Savage Autumn (24 page)

Joanna watched him while he tended the horses and felt tears of misery in her eyes. When would he break this wall of silence which existed between them? She crawled to the edge of the river and cupped her hands, drinking deeply from the icy water.

What had happened to the girl who had defied her aunt and uncle? What had happened to the Joanna James who had escaped from the Blackfoot village? Was her spirit completely broken? Had Windhawk sapped all her strength? Yes, she answered herself. She had no more fight left in her. She was too weary to think past a good night’s sleep.

Joanna’s eyes widened in fright as Windhawk approached her. He untied her and pulled her toward the campfire. He then pushed her down upon a blanket and tied her once more to a nearby tree.

Joanna lay back, closing her eyes. She loved him so much it was painful. He would never understand why she had tried to escape. Apparently he still hadn’t forgiven her for pulling the rifle on him.

She curled up in a tight ball and felt him drape a blanket over her. She needed sleep. She had been totally drained, physically as well as mentally. Tomorrow would be soon enough to reflect on her future, she thought sleepily.

Windhawk stood over her, watching her deep intake of breath. She had become almost docile, as if she were resigned to her fate. He didn’t want her to be beaten. At least not yet. He wanted to see her suffer before he finally broke her spirit. He wanted to see her grovel at his feet, begging him for mercy. The tender feelings he had once had for her had been replaced with a strong resentment. She would feel his wrath and displeasure many times before he was finished with her.

He lay down beside her, thinking what he would do to make her feel pain as he had. Turning his head, he stared into her hauntingly beautiful face. Her pale cheeks looked soft and smooth in the firelight. He looked at her jaw where he had struck her the night before. Reaching out, he gently touched the bruise.

He fought against the tender feelings that crept into his heart. How he had loved her! Had she returned his love he would have done anything to please her. Now, she would feel his anger every day for the rest of her life.

Joanna sighed in her sleep and Windhawk glanced at the gap at the top of her doeskin gown. He could see the swell of her breasts and remembered how soft her body was. He turned his back, angry with himself for wanting her, and angry with Joanna for making him want her. He might hate her now, but he still wanted her as much as he ever had.

Windhawk stared into the night. He would push his desire for her out of his mind. Was he not Windhawk, chief of the Blackfoot? He would never again allow a woman to rule his heart, least of all the flaming-haired Joanna.

The next day Windhawk was still silent and brooding. Joanna could feel his coldness like a knife in her heart. The eyes that had once looked at her lovingly, now stared at her with icy contempt.

In the past Joanna would have fought anyone who had attempted to tie her up as Windhawk had, but his attitude toward her seemed to have sealed her lips.

It was long after sunset when they stopped to make camp for the night. As usual Windhawk had tied Joanna’s ankles while he tended the horses and built a campfire. The night was cold and a strong wind was blowing down the valley. Joanna huddled closely to the fire and held her hands out to the flames to warm them.

Farley had been on her mind all day. She couldn’t bear to think that he might be freezing to death or suffering from his
wound. Glancing at Windhawk, she wanted to ask him if he thought Farley would be all right. He must have felt her eyes on him because he looked straight at her.

Joanna took a shuddered breath at the coldness in his dark eyes. She bit her trembling lip, knowing she would only anger him further if she voiced her concern for Farley. In spite of her fear she gathered up her courage.

“I have been wondering about Farley. Don’t you think it was a bit severe to leave him to die in the wilderness? Could you not have left him at least one horse?” she asked in English.

Windhawk was adding more wood to the fire and he paused to give Joanna his full attention. “The old man is no concern of mine. Had I done as I should have, he would already be dead,” he answered her in Blackfoot.

“I…Farley was merely trying to help me…he…”

Windhawk’s eyes narrowed. “Did you need help then? Did I beat you, or treat you in any way but with the greatest respect?”

Joanna moved to her knees. “I told you many times that I had to…”

“I will listen no more to you,” he said, standing up.

Joanna’s eyes followed him, knowing she could not back down now. “If you are angry with me, then take it out on me, but you had no reason to harm Farley.”

Windhawk walked over to Joanna and stood staring down at her. “Did I not, Joanna?” She flinched as he knelt down in front of her and studied her face closely. “I will now use your own words against you, Jo-anna. Did you not tell me about a man who came into your home and took that which belonged to you?”

Her mouth opened to deny his charge until she realized that he was speaking of her Uncle Howard. “Yes, but…”

His hand went out to touch her face, but he gave her no gentle caress. His fingers bit into her chin as he tilted her face up to his.

“You cannot have it both ways, Jo-anna. Did you or did you not tell me it was wrong for a man to come into another’s home
and take what belonged to him?” his dark eyes were grilling as he used her own words against her.

“My circumstances were quite different from yours,” she said, pulling away from him.

