Cheyenne Captive

by Georgina Gentry - Iron Knife's Family 01 - Cheyenne Captive

  She let the roan pony thrust its muzzle in the cold water and dismounted herself to drink from the still eddy pool and splash her perspiring face. The weather still waxed cloudy and humid, but it looked like it might finally clear. A promise of autumn was definitely in the air. Her heart gradually ceased pounding as she realized that no one pursued. She began to think toward the future, how she would deal with her angry father, and that stern uncle.

  Realizing abruptly how hungry and weak she was, she took out the small bag of pemmican and ate greedily of the delicious mixture of dried meat, tallow, and pounded choke-cherries. She paused as she thought she heard a crackle of leaves back along the path from whence she had come. Gray Dove, she thought, little prickles of fear going up her back. Would Gray Dove double cross her, follow and try to kill Summer along the trail to the fort?

  Why would Gray Dove bother? She reminded herself again. After all, the Arapaho girl had admitted she wanted Summer out of the camp, away from Iron Knife, and Summer was riding away as fast as she could. That should satisfy the jealous Indian girl.

  She listened intently for another sound, then laughed silently at herself, thinking her imagination ran wild. She was almost safe now; only a few more hours and she would ride into the fort.

  The straggly pony munched grass peacefully as she knelt once more by the eddy pool. One more drink and she would be on her way. Summer dipped her small hand into the icy water and stared down at her own reflection, studying how thin and tired she looked. So much had happened in less than a week and she would never be the same again, no matter how far from this savage land she ran. The wild country was in her blood now and she wouldn’t forget it even as she looked out over the rooftops and well-manicured lawns of the big city. And it wasn’t only the land ...

  Despite herself, a face came to her mind, a bronzed weather-beaten face with a broken nose and strong features. Annoyed with herself, she swirled her fingers in the water to wipe out the thought and looked down again at her own image.

  Abruptly, there was another reflection in the water, a face behind her. It was a broad, pock-marked face with grinning, yellow teeth. In cold, unbelieving horror, she stared at the image and then sprang to her feet and ran for her pony.

  Angry Wolf caught her arm as she ran past him, and held her in an iron grip as she struggled and screamed.

  “So, White Bitch, we meet again!” he hissed as he pulled her to him. “Only this time, there is no half-breed bastard to save you or even my own men to share you with!”

  “Let go of me!” she shrieked, clawing at him.

  “Scream all you wish!” he said, laughing, twisting her arm behind her painfully as he pulled her up against him. “There is no one to hear you and no one is likely to!”

  She could smell the reek of his sweat and she recoiled from his clammy skin.

  “You will not mind the smell of me when I am through with you, Yellow Hair! You will beg to be allowed to kiss my sweat away if only I will stop hurting you!”

  “If you hurt me, you will regret it,” Summer challenged as she turned her direct, stubborn gaze upon him. “Even now, a soldier patrol from the fort might cross this area and find us.”

  “Not likely.” He laughed cruelly and she recoiled from his hot, fetid breath. “Gray Dove told me she had sent you off in the wrong direction. You little fool, you are even farther from the fort than before, you are riding notum, due north when the fort is southeast!”

  For a long heartbeat, Summer paused, knowing what he said must be true. The Indian girl had betrayed her, sending her off to become lost in the woods, knowing she would never find the fort. To insure that, Gray Dove had sent Angry Wolf after her to kill her.

  He had his hot mouth on hers now, forcing her lips open. She freed one hand and clawed his face.

  He swore a white man’s oath and struck her, knocking her half-conscious to the ground.

  “This time,” he promised, “you are going to pay for that, and Iron Knife will not be here to stop me! Because of you both, me and my followers have been whipped through the camp like misbehaving puppies. You have brought disgrace on me and now you will pay for that. I only wish that son of a white whore could be here to see what I do to his woman!”

  Dimly, Summer was aware of being dragged across the clearing. Her own blood from her cut lips ran sticky sweet in her mouth. Still, she put up a valiant struggle for such a small woman. She felt him slam her against the ground as he reached for small broken branches. The squat Indian knelt with his full weight against her chest, bruising her soft breasts with his bulky body as he held her down.

