White Shadows

by Susan Edwards

  Breathing harshly, Night Shadow quickened his steps. She flopped back down and he let her slide a bit farther over his shoulder until his arms held her behind the knees. He smiled grimly, then choked when he felt one of her fingers trace the curve of his spine downward.

  Hiding his start of surprise by jumping over a root, Night Shadow forced himself to breathe slowly. Deeply.

  It is only a touch. She is only a woman.

  Ha. Only!

  Her breath warmed the skin on his back. He focused on the path ahead of him. Rocky. Twisted and covered with low growth that he had to shove past. Good. It gave him something to focus on. Anything was better than the feel of her fingers trailing across his flesh.

  Her finger slid lower. His grip on the back of her knees tightened, but it didn’t stop her from grabbing his loincloth with one hand, lifting it and using the other hand to pull aside the part of cloth that cupped his buttocks.

  He felt the brush of air and sun on his bare flesh and stifled a groan.

  “Hmm. Much nicer from up here.” She paused. “I want to touch you as you touched me.”

  Night Shadow felt his loins tighten.

  Say nothing! Do not react. Ignore her. She seeks to torment you.

  “Clay?” She sighed when he continued to ignore her.

  “It felt good when you touched me. Did it feel good to touch me like that?”

  Night Shadow’s control snapped. He was a man, only a man, and could resist no more. Furious that a great warrior like him could not control a small young woman, he stopped, dropping his weapons and bundles. He’d teach her a lesson. He was a warrior. A very controlled warrior who’d lost that precious control during their first encounter.

  “Yes, damn it. It felt good. Like this.” Running one hand up the back of her leg he caressed the skin behind her knee, followed the soft flesh of her thigh beneath her dress, then boldly cupped one smooth, rounded cheek.

  Winona went limp. “Ah.” She sighed. “Yes, like that.” Her fingers crept down over one of bare cheeks. She squeezed. “Your nistuste feels nice. Does it feel good when I touch you?”

  That was it. Night Shadow had enough. He wasn’t sure if he should dump her onto the ground and walk away or lower her to her feet and show her just how good he could make her feel.

  He was hard. He had to put distance between them or he’d take her right then and there.

  Remember Jenny, he told himself. Jenny is your reason for living. For breathing. Jenny is all that matters.

  He bent forward slightly to set her back down onto her feet, but she shocked him by sliding down his front and wrapping her feet back around his waist. Her hands cradled the sides of his neck. She didn’t say anything, just gazed at him with those large, innocent golden-browns.

  Night Shadow, the cold, controlled warrior, was at a complete loss. Again. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t yell at her or shout out his frustration. He couldn’t speak words of anger, as he had the night he’d taken her innocence.

  So he just stared at her. “What am I going to do with you?” He hadn’t meant to speak aloud. He couldn’t believe he’d actually voiced his frustration.

  Winona didn’t laugh. She didn’t smile or act smug at her obvious victory. Instead her eyes filled with tears and her hands crept up to caress the sides of his face. “You are going to live. With me. For me.”

  With that bold declaration, Winona kissed him hard. As soon as his mouth opened under the demanding insistence of hers, she slid down and walked off, leaving Night Shadow staring after her with an ache in his loins, eyes filled with wonder and fear, and a slowly thawing heart.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hoka Luta stared at a small square of brown-checked cloth stained with blood. Old blood. The edges of the cloth were frayed and tattered, but he recognized the trade cloth that his father had given to Clay Blue Hawk’s mother.

  She’d taken that material and sewn dresses for Clay’s sisters, shirts for all the boys and men to wear when they went with their father to the trading posts. Both of their fathers had forced their children to dress in white man’s shirts and buckskin breeches when they were around other trappers.

  Lifting his head, he stood still and listened. He heard nothing but the usual sounds of nature. With one last glance around, he used his knife to stab the cloth deep into the earth. Going ahead of Hawk Eyes and his men, he’d managed to find each piece of the past Clay had left. And like this latest taunt, he’d been able to get rid of it before anyone else saw it.

