Cheyenne Captive (7 page)

Gray Dove’s pretty face softened hopefully. “You speak the truth?”

Summer nodded. “If you don’t believe me, I could wait for Iron Knife to take me when he returns from the hunt, but that might be many hours. I would like to go as soon as possible.”

The Indian girl laughed cruelly. “Did he say he would take you to the fort? In that case, he has lied to you, White Girl, because he fears your rejection. He could not let you leave even if he wanted to. Because of the Council’s decision you will only be able to leave if I help you.”

Summer felt her heart sink, and knew suddenly what she had suspected all along when she could not get a firm commitment from the warrior. “What—what did the Council actually decide?” she asked.

Gray Dove smiled, obviously enjoying Summer’s discomfort. “So he did not tell you. I thought as much! He did not tell you that the old chiefs had forbidden him to let you go? The Council is afraid you will bring back the bluecoats for revenge. As it is, the army must think you dead or is searching the Pawnee camps for you!”

Summer’s spirit despaired both at the news and something else.
Was it because she had trusted him, and he had lied to her?
Anger surged in her breast, anger mixed with disillusionment. There had been, almost, a feeling for him that was now washed away by a rage both cold and hot and a need for action. She did not want to know, but somehow she must.

“What else did the Council say that night?”

Gray Dove glared back at her jealously. “They have given you to Iron Knife to warm his bed. They said he should sire great chiefs by you. Do you not understand, White Girl? They handed you over like a blanket or a pony. They said you were to be his slave forever!”

Summer stared back at her a long moment, realization dawning slowly. She knew the girl spoke the truth from the way Iron Knife had avoided her eyes, her questions. He had lied to her all along, never intending to let her go. Even now, he must be laughing with the other warriors at her expense. She gritted her teeth, thinking how she had almost begun to trust him. She had been betrayed, and she was furious. She decided then and there she would run away even if it cost her life.

Gray Dove smiled, obviously enjoying her disillusionment. “And now, White Girl, I will help you escape!”

“Are you not bound by the Council’s decision also?”

The Indian girl shrugged. “It is of no matter to me what the old chiefs of the Cheyenne decide; I have little respect for traditions. Yes, I would be in great trouble if they found out I helped you escape.”

Her mouth hardened into a grim line. “They would force me into exile, maybe even kill me. But I would rather be dead than to see you with my love every day, know that on chilly nights, you are wrapped in his arms while he whispers endearments and plants his son in your belly. It is worth any risk to me to get you out of this camp.”

“I do not intend to be a brood mare for his sons!” Summer retorted, fixing that stubborn, direct gaze of hers on the other.

“You are such a fool, White Girl. Do you not realize he is big and strong enough to take you any moment he decides to? Do you think he will ask whether you wish to carry his son or no?”

Summer shivered involuntarily, remembering the powerful, sinewy muscles held back by sheer willpower when she had foolishly tried to slap his face. Even the most gentlemanly white man might have struck her for her insult. Yet, that great, savage animal had held himself in check. But Gray Dove was right; he could overpower her and take her body any time he wished, so it was imperative that she escape as soon as possible.

She faced the Indian girl. “I do not trust you, but it seems I don’t have much choice. I will have to accept your help since no one else will dare go up against Iron Knife and the Council.” She held out her hand in friendship. ”I give you my word I will not bring the soldiers back to take revenge on this camp, and my father will send you much gold and trade goods.”

But the Indian girl brushed her hand away contemptuously. “I know you will not bring the bluecoats here,
veho
squaw. I help through no friendship for you, only wishing to get you out of here and out of his heart. Perhaps when you are gone with your pale eyes and yellow hair, perhaps he will look again and reconsider. I would be proud to produce sons for this great Dog Soldier.”

A fleeting image crossed Summer’s mind, disturbing her thoughts. For a long moment, she saw an image of the voluptuous dark girl lying naked beneath the warrior, and the thought gnawed at her mind. Already, she had begun to think a bit possessively about the man, and the idea of the other in his arms made her frown. An unaccustomed emotion filled her, and it almost felt like jealousy.

Then she dismissed that ridiculous thought with a toss of her blond head. “Gray Dove, what is your plan?”

The other smiled. “For a long moment, I thought you were about to reconsider; that you did not want to leave him. In that case, I would have been obliged to think of another way to get rid of you; perhaps an accident along the trail somewhere as we move the camp!”

Summer glared back, lifting her stubborn chin. “I am not so easy and soft an enemy as you might think should you want to try. But I care not if you end up in his blankets! After all, he has lied to me and plotted to keep me here against my will!”

“He has also fought for you and saved your life when you nearly died from the knife wound,” Gray Dove answered jealously. “Would he care so much for me!”

“He doesn’t really care about me,” Summer retorted. “I am only a captive to humiliate! A blond plaything for him to rape!”

“If that were all, he would have already done that a hundred times and passed you on to his friends for their enjoyment.”

Summer admitted grudgingly to herself that this was true. “It doesn’t matter,” she answered hotly. “I only want to get away from here; away from him and we are wasting valuable time! Obviously, he will not help me escape, so I will take my chances with you! What is your plan?”

“I will get a pony and some food for you, and we will meet in a few minutes in that clump of cottonwood trees behind that little rise by the river. Do you know the one I mean?”

Summer nodded as she glanced cautiously out the tepee opening. “Yes, I saw it this morning. I will sneak out of camp and meet you there soon.”

“Make sure no one sees you,” the other cautioned. “The Council must never know I helped you, and no one must see us together. I will meet you at the cottonwood grove.”

