Cheyenne Captive (10 page)

She didn’t answer and he turned and studied her gravely. “Our folk hero, Sweet Medicine, warned our people to stay away from the whites many, many years ago. He said they would bring nothing but death and unhappiness to us!”

Summer ran to him, and pressed her naked body into his arms. “And have I brought you unhappiness, my dearest?”

He kissed her cheek thoughtfully. “I think you will before you are done taking possession of my heart. I think this will be a bittersweet love that will make me wish I had never seen you on the grass by the stage. Already, you take captive my thoughts, my emotions. Sometimes, I cannot remember who is supposed to be the slave, and who the master.”

“I am your slave; my body knows that!” She molded herself against the hard planes of his body, and felt his manhood rising again against her belly. “I will never knowingly bring you heartache, nor trouble to your people.”

He held her close, murmuring, “I wish I could know it were so, just as I wish I had time to take you again here on the sand, but we must be going before darkness catches us too far from the camp.”

The brave pushed her from him reluctantly, and reached for the clothes on the bush. He put on the leggings himself, and seemed to consider a moment. “Since your dress is cut to shreds, my shirt will have to do for you.”

He handed her the fringed leather and she slipped it over her head, enjoying the soft, warm feel of the skin against her own.

“What do you think?” she asked.

He laughed softly as he surveyed her in the oversized shirt. Its hem hung below her small bottom, the long sleeves hid her hands.

She looked at him, thinking of the afternoon, the dead man. “What will happen now?”

A frown replaced the smile. “I do not know,” he answered. “Murder among our people is so rare.”

“It wasn’t murder, it was self-defense!”

“I am afraid the Council will not see it that way. I was supposed to become a chief at the next tribal election, replacing my uncle, Clouds Above. A chief is supposed to think only of his people. He is not supposed to care or take revenge should another man steal his woman. Nothing should be in his mind but the safety of his tribe. I shall be exiled for this, me and all my relatives who want to go with me, share my banishment. It is almost a death sentence since it is almost impossible to survive in the wilderness alone.”

“Must you tell the Council?”

“Summer, I must,” he answered with a nod of his head. “It is the honorable thing to do and a man without honor is hollow inside. His
tasoom
, his soul, is dead.”

Frightened, she faced him. “You are forgetting that you didn’t kill him; I did! What will the Council do to a white slave who has caused the death of a Dog Soldier?”

She saw him blanch under his dark skin, and thought she knew the answer.

“I won’t tell the Council you were involved. I’ll take the blame myself!” he retorted.

“That is no less a lie; a smear on your honor. Sooner or later in the questioning, one of us will slip up, and they will find out I did it. Dearest”—she took one of his hands in both of hers—“we don’t have to go back to the camp, we could go to the fort. We could spend our lives together among my people.”

“So the truth comes out!” he said savagely. “And once at the fort, I would be hanged for daring to touch a white woman, and you would go back to Boston!”

“Will you never trust me?” she implored, looking up into his face. “I mean it, we could live together among the whites.”

He grimaced bitterly. “And if you spoke the truth, and did not leave me, what would I do in the white civilization, Little One? Should I sit at a desk and handle papers, imprisoned behind glass windows? I, who can scarcely read and write and like the wind blowing wild and free in my face? Should I sweat behind a plow, scarring Mother Earth’s breast like those cloddish men who cross our land in endless wagon trains? I know nothing, care nothing for farming.”

“You must have some skills—”

“Of course I do!” He shook off her imploring hands impatiently. “I can bring down a great, charging buffalo bull with a single arrow. I can cut a man’s throat so swiftly he has no time to cry out!”

“You could be a scout for the army—”

“And lead the bluecoats to ambush and kill my own people?” His face hardened. “The man I have reason to hate most in this world was an army scout! No, little Summer, I cannot live in your world, so you must live in mine! Even if I wanted to, the whites would not accept me, would ridicule and mistreat you as they did my mother for accepting the love of a savage. I told you that you would regret becoming my woman, and it has started already!”

“No, never!” She flung herself into his arms. “I have been waiting for you always, waiting for you to come into my life. Waiting for you to take me in your arms, only I didn’t know it until this afternoon. I am complete now, fulfilled! Could I ride off to the fort this moment without you, I would not go!”

He held her so close, she could feel his heart pounding. “Would I had the courage to test your words, and see if indeed you would choose me over your own kind.”

