When Passion Calls

by Cassie Edwards

  But as she searched through the darkness, a hand suddenly gripped her wrist painfully, then jerked her hard onto the bed.

  "Shane?" Melanie asked, her voice quavering.

  She peered upward through the darkness and made out a man's shadow. The man's hand tightened around her wrist. His body pinioned her against the bed.

  "Shane, you're hurting me!" she cried. "You've never been rough before. Why are you now?"

  "Bee-sahn-ee-I-yah-mah-gud! Silence!" a voice said threateningly in Chippewa.

  Melanie gasped. This was not Shane! It was an Indian! He had obviously waited for her to be alone.

  But why? Did he plan to rape, kill, or abduct her?

  Could it possibly be Shane's enemy, Chief Gray Falcon?

  Scarcely breathing, Melanie awaited her fate, for she could not move with the Indian pressing so hard down upon her.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  It pained her where the Indian held Melanie's wrist clamped to the bed. His body, stretched atop hers, was beginning to feel like lead. His breath was hot on her face, as though tongues of flames darted out at her from a fireplace. His hand, now held tightly against her mouth, kept her from crying out. Why was he keeping her immobile for so long? The passing moments felt like hours!

  She wanted to cry out, to alert the servants!

  Her eyes widened. The servants! That's why the Indian was not taking her away just yet. He was waiting for the house to become quiet, for all of the servants to go to bed, so that he could steal her away without anyone's seeing or hearing him. No one had heard the earlier struggle, for the Indian had been swift and silent.

  Breathing hard, Melanie's gaze went to the window. If the Indian waited long enough, Terrance would arrive back home!

  But her hopes quickly waned, for she could be almost sure of Terrance's condition when he did return. He would be stinking drunk and would not notice anything awrynot until morning, and that would be too late!

  Suddenly the Indian was all movement. He had acquired a buckskin gag from somewhere and secured it around Melanie's mouth. Then he was grabbing her up into his arms!

  Melanie fought the Indian as he held her tightly within his steel grip. She pummeled her fists against his bare chest. She kicked. She tried to cry out through the foul-tasting fabric tied around her mouth. When she tried to reach for it, he knocked her hand away.

  Then, just as the Indian began walking hastily toward the door, Melanie made a lunge and grabbed at a bead necklace that hung around his neck and tore it away from his body. Beads sprayed in all directionstoo many to stop and try to gather them up!

  Melanie smiled smugly up at the Indian as he uttered several Chippewa phrases barely beneath his breath. When Terrance discovered her gone, he would at least know an Indian had done the ghastly deed. And when Terrance went to Shane and told him of the abduction, Shane would guess which Indian was responsible. Shane would rescue her! She knew that he would!

  She winced with pain as the Indian's lean,

  strong fingers dug into her body and carried her from her room. The light from the wall sconces in the corridor was dim, but the candles reflected enough golden light to enable Melanie to finally get a look at her captor as he stole quietly toward the staircase.

  She looked first at his face.

  Painted with frightening black zigzag lines across his nose and cheeks, the face beneath the paint was of a dark copper tone. His cheekbones were high and sculpted, his eyes were midnight black. His black, coarse hair was drawn back from his brow with a beaded headband.

  Pressed hard against his bare chest, Melanie could manage only a slight movement to her head downward to see what he wore. Her eyes widened over her gag. He wore only a scant loincloth! Beneath the soft fabric she could see the identifiable outline of his manhood.

  Knowing now how quickly he could rape her once he had her out in the wilderness, Melanie again began desperately fighting him. But it was all in vain. He did not seem even aware of her fists pounding against his bare flesh, or of her wildly kicking legs. He had come to abduct her, and it seemed that nothing was going to stop him!

  The house was left behind and Melanie watched with wild eyes as the Indian ran with her through the dark until just ahead, a pearl-white horse shone in the darkness like a great white ghost. Melanie groaned as the Indian sat her roughly onto a saddle of blankets, then mounted behind

  her and held onto her as he rode away, toward the butte in the distance.

