Captive Bride (50 page)

 
"DuBois?" Two-Dogs choked out the name and then stared at Rozalyn for a long, pensive moment. Understanding suddenly dawned on the mountain man. Why else would this lass want to know about the feud if she weren't a DuBois? It was obvious she knew just enough to make her curious. "Lordy, don't tell me yore Aubrey DuBois' daughter!" The bewildered mountain man slumped back in his chair and rolled his eyes. "Hell's bells, don't that beat all."

"I'm afraid I am," Rozalyn confessed quietly.

 
Two-Dogs raked his fingers through his hair and then let his arm drop loosely to his side. "I'll be damned," he grumbled. "Hawk promised us at last summer's rendezvous that he was goin' to negotiate with DuBois in St. Louis. When he informed us earlier today that he had found a foolproof way to bargain for lower prices, I wondered what he meant. Bift now the pieces of the puzzle are beginnin' to fall into place. Yore his bargainin' power, ain't you?"

 
"So it seems," Rozalyn replied. Then she focused penetrating blue eyes on the trapper. "You didn't answer my question."

 
"I will . . . if you will answer one more of mine," Two-Dogs bartered. "Is Hawk holdin' you for ransom and forcin' you to . . ." The trapper bit his tongue before he blurted out his probing question.

 
Hesitantly, Rozalyn nodded. "He is not actually my husband, and yes, he abducted me from St. Louis to bargain with my father. But what is between us is not something either of us takes lightly."

 
Two-Dogs deciphered her delicately phrased message and then frowned thoughtfully. "I reckon stealin' you was the only way Hawk could gain yore pa's attention. But that don't do you and Hawk no good now, does it?"

 
A sigh escaped Rozalyn's lips, but she met Two-Dogs' scrutinizing gaze. "I have become a pawn and I know I cannot win. I still do not know why my father detests the Baudelairs, or why Hawk and I can never become man and wife. If you could explain, I would be grateful."

 
Two-Dogs dragged his pipe from his pocket. After lighting it from the lantern, he took a long draw and then watched the smoke rings drift across the shadowed room. "I don't see no reason why you shouldn't know what started this feud," he murmured. "But I ain't sure I'm the one who should be divulgin' the information."

 
That was not what Rozalyn wanted to hear. She wanted to know the dark secret her father harbored—quickly. But she could tell by the square set of Two-Dogs' jaw that he would not betray a confidence. Dammit, would no one enlighten her? How could she fight when she didn't even know who and what she was battling?

 
When Two-Dogs bid her good night and closed the door behind him, Rozalyn paced the confines of her quarters, wondering if she would die without knowing what had ignited the feud. Rozalyn had the sinking feeling that her father would retrieve her from rendezvous, cart her back to St. Louis, and never mention the cause of his fierce hatred. And yet it might have been only a simple misunderstanding, something that could be forgiven if both parties would sit down and calmly discuss the matter.

 
But she knew that wasn't so. She had watched her father fly into a rage at the mere mention of the Baudelair name. He would not rationally discuss what had set him in a frenzy in St. Louis. By the time he reached the mountains he would be so furious at the turn of events that there would be no reasoning with him.

 
Mulling over that depressing thought, Rozalyn climbed into bed. Blast it, where was Hawk? He knew their days together were numbered. He could have taken her with him to the Crow camp. Don't work yourself into a stew, she told herself. Hawk has his reasons and he loves you. But does he love you enough? the nagging voice of distrust asked. That question continued to torment Rozalyn while she attempted to sleep. She knew Hawk was an adventurer, and no matter what hushed words of endearment he whispered in the heat of passion, he still came and went as he pleased, leaving her without an explanation. It was as if he were proving to her that he still had his freedom, no matter what was between them.

And he will always crave his freedom, Rozalyn reminded herself. He is a restless spirit and love can never truly bind a man like Hawk to a woman.

