Captive Bride (38 page)

 
Hawk reined his steed to a halt and gestured down the rugged slopes to a strange-looking monument that stood in the middle of the meadow below them. It was an eerie arrangement of animal and human skulls placed in a circle around a towering shrine of elk horns. The pyramid rose like a lone tree, gracing the valley with its mystical presence.

 
"It is here that the Indians shout petitions to their gods. They believe that contributing an elk or antelope horn to the pyramid will ensure success in hunting. Those who fail to make an offering, and have perished because of it, are left here to add credence to the Indian belief in the supernatural," Hawk explained.

 
An odd tingle shot down Rozalyn's spine when she stared down at the sacred pyramid. This is all superstitious nonsense, she told herself. Offerings to the spirits? Mountain springs of fire and ice? Did Hawk truly expect her to believe such preposterous tales?

 
And yet, as they wound their way through the majestic mountain passes, listening to the murmur of the waterfalls, viewing the breathtaking beauty that greeted them at twilight and dawn, Rozalyn realized the spell of these mountains. And she was equally awestruck by the raven-haired man who tracked his way through the sprawling wilderness. Rozalyn found herself depending on Hawk as she had no other person. Each night when they made camp he was there to offer warmth and passion, and at sunrise her eyes would sweep open to see his muscular frame silhouetted against the colorful mountain summits. He would turn to greet her with a heart-stopping smile as radiant as the sun. It made her warm and giddy inside, though frosty mountain air crept over her exposed skin.

 
Their arguments had become the exception rather than the rule, for Rozalyn had come to respect Hawk's resourceful capabilities in the mountains. Despite some remaining resistance, she found herself looking up to him. He moved with masculine grace, spoke with authority; and he had developed a sixth sense that warned him of danger long before it approached. He was wise beyond his years when it came to knowing how to survive in the rugged terrain through which they were traveling. His excellent marksmanship kept them in fresh meat, even though Rozalyn had stopped complaining about choking down the pemmican cakes they often depended upon for nourishment.

 
 
When game was plentiful Hawk would hunt and Rozalyn would be one step behind him, studying him with pride. Their laughter rang through the meadow while they picked wild cherries and chokeberries playfully feeding each other nature's fruits. And all the while, Rozalyn was falling deeper in love with the man she'd sworn not to succumb to a second time. But she could not help herself. Hawk was always there to lay a protective arm about her shoulder, to stand watch over her. He filled up her days and nights, leaving her with no other memories except those that evolved around him and the rugged country that was so much a part of him. One evening, just before dusk, Hawk had cast Rozalyn a dubious glance before going off to hunt fresh game for their evening meal. Rozalyn had insisted that she remain in camp instead of following her usual custom or accompanying him. She had much on her mind and she wanted to be completely alone with her troubled thoughts. With each passing day, her attachment had deepened for a man who whispered words of wanting and needing in moments of passion, but who said nothing about lasting love. This disturbed her greatly. Hawk treated her with respect, so much so that she found herself thinking he actually did care for her. Yet, she knew she was only a convenience, someone who could appease his lusts and share his warmth. Would he surrender her to Aubrey without regret when summer came? Rozalyn's heart twisted in her chest when she visualized their parting.

 
She could see herself standing there, her eyes swimming with barely contained tears, her heart withering in her chest. She would be loving him, wanting him, knowing she had been first and foremost a bargaining tool to use against her father. How could she say goodbye to this raven-haired rogue with eyes the color of emeralds? How could she return to St. Louis and leave her soul in these mystical mountains?

 
An agonizing groan escaped Rozalyn's lips. It was answered by an unexpected growl from the thick brush that crowded the lower rim of the canyon. Hesitantly, she glanced over her shoulder and horror filled her eyes. There, on the ledge above her was a bear cub—and its mother. Two pair of coal black eyes focused intently on her. Rozalyn was on her feet before she realized what she was doing. Frantically, she grabbed the pistol Hawk had left for her, and her heart catapulted into her throat as she took aim at the mammoth beast that had moved ahead to protect the cub. When another warning growl echoed through the canyon, Rozalyn reacted instinctively. The pistol exploded, but the shot only served to enrage the grizzly.

