Shadow Walker (27 page)

Dawn glanced nervously into the shadows surrounding the campsite as she worked, trying to dispel the feeling of anxiety she couldn’t seem to shake. The odor of sizzling bacon drifted on the breeze, drawing unwanted attention to the campsite. She heard a twig snap and whirled around, hoping to see Cole. The welcoming smile died on her lips when she saw two riders enter the circle of light and dismount.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” A big man sporting a scruffy beard eyed her through overbright eyes.

“It’s a woman, Mace,” the second man said, grinning lasciviously. He was tall and thin and wore a patch over one eye.

“Reckon she wants some company, Gil?”

“What do you want?” Dawn asked, edging toward Cole’s rifle resting against the tree.

Gil squinted at her through his good eye. “Damn! It’s a squaw. Her people put out my eye.” He stalked her, forcing her to retreat. “Where is your man? Was he at the Little Big Horn? A lot of good men were killed by yer people.”

“I wouldn’t reach for that rifle if I were you,” Mace warned as he snatched the gun out of her reach. While Mace held Dawn’s attention, Gil slipped behind her.

“My husband is hunting, but he’ll be back soon,” Dawn said with bravado. “Leave now, while there’s still time.”

“Ha,” Gil hooted. “Yer man probably took off when he heard us coming. Savages are all cowards. Look what they did to General Custer at the Little Big Horn.” He stepped closer, peering at her
owlishly. “Well, I’ll be damned. Blue eyes. Looka there, Mace, she’s a half-breed. Her mother probably rutted with some White man. Are you a whore like your mama, honey?”

Dawn backed away, right into Mace’s arms. She screamed as he clamped her against him. “Got ya!” he laughed, enjoying Dawn’s helplessness. “I ain’t never had a half-breed. The last woman I had was a worn-out whore in Cheyenne. I’m gonna enjoy this.” His hand slid upward to her breast, squeezing it hurtfully.

“No!” Dawn cried, anger exploding within her. “No man is going to hurt me again!” She sank her teeth into Mace’s arm. He howled in pain, slackening his grip long enough for her to whirl around and knee him in the groin.

“Little bitch!” he gasped, staggering to his knees.

Gil swung his arm back to wallop her, and Dawn braced herself for the blow.

“Hold it or you’re a dead man.”

“What the hell!” Gil whirled toward the voice. He started to reach for his gun, saw that Cole already had him in his sights, and dropped his hands.

“Toss your gun down and move over by your friend.”

“Cole, thank God you’re here,” Dawn said, weak with relief.

“Are you hurt?” His voice was rough with concern.

“No.”

“You, on the ground,” Cole said, gesturing at Mace, who was still on his knees clutching his
groin. “Throw your gun over here.” They both complied, staring warily at Cole’s Colt .45. “Now get on your horses and ride. If I see your faces again I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”

“Hell, we didn’t hurt yer squaw, mister,” Gil whined. “We were just being friendly like.”

“This woman is my wife,” Cole said with emphasis. “You’d do well to remember it.”

“What are ya, an Injun lover? Haven’t ya heard what happened at the Little Big Horn?”

“I heard. Now get the hell out of here.”

“What about our guns?”

“You just lost them. Dawn, check their horses and see if they have rifles. If they do, remove them.”

“Now wait a damn minute,” Mace growled. “You can’t leave a man without protection.”

Dawn removed their rifles from their saddle boots and moved to Cole’s side.

“I can and I will. Would you prefer that I take you to town and turn you over to the sheriff? I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re both wanted by the law.”

“No need to turn us in to the sheriff, mister, we’re going.” They sidled past Cole, scrambled onto their horses and took off.

Cole watched them leave, not relaxing until long after they had disappeared. After ample time had elapsed, he turned to Dawn, searching for injuries. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine.”

A grin hung on the corner of his lips. “What did you do to Mace?”

Dawn returned his grin. “I made him sorry he
touched me. When he put his hands on me, all I could think of was Billy. I wasn’t going to let him hurt me, so I did what I had to.”

“I’m sure you would have handled the other one with the same efficiency and courage had I not appeared on the scene.”

“Maybe,” she said doubtfully. “I was still mighty happy to see you. What kept you?”

