Sage nodded a silent thank-you, then continued moving stealthily onward until he was close enough to the sleeping men to realize for certain that he had not found Chief Four Fingers. Yet these were four of his warriors, who surely had separated from Four Fingers to continue scouting the area.
Anger and disappointment fused into one single explosive emotion within Sage. As his men moved in on all sides of the sleeping Kiowa, he inched his way toward them.
Then, as though with one heartbeat, the Navaho raced into the camp, and before the Kiowa understood what was happening, they were captured and tied together with one rope.
“Four Fingers,” Sage growled, leaning down into their faces. “Tell me where I can find Four Fingers.”
None of the Kiowa offered a response. They stood with their shoulders squared and their lips tightly pursed, eyeing Sage with contempt.
Sage nodded at Black Thunder. “Release one of them,” he said, his voice tight. “Release the one who is called Red Bonnet.”
Red Bonnet was set free. He was shoved over, to stand in front of Sage.
“Tell me where I can find your chief or you will suffer for your silence,” Sage ordered, handing his rifle to Black Thunder and yanking his knife from its sheath at his right side. “Count your fingers. You now see five? Soon it will be four, and then three.”
Red Bonnet glared at Sage, unmoved by the threat.
Sage jerked one of the Kiowa’s hands out and held it out before him. Sage raised the knife, unflinching. But just as he was ready to set the sharp blade to Red Bonnet’s flesh, one of the others spoke up, stopping the planned torture.
“He is gone far away,” the Kiowa said, his voice anxious as he watched the steadiness of Sage’s knife. “We separated from him. We go our way. He goes his. He threatens your peace no longer. Nor do we. Allow us to leave. We will ride away and not look back. I vow to you that this is true.”
Sage eased his knife to his side, studying the Kiowa’s expression, trying to tell if he told the truth. What the Kiowa said did seem logical. Usually scouts did not leave in groups of four, especially if the band of Indians was so small in number anyway. Sending so many away weakened their defenses too much should an enemy suddenly appear along their path of travel.
“It is true,” Red Bonnet said thickly, sweat pearling on his brow as he watched Sage’s knife. “Let us ride free. We tell no one about you. You see, I understand that you are fleeing your stronghold. Four Fingers told Kit Carson where to find your stronghold. He did this to gain more freedom for himself from the white people. Kit Carson agreed. He allowed Four Fingers to go on his way. It was a short time later that Four Fingers sent us all away from him in groups of four, to find a life of our own. That is what I desire. To live in peace. If that is what you also seek, so be it.”
“Which way did Four Fingers go to seek his new path of life?” Sage asked guardedly. He sighed with relief when Red Bonnet pointed in the direction opposite from Sage’s planned destination.
Sage went to the three Kiowa who were tied together. He untied them and frowned at each of them. “You are allowed to go, but should you decide to go back on your word and I find you anywhere near my people, you will learn the most grueling ways of slow death imaginable,” he warned.
Going to his stallion, Sage swung himself into the saddle. He took his rifle as Black Thunder handed it to him. He gripped it tightly with one hand, and with the other snapped the reins and sent his horse into a hard gallop away from the campsite. As much as he tried, he could not feel at peace with the decision that he had just made. As much as he tried, he could not see Chief Four Fingers giving up all that easily to the white pony soldiers—not even Kit Carson.
“Kit Carson,” he whispered to himself. “He is next. He must make promises that I can believe.”
He rode back in the direction of his camp even though tomorrow he would search for Kit Carson’s. First he must make sure that enough warriors were left to protect his people in their temporary camp. If Four Fingers did decide to seek him and his people out, especially now that he must know they were no longer at the stronghold, his warriors would be ready for him.
Chapter 24
When from the frowning east,
A sudden gust of adverse fate is blowing....
—ELLA WHEELER WILCOX
The day had dragged along. Restless, Leonida had paced often as she watched for Sage’s return. When the sun began sinking behind the mountains and Sage and his warriors still had not arrived, Leonida could not help but think that they had met with disaster.
