Beyond The Horizon (23 page)

“We had just met,” Blade revealed. “And you are right, she is brazen. Not my type at all.”

“What is your type? Not that it matters,” Shannon was quick to add.

“Look at yourself in the mirror.”

“What?”

“Look at yourself in the mirror,” Blade repeated, “and you’ll see the type of woman who attracts me. Women like Claire Greer are common enough, but there are damn few Shannon Branigans in the world.”

Shannon flushed, moving to the uncomfortable-looking sofa close to the stove and sitting down. Blade followed, settling down beside her.

“Do you mean that?”

“I never say anything I don’t mean.”

“Claire certainly is tempting.”

“You’re far more tempting.”

He looked at her as if he were starving and Shannon the meal.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked, suddenly recalling the reason he had come here tonight.

Truth to tell, talk was the last thing Blade had on his mind. What he really wanted was to take Shannon in his arms and love her to distraction. But he knew Shannon deserved better; she needed a man who wasn’t despised for the mixed blood that ran through his veins. In the East it didn’t seem to matter all that much what he was. Besides, few had guessed he was part Sioux. Out here on the Western frontier his Sioux blood forced him to live on the fringes of society, yet he had never once considered remaining in the East forever. Wyoming was home and the plains and hills where he grew up the place where he would eventually settle down and raise his children.

“I wanted to ask you about Clive Bailey. Have you learned anything new?”

“No, and I probably won’t until next spring when he goes back East for another load of weapons.
If
he goes back,” Blade stressed.

“Maybe he’ll confess.”

Blade laughed bitterly. “Why would he do that?”

“Perhaps I could get him to talk,” Shannon offered innocently.

“No!” Blade blasted, jumping to his feet. “Leave Bailey to me and my contact.”

“You have a contact here at Fort Laramie?” Shannon asked, catching his slip immediately.

“Dammit, Little Firebird, when I’m with you I get so confused I don’t know what I’m saying. For your own safety, don’t involve yourself in this.”

“But I want to become involved. When I think that Clive might have been the man who furnished the guns that killed my friends, it makes me angry. Too angry to sit back and do nothing. I can’t forget how he almost succeeded in assaulting me out on the trail.”

“Leave Bailey to me, Shannon,” Blade advised sternly. “One day he will make a mistake, and when he does I’ll be there to nail him. I couldn’t bear it if you were hurt.”

“Do you care so much?”

“More than you know.”

He held out his hand, and when she grasped it he pulled her to her feet. Then his arms encircled her, drawing her against his hard, muscular chest, and his parted lips touched hers. Abruptly Clive Bailey was forgotten, for her mind ceased functioning; his kiss was one of such intense longing and hunger that Shannon knew exactly where it would lead.

“I’m going to make love to you, Little Firebird.”

“I know.”

His tongue slid across her lips, urging them apart, and when they did, he plunged it into her mouth. His hands glided restlessly, possessively, up and down her back and breasts, sliding across her bottom, pressing her tightly to his hardened thighs, and Shannon felt herself falling slowly into a spinning whirlpool of sensuality and passion. Surrendering to the power of his virility, she wound her arms around his neck and clung to him.

In a dreamlike daze, she felt her gown falling away, and then the brush of his hardened palms against her swollen breasts. Arms like steel bands surrounded her, lifted her, carried her to her bedroom and gently stood her on her feet while he removed the rest of her clothes.

“You’re perfect,” Blade proclaimed, his voice tinged with awe. “Your body is so beautiful it hurts my eyes.”

Then he was kissing her again, exploring her mouth with his tongue, his hands like burning brands on her bare flesh. Suddenly she felt herself floating, then felt the cool sheets against her skin. Abruptly the warmth, the security of his arms and body withdrew. Her lids flew open, alarmed, until she saw him standing beside the bed, and a tremor of admiration quaked through her. His skin was like oiled bronze, the heavy muscles of his shoulders and arms and thighs rippling gloriously as he removed his pants and boots. He was wonderfully made and splendidly male, she thought, shocked when she felt no compulsion to turn away in embarrassment.

