Sacred Ground (10 page)

"You're doing it again," she accused.

"Doing what?"

"Looking at me as though I were naked!"

"Wish you were," he blurted, before thinking. "I mean, I wouldn't mind if you . . . hell, you have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" He hated word games.

She shrugged her shoulders, as though dismissing his words. "For an Indian, I suppose you mean." She turned away, not waiting for an answer.

Brett felt the sting of her words, knowing full well he deserved them. How often had he impressed how lowly he thought her because of her Native American blood? He’d taken his humiliation of being part-Indian out on her. Why hadn't he seen it before? Maybe he didn't care who his hateful words hurt before, now he did.

Did he care about Willow Howling Moon or were his feelings created by a man's need for a woman? It had been years since he held a woman’s shapely, warm, sensual body. Damn! She had a way of confusing his life, more than it already was.

The loud sound of wood dropping caused him to glance up. He met
Willow
’s warm, dark gaze. She kept her features deceptively composed. He wondered what she had on her mind.

"In the old days, an Indian woman got the wood, cooked the meals, and even unpacked the horses. Times have changed, Mr. Turner. Pitch in with the work or expect to sleep out in the cold tonight." Her mouth twitched with amusement.

"I apologize for failing to unpack the horses, but I slew a bear and fought off a Crow war party. You'll forgive me, won't you, little woman?"

"First, I am far from a little woman. Secondly, I think you lie,
napi-kwan'
."

"What's that?" Somehow it impressed him that she spoke the ancient language of her People.

"
Napi-kwan'
means white man or white trader."

"Why do you try to keep the old ways alive? I mean, wouldn't the Indian be better off if they forgot the past and concentrated on the future? Blacks had to put it all behind them in order to survive, why not the Indian? When you think about it, war and conquering lands have changed things from the beginning of time. Why should the Indian be any different?"

The softness in her face vanished, replaced by an expression of pained tolerance. "Would you be happy to forget your heritage, never to know any of your ancestors or anything about them? Don't you care where you came from? Were they German settlers, Polish immigrants, or descendant of Daniel Boone or Wild Bill Hickok? Does any of it matter to you?" She asked, her tone cold, unemotional.

He did care. "I told you before; I don't know where I came from. Why should it matter? I have a son to take care of and protect . . ." He glanced in the direction of the mine opening. "Not doing too great a job of that right now, am I?"

"The boys are going to be just fine, I feel it," she said, adding a piece of wood to the fire. "Don't question a mother's instinct"

He accepted the forgiving smile she offered. He should apologize, but didn't want to return to the subject of his heritage. "I'll take care of the horses," he said, leaving before she had more to say.

He took a left turn and followed the narrow tunnel that led outside. The blast of cold air that greeted him took Brett by surprise. The temperature had dropped considerably in the past hour. A fine flurry of snow already created a haze, making it difficult to see across the valley. The temp would drop in the low twenties before morning, if he had to venture a guess. He wondered where the boys were. He scanned the shadowy land, searching with care, hoping to spot a campfire. He pulled his fingers through his hair and shook his head.

"I didn't see any sign of them either."

Brett turned to find
Willow
standing close . . . too close. He reached out and pulled her to his chest. He felt her cling to him. He returned the gesture, needing her strength as much as she needed his. Words weren't necessary.

He seemed to forget everything with
Willow
in his arms. How long they stood there, he didn't know. Suddenly aware of her shivering body made him realize the cold had managed to seep through his jacket too. "Go back to the fire and warm up. I'll bring the horses in and tie them just inside here. They'll be out of the snow and wind. They'll also be able to warn us of any intruders.”

"Thank you," she whispered,
then
walked back toward the mine tunnel.

After a pause, Brett answered with a hushed, deep, "Thank you." He didn't expect an answer and didn't hear one.

Chapter Six

Willow
dug through the food pack until she found the coffee, cooked chicken thighs, and a plastic bowl of potato salad. She came up with one fork and no coffeepot before realizing she'd forgotten a few items in her haste.

"I'm afraid we'll have to make do with no dishes, no coffee pot, and one fork," she admitted, glancing at him. Seeing amusement in his eyes, she released a nervous laugh. "You can't really think it's funny?"

He turned his smile up a notch. "We can make do. I'm sure there's a thing or two I've forgotten, we just haven't realized it yet."

"Gordon would have been furious." In her mind’s eye she relived him screaming at her and pounding his fist into the wall.
It always started that way
.

She looked up to catch a glimpse of movement and jumped back, screaming in surprise. She shielded her face with crossed arms, hoping to block the first blows.

"
Willow
?
Willow
, what's wrong?"

After two quick breaths, she paused, listened, and waited for the first flow to begin. Cautiously, she lowered her arms to find a concerned Brett staring back at her.

"I won't hurt you,
Willow
. I don't know what I did to frighten you, but I'm sorry," he said, his tone gentle. He held his arms open. "Come to me."