 
Rozalyn tried to still her pounding heart when seven hundred pounds of disturbed grizzly reared up on its hind legs to its seven foot height, but a frightened shriek erupted from her lips when the grizzly growled and hunkered down on all fours to pursue her. Her eyes darted from side to side as she tried to decide what to do. She didn't dare take to the open valley in search of Hawk so she scrambled up the rocks, searching for a tiny niche that would protect her from imminent disaster. The bear's third ferocious growl made Rozalyn cry out so loudly that even Morningstar, the spirit of the mountains, could not help but hear her. Nonetheless, praying hard and fast, Rozalyn wedged herself between two boulders as the grizzly lumbered toward her. When the angry beast pounced upon the rocks and swatted at he with its powerful paw, Rozalyn shrank away, certain she would lose her head if the monstrous bear's paw connected with its target.

 
She couldn't breathe for her heart was lodged in he throat, and her life was passing before her eyes. The grizzly pushed up into an upright position, wrapping it; powerful legs around the boulders, and breathed down her neck. Rozalyn screamed again. Then, like a frightened rabbit, she darted from the opposite end of the boulder, hoping to locate a safer sanctuary that might allow her to wait out the grizzly. If she could tuck herself into a narrow crevice, perhaps the bear would tire of its game and leave her in peace.

 
Relief washed over her hunted features when she spied a broken slope that formed a natural cave with an opening only large enough for her to crawl inside. It wasn't nearly wide enough to house a seven-hundred-pound bear. Rozalyn hastily glanced back at her pursuer while she dashed madly across the ledge, praying she could reach the cave before the grizzly sprang on her, but as she did so, her moccasined foot slipped on the loose pebbles, flinging her off balance. She cried out as she fell, scraping against the jagged boulders that lay at the base of the canyon wall.

 
"Roz . . ." Hawk's booming voice echoed through the valley, and the color drained from his ruddy features when he saw Rozalyn plummet over the rocks to land in a broken heap. As the huge grizzly bounded from the ledge to pursue her victim, Hawk braced the Hawken rifle against his shoulder and took careful aim. He could hear his heart thundering in his ears, drowning out Rozalyn's whimperings.

 
He must drop the grizzly before she cut Rozalyn to shreds, and the distance between them would sorely test the accuracy of the rifle. There would be time for only one shot. It would take too long to reload so he must hit his mark on the first attempt. Steadying the rifle, Hawk peered down the long barrel and gently pulled the trigger. The crack of the Hawken vibrated around the walls of the canyon and Hawk sagged in relief when the grizzly tumbled over the rocks. Although the shot had not killed her, she had been sufficiently dazed. The grizzly wobbled up on all fours, hearing the call of her cub from the elevated ledge.

 
As soon as the bear retreated to join her cub, Hawk raced across the meadow to inspect Rozalyn's injuries. "Oh, God," he groaned, as he scrambled up the rocks to her lifeless form. Her arms were flung outward, and her hands dangled limply over the boulders that had stopped her fall. She was lying on her back, her eyes shut, her face scraped and bruised. Her left leg was twisted up behind her as if someone had carelessly tossed a rag doll aside, and it had landed in a contorted position.

 
Scolding himself for leaving her alone, Hawk carefully scooped her into his arms. Then, guarding his steps, he edged down the side of the cliff toward the camp. Rozalyn had not moved a muscle or shown the slightest sign of life. Apprehensively, Hawk bent over her, laying his cheek to her breast. He feared she might not have survived the fall, and a choked sigh rattled in his chest when he felt the faint beat of her heart against the side of his face.

 
After laying her on the pallet, Hawk glanced up at the ledge to ensure that the grizzly had retreated to her cave high above the precipices that jutted out over the valley. Then he turned back to Rozalyn and his pain was evident on his craggy features.

