Sweet Savage Heart (39 page)

Help,
she mentally echoed, then smiled wickedly. If she were cunning and daring, she could beat her father at his own game with his own hirelings! If she played her cards right, as Raymond had once done, she would undermine the entire situation with the very men her father had hired to help him attain his goals…

After they had eaten the next morning and were preparing to break camp, Rana handed Travis the red headband that she had removed the day before when tending his wound. “I will sew it for you later,” she offered, pointing to the bullet hole. She tingled at his nearness and longed to embrace him on this new day.

Travis grinned and said, “Thanks for saving it; it’s my lucky charm, or used to be. An Apache shaman gave it to me after I saved his hide. He told me to wear it every time I rode into Indian territory and the Great Spirit would protect me from all harm. It worked until yesterday when you had to save my hide,” he remarked, then chuckled. His smile and laughter seemed to flow over her and coat her like warm honey, and she gave him her full attention. He observed how she was looking at him and how her cheeks flushed with desire, and his smile broadened. He wondered if she was aware of how potently she affected him. All it required to send his senses soaring was a smile, or a laugh, or a glance, or a casual touch. His blood raced inside his body as his igneous eyes roamed her features and his senses drank in her aura. Visions of her naked body lying beneath his in the moonlight filled his mind. He knew he would have to halt his fantasy, for his body
was responding.

She noticed how tiny, golden brown flecks seemed to appear and dance in his green eyes when he was in a tranquil mood, a mood that caused her body to tingle and her heartbeat to increase. Little creases that suggested his sincerity and happiness teased at the corners of those entrancing eyes and deepened the lines near his mouth. He had shaved at first light and his strong jawline was now visible to her wandering gaze. She watched him remove his bandage to secure the red strip around his head, then fluff his sable hair over it, thick hair that seemed to fall into a natural part just off center and cause his wispy locks to settle in careful waves. Evidently he had used his sharp knife to keep his hair from growing too long on the top and sides or past the nape of his neck. She noted how his brows grew at an angle that gave him a devilish or arrogant look when he arched one or narrowed his leafy green eyes. His face was lean and his features well defined, as if carved by a loving and talented creator. She recalled that very little dark hair grew on his chest, not enough to conceal his scars or his muscled torso. With a smile, she debated, “It did not fail to protect you; you are alive. How did you meet this enemy shaman and save his life?” she inquired, snared by curiosity.

He did not hesitate before answering. “Years ago, I scouted for the Army for awhile, until I got tired of their lies and tricks. I was at loose ends; I didn’t have any place to go or anything special to do. At the time, it seemed like a good way to learn about the white man and his world; you might say it was one of the safest ways for a half-breed to move around in dangerous territory without being trapped between two sides that hated each other. You see, Rana, whites despise half-breeds more than Indians, but they don’t mind using them as trackers and scouts. At first, I didn’t try to hide my mixed blood. I was
too cocky and bitter to care what anybody said or thought about me. It didn’t take long for me to realize how foolish that was. It caused me too much trouble; I was always having to fight or kill some man who couldn’t let the matter pass. Not that I was really looking for friends or a home, though the truth would have made that impossible. That’s the trouble with people; they judge you by the wrong measure and they’re always looking for a way to use you to get what they want. Thing was, the Army needed my skills and Indian contacts, so they kindly overlooked my heritage,” he said with a sneer, exposing his lingering resentment and the anguish he had endured since birth.

“On my last assignment, I was guiding four soldiers to a secret meeting with some Cheyenne chiefs. We came upon an Apache shaman who was on a vision quest. He was sitting on this big rock, praying and chanting for a message from the Great Spirit. The soldiers decided to have some fun, as they called it, with the old man. You see, soldiers love taking on defenseless Indians and collecting souvenirs.”

She was delighted he was revealing part of his past and his emotions, though she realized how difficult it was for him to speak of these painful memories. She wondered if he was afraid she might think badly of his mixed blood and troubled past. When Travis grew silent for a time, Rana softly probed, “What happened?”

