Yellow Rock by Elle Marlow Page A

some kind of offering to a man they called Yellow Rock. That’s you, is it not? Nobody with white skin can survive on this mountain, but look at you. You’ve built a cabin and have lived pretty well as a recluse with only a mule for company. And while they might try and scare you away, they seem to think you have some kind of spiritual protection, and they will not kill you. I was on that cliff, Dutch. Those Indians purposely shot everywhere but at you and then they ran like the hounds of hell were chasing them. Explain to me why.”
    For a crazy woman, she was damned astute. And she was staring him down with her blue eyes flashing some kind of accusation. To hear how her life had gone up until now made his gut recoil from actual physical pain.
    “Your turn,” she pressed, crossing her arms in front of her.
    He didn’t like being confronted, and he wasn’t a talker. Feeling like the walls were closing in around him, Dutch went outside and started yanking each of the war lances out of the ground. The Apaches have obviously have seen Willow with him. Now they had no doubt he’d accepted their gift. Taking Willow into his home meant one thing, and now they expected action. These lances are proof. He’d accepted the gift, and now he has to get off the mountain. But he wasn’t done, he didn’t have nearly enough gold to build his ranch, to build his life. He had nothing to offer to anyone…or to her, if he’d be so inclined. The more he thought about it, the harder he pulled on the lances until he growled, tossing each lance into the woods as hard as he could, and until sweat poured from his skin.
    He’d tossed the last lance, breathing hard from his efforts. He turned and noticed Willow standing in the doorway of the cabin, her hair lifting with the breeze. Just like that, his heart fell all over itself. She’d been watching his temper tantrum calmly. Why wasn’t the sight of the war lances or his temper upsetting to her? Was she getting better? Could he tell her everything? Was she ready now?

Chapter Seven
    He’d spent the whole day stewing over something and the more she pried, the more he’d shut down. Needing to keep herself busy somehow, Willow decided to go ahead and take the liberty to prepare biscuits and gravy from what was left of his flour and the left-over turkey.
    Dutch hardly touched his meal, and didn’t even thank her for her efforts. He just sat staring at the wall with a silence of a man deep in thought. Wondering what was bothering him so much made her hands a little jumpy, but she was able to keep a clear head. Ever since she revealed her life to Dutch, her episodes subsided. She’d said the words that haunted her, and surprisingly, the world didn’t collapse around her. For that alone, her mood and hopes for the future lifted considerably.
    “How much do you hate the Yankees, Willow?”
    The question snapped her gaze to him. She had to think about it for a moment. Then she realized, she didn’t. “I’ve never met one. Not a single one for me to hate. I may have been a colonel’s daughter, but I’ve been kept sheltered from it all. Up till the last month, that is.”
    “Well you’ve met one now.”
    She stopped pushing her food around the plate with her fork to look at him. “You’re a Union soldier?”
    “Not just a soldier, an officer. An officer who specialized in weapons and sharp shooting. But the war is over, and I’d like to put it behind me for good.”
    She looked back down to her plate. In the real world she would have hated him. Her father certainly would. “I see,” she whispered.
    “The last thing might be even harder for you to hear.”
    Willow nodded, then laid the fork down. She folded her hands in front of her, and gave him her full attention.
    “When I came west, I got myself lost. So lost I couldn’t find even food or water. I was close to death when I was found by an Apache woman named Bird-In-Sky. I called her Birdie since I struggled with her language.