The women retired shortly after that. Logan wandered over to the horses. He took a group of them down to the river to drink. Chayton joined him with another group.

"I have a bad feeling about Skinner, Shadow Wolf."

Logan frowned at the moonlight that glittered on the river. "These are bad days."

"They are good days to be white," Chayton scoffed. "Bad days to be one of our people." They returned the horses to the corral and brought down another set, both men working in silence as they considered the future.

When he joined Sarah in bed, his mind was still churning. He felt what Chayton felt. Something was coming.

Sarah had originally gone to Defiance to learn to handle her pistol. It was time he worked with her. Hopefully, she would never have to use her gun. But if the need arose and she was untrained, that would be his fault.

A sound slipped into his consciousness. Faint, but unmistakable. Their wagon was parked near Chayton's tepee. He and Laughs-Like-Water were talking in quiet murmurs, punctuated here and there with groans and sighs. Logan looked over to Sarah, wondering if she heard the two lovers. Her eyes were open. She was staring fixedly at the canvas overhead.

He reached his hand over to hers under the cover. She was clasping the bottom blanket in a fist. Christ. Her breathing was so faint, he thought she might be holding her breath.

"Let's take a walk. We'll look at the stars." He slipped off the bed to retrieve her boots and to step into his. He fetched her coat, then helped her out the back way, over the table. She pulled her coat on. He took her hand and led her a short distance away, where the only sounds they heard were crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl.

Several granite boulders were strewn about, remnants of the same ancient line of mountains where they had defended themselves yesterday. Logan leaned back against one and drew Sarah against his body. He reached down and slipped his hand over hers, folding his fingers around all but her index finger. He wrapped his arm around her waist and set his cheek against hers. She was stiff as a board, poised for flight. Or a fight.

"It's important to know the constellations. Navigating out here on the prairie at night is as difficult as at sea. Look up." He pointed with her finger to the sky, his hand over hers. "See the stars that start there and make this pattern, like a cup? That is the Big Dipper. Its tail points to the south. The peak of the cup points north. Once you know that, you cannot be lost. My father's ranch is about a week southwest from where we are now."

Sarah turned in his arms to look at him. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because reading the stars is a skill you should have so that you aren't dependent on me or anyone. If you have to travel at night, you'll know where you're going." He turned her back to focus on the sky and pointed her finger again. "Look to the south. There. That's Centaurus, a warrior creature half man, half beast. And up here is Hercules, his student, the one who caused the mortal wound that led Zeus to make a constellation out of Centaurus. And there, to the west, is Gemini." He moved his hand to her chin, lifting to position her gaze where it needed to be. Her skin was like velvet against his cheek, beneath his palm. He couldn't help stroking her there, up and back.

She turned to look at him. "How is it you know so much about the stars?"

She didn't pull away from him. Her face was so near his that her breath touched his lips. "I learned in college. Thought I might become a surveyor, but I realized the knowledge had other, more practical applications." He gave her a slight smile. "My mother wanted me to pursue a political career, but I had no such lofty ambitions." He wondered what her skin would taste like.

"I think what you are doing is much more important. The politicians don't know what's happening out here. You've made friends among the Plains people. You have influence here. Was she disappointed that you went in a different direction?"

Logan shrugged, feeling the need to be brutally honest. As his wife, there were things about him that she needed to know. "She was shot during an illicit a.s.signation with a lover. You see, you aren't the only one with secrets."

She turned in his arms and wrapped her hands around his neck. "I'm sorry, Logan. I didn't mean to pry. I know so little about you."

She was leaning against his body. He hoped her coat shielded her from the growing evidence of the effect she was having on him. "My stepfather runs a large cattle operation north of Defiance. My stepbrother has a spread right next to him."

"Are they safe up there?"

"They have been so far. My brother, Sager, was raised by the Shoshone. He, his father-in-law, and my father are pretty savvy when it comes to making the alliances they need to be successful. That includes trading with the local Indian populations. They're safe."

"I'm looking forward to meeting them. I hope they accept me."

Logan shrugged. "If they don't, we won't ever need to see them again. You can help me with my trades. Maybe one day we'll build a museum of the people of the plains so that children for generations to come will know them as we do."

"You love them, don't you?"

