Nan Ryan (13 page)

So it was up to him.

The troubled Ute threw off his covering blanket, rose, and hurriedly dressed. He silently stole from his quarters and out into the enveloping darkness.

Diane was cold and out of breath when she reached the Redman. At the adjacent holding pen a lantern hung from a pole. The lantern cast a wide circle of mellow light which softly illuminated only one end of the creature’s cage, the end where its bars met those of the lion’s. That portion of the lion’s cage was lighted as well.

Diane stopped and stared.

All that was visible of the Redman were a pair of long, leanly muscled bronze legs stretched out full length. The pool of light stopped just short of where his brief loincloth began. A bare bronzed foot rested against the bars separating him from the lion.

And as unbelievable as it seemed, a soft, furry paw was pressed flat against the sole of the Redman’s bare foot. Diane’s fascinated gaze followed the cat’s paw up to where the lantern’s light ended at a powerful tawny shoulder. She couldn’t keep from smiling.

For a long moment Diane stood quietly between the lantern and the cages, unmoving, not making a sound.

The Redman sensed her presence there in the darkness even before he smelled her perfume. Silently he turned his head. And he watched her watching him.

Her hair, the color of midnight, shimmered with blue under the flickering light of the lantern. Flailing in the wind, that coal black hair whipped around her pale, perfect face and slender shoulders.

The Redman’s dark eyes moved down over her slender ivory throat. The lacy lapels of her blue silk robe had partially parted. Visible to his searching gaze was the swell of her full breasts, a fleeting glimpse of pale, rounded flesh.

The muscles in his naked belly tightened. His hands, lying at his sides, flattened against the rough planks of the cell floor.

At that instant a strong gust of night wind hit her full in the face. Her eyes automatically closed against its force, and she struggled to stay upright The loosely tied sash of her pale blue robe came undone. The robe immediately caught the wind and billowed out behind her, the sashes whipping uselessly, the lacy hem of her nightgown swirling up around her bare knees. She reached for the pole supporting the swaying lantern.

As she stood there in the wind against the lantern’s light, her slender body clearly outlined through the soft blue silk, the Redman could see the chill-hardened nipples of her beautiful breasts piercing the gown’s filmy bodice. The soft, shiny silk hugged her small waist, clung seductively to the flare of her hips, and pressed enticingly against the soft feminine V between her pale thighs.

Holding the pole with one hand, attempting to get a grain of sand from her watering eye with the other, Diane remained totally unaware that the Redman was awake, that his burning black gaze was riveted to her.

The wind died slightly. She released the pole, managed to rid her tearing eye of the stinging sand, then pulled her robe securely around her body and tied it tightly. She lifted her head, looked again at the Redman’s cage.

And stood there frozen.

Her hand clutched her throat and her eyes stared fearfully. The Redman was sitting up, his bare shoulders and dark head dominating the pool of light. He was looking straight at her. His dark face was set; his cruel lips were a thin, tight line. He appeared sinister, like a raven on a tombstone.

Diane was suddenly overcome with fear. She retreated from the creature, stumbling blindly backward among the painted flats and show props. Out of the light she stopped, watched him warily. He rose to his full, impressive height, staring still, searching for her in the shadow.

Even with him chained or behind bars and standing totally still, there was something violent and unpredictable about the creature. Diane sucked in her breath at the sight of him. She felt terribly cold, at the same time uncomfortably hot. She was unreasonably frightened. She felt faint, almost dizzy.

Her face flushed with heat.

There was, about the mysterious Redman, a constant palpable threat of sex—intermingled with sudden violence. The savage exuded an erotic menace. And Diane, though terribly afraid of the fierce, untamed brute, was helplessly drawn by that sexual threat.

She trembled violently. She stood there concealed in shadow, watching him, wondering if it was safe to move closer. Wondering if she should turn away. Leave this very minute. Abandon her foolish plan to release him.

No.

