“See? Obedience is rewarded.” He let go of her wrists and she sighed with relief that the pain had stopped. “There will come a time, gal, when you will do anything we want-anything, because you know what will happen if you don’t. Here, eat.” He spread some meat on a rock before her.
She looked up at him, waiting for him to untie her hands, but he only laughed and shook his head. “No, you will do the best you can or starve. Pride and dignity are not for a half-breed bitch who is to be used for men’s enjoyment.”
She had never hated anyone as much as she hated the bearded, dirty man at this moment. Kimi hesitated, knowing he was expecting her to spit and curse so he could slap her around, deny her any food. It was tempting, so tempting. Now she knew how Hinzi had felt when she had chained and treated him the same way. He was so proud, and she had shamed and humiliated him, She felt her face burn with guilt. However, Kimi forced herself to contain her temper, knowing that if she did not eat she would gradually lose strength and be too weak to escape if she finally did get the chance. She must eat.
With a deep sigh, she knelt and began to eat the meat off the rocks. Her dress had pushed up high on her thighs and she wore nothing underneath, affording them a look at her thighs and the soft curves of her hips. As she leaned over to eat, she knew they also got a good view of her breasts in the low-cut front of her shift. It couldn’t be helped. Her medicine object dangled out of the neck of her shift as she bent over the food. She would have to contain her anger, pretend to be docile, and watch for her chance.
She ate the food while the men smoked and watched her, laughing at her clumsy attempts to eat with her hands tied behind her.
“Shucks,” Tech breathed, “she’s just in the position I like best–just like a mare, waitin’ to be mounted–”
“Not yet,” Buck took a deep drag on his cigar. “Just keep thinkin’ about how good it will be this evening when we finally camp. Then we’ve got all night long to share her around.”
All night long. Kimi tried not to shudder visibly at the images that brought to mind.
Lucky noticed the spirit object dangling from its rawhide thong. “What’s this?”
He bent and took it in his hand, grinned. “Still warm from resting against your tits, sweet stuff, where I intend to sleep tonight. What is this?”
“It’s my medicine charm. I’ve had it always.”
Lucky’s face furrowed as he turned it over in his hand. “Wonder if it’s gold? Lucky ain’t my name for nothin’–”
“Gold? Naw!” Tech snorted and spat. “No Injun tart would have real gold around her neck; it must be just a cheap brass geegaw from some trader’s store.”
“Yes, that’s what it is,” Kimi hastened to say. She had never thought of it as possibly valuable. If it were, the men would take it away from her. She wasn’t sure herself how she had come by the medicine object. Maybe old Otter had found it on a raid.
“See, slut?” Buck combed his tangled beard with his dirty fingers, “We do you a favor, let you keep this piece of junk for now.” He grabbed the thong that held the object and dragged her to her feet. The leather cut into her neck as he lifted her. “You don’t seem near as full of fight as you was before, gal. Maybe you’re already learnin’ what is expected.” He reached for the gag again.
“Please,” Kimi blurted, “please don’t gag me. I promise I won’t scream.”
Lucky grinned. “Wouldn’t do you no good no how, sweet stuff. We’re miles now from anyone who would help you.”
The men chuckled knowingly. Abruptly, Lucky reached out, dragged her to him, and kissed her brutally. He shoved his tongue deep in her throat, bending her almost backward. She knew better than fight or bite him. She let him ravage her mouth for a long moment before he pulled back, breathing heavily, aroused desire in his hard eyes. “You taste good, all right. Bet you can be taught to do much more excitin’ things with that hot little mouth.”
What he hinted at sickened her, but she managed to keep her face immobile.
“Shucks, I wanna kiss her, too,” Tech whined.
“Naw, no time for that now,” Buck shook his head as he took her away from Lucky, lifting her up to his horse and mounting up behind her. “It’s my turn to handle her a little. Anything else has to wait ’til tonight,” he promised, putting his hand on her bare thigh. Kimi felt the heat of his dirty fingers on her skin and forced herself not to struggle. She must save her strength and cunning to try to escape later.
