Beyond The Horizon (51 page)

That night, luck deserted Shannon and her companions. In a matter of hours temperatures plummeted and the weather abruptly turned bitter. After a hastily prepared supper, they retired to their tents and Shannon fell asleep immediately—only to awaken a few hours later to the unmistakable sound of howling wind. Peering through the tent flap, she saw that a dusting of new snow already lay on the ground and more fell from the inky sky at a furious pace. It was bound to slow them down the next day, but unfortunately it couldn’t be helped.

The same snowfall Shannon was lamenting, Blade blessed. Not only would the fresh snow cover his tracks, but it would slow down Red Cloud and his warriors. He hoped it would also persuade them to abandon their pursuit.

Blade’s pressing need now was for shelter and food. He had no bedroll and the clothing he wore on his back provided meager warmth. He hadn’t eaten a decent meal in days, and before that he had shared the Indians’ scant rations. He had quenched his thirst by breaking ice and drinking from streams, but his stomach rumbled hungrily.

Blade shivered inside his coat, wishing he had a thick buffalo robe to protect him from the swirling snow and penetrating wind. It gave him small comfort to know that Red Cloud and his men had to endure the same conditions he did. Then, through the dense white curtain Blade saw a copse of bare-branched trees. Since it offered the only shelter for miles, he reined Warrior in that direction. He was shocked to see two small tents staked side-by-side and horses huddled together nearby. What would travelers be doing on the prairie at this time of year? No matter who they were, Blade was determined to awaken them and ask to share their food and shelter.

The cushion of snow muffled his approach and his footsteps were nearly noiseless as he dismounted, yet someone inside the tent had heard him. Blade froze, then turned slowly when he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.

“Don’t shoot, I’m unarmed,” Blade said quietly. “I wish only to share your food and shelter for the night.”

He dared to breath when the arm holding the gun slowly lowered. “Swift Blade, is it you, my friend?” Jumping Buffalo recognized Blade’s voice immediately.

“Jumping Buffalo! My God, what are you doing out here in the wilderness at this time of year? Who is with you?” Blade asked, glancing toward the second tent. A terrible suspicion grew in his mind and refused to let go.

“Your woman.”

“My—you’re joking. Shannon wouldn’t be crazy enough to—” His sentence trailed off. He knew damn well that Shannon was headstrong enough and rash enough to dare anything. But what about their babe? Surely she wasn’t so reckless as to endanger a newborn child’s life by exposing it to the elements? Suddenly a horrible thought chilled his blood.

“Jumping Buffalo, what of my child?”

“Little Firebird will tell you. Go to her. She insisted on making this journey to convince Red Cloud to release you.”

“The little fool,” Blade bit out tightly, appalled by Shannon’s recklessness, yet loving her all the more for her desire to help him. “I’m being followed. I escaped from Red Cloud’s custody. He wasn’t prepared yet to let me go.”

“Go to Little Firebird. I will keep watch. But you no longer need fear Red Cloud. His provisions are but a few miles behind us.”

“Thank God. I was beginning to doubt the governor’s word and my own foolish wisdom.” He looked longingly toward Shannon’s tent, needing her now more than he needed food and drink. A force stronger than life drove him to her. “Call me if I’m needed.”

It was pitch black inside the small tent. Dropping to his knees, Blade crawled through the flap, his hands easily locating Shannon’s bedroll. With an efficiency of movement he pulled off his jacket, shirt, pants and boots, lifted an edge of the blanket and slid down beside her.

Shannon sighed, drawn deeper into her dream. It was always the same. Blade was in bed beside her, leading her to that place where she was all response and pure sensation. He did it so well, she recalled, his hands and mouth playing her with the skill of a fine musician. Shannon reveled in her dream, her body responding instinctively to his unspoken commands. She no longer felt the cold; it was as if someone had built a fire inside her, warming her, heating her blood.

She wanted to open her eyes but knew that if she did her dream would evaporate and Blade would disappear, just as he had done dozens of other times. His hands on her flesh felt so real, his kiss more than mere imagination.

