Wind Rider

by Connie Mason

  “Take what supplies you need, Ryder. They are yours for the asking. And I hope you find the answer you seek. If Hannah had a reason for leaving, I know you will find it. But don’t let your emotions blind you to the truth.”

  Ryder tried to keep Zach’s admonition in mind when he rode away from the farm a full four days behind Hannah and Lieutenant Gilmore. But no matter how hard he tried to find an excuse for Hannah’s behavior, the rage was still there. If only he could make sense of her abrupt departure. Was something escaping him? Had he failed her again by questioning her loyalty? No matter how hard he tried to find answers, it all came down to the inescapable fact that Hannah didn’t love him. She really didn’t love him. The difference in their upbringing was obviously too vast to allow true love to flourish.

  Trent Gilmore sent Hannah a sidelong glance, thinking that it wouldn’t be long before he’d have her in his bed. He’d fantasized about it for so long, he didn’t know how much longer he could control his desire. For propriety’s sake he’d not tried to bed her these past few nights on the trail. He intended to make her his wife and didn’t want the men gossiping about their intimacy before marriage. “We’ll stop overnight in Cheyenne,” he said to Hannah when they were within a few miles of the city. “I imagine a hot bath and a bed will be welcome after the discomfort of the trail.”

  Hannah barely heard him. Discomfort was hardly the word she’d use to describe the trip from Denver thus far; hell was more like it. Being pregnant didn’t help matters any. Or the stifling heat. At the end of the day she was so tired, she could barely eat her supper, and she was asleep minutes after crawling into her bedroll. The uneven motion of her horse kept her stomach in a constant state of turmoil.

  “Did you hear me, Hannah? Does a bed and bath tempt you at all?”

  This time Hannah concentrated on his words and answered accordingly. “It sounds wonderful, Trent. There’s nothing I’d like better.”

  Gilmore sidled his horse closer to Hannah’s mare. “Perhaps we’ll have the privacy in Cheyenne that we lack on the trail.” His voice was husky with desire as he placed a hand on her knee and smiled into her eyes. “The men will be billeted with the militia, but I can stay wherever I like. I’ll arrange a room for us at the best hotel in town.”

  Hannah stiffened. The thought of sleeping with Gilmore was abhorrent to her. Unfortunately, it was too soon to tell him that she didn’t intend to honor her promise. She had to make sure Ryder was safe before she did that, and she wasn’t certain Ryder had had enough time yet to reach safety. His injuries were severe enough to keep him in bed for at least a couple of weeks.

  ”I-I don’t think that’s wise, Trent. I’d prefer to wait until we’re married. It wouldn’t be right.”

  A flush of anger crept across Gilmore’s face. “Right? How can you question my right when you’ve slept with that white Indian? Was that right?”

  Hannah glared at him. “Ryder and I were married at Red Cloud’s camp.” When he opened his mouth to protest she added, “I know the marriage isn’t considered legal in white society, but while I was in the Indian camp I lived according to Indian law, and in Red Cloud’s camp I was Ryder’s wife.”

  Gilmore fought to control his temper. Just thinking about Hannah spread beneath the white savage, taking him into her body, made him burn with jealousy. He hated it that the white savage had been the first with her. Swallowing his anger, he tried to answer her reasonably, without earning her hostility. Giving offense at this point was definitely not in his best interest.

  “You can’t help what you were forced to do, Hannah, but I’d prefer that you didn’t act as if you were the man’s legal wife. I am trying to forget what happened to you and I want you to forget it too. You’re going to be my wife. You’re never to speak about or think of Wind Rider again.”

  Hannah bowed her head. She knew her face would reveal the rage she felt over Trent’s words. Forget Ryder? Never! How could she when his child rested beneath her heart? The moment they reached Fort Laramie, she fully intended to tell Trent that she could not marry him; then she’d find passage back to Denver. If she was fortunate, she’d be able to convince Ryder she had left with Gilmore for his sake. She prayed he would believe her.

