LeClerc 03 - Wild Savage Heart (2 page)

It ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Morning Moon relaxed, her body going limp. She opened her eyes, her gaze locking with Wolfs. Only because of the total quiet in the lodge were they able to hear her whispered words. As her eyes closed, Morning Moon released a deep sigh and was still.

“My husband,” Linsey whispered, repeating one of the few Shawnee words she recognized.

Wolf moved to Morning Moon’s side and laid his hand on her chest. His eyes closed, devastation aging his face beyond his years.

“She is dead.”

“No,” Linsey cried as Bear wrapped his arms around her. “Please God, no …”

Their gaze was drawn to the mound of her stomach. Three pairs of eyes gazed with horror and anguish as they watched it move and roll. The new life extinguished before it could begin as the infant fought its final battle.

“The baby … dear God, the baby!”

Horror never felt before gripped each of the observers as they watched the helpless child move. With no words to anyone, the grandmother moved to the side of the bed. Her knowing hands rested on the swollen abdomen, feeling the position of the baby. She snarled a command to Wolf, who responded in a daze by handing her the knife he carried strapped to his thigh.

Once more confirming the location of the baby, the grandmother placed the knife at the top of Morning Moon’s abdomen. With a swift movement, she slit open the stretched skin.

Linsey’s eyes widened in panic at the action, but the old woman ignored her startled scream; time was more important than a white woman’s squeamishness. She cut through the uterus, exposing the membrane containing the child. Piercing through the sack, the grandmother lifted the baby from Morning Moon’s body. Laying it on the edge of the sleeping-shelf, she quickly tied off the cord and cut it.

The child was still, its dark, wet skin tinted blue. Supporting the baby’s head, the old woman cleared its mouth and firmly slapped its bottom.

In a world filled with dying and dead, one little body filled new lungs with air. A voice, feeble at first, quickly gathered strength. Tiny eyes opened to squint in the light of a new day, small arms and legs waving as cool air rushed over damp skin.

“You have a son.” The grandmother turned, handed the child to his father.

Wolf gently held his son, rubbing his cheek against the soft, wet one. Taking the child outside, he held him up to the morning sun. Repeating words older than memory, he thanked Manitou for blessing him with a son, promising to teach him of life, helping him to grow into a brave warrior.

Returning to the lodge, Wolf handed his new son to Linsey. “Many years ago Bear Who Walks Alone became my brother. Now I ask a difficult task of the woman of my brother. Name my son. Take him with you to your cabin and watch over him and his brother. When the time is right a name will come to you and you will know it is the right one.

“Protect my sons for me, Summer Eyes, so that they may live to know tomorrow.”

In less than three weeks, the death toll at the Shawnee village climbed to over six hundred men, women and children.

And one birth — an event so miraculous that Linsey knew she’d never forget the moment. Much to her surprise, the baby’s name came easily.

“My sister,” Hawk said quietly when he finally came to claim his sons, “you have given my son a name?”

She nodded. “Morning Moon once told me that Shawnee names have meaning but I knew few Shawnee names. One of the English ones I did know was Nathan, which means gift of God. I also chose Morning so that he can remember the mother who died before his birth. For several days when I was trying to make my decision a hawk seemed to be everywhere I turned. He was so strong and free.” Wolf nodded quietly. “It is a good name, my sister, a name worthy of a warrior. Nathan Morning Hawk.”

CHAPTER ONE

North Carolina — Spring 1811

“Mary Helen Gallagher Royse,” Molly whispered to herself as she twisted the shiny gold band on her left hand, watching it catch the sunlight. “Molly Royse … Adam and Molly Royse … “

“Did you say something, sweetheart?”

Molly felt heat warm her face as she turned to look at the man beside her on the wagon seat. Her husband of one day. Not quite a full day, she amended, since they had been married late yesterday afternoon and it was just past noon today.

