Comanche Eagle Page 7

  Turtle River entered carrying a pot in his hands, and she closed her eyes, clenching her teeth, thankful they hadn’t asked her to help.

  “Take another long drink, son. It’ll help you,” Black Eagle said gently and held the jug to the boy’s lips.

  What a strange man was her new husband! She had seen his fiery temper, knew his strong will, and suspected his murderous capabilities, yet here he was being as tender and caring to a complete stranger as anyone could possibly be. Could he be the same man who murdered Ellery?

  She remembered his hot denial and affirmation that he wished he could have had the chance to kill Ellery himself. As she watched him gently lower Zachary’s head to the pallet, Crystal decided this man was not Ellery’s killer. Her anger with Travis Black Eagle abated, and as it diminished, the barriers around her heart went down. She stared at him, seeing a man who had been devastated by loss, yet could be deeply kind to someone in need.

  “Let’s move a few things inside and give the whiskey a chance to take hold,” Black Eagle said. “On his empty stomach it ought to hit hard in a few minutes.”

  The two men left the cabin. Zachary’s eyes were closed, his cheek against the pallet. Her attention shifted to the baby, keeping her gaze on his tiny face as he stared back at her. The world and the cabin and Travis Black Eagle vanished from her mind. This tiny little person became her world. The wonder of him filled her with awe and a blossoming warmth. This baby would grow up as her son. She tightened her arm, pulling him closer while he sucked intently on the bottle, his tiny fingers moving back and forth over the glass. Every inch of him was beautiful. She had never really noticed children before, but now she realized they were miracles of perfection.

  Finally he finished drinking and drifted to sleep. She heard a bump and the sound of a note of music. Looking up, she watched Black Eagle and Turtle River carry her piano into the cabin and set it down inside the door.

  “My piano blocks the doorway!” she cried, wondering if he intended to leave everything in the haphazard manner he had placed it.

  “We’ll get to your furniture when I can, but I’ve lost a lot of work time.” He turned and left, and silence descended except for the rhythmic squeak of the floor as she rocked back and forth. She looked at the piano. Her three-legged stool was turned upside down on top of the piano. Clothing stuck out beneath it. She still had not spotted any sign of a bed. Remembering their home in Baltimore with her mother’s crystal and the polished floors and rosewood furniture and even the neat little house in Cheyenne she had shared with Ellery, she was swamped with sorrow.

  For a minute she yielded to the unhappiness settling over her, then Crystal took a deep breath. The cabin could be cleaned and she had a home now and a man to protect her. And he was not going to put any physical claims on her—at least he had promised he would not. She suspected he had meant what he said. She was not a woman men desired.

  Best of all, she had a baby that was going to be hers! As of this morning, she had become a mother—something she had decided would never happen. And caring for the infant was not the terrifying, impossible task she had deemed it to be. It was a labor of love because he was an adorable little person.

  Black Eagle and Turtle River returned and went to Zachary. Black Eagle pulled out a knife. As he cut away the shirt, Zachary moaned. In seconds Black Eagle stood and Turtle River moved closer, cleaning the wounds and then spreading a paste on them. A strange leafy odor came from the paste.

  “You hold him and I’ll bind this up.”

  Black Eagle helped Zachary sit up. His face was chalky and his mouth shut grimly and she hurt for him, wishing there were some way they could deaden his pain. Turtle River worked with care and in minutes they eased Zachary to the pallet.

  “I’ll build a fire in the stove and put meat on to boil. We need to get some broth down him as soon as possible. He looks starved,” Black Eagle said, glancing over his shoulder at her.

  He rummaged for a pot. He went outside to the pump and returned, setting the pot of water on the iron stove. Soon he had a fire going. He moved with deliberation and purpose and Crystal wondered whether the man ever relaxed. She could not imagine laughter coming from him.