He looked deep into her eyes as if trying to gauge her sincerity. “A white woman’s lies once almost cost me my life, and I have been wary ever since. I find the whites lie often—their false words seem to come very easy on their tongues.”

“I do not lie about my feelings for you!” Only time, she thought,
only time would prove to him how much she really cared.
His scars were much deeper than the ones on his back. “To show you how much I care for you, I am willing to go back and face the Council, tell them that I killed Angry Wolf and why. Then let them do what they will!”

She had reached him, she knew, and now maybe he trusted her a little. She did not yet possess his whole soul, his complete trust. But she would someday; she would. For a long moment, she was tempted to tell him of her involvement with Gray Dove, that the jealous Arapaho girl had ultimately caused Angry Wolf’s death. Then she reconsidered. She had a score to settle with Gray Dove but she determined to settle it herself. If she told Iron Knife, there was no telling what he would do to the Indian girl in his anger and it would make even more trouble for him. No, Summer would deal with that troublemaker herself and spare her love the danger of involvement.

He held her close, and she could feel his fingers move nervously on her back. “I am afraid of the Council’s decision, not for myself, but for you. Their word is not absolute law, but they mirror tribal opinion and you would not get much sympathy.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance and Summer glanced up with trepidation at the sudden jagged flash of lightning. The forest was tinder dry, she thought, feeling the leaves crackle under her feet. All that rain had fallen to the west of here. She watched Iron Knife’s face as he stared at the three horses.

There was a long moment of silence and finally he seemed to decide. “What I am going to do is not honorable for a Cheyenne warrior, but I must do it.”

He strode over, took the bridles from her roan pony and Angry Wolf’s paint, spooked them so they ran off into the woods. Then he hid the bridles in the deep leaves. As she watched, he hid everything—her torn dress, the stakes. Then he took a small branch and dusted away all footprints, all signs of this afternoon’s struggle.

She watched him. “What are you doing?”

“Listen to me, Summer. Listen carefully! We have seen nothing of Angry Wolf should anyone ask. Understand? Nothing!”

He held out his hand to her. “Those ponies will join a wild horse herd that grazes just past the forest, and there is nobody to prove murder.”

She took his outstretched hand. “I understand.” She nodded.

“You went picking berries for my supper and became lost in the forest. You had no thought of disobeying the Council and running away,” he commanded firmly.

Had she ever intended to run away? The afternoon seemed a long, long time ago, a million years ago, before she had become a woman. She missed her family and regretted that they would never know what happened to her, but given a choice between them and her man, she had already made her decision. All that was lacking now was that he believe how much she cared. But that would take time. She was willing to wait.

“Are you listening, Summer?” His voice brought her back to cold reality. “Since you were lost picking berries, it was very lucky I came along and found you.”

She looked up at him and she was no taller than his great chest. “I know this deception goes against everything you believe, that you do this only for me. Your honor means a great deal to you, doesn’t it?”

She felt him hesitate, then kiss her forehead. “Not as much as you do,” he said simply. His arms went around her and she watched lightning jagged against the darkening sky. His Appaloosa snorted nervously.

She gloried in the hard feel of his body as she leaned against him, remembering the first time he had held her when she had been trussed and terrified. She would never have met him had it not been for a drunken Dog Soldier who was now dead.

The dead man’s image came to her mind and she shuddered. “Will they send search parties for Angry Wolf?”

“Some will look, mostly his followers. But when they do not find him, they will think the bluecoats or Pawnee got him. He wasn’t very popular among our people; no one will mourn him much.”

Lightning flashed silver and gold through the green pines and the wind came up quick and chill.

“We should go back now,” he murmured, “there is going to be a bad storm.”

Almost in answer, lightning arced overhead and the static electricity created seemed to electrify the air around them.

She saw the concern on his face as they both looked up at the great flashes of white and angry yellow against the growing purple storm clouds.

“It’s going to be a bad one,” he said, “and with this part of the forest dry as dust, we’ll be lucky if the lightning doesn’t start a fire—”

Summer never heard the rest of his words. Loud, rolling peals of thunder drowned him out. The terrifying crash of sound that accompanied the next flash came suddenly, too suddenly to make a move although Iron Knife tried.

A jagged flash cut across the darkening sky like a broken piece of glass and hit a dry, dead pine not a hundred yards from the pair. Instantly, the bitter scent of sulphur, of fire, stung Summer’s nostrils.

“The horse!” Iron Knife shouted a warning as he ran toward the stallion.