"I love many things about them. They honor each other and respect their differences. They're courageous and resourceful. They live in harmony. They find joy in little things. They seek counsel from the spirit world. Their laws are structured by the rules of nature. It's a different way of living, a way that can't coexist with our ways. It is important to know them so that they will not be forgotten."

"And yet they killed my husband and raped and tortured me. How does that fit with the people you know?"

"Their way of life is worth fighting for. They must fight the only way they are able, using any means they can. But even in fighting they destroy themselves, for we cannot allow our people to be harmed. And we far outnumber them. It is a battle that was lost before it was started." He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. "I am sad for them. And sad for us. And very, very grateful that I found you. I will keep you safe, Sarah."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest. He tightened his arms around her. Unable to stop himself, he kissed the top of her head.

Chapter 12.

Sarah watched Chayton's family disa.s.semble their camp. In very little time, their great tepees were packed onto travois, along with their elderly family members who were too frail to walk the long distance to the next camp. Chayton was taking his family back to their village. He had decided to talk their people into going north, away from the dangers of scalp hunters like Skinner.

Chayton brought his family by for a last farewell. They confirmed their plans to meet again in September, when Logan would bring Laughs-Like-Water the beads and supplies she would need for her work over the winter. The small band of Sioux moved slowly away, the noise of dogs and children gradually fading.

Sarah folded her arms, watching them. "I am sad to see them go."

Logan wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her back against him. "That is how I feel whenever I part company with Chayton and his family. These are dangerous times for his people. For many people." He rubbed his chin over the top of her head. She folded her arms over his. She was becoming comfortable touching him, being touched by him. It warmed something deep inside himself that had been cold and empty a very long time.

"Thank you for bringing me with you to meet Chayton's family. They're good people."

"Every society has its good and bad people. Your introduction to the Sioux did little to show you the truth of their waysa"at least ways as they are when they aren't at war." He rubbed her arms. "I think we should hit the trail, too. You ready? We'll be at the Circle Bar in a week or so."

Sarah turned in his arms to look up at his face, wondering at the words he didn't say, wondering how he would react if his family disapproved of her.

After their noon stop that day, when they had eaten their lunch and the horses had been fed and watered, Sarah started to pack up the wagon.

"Leave it," Logan told her. "It's time I showed you some things about your gun. Bring the revolver and your cleaning kit."

Sarah hurried to do as he asked, excited to finally have the lessons she sought. They mounted the ponies and rode a fair distance from the wagon and the corralled wagon team. After securing their mounts in a stand of cottonwoods, they walked a good ways off so that any debris from their practice would not come near the two animals. The ponies were battle traineda"he wasn't worried about their being startled by the sound of gunfire.

The gun belt Sarah wore would have fit a large man, but it was wrapped twice around her waist, covering most of her middle section. "Remind me to order a gun belt that actually fits you."

She smiled at him as she held her hands out to her sides. "What do I do first?"

"Unload your gun."

"Why? How can I learn to shoot if it isn't loaded?"

"This ain't a game, honey. You have to first know and respect your weapon before you go making it deadly. Take the bullets out."

She opened the loading gate and spilled the cartridges into her hand. Logan reached over and took them from her.

"Now what?"

"Now show me how you handle your piece."

She set the Colt back in its holster and drew it out fast. He didn't make any comment. She did it again. And again. Logan crossed his arms and waited for her enthusiasm to wane. When her movements began to slow down, he smiled.

"A pistol doesn't have the accuracy a rifle does, nor the impact a shotgun has. Speed is not your friend when handling a Colt. Now try one more time, slowly. You aren't an expert gunfighter and you never will be." She sent him an injured look. "Not because you're a woman. Because you haven't the heart for it. Your pistol is for self-defense. If you rush your shot, you could lose your opportunity to hit your target. So let's see you take your piece out slowly, with intent."

She did as he asked. "Don't look at me, honey. A bullet tends to go where you're looking, and I won't ever be your target. Pick one of those trees over there, the same one every time." She repeated the exercise a few times. He could see the focus in her gaze. Their practice had stopped being a game. Good.

"Now, take your piece out and c.o.c.k it."

This she struggled with. The hammer was much firmer than she'd expecteda"harder to do when she wasn't panicked. It took two hands for her to accomplish the task. "I'm sorry. This isn't as easy as it looks."

