Yellowstone Romance Series - Bundle (# 2-5) (22 page)

“We must be on our way,” Elk Runner said. “Your pie is as good as the ones your mother makes. I wish I could convince Little Bird to make this also.”

“If she did, you wouldn’t have an excuse to come visit so often.” Sarah laughed. “Good-bye, Uncle. Until we meet again.” Sarah said her good-byes to her cousin, and Hawk Soaring. His gaze lingered, and Sarah had the feeling that he wanted to say something, but then he abruptly turned and followed his companions.

“Remind Chase of what I have told him,” Elk Runner called over his shoulder. Sarah’s eyebrows furrowed. What had her uncle told Chase? Perhaps she’d ask him later. Her eyes darted around. Where was Chase?

The thought had barely occurred to her, when the door opened and he walked out. Their eyes met and held.

“Are they gone?” he asked.  There was a definite edge to his voice.

“They wanted to get home before dark, I think,” Sarah answered, and skirted around him. “I’d best clean the dishes.”

Chase’s hand reached out, and held her arm, preventing her from walking past him. Her eyebrows raised in surprise.

“What did you and Hawk talk about?” Why did he look so angry again? Her own temper flared.

“I don’t believe it is any of your business what he and I discuss,” she answered, her words clipped.

“I can’t understand a word of what you say when you speak with them, Sarah.”

“The feeling is mutual, I’m sure. Elk Runner is the only one who speaks a little English. Touch the Cloud and Hawk Soaring do not. They could not understand when you and I spoke, but they certainly weren’t angry about it.”

“What did he say to you, Sarah?” Chase asked again, his voice strained. His grip on her arm tightened.

“He told me he’d spoken to my father. Then he asked if I had an answer for him.” Sarah refused to cower, and matched his heated stare.

“And did you give him an answer?”

“Yes, I did.” She pulled on her arm. “Now release me and let me pass.” She could see Chase’s jaw working. After a moment, he finally released her. Sarah rubbed at the sore spot on her arm, and headed for the cabin, slamming the door shut behind her. She leaned against it momentarily, her hand to her chest. What was that all about? He acted almost like . . . like what? A jealous suitor? She had no experience with that. And why would he be jealous? Not once had he said that he intended to speak to her father.

She inhaled deeply, then pushed herself away from the door, and collected the tin plates and forks off the table. She tossed them into the wooden bucket, and grabbed for the rope handle. She was about to head back out the door to the river, when Chase barged in.

“Where’s your rifle?” He sounded urgent, his eyes darting around the room. “And grab your bow and arrows, too.”

Sarah didn’t move. “Why?”

“There’s a bunch of Indians on horses coming this way. I’m going to be prepared this time.”

Sarah walked to the window, peering out. From the east, she counted seven riders, their long black hair blowing in the breeze.

“They’re not Blackfoot,” she said calmly.

“How do you know?”

“For one, they come from the east.  The Blackfoot live to the south, remember? And their hair is much longer than the Blackfoot keep theirs. The men out there are Absarokas…Crow. The only thing you need to worry about with them is that they don’t steal your belongings. They are notorious thieves.”

Sarah calmly walked to the door, and stepped outside. She could understand Chase’s apprehension. After what he had to endure, his hatred for the Blackfoot was valid. He hadn’t spoken directly about his ordeal, and she suddenly realized that she hadn’t asked him, either. She hoped he would see that not all Indians behaved in the same way as the Blackfoot. They made war with almost every other tribe they encountered. It was part of their culture.  What a shame it would be if he now felt hatred towards all the other tribes who lived in peace.

She held up a hand in greeting when the group of warriors pulled their horses up in front of the cabin. One man threw his leg over his mount’s neck and leaped lightly from its back. Without hesitation, he walked up to her.

“We have come for the man with the scorpion on his chest.”

Chapter 23

Sarah caught herself from letting her mouth drop open.

“Why do you believe to find such a man here?” she asked, hiding her surprise at the warrior’s request, spoken in English. There had been no greeting. Her eyes darted briefly to the rifle in his hand. His forehead was painted red. This wasn’t a raiding party, was it? Had she been too careless in her assumption that these men meant no harm? The Crow had never given her family any problems.

“Word travels quickly through the mountains. We bring gifts to the man who made old women out of young Blackfoot warriors. Such a man deserves our praise and honor.”

Sarah felt Chase’s presence behind her. The skin on her neck tingled inexplicable, and the air was suddenly warmer. She suppressed a gasp when his hand rested at her waist. He gently moved her aside and put himself between her and the Crow, holding her rifle in front of him. What was he doing? He didn’t even know how to shoot.

“What do you want from me?” Chase stared at the shorter man in front of him. 