  Standing, Hoka Luta studied the ground and slowly retraced his steps, carefully erasing all signs of his presence. Finished, he glared through the trees in the direction that he was being led. He clenched his hands. He had no doubt that Clay Blue Hawk was leading him by leaving items from his past for him to find. His old friend knew he could not risk having Winona’s father learn of his past.

  Fury built deep inside Hoka Luta. Clay Blue Hawk sought not just to kill him but to destroy him. He toyed with him, taunted him, and with each piece of the past threatened to expose him.

  Gathering his weapons, water skin and a small pouch of meat and berries, he once more picked up the trail of his enemy and followed. Each step burned his hatred deeper. Each deliberately torn leaf and broken twig twisted his fury into a tight coil. He no longer cared about the girl. All that mattered was the new life he’d created for himself—and the respect his position as the son of a medicine man brought him.

  He was a great warrior. He had the ability to slide through the forest and overtake his enemy, but he could not risk allowing Hawk Eyes or Golden Eagle to come across the bits and pieces Clay Blue Hawk planted along a trail a young boy could follow. So he continued ahead.

  The land he strode over appeared drab and lifeless, but he knew better. He’d spent a lot of time as a youth and young warrior roaming the secluded and sacred hills. He’d traveled far and wide, and if given a choice between lush green meadows, thickly wooded forests or this wild landscape, he’d take this.

  Most of the trees were tall, thin and scraggly. They were survivors; they had firm footholds in the soil and took what they needed, as he did. He was a hard man, like this stretch of land. He was resolved. Unbudging. Once he chose a path to travel, he seldom wandered off course.

  Until now. Until the appearance of a man who’d once been like a brother to him. Brother! Deep inside he felt the twist of a knife, the pain and bitterness welled up with enough force that he nearly lost what little control he held over himself.

  Hoka Luta glanced up at the gathering clouds, and his nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath. Always he remained in control. Control meant power. But he was not in control. Clay Blue Hawk had set the rules of this game.

  Hoka Luta stopped. His chest burned with the need to release his fury. There was little he could do to regain control at the moment, but he had the power to lock the rage tightly inside himself. The time would come when he’d unleash his anger. But now was not the time. First he had to find the enemy and ensure his future.

  “This is beautiful,” Winona exclaimed. Tiredness faded, as did hunger. Tucking away the long, thin slice of wakapapi Clay had given her earlier, she stared out at the deep blue lake.

  All day they’d hiked downhill, sometimes over rock or between tall formations that were nearly impossible to pass. Even with her love of heights and rocky perches high above the world, she’d grown tired of the climbing and squeezing and crawling on her hands and knees. And then the scraggly, barren, granite-covered land had given way to thick forest.

  The appearance of the lake surrounded by carpets of thick, green grass on three sides made it worth it. As she slid her gaze from one side to the other, she smiled in delight. Deer scattered back into the thick forest as she and Clay walked around the lake. Enchanted, Winona slowed her steps to take it all in. She’d never seen a pool of water so blue. And so large.

  She was used to long ribbons of flowing water cutting swaths through the hilly prairie, or small
, secluded pools at the end of small creeks that branched out from the streams.

  Stopping, Winona took it all in. It was perfect. Dark green clumps of trees and brush encircled the water, following the line of the lake, which wove in and out like white men walking when they consumed too much of their “golden water.”

  Staring at that large body of water, she felt suddenly aware of the dust and stickiness of travel. Maybe Clay would stop here for the night. Could there be a better place to rest? Glancing up into the pale blue sky, she had no trouble imagining the perfection of the night: a soft bed of grass, a blanket of stars and the lapping of water along the rocky bank.

  “Now what?”

  Winona grimaced at Clay’s annoyance. “This is a beautiful spot.” She obediently trudged on when he resumed walking. “It would make a good place to spend the night,” she grumbled.

