Kidnapped (Winds of Paradise - alternate tale)

by Vivi Holt

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter One

  September 1869

  Paradise Ranch

  The brave hid in the darkened shadows of a towering Ponderosa Pine. His buckskin shirt, and long black hair served him well, making him invisible should enquiring eyes care to look. Which none did.

  Not a soul saw him or heard his approach, while his soft-soled moccasins treaded carefully over the thin layer of pine straw scattered about the base of the tree’s enormous trunk.

  His dark eyes shone in the sliver of moonlit that illuminated the clearing before him. A long, low ranch house stood sturdy in the grayish light, a meandering spiral of smoke curling skyward from a thin chimney at one end of the house. From that same room, came the glow of a lantern.

  Nearby, squatted another sprawling building, of simpler construction, and with a similar spire of smoke that escaped its thatched roof. The warrior knew it was the place where the cowboys who worked the ranch spent their nights.

  The sound of a door latch caught his attention, and he crouched low as though waiting to spring. The hum of a happy voice interrupted the night’s silence, cutting through the still air and warming it.

  A woman appeared at the end of the cowboys’ dwelling. She carried a bowl between her hands, and her swollen belly protruded in a gentle slope beneath her skirt.

  The warrior drew a deep breath, pulled a knife from the scabbard that hung over his thigh, then leapt forward at a run toward the woman. He reached her within moments, and clapped one hand over her mouth, and with the other he lifted the knife to press against her throat.

  She gasped into his hand, and the bowl fell with a thud on the grass as she screamed. But the muffled sound of it was lost on the breeze, and mingled with the hoot of an owl that passed overhead. He pressed the sharp edge of the blade into the soft, porcelain skin of her neck, and she gave up her cry for help.

  “Silence!” whispered the brave, in his native Apasaalooke tongue.

  She nodded, allowing only an unbidden sob to escape from her open mouth. His hand fell away, and she spun to face her assailant. Her eyes flew wide in astonishment, and she made as if to speak. He shook his head, and raised the knife blade again.

  “Quiet, woman!” he commanded in a fierce whisper. “Come with me.”

  Again she nodded, and this time complied. He took her by the hand, and pulled her stumbling after him. Down the long sloping hill toward the black, smooth surface of the Yellowstone River that silently glided by under the glimmering moonlight.

  Two painted ponies waited on the river bank, camouflaged within the scrub that grew there. The brave helped the woman impatiently onto one. She grasped her abdomen and grimaced as she climbed onto the pony’s bare back. Then he mounted with a leap, and taking the reins of both horses into his brown hands, he spurred his own mount forward and the two of them took off together at a gallop, south, along the bank of the majestic river.

  The woman glanced back to where her home lay, a look of sorrow on her pretty face. Her dark hair whipped about her head, the pins that had previously fastened it into a fashionable chignon fell loose as she rode. The moon emerged from behind a skidding cloud, and lit up the landscape. The warrior glanced back at his captive, eerily framed by that celestial radiance, and saw cheeks streaked with tears.

  He hardened his heart and frowned, then turned to watch their way ahead. They had a long journey to travel that night, and though he didn’t expect they’d be pursued soon, he knew he must move quickly and carefully if they were to make their escape — for the chase would come and he wanted to be ready for it.

  It was a foolish thing he’d done — taking a woman from a white settlement. But he had his reasons, and anyway she belonged with the Apasaalooke. With him.

  If the white men came after her, which they were sure to, he’d show them what it meant to be a warrior. Because no one could take from him, not anymore. Not after he’d lost so much already. It was time he stood up for himself. Time to take back what was his.

  Chapter Two

  One month earlier…

  Sarah Songan-Hanover could no longer see her own feet. Her belly protruded so far out, she wondered if perhaps she was having twins. Wondered it in a tired, sort of unconcerned way, since she wasn’t getting much sleep what with the toddler at the end of the bed in his small cot, and her enormous stomach making her nights uncomfortable.