Hardly able to bear her thoughts, she focused them elsewhere. Going to Pure Blossom and sitting down beside her, she took Pure Blossom’s hand in hers. Sage’s sister was struggling to keep awake, also worrying about Sage, but her eyes drifted shut more often than not.
“I’m sorry about the blanket Sage won’t allow you to have,” Pure Blossom said, as she rolled over on her side. “It is finished. And I did not burn it as my brother ordered me to. It is among my belongings. When I die, it is yours. Tell my brother that it is a special gift from me, not the white man. As it keeps you warm nights, always think of Pure Blossom.”
“Don’t talk about dying,” Leonida scolded softly. “Soon you will be stronger. When we reach this land of promise that Sage is taking us to, you will become strong again. Sage will build you a lovely hogan. You will set up your looms inside it beside a fire and while away your days making lovely blankets and shawls to share with your people.”
“It is a pleasant thought,” Pure Blossom sighed, her voice silent. “That would make Sage happy, I know. All I have ever wanted was to make my brother happy. My body betrays my hopes and wishes for my brother. But soon it will be over. Pure Blossom will no longer be a bother.”
Her words stung Leonida’s heart. It did not seem possible to lose two friends almost at once. First Carole, who had died of a lung ailment, and now Pure Blossom, whose body had not developed fully as she had progressed from a child to a woman.
Yet both friends had accepted death so easily, more than it was possible for Leonida. The thought of Pure Blossom dying made a sick sort of feeling swim at the pit of Leonida’s stomach. This reminded her again to worry about Sage.
She looked into the darkening shadows of night, searching for movement. She listened intently, hoping to hear the sound of horses approaching. But she was not blessed with either seeing or hearing anyone approaching.
“My brother?” Pure Blossom murmured, her fingers tightening around Leonida’s. “He has been gone too long. I fear for him. What if Kit Carson found him?” Her voice broke with emotion. “We would never know. No one knows where we are, except perhaps Four Fingers. He would not come to spread the word of Sage’s capture. If he came, it would be to destroy the Navaho, or to take the Navaho as his slaves.”
Knowing that worrying was not good for Pure Blossom, Leonida tried to reassure her that Sage would be all right. “He will be arriving soon,” Leonida said. She slipped Pure Blossom’s hand beneath the blankets. The chill breeze of evening was already spreading across the land, the dew sparkling like miniature diamonds on the tips of the grass.
“I must get Runner ready for bed,” Leonida said, bending to kiss Pure Blossom’s cheek. She then leaned away from her. “Did you have enough to eat? You have scarcely been touching your food.”
“I require less each day,” Pure Blossom said, smiling weakly up at Leonida. “Go to Runner. Give him a kiss. He is such a fine boy. It is easy to see why Sage has accepted him so eagerly as his son.”
“Yes, Runner is special,” Leonida said, pushing herself up from the blankets. “Sleep well, Pure Blossom. Upon tomorrow’s dawning, I know that Sage will be with us again. Keep that thought and carry it with you into your dreams.”
Pure Blossom nodded, then slowly drifted off again into the protective cocoon of sleep.
Having already eaten the evening meal and finding it too hard to function once night had dropped its black cloak over
the camp, Leonida started to search for Runner but was surprised to find him already snuggled in his blankets, fast asleep.
Leonida knelt down beside him and caressed his brow. “My child, you played so hard today,” she whispered. “You simply wore yourself out.” She frowned. “But that is good. You did not even notice how long Sage has been gone. If you had, you would be as worried as I am. Ah, my child, how you would feel the loss if anything happened to Sage. You do love him. Oh, how you do love him.”
She did not want to slip between the blankets herself just yet, knowing that her mind would not rest enough from her worries for her to sleep. Leonida took one of her blankets, wrapped it around her shoulders, and moved away from the camp, where more were asleep now than awake. She strolled through the forest, stopping at the stream that snaked beneath the stars.