No, keeping him caged was inhumane. He was a wild and beautiful creature who should be free to roam his beloved mountains. Just like the great male cat caged beside him. Both should be free. Both
would
be free. And soon.

Diane stood there in the chill night wind and stared at the harshly handsome Redman gripping the steel restraining bars. The powerful muscles were straining against his smooth bronzed flesh as if his entire being were silently screaming for release. It was appealing. It was heartbreaking.

It was a wrong that had to be righted.

She was going to do it.

She still wasn’t sure just how or when, but she
was
going to set them both free.

The Redman sank slowly back down to the floor. He wrapped long arms around his bent knees and bowed his head. His loose, long hair swung forward, spilling over his bare, upraised arms. In that position he seemed far less menacing. Almost vulnerable.

Cautiously Diane approached. His head immediately snapped up. He sniffed the air as an animal does. He had caught the scent of her body. She forced herself to remain calm, to continue moving closer. Bravely she stepped up very close to his cage, expecting him to leap up any second and frighten her half to death.

To her relief the beast remained seated. He lowered his long legs, crossed them, and then crossed his arms over his chest. She advanced even nearer. He stared straight at her. She was snared, perversely enthralled by him. Their gazes locked.

After a long tension-charged moment of silence, Diane softly asked, “If I set you free, you wouldn’t hurt me, would you?”

The Redman gave no reply. His arms came uncrossed. He reached up and with long, tanned fingers touched the wide beaded band encircling his throat. His dark eyes flashed. He made strange desperate, groaning sounds but didn’t speak a word.

Diane shook her head. He didn’t understand. Or did he? She had to be sure. She tried another tack. She goaded him, baited him, tried to make him angry.

No response.

She grew bolder. In mock seduction she flirted with him. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, puckered, and made little kissing sounds in the air not a foot from his hard-featured face. She drew in her breath, put her hands on her hips, and bent one knee forward in a provocative pose.

Nothing.

She smiled and whipped her head around, sending her long, tumbled hair down over her right shoulder. She drew a section of that shiny black hair up in her hand and presented it to the staring creature for his closer inspection. Boldly she reached right through the bars that separated them while her heart pounded with fear.

Still no response.

Only those strangely beautiful eyes staring at her. Dark, flashing eyes which she had never been this close to before. Cold, measuring eyes that held her in thrall. Deep, fathomless eyes which at odd moments appeared to be a deep navy blue instead of black.

Chapter 12

Texas Kate yanked a wire curler from her hair with a balled fist, dropped it on the vanity, and stared at herself in the oval mirror, one stringy curl dangling down on her forehead.

“Lord, it must be nice to be so young and pretty; you don’t have to do anything but wash your hair.” She glanced in the mirror at Diane, dressing hurriedly behind her.

No sooner had she spoken than another close clap of thunder rattled the rail car windows, drowning out Diane’s reply. Kate flinched, then shook her curlered head. The morning had been bright and clear. Now, shortly after lunch, dark, ominous clouds had boiled up over the mountains and were moving steadily eastward. The sun had completely disappeared.

It was Wednesday, the twenty-eighth of August. The final performance of
Colonel Buck Buchannan’s Wild West Show
was scheduled for this very afternoon, not an hour away. The Denver engagement would then be completed. Unless the threatening afternoon thunderstorm postponed the show until evening.

“That lightning’s movin’ this way and—hey, you’re getting decked out a little early, aren’t you?” Kate wrinkled her brow. “Lord, child, it’s still an hour till show time, and it looks like it might come a downpour any minute.”

Stepping into her black leather trousers, Diane said, “I have an errand to run.”

“Errand? Why, honey, if you want something done, get one of the boys to do it. Need something from town? Send Shorty; he’ll be glad to help out. He’s always obliging me that way.”

Diane sucked in her breath, buttoned the last button of her tight black leather pants. She stepped up behind Kate, laid her hands atop the older woman’s stout shoulders, smiled at Kate in the mirror, and said, “Now I wonder why?”

