Wild Splendor (7 page)

Chapter 9

The clearest spring, the shadiest grove;—
Tell me, my heart, if this be love?

—G
EORGE
L
YTTELTON

 

 

The long ride, the hot sun and scorching wind, weighed on Leonida. Combined with the lack of sleep, the discomfort made her limbs sluggish and her eyes heavy. Her head bobbed as she forced herself not to lean back and rest against Sage's powerful chest. It was enough that she had to ride with him at all, constantly battling her feelings for him, let alone having to ride on into the long night without any sleep or rest from the grueling journey on horseback. She had long since forgotten the others, who were as fatigued as she, for it was taking all of her own willpower and concentration not to give in to her exhaustion.

The morning sun had been welcomed, for she hoped it would reveal that they were approaching Sage's stronghold. Yet Leonida saw that they were still traveling a small footpath at the side of a mountain, this only occasionally leveling out into a valley wide and green with grass.

With a heavy sigh, Leonida looked around, trying to focus her attention on her surroundings to keep herself awake. They were riding down a slope of bald rock into another valley. Here and there were fragments of petrified trees. They were of all colors. Some were dull, others reflected like marble, their many shades made more brilliant by the clear sunlight.

They followed a winding path under firs, and then they rode into another narrow canyon. Leonida was relieved to get a reprieve from the sun in this strip of mid-morning shade, the air cool and pleasant on her face and arms.

For warmth through the long, cold night of travel on horseback, Leonida had worn a poncho, a shoulder blanket with a hole in the center for the head. She had ignored Sage when he had first offered it to her, but it had not taken much shivering for her to agree to wear his generous offering. Yet she had shoved his arm away as he had tried to draw her back against him, to share his body warmth with her.

She had known the dangers.

As the horses topped a brush-covered ridge, Leonida blinked her sleep-heavy eyes and discovered a little green meadow in a pocket of the canyon. A grove of young quaking aspens reached into the meadow. Beyond them, half a dozen fat elk were grazing.

“There you see fresh meat for dinner,” Sage said, breaking the silence. He reined his horse to a stop and held up a fist as a silent command to his warriors to draw their own mounts to a halt.

Leonida's shoulders slumped forward. Her eyes slowly closed, feeling the wondrous lethargy of sleep momentarily claim her.

Then her eyes flew open wildly when she felt herself being taken off the horse and into powerful arms. She looked up into Sage's handsome face as he carried her toward the shade of the trees, to which the other women and the children were being herded.

Leonida wanted to yank herself free of Sage's arms, but it felt too wonderful to be held so gently. She could not help herself when she lay her cheek against his chest, her eyes closing again, snatching another moment of sleep before she felt herself being lowered to the ground.

Not wanting to wake up, she snuggled onto her side on a thick carpet of moss and sighed when he covered her with the poncho that she had worn through the night. Soon she felt a small body creep next to her and snuggle against her bosom—Trevor had missed their camaraderie. Leonida put an arm around the boy's tiny waist and drew him closer against her, opening her eyes only enough to see Carole stretched out beneath the next tree, oblivious to everything, her sleep so sound, so deep.

The sound of gunfire a short distance away made Leonida flinch; then once again she drifted off into a merciful void of sleep. Dreams soon replaced reality. She was riding on Sage's chestnut stallion with him, her hair blowing in the wind, her arms willingly wrapped around his waist. She was feeling content. She had never felt so loved. When Sage turned and gazed at her, his eyes dark with feelings for her, her insides thrilled. She lay her head on his bare, muscular back, reveling in this wondrous moment as they rode toward his village, where she was going to become his wife. She had already found paradise in his arms as he had taught her ways of loving a man. She was eager to bear his children.

Then a shot rang out in her dream, changing it into a nightmare as she watched Sage's body jerk when a bullet pierced his heart. Harold Porter came riding out of the brush, laughing, with his rifle barrel smoking.

Leonida was aware of someone screaming, then she felt someone's gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking her, awakening her, and realized it had been her own scream.

