Wolf Shadow

by Madeline Baker

  Looking at him, at the determined set of his jaw, she didn’t doubt him for a minute.

  Gradually, the heat of the sun warmed them. Winter Rain dozed, her head resting against his shoulder.

  Holding her, Chance felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him. She was so young, so innocent, so at home with the Lakota people. How would she react to life in San Francisco? Would she hate him for taking her back to her parents? The thought gave him pause, but, in the end, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t afford to worry about her feelings or what she wanted. If he was going to save his ranch, he needed that ten grand and he needed it right quick!

  She sighed and he tightened his arm around her shoulders.

  She wasn’t shivering anymore. Her skin was warm beneath his hand, her tunic was almost dry. Her hair was soft against his cheek. Damn. She smelled of rain and sunshine and woman. It was a potent combination and his body reacted automatically. He shifted uncomfortably, his erection as hard as the rock they were sitting on.

  She was sleeping soundly now. Her head lolled forward. Scooting over a little to give her more room, he eased her down until her head was resting on his thigh.

  He shook his head, wondering why he had inflicted such torture on himself.

  Her eyelashes lay like thick black fans against her sun-kissed cheeks. Her lips, slightly parted, were as pink as the petals of the wild roses that grew along the river back at the ranch. His gaze was drawn to the slight rise and fall of her breasts. He clenched his hands to keep from touching her. Lust, he told himself. It was just lust, nothing more. It didn’t matter that her eyes were as blue as a high mountain lake or that her skin was smooth and unblemished. And if her legs were long and shapely and her hair was as soft as silk beneath his hand, it didn’t change a thing. It was still just lust, an itch that he could have scratched when he got back home.

  But for now, he was content to sit there and watch her sleep.

  * * * * *

  The little girl looked out the window, the wonder in her eyes turning to horror as dust and war cries filled the air. Dust clogged her nostrils, fear was a hard lump in her stomach. The girl clung to her mother, cried out when an arrow hit her father. How had she ever thought the Indians were beautiful or exciting? She screamed when one of the warriors grabbed her and pulled her out of her mother’s arms and out of the coach.

  Winter Rain woke with a cry echoing in her ears, only then realizing it had come from her own throat.

  Opening her eyes, she saw Wolf Shadow staring down at her.

  Shaken, she glanced around. Where was she? She looked back at Wolf Shadow, and dissolved into tears.

  “What is it, sweetheart?” He drew her up into his arms and patted her back.

  “I…I remember.” She sat up. Sobs racked her body. “Eagle Lance shot my daddy. He pulled me out of the coach and took me home with him.” She took a long shuddering breath. “I remember crying for my mother while he carried me away.”

  So, he thought, after all these years, she finally remembered what had happened. That should make things easier.

  “I was so afraid. We rode for days before we reached the village. When we got there, Eagle Lance gave me to Mountain Sage. I remember that she cried when she hugged me.”

  “The Bryants have been looking for you ever since you were taken from them.”

  “They are well? Both of them?”

  “Yes.”

  She stared into the distance, her thoughts obviously turned inward. She didn’t speak for several minutes, and then she said, “I do not want to go back. Not now. Not ever.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin defiantly. “And you cannot make me.”

  He could, he thought. He could take her back right now. There was no one to stop him, but he wouldn’t. Not until they had gone back to the village. Winter Rain had a right to know whether Mountain Sage and Eagle Lance were still alive. And he couldn’t go back to the ranch, not until he knew what had happened to Kills-Like-a-Hawk and his family.

  With a shrug, Chance slid off the rock and stretched his arms and legs. “I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I could use something to eat.”

  She didn’t say anything, but she went to the parfleche and pulled out a couple hunks of jerky. She handed him a piece, then sat down on the rock again.

  Chance looked up at the sky, glad to see that it was clear. He ran his hand over Winter Rain’s sleeping robe and his saddle blanket, then turned them both over. They would be fully dry by nightfall.

