Deborah Camp (17 page)

Her wary gaze swept to his and the bright color faded from her cheeks. “Need to be?” Her laugh was unpleasant, almost spiteful. “I could live the rest of my life without being kissed and die happy.” She stood up and brushed dirt and straw from her skirt.

His back braced against the post, Tucker pushed to his feet. As Copper started past him, a wind-tossed lock of her hair caressed his face and his restraint snapped like a dry twig under a heavy foot. Before he even knew what he was doing, his hand had circled her upper arm and he’d brought her up tight against him. Off-balance, she stumbled and leaned into him, her head tipped back. She widened her eyes and opened her mouth to tell him to go straight to hell, but Tucker didn’t give her time to form the words. He twisted her around to face him, cradled the back of her head in his other palm, and slanted his mouth over hers.

Hers were the sweetest lips he’d ever tasted, and the softest. His nose bumped her cheek. She struggled and gave a squeak of protest. Tucker ran his free hand up and down her back, his fingers kneading the curve of her spine and her warm nape under her thick mane of hair. In those seconds, he would have sold his soul to continue the kiss. Her lips trembled and he knew she was holding her breath. Through his lashes, he saw that her eyes were still open and that her skin was flushing with anger. Each second became precious time. He flicked his tongue across her lips and she bucked against him, belly against belly. He slipped his arm around her waist to keep her in place and gentled his kiss, nudging her lips with his, nibbling at the corner of her mouth. He brought his hands up to stroke her silky hair. Holding her head, he tipped it so that his mouth could press flush against hers. She released her pent-up breath on a quivering moan.

She smelled of the sage and lavender she sprinkled liberally in the mattresses to freshen them. She trembled and her mouth relaxed under his. Her lips moved, parted, became malleable. He dabbed at her sweetness with the tip of his tongue. She whimpered, and he felt her uncertainty and the ripple of fear in her.

“Copper, Copper,” he murmured against her mouth, “I’m not going to hurt you. Trust me, sugar. Please, trust me.”

She released her breath in a slow, warm gush. “You … you … She stared at him, dazed, dazzled. Her lips glistened from his kisses. “I don’t understand what … you’re so different from any man I’ve ever—”

Something hard landed on his shoulder and spun him around. His weight shifted to his weak leg and his knee buckled, sending him sprawling.

“Get your cotton-picking hands off her!” Micah roared, standing over Tucker, hands bunched into
fists at his sides. He trembled with rage. “Copper, go on. I’ll take care of him. He won’t be pawing at you again.”

“Why, you stupid yokel,” Tucker said with a sneer, fury blasting through him like a dynamite charge. “What I do with Copper is none of your business.” Tucker planted his foot and propelled himself up and into Micah’s stomach. He heard Micah’s breath leave his body as he rammed the big man against the wall.

Copper yelled something in the Crow language. The next thing Tucker knew something had hold of his pants leg and wouldn’t let go. He was tugged off his feet again. Flat on his back, he was stunned to see Sentry snarling and snapping inches from his face.

“Hey, get away from me, you mangy hound!” Tucker made a swipe at the dog, and Sentry’s teeth flashed and pinched the back of Tucker’s hand. “Owww! Call off this damned dog, Copper, before I take my knife to him.” From the corner of his eye, Tucker saw that Patrol had flattened Micah against the wall and was holding him there with menacing growls and bared teeth.

Copper looked from one man to the other, her expression clearly disdainful. She snapped her fingers and the dogs trotted to her. Without a word, she left the stables, her faithful hounds at her heels.

Tucker glared at Micah. “McCall, you’d better stay out of my way or you’ll be sorry.”

“You keep your hands off Copper.”

Tucker grinned. “Or what? She wasn’t complaining.”

“You weren’t giving her a chance.”

“You know that if Copper doesn’t like something, she does something about it.”

“You were trying to take advantage of her!” Micah shouted, pointing a finger at him.

Tucker barked a laugh. “Sure, McCall. She was
fighting me like a wildcat, wasn’t she? You know good and well she was purring like a kitten in my arms. That’s what’s got your dander up.”

Micah looked in the direction Copper had taken, his face suffusing with angry red color. Throwing one more furious glare at Tucker, Micah stormed from the stables, taking the trail Copper had blazed. Tucker grabbed a fistful of dirt and threw it in a fit of aimless anger. He wondered if he and McCall had just earned themselves another night in the stables.

