Agnes and the Renegade (Men of Defiance) (17 page)

She was not so lucky. A roan came over to her, no larger than the rest, but a whole lot bigger than she was. Aggie stayed close to a tree, thinking it was the only cover available if the horse decided to charge her. She held perfectly still, careful to not stare at the animal. She didn’t know enough about horses to know if that mattered with them as it did with dogs, but she was desperate.

The horse wasn’t having any of her reticence. He came right up to her and nudged her hand. Surprised, she reached up and scratched his cheek and chin, then patted his muscular neck. He looked healthy, lean but not skinny. Another horse snuffled off to her left. She looked up to see Chayton sitting bareback on a paint.
 

He grinned at her. He wore his long-sleeved buckskin shirt, with its tattered fringe, his colorful necklaces, his hair loose except for those two front braids he’d threaded through with ribbons of hide. While she watched, he stepped out of the woods. Sunlight poured over him, brightening the front half of his horse.
 

She couldn’t respond to his greeting. Couldn’t do anything but shut her eyes and preserve the image of him she’d just seen. The shadow of the woods behind him. The way light made the green aspen leaves a vibrant, verdant color. The herd of horses in front of Chayton, clustered around the rocky riverbank.

She opened her eyes after a moment. Saying nothing to Chayton, she moved upstream, filled her bucket, then walked through the forest, keeping her mind numb to other observations as she made her way back to their camp.
 

Once there, she set the water down near the fire pit and started preparing a canvas. She was aware of Chayton following her up to the camp. He didn’t speak, didn’t make any requests of her. His nearness was a comfort. He was no doubt guarding her shell, because she was pretty certain she’d just walked out of it.
 

* * *

It was dark when she set her brush down and stepped back to look at her work. The fog had cleared from her mind. She became aware of the fire dancing in the pit off to her left, casting a bright light that reflected against the cave walls. She looked around her, wondering where Chayton was. He sat on the cot with this back propped against the wall. The buffalo robe was wrapped around his bare legs and waist.

He met her gaze, maintaining his silence. She smiled at him.

“Will you eat now?” he asked.

At the mention of food, her stomach growled. “Yes. Let me clean up. Did you eat already?”

He nodded. “Hours ago.”

Aggie took care of her brushes and removed the paint from her fingers and hands. She never really understood how she ended up with so much on her hands after completing a canvas. There was something about touching the painting to make small adjustments that only her fingers could navigate—it tightened her connection with the work.
 

When she came back to the cave, Chayton held a bowl and spoon out to her, both carved of wood. He wore only his breechcloth. She watched the muscles of his legs and flanks flex. Raw strength. Her gaze moved up his body. It was here he would make her his wife. The thought heated her blood, sent it thrumming in her ears. She sat next to the fire, barely able to breathe as he returned to the cot and the buffalo robe. She watched him look at her painting.
 

“Come, sit with me. Bring your stew.” He sat straighter against the wall, giving her room to sit in front of him. He held the robe open to her. She crossed the space to him. He turned her and drew her down between his legs so that she leaned back against him. She rested her head against his shoulder. They sat on the buffalo blanket. He wrapped his arms and the robe around her waist.
 

“Am I hurting you?” she asked as she settled against him.

“No.” He kissed the side of her head. “It is beautiful, what you created today. I watched as you built a world on your canvas. The horses look as if they are standing nearby, as if they would move at any time and step out of your painting. You would not eat or drink. I was not sure how long you’d be gone. I like the smaller paintings because you are not away from me too long.” One of his hands covered hers, holding the spoon with her as he dipped it into the bowl and lifted it to her mouth. “Eat.”

Aggie chewed and swallowed. “The horses are beautiful. And friendly. Are they yours?”
 

He repeated the motion with the spoon. “Yes. I have worked with this herd for many years.”

She took the spoon from him. Those first few tastes of his delicious stew helped her realize how hungry she was. “Worked with them? How so?”
 

“When my people lived free, I trained horses for the warriors and the women, as you know. It was here that I would train them. I was well known for my work, and beloved.”

