White Shadows

by Susan Edwards

  That stopped him in his tracks. His entire adult life had been spent in a world of pain and uncertainty. Worrying, wondering and feeling so damn guilty. Yet he’d justified doing the same to others. Winona’s entire family: mother, sister-in-law, nieces and nephews—women and children—had all joined in the search.

  Darkness stole into his heart, blotting out the ray of sunshine Winona had brought into his life. He knew he could not put another through that pain and uncertainty.

  Night Shadow tipped his head back and stared at the clearing blue sky high above the towering trees. As much as it hurt, he knew he’d return Winona to her family at the end of the summer. If he had Jenny back at his side, he’d have proof of Henry’s black past, and then perhaps her family would forgive him. If not, he’d be dead before he had a chance to explain.

  The wall of trees closed around him; the large granite formation where the woman he loved waited was out of sight, yet Winona’s will pulled at him. He kept going, didn’t glance back. This was what he’d lived for. He would not hide and let others take all the risk. At least, that was what he tried to tell himself.

  But deep down inside there was another reason he refused to consider Winona’s plan to go to her father. He was Night Shadow, a man unafraid to go into battle against his toughest enemies, yet he feared that Winona’s father would be so furious with him that he’d keep him and Winona apart. Or worse, that once back with her family, Winona would choose them over him, leaving him more lost and alone than ever before. So even though he planned to return her, he selfishly yearned for whatever short time he had with her—even if he had to steal it.

  Night Shadow hated the doubts chasing through his mind. He tried to still the tumble of thoughts. He stopped, took several deep breaths and sought control. Around him the sun had cleared the fog, but his heart still felt cold and dark.

  The sudden hush that fell over the land drowned out his inner voices and had him silently cursing. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts and fears of the past and future that he hadn’t been paying attention to the present.

  He glanced around, moving his head slowly, his gaze piercing through dark shadows and thick shrubbery. Not a single bird fluttered or sang. The branches of the bushes no long rustled as wildlife scurried from him.

  Damn. He wasn’t alone. Someone was out here with him. Who? And were they aware of his presence?

  The zing of an arrow flying over his head was his answer.

  From the top of the granite formation Winona found a narrow crack that separated the towers. Perfect. Not too big and, she hoped as she stared down, not too small. She needed a place where she could see everything without fear of being seen. Turning onto her belly, she lowered her feet down and found a foothold.

  Slowly and carefully Winona climbed down the rough walls, remembering her path, each hand- and foothold. In one spot she had to rest her back on one side of the rocky slab and inch down with her feet opposite her.

  Finally she stood on solid rock. With barely enough room to maneuver she made her way to the edge and dropped to her stomach. Though not as high as the very top, this deeply shadowed cleft afforded her a full view. She eyed the area below.

  If anyone managed to climb the smaller, yet sheer-looking rock just below her, they still couldn’t get to where she lay. The space was too far to jump across, yet if anyone came this close, she’d have plenty of time to leave before she was spotted.

  Winona settled down to search the rocks and trees for movement. Anger rose with each passing moment. Clay should have returned already. The sun was directly overhead.

  She thought of Hoka Luta. He worried her. He hadn’t been among her father’s warriors earlier that morning. What if he was out there, watching, waiting? What if Clay’s plans failed? What would she do if anything happened to him? And Jenny? Was she still alive?

  Winona knew that should anything happen to Clay she’d take up the search for Jenny, for she couldn’t imagine losing her entire family, just as she could not imagine waking up without Clay at her side.

  In so short a time she had fallen in love totally. Forever. She remembered the hard, cold man she’d first met—a man living in the painful shadows of his past. This morning he’d worn that same hard, cold expression, yet she knew he was anything but unfeeling. He felt—deeply and completely. He was a devoted brother who’d never forgotten his baby sister, nor had he ever given up in his determination to find her.