“Blade—” His name slipped easily from between her lips. “Love me.”

“Forever,” Blade whispered, his hands finding their way inside her clothing to caress the full curve of her breast.

This can’t be a dream!
Shannon’s mind screamed. In her previous dreams Blade had never spoken. Nor had he felt so alive and vital. Jolted by reality, Shannon’s eyes flew open. Her hands reached for him, finding his face, tracing his beloved features. “You’re real—oh God, you’re real!”

“Damn right I’m real and I know just how to prove it,” Blade chuckled with slow relish.

“How—I expected you to be with Red Cloud,” Shannon stammered, thoroughly shaken to find Blade in her bed in the middle of this frozen wilderness.

“I left,” Blade explained tersely. Then he placed a hand on her flat stomach. “Not another word until you tell me about our child. Is—is it all right? Surely you didn’t bring our child with you?”

“Your son is just fine, Blade,” Shannon revealed. “He’s in good hands.”

“I have a son? Should you be traveling so soon? Dammit, Little Firebird, I ought to beat you for this.”

“Don’t fret so, Blade. Our son came into the world over two months ago. He was a few weeks early, weighing only five pounds, but healthy. He’s as lusty as his father. I left him with a woman who came highly recommended. She has a child of her own and is a capable wet nurse. I had to come, Blade. Sitting at home, waiting and wondering, was driving me crazy.”

“What did you expect to accomplish?”

“I’m not certain,” Shannon admitted sheepishly. “I just knew I had to do something. Are you angry?”

“Damn right,” he said fiercely. Then his voice gentled. “But with you here in my arms, there is room for no emotion but love. Oh, God, Little Firebird, I want to love you. I’ve been without you so long.”

With trembling hands he peeled away the layers of her clothes. Both wore long underwear, but even those joined the growing pile of clothing beside the bedroll.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t with you when our son was born. Was it very bad?”

“No. Grady Farrell was small, the birth fairly uncomplicated.” Deliberately she oversimplified, leaving much unsaid. She didn’t want to anger him again by telling him about Claire and how she was almost forced to deliver her child alone.

“Grady Farrell. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I love you, Shannon. Thank you for giving me my son.”

He kissed her then, his mouth claiming hers with all the pent-up longing in his heart. He had missed her—Lord, how he had missed her. His breath was warm on her lips as his hands slid along her body, worshipping her with his fingertips. Shannon’s eyes fluttered shut and her arms around his neck held him close.

“Like a fire, you ignite a flame in my heart.” He murmured the words as he kissed the corners of her mouth. “I am consumed by you. You are as much a part of me as the heart that pumps blood through my body.”

Shannon shivered with frenzied delight. His words were as much an aphrodisiac as his hands and lips. “You always know the right things to say,” she giggled giddily.

Then his arms slid around her waist, pulling her tight against him, letting her feel the strength of his arousal as his head descended to hers. His kiss was anything but gentle. His mouth slanted over hers, parted her lips. His tongue slid inside, exploring the contours of palate and cheeks, running over her teeth and stroking her tongue. Instinctively she responded, stroking his tongue with her own.

His hands cupped her bottom, and Shannon could feel the heat and urgency of his need. Instinctively she rubbed herself against it, seeking to ease the ache between her legs.

“Jesus, Shannon!” It came out as a groan as Blade slid his mouth from her lips to her neck, then lower, to find and claim the tip of her breast.

Pure fire shot through her nerve endings as her body responded to the moist heat of his mouth. Then he was between her legs, spreading them apart. She quivered and arched and cried out against his throat.

“Not yet, my love,” Blade whispered in a strangled voice.

His hand was between them now, resting atop the soft nest of fair curls. Her aching intensified until she shuddered with it, her thighs trembling. Holding himself from her with his elbow, he explored the quivering, burning softness of her, probing, withdrawing, his fingers driving her to the edge of madness. When he felt her control slipping, he arched his buttocks and pushed inside her heated warmth. Shannon cried out, clutching at his back to keep from falling too soon into the bottomless pit of ecstasy.

