Eye of the Storm (9 page)

"My forefathers were never the savages yours thought they were."

"I'll never understand their narrow-mindedness."

Despite the bruises and swelling,
Stormwalker's
eyes had remained fixed on her, but his gaze sharpened as he examined her even more closely. The intensity of the look sent a tremor of excitement through her. As a distraction she concentrated on her driving. "Since we're talking about traditions, mind telling me how you got your name?"

"The holy man saw it in a vision."

"It fits."

"So I've been told," he commented dryly.

"You don't agree?"

He lowered his head to the back of the seat and closed his eyes. "I'm just trying to get from here to there in one piece, that's all."

"You might have a shot if you took fewer chances."

"No lectures, please.
I've about run out of tolerance."

She pulled up alongside the house and parked. Stormwalker made it up the steps under his own power. Zan followed him into the kitchen, where he eased into a chair by the table.

"Is there a first aid kit around?" she asked.

He nodded. "In that cabinet behind you, but you don't have to repair the damages. I can handle things."

With a sideward glance she ordered, "Indulge me," then filled a bowl with cool water. She found the box with the
red cross
on the top and a clean dish towel in a drawer near the sink and set everything on the table.

"Since you're determined to play Nancy Nurse, you might as well open the refrigerator. There's a clay pot on the top shelf. It contains one of my grandmother's remedies."

She removed the cover and dipped a fingertip into the glistening gel. "Is this aloe?"

"And some other ingredients I've never had the courage to ask about. The stuff's awesome in its power to heal."

After she'd done what she could for his face, she turned her attention to his hands. "I hope these made contact with someone's jaw."

"And a couple of noses and some teeth."
He grinned despite his injured mouth.

She gently swabbed away the dirt and treated the bruises, taking extra care where the skin had been broken.

He watched
her,
hardly aware of any discomfort, so intent was he on the scent of her perfume and the silky red-brown hair that hid her face as she bent to her work. When she touched his wrist, his pulse jumped beneath her gentle fingers. She lifted her face, the look of a startled doe in her warm brown eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Am I hurting you?"

"Not exactly."

"Not exactly?"

"You're the first woman I've been near in more than five years. That brings both pleasure and pain."

"Do you want me to stop?"

He wanted to maintain the contact, to hold onto her warmth and the waves of yearning that shuddered through him, letting him know that buried feelings had been reborn.
His mind questioned whether this was the need of a man for a woman, any woman, as he had implied.
Or something very different, something that had begun the first time they met.

He eased his hand away. "I don't want you to stop, but you'd better." He rose and started to leave.

Zan held an elastic bandage. "Shouldn't I do something about your ribs?"

The golden lights in his eyes flashed. His chest rose and fell with a heavy, in-borne breath as he seemed to consider her question. Finally, he said, "I don't think so," and continued into the living room.

Zan understood his mixed emotions. She felt both disappointment and relief when he vanished into the darkness. The sofa creaked as he settled down to rest, leaving her free to return the kitchen to order.

 
If only she could do the same with her confused feelings.
When she'd felt the weight of his arm around her shoulder, she'd wanted him to stay close. She hadn't considered why they'd been thrown together. And she hadn't remembered Dar.

She closed her eyes and struggled past the image of black hair, hypnotic eyes and burning intensity to the place where memories of Dar lived. Despite her effort to concentrate on him, she felt herself slip away, drawn irretrievably to the man in the next room.

She returned to the unfinished chore and glimpsed herself in the glass pane of a cabinet.

"Stay away from this guy," she whispered to her reflection, dragging unsteady fingers through her tousled hair. But like a parent lecturing a recalcitrant child, she feared the warning would go unheeded.

 
In the living room, Stormwalker had fallen asleep with one arm draped over the back of the sofa. She covered him with an afghan,
then
curled up in a leather chair from which she could watch him.

In a fitful sleep, he tossed about and muttered unintelligibly. His restlessness drew her to him but when she touched his forehead with the back of her hand she found it cool and dry. She straightened the shawl and went to the window where she perched on the deep wooden sill.

Darkness ruled, inside and out. The rising moon gave the clouds a stormy, silver-edged drama. Through the open window an occasional breeze carried the faint sound of drums and sometimes, chanting. How sad, she thought, that he'd been made to feel unwelcome by people like Billy Winter.

How sad, or how fitting? He betrayed the country Dar gave his life to protect. He's getting what he deserves.

Even as the thought formed she discarded it. If she still believed he'd committed treason she would have let Billy finish what he'd started, no matter what Mac had ordered. If her feelings about him hadn't changed, she wouldn't have chosen to use the .38 to protect him when she'd sworn never to fire it again.

