Beyond The Horizon (44 page)

“Each time I make love to you is like a wonderful new experience,” Blade groaned against her lips. “I’m shaking like a boy with his first woman. I love you, Shannon Branigan.”

“You talk too much, Blade Stryker. Please take me to bed.”

“Are you sure my loving won’t hurt the baby?”

“Positive. My mother had six children and continued to—to share my father’s bed until the final weeks of her confinement.”

“Six children,” Blade repeated, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Shall we try to beat that number or merely match it?”

“Let’s concentrate on this one before we make any decisions,” Shannon returned tartly.

She squealed as Blade lifted her high in the air and placed her square in the center of their big bed. Before he followed, he quickly stripped himself bare as Shannon watched in rapt appreciation, her eyes frankly admiring as she studied the enormous width of his bronze chest, then lower, to his loins. She saw that he was ready for her, more than ready, his manhood throbbing against her hip as he positioned himself beside her.

“Don’t look at me like that, Little Firebird, or our evening will end before it begins.”

Shannon giggled. “Do I always affect you like that?”

“Always.”

“I’m glad, because you do the same to me. Now love me, my magnificent warrior.”

“That’s something you’ll never have to beg me to do,” Blade assured her and grinned with wicked delight.

Then he joined their bodies, filling her so full of himself that Shannon thought she would explode from the joy of it. Then she did, shattering into a million pieces as she soared to the stars.

During the following days, Shannon prepared for their move to the ranch. Blade insisted on accompanying her on her errands and shopping trips, refusing to allow her out of his sight. On the street, people went deliberately out of their way to avoid them, and it was impossible to ignore the crude remarks directed none too subtly at them. Shannon thought Blade’s restraint remarkable. The thin line of his mouth and smoldering black of his eyes gave mute testimony to his rage.

“Blade, I’d like to stop at the general store to purchase a length of flannel for baby clothes,” Shannon said as she stopped before the large wooden building housing the general store.

Blade glanced inside, saw only two women browsing, and nodded his consent. “While you’re shopping, I’ll go next door to the hardware store.” He watched until she was safely inside, then hurried to complete his own errand.

Shannon attracted scant attention when she entered the store. Mr. Samms, the shopkeeper, waited on one customer while another sorted through a stack of dishes. Shannon went directly to where the bolts of cloth were displayed, lingering a long time while she selected thread and trim to match the flannel she had chosen. Her selections complete, Shannon thought it odd that no one came to wait on her. Glancing around, she saw that the store was now empty except for Samms. The other customers had already been waited on and departed.

“Could you please cut me a length of this blue flannel?” Shannon asked when she saw Samms idly leaning over the counter poring over a newspaper. Was the man deliberately ignoring her?

Samms did not stir, nor did he bother to acknowledge Shannon’s request.

Shannon tried again. “Mr. Samms, please cut me three yards of blue flannel.”

Just then two women walked through the door, and Samms sallied forth to serve them. Fuming in impotent rage, Shannon picked up the bolt of cloth and marched purposefully to where Samms stood hovering over the women. She shoved the bolt beneath his nose.

“Three yards, please.”

“You’ll have to wait your turn,” Samms grunted rudely.

“I was here long before these other customers entered the store,” Shannon claimed.

“Squaws wait their turn,” Samms said. With surly disdain, he turned away.

Shannon gasped, struck dumb by the crude insult. The two ladies Samms had been helping sniggered behind their hands, waiting with bated breath for the outcome of the confrontation. They didn’t know Shannon personally, but thought it scandalous that a white woman would debase herself by marrying a halfbreed. What delicious gossip they would have to repeat when they left the store!

“Now, ladies, what can I help you with?” Samms asked with a polite smile that failed to include Shannon.

“I strongly urge that you wait on my wife.”

The voice was low, deep, and dangerous. The note of suppressed violence in Blade’s tone sent a convulsive shiver down Samms’s spine.

