Savage Conquest (27 page)

They merely stared at each other, both surprised
and held spellbound by the other. Even though
Blazing Star had been watching her since last night
when the boat he was shadowing had run aground,
he now saw she was even more beautiful than he had
imagined. He had been trailing her since she had left
the steamer and had defended her without a second
thought.

Her hair was like smoldering wood, dark with
shining flames. Her eyes were as golden brown as a
doe's, and their expression as gentle. Her skin was
shaded like a baby otter's, and he knew that it would
be just as soft to his touch. He was astonished to read
no fear or hatred within those expressive eyes, and
more astonished to detect her attraction to him. He
wasn't sure if she was white, for if dressed properly,
she could pass for Indian. He couldn't seem to move
or speak, as if he were in a vision trance.

Miranda warmed all over. Never had she seen such
a tempting male. What a superior vision of power,
self-assurance, and potent masculinity! Tingles
traveled over her body as she took in his appearance.
His hair was ebony, falling free down his back, but
for two braids on either side of his arresting face. The
braids were secured by rawhide thongs with small
feathers dangling from them, again tinged with red
and black. He wasn't wearing a headband as in the political cartoons by Nast in Harper's Weekly; nor
was he savage or ugly in appearance or manner as
were the Indians in Nast's works.

Other than her mother, Miranda had never seen or
met an Indian. But Marie Morning Star Lawrence
had told her daughter much about them, especially
about her people, the Sioux. Miranda wanted to
know to what tribe this man belonged. His coppery
flesh was smooth, firm, and hairless. His muscular
chest was bare, except for the silver star which hung
from a leather strip around his neck. His lower body
was clad in buckskin pants and moccasins, and
around his biceps and wrists were leather, beaded
bands, the loose ends of which dangled from his
powerful arms. A quiver of arrows and a bow were
slung over one shoulder and rested at his hip.

But it was his face which mesmerized her.
Although the upper portion of his face was painted
with red from hairline to below his eyes, then banded
from side to side with black and white strips to the
end of his nose, the design could not distract from his
handsome looks, and the paints couldn't conceal
them. Again, the color scheme of red and black
registered in her spinning mind. His dark eyes shone
like polished black jet; their expression was probing
and compelling. His nose wasn't large or small, but
fit his face perfectly, and his lips were wide and full,
inviting Miranda's gaze to linger over them. His jaw
was squared, with a slight indention in the middle
of his chin which Miranda yearned to touch with her fingertip.

Blazing Star was the one to end their hypnotic
drama. He shook his head as if to regain mastery of it.
He hunkered down and severed the rattler tail from
its body, handing the row of noisy rings to her. The
smile he gave her came from his eyes, not his lips. She
accepted the unusual gift and smiled up into his
controlled features, causing his intense gaze to shift
to her mouth. He watched it fora time, then lifted his
dark eyes to fuse with hers. Miranda thought he was
going to kiss her and was disappointed when he
didn't.

Miranda was confused when he used his sharp
knife to cut off the lower end of one of her curls. He
looked at it as it wound around his finger. He
grinned, then placed it inside a pouch at his waist.
He couldn't decide if he should be annoyed or
relieved he couldn't take a captive on this manhunt,
for she appeared too special for such a life. If only his
body didn't urge him to take her, or suffer denial's
agony...

"That isn't how you take scalp locks. What does it
mean?" she inquired softly in puzzlement and
pleasure.

For an answer, he squeezed her hand which was
holding the rattler rings, then patted his pouch, as if
indicating a swap of some kind. When he heard
Lucas calling her name, the warrior came to instant
alertness. She could almost envision those keen
instincts and skills coming to full readiness. Lucas's intrusion was unwanted, ill-timed.

"Coming," she responded to Lucas's call. She
looked up at the warrior and smiled again. "Thanks
for saving my life and for this gift. I shall never forget
you or today. Good-by," she murmured sadly.

Blazing Star sensed her reluctance to leave him, her
powerful pull toward him. He grinned, for he knew
they would meet again. They were both heading in
the same direction.