Bolting to a sitting position, perspiration lacing her brow and her heart pounding, Leonida gazed anxiously into Sage's midnight-dark eyes. Without thinking, she reached a hand up to his face as he leaned down over her.

“It was a dream?” she murmured, her voice drawn. “It was just a terrible dream?”

“Yes, a dream,” Sage said thickly, her gentle hand on his face showing him more than she dared to confess aloud to him—that she did care.

She realized that she was displaying too much affection for Sage in front of the other women , who were staring at her, and jerked her hand away. She gazed down at Trevor, who was also closely scrutinizing her. She drew him within her arms and gave him a hug, glad to have him to take the focus of attention away from herself.

“Did I frighten you, honey?” she asked softly, stroking his back through his cotton shirt.

Trevor nodded and clung to her. “Don't scream again,” he murmured. “It scares me too much.” Then he leaned away from her, and tears came to his eyes. “I'm hungry. My belly hurts.”

Carole crawled over and sat down beside Leonida. There were deep, dark circles beneath Carole's eyes, and her breathing seemed shallow. Some strange sort of rattle came from her lungs, and each breath took much effort. This alarmed Leonida.

“This woman needs to eat,” she said dryly to Sage. “You shouldn't have made us wait so long.”

“You were told the need to get higher in these mountains,” he explained softly. “Not only for my benefit but also for yours. While you are traveling with me and my warriors, you are in as much danger from the gunfire of the white pony soldiers as are the Navaho. Traveling without stopping was the only way. Now we are at a safe distance from those who might shoot at us. We can stop often to rest and eat.”

Leonida became aware of the wonderful fragrance of meat cooking over open flames. She realized how long she had been asleep. Long enough for an animal to have been slain, skinned, and cooked. Her gaze followed the aroma and caught the sight of a large hunk of meat roasting brown over the campfire, its juices dripping into the flames, sizzling tantalizingly.

Carole reached for Leonida's hand, drawing her attention back. “I've got something that needs to be said,” Carole said, her voice thin. “You can't totally blame the Indian chief for my condition. There is more than hunger that makes me weak. I—I never confessed my illness to anyone. Not even my husband. I had planned to, then . . . then . . . my husband was shot on one of the recent Indian raids. I had no one else. I was hoping that someone would have mercy on my Trevor once I worsened. Leonida, perhaps you can . . . ?”

“What are you saying?” Leonida asked.

“I'm dying,” Carole said, tears rushing from her eyes. “It's a lung disease. There is no hope. Do you think you could look after Trevor? He's such a dear boy and—and as you know, he has become quite attached to you.”

Leonida's heart despaired at the news of Carole's illness, and she was torn with conflicting feelings about the sick woman's request. She glanced at Trevor, who was looking ever so trustingly into her eyes, and then at Sage, who was removing the meat from the spit over the fire. She suddenly realized how short life was and how one must take from it what he or she could.

Putting an arm around Carole's frail shoulders, Leonida drew her into her embrace. “I'm so sorry,” she whispered. “Yes, I'll see to Trevor's welfare. He's so dear. How could I say no?”

“Thank you,” Carole murmured, holding back torrents of tears. “God bless you.”

Carole went to Trevor and sat down beside him, then took him onto her lap, cuddling him close. Leonida watched, filled with many tumultuous emotions. She did not know how long Carole had, and she did not want to ask. Knowing that she was dying was bad enough.

Again she gazed at Sage, wondering how he would feel about her mothering Trevor? Would Sage want him as well if Sage and Leonida were ever free to commit themselves to one another?

Realizing where her thoughts had taken her, and feeling foolish for it, Leonida started to look away, but when Sage turned to her with a large chunk of meat, she forgot everything but the hunger gnawing away at the pit of her stomach. She didn't hesitate. She accepted the meat and sank her teeth into it. She gobbled it down hungrily, watching as everyone else joined in the feast until there were only stripped bones lying on the ground beside the fire. The bones were carried far away from the camp and discarded.

Everyone took turns going to the river to splash water onto their faces and take deep, refreshing drinks.