The Appaloosa reared and whinnied in panic at the booms of thunder, the sudden smell of smoke in the air. For a split second, she stood frozen to the spot, unable to move as the horse reared again, breaking its reins.

Iron Knife grabbed for the broken, trailing reins as the horse reared again and backed away. He missed the grab by inches as the terrified, snorting animal slung its head wildly, seeming to realize for the first time that it was free. Thunder clapped again and the stallion neighed in terror and bolted.

Iron Knife ran after the animal even as Summer forced herself to move and tried to help by heading off the Appaloosa.

Iron Knife called out. “Here, boy! Come back, Spotted Blanket!”

It was too late. Even as Summer ran forward, trying to help recapture the mount, the horse neighed in panic and galloped off.

Summer and Iron Knife ran after the animal as he raced in the direction of the wild herd on the prairie outside the forest miles away.

She had a sinking, desolate feeling as they both stumbled to a halt in the middle of the woods and looked after the disappearing horse. It was immediately lost to view among the tall pines.

Iron Knife gasped for air. “We are afoot,” he gasped, “and—”

“Iron Knife, look!” Summer whirled to look behind her as she smelled the spreading, acrid smoke.

The gigantic bolt of lightning had done more damage than making the horse bolt. With their attention on the stallion, they hadn’t noticed the fire.

Summer looked around, realizing in sudden horror that they were trapped in the midst of flames!

For a moment, Summer gaped with unbelieving eyes at the scarlet and orange flames gobbling the paper dry brush and trees around them. A sudden rush of air as hot as the furnaces of hell made her choke on the thick smoke.

Iron Knife reacted first.

“The bolt of lightning hit a dead tree,” he shouted. “We’ve got to get out of here fast or be trapped!”

Hypnotized by the hungry flames licking through the trees, Summer only stared in fascination. She felt the heat blowing toward her on the mounting breeze, coughed as the smoke stung her lungs.

Iron Knife grabbed her hand and whirled her around. “Come on, Little One, run!” The river is a couple of miles behind us! We’ve got to get there!”

She took his hand but he had to drag her to get her feet running.
A couple of miles. It was so far . . .

The crimson and yellow flames already climbed the trunks of nearby pines like reckless, naughty children.

“Come on, Summer,” he urged, “the wind’s picking up! We’re going to have to run for our lives!”

Gripping his hand tightly, she began to run through the forest toward the river. In places, the trees were too close, the underbrush too thick, and he had to let go of her hand so that she stumbled forward alone. The brush and thorns cut her bare legs, but she was glad for the soft moccasins as she fled through the forest. The pine needles and dead leaves were spongy under her step and she shuddered, thinking how this volatile carpet would blaze beneath her feet if she couldn’t outrun the flames.

Her lungs already hurt with the exertion and the heat as her lover caught her hand again and ran on, half-dragging her as his long legs easily outdistanced her shorter ones.

He stopped. “Summer, you have to run faster, the fire is gaining on us!”

She leaned against a big pine, choking and coughing. “I—I can’t run any faster!” she gasped. ”My legs are too short and I’m not used to running. Boston ladies don’t ever walk. They take a carriage.”

“I’m fresh out of carriages.” He smiled thinly but she saw the desperation in his eyes and realized she was holding him back. Without her, he could make it easily.

He had her hand again, urging her forward. She could hardly see where she ran, stumbling blindly through the thick acrid smoke as he dragged her along. Behind them, the roaring of the fire devouring the forest around them grew deafening. It was almost as if some terrible giant were slowly chewing up the landscape.

She stumbled and fell and he lifted her to her feet, pulled her resisting body forward. “You’ve got to run, Little One, the fire will catch us!”

Her feet were unsteady and weariness descended on her as she answered his urging. Even though her rebel body resisted her mind’s command, she moved forward because he demanded it. Her mouth felt dry and sour as she tasted the bitter smoke rolling past her.

He loosed her hand and ran slightly ahead of her, obviously looking over the terrain, trying to find short cuts and easier paths through the trees.

“This way, Summer,” he called and gestured. “There’s an old deer trail down through here and I think it will be easier for you—”

The rest of his words were lost in the roar of the flames as he turned and ran ahead, scouting out the path.

He was right, this trail was a little easier, she thought with a sigh of relief as she ran on, concentrating on his muscular, brown back moving just ahead of her through the trees.

Her lungs seemed to be on fire with the suffocating fumes and the effort of running but she knew she must keep moving even though her soft, exhausted body was threatening to fail her.

