Proud Wolf's Woman

by Karen Kay

  He grunted, disgusted with himself. He had to focus on the details of this journey.

  He looked around him, searching for the best path to the nearly dry Cimarron River. This was his only choice now, to follow the river, if he wished to avoid confrontation. Their trail would be hard to pick up from the riverbed, especially since it was spring, and the recent rains had left some water there to cover his trail. It would allow him the advantage of leaving the water only when he encountered rocky terrain, thus rendering his tracks inconsistent.

  It wasn’t as direct a route, the dry river winding off course now and again. But it would be the safest course.

  “Eaaa!” When had he become one to avoid danger? Had he been alone, he would have followed the Osage, had he been alone, he would have…

  He stopped this line of thinking. He was not alone. He had a responsibility, another life to consider—Julia. And he had sworn his protection to her, not in so many words, but by action.

  There was nothing for it. It meant adding more distance, more days to their travel. It meant being longer in Julia’s presence.

  He grunted, the sound deep in his throat. It also meant…frustration.

  And worse, Neeheeowee could no longer afford to travel by foot. With an enemy in the vicinity, Neeheeowee would have to remain mounted, ready to fight should the need arise.

  It meant he had to ride—with Julia.

  He expelled a harsh breath.

  As if things weren’t already hard enough for him, he would now have to suffer the feel of her body against his.

  He let out a low moan.

  “We must go back to the river,” he said, following his words with hand motions, indicating first himself, then her, then gesturing back in the direction from which they had come.

  But she didn’t comprehend him; or at least she didn’t appear to understand. Instead of starting back, the way any good Indian woman would have without question, Julia stood, staring at him, her expression clearly puzzled, her stance stating she needed explanation.

  “Go on back,” he tried to explain to her again.

  But when she just stood there, hands on her hips, he lost patience. He almost said something to her, but, catching himself at the last moment and holding back his quick retort, he stifled his impatience.

  She was white. She didn’t understand his ways. It was up to him to show her these things, thus bringing about her understanding.

  He reminded himself of this, of the teachings of the elders concerning the care of women. So when he took hold of the pony’s reins and turned the animal around, leading it back the way they had come, he merely motioned Julia forward.

  But instead of moving, even a little bit, she crossed her arms, saying something to him in that white man’s tongue he didn’t understand. And Neeheeowee, despite himself, almost smiled.

  He was quite glad at this moment that he was unable to understand her. She had clearly not been complimentary.

  And so Neeheeowee, letting go of the reins, approached her, oblivious to the fact that for the first time in five years, he had felt like smiling.

  “No, I will not go back the way we’ve just come.” Julia couldn’t believe the man was asking her to do such a thing. “I will not return to that Indian village…to that degradation and slavery. I will not, and don’t you dare smile at me!”

  She planted her feet and crossed her arms, refusing to acknowledge the half grin she saw on his face as he stalked toward her.

  She would not return. It was time he learned it.

  “Masaha-ve’ho’a’e,” he said, stalking toward her, still that hint of a smile on his face.

  She saw that smirk, felt his resolve toward her, but still was not prepared for his action when he picked her up.

  “Oh! Put me down!”

  She beat against his back as he slung her over his shoulder, as though she weighed no more than a parfleche full of belongings.

  “Oh! Ah!” She struggled against him—a mistake, for his arms only circled her more tightly, pressing her into him more firmly, and Julia, giving up and closing her eyes for a moment, breathed in his earthy scent.

  She flicked her eyes open at once to dispel the illusion of him, but upon looking down, she caught sight of firm buttocks clearly outlined by his breechcloth.

  “Oh, no,” she moaned. “I think I need some guidance here,” she said to herself, feeling safe in knowing he could not understand.

  The man was proving too much for her. The combination of the sight of all that skin, along with the feel of him just underneath her garb, unnerved her, and, with another deep breath, she squirmed.

  At once shivers rippled over her skin, and it was all she could do to hold herself back, to keep herself from touching him, from exploring all that bronze skin with something more than a glance.

  “Ne-ve’-neheseve! He’kotoo’estse!” he said, and Julia knew she had been scolded.

  But worse, she felt his breathing quicken, and suddenly she imagined she could taste the warm saltiness of his skin.

  “Oh, dear Lord, what am I to do?”

  Again, she closed her eyes as if that action could keep his effect from her. But she needn’t have tried. Everything about him encompassed her as though she were encased in a sweet cocoon, filled with his presence. And without her conscious knowledge of it, that part of her body most private began to ache.

  She wore no undergarments, and it suddenly occurred to her that he could easily reach up and…

  Sensations tore through her, shocking her not with the thought, but with the intensity of feeling.

  “Oh!” She gasped out loud.

  And then it was over. Just like that. She stood on her own.

  He had deposited her on the ground, beside the pony.

  And when she looked up at him, she thought she glimpsed—what? Passion? No, it couldn’t be. Still…

  I can’t be having these thoughts. What has gotten into me?

  She closed her eyes against the sight of him and turned her head away from him.

  It didn’t help.

