Untamed

by Sharon Ihle

  Daniel swept the buffalo spread from his bed to use as a shield against the cold wind. "You boys stay right where you are," he cautioned. "I'm going to go outside to see what's keeping your ma."

  Struggling to wrap his body in the heavy hide, Daniel started for the door about the time it suddenly burst open. Two Cheyenne braves bulldozed their way into the cabin with one of them holding Josie tightly against his chest. He had a big hunting knife creasing the skin at her throat.

  The other brave pointed to Daniel and said in his native language, "Put your hands where we can see them."

  Daniel let the hide fall to the floor and then spread his arms out at his sides. Also speaking Cheyenne, Daniel said, "As you can see, I am unarmed. Turn the woman loose."

  The brave ignored him and directed his next words to his companion. "Daniel Two Skins does not remember us, yet he claims his work is to better the lives of the Cheyenne. He is no different from the white Indian agents who cheated us."

  "That's not true," Daniel said. "Remove your coats so I can see who is speaking. And please, release my woman so we can talk as friends."

  "Bah, friends."

  Still, the brave peeled off his heavy coat and tossed it on the floor. As he helped his companion out of his jacket, Daniel recognized the speaker as Wolf Lies Down, a warrior who'd been banished from the tribe after killing two men during a camp quarrel. He'd left the reservation with his wife, Walking Strange, and a few other relatives, including his children.

  Once the second warrior's jacket was removed, Daniel immediately remembered him as Stump Horn, cousin to Wolf Lies Down.

  Again trying to get him to lay the weapon aside, he said, "I know you both, and have no argument with either of you. Release my wife and the three of us can have a smoke and discuss your problems."

  "We did not come here to smoke." Wolf Lies Down advanced on him, brandishing his knife. "Our children heard much talk at the mission about a great buffalo you keep penned. We have come to claim this beast as our own."

  That stinking buffalo. Daniel almost wished he'd never laid eyes on the damned thing. "Take it if you must," he snapped irritably. "But be warned that the buffalo belongs to all of your brothers. They know it is here and that I am keeping it safe for them until the spring. When they come for it and it is gone, they will hunt you down and kill you."

  Wolf Lies Down raised a fist and shook it at Daniel. "We are starving. Is it more noble to die with our bellies flat against our spines than at the hands of my brothers? My family will not last this terrible winter if we do not have that buffalo."

  Daniel could see how scrawny they were without their coats to hide their slender bodies, and that they were half frozen. He wondered how they had ever found his place or even gone in search of it during the storm that had just passed through. He shifted his gaze to Josie and gave thanks that she couldn't understand the conversation. God knew what she'd do if she realized her captors intended to slaughter her precious pet. He was going to have a hard enough time convincing the renegades that they were wasting time holding her hostage without Josie attacking them.

  "Release my wife," he repeated, this time with more authority. "Then we will discuss ways of feeding your family."

  "Stump Horn will keep his knife at your woman's throat until we find a way to make this great buffalo follow me to our camp."

  Daniel didn't care for the intensity in the warrior's manner or the crazed look in his companion's eyes. He remembered hearing a couple a weeks back that a band of renegades, probably these two here along with their women, had been surprised by a rancher and his cowhands while in the midst of stealing the man's cattle. In the ensuing confrontation, the renegades were run off empty-handed, but not before they killed the rancher. In addition to being shunned by the members of their own tribe, they were now hunted by white lawmen, a fact that would make them utterly ruthless.

  If that weren't enough to complicate matters, Daniel realized that Josie's skin had gone pale beneath her freckles and that her eyes were glazed over with fear, a condition that put her in a helpless and dangerous daze. He'd been working hard to help make her understand that the Cheyenne were not so unlike her own family, but now he could see that all his efforts were for naught. If he didn't do something soon to secure Josie's release, she might just up and faint, and thereby invite her own accidental death.

