Feather in the Wind (10 page)

“You have someone waiting for you there?” Jealousy burned within him at the thought that she might belong to another. “A husband?”

“No. But my parents will be worried. And my friends. I have a house and a career.”

“What is career?”

“I work. You know, a job.”

He frowned at her. “Why do you not have a man to take care of you?”

“I don’t need a man to take care of me,” she retorted, but she couldn’t help thinking how nice it was to be held in Black Wind’s arms, how right it felt for him to soothe her tears.

“The ways of the white man are foolish. He builds big fires that he cannot sit close to. He lives in a square house when all the earth is round. He digs in the dirt for yellow iron and kills the buffalo for its tongue and its hide while my people starve for lack of meat. He lays miles of track across the prairie. The smoke from his trains turns the air black. The noise frightens the animals.”

Tate Sapa shook his head. “They do not look after their women. Truly, the
wasichu
are a strange breed. I will never understand them.”

Susannah sighed heavily. Everything he said was true, and only served to emphasize how different they were. “I’d better go help Hester with dinner.”

Reluctantly, he let her go. Rising, he helped her to her feet. “I hope you find your way home, Su-san-nah.”

“Me too.” She forced a smile, wondering if she would ever see her home again, wondering if she would be happy there without him.

He watched her walk back to the house and then, his mind made up, he returned to the barn. There were things to do before nightfall.

Chapter Ten

The moon was low in a cloudless sky when Tate Sapa led the black stallion out of the barn. He had donned the soldier coat against the chill of the night. The pockets sagged with the weight of the ammunition he had stolen from the fort. He had tied the eagle feather in his hair, praying its magic would see him safely home.

He did not like stealing from those who had helped him, but necessity had driven him to it. He had taken an old canteen he found in the barn, two of the white man’s blankets, as well as an old saddle and saddlebags that looked as though they hadn’t been used in a long time.

Outside, he slid the rifle into the boot, draped the blankets over the stallion’s withers, hooked the canteen over the horn.

Standing in the shadows beside the corral, he stared up at the house. Susannah was there. She had not returned to the barn after the evening meal. All night, he had waited for her, wanting to see her one last time.

No lights shone from the windows, no smoke rose from the chimney.

And still he stood there, staring at the house, knowing he should go, yet needing to see her again, hold her again, tell her goodbye.

Susannah. He knew, in that moment when he contemplated a life without her, that he could not tell her goodbye.

Not now.

Not ever.

* * * * *

With a sigh, Susannah flounced over on her stomach and closed her eyes. He was leaving, she was staying, and that was that. But she would miss him.

Abruptly, she sat up, fully awake. The feather! He had the feather. Even though it hadn’t transported her home the last time she had tried, she knew,
knew
, that she would never get back to her own time without it.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood up. She was about to leave the room when she heard a scraping noise near the window. Her heart jumped into her throat as she whirled around.

“Oh it’s you. You scared the crap out of me. What are you doing sneaking in my window in the middle of the night?”

“Come with me, Su-san-nah.”

The soft plea in his voice moved over her as soft and gentle as a caress. “I wish I could, Tate, truly. But I just can’t.”

She was glad for the darkness that hid his face from her. She didn’t think she could look into his eyes and refuse him again.

“You are sure?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

He moved toward her, to kiss her goodbye, she thought. Instead, he took hold of her hands and before she quite knew what he was doing, he had tied her hands together with a piece of rawhide.

“What are you doing?” she exclaimed.

“I am kidnapping you again,” he replied, the trace of a smile in his voice.

Before she could argue or scream, he stuffed a wad of cloth into her mouth, draped her over his shoulder as though she were a sack of meal, and carried her across the floor and out the window.

Susannah struggled in vain. She kicked and scratched with all the force at her command, but she might as well have been trying to tear down a granite wall with her bare hands for all the good it did her.

She heard him groan once as her fist struck his injured side, and she hit him again, and then again, hoping the pain would make him let her go, but he held on tight. And then he was thrusting her onto the back of the stallion, swinging up behind her.

