Whitefeather's Woman (15 page)

And when the sun faded from the Big Sky and the ghost lights of a million stars glittered in the Montana heavens, she would make him tremble and sweat and cry in ecstasy. As he had done during their very first mating.

Wouldn't that be a more than fair exchange?

As he continued to stroke her hair, Jane vowed she'd never pin it up again.

John's body tensed ever so slightly beneath her. “Maybe you ought to tell me a little bit more about how you came to
Mrs. Endicott's house and got yourself engaged to Emery—so I can convince Ruth and Caleb not to believe the things he wrote in his letter.”

Jane didn't want to talk about her past. Didn't want to befoul her tongue by speaking Emery Endicott's name. But if it would keep her lying here in John's arms, lulled by the strong, steady beat of his heart, she would say or do just about anything.

“Mrs. Endicott was Mama's godmother. Like the rest of the family, she cut Mama off when Mama married a man they considered unsuitable. They were wrong, though. Papa wasn't rich but he was a good man. And when he was home, he made Mama very happy.”

“And when he wasn't home?”

Jane hesitated. “That was harder. Mama had been looked after all her life. She found it hard to manage when he was at sea. After his ship was lost, she sort of gave up on life. I tried to help her and so did Ches, my brother, but I guess we couldn't make up for Papa being gone.”

All her life she'd never quite measured up. First being a girl, who could never follow Papa to sea, like Ches would one day. Then watching her mother fade away, and feeling guilty that she hadn't been an important enough reason for Emily Harris to keep on living.

“After Ches died and she got sick, Mama wrote Mrs. Endicott, begging her to give me a home.”

“I guess I didn't understand.” John's voice rumbled through his chest, where Jane's head rested. “I thought you worked for this Mrs. Endicott.”

“I did, from the very first. I guess legally I was her ward, but she treated me more like a servant. An unpaid companion and nurse. I suppose it's ungrateful of me to complain. Who knows where I'd have ended up if Mrs.
Endicott hadn't taken me in? I always had enough to eat and warm clothes and a roof over my head.”

“I had those at the residential school, too.” John
did
understand—everything. “That didn't stop me from stealing a horse and running away after three years. That's how I earned my name. Because I rode west at night and hid during the day.”

He'd stolen a horse and she'd stolen a brooch, both to escape an intolerable life and search for something better in the West. Another strong link had been forged in the invisible chain that bound them together.

“I didn't have the gumption to run away.” If she'd been standing, Jane would have hung her head. “I used to worry a lot about what would happen to me if Mrs. Endicott died. She had so many complaints and ailments, I expected it almost daily. I guess that's what made me accept Emery when he proposed. I thought it might be the only way I could stay there. I did love that house—most of it, at least. And the neighborhood and the servants. It had been my home for a good many years.”

“Did you love him? Before he started to hurt you, I mean.” John's voice had a threatening edge. Could he be jealous?

The idea seemed ludicrous to Jane, but it also gave her hope for a future with him. Then again, Emery had been insanely jealous of her interest in other men. It hadn't meant he'd loved her.

Jane shook her head, ashamed to admit she'd been ready to marry a man she didn't love, just to keep a roof over her head. “I thought I did, in the beginning. He was the first man—the first
person
to show much of an interest in me. And I didn't know any other men to compare him with. I barely remembered what Papa had been like, and I couldn't bring myself to think much about him.”

She fought against the tightness in her throat to continue. “Emery and I had to keep our engagement a secret because Mrs. Endicott wanted her nephew to marry a better sort of girl. It seemed romantic to me that he was willing to marry me in spite of his aunt—though, of course, we knew we'd have to wait until after she passed on, or she'd disinherit him.”

Jane lofted a swift glance at John's face. Could he understand why she'd promised herself to someone like Emery Endicott, when she could scarcely fathom it herself?

“Last night, you told me you'd had lots of practice lying about your injuries. Did Endicott…hurt you often?” John's jaw tightened and his eyes gleamed like the strange blue light at the heart of a flame.