“I was just practicing my new name,” she admitted, with a shy smile. “I’d be terribly embarrassed if someone addressed me as Mrs. Royse and I didn’t answer.”

Adam smiled at her and released one hand from the reins to give her a quick hug. “You’ve got the rest of your life, Molly Royse, to remember your name.”

“Molly Royse,” she said. “I like the sound of it. Don’t you?”

“Very much.” Adam felt his voice catch as love filled him. “More than I can ever say.”

Molly leaned against him and briefly closed her eyes. This much happiness almost scared her. Until Adam had come into her life she had been destined to care for her aging father. As the youngest of four daughters, Molly had had her fate decided for her. Her older sisters had all made desirable marriages with men carefully chosen by Charles Gallagher, while she had been raised with the knowledge that she would always remain at home, unmarried, childless.

Until Adam. Courageous, bold Adam, who dared to defy Charles Gallagher by sweeping her away from beneath his very nose. Clever, resourceful Adam, who further defied the influential banker by taking his daughter to the frontier of North Carolina and therefore out of his reach.

Gentle, loving Adam who had already given her more happiness than she had ever expected, or hoped, would be hers.

Sighing contentedly, Molly opened her eyes and they collided with the dark, intense gaze of their guide, and Adam’s friend, Nathan Hawk. Intimidated, Molly sat up abruptly and folded her hands in her lap, wishing once again that she had told Adam of her dislike of his friend before it had become too late.

When Adam had first introduced her to him, Nathan had been dressed in a conventional dark suit and white shirt, his blue-black hair neatly curbed at his nape with a dark silk ribbon. His prominent cheekbones, sculptured nose and well-defined jaw hinted at his Indian heritage. He was coldly polite as he looked down at her from the advantage of several inches and she knew he had found her inadequate for the trip. Or perhaps he doubted her ability to be the kind of wife Adam needed.

Whatever his reason, Nathan made no attempt to hide his contempt.

If the civilized Nathan had alarmed her, this Nathan terrified her. He had traded his dark suit for fringed buckskins and knee-high moccasins. His hair was still bound at his nape, now with a rawhide thong, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if one morning she saw it hanging freely around his shoulders.

His massive chest and wide shoulders pulled at the seams of his shirt while his pants hugged his heavily muscled thighs. He rode his horse as if he had been born upon its back. And perhaps he had, she thought, acknowledging that this man was every bit as dangerous as he looked. His appearance no longer hinted at his Indian heritage, it now demanded that his heritage be recognized.

And he still looked at her with contempt.

Molly felt Nathan’s stoic gaze linger on her and she forced herself not to fidget on the seat. She felt that he could read her every thought with those searching black eyes, reach right into her soul and find it wanting. She was still horrified at the thought of riding into the unknown wilderness with him.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Adam asked softly.

Startled, Molly forced her eyes away from Nathan and turned to her husband. She felt a vivid blush creep up her neck and she knew that Nathan would observe it and probably know the reason.

“Yes, Adam,” she replied in the same way she had answered the same question several times earlier. “I’m really all right.”

“I know a woman’s first time can be painful, sweetheart, and I was a little rougher than I should have been.” Adam lowered his voice as the memory of their wedding night brought a heavy sensation to his loins. “I wanted you so badly. I know that’s no excuse but it is the reason.”

“Adam, please … “ she stammered.

“I’m sure Nathan will understand if you need to stop a little earlier tonight.”

“Adam, don’t you dare … “ Molly broke off, completely mortified at the thought of Adam explaining such a situation to his friend.

“He’s a man, honey, he’ll understand.”

“If you mention a word of it to him I swear I’ll… I’ll climb off this wagon and walk back to Charleston!”

Adam chuckled at the intensity of her reply. His sweet, shy Molly had hidden depths, a few of which he had discovered last night. Her delight in the pleasures to be found in their marriage bed had overwhelmed him. He felt himself begin to harden as he remembered her eagerness to please him.