“Don’t they still need horses?”

“I have no people now. I cannot return to the Agency.”

Aggie finished her stew in silence. She went to the fire and set her bowl down. She looked back at Chayton sitting on the narrow cot, lounging back against the cave wall. She heard Theo’s words filter through her mind:
“Go out and find your art, find your heart, and hold them both close.”

There would never be another man who understood her as well as Chayton. She had no doubt that she would be safe and fed and adored should they take the next step in their lives. In a solemn mood, she went over and knelt beside him on the cot.

She took hold of his hand in hers. “There are things we must discuss before we really do marry.”
 

He said nothing, but watched her.
 

“Things about reality. Differences in our worlds. How we’ll live.”

Chayton’s face grew shuttered. “Sarah has said that a marriage between us will never be accepted by your people.”

“Would she and Logan object to it? They’re your friends. And they’re raising your daughter. I care more about them than the world of people we don’t know.”

“I have spoken with them about it. They would not object.”

Aggie bit her bottom lip, then smiled at the implications of Chayton’s statement. They could make this work, out here at least, in this remote corner of the world. “I have a floor in a warehouse in Denver where I lived with my father. It’s where he painted, but if Logan and Sarah would continue to rent the cabin to us, I would prefer it. I know I’ll make enough from my exhibition to pay for it.”

“Agkhee, you saw how your people react to me in town. It would be the same—or worse—in Denver.”

“Maybe. But I don’t live in the circle of society, Chayton.” She sighed. “Though sometimes I wish I could be normal, I’m not. I’m an artist. I can’t document a world I’m a part of—I have to stand outside of it to have any true observations of it. I don’t think that would change.”
 

He watched her with a steady regard.
 

“I’m saying I don’t care what my people think of us.”

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I care. If we are to live among your people, because we cannot live among mine, then you will never be safe if they do not accept our relationship. They would find ways to punish you. And if we ever had children, they would be at risk as well. It is this, and only this, that keeps me from making you my wife now.”

Tears welled in Aggie’s eyes. She lowered her gaze to his hand, which now clasped hers. She didn’t want to even think about a future that didn’t include Chayton.

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “You are tired. Sleep now. We will find your shell in the morning.” He moved so that he lay on his side. She stretched out beside him, comforted by the feel of his arms around her. “Until we wake, I will be your shell. Tomorrow, we will decide together what our future will be.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Chayton draped the strap of her work satchel over her head and smiled as he lifted her hair free. A smiling Chayton was hypnotic; Aggie couldn’t help but smile back at him. They’d been together the entire night. She couldn’t remember when she’d last been snuggled near another human through the dark of the night; certainly not since she left the orphanage. Theo had been kind to her but never demonstrative. Chayton made her feel safe, revered, and best of all, understood.

“I have someplace special to show you today,” he said as he stood before her at the entrance to his cave.

“Someplace special to sketch?”

“Among other things.” He smiled cryptically. “Can you swim, Agkhee?”

She frowned. “No.”

“No? How can white parents not teach their young to swim?”

“Mine died when I was too young. And Theo was too busy.”

“Ours learn when they are infants.”

“Is it safe where we’re going?”

“With me it is.”

He took her hand and led her into the forest. They climbed up a steep hill, then went higher over a treeless, rocky bluff, moving deeper and deeper into a primeval land governed only by the laws of nature, populated only by wild creatures. Like Chayton.
 

They moved around a bend in the rocky ledge. A distant roaring sound filled Aggie’s ears. Chayton looked back at her and grinned. Another hundred feet brought them around into a deep canyon.
 

He took her hand. “Keep up, Agkhee. It is steep here.”
 

Heights. Again. “I’m not a mountain goat, Chayton. You know I don’t like these cliffs.”

He paused, drawing her up against his body. “Close your eyes.”
 

She did as he asked.
 

“Do you hear the water?”

She did. It was roaring now. The falls echoed off the canyon walls. She looked at him. Seeing the joy in his eyes, she took a calming breath. If he said they were safe on this steep ridge, then they were safe. And she would have risked any danger to see his eyes light up as they were now. “Carry on. I’ll be fine.”

