Warrior's Honor

By Georgina Gentry

TORN BETWEEN LOVE AND DUTY

A warrior who values duty above all else, Talako is honor bound to recapture a runaway brave sentenced to hang for his crimes. But then he confronts the fury and determination of ebony-haired Lusa, his quarry's sister. Forced to make Lusa his captive on a perilous trek through the wilderness, he cannot deny the desire to forget his quest and lose himself in the pleasures of her lush beauty.

TRAPPED BY PASSION AND DESIRE

Convinced Talako is hunting an innocent man, for Lusa all that matters is saving her brother, and she'll do it any way she can. Boldly, she dares to seduce her enemy with all the passionate fire raging through her blood. The last thing she expects is her own impossible need to surrender to the exquisite torment he ignites. . . and to a love that could bind her heart to his forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zebra Books
• Release date: May 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781420138412

Georgina Gentry

Georgina Gentry is a former Ford Foundation teacher who married her Irish-Indian college sweetheart. They have three grown children and seven grandchildren and make their home on a small lake in central Oklahoma. Georgina is known for the deep research and passion of her novels, resulting in two Romantic Times Lifetime Achievement awards for both Western and Indian Romance. Often a speaker at writers’ conferences, Georgina has also been inducted into the Oklahoma Professional Writer’s Hall of Fame. She holds the rare distinction of winning two back-to-back Best Western Romance of the Year awards for To Tame A Savage and To Tame A Texan. When she’s not writing or researching, Georgina enjoys gardening and collecting antiques.

Book preview

Prologue

High noon, early spring

Mississippi, 1857

Would his brother show up for his own execution? Talako glanced at the sun, shielding his dark eyes from the light, knowing it was time. In his heart, he half hoped his identical twin, Nightwalker, would not appear, even though his sense of family and tribal honor demanded his brother come to the square where everyone waited.

Talako glanced over at his old father. Nashoba, the Wolf, stood proud and tall; only the nerves in the old Choctaw’s dark face quivered a little, betraying the emotions that raged within. Talako knew Nightwalker, Ninak Tasembo, had always been his father’s favorite of the two boys, lovable and irresponsible though he was. Nightwalker was more like a much younger brother than a twin.

The rifle felt heavy in his hands. Talako glanced around the silent square at the dozens of tribal members who awaited the outcome. Somewhere a bird sang, and a slight breeze ruffled through trees already turning green with the hint of spring. How dare birds sing when I am weeping inside?

He must not show any emotion, he reminded himself. His name meant Gray Eagle, and, like that majestic hunter, Talako was dignified and proud. No, he must not let a single tear betray his thoughts. For a member of the elite Choctaw Lighthorsemen tribal law enforcers to cry would be unthinkable, a badge of dishonor for himself, his family, and his tribe. Honor meant more than anything in the world to Talako. Hadn’t he proved that less than six months ago?

One minute passed, then another. Each breath Talako drew seemed to cover an eternity. Around him, people shifted their feet, and a slight murmur ran through the crowd. As if he had read the crowd’s thoughts, frail old Nashoba squared his shoulders and raised his voice. My son, Nightwalker, will come. He has given his word. Like any Choctaw warrior, he values his honor.

Talako wished he had his father’s confidence, but he knew something the old man did not: what had happened the last time Nightwalker was in trouble. Talako could almost feel again the pain of his scars. This time, the crime was more serious, and Talako could not save his errant twin.

Another minute passed. Perhaps Nightwalker was not going to show up. Who could blame him if, having been freed on his word of honor to take care of business and say his final good-byes, his brother had decided to flee and escape his scheduled execution?

Talako looked toward his father again, knowing the frail proud warrior must be warring within himself, half relieved his favorite might yet escape public death, yet humiliated by the shame such cowardice would bring on his family.

Talako shifted his feet, feeling sweat running down his back under his buckskin shirt. His mouth tasted dry and bitter as gunpowder. He looked toward the captain of the lighthorsemen. My brother will come, Talako promised.

His father broke in. Of course Nightwalker will come, as he came for his punishment that other time.

A murmur of agreement ran through the crowd and heads nodded. Yes, that is right. Ninak Tasembo came boldly and took his sentence without flinching.