“It’s all right, Blade, I—I decided I no longer want the flannel,” Shannon said, attempting to defuse a potentially volatile situation. “Let’s go home.”

“I’m not ready yet to leave, Shannon. I’ve suddenly acquired a great fondness for that particular shade of blue flannel. Make it five yards, Samms.” He glared defiantly at the shopkeeper, daring him to refuse.

Ezra Samms was many things, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew when to back down. Insulting a defenseless woman was one thing, but challenging an irate halfbreed was quite another. There was more than one way to rid the town of unsavory elements, and there were plenty of people who felt as he did.

Taking the bolt of cloth from Shannon’s hands, Samms measured out the required length, all the while glaring at Blade with thinly concealed contempt. Samms wasn’t the only one eying Blade. Though both women customers pretended disgust and shock at being in such close proximity to a half-breed, they ogled him shamelessly. Certainly neither would admit it, but the pure masculine appeal of Blade Stryker had them all atwitter.

With deliberate rudeness, Blade tossed a coin at Samms, picked up Shannon’s purchases, and guided her from the store.

“I’m sorry that happened, love,” he said regretfully. “Had I known, I’d never have left you alone.”

“Why can’t people treat you like a man instead of something vile?” Shannon complained bitterly. “You’re twice as handsome, twice as brave, honest, trustworthy—”

“Shannon,” Blade protested, smiling in amusement. “Lord knows I have my faults. You must remember that you see me in a different light. Most people choose to ignore my white blood and despise that part of me that is Sioux. Let’s get out of here, love. I’ll load the wagon and we can leave for Peaceful Valley tomorrow. Would you like that?”

“I’ll be happy wherever you are,” Shannon assured him.

Blade stopped the wagon on the crest of a hill overlooking the land he had aptly named Peaceful Valley.

“It looks so tranquil,” Shannon sighed, awed by the quiet beauty of the valley.

The cattle Blade had bought grazed contentedly on the surrounding hills, and it excited Shannon to think that this majestic valley belonged to them. Though Blade had brought Shannon out here several times, she had no idea what the house looked like. He wanted to surprise her.

“Look to the right and you can see the chimney rising amidst the cottonwoods.”

“Oh, Blade, let’s hurry,” Shannon urged, bristling with impatient enthusiasm. “I can hardly wait to see our new home.”

Shannon was properly impressed. The house was quite grand compared to most cabins erected by homesteaders, which were usually no more than crude huts. What impressed her most was the knowledge that Blade had built the cabin himself, with only occasional help from day workers hired in town. Built of chinked logs, the four-room structure featured real glass windows and a stove in each of the three bedrooms and parlor. The kitchen was reached through an enclosed walkway at the rear. Shannon was especially pleased with the cookstove Blade had purchased for her and brought out earlier.

“It—it’s wonderful,” Shannon exclaimed, literally dancing from room to room. “Some rugs on the floor, furniture, curtains—it will be cozy in no time. A perfect place to raise our children. Thank you, Blade, I love it. I love you.”

“I want you to be happy, Shannon. I know you’ll miss your work with the women’s suffrage group, but it is safer for you out here.”

“Of course I’ll miss it,” Shannon admitted. “But as important as women’s rights are to me, a cause can’t compare to what I feel for you. Besides, the women’s rights amendment will soon be brought to a vote and my work finished. I only hope what I did helped.”

“You were quite impressive, love, and I’m not the only one to think so. Mr. and Mrs. Bright were favorably impressed by your lectures. I’m sorry it had to end the way it did. If it wasn’t for that vindictive bitch—”

“Forget Claire. She can do nothing more to hurt us. As long as we have one another nothing can harm us.”

During the following weeks, Shannon’s happiness knew no bounds as she set about making the house into a home. Once their few pieces of furniture were in place and rugs and curtains adorned the floors and windows, the rooms lost their cold emptiness and reflected the love that dwelled within the four walls.

