“Don’t be afraid,” Two Arrows whispered, and pulled her even closer against him. Again her bound hands touched his manhood. Glory determined that she would not give him the satisfaction of recoiling in horror. She would act as if she didn’t know—or didn’t care what rested against her hands, but if she could ever reach that knife in his belt, blamed if she wouldn’t attempt to geld him with it. It might cost her her life, but it might damned well be worth it.
In the firelit circle, the people were ready now, moving out of the camp, leaving their tipis standing, their campfires burning brightly. Now Glory realized what they were doing; they were trying to fool the soldiers into believing the Cheyenne were still in camp. Why, it might be midday, noon, or even tomorrow evening before the soldiers finally noticed that there was no one walking around in that distant Indian camp.
Glory’s heart sank. By tomorrow afternoon, there was no telling where these Indians would be. If they got enough distance between themselves and the fort, they might not need a hostage anymore and would cut her throat if she caused them any trouble.
At that point, she resolved not to be any trouble and to plan her escape. As they rode out of the camp, another brave rode past, turned and looked at her with lust in his eyes, said something to Two Arrows, and laughed.
Two Arrows replied defiantly, and slipped his arm around her waist possessively. For once, Glory was glad to lean back against his big chest and let him hold on to her. Obviously the other had made some lewd suggestions or threats, and Two Arrows was making it clear he didn’t intend to share his prize.
Share her? How dare this arrogant savage put his hands on her, hold her so familiarly? Oh, yes, David would have him hanged or shot, all right, but before he did, she wanted the pleasure of taking a whip to this impudent brave!
She would focus on her anger and what she would do to this scout once they were recaptured—that would keep her mind off the danger and indignities of her ordeal until she could find her opportunity to act.
Somewhere on a distant hill in the dark September night, the wolf howled again, as if singing to these people. It was a sad, lonely sound that seemed to call to her very soul, which surprised her.
They rode out toward the north, with a handful of men, including Two Arrows, bringing up the rear. He seemed nervous and tense, looking about.
It was the scout in him, she thought, ever alert for trouble or danger. The Indians were moving north; even those who walked were moving fast. Glory saw the old woman who held little Grasshopper’s hand hesitate and look behind her toward the distant tipi once, then, with a sigh, she turned toward the north and began to walk with the others.
Oh, David, where are you? I’m being kidnapped within sight of the fort with a sentry asleep at his post and the whole encampment unaware of what’s happening. In her mind, she pictured David leading the troop to her rescue. Oh, if she managed to survive this, she would never behave rashly or headstrong again. Or maybe not. It wasn’t in her to be meek and mild, no matter what kind of scrapes she got herself into. That had cost her her marriage—and many a beating.
As they rode through the darkness, Two Arrows put his face so close to her ear, she could feel his warm breath along her neck and in her ear. “I know that gag bothers you. When we are far enough away, I’ll take it out of your mouth.”
She nodded, pretending to be pliant and agreeable. Maybe she could trick him into untying her hands, too. Glory was an excellent horsewoman. Given half a chance and a little surprise, she could gallop away, leaving the Indian shouting in protest behind her.
The moon had gone down, creating a night as black as the bottom of a well. A gradual chill descended on the landscape as they rode north at a quiet walk. In spite of herself, Glory shivered in her sheer dress.
Immediately, Two Arrows pulled her into the warmth of his arms and big body as they rode. “I’ll warm you,” he said, and then, almost with satisfaction, “I’ll wager you have never allowed the lieutenant to hold you this close.”
It was true, but the satisfaction in his tone annoyed her. Oh, the nerve of this savage! However, in spite of his mocking words, she found herself fitting her body against his hard-muscled frame, taking warmth from him. Even his rigid manhood against her hands seemed hot as coals. Just wait—she promised herself to control her fury—just wait until David strips you to the waist, ties you up, and hands me the whip; oh, I’ll make you rue the day you ever put your hands on my person!