That wasn’t true, of course, but no one knew that except Talako and Nightwalker, certainly not their ailing, half-blind father. If only Talako had been able to change his brother’s wild, reckless ways. But Nightwalker had never been the same since the tragedy involving his wife.

A murmur swept across the tribal grounds, and then the crowd began to part, making way for Nightwalker as he strode boldly into the square. His chin was up and his handsome face arrogant, and perhaps only the brother who knew him so well saw how deathly pale he was.

Talako’s heart both leaped—his brother’s honor was spared—and sank. In a few minutes, Nightwalker would be dead. It was the tribe’s sentence for murder.

His twin paused before their father and gently put a hand on the Wolf’s frail, bent shoulder. My father, I have returned to take my punishment, as I gave my word I would.

Nashoba’s hand shook as he reached out and touched his favorite in a blessing. I knew you would come, my son. I never doubted how much you valued our family honor and your own.

Now Nightwalker took a deep breath, strode over to Talako, and clasped his hand tightly. Nightwalker’s hand was wet with cold sweat and it trembled, but only Talako knew that. The crowd watched silently. I should have listened to you, Talako. Then maybe I, too, would be an honored lighthorseman.

Talako tried to speak, but choked up. Instead, the two brothers embraced for a long moment. All their lives they had been together, raised alone by an honored old warrior after the death of their unfaithful mother. Now they would be separated forever. Here and there in the crowd, a woman wiped a tear from her eye.

Nightwalker took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped away. I am ready to accept my sentence, he said loudly to the assembled crowd.

Captain Raven of the lighthorsemen took his arm and led him to the post in the middle of the square. Would you like a blindfold? he asked.

Nightwalker shook his head. I would see the sun as I go up to meet the Great Spirit in the sky.

The Choctaw captain sighed, took a small square of white cloth from his pocket, pinned it on the front of Nightwalker’s faded homespun shirt, over his heart, and turned back to shout at Talako, Under the circumstances, no one would fault you if you are not part of this.

Talako wavered. More than anything in the world, he wanted to be a million miles away from here—anywhere, as long as he was not about to take part in this execution. But then he looked into Nightwalker’s eyes, saw the plea there, and knew he could not walk away. My brother has requested I be here, so here I stay.

Everyone nodded, and the murmur went through the crowd again. Everyone knew why Nightwalker had requested that Talako be part of the rifle team. Talako was a legendary shot. With him, there would be no miss, no lingering agony because a bullet had gone awry. Nightwalker would die instantly.

Captain Raven sighed and turned again to the condemned man. Do you have any last words?

Nightwalker shook his head. Not many. I regret the dishonor I have brought to my family with my crimes, but I have killed the woman I loved and life without her is not worth living. My only regret is that I did not find and kill all the guilty men. Perhaps my brother will track the last one down.

Talako gave his brother a look of compassion and encouragement, yet he had no idea of the identity of the guilty man.

Nightwalker squared his shoulders. However, I want to say a word about my punishment almost six months ago.

Alarmed, Talako caught his brother’s eye and shook his head ever so slightly. It would do no good now to tell that; it would only humiliate their frail father. The Wolf was the proudest of all the elderly tribesmen.

Nightwalker hesitated, as if loath to avoid telling what he knew. Then he, too, glanced toward their father and back to Talako, nodding to show he understood. Instead, his dark eyes passed a message to his brother. Thank you for the sacrifice you made. I am sorry I have caused so much trouble and pain.

The Choctaw captain signaled the execution squad to step into place. Talako knew his feet moved, but his body was numb to feeling anything. For a long moment, there was no sound. Even the bird had stopped singing.

No, the silence had a sound, Talako thought as he gritted his teeth and steeled himself. It was the sound of his own heart breaking for the brother he had not been able to change and now could not save.

Nightwalker cleared his throat. I die now with a warrior’s honor! he shouted. My regrets to my father for what I have done to our family name. His handsome dark face turned toward Talako and passed him a silent message. Aim true, my brother. Send me to my rest with no pain.

Talako was not sure he could do this thing. He wanted to throw down his rifle and run away, yet Nightwalker was counting on him.

Ready! shouted the captain.