She stared at him, afraid to move. She wanted to go to him, but lingering feelings kept her still. "It's not you . . . the memories . . . the . . . it's me." She felt a single tear roll down her cheek.

"You are stubborn, aren't you?" He moved to sit next to her.

She allowed him to sandwich her hands between his. He raised them to his lips and kissed them with such tenderness it made her weak. He pulled her across his lap and cradled her.
Willow
held her breath, and then slowly exhaled. She needed his tenderness. She needed his strength. She needed his love. She'd settle for the first two. Love, the kind of love she wanted, existed only in dreams.

"We should eat and get some sleep," she said, awkwardly pulling from his embrace. "I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long, trying day."

"Suppose you're right.” He reached for the fork. “I wonder how the boys are doing. You think they're in a cave right now, warm and laughing at their great plan?"

"Knowing our boys, I wouldn't be surprised if that's exactly what they're doing. When I get my hands on them, they won't sit for a week."

"What happened to the
boys will be boys
?" He took a large bite of salad.

She opened her mouth, taking the forkful he offered her. It made her feel awkward to be fed, yet it seemed special and intimate. "If we had caught up with them today, I'd have considered it a funny prank, but endangering their lives and ours is no joke. They'll have to be punished."

"I agree. What would you suggest?" he asked, offering her another bite.

She chewed with relish, realizing it was indeed the best potato salad she'd ever tasted.
"An hour of extra chores for a week for starters."

"I've got a well that needs to be emptied of rocks. Boys would be the right size for that chore. I'd say one week of work at your ranch, one week at mine. What do you think?"

"Sounds good."
He smiled, and her defenses melted away. "You always this easy to talk to?" she asked, surprising herself.

"What do you mean?"

She reached for a piece of chicken. "I used to think you were no different than Gordon, but now I know I was wrong. We never talked like this."

"Why'd you marry him?"

"My father asked me to. The Arrowhead is very large. The ancient burial grounds of my People are part of the ranch."

"But what was in it for Gordon?"

"That's easy. I had forty beautiful bloodline horses. He wanted them and my experience to create the kind of ranch he'd always dreamed of having. He married me for my horses and I married him for the land. We deserved each other," she stated with an edge of bitterness.

"How could your father ask you to marry Gordon? Did you know him at all?"

She shook her head. "I'd met him twice before our wedding day. I didn't like him and I knew he didn't like me. Our first night together was the beginning of my nightmare. It didn't end until he died. I felt numb when Wyatt told me Gordon was dead."

Brett tossed a clean chicken bone into the fire. "Mike told me he gave you the news."

"Sheriff Ferrell did tell me, but it wasn't until the next morning. Wyatt came the night before. He said he wanted to comfort me in my loss. I sent him packing."

"I assume Wyatt has the hots for you?"

"You might call it that. I don't think he cares one way or the other about me, but he does care about my property. His offer to buy your land is one way he can be closer to mine. Don't underestimate
Snidely
. He sounds and acts like an idiot, but I think it's a cover. Underneath he's ruthless and dangerous," she said, putting her thoughts about Wyatt into words for the first time.

"Mike found Gordon's body only after finding his foot in the road," Brett said, then paused. "I'm sorry, that was pretty insensitive and stupid of me."

"Don't apologize. I've heard it all before. Wyatt told me Gordon had been in an accident. I thought he'd crashed his truck."
Willow
pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. "That was around ten at night. I remember because I'd just gone to bed with a good book. I like to read—never mind," she added, feeling uncomfortable about sharing what she did with her nights.

"I like to read before I sleep too. We're not so different after all, are we? Do you wear pajamas or sleep in the buff?"

"What? That’s none one of your business. You're the one who likes showing off his nakedness," she snapped, hoping he couldn't see the stain she felt race across her cheeks. The image of his muscular, erect body caused her breathing to increase.

"I apologized for what happened. You can't imagine how I felt. That dream was as real as you and me sitting here talking."

"How'd we get side-tracked back to this subject? Oh, yes, you brought up my sleeping attire. If you're dying to know, I sleep in the buff. There, you feel any wiser knowing that? I'd find discussing how Wyatt knew about Gordon's accident, before Sheriff Ferrell found the body, more interesting." She rattled the words fast, too fast.

"I figured you for one of those oversized tee shirt types. You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

"You're impossible. I should never have told you."

"On the contrary, now I won't have to keep wondering. Say, anyone else hear Wyatt tell you about Gordon's death?"

"My parents didn't come to live with me until after Gordon died. I’m sure you remember that. I recall you saying
too many damn Indians were bringing down the value of your property
." She felt anger rise just thinking about it. "No, I don't suppose anyone heard Wyatt tell me, except me."

"Damn. I believe you, but two would be indisputable. He would have known that, wouldn't he?"

"Wyatt told me about Gordon's death, before anyone else knew, on purpose? Why would he do that?"

"To show you he was in control?
Or maybe to intimidate you?
Maybe he thought you'd crumble, and he'd be there to help you put the pieces together. I don't know, but I think it'd be interesting to find out."