  He glanced at their back trail, wondering if the Crow would come after them. He had killed three of their warriors. Would they decide to avenge their dead? Chance didn’t think there was much to worry about. The storm would have washed out their tracks.

  Swallowing the last of the jerky, he picked up the waterskin and took a drink, then went to check the hobbles on the horses.

  Smoke whinnied softly as he approached, then rubbed her forehead against his chest.

  “I wish all females were as easy to please as you are,” he muttered as he obligingly scratched the mare’s ears. He glanced over his shoulder at Winter Rain, who was taking a stroll beyond the rock. “What am I gonna do about that one?”

  Smoke snorted softly and shook her head.

  “Yeah, I don’t know either. She’s got me tied in knots, you know? Got me thinking about what it would be like to settle down.” He swore softly. “I must be getting soft in the head. I don’t have time for a year-round woman.”

  His gaze followed Winter Rain, resting on the sway of her hips as she walked away. She stopped at a berry bush. He watched her bend over to pick a handful. His mouth watered as he watched her pop a few of the purple berries into her mouth. But it wasn’t the fruit that made his own mouth water; it was the way her tongue slid over her lips to lick up the juice. Damn!

  Muttering an oath, he turned his back to her. Dammit, what was he going to do about Winter Rain? He hadn’t been this attracted to a woman in years. Every time he looked at her, he felt like a kid with his first case of lust. Just looking at her made him ache with wanting her.

  A few minutes later, he sensed her presence behind him.

  “I found some berries,” she said. “Do you want some?”

  He turned to face her. She held out her hands, which were filled with the fat purple fruit. But it was her mouth that drew his attention. Her lips were red with juice.

  “Thanks.” His voice was gruff.

  She watched him eat a few. “They are good, yes?”

  “Yeah.” He ate a few more, wondering what she would do if he kissed her, if his tongue licked the juice from the corner of her mouth.

  Her gaze met his. As if reading his mind, she took a step backward.

  Chance was trying to decide whether to fish or cut bait when Smoke gave him a sharp push with her nose. He stumbled forward, his arms closing around Winter Rain to keep from knocking her to the ground. The last of the fruit tumbled from her hands as she clutched his shoulders to keeping from falling.

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide, like a doe scenting danger on the evening breeze.

  He told himself to let her go and back off. His life was complicated enough without seducing a virgin. No woman was worth ten thousand dollars.

  But her skin was soft and warm beneath his hands, her lips red and far too tempting for any mortal man to resist once he had tasted their sweetness. He lowered his head, slowly, giving her plenty of warning. Giving her plenty of time to back away.

  And then it was too late. His mouth closed on hers as his arm tightened around her waist, until her upper body was pressed intimately against his.

  He didn’t close his eyes, and neither did she. For a moment, she stood rigid in his embrace. Then, with a sigh, her eyelids fluttered down and she surrendered to the shivery sensations sweeping through her.

  His hands moved slowly up and down her back, then slid lower to cup her buttocks, drawing her still closer, letting her feel his arousal. It excited her even as it sent t
remors of uncertainty coursing through her. She knew she should tell him to stop but when she opened her mouth to tell him so, his tongue slid inside, stealing the strength from her legs, robbing her of coherent thought.

  Another minute, Chance thought, and she’d be flat on her back. Swearing softly, he let her go. Hands clenched at his sides, he took a deep breath, held it for several seconds, then blew it out.

  “We’d best get a move on,” he said, his voice gruff. “No telling if they’ll come after us, and I’d just as soon put a few more miles between us before tomorrow.”

  She didn’t argue, merely looked up at him, her deep blue eyes mirroring the yearnings of his own heart before she turned away and began gathering up their meager belongings.

  They rode all that night, stopping shortly before dawn to bed down in a clearing ringed by tall trees. Winter Rain was asleep almost as soon as she closed her eyes, but Chance lay awake a long time, his thoughts troubled by his growing need for the woman who slept beside him.