"No need to apologize. This ain't about being pretty. It's about getting the job done. The more comfortable you are with it, the better shot you'll be. And let me tell you, there is something poetic about an enemy staring down the barrel of a Peacemaker. You just take the time you need and enjoy the power, 'cause you're about to kill your enemy. And dead is dead, whether it takes two hands or one."

She nodded at him, absorbing his words.

"Now unc.o.c.k it and do it again." She did. "And again."

She repeated the exercise until it began to feel familiar. He could see the tension ease out of her stance as she became comfortable with what she was doing.

"You hear the clicks it makes when you c.o.c.k it?" She nodded. "Four clicks. You got to remember to listen for them. Each one means something. Quarter c.o.c.ked. Half c.o.c.ked. You load at half c.o.c.ked. Three-quarters c.o.c.ked. Fully c.o.c.ked. You can fire on the fourth click. Now, lift it up and sight down the barrel. See that dead branch in the tree just to the right of the boulder? It's about twenty yards away. Think you could hit it?"

She nodded.

"Well, darlin', I guess you're ready to actually shoot something." He handed her a cartridge and watched while she opened the loading gate and loaded it. She holstered her gun and waited tensely for him to give the order to shoot.

"Honey, do this." He flapped his hands. "And this." He rotated his head. "You gotta relax. I know you respect that weapon so there's no need to fear it. See if you can hit that dead branch. Remember what I taught you. There's no need to be fast. Fire when you're ready."

Sarah took a deep breath and calmly removed the Colt. She drew the hammer back. Click. Click. Click. Click. She sighted down the barrel with one eye closed. And pulled the trigger. The recoil slammed against her hand, making her fall backward.

Logan squatted next to her, wincing. "Well, I guess I didn't account for that. Now that you know it's coming, you'll be better prepared. Let's do it again." He gave her a hand up.

"Did I hit it?"

"No, ma'am, you did not." He handed her another round. "Holster your piece and start from the beginning."

They repeated this several more times, until she finally did hit the branch. She holstered her gun and started jumping up and down, clapping her hands. To Logan's everlasting bemus.e.m.e.nt, she launched herself at him and started kissing his face. He was a goner before her arms had fully closed around him. He caught the back of her head, holding her immobile while his mouth came down on hers. He slanted his mouth against hers, using his jaw to urge hers to open. Her arms tightened around his neck, lifting her body up closer to him. She wasn't fighting him, thank G.o.d, because right at that moment, if he didn't taste her mouth he thought he might just die.

He swept his tongue between her lips, between her teeth, searching for her tongue. When he felt it rise against his, stroking, sliding, demanding, fire shot through his groin. He had to fight his every instinct to push her to the ground. He gentled his hold on her, giving her the freedom to pull back.

She did not. His tongue made another sweep of her mouth. If he didn't stop now, he wouldn't be able to. He slowly eased his mouth from hers, but he didn't release her body. She was a little bit of a thing, bony hips and shoulders and big, round b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He bent his head and kissed her neck, willing his body to calm down, an impossible feat.

"Well, I guess that's enough for a first lesson." He set her back on her feet. He hadn't even been aware he'd lifted her up.

"Thank you, Logan. Can we try again tomorrow?"

A drumming started in his head. She had to know they'd end up kissing again. "Oh, yeah. We'll practice every day."

Logan watched Sarah hang up the last of their laundry two days later, scattering clothing over branches and boulders. She wore a loose muslin blouse with the arms folded up to her elbows. Her hair was pulled back in a thick braid, but the silky strands seemed discontented to stay confined. They played with the wind, slipping forward to stroke her face under the brim of his old hat.

He felt like the air was sucked out of him, watching his beautiful, broken, ragtag wife. She'd begun to smile again. Frequently. Anytime she made some small achievement. A bit of camp food well prepared. Her improving skills with her pistol. h.e.l.l, even the wind made her smile now. But still there was a shadow in her eyes when she looked at him. He couldn't let her continue to live in fear.

She trusted him enough to let him touch her, hold her hand, hold her in his arms as she fell asleep. But he wanted more. Much, much more. He wanted her heart. Her soul. He wanted her to know that she was perfect, strong. Resilient.

He looked away, at a loss as to how he could reach her. If they continued on the path they were on, they would have a friendly but incomplete marriage. He'd grown up watching his parents circle each other, neither quite knowing how to deal with the other, both miserable and alone.

