Wolf Shadow

by Madeline Baker

  He was about to go back to the camp when he realized he was no longer alone.

  “Mr. McCloud?”

  He turned around and came face to face with Edward Bryant.

  “What can I do for you?” Chance asked.

  “I know of no way to say this other than to just say it.”

  Chance raised one brow. “So say it.”

  “I want to know what there is between you and my daughter.”

  A dozen answers chased themselves through Chance’s mind, most of them not very nice. “There’s nothing between us,” he replied at last. And it was both the truth and a lie.

  Edward Bryant regarded him for several moments, and then nodded curtly.

  Chance muttered an oath under his breath as he watched Winter Rain’s father walk away. The man hadn’t said much, but the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice had said one thing clearly—stay away from my daughter.

  It was sound advice, Chance thought grimly, and hoped he was smart enough to take it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A sigh whispered past Winter Rain’s lips as she gazed up at the narrow slice of sky visible through the smoke hole of Kills-Like-a-Hawk’s lodge. A single bright star winked down at her. Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight… The words she had often spoken in childhood tiptoed down the corridors of her mind. Wish I may, wish I might… If she knew her wish would come true, what would she wish for?

  “Wolf Shadow.”

  His name came quickly to her lips. They’d had no time to be alone together since he had arrived with her parents three days ago. Was he avoiding her? She pushed that thought aside. There was no reason for him to do that. Was there?

  She shook her head. She was just being foolish. She glanced across the lodge to where her parents were sleeping. She could hear the soft sound of her mother’s breathing, an occasional snore from her father.

  The last three days had passed amicably enough. She had felt the tension between her father and Wolf Shadow, though she didn’t understand the reason for it. Her mother had listened with interest as Winter Rain explained the daily life of her people. The Lakota women had been just as interested in learning about Rosalia. They had gathered around her, marveling at the softness of her clothing, her underwear, her stockings, her boots, her soft leather riding gloves.

  Her mother had been somewhat taken aback by their curiosity at first, but the warmth and openness of the Lakota women had quickly won her over.

  Her father was more reserved, more ill at ease with the men of the tribe. Several of the warriors had invited him to go hunting with them, but Edward had refused, pleading his injured thigh as an excuse.

  Tomorrow, she thought, one way or another, she would find a way to see Wolf Shadow alone. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she knew why her father had stayed in camp.

  She rose early after a restless night. Dressing quickly, she made her way down to a quiet place past a bend in the river where the water ran still and not too deep. Undressing, she slipped into the pool, yelping softly as the cool water closed over her. During one of their talks, her mother had spent a few minutes refreshing Winter Rain’s memory about life in the city. Three of the things her mother had mentioned were hot water to bathe in, scented soap to wash with, and soft toweling with which to dry one’s self. Winter Rain was anxious to try all three, especially the hot water.

  She closed her eyes, imagining herself sitting in an enameled tub, submerged in hot water and a froth of bubbles.

  They would be leaving for her parents’ home soon. She had mixed emotions at the thought of leaving the Lakota. She had been happy with the People, would have spent the rest of her life with them if Mountain Sage and Eagle Lance had not been killed. She didn’t want to think about what she would have done if she had had to choose between her wasichu parents and her Lakota family. It would have been an impossible choice to make.

  She opened her eyes abruptly, suddenly certain she was no longer alone.

  Wolf Shadow stood on the bank, his arms folded over his chest. All too clearly she remembered a day near the river. Tomorrow morning I’ll try to get here earlier, he had said, his gaze moving over her, as intimate as a caress. Or maybe I’ll come a little later and see what I can see.

  Well, he was certainly getting a good look now. Too late, she slid beneath the surface of the water and as she did so, she felt her cheeks grow hot as she recalled something else Wolf Shadow had said that day. He had predicted that the day would come when he would ask her to bathe with him and she wouldn’t refuse.

  She looked at him and felt a shiver of anticipation. Would he ask her to bathe with him today? What would she say if he did?

  “You coming out any time soon?” he asked.

  “Maybe,” she replied with a sauciness she had never felt before. “And maybe I am waiting for you to join me.”

  She stared at him, mortified by what she had said. She could see that he, too, was taken aback by her immodest words.

  But only for a moment. The next thing she knew, he was peeling off his moccasins, stripping off his shirt, reaching for the cord that held his clout in place.

  Heat suffused her body. She felt it climb up her neck, flood her face. Whatever had possessed her to say such a thing? And what should she do now?

  Before she could think, before she could recall the words, he was naked and in the water moving toward her.

  He didn’t give her time to say she had made a mistake or ask her if she had changed her mind. One hand slid around her waist, the other cupped the back of her head, and then his mouth was on hers.

  It was like no other kiss they had shared. In spite of the cool water, her whole body seemed to be on fire and she pressed herself against him, wanting to be closer, closer. Never before had she felt anything as wonderful, as exciting, as the touch of his skin, warm and wet, against her own.

  She knew it was wrong to let him hold her, touch her, but it didn’t feel wrong. It felt wickedly, wonderfully right.

