The Angel and the Outlaw by Madeline Baker

Author:Madeline Baker [Baker, Madeline]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Butterfly Kisses Press
Published: 2016-04-04T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

J.T. paced the lodge restlessly, wondering what was taking so long. He paused a moment, awed by the realization that the spirits had foretold his coming, that Wicasa Tankala had heeded the voice of the cottonwood and prepared for their coming.

Shaking his head, he began to pace again. An hour ago, he had bathed and donned the clean buckskin shirt and fringed leggings Wicasa Tankala had provided, and still Brandy did not come to him.

Had she changed her mind, after all? Could he blame her if she had?

He glanced at the bowls of food that Tasina Luta had brought him, but he was too edgy to eat.

His hand slapped nervously against his thigh. He missed the familiar weight of a Colt on his hip. He had carried a gun for so many years he’d come to feel as though it was a part of him, like his arms and legs. So much a part that now he felt incomplete without it.

For a moment, he considered strapping on his gunbelt and holster, and then he thrust the thought aside. This was his wedding night. He would not meet his bride-to-be armed with the tools of his old life. He was a man of peace now.

J.T. laughed softly. “The love of a good woman,” he thought wryly, and felt a blanket of warmth surround his heart as he thought of her. She loved him, loved him enough to marry him. Of all the miracles he’d encountered lately, Brandy’s love was the most extraordinary of all.

He came to an abrupt halt as he heard the muffled sound of footsteps outside the lodge.

Crossing the floor, J.T. lifted the flap, felt his breath catch in his throat when he saw Brandy standing in a pool of silver moonlight.

She wore a dress of bleached doeskin. Elks’ teeth adorned the bodice; tiny silver bells had been sewn to the long fringe that dangled from the sleeves and hem. Fairy bells, he thought, their music like the sound of angels laughing.

Her leggings were ornamented with porcupine quills and feathers, her moccasins were adorned with quills that matched those on her leggings.

Her hair had been parted in the middle, the thick braids hanging down her back as befitting a married woman. There was a touch of color on her cheeks and in the part of her hair, copper bracelets on her wrists.

Wicasa Tankala and his wife, Chatawinna, followed Brandy into the lodge, accompanied by Tasina Luta, but J.T. had eyes only for Brandy. His woman. Soon to be his wife.

A knowing smile hovered over Tasina Luta’s lips as she placed Brandy’s dowry inside the lodge near the door. It was obvious that her grandson was very much in love with the beautiful white woman.

“Since you have already agreed to marry, there is no need of a formal proposal or a gift of horses,” the shaman said solemnly, “and so the ceremony will be short. And yet it is not the words that will bind you together, but your feelings for one another.

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