Cheyenne Caress Page 5

  Hours passed and the sun broke weakly through the clouds. Luci picked her way through the snow to deliver freshly ironed shirts to Major North. She had just started back across the parade ground when the patrol rode through the fort’s gates. Riding with them were white civilians, most noticeably a beautiful girl in a rich pink velvet cloak with fur around the hood. Curious, Luci turned around and went back, joining the growing crowd coming from all directions. The patrol reined up before Major North’s office and the lieutenant dismounted, turned his horse over to a soldier.

  The slightly built North came out of the building, answered the salute. “You made it back all right?”

  The handsome Bostonian turned and smiled at the beauty on the horse. “No problems, sir. Mission completed. And this”–he gestured–“is the young lady we were sent to rescue. Major, may I present Miss Winnifred Starrett.”

  The major bowed. “Glad to have you with us, Miss Starrett. Your father has been burning up the wires between here and Denver about your predicament.”

  The elegant lady only smiled as if that were the least she could expect. “Actually, Major, I’ve had a delightful ride. Quite an adventure!” Her tone was honeyed and Southern. Her gaze seemed to focus on the Pawnee scout.

  If Johnny Ace noticed, he gave no sign, Luci thought with annoyance and then wondered why she was annoyed.

  Major North said, “We hope we can make your stay enjoyable until the snow melts and the stage to Denver is back on schedule. You might have been more comfortable at North Platte.”

  Miss Starrett smiled from the back of her horse as she looked around at all the men. “I think everything I’ll need is right here. Staying at a fort may make for amusing dinner table conversation in Denver later.”

  Lieutenant Osgoode looked wistfully at the beauty, then back to the major. “I was hoping, sir, that you might prevail on General Carr to give a party in the lady’s honor. We get so few important guests at Fort McPherson.”

  “True, true.” The officer rocked slightly on his heels and tugged at his mustache. “Since tomorrow’s Saturday and the weather’s warming, I’m sure the general will see no reason we can’t host a small celebration for officers and their guests.” He seemed to consider. “The problem now is to decide where to put Miss Starrett. Our male guests can share officers’ rooms, but there are no ladies’ quarters available as of a couple of days ago.”

  The major looked directly at Luci and she realized suddenly that he had had a hand in giving her the comfortable quarters. Mercy, who had asked him to?

  Abruptly, Luci thought of a new way out of her own predicament–a better way. She pushed forward. “Major, the quarters I have would be perfect for the lady.”

  Miss Starrett looked down at her in obvious distaste. “Major, would I have to share them with this–this . . . girl?”

  But Luci was clever and thought fast. She gave the haughty girl her most humble smile. “Won’t you be needing a personal maid, Miss Starrett? No one on the post can do up your clothes as well as I can. Surely your maid generally shares your quarters?”

  Put in that light, the elegant girl seemed to reconsider. “That’s true. And I’m without a maid right now. Mine refused to come West–she thought savages might ravish her.”

  She looked directly at the big Pawnee with an amused smile.

  Here was Luci’s ticket out of Nebraska and her miserable life as a post laundress. “Give me a chance, Miss Starrett. I promise you’ll be pleased with my work, and maybe when you leave, you’ll consider taking me with you.”

  Luci saw Johnny Ace frown and his mouth half opened as if he would protest, then he seemed to think better of it and leaned both hands on his saddle horn.

  Major North rubbed his palms together as if relieved about how to handle this problem. “Wonderful, then it’s all settled! Good to meet you, Miss Starrett, and looking forward to tomorrow night. I’ll send a sleigh for you at eight. Now, Lieutenant, get the lady moved into quarters. Even though it’s warming, it’s still cold as a mother-in-law’s kiss out here!”

  The lady smiled drolly as if being amused by a troop of clowns. “They do speak colorfully in the West, don’t they?”

  Carter Osgoode led the beauty’s horse as the little group started across the snowy parade ground. Johnny Ace dismounted and, leading both his stallion and the packhorse with all the luggage, fell in alongside Luci as she walked at the rear of the group. She decided to ignore him and looked straight ahead.

