Agnes and the Renegade (Men of Defiance) (24 page)

“Your bloomers open.” He smiled up at her. He freed himself with his other hand. His penis was thick and rigid. “So do mine.” He stroked himself even as he worked her with his fingers and thumb.
 

Unable to stand any more stimulation, Aggie lifted on her knees and slipped down over him, lowering herself slowly, slowly, until he groaned. He grabbed her hips and seated himself completely within her, then lifted her and repeated the feverish motion. He bared clenched teeth as their gazes were locked on each other. Their breaths came out hot and rapid.
 

He watched her as he stroked the engorged flesh just above her opening with his thumb. She cried out, surrendering to the waves that owned her body. He let her ride him until her passion crested, then he began bucking beneath her, pumping into her, thrusting and retreating. He wrapped his arms around her tightly as he pressed his face against her chest. Lifting her slightly, he held her immobile in his arms as he pounded into her.

With her arms clinging to his shoulders, she knew the exact moment when he peaked. He groaned as his release shot inside her. He eased his hold and drew back to look up at her. She smiled at him and ran her hand through a bit of his long hair. She didn’t want to leave their room to join the gathering below, wanted instead to retreat from reality as long as possible.

He lifted her from his lap, withdrawing from her, then set his clothes right again. “Finish putting my necklaces on me,” he ordered, his voice quiet. “I will tell you what they mean.”

She smiled, glad for the distraction—and the excuse to continue their private moment. “You mean they aren’t just pretty?”

“Vanity has no place in a man’s life. Everything I wear has meaning.”

“And yet you chose a red silk vest—”

“Red is a powerful color. Since I cannot paint my face, I wear it in the way that I can.”

She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss. She sat in the V of his legs, with her legs over his thighs. “Tell me about this pouch.” It was a small leather bag, about two inches by three, heavily fringed, and decorated with intricate beading, with symbols in each of the four corners and a patterned diamond in the center.

“It is my medicine bag.” He looked up at her as he palmed the bag. “My full name is Hawk That Watches, as you know.”

“Because of the hawk that visited your mother’s tipi when you were born?”

He nodded. “And because of what I saw as a young warrior on my first vision quest. It was told to me that I would have eyes for what I do not want to know.”

“What does that mean?”

“Such messages take a lifetime to understand. It is something to be known but not questioned. Because of that message, I carry a hawk’s feather in this bag, along with a few other things that share their energy with me and protect me when I most need it.”

“Like today.”

“Yes.”

Aggie picked up the next necklace. It was a long leather thong to which were bound the claws and canines of a bear in bands of blue and white beads. “Tell me about this necklace,” she said as she draped it over his head.

“When I was newly married and my children small, the winter one year was long and harsh. My people were starving. We were happy when spring finally came, but still the snows did not stop. I went on a hunt. My search for game took me on a long journey. One day, I came across a bear that had recently emerged from his hibernation. He sat at my fire to warm himself. I told him that my people were dying from hunger in the Winter That Did Not End. He told me he was an old bear who thought he had awakened too early and in the wrong season. He wished for a long sleep. He offered himself to feed my people, his fur to warm them. I was grateful for his sacrifice. This necklace reminds me to be grateful in all things. And it grants me the bear’s spirit protection.”

Aggie, still sitting with her legs spread out either side of him, caught his hands in hers, threading her fingers through his. “I love your stories. I think I should paint them so they can be told for long years to come.”

“I would like that. And then I would tell the story of the turtle who painted.”

Aggie took up the final necklace, a choker of long beige beads carved from bone. She rose on her knees to fasten it around his throat. “What of your choker? What is its meaning?”

He touched the four strands of long beads tied under his Adam’s apple. “This is what I wear as a symbol of my intent to speak the truth. It is so that others who see me know that my words have no hidden meanings—they are what I say they are. They are my words. My words are the truth.”
 

“We know that about you. Do you feel it’s necessary to wear that with Logan’s family?”

“It is always smart to wear it when you are among strangers or enemies.”

“Logan’s family is friendly.”