Travis looked her in the eye and calmly divulged, “I killed the bastards.” When she did not appear shocked or distressed by his revelation, he continued, “I tried to talk them out of tormenting the old man and killing him, but they laughed and ordered me to stay out of it. I told them that it was bad luck to intrude on a vision quest and that the old man was harmless. The shaman just stood there with his eyes closed, chanting and waiting to die with courage and honor. I had no choice in the matter. When
the battle was over, the old man smiled at me and nodded his understanding,” he remarked casually, amazing her with how modestly he had revealed what must have been a fierce and dangerous battle against four soldiers and increasing her respect and admiration for him.

“The old shaman removed his headband, said a prayer over it, tied it around my head, and told me it would protect me from evil spirits. He said I could never die as long as I was wearing it. I sure am glad he didn’t say I couldn’t be defeated or injured, ‘cause I would have known it was worthless and thrown it away a year later. He asked my Indian name, then carved those initials on a hunting knife and handed it to me. It had a thunderbird painted on the handle and he said I would receive power from it every time I used the blade. Somewhere a rattlesnake is carrying that knife and, when I find him, he’s dead,” he murmured coldly, his eyes glittering with hatred and desire for revenge as that infuriating betrayal and defeat flooded his mind.

“When he tried to give me his horse, I told him he was being too generous. He smiled again and said a man’s life and honor were worth far more than a headband, knife, and horse. That’s how I got Apache here,” he told her, stroking the animal’s forehead. “I don’t know what the shaman whispered in his ear, but he won’t allow anyone on his back but me, and I know he would give up his life for mine. He’s gotten me out of many a scrape, like yesterday. He’s mine until one of us dies.” As if knowing his master was speaking highly of him, Apache nuzzled the side of Travis’s head and brought a smile to his lips.

“How did you lose the knife?” she inquired, aware of how important those belongings and that episode were to him.

For an instant, he tensed, then forcibly relaxed his hard body. “I didn’t. I was ambushed by two cutthroats when I was twenty. After they tortured me, they stole
everything I had but Apache. He wouldn’t let them near him. For months he had rope burns on his neck from trying to get free to save my life.” Travis remembered the pistol he had been wearing that fateful day, one he had taken off a gunslinger who had challenged him to the death, a pistol that had revealed the man’s prior victories in gun battles in the tiny stars notched on its butt.

Rana glanced at the animal to discover that the scars Travis had described were still visible if she looked closely. “Why did they not steal your
wanapin?”
she asked, wishing he would explain its significance, for a warrior’s markings on his possessions and body told much about him. Delving into his dark past made him tense, she realized, so she probed lightly and gingerly and was ready to end the conversation the moment he desired it.

Travis absently touched the sacred token that had been carved and given to him by the legendary Sitting Bull. Only twice had it been removed from his neck—the day he had handed it to Buffalo Slayer to give to her if he did not survive his pursuit of Claude Chambers, and the day Lowry’s hirelings had tried to steal it. Both times he had recovered it. “One of them cut it off, but he dropped it. Nate found it when he found me, half-dead. He took me to his ranch and brought me back to life, in several ways. That’s how we met seven years ago.”

“You searched for these men to slay them?” she pressed, acting as if she knew nothing of the circumstances.

“Yep, but their trail was too cold by the time I healed. The man who hired them had been murdered, so I couldn’t beat any clues out of him or his… Nate was the first person who had accepted me and needed me since I had left the Hunkpapa camp, so I returned to the ranch to help him and stayed there. It took him years, but he settled me down. I owe him my life and loyalty, Rana,” he
explained pointedly. “I wouldn’t want to do anything to disappoint or hurt him.”

Rana watched him intently as he spoke so openly and sincerely. Every day, nearly every hour, he touched her heart more deeply. It was clear to her that he had endured a hard, painful life. She was glad he had been thrown together with her grandfather and cast into her life. “I am happy Grandfather found you and saved your life.”

“Are you, Rana?” he asked, gazing into her liquid blue eyes.

