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Shadow Walker

Page 21

by Connie Mason


  “Sitting Bull was no more receptive to my plea than were the other chiefs,” Shadow Walker said with a hint of sadness. “It is time for us to leave.”

  Dawn offered no argument. Tension was high within the village. An air of fatalism prevailed among the People. She was aware that Shadow Walker was right in taking her away, that her safety depended on leaving this place. She would go with Shadow Walker and make a life for herself in whatever place he left her.

  “Where are we going from here?”

  “To Bozeman. It’s not too great a distance away, and we should be able to join a wagon train passing through to Oregon. It’s an arduous trip, but I think you’re well enough now to endure it.”

  He slipped off his breechclout, moccasins and shirt and joined her beneath the blanket.

  “Where do you intend to dump me?”

  “We’re both going to Oregon,” Shadow Walker said with a frown. “Who said I was going to dump you?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “My sister and her husband will make you welcome,” he hedged.

  “I wish—”

  “Dammit, Dawn, you talk too much. How can I love you while you’re haranguing me about something that’s too far in the future to predict?”

  Something unspoken lingered in the air, and Dawn tried to banish the intrusive thought that once they left the village Shadow Walker would shed her just as quickly as he had just shed his clothing. He didn’t want a wife. He pitied her, and pity wasn’t enough for her.

  * * *

  The entire village turned out to bid them goodbye the following day. It was June 22. The Indian forces gathered at the Little Big Horn were awesome in their very numbers.

  Dawn was overwhelmed. She felt an ominous stirring within her breast and despaired for these people with whom she shared kinship but little else. She glanced at Shadow Walker, amazed by his transformation this morning. The fierce Shadow Walker, garbed now in white man’s clothing, had disappeared with the dawn. Cole Webster, every bit as handsome, strong and fierce as Shadow Walker, was the same man yet somehow different.

  “May Wakantanka protect and guide you,” Running Elk said, grasping Cole’s forearm in a gesture of friendship.

  “And you, brother,” Cole returned.

  Suddenly their attention was diverted by a scout riding toward them. He rode as if the devils of hell were after him. He headed into Crazy Horse’s camp, reining his horse in sharply when he spied the great chief talking to Sitting Bull and Gall.

  “It is Man Who Loves Horses. I will find out what is going on,” Running Elk said as he hurried off.

  “What do you think has happened?” Dawn asked fearfully.

  Cole had his suspicions but didn’t voice them. A few minutes later Running Elk returned, his face set in grim lines. “What is it?” Cole asked anxiously.

  “You must leave immediately. The Seventh Cavalry has been spotted a day’s march away. We must prepare for battle.”

  “General Custer,” Cole said slowly, recalling the name of the man in charge of the Seventh Cavalry. He hated to leave but realized he must. In all the time he’d lived with Running Elk, he’d never turned against his own kind. No matter how sympathetic he felt toward the Indian cause, he believed this battle was wrong. There would be no winners no matter who won.

  “My prayers go with you,” Cole said. He was torn by the desire to remain and appalled at the thought of the blood that would spill in this place.

  He lifted Dawn onto Wally’s back, attached the leading reins of the packhorse to his saddle, and then mounted Warrior. He exchanged a look of complete understanding with Running Elk, then slapped the reins against Warrior’s rump. Dawn dug her heels into Wally’s sides and followed, turning back once to wave at Spring Rain and Sun In The Face.

  They camped that night near a stream. Cole made love to Dawn beneath a full moon. She sensed his melancholy, which made their loving poignant and intense. She shared his despair for reasons of her own. Certainly she felt sadness for the People’s plight, but it was her own uncertain future that loomed large and frightening before her. Soothing Cole with her body was the only way she knew to reach out to him. She took him inside her, using their passion for one another as a balm for all their hurts.

  Sometime during the following day, June 24, they paused on a ridge and watched as the Seventh Cavalry thundered toward the Indian encampment. Cole’s face was grim when the last of the soldiers disappeared in a cloud of dust.

  “How soon will they reach the Little Big Horn?” Dawn asked.