It seemed to Glory they had ridden for hours, but it was not yet dawn, and sheer exhaustion caused her to doze off. She awoke with a start to find herself cuddled against Two Arrows as he rode.
“It’s all right,” he said softly. “I’ve still got you.”
Was that supposed to be a reassurance or a brag? It wasn’t very comforting. Her arms ached from having her hands tied behind her back and her mouth was so dry, she felt as if she might choke with the gag in her mouth. Somewhere off to the east, the first gray light of dawn kissed the rolling prairie. She just had to get this gag off. She twisted to look up at Two Arrows and made a pleading sound in her throat, hating herself for it.
He looked down at her, reined in. “You’re begging? I didn’t think you knew how, Proud One. Well, I don’t suppose anyone can hear you scream now.” He reached and untied the gag, pulled it away.
Glory sighed with relief. He stared at her mouth for a long moment in the dim light, slowly reached to run one finger across her lips. She saw the desire in his dark eyes and jerked her head away. “Do you—do you have any water?”
“How like an officer’s lady!” he sneered. “Not even a ‘please’?”
She snorted. “I should be grateful to you for kidnapping me?”
He laughed under his breath as he reached for a canteen hanging from his saddle. “I forget what it is about you that appeals to me, Proud One. No man rules you, does he?”
“And never will!” she shot back, glaring up at him, fury in her voice.
“Breaking a spirited, fine-blooded filly is a challenge for any horseman.”
“I wear no man’s bridle.”
He smiled ever so slightly. “We’ll see.” He took the cork from the canteen and put his arm around her shoulders, tipped it so she could drink. The water tasted so good and cold, she gulped and it dripped down both sides of her mouth.
“Easy,” he commanded, “you’ll choke.”
“You stuff a rag in my mouth, half smother me for hours, and now you worry about me choking?”
“You try my patience.” He held her a long moment, frowning, then, abruptly, he pulled his arm away and took a drink from the canteen himself.
She watched the way he swallowed, thinking he was like some big, lithe animal. She had better not push him too far; he might beat her as Howard had often done. If she made her captor angry, he’d never relax his guard so she could get away. She forced herself to say meekly, “Thank you.”
He blinked at her unexpected politeness, then nudged the horse into a lope again. “There’s a small spring up ahead,” he said. “The white men call it Turkey Springs. Everyone will be stopping just a moment to refill their canteens and water their animals.”
The spring might be her chance, Glory thought; besides, she needed to relieve herself. She looked around as they rode on. The Indians were strung out over a long trail, some riding, some walking. They passed the old woman she remembered from last night, the one with tears in her eyes. The woman now rode a bony old paint horse pulling a travois with little Grasshopper asleep in it. The woman’s face was stony, but tragic, and she stared straight ahead.
Somehow, her expression touched Glory’s heart even though she hated these people for kidnapping her. “Who is that and why does she cry?”
“Moccasin Woman?” Two Arrows sighed. “She had to leave her mother, Ancient One, behind.”
Glory was horrified. “She left her back there at camp?”
“There was no help for it,” Two Arrows said, and he stared straight ahe
ad as if to look in Glory’s eyes would bring some emotion from him. “She was dying, and we had to go. We must reach our country before the snows begin; to be caught on the trail in the cold would bring death to many.”
“ ‘Our country’?” Glory stared up at him. “You don’t mean these people intend to walk all the way up to the Dakotas?”
He nodded, his attention on the trail ahead of them.
“Why, that’s the craziest thing I ever heard,” Glory declared. “Do you know how far that is?”
“We know better than you.” He kept riding. “They mostly walked it when they were sent down here.”
“But then you had food and tents the army furnished,” Glory argued. “Now you’ve got almost no supplies. Soldiers will catch you before you get out of the Indian Territory.”
“Maybe not.” He looked down at her now and smiled without mirth. “You see, we have something Lieutenant Krueger wants very much. He won’t risk endangering my hostage.”
