LeClerc 03 - Wild Savage Heart (37 page)

“He aims better than you.” Molly turned and walked toward the vision of terror. “Welcome to our home, Quiet Otter,” she said softly. “Your brother is badly out of practice with his rifle.”

The Indian looked down at her. “You are a witch woman — to know who I am?” he questioned.

“He wouldn’t have missed if you had been a threat to me or his son,” she answered.

Hawk walked up to his brother. Arm clasped arm as the two men greeted each other in the language of their people. Turning, Hawk took the baby out of Molly’s arms. Wanting to linger, but knowing this was a time for the two brothers, she turned and walked back to the house.

Unwrapping the baby, Hawk presented him to Quiet Otter. “My son.”

Quiet Otter examined the infant’s bright red hair and tender white skin. His dark gaze met with Hawk’s and he nodded as he accepted the child into his own hands.

“My nephew,” he stated firmly.

The baby squirmed and tried to focus fuzzy blue eyes on the man who held him. His hands waved in the air, and more by luck than intention, his thumb found its way into his mouth. Trusting in the hands that held him to keep him safe from harm, he yawned around his thumb, sighed and closed his eyes.

The fierce warriors, father and uncle, smiled at the child. Adults would run in terror at sight of the ferocious Indian, but this small boy found security in his arms. It was the beginning of a relationship that would last through the years until Quiet Otter’s long life was finished.

Molly returned to the yard, a cup of coffee and some freshly baked bread in her hands. She saw her son in the warrior’s hands and smiled at him.

“I’ll take the baby, if you’d like something to eat.”

Quiet Otter shifted the child to the cradle of his arm and reached for the bread. The white man’s soft white bread was something he remembered from his visits with Linsey and Bear. Butter and honey oozed from the slice as he greedily ate the offering. He took the cup of coffee from her and breathed deeply of its rich aroma.

“Some things the white man knows better than the Indian,” he stated as he drank the brew. “My nephew will know both worlds, as does his father.”

Molly’s face softened as she realized that Quiet Otter had accepted her child. She stared at this newly met brother-in-law. Of similar size to Hawk, she suspected that beneath his war paint was a face every bit as attractive as her husband’s.

“His name?” Quiet Otter asked.

“Adam,” Molly replied.

Quiet Otter shook his head as a look of disgust crossed his face. He shifted the baby so that his head lay in his strong hand while the rest of his small body was supported between Quiet Otter’s arm and hip.

Reaching up to his face. Quiet Otter smeared red paint on his fingers. He gently traced lines across the baby’s chubby cheeks and over his forehead. Spots of black paint were added to the lines until Quiet Otter was satisfied with the results.

“His name is Little Hunter,” Quiet Otter stated firmly. He removed one of the feathers from his hair and tucked it into the baby’s swaddling. “As his uncle it is my right to name him and so it shall be.” He looked at Molly, waiting for her nod of assent. She couldn’t help wondering what he would do if she disagreed. Deciding not to find out the answer to that question, she nodded agreement.

“Good!” Quiet Otter shuffled that baby back into the cradle of his arm with such expertise that Molly suspected he had several children of his own.

“We will greet Autumn Fire and Bear and then will talk.”

The Shawnee warrior, dressed in feathers and war paint, turned with the tiny child in his arms and walked away.

“Why am I not surprised that he speaks such fluent English.”

“When we were boys he insisted that Daniel and I teach him. He seemed to know even then that someday he would need the language.”

“I guess if we want our son back we’d better follow him,” Molly stated with a sigh as she watched Quiet Otter disappear from sight.

“We can still call the baby Adam,” Hawk commented.

She smiled softly, “His name was chosen by his uncle and it will remain Little Hunter, but I think I’ll shorten it to Hunter.”

“You don’t mind?” Hawk wanted to please her in every way. He had selected the name Adam because he knew she’d be happy with the choice.

“I am very proud that your brother has accepted my red-haired, blue-eyed son as his nephew. Hunter is a good, strong name for a boy to have.”

Hawk took Molly’s hand in his, raised it to his lips and kissed her palm. They leisurely followed the path Quiet Otter had taken. It had been years since Hawk had seen Quiet Otter and he worried that something was seriously wrong for his brother to have traveled the many miles from Missouri, but Hawk knew it would be a while before he learned the reason.

“Chattering Squirrel … oops, Quiet Otter,” Linsey greeted the warrior, a smile of delight dimpling her cheeks. She hugged the intimidating man, easily overlooking his severe visage, as memories of a toddler running to her arms filled her thoughts. “It’s been far too long.”

“Autumn Fire, your greeting warms my heart,” Quiet Otter said. He turned to Luc and greeted him more formally but a smile lingered in his dark eyes.

“Me want some!” Dara demanded when she saw the paint on the baby’s face.

Quiet Otter knelt down to the little girl and repeated the steps he had used for the baby, only this time he drew a picture of a bird on one cheek and a leaf on the other.

“1 have not met this little one before now but she is her mother’s daughter so I know she is yours,” he said as he stood.

Molly and Hawk walked up as Linsey finished her humorous explanation of Dara’s birth and Luc’s shock. Sensing that the men needed to be alone, she took her grandson from his arms and led Molly into the house. Dara followed reluctantly. This new visitor was much more interesting than the baby who only seemed to sleep or cry.

Visiting with Linsey was enjoyable, as always, but Molly grew restless as the afternoon wore on and Hawk still hadn’t returned. Finally, she decided to return home. As she carried the baby down the path, a feeling of dread filled her with every step.

Putting the sleeping baby down in his cradle, she grabbed a hoe and began to attack the new weeds in the garden. It was a job that Hawk disapproved of, insisting that she hadn’t recovered completely from childbirth, but she needed the physical activity to help suppress the premonition of disaster that weighed so heavily on her mind.