  "All right," Daniel said to Wolf Lies Down. "I'll help you get the buffalo, but not until you release my wife,"

  "You do not make the rules," Wolf Lies Down jabbed his knife at Josie's ribs. She flinched and, opened her mouth as if to scream, but didn't cry out. Then the renegade said, "Your woman will stay here with Stump Horn and you will come with me to help secure the buffalo for our journey back to camp."

  As he recognized the desperation in both men's eyes and the despair in Josie's, Daniel realized that up until this moment, he'd lulled himself into believing that he was playing a game. with her, that their relationship was little more than make-believe husband and wife. Standing here helplessly watching as a knife pressed deep into the skin he' loved to kiss, he could almost feel the blade cutting into her, severing the pulse that had thrummed so passionately against his lips last night. Suddenly he knew what it would mean to lose her—and not as a wife or mother to his sons. As the woman he loved.

  "I'll do whatever I can to help you," he promised. In an effort to hide the intense hatred he suddenly felt for this man. Daniel struggled to keep his voice level and reasonably friendly. "But I will not leave my wife here with a knife against her throat."

  The renegade's eyes glittered with malice. "Then perhaps you would prefer to leave her behind with a knife in her throat." Wolf Lies Down turned to Stump Horn and shouted, "Kill her."

  * * *

  Up in the loft, as quiet and still as a pair of newborn fawns in tall grass, Bang and Two Moons silently watched the argument between their father and the two angry warriors. In the way of all Cheyenne children, they bad learned as infants that crying or speaking out in times of fear or anger was a danger to the entire tribe, and that the sound of their voices might alert an enemy to their presence. The early lessons were not forgotten.

  The boys had seen enough wailing infants taken away from the camp and left alone to cry themselves out to know that they had also received the same treatment. As unruly two-year-old boys, they remembered their grandmother pouring ice-cold water over their heads until they quit fighting and their rage was quenched. Bang and Two Moons knew full well that this was a time for quiet observation. Their instincts were keen.

  With just the tops of their heads and watchful eyes above the lip of the loft, they continued to listen to the conversation below. Although Bang didn't understand everything that was said, he sensed that his father and Ma Jofess were in danger. Bang was frightened for himself, but terrified that some harm would come to his father. He was even a little bit worried about the woman. She sometimes made with the mean face when she looked upon him and Two Moons, but then sometimes she smiled at them, too, and she always made good food.

  When the hateful warrior, the one who called himself Wolf Lies Down, ordered his friend to kill Ma Jofess, Bang's father lunged toward the warrior, and the two fell to the ground. At almost the same time, the one called Stump Horn drew blood with his knife, and then Ma Jofess crumpled onto the floor.

  Knowing instinctively that they were all in grave danger, Bang whispered to his twin, "What can we do?"

  Two Moons did not speak or move. He was so paralyzed with fear he didn't even blink when the question was repeated. Left alone with the big decision, Bang crawled silently to the back corner of the room and grabbed hold of the only weapon he could carry in one chubby hand—Long Belly's spiked club.

  Creeping back to the lip of the loft, he peered down to see that Ma Jofess was still lying on the floor. His father continued to grapple with Wolf Lies Down. Behind the two wrestlers, Stump Horn approached, raising his knife as he prepared to drive it into the unsuspecting back o
f Bang's father. His tiny heart pounding with fear, Bang prayed that he would remember the lessons learned at play when he'd tossed toy hatchets as if they were real. He then rose to his knees and flung the old club at Stump Horn as hard as his little four-year-old arm could throw it.

  The weapon clattered to the floor a few yards short of its target, but the noise distracted the warrior before he had a chance to stab Bang's father. Stump Horn whirled around in place, then glanced up at the loft.

  Laughing evilly when he saw Bang, who'd forgotten to take cover, the warrior muttered something about ridding the cabin of vermin. Then he headed for the ladder.

  As Bang prostrated himself beside his brother again, the last thing he saw was a bright twinkle bouncing off the tip of Stump Horn's knife. It reminded him of Wohehiv, the Morning Star, and of the Hanging Road above, known to the whites as the Milky Way. It was said that when a Cheyenne died, his spirit traveled up this Hanging Road to the bode of the Wise One Above.

