Warrior Moon Page 20

  “You’re handsome,” she said quietly.

  “Don’t tell me I look white.”

  As her gaze shifted from his hair to his eyes, she wondered if he were teasing her, but he gazed back solemnly. “I don’t know whether you meant that or not, but you look—” She paused, at a loss to describe him. “You look noticeable. Maybe more than you did before.”

  “That, Vanessa, is not what we hoped to accomplish with this haircut. How could I look more noticeable?”

  Muaahap and White Bird joined them. White Bird picked up the shorn locks of black hair, gathering them carefully while Muaahap stared at Lone Wolf.

  “Taiboo,” Muaahap said cheerfully.

  “Hah-nay’! he snapped.

  Muaahap chuckled and nodded her head, and Vanessa suspected she was annoying him. Vanessa caught Muaahap’s wrist and pointed toward the hides, motioning toward White Bird and indicating it was her bedtime.

  Muaahap took White Bird’s hand and left, chuckling as she went.

  “Vanessa, she tries my patience.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She called me a white man.”

  Vanessa smiled. “That’s not such an insult!”

  “She did it to aggravate me.”

  “Well, perhaps she teased a little. By no stretch of the imagination could anyone who looks at you closely take you for a white.”

  “My hair will grow out again, but I don’t think my life will ever return to the peace I once knew.”

  “Perhaps it was time for you to lose that peace and come back into the world,” she said lightly, walking away from him while he stared at her.

  Two days later on a cool December day, he stood beneath the bare branches of a tall hackberry on the edge of Glen Hollow and looked at a small frame church that was quiet and empty. It was painted white with plain glass windows, a tall steeple over the door, and an iron bell at the top of the steeple. Lone Wolf scrutinized the area.

  The church was on the edge of Glen Hollow, a small town that had built up because of the fort. There were nine blocks of houses, a small store, a smithy, a livery stable, a saddlery, a wheelwright, one saloon, and little else. If they took Phoebe and the soldiers or Sutherland gave chase, there was nowhere in town to hide.

  Lone Wolf mounted his horse, hating the woolen pants and boots that pinched his feet. He turned and rode north through the rolling land that was thick with cedars and mesquite and high grass. There were creeks and gullies and places to hide, and he felt slightly better as he began to get a feel for the land.

  In an hour he came back through the town and turned south. He rode in a wide circle, trying to decide which direction to take to lose anyone who might give chase, where they could hide, where they could get water and supplies. He needed to know the area as well as he did his own campsite, to know which direction would give him the most water, the most cover.

  That night at camp, he sat close to Vanessa in front of a dying fire. He had killed rabbits and roasted them on a spit for their supper and now he was relaxed, drawing with a stick in the ashes. “Here’s the church, Vanessa. We will leave our extra horses here in a shallow ravine while we take a buggy and ride to the church.”

  Looking up from her sewing, she nodded. She and Muaahap had spent each evening sewing to make a new green muslin dress for Vanessa, one that her father would not recognize. “I can buy a buggy in town.”

  “I’ll buy the buggy, and you stay out of sight.” He thought about her plans. “You said you wanted to get to the stage at El Paso to get tickets to California. Tucumcari is about one hundred miles closer, and it will be on the way back to my people.”

  “As long as a stage goes through heading to California, it’s fine if we go to Tucumcari.”

  “So we ride for Tucumcari. Now when we leave the church, we’ll go straight north and then turn west.” He looked at her. “I would feel better if we went this Sunday and you pointed Phoebe and Belva out to me. Then I could go back next Sunday and try to get them.”

  “No. When they see me, they’ll expect to go with me. If they don’t see me, they won’t know you and they won’t go with you. And by a week from tomorrow, she may be wed.”

  “You’re sure your father doesn’t attend church?”

  “Absolutely. He prefers to sleep on Sunday morning.”

  Lone Wolf nodded, picking up his rifle to clean it.

  Sunday morning, Lone Wolf was up before dawn. In a cold fog, he watched Vanessa go to the river and he wanted to follow, to take her into his arms and possess her swiftly. He wasn’t certain he would live to see sundown and he knew he would fight to the death anyone who tried to capture her to take her back to her father.

