Proud Wolf's Woman (11 page)

She glanced to Neeheeowee, and this time her heartbeat raced until it seemed to challenge the wind.

She stood dumbstruck as Neeheeowee again motioned to her, telling her with his gestures that he wished her to walk around to the front of the animal. Yet this time, Julia came to her senses and did his bidding without even a whimper of protest. She didn’t dwell on the fact that she walked ahead, while Neeheeowee sat astride the pony; she didn’t even care. All she knew at this moment was that with Neeheeowee behind her, temptation no longer beckoned to her, luring her with images of just what lay beneath that simple loincloth.

Besides, it was a beautiful day. She wore a new elk-skin dress that grazed against her body as she moved, its softness feeling more like the finest silk than leather. Upon her feet, extending upward to her calves, she wore colorfully beaded moccasins, and around her neck she had fastened a bone-and-shell necklace.

These were all things given to her by the two Cheyenne women; they were all new and recently made. Giving in to the sensual pleasures, she gloried in the feel of new clothing and jewelry.

Without warning, life suddenly took on a promising new feeling. It was a welcome sensation for Julia.

And though her anger at Neeheeowee hadn’t receded, she realized she could enjoy, at least for a short time, the beauty of the prairie and the safe feeling of being pampered. After all, no rope clung to her neck, and no noose bound her to the horse.

Julia held her head high, her spirits lifting up over the prairie, and she knew, if only for a moment, true freedom.

If nothing had truly changed for her, even if that freedom were to be taken away from her tomorrow, it did not detract from what she felt now. Let her worries take care of themselves. After all, there would be time enough to confront Neeheeowee. Why should she worry about it now, when right before her lay the vast expanses and beauty of the prairie?

She cast her gaze upward before shaking out her long mane of hair. And as she preceded her captor out of the pony herd, her feet seemed to find their own way out onto the prairie, as though she had walked this path a thousand times.

Truly, it was a good feeling.

And Julia, despite her resolve, silently thanked her captor.

“Eaaa!”
Neeheeowee used the Cheyenne exclamation once, then again.

He stared at the woman before him. He didn’t want to look at her, and many were the times he forced himself to focus on something else.

But it was useless. No matter how hard he tried, his gaze returned again and again to Julia as she walked straight and proud before him.

He, himself, sat atop the scrawny mare while he had forced Julia to march on ahead of him. Not that she had protested. No, she had given him a look of total disinterest and had walked on ahead without even a backward glance. It had come as a surprise, this action of hers. He hadn’t expected her acquiescence. He had anticipated a fight, had prepared himself to quietly bear her scolding, only to have her respond with nothing more than…boredom.

And oddly, her behavior grated on him. It was he who was supposed to remain stoically reserved. It was he who should have let her realize his total disinterest. It was he who had cause to display his anger. And yet it was also he who found his glance returning to her again and again, his gaze catching the errant rays of sunlight that shimmered off her hair, her dress, her skin.

He grimaced. He had forgotten the effect Julia had on him, but he remembered now how his pulse had always raced whenever she was near him, despite his reluctance in the past to become acquainted with her.

He shrugged. He had made a small error today in not remembering this, one he would not repeat.

But he hadn’t realized the depth of her effect on him. He had only known that he’d needed to show Julia his anger. Wasn’t it because of her that he had lost all his wealth? Wasn’t it also true that, because of her, he could not follow his chosen destiny?

It had been a foolish thing for him to make her walk on ahead of him. He could see that now. But he’d needed to make her feel the weight of his annoyance, and this had been the form of its expression.

Still it wasn’t such a bad thing. Weren’t there some who would justify his action as correct? Wouldn’t they say he needed to ride instead of her, in case their party were confronted with an enemy? Were there not even some who would say it was his privilege as the protector of their party to ride while she walked?

But Neeheeowee knew he’d done what he did for none of those reasons. She had angered him. It was that simple.