An old memory washed over her in a wave of icy dread. She heard again the shot from the robbery suspect's gun that had slammed into her body and the answering round from her service revolver as it brought down the perpetrator, who'd turned out to be no more than a frightened boy. She began to shake.

She shook so hard her teeth chattered, forcing her to bite down on her tongue. She knew the reaction would pass. It always had before. Something would rekindle the memory of that night and the months of physical and emotional rehabilitation. Then the shakes would begin until sheer willpower controlled them.

 
Stormwalker’s
voice cut through the turmoil of emotion bombarding her. "Why aren't you watching the dancing at the powwow?"

"Someone should be here with you," she whispered, trying to add steel to her voice and to pretend more confidence than she felt. She cleared her throat.
"Just in case."

"I'm okay, but you're not. I can feel it even at a distance."

"I'll be fine."

She heard him shift position on the sofa. "Come here."

"No. I've got to go." Control hovered just out of reach.

"What are you afraid of?"

His voice caressed her senses, adding a new kind of torment.
Of what you make me feel. And want.

"Nothing.
It's late. I have
work
to do."

She slipped from her perch and went to the door. By the time she turned the knob, he was at her side with his hand resting gently on her arm. The warmth of his touch on her bare skin found an echo in the deepest part of her, where a damp heat sprang to life. This is ridiculous, she thought, unacceptable, to react this way to this man.

"Are you sorry you helped me today?"

She was grateful for the darkness hiding a guilty blush.
"No, of course not.
I just have to go."

"Then go. No one's stopping you."

"Will you be all right alone?"

He gave a short, bitter laugh. "I've been alone before."

"I know," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Hell, lady, it's probably no more than I deserve.
Right?"

She shivered. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. I know what you're thinking."

"How convenient," she said. "That will save us a lot of unnecessary conversation."

Forget her prideful claim that she would never back down. She needed to get away from him.
Now.
She heard his steps behind her and left him standing on the porch as she got into her car and drove off into the night.

Chapter 6

Stormwalker sat on the steps of the general store and watched Zan and the Banner girl talk outside the younger woman's house. Finally, Zan took her leave and started up the street. She walked gracefully, like a dancer. Her hair glowed in the sunlight, adding to an aura of warm light that seemed to surround her.

He cursed softly under his breath. "You dumb bastard - you've been alone too long. Look at her," his inner voice demanded. "She's too damned tall. Those curves won't last forever, and you know she's got a temper that will slice you in two if you cross her." He rose and went to meet her. She might make his life a torment, he thought with a grin, but it would never be dull.

"Can we make peace?"

Her dark eyes went soft. "We can try."

"You have any plans?"

She shook her head. "Just more time at the computer."

"Too nice a day for that.
We're going to a rodeo."

"That isn't very smart. You've been told . . . rather forcefully . . . to stay away."

"I don't think that was unanimous, but in case it was," he put on a pair of dark glasses and grinned boyishly, "
they'll
never know it's me."

She examined his six-foot-five length from boots to Stetson. "And how do you propose to disguise the rest of you, Treetop?"

"What's the point of being out if I can't enjoy my freedom?" He reached out to her. "Come with me."

She put her hand in his, watching as he wrapped strong brown fingers around hers and cradled them in warmth. Every nerve ending hummed. Unable to speak, she just nodded.

They made their way out of the village over a road winding through the prairie grassland to the campground. Ahead of them a small figure trudged along beneath the summer sun, taking the longest stride his child's legs would allow. When they caught up with the boy, he took no notice of them, but simply looked down at the ground and kept moving.

"Where are your friends?" Stormwalker asked.

"There." He pointed down the road.

"Why did they leave you alone, little brother?"

"They were in a hurry to see the cowboys."

Stormwalker glanced at Zan,
then
put a hand on the child's shoulder. The boy stopped and Stormwalker hunkered down beside him. "A ride would get you there faster."

"Little Bear walks.

"Well, Little Bear, I need your help. Some bad guys promised to wait for me on this road. Would you climb on my shoulders and use your sharp eyes to watch for them?"

"Are you scared of them?"

"No, but it helps to know what's ahead."

"I
ain't
scared."

"I know that."

"An' I
ain't
tired, neither," he insisted. "But I'll help you." He allowed Stormwalker to hoist him onto his shoulders. He swiveled to look behind them, then faced front. "Nobody back there," he announced solemnly.

"Be attentive,
Mahto
Cicala
. You are scout for this little band of travelers." Stormwalker looked at Zan to see if she'd caught on to his little game. She smiled and held Little Bear's leg.

"You scared, lady?"

"Not with two brave men to protect me."

As they walked along, Stormwalker kept up a running conversation to distract his passenger. Finally, they saw a group of youngsters ahead of them.
"Your friends?"
Stormwalker asked. The boy's head bobbed up and down.