  He picked up his things and headed upstream, washing and changing swiftly. He packed his buckskins, then loaded the supplies on the packhorses so Muaahap could travel.

  Half an hour later, he heard a rustling and turned toward the river. Vanessa strode toward him, and his heart thudded against his rib cage as he stared at her. She wore a wide-brimmed hat with green-satin ribbons that tied beneath her chin. Her hair was braided and looped around her head, hidden completely beneath the hat that partially hid her face. She wore the green muslin dress without crinolines and hoops, and it clung to her figure as she walked. With her hair pulled back, her green eyes looked larger than ever and she was beautiful in the dress that emphasized her soft curves.

  Vanessa strolled up to him and examined him. “My goodness, look at you! How handsome you look. All the ladies in the church will notice you,” she said, running her fingers over his black coat. “Maybe you should stay hidden behind the trees and I should go alone. You’ll attract so much attention—”

  “There is no way I could possibly attract the attention, Vanessa, that you will. And if you think people will notice me, I’m certain they will all notice you, so we shall be as conspicuous as a painted bull roaming into the church.”

  “We’ll sit in the back,” she said, pleased by his comments and the look of approval in his eyes.

  Sliding his arm around her waist, Lone Wolf pulled her against his chest and bent his head to kiss her. Vanessa’s heart thudded because it was the first kiss in a long time. Her hands flew up against his arms, feeling the soft woolen coat sleeves and the strong muscles beneath. He smelled of cotton and wool. She wound her arms around his neck, pressing against him, kissing him back, her tongue playing over his, going deep into his mouth. Desire flowed through her, heating her and giving rise to an ache for more of him.

  He raised his head. “I wish we had more time—”

  “But we don’t,” she said, pulling away reluctantly and straightening the hat on her head. “Shall I wake Muaahap now and tell her we go?”

  “Yes. You have the derringer?”

  “Yes,” she said, patting the reticule that dangled from her dainty wrist.

  “I would rather you stayed with Muaahap.”

  Vanessa flashed a smile at him. “But Phoebe would never know you, and you wouldn’t know her. We don’t look alike. Except you could find her. She will be the most beautiful female there.”

  “No,” he said quietly, shaking his head and touching her cheek. “No, she won’t.”

  Vanessa’s lashes fluttered and she drew a deep breath, turning to go to Muaahap and wake her. After Vanessa hugged White Bird, Lone Wolf placed White Bird on a horse while Muaahap mounted up behind her to lead the packhorses. The old woman had a rifle in a scabbard, and she nodded at them as she turned to ride away.

  “I hope no one disturbs them.”

  “Muaahap will take care of White Bird, and no one will bother Muaahap.” He turned to help Vanessa into the ancient buckboard he had purchased with her money. It was pulled by a gray and a dun, a team of horses that he had paid little for. Their four best horses followed behind—the black, the bay, a chestnut from the Comanche, and the paint—their reins tied to the back of the buckboard.

  Lone Wolf’s coat swung open as he climbed up, and Vanessa
saw the grip of his revolver in the shoulder holster he wore. He pushed the black hat to the back of his head, and her pulse accelerated because he looked handsome and virile in the black coat and trousers. He still had an air of wildness, and she knew they would be incredibly conspicuous at the church and would have to hang back to avoid public scrutiny.

  Her pulse raced at the thought that in a few hours Phoebe and Belva would be safely recovered. She placed her hand on his knee and Lone Wolf’s head swung around, his dark eyes blazing with desire as he looked at her.

  She leaned close to kiss him. “Thank you.”

  “If you want to get to church, you should take your hand off my knee,” he suggested, his voice husky.

  Smiling, she removed her hand and brushed his cheek with her fingers. She smoothed the green muslin skirt over her legs and settled to ride.

  The sun’s rays slanted above the horizon when they rode down into the draw where he wanted to leave the horses. Sunshine had burned off the fog, and the day promised to be bright and clear with a cloudless blue sky. Bare branches of tall hackberries interlaced overhead, and a rabbit bounded off as they slowed and stopped.