“I had a hard time finding a wagon. I finally located one in need of repair. The blacksmith promised to have it ready tomorrow afternoon. I had no trouble buying the supplies or oxen. I left them with the wagon.” He sniffed the air. “Is that bacon I smell? I could eat a bear.”

“Oh, the bacon!” Dawn removed the smoking frying pan from the fire. “It’s a little burnt, but I’ll wager it tastes better than bear. I’ll open some beans, and I think there’s a can of peaches left.”

They ate in silence. Cole wolfed down his food while Dawn picked at hers. When they had finished, Dawn began cleaning up. Cole watched her with a hunger that had nothing to do with food. When she started off toward the stream with soap and towel, he called out, “Don’t go too far.”

The night was cool, but Dawn felt in need of a bath after being touched by Mace. She stripped off her riding skirt and shirtwaist and waded into the water wearing her shift. The water in the mountain stream was colder than she’d expected, and she washed quickly. She had goosebumps the size of Montana by the time she was finished. She was walking out of the water when she spied Cole. He was waiting for her on the bank with a blanket. When she reached him, he wrapped the blanket
around her, lifted her into his arms and carried her back to their campsite.

“I can walk,” Dawn protested.

“I’d rather carry you.” He set her on her feet beside the fire and stripped off her shift. “Let’s get rid of this. It’s soaking wet. I gathered your clothes while you were bathing and brought them back to the campsite.” He surrounded her again with the blanket, scooped her up and carried her down with him to the bedroll he had arranged for them to share.

He placed his guns within reach, removed his pants and shirt and covered himself and Dawn with a second blanket. “Are you still cold?”

Cold? Dawn was burning. Since leaving the Little Big Horn she’d been too exhausted to do anything but curl up against Cole each night and go to sleep. She had missed the joining of their bodies, missed his kisses, his hands on her. “How could I possibly be cold with the heat of your body warming me?”

“God, I’ve missed you,” Cole murmured against her hair.

“I’ve been right here with you,” she reminded him.

“I haven’t touched you in days. You were so exhausted I couldn’t bring myself to disturb you. I’ll not disturb you now if you’re too tired or upset. Those two bastards must have frightened you. When I saw Mace’s hands on you I wanted to kill him.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I’ve had enough of killing and violence. Just make love to me. Make me forget you’re going to leave me.”

“Dawn, I …” What could he say? That he didn’t intend to leave her after his visit with his sister ended? That he loved her? He’d already told her he couldn’t love again, and he didn’t like lying to her.

“No, don’t say it. I know what you’re thinking. I know that your heart isn’t free to love. And I’ll have no man who can’t love me as fiercely as I love him. Make love to me now. Let me pretend that we’re truly man and wife and you’ll never leave me.”

Her impassioned words smote his conscience. He’d always scorned men who used women, yet wasn’t he doing just that with Dawn? Not since Morning Mist had his body united so completely with that of a woman. He craved Dawn fiercely, but did he love her? He didn’t know how to deal with her feelings for him. It was more of a burden to him than a blessing. Then his thoughts scattered when Dawn pulled his head down and kissed him. Once their lips meshed, lust made a shambles of his conjecturing. All his senses centered on the woman in his arms.

Dawn opened her mouth to him as he ravaged her with his tongue. She felt cool air touch her skin as he unwrapped the blanket, giving him free access to her body. He kissed and licked her breasts, finding them deliciously swollen, their nipples sweetly ripe. He groaned; his arousal was pleasurably painful. The pulsebeat in his sex matched the one pounding in his throat.

His fingers caressed the soft petals of her woman’s flesh. She was wet and swollen, her juices bedewing his fingers. Suddenly he could
wait no longer. He gave an explosive sound and flung himself atop her, parting her thighs. “I need you,” he muttered against her lips. “It’s been too long. Too long … Oh, God, I need to … I can’t wait …”

He plunged, hard, deep.

She cried out and arched sharply upward.

Heat and need blotted out every other thought as he thrust wildly, lifting her buttocks to meet each savage thrust. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t move fast enough or thrust hard enough. When he needed more, he lifted her legs and put them over his shoulders, opening her to him and taking her as he’d never taken her before.