  “I’ll unload the rest of the wagon, and then I have to feed the animals. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  She nodded again and continued to rock. Her gaze ran over the room and she spotted the bed beneath mounds of clothing, bedding, boards, and tools. The man must not sleep in the bed, she wondered if he expected her to have it cleaned off tonight. The baby pushed the bottle and she readjusted it, looking at him.

  She held him up and kissed his soft cheek, cuddling him against her heart. When he snuggled against her, she felt her spirits lifting. She was a mother now. As the shock wore off, reality set in, and with it, a sense of wonder at her new status and the baby that had been entrusted to her.

  “I will make a home here for us,” she whispered to him. “And someday, my little love, I’ll teach you to play the piano. When your papa hears you, he will be glad you know how to play.”

  She held the baby tightly while she rocked, taking another look at her surroundings. How could one man create such havoc?

  She looked over her shoulder at the stove piled high with pans that had food caked on them. Nearby, draped over a pile of clothing was a blanket. As soon as the baby was asleep, she carried him to his cradle.

  “Now, my love, you sleep and I will begin to make a home for you. A real home,” she said with a little awe, touching his soft dark curls. He was the most beautiful baby she had ever seen, and she drew her fingers over his cheek lightly.

  With a determined sigh, she turned to study the cluttered bed. She suspected by nightfall, she would be exhausted enough to sleep in it even if Travis Black Eagle were only a foot away.

  Travis turned his horse, heading north to check on his cattle. The cows were calving and he needed to make certain they were all right. His gaze went over his land without really seeing it. The smell of grass filled the air, heat rising from the ground. Turtle River rode several yards ahead.

  Travis didn’t want to think about this morning, yet it nagged at him. His jaw was clamped so tightly it hurt, and he still felt a knot in his throat that had been there off and on all day. Elizabeth. He had been through rough times before when he’d thought he had been hurt as badly as a man could be. He’d found out there was a worse hurt. The only person he would ever love again was his son. His and Elizabeth’s baby. Love was an incredible risk and thus far had brought him unbearable pain. Never again did he want to risk his heart. His life would be dedicated to making a place for his son.

  He knew Judge Spencer didn’t want this union any more than he did, but he was absolutely certain he would never regret it because of falling in love again. Love meant pain and loss and being vulnerable. And he would keep his promise about Judge Spencer’s body. He saw her only as a woman who could care for a baby. Right now passion had been replaced by sorrow and when time began to heal the wound, he knew he could satisfy his body’s needs with Delilah or Fancy.

  The only sure thing in the world was land. In the white man’s world, land and money meant respect.

  Long ago, through no choice of his own, he had taken the white man’s road. He lived in the white man’s world now. He couldn’t go back to his people because he would only bring the soldiers and grief to them.

  Travis ground his jaw closed, determination filling him. He would build his ranch and his business until people in town would accept him and his son. He would do everything in his power to protect his son from the prejudice that had tormented him all his life.

  Travis glanced at Turtle River. The stoic Cheyenne kept his hurts to himself. Travis rode over a rise and down through the swift-running creek. He remembered Elizabeth riding here with him, remembered her in his arms. Swearing under his breath, he rubbed his eyes angrily.

  One bright spot in the whole miserable day had been the judge’s care of his son si
nce she had stepped forward and taken his son out of his arms. She had asserted herself then, taking charge as if she knew what she was doing. She might be plain and prim, but she was not timid. As far as he could see, she had done just fine in caring for his baby.

  He didn’t want night to come; he didn’t want to have to go back to Judge Spencer and the cabin that was filled with painful memories that were too fresh. And he tried to keep the thought out of his mind that it was her brother who could have saved Elizabeth.

  Hours later as the sun neared the western horizon, Travis wiped his brow and straightened from bending over a newborn calf when Turtle River approached. “It is night. The first night your woman is here.”

  “She’ll be all right,” Travis said, dreading returning, wanting to work himself into exhaustion. Nights were a torment, nightmares plaguing what little sleep he got. “We need to keep searching for any other cows about to drop calves. I want to get these two back with the herd so predators won’t get them.”