  “Star Eyes, I don’t like you humbling yourself that way before that uppity girl,” he said softly.

  “You don’t like!” She tried to keep her voice under control so those ahead would not hear. ”Do you think I give a damn what you like? Going to Denver as her personal maid may be the only chance I’ll ever get to escape my life.“

  “I wouldn’t like it if you went away.” His tone was begrudging as if it hurt him to admit it.

  “In that case, I will enjoy leaving twice as much!” Her tone came out sharper than she’d intended, but she was fighting her own attraction to the virile scout.

  Luci remembered then the way Winnifred Starrett had looked at him and a burning sensation passed over her. What difference did it make to her, she thought, if the elegant beauty wanted to lower herself to toy with this enemy?

  “She’s a real lady!” Luci sighed, watching the pink-cloaked back on the horse ahead.

  “Something familiar about her . . .” Johnny’s voice trailed off.

  Strange, she had thought the same thing herself when she had first seen the haughty girl, then had dismissed the idea. “Where would you have ever seen a real lady before? But she keeps looking at you as if . . .”

  “As if what?” The Pawnee grinned sideways at her.

  “You know very well what!” She marched ahead doggedly, irritated with herself that he had the same effect on her and it was galling in the extreme.

  But she had a sinking feeling Johnny Ace had been right about the white girl when, later, the two women were alone together in the quarters.

  Luci began to unpack Winnifred’s luggage while the older girl stood before the fire. “Such lovely dresses and so many of them!” Luci said in awe, shaking the wrinkles out of a soft silk in deep cherry pink.

  “Father sent them,” Winnifred said. “He owed it to me, after all. Because of him, I’ve been raised in what is politely known as ‘genteel poverty.’ ”

  “You and your father must be very close,” Luci said wistfully.

  “Hardly!” The anger in the girl’s tone caused Luci to pause. “Actually I haven’t seen him in a long time. He deserted us and broke my mother’s heart. I doubt he would have ever bothered to contact me except he’s dying and suddenly his blood kin is very dear to him.”

  Luci wasn’t quite sure what to say. “I–I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Winnifred’s eyes were as cold as blue ice. “I’m going out to look after him, and in exchange, he’s promised I shall be his heir. In a year or two, if I’m lucky, I shall be one of the richest women in Denver.”

  Luci looked away, uncomfortable with the hate and satisfaction in the other girl’s voice, “I hope your stay here won’t be too inconvenient. The lieutenant seems quite taken with you–”

  “A fortune hunter if I ever saw one.” Miss Starrett laughed, pacing up and down before the fire. “But certainly I’ll need some diversion while I’m at this isolated place.”

  “I expect there’ll be much more excitement awaiting you in Denver.” Luci couldn’t keep the wistfulness out of her voice as she hung up the fine dresses. They all had wide sashes designed to emphasize the white girl’s trim waist. Hers wasn’t as small as Luci’s, but Winnifred was evidently vain about it and chose her dresses accordingly.

  “There’d better be! I’d hate to think I came all this way just to watch my errant father die.” Winnifred shrugged in boredom. “I can’t imagine anything duller than sitting here all afternoon with no one but a squaw to talk to. Since etiq
uette expects me to call on the general’s wife anyway and leave my calling card, I’ll do that this afternoon.” She reached for her cloak. “Tomorrow night, Luci, I’ll wear the cherry pink; it sets off my eyes.”

  Luci managed to control her anger at the “squaw” insult and only nodded as she hung up the dress Winnifred spoke of. She had just been thinking the dress would enhance her own eyes. But of course she’d never get to wear anything so fine. Her own flowered cotton print was too plain to wear to a ball.

  She fingered the fabric with a frown, thinking of the Pawnee. She was obligated to him and she didn’t like that.