  “It depends. If they ride all night they will arrive at dawn tomorrow. If they stop for the night they won’t arrive until nightfall tomorrow.”

  Dawn couldn’t suppress the shudder that passed through her body. “There are so many of them.”

  “There are nearly three thousand Indians gathered on the Little Big Horn,” he reminded her. “All we can do is pray that each side will show mercy to the other.”

  Five days later they reached Bozeman. The town was in an uproar. Word had arrived that very day about the massacre at the Little Big Horn. General George Custer’s entire Seventh Cavalry had been annihilated by a large force of Sioux and northern Cheyenne, with little loss of life for the Indians. Ignoring his scouts’ warning of overwhelming numbers of Sioux and Cheyenne camped in a huge village on the Little Big Horn, General Custer had ridden to his death.

  With feelings running high against Indians, Cole decided not to wait around for a wagon train. He would take no further chances with Dawn’s life. He did not explain to Dawn their need for haste as they rode through town and camped in the hills overlooking Bozeman.

  “I’m going back to town for supplies,” Cole said. “We’re not going to wait for a wagon train. The trail to Oregon is easy to follow. I’ve traveled it before.”

  A frisson of fear passed through Dawn. “What is it? Why did we leave town so abruptly? Why don’t you want to wait for a wagon train?”

  “You were in town long enough to know what is going on. The People annihilated the Seventh Cavalry. Whites are going to take out their anger on anyone carrying Indian blood.”

  Dawn’s eyes widened. “You mean I …”

  “They will act first and ask questions later. I don’t know if I could save you once they set their sights on you.” He tried to make her understand without hurting her. “You have Indian blood. That makes you the enemy of people with little tolerance or sympathy for the Indian cause.”

  Dawn lowered her head to hide her tears. “Will it always be this way?”

  Cole stared at her bent head and wanted suddenly to kill all those who would harm her. He pulled her into his arms. “I fear it won’t change for a very long time.”

  She looked up at him. “Do you think Running Elk and the others are safe?”

  “We can pray that they survived. Will you be all right here for a few hours? Our supplies need replenishing, and I want to purchase a wagon and oxen. I don’t want to leave you alone any longer than necessary.”

  “I’ll be fine. Just hurry back. I don’t like being alone.”

  It was true, Dawn realized. It seemed as if she’d been lonely the bulk of her life. She had preferred loneliness to Billy’s company. When he had sought the safety of the cabin between holdups, she became the victim of his abuse. With Cole as a companion, she knew that even if he didn’t love her she would suffer no abuse, and he would protect her with his life. It wasn’t in Cole’s nature to be abusive to a woman. He could be hard and unyielding, but never would he deliberately hurt her.

  “No more than I like leaving you out here unprotected,” Cole replied. “I’ll leave my rifle for you.” He propped the gun against the tree. “I’ll be back by nightfall.”

  “What if you’re not?” she asked anxiously.

  “I will be,” he said with a determination that eased Dawn’s fears considerably.

  After Cole had left, Dawn hunkered down beneath a tree to wait for him. She was so tired. The journey
had been exhausting, and this was only the beginning of a much longer trek over mountains and rivers. She didn’t want to dwell on her future once they reached Oregon. She had no idea how long Cole would remain with her. She sighed despondently and rested her head against the tree trunk. She was tired, so tired …

  Dawn awoke to dark shadows and a deep sense of fear. She didn’t know how long she’d been sleeping, but darkness had crept in on silent wings while she dozed. She stirred from her lethargy to gather wood and kindling for a fire. She found matches in Cole’s saddlebag and struck a light to the pile of dried grass she’d placed beneath the kindling. Once the fire was blazing nicely, she rummaged through the supplies for fixings to prepare supper. She planned to have a hot meal prepared by the time Cole returned.

  Dawn glanced nervously into the shadows surrounding the campsite as she worked, trying to dispel the feeling of anxiety she couldn’t seem to shake. The odor of sizzling bacon drifted on the breeze, drawing unwanted attention to the campsite. She heard a twig snap and whirled around, hoping to see Cole. The welcoming smile died on her lips when she saw two riders enter the circle of light and dismount.