“ ’Tain’t fair,” Tech said, “I ain’t had no turn at holdin’ her. You two are gettin’ all the fun.”
“Remember I’m the one who brought both these sweet things in and shared them with my friends,” Lucky said, “so I should get to hold this one.”
Tech sided with him. “Yeah, that’s true, Buck.”
“God damn, you act like kids with a toy,” Buck grumbled. “All right, Lucky.”
Lucky smiled as he reached for her. There was no use fighting him, she thought wearily. He held her tightly against him, his eager hand roaming her frame. He twisted her head around to kiss her. He smelled of stale whiskey. Kimi lost her temper and bit him, tasting his blood, hot and warm as he cursed and struck her. “Damned squaw! Can’t be trusted no how!”
Half conscious, she slumped against him and felt his hot hands stroking her body as they rode on. Kimi’s head hurt and her wrists were raw from being tied. She thought of the punishment her body would take when they finally camped tonight. She would either have to submit or be beaten half to death.
The next time they stopped to rest she would attempt to leave a clue for the pursuers. If she left the medicine charm hanging on a bush or rock, would Hinzi find it?
She closed her eyes and thought of Hinzi back in the camp, recalling his gentle, sensitive lovemaking. She would have given anything to be safely asleep in his big, protective embrace, as the Pawnee girl had been all night. Had she been missed when dawn broke? Did Hinzi care enough to come looking for her? Kimi had delayed the trio as much as possible so the Lakota warriors could catch up with them. Suppose her people thought she had run away with the traders in a fit of jealous anger? Suppose no one was in pursuit at all?
Hinzi, she thought desperately, where are you? I need your help so badly!
Rand had slept fitfully all night, his arms reaching for the soft body of his delicate butterfly. Then when his embrace closed on an empty spot on the blanket, he would awaken, feel around in the darkness, and realize Kimi was not beside him. He would lie back, angry with her for her petulance. He swore under his breath. He should have kept the Pawnee girl. At least when he awakened in the middle of the night wanting a woman to caress, a soft pair of breasts on which to lay his face, he would have them. What difference did it make as long as the girl was eager and willing?
He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, angry with Kimi. Was she even now lying sleepless, too, in her mother’s lodge? He half rose on one elbow, thinking he would slip through the darkened camp, lift her bodily, and take her back to where she belonged—in his arms and in his blankets. Rand was a virile man who needed a woman often. More than that, he hungered for the feel and scent of Kimi’s softness, the taste of her mouth and nipples.
Was he in love with her? Of course not. He only lusted after her and remembered how good she felt, wet and hot beneath him, as he thrust his body into hers. Someday he must return to his other life hundreds of miles away, a civilized life with a civilized girl who could waltz and do needlepoint and make idle chitchat about fashion with his mother and sister. Kimi would never fit in or be accepted even if he took her back to his world. The only thing that made sense was enjoying her while he was among the Sioux, then forgetting about her when he finally returned to his life. Wasn’t that what soldiers had always done with the enemy’s women?
He dozed off again, sleeping fitfully, remembering the nightmare of events that had brought him to this point. Lenore. He dreamed of saying good-bye to his fiance in the glass conservatory of her grandm
other’s estate. Rand had changed some. Lenore complained about it. It was hard to think of gala balls and fine mansions with all the death and hell he’d seen. He’d been a dispatch carrier for the gallant John Hunt Morgan.
What had happened to all those daring Rebels who had ridden with Morgan’s Raiders? He didn’t know. Rand had been captured by a young general named George Armstrong Custer. He remembered the brash upstart because like himself, Custer had such pale eyes and light hair. That ended the war for Rand. He was sent to Point Lookout prison and then volunteered for Fort Rice.
Fort Rice. A miserable outpost on the edge of the world. Rand didn’t think he had much choice but join up when the Yankees came through the prison stockade recruiting. Like Cherokee Evans, who’d been at Point Lookout since his capture at Shiloh, Rand felt he was staring death in the face every day as men starved or sickened and died around him.
The volunteers were put on a ship called the Continental and sent to New York. From there, the Galvanized Yankees were loaded on a train West. At the Missouri River, they were put aboard an overloaded stern-wheeler named the Effie Deans.
