Elaine Barbieri (11 page)

Reining up beside Shadow Walker at last, Spotted Bear felt the white heat of jealousy pulsing. The girl was in Shadow Walker’s arms, resting against Shadow Walker’s chest. They both greeted him with silence, their expressions void of welcome.

Not waiting for Shadow Walker to speak, Spotted Bear addressed him coldly. “You still travel. I had expected to meet up with you sooner, and then I realized the destination you sought.”

Refusing to enter into meaningless conversation, Shadow Walker responded sharply, “Why do you follow me, Spotted Bear?”

“I come to claim my property.” Spotted Bear’s jaw hardened. “You have had your use of it long enough.”

“Your property?”

Spotted Bear rasped, “This captive is rightfully mine.”

“This captive is mine—won in fair conquest.”

“She was stolen from me when my horse faltered.”

“Your horse faltered when you chose haste without prudence.”

“When you surged past me to seize the girl!”

“To fairly claim her.”

“No!”

“I warn you to think of what you say.”

“Your warnings do not frighten me.”

His tone unmistakable, Shadow Walker said, “There is only one way that the girl will be yours.”

Smiling, Spotted Bear drew his knife.

Suddenly aware that she was trembling, Miranda stared at Spotted Bear as he drew his knife. Shadow Walker dismounted abruptly. He swung her down behind him and pushed her a safe distance away as Spotted Bear dismounted as well. Her incredulity growing, Miranda saw Shadow Walker draw his knife from the sheath at his waist. She opened her mouth to protest, but no sound emerged as the two warriors began circling in menacing postures—their gazes intent and their knives tightly clenched.

Spotted Bear lashed out at Shadow Walker in a sudden, lightning-fast movement that caught Miranda’s breath. Her heart pounded as Shadow Walker jumped back, agilely dodging the attack and reciprocating with a thrust of his own. Striking out again and again, Spotted Bear slashed the air with deadly intent, while Shadow Walker countered
with quick, jabbing lunges that Spotted Bear avoided.

Her mind freezing with sudden horror, Miranda saw Spotted Bear lunge unexpectedly, his knife creasing Shadow Walker’s arm to draw first blood. She saw the flash of triumph on Spotted Bear’s face and her stomach convulsed with fear as blood dripped from Shadow Walker’s wound.

Ignoring his injury as Spotted Bear pressed forward, Shadow Walker avoided one thrust, then another, his wounded arm springing up again and again in slashing response.

Mesmerized by the deadly dance enacted before her eyes, Miranda realized that although she had been unaware of the rivalry between the two warriors, her instinctive reaction to Spotted Bear had been correct. She knew just as instinctively that Spotted Bear’s accusations were untrue, that Spotted Bear had no true claim to her or the honor among his peers that Shadow Walker possessed. She sensed with growing dread what Shadow Walker’s defeat at Spotted Bear’s hands could bring.

Perspiration beading their foreheads, the warriors charged more violently, thrusting with greater fervor. The circling ended unexpectedly in a violent crash of bodies that sent the warriors tumbling and rolling, locked in a struggle that could end in only one way.

Miranda gasped with fear as Shadow Walker was thrown to his back with Spotted Bear atop him, as
Spotted Bear’s knife descended with deadly accuracy toward Shadow Walker’s throat. In a flash of movement too quick for the eye, the roles were reversed, with Shadow Walker knocking the knife from Spotted Bear’s hand as he emerged atop his snarling opponent.

Wide-eyed with terror, Miranda covered her mouth as Shadow Walker’s knife rapidly descended. The tip of his blade nicked Spotted Bear’s throat, but stopped abruptly before the mortal thrust.

Hardly daring to breathe, Miranda heard Shadow Walker whisper, “Your life is mine, Spotted Bear.”

His gaze fixed on the knife at his throat, Spotted Bear made no reply as Shadow Walker continued, “Your blood trails from the tip of my blade, and your breath hangs in the balance … but it is not my desire to strike a fatal wound. The choice is yours. I would hear you relinquish your claim to the girl, once and for all, so this dispute might not leave the Cheyenne nation with one less warrior to defend its honor.”

