By Love Alone

by Judith E. French

  In the early morning light, she could make out differences in the men. Two were no more than boys, sixteen or seventeen; another was graying at the temples. The wounded brave was in his prime, slim but muscular. He looked at Kate with pure venom in his eyes.

  From the corner of her vision, Kate saw something which made her blood freeze. The chestnut stallion, or rather what was left of him, lay on his side in a grotesque pose. A large section of flesh had been cut from his hindquarters. Kate gagged. That magnificent animal to be shot and eaten! She stumbled and was rewarded with a blow across her shoulders that brought tears of pain to her eyes.

  "If you fall, you die," Tschi warned.

  The pace of the war party was grueling. More than a walk but not quite a run, it was all Kate could do to keep up. If she slowed or took a misstep on the uneven ground, Tschi was quick with blows and curses to drive her on. Soon, she ceased to think. She set all her will to put one foot in front of the other.

  Her shoulders ached. It was hard to hold her balance with her hands tied behind her back. The rawhide rubbed raw spots on her wrists, and the raw places became sticky with blood. Insects buzzed about and bit her. She was helpless to drive them off.

  It was mid-afternoon before they crossed a creek. Kate fell facedown in the water and drank. She didn't care if they killed her for it. The cold water numbed her swollen face and she twisted to get her wrists under.

  Tschi pulled her up and undid the rawhide, freeing her hands. "Do not try to run. If you run, you die." He motioned to the ax at his belt. From a skin bag he took a twist of leather. Inside was a strong-smelling grease. He took some on his fingers and rubbed it on Kate's face and neck.

  She wrinkled her nose at the smell and glared at him. "What is it?"

  He ignored her question and rubbed some on his own neck. "You are strong woman. Good." He offered her a dirty chunk of meat from his bag. She shook her head. "Go hungry then. You will learn to eat horse and be glad of it."

  Kate's mind seized on the last sentence. He did not mean to kill her right away. Was he afraid of Pride? If only Tschi knew... Pride would hand her over to them willingly after what she had done. Was he all right? She winced at the thought of his bloody head. She could have killed him. He had murdered Geoffrey, hadn't he? His gun had sent the ball that... No, not murder. She could hate him for taking Geoffrey's life, but it was not murder. Yesterday she could deceive herself. Today was different.

  Tschi pushed her back into line, and they began the trek again. Kate's mind followed the same course. She had killed that Indian and it meant nothing. He might have a wife, family. But she had pulled the trigger in self-defense. They could hate her for it, but they could not call her murderer. She wished she had killed Tschi. She would kill Tschi. The idea formed and crystallized. She had no illusions about escape, but she would not go lightly to the stake. She would give good measure for her own death.

  * * *

  The trail Kate had left was as clear as if she had painted signs along the way. Pride followed, cursing the pounding headache that blurred his vision and slowed his step. He had trusted her again, and she had betrayed him. He'd known she was distraught over her brother but he'd been too stupid to realize she would run.

  That she had taken the horses and left his rifle and supplies meant she hadn't wanted him to die. It was small consolation. Kate Storm was exactly what he had first surmised: a highwayman. She was a thief and a liar.

  He had been the fool. He had created a woman in his mind and given her qualities she'd never possessed. And to think he'd come so close to marrying her, to giving her all he had. She would have done well to finish him off while she had the chance. When he caught up with her...

  Pride wept over the chestnut's body. Those strong legs had carried him many a mile. He stroked the cold neck and closed the sightless eyes. The wolves would have him soon enough.

  The ashes of the campfire were cold. They had been gone for hours. A rustle in the trees brought his rifle to his shoulder. He froze and listened. The birds chirped undisturbed. Pride melted into the woods and moved cautiously in a circle toward the spot the noise had come from. Fifteen minutes passed before he reached it and laughed.

  The black mare whinnied anxiously, her reins tangled in a tree stump. The smell of a dead horse was in her nostrils and she welcomed a familiar voice. Pride's practiced hands moved over her. She was scratched, but sound. He led her into the clearing and tied her to a tree.