Jane gave a bitter laugh. “I guess that depends on what you mean by ‘often.' Not every week—sometimes a month or more would go by. There were times I wished he'd strike me with his hands instead of his words. Bruises on your skin heal so much faster. I just knew if I said anything to Mrs. Endicott, she'd believe Emery instead of me. He was her own nephew, after all, and I was only…”

Cold, severe, fault-finding Mrs. Endicott. Though subtler than her nephew, she'd managed to erode Jane's sense of self-worth to the point where she was grateful for the attentions of a man bent on destroying her.

Unearthing these memories hurt far more than when John had thrust into her that first time, but Jane forced herself to continue. John would need every scrap of ammunition she could give him to convince Ruth…and especially Caleb.

“I don't remember quite when I decided to run away. I had a little money, but not enough to live on, so I knew I needed a job. I started checking the employment notices in the papers Mrs. Endicott's cousin sent us from Saint Louis.
I sent off several letters, but I never heard back from any of them…until one came from Whitehorn. The mail was late that day and Emery saw the letter. He flew into a rage and burned it before I could read it. I thought he was going to kill me. I could hardly believe it when I woke up in the infirmary. I knew I couldn't go back to that house, for the next time I might not be so lucky.”

“So you took the brooch off Mrs. Endicott's shawl and sold it for train fare?”

Jane nodded. “I was so worried that someone here would find out about what I'd done, or that Emery might come after me. But as I got to know you and Ruth, I felt so wicked for deceiving you. I planned to tell you…some of this last night, even before you saw Emery's letter. You'd been so kind to me the past while, I figured you might understand.”

“Bet you never thought I'd understand
this
well.” John held her tight and drew a deep breath. “I reckon there's only one more matter to settle before we get up and face the day.”

He sounded so solemn.

Jane mouth went dry as ashes. “What matter?”

“The matter of you and me.” His voice sounded strange. Hesitant…fearful? “Lord knows, I don't have much to offer a wife. Pretty well everything I make goes to William's bank to pay off the mortgage on Sweetgrass. If you don't mind sharing what's left, I promise I'll always look after you and make sure no one ever hurts you again. If you'll be my…wife?”

Had she heard right?

“You mean it?” She looked him full in the face, praying she hadn't imagined his proposal.

John nodded. “Every word.”

He hadn't said anything about love, and the majestic
blue of his eyes seemed strangely clouded. What did that matter? Perhaps the Cheyenne didn't think of love in the same terms white folks did. What they felt in their hearts was still the same. Who could blame the man if he entertained a little uncertainty? Events had propelled them toward this moment so swiftly, it might take a little getting used to.

He'd waited a long time to take a wife. Perhaps he'd never intended to.
She
had made this handsome, wise, courageous man ready to commit the rest of his life to her. Jane glowed with the wonder of it. For the first time in her life, she had not only measured up, but eclipsed every other woman John Whitefeather had ever known.

She shoved aside the doubts that threatened to steal her joy. “I'd be honored.”

They kissed to seal their pledge.

Their lips refused to disengage. Longer and deeper they kissed, breathing fresh ardor over the glowing coals of last night's passion. Jane sensed the heat and need building between her thighs and felt the straining evidence of John's desire pressing against them.

Parting her legs, she lowered herself onto him. True to John's promise, it didn't hurt at all this time. It felt wonderful.

A cry, something between a gasp and groan, broke from his lips. “Mmm, what are you up to, woman?”

Jane grinned. Never had she felt so light of spirit and yet so powerful, holding a large, vigorous man captive beneath her.

“I'm not
up
to anything,” she purred with mock innocence. “I'm just trying to learn how to read a person's body movements the way you do. I had a silly notion your body was inviting me to do this. Maybe I misunderstood.”

She raised her hips, then eased them down again, savoring the delicious sensations that skittered through her.

“No…I reckon…you understood just fine.”

“That's good.” She began a leisurely, rhythmic thrust of her hips. “I also wanted to make sure if…oh…this was the kind of, mmm, activity you could…ah…tolerate on a regular basis.”