“I was thinking of my grandmother, but the sheriff is here. And Logan’s brother is Shoshone.”

“He is?” She shook her head. “I didn’t know that. I look forward to meeting him.”

He made a disgusted face. “The Shoshone are enemies of the
Lakȟóta
.”

“Oh.” She looked at him, wondering if he was teasing her. He wasn’t. “Logan has been nothing but kind to us. It would be unkind of us to think of his brother as an enemy.”

“I will keep an open mind on the matter. I have not met him.” He got off the bed. Taking her hand, he drew her off with him. “It is time we went downstairs. Finish dressing.” He sat in a chair at the small round table near the window, watching her. Aggie felt a warm heat rise to her face. She drew her stockings on, tied the garters, tied her corset on, stepped into her petticoats, then dropped the heavy blue calico skirt over her head. She settled it about her waist then buttoned the fasteners. The cotton shirt was made from the same material as the skirt. It had a wide white collar, matching white cuffs, and a mock kerchief tied above the top button.

Aggie stepped into her boots, then lifted her skirts so that she could see to tie them.
 

“I do not like those boots. They are ugly.”

Aggie suppressed her smile. Chayton liked everything to be colorful and beautiful. “What would you have me wear?”

“Moccasins.”

She shook out her skirts. Only a little of her boots showed. “They would not match this dress.”

“They would match any dress.”

“If it means so much to you, I will find a pair and I will wear them.”

He smiled and caught her hand. “You would do that for me?”

“I would do anything for you.”

He came to his feet. She looked up at him, catching the way the lamplight spilled over his black hair hanging loose against the red of his shimmering silk vest. “I’m going to need to paint soon.”

“I know. I can see you are wanting to walk out of your shell.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist. “How is it that you know me so well?”

“I have watched you for a long time. I have hunted for you. I have fed you. I have made love to you. I have fought for you. You are the me that lives outside of myself. I know you as I know myself.”

A knock sounded at the door. “Aggie?” White Bird called through the door. “Are you coming down to dinner?”

Chayton opened the door and smiled at his daughter. “Yes.”

Aggie’s tension deepened as the three of them went down the long staircase. The noise of the gathering below grew louder. She wasn’t by nature a gregarious person. She was far more naturally a voyeur who’d rather watch and observe than engage in conversation. She was nervous for Chayton, too, and uncertain how he would handle an evening among a group of white people, three of whom he considered enemies.
 

The Taggerts’ spacious parlor was filled with people. She looked around the room, hoping to spot Logan’s brother. There was only one other man in Logan’s age range, and though he was tanned and had long black hair, he looked more Spanish than Indian with his whiskey-colored eyes. She realized he had to be the brother, as he and Chayton were eyeing each other in a not-too-friendly way.
 

There was an older man whom Logan introduced as his father, Sid Taggert. He was tall, his dark hair graying at his temples. Aggie looked at the other people in the room. Chayton’s grandmother and daughter, Sarah and Logan, several young boys about White Bird’s age, and another blond woman, Rachel, who was married to Logan’s brother, Sager. When Aggie was introduced as Chayton’s wife, his grandmother sniffed dismissively.
 

Aggie looked at Mrs. Burkholder, wondering what, if any, impact her influence would have on the lives of the people in the room. Chayton didn’t trust the older woman; she’d been the reason he was cut off from his people. The older woman’s gaze settled on Aggie and a chill swept through her. She consoled herself with the fact that she and Chayton were independent adults who could make their own way in life. Nothing the woman could do, as rich and powerful as she was, would alter the truth of their love.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Chayton woke Aggie early the next morning. He was once again dressed in his traditional clothes. She felt the bed sink down when he sat next to her. He moved the pillows she’d burrowed beneath. The light outside was still pale lavender, lingering beside the window, too weak to fill the room. She looked up at Chayton. She remembered now that he was going back to the valley to retrieve their things, the bodies of the other bank robbers, and the bank money that was missing.
 

She touched his hair, holding a fistful of it as she slowly woke up. “Don’t go.”

