Savage Hero (6 page)

Seeing that giving him angry glances did not seem to move the young chief, Mary Beth looked straight ahead. Her thoughts returned to David. She was far more worried about him than herself.

Where could he be?

And was she being taken farther and farther away from him?

She wished she could tell this Indian about her son's plight and seek his help. But she couldn't because she wasn't even sure what his true plans were for her.

And why would he care about her child? Did he not have his own worries? Was not he searching for his own brother?

She had no choice but to keep her fears to herself and pray that the good Lord above would keep her son safe from harm. She prayed that she would see him again one day, and that they would be reunited.

For now both she and her son were at the mercy of Indians, but not the same ones. If only they could at least be together in their captivity, she might find some peace.

As it was, she felt only hurtful despair deep inside her soul!

There was never any yet that wholly
could escape love, and never shall there
be any, never so long as beauty shall
be, never so long as eyes can see.

—Longus

Lightning lit the sky in lurid flashes. Thunder boomed, shaking the ground beneath the horses' hooves. When rain began falling, Mary Beth shivered, the wetness seeming to go clean into her very soul.

She struggled to hold onto the pommel, but the binding around her wrists made it hard.

She gazed questioningly at Brave Wolf, who continued to lead his warriors onward in the rain. Why didn't he stop?

She looked quickly around when the lightning
flashed and realized why. They were riding across a straight stretch of land, toward the base of a mountain. There was nothing to offer protection from the elements. There was only blowing grass, bending double with the wind.

The wind whipped incessantly around Mary Beth. The rain blinded her. Then just as suddenly as it had begun, the storm was over.

Mary Beth coughed and sputtered as the last of the rain ran down her face and across her lips.

Brave Wolf drew rein, his warriors following his lead. He turned to Mary Beth. His gaze moved slowly over her.

Her dress was so wet, it clung to her body, defining the curves beneath it. He had not thought that such a tiny woman could have such large, beautiful breasts. But she did, and the sight aroused an ache in his loins that he tried to fight off.

He had not yet taken a woman as his wife. He had not found a woman who made his heart sing. But he had felt a hungering for a body next to him at night, and for the soft laughter of children in his lodge.

He had never thought he would be aroused by a woman whose skin was white, whose tongue was spiteful, and who looked at him as though he were the devil.

But he understood all of her emotions. She thought of him as her captor. He had hoped that she would begin to trust him so that he would not have to keep her bound like a captive. But so far,
she still wore a mask of hate on her lovely face.

Her hair was wet and hung in tight, rusty ringlets over her shoulders and down her back. Some loose curls lay across her brow, almost across her eyes.

But they did not keep him from seeing her glare. It seemed to go clear through him, making him uncomfortable.

He had been around many women in his time, and none had ever looked at him in this way. Instead, the looks had been filled with admiration.

But this woman? She seemed to hate the very sight of him.

“We will stop here, make a fire, and dry off before we venture onward,” Brave Wolf said, dismounting.

He went to Mary Beth and undid the thongs at her ankles, where she had been tied to the stirrups. Then he reached up, placed his hands at her waist, and lifted her from the saddle.

He noticed that she scarcely breathed as he untied the thongs at her wrists. He could almost see her mind working. No doubt she was making plans to escape the moment she was freed of her bonds.

Yet she must know that she could hardly get an inch away from him if she turned and tried to run. All he would have to do was reach his arms out for her and she would again have no choice but to accept her fate.

He only wished there was some way to convince her that she had nothing to fear from him.

But surely, as each hour passed, she would begin to realize that he meant her no harm.

“Come with me,” Brave Wolf said. He gently placed a hand at her elbow and ushered her away from the horses. He took her to where his warriors were already preparing a fire.

“Soon there will be a fire,” Brave Wolf said. “You can warm yourself by it. Your clothes can dry so that the night air will not harm you.”

“I need nothing from you except my freedom,” Mary Beth said. She yanked her elbow away from him.

Turning to face him, she placed her fists on her hips. “If you truly mean me no harm, take me to Fort Henry,” she said tightly. “I must see if anyone survived the terrible wagon train attack. I . . . I . . . want to . . .”

She started to mention David, then thought better of it. There might be a danger in alerting another warrior that she had a son, and that she sorely feared for his life.

Wasn't one Indian as bad as the next? How was she to know what any of them might have in mind for a child David's age?

And . . . was David even still alive?

She hung her head so that the tears she was fighting couldn't be seen by Brave Wolf. She wanted to look courageous and strong.

“I promised you fire—you have fire,” Brave Wolf said, motioning toward it. “Go. Stand beside it. Warm yourself.”

She did not have to be asked twice. Longing for the warmth against her trembling flesh, Mary Beth
hurried to the fire and stretched her hands to the heat.

Never in her life had the warmth of a fire felt as delicious as now. Every part of her was cold.

Brave Wolf was glad to see that she had followed at least one of his orders.

He went to his horse and removed his travel bag and saddle, then hobbled his horse with the others as his warriors made themselves comfortable around the fire opposite from where Mary Beth stood.

Brave Wolf turned and gazed at length at the woman, again taken by her loveliness. Even wet and shivering from the cold, she was beautiful.

He hoped to gain her trust soon, for he would like to talk with her and hear why she was in this area, and about her family.

Was she married? Did she have children somewhere? Had she heard about what had happened at the Battle of the Little Big Horn?

Was that why she hated him so much? Did she believe that he had had a role in the killings?

He gazed down at his bag, then back at Mary Beth. There was usually one way to break through a barrier of silence. Food.

Surely she was hungry. She might not have eaten for many hours now.

He carried only pemmican on jaunts like this. When someone was hungry, pemmican was very welcome.