You can do it, Summer, you’ve got to do it,
she admonished herself as her valiant little heart pumped hard, speeding the blood through her tired body, her aching legs. She wouldn’t think about how far it was to the river, the only body of water deep and wide enough to offer protection against the red wall of flames.

The hot wind blew against her sweating back. She could feel the heat of the fire gaining on her. The deerskin shirt of his that she wore was binding but offered some protection from the sparks and embers that blew on the wind behind her. She shuddered to think what would have already happened if she had been wearing the cheap, red satin dress she had worn only a few days ago. A human torch, she thought as she ran, trying not to think how the red satin would go up, how the yellow hair would flame.

Behind her, she could hear the pine needle carpet burning.

Iron Knife paused ahead of her, gestured frantically. “This way, Little One, it’s shorter!” He turned and ran on, scouting out an easier trail.

They were both running too slowly, she realized with a sob as she glanced over her shoulder at the massive wall of flame. He could make it without her but he might not, burdened down by a weak, stumbling girl. She would not cause his death by delaying him, she vowed, tripping with weariness as she ran. Summer Van Schuyler was no quitter. She would run until the fire overtook her or she was unable to force her tired legs to move by sheer grit and willpower.

The wind picked up, pushing the fire faster. Over her shoulder, she saw the scarlet monster relentlessly stalking her. It climbed every tree it came to, uncertain at first, then faster and faster when it realized it could.

Birds flew in a rush out of each tree as the flames climbed, chattering and calling as they flew about, disoriented by the fire. Some flew ahead of the racing monster. Some, in a whirl of confused wings, flew directly into the heart of the inferno. Those were gone in a sudden flash of burning feathers, their frightened calls cut off as they fell toward the ground, wings on fire.

It was a horrid sight. Summer wanted to scream out at the obscenity, the agony of life caught in this trap, but she could do nothing but run on. She kept her eyes on his broad shoulders moving ahead of her as he scouted out the trail.

He looked back over his shoulder and she gave him an encouraging smile.

“I’m doing fine,” she lied, panting. “We’ll make the river, all right.”

She was past believing that. She was past anything except putting one foot ahead of the other, knowing that if she fell, he would return for her and be caught in the inferno himself. It seemed she had been running forever now as she stumbled, her lungs on fire with the effort of it. Somewhere ahead lay the lifesaving river, but she had lost track of time and distance. She was only aware of the fire behind her, the pain of her lungs and aching legs as she ran.

Now, she was acutely sensitive of other sounds in the woods besides the roaring flames—the small cries of doomed wildlife that fled along with the humans. Everything that still lived in the forest was trying to make it to the water.

A frightened cottontail rabbit dashed past her, its small puff of a tail on fire, and as she stared in horror, it fell on the path before her and died in a sudden burst of flame. Immediately, the dry leaves beneath the tiny body ignited and she dodged past the small funeral pyre, the new outbreak.

Deer scampered past her, hardly seeming to see the humans as they ran instinctively toward the river somewhere up ahead.

A black bear, then a panther, brushed her, paying no heed to her or each other as they loped ahead of the flames. None of the racing animals seemed to see or react to each other. A stag dashed along beside the bear and the panther, rabbits brushed against running bobcats. All concentrated only on the universal enemy.

Behind her, she still heard squeals of protest by tiny, chattering squirrels trapped in the treetops by the flames already eating at the trunks of the tall oaks. She glanced upward. Some of the little fox squirrels moved from tree to tree through the upper branches, staying ahead of the fire. Others, too terrified to think clearly, retreated to the refuge of their nests built of tree branches and roasted alive there as the fire trapped them.

Over her own agonized breathing, she could hear the protesting bird calls as jays, scissortails, and hawks took to the air. Some flew toward the river and the trees on the other side. Others, disoriented, flew right into the flames.

Summer tripped, went to her knees.

Ahead, Iron Knife turned back toward her. “Little One, you must run! We aren’t that far from the river now!”

He waved in frantic, encouraging gestures as he ran toward her. “Summer, look out!”

Wearily, she raised her head, glanced up to see what it was he saw, what his frantic voice and hands warned her of.

A tall pine nearby, flames burning through its base, swayed and trembled, even as she stared up in disbelieving horror toward the sky.

Iron Knife dashed toward her. “Summer, run!”

She tried. For a split second, she stared at the leaning giant pine, realized it was going to fall. Her brain sent signals to her exhausted legs and she attempted to flee.

