Chapter 14

They lay back to back, bare skin inches apart. Pride's breathing was slow and steady. Kate was certain he was pretending to be asleep. The rain was falling heavily; the wind brought a relief from the humid heat of August. Kate stretched, catlike, reveling in the soft fur against her body. "Pride?" she whispered. No answer. "Are you asleep?"

Since she was a little girl, rain had affected her this way. It made her dreamy and lazy. She pictured in her mind the wet forest around the snug hut. Here, they were warm and dry, sheltered from the world. "Pride? Chobeka?"

"Hmmm?"

Kate rolled over. "Want me to scratch your back?"

"Let me sleep," he mumbled.

Kate drew five fingers across one shoulder and down the center of his backbone. "Doesn't that feel good?"

"Mmm."

Kate began to scratch circles on his back, and then to rub the thick, corded neck. She rubbed a hand across the bare spots on his head and giggled. "You look ridiculous. Why did you let them shave your head?"

"It isn't shaved."

"Don't tell me it isn't shaved. Look at you. It's barbaric." She ran her hand over the stiff crest. "You had such beautiful hair and you let them pluck you like an egg."

"Umm-hmm. That's how they do it. They pull the hairs out with a clamshell. They shave that way too."

"That's why you don't have hair on your chest? You pluck it with shells?" Kate ran her tongue down an inch of backbone. "You are a savage, Pride Ashton."

"Leave me be, woman," he grumbled. "There's no pleasing you! I promised you I'd not partake of your charms tonight. Now, stop tormenting me." He pushed Kate's hand away. "Damn independent squaw! Three hours a Shawnee and you've picked up all their bad habits."

"I want to know why a grown man wants to look like a half-starved buzzard."

"It's a war-lock. The Shawnee warriors wear their hair that way for two reasons. First, they think it frightens the enemy. Two, an enemy can't get a good hold on you to cut your head off. I did it because I didn't want Tschi to kill me."

"Oh." She massaged the knotted muscles of his shoulders.

"Stop tormenting me. Are you possessed by Maté-kanis?"

Kate stopped rubbing and sat up. "Matey who?"

"Maté-kanis. He's a little brown creature—something like a dwarf—that lives in the deep forest. He plays tricks on people." Pride hunched down and covered his head with his arm. "Please! Let me sleep. I'm sore, I hurt all over. I'm tired. Go find a bear to bait."

"A dwarf? A brown dwarf? That's what I remind you of?" She began to tickle his ribs. "A dwarf, huh? I'll show you dwarf!"

Pride didn't move. "Demon woman, I'm not ticklish."

Kate withdrew her hands as though they were stung. "I thought you were just teasing me," she murmured. "If you really want to go to sleep, I'll go to sleep." She turned her back and retreated to the far side of the bed.

Instantly, Pride's long body pressed against her back. The throbbing tumescence against her buttocks left no doubt that he was fully aroused. He lifted her hair and his lips brushed the back of her neck. A wide hand slipped under her arm and captured a tingling breast. His other arm slid beneath her. With a single motion, he turned her to him and pinned her to the bed with powerful legs. "I'm awake," he murmured, between kisses.

"Damn you... damn you..."' Her mouth opened to his, lips full and moist. His kisses were sweet and lingering, drawing her down into a whirlpool of delights.

His hands traced the curves of her breasts, caressing, bringing each nipple to an aching awakening. Kate moaned and pulled him tighter against her. Her fingers moved down to fumble with the rawhide tie that held his loincloth. Pride caught the thong and snapped it, tossing the leather covering aside.

A hand wandered down Kate's hip and brushed at the soft curls. She gasped with pleasure. Her skin seemed on fire; his hands were everywhere, stroking, tantalizing. Kate could do no less than to serve her rugged warrior as well.

They lay, side by side, touching, kissing, drinking in the nearness of each other. "Ki-te-hi," Pride said hoarsely. "I love thee. More than my own soul... I love thee."

"I love you too," she pledged. "I love every inch of you." Her teeth nipped at his shoulder.

"Never leave me... never," he entreated. "Promise me."

"I won't, darling... never again." She pulled his head down and kissed him once more. Her lips were swollen with desire; her inner thighs were moist with the anticipation of love. The tip of her tongue traced the fullness of his lower lip, then explored the honey-sweet riches of his mouth.

"Love me," Kate begged. "Now!"