Her husband-to-be didn't reply. At least not in words that meant anything in either English or Cheyenne. But as he writhed beneath her and they shuddered together in blissful waves of release, Jane got the answer she'd been hoping for.

“A
nswer me,
hestatanemo.
” Ruth's dark eyes glowed like live coals. “Did Jane spend last night here with you?”

Hearing Jane's name, Barton began bouncing in his mother's arms, chanting, “Na-na-na-na-na.”

John sighed and nodded. What was the good of lying?

The flattened state of his fleece rug might have told the tale, even without the flecks of dried blood. Besides, he and Jane were going to be married. He might go into Whitehorn for a license this very day, just in case Caleb refused to accept the truth about Jane. By the sound of it, Barton would be pleased, at least.

“How could you do something so foolish?” Ruth transferred the baby to her other hip. “Now the girl's ruined for Amos Carlton! I never would have asked you to get her ready for his courting if I'd thought you'd turn into a lovesick calf and then a rutting bull.”

“It wasn't like that, Ruth.”

It hadn't been, had it? Sure, he'd wanted Jane so badly he'd feared he might burst into flame. But
she'd
been the
one to ask, the one to take it each step further until they'd plunged off the lip of a canyon together.

His sister shot him a scornful look. “What
was
it like, then? And what's this letter Caleb got from some man in Boston? Foolishness about Jane being some kind of jewel thief—honestly! If I wasn't crazy in love with that man, I'd clout him with a frying pan.”

John would sooner have tried to bag a wolverine with his bare hands than mess with Ruth when her temper was up. Thank goodness there weren't any frying pans or rolling pins handy in his cabin.

He avoided her first question by answering the second. “That letter is nothing but a pack of lies. Jane pawned one little piece of Mrs. Endicott's jewelry to buy her train ticket out here, so she could get away from the old lady's miserable snake of a nephew. Remember what her face looked like when she got here? He did that to Jane when he saw the letter you and Caleb sent to her. And it wasn't the first time, either.”

Ruth's sun-kissed cheeks paled and she held Barton tighter to her. “I knew there was something not right about that. And the train wreck?”

“Never happened. She didn't want folks knowing why she'd come here with nothing but the clothes on her back.”

“That's foolishness. She could have told us.”

John shook his head. “Not at first, Ruth. How could she know we weren't every bit as bad as the Endicotts? Would you have hired her, even for a short spell, if you knew she'd run off from her last job?”

Ruth opened her mouth to protest, then looked at her little son and appeared to reconsider. “But later—”

“Later she was ashamed to admit she'd lied to us in the first place.”

“The poor thing. No wonder she was so nervous around strangers.” Ruth grimaced. “And me shoving all those suitors at her. Henry Hill—it's a wonder he didn't end up with worse than creamed peas.”

“It's all right. You didn't know.”

Ruth had nothing to apologize for. She'd dismissed that confounded letter from Emery Endicott, trusting Jane, while he'd been quick to believe the worst. How could he be a good husband to a white woman, when his suspicion and hostility toward her whole race could blaze out of control so quickly?

Ruth pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the drool sliding down Barton's chin. “You still should have let her be,
hestatanemo.
I asked you to get her ready for Amos Carlton to court. This business of her past is all the more reason Amos would have made a good husband for Jane. Now, thanks to your…meddling, there'll be no chance of that.”

“Don't fret yourself.” John threw back his shoulders, accepting his responsibility, though the prospect of it tied his stomach in knots. “She may not have Amos Carlton for a husband, but she'll have me. I'll take care of Jane.”

Ruth's graceful black brows drew together in a worried frown. “I suppose it's the only honorable thing to do, now that you've taken Jane into your…” she stared at the fleece rug “…
bed.
”

Hot shame seared John's face.

His sister shook her head. “I can't help fretting for both of you when I look into the future. Jane is a dear soul, and taking account of her past, she's done well since she came out here. You and I both know the spirits of the Great Sky haven't shown off their strength lately. A girl as delicate and sensitive as Jane Harris needs a different kind of look
ing after than a half-Cheyenne ranch foreman can give her.”