She looked deeply into his before replying, “If not, he would not have found me and I would not be going home. The Great Spirit works in mysterious ways. He sent Grandfather to your side and sent you to find me to bring me home. All is as it should be.”

“I’m glad you see things that way. I must admit you had me worried for awhile,” he confessed, grinning at her.

“As you had me worried,” she playfully retorted. “Have I not proven the bad tales about Wild Wind are false, or too great? The Oglalas did not understand how important it was for me to be as I am, to be all I am. You and Grandfather understand and accept me as Wild Wind or Rana. This makes me happy and thankful. You are good for me.”

“Does this mean we can become friends now?” he hinted, allowing his appreciative gaze to wander over her from head to foot.

“We are friends, Travis Kincade, and more,” she added. “I am sorry you suffered so much before meeting Grandfather, but it has made you as you are, a very special man who warms my heart. You carry the best of two bloods; be proud of both, for they are you. Promise you will never leave Grandfather and the ranch. They need you, as I need you. I will never reject you or scorn you. I am yours by choice. Lone Wolf was wise to make
us join before releasing me to you.”

Their gazes met and they exchanged smiles. Nathan joined them then and asked, “We ready to ride? I’m anxious to get home.”

“So am I,” Travis cheerfully concurred.

Rana smiled at her grandfather and nodded her agreement.

When they approached the ranch two days later, it was dusk, but they were filled with energy and anticipation. Travis and Nathan had been away for fifty-seven days; Travis and Rana had been joined for thirty-three, a fact that neither could ignore or wanted to forget.

Rana’s eyes darted back and forth as the two men filled her ears with information about the ranch. As they rode under the arch, from which a large
C
resting on a rocker was suspended from a crossbar, her eyes grew wide with disbelief. Nathan claimed ownership for land as far as she could see and more. Fences snaked along the dirt road for miles, restraining many animals. She wondered how anyone could go hungry or be cold with so many animals, or fear any foe with so much power. It was difficult for her to comprehend the extent of Nathan’s wealth and ranch. As they neared a large wooden dwelling, Nathan told her it was her new home and that he was eager to show it to her.

Not far away, she could see more wooden dwellings, which Travis told her were barns, work sheds, and bunkhouses, and he explained how each structure was used. The closer they rode to the neat settlement, the more noises she heard: men’s laughter and singing, strange music, the lowing of cattle, and the neighing of horses. Travis related how Saturday and Sunday were the days the hands could relax from the week’s work, with half of the men taking off Saturday and half taking off
Sunday; this schedule was switched the next week, for there were chores to be done every day and the ranch could not be left unprotected. If a man had special plans, he could usually find another hand with whom he could swap days off or he could pay someone to work in his place. Usually the men would use the time to play cards or games or make music, and some would sing or dance. On Saturday, many would ride into town to visit and drink with friends who worked on this or another ranch. He did not tell her that many of them would go there to spend time with the women who worked at the Silver Shadow Saloon, as he had done on occasion. On Sunday, some would go to church or simply rest. Because it was now supper time, most of the hands had returned and were enjoying their last few free hours before preparing for the new week.

They dismounted near the house and Travis collected the reins to take the horses to the stable. Nathan instructed genially, “See if you can locate Cody while I show Rana inside. I need to know what’s been going on during our absence, but I don’t want the men crowding my granddaughter tonight. I’ll introduce her around later.”

Travis nodded, then smiled encouragingly at Rana before he walked toward the two men who were heading their way at a rapid pace. Out of her hearing range, they met and halted briefly as Travis spoke with them. The two men gazed past the handsome foreman to stare openly at the flaming-haired beauty who seemed a ghost to them. Travis chuckled as he led the men away and answered some of their questions. All he could think about was being alone with Rana, but he knew privacy would be difficult, for they would have to keep their love affair a secret for awhile. He knew he would have to settle this matter with the Caldwells before he could claim her. Travis asked the whereabouts of Cody Slade, the man
they had left in charge of the ranch during their long journey; he and Nathan needed his report as soon as possible.