Spirit's Song (11 page)

Mao’hoohe…with her smooth, soft skin and hair as soft and shiny as that of the little red fox for which she’d been named. Mao’hoohe…

Kaylynn reclined in the tub, wishing she had some lilac bath salts to add to the water. But she wasn’t complaining. It was the first hot bath she’d had in over eight months and it felt like heaven.

Closing her eyes, she let her thoughts drift.

Soon, she would be home again. Safe again.

For the first time, it occurred to her that Alan might have gone to New York looking for her. If he had, her parents would be worried sick. She was their only child, and they had always been protective of her. She would have to ask Yellow Thunder if she could send her parents a message to let them know where she was and that she was safe, and ask them not to say anything to Alan about her whereabouts.

Alan. She was afraid her parents would never believe her when she told them how awful her marriage had been, the times he had locked her in her room, the numerous times he had beaten her. He had always been sorry afterward, begging her forgiveness, promising it would never happen again. She had believed him in the beginning. But no more. If her parents wouldn’t take her in, if Alan refused to grant her a bill of divorcement, then she would just have to find somewhere else to go.

She smiled grimly. If all else failed, she could always go back to the Cheyenne.

Thoughts of the Indians brought Ravenhawk and Yellow Thunder to mind.

If she were totally honest with herself, she found them both attractive, though in vastly different ways, but it didn’t matter. She was through with men.

Finally, with a great deal of reluctance, she stepped from the tub. No doubt Yellow Thunder was also anxious for a bath. The least she could do was get out of the tub he was paying for while the water was still warm.

She toweled off, grimacing as she pulled on her tunic and moccasins. She hoped Yellow Thunder had been serious when he offered to buy her some new clothes. Though she hated to be beholden to him, she wasn’t about to board a stage dressed in a dirty tunic and moccasins.

Wrapping her hair in a towel, she crossed the floor and rapped on the door that connected her room to his.

Nothing. She rapped on the door again; then, wondering if he had gone out, she opened the door and peered into his room.

He was sprawled facedown on the bed, asleep. She tiptoed toward the bed, her gaze moving over him in a long, sweeping glance, noting the bloody bandage on his shoulder, the inky black of his hair, his long, long legs. Even relaxed, he looked dangerous.

Should she wake him? He hadn’t gotten much sleep in the last few days.

She was turning toward the door when his voice stopped her.

“Did you want something?”

“I…”

“What?”

“I was just wondering…that is…” She gestured toward her room. “I’m through…with the…uh…tub.”

She felt her cheeks flush as a slow smile spread over Yellow Thunder’s face.

He slid his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. “Is the water still hot?”

She chewed the inside of her lip, feeling suddenly guilty for lingering in the tub so long.

“Not really,” she said. “I stayed in longer than I should have. I’m afraid it’s…”

The words died in her throat as he raised his arms over his head, stretching. She watched the play of muscles beneath his dark coppery skin, the way his muscles flexed. She didn’t understand her attraction to this man. He scared her in ways she didn’t comprehend, made her yearn for something for which she had no name.

Heat flooded her cheeks when she realized he was watching her watch him.

“Like what you see?” he asked, his voice edged with amusement.

Kaylynn swallowed hard as he stood up, his body unfolding with unconscious grace. He towered over her, close enough to touch. The musky, male scent of him stung her nostrils. She tried not to stare at him, tried not to notice the width of his shoulders, his flat belly, the fact that he was half-naked. She curled her hands into fists to keep from reaching for him, to keep from running her fingertips over the muscles in his arms.

He grinned at her. “I don’t suppose you want to wash my back?”

She shook her head, dislodging the towel to reveal a mass of damp red curls.

He caught the towel and slung it over his shoulder. “I didn’t think so. Why don’t you wait in here? I won’t be long.”

She nodded, moved quickly out of his way as he took a step toward the door.

“I won’t bite you, you know,” he muttered as he moved past her. Although, he thought as he closed the door behind him, the idea definitely had merit.

Chapter Sixteen

Kaylynn put her fork on the table and sat back in her chair. She never should have had that second piece of apple pie, but apple pie had always been her favorite, and it had been so long since she’d had dessert. And the pie had been so good, and oh, so sweet. The crust had been almost as good as one of Mrs. Moseley’s.

Surprisingly, the whole meal had been wonderful, something she had not expected to find in a town like Red Creek. She had ordered chicken and dumplings. Yellow Thunder had ordered a steak, rare, with all the trimmings. It was the biggest, thickest steak she had ever seen. He had watched her, his brow arched in amusement, as she asked for a second piece of pie. She had wondered what he was thinking, but lacked the nerve to ask.

Earlier in the day, they had gone shopping at the general store. He had told her to buy whatever she needed and when she had summoned the nerve to ask how much she should spend, he had frowned and told her not to worry about the cost, he could afford to buy her whatever she wanted.

It had seemed strange, wandering through the store on her own. Alan always hovered over her when she shopped, criticizing her choices, replacing them with his own. She had often wondered why she bothered to shop at all, since she had rarely gone home with anything she had picked out.

