Savage Skies

by Cassie Edwards

  CASSIE EDWARDS, AUTHOR OF THE SAVAGE SERIES

  Winner of the Romantic Times Lifetime Achievement Award for Best Indian Series!

  “Cassie Edwards writes action-packed, sexy reads! Romance fans will be more than satisfied!”

  —Romantic Times

  HESITANT CAPTOR

  “I do not ask for the white woman,” Gray Eyes said. “My friend will you take her?”

  Blue Thunder hesitated. He had never wanted captives of any sort, especially those with white skin. He had no wish to give the white pony soldiers cause to come to his village because a white woman was there.

  But . . . this was not just any white woman. He had seen enough of her to know that she was someone who intrigued him to the very core of his being. He slowly nodded as he took slow steps toward Shirleen, his gaze never leaving her green eyes. “Yes, I will take her.”

  Shirleen trembled as Blue Thunder stepped up to her, his eyes reaching into her soul it seemed.

  Other books by Cassie Edwards:

  TOUCH THE WILD WIND

  ROSES AFTER RAIN

  WHEN PASSION CALLS

  EDEN'S PROMISE

  ISLAND RAPTURE

  SECRETS OF MY HEART

  The Savage Series:

  SAVAGE INTRIGUE

  SAVAGE QUEST

  SAVAGE TEMPEST

  SAVAGE BELOVED

  SAVAGE ARROW

  SAVAGE VISION

  SAVAGE COURAGE

  SAVAGE HOPE

  SAVAGE TRUST

  SAVAGE HERO

  SAVAGE DESTINY

  SAVAGE LOVE

  SAVAGE MOON

  SAVAGE HONOR

  SAVAGE THUNDER

  SAVAGE DEVOTION

  SAVAGE GRACE

  SAVAGE FIRES

  SAVAGE JOY

  SAVAGE WONDER

  SAVAGE HEAT

  SAVAGE DANCE

  SAVAGE TEARS

  SAVAGE LONGINGS

  SAVAGE DREAM

  SAVAGE BLISS

  SAVAGE WHISPERS

  SAVAGE SHADOWS

  SAVAGE SPLENDOR

  SAVAGE EDEN

  SAVAGE SURRENDER

  SAVAGE PASSIONS

  SAVAGE SECRETS

  SAVAGE PRIDE

  SAVAGE SPIRIT

  SAVAGE EMBERS

  SAVAGE ILLUSION

  SAVAGE SUNRISE

  SAVAGE MISTS

  SAVAGE PROMISE

  SAVAGE PERSUASION

  CASSIE EDWARDS

  SAVAGE SKIES

  DORCHESTER PUBLISHING

  April 2011

  Published by

  Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

  200 Madison Avenue

  New York, NY 10016

  Copyright © 2007 by Cassie Edwards

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4285-1187-3

  E-ISBN: 978-1-4285-0408-0

  The “DP” logo is the property of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Visit us online at www.dorchesterpub.com.

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Epilogue

  I lovingly dedicate Savage Skies, my l00th published book, to my husband Charlie. It was Charlie who believed in me and in my ability to write the first book before I believed in myself. Thank you, sweet Charlie!

  Also, in friendship, and a big thank you, I dedicate Savage Skies to a dear friend, Nancy McGennis, who many years ago loaned me one of her books to read. . . . an historical romance. It was the very first historical romance that I ever read and I immediately became hooked on that genre of books, so much that I decided to write one myself. That first book was published as well as all the others that I have written since then. Thank you, Nancy, for giving me the inspiration to write. I can’t imagine what my life would be had I never known the love of writing!

  With much appreciation I dedicate my l00th book to Alicia Condon, my very special editor at Dorchester, who has played a major role in my success as an author. Thank you, Alicia!

  I also thank John Prebich, president and publisher of Dorchester Publishing, as well as the entire Dorchester staff, for helping make my Savage Series the success that it has become!

  And now, on to my next l00!

  Love,

  Cassie

  He rode quickly and stealthily through the night,

  Heart racing, never stopping until he had her in sight.

  Long, waist-length auburn hair,

  Blowing in the night breeze without care.

  Eyes that penetrate and shine like the bright sky,

  To see her again he had to tell a forbidden lie.

  How could he be so dishonest, their noble chief,

  At that thought his heart ached with such grief.

  Oh, Great Spirit, from up above,

  Please help my people accept the woman I deeply love.

  —Melissa Duncan,

  Poet, fan, and friend

  SAVAGE SKIES

  Chapter One

  Through many changing years

  We have shared each other’s gladness,

  And we wept each other’s tears. . . .

  —Jefferys

  Wyoming, l85l

  Autumn—the moon when the calf grows hair

  The sun spiraled lazily down the smoke hole of the largest tepee in the village of the Wind Band of Assiniboine Indians, a name which meant literally “our people.”