Even in his sleep, Rand shuddered, remembering the execution. Rand had thought young Colonel Dimon was bluffing when he decided to make an example of a man, any man, to reinforce discipline. It was against all military rules to try and execute a soldier without proper board review. In the end, the President himself had the power to commute a death sentence, and Lincoln was notoriously softhearted and lenient.
That didn’t faze young Colonel Dimon. He chose a man out of the hundreds on board, claiming the red-haired blacksmith from Tennessee, William Dowdy, had plotted to take over the boat.
Only Cherokee Evans had had the guts to argue with the colonel as the river boat inched its way up the Missouri toward Dakota Territory.
Rand didn’t even know the scared, condemned boy personally. After all, Dowdy wasn’t even an officer, much less from the same social strata. Besides Rand didn’t think Colonel Dimon would take the responsibility for not going through proper channels.
Rand would never forget that day in 1864. As the overloaded boat moved up the muddy river in the September heat, Dowdy sat chained while a couple of soldiers built a wooden coffin. The sounds of the hammers and saws were louder than the stern wheel churning up the water. There is something about a man marked for death that scares other men away. Only Cherokee had sat and talked with the red-headed blacksmith.
It was past noon and the day was hellishly hot when Dimon had the Effie Deans anchor just above the village of Omaha. With the soldiers standing mutely as witnesses, young Dowdy was marched ashore. From the boat deck, Rand had watched in disbelief. Dimon was certainly carrying this bluff a long way. Damned Yankee officer. Rand cursed softly under his breath. Young Dowdy slumped down on the wooden box while soldiers dug a hole. Dimon can’t do this, Rand thought.
He remembered mostly how hot it was, the feel of sweat running down the neck of his blue wool jacket, and the way the slight breeze moved the prairie grass. Of course the colonel could do it; they were hundreds of miles from authority. The firing squad lined up.
Bob white. Bob, bob white. It seemed strange that quail whistled and a rabbit jumped out of the grass and scampered away as though executing a man didn’t change the world at all.
The sound of the rifles cracked through his mind, sending frightened quail exploding up out of the grass. What had been a man crumpled and fell. Now it was only a pile of blue cloth on a body. Rand blinked, staring in disbelief, listening to the mutter from the men. He had seen a lot of death in the past several years, but nothing that affected him like watching this execution on the flimsiest of charges. And he hadn’t protested, hadn’t done a thing to stop it.
Young Dowdy was hastily put in the wooden box, buried by the river. In minutes the Effie Deans continued on her way upstream as if nothing important had happened. Rand stared at the fresh mound of dirt as the boat pulled away. He spent the next few hours looking into the darkness, contemplating his own life and the world around him. He was ashamed that he had done nothing–not raised a hand, not uttered a word of protest. Only the half-breed Cherokee had tried to stop the killing.
Abruptly it seemed very important to Rand that he do something to ease his guilty conscience. Evans didn’t like him, Rand knew that. The former officer with the Tennessee troops made it clear he thought Rand self-centered, spoiled, and worthless. It was abruptly important to Rand that Cherokee Evans think well of him, so when Rand heard a rumor that Dimon had marked Evans as a troublemaker and the next candidate for his firing squad, Rand took action.
Late at night, disguising his voice, Rand crept to Cherokee and warned him. Cherokee went over the side of the boat and escaped. What had happened to the man? Did he drown in the muddy Missouri that warm September night? Rand had often wondered. After that night, he began to change a little, knowing the world didn’t revolve around him any more. It could have just as easily been him left back there in a shallow grave on the riverbank as the unfortunate blacksmith.
He awakened suddenly, breathing hard. Bright sunlight streamed across his face. Where was he? Oh, yes, in a Lakota camp. He swore under his breath with sheer relief, flexed his shoulders. It was good to be alive. He remembered his dream. Well, none of that mattered anymore. Kimi. Would she come to him this morning and tell him how sorry she was? He’d had enough! She was his as long as he stayed with the Sioux, and he didn’t intend to be made a fool of by a woman’s jealousy.
