Wolf Shadow’s Promise (22 page)

She remained seated on the blankets of his bed, alone.

What was that? Some rocks hitting the cavern floor? Or was it Moon Wolf?

Footsteps sounded off in the distance, coming down the ladder.

She breathed out a sigh of relief, and, standing, rushed forward to meet him even before he'd had the opportunity to take more than a few steps.

“Ah,” she began, unable to stem the flow of sarcasm in
her tone, “the great Wolf Shadow has fooled the soldiers yet again…this time.”

His head came up with her words, but it was the only reaction she obtained from him. He barely acknowledged her presence, though his eyes scanned her form up and down.

She couldn't help feeling that he should have taken her in his arms right then. He should have kissed her until her fears evaporated. It was what she wanted, needed. He did neither, however, saying only, “You should not be here.”

She raised her lantern that she might see his face better. She responded, “And you should not be fighting the soldiers during the day. What are you thinking?”

He ignored this last comment and made to move around her. She stepped in his way. “Please, Moon Wolf, tell me. What are you doing? Why are you starting to attack the fort during the daylight hours?”

“A real wife would not question the wisdom of her husband.”

“What is that supposed to mean? A real wife? And I think I have every right to wonder and question you about your plans.”

He didn't answer her, merely met her questions with a quick jerk of his head before he made to move around her again. This time she stepped aside.

Luckily
Makoyi
did not share his master's curtness. Whining, he came to stand before her. Coming up onto his hind legs, he pressed his paws onto her shoulders, his nose in her face. She laughed and petted the creature. “I'm glad to see that someone here is happy to see me.” She darted a quick look at Moon Wolf, accepting
Makoyi
's wet kisses at the same time.

Moon Wolf hardly spared a glance for the two of them before calling to his pet.

Makoyi
obeyed his master, coming down on all fours, and trotted off.

She pressed on. “Where have you been this past week? Why have you not come to see me? And why are you attacking the soldiers in the light of day?”

He had taken off his headdress to place it beside his bed. Next he started to remove the black paint from his face. He didn't answer her, seemingly intent on ignoring her.

She glanced over his body, noting blood on his legs and arms. She asked, “Are you hurt?”

Another shrug. “Some scratches, perhaps. It is nothing. I will go and wash them and they will be fine.”

“Still I would have you sit before me that I might see them for myself.”

He didn't appear to object to this, but she approached him with a good deal of hesitation.

She touched his arm above a minor cut. He jerked in reaction and shivered, as though her touch had set off a minor explosion within him. She glanced up at him quickly to catch his look, but found that he had already masked whatever he had been feeling.

She cleared her throat nervously and began, “I have become worried about you and I would speak to you about it. But you have not visited me so that I could tell you all that I feel.”

“Humph.”

She gulped. He could make this easier for her.

She volunteered, “I have missed you and have looked for you every night. Why have you not come to me?”

Again, that jerk of his head, a gesture that had to be a purely Native American display. Still, he didn't speak.

She touched a cut on his leg, watching that limb twist out of her reach. She raised her eyes to his, uttering, “I do
not think you are as immune to me as you would like me to believe.”

He said, “Perhaps I am not. But one cannot always control the urges of the body.”

Reeling from the curt comment, she drew back from him. What, for the love of God, was wrong with the man? He practically gushed antagonism…for her.

She tried again. “Are you not going to share your plans with me? Would you have me worry?”

He drew back from her and came up onto his feet. She took note that he was indeed not as invulnerable as he might like her to believe. He said, “I cannot sit here and talk with you now. I must go to the falls and wash these wounds.”

“I could bring you some warm water and do it for you.”

“You could not. You might have come here without incident this once, for there is great commotion within the seizer's fort, but it cannot be repeated. You must leave now.”

“I will not.”

She watched his body become tense. It was the only indication of his reaction. He said, “I will not have you followed here.”

“I do not believe that I was seen coming here.”

“Still I cannot take the chance. You must go.”

“I will not leave here until I talk to you. This might be the only chance I have to do so. I will not let it pass.”

He didn't argue the point with her, stating only, “Then you will have to wait for me to return from the falls.”

“Why?” she asked at once. “I will go there with you.”

“You will not.” He frowned at her. “If you wish to discuss something with me, you must wait for me here. I will not speak to you at the falls, I promise you this.”

“But—”

She didn't finish. He had already turned away from her,
was already sauntering down the tunnel that would lead him to the waterfall, the tension about him clearly stating that he would brook no argument.

And she didn't need his “Do not follow me” to remind her that he did not wish to speak with her.

As his figure dimmed to a silhouette, she let out her breath and prepared herself for a long wait. It appeared she had little choice.

H
e never returned. Darn the man.

She should have followed him to the falls despite his protest. She should have demanded the audience he seemed so reluctant to give her.

She made her way to the end of the tunnel now, but she knew he would not be there. He clearly did not wish to speak to her, was all too obviously avoiding her.

Why? What had she done?

She arrived at the falls in time to witness the rise of the full, orange moon in the eastern sky and spared a few moments to admire it. Too soon, she shivered under the cool spray from the water.

