Captive Bride

by Carol Finch

  Aubrey wasn't giving an inch. His bitterness and hatred could not be dissolved in a few minutes. "Do you think you can waltz down from the mountains, offer the hand of friendship, and erase the past?" His tormented gaze riveted over Hawk's powerfully built frame. "Do you know how difficult it is for me to look upon your son, the man who abducted my daughter?" Aubrey's voice cracked with barely restrained emotion. "Dammit, he should have been my son . . . my son!" Brooding eyes shot back to Bear-Claw. "Knowing that makes the past even more difficult to bear. I look at him and I see you and her . . ." Fighting for composure, Aubrey turned away, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had become chalky white.

  "None of us could help what happened, not you, not me, not her," Bear-Claw sighed. "We thought you had perished."

  "Hoped I had perished," Aubrey corrected, his voice carrying a distinctly unpleasant edge. "How long did you wait, a week, a month? You were my friend. I trusted you above all others and you betrayed me." Drawing himself up proudly, Aubrey thrust out his chin and then grasped Rozalyn's arm. He did not want his daughter to hear this conversation; he felt that Hawk had had the decency to keep it from her. "Nothing you can say will make any difference, Baudelair. I never want to lay eyes on you or Hawk again. I kept my end of the bargain and now I'm taking my daughter back to St. Louis." Before hustling Rozalyn along with him, Aubrey flashed Hawk a contemptuous glare. "Don't bother to show your face at rendezvous next year. There will be no market here for your pelts. All the money in the world won't buy your supplies."

  As Aubrey's harsh words drifted across the river, Arakashe frowned. He had prayed that DuBois would bury the hatchet and let the conflict die. But it was obvious the man was not willing to forgive for he could never forgive himself. Arakashe turned back to his wigwam, angered and disappointed that Bear-Claw had come to make amends and Aubrey had stubbornly refused to listen.

  When Bear-Claw started after Aubrey and Roz, Hawk clutched his arm to detain him. "Let him go. DuBois is too hardheaded to listen to reason," Hawk muttered, his penetrating eyes fixed on Rozalyn's departing back. "The man's heart has shriveled up like a dried acorn. I swear I can hear it rattling in his chest when he walks."

  Bear-Claw peered incredulously at his son. "I came down from the mountains to attempt to reconcile the past because Roz means so much to you. Dammit, you know it will tear you in two to let that girl go. I never expected you to give up without a fight."

  "A fight?" Hawk pounced on his father's choice of words. "Would you have me pull my pistol and gun DuBois down, risk having Rozalyn caught in the crossfire? Or perhaps we should go at each other with knives on the bluff overlooking Whispering Falls." A melancholy smile surfaced on Hawk's lips when he saw that Bear-Claw's anger was dwindling. "If DuBois and I take arms against each other the incident will explode into a war between his men and the trappers. Would you have me sacrifice even one life for my own personal happiness?"

  Bear-Claw's shoulders slumped as he stared after DuBois. "No, I suppose not, but I wanted you and Roz to share what your mother and I—"

  "You were the one who told me the time would come when I had to let Rozalyn go," Hawk reminded him. "And I have . . ." His voice trailed off while he watched Rozalyn walk out of his life, for memories suddenly came rushing back to him as Rozalyn and her father marched toward the loaded wagon.

  Rozalyn had kept her vow not to look back, but it tore her in two to keep that promise. She ached to break free and run into the protective circle of Hawk's arms. But if she dared, she would invite her father's wrath. She knew as well as Hawk that rendezvous could become a battleground.

  Cursing Bear-Claw's unexpected appearance, Aubrey herded Rozalyn toward the wagons heaped with furs and extra supplies. After ordering his men to take their places, Aubrey glanced at his daughter and then lifted her onto the wagon seat.

  "If he harmed you in any way, if he abused you, tell me now," he growled. "I'll see him dropped in his tracks."

  Rozalyn met her father's smoldering stare and gave her head a negative shake. "Hawk protected me from danger and the Crow chief offered me nothing but kindness," she insisted, her voice devoid of emotion. "The deed is done. Let it be over, Papa. Take me home."

  After studying his daughter for a long, calculating moment, Aubrey opened his mouth to utter another remark, then thought better of it. He wheeled around to take his place at the head of the caravan.