Lucas called her name louder. She turned toward
the sound and replied, "I'm coming, Luke. Just a
minute." When she turned to ask the warrior's name
and to give hers, he was gone. She looked around, but
she could find no trace of him. He had vanished as
soundlessly and mysteriously as he had appeared. If
not for the object in her grasp, she might believe the
episode never had happened. To make certain, she
shook the object and listened to the musical rattle.
She concealed it in her pocket; why, she didn't know.
When she joined Lucas, she didn't mention the
warrior.

Miranda remained close to Lucas as the repairs
were completed and the steamer was freed from the
sandbank. But she paid little attention to Lucas's
conversation, for her thoughts were of the nearby
woods and the fascinating warrior.

The steamer was reloaded. Until they were out of
sight, she remained at the railing, staring at the area
where they had gone ashore. Her spirits were heavy,
for she felt no returning gaze. But as the journey continued, Miranda couldn't forget the imposing
Indian. She felt denied of something vital to her life,
to her heart. The feelings she was experiencing were
tormenting. It might be wrong, but she would pray
for their paths to cross again.

As the days passed, Blazing Star had a difficult time
pushing the girl called Miranda from his thoughts.
He berated himself for dreaming of her, for desiring
her above all women he had met, for allowing her to
ride with him each day and to sleep with him each
night. He berated himself because she was white and
he was Oglala Sioux, and the two bloods should
never join again. For two such blendings in his
distant past had cost him much honor. If two of his
ancestors hadn't mated with white captives, he
would be chief of the most awesome and powerful
Indian tribe ever to rule the open Plains. Because of
the love of Gray Eagle for a half-white captive and
that of his son, Bright Arrow, for a white slave, the
line of chiefs had passed to Bright Arrow's brother,
Sun Cloud, who had wisely joined with a Blackfoot
princess, Singing Wind, daughter of Chief Brave
Bear and Sioux maiden, Chela, herself a daughter of
a medicine chief. To make matters worse for the line
of Gray Eagle, Night Stalker-son of Chief Sun
Cloud-had been slain in a massacre when his only
son, Bloody Arrow, was only five winters old, too
young for the chief's bonnet. Now, the joint chiefs of their tribe were Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse, leaders
with fame and skills to challenge those of the
legendary Gray Eagle.

After having made certain the two enemies he had
been assigned to kill were aboard this boat, the
warrior traveled rapidly toward the steamer's next
mandatory stop, the next lengthy stop which would
entice the girl to leave the boat once more. He was
glad he was on this raid alone; he didn't want the girl
injured or slain during a battle, and certainly not
captured by another warrior. After he sated his
curiosity, he would seek a lofty bank in an area where
the river narrowed to send two arrows toward the
boat, one aimed for each enemy's heart. Then the
matter would be over, for Blazing Star never missed a
target.

In spite of the impossibility of the situation, he
wanted to see the girl again. He would have one last
chance to study her up close when the boat halted to
cut wood just below Yankton, the only spot where
fuel couldn't be purchased from "woodhawks,"
where the crew would have to cut and load it
themselves. At such times, passengers left the boat to
stretch their legs and relieve their boredom and
tension. Riding alone and not requiring the
numerous fuel stops of the steamer, the warrior could
make better time. His fatal attack would come
between Yankton and Pierre, on the last leg of this
craft's journey.

In his stealthful trek northward, Blazing Star did not bother to slay anyone along his path. There
was so much killing and fighting these days, but not
for honor as in olden times. He hated the scars he
observed upon the face of Mother Earth, the
nakedness of cleared land for farms and settlements,
the cutting of all trees in some areas, the signs of
careless fires, the fences which blocked trails, the
many offenses of the whiteman. These intruders had
grown strong and numerous, while sentencing
Indians of all tribes and nations to prison camps the
white man called "reservations." Many tribes had
yielded to the white man's superior weapons and
ample numbers, yielded because they had grown
weak and dispirited from losses, yielded because
continued fighting seemed futile and costly, yielded
because of the whiteman's promises and treaties
which were broken before the ink dried upon the
meaningless papers. But the Sioux had not and never
would be conquered. The Sioux would fight against
the evil and greed which were destroying their lands
and peoples to the last warrior.

