The Endless Sky (Cheyenne Series) (44 page)

      
“Even my most fanciful and lascivious daydreams about this moment pale in comparison to the real thing,” he said hoarsely.

      
She framed his face with her hands, feeling the raspy tickle of his beard. “You need a shave,” she murmured with a smile.

      
“I didn't hear you complaining earlier.”

      
“I'm not complaining now. I love to feel your whiskers. I'll never forget the first time I watched you shave after you'd taken me captive. My toes curled inside my shoes. It was the most disturbingly sensuous thing I'd ever imagined.”

      
He took one of her hands in his and kissed the palm. “I never liked having to shave. It always reminds me of...”

      
“Of your white blood. Red Bead explained to me how difficult it was for you to gain acceptance among the People because of it.”

      
“They would have accepted me if I'd been able to remain with them instead of living in eastern cities for so many years. The very education that's enabled me to out-smart our enemies makes me suspect in the eyes of my own kind.”

      
There was an edge of bitter irony in his voice. Stephanie felt a sudden chill in spite of the warm steamy water surrounding them. “And am I your kind—or one of the enemy, Chase?”

      
He met her eyes steadily, willing her to understand. “I can never be white again and you can never give up the values and beliefs you were raised to hold dear. Yet we love each other in spite of it all. That has to be enough, Stevie.”

      
She nodded in acceptance, wrapping her arms around his neck. “It will be enough, Chase.”
Any part of you I can hold for as long as I can keep you, I will settle for.

      
Chase left her floating in the water as the moon gilded her long sleek limbs in silvery splendor. He dried himself and slipped into the clothes he had brought with him. It was his turn to stand sentry duty at full moonrise. When he had disappeared through the snow-laden branches of the spruces she pondered the bittersweet enigma of their relationship. Red Bead and Kit Fox, even Stands Tall had come to approve of her. She had become Eyes Like Sun, adopted into their way of life and she had won the love of Smooth Stone and Tiny Dancer. Everyone she cared about here had accepted her. Everyone but Chase. Even though she shared his sacred medicine dream, she would always be in some measure the enemy to him. Was it perhaps because he himself was so tormented by his white half?

      
Stephanie had loved Chase Remington since childhood, loved him with all her heart and now with her newly awakened woman's body. She had abandoned civilization and betrayed her marriage vows simply to be with him. It was too beautiful and too volatile to last. All she could do was to savor each poignant moment of this time together and not dwell on the uncertain future.

      
After the White Wolf's footfalls had faded into the distance, Pony Whipper peered through the cover of the trees at the white woman luxuriating in the water. He had always found her delicate bones and pale skin unattractive, yet watching her with her half-blooded lover had elicited a surprising surge of lust in his loins. He had followed them, intent on taking his revenge against them both by killing her. Now he decided he would taste of her flesh first.

Chapter Twenty

      
Stephanie climbed out of the water, shivering as the cold curled in tendrils through the steamy air, raising chill bumps on her skin. She wrapped her robe around herself, feeling an eerie premonition that something was amiss. She hurried to retrieve her comb and a few other items she had left on a nearby rock, but before she reached it the sharp sting of cold steel pressed against her throat.

      
“Do not make a sound or your blood will pollute the bathing pools,” Pony Whipper said in a low growl.

      
His speech was guttural and she could not understand all the words, but she certainly divined his intentions quickly enough. With one hand he held the blade perilously close to the artery pulsing at the side of her throat, while the other began pulling the robe from her shoulder.
Anything but this
, her mind screamed as his hand found her breast and painfully tweaked her nipple. She bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain, certain that he would revel in her fear.

      
“Kit Fox was right. You do possess no more honor than a coyote, Pony Whipper,” she hissed in Cheyenne.