The warrior appraised him boldly from head to foot, and a slow smile formed on his face. “You are the man who made fools of our enemies?”

“If you’re referring to me running for my life, then yeah, I did that.” There was no boastfulness in Chase’s tone, only disdain and a hint of anger.

The six Indians still on horseback murmured, and nodded their heads in approval. The warrior standing in front of Chase smiled brightly. He reached his hand out to him. Chase hesitantly shook it.

“You come and travel with us to our village. We will sing praise, and honor you as a great warrior among our people. Your victory will be remembered in our lodges.”

“I don’t think so. I’m not looking for praise and honor. I ran to save my life, not to give you guys something to gloat about.”

“You are a humble man. That is good. You refuse to travel to our village. So be it.” The warrior sliced his hand through the air in front of him. “We will hold a feast in your honor here, and tell our families that we have met you.”

Sarah quickly put her hand on Chase’s arm before he said anything more to the Crow. If he declined their offer, he would insult them. He turned to her, his eyebrows raised in a silent question.

“Allow them to do this for you, Chase.” She hoped he would understand.

“All right,” he said, turning back to the Crow. “Why not?” He shrugged.

“We bring meat and, what the white trappers call awerdenty.” He smiled broadly.

Sarah inhaled sharply. She hadn’t expected that. Chase had to accept their offer. It would be a great insult to them if he didn’t. But why did they have to bring whiskey?

“Your woman will cook the meat.” She barely heard the Crow’s words. Her mind was still wrapped around the fact that these men would be drinking alcohol, and no doubt consume enough to alter their minds and judgment.

“No, she won’t.” Chase said firmly. Turning to her, he reached for her hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Sarah, stay in the cabin. My, ah . . . guests and I will be out here. We can roast whatever meat they brought in the fire pit.”

“Chase, do you know what awerdenty is?” she asked hesitantly.

“Not a clue, Angel. Some kind of disgusting meat, like coyote?’ He grinned at her.

“No. It’s . . . alcohol.”

His eyes twitched in the corners, but there was no other reaction from him. His facial expression didn’t give away his thoughts. He slowly released her hand. Handing her the rifle, he turned and walked away with the Crow warrior, leaving her standing by the door.

The rest of the men dismounted their horses, and followed him to the fire pit, which was dug into the earth near the small cabin. Sarah watched them quickly build a large fire, and huge slabs of meat soon sizzled over the flames. She headed into the cabin, bolting the door behind her. Perhaps they hadn’t brought enough liquor with them to make them all drunk. She could only hope.

*****

Sarah sat at the table, her head cradled between her hands. The sun was slowly sinking into the western horizon, throwing the interior of the cabin into darkness. The flickering lights from the enormous fire in the yard cast large moving shadows on the walls. Sarah refrained from lighting a lantern. She didn’t want to draw attention to the cabin. She had occupied her time reading
The Last of the Mohicans
, a book she had read on more than one occasion. The pages of the leather-bound edition were well-worn. Although she enjoyed the story each time she read it, she had found it difficult to concentrate this time.

The men’s boisterous laughter had grown louder as the afternoon wore on.  Chase’s jovial voice reached her ears, and she wanted to cry. How much longer would they carry on out there? The liquor had to have run dry by now. Sarah’s glance fell to her dog, sleeping contently near the hearth, his muzzle twitching occasionally. Sarah wondered what dogs dreamed about. She wished she could find the kind of peace that her furry friend enjoyed.

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of gunshot. Even Grizzly raised his head, a quiet growl coming from deep in his throat. Anger welled up inside her. This was her home! She should have sent Chase to go with the Crow to their village. Let them shoot each other there.  She left the table, stretching her stiff back, and peered out the window.

Several warriors danced around the fire, kicking their legs in the air, and flaying their arms about wildly. With those clearly exaggerated movements, it wouldn’t surprise her if one of them fell in the flames. Chase sat on the ground with the warrior who was clearly the leader of the group, the man who had first approached her about Chase. They were both talking animatedly, laughing at whatever the other said. They held water bags in their hands, as did each of the other warriors. Sarah knew it wasn’t water they were drinking.

She turned away, disgusted by what she saw. Tears stung her eyes. She wiped them away impatiently, and paced the cabin with her arms wrapped around her middle. She thought he had changed. In his fevered state, he had apologized to the woman he loved about his drinking. Sarah had never brought it up to him. Apparently those had been the words of a sick man. Now that he was well again, he no longer had feelings of remorse. The first opportunity to drink had presented itself, and he was obviously taking full advantage of it.

The sound of several more gunshots resonated through the cabin.
Enough’s enough! Go out there and give them a piece of your mind.
Sarah grabbed for her own rifle, and unbolted the door. Grizzly sprang up from his sleeping place.

