The Spirit of the Wolf

by Karen Kay

  This thought brought another to mind, a question that was more to the point. “How am I to assist you with Yellow Swan’s rescue?”

  “You will watch the enemy camp for movement or for any sign that they have become aware of me. While I am in their camp, you are to observe closely, and if you see motion, particularly toward me, you are to inform me of it by giving me a signal.”

  “Ah. What sort of signal?”

  “An animal call is what is usually used, but we could also employ the sound of a cricket.”

  “Oh. I understand. In other words, if I see trouble, I will imitate the call of some animal?”

  “Hau.”

  “What sort of cry will we use, then?”

  He smiled at her. “I do not know that yet. We will have to see where your talents lie.”

  “Ah, my talents.” She gazed up at him.

  Big mistake. Despite being covered from head to toe in mud, he was gazing at her with a half smile that suggested he was very well aware of exactly where her talents lay.

  She was not going to rise to the bait, and she smiled at him. “If I may suggest it, I have always been told I have a high voice. Perhaps I could yip like a coyote, for their cry is often high-pitched.”

  “Sece, maybe.” He returned his attention to the matter at hand. “In the meantime, I have brought something for you. A trophy from the enemy camp.”

  A trophy? What sort of prize would this man likely bring from an enemy camp?

  It came to her, and she cringed. He hadn’t taken a scalp, had he? Somehow the unreality of this, and the possibility that it actually could be, seemed to enforce the fact that she did not, she could not, love this man. They were too different.

  But it wasn’t a scalp which he’d brought her, after all.

  Instead, he set before her three different bows and four assorted sets of quivers full of arrows, plus a knife sheath.

  Weapons? Indeed, these were trophies!

  Dear Lord, how had he managed to steal these things from under the warrior’s nose?

  Shaking her head, she smiled up at him. “This is quite a feat, Mr. Coyote.”

  “Mr. Coyote?” He raised an eyebrow. “How have I managed to slip back to being Mr. Coyote?”

  “Never you mind,” she replied, but there was humor in her voice. “How were you able to obtain these?”

  His look at her became noble, quite grand actually, and he raised his chin. “All my life I have trained as a scout. I am expected to do these things and more. Besides, these braves are convinced that they are safe because they are in a region they, themselves, guard. Therefore, they are not as alert as they might be were they in hostile territory.”

  “I see. This is truly a great deed. But I have one question.”

  “Hau?”

  “Well, since we are determined to save Yellow Swan, and since you were able to steal all these weapons without detection, was it not possible to do something about Yellow Swan as well?”

  “That is another good question,” he said. “While it is true the enemy feels secure, making them unaware of their environment, they are not careless with their prisoner. In truth, she is very closely watched. Besides, our rescuing her is not as easy to accomplish during the day as it is in the evening. But come, she is faring well now, and these warriors have made their camp not too far from ours. They are celebrating their victory over some enemy—perhaps the woman’s husband, Scout LaCroix. But, as I have said, they are not at present on their guard, so they are not alert. That is how I have been able to take and hide many of their weapons. More than these.”

  “Have you really?”

  “Hau,” he said. “Their weapons are cached, and the enemy will be embarrassed, indeed, when they reach for their defenses, and none will be there.”

  “Well, well.” Marietta grinned at him. “You’re a very tricky gent.” It was odd. Despite his mud-covered appearance, his smile was so handsome, yet so innocent. She found her gaze clinging to him, if only to drink in his splendor. Gradually, she forced herself to look away from him. “What you did was very admirable.”

  Casting him several surreptitious glances, she could have sworn that he seemed to swell with dignity. However, all he said was, “Come, we must plan our evening well. Let me tell you what I have been able to ascertain.”

  “Yes, that would be good.”

  He nodded. “There is but one guard on duty. I already know where he will be stationed. It is also lucky for us that the warriors have sent their scouts on ahead to their village, perhaps to announce their homecoming. Their scouts, I fear, would have been harder to fool than the warriors themselves.”

  Marietta inclined her head. Indeed, if their scouts were anything like this man, they would be very hard to deceive.

  “Ito, come, we have much to do. And I would ask you to stand now. Part of the plan is to paint you well. I must give it much attention.”

  “All right,” she agreed, though even she could hear the reluctance in her voice. “Somehow putting mud all over me is not something that appeals to me.”

  “Hiya, I suppose not. But come, it must be done.”

  “Yes, all right.” It was an odd sensation, standing before Grey Coyote as she was. In truth, she felt almost naked, and perhaps she had good reason. For she wore only her corset, drawers, slippers and hose.

  “Ah, that I had more time.” He shook his head, reaching for her and running his hands down her torso. “But we have very little of that, and this must be done right, so let me begin. The first thing I will have to do is cut off and cache much of these leggings that you wear.”

  “Leggings? You mean my pantalettes?”

  “Is that what you call them? To me they are leggings.” He pointed toward them. “But look at how loose they are. Haiye, they are too full, and I fear they will snag if I do not cut them.”

  “Cut them?”

