Compromised Hearts (2 page)

Looking quickly in the direction of James’s nod, Cloud grimaced. He had hoped to leave without a scene, but by the look on Abby’s face he knew that was now impossible. Despite her skill in bed, he was as anxious to leave her as he was to escape the young
major’s inevitable folly. Abigail was far too possessive, expecting of him more than he had ever offered. It had been a mistake to get involved with her.

“Sweet Abigail is reason enough to leave—fast,” he muttered. “She wants to lock me up tighter than an old maid’s corset.” He did not snare in James’s soft laughter.

James studied Cloud briefly. The man’s attraction for women was a puzzle to him. A scar cut Cloud’s lean features, giving his carved face an intimidating fierceness that had caused many a man to back off. Although only one quarter Cherokee, Cloud often looked more savage then some full-blooded Indian. James could only wonder if the man’s aloofness was what drew women.

“You didn’t tell me you were leaving,” Abigail said tightly as she reached Cloud’s side.

“No? Must’ve slipped my mind,” Cloud drawled as he turned to look at the well-formed brunette.

Abigail drew her breath in. She was sorely tempted to scratch out his eyes. Yet despite her anger, her blood ran hot as she looked at his tall, lean body. She hated him for that. He had toyed with her but, worse, she had lost the game.

“How can you be so cool after what we’ve shared?” She found it surprisingly easy to bring tears to her eyes.

“Honey, you were no blushing virgin and I sure as hell didn’t teach you the tricks you
knew.” he said cruelly. “Don’t play the offended maid. The role doesn’t suit you.”

“You bastard,” she hissed. “You’ve made it plain to the whole fort that you spent your nights with me. Now that they all know you’ve used me for your whore, and you’re just going to up and leave me?”

“Yup.” He took her slap without flinching, but caught her wrist when she prepared to strike him a second time. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

The chill in his voice made her shiver. With what few scraps of dignity she could muster, she left him. Cloud turned back to his preparations for leaving.

“One of these days you’re going to be shot by one of the women you treat so coldly.”

“No doubt. Don’t waste any of your sympathy on Abigail. She knows more tricks than a rich man’s mistress. She’ll recover and probably trap some poor fool into marrying her. I made her no promises. I break none by leaving her. She played the game well, but she’s a sore loser.”

For a moment James said nothing, but then he asked, “Am I wrong in thinking you really won’t come back?”

“Said so, didn’t I?”

“Said it before too, but you always came back.”

“Not this time. Atter the war I meant to settle. I thought I’d had enough of drifting and fighting. I was wrong. I was still itchy. Well, the itch is gone.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why? A man’s got to settle sometime.”

“Just can’t see it with you. You got too much restlessness in you.”

Cloud shrugged. “Maybe. Still, it ain’t being satisfied with roaming and fighting.”

“What do you intend to do?”

“Go back to my land and finally do something with it. Wolfe must be damned tired of keeping an eye on it. He’s got his own piece to look after.”

“Where is your land? You’ve described it but never said exactly where it is.”

“The San Luis Valley. If I leave now I can make it over the mountains before the snow blocks the pass. Come spring I’ll start making my spread something more than a patch of grass. Maybe I’ll even have a house by the time the Ryder clan gathers.” He mounted his horse and held his hand out to James. “Take care. Don’t go with that fool if you can help it. He’ll get you killed for sure. Damn fool’s got his head in the mud.”

“It’ll take more than that young shavetail’s ignorance to kill me.” James clasped Cloud’s hand. “Take care yourself. Hope you find what you’re searching for.”

“Never know. Look me up if you get down San Luis Valley way.”

He rode out of the fort without a backward glance. It was the end of yet another chapter in his life. He was tired of killing and destruction. Finally he was ready to stay in one place and put down roots. Maybe he would
also find some peace.

That made him laugh, a harsh noise that grated on his ears. James was right. He was searching for something, but he could not say what. No matter what he did, who he met or how many miles he covered, there lingered an emptiness within him. There was a strange hunger in him that no amount of food or water could satisfy.