  “Well, well, what do we have here?” A big man sporting a scruffy beard eyed her through overbright eyes.

  “It’s a woman, Mace,” the second man said, grinning lasciviously. He was tall and thin and wore a patch over one eye.

  “Reckon she wants some company, Gil?”

  “What do you want?” Dawn asked, edging toward Cole’s rifle resting against the tree.

  Gil squinted at her through his good eye. “Damn! It’s a squaw. Her people put out my eye.” He stalked her, forcing her to retreat. “Where is your man? Was he at the Little Big Horn? A lot of good men were killed by yer people.”

  “I wouldn’t reach for that rifle if I were you,” Mace warned as he snatched the gun out of her reach. While Mace held Dawn’s attention, Gil slipped behind her.

  “My husband is hunting, but he’ll be back soon,” Dawn said with bravado. “Leave now, while there’s still time.”

  “Ha,” Gil hooted. “Yer man probably took off when he heard us coming. Savages are all cowards. Look what they did to General Custer at the Little Big Horn.” He stepped closer, peering at her owlishly. “Well, I’ll be damned. Blue eyes. Looka there, Mace, she’s a half-breed. Her mother probably rutted with some White man. Are you a whore like your mama, honey?”

  Dawn backed away, right into Mace’s arms. She screamed as he clamped her against him. “Got ya!” he laughed, enjoying Dawn’s helplessness. “I ain’t never had a half-breed. The last woman I had was a worn-out whore in Cheyenne. I’m gonna enjoy this.” His hand slid upward to her breast, squeezing it hurtfully.

  “No!” Dawn cried, anger exploding within her. “No man is going to hurt me again!” She sank her teeth into Mace’s arm. He howled in pain, slackening his grip long enough for her to whirl around and knee him in the groin.

  “Little bitch!” he gasped, staggering to his knees.

  Gil swung his arm back to wallop her, and Dawn braced herself for the blow.

  “Hold it or you’re a dead man.”

  “What the hell!” Gil whirled toward the voice. He started to reach for his gun, saw that Cole already had him in his sights, and dropped his hands.

  “Toss your gun down and move over by your friend.”

  “Cole, thank God you’re here,” Dawn said, weak with relief.

  “Are you hurt?” His voice was rough with concern.

  “No.”

  “You, on the ground,” Cole said, gesturing at Mace, who was still on his knees clutching his groin. “Throw your gun over here.” They both complied, staring warily at Cole’s Colt .45. “Now get on your horses and ride. If I see your faces again I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “Hell, we didn’t hurt yer squaw, mister,” Gil whined. “We were just being friendly like.”

  “This woman is my wife,” Cole said with emphasis. “You’d do well to remember it.”

  “What are ya, an Injun lover? Haven’t ya heard what happened at the Little Big Horn?”

  “I heard. Now get the hell out of here.”

  “What about our guns?”

  “You just lost them. Dawn, check their horses and see if they have rifles. If they do, remove them.”

  “Now wait a damn minute,” Mace growled. “You can’t leave a man without protection.”

  Dawn removed their rifles from their saddle boots and moved to Cole’s side.

  “I can and I will. Would you prefer that I take you to town and turn you over to the sheriff? I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re both wanted by the law.”

  “No need to turn us in to the sheriff, mister, we’re going.” They sidled past Cole, scrambled onto their horses and took off.

  Cole watched them leave, not relaxing until long after they had disappeared. After ample time had elapsed, he turned to Dawn, searching for injuries. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  A grin hung on the corner of his lips. “What did you do to Mace?”

  Dawn returned his grin. “I made him sorry he touched me. When he put his hands on me, all I could think of was Billy. I wasn’t going to let him hurt me, so I did what I had to.”

  “I’m sure you would have handled the other one with the same efficiency and courage had I not appeared on the scene.”

  “Maybe,” she said doubtfully. “I was still mighty happy to see you. What kept you?”

  “I had a hard time finding a wagon. I finally located one in need of repair. The blacksmith promised to have it ready tomorrow afternoon. I had no trouble buying the supplies or oxen. I left them with the wagon.” He sniffed the air. “Is that bacon I smell? I could eat a bear.”