 
Damnation, if only he hadn't dragged her into this treacherous terrain ... if he hadn't left her to fend for herself while he went in search of game. . . . Blast it, Rozalyn had not yet developed a sixth sense.
 
She couldn't feel the approach of danger.
 
Setting aside his regrets, Hawk inspected her iner body for signs of broken bones. He berated himself again when he saw that her left ankle was swollen and the back of her head had been slashed by the jagged rocks. Dammit, she could have been killed! Even now, she could perish from the fall she had taken.

 
This is no place for a woman, he told himself. He had taken leave of his senses when he'd carted her into the perilous wilderness. Rozalyn hadn't known the first thing about survival in the mountains. He had taught her the basic necessities, but they weren't enough to protect her.

 
While Hawk held a cloth to the wound on the back of Rozalyn's head, and as he cradled her protectively in his arms, her eyes fluttered open. Her vision was hazy, her thoughts clouded; but she sighed contentedly when she saw Hawk's face hovering above her.

 
"Hawk, I . . ." She licked her swollen lips, desperately trying to formulate thoughts she could not seem to put to tongue. The silent darkness was calling to her. . . .

 
"Roz?" Hawk laid his head to her breast, fearing the worst. But the vital flame, dim though it was, still burned within her. Gently, he eased her back to the pallet and covered her with quilts to preserve her warmth.

 
When he'd made Rozalyn as comfortable as the situation permitted, Hawk sank down beside her. His keen gaze swept the now-quiet valley, his eyes shifting to the north. He wished he and Rozalyn were safely tucked in his cabin, and a rueful smile pursed his lips when his gaze circled back to Rozalyn's pale face. Lovingly, he reached out to trail a tanned finger over her bruised cheek.

 
"Can you forgive me for all this,
ma cherie amie
? You have always invited trouble, but this-time I have led you into it." He looked toward the heavens, thinking if this request was answered he would never request another favor. Then, he prayed that Rozalyn would live and that she would not be permanently injured by her fall.

 
The deep circles under Hawk's eyes revealed the strain he'd endured the past two days. Rozalyn had roused to consciousness several times during the journey to his cabin, but her words had made no sense at all. When Hawk finally drew her limp body from the back of his horse and then eased her onto his soft bed, Rozalyn sank into another restless sleep.

 
Assured that she was resting as comfortably as possible, Hawk went outside to unload the supplies and care for the horses. As he glanced up from his task, he glimpsed a man approaching in the distance, and a faint smile grazed his lips.

 
"Where have you been so long, Hawk?" Bear-Claw called when he drew nearer. Then the burly mountain man swung down from his steed and ambled toward Hawk, cradling his rifle in his arms. "Twice I have come to share your company, only to find your empty cabin."

 
"The fall has been a busy season," Hawk said evasively, returning to his chores.

 
"You have been trapping?" Bear-Claw chuckled softly, his pale eyes dancing with amusement. "Do you think to outdo last year's heaping stack of pelts? You take life too seriously, Hawk. The mountains provide life itself. Why must you be so eager to find profit in them?"

 
Hawk eyed the older mountain man for a long, thoughtful moment. Bear-Claw was a long-time hermit of the Rockies, a man who seldom mingled with others. Never had he descended from the mountains to attend the festive rendezvous. The shaggy-haired hunter was content to live off the land, and he did not hunger for the luxuries of civilization. It wasn't that he didn't approve of sophistication, Bear-Claw was simply satisifed with his lot.

 
"Did you come to lecture me or to share my company, Bear-Claw?" Hawk asked point-blank.

 
Bear-Claw's laughter wafted away in the crisp mountain breeze. "Would you be insulted if I came to do a bit of both?" The old man rubbed his backside and then cast his companion a beseeching glance. "Will you offer a soft seat to a weary traveler? The nag's rump makes an uncomfortable seat for these brittle old bones."

 
Without waiting for a formal invitation, Bear-Claw aimed himself toward the log cabin he had helped Hawk build several years earlier.