Kate’s eyes met Diane’s in the mirror. “Why, you know Shorty. That skinny lil ol’ animal wrangler is as good as they make ’em, that’s why.”

“Yes, he is,” Diane agreed. “But don’t you think it’s a bit more than that?” A perfectly arched dark eyebrow lifted.

“Oh, get on out of here! You know I’m a respectable married woman and my Teddy Ray’s a jealous man.” Kate chuckled heartily, her springy gray-brown curls jiggling with her laughter. “You young folks … all the time thinking about love and romance.”

Romance was the last thing on Diane’s mind that hot, cloudy August afternoon, but she grinned and nodded as she presented her left wrist to Kate. Kate quickly fastened the cuff of Diane’s black satin blouse, then picked up a hairbrush and pulled it through the tight curls framing her face. As a final touch, Texas Kate took a rabbit’s foot dipped in rouge and dabbed it generously on both fleshy cheeks.

Diane shoved her long dark hair atop her head, secured it with a silver clasp, and said, “I have to run. See you after the show.”

“That storm breaks, there won’t be a show.”

Diane didn’t answer. She rushed out, turning worried eyes up to the darkened sky. Jagged streaks of lightning pierced the thick blackness in the west, crashing down atop the jutting mountain peaks, the echoing thunder jangling Diane’s taut nerves. The scent of rain was heavy on the still air as she hurried down the lengthy line of parked rail cars until she reached the one near the end. Ancient Eyes’ quarters..

Diane knocked loudly on the door, praying he wouldn’t answer. Praying the rain wouldn’t postpone the afternoon show. Praying her secret plan would go off without a hitch.

She waited, nervously tapping her moccasined toe on the wooden stoop. She knocked again, pounding with her fist. She called his name several times.

Then exhaled with relief. She’d known he wouldn’t be in his coach at this hour. In his old age Ancient Eyes had turned into a creature of habit. One of his habits was to dress early in his Indian show finery and wander down to the exhibition grounds to hang around the wranglers while they readied the stock for the show. He liked to trade tall tales and smoke their ready-made cigarettes and hand out unwanted advice.

This was her chance. Feeling only slightly guilty, she slipped inside Ancient Eyes’ private domain. Blinking in the shadowy dimness, she silently cursed the approaching storm. The leaden sky had cast the entire compartment into murky darkness, and she didn’t dare risk lighting a lamp. Clasping her bottom lip between her teeth, Diane went in search of the key.

The key to the Redman’s cage.

She spent several minutes looking in chest drawers, atop the eating table, in bookshelves. She thumbed through a thick, yellowing scrapbook, smiling fondly at the old Indian’s touching sentimentality. She hurried into the sleeping compartment, lifted a pillow from his tidy bunk, and tossed it down again.

Then jumped, startled, when a gruff, raspy voice from out of the shadows said, “This what you’re looking for, Little Buck?”

She whirled about to see Ancient Eyes, his long eagle feather headdress streaming down his broad back, filling the dim doorway. In his hand was a silver key, gleaming in the half-light. His broad, ugly face broke into a wide smile. He winked at Diane.

She smiled. “I could never fool you.”

“No,” he said. “I know you come, Little Buck.”

She followed him back into the sitting room and watched as he deliberately placed the silver key inside a carved wooden box that sat in plain sight atop the chest she had searched. He looked at her. She nodded knowingly.

Diane anxiously sat down while Ancient Eyes took off his feathered war bonnet, placed it across the table, and then slowly lowered his girth down into his favorite worn easy chair.

“Tell me about the Redman,” Diane bluntly commanded. “Tell me everything.”

Ancient Eyes’ broad smile faded and the light in his dark eyes dimmed. He looked grim. With no further coaxing from Diane he told of the deed that had been weighing heavily on his heart. As she looked intently into his flat black eyes, he spoke of that day he would never forget.