Kyle groaned and closed his eyes. His father’s run against a village of Blackfoot warriors was legendary in these mountains. How many times had he endured listening to the story? Although his parents never mentioned it, other people did, and to Kyle it seemed as if they were looking at him to duplicate his father’s feat in some way. Both Indians and white men would size him up once they knew he was Chase Russell’s son, probably wondering silently if he could do what his father had done.
A loud commotion at the other end of the village drew his attention. The old woman turned and scurried away. Kyle squinted to focus his eyes into the distance. A group of riders approached the village. He recognized Laughing Badger in the lead. The warrior’s long black hair blew in the breeze. His bonnet of feathers, signifying him as a war chief, swayed on his head. Six riders followed behind. Kyle blinked, making sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. At the rear of the group, being led by one of the men, was his mare. And she carried a rider.
“What the hell,” he mumbled under his breath. He waited for the group to come closer. His eyes were definitely not playing tricks on him. That was a white woman astride his mare. And by the way she sat the horse, with her head hanging nearly to her chest, and her upper body swaying as if she was about to fall out of the saddle, she was in bad shape.
Anger flooded his system. Where the hell did these warriors find a white woman? This was dangerous enough territory for men to travel through, even without hostile Indians roaming the land. The terrain alone could test even the hardiest men. For white travelers to bring women here was foolish and irresponsible.
Laughing Badger pulled his horse up in front of Kyle, a broad grin on his face.
“I have found your horse. She will make a nice addition to my string.” He held up the Winchester. “And your rifle is one of the finest I have seen.”
Kyle gritted his teeth. “That rifle is useless to you. You don’t have any ammunition for it.”
The smile left the warrior’s face. Apparently he hadn’t thought of that. He pulled his horse around to leave.
“Since when do the Crow take white women as prisoners? Isn’t that beneath even you?” The insult had its desired effect. Laughing Badger halted his horse, and glared down at Kyle.
“We found her wandering in the woods,” he snarled.
“Oh, so out of the goodness of your heart, you thought to rescue her?” Kyle taunted.
The warrior leapt from his horse and rushed him, his face inches from Kyle’s. “I hear white women are held in high regard with some of the river men on the Missouri,” he sneered. “She might command a big price.”
Kyle laughed. “Look at her,” he said, jutting his chin in the direction of the woman still swaying on his mare. She hadn’t so much as raised her head. He prayed she didn’t understand Absaroka. “She’s half-dead already. No one wants rotten meat.”
Laughing Badger turned away from him, and with quick and forceful steps walked up to the horse. He reached for the woman’s arm, and yanked her out of the saddle. Her head shot up, and Kyle caught the wide-eyed look of panic in her startling blue eyes just before she hit the ground. Sobbing, she fell to her knees. The warrior hauled her off the ground, and dragged her towards Kyle. With a weak moan, she sank to her knees in front of him.
“If she lives through the night, I will let you fight for her freedom in the morning,” Laughing Badger said. Without another glance at him or the woman, he strode off.
Just great. Kyle frowned. Now he was held responsible for the safety of a strange female on top of trying to get his own scalp out of here intact. The villagers who had gathered around to watch dispersed. The old woman who brought him water earlier lingered longer than the rest. With a sad shake of her head, she finally turned and scuffled away.
Kyle glanced at the woman slumped on the ground at his feet. Her head was cradled in her hands, and by the way her body shook, he could tell she was crying.
Kyle worked his leather binding down along the pole, groaning in silence at the fiery pain in his shoulders from the prolonged unnatural position his arms had endured all day. It wouldn’t get any easier, he told himself.
He sank to his knees, and studied her. She looked so small and delicate, sitting there with her chin dropped towards her chest. Her blonde hair came loose in long disheveled curls from its ties in several places. The fancy blue dress she wore was torn at the shoulder.
“Are you hurt?” he asked. She didn’t move or respond to his question, and Kyle wasn’t sure if she’d even heard him. “Lady, are you hurt?” he asked again, his voice louder this time.
She slowly raised her head in his direction, wiping away the moisture on her face. Kyle stared. A sudden, unexpected jolt of adrenaline flooded his system. Blue eyes the color of a summer sky met his stare. The depth of emotion in her gaze left him stunned and speechless momentarily. Fear. Anguish. Sadness. Hope. He saw it all. He drew his eyebrows together in wonder at his reaction.
“Are you hurt?” he asked a third time, softening his tone.
She shook her head. “No,” she whispered.
He didn’t believe her for a second. Silently, he cursed Laughing Badger.
“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked softly, and raised her head more fully, glancing around. Her hand swept some loose strands of hair from her face.
Kyle sucked in a deep breath. He couldn’t let her know that Laughing Badger intended to sell her to the highest bidder, Indian or white man, the first chance he got. “Nothing. Don’t worry about that right now. I’ll make sure no harm comes to you.”
Her eyes grew even larger than before. She looked at him, studying his face, before her eyes lingered on his hands tied against the tree behind his back. A sudden warm sensation doused him under her perusal. “But, you’re a prisoner,” she finally said in her soft, nearly inaudible voice. “What can you possibly do to help?”
Kyle ground his teeth. He was still working out that little detail. “I’ll think of something,” he answered.