“What is wrong?” she asked of no one in particular, perhaps of the moon. Something was. Something was desperately wrong. But what?

And what did Moon Wolf plan next? His schemes no longer seemed to center around the supply wagons, but rather upon a war of hit-and-run with the soldiers, a dangerous game. One hard to outwit.

What could she do but sit and watch…and hope…

Darn the man. What was wrong with him?

Disgusted with herself for caring so much, yet more displeased with him for refusing to communicate, she made her way back through the tunnels, back toward his bed; back to where he had left his headdress. Coming down onto the floor, she picked up the figure-head and fingered the piece absentmindedly.

“The Wolf Shadow,” she whispered to herself, “alone defying the United States cavalry. Alone…”

Or perhaps not.

An idea came to her. A wickedly, wonderful idea.

She only needed to talk to a few people, gather together a few things, and she could perhaps put a plan into action. Hopefully a plan that would ensure the safety of her man.

Hopefully…

 

Two days later three prairie schooners sat conspicuously within the fort, due to leave soon, the wagons filled to overflowing with whiskey. Guards were posted around the wagons; some lay hidden within the shadows, while others were staked out on the roofs. Clearly, all were expecting a visit from the Wolf Shadow. The situation looked to be more of a trap than any attempt at shipping.

What could she do?

Moon Wolf would not rest until he had stopped the shipment. It would be perfect for him, since he seemed intent to risk his very life.

But tonight he would have help, aid in the form of an ally he would not expect.

She, too, waited in the shadows.

She had escaped her own home, noting that the guards posted around her house seldom bothered to watch her closely. More intent upon their card games than on keeping vigil, the guards allowed her a fair amount of freedom.
Perhaps, though, they were relaxed as a result of her recently announced engagement; perhaps, too, there had proved to be little for them to see.

Whatever the cause, she had easily escaped their notice.

Now she waited, perched like the soldiers in the shadows, but with a different purpose from those men Moon Wolf called the seizers.

The hour became late and she yawned, pinching herself and fluttering her eyes to keep them open. She must keep alert; she would not fail her man.

It was close to daybreak, in the darkness before dawn, when she rocked herself awake. She had sensed something. Was it the Wolf Shadow?

She glanced around her yet saw nothing. But it was dark, much too dark. Then,
swish
, the sound of an arrow whizzed through the early morning air.

One wagon went up in flames, the next, and finally the third. But no one scuffled to put out the flames. Instead, lanterns in hand, the soldiers raced toward the place where the arrows had originated.

Alys followed.

“There he goes!” someone shouted. “Do ya see 'im?”

“Shoot 'im!”

A shot followed. Then a wail of pain.

“What the blazes? You idiot! You've hit one of us!”

“Sorry Cap'n.”

Alys sunk back into the shadows.

“Dad blame it, you're the sorriest excuse for a…”

Alys didn't wait to hear more. Men were already gaining on the Wolf Shadow.

She had no time to lose. Gulping back her fear, she climbed to the top of a building, a wolf headdress, which she had sewn together, sitting atop her head, though her figure, beneath her borrowed dress, loomed obviously female.

She screamed at the top of her lungs, “Here I am, you oafs! See if you can catch me!” And she clamored over the side of the building.

“What the…who was that?” It was a soldier speaking.

“Don't know,” came the reply. “Looked female. First time I've ever 'eard 'im speak. Is the Shadow female?”

“Follow her!”

“Yes, Cap'n.”

“And if you find her, shoot her!”

“You 'eard the Cap'n! Find her and shoot her!”

Alys plunged into the shadows, cautioning herself to remain steady. She had planned every detail in advance.

She tore off the headdress, revealing her nightcap. Next the buckskin dress, up and over her head, leaving her standing in her linen nightdress. Then off with the moccasins, uncovering her own silken slippers. She folded the extra items hurriedly—even the headdress, which she had made out of nothing but fur—and stuck them into a pouch beneath her dress.

Then as casually as possible she stepped away from the shadows and into the crowd of people, which had all gathered in the town's center. Not the least out of place, since all stood in their nightclothes, she joined in with the talk.

“What was that?” she asked someone next to her. “Did you say the Wolf Shadow was female?”

“'Pears so.”

“No, it's someone else who's come to help him,” came another reply. “Couldn't be no female.”

“And why not?” she asked, feigning surprise. “Seems to me a woman could do just as good a job as a man. Did anyone catch the Wolf Shadow this time?”

“Catch him? Can't rightly figure out who the Wolf Shadow is now.”

Alys smiled. And no one paid her any attention when she gradually drifted off toward her home, pleased as pud
ding with herself. She had successfully diverted the soldiers away from the real Wolf Shadow.

Now all she had to do was anticipate all his moves.

She grinned to herself. If it all went as easily as this, it should be a piece of cake.

 

Of course she hadn't reckoned on Wolf Shadow discovering her surprise so soon, nor had she anticipated his reaction to it. Or perhaps, in the back of her mind, she had—had counted on it all along.

Whatever the reason, she now had his undivided attention.