“You stay here.” She held up her hand to signal the dog to sit.
I might get shot.
Mentally, she counted how many gunshots she’d heard. It had to have been at least five, if not six. These men were too inebriated to reload their weapons. She felt reasonably safe to go out there and not get hit by a bullet.

Slowly, she opened the cabin door. The rowdy noise grew louder. Sarah squared her shoulders, raised her chin, and marched towards the fire pit, her hands firmly gripping her rifle. No one seemed to take notice of her when she approached.

“Don’t you all have women and children waiting for you?” she yelled. “Return home to your lodges. This celebration must end now.”

A few of the men stared open-mouthed at her, swaying on their feet. Two of the dancers had stopped. The other one continued his wild body movements. Sarah stepped closer. Chase and the other warrior stared at her.

“I said, it’s time to go home,” she repeated herself. She raised her rifle slightly for emphasis. The men started to laugh. Suddenly, without warning, someone grabbed her from behind around the waist. Sarah gasped. She hadn’t noticed anyone moving behind her. The stench of alcohol wafted to her nose. Her assailant spun her around, and she faced a leering Crow warrior, his red face paint contorting his features in an evil-looking twist.

She struggled for release, but the man only held on to her with greater force. An instant later, his arms were torn away from her. Her head spun around. Chase was there, towering over her assailant. He had a hold of the front of the man’s shirt with both fists, and almost lifted him off the ground.

“If you touch her again, I’ll kill you,” Chase growled in a menacing tone. He threw the warrior away from him. The drunk Indian fell to the ground. Silence ensued, the only sound coming from the crackling of the fire. Sarah spun around and ran to the safety of the cabin, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Her breaths came in short quick gasps. She slammed the door shut, darting to the back of the room. Leaning over the workbench, she braced her hands against the counter for support. Tears ran down her face.

How long she stood there, she didn’t know. The touch of a warm hand on her shoulder startled her. She’d forgotten to bolt the door!

“Sarah.” Chase’s voice was close to her ear, sending shivers of apprehension down her spine.

“Please leave,” she whispered, trying to control her erratic breathing.

“They left. I sent them away.”

“You should have gone with them,” she said, her tone bitter.

“I didn’t drink, Sarah.” Both his hands were on her shoulder now. He slid them slowly down her arms, and applied pressure to turn her around.

She looked up at him through blurry eyes, trying to make out his features in the darkness. “You could have fooled me,” she spat.

“I didn’t touch a drop, I swear, Angel.” The hands caressing her arms sent renewed shivers through her body.

“Can you smell any alcohol on my breath?” He leaned in closer. Sarah forgot to breathe. She tried to back up, but her backside bumped into the workbench. Chase slid his hands to her shoulders, then up her neck, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, swiping away her tears. Her knees went weak at his touch.

“Sarah . . . “ he whispered, then covered her mouth with his. Lightning currents swept through her system. The slow movement of his lips against hers melted her resolve. Her arms reached up of their own will, sliding around his waist and up his back, until she gripped his shoulders. His kiss grew more demanding, and he pressed his body to hers with a throaty moan.

Sarah’s head spun in a dizzying spiral. It felt so natural, so right, and so good to be in this man’s arms. His hands seemed to be everywhere. She hadn’t even realized his arm had gone around her waist, until he pulled her tightly to him. He abandoned her mouth to trail kisses down her face. He nuzzled her neck, rooting with his face in her hair.  Sarah gasped. She shuddered at the delicious chills that shot up and down her spine. 

His hands trembled as they traveled up along her waist and arms, cupping her face again. He leaned into her, pressing her back against the workbench. Her own hands had somehow moved up along his chest, and his heart drummed strong and fast against her right hand. His mouth claimed hers again, and his hands slid down her front. She gasped a second time and stiffened when he covered her breasts, his palms hot to the touch through the fabric of her shirt.

His hands continued their exploration of her body, traveling down along her ribcage and settled at her waist, and he pulled his head back. In the darkness of the cabin, Sarah couldn’t see his face, but his breathing was as shallow and sporadic as her own.

“Now do you believe me? I only drank water,” he whispered.

Sarah couldn’t speak. She only nodded, not sure if he could even see her.

“I’m sorry I broke my promise.” He cleared his throat.

“Promise?” she managed to utter.

“That I wouldn’t kiss you again,” Chase reminded her. “You’re the one who kissed me when I was tied up, remember?”

Sarah sniffed, and laughed nervously.

“It’s a lot better when I can put my arms around you,” he said, his voice deeper than usual, and pulled her close to him. Her hands were still pressed to his chest, and she sighed at the multitude of feelings that assaulted her. She wished she could hold on to this moment forever. ”Angel? Say something. I can’t see your face.”