Wind Rider

by Connie Mason

  Cut Nose’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t about to give up so easily. “She must be very good between the blankets for you to turn down three horses. I will give you five horses, but no more.”

  “I don’t want your horses.”

  “And,” Cut Nose offered as an added inducement, “you may have my sister. She will make you a good wife. She has already told me she favors you. Many good braves have offered for her.”

  “You are more than generous,” Wind Rider said with a hint of sarcasm, “but I do not want a wife.”

  By now Hannah had staggered to her feet, nursing her aching jaw. It was already turning black-and-blue from Cut Nose’s blow. Wind Rider saw it and sent Cut Nose a threatening glare. Then he reached out a protective arm and pulled Hannah beside him.

  Cut Nose sneered derisively. “You are a white eyes masquerading as a Cheyenne. How long will it be before you turn traitor to our people? I will ask the council to banish you from our tribe; then I will claim the slave as my own.”

  Wind Rider laughed harshly. “You may try, but they will not listen to you. I have fought bravely beside my Sioux brothers. I have raided army supply wagons and counted coup upon the enemy many times. I challenge any man to question my courage or loyalty.”

  Cut Nose sent a leering glance at Hannah, who was plastered against Wind Rider’s side. “Perhaps I will challenge you, my white Cheyenne brother, if the council does not vote to banish you from the tribe. You have refused to join with my sister and shamed my family.” Whirling on his heel, he strode away.

  Hannah allowed herself to breathe again. “He wanted to rape me,” she said shakily.

  Wind Rider grasped her chin and turned her face toward him. The bruise on her cheek glowed an ugly purple against her white skin. “Did he hurt you?”

  The question angered Hannah. Why should Wind Rider care if Cut Nose hurt her when he hadn’t treated her with any degree of kindness since he’d captured her? “Do you care? I’m surprised you stopped him from raping me. You Indians are all savages.”

  Wind Rider’s jaw stiffened. “You belong to me. No man has a right to touch you unless I allow it. Did you invite his attention? Did you entice him as he said?”

  Hannah paled. “I did no such thing! Cut Nose said you’d make me the village whore when you tired of me. He said it was the custom.”

  “Cut Nose is right, it is the custom, but it is my decision whether or not that happens. We will speak of this later. Gather the wood; I am hungry.”

  Her mind in a turmoil, Hannah did as she was told, aware that her future—or lack of one—depended on this fierce Indian, who did not look at all like an Indian.

  Wind Rider did not let Hannah out of his sight as he followed her back to camp. “I will build a fire this once, but in the future the chore will be yours. You must not forget that you are my slave.”

  Hannah already knew how to build a fire; she had done it when she traveled west with the Harleys. They had joined a wagon train at Independence, and all the difficult chores had fallen to her.

  Hannah was wondering what Wind Rider expected her to cook when an old woman hobbled over and placed a skillet on the fire to heat. Then she took some ground grain from a parfleche she had brought with her and mixed it with water, placing it in the sizzling skillet. The aroma was delicious, and Hannah’s mouth began to water. When the old woman spoke to Hannah in guttural Sioux, Hannah looked at her dumbly. Angered by Hannah’s inability to understand, the old woman picked up a thin stick and began beating her about the shoulders and back.

  “She wants you to get the bowls and honey.”

  “I don’t know where to look.”

  “Inside the tepee. There is a deerskin pouch hanging on one of the back poles. Inside you’ll find bowls and a small amount of honey for the frybread.”

  Hannah hurried inside the tepee, and the old woman smiled broadly and nodded. When Hannah returned the woman was gone. Spotted Doe had taken her place. The Indian maiden’s dark eyes rested on Hannah, so filled with malice, Hannah stopped abruptly in her tracks. Hannah listened intently to the conversation between Wind Rider and Spotted Doe and didn’t need an interpreter to know that the woman was angry.

  “Cut Nose told me how you shamed our family,” Spotted Doe said sourly. “Am I not good enough for you? Is there some other maiden you wish to join with? Perhaps you prefer a Cheyenne maiden. If you wish it, I will become your second wife.”

  “How could I take a second wife when I have no first wife? I have no plans to take a wife at this time.”