His plan, however, had backfired, and Neeheeowee groaned as he watched the never-ending sway of Julia’s hips as she paced on ahead of him. She moved with a grace that was as rhythmic as it was beautiful, the fringe and beads of her elk-skin dress keeping rhythm to the movement of her feet. It was as though she danced instead of walked.

But it wasn’t that which bothered him most.

No, it wasn’t just the swing of her hips, which was, after all, barely discernible beneath her Indian garb. It was his reaction to her, the way his groin tightened as though he were seeing a female for the first time.

He was not supposed to feel these things…not for anyone…certainly not for Julia. She was white; she was foreign; she was a burden to him. Nothing more.

She also chose that moment to fling back the weight of her dark curls, causing the full cascade of her hair to fall almost to her waist, and Neeheeowee, all at once, could barely breathe. That the action only emphasized what he knew he shouldn’t notice didn’t help his cause.

And Neeheeowee, Cheyenne warrior, willing to risk his life for another, willing to face any pain, disciplined until he could confront and endure any torture, could not do one simple thing: He could not look away from the rhythmic sway of a woman’s walk.

Suddenly she stumbled, falling down, and Neeheeowee sprang off of the horse, coming before her in a few, quick steps.

“Henova’e he’tohe? Ne-toneto-mohta-he?
What is it? How are you?” He knelt beside her.

“I don’t know what you’re saying.” She looked up at him then and Neeheeowee’s stomach fell. He almost groaned.

He had no idea what she said, but the way she said it, the way she looked at him…

He had to examine her, see to her foot, make sure she was all right. But how to do it without…

He drew a shallow breath and, keeping his glance as far away from her as possible, examined first the area around her, then the prairie hole where her foot remained trapped. He lifted his eyes upward, toward the heavens, feeling curiously glad—not that she had fallen, but rather that this hole was not part of a prairie dog town. This was good. Prairie dog holes held other dangers, mainly from snakes who liked to burrow in the abandoned nests.

Keeping the reins of the horse held tightly in one hand, he lowered his free hand to her foot, trying to ignore the feeling that shot through his arm when his touch briefly grazed over her skin.

He cradled her foot and gently twisted it this way and that as he eased it out of the hole. He listened for signs of pain from her, unwilling to look directly at her. But he heard no sound from her indicating that she was injured. And so at length, he raised his glance to her.

A shiver raced through him at once and Neeheeowee almost dropped her foot, but he didn’t, his practiced discipline enabling him to pretend he felt no reaction.

Again, he turned her foot, this time watching her face to catch any sign of pain. He saw none.

“Ne-hoveoo’estse,
stand up.”

He made to rise, but Julia couldn’t arise on her own, and he frowned as he realized he would have to assist her. Drawing a deep breath, he picked her up, the feel of her in his arms more pleasurable than he would have cared to admit, and when a shot of pure longing ripped through his body, he nearly dropped her.

Gathering her more securely in his arms, he carried her to the horse and, lifting her up and away from him, he set her down upon the mount.

He did it quickly so as to avoid further contact with her, but he noted, as he placed her on the pony, that she did not move to straddle the horse, placing both legs over its back.

She sat, her legs drawn to the side, and though Neeheeowee motioned her to straddle the animal correctly, she did not budge from her position.

He almost did it for her, but he held back, more than aware of what touching her legs, her calves, her thighs, could do to him. He did not need to be told these things, nor did he need the movement of the front of his breechcloth to emphasize what resulted from such thoughts.

Realizing he could neither touch her, nor talk to her without severe reaction on his part, he did the only thing he could: He strode away. He took the parfleches from her, tying them onto the back of the horse. Then he rolled up the extra buffalo robe, settling it behind her and tying it onto the pony as well.

There. He was done with it.

She and the supplies were safely secured onto the horse. He no longer had to think about her. He no longer had to look at her. He was free now to walk out in front of her, leading the pony by the reins, this being what he should have done from the start, before his temper had gotten the better of him.