Trembling, he pushed her back against the bearskin robe and filled her with the proof of his passion. She rose to meet his plunging thrusts with equal fervor, crying out as the fiery spasms caught them, transporting them beyond the bounds of earth. Higher and higher they soared, until... together... they rode the rainbow.

Secure in his loving arms, she looked down at the green world below and let all her fears and doubts fall free. This man was all she desired in life. England, her brother's death, her own vows of independence seemed insignificant. As long as Kate drew breath, she would walk beside him and entrust her heart to him.

All through the rainy night, they lay close and whispered lovers' secrets. Kate's inner soul sang with indescribable joy. She could not hold back the tears of happiness. Laughing, he held her and kissed away the salty drops.

"You are Shawnee," he teased. "All squaws weep when they are happy and laugh in anger."

"Women," she retorted, between sniffs. "Is it any wonder, when we have men to contend with?"

In the misty hours before dawn, they bathed together in the river, splashing and pushing one another under like mischievous children. Pride showed Kate how to swim with her eyes open, and they explored the river bottom with its sunken logs and moss-backed turtles. Incredibly, in this Eden-like setting, a few hundred yards from a Shawnee Indian village, it seemed completely natural to swim naked as silkies from the watery depths.

They walked together, hand in hand, back to the wigwam, letting the cool air dry their bodies. Kate built a fire and broiled the fish that Pride had cleaned and pegged to a hickory slab. She watched while he molded cornmeal and berries into flat cakes and laid them on a stone to bake.

"You'll have to learn to cook, woman. You'll not always have me to do it for you."

Kate mouthed a dare, and the corncakes burned to a crisp while they were lost in each other's embrace. They made love fiercely, possessively... and then a second time, in slow, gentle tenderness.

"Maybe being a Shawnee isn't so bad," Kate admitted, stretching catlike. "I suppose we have to go outside and play Indian now."

"No, we don't. We are supposed to make love for the next two weeks, nonstop. Someone will hunt for me, and someone will gather wood for you."

"Two weeks?" Kate made a face. "I thought we'd be leaving for Ashton Hall today, or tomorrow at least." She sat up and wound the skirt around her. "Isn't there any top to this thing?"

"No." Pride grinned. "And we're not going home, not for a while anyway. We're prisoners."

"Prisoners?" Kate whirled on him. "What do you mean?"

"I tried to convince the tribe not to go to war against the British. They didn't buy my argument. I'm accepted as a full member of the tribe; they'll honor my decision not to go to war with them. But they've got no intention of letting us go back to warn the Maryland colony or His Majesty's troops. We're virtual prisoners until the war is full-scale. Then, they'll only let me go if they're certain I won't fight against the Shawnee. We're in a touchy spot, Kate, and it can only get worse." He lay back, hands behind his head. "You may get your chance to learn Shawnee. With any luck, our first son may learn to speak the language."

"This is another one of your tricks!"

"I wish to hell it was."

"Then we just sit here? And do nothing? While they plan a war against unsuspecting farmers?"

"No. We don't. We figure out a way to escape, without hurting any Shawnee. These are my people, too, and yours." He reached above him to take down a leather pouch and removed a long-stemmed pipe and tobacco. "We can't give them any reason to be suspicious. We'll wait and watch for a chance." He got up, lit the pipe with a glowing coal from the fire, and took a large puff. A pungent odor filled the small hut. "We wait, Kate, until the time's right."

"At least we won't be bored," she answered wryly.

"I like you in that bit of a thing. In time you'll tan to a honey color all over. There'll be no need for me to waste money on gowns for you when we get back to Ashton." The dark eyes twinkled as he squatted Indian-fashion and enjoyed his pipe. He'd not bothered to don the loincloth.

Kate blushed. "It's too warm for the dress inside. But I'll not take a step out of this house without a proper shirt. Find me some cloth, and I'll make something. I'll not expose myself for any buck who cares to stare."

"Kate Ashton offering to sew? This is a morning to remember! "

Kate Ashton, she thought. He'd called her Kate Ashton. She repeated the name in her mind and laughed out loud. "If I'm really your wife, I guess I'm Lady Ashton."

"Aye, Katy. Cream will rise to the top. Although you'll find, in America, the title will win you few friends among the common folk. It's a different place and time. England's ways are not ours, and it's growing more so all the time."

"Will we be wed in the church then, a Christian ceremony, Pride?" She was suddenly serious, her blue eyes large with concern. "I won't leave you. But... I would like a real wedding. Please."

"You can have a Chinese wedding, if that would please you." He laid aside the pipe and drew her down into his lap. "Anything that will bind you closer to me, wench. Anything. For I mean to keep the highwayman I've captured." If I can, he thought.