  “What about her?” Spotted Doe asked, gesturing toward Hannah. “Will your slave warm your blankets?”

  “If I wish it.”

  Rage seethed through Spotted Doe. “Is it because she has white skin like yours?”

  Wind Rider tensed. Never in all his years with the Cheyenne had his loyalty been questioned. “I am Cheyenne, brother to the Sioux. White men have destroyed my hunting grounds. They killed my mother, Gray Dove, and sent my tribe fleeing for their lives.”

  Spotted Doe flushed and lowered her head, aware that she had spoken rashly. “I did not mean to anger you. But I must warn you, Cut Nose is a vindictive man. For some reason he wants your slave. He has gone to the council to request that you be banished from the tribe. But if you join with one of our women, they will be more favorable toward you.”

  “I am not afraid to appear before the council. I have friends who will speak for me. No one can doubt my loyalty after fighting beside me in battle.”

  Spotted Doe smiled at him and placed a small hand on his arm. “I hope you are right. But if they decide they need further proof, joining with one of our women will convince them of your loyalty. My family is willing for me to join with you, and since you have no horses to offer as a bride price, Cut Nose will gladly accept your slave.”

  Chapter Six

  Hannah knew by the fierce scowl on Wind Rider’s face that Spotted Doe had angered him. But she didn’t have time to question him because Coyote arrived, dismissing Spotted Doe with a wave of his hand. Hannah squatted beside the fire, wishing she could understand.

  “I have just come from the council,” Coyote told Wind Rider. “They will meet to consider Cut Nose’s allegations concerning your loyalty. Cut Nose fears you will betray us because you are white, but I know better, my brother. Your heart is pure Cheyenne.”

  “Thank you, Coyote. When is the council to meet?”

  “They will meet tomorrow when the sun is at its highest. They will hear Cut Nose first, and then you will be called upon to defend yourself. I think Cut Nose is jealous of you. He wants your slave,” Coyote confided, casting a surreptitious glance at Hannah. “He is telling everyone that his family has suffered great embarrassment because you refused to join with his sister/’

  “I do not wish to take a wife/’

  “It would be wise if you reconsidered,” Coyote advised. “Cut Nose is willing to accept your slave in lieu of a bride price.”

  “The council has no reason to question my loyalty,” Wind Rider repeated. He cast a sidelong glance at Hannah. “I will not give up my slave. The council may question me all they like; I have nothing to hide. I have never given them any cause for doubt. I am the son of White Feather, respected chieftain of the Southern Cheyenne.”

  “I agree, my brother, and so will the council if they are wise. Runs-Like-A-Deer and I will speak in your defense. So will others of the council.”

  “Thank you, my friend.”

  Hannah watched Coyote walk away, wondering what their conversation had been about. It sounded serious. She jumped when Wind Rider said, “Come inside the tepee. I wish to speak to you in private.”

  Hannah scooted inside, wondering what Wind Rider wanted to talk about. Wind Rider closed the tent flap and stared at her with such absorption, she retreated a step, seared by the silver intensity of his eyes.

  “Cut Nose wants you. He offered me his sister and is willing to accept you as the bride price since I have few
horses.”

  Hannah blanched. She’d die before she’d allow Cut Nose to touch her. “Did you accept his offer?” She was trembling so badly, the words tumbled one after another from her white lips. “Spotted Doe is very beautiful.” She sucked in her breath and held it, waiting for Wind Rider’s answer.

  Not as beautiful as you, he thought. “I do not need a wife,” Wind Rider said harshly. “Nor am I willing to trade you to Cut Nose.”

  His answer gave Hannah the courage to breathe again. What would she have done if he had agreed to Cut Nose’s proposal? When her knees started to buckle Wind Rider reached out to steady her. His eyes widened when he felt a shock travel up the length of his arm. Had Little Sparrow felt it, too? he wondered.

  “I do not wish to be traded to Cut Nose,” Hannah whispered shakily. “If I must have a master I prefer it to be you.” Hannah couldn’t imagine what possessed her to say such a thing. She wanted no master, especially not an Indian master. But Wind Rider was such a contradiction, she didn’t understand her own feelings where he was concerned.