  “Forget it. We aren’t stopping here.”

  Feeling rebellion rising, Winona opened her mouth to protest. But when she rounded a curve along the lake Winona stopped.

  “Ohhh!”

  Across from her, on the other side of the lake, the forest thinned, revealing nearly white rocks lining part of the water. Trees rose in the background, but to the left there were no trees. The white rocks were bare of greenery. No dirt. No plant life. Only water lapping at their base.

  Her gaze followed the formation. Two of the strange rocks looked as though they were toads squatting in the water. The one between them was long, almost flat on top. In her mind’s eye she saw herself running and jumping over the smooth surface.

  But it was the slab of dark gray formation rising up beside them, to their left, that stole the speech from her throat. Rising sharply and slanting upward from right to left, it looked as though some unseen hand had tried to slice the granite into three pieces, but even the blade of nature had not been able to cleave the rocks apart.

  “I have never seen anything so…” Words failed her as her gaze followed the middle section of rock. There was a strangely curved outcropping that looked as though there were a cradle board made of stone fastened to the center of the granite slab. She tipped her head to the side.

  Or perhaps it could be a war bonnet, like her father’s. She could easily imagine the top curve as a band of feathers, and the two longer pieces on the sides resembled twin tails of feathers. Several pointed but thin slices of rock below looked like steps with a few trees planted in and among the rocks. As with the white formation, there was no green or brown earth at the base. Just water lapping against rocky base.

  And the water! Once more her gaze sought the blue that was so clear, it mirrored the image of the rocky formations. Winona ran past Clay, ran around the lake’s curves, everything forgotten.

  She was tired by the time she reached the craggy rocks, but she had to see if she could climb them. Scrambling over the white boulders, feeling as small as an ant, she didn’t stop. But when she reached the imposing slabs of brownish rock she did stop, unsure how to get up to the top, or if there was a way. She felt very small staring up with her head tilted all the way back.

  Clay passed her and found a foothold. “Thought you wanted to spend the night down by the lake.”

  In her haste to reach the formations, she’d forgotten all about Clay. Laughing, she followed, her earlier annoyances forgotten. “I want to climb to the top of the world and be one with the sky and heavens.”

  Clay glanced over his shoulder. She shrugged but couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “I love rocks,” she said simply.

  He smiled back, a genuine, amused grin. “I know. I watched you climb to the top of that tower of gray rock the day I took you captive. I saw you sitting on the edge and I…” He looked startled, as though caught off guard by her exuberance “…figured you’d fall and kill yourself and leave me with no captive,” he added.

  Winona shook her head and laughed again. The sound as it echoed off the rocky walls made her feel wonderful. “Never.” Elation filled her. She felt alive. Keeping up with Clay as he took the lead was easy. She even made climbing and squeezing between narrow slabs easier by grabbing the water and food pouch from him to tie them around her narrow waist. She would hear no excuse that he could go no farther.

  Clay slid behind a tree. To Winona’s disappointment, the trail ended. The granite wall in front of them was smooth and the trees too far from the fissures and cracks higher up. Frowning, she scanned the scene. There had to be a way.

  Clay headed down, following the line of trees that were too far away to use in their quest for a path that led upward. Winona followed only after realizing that there was no way up from where she stood.

  Rounding the trees, she stopped abruptly. Clay was gone! She turned in a circle. From where she stood she had a clear view of the lake. But she wasn’t up high—just several feet from the water level.

  “You coming or not?”

  Winona whirled around and searched for Clay. To her astonishment she found him squatting in a tiny opening high above her. She hurried around the trees, down to where the water lapped against a very tiny bit of earthen bank, then climbed up and over the next rock that sat like a squatting warrior. Then she went around several small seedlings.

  She searched the granite base, climbed over more rounded, smaller chunks of rock, and finally gave up.

  “Clay!”

  A tap on the shoulder startled her. Spinning around, she found Clay watching her. He looked smug. She narrowed her eyes. “Where are your weapons?” Her gaze widened. “And the bedding?” Her voice rose to a squeal. “You found the way up!”