Windhawk stood up, towering above her. “Yes, what belonged to me was not stolen. You left with the old man of your own free will.”

Joanna had to look away from his dark accusing eyes. “I never belonged to you, Windhawk,” she said, feeling the weight of her lie in the very depth of her being. “You knew that you and I could never have a lasting life together.”

Joanna did not see his dark eyebrows meet in a frown. “What are you going to do with me?” she found the courage to ask.

Windhawk tossed a buffalo robe at her and the impact knocked her backwards. Joanna tried to scramble to her feet but the leather ropes confined her movements.

“Let me go, Windhawk. I implore you to have mercy,” she pleaded.

He jerked the ropes tight, bringing her up toward him. “There was a time when I would have denied you nothing, Jo-anna. I trusted you, but now I will keep you bound like I would my worst enemy.”

She saw his eyes dilate with anger and knew that he was having trouble controlling his temper. Joanna wanted to reach out and smooth the frown from his face. She wanted to lay her head against his shoulder and pour out her love for him, but pride and uncertainty kept her lips sealed.

Windhawk’s eyes moved to her parted lips, and he became angry at the weakness in him that cried out to touch her. He wanted to take her in his arms and make her retract her cruel words.

A lock of his ebony hair blew across her face and Joanna blinked her eyes. She met his gaze, showing more courage then she actually felt. “You can’t always keep me tied. One day you will have to set me free.”

“You will never know freedom, Jo-anna. You will live every day of your life craving that which you cannot have.”

She wanted to tell him that all she craved at the moment was his kiss. His lips were so near that if she moved forward the least bit, her lips would touch his. She tried to concentrate on the pain of the ropes that were cutting into her tender skin.

Suddenly Windhawk gave her a shove that sent her sprawling backwards. “Pray that you are strong, Jo-anna. Tonight is the last restful night you will have until we reach my village. It is a four day journey to my home—we shall make it in three days.”

Joanna watched him move to the other side of the campfire and roll up in a buffalo robe. With sheer strength of will she held the tears at bay. She wished she had never tried to leave him. She wanted only to see the love shining in his eyes once more. Her body was a traitor to her. She craved the touch of his hand against her throbbing breasts. Her body was hungry for the closeness they had once shared.

Joanna turned over on her side and buried her face in the soft robe. She knew that tomorrow he would push them both beyond endurance. She was stubbornly determined that she would not beg him for mercy.

Joanna could not help but dwell on the fact that for a short space of time, she had known freedom. She became angry thinking that no one, not even Windhawk, had the right to control her life. Why did she allow him to treat her with such contempt? Suddenly Joanna’s anger overruled her common sense. Sitting up, she tossed the buffalo robe aside.

“I want to talk to you, Windhawk,” she said, feeling good about herself because her courage had returned.

He was gazing skyward and gave no sign that he had even
heard her. She tugged and yanked at the ropes that held her captive and to her surprise, the one that was bound about her ankles came untied.

Joanna looked quickly at Windhawk to see if he had noticed, but he appeared to be asleep. She must not do anything rash, she cautioned herself. She would give Windhawk plenty of time to fall into a deep sleep. Then she would make her bid for freedom.

Time passed slowly. Joanna noticed that Windhawk hadn’t moved in a long time. The campfire had died down to smoldering ashes, and his face was cast in shadows. She was glad that he slept on the other side of the fire. That would give her a better chance to get away.

Joanna passed the time by planning what she would do when she escaped. First she would have to make it to the horses which were picketed some fifty feet away. She would take Windhawk’s horse since it was the fastest. It would be safer if she were to turn the other horses loose, then Windhawk would be unable to follow her.

Joanna smiled to herself. It would be left-handed justice if Windhawk was forced to walk back to his village. After all, hadn’t he left Farley with no horse?

Joanna glanced at Windhawk as she stood up slowly. He seemed to be sleeping soundly now. She realized her greatest disadvantage was that her hands were still tied. She knew the time to act had come. With one last look in Windhawk’s direction, Joanna walked quietly away from the camp.

Her heart was drumming so loudly she was sure Windhawk would hear. When she thought she was a safe enough distance away, Joanna broke into a run. She knew she had never run so fast in her life. She leaped over fallen logs and dodged around trees.

Joanna was horrified when she heard Windhawk chasing her. Gasping for breath, she renewed her effort. With a feeling of dread, she realized he was gaining on her. She could hear him just behind her. When she had almost reached her goal, she felt Windhawk’s hand on her shoulder.

“No!” she cried, as he spun her around and lifted her in his arms. Joanna started kicking and squirming, but with very little results. His arms tightened about her and she knew it would be futile to continue to fight him.

Lifting her head, Joanna expected to see anger on Windhawk’s face, but instead he was staring at her heaving breasts.