Sighing, she spread the blanket on the ground, then sat down on it, gazing heavenward. The moon was being elusive tonight. First it was there, and then it was behind a fluff of clouds. In the distance she could see lightning forking in zigzags across the sky, followed by a rumble of thunder.
“That’s all we need,” she grumbled to herself. “A storm. Without protection, everyone would get soaked. In the night air, many would catch a cold. Lord, haven’t we had enough to contend with? Please keep the storm in the distant hills.”
Suddenly her spine stiffened. She bolted to her feet and turned to stare across an open meadow. “Horses,” she said, her heart thumping almost as loudly as the hoofbeats fast approaching.
She began running when she finally saw the horses coming toward her. She stopped and squinted into the night, trying to see the lead rider. But with the night so dark, she could see only shadows and the outline of the riders.
Fear suddenly grabbed at her heart. What if it was someone besides Sage and his warriors? Frantic, Leonida looked around her for cover but found nothing.
Then she gazed at the riders again and a sigh of relief coursed through her when she could finally see the face of the lead rider.
“Sage,” she whispered as joy spilled over within her.
Then she began running toward the riders.
“Sage,” she cried, waving at him with both hands. “Oh, darling, it is you. You are all right.”
When Sage spied Leonida, he broke free from the others and rode hard toward her. When he reached her, he wheeled his horse to a halt. Bending over, he pulled her up onto the horse with him. As she clung to him, her arms twining around his neck, they kissed in a frenzy.
“I was so afraid for you,” Leonida whispered as they drew apart. She touched his face, as though to make sure he was truly there. “You were gone for so long.” She looked over his shoulder, counting the warriors who were now drawing their mounts to a halt behind Sage. They were all there.
“We did not find him,” Sage said, as though reading her thoughts. “Four Fingers eluded us again.”
“All of this time and you did not achieve your goal?” Leonida said softly. She lay her cheek on his chest, the goatskin fabric soft against her flesh. “I’m sorry, darling. I know how important it was for you to find Four Fingers. Now he will always be a threat to you and your people.”
“Perhaps not,” Sage said. “We came upon four of his warriors who are no longer in alliance with him. They told us that Four Fingers ordered his warriors to disband, to find another life separate from his.”
“You believed them?” Leonida said, raising an eyebrow.
“I never want to believe the word of any Kiowa,” Sage grumbled. “But for now, I will accept it as truth.”
“Then we can travel onward to our original destination?” Leonida asked.
“Not quite yet,” Sage said, gazing down at Leonida, realizing how disappointed she was by the way her eyes wavered.
“What do you mean?” she asked, fearing the answer.
“At this time, I have done all that can be done about Four Fingers,” he said, his voice drawn. “But I have yet to settle things with Kit Carson. I will stay the night with you and my people, then tomorrow, at break of dawn, I must travel again, away from you. I alone will go after Kit Carson. It is an itch that must be scratched, then healed!”
“Do you mean that you are going to abduct Kit Carson?” Leonida gasped, paling.
“It is the only way,” Sage said, his jaw tight.
“No,” Leonida said in a moan. “You mustn’t. Kit Carson is always surrounded by many soldiers. It will be impossible to get past them. And if by chance you do, what will you do once you have him? You know that he will never give in to any of your demands.”
“It is not something I would gamble with,” Sage said stiffly. “If he is abducted and brought back to be among my people, you will see who is in charge then and who will give in to demands and who will not.”
He framed her face between his hands. “Do not have such little faith in your husband,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “But it is not because I doubt you, or have little faith in you. It is because I love you so much. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“My woman, you worry needlessly,” Sage said, then kissed her. “But it is good to have a wife whose devotion and caring is so unwavering.”
Sage’s warriors rode up on each side of him, waiting for instructions. They all already knew of his plans to search for Kit Carson alone. That was the only possible way to get past the soldiers. One person, especially one who moved as stealthily as Sage, could abduct him.
