White Owl (21 page)

Her mother rushed to pour her a cup of coffee and placed the mug and a large chunk of corn-bread in front of her. Rose didn’t even look at the food or drink because she knew nothing would be able to pass over the strangling lump in her throat.

“Speak,” her father ordered after a couple of minutes of uneasy silence.

Rose jumped at the sound of his impatient command. “S-so you found my note?”

“That you were running off with some Ute buck and not to try to find you.” He slammed his fist down on the tabletop. “Do you have any idea what that did to your ma?”

Rose flinched but tried to stay calm. She glanced at her mother. “I know, and I am sorry. I just knew that you—none of you—would understand if I tried to tell you how I feel about White Owl.”

A hateful chortle came from Tate. “White Owl,” he repeated like he had tasted something repulsive. He opened his mouth to say more, but Paddy’s look of warning silenced him.

“I-I—” Paddy’s face reddened again, and he had to take a moment before he could speak again. “I guess that was what you were doin’ on all those
long rides—meetin’ up with that—that—” His mouth clamped shut as if he couldn’t even say the words out loud.

Rose stared down at the full mug of coffee sitting before her. “Yes,” she mumbled. Her lies had come back to haunt her. She should have just told them right from the start about meeting White Owl, but her fear had prevented it, and now she was realizing how much worse she had made the entire situation. She heard a disgusted grunt from Tate’s direction.

“You’ve been with him all this time?” Tate’s hate-filled voice rang out in more of an accusation than a question.

Rose slowly nodded and looked back up at her father. “He’s my husband and I love him with—”

Her words were cut off sharply when her father’s anger overwhelmed him. The heavy wooden table went rolling over when he grabbed the edge and sent it flying onto its side. Rose felt the burn of the hot coffee when the overturned mug fell in her lap. She cried out and jumped up, knocking the chair over and then tripping over the chair and crashing backward on the hard wood planks of the floor.

Her mother was kneeling beside her. “Rosaline, are you all right?” Her hand was on Rose’s forehead as if she was trying to take her temperature.

Rose stared up at her mother as her image danced like waves before her eyes. As her vision began to clear, she was aware of pain in her back where she landed on the floor and the burn of the coffee on
her thigh, but neither injury induced as much pain as her father’s rage. She blinked and slowly nodded her head. “I’m fine,” she said quietly. Her mother helped her sit up, but it took a second for her head to stop spinning so that she could stand up on her quivering legs.

“Paddy!” Colleen screamed. “Why?”

Paddy Adair was standing on the other side of the overturned table. “Get your clothes changed, Rosaline. I’m takin’ you to Denver now!”

His words spun through Rose’s foggy mind. “No—you can’t make me go,” she retorted in as forceful a voice as she could speak. “I won’t . . . I’m a married woman!”

“You’re my daughter, and that . . . that so-called marriage ain’t legal.” He looked at his wife. “Go with her and get her a bag of clothes. Don’t think I won’t hunt her down this time if you let her leave.” His tone was so filled with venom that Rose felt her mother shiver.

Rose stumbled blindly into her old room as her mother pulled her along with her. Once they were on the other side of the heavy curtain that separated the room from the rest of the house, her shock finally began to fade into disbelief and then refusal. “He can’t make me go,” she stated as her mother began rushing around the room grabbing clothes and stuffing them into a cotton satchel.

“Please, Rose, don’t argue with him. I’ve never seen him so angry.” Her mother’s panic was apparent. “I am afraid for you, so please don’t fight with him anymore.”

Rose started to walk over to her mother and realized that her leg and back were filled with shooting pains from her hard fall. She limped over to where Colleen was shoving toiletries into the bag with visibly shaking hands. She reached out and grabbed her mother’s arm. “I am married, Mother, to a man I love so much that I would rather die than live without him.”

Colleen ceased all movements and looked over at her daughter. Their blue gazes locked. Rose could see the sorrow in her mother’s eyes, as well as her own reflection shimmering back at her. Her mother was her only hope now.

“You have to go to Denver,” Colleen said in a hoarse whisper.

Rose’s arms dropped against her sides with a thud as her mother’s unexpected demand echoed through her mind. No! No! No! she wanted to scream, but she knew it would not matter. She could see the terror in her mother’s eyes and realized for the first time just how frightened her mother was of her father.

Rose closed her eyes and turned away as the hot tears once again rolled from her eyes. Without turning to face her mother again, she said quietly, “He will be coming here to get me in the morning. Can you at least tell him where I am? Please, can you do that one last thing for me, Mother?”

A sharp pain sliced through Rose’s breast as she waited for her mother’s reply. “Rosaline, once you reach Denver you will realize what a mistake these past few months have been, and you will be able to
move on with your life. No one will ever have to know.”

Rose threw her hand over her heart. This time it truly felt like it had just been torn out of her chest, and there was nothing more than a hollow hole left. He would come here tomorrow and she would be gone. No one was going to tell him where she was, and that was more than she could bear.

As the room suddenly began to spin before her eyes, and then went completely black, Rose felt herself slipping down to the floor once again. The darkness was welcoming—safe. In her dreams she was in White Owl’s arms again.

The blizzard lasted for three days. It had started late in the afternoon on the day that White Owl had left Wild Rose at her family’s ranch. He had tried to head back to the ranch that same evening, but his father had told him to wait to see if the weather cleared by morning. She wasn’t expecting him until then, anyway.