  Winnifred swept out the door without so much as a polite “good-bye.” Luci walked over to the window to watch the aristocratic girl crunch through the snow, nose in the air. Try as she might, Luci didn’t like the girl. She had seen the scorn in the bright blue eyes. Obviously Winnifred had nothing but contempt for Indians. But she hadn’t looked at Johnny Ace that way. For some reason, the thought that the older girl might be attracted to the Pawnee annoyed her. It was unthinkable that a white girl would get herself involved with a brave.

  Why should she care if the scout risked trouble with the white men by flirting with the society girl? Luci returned to unpacking Miss Starrett’s fine clothes.

  Winnifred Starrett picked her way through the melting snow. She would be expected to call upon the general’s wife, of course, and that made a good excuse to get out of that miserable room. She didn’t want to have to share quarters with an Indian, even if the girl was a servant. What she’d rather have was a black maid. Too bad the War had freed the slaves.

  Winnifred had reason enough to hate Indians, to hate anyone with dark skin, she thought as she slowed, then looked toward the barn. And that pretty little squaw had probably slept with a lot of white men–like Winnifred’s rake of a father. Manning Starrett had always been attracted to swarthy skin. So was his daughter in spite of herself. Attracted and repelled.

  Was that big scout at the barn? Winnifred picked her way across the mud and ice, went inside. It smelled like sweet hay, horses, and leather. She walked up and down the stalls, bored and annoyed.

  Then she spotted him in the last stall, grooming that black stallion. She feigned surprise. “Well, hello, what a surprise to see you here!”

  He stared a long moment, evidently puzzled at her appearance in the barn. He nodded to her, went back to grooming his horse.

  She sauntered over, leaned against the stall door, “What a lovely animal!”

  He-stroked the stallion’s neck with obvious affection, “I’ve had Katis since he was a colt. I took him in a raid against the Cheyenne.”

  “A warrior,” she said softly. “How many men have you killed?”

  He seemed taken aback by her frankness. “Miss Starrett, that’s not something to be discussed with a genteel lady.”

  “How many?” she persisted. There was something exciting in the idea that this man had spilled blood.

  “A few,” he said reluctantly, and turned his back on her, returned to grooming his horse.

  She stood and watched him work. The muscles under his dark skin rippled as he brushed Katis’s mane. Winnifred had a sudden vision of herself in the hay naked with him, pale skin beneath dark skin, His hands would stroke and brush her own black mane of hair, loose it from its pins, and tangle his fingers in it. . . .

  “Excuse me,” he said softly, jarring her from her fantasy. He came out of the stall, closed the gate. “I’ll have to be going now, Miss Starrett.”

  “Must you?” She moved closer, repelled because of her mother, attracted like her father.

  “Miss Starrett . . .” He looked uncomfortable, but he couldn’t back away, the stall gate was behind him. His expression told her that he knew better than she what could happen to an Indian who was caught in a compromising position with a white girl.

  She felt a delicious thrill of power over this virile stallion of a man. All she had to do was scream and people would come running. All she had to do was yell that she had been molested, and he might be lynched. No, she didn’t want that to happen to this handsome savage. She leaned closer, enjoying the effect her nearness seemed to be having on him, annoyed with herself that he was affecting her, too.

  She liked teasing men into a fever pitch and then laughing and walking away, leaving them embarrassed and humiliated. It was revenge against all men, but particularly against her father, who had satisfied his appetite in a hundred careless liaisons. Manning Starrett’s many infidelities had caused her dear, plain mother to weep a million tears, die an unspeakable death. For this, Winnifred would take revenge on all men.

  She pressed close enough that her full breasts brushed his shirt. “Are you wanting to kiss me?” She was going to laugh in his face if he tried, laugh and run away as she had done a hundred times to a hundred fumbling, eager boys.

  But Johnny Ace reached out suddenly, pulled her to him. She was too surprised to struggle, cry out. Then it was too late because his mouth covered hers as he held her with arms of steel. She couldn’t scream if she wanted to. Did she want to?