He lifted his shoulders and breathed deeply. This was better. No more would he have to watch the jiggle of those hips, nor would he have to witness her hair caught in the wind, blowing back in the breeze. He wouldn’t have to see nor hear her movements. He wouldn’t have to attend to the sound of the fringe and beads of her regalia keeping rhythm to the sway of her motion.

Yes, this he could handle. He silently congratulated himself on the wisdom of his actions and once more, his self-confidence reasserting itself, he looked down, only to observe it—not the tracks of an enemy nor even the path of an animal. No, it was his own breech cloth he observed, the evidence of her effect on him complete.

He groaned.

The westerly wind chose that moment to blow up behind them, bringing with it the sweet scent of her body. And Neeheeowee, his gut churning in ready response, despaired.

It was going to be a long journey.

Chapter Five

Julia watched her moody captor from across the ashes of a dim campfire. Above her the sky burned with the brilliance of a million stars, all set to twinkling in the clean, dry air with a luminescence undreamed of by people who had not witnessed it. The half-moon this night shone down its radiance to the landscape below as though competing with the sun, while the ever-present wind whined across the deserted stretch of prairie, whispering its message of loneliness and fear.

But it was not fear Julia felt, nor loneliness. And as she continued to study her Indian companion from afar, she grew more and more confused.

She did not understand the man. First he’d made her walk while he’d ridden. Then, when she’d fallen, he had been beside her, ministering to her, pulling her into his arms, putting her onto the horse, letting her remain there while he had walked on ahead.

And tonight, after they had camped, he had taken the time gently to bathe her foot with a mixture of herbs, wrapping it up in a soft, elk-skin bandage.

He hadn’t, though, said a thing to her, hadn’t even looked at her, and he’d acted in the strangest of ways: Having found a small stream, one which barely covered the ankle when standing in its center, Neeheeowee had spent more than an hour in it, bathing. Or maybe he’d been doing something else? Praying?

Julia had once heard that the Indians said their prayers in the early morning when they bathed. Was that what Neeheeowee had done? In the evening?

Julia couldn’t be certain of it, and she looked over to him now where he lay across the campfire, his back to her, his weapons within his easy reach.

She sighed. There was something else. He had caught and roasted a small rabbit for their supper tonight. He hadn’t expected her to do anything, he had even started the fire, which she knew was a woman’s job in both his culture and hers.

Strange. She had thought Indian men lazy and Indian women no more than slaves to their men.

And perhaps they were. Perhaps. This was only their first night together on whatever journey they were making. Time would tell.

She could make no sense of it. Maybe tomorrow would give her greater insight.

“I hope so,” she whispered and, lying down, she fell instantly asleep.

“Why did I not notice it before now?” Julia murmured to herself as she sat up from her bed of buffalo robe and deerskin blanket. She should have seen it. After all, the man wore only breechcloth and moccasins, his same outfit as yesterday. It was clearly there. She should have seen it-yesterday.

Perhaps I didn’t want to observe him too closely in case I looked at his…
She broke off her thoughts.

What is wrong with me?

She shook her head, unable to believe she could not get her attention off that one area of the man’s body.

She had to get control of herself. Certainly there was more to a man than one portion of his body certainly there was more to him than…

She looked up, catching sight of Neeheeowee as he returned from his lengthy morning bath in the stream.

She groaned. He looked more handsome than a man had any right to, and the way he was dressed, what he wore, the way he walked…

“Dear Lord above,” she moaned, and jerked her gaze up toward his neck. And there she saw it again: Her necklace, the one she had beaded for him as a gift seven and a half years ago.

It was incredible. Neeheeowee wore her necklace. Did he even realize what he did?

She looked again, just to satisfy herself that she wasn’t seeing things, but there it was. Sewn in blue pony beads, with a red-beaded heart in the center, it hung from his neck; the colors were a little faded, yet the strand was still intact.

She tried to observe him more closely, wondering if his wearing of it was recent, since his rescue of her, but when he bent down toward the fire she saw a lighter skin beneath the necklace, indicating he had worn the ornament a long time.