Copper checked on Valor and found her still sleeping. She pulled the wolfskin up to the baby’s chin and caressed her satiny cheek.

“Pretty baby,” she whispered, feeling her irritation subside as she admired the most important thing in the world to her. She touched her own lips. Confusion reigned in her. Tucker’s kisses had caused her to feel light-headed and leaden-limbed. She’d wanted to crumple to the ground and lay supine while his mouth continued to court her. His lips hadn’t been hard and demanding; his kisses hadn’t been bruising and scary.

“Rapture?” she whispered, trying out the word. “Rapture.”

The light in the cabin changed and Copper whirled around as Micah cleared his throat nervously.

“Copper, I’m sorry for what happened. Did he hurt you?” Micah blocked the doorway.

“You were supposed to be keeping an eye on Valor,” Copper reminded him.

“I thought he might try something. I was right.”

Irritation dove through her like a bird of prey. “I’ve had enough trouble in my life, Micah. Please, no more.”

“He should pack up and get. He’s nothin’ but trouble.”

“I can handle him.”

“But why should you? He can find shelter elsewhere. I’ll stay and watch over you and the babe.”

She gathered in a calming breath and smiled sadly. “Micah, good friend, I don’t need looking after. I know you mean well, but my wish is to live here in peace. Just me and my daughter.”

He jerked his head in the direction of the stables. “Then what’s he doing here?”

“Mending. Come spring, he’ll be gone.”

“He’s healed up enough to travel now. I’ll take him off your hands.”

“Tucker and I agreed on a trade. He helped me during my child-birthing. Now I’ll let him heal completely and then take him to wherever he wants to go after winter’s blown itself out. He’s been good to me, Micah. I gave my word to him and I’ll honor it as long as he continues to behave himself.”

“Looked to me like he was misbehavin’.” Micah’s blue eyes implored her. “I’ve been good to you, too.” He stepped closer to capture her hands in his big, rough-skinned ones. He nestled his thumbs in her sensitive palms. “I’d pleasure you softly, Copper. I really would. I’d love the baby, too, in time.”

In time? Copper glanced at Valor and wondered how anyone could look upon her angelic face and not fall instantly in love.

“We’ll raise her white and not tell her about how she was got and that her pappy was a crazy, blood-thirsty, no-count Injun.”

Copper plucked her hands from his. “I’m not going to lie to my daughter, Micah. She’ll be told about her people. She’ll know of both sides of her family. I don’t recall much about mine, but what I know I’ll tell her. There’s no reason for her to hang her head in shame. She comes from noble blood.”

He angled her chin up with his knuckle. “I’ve offended you.”

“Yes.”

“What I mean is … well, it’s a damn shame you got yourself with child before you got kicked out into the wilds.”

She stiffened at his choice of words, which seemed to place all the blame and responsibility on her shoulders. “I didn’t get myself with child. Stands Tall had something to do with it.”

“Of course he did. What I’m trying to say is that having this baby burdening you adds to your problems, which is why you need someone around like me.” He threw out his chest. “It’s too much for a woman to handle. I’ll be your pack mule, your workhorse, your faithful mutt all rolled into one, Copper.” His grin was calculated to charm. “Let me be your man. Every time I loved on my Indian wife, I wished it was you. I pretended she was you most nights. Instead of her black, coarse hair I made myself think her hair was soft and red like yours and her skin was white as snow, not the color of bark. She sensed my discontent and finally left me. Can’t blame her. Three in a bedroll is right crowded.”

Valor stirred awake and whimpered. Copper patted the baby’s back. Micah could never love her, she thought. He would only accept her to keep me. Valor continued to fret, so Copper checked her nappy. She was wet. Grabbing a dry one, Copper changed the baby while Micah stood awkwardly to one side. She thought of the difference between Micah and Tucker. Micah didn’t seem to want to hold Valor, but Tucker couldn’t keep his hands off her. Tucker chucked Valor under the chin, stroked her cheek, nuzzled her silky hair, talked silly talk to her. She couldn’t imagine Micah taking such an interest in her child.

Copper put the dirty napkin in a bucket of sudsy water where others soaked. She returned to the cradle. Valor was drifting to sleep again; her spiky-lashed lids drooped, her pink mouth puckered around an imaginary nipple and her chin
worked up and down as she suckled. Such a good baby, Copper thought with motherly pride. Such a good, beautiful baby.

