Blue Thunder (11 page)

sweat and he doesn’t get chills; this is not
a man but a god. Her reasoning at that point made her

believe this was why he had such a strange
effect on her.

She sighed. What could she do but be
brave?

He moved from her and her warm skin was
shocked again by the chill of the cool breeze. But what
thunderstruck her more was watching him bend over to pick up her
torn dress. Melissa wasn’t looking at his face now and Blue Thunder
was the first man she had ever seen naked and she stood transfixed.
As quickly as he bent to pick up her discarded dress, he turned
caching her with her mouth agape. His manhood was still swollen
from desire and her eyes widened at the sight of him.

“Don’t be frightened, little one, I will not
hurt you.”

Melissa misunderstood him, thinking he meant
he would not beat her for not obeying his orders to bathe. He
turned her around and began drying her long tresses with her dress,
making her frown; once again he put on his chameleon disguise. She
wondered what she would wear. Even though the days were hot, she
didn’t want to roam the countryside in her unmentionables. But what
she wanted lately didn’t seem to matter.

“Now hair only damp. Come, take water and
pat on face. I break blisters to release poison. More salve make
face look better tomorrow.”

“May I put on some clothes first?” she
simply stated, trying to hold onto a smidgen of dignity.

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“I like Honey Eyes just this,” but nodded.
“You cover yourself but not with filthy clothes. We wash in stream,
they will dry by morning. I get horse blanket.”

Horse blanket?

She clenched her fists by
her side. “You don’t want me to wear soiled undergarments but you
will wrap me in a horse blanket.” And then it hit her.
Horse blanket?
Puzzled,
she shook her damp head. “Where did you get the blanket? Never
mind!” she snapped, waving her hands over her head. “I’d rather not
know,” she griped.

“I would rather smell horse’s scent than
dirty clothes,” he rebuked and turned away. She was so frustrated,
she swore under her breath.

After catching a rabbit, Blue Thunder built
a fire and asked her to clean it. “Cleaning animal’s woman’s work,”
he informed, his jaw set with determination. “Man hunt, woman
clean.”

He stood over her, his
hands on hip. Melissa looked at him as if he had two heads.
Arrogant ape!
She bit
her tongue knowing she’d be wasting her breath. Her insults bounced
off his broad shoulders easily, anyway. Then she recalled the
feeling of those strong shoulders and arms around her.
Damn him!
She had to
stop having unladylike thoughts. She swallowed and tried to make
her voice sound as unnerved as her insides were.

“That may be where you come from but all the
animals I’ve cooked were cleaned before I put them in the pot.
Clean your own rabbit. I’m not your Indian squaw!”

“No, you are slave… so clean!” he
ordered.

He pointed a demanding finger at her,
holding the bloodied animal in front of her face, causing her to
wince. She turned. “Take it away or I’ll be sick.”

That maddening red man grunted, “White woman
too soft. I teach, you learn.”

She shook her head negatively at him.

“No clean, no eat,” he warned. “All Indians
do their share; we have no lazy people in my village. When you live
with Apaches, you get strong hands, not weak ones.”

Melissa faced him,
forgetting the queasiness from the smell of blood. “I don’t want to
live with your people.... or you.” When his words sank in, her jaw
slacked.
Slave? Did he say slave?
Putting her hands on her hips, she stood,
stretching her five-foot-three-inch frame as tall as she

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could. “I won’t be your slave! You are
without a doubt the most intolerable male I have ever met! Who do
you think you are taking me from my family? What rights have you
to--?”

“Do my ears hear correctly?” He threw the
bloody thing at her feet. “No more foolish words. Hold tongue, obey
orders… woman!”

“What!?” Now he had gone too far. She took a
deep breath to control her irregular heart beat, never so mad in
her life. “How dare you?” Her whole body shook with anger. “Why
don’t you just beat me?” She dared him by pointing her quivering,
upturned chin at him. “Get it over with. You know you can. I’m no
match for such a big, strong man.”