Many warriors would draw too much attention.
“Go on to the camp,” Sage ordered his warriors. “I will spend time with my wife, then come to camp myself. I alone must explain to our people why it is necessary for me to leave them again before we venture onward to our new home. I must explain to them the need to rid our lives, once and for all, of the threats of the white pony soldiers led by Kit Carson.”
The warriors nodded and rode onward.
“I left my blanket beside the stream,” Leonida murmured as Sage sank his heels into the flanks of his horse, riding onward at a soft lope.
“Take me to it,” Sage said, reveling in this moment, with her snuggled close, her breasts pressed against him. For a while she would be the only thing on his mind. Later, he would think about the dangers of riding into the white men’s camp—if, indeed, he could even find their camp—while they were on their way back to Fort Defiance with their Navaho prisoners.
“How is Pure Blossom faring?” he suddenly said, realizing it was impossible to think only of his wife.
“She is growing gradually weaker, yet today she took broth almost eagerly,” Leonida said, pointing as the stream came into view. “My blanket is over there.”
“We shall make use of it,” he said huskily.
“We shall sleep there?” Leonida teased, smiling up at him.
He drew his steed to a halt. He slid easily from the saddle, then reached for Leonida. She moved into his arms, and when her feet touched the ground, she clung to him, her fingers at the nape of his neck, urging his lips to hers.
Their kiss was feverish with desire. Leonida leaned into his embrace, feeling the heat of his passion as he pressed his manhood against her. Even through the fabric of her skirt, she could feel how large he was in his arousal.
She slipped a hand between them and stroked his throbbing member through his breeches. His husky groan quivered against her lips, urging her onward.
With trembling fingers she crept to the waist of his breeches and began lowering them. As they finally fell around his ankles, leaving himself fully accessible to her, she wrapped her fingers around him and began moving her hand in rhythmic up and down strokes.
The pleasure mounting, stealing his breath away, Sage placed his hands at her waist and began lowering her to the blanket, yet giving her room to still maneuver her hand on him.
His head spun, and afraid that he was reaching that plateau of heightened passion too soon, he eased her hand from him.
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�It is better used elsewhere,” he said, lifting her skirt and lowering her undergarment in one quick movement. “Woman, open yourself to me. Let me love you.”
A delicious languor stole over Leonida as he entered her and began his rhythmic thrusts. His eager mouth came to hers and forced her lips apart, his tongue touching hers as he kissed her.
Surrendering herself, Leonida trembled beneath his touch as he lifted her blouse, his hands soon claiming her breasts, enfolding them within his fingers. He kneaded her breasts, his thumbs lightly caressing the nipples.
Happiness bubbled from deep within, and she shook with building sensations when Sage slipped his mouth from her lips, his tongue now moving maddeningly in circles over her breasts, while his hands traveled lower, teasing and stroking the supple lines of her body.
His eyes glazed with desire, Sage stopped his strokes within her and drew back far enough to be able to look at her as the moon crept out from behind a cloud, silvering her body with its splash of light.
“You are more beautiful than the loveliest of butterflies,” he said huskily. He ran his hands up and down her fiery flesh, then stroked the center of her passion between her thighs. “You are softer than the petal of a rose.” He kissed the hollow of her throat, drawing a hungry sigh deeply from within her. “You taste sweeter than honey found in a bee’s hideaway.”
He buried his throbbing hardness deeply inside her, kissing her hungrily as he filled her over and over again with his swollen, aching need of her. His senses yearned for the promise her body was offering him. He locked his arms around her and drew her closer, her body responding as her hips moved in sinuous hollows against his hunger.
Leonida’s heart was pounding as surges of warmth flooded through her body. Her whole universe seemed to be spinning, the sensation rising up and flooding her whole body.
As his kiss deepened, she drifted and floated, then gave herself up to the bliss of the moment as she went over the edge into ecstasy, his body thrusting wildly into hers, proving that he had just followed her there.
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