Talako and the others brought their rifles to their shoulders. His eyes were blurring with tears and he blinked rapidly. He must not miss and cause his brother agony.

Aim!

Talako tried not to look upon Nightwalker’s handsome face, calm now as he gazed not toward the firing squad, but upward toward the sun. There was peace on his brother’s countenance, as if he were prepared to meet that Great Mystery each man must face alone.

Talako concentrated on the white square pinned over Nightwalker’s heart. He was an expert shot. He would not miss. Time seemed to stand still, and yet it was only a heartbeat, the difference between a man’s life and death, before the captain shouted Fire!

The other rifles roared like thunder in Talako’s ears as he pulled the trigger and hit the white target squarely, turning it suddenly crimson. The condemned had felt no pain; Talako had seen to that. Almost in a dream, he watched the familiar form crumpling toward the ground before his tears blurred out the sight. He had fulfilled his obligations, as he had promised.

Now he wanted to scream and grieve and throw himself across the bloody body lying in the noontime dust, but that would shame the proud old Wolf. Honor. Nothing else mattered to this family. Talako squared his wide shoulders and strode over to aid his shaking father.

Chapter One

Southeastern Indian Territory

September, 1858

Why is that warrior wearing a buckskin shirt when all the other stickball players are stripped down to their breechcloths in this heat?

Lusa stood on the sidelines with the cheering crowd, watching the game. No, that wasn’t true, she thought, trying not to blush. She was pretending to watch her brother play, but her gaze was on the unfamiliar warrior in the buckskin shirt.

Her father nudged her. Good game! Your brother plays well today!

What? Oh, yes, she said, but she didn’t look toward Chula. His name meant fox, and he was quick and smart like his namesake. Father, who is that new man who wears a leather shirt in this heat? He must be loco. Her own blue calico dress clung to her skin.

What? Oh, that is John Talako. Best player I’ve seen in a long time, Will Koi Chito answered. Remember, I told you before you went off to school that my old friend, Wolf’s son, was coming to the Indian Territory?

Lusa murmured, barely remembering that. If old Koi Chito had told her the man would be so tall and handsome, she might have paid more attention. Talako. It meant Gray Eagle in the Choctaw language. The name suited him, she decided.

Talako paused on the field to watch the girl, aware she was staring at him. So this was old Koi Chito’s mixed-blood daughter, Lusa, who had briefly been away at school back East. Her name meant black in their language, and her hair was dark as a crow’s wing. Except that her skin was a shade lighter and she wore a white girl’s blue calico dress, she didn’t look as if her mother had been half white.

Look out, Talako! the team leader shouted.

Lusa put her hand over her lips to hold back a scream of warning as she saw Chula send the hard leather ball flying toward Talako. It caught him in the face and he staggered and slumped to the ground.

Come! her father said, and they ran onto the field.

Around them, the crowd was muttering. Chula hit it toward him on purpose! He meant to hit him!

I did not! her brother shouted. It was an accident!

Of course it was! Lusa defended her younger half-brother loyally as she followed her father over to the crowd gathering around the fallen man. Chula wouldn’t deliberately try to injure the other team’s best player.

The crowd made way for the old lighthorseman and his daughter as Koi Chito limped toward the injured man and put one frail hand on the man’s broad shoulder as Talako pulled himself into a sitting position.

Talako, are you all right?

I—I think so. He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of one big hand. His voice carried the slow drawl of the deep South.

Chula hit him on purpose! shouted one of the players.

I did not! her handsome younger brother again denied hotly. He wasn’t paying attention, or he would have fielded that ball.

That was true, Lusa thought. She had been keenly aware Talako was watching her as the ball flew through the air. Now the injured warrior wiped blood from his cut lip. He gave Chula a long look, then glanced from Koi Chito to Lusa. Perhaps it was my fault, he said finally. I let my attention be diverted.

The way he was looking at her brought a hot flush to Lusa’s skin. Innocent though she was, she knew desire when she saw it in a man’s eyes. And yet there was something else there, too—disdain and distrust. Was it something about her personally, or did he have bad feelings for all women?

Let us get on with the game! commanded the team leader. Talako, do you want to play or do you want to sit out the rest of the game?

Talako shook his head. I will play. He staggered to his feet, shaking his head as if to clear it.