He kissed her, and she snuggled down against his chest happily. "A country parson will do fine," she whispered. "And I must have the shirt. I'll not add lewdness to my other sins."

"In that case." Pride reached for a basket at the foot of the sleeping platform. "I might have something that would do in here." He drew out a fringed vest of spotted fawn-skin and slipped it around her shoulders. "You tie this and this," he explained. "I suppose it will have to do, though I prefer you without it."

Kate fingered the soft leather with delight. The garment covered her breasts, leaving a wide expanse of bare skin between the bottom fringe and the top of her skirt. A design of green leaves and gold flowers bordered the edges of the vest, worked in tiny glass beads. "It's beautiful," she cried. "Thank you." She wished for a mirror to view the pagan outfit from every side. What would London think of her? No Saracen dancing girl would dare to appear in public in such scant attire!

She remembered the red beads and silver earrings, and added them to the costume. "Well, what do you think?" she begged. "Am I Indian enough to suit you?"

"I'm not sure," he growled. "Come a little closer. I need a better look." He lunged for Kate and she giggled and ducked away. He caught her and carried her to the bed. At least when she was in his arms, he was certain of where she was and what she was doing.

"No more," she pleaded. "You're not a young man anymore. You must save your strength." He closed her laughing mouth with kisses.

"Damnable wench," he grumbled. "We'll see who's too old for this sport!"

* * *

The first war party left the village three days later. Pride watched tight-lipped as Delaware and Shawnee warriors filed from the council circle. Their faces were painted, their weapons primed. He could not suppress a shudder at the thought of the bloodshed to come.

Kate stood beside him silently her joy shattered. The sounds of the war dance had penetrated the thin walls of their wigwam, ending her idyllic dream and bringing her solidly back to earth. This was no game; it was war. People died in war. And suddenly, she realized there were people on both sides she cared about.

The days that followed were ten se. Pride went out hunting with men too old to go to war. Kate was watched closely and not permitted to leave the village proper. At night, sentries guarded not only the camp but Kate's hut.

"You could get away," Kate suggested, "and carry the warning to Annapolis."

"By myself, but they'd kill you."

She paled. "You said I was safe here, that they considered me one of the tribe." She offered him a gourd of water. "What else haven't you told me?"

"You are Shawnee. And you're my wife. If I turn traitor, you suffer my punishment." He caught her chin and lifted it. "I never told you that you were safe here. The village could be attacked by the Iroquois, or by English troops, or by colonial militia. And if we are..." Pride's fingers tightened on her flesh and his eyes held her fast. "You run like hell! Don't try to fight, and don't try to tell them you're English. It won't do any good. If you're here, you're fair game for rape and murder. Run into the woods, find a thicket, and lie low, for days if you have to. Don't scream and don't make a sound."

Kate's blue eyes narrowed. "I'm to fly off into the forest like a frightened quail. A Storm doesn't run, and I don't think an Ashton does either. If we're attacked, I'll fight... with anything I can. There are babies here and old people. What about Rainbow Girl? Am I supposed to scamper off and leave them to the Iroquois?" she scoffed.

"Damn it, woman! You'll do as I say. You have no idea what you're talking about. An Iroquois warrior would make the Tyburn executioner look like an English nanny!"

"The devil himself couldn't be any worse than Tschi, and he didn't scare me!" she lied. "I'll be damned if I'll play the coward and leave my friends to die."

"An Indian camp doesn't stand and fight. This isn't a European battleground with troops lined up in even rows. The men will try to gain a little time for the women and children to run and hide. Even the small children know better than to cry out. For once in your life, listen to me!"

"And what will you be doing if the camp's attacked?" She glared at him.

Giving her a look of utter contempt, Pride got to his feet and left the hut. He didn't return until long past midnight.

Kate pretended to be asleep as he climbed into bed. She wanted to apologize, but the words stuck in her throat. She lay there, staring into the dark, knowing how wrong she had been in questioning his bravery.

Pride's hand touched her shoulder, and she turned toward him. "I was a fool," she whispered. "I didn't mean it when I—"

He pulled her against him. "We're both on edge. I should have laughed instead of storming off. I don't want anything to happen to you. You're my wife, and I've put you in a situation of great danger. I can't even protect you. I owe you the apology, Kate."

"I'm scared," she admitted. "And I took it out on you. We'll get out of this together."

