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Authors: Constance O'Banyon

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BOOK: Savage Winter
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Joanna’s uncle heard her raise her voice, and he came
over to see what was troubling her. “Have you upset my niece, Captain?” his voice thundered out.

Joanna stood up and grabbed her Uncle Howard’s hand. “Please, let’s not wait until tomorrow when the barge comes to cross the river. We must go now; he will be here before long.” Joanna’s voice came out in deep sobs, and Howard shook her, trying to calm her down.

“What in God’s name has come over you, Joanna? What are you talking about?”

“Windhawk will come soon, and none of you will escape his vengeance. You don’t know him; you can’t know what he’s capable of!”

Joanna’s words caused Howard’s eyes to move to the dense tree-lined forest. “How do you know he’s coming?” her uncle asked, feeling a prickle of fear like a knot tightening in his stomach.

“I can’t explain it,” Joanna said, with tears running down her cheeks. “Just believe what I am saying, and let’s leave immediately!”

Howard set her down and knelt beside her. “Joanna, get hold of yourself! We can’t leave now—the river is too deep and wide to swim the horses across. If it will make you feel any better, I’ll have Chester and Jim stand guard tonight.”

Joanna buried her face in her hands. “No one can stop Windhawk. You don’t know him like I do…you don’t know him,” she sobbed.

That night, because of Joanna’s outburst, everyone felt uneasy. Jim’s eyes searched the dark shadows, while his brother’s eyes were glued to the shoreline…they both wished it was daylight so the barge would come.

Claudia was sitting beside Joanna and, for once, she was strangely quiet, while Howard and Captain Thatcher kept their guns handy.

“What will Windhawk do to us if he comes?” Claudia asked, remembering with horror the Indian raid on the wagon train when her mother and father had been killed.

“I don’t know. When he’s angry, one cannot anticipate what he might do.”

“Did he…has Windhawk ever beat you?” Claudia wanted to know.

“No, he won’t harm me physically…especially when he knows about the baby.”

Claudia’s mouth gaped open. “Good Lord! You are going to have that savage’s baby!” She began to laugh. “Did you hear that, Howard? Your lily-white niece is going to have that heathen Indian’s baby! How about you, Captain Thatcher, do you still covet the fair Joanna?”

Howard was on his feet instantly, and he towered over Joanna. “Is that right? Are you going to have a baby?”

Joanna nodded, watching her uncle’s face lose its color. He seemed to be having a hard time digesting what she had told him. Finally, he looked down at her and spoke in a soft voice. “We shall just have to take better care of you, won’t we? Had you told me before about the baby, I would have seen that we stopped more often so you could rest.”

Joanna was confused by her uncle’s attitude. He was different somehow, and she didn’t know what to say to him. Before, he had never cared about her comfort or her health.

“My, my! Aren’t you the fatherly type, Howard?” Claudia said spitefully. “Perhaps you will want to be grandfatherly to the Indian brat when it’s born.” Claudia’s laughter grated on Howard’s nerves, and he gave her a heated glance.

“I’ll not have—”

Howard never finished what he was about to say because, at that moment, they heard Jim Boggs let out a bloodcurdling scream!

Chapter Eleven

Windhawk dismounted silently and motioned for Farley to stay with the horses to keep them from making any noise. Moving as quietly as a night shadow, he ducked behind a tree to scan the shoreline. Gray Fox dropped to his knees and parted a bush for a better view.

Windhawk used sign language to point out the two men who were on guard, and Gray Fox nodded in understanding.

Jim Boggs never saw his assailant. A hand reached around him from behind to be clamped over his mouth, silencing him. Windhawk drove his knife into the frightened man’s body with no remorse. To him, this man was among the number who had taken Joanna away from him.

Jim Boggs’s body slipped to the ground. Windhawk had underestimated the time it would take the enemy to die, however. Removing his hand from the man’s mouth, he realized his mistake when the white man screamed out in agony. He knew the scream had alerted the others to his presence.