Lusa blurted, You don’t look well enough to play.

He paused, an expression of scorn on his chiseled features. I don’t need advice from a woman.

I merely thought— Lusa began.

Well, don’t, Talako snapped. He walked a little unsteadily back to the field.

Lusa turned toward her father with an indignant flounce of her petticoats. What a rude, hostile—

Stop it. Father shook his white head and took her arm, leading her back to the sidelines. I’m afraid Talako has a poor opinion of women.

Well, now I’ve got a poor opinion of him, Lusa fumed.

Clear the field! the team leaders yelled.

The spectators returned to the sidelines and the stickball game resumed. Choctaw stickball was a rough, fast game, and the agile warriors delighted in it, swinging their sticks and hitting the leather ball hard, driving it toward their goals at each end of the field.

My old friend Nashoba and I had always hoped for a marriage between our two families, but after the other son’s tragedy ...

Lusa waited for Father to continue, but the old warrior had decided he’d said enough.

So he has no woman? Lusa’s curiosity was piqued as

she watched Talako slam the ball hard, sending it smashing across the field. I don’t wonder. He’s too rude and brusque for any woman, even an old-fashioned one.

Koi Chito shook his head. He’s already made it clear he’s not interested. I approached him while you were away back East.

You offered me in marriage without telling me? Lusa seethed with rage and humiliation. She wasn’t sure whether she was more annoyed with her very traditional father for trying to set up her marriage or with Talako for turning it down.

Does it matter, the old man asked, since he wasn’t interested?

Wasn’t interested! Men had always been attracted to her beauty, but Lusa wanted more out of life than being an old-fashioned Choctaw wife. When her tribe forgot its useless traditions and took the white man’s path, they would all be better off.

She tried to concentrate on the playing field, but she was too keenly aware of the big, virile Choctaw, and seething inside at the rejection. Father, marriage is the last thing on my mind. I’m going to go back to the white school if I can find a way.

You can forget that dream, daughter, her father reminded her as the game resumed. Now that the rich white man has withdrawn your scholarship, perhaps you can get a position teaching at the Wheelock mission school. You have enough education for that.

Disappointed, Lusa didn’t answer. She must not argue with her father. It was not the Choctaw way. To keep her mind off her problem, she tried to concentrate on the action and cheered on her brother’s team. The opposing team was lagging now, certainly because their best player, Talako, was slowing. Perhaps he was hurt more than he was willing to admit. In the end, her brother’s team won, and it had been an important game.

The teams and the crowds began to leave the field. Chula swaggered over to them, his handsome face lit with pride. Did you see? We won!

Talako hesitated, then limped over, nodded to Koi Chito, and held out his hand to Chula. Congratulations. Then he turned and started to leave.

Koi Chito called to him. Talako, don’t leave so soon.

The tall, virile Choctaw turned back toward them, his buckskin skin shirt dark with sweat. I have to put some cold water on my face. He frowned at the gleeful young man dancing about and crowing with triumph.

You’re being a poor sport, Talako! Lusa blurted. Chula’s team won fair and square.

Lusa! Koi Chito shouted. It is not proper to scold a warrior.

Now Talako hesitated, smiling ever so slightly, but his dark eyes were cold and hostile as they swept over her. Your daughter does not strike me as too worried about what is proper for a Choctaw girl.

Lusa’s cheeks burned at the implied insult. Maybe that is because my mother was half white!

All women are the same, white or brown. A slight sneer curved his swollen, cut lip.

Talako, Chula said, I truly did not mean to hit you.

The older man gave her brother a steely look but said nothing. It was evident he did not believe Chula. That really annoyed Lusa. She and her father had always doted on and spoiled her half brother, but he was just an immature boy, after all.

Accept our family’s apologies for your injury, her father put in hurriedly. I’m sure my son did not deliberately aim for your face.

Of course not! Chula said.

The big Choctaw took a deep breath and put his hand on the old man’s shoulder. I do not forget, Koi Chito, that you and my father were close friends many years ago before you left Mississippi and that your brother died alongside old Wolf last year.

The other nodded. Sad memory. Please overlook my daughter, Lusa. She’s been away at the white man’s school and has little use for our traditions.

Like the whites, Talako said coldly, she is lacking in manners.