John wanted to shut his ears to Ruth's words, but he couldn't. He'd entertained those same misgivings, until the power of his attraction for Jane had hog-tied his reason.

“Besides,” his sister reminded him, “you have responsibilities to our people. I worry that if you're a good chief to them, you won't have anything left for Jane, and if you're a good husband to her, you won't have anything left for the band.”

“Will you stop chewing on me if I admit you're right?” John paced the short length of his cabin like a wild creature caught in a trap of his own making. “I was crazy last night. Jane and I are wrong for each other in more ways than I can name. Even if she was a pretty little Cheyenne girl and I tugged on her dress, our families would object to the match.”

Ruth lowered herself onto one of the chairs, letting Barton balance on her knees. “I used to think our people's way of courtship was too formal. Too strict.” She ran a hand over the baby's dark hair. “Now that I have a child of my own, I see things differently. A man and a woman feel that pull to each other and it makes them simple-minded. How can they tell if it has the makings of a good, strong match that will last for life?”

She gazed up at John with the same anxious fondness she lavished on her son. “That's my biggest worry for you, John. I'm afraid after this first glow of craziness wears off, Jane will find life here too hard for her and she'll run away from you. Like she ran from that Endicott man in Boston.”

John flinched. Maybe he'd rather take his chances with a frying pan, after all. If he'd been certain Jane felt about him the way he felt about her, the fear of her leaving him
would not have loomed so great. But if she'd only bartered her body in exchange for his protection…

Shaking her head, Ruth continued. “Better if she did leave outright than stay and hurt you the way Caleb's first wife hurt him. I feel so bad for putting you both in the way of temptation like this. You just never paid much attention to other women, and you've always been so wise and steady, I never thought of you taking a notion of Jane for yourself.”

“This isn't your fault, Ruth.” It was his fault—all of it. Jane had asked him to show her the ways of mating, but she hadn't put a gun to his head. “I'm a grown man, even if I have been acting more like a calf-eyed boy lately. I made my choices, and even if some of them weren't very wise, I'm going to stand by them. I'll do everything I can to take care of Jane and make her happy.”

Jamming on his hat, he fled outdoors, hoping it might ease the sense of confinement strangling him every time he thought about his doomed future with Jane.

To himself he muttered, “I hope it'll be enough.”

 

The vast spaces of the Big Sky were suddenly closing in on her and she couldn't get enough air. Jane backed away from John's cabin, wishing she could scour her memory clean of the words she'd just heard.

“…throwing all those suitors at her.”

“…get her ready for Amos Carlton to court.”

“…the only honorable thing to do…”

“Jane and I are wrong for each other in more ways than I can name.”

The faster she gulped in air, the more her head spun and the higher her panic mounted. She'd felt like this the evening Dr. Gray had come to dinner.

Dr. Gray! A hiccup of mirthless laughter shuddered out
of Jane. What a perfect idiot she'd been, not to have seen how desperately the Kincaids had been trying to find her a husband. Desperate enough to recruit their resident horse trainer to domesticate the troublesome mare. Well, they'd all gotten a whole lot more than they'd bargained for!

After she and John had finally managed to pry themselves apart that morning, Jane had tried to sneak into the ranch house to wash and change clothes. Instead, she'd found Ruth waiting in her bedroom.

“I worried when you were so late getting up this morning. But it looks as if you haven't been to bed at all.”

Glancing down at the wreck of her lacy pink dress, Jane blushed to a similar shade. “It's all right, Ruth. I'll just wash and change and get to work.”

“I'm not anxious about you missing work. I'm anxious about
you,
Jane. Do you want to tell me where you spent the night?” Ruth didn't look any more inclined to accept evasions than her formidable aunt, Walks on Ice.

Suddenly Jane felt ashamed of what she'd done. Asking, practically begging, a man to teach her the mysterious ways of married folk, when they weren't married and he didn't even love her. Why, the ladies of the Boston Temperance Society would keel over in a dead swoon if they knew!

