She paused, then took his free hand in hers. “It was destiny that brought us together tonight,” she said, her eyes searching his. “The scalp hunter unknowingly led me to the very man I was searching for.”
“You were searching for me?” Storm asked, raising an eyebrow.
His flesh felt hot where her hand held his. He could not help feeling so much for her that he wished to deny.
But when she was so close, her hand in his, her eyes so hauntingly beautiful, her body so enticing, he suddenly remembered his sister’s warnings. She had told him about a woman . . . an Apache woman who had betrayed her people by living as white.
But Storm now knew that Shoshana was not a woman guilty of betrayal. She had been forced to live with the white-eyes. She had never had a role in her own destiny . . . until now.
From the moment George Whaley had abducted Shoshana, he had had full control of her life.
Well, now that had changed. Storm had just made Shoshana’s destiny his.
He put his sister’s warnings in the farthest recesses of his mind. This woman had come to Arizona for a reason. She was sent to him by Maheo, the Great Spirit, to help Storm finally achieve the vengeance that he had sought since the day of his people’s massacre.
“Your name is known well among whites,” Shoshana said, interrupting his thoughts. “I was told of your courage and how you have kept your band safe high up the mountain in your stronghold. You are admired for your dedication to your people, and for the way you have kept peace between them and the whites.”
She paused, then said, “You will take me to your home, won’t you?” she asked, her eyes wide. “It has been so long since I have been among my own kind. I have ached for such an opportunity as this.”
“Yes, I will take you,” he said quietly. Little did she know that she would be taken not as a free woman, but as a captive.
“We must hurry now,” Storm said as he gently took Shoshana by the arm, ushering her away from the cabin.
Shoshana felt no fear, only hope, and something even more. She was intrigued by everything about this man. She had never felt such a strong attraction to any other man. Chief Storm made her come alive inside where she had never known such feelings existed.
She hoped that she was right to trust him, as well as her feelings for him.
Chapter Twelve
Does there within the dimmest dreams
A possible future shine?
—Adelaide Anne Procter
“The wolves,” Storm said, stopping beside their pen. “Gray wolves should never be imprisoned. They are the spirit of the wilderness.”
“Mountain Jack mates them and raises their young for pelts that he sells to the same people who buy scalps from him,” Shoshana said. She watched the younger ones romp and play in the moonlight. Except for one. It stood apart, much thinner than the others, trembling visibly. “It looks like one of the pups isn’t all that strong, or well.”
“I shall release them, all except for the one that is not strong enough to be set free,” Storm said, already stepping toward the gate.
“What are you going to do with it?” Shoshana asked, taking a step away from the pen. “And . . . and . . . is it safe to set any of them free? How do you know they won’t attack us?”
“They are smart animals,” Storm said, slowly lifting the latch that held the gate closed. “They will take advantage of their freedom. They will not take the time even to look at us, much less attack us. They have been penned up for a long time. They are as anxious to taste freedom as you were when you were chained up in the cabin.”
Shoshana heard what he said, but, still unsure whether to trust his judgement about the wolves, she took another step away from them.
She watched as one by one they ran to freedom.
Shoshana marveled how one grown wolf stayed with the weak one and tried to nudge it with its nose to get it to leave the pen.
But the tiny one was not convinced. Its legs wobbled. It gazed wistfully into the eyes of the older one, which Shoshana now assumed was its mother.
“The mother won’t leave the pup behind,” Shoshana said, amazed at the dedication and love the mother had for its pup, especially when freedom beckoned.
“It must,” Storm said. He went inside the pen. He looked directly into the eyes of the older wolf.
It seemed to Shoshana that they were communicating in some mystical, silent way.
She gasped with awe when the wolf stepped closer to Storm, nuzzled his hand with its nose, then gave its pup a long, last look and left the pen, yapping as it ran to catch up with the others.
“You seemed to be communicating with one another,” Shoshana said, moving to Storm’s side. “And . . . and . . . she actually left her pup behind, apparently in your care.”
“I have talked often to animals, as they talk to me,” Storm said. He bent low and gathered up the tiny, weak pup in his arms, cuddling it close to his chest.
“Will you take the pup to your village to care for it?” Shoshana asked as Storm carried it away from the pen.
“Yes, it will be a part of my people until it is well enough to be released back to the wild,” Storm said. He nodded to the horse tied at the hitching rail. “Mount the steed. We must not delay any longer.”
Overjoyed to be leaving that filthy cabin behind, Shoshana didn’t hesitate to mount the horse.
After Storm secured the wolf pup in the bag at the side of his horse, where only its face was exposed, he mounted his own steed and, together, he and Shoshana rode from the cabin.
“How far do we have to travel before reaching your stronghold?” Shoshana asked, suddenly realizing just how tired she was, and hungry.
She was also beginning to feel guilty for not having asked to be taken to the fort so that George Whaley would know she was all right.
Yet part of her rejoiced in her freedom from him. In a very real way, his love had kept her a prisoner. She was free for the first time since that day when her entire world had been torn apart.
