Read Online Chieftain (Historical Romance) by Nan Ryan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nan Ryan
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Adult, Western, Native American, 19th century, Oklahoma, Virginia, Bachelor, multicultural, No Rules, teacher, Forever Love, Single Woman, Hearts Desire, reservation, American West, Love Possibility, Frontier & Pioneer, Comanche Tribe, Treatment, Fort Sill, Indian Warrior
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clothes this morning, but looking just as dangerous, just as rebellious as when he had ridden into the fort. His presence filled the room with a kind of crackling excitement. He dominated the space so completely it was hard to get a breath.
He was, no question, quite magnificent. So imperial. So imperious. So physically beautiful. Big and tall. Broad-shouldered and leanly muscled. Harshly handsome face with the high, flat cheekbones of an Indian, but so refined as to add to the perfect symmetry of his classic features. Arresting silver eyes fringed with night-black lashes. Proud, high nose. Wide, sensuous, but strangely cruel-looking mouth.
For a briefmoment Maggie was held powerless by some undefinable force he exuded, unnerved by his intimidating presence. But she quickly regained her composure and began the morning’s lessons. All business now, her only interest was that of teaching the eager students to speak and write English. She pointedly ignored the imposing half-breed.
With interest, Shanaco noted her disinterest. He was not accustomed to being ignored. Especially by women. White or Indian. This pale-skinned, flame-haired teacher’s nonchalant disregard was oddly refreshing. It was novel to be in the same room with a beautiful young female and have her take no notice of him. He was both surprised and intrigued.
He wanted to know her better.
Maggie calmly taught the students, calling on first one, then another, to come up to the newly mounted blackboard, take a fresh piece of chalk and write the latest English word that he or she had learned to spell. All the students were eager to be called on. They raised their hands and waved them about, hoping to have her call on them.
One in particular attracted her attention above all the others.
Shanaco.
Shanaco had hishand raised. Maggie pretended not to see it. Shanaco knew better. She saw him. The fact that she pretended she didn’t and refused to call on him told him more about her than if she had acknowledged him. Maggie Bankhead was, Shanaco felt certain, as aware of him as he was of her.
Maggie continued to conduct the class with the same commanding calm she always demonstrated. But she was relieved when at long last the noon bell rang, signaling the end of the day’s schooling. The restless children leapt out of their chairs and dashed for the door. Bright Feather trailed after them. A scattering of adult students moved toward the door at a slower pace.
Maggie bid them all a good day with the reminder, “Don’t forget the Friday evening picnic. Be sure you memorize a short poem to recite after the meal.”
When the room had emptied, she glanced up to see Old Coyote, making his careful, creaking way toward her. When he reached her, Maggie eagerly grabbed his hand.
Gripping the bony fingers, she said, “Give me a minute to gather up the primers and I’ll walk with you.”
The old chief shook his head and apologized. “Sorry, Miss Maggie. Have big domino game. Am late.” And he left.
One student remained.
Shanaco.
Still lounging in his chair at the back of the room, Shanaco’s long legs were stretched out before him. Maggie could no longer pretend that he didn’t exist. She looked directly at the chief and frowned, unsure how to handle the situation.
She foldedher arms over her chest, took a few steps toward him and spoke to him in Comanche, a difficult language that Double Jimmy had taught her. Shanaco made no reply. Just continued to sit there unmoving, looking at her.
Maggie uncrossed her arms and pointed to the clock above the blackboard. Then she gestured to the door. Shanaco nodded. He rose to his feet and leisurely made his way to the front of the room.
He stopped when he reached Maggie. He slowly turned to face her. Then took another step toward her. He stood so close and was so tall and broad-shouldered that he filled the entire scope of her vision. So close she could see the pulse beating steadily in his bronzed throat.
Maggie got
He was, no question, quite magnificent. So imperial. So imperious. So physically beautiful. Big and tall. Broad-shouldered and leanly muscled. Harshly handsome face with the high, flat cheekbones of an Indian, but so refined as to add to the perfect symmetry of his classic features. Arresting silver eyes fringed with night-black lashes. Proud, high nose. Wide, sensuous, but strangely cruel-looking mouth.
For a briefmoment Maggie was held powerless by some undefinable force he exuded, unnerved by his intimidating presence. But she quickly regained her composure and began the morning’s lessons. All business now, her only interest was that of teaching the eager students to speak and write English. She pointedly ignored the imposing half-breed.
With interest, Shanaco noted her disinterest. He was not accustomed to being ignored. Especially by women. White or Indian. This pale-skinned, flame-haired teacher’s nonchalant disregard was oddly refreshing. It was novel to be in the same room with a beautiful young female and have her take no notice of him. He was both surprised and intrigued.
He wanted to know her better.
Maggie calmly taught the students, calling on first one, then another, to come up to the newly mounted blackboard, take a fresh piece of chalk and write the latest English word that he or she had learned to spell. All the students were eager to be called on. They raised their hands and waved them about, hoping to have her call on them.
One in particular attracted her attention above all the others.
Shanaco.
Shanaco had hishand raised. Maggie pretended not to see it. Shanaco knew better. She saw him. The fact that she pretended she didn’t and refused to call on him told him more about her than if she had acknowledged him. Maggie Bankhead was, Shanaco felt certain, as aware of him as he was of her.
Maggie continued to conduct the class with the same commanding calm she always demonstrated. But she was relieved when at long last the noon bell rang, signaling the end of the day’s schooling. The restless children leapt out of their chairs and dashed for the door. Bright Feather trailed after them. A scattering of adult students moved toward the door at a slower pace.
Maggie bid them all a good day with the reminder, “Don’t forget the Friday evening picnic. Be sure you memorize a short poem to recite after the meal.”
When the room had emptied, she glanced up to see Old Coyote, making his careful, creaking way toward her. When he reached her, Maggie eagerly grabbed his hand.
Gripping the bony fingers, she said, “Give me a minute to gather up the primers and I’ll walk with you.”
The old chief shook his head and apologized. “Sorry, Miss Maggie. Have big domino game. Am late.” And he left.
One student remained.
Shanaco.
Still lounging in his chair at the back of the room, Shanaco’s long legs were stretched out before him. Maggie could no longer pretend that he didn’t exist. She looked directly at the chief and frowned, unsure how to handle the situation.
She foldedher arms over her chest, took a few steps toward him and spoke to him in Comanche, a difficult language that Double Jimmy had taught her. Shanaco made no reply. Just continued to sit there unmoving, looking at her.
Maggie uncrossed her arms and pointed to the clock above the blackboard. Then she gestured to the door. Shanaco nodded. He rose to his feet and leisurely made his way to the front of the room.
He stopped when he reached Maggie. He slowly turned to face her. Then took another step toward her. He stood so close and was so tall and broad-shouldered that he filled the entire scope of her vision. So close she could see the pulse beating steadily in his bronzed throat.
Maggie got
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