As her eyes moved upward, she was surprised to see a man not more than twenty-five years old. His face was arresting, with copper skin stretched over high cheekbones, a hawklike nose, and ebony eyes. The eyes revealed nothing. His black hair was long and loose in the back, with two thin braids in the front. In one braid he wore a single blue feather. A bow and arrows were slung over his shoulder. His hands were empty, showing that he did not consider her a threat.

“You’re a handsome one, aren’t you?” Jessie said as she finished looking him over.

The brave’s eyes met hers, and she blushed, realizing what she had said. But his expression didn’t change. Had he understood? She got to her feet slowly, so as not to alarm him. Then she got her first reaction from him, as the blanket fell away and he saw her skintight pants and gun holster.

Before she could think what to do, he reached for her jacket and spread it open. His eyes lingered on the soft mounds that pressed tightly against her shirt front, yet Jessie didn’t dare jerk away.

Finally he released her, and Jessie let out the breath she had been holding. “Well, now that’s settled, perhaps we can communicate. You speak English? No?” She switched to the only Indian tongue she knew. “Cheyenne? Are you Cheyenne?”

He surprised Jessie then by letting off a long stream of words in a deep, resounding voice. Unfortunately, the single word she recognized was a Dakota word.

“You are Sioux,” she concluded, disappointed, because although the Cheyenne and Sioux dialects were similar, they were not the same.

Jessie had never talked with a Sioux warrior, had only seen a few over the years, a few who had visited White Thunder’s camp. This brave was of the tribes still actively hostile to whites, tribes so powerful they had forced the Army to abandon territory. The Sioux and Northern Cheyenne had not been subdued by the whites, unlike nearly all the other Plains Indians. They had demanded the whole Powder River region as their hunting ground—and gotten it, too. And here she was, facing a Sioux warrior, and he had found her in his territory.

The direction her thoughts were taking was alarming, and Jessie put a stop to them right there. She had no reason to fear this brave. Yet. He had condescended to speak to her, which was a good sign.

“I am called Jessica Blair by the whites, and Looks Like Woman by the Cheyenne. I come here often to visit my friend White Thunder and his family, but I am early this year, so I will return in the morning to my home in the south. Do you know White Thunder?”

She helped the lengthy explanation along with what sign language she knew, but he gave no indication that he understood. She fell silent, and he looked away from her toward her horse.

He moved over to examine Blackstar, and she called, “He was given to me by White Thunder.”

The brave said something at last, but she didn’t understand. He reached out and ran a hand over the horse’s flanks, laughing when Blackstar turned his head and tried to bite him.

Jessie lost her patience then and snapped, “Damn it, you can stop looking my horse over right now. You can’t have him!”

The anger in her tone was unmistakable, even if the words were alien. She had managed to get his attention again, and he sauntered over and stood in front of her. This time he was so close she was forced to look up to meet his eyes.

His expression was not so austere now. He spoke again, indicating with signs that he was telling her his name. She tried to decipher his words, and finally grinned as she came up with the English equivalent.

“Little Hawk!” she said proudly, but he shook his head. He had not understood.

Jessie smiled as she indicated again that he was welcome to share her food and fire. This time he acknowledged her offer and sat down by the fire. Jessie returned to her place, wrapping the blanket around her legs again. She had only one plate, and she added more food to it and gave it to him. When all that was left of the food was what had been on the plate when he took it from her, he gave it back. He watched her as she quickly finished eating, and when she was done she got up to clean the utensils and put them away. She could feel his eyes following her every move.

When she came back to the fire, she found him stretched out in the grass, leaning on an elbow, facing her place by the fire.

She might have moved to another spot, but she was too wary to make any changes. She lay down and faced him. Their eyes met, and it seemed they stared at each other forever. His look grew bolder. Hadn’t Blue looked at her that way? It was obvious that Little Hawk desired her, yet she was surprised when he patted the grass beside him, indicating he wanted her to come to him. She shook her head slowly, her eyes never leaving his. Little Hawk shrugged, gave her one long look, then lay down and closed his eyes.

Jessie continued to stare at him, relieved, yet oddly disturbed. What was the matter with her? It was his eyes, she decided at last, the way he had looked at her, making love to her with those dark, compelling eyes.

But as Jessie drifted off to sleep, it was not Little Hawk’s eyes she saw, but other eyes, as dark, the eyes of Chase Summers.