He bent down and got a stick of pemmican from his bag, then went to Mary Beth and held it out
for her. “If you are hungry, this pemmican will fill at least some of the empty space in your belly,” he said. He flinched when she turned quickly and glared at him again.

Instead of accepting his offer of food, she spat at his feet as she had before.

“I don't want that disgusting-looking mess,” she said, but in truth she badly wanted to eat it. She was so hungry she felt weak, yet she could not accept anything from this Indian . . . except her freedom! “Take it away. Do you hear? Take . . . it . . . away!”

Finding her insulting, Brave Wolf gazed at her for a moment, then slowly turned and walked away from her.

Yes, she was insulting, yet beautiful and spirited. He smiled, for he enjoyed seeing spirit in a woman.

Hating to behave like a spoiled child, Mary Beth almost regretted her words as Brave Wolf walked away from her.

But how could she behave any other way than angry and spiteful? She was cold, wet, miserable, and she missed her David so much she could no longer keep from crying.

Ignoring the warriors who sat opposite her on blankets, Mary Beth crumpled to the wet ground and held her face in her hands, sobbing.

Brave Wolf stopped and turned to gaze at Mary Beth. He was now seeing her soft side. His heart went out to her, for surely she felt lost and alone without any of her family . . . without any of her
people anywhere near for her to flee to. He felt much for her at this moment, mostly compassion.

He opened one of his travel bags and took a blanket from it. Hurrying back to Mary Beth, he bent to his knees beside her.

He gently wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, surprised when she flinched as though she had been shot and grabbed the blanket away from herself. She gave him a cold, defiant look as she tossed it into his face.

Mary Beth badly wished to keep the blanket, but she wasn't sure what it represented. Had he offered it to her because he planned to use it with her?

Did he plan to take her into this blanket with him, forcing her to sleep with him?

Not giving up so easily, Brave Wolf placed the blanket around her shoulders again. “This blanket is for your comfort,” he said softly. “Do not be too stubborn to take it. I mean you only good.”

Again she grabbed it away from herself and shoved it into his arms.

“I want nothing from you but my freedom,” she said, furious when her voice broke and her eyes wavered.

Then she blurted out, “I am afraid of you and your warriors! Please, oh, please let me go!”

He was stunned that she was still so afraid of him when he had done nothing to deserve such fear.

“You are wrong not to trust me,” Brave Wolf said softly. “I offer you friendship. I will eventually return you to your people, but I have explained to
you that I am on a mission. I must succeed with this mission first.”

“What sort of mission are you on?” she cried. “More raids and destruction against whites, especially the cavalry?”

Understanding her wrath, her mistrust, he ignored the coldness in her voice . . . the accusation. “The mission is for my mother. I have promised to find my brother, Night Horse,” he said. “Can you not understand that my mother's wishes come before yours . . . a woman I never knew until tonight?”

“You still don't know me at all,” Mary Beth said, her voice softer now. “I . . . I . . . have never been with Indians before. Can't you see why I'm so afraid? Why I want to return to my people as quickly as possible?”

“Yes, I understand, but you must understand a son's feelings for his mother,” Brave Wolf said tightly.

His words made her break down and cry again.

Yes, she did understand a son's feelings for his mother. If her David was still alive, he surely cried for her even now.

“I wish I could make you understand things that I know are causing you to mistrust me and my warriors,” he said.

“How can I ever understand what is happening, when so many of my people have needlessly died?” Mary Beth said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Only recently there has been a terrible battle that claimed so many soldiers' lives. How do I know
that you were not there, sending arrows into the hearts of the men? Perhaps you even killed my . . .”

No.

She must not let him know that her own husband had died that day. She would not give him the chance to gloat over something that tore at the very core of her being.

“I have told you that I am a peaceful Crow chief who does not enter into warring with whites,” Brave Wolf said, again attempting to place the blanket around her shoulders.

This time she allowed it. He moved to his haunches beside her, soaking up the warmth of the fire himself, as he attempted to tell her some more about himself. He hoped that more information would help her to trust him.

“I told you before that I am
wicasa-okinihan
, an honorable and respected individual and that I am a
bachay-chay
, a good man, a chief, concerned with helping people, not harming,” he began. “Under first my father's and then my leadership, my Whistling Water Clan of Crow has never entered into confrontations with your white people. It is my role in life to help my Crow people learn to live in the way of the white man. Like my chieftain father, I have even gone and met with the Great White Father in Washington on behalf of my people. This recent battle was not of my doing, nor my people's.”

He went quiet, for there was one warrior of the Whistling Water Clan who
had
participated. His
brother. But he felt it was best not to mention that to this white woman, not yet anyhow.

When Night Horse was found, it would be soon enough to confide in Mary Beth.

But first, Night Horse had to be found!

Mary Beth was stunned by what he had just said . . . that he had actually been to Washington to speak with President Grant. Oh, surely he was lying. It was just a ploy to make her trust him.

But as he had been talking to her, he had sounded so convincing, she could not help gazing at him. She wished that he was, indeed, the way he represented himself . . . a caring, truthful man, who
did
fight for peace.

He was such a handsome man with such a soft, kind voice. His midnight eyes could entrance her if she allowed them to.

He was a man of athletic build, lean and tall, and his skin was fairer than most Indians she had seen. It was a lovely copper color and looked soft to the touch.

His sculpted face had a noble expression, and she admired his long, thick, black hair which hung down his back to his waist, held back from his face with a beaded band. One lone eagle feather was woven into a lock of his hair at the back.

He wore only a breechcloth which revealed much of his muscled body to her, she had to keep herself from gazing where she knew that he surely was so very gifted, for he was very virile. He was all man.

Suddenly she realized that he had noticed her
studying him. He was gazing back at her with a curious look, for surely he was wondering what she was thinking as her eyes took in so much of him.