  She felt momentarily enraptured with him, and when he reached out to cup her chin gently in the palm of his hand, and when he said, “Ne-mo’onaha,” and she knew that he complimented her, she thought she would surely burst.

  But she didn’t.

  Instead she looked back at him and, catching nothing more than his stoic regard of her, quickly brought her own emotions under control, or at least she attempted it.

  It was an odd thing to realize out here with the wide expanse of prairie and endless sky: She wanted him.

  “Dear Lord,” she whispered, “help me. I don’t know what to do.”

  How could this be?

  After all these years of being apart from him, despite all that stood between them, their cultural differences, their language barrier, she wanted him: Neeheeowee. An Indian.

  It was that simple. She might fear his culture, she might even despise Neeheeowee for what he stood for, for what he might do to her, but it made no difference.

  She yearned for him.

  She looked him in the eye, and in his dark gaze, she saw a reflection of her own passion.

  She almost swooned.

  It should have made her wary, or at least the knowledge of it should have shocked her. But Julia was far from being scandalized. In truth, she ached with need. And she realized with a great deal of chagrin that if she had to be in the constant presence of this man and she wanted to keep her honor intact, she had to avoid further physical contact with him. It was imperative.

  And it was with no small fear that Julia realized she was close to throwing herself at him.

  “I must stay away from you,” she said as though making a vow to herself, and when he at last released his hold upon her, Julia tilted her chin upward and looked away.

  In truth, it was all she could do. Had she done more, she would have been in his arms.

  It was an uneasy thing to realize.

  Neeheeowee was far
from immune. His whole body reacted to her.

  Eaaa! He should have more control. He was Cheyenne, trained from birth to adulthood to control his body, his emotions. Why did these lessons desert him now?

  And he realized with something akin to alarm that it was only going to get worse. He had to ride the pony with her now, and he knew the exact effect that would have on him.

  But he wouldn’t let her know it; he couldn’t let her see it.

  Still, as he looked down at her, he couldn’t help reaching out to cup her chin, if only for a moment, bringing her face back around toward him so he could witness all of the beauty that was Julia.

  He caught his breath, whispering, “Ne-mo-onaha, you are beautiful.”

  Was that passion he had espied in her eyes? No, it couldn’t be, and yet…

  His knees felt like buckling. He couldn’t think of it. He couldn’t even allow himself to ponder it.

  And so he let her go, watching her chin go up in the air as she looked away, her gesture haughty, one of disdain.

  He snorted, as though he reacted to her display of temper. But in truth, he didn’t.

  She intrigued him. She fascinated him. She… He stopped himself. She was beginning to rule his thoughts.

  And this he could not have. They could not survive on the prairie unless he were wary at all times.

  Hence without so much as another word or another gesture, he drew away from her, if only to put distance between them. He jumped up onto the pony, and there, fixing his position, he bent at the waist, offering a hand to Julia to help her mount.

  And had she known that he bestowed upon her a compliment, that he normally would have expected her to mount the animal on her own, she might not have rebuffed his offer.

  But she did reject it, retreating away from him.

  “Ne-naestse! Come here,” he said, making a movement of his head at the same time that he spoke, giving her to understand that she was to ride with him, not walk.

  And she turned, gradually stepping toward him until at last she reached out, placing her hand within his own.

  Excitement exploded between them.

  A moment passed. Another.

  Each stared at the other, at their hands clasped.

  But too soon it was over, and Julia gained her seat on the pony, settling down in back of Neeheeowee.

  The contact was immediate and Neeheeowee gritted his teeth against the silky feel of her elk-skin gown against his own bare skin. He trembled like a newborn babe with the shock of it all. And as he felt her curves fit up against him, he thought he might likely lose all sense.

  She squirmed behind him and he grunted, his only defense against her. He shut his eyes. And then it happened. She pressed her breasts against him, nestling her thighs into position on each side of his own, and as her arms reached around to grab him, he thought he would burst right there.

  But he didn’t.

  He breathed deeply instead. And he cautioned himself to show nothing, to feel nothing, to…

  Opening his eyes, he gritted his teeth and jutted out his chin while he pressed the pony forward at the same time, and as he did so, he determined he would put these feelings to rest, he must.

  But he hadn’t counted on the full effect of her; he felt her breath on his bare shoulders; he smelled the uniqueness of her feminine scent—sweet, fresh, desirable. And involuntarily, a shudder wracked him, bringing with it a desire that made his loins stir to life.

  He didn’t look down this time for the evidence of his arousal. He didn’t need to. He could feel it.

  “Eaaa!”

  He was Cheyenne. Cheyenne. He could control these urges. He must control these urges. He could do it. He was certain of it.

  But when Julia wiggled, bringing herself even closer to him, Neeheeowee made a low sound in the back of his throat: he, himself, uncertain all over again.

  He tried to think of other things; he tried to remember other teachings; nevertheless, he kept coming back to one particular truth. He wanted her. He could not avoid it.

  Yet, he must show nothing. There was nothing between them. There could be nothing between them. And though he endeavored to believe it, in truth, Neeheeowee knew he lied.