  He’d also been kind. Not once had he taken his anger or his need for vengeance out on her. Instead he’d done his best to keep his distance. Again, she thought, he’d been seeking to stay in the shadows.

  She smiled softly. But she’d drawn him out into the light. He smiled, laughed and teased. He’d shown her the man he’d once been, and could become once more—unless her father or Hoka Luta killed him and took him from her forever.

  Her smile faded. Her fingers scraped the rocky ledge as she drew them into fists. What would she do if something happened to Clay? She couldn’t bear the thought of losing the man she loved.

  She got up on her knees, ready to go in search of Clay. She had to convince him that together they stood the best chance of convincing her father of his innocence.

  Her shoulders drooped as she glanced around the lake. She had no idea where Clay was. Or her father. Or Hoka Luta. Settling back down, she shifted to remove a sharp stone from beneath her ribs and sighed. There was little to do but wait. And watch.

  The sudden flurry of ducks landing in the water startled Winona awake. Disoriented, she realized she’d fallen asleep. Her gaze sought the sun’s position and, with horror, she realized it had already began its descent. Though there remained many hours of daylight left, the passage of time had Winona jumping to her feet. What if Clay had returned and hadn’t been able to find her?

  Hurrying, she made her way back up the nearly sheer rock wall, fretting over the painstakingly slow going. Finally she emerged and ran back to the enclosed cavern.

  As soon as she entered, she knew Clay had not returned. But to be sure she went to the back and climbed up. He wasn’t up on top either. She scooted into their stone tipi and searched the lake area below.

  Dropping her forehead to the hard surface, she closed her eyes. Something was wrong. Rubbing her eyes, she went back to searching the lake area. A reddish blur down below on the white rocks made her jerk her head up. She slumped back down when she saw that it was just a red fox.

  Red fox. She sprang to her knees—and cracked her head on the low ceiling. Rubbing her bruised scalp, she stared down at the fox. Foxes were usually seen only in the dawn or dusk. They were masters of blending in with their surroundings. Many people who walked the land believed they were even able to shape-shift.

  Winona sucked in her breath when the fox turned and darted across the white mound of rock and slid back into the concealing line of trees. It was an omen. The fox bore a message for her.

  He’d come out of hiding to tell her something was wrong. Backing up, she ran through the cozy cave, then out. By the time she crawled through the tunnel and pulled aside the large boulders, she was breathing hard and frantically.

  Once outside she wasn’t sure where to start her search. Normally Clay left the towers for the lake by going over and around the white rocks. It was in the open in a few spots, but the grass on the other side of the towers made it hard to hide footprints, as the grass was soft from the damp banks.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she made her way to the tree line where the fox had gone. Fear clamored inside her. Once in the shadows of the trees she stopped to listen. Nothing. How was she, one person, going to find the man she loved?

  A strange noise had her lifting her head up and tilting her chin to the side so she could listen better. Was that a shuffle? Moving silently, she hid herself among the trees and waited. A twig snapped somewhere to her left. Who was there? Her father? Hoka Luta? Or one of Clay’s warriors? Please let it be Clay, she begged the spirit of the fox.

  S
he held her breath as the sounds came closer. There weren’t any thick shrubs for her to use to conceal her presence, so she hunched down into the shadows. There was no time to flee back to the white rocks without being seen and heard.

  Keeping her breathing slow and even, she prayed to the spirit of the fox to help her. The fox blended in with his surroundings, so she imagined that she was part of the trunk. She was brown with bits of green moss on her. Her figure was shadowed as were the trunks of the trees. In her mind she became one with her surroundings.

  A shadowy figure emerged from a dump of trees. By the time Winona realized it was Clay, he’d passed by without seeing her! In that brief moment her heart had stopped. Not from relief that it was Clay and not someone from her tribe, but from the blur of red as Clay ran past.

  Red fox.

  Red blood.

  Red Badger. Hoka Luta.

  Fear deafened her ears as her heart pounded. Without thought as to who might be chasing Clay, she ran after him. “Clay,” she called out as softly as she could.

