“Don’t cry, Caty,” he murmured. “Please don’t cry.”
“I want to go home,” she pleaded. “You promised to come for me last night. Where were you?”
“I couldn’t get away. I waited until I thought everyone was asleep, but Summer Wind followed me out of the lodge.”
“Summer Wind! Summer Wind! I’m sick of that name, of her and your promises!”
“Dammit, Caty, be reasonable. I’m doing the best I can to get us both out of here with a whole skin. I don’t like this any more than you do, but Summer Wind is Shinte Galeska’s cousin and if she tells him the truth, I could be killed for being here, and then where would you be?”
Caitlyn was instantly contrite. He was right, of course, only it was so hard to be patient. So hard to bide her time when she was so frightened all the time.
“I’ll come for you tonight if I can, Caty. Please believe me.”
“I do. I’m sorry for what I said. You must think me an awful coward.”
“No, you’re doing fine. Just hang on.”
“I will.”
“Be still,” he said sharply, and stood up.
Caitlyn frowned, and then scowled blackly as she saw Summer Wind hurrying toward them.
“Oh, there you are,” Summer Wind said, smiling archly. She went to Rafe’s side and placed her hand on his arm. “I’m tired,” she said, speaking English for Caitlyn’s benefit. “Shall we go to bed?”
Rafe sent a pleading glance in Caitlyn’s direction, his dark eyes begging her to trust him.
“Come along, husband,” Summer Wind said, tugging on his arm. “It grows late.”
Rafe started to disengage her hand from his arm but then Tonkalla appeared out of the shadows. He nodded at Rafe, then grabbed Caitlyn by the arm and hauled her to her feet.
Caitlyn sent Rafe a look that tore at his heart before the warrior dragged her into the lodge.
“Shall we go, husband?” Summer Wind said sweetly.
“Shut up,” Rafe hissed. And at that moment, he didn’t know who he hated more, or the man who now owned Caty, or the woman who had made it possible.
Caitlyn scrambled to the rear of the lodge as Tonkalla pulled the flap closed. Thus far, he had not touched her, but she feared that was about to change.
Murmuring to her in his own tongue, the warrior walked toward her and when she tried to avoid him, he reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair. Dropping to his knees, he jerked her down beside him. His hands were rough as he ripped her shirt, his eyes hot as he admired her fine white skin and full breasts.
Caitlyn uttered a small cry as he yanked her skirt down and then dispensed with her underthings. She cringed as his hand slid down her thigh, then moved toward her breast.
Help came from an unexpected source. Shrieking like a banshee, Little Deer charged into the lodge, a stick in her hand. Screaming in Cheyenne, she pounded her husband’s back with the stick, berating him at the top of her lungs for trying to bed the white woman.
Covering his head, Tonkalla ran out of the lodge. Sweet relief washed through Caitlyn, and then she gasped with pain as the stick came down across her bare shoulders. Little Deer was shouting at her, obviously reviling her, warning her to stay away from her husband.
Caitlyn nodded, her shoulders stinging with pain where the woman had struck her.
When Little Deer’s anger subsided, she pushed Caitlyn to the ground and tossed a buffalo robe over her nakedness. Then, muttering to herself, Little Deer crawled under her own covers and closed her eyes.
Caitlyn smiled in the darkness. Thank goodness, Indian women were jealous, too!
Summer Wind pulled Stalking Wolf into the shadows. They never had a chance to be alone in Shinte Galeska’s lodge, but here, in the darkness, it was peaceful and quiet. And private.
“What are you doing?” Rafe asked as Summer Wind drew him deeper into the forest.
“Finding a place where we can be alone.”
“Why?”
“Do you not want to be alone with me?”
“Not now. I’ve got to find a way to get Caitlyn away from Tonkalla.”
“You do not need her,” Summer Wind said urgently placing her hands on his chest. “I will be your woman. We can stay here with our brothers, the Cheyenne. We could have a good life together.”
His eyes burning with rage, Rafe thrust Summer Wind from him. “Caitlyn is my wife,” he hissed. “I cannot abandon her.”