  He wanted her, he thought, wanted her more than his next breath, but he had ten thousand good reasons to let her go.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning dawned bright and clear. Breakfast was a quick meal of jerky and pemmican washed down by a drink of tepid water. Chance rinsed his mouth, thinking he’d give a dollar and a half for a good cup of coffee.

  Grabbing his saddle blanket, he smoothed it over Smoke’s back, cinched the saddle in place, slid the rifle into the boot, and then removed the hobbles from the mare and from Winter Rain’s gelding.

  He kept his distance from Winter Rain. After the explosive kiss they had shared the day before, it seemed like the smart thing to do. From time to time, he caught her watching him surreptitiously, her expression wary and a little puzzled.

  “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  Chance was wondering if he dared help her mount her horse when she took the reins from his hand and swung agilely onto the animal’s back.

  It was just as well. The thought of putting his hands on her was far too tempting. He wasn’t a saint and he wasn’t made out of stone, and as much as he needed that ten grand, he wasn’t sure how many times he could touch her, kiss her, and still back off.

  Smoke snorted and tossed her head as he climbed into the saddle. Feeling frisky, the mare humped her back and crow-hopped before he pulled her down to a walk.

  Chance glanced over his shoulder to make sure Winter Rain was behind him. And wished he hadn’t. She rode as confidently as any Lakota warrior, he thought, but there was nothing remotely masculine about her. Her hair shone blue-black in the early morning sun; her tunic rode up, revealing a good deal of tanned skin. She had long shapely legs, legs he could easily imagine wrapped around his waist.

  Smoke bucked again and Chance gave the mare her head, hoping a good run would shake the image of Winter Rain on her back in his bed from his mind.

  He let the mare run until she slowed of her own accord. Winter Rain drew up beside him a few moments later. She looked radiant. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled, her hair fell around her shoulders in wild disarray that somehow made her look more desirable than ever.

  Damn, he had it bad!

  In an effort to ignore the woman riding beside him, he concentrated on the wild beauty of the land, the verdant hills, the pair of red-tail hawks that wheeled and soared effortlessly overhead, the way the grass undulated like a vast green sea beneath the endless blue vault of the sky. The land. It was in his blood, as much a part of him as the color of his skin.

  At midday, he drew rein alongside a shallow stream. Stepping from the saddle, he loosened the cinch and let Smoke drink.

  From the corner of his eye, Chance watched Winter Rain dismount and lead her horse down to the stream. When her horse finished drinking, Winter Rain knelt down and cupped her hands in the water. Never had he seen anything more beautiful. The sunlight glistened like golden dewdrops in her hair and caressed her skin. Drops of water trickled through her fingers, shining in the sun like liquid diamonds.

  His gaze followed her as she rose lithely to her feet and moved behind some bushes for a few minutes’ privacy.

  Squatting on his heels, he stared across the stream. Damn, how had she gotten under his skin so fast? He was a man grown, not some kid looking to get laid for the first time, yet every time he looked at her, he felt like some randy youth.

  The thought made him grin. Maybe that wasn’t so bad after all.

  He was tightening the cinch on his saddle when Winter Rain called his name, her voice high with excitement.

  Following the sound of her voice, he found her kneeling beside a wild-eyed filly that was caught in a thicket. In her struggles to free herself, the filly had gotten badly tangled in the brush. Thorns had raked her hide, leaving dark brown splotches of blood on her golden coat. His gaze swept the ground, noting the prints of several wolves. But for the thorn bushes, she would have been easy prey.

  Winter Rain looked up as he approached. “We must help her.”

  Chance grunted softly. The filly was lying on her side, too weak to do more than stare up at them. “There’s a coil of rope in my saddlebag,” he said. “Get it.”

  While Winter Rain went to retrieve the rope, Chance knelt at the filly’s head. “Easy, girl,” he murmured softly. “I’m not gonna hurt you. What the hell are you doing out here alone anyway? Easy now.”

  Still talking softly, he placed his hand on her neck. Spooked by his touch, she jerked away.

