Reckless Desire (29 page)

It was only then, as he stared at the grisly trophy in his hand, that his rage cooled and reality set in. Flinging the bloody scalp away, he knelt between Mary and Katherine, unmindful of the tears that dampened his cheeks. Katherine was dead, and Mary too…

His heart quickened with unreasoning hope as Mary’s body jerked spasmodically. She was alive! He moved quickly now. Using matches he found in Smythe’s coat pocket, he lit a small fire. Wiping Frank’s blood from the knife, he heated the blade in the fire to sterilize it, then let it cool. The bullet that was lodged in Mary’s breast would have to be removed, and it would be easier to do it now while she was unconscious.

Cutting into Mary’s tender flesh was the hardest thing he had ever done. She groaned, her face contorting with pain as he probed for the slug. Her eyes flew open as the tip of the blade located the bullet.

“Lie still,” Cloud Walker said.

“What happened?”

“You’ve been hurt. Just lie still.”

“Katherine. I want Katherine.”

He could not speak, could not say the words that he knew would shatter her world.

Mary stared into Cloud Walker’s eyes. His silence said it all, and she began to cry, great, racking sobs that came from the depths of her heart and soul. Her daughter was dead. So great was her pain at Katherine’s death that she hardly felt the knife as it pried the slug from her flesh. She cried as Cloud Walker wiped the blood from the wound and then bandaged it with a strip of cloth torn from her petticoat.

She pushed him away when he would have gathered her into his arms. “No,” she sobbed. “Leave me alone.”

“Mary.” The pain in his voice was only a little less acute than hers, but she did not hear it. Her daughter was dead and it was all his fault. If he hadn’t come after her, Katherine would still be alive.

She wept until exhaustion claimed her.

Lifting Mary in his arms, Cloud Walker carried her deeper into the woods until he found a place beneath a tree that was smooth and carpeted with grass. Gently he placed her on the ground and covered her with his jacket. He sat beside her for several minutes, silently thanking Man Above that she was alive.

Sitting there, with the tension slowly draining out of him, he became aware of the aches and pains that Frank’s beating had inflicted. Lifting a hand to his face, he grimaced as his fingers encountered bruised flesh. His left eye was swollen and sore.

He could hear the soft trickling of water rolling over stones some yards away. With a grunt, he stood up and made his way to the shallow stream where he washed the blood from his face and hands, and then took a long drink. The water was cold and sweet.

It was peaceful near the stream and he would have liked to stay there longer, but there were things to be done. Smythe had to be buried. Castrell would have to be taken care of. He thought briefly of killing the man, but enough blood had been shed for one day. And Katherine…tears stung his eyes as he thought of her running toward him, her arms outstretched, only to be killed by the same bullet that had wounded her mother.

When he reached the bodies, he saw that Castrell and one of the coach horses were gone, but there was no time to worry about Harvey Castrell. With any luck, he would die before he reached help.

Cloud Walker wrapped Katherine’s body in several thick layers of moss, then wrapped her in Frank’s coat and placed her inside the carriage. Dragging Frank’s body into the woods, he used a flat piece of wood to dig a shallow grave and dumped the corpse into it.

Returning to the buggy, he unhitched the remaining horse and fashioned a crude bridle from a length of rein. Swinging aboard the animal’s bare back, he rode to where he had left Mary. She was still asleep, her cheeks stained with her tears.

Riding to the train depot, he went to the small store that supplied groceries to the local citizens and picked up a bottle of aspirin, iodine, bandages, enough food to last two or three days, and a couple of blankets.

The man in the mercantile store eyed Cloud Walker curiously. Indians were a rarity in these parts now.

“Somebody get hurt?” the man asked as he added up Cloud Walker’s purchases.

“Hunting accident,” Cloud Walker replied tersely.

“Hope it ain’t serious,” the man remarked. “Nearest doctor is forty miles east of here.”

Cloud Walker grunted noncommittally, paid for his supplies, and left the store, which was the only building in town besides the telegraph office, a small restaurant, and a livery.

He stopped outside the telegraph office, intending to send a wire to Hannah and Shadow advising them of Katherine’s death, but then changed his mind. There was no point in worrying them now, he thought bleakly, no point in breaking their hearts any sooner than necessary.