  “And I must cover their color, also. Pure white is not necessarily a common hue on the plains at this time of year.”

  She drew slightly away from him. “But if you cut away my clothes, what will I wear to cover my legs?”

  “Clay.”

  “Clay? That’s all?”

  He nodded while she sighed. Perhaps because she had already resigned herself to such a necessity, all she found herself saying was, “It is a good thing we refer to ourselves as being married. For if we did not, I am afraid I would be required to do something to save my honor. Indeed, were I at home, you would have long ago been slapped quite soundly, I expect.”

  “Hokahe.” He chuckled. “At last you see the advantage in our being married.”

  Marietta didn’t answer him right away. In truth, she couldn’t. Something had lodged in and caught in her throat.

  Feeling silly for being so emotional, she exhaled, then said, “Do what you must.”

  He proceeded to do so. The first cut he made, she drew in her breath.

  “You have beautiful legs.” He was caressing her thigh.

  “Thank you, but the rule of fashion is that no one is supposed to see a woman’s legs. A properly dressed woman is not supposed to have legs,” Marietta recited, as though she were a couturière for a fashion house. “A woman, once dressed, should appear to float as she walks.”

  “Float?” He grinned.

  “That’s right.”

  He shook his head. “It is little wonder, then, that I have found the white woman’s style of clothing to be…strange.”

  “It is not strange,” she defended. “A woman’s legs are supposed to be kept hidden from all but a husband’s view.”

  Grey Coyote chuckled again. “Perhaps it is good, then, that I am that to you.”

  Her response was little more than a grimace. “Still, it doesn’t make what I am doing right. Look at me. I might as well be naked.”

  “I am looking. And I like it.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Haiye, I understand you and know you are upset, but this has to be done.”

 
“Yes. But it doesn’t mean I can’t protest.”

  “Hiya, you are right. Protest all you like.” He continued cutting at her drawers, repeating the same procedure to her other leg.

  Dear Lord. Even in her sleep she wore more than this.

  For a moment, the yearning for her own society became almost more than she could bear. But she suppressed the feeling. This she would endure, if only because she had to.

  “I am sorry,” Grey Coyote said. “I realize that this is difficult for you, for I am certain you do not wish your form to be this amply displayed. But come, you are being very brave. Now let us be even more courageous.”

  Again, she sighed.

  “However, there is one thing I feel compelled to say.”

  “Oh?”

  “You are perfect, my wife. Perfect, indeed.”

  The compliment made her smile, and he returned the gesture, adding, “I thought you should know.”

  Suddenly, within her, there was a need to do something further than simply stand before him. What she really wanted, what she really needed, were his arms around her, and hers around him. She leaned in toward him.

  As though she had spoken aloud, Grey Coyote answered her need. In a rush, he undressed her completely, and Marietta, standing nude before him, had never felt naughtier or so sexy.

  Quickly, he washed his hands in the stream, and soon after, his fingers unerringly found their way to and into her femininity. She welcomed him, moving her hips against his touch, desiring more…all of him.

  He said, “I don’t believe I have ever witnessed anything so perfect as you. And I don’t think I have ever wanted anyone more.”

  She gasped, then whispered, “Nor I.”

  They fell into one another’s arms, fitting perfectly. Despite having been together for no more than six days, they each seemed to grasp instinctively what the other required. Perhaps it was because they had made love so often these past few days, or mayhap it was some other source. After all, terrific danger faced them yet this day. Whatever was the cause, every nerve ending she owned screamed at her, and she was ready for him. Now.

  And he knew it. Grabbing hold of her bottom, he scooped her up off her feet, holding her against him. “Wrap your legs around me.”

  She didn’t even think to hesitate.

  No sooner had she complied than he was there, pushing himself into her until he was firmly sheathed within her warm folds. Gratification was intense. She could not recall being pleasured more.

  She reached her pinnacle almost at once, and he, coming down to his knees, gently lowered her to the stream’s bank, though he remained kneeling in front of her, as though she were an altar and he her worshiper. Her legs he placed around his shoulders, and as he thrust into her, once, then again, over and over, she couldn’t help but rise to her pleasure once more.

  The ultrasensitive sensation didn’t die, either. It went on and on, lasting so long that in due time, while she was still reeling in the grandeur of it all, she felt him shudder, and she welcomed his final push into her as he spilled his seed.

  For a few moments, neither one of them moved, neither said a word. It was as though the experience was too flawless to disturb. Then, rising slightly above her and looking down into her eyes, he uttered the words she had little realized she had been longing to hear.

  “I love you,” he said.

  She gasped, but he continued, as though once started, he was compelled to say it all. “My feelings are powerful,” he whispered, “my intent toward you is earnest. Know that though we must eventually part, I will always love you.”

  She smiled at him. So great was her joy, especially as it was, coming at the end of such a close moment, that had she been able, she might have returned the sentiment.

  But she didn’t.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t. Though she rejoiced to hear his confession, she was more than a little confused.