  She could feel his hot strength all the way down her body as he molded her against him and forced his tongue between her lips. She felt a molten heat began to build between her thighs in a rush of passion. Winnifred had meant to tease and tantalize him for her amusement. Now she strained her breasts against him and moaned low in her throat. All she wanted was for him to throw her down in the hay and take her in a rush of hot seed and abandon.

  “Please,” she murmured against his lips, digging her nails into his broad back. “Oh, please . . .”

  But he took her shoulders in his two big hands, held her away from him. “Miss Starrett, I’m sorry you’re bored at our fort, but the army doesn’t pay me to entertain teasing white girls.”

  She looked up at him, her breath coming hard, her erect nipples straining the fabric of her expensive dress. “Lands sake! I was just tantalizing y’all.”

  “And you’ve teased dozens into a mindless frenzy,” he guessed, turning away. “What makes you hate men so?”

  No man had ever understood her motives so perfectly before. Winnifred felt stripped naked before him. She felt the blood rush to her face in a fury. “You’re all alike,” she snarled, “just like my father–taking his pleasure where he could, not caring how he hurt my poor mother.”

  A look of compassion crossed his face. “So that’s it. Someday your little revenge may come full circle if you don’t watch out.”

  She had an insane desire to throw herself into his arms again, let him dominate her, make love to her. It was dangerous for a white woman even to think such a thing, but on the other hand, white men and Indian girls. . . . “Oh, life is so unfair!”

  He didn’t say anything as her shoulders bowed, shaking with anger at the injustice of it all.

  She paused and looked up at him. “In a few months or a year or two, Father will be dead and I’ll be rich, and I won’t have to answer to anyone. I won’t care what they think!”

  He stood looking down at her, that big, confident male savage. “What is it you want from me, Miss Starrett?”

  “Do I have to spell it out?” she said it in a rush, not intending to demean herself this way, but the memory of his virile strength and the taste of his mouth overpowered her senses. She would buy him like a stud horse, take him to Denver. . . .

  “Miss Starrett, there’s a girl I care about already.”

  She looked up at him, not believing what she had heard. She realized that the expression on his face was pity.

  “Damn you!” she raged at him, striking him with her small fists. He put his wide hands up before his face to protect it although she knew he could have killed her easily with his great brute strength. “I was only toying with you, teasing! Do you think I’d let you touch me, you–you–”

  “Savage?” he said softly.

  Savage. And she had wanted him to take her savagely, to rip her clothes off and force him
self on her. Winnifred had a sudden vision of that big dark body sprawled on top of hers, his even white teeth pulling at her nipples while she arched herself up, wanting him to take even more of her breast in his mouth, wanting him to drive his throbbing shaft of maleness deep inside so that her body could lock onto his.

  With a sob, she turned and ran out of the barn. It occurred to her suddenly that if people saw her retreat, there would be gossip. If nothing else, Winnifred Starrett was proud. That had been all that had sustained her in the years after her ne’er-do-well father had gone through her mother’s small inheritance before the War and then gone off to Colorado.

  Lieutenant Osgoode caught up with her before she had gone a dozen steps through the snow. “Ah, there you are, Miss Starrett. May I call you Winnie?”

  She managed to pull herself together and fixed him with an aloof gaze. “Not even my mother called me Winnie. You may call me Miss Starrett.”

  Any other man might have winced at the rebuff and gone on his way, but Carter Osgoode was evidently not easily offended. “I meant no offense to a lady,” he said grandly.

  A lady. Five minutes ago, she had been rubbing herself up against a savage male animal with nothing more on her mind than that he should throw her down in the hay like some common slut and mount her like a dark stallion. And the Indian had spurned her. For whom? She glanced at the barn behind her. Was he watching and listening in the shadows?

  “Miss Starrett, would you do me the honor of letting me be your escort to the party tomorrow night?”

  She gave him a chilling look. Her father must have been very much like this young officer, when he had served in the West almost two decades ago. She hated Carter Osgoode for that. “Sorry. You heard the major say he would send a sleigh for me.”