Agnes and the Renegade (Men of Defiance) (23 page)

Chayton shot another arrow into his neck—not giving him the release of an instant death, but a slow ending as his heart pulsed blood from the wound. The next arrow hit him in the crotch. Skinner screamed.
 

Chayton spared not a glance at her as he threw a leg over his horse’s back, drawing his knife before his feet hit the ground. Skinner was still alive, still crying and pleading as Chayton knelt and caught a fistful of his hair.
 

Aggie turned away, clasping White Bird to her chest, fearing what Chayton would do next. She’d never seen such rage in his face, not even on that first night when he’d broken into her cabin. She remembered the way Skinner had fingered White Bird’s hair, and a sickening thought took root in her mind.
 

Had this been the man who’d attacked Chayton’s family, the one who’d scalped them? If so, then God have mercy on Skinner’s soul, for she knew Chayton wouldn’t.
 

Chayton came to them, shoving a wide strip of bloody flesh into his pouch as he knelt beside them. Skinner was whining and gurgling on the ground. Aggie resisted the urge to look at him. She forced herself to look at Chayton’s eyes. Only his eyes. These were the eyes of the man she loved, a man who would fight to the death to protect her and his daughter and anyone in his world that he loved.

“There are two other men.” She pointed around the corner of the tent. “One around the front of the tent, one with Sarah at the cabin. Hurry.”

Aggie ordered White Bird to stay where she was with her face against her knees. “Do not look up. Listen for me to call you.” She crept forward to peek around the corner of the tent. The older woman had managed to put the fires out. The man who’d tried to set them now lay bleeding on the ground, dead and scalped. Chayton was running toward the house, silent and fast.

Aggie went back for White Bird, then rushed to the old woman, who was sobbing.
 

“Grandmother!” White Bird grabbed her and wrapped her arms around the older woman. “Are you hurt, Grandmother?”

The woman sat up and hugged White Bird tightly. Her hysterical sobs stopped immediately. After a few seconds of deep breaths, the older woman answered, “No. I am not harmed. And you, child?” She touched White Bird’s face. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Aggie helped me, then my father saved us.”

All three of them looked over to the cabin. A man was backing out of it in a stumbling gait, one of Aggie’s knives in his hand, dripping blood. “Oh no,” Aggie whispered. As they watched, Chayton reached him. He grabbed the man from behind with a hand over his forehead and sliced his throat.

A terrible thundering slipped into Aggie’s consciousness. She worried more of Skinner’s men were coming to the aid of their friends. Instead, she saw Logan riding in hard with men wearing sheriff badges. She looked around, wondering where she could take White Bird and her grandmother so that they could be shielded from the dead and bleeding men scattered about the cabin’s property. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement and turned to see Sarah step to the threshold of her house. Relief poured through her veins. She gathered the others and moved them toward the cabin.

As Aggie watched, Logan leapt from his horse and rushed toward Sarah. Her eyes never left the corpse before her. She was pale and so quiet.

“Sarah,” Logan said as he lifted her face. “Honey, look at me. Tell me what happened. Are you hurt?”

“I killed him. He was going to rape me. And probably kill me. But I killed him first.” She looked at Logan. “Never again,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “I killed him.”

Logan smiled. “Yes, you did. You took care of him. You did what you needed to do—you protected yourself.”
 

As if waking from a dream, Sarah gave a startled look around her. “Where’s White Bird?”

“She’s safe.” Logan nodded toward the three of them.
 

Aggie looked at Chayton’s grandmother, who stood on the other side of White Bird. Her head was held high, her shoulders back, one hand grasping her cane. Her clothes were torn; blood marred her white lawn blouse in small blotches. Her skirt was stained with black soot from putting out the flames. She had not come out of the skirmish unscathed, nor had it dimmed her spirit. She held one arm around White Bird, who still had an arm around her waist. Aggie wondered who was supporting whom.
 

As she looked at Chayton, he sheathed his knife, then came to her. Though his hands were damp with blood and stuck to her sleeves, she’d never been so glad to see anyone. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. For a long moment, they simply held each other, then he pulled back and held an arm out for his daughter to join them.
 