  With a shrug, Turtle River returned to work. An hour later Travis’s stomach churned with hunger. He needed to get home to feed the young boy. At the thought of Zachary, Travis felt a deep burning anger, wondering if the boy’s father had inflicted the beating. Zachary was young and would mend if fever and infection didn’t set in.

  At dusk Travis motioned to Turtle River and the two started back. At the pump in front of the house Travis stripped off his shirt and washed beneath a full, bright moon that was rising over the horizon. As he dried his face with his rumpled shirt, he raised his nose in the air. He smelled beef cooking, yet his appetite was gone. When he thought of going inside, sharing a table with the judge instead of Elizabeth, the thought of food made his stomach chum.

  “Come join us for dinner,” he urged Turtle River.

  “I will come later. You should be alone with her first. This is new to her. I’ll bring medication for the boy.”

  “Fine,” Travis answered, his curiosity rising about Crystal. He half-expected to come back and find her ready to take another revolver to him. If she had been the type for tears, she would have yielded to them this morning. The woman had grit and that was good as long as she didn’t shoot him or treat the babe harshly.

  He had carefully placed Ellery’s revolver on a high shelf. The only other revolver on the place was on his hip and he had unloaded his rifle when he arrived home. He was going to have to hand a gun over to her soon for her own protection when she was left alone, but he thought he would give her a few days to become accustomed to her new life. And time for him to get to know her better before he placed another revolver in her hands. With resignation, Travis strode into the cabin.

  “Evening,” he called gruffly. The piano and stool blocked his way. He stepped around it and paused. She stood in front of the iron stove, a spoon in one hand and the baby on her shoulder, held by her other hand. Tendrils of her hair had come loose from her topknot, wispy locks twisting down around her face. The underarms of her dress were soaked with perspiration and her forehead was beaded with it. There was a smudge of black across her cheek. In spite of her disarray, he liked her better this way because she looked less spinsterish and remote. Her eyes widened, her gaze dropping to roam over his chest while color flooded her cheeks and he remembered he carried his shirt in his hand. He pulled it on, wondering whether he had shocked her. A spinster lady out in the wilds of the frontier with two men was probably in for a lot of shocks, he thought wryly as he crossed the room to Zachary.

  “How’s the boy?”

  “He’s burning with a fever. I’ve been putting a cold, wet cloth on his head,” she said, motioning to Zachary with a jerk of her head, “but I had to stop to feed the baby.”

  Travis knelt and placed his hand on Zachary’s forehead, touching hot, dry skin. He saw the pan of cold water and a cloth hanging over the side. He dipped the cloth, wringing it out and bathing Zachary’s face with it. “I’ll get Turtle River.”

  Black Eagle strode out of the room, and Crystal watched him go, noting how his shirt pulled across his back with the swing of his shoulders and remembering in absolute detail his bare chest. Heat burned in her at the memory, a different heat than the one she had experienced all evening from the warm cabin. She had never seen a man’s chest like his, bare and bronze, the smooth skin taut over solid muscles. She fanned herself with her hand. The man was incredibly disturbing. How long would it take for her to become used to him?

  The baby wiggled and she patted his back. He had been awake the longest stretch since this morning, his dark eyes bright with curiosity as he kicked and cooed and gurgled. The cabin was hot from the boiling stew. She wanted to feed the men and crawl off alone and sleep for days.

  Every bone in her body ached and exhaustion made her feel faint. She wanted to stretch on the bed and sleep forever, but she hadn’t had time between tending Zachary and the baby to get the bed cleared off. She felt on a ragged edge, tears threatening that she refused to yield to.

  The men returned, working over Zachary, spooning more liquid from the stew down him and getting him to eat a few bites. They joined her and ate, all three sitting in silence, and she wondered if she would go through years of silent meals with taciturn men.

  As soon as they finished, Black Eagle returned to Zachary’s side to dip the cloth in the basin of cold water, wring it out, and place it on the boy’s forehead again. Turtle River watched solemnly and then turned and left.