He and Gray Fox faded into the shadows and watched as Chester Boggs ran toward his horse like a frightened rabbit, bounded onto its back, and rode away into the night. Chester knew Windhawk had found them! Not thinking of his dead brother or caring that he was leaving the others unprotected, he urged his horse to a faster pace. All that was on his mind was escaping Windhawk’s wrath!

There was a full moon, and Windhawk’s eyes moved to the riverbank where he could clearly see Joanna. His eyes burned with hatred when he saw the long knife push her behind him to protect her and raise his rifle, ready to fire. Windhawk didn’t know who the other woman was, but he surmised the heavyset man was Joanna’s uncle.

“Harland, run! Save yourself—it’s Windhawk!” Joanna cried, knowing that Windhawk would not hesitate to kill Harland, since he had always been jealous of him.

“Stay low, Joanna,” Harland warned, as he moved cautiously over to the campfire and kicked dirt on it.

Claudia sank to her knees and clasped her hand over her mouth. Now she was going to die, and it was all Joanna’s fault. If she were to die, her last deed would be to cause Joanna’s death as well, she thought bitterly. Suddenly, a great calm settled over Claudia. Yes, somehow she would destroy Joanna before she died. Joanna had told her that Windhawk was jealous of Captain Thatcher. She would use that jealousy to destroy Joanna!

Howard Landon hit the ground and began to crawl on his stomach until he reached Joanna. “Get across the river. I’ll stay here and hold them off,” he told her, raising his rifle and squinting his eyes, trying to see who the attackers were.

Joanna looked at her uncle with a fresh view. He knew he was going to die, and yet his last thoughts were about her safety. He had caused her too much pain for her to forgive his past misdeeds, but Joanna knew she couldn’t stand by while Windhawk killed him.

Standing up, she looked toward the forest. “I am here, Windhawk! Let the others go,” she called out loudly in the Blackfoot tongue.

Suddenly, Harland was caught from behind, and Joanna spun around to see Windhawk holding a knife at his throat.

“Don’t hurt him!” she cried out. “It is me you came after. I will go with you, but allow the others to live!”

“I will drive my knife through the heart of your white lover,” Windhawk hissed, applying pressure to the knife. Harland struggled to get free, but he was no match for the formidable Windhawk.

Joanna’s Uncle Howard raised his rifle to fire at Windhawk, but before he could take aim he was caught from behind in Gray Fox’s vicelike grip.

Joanna walked slowly toward Windhawk. “These people
have done you no harm. Allow them to live—I came away with him of my own free will. Are you such a savage that you would punish the innocent?” She could see Windhawk’s face very clearly now, and she recognized the murderous glint in his eyes.

Claudia could not understand what Joanna and the Indian were saying to each other, but she watched Windhawk’s eyes when he looked at Captain Thatcher and saw the jealousy and hatred that burned in the dark depths. She knew that now might be her only chance to get even with Joanna. Her hatred for Joanna was the uppermost thought in her mind; it took precedence over her fear for her own life. Not only would she get the chance to pay Joanna back for all she had caused her to suffer, but she could get her revenge on Captain Thatcher as well. Claudia only prayed that Windhawk could understand English.

“Joanna, do you plead for Captain Thatcher’s life because he is the father of your unborn child?” she called out. Claudia didn’t know where her bravery came from when she boldly walked over to Windhawk. When he turned his dark eyes on her, she drew in her breath. Good Lord, he was handsome! she thought. He was like no man she had ever seen before. At the moment, he reminded her of a beautiful savage with all semblance of civilization stripped away. No wonder Joanna loved this man!

His dark eyes raked Claudia’s face, and she felt as if her stomach were filled with butterflies.

“What are you saying, white woman?” Windhawk asked in English. He was tensely waiting for her to clarify her statement, hoping he had misunderstood her meaning.

Joanna could see what Claudia was doing, and she held up a warning hand to stop her. Didn’t she realize that if Windhawk believed her lies, he would not hesitate for a moment to kill Captain Thatcher?