As long as the weather remained mild, Blade continued to work on building the ranch. He had found two hands in town willing to work for a half-breed, and when they weren’t out riding the range they helped Blade construct a woodshed and corral. Stables would come next, but probably not until next spring.

At first Blade was reluctant to leave Shannon alone for longer than very short periods of time. But when two weeks passed without incident, he felt more comfortable leaving her at home when he was needed elsewhere on their land. As a concession to his fear, he made damn certain Shannon had a rifle within reach at all times. He offered to teach her to shoot and was pleased to learn she was already quite adept, having been taught by her brother Tucker before he went off to war.

One day while Blade was out riding the range, Shannon saw someone approach the house and reached for the rifle. When she saw it was a lone Indian, she relaxed somewhat, but kept the rifle trained on the man as he rode his pony boldly into the yard. It looked as if the Indian had traveled a great distance, for his pony pulled a travois loaded with his possessions.

The Indian halted a short distance from the house. “What do you want?” Shannon asked.

“Swift Blade,” the Indian said tersely.

He was close enough for Shannon to notice that his face was gray with fatigue and etched with lines. He looked near exhaustion; his shoulders were stooped as if the weight of the world rested on them. He was tall and handsomely built; if not for his near state of collapse he would have been almost as imposing as Blade. Intuitively Shannon knew the Indian belonged to the mighty Sioux nation, for none other were as majestic and impressive as the Sioux.

“You know my husband?”

“I know your husband, and I know you, Little Firebird.”

Lowering the rifle, Shannon took a closer look at the Sioux brave. “You’re Jumping Buffalo!”

Shannon didn’t know him well. She had been in Yellow Dog’s village but a short time. However, Blade spoke often of his friend and had pointed him out to her before they left the Indian village. She wondered what had brought him to Peaceful Valley. He appeared exhausted and half-starved. She leaned the rifle against the house to show him she wasn’t frightened.

“Come inside, Jumping Buffalo. You must be tired and hungry”

Jumping Buffalo hesitated, turning to glance behind him at the travois. “Sweet Grass is ill.”

It was the first inkling Shannon had that Jumping Buffalo wasn’t alone. “Your wife is with you?” She looked worriedly at the travois. “Please bring her inside. Perhaps there is something I can do for her,” Shannon urged. “What is wrong with her?”

“Sweet Grass miscarried our child on the trail three days ago,” Jumping Buffalo replied. “She has lost much blood.”

“Oh!” Shannon gasped, rushing forward, “the poor thing.” She didn’t know Sweet Grass but felt great compassion for any woman who lost a child.

Jumping Buffalo was standing on the porch to greet Blade when he returned a short time later. Sweet Grass had been settled comfortably on a cot in one of the spare bedrooms and fed a nourishing beef broth. While she slept, Shannon prepared supper. Jumping Buffalo had taken himself outside, feeling confined by wooden walls. Clasping arms, the friends embraced. They were talking quietly when Shannon called them in to eat.

“How is Sweet Grass?” Blade asked as he hugged Shannon and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Resting. She’s very weak, but I think she’ll be all right.”

Jumping Buffalo seemed reluctant to sit at the table but was finally persuaded by Blade to join them. The meal Shannon had prepared was simple but nourishing and tasty. Jumping Buffalo ate as if it was the first solid meal he had consumed in days, causing Shannon to slant an inquiring glance at Blade. She waited with her usual impatience for him to explain what had brought the half-starved family to their door. Not until the meal was over did Blade satisfy her curiosity.

“Jumping Buffalo says things are bad on the reservation,” he explained, his voice taut with emotion. “Large numbers of buffalo no longer roam the plains as they once did. Food is scarce and supplies promised by the government have not arrived. Most of the problem lies with corrupt Indian agents who sell meat designated for Indian consumption and pocket the money.

“The Sioux are leaving reservations in increasing numbers, following the buffalo or stealing cows to feed their families. The final indignation came when the white man invaded Indian territory in search of gold. Jumping Buffalo could not bear to see Sweet Grass starve to death, so he came to me for help.”