Then Blade was lowering his body beside her, pulling her hips into vibrant contact with his straining loins, molding her body to the rigid contours of his. He cradled her head as he drove his tongue into her mouth again and again. When he stopped, Shannon groaned in keen disappointment, taking his head between her hands and gently caressing his eyes, his cheekbones, with trembling fingertips. Then she leaned up and kissed him, and a knot of tenderness swelled in Blade’s chest.

“You’re beautiful, too,” Shannon offered shyly.

“Only women are beautiful,” Blade grinned foolishly.

“Then you’re wonderfully handsome.”

“For an Indian,” Blade added with a hint of bitterness.

“For a man,” Shannon corrected.

“Oh God, Shannon, if only …”

“If only what?”

“I have no right to say it.”

“Blade, please.”

“If only you were mine.”

“You’ve already made me yours.”

“I’m a half-breed …”

“Dammit, Blade, forget that and love me.”

“Shannon,” he groaned, his hands rushing over her back, her thighs, caressing her buttocks. “Shannon,” he repeated, unable to stop saying her name as he rolled her onto her back and covered her body with his. “Shannon,” he moaned hoarsely as her arms went around him and she lifted her hips, molding herself to his engorged manhood. Her name was like a melody in his head, singing through his veins, as she welcomed the first hot thrust of his body into hers.

“Blade!” Shannon cried out as his hips flexed again and again, stroking, caressing, bringing her to a shattering completion.

Desperately straining for his own reward, Blade dragged his lips from hers, leaning up on his elbows in order to watch her face as her tremors subsided. Then, he thrust into her again, and yet again, his body jerking convulsively as he spilled his seed into her.

Chapter Twelve

“M
ust you go?” Shannon asked, stretching luxuriously.
Her body was pleasantly exhausted, yet she’d never felt so vibrantly alive.

“I’d like nothing better than to lie here beside you all night, but we both know that’s impossible,” Blade sighed, planting a kiss on Shannon’s lips before levering himself from bed. “I’m leaving in the morning to find Lieutenant Goodman. I don’t trust that man. He’s so consumed with hate, I fear he’ll seek vengeance on any Indians unlucky enough to cross his path. We don’t need another Sand Creek Massacre. There is already enough unrest in the area. Think of me while I’m gone, Little Firebird.”

Blade walked through the dark night to Major Vance’s quarters. Earlier he had made arrangements to speak with Vance before his departure the next morning. Blade’s discrete knock brought an immediate reply.

“You’re late,” Vance said shortly. Blade walked inside and closed the door behind him.

“I was—detained.”

Vance sent him a searching look. “I saw that little display the other day with the Branigan girl. What’s going on, Blade? A flirtation at this time could jeopardize our investigation.”

Blade flushed. What he felt for Shannon was more than mere flirtation. “You know I wouldn’t do anything to hinder the investigation. Shannon is—special to me. But that’s as far as I can allow it to go. Her family would never accept me. Have you found out anything new?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I wired the president today. I told him our investigation has hit a snag and nothing more is likely to be accomplished until next spring. What are your plans for the present?”

“My immediate plans are to ride by the village and make certain my mother and grandfather are well and that nothing is amiss. Then I’m going to rejoin Lieutenant Goodman’s patrol. I may as well stick close to the fort this winter.”

“Good luck. I’ll see you when you return.”

“I’d like to ask a favor of you, Wade.”

“Of course, Blade, anything.”

“Keep an eye on Shannon while I’m gone. Trouble seems to follow her.”

“That Southern belle means a lot to you, doesn’t she,” Vance asked shrewdly.

“You’ve been a good friend to me, Wade, so I don’t mind telling you, I love Shannon.” His blunt confession startled Vance. “But I can’t let her know. She deserves much better than I can offer her.”

