Wrapped tightly in the fur, Meadow did not even see where Black Horse had bedded down. A terrible hurt gripped her heart when she thought of him lying alone on the cold, hard ground with nothing more than the flimsy cover, especially after all the torturous months he had spent at that horrible prison. She had heard Walks Tall offer him his fur blanket, too, but he had stubbornly refused.
Meadow could not make her eyes close without seeing Black Horse’s eyes filled with hatred every time he looked at her, or hearing the sound of his cold words when he had said she was a traitor to the Sioux. He thought she had chosen the easy path by going to the fort. She knew that life as a white woman was simpler than the hard life of an Indian, but if all she wanted was an easy life, she could have stayed with Brandon Cornett or her brother. They would have taken care of her. But she had chosen to return to the Sioux, and until he realized her loyalty to them there was nothing else she could do.
As tired as she was, sleep would not come on this night, so Meadow rolled onto her back and stared up at the velvet black sky that sparkled with millions of stars. White Buffalo and Little Squirrel were up there with Wakan Tanka, and she sensed that they were watching out for her even now. They would always be her guiding lights, and she knew that they would never lead her astray. That was why she was here now.
The night was not totally dark, and by the light of the nearly full moon she could see Walks Tall and the other warriors snuggled up in their blankets. Somewhere close by she knew a couple of the men stood watch over the camp. She closely searched the area until she spotted Black Horse’s form curled into a tight ball beneath a shaggy sage bush far away from the other men. She was sure, by the way he was huddled up, that he must be freezing.
Slipping from beneath her cozy fur, Meadow rose up to her feet and gathered up the blanket. As quietly as her clumsy, boot-clad feet could carry her, she crossed over to where Black Horse lay and carefully laid the blanket over him. He did not react to the gesture, but when Meadow started to turn to walk away, she was stopped abruptly when his hand reached out and grabbed her ankle.
She gasped. “I—I was unable to sleep, and I thought you needed the fur more than I did.” His tight grasp on her ankle remained for a few more seconds, but then he pulled his hand back as if he had been bitten by a rabid dog.
“Thank you,” he muttered. “For the blanket and tending to my wounds. You did well.” He rolled over.
Meadow hesitated. She wanted to tell him about her decision to continue with her father’s work, but his silence told her that this was not the time. She turned to walk away, holding her breath; she still hoped that he would say something else. But the night engulfed her as she walked away from him. Each step that took her farther from him grew harder, and the pain in her chest threatened to break her heart in two. How could she even continue to breathe if he never wanted to be with her again?
When it seemed she could not make her feet take one more step, Meadow twirled around. She would run back to him, and tell him again why she had been in the fort, and this time she would not stop until he really did understand. But she had barely turned around when she was pulled up hard against his lean body. He had moved so quietly that she had not even heard him come up behind her. She gasped as his warm lips claimed hers.
His kisses were so filled with demand that they were almost painful and rough. Meadow responded urgently. They had been apart far too long to worry about tenderness now. She raked her fingers through the tangled mass of his waist-length hair and drew herself even closer against him. Their lips melded in hungry kisses, and she felt him pull up one of her legs until it was wrapped up around his hip. His manhood pressed rock-hard into her abdomen, causing such a fierce ache in her loins that it made her feel faint.
As her body swayed in his arms, Black Horse seemed to sense her weakness and with one swift motion swept her up from the ground and into his arms. Meadow moaned weakly as she let her entire body grow limp within his embrace. His sudden burst of strength surrounded and protected her, and at that moment she realized that every beat of her heart depended on this man’s touch.
He carried her to the more secluded spot where he had just been lying. The fur felt cool against her back as Black Horse placed her on top of the thick blanket. As he lowered himself down next to her, he grabbed one end of the fur and rolled it over both of them so that they were huddled together within its warmth and protection.
“I never turned my back on the Sioux or you,” Meadow whispered.
Black Horse pressed his finger against her lips to silence her. “I should have believed you—I should have believed in our love.”
A small cry escaped from Meadow. Wakan Tanka had heard her prayers.
He fiddled with the annoying buckle on the belt Meadow wore to hold up her baggy pants for only a second before she reached down and yanked the clasp apart for him. Meadow kicked the loose boots and pants away from her feet in one quick movement while Black Horse pushed the coat and shirt away from her shoulders. Buttons flew into the darkness as he ripped the last of the shirt away from her and tossed it aside.
Meadow’s entire body was exposed to his touch, and she shivered in anticipation. The one night they had spent together had burned like an eternal flame deep inside of her, and the memory ignited such a fire that now she could not control her body’s frenzied response to him.
Once the tattered clothing that Black Horse was wearing had been discarded, their bare skin molded intimately together, and she eagerly allowed him access as his hips slid in between her thighs. She fought the urge to cry out loud when she fleetingly recalled that Walks Tall and the others were nearby. She would have to remain quiet on this beautiful, fateful night.