She looked down at her dress. It was just a simple cotton frock, blue with tiny white flowers, with a square neck and a bit of lace at the throat and the sleeves, but it was the first dress she had picked out since her marriage. She had bought a few other items, too: a plain white petticoat, undergarments, shoes and cotton stockings, a comb and brush, a package of pins for her hair. She had bought a dark-green traveling suit, too, along with a matching hat with a jaunty black feather, a pair of gloves and a pair of black half boots.

She looked at Yellow Thunder. He was leaning back in his chair, one hand curled around a cup of coffee. He had been shopping, too. The dark gray of his new shirt emphasized the gray of his eyes and complimented the color of his hair. He wore a pair of black whipcord britches, also new, and a pair of boots, scuffed but freshly polished.

He lifted his gaze to hers, and a slow smile spread over his face as he gestured at her empty pie plate. “Gonna go for thirds?”

A warm rush of color suffused Kaylynn’s cheeks. “No. I’m afraid I already made a pig of myself.”

He shook his head. “I like a woman with a healthy appetite.”

“Do you?” Alan had often complained that, if he let her, she would eat everything in sight. He had told her time and again that he wouldn’t abide having an obese woman for a wife.

Living with Alan, she had been hungry for sweets all the time.

Yellow Thunder nodded.

“Do you think I’m…I’m fat?”

“Fat! You?” He shook his head. “A little too thin, for my taste. Maybe you should have another piece of that there pie.”

His words, accompanied by an easygoing grin, sent a warm feeling spiraling through her. It wasn’t just sweets Alan had denied her, she thought. She was starved for affection, for attention, for kind words and friendly smiles.

Yellow Thunder’s gaze moved over her. “Pretty dress. You look real nice.”

“Thank you.” His compliment, completely unexpected, surprised and pleased her even though it made her a little uncomfortable. Even though they had spent several days together, he was still a stranger. She cast about for some topic of conversation, but couldn’t think of anything interesting to say, and so she asked, “How does your arm feel?”

He lifted his arm and flexed his fingers. “Fine. A little sore, is all. You ready to go, or should I call for another piece of pie?”

“No, I’m ready.”

He signaled for the waiter and paid the check and they left the dining room. He’d never made it to Lula’s last night, though he’d fully intended to. He had taken Kaylynn to get something to eat after they got cleaned up, fully intending to take her back to the hotel, then pay Lula a visit. Instead, he’d made sure Kaylynn was settled in her room, then gone to bed himself. Must be getting old, he thought, when a good night’s sleep held more appeal than a romp in Lula’s feather bed.

Jesse paused in the lobby. “It’s a nice night,” he remarked. “You wanna go for a walk before you turn in?”

Kaylynn nodded, and Yellow Thunder offered her his arm and escorted her outside. She was keenly aware of him beside her as they left the hotel. The heat of his hand penetrated her sleeve and warmed the skin beneath.

The sun had set. There was nothing to be seen but darkness beyond the edge of the town. Yellow Thunder released her arm and they walked side by side down the street, close, but not touching. Lamplight and raucous laughter spilled out of the saloons.

“How long have you been a bounty hunter?” Kaylynn asked after a while.

Jesse shrugged. “Going on seven years, I reckon.”

“Have you…?”

“Have I what?”

“Never mind.”

Jesse glanced over at her. “Go on, spit it out. What do you want to know?”

“Have you killed very many men?”

He grunted softly. “Not as many as I could have.”

Kaylynn frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Most bounties say dead or alive. Dead men don’t give you any trouble.”

She shuddered. She had a quick mental image of him shooting Ravenhawk in the back, then hauling his body into the nearest lawman for the reward. But he hadn’t done that.

“Hey,” Jesse said, “I was just joshing.” They were at the end of town now. He stared out into the darkness. “I’ve killed a few men in my time, but only in self-defense, or in battle.”

“In battle? Were you in the army?”

“No, but I’ve fought the bluecoats a time or two.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Really?”

“Really.” He had been a young warrior then, filled with the juice of life, eager to prove himself in battle, to count coup against the enemy.

“Why don’t you live with the Cheyenne?”

He shrugged. “My mother died of smallpox when I was sixteen. My father was a white man, and when she died, he decided to go back home and see if any of his folks were still alive. His mother was still living but she was crippled up and needed help running the farm, so we stayed there with her until she died. My dad married a widow woman from a neighboring farm. I was almost nineteen then, and restless, and I took off.”

He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. He’d seen a good deal of the country. He had been living in Texas when he met Abigail. He had been smitten with her at first glance, mesmerized by her yellow-gold hair and sky-blue eyes. He had followed her around like a puppy dog, eager for her attention, hungry for any scrap of affection she was willing to throw his way. She had teased him and flirted with him and kissed him in the moonlight. He had told her of life with the Lakota, and she had called him her Mighty Warrior. He had basked in her love, never dreaming she would love him in return, but she had, and they had spent long hours planning for the day when they could be together. And then, on the eve of Abigail’s eighteenth birthday, her father had caught them together…

“Are you still going after Ravenhawk?”