And like the Choctaw, you are a slave to tradition, Lusa snapped back.

Lusa! said her father, running one hand through his mane of white hair in helpless frustration. He did look like his namesake the lion, she thought.

Talako looked her up and down slowly, as if he might be reconsidering. Desire shone in his dark eyes. You weren’t gone very long.

The way he was looking her over made her cross her arms defensively across her breasts. I was at Miss Priddy’s Academy on a scholarship, Lusa explained, but when Summer Van Schuyler got expelled for leading a woman’s rights protest, her father cancelled my tuition.

Chula laughed. Yes, she was back within weeks—and here I was hoping she’d meet some rich white man who’d marry her and we’d be living a life of ease.

Talako didn’t smile. I’m not sure a white man could deal with a girl like this one. She’s spirited.

She couldn’t decide if that was disapproval or admiration in his tone, but she was angry at his arrogance. I’m not sure any man could, and I don’t intend to find out!

Lusa, snapped her father, you will not speak to a member of the lighthorsemen in that tone. It is not seemly for a maiden.

She started to say more, but thought better of it. She would not embarrass her elderly father publicly because of this arrogant newcomer who, because he was angry with her brother, seemed to be baiting her.

Some of the other ballplayers joined them now, Chula’s teammates happy and laughing over their triumph. Immediately, she felt the tension lessen.

An elderly couple joined them, old Tom Halonlabi, Bullfrog, and his plump wife. Good game, Bullfrog said, But Chula, you need to be careful. You wouldn’t want anyone to think you deliberately aimed for Talako’s face. It isn’t honorable.

He didn’t! Lusa defended him hotly. Why does everyone blame my brother?

Her father looked embarrassed and uncertain. "I must apologize for my daughter. I’m afraid she is alla tek haksi."

Rude girl. Lusa gritted her teeth.

No need, said old Bullfrog. Come, I will buy everyone some refreshments.

The crowd around them cheered, but Koi Chito said, That’s a very generous offer, Halonlabi, but the cost—

Nonsense! The old man chortled and pulled a small, red beaded bag from his shirt. He held it up triumphantly. I sold some cattle yesterday. I’ve got plenty of money, paid me in twenty-dollar gold pieces. He jingled the bag as if to prove it.

Old fool, his wife grumbled. He’s told everyone about the sale. He’s that proud.

Talako ran his finger gingerly over his swollen, discolored face. Yakoke, he thanked them in the Choctaw language. But I’d better go see to my lip. It’s swelling.

The old woman looked Talako over curiously. And who is this newcomer?

Oh, Koi Chito said, you haven’t met Talako. He just arrived a few weeks ago from our old country. He’s old Wolf’s son and a lighthorseman.

Immediately both elderly wrinkled brown faces lit up with smiles.

The old man put the red beaded sack in his pocket and offered his hand. I knew your father in the old days, a very honorable man. I hope he’s well.

Talako shook his hand. My father is dead these six months, murdered along with Koi Chito’s brother.

Father had not spoken much of this. She saw Talako’s dark eyes soften with grief and felt an immediate pang at having clashed with the stranger only moments before.

Old Bullfrog nodded. Oh, yes, I heard about that cowardly deed. I had forgotten.

She saw the two old men exchange glances, as if there were something else they could not discuss.

Chula must not have been listening to the conversation, because he broke in restlessly, Father, may I go now? My friends and I want to celebrate our victory.

Koi Chito smiled at his beloved son and dismissed him with a wave. Go on and have a good time. Don’t get into any trouble.

Chula laughed. Now, Father, you know I would never do anything to blacken our honor. He turned and hurried to join his friends. They walked toward the general store, laughing and boasting as they left.

Fine boy, old Bullfrog said. He’ll be a credit to his family.

Koi Chito nodded modestly. My only son. I fear I dote on him too much.

We both spoil him a little, Lusa conceded, but he’s so charming we can’t help it. She had never found it in her to resent the fact her father loved Chula so much more than he loved her. She watched Chula go, her heart full of love and pride. Lusa’s half-breed mother had died of cholera and old Koi Chito had married a Choctaw girl, Chula’s mother—but she was long dead, too, and Lusa was the only mother the boy had ever known.