“It is quite a distance, but if you grow too tired along the way, we can stop and rest. It would be best to continue onward until we reach the safety of the stronghold,” Storm said.
They traveled through the narrow canyon, then through the thick aspen forest, and started up a narrow pass, with a steep drop-off at one side.
Shoshana didn’t feel the danger of the drop-off. In fact, she felt as though she were home. She felt completely safe with this man.
Staying close by his side, she glanced over at him. She admired his splendid panther-skin saddle. She admired him. He had such poise . . . such dignity of character!
“Are you married?” Shoshana suddenly blurted out, then blushed when she saw his stunned expression.
She was surprised at herself for being so inquisitive. She started to apologize, but didn’t, for she truly did want to know if he was married or not.
“No, I am not married,” Storm said slowly. “My life is too full of responsibilities. I have not wanted any others . . . until today.”
“What do you mean by that?” Shoshana dared ask. “What is different about today?”
He looked over at her. Her eyes met his in the soft moonlight.
“You,” he said thickly.
She was taken off guard by his answer, and wondered if she should be afraid.
“Why . . . me . . . ?” she murmured, knowing that he must be able to see the blush on her copper cheeks, with the moon’s glow rendering the night so much like day.
“Because I must see to your safety,” Storm said, lying again.
Trying to hide her disappointment, Shoshana turned her eyes quickly away from Storm. She had been foolish to think that she might be something more than a responsibility to Storm.
They had only just met!
But Storm was thinking to himself that until today he hadn’t wanted such a responsibility as a wife, nor the sadness of losing one.
But now? He was attracted to Shoshana in ways he
had never felt before.
But he must keep reminding himself that she was there for only one reason. To achieve a vengeance that had eaten away at his gut since that day he had buried his mother and father.
Suddenly the screech of a panther split the still night air.
Only now was Storm reminded of why he had left his stronghold this morning.
It was not to take a woman captive.
It was to search for a dangerous panther.
He yanked his rifle from its gunboot and searched both sides of the trail.
“Ish-tia-nay, stay close by me,” he said.
The wolf pup let out a tiny growl, as though even it sensed the panther’s nearness.
“Silence, Gray Wolf,” Storm said, releasing his reins long enough to drop the flap down over the pup’s head and curious eyes.
“I’m so afraid,” Shoshana said, visibly trembling. “I have never seen a panther before, but I know they are killers.”
“Not always,” Storm said quietly. “But once a panther has tasted human blood, it does become a killer that must be dealt with.”
“You seem to be very wary of this particular panther,” Shoshana said, edging her horse even closer to Storm’s.
“I was on a hunt for the panther when I spied you and the scalp hunter earlier in the afternoon,” Storm said. “That is how I knew where to search for you.”
“So it was you making that reflection in the sun,” Shoshana said, then gasped and looked quickly upward.
She froze when she saw the panther.
It was on a limb directly above her, gazing down at her with piercing green eyes, its sleek body covered by a beautiful bluish-black coat. It was whipping its tail back and forth against its sides and clawing great pieces of bark from the limb.
It screeched again, and before Storm saw it and could take aim with his rifle, it leapt away to a higher bluff, the action causing Shoshana’s horse to bolt. Snorting, the horse slipped and lost its footing, throwing Shoshana from the saddle.
She screamed in terror as she felt herself being thrown over the side of the cliff.
Chapter Thirteen
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired and got,
’Twas a dream of thee.
—John Donne
Storm’s heart leapt with fear when he saw Shoshana thrown from her horse, and then fall out of sight, down the side of the cliff.
His pulse racing, he slid his rifle back inside the gunboot at the side of his horse, then dismounted and fell to his belly so he could lean over the side of the cliff. He found Shoshana hanging from a limb, her legs dangling.
The moonlight revealed her wide eyes gazing in desperation up at him.
Suddenly Storm saw something else. Far below him, so far away they looked like tiny ants, were soldiers making camp around a huge, blazing campfire. Should they look up, would the bright light of the moon reveal Shoshana to them?
But knowing that saving her life was the most important thing now, he looked back into her eyes. “Hang on a moment longer,” he said reassuringly. “I will save you.”
“My hands . . . hurt . . . I’m not sure how long I can last,” Shoshana cried, her heart pounding so hard, she felt as though her chest might burst.
Storm quickly got a rope from his horse and tied it to his steed, then handed the other end down to Shoshana. “Grab the rope,” he said, holding it fast.
After a moment of paralyzing fear, she dared to grab the rope with one hand and then the other. She held on with both hands as Storm pulled her to safety with the aid of his horse.
But just as she got on solid ground, stretched out on her back, breathing hard, she felt as though the earth was rocking and heaving beneath her.
It gave a sharp turn, and seemed to keep right on turning. When she looked around, everything seemed to be upside down, the sky under her.
And then she fell into a black void of unconsciousness.
“Shoshana?” Storm gasped when he saw her eyes suddenly close. It was then that he saw a large lump on her brow and realized that she had apparently hit the rock face as she fell.