  Melanie cast a pleading stare over her shoulder at Shane's house that sat dark in the distance. Was he home yet? Was he sleeping soundly on his pallet of furs in his bedroom? Oh, if only he were! If only she were there with him! If what was happening to her were only a nightmare and she would awaken soon in her lover's arms!

  The campfire was burning low. Cards lay upturned on the ground beside the empty silver flask. Shane was snuggled between blankets, sleep having finally claimed him. Suddenly his body twitched and he moaned aloud. In a dream, he was hearing Melanie crying out to him. He could see her outstretched arms, beckoning to him. She wore a sheer, white garment that billowed around her as she moved farther away from Shane, looking as though she were being carried by the wind.

  Shane broke out in a cold sweat as, in his dream, he tried to run after Melanie to save her, but found it impossible to run. His legs seemed frozen to the ground. He screamed her name. Over and over again he screamed her name.

  ''Melanie!" Shane cried, this time out loud, awakening himself from the fretful nightmare. His heart was thundering inside him. He jerked himself up into a sitting position, his eyes wild as he looked frantically around him. The dream had seemed so real! It was as though Melanie had been there, crying out for him!

  Shane inhaled a nervous breath, then sighed. He raked his fingers through his golden hair, straightening it back from his eyes. He looked up into the heavens that were just lightening with the promise of a new day.

  "I must return home," he said, rising quickly to his feet. "But I must go to Melanie first. Perhaps my dream was an omen! What if something has happened to her?"

  He grabbed his cards and silver flask up from the ground and thrust them inside his saddle bag along with his blankets. As he secured these to his horse, his thoughts went to Trapper Dan. In time, he would finally avenge his mother's and Cedar Maid's deaths.

  But for now, Melanie was his main concern.

  Mounting his horse, Shane bent low over its mane and rode away at a brisk gallop.

  Terrance awakened with a throbbing headache. Groaning, he lifted one leg from his bed, and then the other. He hadn't thought to close his drapes after arriving home after midnight, and the sun now poured in through the windows, making Terrance teeter with the shock of the brightness entering his bloodshot eyes.

  Cursing beneath his breath, he struggled into his clothes, then his boots, almost toppling over when he found it hard to balance himself.

  Fully clothed, he lumbered to a peg on the wall and yanked his gunbelt down and fastened it around his waist, the pistols heavy at each hip. Last night, when he had arrived home, he had

  Sauntering from his bedroom, he saw that Melanie's door was ajar. An eyebrow raised inquisitively when he saw something on the floor just inside the door. Going into her room, he bent to one knee and started picking up colored beads. Then he looked toward her bed and saw the distinct signs of a struggle in the rumpled sheets.

  His heart grew cold, again studying the beads. Then he found a piece of thin leather, the sort that Indians used in stringing their necklaces.

  Growing ashen, Terrance thrust the beads and thin leather into his pocket. He ran from Melanie's room and went through the house questioning the servants. None had seen Melanie since the last evening. Her personal maid had wondered why she hadn't slept in her bed, or why it was so unkept. She even commented on having seen Indian beads scattered across the floor.

  The sound of a horse approaching drew

  Terrance's attention. He rushed to a w
indow and looked out and saw that it was Shane. Anger flared in his eyes. Cold hate caused the features of his face to become distorted. If anything happened to Melanie, it was all Shane's fault. The presence of Indian beads in Melanie's bedroom pointed to only one thingthat Chief Gray Falcon had decided to take out his hatred for Shane on Melanie!

  Blinded with rage, Terrance broke into a run and jerked the front door open. Grabbing a pistol from his holster, he ran down the steps and fired it wildly at Shane as he was dismounting close to the porch.

  "It's your fault!" Terrance screamed, tears streaming down his face. Out of bullets, he threw the pistol at Shane, who dodged it easily. Terrance fell to his knees on the ground, sobbing and hitting his doubled fists into the earth. "Damn you, Shane. Damn you all to hell."

  Stunned by this strange sort of greeting, Shane looked down at Terrance for a moment, then saw more in Terrance's attitude than mere hate for himself. A coldness soared through him. Melanie. The dream. Something had surely happened to her!