  He’d never felt more alive than at this moment.

  It was an odd awakening.

  Chapter Six

  The landscape lay about them, awash in red and gold. Clouds streaked the sky in a profusion of gold and yellow, pink and red. The sun, a globe of molten orange, illuminated the beauty of the hills and mesas, buttes and bluffs, creating a sort of fantasy world where nothing existed but them and the feel of the wind upon them. And everywhere there was silence, soul-stirring silence, the kind that allows the mind to expand, to think of goodness and beauty, of power, and of love.

  They stood together, atop a small, golden mesa, having climbed there on foot, the pony tethered and waiting on a ridge below. Neither a word nor a gesture passed between them; neither felt the need. They stood as though paying tribute to the sun, lost in the companionship of silence and the knowledge that they both felt the overwhelming draw of the land.

  “Ne-naestse,” Neeheeowee whispered, pulling away and motioning to Julia without touching her, to return to their pony.

  She nodded but remained behind for a while until, with one last heartfelt look at the spectacle before her, she turned, following in the path her Indian guide had made, taking her back down the flat-topped mesa.

  Guide. Yes, that was how she thought of Neeheeowee now. She could no longer consider him her captor, not when he so obviously deferred to her needs.

  She thought back over the last few days of their journey. On the move only a little under a week, she had learned to accept Neeheeowee’s quiet companionship and to interpret his strange language of grunts and groans, although his attempts to communicate with hand signs became more and more successful.

  She still had no knowledge as to where they traveled. And though she longed to ask her companion about it, she could think of no easy way to communicate it.

  And so she remained silent on the subject, sitting behind him during the daylight hours, sleeping across from him at night, and though he behaved in some strange ways of late, she had come to realize that she held no fear of him. Something else, perhaps, but not fear.

  She gazed down to where he squatted beside their mount, watched as he ran his hands over the haunches of the pony, listened as he spoke to it in quiet tones, and, without realizing it, she shuddered, imagining it was her skin those fingers explored, her ear into which he whispered.

  “Stop it!” she admonished herself. She should not be thinking these thoughts. He was her friend, her guide. He was also Indian. Handsome though he might be, and, though desirable, she could not let her emotions rule the logic of her mind.

  They had nothing in common save a past friendship and the current companionship of a long journey. That was all. Nothing more.

  Yes, she was sure of it.

  Why then, did her gaze seek out and watch his every movement, her ears listen for his softest whisper? Why then, was she even thinking these thoughts?

  Julia tilted her head to the side, her attention inward on herself and outward on him, instead of where it should have been—on her footing.

  She missed a step, and suddenly her feet went out from under her.

  She fell backwards, hitting her elbows on the rocks, her fanny landing on something sharp, stony.

  She screamed.

  Her forward motion, its velocity picking up, carried her on down the incline, sliding on her bottom past rocks and scrub bushes and sand stickers. She screamed again, grabbing ahold of something.

  Her hand came away bloody.

  And then it was over. She lay flat, her dress hiked up around her thighs, her arms outstretched, while smaller rocks and dirt careened on by her.

  “Ne-toneto-mohta-he?” Neeheeowee asked softly, appearing there beside her all at once. Squatting, he lifted her hands, her elbows, his touch pushing h
ere and there, running over her stomach, her legs.

  “Ne-haama’ta?” he asked. When she didn’t respond, he reverted to signs, pointing to his arms and asking something, then to his legs, his chest, his head.

  And at last she understood.

  “Hurt?” she asked aloud. “You want to know where I hurt?”

  He nodded. “Haahe,” he said. “Nehaama’ta?” He touched his leg. “Ma-htse’ko? Nehaama’tovoho? Ma-nestane?” And he indicated his knee. She shook her head, holding up her bloodied hands for his inspection, then her elbows.

  “Haahe,” he said, gesturing yes with the movement of his head. “Tosa’a?” He then indicated other parts of his body, then pointed to her.

  She grimaced, saying only, “In my back.”

  He frowned, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders.

  She sighed and rolled her eyes to the side, too embarrassed to point to her backside.

  He felt the sides of her body.

  “No, no,” she said, and he understood.

  Again he questioned her, “Tosa’a?”

  “Where?” she asked. “My backside. My posterior, my…” She pointed.

  He narrowed his eyes and, lifting her gently, ran his fingers over her back.

  Julia could barely contain herself. She sighed, she moaned, and Neeheeowee looked at once concerned.

  She smiled up at him. “No, no,” she said. “I do not hurt there. It’s only that it feels good when you do that. No, I fell on something sharp and something prickly. I think I hurt my buttocks, but I don’t think I’ll tell you that.”

  Again he shrugged, and holding her gaze, he asked, “Nehoveoo’estse-he?” He stood up, making a motion of it, raising his shoulders at the same time, questioning.

  “I think so. I think I can stand,” she replied, getting up to her forearms, though when she sat up fully, she winced, falling back to her elbows.

  Neeheeowee came down beside her at once, indicating to her that she should roll over.

  Julia shook her head.

  He just looked at her, waiting. After a few moments, he made the gesture again.