Black Horse’s longing seemed equal to her own, and, as he pressed relentlessly inside her, Meadow heard him groan as though he was almost unable to control himself. They moved together in perfection and desperation, clinging to one another as if they would die if they loosened their hold. As Black Horse’s hips moved harder and faster, Meadow’s hips matched each and every movement. She wasn’t aware that her nails dug into his back or that her vow to keep quiet was broken as they reached a climax that left her weak and trembling.
Black Horse lay atop her for a couple of moments as if he was too spent to move. When he did rise up, it was only far enough so that he could bring his lips to her mouth in a hot kiss that devoured her breath with its intensity. Then, keeping her within his possessive hold, Black Horse rolled off of her and cradled her against his side. Meadow curled up as close as she could get to him and laid her head on his chest. Everything in their tumultuous lives was calm when she was in this man’s arms.
Chapter Twenty-five
Meadow woke to the chill of the morning. She burrowed underneath the blanket to cover her freezing nose and realized with a start that she was alone. In spite of the cold, she threw the blanket off and sat up. There was no sign of Black Horse or any of the other warriors. Panic began to well up in her chest until she spotted two horses still tied to the bushes not far away—Walks Tall’s horse, Hawk, and the horse that Black Horse had ridden yesterday. But where were all the other horses and the men?
Maybe they were hunting for breakfast. The thought of a roasted rabbit or sage hen made her mouth water. She wrapped the fur blanket around herself until she located the shirt and pants she had been wearing last night. The pants where still wearable, but the shirt was now without buttons, and the buttonholes were ripped wide open.
Meadow couldn’t help but smile as she donned the shirt and remembered the way he had torn it off her. She clutched the shirt together until she found the bag that held her Indian dress and high moccasins, and also the white wedding blanket that she still carried everywhere she went. Slipping under the cover of the blanket, Meadow quickly discarded the uncomfortable pants and shirt and slipped her soft hide dress over her head and her feet into the comfy knee-high moccasins. As she tightened the laces that ran up the front of her moccasins, she vowed to
herself that she would never wear white man’s clothes again.
Meadow stood, smoothed her dress down over her hips and ran her fingers through her tousled hair. She would try to braid it later, but first she had to find her man. She knew from past experience not to call out to them. Enemies—or even wild animals—could be close by, and the sound of her voice could alert them to her presence. Meadow wandered cautiously toward the horses and glanced around. Off in the distance she could see a towering cascade of mountains, and she assumed that they would be headed in that direction, since Walks Tall had mentioned that they would be meeting up with other Sioux—renegades, most likely—that lived somewhere in the mountains.
Meadow drew in a deep breath and stared at the distant mountains. Would Black Horse really take her there with him? Even though their actions the previous night had held more raw passion than she had ever known could exist between a man and a woman, she realized now that they had hardly spoken a word to one another during or after their impassioned lovemaking. If he was trying to punish her, she thought, he had definitely picked the wrong method. She had not felt anything but pure pleasure.
As she stared at the two horses, another thought came that made her insides twist with terror. She leaned against a tree for support when she realized that Black Horse might actually be gone. What if he and the other warriors had ridden off in the middle of the night and left Walks Tall here to take her back to the village? Maybe he had decided that last night had been a terrible mistake and that he never wanted to see her again. Her nervous gaze scanned the area again as she started to walk toward the horses.
Being alone with her insecurities and fears was making her frantic. Forgetting the caution she had been taught, Meadow opened her mouth to call out for them. The words stuck in her throat as a hand clamped roughly over her mouth and fingers dug into the side of her face. Meadow reached up, intending to claw the face of her attacker, but he grasped her wrist as if he had known what she was about to do. She struggled helplessly as she was dragged back into a clump of heavy brush and pulled forcibly down to the ground. She felt the prickly branches of the bushes scratching her face and arms as her bottom hit the hard ground, but she was as defenseless against them as she was against her attacker.
In the shelter of the bushes, Meadow’s captor forced her to turn around so that she could see his face. As her gaze met his, the shock nearly rendered her incoherent. But she could see the silent warning in Black Horse’s ebony eyes and knew that they were both in danger. She tried to swallow the constricting lump in her throat as she also tried to convey to him that she understood that he was trying to protect her from someone or something.
Meadow felt his grip around her mouth and jaw loosen, and she nodded her head as he slowly pulled his hand away from her face and raised his forefinger to his mouth in a gesture for her to remain quiet. He also released his tight hold on her wrist and then motioned for her to remain on the ground. She swallowed hard again, hoping that she could catch the breath she had been holding and not start coughing or gasping. With her own hand clasped over her mouth, Meadow turned to look in the direction that held Black Horse’s attention.
The sight that met her eyes made Meadow grateful that she had clamped her hand tightly over her mouth, because it prevented the scream that threatened to escape from her. Riding straight toward them were a half dozen soldiers, and the one in the lead was none other than her own brother, Robert McBain!
Meadow’s startled gaze moved back to Black Horse, and she noticed that he held the old bone-handled knife that Walks Tall had given him last night. Walks Tall and the other warriors had rifles, and she could only hope that they were hiding somewhere nearby with guns aimed at the soldiers, because the knife Black Horse clasped would not offer much protection. A rush of strange emotions flooded through Meadow—blinding fear for the man she loved and for their friend, Walks Tall, but also sadness and guilt that she would rather see her own flesh and blood die than lose either one of them.