From her porch Shannon watched Blade ride out of the fort the next morning. She was just leaving for the schoolhouse. She always arrived early on these cold mornings in order to build a fire in the stove before the students arrived. But seeing Blade leave took a little of the bounce out of her step. She had no idea when he would return and instinctively knew she’d miss him dreadfully.

Later that morning when Shannon took roll call, she noted that the two Indian boys were missing. She thought nothing of it, for they came and went at will. She had learned early on that they came from Yellow Dog’s village and often went with the men on hunting expeditions.

A few days later, Shannon had just dismissed school for the weekend when Lieutenant Goodman’s patrol rode into the fort. She saw at a glance that Blade wasn’t with them and wondered if he had somehow missed them, though she thought it highly unlikely, given his tracking skill. Wondering at his absence, she walked across the compound to visit Callie.

Being reunited with her child had done wonders for Callie’s spirits. Little Johnny prospered with Mrs. Cramer, who had offered to keep and feed the infant until Callie was fully recovered. It hurt Shannon to see Callie in such dreadful shape, but at least she was alive. Since Callie was reluctant to speak of Howie or her harsh treatment by Mad Wolf, Shannon carefully avoided mentioning those painful subjects, and because Callie tired easily, Shannon left after a short visit. She ran into Claire Greer outside the infirmary.

“Have you heard the news?” Claire gushed excitedly.

“You mean about Lieutenant Goodman’s patrol returning? I saw them ride in earlier. Did they find Mad Wolf?”

“I’m not certain,” Claire admitted, “but it’s all over the fort that they wiped out the village that gave Mad Wolf sanctuary.”

Shannon blanched. “Are you referring to Yellow Dog’s village?”

“I don’t know,” Claire shrugged carelessly. “Ronald is with Father now.”

“Dear God, no!” Shannon cried, turning and running toward headquarters. She had to know whose village had been attacked. If her fears proved correct, Blade’s mother and grandfather could be badly wounded—or dead!

Shannon rushed headlong into headquarters, demanding to see Colonel Greer.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, the colonel is in conference,” the sargeant occupying the front desk said politely.

“I’ll wait,” Shannon insisted stubbornly.

Shannon began to pace, glancing beyond the sargeant to the closed door, assessing her chances of getting past him without being stopped. When the man returned to his work, Shannon made her move. Suddenly she darted past the desk, flung open the door, and pushed her way inside. There were three men in the room—Colonel Greer, Lieutenant Goodman, and Major Vance.

“What’s the meaning of this, Shannon?” Colonel Greer thundered when he recognized the intruder.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the sargeant apologized. He was close on Shannon’s heels, but not fast enough to prevent her from disrupting the conference. “I’ll remove her immediately.”

“No!” Shannon resisted. “Not until I find out about Yellow Dog and his people. Is it true? Did Lieutenant Goodman’s patrol attack the village? Didn’t he realize they were peaceful Indians?”

“Come along, young lady,” the sargeant said with stern reprovai.

“It’s all right, Sargeant Miller, let her stay,” Greer said.

“Yes, sir. If you need me I’ll be right outside the door.”

“You know Lieutenant Goodman, of course, and this is Major Vance. Now, Shannon, what is this all about?”

“Rumor has it that Lieutenant Goodman’s patrol attacked a Sioux village. Was it Yellow Dog’s village? They are peaceful people, Colonel, nothing like Mad Wolf and his cohorts. They had no weapons other than bows and arrows. The village consists mostly of women, children, and elderly braves.”

“You’re wrong, Shannon,” Goodman claimed. “We tracked Mad Wolf to the village. We know he was hiding out there, yet they insisted they hadn’t seen him in weeks. I allowed them sufficient time to turn him over to me and when they failed to comply I ordered the attack.”

“On defenseless women and children!” Shannon charged, recalling gentle Singing Rain and wise old Yellow Dog with fondness. And Blade. God, he’d be devastated if his entire family was wiped out. “I was there, remember? I know what the village is like. They didn’t harm me. Did you find Mad Wolf in the village?”