  He pulled rawhide thongs from his belt, reaching for the stakes he had picked up. “Now, I have plans for you!”

  She felt him wrap a thong about her wrist, secure it to a stake as he pounded it into the ground, using a flat rock for a hammer. In moments, he was doing the same with her other wrist and both ankles. Despite her struggles, Summer found herself spread-eagled and helpless, staked out in the dirt like a trussed animal.

  Smiling, Angry Wolf took out his knife and leaned over her. Almost leisurely, he slit the deerskin shift from throat to hem and tossed it aside, exposing her ripe naked body.

  He took several deep breaths as he eyed her. “You are more beautiful than I imagined,” he muttered. “I am going to do everything I ever dreamed of doing to a helpless captive and no one will stop me!”

  Summer renewed her struggles as his dirty hands ran roughly down her skin, touching her breasts, roughly pinching her tender thighs. He grabbed her throat and forced her mouth open with his clammy lips and she gagged on the taste of his mouth. She tried to bite him and he jerked back, laughing a little.

  “You have spirit! I like a woman with spirit! There is more passion to them.”

  She spat at him then, catching him full in the face, and he stopped laughing and slapped her repeatedly until her ears rang.

  “I can bite, too; White Bitch! And I can teach you not to spit!”

  He bit her soft lips, her breasts, and her thighs while she cried out, “Iron Knife would kill you for this!”

  “Yes, he would!” The man nodded, wiping her blood from his mouth as she struggled helplessly against her bonds. “But Iron Knife is not here to stop me! You were a fool to run away from his protection, leaving a trail a blind man could follow! Your big brave is still out on the hunt with the others. I came back early and Gray Dove told me what had happened, how you had overpowered her and stolen a horse! She knew I could easily track you and kill you if a wolf or a stray Pawnee didn’t get you first!”

  “Iron Knife will come looking for me!” she gasped, writhing under his exploring hands.

  “Of course he will! But by then, I will have had my fill of you, and your dead lips won’t tell him-what man has mounted you! He’ll think the Pawnee’s were here.”

  He twisted his hand in her blond hair and looked earnestly into her face. “I think I have wanted you even more than I ever thought I wanted Gray Dove. Let us betray them both! Accept me willingly and I will let you live!” He bent to kiss her. “Even now, my humiliated friends make plans to leave the camp, go off to join other outlawed Dog Soldiers. I told them to pack my tepee, and I would join up with them on the trail if I were not back in camp by morning.”

  He tried to kiss her. “I wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to enjoy you without anyone looking for us. Accept me as your man, and we will go with the outlaw Dog Soldiers. You will sleep in my arms, and your tepee will always have plenty of meat for I am a good hunter.”

  “Never!” Summer spat at him again. “I would rather be dead than to be your woman!”

  “Then so you shall be! It is your own choosing!” He twisted his hands in her hair, forcing her to look into his face. “If you will not take me willingly, it is also good to take you unwillingly, force my body into yours! I will enjoy you all afternoon and then you are going to beg and plead in your pain as I let you slowly die! It will be exciting to hear you whine and cry as I
take my blade to you!”

  Summer gritted her teeth as his hands roamed over her body. “There is nothing you can do that will make me cry and plead for mercy!”

  “Is there not?” He reached into his belt for his short quirt. “Have you noticed all Dog Soldiers carry one of these as well as the eagle whistle?” He touched the object hanging from a thong about his thick neck. “I have welts on my back because of you! How do you think it feels to be whipped? How do you think it will feel to have my lash cut across your soft breasts? Maybe the smell of your blood will draw a wolf later tonight, maybe even a bobcat. Maybe I will leave you alive but staked out helpless! How would you like a big bobcat for a deadly lover?”

  He was insane, she thought, to be so cruel, and yet perhaps she could still bargain with him. “If you will help me get back to the fort,” she tested her bonds as she spoke, “I will see that you get a lot of money! My father is a great chief and would pay much for my return! You would be an important man among your people with such wealth, and they would need never know where it came from. Even Gray Dove would be impressed!”