  Hannah was dirty, tired, and hungry when they finally reached Cheyenne. The sun was just setting and the town was teeming with people. Some had come to work on the railroad, some were cowboys coming into town after a hard day’s work, and others were drifters. She and Gilmore parted company with the patrol at militia headquarters after Gilmore made arrangements to meet them the next morning to continue their journey. Then they continued on to the hotel, where Gilmore engaged rooms for them.

  “I paid for two rooms, Hannah, to save you embarrassment, but I intend for us to use only one,” he told her as he carried her bag up to her room. “I have to report to Major Delaney at headquarters, but I’ll not be late. I’ve ordered a bath for you.” His eyes glowed hotly. “Rest while you can and I’ll join you as soon as possible. We’ll have dinner together and then ...” His words fell off, leaving no doubt about how he intended to spend the night.

  Before Hannah could offer a word of protest, Gilmore kissed her hard and left.

  When her bath came she hurried through it, fearing Gilmore would return before she finished. Her mind worked feverishly, searching for a way to keep Trent from claiming her in the most basic way. She feared that when she told Trent she didn’t intend to marry him, he would wire Denver and have Ryder seized and confined. Then all that she had sacrificed for Ryder’s sake would have been for nothing.

  Hannah dressed hurriedly. She had just finished buttoning the front of her gown when Gilmore burst into the room, cursing loudly.

  “Trent, what is it?”

  “Damn army brass. Major Delaney invited me to spend the night in his home and there’s no polite way I could refuse. Believe me, I had other plans for tonight. He’s eager to discuss Indian activity in the area and what the army is doing to defuse the situation. Thank God for our escort. I wouldn’t relish traveling the country between Cheyenne and Fort Laramie without one.”

  Hannah nearly collapsed in relief.

  “We’ll still leave at dawn tomorrow. That hasn’t changed,” Gilmore continued. “I’m sorry, Hannah; you’ll have to eat alone. The major has invited me to share dinner with him and his wife.”

  It was all Hannah could do to keep from shouting. Once again God had heard her and given her the reprieve she’d so desperately prayed for. Afraid to trust her voice, she merely nodded.

  “I’ll return for you at dawn,” Gilmore informed her. “Get a good night’s rest. We’ve still got a long way to go to reach the fort.”

  The hours Hannah spent in the saddle those next days were among the most miserable she’d ever experienced. Not only was the traveling difficult, but Hannah sensed Trent’s unease. To Hannah’s relief, they hadn’t crossed Indian tracks, and she felt fortunate to be traveling with an armed patrol.

  As if reading her mind, Gilmore rode up beside her and said, “I know you’re worried about Indians, but since we are within a day or two of the fort I anticipate no trouble. If there were Indians in the area, they would have attacked by now/’

  “I’m sure we’ll be safe,” Hannah said, not at all as certain as she sounded.

  The afternoon sun blazed down on her with relentless fury, and Hannah swayed in the saddle. Her mouth was dry, her face and clothing coated with dust. Despite her wide-brimmed bonnet, she felt her fair skin reddening. She hated to think about making the return trip to Denver, but she’d brave anything to be reunited with Ryder. She fervently hoped she would be able to make the trip before her belly got in the way of her traveling. Taking off her bonnet and fanning her flushed face, she let her mind wander back to the last time she and Ryder had been together in the barn on the Mercer farm.

  Though inexperienced, she knew of no man who could make her tingle and burn in her most private places the way Ryder did. She recalled the w
ay he touched her, as if he knew just how much pressure to apply to certain areas to bring her the most pleasure. His hands were firm but gentle, his mouth hot and wet. When he thrust into her she had welcomed him eagerly, her receptive body taking all of him and demanding more. There was nothing in her vocabulary to describe the climax she attained in his arms.

  Immersed in her erotic daydreams, Hannah failed to notice the flurry of activity within the ranks of the patrol. It wasn’t until Gilmore rode up and grasped her reins that she finally realized something out of the ordinary was happening. Then she looked into Gilmore’s taut features and knew. Her gaze shifted upward, scanning the wooded ridges surrounding them.

  Then she saw them. A large war party of braves crested the hill in front of them. Even from a distance she could see the garish stripes slashing their bodies. In growing horror, Hannah watched as they spread out in attack formation, their feathered lances raised high in the air. Their ringing war cries echoed across the prairie, freezing the blood in her veins. Her hat fluttered to the ground, and Hannah clung to the pummel as Gilmore raced her horse to a sheltered place behind a rock.