They spent the next twenty minutes traveling downward via a scant path that wound around boulders and brush. The narrow canyon was much cooler than the rocky ledge up top—it stayed in the shade except during the noon hour, when the sun was directly overhead. The shadows the cliff walls cast were blue, spilling across the striated layers of different colored rock.

When they finally reached level ground, they stood at the banks of a swiftly flowing river maybe ten yards wide. The river was deep, the water green. Here and there it spilled over short ledges of worn boulders, churning into dangerous white water.

Chayton led her forward to the waterfall, which dropped several hundred feet over stepped ledges higher up the cliff. As they rounded a bend in the canyon wall, a wide lake spread out before them—deep, dark, and surprisingly calm for the violent waters that churned at either end.

Aggie looked up at the huge, nearly smooth cliff face bordering the lake and saw the enormous pictographs painted on the wall. A hunting scene with horses, hunters, and buffalo. The cliff face was slightly inverted and concave—perhaps that was what had protected the ancient art from the elements for so long.

“When you said this was the Valley of Painted Walls, I assumed it was because of the colorful rock formations. This is extraordinary.”

“This is a sacred place of my people. Many young braves would come here for their vision quests. Others came to hunt or recover from wounds. Game is plentiful here. And the waters heal. This is where I met Logan many years ago.”
 

Chayton walked over to a sandy bank and set down the pack he’d brought, dropping the blanket over top of it. He began to remove his various necklaces, untied the feathers in his hair. He removed his moccasins, slipped out of his leggings, and took off his tunic. In very short order, he stood before her wearing only his breechcloth.
 

Her heart began a loud noise when he reached for her satchel and set it down next to his belongings. He led her to a low boulder and had her sit down. He lifted one of her legs and rested her foot against his bare thigh, then began untying her boots.
 

“What are you doing?”

“It is time you shared your body with me.”

Aggie’s eyes widened. She let her gaze dip down Chayton’s torso to his breechcloth. “I-I’m not sure that’s wise.”

He set her boots aside, then pushed her skirt up higher and found the tie binding her stocking, below the hem of her drawers. “I have decided that we will find a way to make a life together. I already speak your language. I will step into your world when necessary. And we will live in my world all other times.”
 

“But Chayton, we’ve only been discussing marriage. We haven’t actually become married.”

“I hunted for you, and you accepted the meat I brought you. You have stood with me in my blanket. You have cooked for me and I have eaten your food. We have been alone together in your home and in my cave here. You are already my wife.” He lifted her to her feet. She didn’t resist as he pulled her shirt from the waistband of her skirt.
 

“But I didn’t know that’s what those things meant.”

“I did.” He made a face as he set about unbuttoning the many tiny buttons of her blouse. He spread the sides of her shirt and looked at her chest hungrily.
 

Aggie’s skin instantly heated, the flush rising from below her collarbone to her throat. She knew she should protest the giant leap he’d made, but couldn’t calm her jumping nerves long enough to form a coherent argument.
 

Chayton leaned forward and kissed her neck. “Your skin is pink.”

She leaned her face into his. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“I will show you.”

“What if I’m no good at it?”

He laughed, his breath a hot puff of air on her neck. “Others are always good at making love. Do you know why?” She shook her head. “Because they savor all the feelings it gives them.” He released the buttons at her wrists, then tugged at each sleeve. “Take it off. And your skirt.”

Aggie pulled her shirt off and stepped out of her skirt and petticoat. She hadn’t worn the proper ensemble of underclothes since she came out to this remote land, and now had very few layers between herself and the impending consummation of their decision to marry. The wind caressed her bare skin. Though she still wore her chemise and pantalettes, she felt utterly exposed. He smiled and reached for her, his hands a warm mocha on her pale skin. He rubbed them up and down, sending little shivers over her spine. She flattened her hands against his chest, white skin against dark. His black hair hung freely about his shoulders. She reached up and held a fistful of it. He smiled at her. She opened her hand and let it sift through her fingers.