  Ahead of her Clay whirled around, whipping his knife from its sheath. He sagged a bit when he saw her. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

  Spotting the arrow lodged in his upper arm, Winona ignored his question and grabbed him by the other arm. Her fingers shook. “You are bleeding.”

  “You noticed.” Clay’s breathing sounded labored, and his lips were tight with pain. “Your family is sure to be following. Now is your chance to gain your freedom.”

  Startled, Winona met his gaze, then stared at his bleeding wound. “We need to wrap this so the blood does not leave a trail.”

  Clay pulled away, then hissed in pain at the sharp movement. “Go. It’s too late. There is already a trail.”

  Winona swallowed her fear, then used that very emotion to pull herself together. No one would harm the man she loved. Not as long as she was alive. If her father or anyone else caught up with them, they’d deal with her.

  She met Clay’s eyes with her own resolved gaze. “Now is not the time for you to be foolish or stubborn.” She paused. “You have already been foolish this day.”

  Clay staggered back and leaned against a tree. “If you are worried about your sister, I’ll release her. You are free to go—both of you. I will find Jenny some other way.”

  “No, we will find Jenny together.” Winona reached out and took the knife from him.

  Clay pushed away from her. “Go. Leave me. I do not need any help. This was doomed to fail from the start. It’s been so long. She’s not alive. And if she is, she’d never remember me.” His words were slurred with pain.

  “We can discuss that later. Right now we need to take care of you.” She followed and pulled on his good arm, forcing him to stop. “Do you really want to die?” She softened her tone. “And abandon Jenny?”

  Clay opened his mouth but Winona shook her head. “No more. Save your strength. You have waited this long. I will not let you give up now.”

  “Not your choice, Golden Eyes.” He paused and swayed as blood continued to trail down his arm and fall to the ground to splatter over pine needles and tall green grass.

  Winona pushed him back until he once more rested against the trunk of a tree. She grabbed hold of the front of his breechclout. “You need me; she needs you. No more. I will not listen to such talk.” Lifting his knife, she whacked off a long length of cloth.

  “Ahhh,” Clay exclaimed hoarsely. He sucked in his belly and pulled away from Winona and the knife. “Careful!”

  Rolling her eyes, Winona shook her head. “As if I’d hurt that part of you!” She bit down on the blade of the knife to hold it so she could use both hands to grab the feathered end of the arrow. She glanced at him. He held her gaze, his own softening with love. Finally he nodded.

  Taking a deep breath, she broke the shaft so she could wrap his wound. With the long shaft he’d never be able to get through the narrow tunnel. As it was, she wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it through on his own. She firmed her lips. He would make it back to their place of hiding even if she had to drag him herself!

  Clay shuddered but didn’t make a sound. Working quickly, Winona bound his upper arm as best as she could. Then she washed her hands in the lake, cut off the back of his loincloth and washed the blood from him.

  “Ready?”

  He eyed her. Pain and wonder filled his eyes. “Now you are the foolish one.”

  Winona shrugged. “And you are a waglula to worry me so.”

  Clay yanked hard on her long hair. “We need to work on your name-calling or find you more flattering names to use.”

  Reassured by a small chuckle from Clay, she made him go first so she could make sure he didn’t leave a trail. When they reached the white rocks he was bleeding through the bandage. She used the damp cloth to wipe the blood before it fell onto the rocks.

  By the time she got Clay back into their safe cavern they were both covered with sweat and blood, and Clay’s face was as pale as the rocks below.

  Chapter Sixteen

  How could he have been so careless? Night Shadow had earned his name by moving silently, unseen and unheard. Night Shadow would never have been caught unaware. But once again Clay had let his guard down. This time, as the last time, he’d nearly paid with his life.