Breathing heavily, Shadow Walker paused, then pressed, “I would hear you say those words
now
, Spotted Bear.”

An eternity of silence passed in the moment before Spotted Bear responded with a hardly discernible nod of agreement.

Shadow Walker commanded, “I would hear you
speak
the words, Spotted Bear.”

Another eternity, then Spotted Bear’s rasping reply:

“The girl is yours.”

Stepping back, Shadow Walker allowed Spotted Bear to rise. He watched with unrelenting caution as Spotted Bear turned to his horse, then mounted. Maintaining his guard until the vanquished warrior rode out of sight, Shadow Walker remounted. With blood still dripping from his wound, he swept Miranda up astride in front of him and nudged his mount into motion.

Laughing and shouting, their bodies bared to the heat of late afternoon, the children of the Cheyenne camp ran down the trail toward the shaded pool with indulgent squaws following. Startled when the children’s laughter suddenly became frightened cries, the squaws raced forward, only to stop still in shock at the sight of Rattling Blanket lying bloodied and still at the bottom of the trail.

CHAPTER TEN

Shadow Walker turned his mount toward a grove of trees nearby, then drew it to a halt in the shadows. The setting sun had signaled an end to the eventful day’s travel, but Shadow Walker had pressed onward until daylight was failing.

Glancing down at the ragged slash on Shadow Walker’s forearm, Miranda swallowed tightly. Shadow Walker had kept his silence about Spotted Bear’s unexpected appearance and had ignored the blood that dripped from his wound. She wondered what he was thinking—then questioned her own thoughts as well. She remembered her fear as the violence between Spotted Bear and Shadow Walker escalated, recalling the true sense of rage that had overwhelmed her when Spotted Bear’s knife had creased Shadow Walker’s skin.

Looking down at Shadow Walker as he dismounted, Miranda glimpsed in his eyes a dark determination that she had not seen before. She started to dismount, only to have Shadow Walker swing her to the ground with no sign of debility.

Unable to hold her silence any longer, Miranda said,
“Your arm is still bleeding. You should care for it before the wound becomes poisoned.”

Unexpectedly locking her gaze with his, Shadow Walker responded, “Would you have said the same to Spotted Bear if he had been the victor?”

Startled by the question, Miranda hesitated. Her silence turned Shadow Walker with a knowing glance toward a stream in the shadows of the glade. She watched as he knelt beside it and lowered his arm into the water.

Following, hardly aware of her intent, Miranda knelt beside him. She saw Shadow Walker wince as the water raised blood from his wound, and her response came with a sincerity straight from the heart when she said, “No, I wouldn’t have said the same thing to Spotted Bear.”

Turning toward her with unexpected heat, Shadow Walker grated, “More blood would need be shed than this which now trails from my wound before I would allow anyone to claim what is mine.”

Frowning at his response, Miranda was about to rise when she saw the pool beneath Shadow Walker’s arm reddening. The wound was ragged and deep. It continued to bleed. She muttered, “Doc Blandis would probably say that cut needs to be stitched.”

Shadow Walker’s dark eyes snapped up to hers. “I have suffered greater wounds than this. It will heal as the others did.”

“It’s bleeding again.”

Holding her gaze, Shadow Walker replied, “It is only Cheyenne blood. Your people shed it easily.”

Suddenly angry, Miranda responded, “It wasn’t a white horse soldier’s knife that cut your arm.”

“No, it was not.”

Shadow Walker frowned. He lowered his arm into the water again, then stood up.

Unable to ignore the free-flowing wound, Miranda stood up beside him and pressed, “You have to stop the bleeding. Don’t you have anything to bind it up with?”

A new note entered Shadow Walker’s tone when he asked, “Are you concerned about my welfare, Miranda?”

Annoyed, Miranda responded, “If you mean by that would I enjoy seeing you bleed to death—no, I wouldn’t.”

“Why? I hold you captive. If I were to bleed to death, you would be able to escape.”

“Would I … in this wilderness? I don’t even know where we are.”