Chapter 5

“YOU should have seen him, Jeb,” Jessie was saying as she unsaddled Blackstar. She had just returned and had been talking nonstop since her arrival, ten minutes before. “He was so proud and arrogant, so utterly Indian, if you know what I mean.”

Jeb crooked a single brow at her. “And you weren’t scared, him bein‘ a Sioux?”

“Well a little, especially when he made it known he... wanted me.”

“Did he?” Jeb said. “Well, you sure don’t look any the worse for his havin‘ you.”

“Because he didn’t,” Jessie said simply. “I refused, and he respected my wishes.”

“Is that right?”

“You don’t believe me?” she demanded. “The fact is he couldn’t very well attack me after I had fed him. They do have a very rigid sense of honor, you know. Or is it that you doubt that he wanted me at all? Some men find me attractive, Jeb Hart, even dressed like this.”

“Now, don’t get riled, gal.”

She wasn’t. “Well, anyway,” she went on, “he was gone before I got up the next morning. I even thought I might have dreamed it all.”

“You sure you didn’t?”

She gave him a withering look. “Yes, I’m sure. The grass was still matted where he’d slept, and he left this behind.” She brought out the blue feather she’d been keeping in her pocket.

“Why’d he leave that, do you think?”

Jessie shrugged. She didn’t know. “But I think I’ll keep it.” She grinned. “To remind me of a handsome man who desired me.”

Jeb grunted. “You’re gettin‘ to be a naughty gal, Jessie Blair. I never heard the like, all this talk of desire, and you just eighteen.”

“That’s because you think of me as a boy, Jeb, just like you always have. But lots of girls are married before they’re my age, so I reckon I’m long overdue to be talking about romance.”

“Well, just don’t let Rachel hear you goin‘ on,” he mumbled. “She’s worried herself sick over you this last week.”

At mention of her mother, Jessie’s whole appearance changed.

“She’s been pesterin‘ the hell out of the rest of us with her worryin’. She even sent that fellow out lookin‘ for you the night you left.”

“She did what?” Jessie stormed. “How dare she—?”

“Now hold on. He didn’t find you, did he? And the fact is, he ain’t back yet.”

Jessie let it sink in. She grinned. Then she laughed. “Really? That’s wonderful! So he got lost after all.”

Jeb watched her for a moment before he asked, “You don’t think too kindly of him, do you?”

“How would you feel if some stranger started messing in your affairs?”

“Is that what he’s done?”

“Not yet,” she said tersely. “But I heard Rachel asking him to, and I heard him agree. So if he never comes back, that suits me just fine.”


Chase came back five days later. He was bone-weary, saddle-sore, filthy, and not looking forward to telling Rachel he’d failed her. More than two hundred miserable, dusty miles just to get to that damned reservation, and for what? The agent there had never heard of Jessica Blair. Nor had the Indians who spoke English been able to tell him anything at all. He spent a day covering the area, asking questions, but he was sure no one knew anything.

Jeb was in the tack room at the front of the stable when Chase led Goldenrod in. Chase stared at him, all the weariness and anger of the last week and a half boiling to the surface. But if Jeb had learned anything in sixty years, it was how to talk his way around a mean polecat.

“Well, now, you made good time, didn’t you, young feller?” Jeb commented congenially.

“Did I?” Chase replied harshly. “Aren’t you a little surprised by it?”

“Don’t know that I am.”

“Really? Being a gambler, I think I can safely bet every cent I have that you didn’t expect me back here at all.”

Jeb grinned. “Now, wouldn’t that be easy pickin’s, but plumb ornery of me to take you up on that bet. Fact is, I figured you’d be back just about this time—and in one piece, too, it bein‘ safe enough the way you went. Ain’t had no trouble along that route in a good many years.”

“That’s beside the point,” Chase said coldly. “Going to the Shoshone reservation was a waste of time, and I figure you knew it would be.”

“Well, shoot, I could’ve told you—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You didn’t ask,” Jeb replied with a shrug. “It ain’t my fault you and the lady figured Jessie’s Indians were Shoshone. Mister, I was doin‘ you a favor keepin’ my mouth shut, bein‘ as how Rachel was so set on you ridin’ outta here. You wouldn’t have cared to go the way the little gal went. No white man goes that way if he’s got any sense.”