  After cleaning the pot and dishes, she removed everything from the bed, realizing Black Eagle must not have slept on it since his wife’s death. And as Crystal removed a large washtub and piles of blankets, she discovered why he had brought her mattress. His bed was merely a frame without a mattress. She glanced across the room at him as he sat beside Zachary and guessed he had probably destroyed the mattress he had shared with his wife.

  She moved across the room and knelt down beside him, feeling as if she were drawing dangerously close to a wild, unpredictable animal.

  “This house is all one big room.”

  He raised his head, and his dark eyes bore into her. She wished he had continued leaning down over Zachary because it was less disconcerting to look at the top of his head than into his eyes.

  “I would like you to string a line so I can hang a blanket up in one corner. It would give me some privacy for dressing.”

  “Fine,” he said, bending over Zachary again. “I’ll try to do it tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll turn my back and Zachary is lost to the world tonight.”

  It wasn’t quite the same, but she knew it was useless to argue with him. “Thank you. I’ll keep Zachary bathed off and cool. I have one more request. Will you carry my mattress to the bed?”

  Nodding, Black Eagle moved away while she sponged Zachary’s face, praying that the boy didn’t die in the night. In a few minutes when she glanced around, Black Eagle was nowhere in sight, but her bare horsehair mattress was on the bed.

  She tended Zachary until the baby stirred. She fed the infant, and as soon as he was down again and asleep, she returned to bathe Zachary’s face once more.

  She heard a rustle and saw Black Eagle had returned. His shirt was gone and she drew a deep breath, something tightening inside her as she looked at his broad chest. How could he be so powerful? Realizing she was staring, she turned away with burning cheeks.

  Minutes later she heard him approach and kneel beside her. His hand closed around her wrist and she looked up in surprise. His touch was light, his hand warm—a meaningless gesture, yet the moment his fingers locked around her wrist, tingles of awareness danced from his hand along her arm and into the rest of her. She was acutely conscious of his nearness, the warmth of his body, the bareness of his chest.

  She didn’t know where to look because his dark eyes were disturbing, his chest unsettling. She gazed up at him, aware of his physical presence in a way she had never been aware of a man before. She tried with all her will to keep her gaze lifted, but in her peripheral vision she was t
oo conscious of his body. As if she had no control over her muscles and eyes and mind, her gaze drifted down. He was only inches away, his chest a solid bulk that looked hard and strong and strangely reassuring. And she felt a maddening urge to place her hand against him. She balled her fists in her lap and looked at Zachary, flushing with embarrassment.

  “How is he?”

  “Still burning. How could anyone beat him so badly? Do you know his family?”

  “No, but if the father did this, he’d better not come here after him.”

  Startled by the harshness in his voice, she looked back at him. “If his father comes for him, he has to go with his father.”

  Black eyes bore into her and she felt the familiar clash of wills that made her want to flinch. Instead, she lifted her chin, refusing once again to let Travis Black Eagle see that he alarmed her. “Even if his father was the one who inflicted this? You would hand the boy back to him?”

  “By law he belongs to his parents until he’s of age. You know that.”

  “You see the law as black and white with no shades in between?”

  “You can’t see the law in shades,” she replied, wondering again about this strong man who had so little regard for law.

  “So you would hand him back to the man who did that and let him inflict more pain?”

  She looked at Zachary and felt a strange bewilderment. Usually the law was clear and right and good. It was reasonable, a way to bring order and justice. “He belongs to his parents,” she whispered. “Surely his own father never did this to him,” she added, but she remembered the fiery blaze in Zachary’s eyes at the mention of his family.

  “You heard him say he ran away. In this condition, if someone else had beaten him, he would have run for home.” Black Eagle’s fingers caught her chin and turned her face up to his, his eyes boring into her. “Would you give him back to the monster who nearly killed him?”

  Emotions churned inside her. Why did Travis Black Eagle constantly challenge her? “It would be unlawful not to,” she answered, searching her heart and realizing she had not encountered a situation before where she felt the law was wrong.