Summer didn’t answer as she slipped away from the lodge. She crept stealthily outside the large circle of the camp and paused to see if she had been noticed. But the camp dozed quietly under the cloudy sky, the only sound a pony snorting and stamping its feet. The smell of a campfire’s smoke drifted on the still air. For a second, she regretted leaving this quiet, simple existence, this carefree way of life. How much more complicated and dull her life had been in Boston, and now she would be leaving all this excitement and adventure and returning to her staid mansion. Maybe she would go ahead and marry Austin Shaw as her family wished, thus uniting two great fortunes. She sighed as she thought of Austin and crept along through the tall grass toward the meeting place.

Without meaning to, she suddenly wondered how Austin looked nude, and her face flushed as she remembered another man’s body, naked and virile. She experienced confused, mixed feelings as she thought of the Indian. She didn’t understand the way her pulse raced when their eyes met, and she didn’t like the helpless, overpowering feelings she felt when he touched her. Men had always danced like puppets to her whims, especially Austin, and yes, even her brother David, and most of the time, her stern, unsmiling father. She had a sudden feeling the big brave would never bend to her whims, in fact, would expect her to bend to his. And even worse, she had the uneasy feeling that he could make her happy to do so.

She shrugged off those crazy, disturbing thoughts as she crept through the tall brush to the rendezvous. Suppose Gray Dove had betrayed her and had men waiting at the meeting place to capture her? No, the girl wouldn’t dare do that. She wanted Summer out of camp, and not only the Council but Iron Knife would be angry if he knew.

Breathlessly, she reached the meeting place and flung herself down on the grass. She was still weak from her wound and the resulting infection. It occurred to her it would be a very difficult trip back to the fort, but she seemed to have no other choice. If she could make it part way, perhaps she might run across an army patrol along the eastern border of the Indian Territory and she would be safe.

She heard a sound, and froze against the ground like a frightened quail. “Gray Dove, is that you?”

In answer, the dark girl appeared leading a straggly roan pony and carrying a small rawhide bag. “I managed to get some pemmican,” she said, “and a few dried plums from my own lodge.”

“You might have gotten me a better horse,” Summer snapped, looking over the old, thin roan.

Gray Dove shrugged. “A better horse would have been missed sooner out of the herd. As it is, no one will start a search for this one when it doesn’t turn up.” She held the pony’s bridle as Summer grasped the animal’s mane, and mindful of the last time, mounted from the right side.

The Indian girl handed up the small bag of food. “The nearest fort is still Fort Smith,” she said. “Fort Coffee has been closed for a long time, and the army closed Fort Gibson last year.” She pointed to the horizon. “Ride that direction and by nightfall you should be within eyesight of the fort.”

“That direction?” Summer hiked the deerskin shift up as she sat the horse, exposing slim, bare thighs. “I would have sworn when we came in the other night, we came from the right, not straight ahead.”

“No. No!” The other jerked the horse’s head back around in the direction she had indicated. “You are confused, White Girl, the fort lies straight ahead, about one day’s ride.”

Summer hesitated.
Was she confused?
Two hundred years of sailors’ blood ran in her veins on her father’s side, and she had always had a good sense of direction. Her instinct told her civilization lay off to the right, not straight ahead, but maybe she was wrong. After all, it had been cloudy that day as it still was now, so she would get no help from the sun. Certainly, if the sky cleared tonight and she still hadn’t reached the fort, she was smart enough to follow the stars. Besides, it was to the Indian girl’s advantage to make sure Summer got back to the fort.

The other must have read her thoughts. “It would be stupid of me not to send you the right way. After all, I will only collect the reward if you are returned to your father.”

Gathering up the reins, Summer moved out in the direction the dark girl pointed.

“Do not tarry, White Girl!” the other called after her. “The men will be returning from the hunt soon and you will have lost your one chance to escape!”

The thought speeded Summer into action as she ceased staring up into the cloudy sky, still trying to decide time and direction. “Thank you for helping me,” she called back over her shoulder as she dug her tiny, moccasined feet into the pony’s sides. “Slip into the fort soon and collect your reward, and tell Iron Knife—” She let her voice trail off, knowing Gray Dove could not pass on a message without betraying her part in the escape and she wasn’t sure the girl would pass on the message anyway.
What was there to say to him?
She struggled with the thought a moment, remembering his passion, his tenderness.

Then with a resolute jerk of her stubborn chin, she turned her back on the sullen Indian girl and rode away into the forest.

For several hours, she rode hard, stopping occasionally to rest the pony and listen for sounds of pursuit behind her, but heard nothing. Her mouth felt dry and her pulse hammered as she tried not to think what punishment the Indians might hand down if they caught her escaping, and what they might do to Gray Dove for helping her. But then, the Arapaho girl was too shrewd to get caught. Just once, she imagined how Iron Knife would react, how his face would look when he returned to find her gone. But she dismissed that thought from her mind.

Autumn leaves swirled about her as she rode, making crisp, crackling sounds under the roan’s hooves. Even heart-shaped leaves of the native redbuds were turning red and gold, and wildflowers scented the still air. A gray Scissortail Flycatcher passed overhead, its long tail feathers fluttering. Great, green clumps of mistletoe clung to giant trees along the trail.

In the path ahead lay a mound of earth teeming with millions of large, red ants. The pony shied and snorted a warning. Summer reined him around the crawling mass, staring down as she passed at a hapless caterpillar that had fallen from a tree branch to the anthill. It writhed in obvious agony as the giant ants attacked it, tearing it to pieces. Summer shuddered and urged the pony forward, around the bend toward the sound of rushing water.

Up around the bend in the path was a clearing, several paths leading in different directions. Through the clearing ran a creek, flooding now because of all the recent rains, although this part of the forest looked tinder dry. Foam floated along the creek’s edge and then was carried swiftly downstream to a rapids she could see in the distance.

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.