  She lifted her arms to pin an item of wet laundry to the clothes line, and wiped a stray strand of hair from her eyes with the back of her wrist. Thank Heavens for nap time. William Jnr. was asleep in his cot, giving her a few moments to herself. She knew she should really lay down a while since she needed the rest, and as soon as she got this laundry hung she planned on doing just that.

  She caught a flash of color out of the corner of her eye, and her eyes narrowed, attempting to focus on the place where she’d seen the brief movement. There was nothing there. With a shake of her head, she finished pinning the clothes to the line, and lifted the empty basket to her hip to return to the cottage that Bill and the other men had built for them on the rise behind the ranch house.

  A sound behind her, made her gasp and drop the basket. She spun about. Perhaps it was a wolf, or some other such predator. She’d have to get inside quickly, and find her rifle. She always left it hanging over the front door. When Bill was out working, it made sense to have easy access to a weapon, and since she’d learned to shoot when she was still a girl, she felt comfortable with it in her hands or slung over her shoulder.

  A man emerged from some shrubbery at the edge of the clearing. He was dressed in traditional Crow garb of breechcloths, leather leggings and a buckskin shirt. He walked toward her slowly, purposefully. His eyes narrowed as he watched her closely, no doubt for any indication she might try to flee, or sound an alarm that would bring the menfolk running. But Sarah knew better than that. She stood her ground, and sucked in a long breath summoning as much courage as she could.

  “Bow Bearer,” she said in her native tongue.

  “Sarah, it’s good to see you again.” His eyes traveled down the length of her body, and she saw him flinch as anger flitted across his chiseled features. “I see you’re with child — his child.”

  He stood in front of her, his strong hands clenched by his sides.

  “Yes, I am.” She smiled, but her body shook with fear.

  He nodded. “And your hair is long.”

  “Yes, I let it grow, in the fashion of the white woman.” She tipped her head to one side, trying to understand what he was doing here, so far from the Apasaalooke camp.

  He’d obviously waited until Bill was out working on the ranch before making his appearance, and yet he was making polite chit-chat, in the Crow manner, which seemed to indicate his visit was a friendly one.

  A silence descended between them, and Sarah shifted the basket on her hip. Her feet ached, along with her back, and she longed to lay down. Longed for Bill.

  “You like it here, on this land? Staying in one place, hidden behind these heavy walls?” he asked, pointing to the house and then folding his arms over his thick chest.

  “I do. Of course I miss home, but my place is here now, with my family,” she said.

  She could see he was thinking, processing her words as she spoke. But she couldn’t tell what was going through his head. She waited, quietly — he would say wh
at he’d come to say when he was ready to.

  “It is time for you to come home now,” he simply said.

  “Home? I can’t, you know that. I can’t leave my family.”

  “Your family? You left your family many moons ago, and haven’t yet returned to us. We are your family. I want you to be my wife!” He took hold of her arms with both his hands, holding her firmly in his grasp.

  “Yes, you’re right, Bow Bearer, my brother. You are my family, and I left you behind. I’m sorry for that, and as I said before, I miss you all. But I’m married already, and am with child. I can’t just leave,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion.

  Sarah was scared. She wasn’t sure what he planned to do. His eyes were fierce and full of passion, and his hands still held her tightly. She tried to squirm free of his grasp, but he pulled her closer still until she could smell his aroma — a pleasant scent of leather and sun-browned grasses. She closed her eyes, and stifled a sob. His grip on her arms hurt, and she worried about her son sleeping peacefully inside the house. What would Bow Bearer do with him, if he found him?

  “You can leave,” he said, in a fierce whisper. She opened her eyes to find his trained on hers.

  “Now is the time. And I’m not your brother — very soon I will be your husband. I’m not concerned about the white man’s laws — to me you are unmarried still. You can choose your own way, you don’t have to follow these foreign traditions and ways of life. You belong with me, you know that. Come with me. Please Sarah,” he pleaded, his gaze full of longing.