By then the sun was low in the sky. Leonida watched Sage anxiously, afraid that he was going to command his warriors to ready their horses for travel again. But to her relief, he instead went to his stallion and removed a roll of blankets from behind the saddle. He began unrolling them close to the campfire, and gave Leonida occasional questioning glances. Her heart began to pound. Was he going to force her to sleep with him, as he had forced her to travel with him on his stallion?

The thought sent a sensual thrill coursing through her veins, yet she knew that she couldn't. She could not be that close, so intimately close to his hard, muscular body, without dying inside with need of his lips and hands, although this was something new to her, had only become a part of her after having met this handsome Navaho chief.

Leonida looked slowly around the camp, seeing that the other Navaho warriors were spreading blankets. Then Sage turned and locked eyes with her.

“Tonight we sleep. Tonight you will be
warm,
” Sage said, gesturing toward the blankets with an outstretched hand. “You will share blankets with Sage.”

A blush heated Leonida's cheeks. “No, thank you,” she murmured. “I'll do just fine sleeping by myself beside the fire.”

“The flames of the fire lose their warmth as they turn to embers,” Sage said flatly. He went to Leonida, took her by an elbow, and led her toward his blankets. “You sleep beside Sage, whose heat never dies.”

Leonida's pulse was racing maddeningly. She stumbled as she gazed over her shoulder at the women who were staring, aghast, at this order that had been given her. She watched the Indian warriors settle down onto their blankets, some already snoring.

That did it. It was obvious that she was to be the only captive who would have blankets for warmth tonight, and she could not stand for that.

The others, especially Carole, needed protection from the chilly dampness of this mountain valley.

She jerked sharply to be set free. “I absolutely refuse to sleep with you between your blankets, especially if the women and children have none with which to keep warm tonight,” she fumed, daring Sage with an angry stare. “Give the women and children blankets. I will fuss no more about where I must sleep or with whom.”

Sage glowered at her, then shouted to his warriors, waking them, telling them to give half their blankets to the captives. There was much grumbling of dissatisfaction, but being the dutiful warriors they were, they did as Sage ordered and soon everyone, including the women and children, was settled in beside the fire beneath a blanket.

Sage stood over his blankets with his arms folded across his chest and his feet spread wide. He gave Leonida a silent stare, then went to her and took her hand and led her down beside him beneath the blankets.

Her heart thumped wildly as she lay with her back to him, wondering what to expect next from the handsome chief.

She was surprised when he did not attempt approaching her in any way sexually. Instead he was soon fast asleep behind her.

Sighing heavily, Leonida relaxed and closed her eyes, quickly welcoming the soft cocoon of sleep herself.

* * *

Harold shoved his chair back and rose hastily from behind his desk when he heard a commotion out in the courtyard. His lips parted and his eyes widened as he saw the stagecoach that had taken the wives and children from the fort. Driving alongside it were horses, upon them several wounded soldiers.

A quick shuffling of feet and harsh breathing behind him caused Harold to turn around and come eye to eye with Lieutenant Nelson, who came red-faced and sweaty into the office. The lieutenant saluted, then began talking so fast that Harold could hardly understand him.

“Slow down, Maverick,” Harold said, placing a firm hand on the man's thick shoulder. “I'm as anxious to hear what happened as you are to tell it. Now start in again. Say it slow and easy like. Tell me who ambushed the stagecoach.”

Lieutenant Nelson, one of the soldiers who had been tied to the wagon wheel and who had been rescued by some soldiers who had just happened along and found the ambushed stagecoach, told everything—how it had happened from beginning to end.

Harold jerked his hand away and threw his hands into the air in a frenzy. “Sage?” he shouted. “I knew he was nothing but a savage. Damn him. Damn him to hell and back.”

“I'm not sure it can all be blamed on Sage,” Lieutenant Nelson, who was one of the soldiers sympathetic with the plight of the Navaho, said. “One of our soldiers shot first. Who's to say why Sage was approaching the stagecoach? Perhaps it was just another attempt at peace talks with us.”