  This was the lodge of Chief Wa-ke-un-to, Blue Thunder. Twenty-eight winters of age, he was a muscled and boldly handsome man. His sculpted features contrasted vividly with the pockmarked face of the man who sat with him in private council.

  Gray Eyes was a dear childhood friend of Blue Thunder and chief of the neighboring White Owl Band of Assiniboine.

  “It is good to have you sitting with me again, my friend,” Blue Thunder said. “Tell me why you have need of council with your friend Blue Thunder. I am always here to listen and to offer help, if it is need
ed.”

  “I come with sad news,” Gray Eyes said solemnly. “I hate to ask for your help again, my friend, but times are hard for my people, and this time our misfortune is not of my doing. I need to ask your warriors’ assistance in a task that will be dangerous for us all.”

  The tail feather of an eagle hung from a lock of hair at the right side of Gray Eyes’ head as the mark of his chieftaincy.

  He gazed at his friend, who wore a similar feather in his own long, black hair. Like Gray Eyes, Blue Thunder was attired in fringed buckskin and moccasins.

  “Never feel ashamed of the trouble life has brought you, but take from it the strength to make things better again for your people,” Blue Thunder said, gazing at his friend’s pockmarked face.

  It was so disfigured, Blue Thunder could barely recognize him. Blue Thunder had warned his friend not to go to the white man’s trading post while the disease called smallpox was killing so many white and red-skinned people.

  Knowing of the danger, Blue Thunder had separated his own band from others during this time. As a result, the Wind Band remained unscathed by the disease.

  For a moment Blue Thunder wondered if he should risk the lives of his warriors to help a chief who had disregarded Blue Thunder’s earlier warnings.

  Should he tell Gray Eyes that he must live with the decision that now haunted him?

  But no, Blue Thunder loved Gray Eyes as much as he would love a brother. The two had learned to shoot and ride together as children, and he knew that he could not refuse his friend anything.

  “Tell me now about the problem that has brought you here today,” Blue Thunder invited.

  He slid a wooden tray of various foods, both meats and fruits, closer to his friend, who still refused to choose anything.

  It was apparent that food was the farthest thing from Gray Eyes’ mind, and Blue Thunder was anxious to know what caused such distress.

  “I have come to sit with you and talk alone with you, having left my remaining warriors to protect the survivors of a recent ambush on my village by the Comanche renegade, Big Nose,” Gray Eyes said, his voice drawn with emotion. “The Comanche knew how weakened my people were from smallpox. Our band has been reduced from one hundred fifty lodges to eighty. Big Nose took advantage of this weakness and captured not only many of my strongest warriors, but also a great number of our horses.”

  “And you want vengeance,” Blue Thunder guessed. He chose a piece of venison from the tray and took a bite, his eyes gazing intently into Gray Eyes’.

  “I want more than that,” Gray Eyes said, his gaze suddenly aflame with hate. And then his look softened into concern. “I want my warriors back, or my band will not survive. Will you ride with me, Blue Thunder, to go and reclaim what is mine? Will you choose your best warriors to accompany us? Getting back what is mine will not be easy. Some may die to rescue my warriors. Are you prepared to chance that? Or would you rather I leave and set out after Big Nose with the few warriors who are left to ride with me?”

  Gray Eyes lowered his gaze. “I am asking too much of my friend this time,” he said thickly.

  He ran a hand across his pock-scarred brow. Feeling the scars was always a reminder of what he had so unwisely done.

  He had taken his warriors to that trading post, even though he’d heard the rumors that it was overrun by the white man’s disease.

  But the pelts that he had for trade that year had been too good not to take the chance. He and his men had been eager to get what they could from the richest pelts they’d hunted in many a moon.

  And there were only four or five months out of a full year when the fur of the animals was marketable. The rest of the year, his warriors killed only enough to provide meat, clothing, and lodges for their families.

  If he had not taken advantage of that special time when he’d had so many plush pelts, he knew that someone else would have filled the shelves of the trading post, leaving no space for his furs.

  So he had chanced everything, and had lost in the worst way. Ho, yes, he had gotten what was due him in trade, but the sacrifice had been the most terrible any village of people could suffer.

  Many had died, and those who had not were scarred for life.

  “Please do not lower your eyes in shame,” Blue Thunder said. He reached over and placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “My friend, you know that I would never let you down, even if you did refuse to listen to my warning about the white man’s disease. You have already paid the price of not heeding my warning, and now it is time to forget and to move forward.”