  An unbearable numbness crept over Rozalyn as the procession made its way along the Big Horn. Aubrey avoided her and she realized that her father's concern was not for her, but for himself. He was obsessed with putting a great distance between him and the man he felt had betrayed him. It was as if Aubrey were driven by demons. He kept to himself, barked orders, and forced his men to spend long hours on the wagons without pausing to eat or rest.

  The tiring days blended into weeks, and when Fort Benton finally appeared on the horizon, Rozalyn breathed a sigh of relief. At least she would have the opportunity to rest while the goods were transferred from the wagons to the fleet of keelboats. But Aubrey's plans did not include lounging at the post to recuperate from the overland journey. After their evening meal at the fort, Aubrey ordered his men to load the merchandise and supplies on the keelboats and to be prepared to embark on the Missouri the following morning.

  When Rozalyn answered the rap on her cabin door, she found her father, still wearing the frown that had been stamped on his features since the first day of rendezvous. Silently, she stepped aside to allow him entrance, wondering why he had come now when he had avoided her for almost two weeks.

  "I don't suppose Hawk and Bear-Claw had the decency to spare you the tragedy of my past," Aubrey blurted out, his eyes failing to meet Rozalyn's.

  "Do you think my curiousity would have allowed me to overlook the incident that took place in St. Louis the night I was abducted?" Rozalyn carefully chose her words, attempting to encroach upon the subject without drawing her father into a fit of temper. "I had never seen you upset, Papa. Naturally, I wanted to learn the reason for your ill feeling toward the Baudelairs."

  "I consider my feud with the Baudelairs to be well founded," Aubrey muttered self-righteously. "I cared deeply for Bitshipe and Bear-Claw knew that. But, like a coward, he waited until I was out from underfoot before he pursued her. A true friend would have confessed his feelings to my face instead of dallying behind my back. I was scratching and clawing to find financial backers for my fur-trading business, but not a day passed that I didn't wish to be with Bitshipe. An empire could not be built in a day." Aubrey expelled a frustrated breath and then began to pace. "When I was able to return to the mountains, I was prepared to make Bitshipe my wife. I lived for that day. I dreamed of laying riches at her feet."

  Although Rozalyn kept silent she wondered if the lovely Crow maiden would have cared about a white man's wealth for it seemed Bitshipe was content to live out her life in the mountains.

  "You cannot imagine how distraught I was to find my dream had collapsed about me. When Arakashe informed me that the two of them had made a life together and that Bitshipe had born Bear-Claw a son, I couldn't believe it. I had trusted Bear-Claw with my most precious possession and he had coveted Bitshipe as his own. He had slept with . . ." Aubrey's voice trailed off for he was uneasy about discussing this subject with his daughter. "After Bitshipe died, I fled from the mountains, determined to put the past behind me. But after the tragedy and betrayal I lived with nothing but torment."

  "Papa, if you don't wish to discuss this, I will understand," Rozalyn interjected, well aware that Aubrey was having difficulty with the sensitive subject.

  "I want you to hear my side," Aubrey insisted, without pausing from his pacing to peer at his daughter. "I thought marrying your mother would make it easier to bury the past. She was a fine woman of aristocratic breeding."

  "One who could add her prestige to your wealth," Rozalyn blurted out. Then she bit her lip, wishing she hadn't put the thought to tongue.

  Au
brey jerked up his head to stare at Rozalyn. After a moment, he let his breath out in a rush and nodded affirmatively. "I thought Jacqueline and I would make a suitable match, that I would come to love her in the years that followed. But each time I looked at her I was reminded that Bitshipe was everything Jacqueline was not. And each time I thought of Bitshipe I remembered what I had done to her in my rage. I tried to live a lie. I tried to offer you and your mother a good life, but part of me could never let go. For that I hold Bear-Claw responsible. Because of his treachery I killed the only woman I have ever loved and I forced your mother to live with a man who had nothing left to give."

  A mist of tears swam across Aubrey's eyes, but with a tremendous effort he composed himself. "Perhaps you can never understand why I react so fiercely to the name of Baudelair. But because of Bear-Claw my life has been hell. I thought by making you Rose Blossom's namesake I could offer you the love I would have freely given her. But you are too much like the free-spirited Crow maiden. Each time I speak your name I think of her, and bitter memories swarm over me. I realize now that it was a mistake to give you a name that is a monument to what I lost."