At the station depot he checked the departure schedule. The next train west was in five days.

His thoughts were troubled as he rode back to Mary. He had killed a white man, and they would surely hang him for that. No matter that Frank had intended to kill him, no matter that Frank had inadvertently killed Katherine and injured Mary. He had killed a white man who was rich and powerful.

He put the thought from his mind. He would worry about it later. For now, he would focus all his energy on nursing Mary back to health and be glad that he would have these few days to spend alone with her before they returned to Bear Valley.

For Mary, the next few days passed in a haze of pain and grief. Waking, she was ever aware of Cloud Walker hovering at her side, his dark eyes haunted with grief and guilt. She knew that he would hold her and comfort her if she only said the word, but she could not seem to speak past the hard lump in her throat. She had let her love for Cloud Walker override everything else, and now Katherine had paid the price for her mother’s lack of self-control. Katherine was dead, and nothing would ever be the same again.

She sought refuge in sleep, hiding from Cloud Walker’s stricken gaze, hiding from her own hurt, her own guilt. But even her dreams betrayed her, and she relived the nightmare over and over again, waking in tears as she saw her daughter fall, heard her child’s last anguished cry.

For three days she was racked by pain and fever and guilt. Cloud Walker tended her wounds, changing the bandages often, insisting that she eat and drink even though she had no appetite. He held her close when the fever turned to chills, warming her body with his own. She saw the hurt in his eyes, and knew that he was suffering over Katherine’s death almost as deeply as she, but she could not relent, could not reach out to bridge the awful gap that lay between them.

Four days after Katherine’s death, Mary’s fever broke. It was only then, as she lay staring at the sky that she thought to ask about Frank.

“He’s dead,” Cloud Walker told her, his voice hard and flat.

“Dead?” Mary frowned. Had she killed him?

She looked at Cloud Walker and he shook his head.

“I killed him,” he said. “He’s buried in the woods.”

“And Castrell?”

Cloud Walker shrugged. “I do not know. He took one of the horses and lit out.”

Mary nodded, shocked by the wave of relief that washed through her. Frank would never hurt her again. He would not hurt Cloud Walker again, or threaten to take Katharine away from her…Katherine.

The fresh realization of her daughter’s death stabbed at her heart.

“Mary.” He ached for the pain he saw in her face.

“Take me home,” she said, her voice empty of emotion. That was all she wanted now, to go home, to lay her head on her father’s shoulder and pour out the pain that gripped her heart. It would be so good to see her mother again. Hannah, too, had lost a child. She would understand.

Cloud Walker settled Mary in the buggy, a blanket over her lap. “Are you comfortable?”

Mary nodded, and he turned away. Earlier he had taken Katherine’s body from the carriage and placed it under the driver’s seat where Mary could not see it.

At the station he carried Katherine’s body to the baggage car. By luck there was a large empty crate inside, and the porter said he could place Katherine’s body inside. Thanking the man for his kindness, he returned to the buggy for Mary. They found a seat in the last car, where there were no other passengers.

Mary sat at the window staring out. She felt numb, drained, empty of life. The wound in her breast ached a little, but it was as nothing compared to the ache in her heart. Why hadn’t she stayed in Chicago? If only she had stayed with Frank where she belonged, her daughter would be alive today. Her arms ached to hold Katherine, to hear the child’s happy laughter just once more, to see her sunny smile…

“Mary.”

Slowly she turned to face Cloud Walker. This was the man she loved. Why couldn’t she feel anything for him?

“It was not your fault,” Cloud Walker said, his voice filled with compassion and understanding. “Or mine. Do not go on blaming yourself, or me. It was an accident. There is no one to blame.”

“An accident is when you spill a glass of milk,” Mary replied bitterly. “My daughter is dead. Don’t you understand? She’s dead!” She jerked her hand away as he reached for her. “Don’t touch me!” she screamed, tears washing down her cheeks. “Don’t ever touch me again!”

“Mary.” His voice was heavy with pain as he whispered her name. She was sobbing pathetically, her shoulders heaving with the force of her tears. Ignoring her protests, Cloud Walker gathered Mary into his arms and held her while she cried, and all the while he murmured to her, telling her that he loved her, that the pain would pass with time. When she wailed that it would not, he reminded her gently that he had lost a son not very long ago, and that the pain had indeed lessened.