  Lone Wolf dismounted to take care of the saddle horses while Vanessa stared at the church. Excitement coursed through her, making it difficult to sit still. They had hours before church time, but Lone Wolf had insisted on arriving early to hide the horses and watch people arrive.

  He climbed back into the buckboard and flicked the reins to move to another spot behind a clump of cedars and hidden from the view of the road. There they could see people going into the church.

  Vanessa prayed Phoebe came to church, that their father still allowed her to attend, because Vanessa didn’t know how she could ride into the fort to get Phoebe and Belva without being discovered.

  And if she had to go to Fort McKavett, she did not want Lone Wolf to accompany her, even though she knew she couldn’t stop him.

  She wiggled on the seat and glanced at him. He sat as still as a stone and she marveled at his patience, reminded again of a predatory cat. If they had to wait until sundown, he would sit just as still and wait.

  Wondering for the hundredth time why he was doing this, certain he was riding to his death, Lone Wolf remained quiet. He peered at Vanessa and momentarily forgot their plans and the danger. Sunlight caught the golden strands in her deep red hair, making it look like spun gold. Her lustrous green eyes sparkled with excitement. She was the most beautiful woman he had known, and she could be as forceful as some of the warriors who were his kin. He thought about the upheaval in his life that Vanessa had caused. If they survived the day and were successful, he would have to deal with five females.

  The notion staggered him. Vanessa’s charm and determination had melted his opposition every time. She had changed his life, and he doubted if it would ever be the same again. And would he want it the same?

  As buggies began to arrive, she strained to see, once standing up. “Sit down, Vanessa. You’ll see your sisters when they go up the church steps.”

  She flicked him a smile of acquiescence and sat back down on the seat, wriggling to look at the latest arrivals in the churchyard. He studied her, amused, knowing Vanessa would not make a good fighter because she was too impatient and too excitable.

  She was beautiful in the green dress particularly since it dipped low, revealing the curves of her breasts, and cinched her tiny waist. He longed to pull her into his arms and, if they survived this day, he intended to possess her and kiss away any arguments she might give him. Aware they were in great danger and he’d better keep his wits about him, he tried to shift his attention from her.

  He glanced again at the church. They had a clear view of the church steps and the area in front where congregates were leaving their wagons and buggies and horses.

  As people rode past along the road, Vanessa’s palms grew damp. She had seen no sign of the Carters, Phoebe, or Belva.

  “We should go now. The churchyard is filling up, and it’s almost time for the service to begin. Are you certain they’ll come to church?”

  “They come with the Carters nearly every Sunday, and Phoebe promised she would continue doing so. As soon as she heard I’d run away from the wagon train, I’m sure she started to look for me.”

  “Unless your father has kept her away, knowing you might come back for her.”

  “I haven’t seen the Carters yet, and they always attend.”

  “They’re going to be late and so are we. Ready?”

  “Yes,” she said, gripping the buckboard.

  When Lone Wolf flicked the reins, they moved out of the draw and onto the dusty lane. The churchyard was filled with wagons and buggies, and music from a piano carried in the air. They moved slowly along the rutted, narrow road while two buggies approached from the opposite direction.

  Vanessa felt a jolt as she stared at a buggy, and she grasped Lone Wolf’s arm.

  “There’re Phoebe and Belva. And the man sitting beside the driver is my father!”

  Fifteen

  Lone Wolf looked at the approaching buggy, and as his gaze rested on her blue-eyed father, Lone Wolf felt a surge of anger. He remembered Abbot Sutherland, his arrogance and his hatred of Indians.

  Sutherland sat in the front of the buggy with another man. He laughed, and Lone Wolf longed to pull him out of the buggy and vent his anger with his hands. He forced his attention to the others, looking at the back of a woman’s head, a hat with feathers draping over her brown hair. A young girl with dark brown hair rode beside her. Facing them were two young women, and he knew at once which one was Phoebe.