The image of her brother’s hate-filled expression when had he told her that he never wanted her to mention “those animals” again flashed before her eyes. He undoubtedly had heard about her part in Black Horse’s escape, so she was certain that he must really despise her now. That he had come all this way to find them was proof that he would never forgive her for wanting to be with the Sioux more than with her own family. A shudder racked Meadow’s entire body as she realized that her own brother had probably come here to kill her.
The troop of soldiers was almost to where the two horses were tied, and Meadow knew it would be just seconds before the men knew that they had caught up to their prey. A feeling of helplessness mingled with her terror; they were trapped like animals in a pen. She looked to Black Horse for encouragement. His dark lashes were narrowed into thin slits around his eyes, and his full lips were drawn into a tight line. Even after everything that he had suffered in the past months, the power he still emitted was staggering. But did he have the strength to go into battle so soon?
A fleeting memory of the previous night passed through her mind, and in spite of their precarious situation, Meadow felt a heated blush rush into her cheeks. Last night he had seemed plenty strong enough to fight any war. But last night he had not been fighting for his life.
Lieutenant McBain and his contingent were stopped beside the two Indian ponies now, and they were all looking around cautiously as if they expected to be ambushed at any second. Meadow heard him order his men to spread out and search the area. The pounding of her heart sounded so loud to her own ears that Meadow wondered if the soldiers could hear it. Her frightened gaze moved back to Black Horse. He had scooted away from her and was crouched down on his heels and ready to pounce forward, like a mountain lion stalking his prey. His deadly expression had not changed.
Meadow drew in a trembling breath. She was prepared to fight, too. She was, after all, the main reason these soldiers were here. She could not escape from the image of her brother’s ruthless expression when he had talked about the Sioux. There would be no reasoning with him, but she had to do something.
The soldiers were on foot now as they began to search through the sparse cedars that grew in the area. Meadow knew it would only be a matter of seconds before they spotted her and Black Horse. She panicked, jumping up from the protection of the brush and lunging forward before Black Horse had a chance to stop her.
“Robert,” she called out. She thought she heard Black Horse say something to her, but she did not acknowledge him as she hurried out into the open to face her brother alone. Her legs felt wobbly beneath her, and she worried that she would fall if she couldn’t control her shaking. She spoke En glish, but it was impossible to talk without her voice quivering. “It—it’s m-me that you want, Robert,” she cried out. “I know that y-you think I’ve shamed you a-and the memory of our f-family, but—”
“But what, little sister?” the lieutenant spat, cutting off her words. His gaze raked up and down as if he was assessing her Indian attire. “Do you want me to forget that you are a traitor to our race, and a complete disgrace to our family’s memory? Just look at you.” He raised his rifle up and aimed it directly at her head. “You are no better than the dirty savages that you are trying to protect,” he added. His tone of voice was filled with venom, and the disgusted expression on his face showed the disdain he felt for his flesh and blood.
Meadow’s vision focused on the end of the gun barrel pointed straight at her head, and she tried to think. Would her impulsive gesture give Black Horse—and, she hoped, the others—time to make a stand against the soldiers, or had she just sealed their fate? “R-Rob-ert, I can’t help the way I feel. I know that you will never understand why, but please—”
“Where are they!” he screamed, cutting her off again. “That buck you broke out of the prison and the other ones that you were riding with. Are you lying with all of those dirty animals?”
As his horrible accusation reached Meadow’s stunned ears, she did no
t have time to react. In the next instant, a barrage of gunfire accompanied a flurry of activity that Meadow did not see, as she was knocked to the ground when Black Horse rushed from his hiding place and pushed her out of the line of fire.
Meadow felt her body hit the hard ground, but she did not have a chance to protect herself as the back of her head thudded against a protruding rock. Darkness stole away the last of the morning sunlight from her eyes.
Chapter Twenty-six
The cool rag against her forehead was soothing, but it did not mask the throbbing pain at the back of her head. “You are a foolish woman,” Meadow heard as she forced her eyes slowly open. Her vision blurred for a moment before she was able to focus on the handsome face that loomed above her. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a weak moan escaped.
“You could have been killed,” Black Horse continued in an aggravated tone. “That was a crazy thing that you did.”
“She saved your life—again,” said Walks Tall. “The soldiers would have walked right up on the two of you if she had not distracted them for a few minutes, and your one little knife was a pitiful match for six guns.”
“It hit its target,” Black Horse retorted.
Meadow gasped as she touched the back of her head, which was throbbing even more violently now. “Wh-what happened?” she asked. Her fingers gingerly felt at the open cut that oozed blood. She quickly pulled her bloodied hand away.
“You will live,” Black Horse said. He carefully began to tie a rag around her head to help stop the bleeding as he softly thanked Wakan Tanka over and over again that she had not been hurt too badly when he pushed her out of the way.
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