  He jerked his head. “You coming or not?” He took the water skin from her, turned around and disappeared behind a tree. Winona ran, nearly slipping in her haste to stay close to him. She followed him around, up, then down again. This time he ducked low and crawled on his hands and knees through a small, narrow opening that hadn’t been apparent when she had tried to find the way up.

  She followed, amazed at the tunnel made of many smaller rocks and a large one that had fallen on top and had created this natural, narrow tube. When Clay stood, she rose to her knees and gasped.

  She now stood in an open area surrounded by towering sheets of granite that looked to run the width of the huge formation. Clay went back down on his hands and knees into the tunnel. Winona heard him moving the large rocks she’d had to squeeze by inside the hidden tube and realized he’d cleverly disguised the entrance to make it look like nothing more than a pile of boulders and rock.

  “How did you find this?” Wonder filled her voice as she followed him. He stopped at another concealed opening and squeezed past. Excited that they were in the very heart of the mass of rock, and getting close to the top, Winona turned sideways as well.

  When she came out, she stopped and could only stare. They now stood in a long cavern, except that the ceiling wasn’t solid. Light spilled inside from several places where the cap of granite slabs had weathered and fallen between the slashes that from the ground made it look as though there were three separate towers standing shoulder-to-shoulder.

  The next turn revealed a hole in the side. She stood on her tiptoes and peered out. The wall was so thick she could have sat on that tiny seat and gazed out at a world far beneath her.

  “Forget it. You will not climb up there. Agreed?”

  Winona rolled her eyes. “Fine. As long as there is somewhere up here that leads to the top.”

  Staring out the opening she could see the entire lake area. Laughing, she ran to catch up with Clay, who’d stopped in a totally enclosed area. His weapons lay against one wall. Supplies were piled up against another. Winona lifted her brow.

  “I assume we are staying?”

  “For a while.” Clay started sorting through the supplies. At his back the enclosure narrowed, but she saw a tiny pinpoint of light from way back. Winona set her load down and followed that luring light and found the way to the top.

  Once there, on top of the world, she knew she could have st
ayed there forever had it not been for Spotted Deer and her family.

  Seeing Eyes prepared for battle. This battle required no weapons, no prayers to the spirits—though they couldn’t have hurt. She needed no warriors at her side, for her battle was with her husband. And at that moment it was a silent battle of wills as he glared up at her and she calmly waited for him to speak first.

  Without taking his eyes from her, Hawk Eyes addressed one of the warriors she’d ridden with—one of two who’d come back to camp with the news of Winona’s capture.

  “I gave orders for you to bring warriors, not women,” he said. “Or children,” he added after spotting his grandchildren. Displeasure darkened his features and made him even more formidable.

  “The wife of my chief would not be left behind.” The warrior offered no more. No more was needed.

  Hawk Eyes folded his arms across his chest. “Explain yourself before I send you back. All of you.” In turn he glared at each woman and child.

  Seeing Eyes calmly dismounted and stopped before her husband and chief. “I am needed here.”

  “This is no place for women. Or children,” Hawk Eyes lashed out. “You will return immediately and wait for our return.” He softened his voice. “I will bring our daughters home.”

  Seeing Eyes moved past him and started unloading her horse. “We will bring our daughters home.”

  “Wife!”

  Narrowing her eyes, Seeing Eyes placed her hands on her hips. “Husband, do you forget who has the gift of sight? Do you not think to ask if I had more visions or even what warnings I might have been given?”

  Hawk Eyes sighed. Behind him, several warriors snickered. Turning his head, he speared each with a look that sent them running to carry out their assigned duties. When only Golden Eagle remained, he resumed his outraged stance.

  “Speak now of these visions and warnings so that you may return home.”

  “I have nothing certain to impart to you yet. The visions come, but I do not understand their meanings.” She held her hand out to stop her husband from speaking angry words.