Her question drew him back to the present. “Yeah.”

“Can’t you just let him go?”

Jesse looked at her. Her face was a pale oval in the moonlight. “You sweet on him?”

“Of course not!”

“You never told me why you didn’t go with him.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He shrugged. “If you say so. Are you ever gonna give me your name?”

She hesitated a moment. “It’s Kaylynn.”

“Kaylynn.” He frowned, wondering why the name sounded familiar.

“Mama named me after my grandmothers.”

“It’s a right pretty name.” He took a step toward her, grateful for the darkness that shadowed his scarred face from her view. “For a pretty woman.”

She stared up at him, her eyes wide and scared, like a mouse hypnotized by an eagle, as he slowly bent his head and kissed her.

She tasted like warm, sweet apples and cinnamon. The moment his lips touched hers, heat flooded through him, hot and quick, like chain lightning sizzling over the prairie.

Wanting, needing, he drew her into his arms and deepened the kiss. For a moment, she stood passive in his embrace and then, with a low cry, she wrenched out of his arms and fled down the street.

Jesse watched her go, and then, fearful for her safety, he followed her back to the hotel.

When he was sure she was safely inside, he headed for the nearest saloon.

He paused in the doorway, his gaze sweeping the interior.

It was Saturday night, and the place was crowded.

Pushing through the doors, he went to the bar and ordered a whiskey.

“Hey, Yellow Thunder.”

Jesse glanced over his shoulder. “Sandler.”

“Long time no see.”

Jesse grinned good-naturedly. He and Sandler shared a rough camaraderie. “Not long enough. You on the hunt?”

“Me?” Sandler shook his head. “What about you?”

Jesse shrugged. “Huntin’ for Lula. You seen her tonight?”

Sandler jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “She’s back there, watching Old Zeke fleece some young tinhorn.”

“Obliged. No offense, but I think I’d rather spend the night with her.”

Sandler laughed. “Don’t blame you a bit.”

With a nod, Jesse finished his drink and put the glass on the bar. Lula was exactly what he needed right now.

* * * * *

Kaylynn closed the door to her room and turned the key in the lock. Sitting down on the bed, she stared at the door that connected her room to Jesse Yellow Thunder’s.

Why had he kissed her?

Why had she let him?

Heart pounding, pulse racing, she lifted her fingertips to her lips. She could still feel his mouth on hers, warm and firm and gentle. Not like Alan’s kisses…

She put the thought from her mind. She wouldn’t think of him, not now, not ever again if she could help it. But Yellow Thunder…

“Jesse.” She smiled as she said his name aloud, liking the way it sounded, the taste of it on her tongue. “Jesse.”

She glanced at the door to his room, wondering if he was in there, wondering how she would face him in the morning.

A knock on the door set her heart to pounding. She couldn’t face him, not now. She needed time.

He knocked again, louder this time. She thought of pretending to be asleep; then, taking a deep breath, she stood up. She would have to face him sooner or later. Waiting wouldn’t make it easier. Her mother had always said unpleasant deeds were best done quickly.

She ran her hand over her hair, smoothed her skirt, then crossed the room and opened the door.

* * * * *

“Jesse. Jesse?”

“What?” He glanced over his shoulder, puzzled by Lula’s angry tone.

Lula sighed. “Why did you come here tonight?”

“To be with you.”

“Really? You’ve been staring out that window for the last half hour.”

“Sorry.” Moving away from the window, he sat down in the room’s only chair, wondering if Kaylynn was asleep. “Guess I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Like that woman you rode into town with?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s nothing to me.”

“Really?” Lula picked up one of the half-dozen fancy pillows strewn over her bed and clutched it to her chest. “When did you start lying to yourself?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know why you didn’t just stay with her. She’s the only thing you’ve talked about all night. When you bothered to talk at all, that is.”

Hardly aware of what he was doing, he ran one finger over his scarred cheek. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Lula rolled her eyes. “Let’s see, you wondered about her family and where she came from and what she’s hiding. And you think she’s just about the prettiest little cabbage in the patch, and…”

“Wait a minute,” Jesse said gruffly. “I never said that.”

“Maybe not,” she said, pouting, “but you’re thinking it.”

“Like hell.”

“So, you don’t think she’s pretty?”

“Dammit, Lula…”

She threw the pillow at him, just missing his head. “Don’t you cuss at me, Jesse Yellow Thunder. I never thought I’d see the day you’d be cow-eyed over a woman.”

He scowled at her. “I am not cow-eyed.”

“Hah.”

“All right, I admit it. I think she’s pretty.”

“Go on,” Lula said, her eyes narrowing ominously, “get out of here.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Git! I don’t want you here.”

“Dammit, Lula…”

Scooting off the bed, she opened the door. “Go on! Git!”

Muttering an oath, Jesse grabbed his hat and stalked out of the room.

She closed it with an obliging slam.

Settling his hat on his head, Jesse went downstairs. Going to the bar, he ordered a whiskey, straight, and drained it in a single swallow. Women! There was no understanding any of them.