“This cradle holds my world, Micah,” she said, trying to make him understand that this little miracle could never be a hardship. “I would have no hope if it weren’t for Valor. She got me through the bad times and made me want to live.”

They both heard Patrol’s low growl at the same time. Micah placed a hand against Copper’s shoulder to hold her back, then crept toward the open door, his hand on the hilt of his knife, his other groping for the Hawken propped against the wall. Copper withdrew her own knife and crossed to the window. She saw colors flash through bare branches.

“Who goes there?” she asked in her Crow tongue. When there was no response, she asked again, this time in French.

“You have someone I want,” came the French response.

Across the few feet of space, Copper exchanged a knowing glance with Micah. They both recognized the voice. Copper motioned for Micah to hang back in the shadows and he retreated.

“Feet Like Wind?” Copper called in English. The warrior knew both French and English, but those with him most likely couldn’t understand the latter. “Have you come to attack me or talk with me?”

A few moments passed before he answered. “Talk.”

“Then quit sneaking around like a coyote after prey. Show yourself!”

Immediately, Feet Like Wind appeared as if from thin air. Five others flanked him. None wore war paint, but each carried a weapon. Feet Like Wind gripped a long bow. He wore leather leggings and a buffalo shirt. Red chevrons decorated his cheeks to ward off Copper’s evil medicine. His
sleek, black hair hung in twin braids and was adorned with eagle feathers and strips of colored leather. His black eyes never wavered from where Copper stood at the window. To show no fear, she moved to stand on the threshold, knife in hand.

“You have someone I want,” he repeated.

“Who is that?”

“A white man. The Yankee deserter.”

“I buried him. His grave is behind you.”

“I do not think I would find bones in that grave.”

“You’re welcome to dig for them.” Copper felt Micah’s presence behind her, but since none of the Gros Ventre showed any alarm, she knew that Micah remained hidden. She wanted to glance toward the stables, but knew that slip would cost Tucker his life. She prayed he’d stay put. Patrol and Sentry sat on either side of her and growled at the party of strangers. She signaled to them and the hounds grew silent.

“Someone told me that you are living with a white man here.”

“What if I am?”

Feet Like Wind bared his teeth. “That man tried to steal our horses and kill our women and children. I counted coup on that man. I will see to it that his scalp hangs on my belt.”

“You should have scalped him while you had the chance. His hair has plenty of dirt and bugs in it by now.” She tipped her head and eyed him with a measure of mischief. “Why are you still chasing this ghost? Have you so few scalps on your lodge pole that you must rob graves for more?”

Feet Like Wind took a threatening step toward her. Veins stood out in his thick neck. “I will not hear such talk from a woman!”

Ranger whinnied and Hauler bawled, rending the tense air and causing every gaze to swing toward the stables. Copper gripped her knife’s handle
and prepared herself for the worst—if Feet Like Wind discovered Tucker, Copper would have to surrender him to the warrior to keep her daughter and herself safe. If she didn’t have Valor to think of, she would have fought, but her daughter’s life was more precious than anyone else’s. She knew, in a deep pocket of her heart, that Tucker would understand and have it no other way.

Forcing her gaze toward the stables, she was surprised to feel the sting of tears. In a blazing moment of comprehension, she realized that Tucker’s death would be a mighty blow and that she’d mourn his passing with the dedication of a widow. In fact, she doubted very much that she would stand by and let it happen without begging Feet Like Wind to spare him.

She saw no sign of Tucker, but she sensed that he was preparing to step out into the open. Profound relief washed over her when Micah bumped against her and rested a hand on her shoulder. He gave it a squeeze as the fierce warriors glared at him. Feet Like Wind narrowed his eyes suspiciously. One of the tribesmen pointed at the Hawken Micah held.

“You aren’t the man I seek,” Feet Like Wind said.

“I’m the man livin’ with her.” Micah stepped around Copper to shield her. “If you want to desecrate that grave, do it. If not, then off with you. You’re not welcome here.”

A
lerted by the threat hanging in the air, the other tribesmen fanned out and lifted their weapons. Copper moved to stand beside Micah and faced Feet Like Wind with a courage that wavered when confronted with the hatred glowing in his black eyes.