  A low groan escaped his lips when he drew back. He gazed down at her, his eyes dark and hot as they moved over her, lingering on her lips, searing a path to her breasts.

  “See here now! What’s this?”

  The sound of Edward Bryant’s voice cooled the ardor between them like ice water thrown on a campfire.

  Chance thrust Winter Rain behind him, shielding her from her father’s censuring gaze.

  Bryant scowled at Chance, his brows rushing together in a look of supreme disapproval. “How long has this been going on?”

  “There’s nothing going on,” Chance retorted. “The Lakota often bathe together.”

  “My daughter is not Lakota!” Bryant exclaimed, his voice rising. “And there was more going on here than bathing, sir!”

  “Mr. Bryant, why don’t you go on back to camp?” Chance suggested. “We’ll be along in a few minutes.”

  Edward Bryant glared at Chance. “You expect me to leave my daughter here, with you, after what I saw?”

  Chance returned Bryant’s glare, his hands fisted at his sides.

  “I’ll expect you in five minutes, Teressa.” Bryant spoke through clenched teeth, then turned on his heel and stalked back the way he had come, anger evident in the set of his shoulders, in every step he took.

  Chance watched Bryant out of sight before turning to face Winter Rain. “He’s gone.”

  Winter Rain refused to meet his eyes. “I am so ashamed.”

  “Don’t be. It was my fault.”

  She shook her head. “It was all my fault and you know it. I behaved shamelessly.”

  “Well, it’s over and done with. Go get dressed. I’ll walk you back to camp.”

  Still not meeting his eyes, she hurried out of the water. After grabbing her tunic and moccasins, she ducked behind a tree to dress.

  Muttering an oath, Chance waded out of the river, shook the water from his hair, and pulled on his clout and moccasins. “You ready?” he called, draping his shirt over one
shoulder.

  “Yes.” Her voice was subdued.

  “Let’s go. Putting it off won’t make it any easier.”

  Side by side, they walked up the path toward the camp.

  * * * * *

  “I tell you, Rosalia, if I had gotten there five minutes later, they would have been coupling in the water like a couple of seals.”

  “Eduardo, please, calm yourself.”

  “I am calm! Get our things together. We are leaving! Now! Today!”

  “Very well, inamorato.”

  Edward paced the floor of the lodge, his anger building with every step. “To think I paid that scoundrel fifteen thousand dollars to find Tessa!”

  “He did find her, Eduardo. And you cannot blame him for wanting to kiss her. She is la bella donna.”

  “No gentleman would take advantage of an innocent young woman!”

  “You did not hire a gentleman,” Rosalia reminded him quietly. “You hired a man who could find Tessa in this wild land.”

  Bryant took a deep breath. “You are right, as always, my dear. But we are still leaving.”

  * * * * *

  Winter Rain stood outside Kills-Like-a-Hawk’s lodge, her arms crossed over her breasts as she listened to her father and mother. She had known Wolf Shadow had come looking for her at her father’s request but, for some reason she could not determine, it was painful to discover that Wolf Shadow had accepted money from her father. But, even more painful, was the sudden, overwhelming knowledge that her parents were taking her away from the People, away from the only life she really knew. She had known the day was coming when she would have to leave but, in the back of her mind, she had hoped for a miracle, hoped that her parents would decide to stay here, with her. She didn’t want to leave the Lakota, didn’t want to leave Corn Woman, Yellow Fawn and Leaf or any of the other people she loved and cared for. Even though she knew the Bryants were her true parents, even though she remembered her childhood with them, her mother and father were strangers to her now.

  “Rain, what’s wrong?”

  “We are leaving today.”

  “Today?” Chance said. “Who decided that?”

  “My father. He is upset because of…” Her glance slid away from his in embarrassment.

  “Because of what he saw at the river?”

  “Yes.”

  Chance grunted softly. He couldn’t blame Bryant. The man was only thinking of what was best for his daughter and Chance knew he wasn’t high on the man’s list.

  “I do not want to leave here.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  She looked up at him, her expression bleak, her eyes silently begging him to do something.

  Chance took a step forward, then halted as Edward Bryant emerged from Kills-Like-a-Hawk’s lodge.

  “Ah, Mr. McCloud. Just the man I wish to see. We are leaving. Now. Please saddle our mounts.”

  “We won’t get far today,” Chance replied. “It’s already past noon. By the time you’re packed and ready to go, it’ll be time to scout a place to spend the night.”

  Edward scowled at him and then, apparently seeing the wisdom in Chance’s words, he nodded curtly. “Very well. We will leave tomorrow.” He glanced at his daughter, then looked back at Chance. “Early.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll have your horses ready at first light,” Chance replied curtly. Pivoting on his heel, he stalked away from the lodge.

  * * * * *

  The next morning, Chance was packing the last of his gear when he heard a loud pounding on the door flap of the single men’s lodge. Crossing the floor, he lifted the flap to find Edward Bryant standing outside.

  “Is she here?”

  “Who?” Chance asked. But, in his gut, he knew.

  “Teressa. She is gone.”

  Chance swore a short, pithy oath. “She can’t have gone far.”