      
The blade dug in a bit more but he said nothing, only laughed as he began to force her down to the frozen earth. She tried desperately to think. How could she get free of the knife long enough for a good blood-curdling scream and a chance to seize a weapon of some sort? Such would be no easy matter for he wasted no time, pushing her roughly onto her robe, which had fallen to the ground. He came down on top of her, his face a lust-crazed mask, twisted in hatred. Stephanie lay passively beneath him as he knelt straddling her, the knife still at her throat. He began to tear at his breechclout.

      
It would all be done in another moment. Twisting her head to one side, she jackknifed upward, raising her right knee to smash it into his crotch, but the blow only grazed his inner thigh. At once he grunted in outrage and raised the handle of the knife, smashing it into the side of her head. Everything went red, then black in front of her eyes, but she screamed before another blow knocked her unconscious.

      
Pony Whipper had made a tactical blunder. He had started his attack before his real enemy was out of earshot. Chase heard the sounds of scuffling before Stephanie's cry. A red haze enveloped him when he burst into the clearing and saw Pony Whipper with Stephanie pinned naked beneath him. Seeing the knife in his enemy's hand, Chase moved silently across the distance separating them and lunged at Pony Whipper, knocking him away from Stephanie's unconscious body. The two men rolled in the snow, both struggling for control of Pony Whipper’s blade.

      
The Crazy Dog came up on top, pressing the knife down toward Chase's chest as he snarled, “And now you die with the thought that I shall use your pale skinny woman until she begs for death. Then I shall answer her pleas. It will take her a long time to die.” His hand quivered as he pressed down with renewed force.

      
“You boast of what you will never accomplish,” Chase rasped, as sweat beaded his brow in spite of the cold night air. His foe, too, was slick with perspiration as the deadly wrestling contest continued.

      
For a moment it seemed as if Chase's arm would give way and the knife plunge into his heart but at the last second, when all Pony Whipper’s consciousness was focused on driving home his weapon, Chase brought up his leg and slammed it into his foe's side. They rolled again, kicking and thrashing. Pony Whipper tried to smash Chase's head into a large outcropping of rock but failed.

      
At length they reached the edge of the water. The heat of the springs kept the snow at bay and the ground was moss covered and slick. The slightly sulfurous smell of the water mingled with the metallic odor of blood as both men bled freely from superficial nicks received wrestling over the blade. As blood and sweat poured down Pony Whipper’s arm, Chase's grip slipped, freeing the Crazy Dog's knife. Pony Whipper jumped up with a grunt of triumph and plunged it down, but Chase rolled to the side.

      
The blade sank deep into the soft earth. Before Pony Whipper could free it and raise it again, Chase rolled up on his knees and drove his fist into his adversary's ribs, knocking the wind from him. Pony Whipper emitted a loud grunt but held tightly to his knife. Chase struck again, this time a powerful blow to Pony Whipper’s jaw. The crack of bone splintered sickeningly as the big Crazy Dog's head snapped backward.

      
Yet he still clutched the knife even as his body was spun completely around. He landed facedown in the shallow water with a loud splash and remained motionless. Then a slow seepage of red began to darken the bubbling surface. Crawling on his knees, winded and gulping air, Chase struggled to turn Pony Whipper’s body over. The knife blade was lodged firmly in his chest. Pony Whipper had died by his own hand, on the point of his blade.

      
Chase released him and rose, with Stephanie's name on his lips. Then he saw Plenty Horses at the edge of the trees, obviously winded from his run from camp. Without a word, Chase strode over to his wife and covered her bare body with the robe, cradling her in his arms as he examined the wound on her head.

      
“Stevie?”

      
She stirred and her eyes blinked. Then she moaned and reached up to him, holding tightly to his arm.

      
Plenty Horses approached them. “I followed Pony Whipper when I learned from Strikes Back that he boasted he would rid our people of the white witch. They were up late smoking and telling tales with the other members of our society when he said this thing. No one else believed him...or cared if he did it,” Plenty Horses added reluctantly.

      
“The Crazy Dogs despise me for my white blood. Killing my wife would be revenge because I am allowed to lead raids and sit in the councils of the elders.”

      
“I see the evidence of the dishonorable thing Pony Whipper tried to do and I witnessed the way he died. You will not suffer banishment for his death.”