“He’ll kill you for this!” she snapped without thinking.
“He’ll have to catch me first.” The handsome savage grinned at her. “In the meantime, he’ll be torturing himself, wondering what might be happening between us.”
There was a long pause as they stared into each other’s eyes, and Glory had a sudden feeling that they both had the same image of the two of them meshed naked on a blanket, writhing in the mating ritual under the September moon.
Her chin went up proudly “I’m not a giddy girl; you can’t scare me with threats.”
He wasn’t smiling now. “I wasn’t threatening, Proud One, although, I’ll admit, mating with the lieutenant’s woman would be the ultimate revenge.”
“Only for revenge?” Somehow, she was annoyed.
“I didn’t say that. Now be still; I have more important things to think about.”
Oh, such arrogance! She should have let David whip him to death. No, she wanted to do it herself. She must not let her temper get the best of her brain, Glory thought, she must seem meek and agreeable while she figured out how to escape and find her way back to the soldiers, who were surely on her trail by now. “My arms are aching,” she complained, “and I can’t possibly get away. Can’t you untie me now?”
“When we get to the spring,” he said, “if you’ll promise not to try to escape.”
“You’d believe my promise?”
“I might.”
Anything to get her arms free. Of course a promise made under these conditions wasn’t binding. She wouldn’t have any qualms about breaking her word to a savage who was holding her captive.
Up ahead, in the dawn light, a warrior held up his hand and shouted.
“The spring,” Two Arrows said.
He nudged his horse, and they rode forward up under a small grove of scrub oak trees. He swung down, turned, and held his arms out for her.
Glory hesitated, then decided there was nothing to do but slide off into his arms. She certainly couldn’t dismount alone with her hands tied behind her back. As she came off the horse, she slid down the length of Two Arrows’s body, her skirt catching on the saddle and pulling up so that her long legs were bare.
He held her against him a long moment, looking down into her face, and she saw both uncertainty and desire there. His big hands seemed to burn into her back. She wasn’t sure whether it flattered her or scared her. David was too civilized to look at her that way, and certainly her husband had always taken her in a bored manner as if he were only interested in the end result the son which she never bore.
“My arms,” she said.
“Oh, yes.” He reached for the knife in his belt, blinking in confusion. She knew he had been envisioning throwing her down right there in the prairie grass and taking her. He reached around her with both muscular arms and cut the strip of cloth.
For an electrifying instant, she was keenly aware of his hard chest brushing against her nipples, then her arms came free and she brought them to the front, rubbing her wrists and sighing with relief. “You tore a perfectly good dress.”
“How like a woman,” he snorted. “With everything else that’s happened, you’re worried about a torn dress.”
She stepped away from him. “Remember, the lieutenant may not want me back if I’ve been ...” She couldn’t bear to say the word.
“He doesn’t love you then”—Two Arrows shrugged—“or nothing would matter to him but your return.”
“He does love me!” She almost shouted it at him, and those over near the spring turned to stare. “He loves me more than any man possibly could; he’s told me so.”
His face was like stone. “Maybe he loves you as much as a white man is capable of loving.”
The way he sneered when he mentioned David made her grit her teeth. David did love her. It wouldn’t matter to him if she was raped—would it? “If—if you don’t mind,” she said, “I need to go over to those bushes and ...”
He nodded as he tied his horse to a fallen log. “All right, I’ll fill the canteens at the spring.”
Glory watched his broad back as he gathered up the canteens and started toward the spring. He was all muscle but as lithe as a mountain lion, she thought. She stared at the faint red welts on his back and felt a moment of guilt. Mercy, Glory, are you losing your mind? This savage has kidnapped you; if David gets his hands on him, he’ll hang him—but not before she got the pleasure of whipping the insolent savage herself.