Fortunately, she had managed to remain conscious long enough to help in her rescue.
Forgetting the soldiers down below and even the panther, Storm swept Shoshana up into his arms and carried her away from the edge of the cliff. He laid her down on the path where they had been riding.
The moon’s glow provided enough light for him to inspect the wound on her brow more carefully. It was a nasty lump, oozing blood.
He tried to get her awake. But she didn’t respond.
Afraid to leave her for long, with the panther still nearby, yet wanting to find an herb that his people used for restoring consciousness, Storm went into the edge of the thicket a few feet away and searched until he found what he was looking for.
With the hope of arousing her, he took the plant back to her. Slowly, he waved it back and forth beneath her nose.
To his utter disappointment, it didn’t work. She was still unconscious.
Deciding to forget about the panther for now, so that he could take Shoshana to his stronghold where the shaman could see to her wound, Storm hurried away from her and tied her horse’s reins to his own, thankful that the animal had settled down and not run off.
Before getting Shoshana, Storm checked the wolf pup and found that it was in a deep sleep. He lifted and carried Shoshana to his horse, soon having her positioned on his lap as he settled himself in the saddle.
He rode onward.
He was disappointed that he had lost the chance to finally kill the deadly panther; he had also given up the opportunity to finally stop the evil of the scalp hunter.
But there would come another time for both. He was more concerned about Shoshana now than anything else.
He was worried that she was still unconscious. He hoped that once he got her in the hands of his shaman, the medicine man would know how to revive her.
He saw the wolf pup stirring in the bag. He reached a hand down and stroked its wiry fur. “You will be all right,” he reassured it. “But you must learn to live without your mother. Do not fear, I will protect you. No man will ever get near enough to harm you!”
With Shoshana’s horse trailing behind his, Storm rode onward up an even narrower pass, past a series of waterfalls that cut through ponderosa pine and aspen.
As the night wore on, clouds marred the face of the moon, and lightning played among the mountain peaks. Soon thunder heralded the arrival of a black-walled rainstorm.
Almost blinded by the rain, and deafened by hailstones ringing on the rocks, rocketing about in all directions, Storm trundled down to safety, to a cave where he had found dry shelter many times before.
He secured the horses just inside the cave entrance, hung his bag with the wolf pup in it over his left arm, then carried Shoshana to the back of the cave where he had left equipment, blankets, and wood for fires.
Storm set down the bag with the wolf pup, glad that it had slept through the storm and rain, protected by the lid of the buckskin bag.
It still slept soundly, and Shoshana was still unconscious.
Storm made Shoshana as comfortable as possible in her wet clothes on blankets, then built a fire, the smoke escaping through a fissure in the cave’s ceiling.
Storm made another pallet of blankets and carried Shoshana to them so she could be closer to the fire. He knew it was best that her clothes dry quickly to keep her from getting chilled.
He sat down beside her, already feeling the warmth of the fire through his own wet attire. He wanted the warmth of a blanket around his shoulders, but knew that he must endure the wet coldness for a while longer in order to get his clothes dry.
He checked the bag and saw that the wolf pup was still sleeping soundly. Then he looked again at Shoshana, his heart skipping an anxious beat when he saw her stir, and then awaken.
Shoshana raised herself up on an elbow.
She looked slowly
around her, but she had such a terrible headache that everything she saw was a fuzzy blur.
But she knew she was beside a fire. She felt its warmth against her flesh.
“How are you?” Storm asked, kneeling down beside her.
Shoshana recognized the voice as Storm’s, then gazed up at him. “My head aches so,” she murmured, reaching a hand to her forehead, wincing when she felt just how large the lump there was.
She squinted as she again tried to focus on Storm, then looked slowly around her. “Where are we?” she murmured. “I see you . . . and everything else . . . as only a blur.”
“When you fell from the horse you hit your forehead,” Storm softly explained. “After it began to rain, I brought you to the safety of this cave. Once the storm passes by, we will resume our travel to my stronghold. When we arrive, my shaman, White Moon, will care for you. Soon you will be well.”
“I . . . I . . . feel ill,” Shoshana murmured, tasting a strange bitterness in her mouth.
“Sometimes one does feel that way after a blow to the head,” Storm said softly. “Ish-tia-nay, close your eyes. Rest. Soon you will be at my stronghold in the care of my shaman.”
“Thank you. . . .” Shoshana murmured as she slowly drifted off to sleep again.
Storm sat down beside her.
He studied her as she slept.
He had never seen such a beautiful woman.
He wondered what her life had been like while she had lived among whites. She had been raised by a man who had the blood of many Apache on his hands. Had Shoshana possibly caused this man to change for the better?
The man was in the area to help find the scalp hunter who was the enemy of all Apache. Why would the wooden-legged man care enough about the scalp hunter’s evil to help track him down?
Guilt for his past sins against the Apache? Was he trying to atone for those sins?
Well, none of that meant anything to Storm. He would still take his vengeance. He would still make the wooden-legged man pay!
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