  She feared him, that was true, yet he hadn’t really hurt her. And sometimes he treated her with more kindness and consideration than Mr. Harley had. There were times, like now, when she could have sworn he possessed not one Indian trait or characteristic. But when he was painted with hideous stripes, his hair hanging loose about his wide shoulders, carrying tomahawk and bow, he looked every bit as savage as his companions.

  Wind Rider’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of whore’s trick are you playing? False words do not impress me.”

  That word again! Hannah’s temper flared. “I am no whore!”

  “Perhaps I will find out for myself.” He reached for her, dragging her against his hard length. Her lips were red and lush, and he ran his tongue over their full contours, sampling their ripeness. She tasted so sweet, he hungered for more.

  In a saloon in Denver he had seen white men press their mouths against those women who sold their bodies for coin. They seemed to enjoy it, and as he licked Hannah’s lips he was tempted to try it himself. Cheyenne did not press mouths like white eyes. They licked their lovers’ faces, and sometimes their bodies, and pressed their cheeks together or rubbed noses. But this, he decided, as he covered Hannah’s mouth with his, was so pleasant, he could easily become addicted.

  Stunned by her reaction to Wind Rider’s kiss, Hannah melted into the hard wall of his chest. It was Hannah’s first kiss, and her mouth opened in surprise. She had no idea it would make her tingle all over or ache in places she had never ached before.

  Instinct guided Wind Rider as he thrust his tongue inside Hannah’s sweet mouth. Her taste was utterly captivating, and he pressed her closer, until he felt the hard peaks of her breasts stab into his chest. A groan of sheer agony slipped from his throat. His big hands splayed over her slim back, sliding downward along her spine, cupping the sweet mounds of her buttocks into his groin. His manhood throbbed strong and hard between them, prodding the tender curve of her stomach.

  Hannah felt his hips rock against her and came abruptly to her senses. How could she respond so fiercely to this savage? It was the first time she had ever felt desire for a man. But she feared and distrusted all men. What made Wind Rider different from any other man, to make her feel the kind of things she was experiencing in his arms? She fought to regain her sanity, struggling desperately to free herself from the lure of his strong arms. “No!”

  He held her captive, mesmerized by the rapid flutter of her heart against his breast. “You are my slave. You will do as I say.” He fell to his knees, dragging her down with him. “Take off your tunic.” Wind Rider had no idea what possessed him, but if he didn’t have Little Sparrow now he would surely perish. It must be his cursed white blood clamoring within him, he thought disgustedly.

  Hannah’s eyes darted toward the entrance, visually measuring the distance. “You can’t escape; don’t even think it.” His fingers grasped the ties holding her tunic together at the shoulders. He wanted her so badly, he would have ripped it from her body if someone hadn’t rattled the buffalo bones outside the lodge. Frustration seethed through Wind Rider as he glanced at the closed flap, tempted beyond redemption to ignore the summons.

  “Wind Rider, it is Runs-Like-A-Deer. I must speak with you.”

  Wind Rider spat out a curse as he rose to his feet, adjusted his breechclout, and flung open the flap. He didn’t invite Runs-Like-A-Deer inside but stepped out instead.

  Hannah slumped in relief. If someone hadn’t arrived to speak to Wind Rider, he would have taken her. And she probably would have helped him. How could she act so wantonly? She was still shaking, wondering how long her reprieve would last. When Wind Rider’s visitor left would he finish what he had started? She touched her flushed cheeks, not surprised to find them burning. If she had been home in Ireland, she would have rushed to the church and confessed her sins to the priest, for she had actually felt desire for a savage heathen. For a fleeting instant she had wanted to lie beneath his big golden body, yearned for the touch of his hands on her bare flesh, wished to experience the forbidden mysteries that would have made her a woman.

  When Wind Rider ducked back inside the tent and scowled fiercely at her Hannah’s thoughts scattered.

  “I go now to the purification hut. Tonight the council will decide who will be your owner,” he told her gruffly. His body still wanted Hannah so badly, the physical pain was nearly unbearable. “Runs-Like-A-Deer will accompany me.”