  “Oh, the bacon!” Dawn removed the smoking frying pan from the fire. “It’s a little burnt, but I’ll wager it tastes better than bear. I’ll open some beans, and I think there’s a can of peaches left.”

  They ate in silence. Cole wolfed down his food while Dawn picked at hers. When they had finished, Dawn began cleaning up. Cole watched her with a hunger that had nothing to do with food. When she started off toward the stream with soap and towel, he called out, “Don’t go too far.”

  The night was cool, but Dawn felt in need of a bath after being touched by Mace. She stripped off her riding skirt and shirtwaist and waded into the water wearing her shift. The water in the mountain stream was colder than she’d expected, and she washed quickly. She had goosebumps the size of Montana by the time she was finished. She was walking out of the water when she spied Cole. He was waiting for her on the bank with a blanket. When she reached him, he wrapped the blanket around her, lifted her into his arms and carried her back to their campsite.

  “I can walk,” Dawn protested.

  “I’d rather carry you.” He set her on her feet beside the fire and stripped off her shift. “Let’s get rid of this. It’s soaking wet. I gathered your clothes while you were bathing and brought them back to the campsite.” He surrounded her again with the blanket, scooped her up and carried her down with him to the bedroll he had arranged for them to share.

  He placed his guns within reach, removed his pants and shirt and covered himself and Dawn with a second blanket. “Are you still cold?”

  Cold? Dawn was burning. Since leaving the Little Big Horn she’d been too exhausted to do anything but curl up against Cole each night and go to sleep. She had missed the joining of their bodies, missed his kisses, his hands on her. “How could I possibly be cold with the heat of your body warming me?”

  “God, I’ve missed you,” Cole murmured against her hair.

  “I’ve been right here with you,” she reminded him.

  “I haven’t touched you in days. You were so exhausted I couldn’t bring myself to disturb you. I’ll not disturb you now if you’re too tired or upset. Those two bastards must have frightened you. When I saw Mace’s hands on you I wanted to kill him.”

 
; “I’m glad you didn’t. I’ve had enough of killing and violence. Just make love to me. Make me forget you’re going to leave me.”

  “Dawn, I …” What could he say? That he didn’t intend to leave her after his visit with his sister ended? That he loved her? He’d already told her he couldn’t love again, and he didn’t like lying to her.

  “No, don’t say it. I know what you’re thinking. I know that your heart isn’t free to love. And I’ll have no man who can’t love me as fiercely as I love him. Make love to me now. Let me pretend that we’re truly man and wife and you’ll never leave me.”

  Her impassioned words smote his conscience. He’d always scorned men who used women, yet wasn’t he doing just that with Dawn? Not since Morning Mist had his body united so completely with that of a woman. He craved Dawn fiercely, but did he love her? He didn’t know how to deal with her feelings for him. It was more of a burden to him than a blessing. Then his thoughts scattered when Dawn pulled his head down and kissed him. Once their lips meshed, lust made a shambles of his conjecturing. All his senses centered on the woman in his arms.

  Dawn opened her mouth to him as he ravaged her with his tongue. She felt cool air touch her skin as he unwrapped the blanket, giving him free access to her body. He kissed and licked her breasts, finding them deliciously swollen, their nipples sweetly ripe. He groaned; his arousal was pleasurably painful. The pulsebeat in his sex matched the one pounding in his throat.

  His fingers caressed the soft petals of her woman’s flesh. She was wet and swollen, her juices bedewing his fingers. Suddenly he could wait no longer. He gave an explosive sound and flung himself atop her, parting her thighs. “I need you,” he muttered against her lips. “It’s been too long. Too long … Oh, God, I need to … I can’t wait …”

  He plunged, hard, deep.

  She cried out and arched sharply upward.

  Heat and need blotted out every other thought as he thrust wildly, lifting her buttocks to meet each savage thrust. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t move fast enough or thrust hard enough. When he needed more, he lifted her legs and put them over his shoulders, opening her to him and taking her as he’d never taken her before.

 

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