“Put me down, Windhawk,” she said in a small voice. She looked into his eyes and knew that she had pushed him too far this time. “What are you going to do?” she asked, although she already knew the answer.

He was silent as he carried her back to her blanket and laid her down. Joanna waited tensely as he hovered over her. She closed her eyes when she realized he was removing the leather strap he wore about his waist.

He was going to beat her! she thought wildly.

Raising her head, she gave him a scalding glance to prove that she had no fear of him.

“I will not let you touch me, Windhawk, I swear it. I will fight you.”

There was amusement on his face. “Just what do you think I am going to do to you, Jo-anna?”

Her face flamed red and she lowered her eyes. “I will not allow you to…I don’t want you to…”

He laughed out loud. “What makes you think I want to touch you, Jo-anna? An unwilling woman never did tempt me,” he said in English.

Joanna felt the sting of his words. Why didn’t he want her? she wondered. “Are you going to beat me?”

“It is not my habit to beat women,” he said in an irritated voice.

“You hit me last night,” she reminded him.

“I was angry.”

“You may as well tie me up again, because if I get the chance, I will run away.”

He knelt down beside her. “I had already thought of that. This time you won’t get loose.” He took his leather belt and began wrapping it about her ankles, tying it into a tight knot.

“Did you really think you could get away from me so easily?” He tested the ropes about her wrists to make sure they were secure. When he was sure she would be unable to free herself, he lay down. “I am a very light sleeper, as you know. If I were you, I would not again attempt anything so foolish, Jo-anna.”

“What will you do, hit me again?”

He raised his eyebrow, but didn’t answer. Joanna felt frustrated when he turned his back to her.

She was determined that she would just sit up all night rather than lie beside him. But after a long while of silence she became sleepy and lay down. She told herself she would only rest for a few moments, but soon her eyes closed and she fell asleep.

The heavy snows continued and a strong wind blowing out of the north made visibility impossible. Joanna thought of Farley and hoped he had found some kind of shelter to keep him warm. She tried to remind herself that he was accustomed to this country and would know how to take care of himself. She worried about his ankle and whether it was healing properly.

After plodding through the storm all day, Joanna was relieved when Windhawk halted his horse and dismounted.

Without looking at her, he took the reins of her horse and led it up a steep incline. Joanna could hardly see the mouth of the cave through the blanket of falling snow. She was almost sure it was the cave where she and Farley had stayed just a few nights earlier. Once she was inside the cave, she knew it was the same one; there were the cold ashes from their abandoned campfire.

Windhawk tended the horses and ordered Joanna to build the campfire while he was gone. She used the wood that she and Farley had stacked in the cave. Soon a warm fire was burning, casting a friendly glow on the walls of the cave.

It was a long time before Windhawk joined Joanna. Her hands were numb and she held them out to the fire to warm them. She was wrapped in a buffalo robe and huddled close to the fire, basking in its warmth.

Windhawk removed his warm fur wrapping and threw down his pack. He turned to face the mouth of the cave with a troubled frown on his face.

“Will the storm delay us for very long?” Joanna asked.

Windhawk swiveled around and pinned her with a dark gaze. “Am I Napi that I can predict the weather?” he asked in an angry voice.

Joanna did not bother to answer him. If he was going to act so high-handed she just wouldn’t talk to him at all, she thought, trying to hide her hurt.

Windhawk picked up his pack and removed a slice of dried meat. Without even looking at Joanna, he tossed it onto her lap.

“I don’t want this,” she said, picking it up and handing it back to him.

He shrugged his shoulders and took the meat, biting into it.

Joanna watched as he sat down on the other side of the fire. Her spirits had never been lower. It was becoming clear to her that Windhawk was not a man to be crossed.

As the moments passed, she could feel the tension rising. She and Windhawk were cut off from the rest of the world. Both of them prisoners of the raging storm which seemed to intensify with the passing of time. Joanna still worried about Farley. While she and Windhawk were warm and secure inside the cave, he was exposed to the elements.

The wind swirled snow into the mouth of the cave—the fire flickered and almost went out.

Windhawk arose and took one of the buffalo robes. Joanna watched as he used two huge boulders to secure it to the mouth of the cave. He then placed rocks across the bottom, anchoring the robe so the wind wouldn’t seep through the cracks.

Her mind raced ahead to the time they would bed down. They were now one robe short. Would she and Windhawk be forced to share the same blanket to keep warm?

She was determined that she would not share a bed with Windhawk again tonight. Placing more wood on the fire, she huddled miserably near the flames, hoping to absorb some of its warmth.

Joanna was unaware that Windhawk was standing over her until he touched her on the shoulder. “You must remove your wet clothing. I do not want a sick woman on my hands, Joanna.” The words were spoken without warmth.