“She is not your wife any longer,” Summer Wind retorted. “She is Tonkalla’s slave now and nothing you can do will change it.”
“Is that so? Well, my conniving little vixen, I can always tell Shinte Galeska the truth, which is what I should have done in the first place.”
“Hah! He will be insulted if he learns that you have lied to him. Perhaps he will kill you. Perhaps he will kill us all.”
“I could easily kill you myself,” Rafe muttered irritably.
Summer Wind’s expression softened. “Let me be your wife, Stalking Wolf. I will do anything you ask.” She put her arms around him and kissed him, pressing herself against him so he could feel her breasts.
But all Rafe felt was disgust. His hands closed over her arms and he pushed her away. “That won’t work this time, Summer Wind. I’ve tasted your lying lips before, remember?”
“You will not change your mind? You will not stay here with me?”
“No.”
“Very well. I hope you do not regret it.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
Summer Wind shook her head. She had asked him to stay with her, had practically begged him not to leave her for that pale-skinned woman. She would not ask again. Wordlessly, she left him standing there, her mind racing as she plotted her revenge.
Rafe gazed after her for a long moment, a sudden chill replacing the warmth of the night.
When he returned to Shinte Galeska’s lodge some twenty minutes later, he found Summer Wind, Shinte Galeska, and seven warriors waiting for him.
Rafe let out a long breath. Judging by the smug expression on Summer Wind’s face, and the grave look in the eyes of Shinte Galeska, he knew he was in trouble.
Shinte Galeska stepped forward and then Rafe noticed all the men were armed.
For a fleeting moment, he considered making a run for it, but there was no way he could outrun an arrow; no way he could leave Caitlyn when there was still a chance, however slight, that he could get her away from Tonkalla.
He did not resist when one of the warriors tied his hands behind his back, then relieved him of the knife he carried on his belt.
“Come,” Shinte Galeska said curtly, and led the way toward the chief’s lodge.
All the high-ranking warriors of the tribe were present in the lodge of Two Moons when Rafe and his escort arrived. The low murmur of voices subsided as Shinte Galeska and the other Cheyenne sat down, leaving Rafe standing in the center of the lodge, alone.
He stood straight, his head high and proud, as his gaze slowly swept the lodge.
The council listened attentively as Shinte Galeska stood up, and in a voice laced with conviction, accused the warrior known as Stalking Wolf of having willfully violated the laws of the People. He explained the reason why Stalking Wolf had been banished from the Lakota, then went on to say that not only was Stalking Wolf guilty of killing one of the People, but that he had lied to the Cheyenne, as well, by claiming the woman Summer Wind was his wife, when, in truth, he had kidnapped her and the white woman from Fort Laramie.
Rafe swore under his breath, quietly damning Summer Wind for having concocted such an outrageous lie.
He thought briefly of calling her a liar, of demanding that they summon her to the lodge and make her tell her lies to his face, but such a move would gain him nothing. The council would not be inclined to take his word over Summer Wind’s.
His jaw tightened as the council deliberated his fate. There were three choices available to them, they could kill him, punish him physica
lly, or let him go.
He knew, by the stern expressions on the faces of the assembled warriors, that they would not let him go.
He held his breath as the chief of the tribe stood up.
“Stalking Wolf, you have heard the accusations against you. Have you anything to say?”
Rafe shook his head. What could he say? He had been banished from the People, he could not deny the most serious of the charges.
“Tomorrow, at dawn, you will be stripped naked and whipped out of camp.”
“Damn.” The single word, softly spoken, carried a wealth of frustration.
Whipped out of camp. Not only would it be painful, but humiliating as well. It was a severe punishment, one he had escaped at the hands of the Lakota only because he had not killed Hump Back Bear in cold blood. He had not expected the Cheyenne to impose it upon him now. He would have to run the gauntlet and survive so that, somehow, he could come back for Caitlyn.