 
Oh, why did I fall in love with a man I can't have? Rozalyn asked herself miserably. She might as well attempt to hitch herself to a fleeting cloud. That would be as practical as wanting a future with Hawk. There could be no such thing, even if Aubrey didn't stand like an immovable mountain between them.

 
A fond smile pursed Hawk's lips when he stepped inside the wigwam to see his grandfather sitting cross-legged before the fire. Although Arakashe was nearing his seventieth year, he was a spry old man with keen, perceiving eyes. His weather-beaten features were framed by braids of silver hair, and his shoulders slumped now as they had not when he'd been in the prime of life.

 
"You have been gone a long time," the chief remarked in a graveled voice. "I expected you before the season when the buds burst and the owls that hatched from the snow began to take their prey. Could it be that your heart has strayed from the people of the Sparrow Hawk?"

 
"It has been a busy winter," Hawk defended, sitting down by the fire.

 
"And a troubling one, I fear," Arakashe said, his scrutinizing gaze working its way over the rugged features of his grandson's face.

 
Hawk nodded solemnly, knowing it was impossible to put anything past the perceptive chief. "There has been a great deal on my mind. I can find no solution to the dilemma that frustrates me."

 
Arakashe had seen the same exasperated expression on Hawk's face once before. More than thirty years ago, Hawk's father had come to Arakashe, searching for direction, pondering the truth in his soul. "The past has a way of repeating itself, does it not, Manake?" he questioned, calling Hawk by the name he had been his grandson when Hawk was but a lad. As was the custom, Hawk had taken another name as the years passed, but the chief fondly remembered the boy who had been his constant shadow those many years ago.

 
Hawk's gaze lifted to survey Arakashe's knowing smile. "You once warned me that it was unwise to make promises I couldn't keep, but I was young and foolish then. I thought I would grow to a man and be able to manipulate the world as it suited me."

 
"You have not outgrown your fierce desire to control your destiny." The chief chuckled.

 
"I still have that desire," Hawk admitted with a bitter laugh. "But I lack the power. Bear-Claw has told me of my link with the past. He explained the legend you told to me those many years ago. I wanted to become Morning-star's fiercest warrior, but, too late, I have realized that there are some things in this world a man cannot change, no matter how relentlessly he quests for solutions."

 
As if the wise chief had read Hawk's mind and plucked out his troubled thoughts, he queried softly, "Who is she, Manake?"

 
"She is Aubrey DuBois' daughter, a woman of incomparable beauty, and I know I cannot keep her," Hawk declared, his voice revealing his frustration.

 
Arakashe sat in pensive silence while crosscurrents of emotion passed across his wrinkled features. "Your burden is heavy and the obstacles that cast their shadows upon you are as tall as these mountains. You have followed the tracks of the Longknives for many snows, my son. It is time for you to fast and pray to the Great Spirit for guidance. It is the way of the Crow. I know in my heart what you will ask of Morningstar, as your own father asked before you."

 
Remorseful green eyes focused on the chiefs sober countenance. "I would be wasting my time. How can I search for an answer when there is not one to be found? Don't you think I have considered every possibility? I have spent the winter contemplating alternatives. What purpose will be served by offering tributes to Morning-star when I can see with my own eyes that my future is grim?”

A wry smile rippled across the old chiefs lips. "The warrior who casts aside his spear and retreats can never lead his braves into battle. That is not the way of the Absarkoes. The people of the free-flying Sparrow Hawk never back away, Manake. We may give way when the battle does not go in our favor, but we remain steadfast of heart and firm in courage." Arakashe laid his hand over Hawk's and willed his grandson to meet his level gaze. "If a man looses heart, what has he left? Certainly not his life when he must bear it with shame. Let your heart lead you to the place where Morningstar dwells. If no answer comes, you can return, knowing you have done all that is possible. But do not forsake the spirit of your mother's people, of my people. You must search until the last ray of hope follows the sun to the edge of Mother Earth. No man can ask more of himself than that, and no man should admit defeat until he stands in the long shadow." Arakashe gestured toward the northwest. "Go now, Manake. I will bring your woman to you after you have fasted and prayed. We will wait for you beside the boiling river in the land of the spirits."