  Echoes of the past crowded into his mind. Screams of pain and fear. Taunting laughter. Jeering hatred. All his fault for not being more careful. After his father’s death he’d been responsible for his siblings and mother. He should have been on alert. Instead he’d allowed his own need for normalcy to distract him.

  He’d tried to be his father. Clayton Coburn would have stopped to play with his children, but he would also have been alert to danger. Unlike Clay Blue Hawk.

  In a foul mood, due to his own stupidity and the throbbing pain in his arm, Night Shadow watched Winona pace nervously.

  “Come back and sit,” he grumbled, hating the sight of his knife in her hands. He was the warrior. It was his duty to guard her. But every time he tried to stand, he nearly passed out—and got reprimanded as well.

  “Go to sleep,” Winona ordered. Her fingers flexed open, then gripped the handle of the knife firmly.

  A whisper of air carrying her scent wafted over him as his fierce warrior woman strode past, careful to keep out of his reach—not that he could grab her with his injured arm.

  Night Shadow sighed but fought the drowsiness beating at him. A faint whistle drifted through the window. He tensed but relaxed after a few moments when the second part of the signal did not follow.

  Either Crazy Fox or Sharp Nose was in the area, and Night Shadow expected whoever had distracted Henry to show soon. Had one of them not been near to provide cover to allow Night Shadow to escape, he’d have been killed, and Winona would have been left unprotected. His drooping gaze followed Winona’s every movement. Had she not disobeyed him and come for him, he’d have died. He knew he’d never have made it back into the rocky hideout on his own.

  Night Shadow sighed and shifted. Stabbing white-hot pain traveled up and down his arm, driving the fatigue from him.

  “Stop moving around.” Winona came back to set his knife out of his reach, and leaned down to check his arm. She frowned at the signs of fresh bleeding.

  “I’ll live,” he muttered, trying to pull away from her. Shame at his failure to detect the enemy made his voice harsh.

  Sitting back on her heels, Winona rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Yes, you will.” She lowered her arms and sent him a hard stare. “You have no choice in the matter.”

  Night Shadow picked up the broken pieces of the arrow and stared at them to keep his emotions hidden. He was touched by her fierce need to protect him as much as he was humiliated.

  “I do not understand why Henry did not kill you. You said he surprised you.” Winona shifted so her legs were folded to one side.

  Night Shadow scowled as he stared at two lines of red paint that ran from the feathered shaft down to the p
ointed tip. Leaning his head back against the cool wall, he tossed the broken arrow away from them.

  “A boy with a training bow could have surprised me,” he admitted. With his teeth clenched tightly, Night Shadow closed his eyes, ready to endure her scorn. To his surprise he felt the tips of her fingers slide down the side of his face, tracing the rough edges of his scar.

  “It was my fault,” Winona said softly.

  His eyes flew open at that. The last thing he’d expected or wanted to hear was her taking the blame for something of his own making. “No, Golden Eyes. You were right. I should have waited for night.”

  He shifted again, more to keep awake than to get comfortable. “Have to stay awake. Sharp Nose or Crazy Fox will come soon.”

  “It is a good thing one of them was around!” She jumped up and kicked a rock aside, shuffled his bags of supplies around, picked up the knife and strode around the cavern.

  Her movements were jerky, her steps firm, her shoulders and lips set. She was furious. Not at him—for him. Slowly his own anger melted away. How could he resist the fire in this woman? Something shifted deep inside. His Golden Eyes had turned into a force to be reckoned with.

  Her anger as she tossed things around instead of carefully setting the items down as she usually did warned that there was more to come. He fully expected her to rip him to shreds for his foolishness. In truth, he welcomed it. Deserved it.

  “Why did they not help you when you were injured?” Her voice was sharp, yet she kept the volume down in case anyone was near, though with the solid rock surrounding them it would be hard for anyone to hear.

  Night Shadow lifted a brow. “They are not to blame. They had their duties.”

  Winona moved close and stood over him with hands on hips. “Do not make excuses where there are none to be accepted. Their first duty is to you.”