She didn’t miss the flicker of annoyance in
his eyes as he descended on her. His chest heaved and the tiny blue
vein in his neck pulsated with frustration. She lost her bravado
and began to move back. She had pushed him too far, but so what?
Should she thank him for stealing her away? Her stomach knotted not
liking the smoldering look in his eyes; they were searing through
to her very soul. His face held no emotion as the muscles in his
jaw grew taut. She let out a loud shriek and turned to run but her
feet came off the ground and she was running in the air.

Melissa kicked and struggled, losing the
blanket. He had one arm around her waist and the other around her
chest. Her body went rigid with fear and pleasure; she was no match
for his strength. With lightning speed, he carried her over to a
large rock and sat down, flipping her over his knees before she
realized what had happened. His hand came down hard on her bare
bottom with a force that caused such pain it took her breath away;
again and again until her derriere stung, an she wouldn’t be
surprised if her bottom was as red as her sunburned face. He gave
her five good whacks and she believed she wouldn’t be able to sit
for a week. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pounded her fists
into his hard thigh. Then quickly, he stopped and turned her over
and held her.

Indeed, Blue Thunder wanted to strangle her
pretty white neck. No one had ever talked to him this way before or
insulted him like this handful of a woman. If he took that delicate
neck in his hands, he would surely snap it in two. Beat her into
submission? No, he wanted to kiss her more. If she talked like this
in his village, in front of his people, he’d lose face. Maybe he’d
have to beat her. He was glad she didn’t insist on where he had
gotten the blanket. How could he

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explain to her that when he went to search
for food, he found a dead prospector and a lame horse? The only
thing of value was the blanket, so he killed the injured animal and
took the woven saddle blanket.

“Sorry, little one. It will be easier if you
do not fight me on everything. Know you will never be returned to
your people.” He kissed her wet cheeks. “You do not know what you
do to me. My blood run hot for you, yet you shame me with an evil
tongue. You will be number one

slave in my dwelling. It is an honor any
Indian woman would love to have. In my village, I lose face if you
dishonor my words; then you must be disciplined. Not like this, but
whipped in front of my people. I not want this; I am no woman
beater. But I am also under tribal law.” He did not tell her that
young wives and maidens did only light work, the heavy tasks being
performed by the older women.

He held the trembling girl in his arms,
feeling his beating heart had just been torn from his chest by
buzzards. He prayed she would do as asked, knowing he could never
whip her. The pain he inflicted tonight cut him too deeply. With
his thumb, Blue Thunder wiped the wetness from her cheeks and
kissed her freckled nose, her swollen eyes, and her quaking lips.
He tasted her salty tears, and longed to sample more of her.
Picking her up, he placed her gingerly on the fallen blanket, lying
her on her stomach, then proceeded to kiss her pink bottom. She
moaned. Turning her over, he removed his buckskin and held her once
more.

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SIXTEEN

Melissa’s backside no longer stung with pain
but instead a new sensation, a sweet agony that sent waves of
pleasure between her legs. Each kiss on her bottom sent a tremor
from inside her womanhood up the wall of her breasts. When Blue
Thunder turned her over, his hot skin scorched her and his desire
pressed against her stomach. She was amazed a man could have such
power over her emotions, feeling sheer bliss when he put his hands
over her body. Melissa wanted him as much as she knew he wanted
her.

As Blue Thunder explored her inexperienced
body, she did some exploring of her own. She moved her hands across
his hard chest, rubbing his male nipple the way he did hers. He
drew in a deep breath and gently opened her legs to feel her hidden
velvet folds. Although, she was ready for him when he placed
himself over her, she knew he saw panic in her eyes. She stiffened
for a moment, so he kissed her deeply until she relaxed once
more.

“Do not fear, my beautiful captive, the pain
will be brief, I promise. Pleasure will consume your heart and soul
forever.”

His thrust was quick and she cried out
digging her heels into the dirt and her fingernails into his back.
He paused to let her get used to him being inside but she cried
out, “Don’t leave me, Blue Thunder!”

Slowly, he worked his magic, giving her the
pleasure he had promised. Her screams of passion traveled through
the night air, causing sleeping birds to take off in flight,
carrying cries of ecstasy on their wings. When he thought she was
asleep, e untangled her arms and legs from him and placed the
blanket over her.

When Melissa awoke, it was dark. There was
no mistaking the enticing aroma of a roasting rabbit. She beamed
with pride. She’d won round one.