She seemed to accept his answer, and nodded her head slightly. Her chin dropped again, and she stared at the delicate hands in her lap. The wide skirt of her silk dress fanned out around her. Kyle wondered again what stupid man would bring a woman into the wilderness. This woman, heck she was no more than a mere girl, wore expensive clothing he’d seen fancy ladies wear in Virginia City or Helena.
Kyle encountered adventurers and dandy easterners on a regular basis, and his wonder never ceased as to what these men were thinking. Coming to this remote wilderness was not a Sunday picnic ride like they were used to in their big, fancy cities. A man had to be prepared for anything here, and death was a breath away at every turn. Yeah, look at yourself. You grew up in these mountains, and your carelessness might be the end of you come morning. He scoffed again at his own stupidity.
Whenever someone commissioned him as guide through the region, Kyle made it his habit to inspect every piece of equipment these inexperienced greenhorns brought with them. On most, if not all, occasions, he rejected more than half of the useless and cumbersome supplies they intended to trek through the wilderness. If they refused to relinquish what he intended to leave behind, Kyle did not accept the assignment. He would never allow a woman to come along.
Kyle watched in silence as the village settled in for the evening. Cooking fires burned brightly, and families sat outside their teepees. Children played with rocks and sticks, and the women served food to the men. Kyle’s own stomach grumbled loudly. When darkness had fully descended on them, he noticed the old woman who’d brought him water shuffle slowly towards him again. She turned her head over her shoulder once, then straightened her hunched back as best as she could, and hurried to him.
“I bring some food,” she said in a hushed tone. Her voice startled the girl next to him. She gasped in surprise when she saw the Indian woman, and inched closer to him. Kyle’s skin tingled when her knee made contact with his thigh. He mentally shook his head, confused by his reaction
.
“Thank you for your kindness, grandmother,” he said to the ancient Indian woman. “Give the food to her, if she’ll eat it.” He turned his head to the girl hovering next to him. “Are you hungry?” he asked quietly. She looked up at him with her big doe eyes, and nodded her head slightly. The urge to wrap his arms around her, and protect her, hit him with such intensity, he strained against his bindings.
The old woman held a bowl out for her. The girl accepted it hesitantly, and looked at the contents. Large chunks of meat filled the container.
“I must return to my teepee,” the old woman said, and hurried off. No sooner had she turned her back, and the girl grabbed a piece of meat and tore into it hungrily. Kyle drew his eyebrows together, watching her devour the food. How long had she gone without eating?
Only one piece remained before she lifted her head, panic in her eyes when she met his gaze. “I…I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I left hardly any for you.”
Kyle grinned. “You look like you need it more than I do. I actually ate just before you showed up,” he lied, and motioned with his chin for her to finish the food. She hesitated. “Go on, finish it,” he coaxed. Slowly, she reached for the last piece of meat, and held it to her lips. Her eyes stayed on him from beneath long lashes, a silent thank you evident in their depths. He groaned silently.
“Do you have a name?” he asked, in an effort to distract himself.
“Kate Ellen,” she said quietly, swiping the back of her hand across her glistening lips in a most unladylike fashion. Then she wiped her hand on the skirt of her dress.
“That’s a mouth full,” he said. “Nice to meet you, Kate Ellen. I’m Kyle.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “And that’s an unusual name,” she smiled tentatively. Kyle’s heart rate increased.
“Yeah, well, my pop gave it to me, and he’s an unusual man,” he grinned, then his face went somber. “Listen, if I can get these dam….darn ropes off me, we can get out of here once everyone sleeps. Laughing Badger is not the brightest man I know, or he would have thought to tie you up, as well.”
Kate Ellen’s hands reached up, and she fumbled with the leather thongs at his wrists. After several attempts, the panic returned to her eyes. “I can’t loosen the knots,” she said.
“I have a small knife concealed in my britches,” he said. “I just can’t reach it. If you can….ah, get it out, it’ll cut right through this leather.”
To his astonishment, she didn’t flinch or hesitate at his suggestion that she needed to stick her hand into his britches. “Where exactly is the knife?” she asked.
“Right up against my left thigh, below my hip.” He studied her face for a reaction. She merely nodded. He adjusted his position so he sat more on his right hip bone, jutting the left up towards her. Think of falling into the Hell Mouth, Kyle. Anything but this pretty girl’s hands in your britches. He clenched his jaw.
Kate Ellen slowly pushed her soft hand between his skin and the waistband of his pants. His gut tightened, and no matter what faraway thoughts he trained his mind on, his body had other ideas, and he could feel the blood pooling in his groin. Thankfully the knife sat to the outside of his thigh. Her silky fingers seemed to caress his skin as they inched further down his leg. Suddenly, death by torture seemed easier to endure than the sensations coursing through him at this moment. He prayed to God she didn’t brush up against his arousal.
Kyle felt her grip the flat handle of the small blade, and slowly pull it upward. When her hand pulled free of his britches, he expelled the breath he’s been holding. “Good girl,” he said, his voice hoarse. Kate Ellen smiled triumphantly at him, and wasted no time sawing through his bindings.
When the last of the leather was cut through, the blood rushed through his hands and fingers, and he fought the urge to pull his arms forward. He had to bide his time. Not everyone in the village was asleep yet.
“Now what do we do?” Kate Ellen asked.
“We wait.”
Yellowstone Redemption Page 29