  Rozalyn didn't know what to say. She had known her father had very little to do with her, but hearing him admit the reason brought her pain. Would she and Aubrey ever be able to become close when her entire personality, even her name, caused him inner turmoil?

  "I know what you are thinking," Aubrey predicted as he walked steadily toward Rozalyn, but not close enough to offer comfort. "And I despise myself for what I have done to you, my own flesh and blood. I have not meant to be cruel, but neither can I—"

  A sharp rap at the door interrupted Aubrey, and Rozalyn thought her father almost looked relieved. When one of his men requested that he see to some matter concerning the keelboats, Aubrey bid Rozalyn a quick good night and took his leave.

  Rozalyn wilted onto her cot and heaved a miserable sigh. She had hoped their conversation would lead to a better understanding between them. But it was now clear she could anticipate the same behavior from him when they returned to St. Louis. It seemed she was destined to create crosscurrents of emotion in her father, and an incident that should have drawn them closer together had put even more strain on them.

  A tear slid down Rozalyn's cheek, to be followed by another. The world was closing in on her and she was having difficulty boosting her spirits. At one time she had been able to battle depression and emerge the victor, but no longer, not when she was so vividly aware of all she had lost. Her heart twisted in her chest. In the emptiness of her cabin, Rozalyn succumbed to her need to release the emotions she had so carefully guarded.

  A painful emptiness knotted her stomach; a haze of despair fogged her mind. The door to the past had closed behind her when she'd left the man with the disarming smile and the sparkling emerald eyes. Living without Hawk wouldn't be living at all. His name echoed through her mind, bringing a vision of windblown raven hair and dark, rugged features. He was there, just beyond her grasp, and Rozalyn knew she would never again experience the happiness she had known in his adventurous world beyond the Mississippi.

  Chapter 30

  As Rozalyn sat perched in a narrow niche between bundles of pelts and storage barrels, her gaze settled on the horizon, watching the waning light grow dim against the darkening sky. For two days she had studied the gnarled underbrush that choked the shores of the Missouri, wallowing in her own misery. Now the roar of water in the distance caught her attention, and her expressionless blue eyes scanned the river. To the north, where the channel was divided by huge boulders that jutted up in midstream, lay a treacherous waterfall that spilled two hundred feet to a frothy bed below. To the south, a perilous maze of rapids awaited before the channel cut through gentler slopes to form a less dangerous route to the lower levels of the Missouri.

  Rozalyn breathed a sigh of relief when Aubrey ordered the fleet of boats anchored. She did not relish the idea of navigating the rapids during darkness. After they had taken their evening meal, while she and her father's men sat around the campfire, a rustling in the thick underbrush caught her attention and her body tensed. Her experiences in the wilds had developed a sixth sense in her, and she could feel the threat of danger in her nerves.

  When she turned toward the muffled sound, her heart leaped into her throat as a sharp war cry pierced the night air, bringing Aubrey and his men to immediate attention. Before they could retrieve their weapons, a war party of Crow materialized from the underbrush, surrounding the camp. Aubrey and his men found themselves prisoners of this band of braves that had emerged like a swarm of disturbed hornets.

  Instinctively, Rozalyn darted toward the thicket, but before she could flee to safety, a brave manacled her hands. Her frantic gaze lifted to a face smeared with warpaint. She had met the muscular warrior during her sojourn in the Crow camp, but now there was nothing friendly about his appearance. Her wide blue eyes swung to Arakashe who now appeared from the underbrush, poised on his paint pony. Rozalyn swallowed hard when the flickering light of the campfire illuminated the colorful bonnet of eagle feathers that trailed down his back. The chiefs weathered face was painted in the traditional colors of red, yellow, and black. He clasped a ceremonial spear adorned with beads and feathers in one hand and a circular buffalo shield in the other. Although his years were evident from his wrinkled features, he looked every bit the proud, invincible chief he had been in past years.

  Rozalyn had come to expect a certain warmth in Arakashe's dark eyes. But, this night, only hostility glistened in those deep-set pools. His condemning gaze rivited over Aubrey, who soon found himself tossed on the ground and staked out, spread-eagled, in the grass.