Summer Wind was standing outside when Rafe followed Shinte Galeska out of the chief’s lodge. Their eyes met briefly, and Rafe could almost hear the sound of her vindictive laughter. “I hope you do not regret it,” she had said. Well, he was regretting it now, he thought ruefully. Regretting the fact that he hadn’t left her back at Fort Laramie.
Dawn came much too quickly.
Stripped naked, his hands tightly bound behind his back, Rafe was led to one end of the village. Ahead of him, forming two parallel lines, stood the men and women of the tribe. All were armed either with sticks, clubs, or lances.
A heavy stillness hung over the village. Even the dogs were quiet.
He saw Summer Wind standing at the far end of the line, a sharp stick in her hand. He threw her his best devil-may-care grin and then, amid a thunder of drums, he hunched over and began to run. The earlier stillness of the village was broken by the steady beat of a drum and the shouts’ of the crowd as they rained blows on his head, back, shoulders, and legs.
Sticks and clubs fell on him like angry fists, raising long red welts, while lance tips pierced his skin, drawing crimson drops of blood. He ran steadily onward, the rhythm of the drums echoing inside his head. Knowing it would be death to fall, he struggled to keep his legs under him.
And then, miraculously, he reached the end. The blows stopped. The drumming ceased. The crowd fell silent.
With an effort, Rafe stood erect. Turning, he raked the crowd with one long disdainful glance. Then he saw Caitlyn standing near Tonkalla’s lodge, her eyes revealing her horror at what she had seen. She took a hesitant step toward him, and he shook his head, warning her away.
Then he headed away from the village, his head high, until he knew he was out of sight. Only then did he surrender to the pain. Slowly, he dropped to his knees, his head hanging, his breathing ragged. Closing his eyes, he fell heavily to his side, waiting for the worst of the pain to pass. He could feel blood dribbling down his side, mingling with the sweat that bathed his body.
He lay there for a long time. The grass was cool beneath him, the sun dried the sweat from his skin, and a gentle breeze helped revive him.
Rising, he searched for a sharp rock and laboriously rubbed the rawhide over the edge until, at last, the rope frayed and broke, freeing his hands. He began to walk, putting distance between himself and the Indians. At a shallow waterhole, he took a long drink, then washed the blood from his body. Already, dark bruises were forming on his arms and legs, intertwining with the long red welts the clubs had raised. Miraculously, he had received no broken bones but he was sore all over. Lord, he’d never ached like this in his life.
Weary and hungry, he found a sheltered glen and crawled inside. He had to find some clothes, a weapon, and a horse. He also had to get Caitlyn away from Tonkalla but first he had to sleep.
Summer Wind stared after Stalking Wolf for a long time. She had expected to feel a sense of satisfaction when she saw him being struck down, had thought she would feel exhilaration when she brought her own stick down across his back. But now, watching him walk away, his body oozing blood and sweat, his head unbowed, she felt only remorse. He was a good man, a proud man, and she had wronged him. He had saved her from a life of degradation with Beech, had surrendered to her wishes to spend time with the Cheyenne, and she had repaid him with treachery.
Burdened with guilt, she turned to find the white woman staring at her.
“What happened?” Caitlyn asked. “Why did they beat Rafe and send him away?”
Summer Wind looked away, unable to face the white woman, unable to admit she had been the cause of what had just happened. Mute, she turned and hastened toward her cousin’s lodge. She needed time alone, time to think.
Caitlyn stared after Summer Wind, a vast emptiness opening, within her heart. Rafe was gone and she was alone, at the mercy of a jealous Cheyenne woman and her husband whose every look promised that, sooner or later, he would have her.
But her fears for her own safety seemed unimportant now. Rafe had been hurt, how badly she did not know. He was naked, without food or weapons in a hostile land. He dared not show his face in the village again, and she wondered how far they were from civilization. How far would he have to go to find food, clothing, and shelter? A doctor if he needed one? And why had the Indians sent him away?
She glanced in the direction Summer Wind had gone. Was it possible the Indian girl had said or done something to cause trouble? But that was ridiculous. Summer Wind loved Rafe. Why would she want to see him hurt?