  Bang wondered if he would enjoy living among his long-lost loved ones as much as he'd enjoyed his life here on earth.

  Chapter 21

  Just as he thought he had Wolf Lies Down in his grasp, the warrior rolled, taking Daniel with him, and pinned him flat against the floor. Raising his knife high above his head, the Cheyenne swung it downward in a vicious, slashing motion. Daniel caught the man's wrist at the last minute, then bent it forward, forcing him to continue the arc he'd begun. The blade glanced off the warrior's ribs, and then buried itself in his guts.

  At almost the same moment, a terrific explosion rattled Daniel's eardrums. He pushed the wounded Indian away from his body, then rolled to his feet and saw that Josie was facing the ladder, her back to him. Halfway up to the loft, Stump Horn dangled from the steps, a look of surprise on his face. Then he suddenly fell away from the ladder and hit the floor with a soft thud.

  "Josie?" Daniel said, trying to piece the events together. "Did you just fire my gun?"

  "I pulled back the hammer." Sounding dazed, she turned with the Peacemaker still clutched between both hands. Blood ringed one side of her throat, half of a macabre necklace. "I pulled back the hammer."

  "Josie—my God. Don't move."

  She pitched forward despite his instructions, and Daniel had all he could do to reach her before she hit the floor. After he'd gathered her into his arms and carried her to the bed, he sat down beside her to examine the wound more closely.

  On the floor a few feet away, Wolf Lies Down groaned in agony.

  "Papa," a small voice from above suddenly whispered. "Can we come down now?"

  "No," Daniel said sharply. "I'll let you know when it's safe to move."

  Josie, who was semiconscious, fluttered her lashes, but didn't open her eyes.

  "A knife," she murmured. "That savage has a knife."

  "Shush." Daniel pressed the edge of his pillow against her throat, checking the flow of blood. "Don't talk and don't move."

  "But he's going after the twins."

  "The twins are fine." Had she saved the lives of his boys? Daniel's throat tightened with unfamiliar emotions, and he had to swallow hard just to breath easily again.

  "Am I hurt?" Josie whispered.

  "Just a little," he lied, embellishing the tale so she wouldn't realize how close she'd come to meeting her maker. She was in shock now, but the pain would come soon enough, and along with it, the memory of Stump Horn's knife at her throat. "You hurt your shoulder when you fell."

  "Silly me." Incredulously enough, she smiled. "I guess I must have fainted or something."

  The fact that Josie had passed out was nothing short of a miracle, the one thing, near as Daniel could figure, that had saved her life. Wiping the wound clean, he took the pillow away from her throat. Blood was oozing now, not pulsing out of the cut, which meant that Stump Horn's knife had slipped as she fainted, costing him the angle on her jugular as well as the opportunity for a quick kill.

  Daniel parted the cut with his fingers, gauging its depth and severity, and finally got a reaction out of Josie.

  "Ow, that hurts," she cried. "What did you do to my neck?"

  "You have a little cut there, but it's nothing. I'll just get something to clean it out. Don't move."

  He rose, grateful that she'd closed her eyes and showed no signs of arguing with him, and then paused to take a look at the fallen warrior. Wolf Lies Down was barely hanging on to his life. With another glance at Josie, who was resting comfortably, Daniel hurried to where the Indian lay.

  "Wake up, man," he said in rapid Cheyenne as he hunkered down beside him. "Where is your family, your women and children?"

  The warrior cracked his eyelids. Then he stupidly used most of what was left of his strength to hurl a wad of spit.

  Daniel wiped his cheek, and then took Wolf Lies Down roughly by the shoulders. "Don't be a damn fool. Its too late to save your miserable hide, but your family still has a chance. Where are they? Tell me so I can save them from certain starvation."

  Daniel could feel the warrior's life ebbing beneath his fingertips, and worried that the same thing might be happening to Josie. He raised his voice in frustration. "They don't have to die, dammit. I promise if you tell me where your family is, they won't have to live on the run anymore. Now where the hell are they?"