  Shane went to Terrance and drew him roughly to his feet. "What has happened?" he asked, his pulse racing.

  Terrance struggled to get free. He raised a fist and attempted to hit Shane, but Shane was too fast and grabbed the fist in mid-air.

  "Where's Melanie?" Shane growled, looking toward the house, then back at Terrance.

  "She's gone," Terrance sobbed, wiping his nose with the back of a hand. He jerked away from Shane and slipped his hand inside his pocket and withdrew a handful of Indian beads. "I found these in her room. There must have been a struggle. It was surely Chief Gray Falcon."

  Shane turned quickly and mounted his horse in one leap and began to ride away.

  "I want to go with you!" Terrance shouted, running after Shane.

  Shane looked over his shoulder at Terrance. "You are not capable of watching over your sister when she is in your house!" he shouted. "You are surely not capable of fighting for her in an Indian village! Worthless man, drown your worries in whiskey again! That's all you're good for!"

  Terrance teetered to a stop and wiped his mouth with the back of a hand, Shane's words stabbing him like a knife into his gut. Downhearted, he turned and walked slowly back to the house and up to his room. He threw himself across his bed and cried until he fell into a fitful sleep.

  Melanie blinked her eyes nervously. She had not allowed herself to go to sleep while traveling on the horse with the Indian, and now she was limp with exhaustion. Every bone in her body ached from being held so tightly against the Indian for so many hours.

  Dawn's glow was seeping through the night fog. If Chief Gray Falcon was her abductor, his village should be reached soon. Shane had said that the Chippewa village was not even a sleep away from

  their farms, which in the white man's terms meant that traveling by horseback it would not be a full day and night away. Her abductor had traveled without stoppingnot for a drink, not to stretch, not for anything.

  She looked over her shoulder and gave the Indian an angry scowl. The only decent thing he had done for her was to remove the damnable gag after they had traveled far into the forest. The buckskin cloth had tasted so vile that even now she could taste it on her lips!

  "O-nee-shee-shin gee-gee-shayb," Gray Falcon said, looking down at Melanie as he caught her glaring at him. "Soon we reach my village. You will be fed and then you can rest." He smiled. "You are stubborn, woman. You should have slept instead of forcing yourself to stay awake."

  Melanie's eyes widened in disbelief. This was the first time the Indian had spoken to her since the one brief moment when she had discovered him in her bedroom. To her amazement, he spoke English. And he did not seem at all threatening. His tone was gentle.

  "Who are you and why did you do this to me?" she asked in a rush of words.

  Gray Falcon ignored her, not liking any woman making demands on him. Especially not Shane's woman. After watching Shane's house for many days and nights and seeing Shane with this woman so often, he felt no doubt that she was his woman!

  To satisfy his lust to avenge Shane's having stolen from him, Gray Falcon had stolen some-

  thing of more value to Shane than horses and pelts!

  When Shane discovered Melanie missing, he would see that Gray Falcon was the more clever of the two. He would come for his woman and this did not matter to Gray Falcon. The pleasure would be in watching Shane humbling himself to come and speak for her! He would not enter the village with fighting on his mind. Shane loved the Chippewa people too much.

  No. When Shane came, it would be in peace. It would be in full humility. Gray Falcon would be the victor!

  Melanie sighed. "I see that you are not going to answer me," she said sullenly. "So I will let you know that I have already come to my own conclusions. You're Chief Gray Falcon, aren't you? You've done this because Shane stole horses and pelts from you. But I can't fathom what your plans are for me. Shane would surely kill you should you harm me."

  When Gray Falcon's eyes narrowed and grew dark with some hidden, secret emotion, Melanie winced. Chills coursed through her. His gaze was so cutting! "That's why you abducted me, isn't it?" she gasped. "To draw Shane to your village so that you can kill him?"

  Again Melanie tried to escape his iron grip. She squirmed and wrestled, but lack of sleep, made her too weak to continue the struggle. She breathed hard and slumped over the arm that held onto her around her waist.

  "I'm too tired," she moaned. "I'm so . . . sleepy. . . ."