“Joanna told me she was weary of living with the Indians,” Claudia said, giving Joanna a vicious smile. “She wanted to go back to her home, where her and Captain Thatcher’s
child will be born. Would you be so cruel as to kill the father of Joanna’s baby?”

Windhawk was silent for a long moment—suddenly, a loud animal sound ripped from his throat! Joanna saw his hand tighten on the hilt of the knife, and she gasped, watching him raise the knife over his head. She rushed forward and threw herself against him. Windhawk pushed her out of the way, and his eyes burned into hers with unleashed fury.

Everything seemed to happen at once. Joanna’s uncle grabbed his heart and went limp in Gray Fox’s arms. Windhawk brought the hilt of his knife down on Harland’s head, and Joanna grabbed Windhawk’s arm. Harland crumpled at Joanna’s feet as Windhawk stared at Joanna coldly.

“Kill her! Kill her!” Claudia screamed, running around like a madwoman.

Windhawk’s eyes moved to the white woman, then back to Joanna. “If I slay this man, do I kill the father of your baby, Joanna?” he asked in English.

Joanna was afraid that in Windhawk’s state of mind he wouldn’t believe her. He would kill Harland in an instant if he believed Claudia’s lies.

“No,” she said, sinking down to her knees.

“She lies!” Claudia screamed. “She lies to save her lover’s life. Joanna told me she was going to have Captain Thatcher’s baby!”

Suddenly, the air seemed thick, and the only sound that could be heard was Windhawk’s heavy breathing.

Joanna raised her head and stared into his dark eyes. “Kill me, Windhawk, but allow him to live. I am the one you hate,” she said calmly.

She watched Windhawk slowly raise the hand he held the knife in. Joanna saw blood on his hand and knew that he had already killed tonight. She felt no fear as the knife began to descend toward her. She did regret that she would die with a lie between her and Windhawk.

Gray Fox leaped across the space that divided him from Windhawk and grabbed his arm. “No! Do not act in haste,
my chief! Do not do this thing tonight that will tear your heart out tomorrow!”

There was a power struggle between Windhawk and Gray Fox. Joanna could see the muscles of both men’s arms were strained to the limit. Suddenly Windhawk wrenched his arm free of Gray Fox’s grip and threw the knife down. It landed right in front of Joanna.

“Bring her along,” he said, turning his back and walking off into the night.

Joanna hadn’t realized that she was crying until she felt the tears on her face. Windhawk had believed Claudia instead of her. She crawled over to Harland and lifted his head onto her lap.

She did not hear Windhawk return until he jerked her upward. “You will wish many times I had killed you tonight, Joanna,” he said, pulling her along behind him.

Joanna remembered another time two years ago when Windhawk had spoken those words to her. On that occasion, they had proven to be true. She knew she would receive no mercy from him, but at least it seemed he was going to allow the others to live.

When they reached the horses, Joanna saw that Farley was waiting for them. He had saddled Fosset and now helped her onto the animal’s back.

“I’m mighty glad to see you, Joanna,” he said in English.

“Pray that you can still say that in the morning,” she answered in Blackfoot.

The four of them rode off into the night. Windhawk was in the lead, and he didn’t once look back at Joanna.

Was this some kind of nightmare? What would her life be like from now on? Apparently, Windhawk had believed Claudia when she had told him she was carrying Harland’s baby. When he found out she was indeed expecting a child, he would never believe it was his. How would she ever convince him that Claudia hated her and would do anything to see her suffer? Perhaps it would be futile even to try. When the child was born, he would then know he was the father.

For now Joanna had much to be grateful for. She had feared that Windhawk would kill Harland right before her eyes. No one knew better than she did how fortunate Harland, Claudia, and her uncle were to be alive. She knew that Windhawk could easily have killed them all in his present state of mind.

She felt numb, knowing she would receive no mercy from him.

They rode well into the night and didn’t stop to make camp until almost daylight. Joanna was so tired that she slumped down on the grass and fell asleep.