Cautiously, Glory looked around. It was still such faint light with a bit of early-morning haze that people moved like ghosts toward the spring or checked their horses’ gear. She looked toward the stolid Moccasin Woman, now filling her canteen along with the others, and felt a twinge of pity for her. What nerve it had taken to leave a dying mother behind for the good of the people. If she weren’t careful, she would soon be admiring them and empathizing with them. However, if the army had let them go back to their own land, Glory wouldn’t be in this spot.
She went off into the bushes and relieved herself. Then she looked around, trying to decide her next move. Two Arrows had the best of the horses and that big paint grazed where he’d been tied, some distance from the others. All the people were scattered about in the early dawn, women nursing babies, old people resting, their lined faces already weary. Many of these would never survive this long walk, but they were going anyway. These were either the craziest or the bravest people she’d ever met, but she didn’t intend to make that fifteen-hundred-mile trip as their hostage. The way that warrior called Broken Blade had leered at her and the way Two Arrows kept looking at her gave her grave doubts that she’d survive the trip without getting raped.
Quietly, Glory tiptoed through the grass to the grazing paint. She patted its neck, trying to appear casual while looking around. Two Arrows was kneeling by the spring, filling his canteens.. No other man was close enough to grab her. It was now or never!
Glory jerked the reins loose and swung up on the paint, her skirts hiking high as she forked the horse. “Hah!” She lashed the startled horse with the reins and dug her riding boots into its sides. She saw Two Arrows turn, startled, even as the paint took off at a gallop.
“Woman, come back here!” She heard his furious cry of protest, but she lashed the horse and kept riding.
Mercy! Suppose they shot her out of the saddle? She must not think about that; she must concentrate on getting away. Behind her, she heard another horse and glanced back over her shoulder. Two Arrows was coming after her on a big bay at a gallop, and the anger on his handsome face was terrible to see. It scared her even more than being shot.
Glory lashed the horse and kept riding. Behind her, she heard the other horse closing the distance. Then Two Arrows whistled long and loud and her horse slammed to a stop and she went over its head in a tumble. Oh damn! Why hadn’t she realized that his own personal horse might be trained? She hit the ground, momentarily stunned, rolled over to see his horse coming hard, Two Arrows’s face a cold mask.
She scramble
d to her feet and began to run, her long black hair blowing wildly about her face. He was gaining on her. She couldn’t outrun a horse, she knew that, but she was too stubborn and proud to give up. Besides, the fury on his features terrified her. Now he was alongside her, reaching to scoop her up with one strong arm, lifting her to his horse while she fought and bit. She sank her teeth into his arm and he swore and let go of her. She landed in a heap, momentarily knocked breathless, then stumbled to her feet as he dismounted, with the horse still running.
She had never seen such anger in a man’s face. Patient David would never be capable of such passionate fury. “Lying white woman!”
Glory took one look at his expression and turned to run. When Howard had gotten even slightly annoyed, he would beat her, and Two Arrows looked furious. What would such a man do to a woman who had made a fool of him?
She hiked her skirts and ran hard, gasping for air, but he was running easily behind her. He caught up to her, grabbed her shoulder, and her dress tore as they fell.
“Your tongue is as forked as the soldiers’,” he snarled, and flipped her onto her back, pinning her there.
She lay there, gasping for breath, afraid of the anger in his dark eyes.
“Are you hurt?”
“Why do you care?” She spit it at him and tried to get out from under him.
“You lying white—!” He pinned her down as she struggled and she winced, and closed her eyes, waiting for him to strike her.
“What is the matter with you?”
She opened her eyes and glared up at him. “Go ahead; I refuse to beg! I’m used to it; I can take it.”
He seemed to read her expression. “You think I’m going to beat you?”
“Are-aren’t you?”
For a split second, his hard eyes softened. “What kind of man was your husband?”
For a moment, she felt tears cloud her eyes, but she blinked them away. She had never cried when Howard beat her; she would not cry now. “That hardly concerns you.”
Cheyenne Song Page 6