Cursing softly, he turned his mount southwest. It was a long way to his ranch-to-be, and he refused to spend the time worrying over something so intangible. There were enough natural and very tangible things to concern him. Distraction was something that could easily proved fatal.

When he first saw the woman as he crested a knoll, he thought her a figment of his imagination. A woman strolling through the plains with a fashionable bonnet on her head and a parasol in hand? It was a sight too ludicrous to be real, yet he could not deny the evidence of his eyes.

Riding a little closer yet staying out of her direct line of sight, he realized that the strange hump on her back was a child. Shaking his head in disbelief, he began to follow her.

As he watched her fall and pick herself up a third time, he began to laugh softly even while he admired her persistence. She was so plainly out of her element that it was funny. So was the sight of her strolling through
hostile Indian territory as if she were taking a promenade in the park. The only thing that kept him from laughing was the grim reality of danger all around.

“The silly bitch can be seen for miles, Savannah,” he muttered to his horse. “Maybe it’s true that God watches out for fools, drunkards, and children. Got us two of the three just ahead. Where’s her man?”

Fascinated, he followed her as she cursed the land she stumbled over and threatened the mule with prolonged and painful retribution. Try as he would, Cloud could not figure out how she had arrived in the middle of nowhere with her child strapped to her back like some papoose. Her clothes, although tattered and dusty, still retained their fashionable air, telling him that she was no die-hard pioneer woman.

He settled himself on a knoll overlooking her campsite when she paused for the night. His reluctance either to show himself or leave her puzzled him, but he did not fight it. It had been a long time since he had been so thoroughly entertained.

It was not until the child was settled and asleep that she let her weariness show. Even from a distance, Cloud could tell how hard she fought giving in to tears.

He tensed slightly when she knelt before the fire and removed her bodice, using a little of the precious water to clean off the dust that clung to her. When she removed her camisole, he shifted restlessly, his eyes fixed
hungrily upon the full pale breasts as she washed. By the time she had finished her bathing, he was aching. Then, as if to further taunt her unseen audience, she undid her hair.

“My God,” he breathed, “the Indians would kill each other for a scalp like that.”

By the light of the fire and the moon, her hair shone white. It fell in long thick waves to her slim hips. Cloud wanted to bury himself in it; his palms itched to run through its heavy length as her brush was doing. He did not think he had ever seen anything so beautiful nor so desirable despite the wide range of women he had known.

After she had lain down with the child he sat watching her for a while longer. He needed time to quell his desire before he got any closer to the woman.

Deeming himself once more in control, he decided to go down to her campsite. There was little point in setting up one of his own when hers was so close. He also wanted to dampen the fire, which might draw attention to the woman.

The mule eyed him warily as he tied Savannah to a bush, but it made no noise. After securing his pack horse and relieving the animal of its burden, he turned his attention to the sleeping pair under the cart. He was curious to see if the woman’s face was as lovely as the rest of her.

Pausing only to douse the fire, he sat down near the cart. The woman and the child slept
on, unaware of him. Cloud shook his head. They were both babes in the wood, defenseless and ignorant.

Studying her face, he realized that she was very young. In fact, she hardly looked old enough to have borne the child tucked up against her. Cloud decided the boy must take after his father, for he lacked his mother’s delicacy of looks and her fairness of coloring.

Her skin cried out to be touched, its light honey-colored expanse looking as soft and smooth as silk. Faintly arched brows, several shades darker than her brilliant hair, furrowed occasionally as her dreams grew more troubled. The lashes that lay in thick arcs on her cheeks were also dark and naturally curly. A full ripe mouth was slightly parted as she slept, partially revealing straight white teeth. Her nose was the only less than perfect feature in her small oval face. It ran small and straight to the tip then suddenly turned up ever so slightly, disrupting an otherwise classical perfection.

She had left off her bodice, having rinsed it in the water that she then gave the mule, and hung it on the bush to dry. His eyes fixed upon the smooth swell of her breasts above the lacy camisole and he nearly groaned. The desire had been controlled but not vanquished.

Stretching out, he leaned against the cart wheel, placing his rifle across his lap. There would be little sleep for him until he was out of the area troubled by Indians. Senses well-honed
by the war allowed him to doze yet be alert to danger. He almost wished he could sleep as blissfully as the pair beneath the cart, but he knew too well how dangerous that could be.