  He seemed to think it over, then grimaced. “What good is money to a dead man? The Council would whip me for daring to go against their wishes or probably banish me from the tribe! And I would never live to impress Gray Dove! Iron Knife would kill me for daring to touch his woman!”

  “I wouldn’t tell him! I promise I wouldn’t!”

  He seemed to make a final decision. “No, you won’t tell him, Golden Hair, because you will never leave here to get the chance! The gamble isn’t worth it to me, knowing that the half-breed would hunt me the rest of my life. I would always have to look over my shoulder, awaiting his blade in my back. You can be only an afternoon’s entertainment for me, but what an entertainment that will be!” He slapped his quirt thoughtfully against his bare leg, and stared down at her naked body, writhing against her bonds.

  He wore only a skimpy loincloth, and she watched his manhood rise against its brief covering as he ran his tongue over his wounded lips. She was more angry than frightened, and she struggled to keep her lips from trembling. If she kept a cool head, she might survive yet.

  The brave stared down at her, thinking. “I have an even better idea, White Bitch! Did you see the red ants back along the trail?” He gestured behind him.

  For the first time, Summer panicked, feeling cold terror as she recalled the writhing caterpillar. She forgot that she had boasted she would not beg. “No, please, you wouldn’t—” Her voice trailed off in a sob.

  He guffawed cruelly. “So now it is ‘please?’ Maybe you would even take me willingly? It is too late for you to beg me now! I have decided when I am finished to share you with the ants! I saw a wild bee tree a few hundred yards off the trail, and I think I will rob the bees of their honey. When I am done with you, I am going to smear your white body with its sweetness!”

  “Please, no!” Summer whimpered. “Please, not the ants! Let us talk about this!”

  “Talk, all we have done is talk! I am tired of your voice in my ears. You have had your chance to talk!” He took a small rag and stuffed it into her mouth. “I am going to put a stick in the hinge of your jaw and pour the sticky sweet down your throat!” He trailed the tips of his quirt down the length of her silken belly. “Let us see if my tiny red brothers can thrill you deep in your woman’s vessel! See if their kiss is fierce on your tender tongue!”

  She wept in protest and fought against the bonds, but he only laughed. “I think I shall go get the honey right now, and have it here where you can see it while I make love to you!” The thought seemed to please him as he trailed the quirt across her full breasts. “I wonder just how many minutes it will take a million ants to follow a honey trail from their mound to your staked-out body?”

  He laughed again and led his paint horse into the forest, out of sight.

  As his footsteps faded down the path, Summer struggled with all her strength to pull the stakes from the ground. If she could only get one arm loose, she could untie the other bonds. Breathless and trembling, she choked on the dirty gag and closed her eyes. What should she do? Maybe she would yet have a chance to convince him she would make love to him willingly. He might untie her, and if she could get her hand on that knife in his belt ...

  She thought she heard a footstep, and a big hand touched her face ever so gently. She would have known that touch anywhere. Her eyes blinked open to look up into Iron Knife’s angry face. She saw his dark eyes glitter in hate at the bruises and teeth marks on her skin.

  “Whoever did this will not live to see the sun set!” he muttered as his blade flashed and he cut her ankles and one arm free. He reached to cut the other rawhide thong that bound her, intent only on her.

  She saw Angry Wolf loom up suddenly behind him, and she tried to warn her rescuer though she still had the gag in her mouth. But he must have seen her eyes widen as he half-turned to meet the challenge.

  The squat, heavier brave caught him off balance and knocked him down, the big blade falling from Iron Knife’s hand just out of Summer’s reach. She saw his head hit an outcrop of rock as he fell and the two rolled over and over. Then they stumbled to their feet, facing each other warily.

  Iron Knife gestured toward Summer, still pinned by one wrist. “You have tried to violate my woman, you whelp of a coyote! For this, you will surely die!”

  “Brave talk for one who stands before me empty-handed, no knife, no quirt,” the other sneered, pulling his quirt slowly from his belt, hefting his knife in his other hand.

  Summer saw her big brave glance toward his horse. His quirt hung from the saddle, his knife lay on the ground just out of Summer’s reach. Angry Wolf crouched between him and the weapons and now smiled slowly.