She almost made it. Even as she turned and ran, the big tree came down with a reverberating crash. Her world was a sudden forest of heavily scented pine boughs. She wondered as she lay on the ground whether she were dead.

Iron Knife hacked savagely with his big blade at the limbs covering her. “Summer! Little One! Are you all right?”

“I—I think so.” She took mental inventory of her body as he fought his way through the pine branches to her side. “I think I’m okay. Wait—”

“What is it?” He knelt, looked anxiously into her eyes as he gathered her into his strong arms.

“My ankle’s caught!” She pulled frantically on her left leg, unwilling to believe what her mind had comprehended.

“Let me help you to your feet.”

She could tell by his eyes he didn’t believe it either, didn’t want to believe it. He tried to lift her and she whimpered.

“No, it’s true!” She looked into his eyes, the terror growing on her. To be trapped in the fire was a death sentence. “I—I can feel a limb across my left ankle.”

She saw the unspeakable horror in his eyes as they both looked toward the spreading flames of the tree’s trunk. The fire was chewing its way greedily the length of the giant pine. In a few minutes, it would spread to the smaller limbs, to the one that held her prisoner.

Iron Knife hacked through the pine needles with his big knife down to her feet. When he turned back to look at her, she read her death sentence in his tortured eyes.

“Summer, I—I can’t cut through this limb, it’s too big, almost as big around as my arm! I could cut through it maybe if I had a lot of time . . .” His voice trailed off and he did not finish.

Time,
she thought when she glanced at the wall of red flames blowing toward them.
Time was the one thing they didn’t have.

He bent now, wrapping his arms around the limb. “If I can lift it just an inch or two so you can pull your foot out . . .” Sweat stood out on his bare chest as he struggled and strained. The limb didn’t move at all.

His face grew frantic as he looked back toward the flames moving up the trunk, the wall of fire blowing through the forest toward them. She saw the reflection of the flames in his dark eyes as he tried again.

“Pull, Summer! If I can just move it a fraction of an inch, you can pull your foot out!” His great muscles bulged and strained, sweat broke out all over his smooth brown body as he struggled with the weight of the tree.

Summer pulled on her foot, but she only felt the scrape of raw skin stinging, and she knew then she wasn’t going to be able to free herself.

“It’s no use!” she gasped. “You’ll have to think of something else!”

There was nothing else; they both knew it. But he would not quit. She could feel the heat of the flames moving closer, taste the grit of the ashes floating on the air. She saw blood on his hands as he struggled with the pine bough, fought its rough bark for possession of Summer’s body.

For a moment, calm returned to her soul as she faced the inevitability of death. Only a few short hours ago, she had finally found what life was all about when she had discovered love.

Had it only been a few short hours? She stared at the moving flames, coughed from the heat and black smoke as she watched her love struggle to move the tree. All her life, she had been searching for love. Now that she had finally found it, was she going to lose it along with her life and his, too?

But the fire need not take him, she thought abruptly. He was free to escape if only he would. Her lover could live and she was going to give him that chance.

“Iron Knife, go on!” she urged. “You can make it to the river! Your legs are long and swift! Go on! Go without me!”

He paused, came back up the trunk to her, bloody scratches on his big body from the rough bark. He looked at her as if he didn’t comprehend what she was saying.

“Go on? Without you? Never!”

She reached up to embrace him. “Yes, love, there’s no point in both of us dying because you can’t free me. If you love me, go on to the river. Live for both of us!”

“No,” he answered defiantly. “I’ve only just found you. I won’t live without you. If you die, I want to die, too!”

“But the fire . . .” Her voice trailed off. They both stared at the moving flames. At that moment, a deer dashed by, it’s coat in flames. It fell near them, kicking and writhing in agony until it was totally consumed.

Iron Knife took her face in his two hands, looked down at her. Summer closed her eyes, remembering the deer, imagining how it would feel to burn alive as the fire flashed up the trunk of the fallen tree, reaching her feet first...

“Go on, Iron Knife,” she whispered, determined to save him but not wanting to die alone. Her long blond hair, she thought, would go up like a torch, and she would be a mass of red flames for a few seconds before death took her.

“No,” he said again, and she wasn’t sure if it was sweat or tears running down his rugged bronze face, “I won’t leave you, Little One, now that I’ve finally found you. If need be, we’ll die together!”

He took her in his powerful arms, kissing her forehead gently. She gloried in the feel of him, remembering the warm sand of the creek. If she must die, this was the way she wanted to go, held in the protection of his big arms the way he had held her only this afternoon, so many lifetimes ago.