Miranda didn't confide her brief adventure to her
cousin Lucas, but she included every detail in her
letter to Amanda which couldn't be mailed for two
weeks. That momentous day and the next day, she
was content to remain in her cabin, dreaming of the
warrior left far behind, pining for a man she would
never meet again. She couldn't forget him, for he invaded her thoughts during every hour. Why had he
made such an impression on her? Why did knowing
she would never see him again cause such grief and
loneliness?

On the fourth morning after leaving Omaha and
two days after Miranda had encountered the unforgettable warrior, the Martha Lane halted her engines
for the crew to chop wood. At first, Miranda was
tempted to stay aboard, but Lucas coaxed her ashore
for a leisurely walk and invigorating exercise.

Some of the men who were playing cards remained
on the boat. The two soldiers were locked in a cabin
having a critical conversation which Lucas would
have traded a month's pay to have heard. Other men
helped the crew cut or haul wood. When the few
males who had come ashore and didn't offer to help
ogled Miranda, she asked Lucas to stroll with her at
the edge of the woods. Out of sight, they sat down to
relax and talk.

Time passed as they chatted about Amanda, Reis,
Weber, and their destination. When it was nearing
noon, Lucas grinned as he said he was going to fetch
food and wine for a picnic. Miranda laughed gaily
and agreed, waiting there for his return.

She leaned against the gray boulder at her back
and closed her eyes briefly. She inhaled and exhaled
deeply, capturing the fragrant odor of flowers and
the spicy odor of woods. When her eyes opened, she
couldn't believe the sight before them. he instantly
sat straight, then curled her folded legs behind her. "How did you get here?" she asked ecstatically,
gazing into the dark eyes of the unknown warrior
who was squatting beside her. A surge of joy rushed
over her body.

From her tone of voice and expression, Blazing
Star knew she was glad to see him again, as delighted
as he was to see her. He stood, then extended his hand
to her in invitation, which she accepted without
hesitation or fear. He helped her up, then nodded
toward the forest, implying he wanted her to go with
him.

Miranda glanced over her shoulder toward the
river. When her cousin returned, he would worry if
she wasn't here. Was it rash to take a walk with a
stranger who wore war paint? Her consternation was
evident to him. He smiled again, holding out his
hand enticingly. She longingly stared at it, perceiving no threat from him. If he wanted to abduct her or
injure her, he could easily have done either. He
wanted to see her alone. Should she go along with
him? It seemed safe, but was it wise?

Blazing Star removed the decorative wristlet which
displayed none of his coups, just lovely and colorful
designs. He handed it to her as a sign of friendship.
Miranda accepted it, noting its beauty and artistry.
He motioned for her to take his hand and follow him.
When she remained rigid, he smiled as if comprehending her reason for refusal, then turned to walk
away into the forest.

Miranda panicked. She rushed forward, whisper ing, "Wait. Who are you? Why do you keep
appearing to me in secret?"

He turned and looked at her anxious expression.
He smiled once more to relax her tension, then
reached for her hand. He led her only a short distance
into the forest, just enough for privacy. When he
halted and turned, Miranda nervously backed against
a tree, suddenly wondering if this were a mistake.

In a voice which touched her very soul, he
murmured, "Kokipa ikopa, Miranda." His hand
came up to caress her flushed cheek, his touch as
gentle as if she were a newborn infant. He was
amazed and pleased by her show of trust in him, by
her total lack of fear.

Surprise brightened her eyes when he told her not
to be afraid, but the warrior didn't know she
understood his language. Before Miranda could
respond in the Sioux tongue which her mother had
taught her, his mouth closed over hers, then she was a
captive of his steely embrace. If Miranda had been the
sweat of his own body, she could not have been closer
to his flesh. He was astonished, and yet not shocked,
when she responded to his kiss and embrace.
Knowing this would be the last time they met,
Blazing Star had the overwhelming need to hold her,
to kiss her just once, to test her feelings for him.