  The light in his eyes dimming with each breath that he took, Wolf Lies Down finally whispered directions to an area at the southeast fringes of the reservation. The spot was about five or six miles from Daniel's cabin, but in this weather, he figured it might as well have been a hundred.

  "You will save them?" Wolf Lies Down eked out.

  "I promise that I'll find them and make sure that they are returned safely to the tribe." Then, with a feeble nod, the formerly great warrior died in Daniel's arms.

  "Now, Papa?" asked Bang.

  "No!"

  Since he rarely shouted at the boys, the rebuke startled Daniel almost as much as it did his younger son. But with two dead warriors and Josie bleeding all over his bed, he figured the twins would be better off viewing the carnage from above than from close up. Leaving the problem of what to do with the bodies for later, Daniel grabbed a few clean cloths, a needle and thread, and a bottle of whiskey before returning to Josie.

  By then she was moaning and clutching her throat. "It hurts," she whimpered. "Why does it hurt so much?"

  "Here," he said, filling a capful of whisky and bringing it to her lips. "Drink this and you'll feel better in no time."

  Josie wrinkled her nose at the smell, and then shuddered slightly as the alcohol bathed her tongue. Daniel refilled the cap and brought it to her lips again, repeating the process until she lay there grinning at him in a drunken stupor. Then he poured a thin river of whisky along the wound, and got busy with the disagreeable task of sewing her neck back together again.

  As he worked, flinching each time his needle pierced her delicate skin, Daniel thought about the odd way they'd come together and how much she'd come to mean to him over the past few weeks. He'd been so certain that he didn't want another woman in his life, so damned determined to send Josie back to where she'd come from, that he could hardly believe how possessive he felt toward her now. She was his, and not simply because Father van der Velden had said so. His because Daniel wanted her, now and forever.

  It was with a little stab of guilt that he glanced up to where his sons lay peering down as he worked on Josie's neck. He'd never felt so strongly about their mother. Never had he been so utterly solicitous of her either, or so damned frustrated when he couldn't get her to see eye to eye with him. With Tangle Hair, Daniel had simply walked away whenever an argument came to a stalemate. With Josie, he felt compelled to fight to the bitter end. Surprisingly enough, he got almost as much satisfaction when she emerged the victor as when he did.

  Daniel wasn't quite sure why things were so, but it sure as hell wasn't because Josie was the perfect wife. He'd drawn many comparisons between her and Tangle Hair since the day they first met, and u
ntil recently Josie had always been eclipsed by her Cheyenne counterpart when it came to matters of hearth and home. Why should it be that this inferior wife had such a strong hold on hire, a bond that made him feel as if he'd been mated for life?

  Just asking himself that question finally clarified the main difference between the two women. Daniel had felt affection for Tangle Hair, and a definite sense of duty. But before Josie, he'd never known what it was to love.

  * * *

  It was dark in the cabin when Josie came around again, even though the flame from a single candle flickered at the table. Her head felt fuzzy, as did her tongue, and a dull ache bumped against the back of her skull. A sharper pain, more of a sting or a burn, bubbled at the side of her neck. She gently eased her fingers across the area, feeling a series of odd little bumps that felt as if she were petting the back of a very long centipede. Then suddenly she remembered the knife at her throat and realized what those tiny knolls represented—stitches.

  Josie's eyes flew open in horror. Indians surrounded her bed as she'd feared, but the big round eyes staring at her belonged to Bang and Two Moons. One at each side of the mattress, they appeared to be standing guard over her, a sneaky little pair of pisspots disguised as miniature sentries.

  Surprised to hear her own voice sounding so weak, she asked, "Where's your pa?"

  One of them, Josie was too disoriented to figure out which, said, "In the barn. Food to animals."

  She closed her eyes, relieved to know for sure that Daniel was all right. "Have you fellahs had your supper yet?"

  A long silence, save for the slight rustle of their buckskin shirts, told Josie that the boys were either nodding or shaking their heads. She was suddenly too tired to open her eyes, so she said, "Yes or no?"