Joanna gave him a bitter glance. “I most certainly will not remove my clothing, I would rather freeze to death first. And as for taking care of me, who asked you to?”

She read anger in his eyes, but she was angry too, and it caused her to throw caution to the wind. Standing up, she faced him bravely.

“I have remained passive while you left Farley to die. I didn’t complain when you pushed me beyond endurance. I have suffered your bad temper in silence…but I will not remain silent any longer!” she said, stomping her foot.

Windhawk raised his head and glared at her. Joanna realized it had been unwise to challenge him. When would she learn that he was not like other men? He was a rule unto himself, and she had seen many different sides of him. The side he had shown her since taking her as his prisoner was one she had never seen before. He was hard and cold—not at all like the man she loved.

“I will not listen to you when you speak in the white man’s tongue. Remove your wet clothing or I will remove them for you.”

“No, I will not,” she said, defiantly.

Windhawk’s face clouded over with anger. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, then held her against his body.

Proudly raising her violet-colored eyes to his, she dared him to try to force his will on her. She had reached the end of her endurance, and she would no longer allow him to assert his authority over her.

His hand slid down her arm. When Joanna saw it was his intention to forcibly remove her gown, she started to struggle. Windhawk lifted her into his arms and threw her over his shoulder while he reached for a robe. Joanna kicked and struggled, trying to get free, but it was impossible. She knew he was too strong for her to win in any kind of physical contest.

When Windhawk placed her on her feet, she stumbled backward and fell. “Has it become your habit to abuse women?” she said, gaining her feet hurriedly. She wasn’t feeling quite so brave now.

He didn’t answer, but lifted her easily, then turned her around and with very little trouble lifted her gown over her head. Joanna covered herself as best she could and was relieved when he dropped the robe over her nakedness.

He had gotten his way, she thought bitterly. She hoped he would be satisfied and leave her alone.

She gave in without a struggle when he picked her up and sat her beside the fire. She was almost passive when he removed her moccasins.

Joanna turned her head away, trying to hide the pout on her face. His coldness was hard to deal with and she was too tired to even try. After a long moment she turned back around, and saw he had hung her gown and moccasins beside the fire to dry. She shuddered, knowing they would be stiff and uncomfortable when she put them on tomorrow.

Windhawk moved away from her and she breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn’t going to tie her hands tonight, she thought gratefully.

Joanna stared into the fire, almost hypnotized by the brightness of the flames. Her eyes drifted shut and her head began to nod. Pulling herself up straight, she met Windhawk’s glance. He stood up slowly and circled the fire until he stood over her.

What a proud woman she was, he thought. He expected her to beg him for mercy, but so far she hadn’t. “Do you intend to see if you can outlast me, Jo-anna?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said, covering a yawn with her delicate hand.

He bent down and scooped her into his arms. By now she was so sleepy that all the fight had gone out of her. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

Windhawk stared into her face as her eyes drifted shut. The woman who had taken his love and then tossed it aside still held him prisoner, he thought bitterly. He carried her
over to the buffalo robe and laid her down on it. She didn’t move as he pulled the robe up around her neck.

Windhawk’s eyes never left her face as he undressed and hung his wet clothing beside hers to dry. He hesitated before he lay down beside her and pulled the robe over them both.

In her sleep Joanna rolled over to seek the warmth of his body and Windhawk stiffened. He was a man, and it didn’t matter how deeply Joanna had wounded him, his body was on fire as her soft curves settled against his naked form.

His hand trembled as he slipped it about her tiny waist. Against his will, he began to caress her satiny stomach. His breathing intensified and he knew he would take her tonight, whether she was willing or not. For some reason, he felt a moment of apprehension knowing the hold Joanna seemed to have over him.

Joanna opened her eyes as his hand brushed against her breast. Staring into his eyes she saw no softness there and no answer to the love that she felt for him. She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened on her shoulder.

“Don’t, please, not like this…” she pleaded.

His mouth crushed hers in a savage kiss which almost cut off her breathing. She tried to get free of him, but he pulled her tighter against him. She could feel his arousal and she knew if he took her now it wouldn’t be with love, but instead in anger.

Turning her head away, Joanna pushed against him with all her strength, but she knew it was a losing battle. Already her body was yielding to his touch. She tried to remind herself that what was happening between them was wrong, but soon his hands began stroking, and he was no longer causing her pain.

Joanna whimpered as he raised her chin and his lips fastened on hers. His lips slipped to her eyelids and then began a long journey down her neck to nibble at her breasts, first one and then the other. She could feel her body quiver as his lips encircled her stomach, while his hands massaged between her thighs.

No longer able to think or reason sanely, she parted her lips to welcome his kiss. He was making smooth stroking motions and Joanna’s body began moving against his hand. Soon the caresses were not enough. Her body craved more; she arched her hips in a silent invitation.