“
Até
,
kȟúŋši
is here,” White Bird told him.
 

Chayton lifted his gaze to the woman. The chill in his eyes sent ice down Aggie’s spine. “She was brave, Chayton. She put out the fires they tried to start and fought one of the men herself.”

He did not speak to the older woman. Instead, he shifted his gaze to his daughter and said something in Lakota that made her weep and bow her head. He touched his daughter’s face, her hair, her shoulders, keeping her at arm’s length so that he could check her over, before pulling her close to hold her tight. Chayton’s face as he examined his daughter etched itself in Aggie’s artist’s mind. His nostrils were flared, his eyes watered; his cheeks and jaw were rigid.
 

He looked at Aggie, then repeated himself, this time in English: “I have killed the men who killed White Bird’s mother and brother. I have given them peace so that they no longer have to walk the earth. They can now rejoin our ancestors.”

“You did more than that, Chayton.” The sheriff joined them. “You took out an entire gang of bank robbers. There’ll be a large reward for you to collect from my office in the next week.”

Chayton studied the sheriff. Aggie wondered if he was deciding whether to believe the promised reward would be there when he arrived—and perhaps if the trip to fetch it would be worth the experience he’d have coming into town.

“I’ll bring him down to collect it,” Logan said as he joined them, an arm around Sarah.
 

White Bird hurried to hug her foster mother. They murmured soft words to each other, Sarah’s hands quickly doing a pass over the little girl’s head and shoulders. More riders came in, men she recognized from Logan’s ranch. Logan went to speak to them.

“Ladies,” Chayton’s grandmother addressed the group, both hands stacked over the top of her cane, “let us adjourn to the tent while the men clean up this mess. I don't think it would be wise for us to leave without their escort.”

Aggie looked at Sarah, who nodded her agreement. “Aggie, I don’t think you’ve been introduced to Chayton’s grandmother yet,” she said as they entered the tent. “This is Mrs. Burkholder.” Sarah gestured toward Aggie. “And this is my friend, Agnes Hamilton.”

The two women nodded at each other, then Mrs. Burkholder wandered among the paintings. Aggie reached for Sarah's hand. “Were you hurt?” she asked her friend in a quiet voice.

“No. I wasn't going to let any man corner me again,” Sarah told her. Aggie wondered what had happened in Sarah’s past that she would make such a comment. “I went straight into your cabin and found a knife.” Sarah looked at White Bird. “What happened after I lost sight of you? Were you hurt?”

“No. Aggie came after me, kept that man from me, then my
até
showed up. And Logan-
p'apá
. It was scary, though. My
até
said the man who took me was the one who killed my
iná
and brother. It was a good day for us. I'm glad it happened.”
 

Sarah shook her head and hugged White Bird tightly. “You are so strong.”

“Stronger than she should have to be.” Mrs. Burkholder stood before them. She sent a look over the three of them, judgment and determination in her eyes. “How is it that you know my grandson, Miss Hamilton? And why is he featured so prominently in your work?”

Aggie looked around the tent, seeing so many iterations of Chayton. “I’m his wife.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Agkhee, ride with me.” Chayton stood next to the surrey. Sarah, White Bird, and Mrs. Burkholder were already inside. The sheriff, his deputy, and Logan’s men were gathering the outlaws’ horses and would bring their bodies up to Logan’s ranch later.
 

Aggie wanted more than anything to be close to him. The day’s violence left her feeling achy and cold, despite the heat of the waning sun. Chayton lifted her into the saddle of one of the outlaws’ horses, then swung up behind her and took up the reins. They followed behind the carriage, and his pony followed them.

“How are you,
mahasani
?”
My other skin.
Aggie smiled as she leaned against Chayton. English had no equivalent for that Lakota endearment. Perhaps the closest translation was “the other half of me.”
 

“I’m tired. And sad. I’m sorry your daughter had to see all that happened today. Those men were bad, through and through. I’m afraid to think of what would have happened if you hadn’t come when you did.”

His arm tightened around her. “It was a good day for my daughter. She has seen now the thing that haunted her is no more. Now she can just be a child.”

“And you? Can you be more at peace now?”

