative.”

  Lone Wolf hung the canteen on his belt and turned to her. He touched her hair, turning a curl in his fingers as he studied her features. “Insubordinate, too shy, too talkative. Those are contrary traits.” He tilted up her chin. “I suspect contrary fits, doesn’t it? And I’m glad you were contrary or you wouldn’t be out here now and I never would have known you.”

  “And I wouldn’t have known you,” she replied solemnly. “I know things now that I didn’t then.”

  “What things?”

  “That I want my own family. I always thought I did; but now that I’ve been with White Bird, I’m certain that I want children and a family.”

  “Even if you have to marry a Colonel Van Thoff or a Captain Cantillion or a Major Dempsey?”

  “No, I don’t want to marry a man I don’t love. But the men whom I found interesting were younger and not as high-ranking and, unfortunately, not as wealthy, so Papa had no interest in them.”

  “Nor do I, Vanessa,” Lone Wolf said dryly. “I don’t care to hear about the suitors you liked,” he said, pulling off a twig from a cottonwood and dragging the leaves lightly across her throat, tickling her slightly. He trailed them along the neckline of the buckskin dress, and the faint brush tickled as he moved it to her ear. She smiled and shook her head.

  “How old were you when you married?” she asked him.

  “I was twenty-two and had returned from being an army scout. Eyes That Smile was eighteen when we wed. She lost one child at birth and then we never had another.”

  “I’m sorry,” Vanessa said quietly.

  He looked down at her. “You won’t be able to get your sisters away from McKavett.”

  “I have to try. I would never feel right if I didn’t go back and try to rescue Phoebe and Belva.”

  “And when your father takes you captive, will he see that you enter a convent?”

  “Yes. Only this time, I’m sure he’ll accompany me there himself. Papa always insists that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”

  “That is not the Kiowa way. We work together on many t
hings—hunting, fighting, daily life.” He touched her cheek with the cottonwood. “You won’t be happy in a convent. And the convent will never be the same again,” he added with amusement.

  “I’ll get Phoebe and Belva, and we’ll run away. We’ll go to El Paso and catch the stage for California where I will meet a man and marry. He’ll love me and I’ll love him and we will have babies—”

  Lone Wolf caught her up against him hard, holding her tightly, his dark eyes piercing as he gazed down at her. Her heart lurched, all thought vanishing as he lowered his head and his mouth covered hers. His tongue entered her mouth forcefully, demanding her response. Her heart drummed as he held her and kissed her.

  Her hands rested on the smooth, hard muscles of his upper arms and her pulse raced while she returned his kiss. As abruptly as he had taken her into his arms, he released her, looking down at her. “We should go back,” he said gruffly and turned to walk away from her.

  Puzzled by his mercurial change of mood, she followed, wondering what had brought about the change. Her remarks about loving a man and a man loving her couldn’t have triggered such a reaction. Why would he care? Her eyes narrowed and she studied him. They were growing closer with each day; and when it came time to say goodbye, would it hurt him to part? Was he beginning to care?

  They mounted their horses, moving into a single-file line, and Vanessa’s lips tingled as she watched Lone Wolf and knew they both were risking their hearts by the continual kisses and touches and shared moments.

  Within an hour she glimpsed a town on the horizon, and her pulse jumped with eagerness. She hurried past Muaahap to catch up to Lone Wolf and ride beside him.

  “There’s a town. Tonight can we stay in a hotel? I have money and I’d like a bed. It would be good for you until you’ve completely recovered.”

  “It’s far riskier. Remember the last town.”

  She looked at the rooftops in the distance, the number of trees. “This is different. It’s larger and it looks like a regular town. We can get some supplies.”

  He stared ahead and finally nodded. “The hotel may not take us because we’re Indian.”