“One day you will be able to remember Katherine and smile,” Cloud Walker promised. “It will not be today, and not tomorrow. But one day.” He placed his hand over her stomach. “Soon you will have another child to love,” he reminded her. “Try to think of that, for now.”

Mary gazed into Cloud Walker’s face, seeing him, really seeing him, for the first time in days. His eyes were red-rimmed and deeply shadowed, as though he had not been sleeping well. There were long scabs on both his arms, and she knew he had gashed his flesh in his grief over Katherine’s death. He too was suffering, she realized, suddenly ashamed of the way she had been treating him. She had been so wrapped up in her own grief that she had spared no thought for what Cloud Walker was feeling, for what he had been suffering. He had loved Katherine dearly. He had been the one who had washed the blood from the child’s body and wrapped her in a shroud. It could not have been easy for him. None of it had been easy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Sorry for the awful way I’ve treated you and the terrible things I said. Can you ever forgive me?”

Cloud Walker smiled for the first time in days. “There is nothing to forgive,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you, Mary. I will always love you.”

“Show me,” she whispered, and closed her eyes as he pressed his lips to hers in a tender bestowal of affection.

The tears came then, but they were no longer tears of bitterness, but the gentle tears of a healing heart.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Victoria and I wept softly as we listened to Cloud Walker tell of Frank Smythe’s treachery and Katherine’s death. My heart ached for Mary. She had known so much unhappiness in her life, and now this.

“So,” Shadow said. “What now?”

“He’ll have to turn himself in,” Vickie said. “What else can he do?”

All the color drained from Mary’s face. “No!”

Cloud Walker’s expression was bleak. “Victoria is right. Frank was too well-known to just disappear.”

Shadow nodded. “That is true.”

Hawk snorted. “What kind of trial do you think Cloud Walker will get? Certainly not a fair one, not in this town.”

“There’s not much law out here,” Mary cried. “Why does anyone have to know? Please, Cloud Walker, don’t leave me.”

Cloud Walker ran a hand across his jaw. Hawk was right. He would never get a fair trial. Not here. Not anywhere. No one would believe he had killed Frank in self-defense. There were no witnesses. Only Harvey Castrell knew that Frank had intended to kill him, and Castrell wasn’t likely to come forward in Cloud Walker’s defense, even if they knew where to find him.

“If he doesn’t turn himself in, it will only make him look like he has something to hide,” Vickie said.

Mary went to stand beside Cloud Walker. “Please don’t turn yourself in,” she begged, her eyes huge in her pale face. “You’re all I have left.”

“Mary…”

“I don’t want to live without you.”

Cloud Walker shook his head helplessly. She looked so frail, so distraught. How could he leave her? Drawing Mary into his arms, he looked over her head toward Shadow.

Shadow shrugged. “I have no love for the white man, and no faith in his laws. But the decision must be yours. If it were me, I would wait to see what happens.”

Cloud Walker nodded. He had no desire to spend time in jail, no reason to believe he would get a fair trial, or any trial at all.

“You won’t go to the law then?” Mary asked hopefully.

“No. We will wait and see what happens,” he said heavily and knew deep inside that it was a mistake.

Later, when Victoria and Mary were out of the room, Cloud Walker told us he had scalped Frank, a detail he had omitted earlier.

The thought sickened me, but Shadow nodded his approval. “About time someone took the bastard’s hair,” he muttered under his breath, and I saw Hawk smile.

We buried Katherine on a windswept hill under a tall pine tree. Cloud Walker held Mary while she cried, and I prayed that the two of them might find happiness together at last, for the price of their love had come high.

News of Mary’s homecoming spread rapidly through the valley. Eyebrows were raised when people learned that she had left her husband for Cloud Walker. And when people discovered that Mary was pregnant, the rumors spread like wildfire. The gossip had a field day then, speculating on whether the baby was Frank’s or Cloud Walker’s.

Six weeks later, Mary and Cloud Walker were married by an old medicine man Shadow had summoned from the reservation. The wedding was held by the river crossing late at night, with only our family present. Mary wore a doeskin tunic I had made for her, Cloud Walker wore a pair of buckskin trousers and a fringed buckskin shirt. The rest of us also wore traditional Indian garb.