  The area had been brushed over with branches. He knew a party of Indians had passed this way and had probably taken Kate. But what Indians? He searched the clearing again, foot by foot, until he found the shallow grave covered with leaves. He dug at the loose soil until he uncovered the body. "Shawnee, by God," he said. He even knew the warrior, a man by the name of Crow Eyes. He had been killed by a pistol ball at close range. Kate? Damn her for a lying whore, but she was tough. Pride had seen Crow Eyes take on three Mohawk warriors and walk away from it. Now the death chant would sound for him and his children would weep.

  Pride covered the warrior over and dragged a log over the spot. The wolves and scavengers would have enough to feast on without disturbing the man's rest. He mounted the black mare and turned her head toward Ashton Hall. He knew where to find the Shawnee. There was no hurry. If they had not killed Kate immediately, he would have time to do what he must.

  There was no doubt in his mind that he would find Kate Storm and bring her back. She would serve her years of bondage if he had to keep her in chains.

  This time, there would be no commutation of her sentence. She would be his possession, to be used as he saw fit. He spoke gently to the mare, but there was no mercy in the haunting obsidian eyes.

  * * *

  On the third day, the war party attacked a farm and murdered four settlers, taking a pregnant woman and a boy about five years old as prisoners. Tschi ordered the cabin and barn fired and the Indians dropped their victims' bodies into the well before they left.

  The young woman prisoner screamed hysterically, throwing herself to the ground in utter desperation. Kate watched in a strangely detached manner, wondering at the uselessness of the gesture. She's wasting her strength, she thought. She tried to convey the message, but the girl just stared at her and jabbered in a strange tongue. Kate pointed at the girl's swelling middle. "Think of your child."

  Her wails were cut short by a blow from her captor, the gray-haired warrior. He pulled her up by her yellow hair and tied her to a horse. The child was put up behind her, his waist secured with a length of rope.

  Kate smiled at the little boy. He rubbed his dirt-streaked face and stopped crying. His eyes were large and pale blue, his hair the color of corn silk. He was a sturdy child, despite the mosquito bites that dotted his arms and face. Kate laid her finger across her lips and he nodded. He said something to the girl, but she kept sobbing.

  "What will happen to them?" Kate asked Tschi. Fresh scalps dripped from his belt.

  He shrugged. "What will happen to you, Panther Woman? Weep for yourself."

  "Never!" she spat. The blood and gore sickened her. The settlers had never had a chance. She had seen it all from the edge of the woods where they'd bound and gagged her. "What will happen to you when Pride finds you?" He struck her from force of habit, but there was no strength in it. She forced a laugh and was rewarded by a gleam of respect in Tschi's dark eyes. I'm alive, she thought, on the whim of a madman. She would stay alive until she brought about his death.

  Tschi took the other horse. Kate walked with the rest. Within an hour, she had lost sympathy with the weeping blond. The stupid chit didn't have sense to know when she was well-off. If she wasn't careful, she'd earn her own death and that of the boy.

  Her feet were aching. The moccasins had worn through in two places, and blisters had formed and broken. She picked up a stick to use in walking. Tschi had argued with her about it, but had let her keep it. It would have made a poor weapon in any case. Without it, she might not have been able
to keep pace.

  Tschi had given her smoked bacon and a piece of flat bread from the cabin. She chewed gratefully as she walked. The bacon was rank but at least it wasn't horse. She shared the bread with the little boy. He grinned and said something in his own language. Kate pointed to her chest. "Kate." She motioned to him and then repeated the action.

  Tschi turned in the saddle and snarled at her. Kate lowered her eyes and walked on, but not before she heard the child's reply.

  "Sven."

  Kate winked at him when Tschi turned his attention to the trail ahead. They were traveling uphill now, and she was having trouble. She breathed deeply and tried to think of her footing. The man behind her was right on her heels.

  That night the girl miscarried her baby and died. They left her beside the trail. Kate took her place on the sway-backed gelding with the little boy. There was no saddle, but Kate was grateful for the relief it gave her bleeding feet. The child's arms around her waist were comforting.