      
“I thank you for that, Plenty Horses,” Chase replied gravely, knowing that testifying for a half-blood against a member of his own warrior society was an act of great courage.

      
Plenty Horses smiled. ‘‘It is the least I can do for both my sisters. Kit Fox told me of how Pony Whipper was brought down by our foster sister when he attempted to dishonor her.”

      
As Stephanie stirred in his arms, Chase looked down on her tenderly. “She has great courage but it earned her Pony Whipper’s deadly enmity,” he said, stroking her cheek. “Warrior Woman,” he crooned with a smile.

* * * *

      
The rest of the winter passed in relative peace. Secure in their mountain hideaway, Elk Bull's band hunted deer and small game and prepared their weapons for the day the pass would clear and they could once again venture out onto the open plains. True to his word, Plenty Horses had borne witness to the shameful attack Pony Whipper had made on the White Wolf's wife. Since the Crazy Dog had died by his own knife, the usual sentence of banishment had not been leveled against Chase. For a brief while, he and Stephanie, along with Smooth Stone and Tiny Dancer, lived as a family, laughing, loving and sharing in the life of the village.

      
But all too soon the first warm winds of spring arrived and Stephanie knew her love would once again ride off to war against the white man. As soon as it was possible for a lone horseman to slip through the pass and ride clear of the Bighorns, Chase donned his tame Indian clothes and prepared to depart, leaving Stephanie to cry silent acid tears in their lodge.

      
“Please don't do this, Chase,” she had implored. “We've been happy here with the children—safe. You could be killed out there.”

      
“Or I could kill some of them. That will always bother you, won't it?” he replied angrily, strapping a dirty bedroll on the back of the dun's saddle. “Who knows, I might even get it right and finish Phillips this time.”

      
Stephanie felt his words like a blow. “I said I would divorce him,” she replied coldly. “You need not murder him to keep him from reclaiming me if he even wanted me.”

      
“He wants your money. He'd kill you to get it.” He dropped his hands to his sides and stood, looking at her, not wanting to leave it this way between them. I
f I had an ounce of sense, I'd take her out with me and leave her safe with de Boef

      
She almost told him Hugh already had her money but she still possessed some shred of pride. No matter how they quarreled over his vendetta against the whites, he still loved her. She could not bear to see that love turn to pity. If they had to part—and she forced herself to admit it could happen—she would walk away with her head held high, leaving him to regret that he had chosen revenge over love. She would never attempt to hold him because he felt sorry for a penniless and abandoned army wife.

      
Grabbing the saddle horn, Chase swung effortlessly up on the dun. As he settled into the unaccustomed saddle he almost kicked the horse into a trot, but some irresistible impulse made him pause an instant as his eyes locked with hers. She stood defiantly, dressed in an old doeskin tunic with her hair plaited down her back. Working outdoors in the clear winter sunlight had given her face a golden tint and tiny amber freckles dusted her nose and cheekbones. She was so lovely it made his breath catch in his throat. Without thinking, he reached down and scooped her up in a fierce embrace, pressing her against his side with one arm while the other tilted her stubborn chin up so his lips could claim hers in a fierce kiss.

      
At first Stephanie pressed her palms angrily against his shoulders, feeling the steely bulge of muscles beneath the greasy shirt. His beard rasped on her delicate skin as long shaggy black hair danced across her face. He smelled of horse and old leather and she could not have loved him more. When his tongue rimmed the seam of her lips demanding entry, she opened to his kiss, raising her fingertips to skim across his unshaven face. Then she buried her fists in his hair, pulling him closer yet.

      
The children watched solemnly from the door of the lodge, overhearing the tense exchange before the White Wolf swept Eyes Like Sun into his arms. Neither understood the reasons for the infrequent fights their adoptive parents had, but when she wrapped her arms about his neck and returned his kiss, they smiled at one another. Things would be as they had been before once the White Wolf returned from his mysterious mission in the white world.