  “And what of Ky? You’re engaged to her, are you not?” questioned Sarah, as a lonely tear found its way down her cheek.

  “She will find her own way. There is no need for you to concern yourself about her.” His brow furrowed, and he lifted a hand to cup her cheek. “Come home, Sarah Songan.”

  Her heart thudded loudly, and her head swam. She couldn’t think straight with him standing so close to her, reminding her of everything she could no longer have. She closed her eyes, and images of wikiups, and welcoming campfires surrounded by laughing children flashed through her mind. The sounds of a creek bubbling over smooth rocks, and the scent of bison meat being prepared and roasted by groups of women — her friends and relatives — flooded her mind with bittersweet memories.

  She shook her head, and pulled free of his grasp, opening her eyes wide. “No,” she whispered, backing away from him. “I can’t.”

  “Have it your own way, then,” he snarled, and spun on his heel to run softly over the crest of the hill and down toward the river.

  Sarah let out a cry of relief, and slumped to the ground with one hand over her mouth. Tears fell, slowly at first, then gained momentum as sobs pushed their way free.

  Home.

  Oh how she longed to see it again. How much she wished she could lounge by the fire, and show Will Jnr. how to make his own hoop, and watch him roll it along with the other children, laughing and playing with his own kind. If only she could visit the camp sometime. But Bill would never allow it. He’d spoken to her many times about how unsafe it would be for her to return. He didn’t trust Chief Mutagaweer, or Bow Bearer, with her safety. And he certainly wouldn’t let her take Will or the baby with her.

  It was for the best, anyway. Seeing all those things would just make her more home sick than ever. And who knew what Bow Bearer might do, given the chance. She would be better served to focus on her new life — on what she had. And she had so very much, that sometimes just thinking about it made her heart almost burst with joy. No, it would do her no good to keep turning her head to look back wistfully. She should keep her eyes focused straight ahead.

  And what should she tell Bill about Bow Bearer’s visit? Whatever she said, he’d be incensed. Always protective of her, after what had happened in Cutter’s Creek, he wouldn’t be content to let things lie.

  No, it would definitely not do to tell Bill about Bow Bearer’s visit. He’d be furious with the Crow warrior. He’d insist she stay at the ranch house where she could be better protected. But she was sure she didn’t have anything to fear from Bow Bearer — if he’d wanted to harm her, he would have done it. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to spend a little more time with Genevieve. The bunk house would be close by, and there was usually at least one cowboy within spitting distance.

  There was really no need to tell Bill about Bow Bearer’s visit — it would just worry him, and anyway, she knew how to take care of herself. But if he found out some other way, he’d be displeased she’d kept it from him. She groaned, and pushed herself back up to her feet, puffing with the effort. It wasn’t something she liked to do, keeping things from her husband, even if it meant he’d be angry. She’d have to tell him, she knew that now. The only question was — how?

  Chapter Three

  Sarah finished frying the fish she’d caught earlier that morning, and laid it out on the table on a long plate. She added to it a mixture of fried potatoes and green beans with Johnny Cakes and stood back to admire her handiwork. She was really getting better at making the kind of food Bill liked, and she knew that he’d be pleased when he came in for supper.

  Little Will shouted, “Hurrah! Hey ya!”, as he drove the cart Bill had whittled for him from a leftover piece of pine wood all over the chairs in the living room. Their cozy little cabin smelled delicious and her stomach growled with hunger. She hurried to warm the coffee on the stove top.

  She wanted everything to be perfect for when Bill walked in the door, since she had something to tell him and he wouldn’t be pleased about it. She was going to talk to him about Bow Bearer’s visit, and what the brave had said to her.

  Finally, the table was set, supper was ready, and there was nothing for her to do but wait. She sat at the dining table and breathed out a deep sigh. She’d heard Purdy’s hooves on the ground outside their cabin a few minutes earlier, and she knew that once Bill had settled the horse in their small barn and done his outdoor chores, he’d walk through the front door with a tired but happy grin on his bearded face.