She raised her hands to rip away the gag, but by then it was too late to scream, too late to do anything. The horse bolted forward and they were galloping through the night, the hem of her nightgown flapping like a sheet drying in the wind.

She had a strange sense of déjà vu as they raced through the darkness.
I’ve done this before
, she thought, and wondered how many times she was going to be abducted in the middle of the night and carted off wearing nothing but a nightgown.

It was frightening, riding hell-bent through the night, unable to see where she was going. Sort of like being on Space Mountain at Disneyland, she mused wryly. Hurtling through the dark at breakneck speed with no control over how fast or how far you went, trusting that you would arrive at your destination safely.

It was near dawn when Black Wind reined the big stallion to a halt.

Susannah looked around, but there was nothing to see for miles in any direction except tall grass. Far in the distance, she could see mountains.

Tate Sapa dismounted, then reached up to help her from the horse.

Disdaining his help, she slid from the saddle and held out her bound hands. “Untie me.”

“No.”

“No? No! Why not?”

He didn’t answer; instead, he spread the blankets on a stretch of flat ground.

“Lie down, Su-san-nah.”

“No.”

“Lie down, Su-san-nah.”

He spoke quietly, but she heard the steel underlying his soft tone. Deciding she would be wise not to argue, she did as she’d been told.

Lying there, she watched Black Wind unsaddle the horse, saw him wince as he lifted the heavy rig from the horse’s back. He tied a long strip of rawhide to the horse’s reins, then tied the loose end of the rawhide to his wrist.

He let out a sigh as, very carefully, he stretched out beside her. She saw the dried blood then, a dark-red stain against his sun-bronzed skin.

“You’ve been bleeding!” she exclaimed, and then felt a wave of guilt sweep over her as she remembered purposefully hitting him there again and again.

“It is all right,” he said wearily. “Go to sleep, Su-san-nah.”

“But…”

He fixed his dark gaze on her and she fell silent, afraid of him for the first time. A breath of wind stirred the eagle feather tied into his long black hair, silently mocking her with the promise of home.

Turning her back on him, she stared out at the sea of grass and wondered if she would ever see her home again. With a sigh, she realized she’d been a fool to fight with Black Wind. As long as he had the feather, she had to go where he went.

* * * * *

Susannah woke stiff and sore and angry. Her wrists ached from being bound, her back was sore from lying on the hard ground, and she was mad clear through. She had saved Black Wind’s life. How could he do this to her? He would probably be dead if she hadn’t helped him. And what thanks did she get? He had kidnapped her again and tied her up as if she was his prisoner. Or his slave…

She groaned softly. How many movies had she seen where the handsome Indian warrior kidnapped the beautiful white woman and carried her away to his lodge? A dozen? A hundred? The movie
Winterhawk
immediately came to mind, only she didn’t have an uncle and a bunch of mountain men to come to her rescue. She didn’t have anybody…

Gradually, she became aware of Black Wind’s back pressing against hers, of the heat radiating from his body.

Not wanting to care, she rolled over and sat up. “Black Wind?”

He jerked awake, took a deep breath and sat up, one hand pressed hard against his side.

“Are you all right?”

He nodded.

“Sure you are,” she muttered sarcastically. “You’ve got a fever.”

Tate Sapa shrugged. “Get up.”

She held out her hands. “Untie me.” When he made no move to do so, she lifted her gaze to his. “Have you forgotten so quickly what it’s like to be a prisoner?”

A muscle twitched in his cheek; then, muttering under his breath, he untied the thong that bound her wrists.

She bit back the urge to thank him as she rubbed the circulation back into her wrists.

Head cocked to one side, she watched him stand up. He was hurting. She knew it from the way he moved, from the grim set of his mouth.

Wordlessly, he handed her the canteen, then began to saddle the horse.

The water was tepid but welcome. Susannah capped the canteen, then stood up and folded the blankets. Black Wind took the bedding from her and draped them over the stallion’s withers, then offered her his hand.