  “Stay here!” he shouted as he wheeled his horse around to rejoin his men, “and pray they haven’t seen you.”

  Hannah knew better than to believe she hadn’t been seen; Indians had keen eyesight. Her one salvation lay in the possibility that Trent and his patrol would drive off the war party. But the way things were going, it didn’t look as if that was going to happen.

  The battle was fierce. Trent was in the midst of it, his skill doing him little good against the vast number of renegades. Before long Hannah knew it was a losing battle. One by one the soldiers fell beneath the fierce attack. The Indians were inspired by revenge. Their mistreatment by whites made them burn to avenge all the terrible wrongs done to them throughout the years. Hannah watched helplessly as the ranks of the patrol thinned drastically. She prayed she hadn’t been seen and squeezed her eyes shut to blot out the bloody slaughter. All of the fallen men were good men, even Trent, in his own way, and she couldn’t bear to see them cut down in the prime of life.

  Had Hannah kept her eyes open she would have realized that she had, indeed, been noticed. One of the painted braves scooped up her bonnet and rode into the hills, circling behind her. She didn’t know she was being stalked until she heard the horse crashing through the underbrush toward her. Just before she was snatched from the saddle, she opened her eyes and looked up into the grotesquely painted face and glittering black eyes of a fierce warrior. Suddenly it all became too much for her. The stress of the past few weeks, the hardships of traveling while pregnant, and now the Indian attack, all combined to force the breath from her lungs. With a gasping sigh, she fainted.

  She did not feel the warrior scoop her from the saddle and set her before him on his pony, or see him place a hand upon her bright head, or notice that he did not rejoin his party, but grasped the reins of her horse and rode east toward the Badlands.

  * * *

  Hannah came awake slowly, aware of the bouncing rhythm of the horse beneath her. She felt warm flesh at her back and saw brown arms surrounding her, holding her in place in the saddle. A small cry escaped her lips when she looked up into the Indian’s painted face. His body glistened with the sweat of battle, and she could feel his heart pounding against her back. The flesh on one of his arms had been mangled by a saber and his upper thigh had been pierced by a bullet and was bleeding.

  Sheer black fright swept over Hannah. What did the Indian intend to do with her? Without Ryder to speak in her defense, would they torture and kill her? Or would they use her vilely and then kill her? Her body began to shake uncontrollably and she shielded her stomach with her hands. She wanted to live. She wanted Ryder’s child to live.

  “Do not be frightened, Little Sparrow. I will not harm the woman of my brother.”

  Shock shuddered through Hannah as she swiveled her head to take another look at the fierce warrior. Beneath the paint, beneath the blood and grime, the bold face looked vaguely familiar. It wasn’t until the warrior smiled that she recognized him.

  “Coyote!” She nearly wept with relief. “Thank God.”

  “Where is Wind Rider?” Coyote asked curiously. “Where is your husband? Why are you not with him?”

  Hannah sighed hugely. “It’s a long story, Coyote, and I’m not sure you will understand.”

  “When we reach the camp of Red Cloud I will listen and judge for myself.”

  “You’re taking me to Red Cloud’s camp? What about the soldiers? Some of them may be wounded. I must help them.”

  Coyote gave her a startled glance. “No one can help them now.”

  Hannah stared at him. When she realized he meant that they were all dead she sucked in her breath sharply. “Oh, God. So many lives lost.” She began to weep softly, praying that her child would be spared these violent times.

  “Do not cry, Little Sparrow. What we did is right. The blue coats attacked a small Sioux camp consisting mainly of women and children. The white eyes must be taught that they cannot kill our people without reprisal.”

  No matter what Coyote said to justify the killing, Hannah could not help feeling pity for those poor soldiers who had just lost their lives in battle. She continued to sob softly.

  “You are weary, Little Sparrow. I will carry you upon my horse while you rest. Later, you can ride your own mount. It is a long way to the Badlands.”