Clearing his throat, Adam forced his thoughts away from last night. There were many long miles, and even longer hours, before he could once more make love to his wife. And he knew time would pass even more slowly if he were to dwell on the memories. Ah, but those memories were glorious!

Nathan watched the newlyweds whisper to each other and he saw the blush cover Molly’s face. Spurring his mount away from the wagon, he wondered, not for the first time, exactly what Adam saw in his wife. To Nathan, Molly was plain rather than pretty. She was too tall, far too thin for his tastes and she was shy to the point of being insipid.

She was like so many of the women he’d known since he’d left his home in wilderness of Kentucky for the civilized wastelands of Pennsylvania. He had come to know many beautiful women, women who had become fascinated with the tall, unbelievably attractive man.

Hawk shook his head at the memories. The more mercilessly he had treated some of them the more they seemed to have wanted him. He didn’t understand that they were drawn to the ruthless savage that lurked just beneath his civilized veneer. They were as enticed by his intensity and the promise of violence as they were by his muscular body. The few women who thought they had experienced his savagery had become slavelike in their devotion to him. In fact, he acknowledged, they had become annoyances, until he had been forced to either move on to another city or to show them the truth of his cold-blooded cruelty.

Nathan almost smiled at the mental vision of the horror and terror that would have covered the faces of his former lovers if they had ever witnessed the real savage, the Shawnee warrior capable of every cruelty and atrocity credited to the Indian.

He was Nathan, raised by loving white parents, surrounded by gentleness and peace. He was Morning Hawk, full-blooded Shawnee warrior, born in death, witness of brutality and rage.

He was both and neither. He walked a line between two worlds, comfortable in neither. Feeling that the ingredient missing in his life was just around the next turn, Nathan Morning Hawk kept searching. For nearly six years he had lived as a white man, surrounded by the city and the trappings of civilization. Now he was going home. Maybe he would find that nebulous something in the wilderness rather than the city.

He refused to consider the possibility that he would never find the sanctuary he sought. He knew that somewhere, someplace, he would find whatever it was that had forced him to take this endless journey. He would find the missing part of his soul.

Molly was just another white woman who looked at him as others had. He read the curiosity in her gaze as her honey-colored eyes met his. But he also saw more than curiosity; he saw fear and contempt; he saw fascination and self-disgust caused by that fascination.

He had agreed to help Adam move to the unsettled wilderness of North Carolina. He’d help Adam set up a new home, would teach the other man the things necessary for survival then he’d be on his way. By winter he’d be home with the family that accepted him as he was and loved him without question.

He rode several miles ahead of the wagon, looking for potential problems, finding none. At this point in their trip the trail was clearly visible and well traveled. The gentle spring rains hadn’t worked on the trail yet, as they would in only a few more weeks, filling it with potholes and ruts. Now they crossed gently flowing streams, but soon those same streams would be raging rivers, swollen from floods further upriver.

Reluctantly, Nathan returned to the wagon. He noticed that the well-sprung wagon rode smoothly enough for Molly to rest her head against Adam’s shoulder. Adam, wearing the look of a man well pleased with life, nodded as Hawk rode up, being careful not to dislodge Molly. Adam thought she might be asleep; Hawk knew she was awake and listening to every word.

“Follow the trail. It forks about a mile down, take the right fork.” Hawk looked the way they had come. “You expect the old man to send someone after her?”

“I don’t know what he’ll do,” Adam replied quietly. “I wouldn’t put anything past him, though.”

Hawk nodded in agreement. He’d met Charles Gallagher and knew the man would make a formidable foe but he didn’t really expect to be followed this soon.

“He’ll search Charleston first, but I’m going to backtrack a ways, just in case I’m wrong.” He watched the sliver of color showing beneath Molly’s nearly closed eyes. “If I don’t catch up to you by dark, find a place off the trail to set up camp. Start searching for a campsite before dark, keep your fire small. You can’t get lost, but if you do I’ll find you before morning.”