A sound from the young woman drew his gaze back to her and he realized that she was having a nightmare. She muttered fretfully and tears oozed from beneath her eyelids as she relived some horror in her dreams. Her restlessness caused the boy to whimper in his sleep.

“Hush, sweetheart,” he murmured as he smoothed his hand over her brow in a soothing caress.

“Harper?” she cried softly even as she settled down.

“Ssssh. There’s nothing here to trouble you. Go to sleep, little lady.”

After the pair had again settled, Cloud returned to his half-sleep, half-vigil. He wondered who Harper was and decided he was her husband. Frowning, he searched the long fingers of her small delicate hands but saw no ring. Either she had no husband or he was dead. Either way suited Cloud. He fully intended to satisfy the desire she stirred in him and a husband would only complicate matters. A small child was complication enough.

She stretched and turned, disturbing the light blanket that covered her. A smile touched his harsh features as he glimpsed her feet. They were as small and delicate as
the rest of her. His smile faded quickly when he saw how her feet had suffered from the walking she had done. He was surprised she had stayed on her feet at all. Every step must have pained her, yet she had struggled on.

“Stubborn as your mule,” he muttered as he reached to tuck the blanket around her feet.

He paused, his gaze drifting up the length of slender leg exposed by her bunched-up petticoats. He moved his hand over her calf and up to where her petticoats rested high up on her silken thighs. She moved and made a soft noise that brought a satisfied smile to his face as he finally tucked the blanket back in place.

Experience told him how to read those small signs. Even in her sleep she had warmed to his touch. There was passion in her. Cloud knew it would be good and found it hard to resist the temptation to slip beneath the blanket with her immediately. Waiting would be hard, but he did not plan to wait long.

The night passed slowly. Twice more Cloud had to soothe the young woman’s troubled sleep. That she was so evidently filled with fear made her dogged progress all the more remarkable. She plainly had the strength to subdue those fears when she was awake, forcing herself to continue despite them.

When dawn lightened the sky, he washed himself and watered the mounts. He then set
about relighting the small fire and preparing a breakfast of sorts. As he had hoped, the smell of coffee began to wake the sleepers.

The boy woke first, studying Cloud for a long moment before rising. With the uncanny sixth sense a child so often has, the boy sensed that he was no threat. Keeping a shy watch on him, however, the boy went to relieve himself then came to squat by him near the fire.

“Mornin',” he said finally. “I’m Thornton.”

“I’m Cloud Ryder. Hungry?” He dished out some oatmeal for the boy when he nodded.

“This is good as Mama’s.”

“Have you and your mama walked far?”

“Miles and miles. We’re going home. ‘Way from Injuns.”

“Where’s your pa?” Cloud sipped his coffee, occasionally glancing towards the still sleeping girl.

“Wiv the angels,” Thornton said calmly, repeating Emily’s explanation. “Injuns kilt him dead so the angels took him. They take dead folk, you know.”

Cloud nodded even as he mused that the angels would no doubt toss
him
back. He had become too hard and too many men had died at his hands. He would probably never see Heaven’s gates. And though the killing had been part of a war, he doubted that fact would save his soul.

“You and your mama are alone then?” he prompted and the boy nodded.

To Thornton, Emily was his mother. The
angels had taken his other mother and left him a new one. He was blissfully ignorant of any misconception the man opposite him was forming.

“Are you going home too?” the boy asked.

“Yup. Going to set up my ranch.”

“Wiv cows?” Cloud nodded. “I fink my new home has cows.”

“Where is your new home?”

“Out dere.” Thornton pointed towards the faintly visible mountains. “Sandly’s, I fink.”

Smiling, Cloud gave up trying to get any specifics. Children of Thornton’s age were not very concerned with details.

“I fink Mama’s getting awake.”

“Mmmm, I think you’re right.”

Watching her stretch made Cloud’s loins tighten. Despite her delicate build, there was an unconscious voluptuousness to her movements. He could not wait to feel her beneath him, her lithe grace working to satisfy him.