  Ryder saw the vultures circling long before he came upon the battle scene. The bodies were several days old and the stench was overpowering. Dismounting, he studied the signs, examined the arrows protruding from the bodies, and determined that both Sioux and Cheyenne had participated in the attack. One by one, he turned the bodies over, recognizing no one until he stared down into the sightless eyes of Lieutenant Trent Gilmore. A cry of dismay escaped his lips; Hannah had been with Gilmore. Mindless with fear, he went from body to body, looking for a feminine form amid the sea of blue uniforms.

  Relief shuddered through him when he realized that Hannah wasn’t among the dead. His greatest fear now was that she had been taken captive by hostile Indians. He gazed toward the east, his face bleak. It was almost as if Heammawihio wished him to return to the People. Resolutely, Ryder turned his horse in an easterly direction and rode away. The Indians had taken the blue coats’ horses and all their gear. Without a shovel, he could not bury the dead. The best he could hope for was that another patrol would pass this way soon and find the bodies. When the patrol failed to arrive at Fort Laramie Ryder knew a search party would be sent out to find them.

  Hannah was pleased but embarrassed by the hearty welcome she received at Red Cloud’s camp. Woman-Who-Waddles was ecstatic to see Hannah again, and within a few hours all the Indian words she had learned previously came back to her. She hadn’t yet revealed to Coyote her reason for traveling without Ryder, for he had fallen ill with a fever due to his wounds. His wife, Summer Moon, was at his side constantly. Woman-Who-Waddles had explained that Summer Moon was the widow of White Feather, Wind Rider’s adoptive father, and that Coyote had joined with her after her period of mourning and was raising White Feather’s son.

  Hannah thought Summer Moon looked awfully young to have been married to Ryder’s father, but she said nothing; obviously, the young girl was now devoted to Coyote. Hannah was also surprised to learn that Spotted Doe had joined with Runs-Like-A-Deer and seemed quite content.

  When she’d arrived at Red Cloud’s camp Hannah had slept almost constantly for three days. Her total exhaustion did not escape Woman-Who-Waddles, who shrewdly guessed that Hannah was pregnant. When the old woman made mention of her condition Hannah could not deny that she carried Ryder’s child. When she asked for Woman-Who-Waddles’s confidence in the matter, the old woman agreed. Hannah also told Woman-Who-Waddles why she had been traveling with blue coats instead of with her husband.

  Woman-Who-Waddles clucked sympathetically over Hannah’s plight and assured her that Wind Rider
would understand when he learned the truth.

  “He cannot learn the truth if he cannot find me,” Hannah lamented sadly. “If he is not here, then he is still with Zach and Abby at the farm. I must go to him.”

  “It is not safe to travel,” Woman-Who-Waddles warned. “What if you had been captured by Crow warriors? Or someone who didn’t know you? You must remain with us until Wind Rider comes for you.”

  “He will not come.” Hannah’s voice carried the heavy weight of rejection.

  “He will come. You carry his child.”

  Hannah saw no reason to explain that Ryder didn’t know about their child.

  During the following days Hannah pitched in to help Woman-Who-Waddles with the mundane chores that were a part of every Indian woman’s life. Summer Moon told her that Coyote was recovering and would soon be well. When she was allowed to speak with him she hoped the Cheyenne warrior would be as sympathetic as Woman-Who-Waddles had been.

  Since her arrival at the Indian village Hannah had occupied the same tepee that she and Ryder had shared when they were together. She was grateful for the privacy and believed that as long as she and Ryder were considered husband and wife, no one would bother her.

  Hannah had been in Red Cloud’s camp nearly two weeks before she saw Cut Nose. He had been out raiding with a war party and had just returned, victorious and crowing about his brave feats. When he saw that Hannah was alone and learned of the circumstances under which she had returned to them he made sly plans to claim her for himself.

  Hannah was more exhausted than usual that night. She ate dinner with Woman-Who-Waddles and retired to her own tepee shortly afterward. Because of the heat, which had built up inside the tepee during the hot summer day, she left the flap open. Stripping to her chemise, she lay down on her pallet and fell asleep almost immediately. The camp had just settled down for the night when a lone figure slipped into her tepee and carefully closed the flap behind him.