Or had she?

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All day they traveled through a narrow,
rugged mountain pass. She heard an eagle screech overhead and
periodically a mountain lion roared in the distance. Round two was
lost when Blue Thunder threw her dress in the fire before she had a
chance to object. She fumed for a long time, detesting the idea
that she only had her camisole and pantaloons to wear. And the fact
that each bounce of the horse brought renewed discomfort to her
derriere. Closing her eyes to keep from tearing only produced
visions of their love making. What they shared filled her mind with
desire for the handsome brave who now held the fate of her future.
As she studied her companion, she found her thoughts were becoming
more confused and conflicted.

“My village lies on the other side of this
mountain,” he said as they rested by a small creek that flowed down
the mountain. The handsome Indian sat and watched her remove her
boots and waded in the water admiring her. What was he thinking? He
looked serious. There were many questions on the tip of her tongue,
but now was not the time.

Pre-dusk and the other side of the mountain
greeted Melissa. A small clearing unfolded before them but in the
distance huge trees blocked out the remaining sun. They reached the
edge

of the forest’s bosom, where a tiny village
stood proudly against the graying skies. She was in awe of the many
tepees circled warmly in the protection of the woods. At a closer
look, she realized that the dwellings were not made of canvas like
the ones she had seen in picture books, but they looked like
inverted bird’s nests and were composed of similar material.

Curiosity replaced her fear for the moment
and she asked, “What are these dwellings?”

As they sat in the shadow on Night Rider, he
whispered in her ear, “They are called wickiups, more suitable than
tepees and expendable when tribe must move in hurry. White dogs
kill my people without warning. They rape, mutilate woman and
children; they are cowards. Attack when men on hunt. They murder
weak, young, and old.”

She heard the hatred and bitterness in his
deep voice; it sent chills through her body. She also wondered why
he lied to her about white people. The stories she had read told of
Indians raiding farms and towns, scalping innocent people. Did he
think telling her this would excuse his abduction of her? Her
sitting beside him was proof enough that the redskins were the
savages and not God-fearing white men. Were these people capable of
love? The brave behind her was capable of lust and tenderness.
Melissa opened her mouth to contradict his statement. Weren’t
he

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and his braves the ones who had attacked the
train without warning? She snapped it closed. What was the use?
Bitter words wouldn’t get her out of this predicament.

He continued to speak softly into her hair.
“My people will not be pleased to see me bring white woman into
camp.”

She bristled at his remark. “So why don’t
you take me back?”

“No!” he stiffened, “I keep forever! This
Apache never go back on word! No more talk.”

He kicked his pinto into a fast trot.

The acid scent of wood smoke blended with
the savory aroma of simmering beans, corn, and a foreign meat was
in the air as they neared the camp. At first their faces showed
shocked to see the brave, and she assumed they believed him dead.
Then they cheered, happy he had returned. Without warning, the
welcoming committee turned hostile and picked up sticks and waved
angry fists in the air at her. Dogs barked at the horse’s
heels.

People seemed to be everywhere, stopping
what they were doing to stare at her in an undisguised fascination.
Children cavorted around her, their large dark eyes unafraid but
curious.

Melissa was frightened. The angry onlookers’
hisses made her belly tighten and she leaned back against Blue
Thunder’s chest, wishing she could disappear.

“You must be brave and show no fear,” he
whispered into her ear.

Was he joking?
If she could have laughed at that stupid remark,
she would have.

The woman and children spat at her and hit
her arms and legs with sticks. Some reached up and pinched her
upper thigh. She kicked back but did not cry out; she would not
cower in front of these savages. Blue Thunder’s words of bravery
were unnecessary; her fear was replaced with pure anger. Finally,
he stopped in front of a dwelling, dismounted and dragged her off
Night Rider. A wolf-like dog sniffed at her heels, growled at her
alien scent, but Blue Thunder shooed it away. He shoved her not too
gently inside. No sooner had she entered the dimly lit dwelling
than she turned on him and fumed as she tried to think of words
that would tell him what she thought of him. How could he let her
be humiliated like that and not stop them? Before she could spit
words out, he held up his hand.