  So much so that her silence seemed somehow deafening.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The shadows of evening were closing in around them, as Grey Coyote carefully covered her body with mud, clay, grass and guck. Already, the air around them was awash with the sounds of insects and the steady howl of the wind. It was scented, too, with the sweetness of sage and roses, and was so fragrant it almost covered up the more balmy smell of dirt and clay, the one that seemed to have permanently lodged inside Marietta’s nostrils.

  Grey Coyote had been at his task for a while now, his care obvious. After a time, it caused her to ask, “My husband, does disguising oneself always take this long to do?”

  “Hiya, no. It is only that I am being extremely careful, for there should be light and shadow on your body, and my work must match the earth exactly. It is also required that there be tufts of grass placed on you at intermittent spots, so that your disguise alone will keep you invisible. I know it is not easy to stand still for so long a time, for you are unaccustomed to it, but these details are vitally important.”

  “But why are they important?”

  “It is because I have not yet taught you how to travel like a scout. Nor do I have the time to do so. So understand, if I do not paint you well, others might see you. And if this happens, it is not your fault. It is mine. An error that I would regret always. But come, I am almost done. I have left your face and hair for last.”

  Rising onto his feet, he came to his full height and stared down into her eyes. Bringing up a hand, he ran his fingers gently through her hair, causing her to sway slightly toward him.

  “Hmm, that feels good,” she said.

  “Hau, hau, it does. But alas, we have not the leisure to do more.”

  She turned her face into his touch, sighing.

  “I have observed,” he said, “that you have scars on one of your arms, and your leg. How did you come about them?”

  “Do you think they are ugly?”

  “Not at all. Such beautiful perfection should have a little fault.” He smiled. “But it appears to me as though you were at some point in your past hurt badly.”

  “And so I was. I was thrown from a carriage…it was long ago, and for a while, I couldn’t walk. But I recovered.”

  He bobbed his head. “But it has also left a scar on your spirit, as well as your body, has it not?”

  She bit down hard on her lip. Darn the man. He was so observant that she could not hide body or soul from him.

  She said, “My uncle sold me into the service of another.”

  “Like a slave?”

  “Hmmm, somewhat, but not quite a slave. However, I have thought that the reason my uncle did this to me was because he feared I would be a difficulty to him all my life.”

  Again, Grey Coyote nodded. “Is this one of the reasons why you are so intent to rush to England?”

  She didn’t even ask how he had put this all together. The man was perceptive, indeed.

  “It is,” she said. “Among others.”

  He shook his head. “I understand. I do understand. But come, we have work to do.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Let us rescue Yellow Swan from a similar fate.”

  He grinned. “And so we shall. Now, I have only your face and hair left to paint, and while I do this, let us discuss what will take place tonight, and the rules you must follow, the rules that guide the scout. They are few, but are themselves important, so much so, I must obtain your promise you will obey them.”

  “Yes, very well. What are they?”

  “The first is this: You must not let others see you; you must do everything you can to avoid this. Next, at all times while we are scouting, you must do exactly as I say. There will be no allowance for argument, and in truth, a disagreement might cause us to be discovered by the enemy. Do you grasp this?”

  “Yes.”

  “You must also say nothing. Scouts communicate through the use of signals and the gestures of sign. Since you do not know these, you must resign yourself to the fact that you will have to keep quiet, unless you are giving me a wa
rning. But we will say more about how you are to alert me in a moment. But most of all, once I have placed you into position, you are not to move. As long as you stay still, it will be almost impossible to see you or detect you because you will look exactly like the landscape.”

  She nodded.

  “Waste. Good. Now, the last rule of the scout is that, unless absolutely necessary, we kill no one. We can embarrass the enemy, we can cause them to look silly and stupid, but a scout does not harm those people on whom he spies.”

  “Really?” This seemed odd to her, and at variance with rumor. “But I thought Indians—”

  He cut her off. “You will be acting as a scout. Unless directly attacked, a scout harms no one.”

  So firm was his tone, she knew she dare not dispute him.

  “Now,” he went on to say, “we will practice what your signal to me will be. Let us start with the cry of the coyote, as you suggested, for it is almost that time of evening when they begin to howl. Here is what they sound like.”

  He gave several yips, ending in a wail. “Now you try it.”

  She did, imitating him almost exactly.

  He nodded at her, his look pleased. “You are very good.”

  She beamed. “I have been told I sing well. Perhaps this is why.”

  “Hau, hau. Now do it again, only this time bark four times before the longer howl.” He demonstrated.

  Again, she duplicated it, causing him to smile at her. “It is good,” he said. “It is very good. I am impressed. Now, listen well. Once we are in the enemy camp, if you see someone coming toward me and you fear I am unaware of him, you are to give me this signal. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Once I have freed your friend and have her within my grasp, we will leave, but we must not flee their camp in a rush. To do so would be as to put ourselves at a disadvantage. It is another dictate of the scout: He should be even more careful in departing than he is in coming.”

  “Very well,” she said. “I understand.”

  “Good. There is one more thing.”