In eager response, Blade moaned deep in his throat, driving himself deeper—deeper still, until Shannon felt him touch her womb, her very soul. Then she knew no more as her world shattered into blinding rapture. Hearing her soft moans sparked Blade’s stampeding passion as he exploded again and again into the receptive heat of her body.

Twice more during the night Blade reached for her, and Shannon responded eagerly, her ardor still as strong as it was during their first coming together. Each time she made love with Blade was unique, an experience like none other, he was so good at it, she felt sorry for all the women in the world who would never know his special brand of love. A weak dawn colored the sky when they finally fell asleep in each other’s arms, vowing never to part again.

Three inches of new snow covered the ground when Blade and Shannon awoke the next morning. The sky was clear and it had stopped snowing. Famished, Blade dressed quickly, urging Shannon to hurry. He was eager to reach Cheyenne and see his son. When Blade stepped from the tent, he let loose a curse that brought Shannon rushing to his side.

She looked around, stunned. “My God, Blade, what does this mean?”

Her eyes moved nervously around the circle of Indians surrounding their campsite. Jumping Buffalo offered an apologetic smile and shrugged his shoulders.

Blade walked slowly to where Red Cloud sat his horse, his face dark with anger. Blade spoke in Sioux, which Shannon tried to follow. “You no longer have reason to hold me, Red Cloud. The governor of Wyoming has kept his promise. Even as we speak, your provisions are on their way to the reservation.”

“How do you know this, Swift Blade?”

“I would not dishonor my grandfather by lying to you. Jumping Buffalo and my wife passed them on the trail.”

Red Cloud’s penetrating gaze slid to Shannon, scrutinizing her thoroughly, finally settling on Jumping Buffalo. “You have seen this with your own eyes?”

“Swift Blade speaks the truth. Pony soldiers from Fort Laramie ride along to protect the provisions from renegades.”

Obviously satisfied, the chief turned his gaze back to Blade. “Your woman does not look heavy with child.”

“I have a son,” Blade boasted proudly, placing an arm around Shannon’s shoulders and pulling her close.

“What is she doing here? Why did she not stay in your lodge and wait for you to return?”

Blade smiled indulgently. “Little Firebird is a stubborn woman. She does as she pleases. She persuaded Jumping Buffalo to escort her to the reservation so she might plead for my life.”

Red Cloud’s thick brows angled upwards as he impaled Shannon with his dark gaze. Though his features remained unreadable, Shannon thought she recognized a grudging respect in his eyes. “Were Little Firebird mine, I would beat her,” he declared haughtily.

“Perhaps I will,” Blade agreed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Suddenly Red Cloud raised an arm high in the air, wheeled his horse, and shouted a command that reverberated like thunder in the stillness of the snowshrouded prairie. Then he rode off, his dozen or so warriors following close behind. Not until they were out of sight did Shannon allow herself to breathe normally.

“Where are they going?”

“To meet the supply train, I would imagine,” Blade said. “Heaven help us if he doesn’t find them.”

Fortunately for them, Red Cloud did find the supply train. The next day Blade and his party encountered them, their ranks swelled by Red Cloud and his warriors. Blade assumed Red Cloud was taking no chances on the supplies reaching the reservation and remained with the supply train to provide escort.

Two days later Shannon and Blade rode into Cheyenne while Jumping Buffalo and Sweet Grass returned to Peaceful Valley. When they reached home, Shannon suddenly realized she hadn’t told Blade yet about her appointment to the office of Justice of the Peace. But first things first. After he had greeted his son was time enough.

Grady Farrell was a tiny replica of his father, except for his eyes, which were a deep blue like Shannon’s. He gurgled happily as Blade cuddled him in his arms; it was almost as if he knew immediately that this was his sire.

“He’s a handsome little lad,” Blade admired, ruffling the soft fringe of black hair covering his head.

“He’s the picture of his father,” Shannon returned, smiling impishly.