“Cole! I can’t! Oh, God!” She was sobbing now, driven so close to the edge she feared she’d explode. Then she did. So intensely she died a little before regaining her senses.

Cole pounded into her again and again, galloping at full speed toward his own climax. When he came, he spent himself inside her, too overcome to withdraw.

Cole returned to Bozeman the following day to pick up the wagon and oxen he’d purchased the day before. The wagon was ready as promised. Cole would have paid the blacksmith and left immediately, but the man was in a garrulous mood.

“It’s a damn shame what happened to General Custer,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “The man is a hero. Rumor has it the army is sending out patrols to avenge his death. Reprisal has already begun. Soon there won’t be an Injun left alive to give us any more trouble. Every chief will be forced to surrender his people and be jailed or executed.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Cole muttered.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing important. How about the Indians? How great were their losses?”

“News travels slow, but I heard their losses were light. They hightailed it back to Powder River country with their wounded and dead.”

“Thanks again for finishing the job so quickly,” Cole said. “I’ll bring my oxen around and hitch them to the wagon. I want to be on the trail as soon as possible.”

“You going it alone? Wagon trains come through here regularly throughout the summer. One just passed a few days ago. You might be able to catch it if you’re so all-fired determined not to wait for the next one.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

An hour later Cole was on his way back to the campsite to get Dawn.

He found her sitting beneath a tree, holding the rifle across her knees. She jumped up to greet him and then turned to inspect the wagon. It wasn’t as large as a Conestoga but built along the same lines. The bed was deep enough to hold all their supplies, and the white canvas top looked sturdy enough to keep out the worst of weather.

“I’ve filled the water barrels and stowed all the supplies. Since we don’t have any furniture or personal belongings to transport, there is plenty of room for us to sleep inside during foul weather. When the weather is good we can sleep under the stars.”

Dawn thought sleeping under the stars with Cole sounded wonderful.

They easily located the trail. It was deeply rutted from hundreds upon hundreds of wagon wheels and worn down by the feet of emigrants heading west.

The first several days passed without their seeing a single soul. Later they encountered an occasional traveler or two. The trail grew rough as they climbed into the high country. Two weeks into their journey they overtook the wagon train that had left Bozeman several days ahead of them. Cole conversed with the wagon master, who invited them to join the train. Cole hurried back to tell Dawn.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Dawn asked worriedly.

“These people don’t even know what happened at the Little Big Horn,” Cole said. “They might not find out for weeks yet. By that time they’ll have come to know you, and your mixed blood won’t matter to them.”

Dawn wasn’t as convinced as Cole. “Are you sure it’s the right thing to do?”

“It’s far safer traveling with a group. When wagons break down, there is always someone to help with repairs. We’ll try it. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll leave and go it alone.”

Days turned into weeks. The trail didn’t get any easier. Wagons broke down. People got sick and died. Throughout it all, the women of the wagon train treated Dawn with cool reserve. Most had either experienced or heard about Indian brutality and held half-breeds in the same contempt as savages. Dawn kept to herself, depending upon Cole for company. She knew that whatever friendship the emigrants extended to her was because of Cole.

Cole made himself indispensable in many ways. He hunted for the entire wagon train, dividing his catch equally among the families. He helped
wherever he was needed and was approached whenever a level head was needed. Dawn found herself falling more deeply in love with him every day. They still made love regularly, with Cole carefully spilling his seed outside her body. Dawn’s hope that she carried Cole’s child was dashed when she had positive proof that she wasn’t pregnant. She supposed it was for the best, but mourned the children she’d never have.

Dawn learned that Cole had sent a telegram to his sister from Bozeman, alerting her to his visit, and she wondered if he had mentioned the fact that he was bringing a woman with him who wasn’t his legal wife. Whether he had or hadn’t, she was still leery of meeting Cole’s family. Would they like her? One thing was certain: When Cole left, she had no intention of imposing on Cole’s sister.

Dawn wondered if Cole’s sister was prejudiced against Indians. Would the fact that Dawn was a half-breed make her any less welcome in Ashley’s home? How would Cole introduce her? Legally, she wasn’t Cole’s wife. Would his family consider her Cole’s whore? So many questions, so few answers. All she could do was wait and see.