He had crept into her room, had been waiting for her when she returned just as the first rays of sun had stolen across the eastern sky.

At first he hadn't said a word and, believing herself to be alone, Alys had begun to unpack her pouch.

“
Aa
, yes,” he said from a darkened corner of her room, “so the Wolf Shadow is, indeed, a woman.”

She spun around toward his voice. “Moon Wolf!”

Still, he remained in the darkness. “Did you not promise me that you would not impersonate me again?”

“I did not.”

“Humph! I thought you a better person than to lie.”

“I am not lying. I did not impersonate you. I went as myself—a woman—just as you asked me to do.”

She heard him draw a deep breath. “But as a female Wolf Shadow, I believe. Do not bother to deny it, I have already heard the stories.”

She grinned inanely. “Then I won't deny it. But, please, try to remember, I did not promise you that I wouldn't try to help you again, only that I would go as myself if I did so, as a woman. I did that.”

He stepped forward. “Why?” he asked. “Why did you
try to draw the gunfire to yourself? You could have been killed.”

“But I wasn't.” She hesitated, her face flushed, though the darkness thankfully hid it. At last, she countered, “Why are you?”

“Why am I what? Why am I trying to keep the bull trains away from my people? I thought we had been all through that.”

“No, that is not what I mean and you know it.” She took a step toward him. “Why are you taking such reckless chances?”

“This was no reckless chance tonight—on my part. I escaped easily, as you can see.”

“I disagree. I saw many men chasing you and practically catching you. I became a diversion in order that you escape.”

“I do not need your help, nor do I want it. You will not do it again.”

“Try to stop me.”

“You would defy your husband?”

“I would defy the man who calls himself my husband, yet who refuses to talk to me or even to visit me at night, when he is supposed to be performing his husbandly duties.”

“
Aa
, so that is it. You are upset that I am not keeping you satisfied?”

She folded her arms over her chest and turned her back on him. Soft footsteps shuffled up close behind her, and she offered, over her shoulder, “You make it sound like a crime.”

“Perhaps it is.”

“What are you talking about? We are married.”

“Are you?” came his instant argument. “I know that I am. I am not so certain about you.”

She reeled under the insult. “How can you say such a thing?”

“Very easily, I think.” A finger trailed along the sensitive skin at her nape.

She closed her eyes, letting the sweetness of his touch wash over her. Oh, how she had longed for this.

She spun around, coming instantly into his arms. “Hold me, Moon Wolf,” she pleaded. “Just hold me.”

His arms tightened around her. “I am.”

“Moon Wolf, have you not missed me?”

He groaned, nestling his face in her hair. “Every day.”

“Then why,” she asked, whispering to him, “why haven't you come to me?”

“And spoil your plans? I would not do that.”

“Spoil my…what are you talking about?”

“It does not matter. I understand why you do what you do, and I must admit that I approve.”

She was lost. “What?”

“But we leave the point, which is your recklessness tonight.”

“I was not reckless,” she protested. She was more than aware that he tried to divert her attention, yet she felt unable to stop him. She elaborated, “I planned every detail. And I was successful.”

“You will not do it again.”

She looked up steadily into his eyes. “Moon Wolf, hear me well. I will continue to do it as long as you risk your life so dangerously.”

He kept her gaze for several moments before at last, he sighed. “Arguing with you,” he admitted, “is like talking to the wind. One only gets back the same question he puts to it. I already have a companion to help me. His name is
Makoyi
and he is my constant friend. I do not need your interference.”

“Nevertheless,” she held her ground, “you have it.”

He let his hands drop from around her, while a raw, primitive groan escaped his throat. “You would do this no matter that I forbid it?”

His voice was hard, unemotional, carrying none of the frustration she witnessed in his countenance. He looked away from her, toward the corner of the room, before he turned observant eyes back to her.

She swallowed noisily, saying, “I will help you so long as you take the chances you have been taking.”

He took a step back. “Then I would have you know what you are doing.”

She nodded, however, as though slow in comprehension, she asked, “I beg your pardon?”

He didn't answer. He asked, instead, “Do you know how to use a gun?”

She nodded.

“Have you ever shot one?”

Another nod.

“And do you know how to hide so another cannot find you? How to master a horse?”

“I…I think so.”

He grunted. “It is not a matter of thinking. You either can do these things or you cannot. And if you cannot, they can be learned.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh,” was all she admitted.

He turned toward her window. “You will come to the caverns today where I will begin the task of teaching you.”

“But the guards, how will I—”

“They no longer watch you during the day, only in the evening.”

“Oh,” she said. “I didn't know. I thought that…how long have you known this?”

“For the past few days.”

“And still you did not come to me?”

“I told you. I will not spoil your plans.”

“What plans?”

He didn't answer, merely shrugged. “You will come to the caves when the sun is high in the sky. We will begin then.” And with this said, he put a leg outside the window and jumped to the ground, as quick as that. Alys stood still. What in the dickens was wrong with the man?

Well, she would soon discover it. She would meet him at noon and she would not leave until she'd had a long talk with him.

She promised this to herself.