Chayton leaned his face against her forehead. “I am trying. The spirits of my wife and son can find rest now, but much still lies ahead of us. My grandmother is here. I think nothing will be as it was.”

“She was brave today. Fearless. She fought one of the men and kept my tent from burning.”

He gave a quick nod. “It is good a day. For many reasons.”

* * *

A knock sounded on the door of the room she and Chayton had been given upstairs at Sarah and Logan’s house. She pulled the sides of her borrowed dressing gown tight and opened the door to find Maria standing there with an armload of clothes and grooming items. Aggie had left most of her things at the cave, and, in the mayhem that followed the fight at the cabin, she’d forgotten to collect an extra outfit.

“Thank you, Maria.”

“Of course,
señora
.
Señor
Chayton is bathing in the men’s barracks. He has been given a change of clothes as well. You will need help with your hair,
si
?”

“No, thank you. I’ll dry it with the linen.”

“
Bueno
. You need me, you summon me.” She pointed to a bell pull near the door. “
La familia
has gathered below.
Señor
Logan’s brother,
Señor
Sager, is here. He is no happy at the excitement today.
La señora
asks you to join when you are ready,
si
?”

“Yes. Of course. Thank you, Maria.”

Chayton entered their room a short while later. He was dressed in an interesting blend of fancy and common clothes. He wore a stiff pair of new indigo denims, a white cotton shirt, and a red silk vest. His borrowed clothes fit his lean, broad-shouldered body in a way that heated her own body. She smiled at him. He glared at her.
 

“My body wants to run, lose these white man’s clothes. My mind fights for control over my body. I am at war with myself.”

Aggie’s smile widened. She crossed the room and took his face in her hands. “You look very handsome.”

“Do I? Logan let me pick the vest.”

“You have good taste.”

Chayton started to open the buttons of his fly. “I have bloomers, too.” He tugged at his white shorts.

Aggie bit her lip, suddenly terribly aware that she stood before him in only her borrowed underclothes. Very little fabric separated their bodies. “There’s something missing from your fine new outfit.”

He frowned. “What would that be?”

“Your necklaces. Your cuffs.” She picked up his necklaces, then led him to the bed and had him sit down. Standing in front of him, she took a small beaded pouch and draped it over his head. He looked up at her, watching her, trying to catch her gaze. When her eyes met his, she forgot everything in the world but him.
 

He reached up and caught the side of her face. “
Thečhíȟila, mahasani
. I love you, my heart.”

Aggie’s eyes watered. Life had never felt more right than it did at the moment. She climbed over his lap, straddling him so she could be close to him when he kissed her. He pulled her face down to his, his great, dark eyes watching hers until their lips touched. The kiss was gentle at first. She felt his restraint, the power he held in check.
 

She smiled against his mouth. “Chayton, it is all right to let your body run now.”

He groaned, caught her face in both of his hands. His mouth opened against hers. She touched her tongue to his, welcoming his lunges into her mouth as she bent her head slightly. He broke the kiss, pressing his mouth to the side of hers. His breath was hot on her cheek. He pulled her hips tighter over his. He arched against her spread thighs, his arms wound tightly around her ribs and waist.
 

Aggie could feel her body heating up, craving his. He fisted her braid and bent her head back as he kissed her throat, kissing the long arch of her neck up to her chin. He switched his focus to her breasts, cupping them while his hot mouth sucked her nipples through the thin fabric. Her response came as a hissed sigh. His dark eyes had gone fully black as he looked up at her. Catching the fabric at the top of her chemise in his fists, she just managed to stop him before he ripped the two sides apart.
 

“Wait! I don’t own this. I will unbutton it.” She pushed his hands away, then began slowly easing each button free. His eyes never left her hands. His nostrils flared at her progress.

She ground her hips against his lap. He gave her a warning look. She smiled and repeated her motion, grinding with each freed button. When all the tiny buttons were released, Chayton spread the two flaps aside and palmed her breasts. Holding each to his mouth, he tongued her nipples, then sucked them. After a few minutes of torture, he reached down and stroked between her legs. Aggie bucked hard against his hand. He found the opening in her drawers and slipped his fingers inside her. She gasped at the sensation on her heated flesh.