Old Bullfrog jingled the bag of gold in his shirt. I only wish I had had such a fine son, but ours died on the Trail of Tears long ago.

The old woman’s dark eyes clouded up and she twisted the wide gold wedding band on her plump finger, but her hands were shaking.

Lusa’s heart went out to them. It was a terrible thing for all five tribes.

The silent Talako touched his face again. I must be going.

The gentle old woman turned her attention back to him. Where are you staying? With Koi Chito?

I invited him, Koi Chito said.

Talako shook his head. I appreciated the offer, but Koi Chito’s house is small and I would crowd them too much. I’m staying in a rented room behind the general store.

Ah, no. The old woman clicked her tongue in disapproval. We have a large ranch and no children. You should come stay with us.

Oh, I couldn’t put you out, Talako protested.

Nonsense! the old man said. We have plenty of room. Come out tomorrow and see for yourself.

Besides, the woman said, with the old fool telling everyone within a hundred miles how much money he got for those cattle, I’d sleep better at night knowing a lighthorseman was staying at the house. Are you a good shot?

Some say so, Talako answered modestly. Lusa wondered about the sadness mirrored suddenly in his dark eyes.

Good! The old woman nodded as if it were settled. "You come out tomorrow to see our place and I’ll fix good food, old-fashioned Choctaw cooking. You like tanchi ashela honi?"

Baked corn pudding? Talako smiled. Served up with boiled poke greens? My favorite!

The old woman beamed at him.

And I’ll show you my fine cattle, the old man said, Koi Chito can tell you how to get there.

Yakoke, Talako thanked them.

Speaking of dinner, Koi Chito said, Talako, now that Lusa’s back, you should come to dinner at our ranch sometime. Lusa is a very good cook, too.

There was a moment of silence. Lusa knew her father was waiting for her to second his invitation, to urge the other man to come, but she was still angry with Talako for his snide insults to her as well as his hints that her beloved Chula might have hit him deliberately.

I’m sure Talako is much too busy to come to dinner, Father.

Talako only looked at her, a slight smile on his face as if he could not believe she was not being hospitable, as the Choctaw traditionally were.

The old woman cleared her throat in the awkward silence. I thought we were all going to the store for a drink.

Thank you, but no, Talako said. I need to get some cold water on my face before it swells any more. He nodded to the group and strode away.

We must be going, too. Lusa nodded to the old couple, then turned with a swirl of petticoats and headed for the family buggy.

Lusa! She heard her father’s voice thunder behind her and knew she was about to face a stern lecture, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t about to spend hours over a hot stove for a man who annoyed her as much as Talako did. The thought rankled that Father had offered her in marriage and this tall, hostile warrior hadn’t wanted her.

Father joined her in the buggy and drove away with a snap of his little whip. You shame me, Lusa.

She glanced back over her shoulder and watched Talako disappear around the corner of the general store toward his room.

I’m sorry, Father, but you know what he thought about our dear Chula.

Well, of course he’s wrong. Anyway, Talako would make a wonderful addition to our family.

That subject again, she thought with annoyance. No doubt Father thought she should use her charm and cooking to change the big man’s mind. He’s too old-fashioned for me. Much too traditional.

That is not a bad thing, Koi Chito noted as he drove. I believe in the old ways of the Choctaw.

We will all be better off when we forget all that rubbish about honor and tradition and begin to follow the white man’s road completely.

Nevertheless, the next time you see John Talako, I expect you to treat him with respect. He’s a legendary lighthorseman in Mississippi, Father said.

Then why didn’t he stay in Mississippi? Lusa retorted.

After everything that had happened, maybe he couldn’t bear it. He carries some heavy burdens.

Yes, I remember now that you said his father was murdered along with your brother. Her heart went out to Talako in spite of his brusque manner.

And there were other things ... never mind, Father said. Captain Raven was pleased to have him join our local lighthorse group. The captain says things are much more lawless here than they were in Mississippi. He says with all the renegades and white outlaws coming into the Choctaw Nation, we need the best men we can get.

Her curiosity was aroused. Old Koi Chito was a retired lighthorseman himself, that elite Choctaw law enforcement unit that kept order among the tribe. They had a reputation for being expert shots and relentless