Now all she wanted was a few private minutes to make herself
appear
respectable again. “May-maybe you should ask your brother about that.”

“My…brother?”

Why did Ruth sound so shocked? Hadn't she seen the attraction between them? She'd been the one pushing them to attend Brock and Abby's party together. The one who'd urged Jane to go off riding with John and visiting Sweetgrass. She'd even lectured Jane on all the reasons a woman in Montana needed a husband.

Backing up to the window, Jane glanced out at the
foreman's cabin. The sight heartened her a little. Would it be her home soon? Or might Caleb offer her and John a place in the big house?

“I'm sure if you talk to John, he can explain everything.”

Ruth sighed. “I hope he can, because I've got plenty of questions that want answers.”

She'd left Jane to change clothes, shutting the door behind her with barely restrained force.

Wishing she could enjoy a nice long soak in a tub of hot water, or even a brisk dip in the creek, Jane had settled for a quick change of clothes. Then she went looking for Barton.

Her search put her right outside the foreman's cabin. She knew John and Ruth would be talking about her, and for a moment, she considered joining the discussion. After all, she was going to be part of the family soon.

What she overheard sent her stumbling away, dizzy with renewed fear for the future and a pain in her heart as big as the Montana sky. Emery had battered her body and her spirit, but because she hadn't truly cared for him, he hadn't been able to inflict any lasting damage on her heart.

John Whitefeather, with his genuine attraction, kind heart and fierce honor, had hurt her far worse than Emery ever could. Making her love him when he was only doing a favor for his sister. Letting her seduce him when he didn't love her. Proposing to her simply to satisfy his idea of Cheyenne honor. What distressed Jane most was that she had forged his weapons herself. She had placed them in his hands and bared her heart for his assault.

Looking back, she realized that Emery's violence and Mrs. Endicott's unspoken censure had hurt less than Papa's long absences and Ches and Mama's deaths. No wonder writers referred to love as “losing one's heart.”

Somehow, Jane managed to calm herself enough to march back up to her bedroom and put on the clothes she'd come to Whitehorn wearing.

She'd lost her heart to John Whitefeather, but she was going to get it back. And once it was safely in her possession again, she'd never surrender it to anyone.

 

It was suppertime before John finally surrendered to hunger and weariness.

Though he shrank from admitting it to himself, he'd been doing his level best to avoid Jane. Part of him longed to see her again. Feast his eyes on her beauty. Talk to her and touch her as only a husband had the right to do.

And yet he worried what he would say to her in the bald light of day, with the ordinary routine of the ranch going on around them. What if the magic of their night together had vanished like the early morning mist?

Without friendly shadows to shroud his eyes, Jane might spy the regret and the uncertainty that brooded in his heart, ready to ambush those defenseless pioneers—happiness and contentment. Strange how one slender waif of a woman could turn a Cheyenne warrior into such a yelping coward.

He began to eat supper with Ruth, Caleb and Barton, eyeing Jane's empty chair for a while until it became obvious she wouldn't be joining them.

“Where's Jane?” He nodded toward the place Ruth had set for her, struggling to keep his tone casual.

Ruth shrugged. “I haven't seen her since this morning,
hestatanemo.
I knocked on her door to tell her supper was ready, but she didn't answer. Maybe you'd better go up and talk to her.”

Swallowing the mouthful of food that had kept him from answering sooner, Caleb shook his head. “Did you
not know? Jane's gone. Came to me and asked if I'd give her a lift into town. Under the circumstances, I figured it was the best thing.”

Seeing the looks on the faces of his wife and brother-in-law, he added, “I paid her handsomely for the time she's been with us. Most handsomely, considering she got room and board and even clothes from us. What are you looking at me like that for?”

John rose abruptly and strode to the door. He felt as if someone had pulled a plug in each of his hips, allowing his internal organs to seep down into his feet. “Where are
you
going?” Caleb barked. “The last time I talked to you, I got the impression you never wanted to lay eyes on Jane Harris again. I reckoned I was doing you a favor getting her away from here without a big fuss.”