  Gray Eyes lifted his chin and gazed directly into Blue Thunder’s eyes. “You will join me then to hunt for the Comanche who came and killed and stole from Gray Eyes and his people?” he asked hopefully. “I fear that if you do not help me, my small band is doomed. We will eventually lose everything.”

  “I am very aware of all of this,” Blue Thunder said, slowly nodding his head. He moved his hand from Gray Eyes’ shoulder. “Now is the time to look forward, not backward.”

  “I should have listened to you about the smallpox,” Gray Eyes said tightly. “I never should have gone to that trading post, but the hunt seemed too good to ignore. I had the best pelts I’d seen in many moons. So did all of my warriors. Their pride matched mine. We were blinded by that pride, my friend. Now many of those valiant warriors are no longer with us.”

  “You must leave behind such regret and look forward to the future,” Blue Thunder encouraged. He gazed intently into his friend’s eyes. “Where there is hope, there is a way. I will do everything I can to help you build on that hope.”

  “Blue Thunder, my best friend in the world, instead of bringing my people great riches, I brought them the greatest misfortune,” Gray Eyes said thickly. “Even more devastating than war! My people have gained nothing by intimacy with whites but disease and heartbreak.”

  “Smallpox has destroyed the lives of many people with red skin,” Blue Thunder said, slowly nodding. “Like you, too many of our people chose to ignore the dangers of associating with whites. The price paid has been hard to bear.”

  “I am grateful I had a friend such as you to help in our time of trouble,” Gray Eyes said. He placed a hand on Blue Thunder’s muscled shoulder. “You have always been a true friend. How can I ever repay you for such friendship?”

  “No payment, or thanks, is needed,” Blue Thunder said as Gray Eyes slowly lowered his hand from his shoulder. “Hakamya-upo, come. Come with me now. I will go outside and announce a quick council. We will meet and discuss how we can get the best of the renegades. Big Nose has been a thorn in my side for too long. Some even say he was the one responsible for the death of my wife. It is time for him to be stopped.”

  “Ho, it is time to rescue my warriors,” Gray Eyes said, stepping from the tepee with Blue Thunder. “I have prayed to Wah-con-tun-ga, the Greatness who looks down over us all, that he will help make the wrongs suffered right.”

  “After our council we will leave to track down Big Nose and those who follow him. We will bring home the warriors taken by them,” Blue Thunder said, walking alongside Gray Eyes to the center of the village. There, Blue Thunder would make his announcement about the council and why it was being held.

  He turned to Gray Eyes. “We will also retrieve your horses,” he promised.

  “Pila-maye,” Gray Eyes said, humbly thanking Blue Thunder.

  Chapter Two

  I believe love, pure and true,

  Is to the soul a sweet,

  Immortal dew.

  —Townsend

  A cool breeze wafted through the bedroom window, fluttering the sheer curtains over the bed as Shirleen Mingus folded clothes, then slid them into her embroidered travel bag.

  A keen sadness swept through her at the thought of what life was forcing upon her. After traveling from Boston with her husband and three other families to settle in Wyoming, Shirleen was now planning another journey. She wished she were back where she had been the h
appiest.

  And that had been before she had met and wed her husband, Earl.

  While courting Shirleen, he had been a consummate actor, for he was nothing like the man he’d appeared to be when she had accepted his hand in marriage.

  Even her parents had been fooled.

  Although they had not wanted their seventeen-year-old daughter to move so far away, fearing they would never see her again, they had felt satisfied that she would have a good husband who would treat her with love and respect.

  She would never forget those last moments with her papa. He had run his fingers slowly through her long, red hair as he peered through tears into her green eyes, saying that he feared the long journey out west would be hard on her because she was so petite. He had called her his tiny, pretty thing, so slender that he could place his hands around her waist, his fingertips meeting behind her.

  But when she had reassured him that the man she was marrying loved her with all of his heart and had vowed to protect her, and that she had no doubt he was capable of both things, her father had given his final blessing.

  Now she was twenty-one and had learned the hard way just how wrong she had been about the man she’d married. He had been abusive to her ever since they’d arrived in Wyoming, taking the belt to her at every opportunity. He beat her when he found the slightest fault in anything she did around the house, or with their daughter Megan. He believed she would never leave him because her parents were too far away for her to flee back to their protective, loving arms.

  But Earl was wrong. At this very moment, while Earl was on his way to the trading post with his two neighbor friends, Shirleen was taking advantage of this opportunity to flee from someone she considered a madman.

  She was going to escape this life she abhorred.

  She was not sure where she would go, for she did not have the money to travel back to Boston. But no matter what, she must flee this man who she feared might one day kill her.

  The dear Lord above would guide her to a better, safer place.

  Her Bible, her prayers, and her daughter were all that had kept her going these past months when Earl had beaten her daily, all the while using foul curse words that their daughter Megan overheard.