  "Apitsa, I have mourned the loss of my daughter for thirty snows. The Great Spirit of the people of the free-soaring Sparrow Hawk bade me to accept the past and let it die its own death. But Apitsa no longer lives by the messages of Morningstar. You have born hatred in your heart like a wounded panther sulking over an injury.

  Because your hatred continues to fester and boil, and you refuse to give it rest, I have brought war against you and your people. There was a time when I called you friend and welcomed you into the camp of the Crow, but in your anger you took the life of one of our people, my only daughter." Arakashe pointed his spear at Aubrey as if he meant to hurl it at the sprawled target. "If you could not accept the hand of friendship when your blood brother offered it, I cannot go on forgiving. I have tried to be lenient with you and with the other Longknives who have crowded our lands. But the Longknives take and take, and they refuse to give. Now I will take, as is the custom of the Longknives. You were banished from Crow land, yet you dare to cross our hunting grounds with your caravans. For that and for all the other evils you have committed against the people of the Sparrow Hawk, you will now pay the price."

  Returning to the Crow dialect, Arakashe ordered his warriors to confiscate the supplies and the valuable pelts strewn around the camp. When the goods were strapped on the Indian ponies, Arakashe gestured with his spear toward Rozalyn. "You will become the daughter Apitsa's wrath has taken from me. He will know the pain of losing his own flesh and blood." Dark brooding eyes swung back to Aubrey. "Your child will become my child and my people will grow fat on the rations you would have passed among your own warriors. The furs you have bought from white trappers and Indians will be sold to the Rocky Mountain Fur Company to purchase supplies for my people."

  Again Arakashe rattled off orders in his native tongue. When Rozalyn had been herded across the camp and placed on the paint pony beside him, Arakashe's condescending gaze fell upon Aubrey. "You and the other Longknives will be set adrift in your boats at sunrise. But you will have no oars or poles to navigate the channel. Let Morningstar decide which rout the Long-knives take." His arms lifted to indicate the roaring falls and then it swung to the hazardous rapids that would capsize a boat unless it was guided by poles and oars. "The Great Spirit of the Crow will decide your destiny, Apitsa. That is more than you allo
wed Bitshipe when she chose the man she had come to love with all her heart. You would not accept her decision. Now you will live or die by the decision of Morningstar. Your destiny lies in the hands of the Great Spirit. If he is merciful with you, I will not be when you return with your caravans to frighten away the game from our hunting grounds. Hear my words, Apitsa. The people of the Sparrow Hawk will swoop down on you if you dare to trespass on our lands. Only those Longknives who are willing to live in peace with the Crow and his white brothers will hunt and trap in the mountain meadows between Yellowstone and the Wind River. But you, who cannot make peace with yourself, will never by the ally of the Crow."

  With that final declaration, Arakashe took up the dangling reins of Rozalyn's steed and disappeared into the underbrush, leaving his braves to stand watch over the Longknives until first light.

  Rozalyn managed to keep still until they were out of earshot of the camp, but when they were alone she could not remain silent. Even if her father had wronged Arakashe's family, she could not allow this injustice to take place. The lives of innocent men were threatened. "I had come to look upon you as a friend, Arakashe," Rozalyn blurted out. "I spoke to you from my heart and felt your sorrow when I learned of the loss of your, daughter. Will you turn a deaf ear when I dare to plead for my father's life?"

  "I am council chief of the Crow," Arakashe reminded her, his dark eyes focusing on her determined expression. "Apitsa, your father, once a friend of my people, was given the chance to make peace and wash away the hatred that poisons his soul. He has long lived in bitterness. I will deal with him in the method he understands. He chose his own way when he denied Bear-Claw's outstretched hand of friendship." The chief peered straight ahead while he led Rozalyn back to the war camp of the Crow. "Do not ask me to forgive a man who will not forgive. Do not ask me to be merciful to a man who judges all others by his bitter past. You waste your breath pleading for his soul. From this day forward you will be the daughter of the Crow council chief and you will obey my wishes, no matter how unfair they may seem to you. It is the way of the Crow woman to heed and obey. Do not anger me with protests. You are no longer white, even though your skin differs from that of our people. You will become one of us, Mitskapa."