“So, you wish to see me survive because
you
wish to survive.”

Miranda did not respond.

“Or is it something else?” Shadow Walker moved a step closer. When Miranda did not respond, Shadow Walker pressed, “Tell me, Miranda.”

Struggling against the unexplained emotions that Shadow Walker’s nearness evoked, Miranda responded
tightly, “The answer is simple. I don’t like Spotted Bear. There’s a cruelty in him that … well … I don’t see in you.”

“Yet you have called me cruel.”

“You’re not like him.”

“No?” Shadow Walker pressed, “How much less cruel am I, when I ate and left you hungry … when I drank and left you thirsty … when I rode as you walked with feet that were cut and bleeding?”

“That was different.”

“How was it different, Miranda?”

“Because it was.”

“Tell me.”

The intensity of Shadow Walker’s tone raised a new quivering inside Miranda. His gaze demanded an honesty she could not deny as she said, “Because, however everything turned out, you didn’t act out of a desire to hurt me.”

“I didn’t?”

“No.”

“What was my reasoning, then?”

“You know very well what your reasoning was. You wanted to teach me a lesson!” Grateful for the sudden anger that swept more confusing emotions from her mind, Miranda continued, “But I don’t need anyone to teach me that you’ll bleed yourself dry if you don’t fix that wound.”

Shadow Walker returned, “Would that really disturb you, Miranda?”

“Yes, it would.”

“Because you need me in order to survive in this wilderness?”

“Because … because it would be inhumane to watch a person bleed to death.”

Shadow Walker’s gaze hardened. “You need not concern yourself. Cheyenne blood is easily spent.”

“Oh, stop this, will you?” Suddenly unwilling to continue their verbal sparring any longer, Miranda urged, “Look at your arm! The cut is deep. It needs to be tended to.”

Studying her expression for a silent moment, Shadow Walker conceded, “I have medicine that will heal this wound.”

“Get it, then, so we can take care of your arm.”

“My arm is not a concern. A campfire must be lit and the camp readied for the night before darkness falls.”

“But—”

Cutting short her response, Shadow Walker turned back toward the horses.

Spotted Bear glanced up at the darkening sky, his face grimly set as he rode steadily onward. Animosity a tight knot within him, he recalled his confrontation with Shadow Walker earlier that day. He touched the nick on his throat—a small, barely noticeable piercing of the skin where Shadow Walker’s knife had held his life in the
balance. His humiliation heightened by the knowledge that the girl was witness to his debasement, he had been tempted to sacrifice his life rather than allow Shadow Walker victory, but his hatred had been too intense to let the contest between them end there.

Burned into Spotted Bear’s memory was the girl’s expression when he drew himself to his feet from under Shadow Walker’s blade, when she moved spontaneously to stand at Shadow Walker’s side. Those few steps significant, he had vowed at that moment that the day would come when the girl would move as spontaneously to his side—out of loyalty or fear, he did not care. His victory then complete, he would flaunt the girl in front of Shadow Walker and before all the camp, so that all who stood witness would know Shadow Walker’s true worth.

Spotted Bear sneered. He would pause to hunt before returning to the Cheyenne camp. He would then enter with his mount heavily loaded with game so no one need suspect the reason for his absence. Shadow Walker—noble as he was—would keep his silence about their encounter. As for the girl, he would see to it that she would eventually pay heavily for any unwise words she chose to speak upon their return.

A hint of a smile touching his lips for the first time, Spotted Bear indulged thoughts of the punishment lying in wait for the girl should that occasion come to pass.

His expression sobering when that enjoyment paled,
Spotted Bear contemplated Shadow Walker’s image and the dark vengeance that would eventually be his.

The campfire burned brightly in the darkness and the blankets had been set for the night. Seated beside Shadow Walker on his sleeping blanket, Miranda held the medicine pouch in her hand as she examined his wound.

Silent, Shadow Walker studied Miranda as well. She wore an expression of concern that he knew was not feigned as her delicate fingers gently explored the wounded area of his arm, and he wondered at the change that a few short hours had made.