  A golden-haired woman with wide blue eyes and skin so pale it was almost translucent rode facing the woman and girl. The blond’s delicate beauty made his breath catch. Her lips were full and rosy and her features perfect. His gaze roamed down her slender throat and full breasts. She was larger than Vanessa, her frame heavier. She looked like the oldest sister, far beyond fifteen, yet he knew she must be Phoebe. And the brown-haired young woman next to her must be her friend Annabelle Carter.

  “I recognize your father. Let them get inside. We’ll go in afterward.”

  “If only Phoebe or Belva could see me. Belva has her back to us, and Phoebe is the blond.”

  “If your father sees you first, we won’t be able to get to them.” Lone Wolf had pulled on the reins, and the gray and the dun walked along slowly.

  Vanessa gripped the buckboard, praying that Phoebe would look at her. Her sisters sat straight, Phoebe staring ahead, her blue eyes wide. Mr. Carter drove, and Papa was seated beside him. Mrs. Carter and Annabelle were in the back with Phoebe and Belva.

  Phoebe’s glance swept over them without pause. Vanessa felt a sense of panic because Phoebe hadn’t recognized her. Phoebe looked solemn and pale, but as beautiful as ever. While her cheeks had lost their usual pink, her blue eyes were wide, thickly lashed; her golden hair was fastened on each side of her head in long curls. Her mouth was pursed and her gaze swept the area, but she didn’t give Vanessa another glance. Belva, her brown hair in braids and a blue hat on her head, had her back to Vanessa.

  “Suppose neither one of them looks at me.”

  “We’ll have to see to it that one of them does,” he answered. “If Belva sees you, will she cry out?”

  “No. She’s ten years old and she knows she has to go to boarding school as soon as Phoebe marries. She would rather go to California with us than do that.”

  “There are the soldiers,” Lone Wolf said softly. She followed his gaze and saw four men from the cavalry riding toward the church.

  She searched their faces to see if she recognized any of the men. One was Corporal Jed Seibert. She felt cold: Lone Wolf was in terrible danger!

  The soldiers rode into the churchyard and two dismounted, filing into church. The other two divided, with Corporal Seibert on the east side of the yard, the private on the west.

  “One of them knows me,” she said quietly, leaning close to Lone Wol
f. “Corporal Jed Seibert. He’s standing by the oak.”

  A buggy with a family approached; and as it entered the churchyard, Lone Wolf turned in behind it and pulled to the west side of the yard to park. He helped Vanessa from the buckboard, and they strolled toward the church. Vanessa kept her head down, holding her skirt as she took his arm, praying that the wide hat brim hid her face. They entered the church behind the family of three children and their parents.

  When the family entered the fourth row from the back, Lone Wolf steered Vanessa to the pew beside them. She smiled at the woman, and the woman smiled in return.

  Vanessa saw Phoebe sitting between Mrs. Carter and Papa, Belva out of sight farther along the pew. Would Phoebe glance around? Vanessa straightened her skirt and looked over the congregation. One cavalryman stood at the back to her right; another sat along the aisle on the left. Vanessa had the sinking feeling that her father expected her. Could he have wrung their plan from Phoebe?

  At the thought that he had, Vanessa went cold. She could have walked into a trap, leading Lone Wolf into it and to his death.

  She inhaled and was tempted to get up and leave, to try to think of some other way and time to get Phoebe. She gripped Lone Wolf’s hand, so warm around her cold fingers, and he turned to look at her. She leaned close to him; he had to duck his head to get beneath her hat brim. “Papa might have forced Phoebe to tell him what I planned,” she whispered.

  Lone Wolf straightened and gazed at the pulpit, and she wondered if he had heard her because nothing changed in his expression.

  The minister appeared, his black robe swirling around his legs when he moved to the pulpit and raised his arms in a sweeping motion, urging the congregation to their feet. The music grew louder as people began to sing. Mouthing the familiar hymn, Vanessa watched Phoebe and remembered Sundays when she had sat with the Carters and her sisters. Now that part of her life seemed a long time ago. She glanced up at Lone Wolf as he sang in a full baritone voice and she knew he was the reason her life had changed so drastically.