  “We shall see who will die! I have been whipped through the camp by the leaders of the seven warrior groups! Never have I felt such humiliation! I want you to know the taste of a lash!”

  He whipped his quirt against the ground. “Always I have lived in your shadow before the Council of Chiefs. Always the people follow you, listen to your words so you will be chosen next time they pick a chief. My friends and I will go off to join the outlaw Dog Soldier band. When the people see our bravery, they will sing songs of us around the campfires, and Gray Dove will look on me with new eyes!”

  Iron Knife did not answer as he backed slowly toward the swollen creek. He moved as if injured, and Summer saw the blood well up scarlet over one eye where he had hit a rock when he fell. He wiped the blood from his brown face and gestured. “Let us talk of this, brother Dog Soldier!”

  “Talk! You are as bad as your woman about wanting to talk!” He gestured disdainfully. “Sing your death chant, Iron Knife, son of a white whore! And then with your dying eyes, you will see me mount your woman! Because of you, I have been spurned by mine!”

  The big warrior backed slowly into the swirling water as Angry Wolf advanced on him with knife and quirt.

  Summer reached for the knife on the ground just out of her reach. She tried to pull the last stake out of the soil that pinned her wrist, but she was too weak. The rope would have to be cut. She clawed the dirt, reaching, reaching.

  Iron Knife glanced at her in wordless appeal, the scarlet blood running down his bronzed face and into the water. She couldn’t do it, but she must do it! Again, she clawed the dirt, straining toward the knife. The rawhide thong bit into her wrist as she struggled toward the weapon. Blood seeped under the rope as she reached and threw her weight against the rawhide. If she had not had a gag in her mouth, she might have cried out from the pain.

  Once more, she strained, and then she had the knife by the tip of the blade! For a long, heart-stopping moment, it almost tumbled away from her, but she had it! Quickly, she cut the remaining rope from her wrist, and took the gag from her mouth. Now she crouched, knife in hand, watching the two in the knee-deep, swirling water. So intent was Angry Wolf on his injured quarry that he never turned to look behind him. He quirted the other acr
oss the face, and Iron Knife grabbed the lash. But it dropped into the swift water, and was swept away.

  The other laughed in triumph. “So now, it is only we two with no Council or tribe to back you up. I have dreamed of this moment! Your heart is about to take my blade, and then I will finish off your woman, and no one will ever know what happened to either of you!”

  “You know it is a terrible tabu of the Cheyenne to commit murder among our own! You would be exiled for four years and my cousins would seek revenge!”

  Angry Wolf shrugged. “As I said, they will never know! Since you will both be missing, they may think you have dishonored your people and returned to the white civilization to live with your woman!”

  Behind him, on the bank, Summer hesitated with the dagger in her hand and looked toward the Appaloosa stallion grazing nearby. Why should she care what happened to either of the men? All she had to do was let them fight it out to the death while she took the swiftest horse and fled. She knew which direction to take now, and she did not think either man could catch her if she rode the fine stallion. What did it matter which man was killed? Why should she care about the wounded Dog Soldier? And yet . . .

  Even as she turned toward the horse, she stopped and looked back to the battle in the water. Iron Knife would surely lose. He was at a clear disadvantage, wounded and weaponless, as the other moved in for the kill.

  In that moment, the squat Indian lunged, cutting the other a glancing blow on the shoulder. They meshed, struggling in the racing water, churning it to bloody foam like two great stags in an age-old battle. Iron Knife hung on valiantly but his opponent, using his heavier weight, took him to his knees in the boiling current.

  As she watched in growing horror, Angry Wolf dropped the knife, but lifted a rock from the bottom and struck the other a glancing blow. Iron Knife staggered, seemed to slip on the slick bottom. He went down in the foaming water, and the squat Dog Soldier had him by the throat, holding him under, drowning him.

  This was her last chance to run for the horses, she knew that. In another minute or so, her attacker would be finished with his murder and coming after her. Still, she hesitated. Her head told her to run, but her heart told her something else. Without even realizing it, she ran for the water, her hand still clutching the dagger.