 
A low rattle of laughter rumbled in Hawk's chest as he remembered the difficulty of the Sioux chief when he'd attempted to take Rozalyn where she didn't want to go. "You may find dealing with Rozalyn a difficult task if you do not explain your purpose. She is a feisty one, very unlike Crow women."

"I would have expected no less," Arakashe remarked with a nonchalant shrug. "You have never been satisfied with the shy Crow women who would have been proud to invite you to share the wigwams of their families in the custom of our people."

 
"Do not think to lead her from the fort without explanation," Hawk advised. "Rozalyn is not obedient. She will not hesitate to defy you if she feels she has just cause."

 
Arakashe chortled. "Then she is much like your own mother, a contrary creature who also had difficulty conforming to the ways of her people."

 
Hawk couldn't have stated it better himself. Although Rozalyn was flesh and blood, she possessed great inner spirit, something that set her apart from others, a trait that could be annoying and yet endearing. She was a curious enigma, and she intrigued Hawk. He prayed Arakashe wouldn't lose patience with her for his grandfather was in his declining years. Rozalyn was not his own daughter and he might not be as tolerant with her as he had been with his own child. The last thing Hawk needed was for Rozalyn to demolish the Crow camp and invite Arakashe's wrath. She could not know the source of Arakashe's feelings toward her and if she didn't watch her step—

 
"Come, Manake," Arakashe encouraged, struggling to his feet. "Your ride will be long."

 
Reluctantly, Hawk aimed himself toward the land of the boiling springs, searching for impossible answers, chasing the rainbow's end, and during his ride he was plagued by the nagging thought that all he was doing was wasting precious time.

 
Rozalyn strangled on a gasp when a callused hand fastened over her mouth, jerking her from her dreams. As her wide eyes searched the darkness, she saw faces hovering above her, but try as she might she could not free herself from the restraining arms that held her immobile. The two men who had sneaked into her cabin reeked of whiskey and smoke, and panic gripped her when she was hoisted to her feet and then shuffled out into the night. Frantically, Rozalyn prayed that someone would come to her rescue, but she was herded through the shadows toward the stockade gate. Like Indians silently stealing through the night, her abductors stalked into the underbrush that lined the river, and Rozalyn's hope of help faded.

 
Silently she cursed Hawk. If he hadn't abandoned her this would not have happened.

 
When the moonlight slanted across her abductors' features, Rozalyn gasped. She recognized the two rowdy men she had met during the festivities that evening. Each man had insisted that she dance with him, and had then mauled her while dancing. But when they had attempted to molest her, Two-Dogs had prevented them from doing so. Now they had returned.

 
Rozalyn attempted to scream, but she was roughly forced to the ground. Before she could scramble up, one of the men pounced on her, holding her in place while the other chuckled devilishly.

 
"Since you didn't seem to like our attentions at the dance, we decided to give you another chance," Dark-Eagle said spitefully.

 
While Yellow-Calf held her down, he drew near to her, grinning like a starved shark. But his anticipatory smile evaporated when the underbrush came alive with Crow braves. Dark-Eagle stopped dead in his tracks and peered up into the old chiefs face, which evidenced strong disapproval.

 
Arakashe had been taking his braves with him to the fort, and when he'd sighted the threesome stealing into the darkness,
 
he'd
 
come
 
to investigate.
 
Hawk had described Rozalyn to him, so he knew it was she who had nearly been attacked by these ruffians.

 
"Dark-Eagle dares too much," Arakashe growled as he reined his pony toward the drunken trapper. "You and Yellow-Calf are no longer welcome in the land of the people of the Sparrow Hawk. If I learn you have trespassed on the Yellowstone you will pay with your lives."