It didn’t make sense, but she worried over it all day. Little Deer was a hard taskmaster, demanding that Caitlyn be kept constantly busy. During the morning, Caitlyn fetched wood and water, helped Little Deer skin a deer, and prepare a thick wild-smelling soup of venison, onions, and sage. She shook out the buffalo robes that were used for bedding, swept the lodge floor, and fetched more water. And all the while Caitlyn thought of Rafe.
But even as she worked, she was learning how the Indians lived. Caitlyn had often thought that Indian women did all the work while the men took their ease, gambling and lounging about with their cronies. She realized now, after only a few days in the camp, that the warriors spent long days and nights on guard duty, keeping watch for an enemy attack. They also spent long hours, sometimes days, away from home in search of game.
She developed a grudging admiration for the Cheyenne’s ability to create a life in the wilderness, but it was not a life she wanted to share.
Slowly, the hours passed, and Rafe was never far from her thoughts. Neither was the desire to escape. Rafe could not help her now. Somehow, she must find a way to escape before it was too late, before Tonkalla had his way with her. Somehow…
Chapter Eighteen
It was dark when he awoke, and he groaned softly as he sat up. His entire body ached and it hurt to move. In the moonlight, he could see the dark bruises that marred his skin.
He gazed up at the black sky, judging it to be about ten o’clock. Lord, he’d slept over twelve hours.
Rising, he hobbled toward the water hole. A long drink quenched his thirst and eased his hunger. Returning to the glen, he sat down, cussing softly as each movement awoke new areas of pain.
He had to think, to plan, but the ache in his body made it hard to concentrate. Rest, he thought, that was what he needed. And with that in mind, he curled up on the ground and slept.
Summer Wind tossed and turned all through the night. Waking or sleeping, she saw only Stalking Wolf, his long bronze body hunched over as he ran for his life. Her dreams were filled with the angry beat of a drum, with the sharp smack of sticks and clubs striking human flesh, of blood oozing down his flanks as a lance tip cut into his skin. No matter what he had done, he did not deserve such cruelty.
In the hour before dawn, she left Shinte Galeska’s lodge and made her way toward the river. Anyone seeing her would think she was answering a call of nature. Hidden in the folds of her skirt she carried a breechclout she had stolen from Shinte Galeska, a knife, a roll of pemmican, and a small pot o
f salve.
The cheerful chatter of a blue jay penetrated Rafe’s dreams and he woke suddenly, staring at the green canopy overhead, wondering where he was.
Sitting up, he uttered a mild oath as pain and memory returned hand in hand.
Rising, he reached out to steady himself against a tree. Then, moving as stiff and slow as an old man, he went to the waterhole. It did not ease his hunger this morning.
“Stalking Wolf.”
He whirled around at the sound of her voice, his eyes burning with a clear and bitter rage.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded gruffly. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”
“I came to help.”
“Now why don’t I believe that?”
“It is true.” She held out the pemmican, knife, and wolfskin clout. “These are for you.”
“Why? Less than two days ago you were out for blood.”
“I behaved badly. I let anger rule my heart.”
He eyed her suspiciously, unwilling to trust her.
“Take this,” she said, thrusting the pemmican into his hand. “You must be hungry.”
“Probably poisoned,” he muttered, but he ate it anyway.
Summer Wind watched him, her conscience hurting. There was hardly a place on his arms, back, shoulders, and legs that wasn’t discolored or swollen.
“I brought salve for your wounds,” she offered when he had finished eating.
Stalking Wolf nodded. Lying on his stomach, he closed his eyes as Summer Wind applied a thick greenish-yellow salve to his back. The ointment was cool against his skin, quickly drawing the fire from his bruised flesh. Her hands were gentle as she worked the salve into his skin, massaging his arms and shoulders and thighs. Her touch was soothing, unintentionally provocative.
Drawing a deep breath, Rafe sat up. “Thanks,” he muttered, wondering what the hell he had to thank her for. It was her fault he’d been hurt in the first place.
Summer Wind wiped the salve from her hands. “Are you sure we cannot have a life together?” she asked, her voice softly imploring.
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