River of Love (Savage Destiny) by Bittner Rosanne

Author:Bittner, Rosanne [Bittner, Rosanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DCA, Inc.
Published: 2012-09-25T00:00:00+00:00

Zeke headed his horse north to find the estate of Winston Garvey. But his anticipation at finding Yellow Moon was momentarily overwhelmed by what he had sacrificed to find out where she was. His unfaithfulness to Abbie weighed heavily on his mind, for even though he had not wanted to do what he did, the fact remained that he had done it, and he felt as though someone had cut out a piece of his heart.

A payment had to be made—a sacrifice for being untrue physically to the woman he loved. He was not a man to keep secrets from his wife. He would tell her because that was the kind of man he was, and if he tried to keep it a secret she would see it in his eyes, and it would be cause for constant friction between them. He did not want that. Not with his Abbie.

His heart ached so that he groaned aloud, his eyes tearing. Abbie! How he wished it was Abbie who had lain beneath him. Sweet Abbie! She was home waiting patiently and loyally for him. But his body had been with another woman, and he must atone for it. For his heart, his very blood, pulsed only for his Abbie, and he’d broken a vow. It was not his nature to break a vow, especially one that had been made to the woman he loved more than his own life. There was something he must do before he went for Yellow Moon.

He found a stream of icy water that ran down clear and bright from a mountain. He dismounted and tied his horse, then stripped off his shirt and threw back his head, facing the sun.

“Maheo give me strength for what I must do!” he groaned. It would not be easy, but it was the only answer. He removed his hatchet from his mount and went to kneel beside the stream, placing his left hand on a flat rock. He stared at the hand for a long time, again praying for strength. He had betrayed his woman, whether it was for good reason or not. It was done. He breathed deeply, his chest aching for her, his body crying out, his mind praying that she would not hold it against him. For sometimes white women did not understand such things, and their love had never been tested in that way. There was only one way that might make her understand how difficult it had been for him.

He blinked back tears and his right hand shook with apprehension as he raised the hatchet. He felt weak with a great temptation to refrain from doing what he must do, but he was Cheyenne. He was a man. He had suffered the tortures of the Sun Dance. He could suffer this. In the next moment the hatchet came down hard, and the end of his little finger disappeared.

At first there was no pain. He threw the hatchet aside and quickly dipped his hand in the icy waters, holding it there and letting the blood flow to clean the stub.

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