  “Wh-what about me?” She feared Cut Nose would try something, with Wind Rider gone. “I’ll be alone.”

  “Woman-Who-Waddles will stay with you. Do not worry about Cut Nose; he goes also to pray and fast with his friends.”

  Hannah relaxed visibly, though her face was still pale. “What if the council decides against you?”

  “They will not.” He said it with such conviction, Hannah felt reassured—but not completely.

  “But what if they do?”

  He sent her an inscrutable look. “I will leave and you will belong to Cut Nose.” He did not tell her that if such an incredible thing were to happen he would not leave her to the mercy of Cut Nose. Somehow, some way, he would take her with him.

  “Oh, God.”

  A few minutes later the old woman who had showed her how to make frybread arrived with her mat rolled up under her arm. She spoke briefly to Wind Rider, placed her mat in a corner, and went outside, where she busied herself at the fire.

  “I will not be far away,” Wind Rider told her. “Do not try to escape.” Then he ducked through the flap and was gone.

  The council convened promptly at noon the following day. Hannah lingered outside the tepee with Woman-Who-Waddles, watching closely as Cut Nose addressed the circle of men who were to decide for or against Wind Rider. It seemed to Hannah that Cut Nose spoke most eloquently, gesturing wildly to make a point. So much depended on the outcome of the council that Hannah could think of nothing but what would happen if Wind Rider was banished from the tribe.

  After what seemed like hours Wind Rider joined the council. Hannah thought he appeared strong and confident as he spoke to the group. She could hear nothing of what was being said and couldn’t glean a thing from their stoic expressions.

  Wind Rider noted many friends among the council members, including Runs-Like-A-Deer and Coyote. He knew Cut Nose had stated his case quite persuasively but nevertheless felt optimistic about the outcome. No viable reason to dispute his loyalty to the People existed.

  A chieftain named Iron Fist was the first to question Wind Rider. “Cut Nose has brought serious charges against you, my Cheyenne brother. It is a well-known fact that you are white, and Cut Nose fears you will betray our people to the white eyes.”

  “You know me, Iron Fist. We have fought side by side in battle. Have I ever given you cause to suspect my loyalty? My heart is Cheyenne. My father is White Feather. I have counted coup against our common enemy the Crow and Pawnee and killed pony soldiers who want
to take our land away/’

  “It is as Wind Rider says,” Coyote agreed, nodding sagely. “I would trust Wind Rider with my life. His chest bears scars from the Sun Dance and his body carries wounds suffered in battle with white eyes. What further proof do we need?”

  The men of the council nodded in agreement, but Iron Fist, a friend of Cut Nose, was not entirely convinced. “Cut Nose has suggested that you marry one of our women to prove your loyalty.” Once again the men of the council nodded, thinking the idea a good one.

  “I do not have the bride price.”

  “Cut Nose says his sister is eager to join with you. His parents are willing, and it is a good match. He will forfeit the bride price in exchange for your white slave.”

  Wind Rider sent Cut Nose a fulminating glance. “Cut Nose speaks out of jealousy. The slave is mine to do with as I please. It is the law of our people.”

  “I agree with Wind Rider,” Runs-Like-A-Deer interjected. “He found the slave. It is his choice whether he wishes to trade her.”

  “I generously offered to trade five of my best horses for Wind Rider’s slave,” Cut Nose charged, jumping into the fray. “It is more than she is worth. Then I offered to give him my sister and he refused, thereby insulting my family.”

  Wind Rider sneered. “Am I here to defend my loyalty or my right to marry when and whom I please?”

  Iron Fist nodded, then grew thoughtful. His words went right to the heart of the problem. “It seems to me the whole issue revolves around one insignificant female slave. The dissension troubles me. The simple solution is to kill her. I have seen the woman, and she does not appear strong enough to be of any use as a slave.” Many nodded in agreement. The death of a female slave seemed a small sacrifice to restore peace among two of their bravest warriors.

  Wind Rider felt as if he had been gut-punched. He would flee with Little Sparrow before he’d allow her to be tortured or killed.

  Cut Nose smirked slyly. If he couldn’t have the woman, neither should Wind Rider. “It is a wise decision, Iron Fist.”