  Sven chatted in her ear in what she decided was Swedish and she pointed out simple words like "horse" and gave him the English equivalent. As long as they did not become too loud, Tschi ignored them.

  They were heading due west now; Kate could tell by the sun. The weather was hot and humid. Tschi had given her more of the grease and she'd rubbed it on herself and on Sven. She soon grew used to the smell, and it was better than being eaten alive by insects.

  Kate was not sure if it was the: fifth or sixth day when the band split up. A dark-skinned warrior took the sway-backed horse and the boy and headed out with one companion. Kate sighed. She had come to care for the child; now she would never know what happened to him.

  "Kate!" he cried. "Kate!" The man said something to him. Sven turned and waved, the pale face growing smaller in the distance.

  Kate forced her expression to indifference. She would not let them know what she was thinking.

  Tschi gave the rope a vicious tug, and Kate fell to her knees. She grabbed the tether and held it while she got up. She made a rude gesture, and he laughed and offered her his hand. She took it and scrambled up behind him on the horse.

  "Good," he said. "You proud but not too stupid to ride."

  Kate stiffened, trying to hold her body away from his. The trail grew rough, and she was forced to put her arms around him to hold on. It was like touching a snake. Not too stupid to kill you, she vowed. This journey would end some time, and when it did... She smiled. Let him think what he would, she would have the last laugh.

  She heard the dogs long before the village came in sight. She had suspected they were close when the warriors had reapplied their paint and quickened their stride. There were welcoming shouts, and a band of children ran from the woods. Dogs barked and circled underfoot, and a young woman threw herself into a warrior's arms. Kate steeled herself for what would come in the village. Would she be tortured as Tschi had threatened? Just how much courage did she possess?

  The village was a large one, and all the people turned out to greet the returning war party. Laughter turned to wails of mourning when the realization came that one man had not returned. Kate shuddered. She had been responsible for that death. What mercy could she expect here?

  The houses were little more than bark huts, scattered about the clearing in no particular pattern. Kate was surprised at the cleanliness. Tschi passed through the houses until he reached a bare piece of ground before an oversized building. He shoved Kate off the horse. A circle of curious faces soon surrounded her.

  A woman shoved her way through the crowd, her face contorted with grief and rage. She let out a scream when she saw Kate and leaped at her with hands outstretched like claws.

  Kate sidestepped her and blocked her with one arm. The woman seized a handful of Kate's hair and scratched at her face. Tschi roared with laughter. It was too much. Kate doubled up her fist and struck the screecher full on the chin. She tumbled backward into the dirt. A half-dozen women swarmed over Kate, punching and kicking.

  Kate went down under their blows, but the women scattered when a musket shot exploded. Bleeding, Kate staggered to her feet. The screecher still sat where she had fallen. Tschi waved the rifle and shouted an order; the women backed off. He pointed toward a hut with the rifle barrel.

  Kate had to duck her head to enter. It was dim inside. She stepped down into a dug-out floor. The frame of the hut was made of bent saplings with a covering of bark sewn together. There was a fire pit in the center of the dwelling, and bags and baskets hung from the wooden supports.

  Kate had taken no more than a few steps when Tschi came in behind her. He said something in Shawnee, laughed, and seized her wrist. She tried to twist away, and he tripped her and threw her to the dirt floor.

  "Let me go, damn you!" she cried.

  He twisted her arm cruelly and bound her hands behind her back again, then bound her ankles. Finally, he took a strip of leather and wrapped it around her eyes and head.

  "No! Don't!"

  "Silence, woman, or I will find cloth for your mouth," he threatened.

  Kate lay panting, holding back the tears.

  "Tonight much sing! Much dance! Burn Iroquois captive. Maybe burn white woman too." He gave her a savage kick and she gasped in pain. "You not be brave long under the knife, English." Animal like, he padded away, and Kate was left in darkness.

  She pressed her face against the dirt and tried not to panic. To be sightless was almost more than she could stand. Her heart felt like it was going to burst through her shirt.

  Tschi was trying to frighten her. Trying to? He had frightened her. She was petrified. If she didn't get control of herself soon, she'd have no chance to survive long enough to kill him. She forced herself to breathe slowly. She must think rationally.