  The front door opened, and Bill strode in. He hung his hat and coat on pegs by the front door, then smiled, and whistled in appreciation.

  “Wow, what smells so great?” he asked, hurrying to kiss her on the tip of the nose, then on the lips.

  “I caught some fish this morning,” said Sarah, pushing herself up and out of the chair with a grunt. The last stage of a pregnancy was always so tiring, she felt enormous and her feet had swollen to twice their usual size.

  She waddled over to serve Bill, and get Will seated. The little boy bounced about in place until Bill shushed him, and asked him firmly to mind. Then he sat quietly with his hands in his lap.

  Bill said the blessing, and they began to eat. He exclaimed over how delicious the meal was, and his eyes shone with love as he looked at her. The three of them chatted about their day, and Will shared in a big, excited voice that he saw a hawk, and almost hit it with his sling shot.

  “I do have something to tell you, actually,” began Sarah, feeling her heart flutter with nerves.

  “Oh?” asked Bill, taking a big bite of potatoes and chewing them happily.

  “A few days ago, Bow Bearer came to see me.”

  Bill dropped his fork to the plate with a clatter. “What?”

  “Yes, I know — I should have told you at the time. I’m sorry. It’s just that I knew you’d be upset about it, and there’s really no need. He was friendly, and he left peaceably. It wasn’t anything to fret over,” she stammered, her eyes flicking from Bill’s face to her plate and back again.

  He pressed his fingers together in front of him, and sighed. “If there’s nothin’ to fret about, why did ya have to hide it?”

  “Well… he asked me to run away with him…”

  “He did what?” Bill slammed a fist down on the table, making Will jump in place.

  “He wanted me to come home, to be his wife. But I told him no, and he left. So, there’s really nothing to get in a lather ab
out.”

  Sarah stood quickly, and lumbered to the kitchen to get the frying pan. She wrapped a cloth around the pan’s handle and carried it back to the table to spoon another heaped helping of fried potatoes onto Bill’s plate.

  “Thank ya,” he muttered, and returned to his eating with a frown creasing the breadth of his forehead.

  “You really shouldn’t worry about Bow Bearer, my love. Mutagaweer is chief, and while ever he is, he won’t allow Bow Bearer to hurt me — to hurt us. The Chief is very concerned with keeping up relations with the whites, he wouldn’t let his braves harm white settlers. And anyway, he was like a father to me when I was a child. I know he cares about me. Between he and Ky — well, we’re safe,” explained Sarah, rubbing her hand over Bill’s arm.

  His eyes narrowed. “Why ain’t I convinced then?”

  “I don’t know… I…”

  “And anyhow, the Chief won’t be around forever. He’s old, ain’t he? So, are you sayin’ that we’re in trouble when he’s gone. That this Bow Bearer fella won’t have anyone or anythin’ holdin’ him back once the Chief’s gone?” He shook his head, and took another bite of fish.

  “Well, I guess so — it’s possible that when the chief’s gone Bow Bearer might do something unpredictable. But, not very likely. He’s more liable to carry on the Chief’s plans to live in peace with the settlers.”

  “No, I think we should talk to the sheriff up there in Bozeman. He’d want to know that a Crow warrior was botherin’ the settlers in the valley,” said Bill, as he reached for his cup of water and downed it in one thirsty gulp.

  Sarah offered him coffee, and he nodded his thanks. She hurried to the stove to fetch it, and filled his cup with the thick black liquid.

  “I don’t think we need to involve the sheriff just yet. And anyway, what’s the sheriff going to do? He can’t stay at our house, watching out for us day and night, can he? And he certainly can’t just waltz over to the Apasaalooke camp. No, involving the sheriff might mean the army pokes their nose into it, and then they’ll blow things all out of proportion, and the next thing I know my friends and family will be in all kinds of trouble. We can’t do that — not to Ky, not to any of them.”