  “Hey, now, when we get to be friends, you’ll be sorry you did that. Where’s your mama?” he mused, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer. The mare would have wanted to stay with her foal but the stallion would have chased her back to the herd. Either that, or the filly was an orphan.

  “Here.” Winter Rain thrust the rope at him. “Will she be all right?”

  “Yeah, she’s not bad hurt. Just scared.” His gaze ran over the filly. She looked to be about three months old. “I don’t think she’s been without food or water for more than a day or two at most. She’s lucky to be alive.”

  Talking softly to the filly, he fashioned a loop and dropped it over her head, then carefully untangled her legs from the thorny branches, incurring a goodly number of scratches on his arms and legs as he did so.

  At last, the filly was free. Scrambling to her feet, she tried to run off, only to be brought up short by the loop around her neck.

  “Easy now,” Chance said. Walking toward her, he took up the slack.

  The filly shook her head as he drew closer, stood trembling all over as he gently stroked her neck. “There now, darlin’. That doesn’t hurt, does it?”

  Winter Rain watched Wolf Shadow. His voice was soft and low when he spoke to the filly, his touch light. What would it be like to have him speak to her like that, to feel his hands on her skin? The memory of his kisses jumped to the forefront of her mind, made her lips tingle in remembrance.

  He spoke to the filly for a long while, letting her grow used to his voice and his touch. Now and then, he breathed into her nostrils. When she stopped trembling, he took a step forward, giving a gentle tug on the rope. The filly immediately backed up and shook her head, fighting the rope as it tightened around her neck. Wolf Shadow eased up on the line. He talked to the filly again, soothing her with his voice and his touch, and again gave a gentle tug on the rope. It took several tries but eventually the filly learned to follow his lead and the three of them walked back to where they had left the horses.

  “We’ll have to take her with us,” he said. “She’s too young to be on her own.”

  Winter Rain looked up at him, her pleasure at his decision reflected in her smile and in her eyes.

  “Come on, darlin’,” Wolf Shadow said, speaking to the filly. “I’ll bet you’re thirsty.”

  Leading the filly down to the stream, he let her drink, but only a little. He walked her around for a short time, let her graze for a few minutes, the
n led her back to the stream and let her drink again.

  Winter Rain’s gaze never left him. She noted the effortless way Wolf Shadow moved, the gentleness of his touch. He was patient with the filly, never rushing her, never speaking harshly. He would be a good father, she thought, and wondered where that idea had come from.

  But it wasn’t only his voice and his manner she noticed. Just looking at him pleased something feminine deep within her. His shoulders were broad, his arms were long, his hands large and strong. The sun glinted in his hair. She watched the play of muscles in his back and shoulders as he moved. The scars on his back looked silver in the sunlight and she wondered again who had whipped him so cruelly and why. Perhaps, someday, she would ask him.

  A short time later, they were riding again. The filly followed docilely behind Wolf Shadow’s horse. Knowing the filly was still weak from her ordeal, he kept his mount at walk so as not to tire her.

  That, too, pleased Winter Rain immensely.

  She rode a little behind him, careful not to let him see how she watched his every move. The way he held his horse’s reins. The way he rode in the saddle, relaxed yet vigilant. The way he looked back every so often to make sure that she and the filly were all right.

  Whatever else he might be, he was not only a brave warrior but a gentle man as well.

  They rode until the filly was too tired to go on and then made camp in a tree-sheltered valley watered by a narrow stream that was so shallow Winter Rain was certain she could walk across it without getting her ankles wet.

  It didn’t take long to make camp. While Winter Rain gathered wood and dug a shallow hole for the fire pit, Chance unsaddled and hobbled his horse, then hobbled Winter Rain’s gelding. When that was done, he took the filly down to the stream and washed the blood from her coat, then spent a few minutes scratching her neck before turning her loose.

  “Should we not keep her tied?” Winter Rain asked, coming up beside him.

  Chance shook his head. “I don’t think she’ll go far, not with the other horses here.”