  Was it possible they had brought her back to the village to burn her at the stake? She had seen no Iroquois captive. If he was lying about that, perhaps he was lying about the rest.

  The smells of the hut were strange but not unpleasant. There was a musky smell of animal hides and a lingering odor of mint. A dog must make its home here, too. Bread had been cooked in or over the fire sometime recently. Identifying the various scents helped to dull the fear.

  She heard shouting outside and a drum began to beat. Someone stuck a head inside the hut and shouted to her. It was meaningless. She tried to rub the blindfold away, but she couldn't. There was laughter, and someone entered and poked her with a hard object.

  "Stop that!" she yelled. "Untie me."

  Giggles. Then a gush of water poured over her.

  "Damn you!"

  A barking dog came into the shelter and began to growl and snarl at her. The giggles came again.

  "Who are you?" Kate demanded. "Let me see you." Her hair was yanked. "Ouch!"

  The giggler poked again. A stern voice, a woman, called something and Kate's tormenter ran from the hut, followed by the dog. Kate lay and waited.

  Hours passed. The merriment outside had risen to frenzy level. The drumbeat had become a throbbing, interspersed with musket shots. Kate's mouth was parched. Moist heat pressed about her. There was not a breath of moving air in the hut. Her mind was filled with memories of the cool running stream they had crossed. Then, above the laughter came the scream.

  Kate jumped, and the shrill cry came again. It was inhuman. No, all too human. It was a shriek of agonizing misery. "No," she murmured. "No." She wanted to cover her ears, but there was no way. She held her breath and waited for it to come again.

  Tschi's laughter filled the hut along with the strong smell of rotgut whiskey. "You like? You come and see!"

  Strong hands pulled her upright and jerked away the blindfold. "Give me my pistol," Kate begged. "And we'll see who laughs." A blow rocked her head and she would have fallen but he held her.

  "Outside, woman!" A knife cut the bonds at her ankles and she stumbled outside.

  Tschi pushed her through the crowd to the edge of the open space. A stake had been set into the ground and a man was tie
d to it. His contorted face was lit by the dancing flames of a half-dozen fires. "See what the Shawnee do to enemy!" Tschi boasted. "Maybe you next, Panther Woman."

  The Iroquois was naked, his body blackened with paint and charred flesh. Arrows stuck from his legs and arms and his feet were heaped with burning coals.

  Tschi pulled Kate's head up. "Look well," he ordered.

  The hellish flames, the tortured warrior, the screams, all blended into one spinning ball and Kate fell backward into a bottomless pit.

  Someone was carrying her. She tried to scream and a hand clamped over her mouth. Tschi? "No!" she tried to cry, but her words were muffled. She struggled and he laughed. Her efforts were useless against his sinewy bulk. "I'll kill you!" she screamed silently. "I'll kill you!"

  He threw her to the ground and dragged her kicking inside the hut. She crouched there, her eyes wide with terror. "Pride will kill you," she wept. "He will."

  "Let him come. He will find only death here. You are my woman now."

  "No. I'll kill myself first."

  Tschi pushed her to the floor. "Do you think I am fool enough to let a slave escape me?" He dropped beside her and pinned her against his body. "Your flesh is soft, English." He brought his mouth down on her neck and she twisted away. "You are wild like the panther." He laughed. "Good. I will enjoy the taming."

  Kate strained against her wrist straps, and one hand slipped free. She lashed out with it and clawed his face. His first blow knocked her back, and she brought her knee up into his groin with all her strength. He groaned and doubled over, and Kate rolled away. Her hand closed on a wooden object and she threw it at him.

  "Aye yea! Tschi!" An amused male voice. "Oui-shi-cat-tu-oui! "

  Tschi got to his feet and took an iron collar from a bag on the wall. Stealthily he approached Kate. She tried to dodge away from him, but he threw her and snapped the collar around her neck and tied it to a rope. The other end he fastened to an overhead sapling. "Stay, Panther Woman. Tschi will come back soon."