  The struggling had drained the last bit of strength from her. No matter how hard she tried, she could not keep her eyes open any longer. The drone of the horse's hooves making a steady sound on the ground lulled her to escape her discomfort and fears by finally drifting into the welcoming black void of sleep. . . .

  Chapter Twenty-four

  A great clap of thunder awakened Melanie with a start. She jerked her head up and recoiled when she was abruptly reminded of her circumstances. Her heart pounding, she looked around her. She was in an Indian wigwam, and she was alone.

  Her gaze lowered as she reached her hands out before her. She was not bound or gagged. Could she possibly escape? The dwelling in which she was imprisoned was dark except for the soft, dancing glow of a fire in a firespace.

  "It must be night," she murmured. "I slept all day!"

  Her knees weak with fear, Melanie rose to her feet and moved quietly to the closed entrance flap. She reached her trembling fingers to the flap and slowly lifted it, then froze with fear when she

  discovered a hefty brave standing with his back to the wigwam, guarding it.

  She looked past the brave. Tiny fires were scattered everywhere in the Indian village, throwing weird shadows among the domed bark houses. The odor of meat cooking from somewhere close by came to Melanie with a change in the wind, causing her stomach to growl painfully.

  She looked around, assessing her chances of eventual escape. Men and women milled about outside their houses, dogs barked, and children played. A pang of loneliness for Shane stung Melanie's heart. He probably knew all of these people. He had once been a child who played among them. He had grown up knowing them all and sharing their customs.

  Knowing these things, Melanie could not find it in her heart to hate these people in whose village she was being held captive. There was only one Indian to blameChief Gray Falcon!

  "But where is he?" she whispered. "Why has he left me alone?"

  Drunken laughter drew Melanie's attention to a group of men sitting around a larger outdoor fire. She peered intensely at them, stiffening when she recognized that a white man sat among them. It was surely a trapper. Great piles of furs were spread out on the ground, being admired by several Indians.

  A bitter hate grabbed at her insides as she sorted out Chief Gray Falcon from among the men. Then she was again seized with fear, for the chief was

  tipping a large jug to his lips. He was drinking whiskey!

  ''Oh, Lord, what if he gets drunk?" Melanie whispered, placing a hand to he
r throat. "What will he do with me then?"

  She looked up. The sky was pitch black, brightening erratically with great bursts of lightning. Another vicious streak of lightning in the heavens and an ensuing burst of thunder, shaking the matted floor beneath Melanie's feet, made her drop the entrance flap as though she had been shot.

  Dispirited, she went to the fire and settled down on a bear pelt before it, her gaze moved slowly around the wigwam. The roof was sloped both ways from the peak where a smoke hole gaped open, and there were posts set into the ground to hold the roof solid. Cords of skins were strung between these posts and were weighed down by all manner of skins and weapons and baskets of woven grass. Along the walls were piles of skins.

  An empty kettle was suspended over the fire from a tripod; a high rack stood near the door with uncooked meat draped over it.

  Cedar boughs were spread on the ground and covered with rush mats, and great bear pelts hung on a far wall, under which lay more pelts rolled up, perhaps used as bedding. Many highly-colored parfleche bags, in which she thought the chief's personal possessions must be stored, lay about the outer walls of the dwelling, and impressive bows and pouches of arrows lay close to the fire, not far from where Melanie sat.

  Her gaze stopped at the weapons.

  Should she . . . ?

  But that thought was quickly cast aside, for suddenly she was no longer alone. She turned her head with a jerk and watched Chief Gray Falcon enter the dwelling, teetering. Melanie's jaws tightened, recognizing the signs of drunkenness. She had witnessed it often enough in her brother!

  Afraid, she began scooting backward as Gray Falcon went and stood over the fire. His dark eyes branded Melanie as he stared down at her, then his gaze was drawn elsewhere when a beautiful young squaw came into the wigwam, carrying water in a wooden basin.

  Melanie surmised that this was Blue Blossom, of whom Shane had made mention while relaying his story to her about stealing the pelts from Gray Falcon's wigwam.