“What do you think you’re doing, Molly?”

Hawk’s deep voice startled her so much that she dropped the hoe. She bent to pick it up and he took it out of her hands.

“We need to talk.” Leading her to the creek behind the house, Hawk sat down and pulled her onto his lap. He was unaware that many years earlier another man had sat down beneath the same tree, pulled the woman he loved beyond reason onto his lap and tried to find the words to convince her that she had to leave his wilderness home.

“My father is dying,” he stated bluntly. “He is the leader of my people and without him they will be lost. Quiet Otter will take his place but he’s come to ask for my help.”

“I’m so sorry, Hawk,” Molly leaned her head against his chest, offering the comfort of her presence. “Of course you must help. When do we leave?”

She had gotten right to the heart of the matter and Hawk sighed, knowing she wouldn’t be pleased with his decision.

“We don’t,” he said quietly. “I’ve spoken with Bear and Linsey. You and the baby will move in with them and I’ll go to Missouri with Quiet Otter.”

“Wrong!” Molly pulled away from him. “I won’t stay here while my husband is hundreds of miles away.”

“Nee wah,
my brother, my people — they need me. Every day more white settlers are moving into the land of my people. With my education and knowledge of whites I can help my people adjust to the changes that will come.”

“I don’t argue with that, Hawk. However, I will be there, too, not stuck here waiting for you to remember me and come to see me when time permits.”

“I will carry you in my heart, always. But there is untold danger for you in Missouri. Here, you and our child will be safe.”

She stood and walked to the creek. She watched the gently bubbling water as it drifted downstream. “How about lonely, Hawk? I’ll be safe and provided for but what about lonely?”

It was a question he’d been asking himself ever since he realized he would be leaving her behind. Already loneliness was a mantle around his shoulders and he hadn’t even left yet.

The rattling sound of a wagon attracted their attention. Molly turned, her eyes, blazing with anger, met the stoic Shawnee warrior who was her husband.

“You certainly didn’t waste any time, did you?”

“We leave in the morning. I want to make sure you’re settled before I leave.”

“How thoughtful!” she hissed. “Why wait? Leave now. Your son and I can be moved without your help.”

She walked up to the house where Luc and his sons were already carrying her possessions to the wagon. Quiet Otter talked softly to the infant in his arms and Molly felt an irrational urge to pull the knife from beneath her skirts and attack him. He was destroying her family, forcing her husband to leave his wife and child and travel far from his home.

He was breaking her heart.

Ignoring the men, Molly took her child and rushed away from the activity. Her pain was too deep for tears. She walked up the path, hoping that Linsey could help ease the agony she knew was just beginning.

The cool evening breeze drifted through the open window as Molly watched the men below. She was aware that Hawk had spent the afternoon preparing for his departure and now he was spending some time with his brothers. It would probably be many years before they would all be gathered together again and she knew he was creating memories to take with him.

Knowing that food would lodge in her throat, Molly had missed dinner. She had nibbled at the food on the tray Linsey had thoughtfully sent to her room, and she had lingered in the warm bath that had followed. Soon Hawk would walk up those stairs and she would spend her last night with him.

They had made love only once since the baby’s birth … and tonight would be the last time she could hold him, but her anger, her feeling of rejection made her want to lash out at him — not make love with him.

She nursed her son, kissed his downy head and put him in his cradle for the night. Blowing out all of the candles except for the one by the bed, she slipped into her nightdress and climbed into the massive bed.

As Hawk’s footsteps echoed down the quiet hall, she determined not to let him see the pain he was causing. If he could leave her without a second thought, then she wasn’t going to cling and beg.

Hawk entered the bedroom. With only the feeble light of the single candle, he could see the agony in her eyes and he wondered if his own eyes reflected the same torment. He removed his clothes and climbed into the bed.

Molly welcomed him with open arms. He loved her with soft words and slow, lingering caresses. He tasted her sweet, milky breasts and the hot, moist essence of her femininity. As they merged into one he wondered how he’d ever be able to ride away from her when dawn broke the night.

As his sweet weight imprisoned her, Molly knew that without him she would cease to exist.

Their loving teetered on violence as they sought to hold back the dawn. In the aftermath, no loving words were whispered nor gentle caresses exchanged. With his body still a part of hers, Hawk began the chant that had become so much a part of them both. With his chest against hers she could feel the steady rhythm of it as he whispered it in her ear.

Against her will, tears traced silent paths down her cheeks.

Hawk lowered himself to the bed and pulled her into his arms. Through the lonely night, he held her tightly, finding no peace in the wordless chant.

Molly woke before dawn and found Hawk gone. She raced out of the bedroom, fearing he had already left, and sighed with relief when she heard his voice in the kitchen.

As she turned to trace her steps back to the bedroom, her eyes locked with Linsey’s. With the help of a willing accomplice, a decision was made.

Hawk led his horse from the barn to the back of the house. Quiet Otter stood beside his own horse, talking with Bear. With his long hair hanging to his shoulders and his face without war paint, he looked remarkably like his younger brother.

“I have to see my wife and son before we leave,”

Hawk said quietly* handing the reins of his horse to Will.

His steps moved slowly as he approached the house. Now that the time to leave had come he wondered how he could do it. Duty vied with love, tearing his heart in two directions. He looked up as the kitchen door opened and he found his wife walking into the yard.

Dressed in the pants and shirt she had worn on their journey from the Carolinas, she carried a bedroll and pack.

“No!” he stated firmly.

“You don’t have a choice.” She ignored him as she waited for the horse Mark was walking into the yard.

Hawk grabbed her arm and jerked her around to face him. “What do you mean I don’t have a choice? You aren’t going.”