A jolt of awareness arced between them as she placed her hand in his. His palm was large and calloused, his fingers long as they curled around hers. Their eyes met and held, and Susannah had a sudden inexplicable urge to take him in her arms and comfort him.

Reminding herself that she was mad at him, she put her foot in the stirrup and he helped her into the saddle, then, moving stiffly, he mounted behind her.

She stared straight ahead, conscious of his arm around her waist, of the hard-muscled chest at her back, of his breath fanning her cheek when she chanced to turn her head. She could feel the heat of his body; his thighs cradled her buttocks.

She felt flushed and nervous and vulnerable as never before. She was accustomed to looking out for herself, had always considered herself to be self-sufficient but now, for the first time in her life, she was completely at the mercy of another human being. It was a frightening feeling, more frightening than it had been to wake up and find herself in another time.

Anything could happen out here in this land of snakes, wild animals and wilder Indians. She could get sick, snakebit, shot, and no one would ever know what had happened to her. Black Wind could use her or abuse her and there would be no one to defend her. Her parents would never know what had happened to her…

Tears of self-pity welled in her eyes and she blinked them back. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how frightened she was.

“I will not hurt you, Su-san-nah.”

His words, softly spoken, toppled her defenses and unleashed a flood of tears.

Tate Sapa reined the horse to a halt, dropped the reins and drew Susannah into his arms.

“I will not hurt you,” he said again, and she felt his lips move against her hair. “Do not be afraid of me.”

He lifted her left leg over the horse’s withers so she was sitting sideways in the saddle. Gently, he drew her head to his shoulder and stroked her hair.

“Please take me back to Hester’s.”

“I cannot.”

“Why?”

“Before I was captured by the Bluecoats, I went up into the
Paha Sapa
in search of a vision. I stayed there for three days and three nights, praying to
Wakán Tanka
for help.”

She wiped away her tears, interested in what he was saying in spite of herself. She had never known anyone who spent three whole days praying. She thought three minutes was a long time.

“I asked for help,” he said again. “For guidance, and
Wakán Tanka
sent me a vision.” He took her chin in his hands and lifted her face toward his. “I saw you in my vision, Su-san-nah.”

“Me?” Her voice emerged in a barely audible squeak.

Tate Sapa nodded. “You were dressed in a white shirt and blue pants.” She heard the wonder in his voice, a wonder that matched her own disbelief. “You were holding a piece of paper in your hands.”

In spite of the heat of the day, a sudden shiver snaked down Susannah’s spine as she recalled the day at the reenactor workshop. She had been wearing a white blouse and blue jeans.

“And on that paper was the image of a man.” Tate Sapa paused, his gaze searching hers. “I was the man.”

She shook her head. “That’s not possible.”

“I saw you, Su-san-nah, as clearly as I see you now. I do not know what it means, but I will not, cannot, let you go until I find out.”

* * * * *

Susannah was tired and hungry by the time they stopped for the night. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing at the faint glow of light in the distance.

“There is a town ahead.”

A town, she thought. Food and shelter and a bed…only they didn’t have any money to pay for those things.

Tate Sapa dismounted and lifted her from the saddle. Heat flowed through her at the touch of his hands at her waist. Her body slid down over his as he lowered her to the ground. Murmuring her name, he drew her into his arms, his chin resting lightly on the top of her head.

She told herself to push him away. He had kidnapped her and tied her up, but her body craved his touch and she melted against him, a wave of contentment sweeping over her as she rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes.

She didn’t know how long they stood there. A minute, an hour, time had lost all meaning. Maybe it had ceased to exist. At that moment, she didn’t care, so long as she could stay there, in his arms.

She heard him sigh, and then he released her and pulled a length of rope from one of the saddlebags.

Her whole body went on instant alert. “What’s that for?”

“I must go down there,” he said, nodding toward the town.

“So?”

“You will stay here.”

Susannah stared at the rope in his hand, her heart pounding with trepidation. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“I do not want you to follow me.”

“I won’t.”

“Can I trust you to stay here until I return?”

She nodded, her gaze darting from his face to the rope in his hands.