He smiled. “I must. The Shoshone is going. We will see who is the better tracker.”

“You’re better. You’re Lakota.” He grinned at her. His teeth were white and straight, his brown face fiercely proud in the shadowy light of the room. “Come back to bed and spend the morning with me.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, sending tingles to her fingers and toes and heart. “They wait for me downstairs. You will see me tomorrow, day after at the latest.”
 

“I don’t want you to go.”

He brushed his fingertips from her brow to her temple. “When I return, I will take you to the cabin, where you can step out of your shell and visit with the
Wakȟáŋ Tȟáŋka
as long as you like.”

The thought should have comforted her, but it did nothing to ease the achy emptiness she felt inside. “I miss you already.”

“And I miss you. Let me go so that I can return.”

“Be safe. Come back quickly.” Aggie watched him cross the room and quietly shut the door behind him. She stayed in bed, listening to sounds of the men as they left the house then saddled up and rode away. The silence in the wake of their departure was deafening.
 

She pushed the covers aside and went to the window, which looked out over the front of the house. The men were long gone. All that remained was the thick dust cloud kicked up by their horses. Aggie dropped the lace panel and turned to look at her empty room. What was it that had her so agitated? Chayton was in good company. Logan, Sager, Chayton, the sheriff, and his deputy would keep each other safe in the dangerous switchbacks and the remote valley beyond it. And in a few days, they would return. She made her bed and pulled out another borrowed dress.

Best thing to do, to make the time pass more quickly, was to keep busy. She brushed and tied her hair, then washed her face and brushed her teeth. Maria had to be up working in the kitchen already. Surely she could use a hand.

She moved quietly through the hall and down the stairs. The house was dark, but a bright light spilled from under the kitchen door. People were talking inside, speaking Spanish, their voices sleepy and hushed. Aggie pushed the door open and stepped inside. The talking stopped. A short, heavyset man was sitting at the table, eating a plate full of eggs and fried potatoes. Strangely, the sight of such a robust breakfast made her feel queasy.
 

“
Buenos días
,
señora
. You are ready for coffee?”
 

The thought of coffee made Aggie’s stomach clench. Perhaps she was coming down with something. She felt off, but not sick, exactly. More like homesick. She hadn’t felt this way in a long time. It happened when she lost her parents and went to the orphanage. It happened when she moved in with Theo.
 

“Thank you, no. I couldn’t sleep. I thought perhaps I could give you a hand in here. With such a full house, there must be much for you to do.”

“No, it is not too much,
señora
. I am happy for the work. It means family is visiting. It is good.”

Aggie went to the dish basin, but a wave of dizziness made her grab the sink.
 

Maria was instantly at her side. “Poor
señora
. It is bad in the beginning, no?”

“Beginning? I’m fine. I miss Chayton, that’s all.”

“Of course you do. Why do you not go sit on the porch outside? I bring you a piece of toast and some tea. It will settle your stomach.”

“Thank you. I think I will. I didn’t mean to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all.”

Aggie went outside. The sun still hadn’t crested the horizon, but the high clouds were already aflame with pinks and roses. A soft breeze moved through the porch, easing some of the panic that held her in its teeth. Soon enough, Maria came out with a small tray. She set it down next to Aggie, then stood before her and smiled.
 

“When is the little
bebé
expected?”

“
Bebé
?” Aggie frowned as she looked up at Maria, then felt a furious blush color her face. “No. I’m not-I’m not. I’m just not myself. Thank you for the toast and tea.”

“
Si, señora
. I think maybe you don’t know yet. It’s exciting time.” She turned to go. “You will let me know if you need something more,
si
?”

Aggie smiled and nodded. She wondered if it could be true. It had only been a week or so since she and Chayton were first intimate. Pregnancy didn’t happen that fast, did it? She wondered how he would take the news, if it proved true. To her, it seemed a miracle. Her own child. Someone who wouldn’t have to grow up alone. Someone to love and cuddle and mold into a caring, productive adult. Aggie wrapped her arm around her stomach, hoping Maria was right.