He got up, stretched, went outside. The camp was busy. Women were cooking and carrying water, children were playing. He looked out toward where the traders had been camped. They were gone. Just as well. If that filthy trio had tried to trade for Kimi one more time, Rand would not be able to control his anger. At least the Pawnee girl had no doubt made it back to her kin by now. In a small way, maybe Rand had repaid the debt his guilty conscience owed for not doing anything to help poor Dowdy.
Rand strode toward old Wagnuka’s tipi, slapping his quirt against his leg. His feelings at this moment were that he might turn Kimi across his knee and spank her until she promised to mend her ways. He thought about it a minute and shook his head. He couldn’t do anything to hurt her, not even a spanking, although the little chit deserved it for what she’d put him through. Lenore was so bland by comparison. He hadn’t known a relationship with a female could have so much crackle and conflict. He wasn’t used to it and he didn’t know what he thought about it.
He wasn’t sorry he had bought the captive Pawnee girl with borrowed ponies that must still be repaid. It was beneath his dignity to explain it to the fiery white savage. Yes, that’s what she was. Could she ever be turned into a genteel lady? Would she have the same fascination for him if that happened?
He stuck his head through the tipi flap. “Wagnuka, I know it’s taboo for me to speak to you, but I need to talk to Kimi. Where is she?”
The old woman frowned at his breech of etiquette. “You make a joke. She is with you.”
He got a funny feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. “She hasn’t been in this lodge all night?”
She stood up. He saw the alarm in her wrinkled face. “She is not with you? I haven’t seen her since last night.”
Slowly Rand shook his head even as he looked toward the empty camp of the traders and began to curse under his breath. “Search the village quickly,” he said, even though in his heart, he knew it would do no good.
He stared out across the creek where the traders’ camp had been. With a sinking feeling, he remembered the way those three had looked at her. Had she gone on her own or been kidnapped? It didn’t matter, she belonged to him and he would not share her. “Get One Eye and the other braves,” he ordered as he turned to run back to his lodge for his weapons. “I think I know where she’s gone and I’m going after her!”
Thirteen
Still not quite willing to believe Kimi might be gone, Rand did a quick search in the dawn’s light. Wagnuka checked amon
g the girl’s friends. Word spread quickly. As Rand gathered up his weapons, Gopher and One Eye joined him. “Kimimila is gone?”
Rand nodded, and they followed him over to look around the traders’ deserted campsite for a clue. All he saw was one very small moccasin track. While that might have been Kimi’s, it also might have been left earlier by one of the children who had walked in the area. “I’m going after her. Will some of the warriors go with me?”
“Yes.” One Eye rubbed the red patch, his handsome face furrowed. “You think she might go willingly with the traders?”
“Do you?” Rand looked at him squarely.
Gopher said, “She was upset about the Pawnee girl.”
“Women!” Rand snorted. “There’s no figuring them. I sent the enemy girl on her way. She’s probably back with her family by now.”
One Eye drew breath sharply, no doubt thinking the same as Rand. “If the traders have Kimi, they’ll use her as they did the Pawnee girl.”
The thought sickened Rand. He swung his quirt against his leg so hard, he felt the sting. If they dared touch her ... He put his hand on the hilt of the big knife in his waistband. “Friends, will you ride with me? I want my woman back and I want those three scalps to hang from the dance pole.”
One Eye nodded. “You have gained much respect among the Akicita society, Hinzi, and the traders weren’t well-liked anyway. We will ride!”
They rode out as soon as possible. Rand had wanted to leave immediately, but there were proper ceremonies to be done, One Eye insisted, including prayers to Wakan Tanka and painting themselves and their horses for a proper war party. It was the Indian way, and there was no changing it. The only thing that comforted Rand was that, with pack mules and a captive, the traders couldn’t move as fast as a war party.
Hinzi. Yellow Hair of the Lakota warriors. Rand, when he looked in a reflective disk of copper, was amazed at how fierce he looked with red and blue paint streaking his face and body, his buckskin horse painted with symbols and its tail tied up for war.
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