She was unaware that Windhawk stood over her. His burning eyes moved over her body, then came to rest on her face. Napi had given Joanna the face of an angel, he thought, but her heart was false and deceitful. She had the power to make a man think she loved only him. How easily she could rip a man’s heart out! Had she lain in the arms of the long knife and professed to love him?

It made him angry that he still felt pain in his heart at her betrayal. He would wait to see if Joanna was with child. If she was, she would know about the fury she had awakened inside him.

“Joanna don’t look like she’s been hurt none,” Farley remarked in English.

“If you are speaking to me, do not speak in the language of the white man,” Windhawk said, turning away. He moved out of view and spread his blanket on the grass. He was too tired to think, and he needed sleep.

Farley folded up a blanket, tenderly placing it under Joanna’s head. She was so sound asleep she didn’t even stir. His heart went out to her, knowing what she must be feeling. Shaking his head, he then went over to sit beside Gray Fox. Since he had stayed with the horses, he didn’t know what had taken place the night before.

“I thought when Windhawk got Joanna back, they would be happy to see each other. What happened?”

“The other white woman told Windhawk that Joanna was with child, and the father was the long knife.”

“What white woman?”

“How should I know, old man?” Gray Fox said, rolling up in his blanket and turning his back.

“I hope Windhawk didn’t believe such a lie. Joanna would never have…”

“Go to sleep, old man! It does not matter what you and I believe—Windhawk will decide what he thinks the truth is for himself.”

“Do you believe it?”

Gray Fox turned over and allowed his eyes to travel over Joanna’s face. “No, Joanna would never do such a thing to Windhawk. I do not believe the white woman.”

“Neither do I,” Farley said, to no one in particular. “Neither do I.”

Joanna didn’t stir and was unaware that she slept all that day and on into the night.

Bertram Shipley watched his barge bump against the shore. Seeing that he had three passengers to ferry across, he thought he would receive a good fare, since they seemed well-dressed.

Tying the lead rope to a post, he noticed two men and one woman—one of the men was a soldier, and the other appeared to be ill.

“Morning. You folks been waiting long?” he asked, stepping ashore. His eyes ran over the pretty blond woman with approval before coming to rest on the captain.

“You folks traveling far?” he wanted to know.

Captain Thatcher led the horses forward and handed the reins to the man. “I’m afraid we will need your help. One of our guides was killed and the other ran off. Mr. Landon seems to have suffered some sort of stroke, and I have suffered a head wound.”

“What happened here?” Bertram asked, noticing that the bandage tied about the captain’s head was blood-soaked.

“Good Lord, man! Don’t you see I don’t have time to pass the time of day with you? The Indians might take it in their
mind to return,” Harland said, staggering forward to lean on the landing post for support.

That was the only prompting Bertram needed. He helped the army captain onto the barge, and then helped the woman carry the other man onboard.

As the barge pulled away, Bertram watched the shore. “We don’t get many Indians ’round here. Ifen we do, they’s usually friendly.”

“You ever heard of an Indian named Windhawk?” Claudia asked.

“Sure, ain’t everybody? He ain’t real, though. Just someone the Blackfoot cooked up out of their imagination. Wishful thinking on their part, I ’spect.”

“It wasn’t wishful thinking that did this to my husband and Captain Thatcher and killed one of our guides. You can tell your grandchildren that you once ferried some folks across in your barge that met Windhawk,” Claudia informed him.

Howard Landon groaned and opened his eyes, trying to remember what had happened. Claudia sat quietly, with her husband’s head resting on her lap. The right side of Howard’s body seemed to be paralyzed, and when he tried to speak, it was unintelligible.

Claudia smiled down at him. “Don’t fret none, Howard. I’ll take care of you. Think of it, there will be just you and me in that big house. ’Course, I’ll see that you are kept quite comfortable.” Her hand brushed his forehead. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, because if it did, then I’d be out in the cold, wouldn’t I?”

BOOK: Savage Winter
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