The next day was a complete whiteout, and traveling was impossible with the blinding snow falling sideways in the freezing wind that howled across the land. The villagers began to pack up their belongings so that at the first break in the weather, they could begin to move farther south. The long hot autumn and drought of the past summer had rapidly turned into a vicious winter, and already some of the tribe had headed to warmer grounds. Strong Elk’s second wife, Cloud Woman, and his young daughter, Shy Girl, had left a few days earlier with the first group to begin setting up the winter camp.

White Owl was crazy without his woman for this long. One night apart had seemed like an eternity, but three nights was pure torture. His only consolation
was that she was safe with her family, and once he went to get her, they would never be apart again. It was a good thing, he tried to convince himself, that she was staying with them this long. He had no doubt that they had been furious at first, but perhaps the longer they had been forced to be under the same roof during the storm, they had been able to overcome some of the anger.

He wanted his Wild Rose to be content when they continued on their life’s journey, and he knew that she was deeply troubled by the way she had left her parents’ home before. White Owl had convinced himself this storm had probably been beneficial, even if it meant he had to spend three endless nights alone under the fur robes of the tepee he had erected in anticipation of her return.

He glanced around the tepee as he put his heavy bear-fur coat on over his buckskin suit. He would be making love to his Wild Rose in here tonight. But by tomorrow, if the weather stayed decent, they would probably be taking the tepee down again so that they could begin the winter trek south. The thought of the long cold winter ahead did not seem so harsh now that he had his beautiful flame-haired wife to keep him warm.

The trip across Milk Creek and to the Adair property took longer than White Owl planned because of the heavy wet snow and the cold, relentless wind that still blew against him and Niwaa. With the slow progress they were making, it was late afternoon by the time he reached the ridge above the ranch. He was more than a little anxious to get
his wife back, which was why he was not using his usual caution as he started down the slope. When the shot rang out and whizzed just inches away from his arm, it took him a second to even realize what was happening. Niwaa, however, was aware of the danger immediately, and while his master had hesitated to react, the horse twirled around and began charging back up the hill.

When White Owl’s shock began to fade, he pushed Niwaa to the top faster as another bullet dug into the snow just a few feet beside them. At the top of the ridge, he jumped from Niwaa’s back and pulled the rifle from his saddle as he dove face-first down on the ground. Since he had not been paying attention, he was not even sure where the shots were being fired from or whether or not there was only one shooter. He scooted on his stomach through the snow along the ledge until he found a protruding rock to hide behind. He slowly raised his head above the rock and surveyed the ranch. There was nothing to give him a clue as to where the attack was coming from.

Long minutes passed, and White Owl couldn’t stand the wait. He clasped his rifle tightly in his hand and raised up slightly as he yelled as loud as possible. “I do not want to fight. I only come for my wife.” He ducked back down behind the rock in case the reply was a bullet. Another long pause followed, and finally, a response.

“She’s gone. She doesn’t want to see you again.”

White Owl hunkered down behind the rock
and tried to absorb the man’s words. They didn’t register in his mind. He rose up again.

“Where is my wife?” he demanded.

“I told you. She’s gone. She left the minute you finally brought her home. She doesn’t want to see you again,” was the immediate reply.

White Owl fell back down on his knees. The man’s words raced through his head. He felt like he had just been punched in the gut. No, it was not possible. He leaned forward and raised up again. “I don’t believe you.”

There was a pause before the man answered. “If you put down your weapon, I’ll prove it to you.”

The punch in his belly felt more like someone was shoving a long spear into him now. He fell back on his heels again. The love they had shared in the past few months flashed through his mind in vivid detail. There was no way that he could believe that she had left him voluntarily. She loved him as much as he loved her, or so he had thought. He swallowed the metal taste in his mouth and felt a sick feeling wash through his body.

“I’m putting my gun down and coming out,” he hollered. As he rose to his feet, he raised his hands in the air to show the shooter that he no longer held his weapon. He took a step to the side, exposing himself completely. Waiting the next couple of seconds felt like a lifetime.

At last, a man stepped out from behind one of the small sheds. White Owl was surprised to see Rose’s twin brother holding the gun. He had been prepared
to meet her father first. He glanced around, expecting to see the older man step out from one of the other buildings, but only Tate walked forward.

“Take off that coat.” Tate waved the rifle in a threatening manner. White Owl obliged and tossed the fur coat at his feet.

“Drop that knife on the ground,” Tate ordered next. “And then come down very slowly.”

White Owl did as instructed. He pulled the knife from its fringed sheath and let it fall to the ground. He began moving cautiously down the slope. He kept his hands raised the entire way. When he was within several yards from the man, he stopped and waited for further instructions. The younger man was watching him through narrowed eyes with the rifle leveled at his chest. White Owl was still expecting the appearance of the old man, but so far, only Rose’s twin had greeted him.

A movement at the house caught White Owl’s attention and he glanced in that direction. He saw an older version of Rose, but with pale brown hair, and the younger brother, Donavan, standing on the stoop. Pepper, the troublesome black dog, came running toward him wagging his tail. He didn’t bark or growl even once now.

“Tate,” the woman called. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?”

“He doesn’t believe that Rose left. I’m gonna prove to him that she doesn’t want to be with him, and then he is gonna leave and never come back,” Tate hollered. “Isn’t that right?” he added as he motioned toward White Owl with his gun.

White Owl nodded slowly. The pain in his belly was radiating through his entire body. How could they prove something to him that couldn’t possibly be true?

Tate shoved his rifle in White Owl’s back and pushed him forward. As they approached the house, Rose’s mother and little brother backed through the front door. By the time they had entered, the woman was standing across the room with a shotgun in her hands. The younger brother was beside his mother. White Owl looked around the room as his anxiety increased. Wild Rose was nowhere to be seen.