He saw to the horses, mulling over the situation while he groomed and fed them. Gradually, an idea took form. She wouldn't like it. Not one bit. But he could see it done without breaking his promise to her.

When he came back to camp, she was putting away the last of their supper dishes. She poured him a cup of coffee. He watched her, bracing himself for her reaction. The sun was beginning its descent, washing the rugged land around them in warm orange hues.

Setting his coffee down, he retrieved a bar of soap and a couple of towels. "Time for our baths."

She nodded, burying her face in her steaming tin cup. "Go ahead. I'll take mine when you're finished."

"No. We'll bathe together."

He had her full attention with that. Her eyes went wide. Fear tightened her expression. "You said we wouldn't be intimate."

"I said I wouldn't claim my marital rights. This isn't intercourse. It's just a bath. Water. Soap. Two clean bodies. Nothing scary."

"I don't want to bathe with you."

He touched her cheek, the tense line of her jaw. "I have shown you that I will not break my word. You know that from my friends, from people like Cloud Walker who'd never met me before but knew of my reputation. When we negotiated our marriage, I claimed the right to hold and a.s.sist you. This falls in that bucket."

He set the towel and soap down, then started to undress. He pulled his vest off, dropped the straps of his suspenders, and pulled his shirt from his waistband. "Take your clothes off, honey."

She stood immobile. Her skin, which before had had a rosy hint from the washing and the hot June evening, was now ghostly white. "Please, Logan. Please, not yet." Her voice was a whisper, broken and raw.

"Now, darlin'. I can't help you heal if I don't know the extent of your injuries."

Her face went blank. She set her gaze absently on the ground at his feet and began to unfasten her skirt. He stepped around her, taking one of the chairs so that he could remove his boots and socks. When he looked up, her shirt and skirt were piled at her feet. She stood with her back to him, wearing only her camisole and drawers. She'd removed her petticoats earlier to wash them with the rest of the laundry. She made no move to take off her underclothes.

He leaned back in his chair. "Everything, Sarah. I would see your skin, your scars. I want to know what you're hiding from me. I want there to be no secrets between us. Only this. Only the truth. Only trust."

Still with her back to him, she loosened the string at her waist and pushed her drawers from her hips. Red lines marred her alabaster skin. Angry puckered marks showed where she'd been poked with burning embers. Rage rose like a beast within him. This woman, so brave, so resolute, had been taken from her home and thrust into a band of angry warriors h.e.l.l-bent on the destruction of all white men, women, and children. How she had survived was a mystery he would never unravel.

She pulled her camisole up over her head. The marks were heavier across her shoulders and arms. Tears made his vision waver. "Turn around," he ordered quietly, half afraid to see worse scars on her front.

She moved in a tight circle, turning to face him. Her face was still downcast. She clutched her camisole in front of her, between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her legs were long and slim. Pale curls covered her s.e.x. Her stomach was concave, her hip bones clearly visible. He had been feeding her three full meals a day and several snacks between times, but she had a ways to go to return to a healthy weight. Her stomach stretched up to a narrow rib cage, and b.r.e.a.s.t.s that were stunningly perfect, round and full despite her slim weight. Her nipples were upthrust, tight with tension. Her hands clasped the little bit of cotton fabric in a white-knuckled hold between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Move your hands. Let me see all of you."

Sarah took a breath. She felt herself withdraw, pull inward. It didn't matter what he thought of her. There was nothing she could do about it. He was her husband. He could do anything he wished. Anything at all, as she well knew. She kept her eyes averted and lowered her camisole. Logan sucked in a breath. She wanted, perversely, to start singing, to hum loudly, to drown out his voice, his thoughts. Her mortification.

"Good G.o.d, honey," he rasped, leaning forward. "Is this what you've been hiding from me?"

A tear slipped down her cheek. She braved a glance at his face. He stared at her chest, a look of awe on his face.

"Come here. I want to see it closer." He smiled at her. "I thought you had a scar more terrible than all the others. I was terrified of what you would show me."

"I am scarred. It's a great blue scar they carved into my chest. I cannot wash it away. It hurt. I begged them not to do it. I begged and begged." She gasped and stopped herself, realizing how much she was revealing.