  “You think she left of her own accord?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Some savage must have kidnapped her.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What other explanation could there be?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? She doesn’t want to leave here.”

  Chance could see that Bryant didn’t want to believe that, but there was no other explanation for Teressa’s disappearance. Grabbing his rifle, Chance stepped out of the lodge. Smoke whinnied softly as he took up the reins.

  “Where are you going?” Bryant demanded.

  “Where the hell do you think? I’m going after her.”

  “I will go with you,” Bryant said, hurrying after him.

  “I don’t think so. The last thing I need is you out there slowing me down.”

  “But…”

  “Forget it!” Chance paused in front of his cousin’s lodge, his gaze searching the ground for sign. It wasn’t easy, picking one track out of dozens of others but after a time he located Winter Rain’s print.

  He followed Rain’s tracks to the horse herd. She had caught a horse, led it to a rock, pulled herself onto its back and headed southward, deeper into the Hills.

  Chance swore softly. Where the devil did she think she was going? He glanced over his shoulder, aware that Bryant was still following him.

  “What are we supposed to do while you’re gone?” Edward asked belligerently.

  “Pray,” Chance replied succinctly, and swinging onto Smoke’s back, he followed Rain’s trail.

  * * * * *

  Winter Rain eased back on the reins, bringing her horse to a stop. She wasn’t sure now what foolishness had sent her running away from the village. But early this morning, after a sleepless night, running away had seemed like the only thing to do.

  With a sigh, she reined her horse around and started back down the hill. She wasn’t a child any longer, to run away and hide. What had she hoped to gain other than postponing the inevitable?

  She hadn’t gone far when she heard a low growl that caused a sudden sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t waste any time looking up, just sank her heels in her mount’s flanks. The gelding bolted down the hill.

  Winter Rain clung to the reins with one hand and her horse’s mane with the other, praying the horse wouldn’t fall, praying they would make it safely down the slippery slope.

  She screamed as she felt a powerful blow to her left shoulder, followed by a sharp burning sensation, and then she was tumbling off her horse, rolling over and over, to come to an abrupt halt in a thick stand of brush.

  Breathless, her whole body aching from the fall, she could only lay there, her heart pounding in her ears as she waited for the mountain lion to attack her. She pressed her hands over her ears as a horrible scream filled the air and she knew that the lion had caught up with her horse.

  She closed her eyes, the image of the mountain lion’s claws tearing into her horse’s flesh making her sick to her stomach. With a sob, she turned her head to the side and retched. How could she have been so foolish as to leave the village alone? Grown warriors had been killed by mountain lions. What chance would she have had against a wild animal that not only weighed more than she did, but was armed with teeth and claws? Again, she thought of her horse, no doubt dead by now.

  She was suddenly aware of a growing pain in her left arm. Afraid of what she might see, she slowly turned her head. The left side of her tunic was in shreds. Bile rose in her throat once again when she saw the blood that stained her dress. It flowed from four deep gashes in her left shoulder.

  Trembling convulsively, she scooped up several handfuls of dirt and spread them over the wound to stop the bleeding. As the shock wore off, the pain grew worse. Tears welled in her eyes. What would she do if the mountain lion came back?

  She pressed herself deeper into the brush. In spite of the heat of the day, she was shivering uncontrollably now, overcome by the pain in her shoulder. The blood seeping down her arm frightened her as did the realization that she might easily die out here. Even more frightening was the thought of the mountain
lion or some other predator finding her while she was alive but helpless.

  She had to make her way back to the village, had to start now, before she lost any more blood, before she grew any weaker.

  Biting down on her lower lip to keep from crying out, she crawled out from under the brush and looked around. There was no sign of the cougar or her horse. Had the gelding managed to get away? And where was the mountain lion?

  Bracing her hand against a tree trunk, she gained her feet, stood there taking deep breaths while she waited for the world to stop spinning.

  Which way was the camp? She glanced around in an effort to get her bearings, then headed north, one slow step at a time, her gaze constantly moving back and forth. Where was the mountain lion?

  Why, oh why, had she ever run away?

  Chapter Twenty

  Chance urged Smoke into a trot, his gaze riveted to the ground, silently thanking Wakan Tanka that Winter Rain’s trail was clear and easy to follow. Time and again he asked himself where the devil she was headed. There was nothing up this way but trees and more trees until, at long last, you reached a rocky summit. The Paha Sapa was not the place for a woman alone, and she had lived with the Lakota long enough to know it. It was a wild land, dangerous and unforgiving. She could fall prey to so many dangers: white hunters, the Calvary, warriors from enemy tribes. Aside from the two-legged predators, there were bears and mountain lions and any number of other wild creatures. Her horse could step in a hole and break a leg. She could break a leg.

  Muttering an oath, Chance leaned forward in the saddle as Smoke began climbing higher still. Gradually, the trees grew taller and closer together, so thick in some places they shut out the sun. Pine needles muffled the sound of his horse’s hooves.

  A short time later, with a sharp snort and a toss of her head, the mare came to an abrupt halt in a small clearing.

  Chance clucked to the mare, but she refused to move. Instead, she stood quivering beneath him, her ears nervously flicking back and forth.