He kissed her. "Even when I'm furious at you, it's hard to stay away." His hands traveled down her arm. "I want to make love to you," he said hoarsely. "Now."

A shrill cry brought Pride to his feet and scrambling for his weapons. Answering yells from the village and the barking of dogs added to the commotion. Kate grabbed for her clothing. "I don't think it's a raiding party," Pride said. "Wait here." He was out of the wigwam and gone.

Tying the front of the vest, Kate ran after him, hesitating only long enough to pick up Pride's tomahawk.

Two gunshots were heard, and then the welcome shout. "The war party! It's the war party returned."

"What is it?" Kate demanded, coming up behind Pride. "What are they saying?"

"It's our people. The war party's back," he translated. He frowned at her. "Don't you ever listen? I told you to stay put." He took the tomahawk from her hand. "Who did you intend to scalp with this? "

Three warriors came along the path, then two more half-carrying a wounded man. A woman screamed and ran to him, her cries turning to moans as she saw the extent of his wound. Wabethe dashed past them, searching for her husband.

The women and children crowded around, gratefully embracing their men and counting the missing and wounded. Kate saw Wabethe with her arm under a brave's shoulder. A half-grown boy led a horse with a body slung over the saddle. Unsoma cried out and fell to her knees, pounding the ground in her grief.

"No prisoners," Pride said. "They met an Iroquois war party a day's march north. We have two dead, five wounded."

"And the Iroquois?"

"Six killed, that many wounded, but they got away. They also wounded a German that was traveling with the Iroquois. The Delaware took him to trade for one of their people the British took earlier."

"I don't see any of them." Kate looked around. These braves all seemed to be Shawnee.

"They joined up with a larger war band of Delaware from the Ohio country. They're going to hit the Lancaster Valley." Pride's face was hard. "There are a lot of isolated farms up there. Damn the British! Don't they realize what they've started?"

"You' re British," she reminded him softly.

He shook his head. "I was once. Now I'm Shawnee and American. And that's enough difference to try a man's soul." He walked her back to the wigwam. "Best you stay out of sight for the rest of the night. Tempers are high. You'll be safe in the house."

"And you?"

"I'll find out whatever I can. The sooner we get out of here, the better." His jawline tightened. "I'm worried about Ashton Hall and my mother."

No one in the camp slept that night. Food was cooked for the returning warriors; groups gathered around fires to hear of the battle. From the doorway of the wigwam, Kate watched, sick at heart for the widows and fatherless children.

She hadn't known the husband of Unsoma, but the woman had had more than enough tragedy in her short life. She didn't need to be left alone a second time. Kate could not shake the thought that it could easily be Pride who was killed. Already, he seemed the most important thing in her life. Fear grew within her until she could taste it.

The following day, the tribe gathered their belongings in preparation to move. Men and women harvested the corn and squash. The pumpkins were not yet ripe. A party would come back for them in a few weeks, if it was safe. Now, it was urgent that the people move to their winter camp, a place more remote and easier to defend.

The wigwams were closed and left. Kate looked back at hers as they marched away. It had been her first home as a wife, and she had grown fond of it. Shouldering her heavy pack, she fell into line behind Wabethe and her husband. The man's shoulder and arm were bandaged, but he seemed strong. Wabethe carried the baby on her back.

Kate could see Pride striding along a dozen yards ahead. The bearskin was slung over his shoulder, and he carried his long rifle and weapons. They'd not been able to take all the bowls and baskets. Wabethe had shown her how to dig a hole in the floor to hide the items she couldn't carry.

"In spring, we come back these field," Wabethe said sadly. "Maybe so. Good field."

Among the warriors, Kate saw a familiar face. Tschi! He walked stiffly, his body unnaturally rigid, obviously in pain. Once, she saw him glaring at Pride. She shivered, despite the heat, remembering Pride's words. I should have killed him. Was it only anger speaking? Or...? She vowed to watch Tschi closely. He was not one to forget and forgive.

That night, the women slept together. No fires were lit; the people ate cold food and drank warm water. There was no chance to speak with Pride alone. Wherever he went, Shawnee warriors kept close to his back. Kate was so worn out from the journey that she fell asleep almost at once.

At dawn, they began the march again. The way was hilly, and the woods were thick. At mid-day, Kate offered to carry Wabethe's baby. She could see the weariness on her friend's face. The baby was heavier than she'd thought; she was more than happy when a halt was called two hours before sunset. Again, it was a cold camp.

They reached the new site at mid-morning the following day. Giant oaks towered overhead, shading the remains of an old village. The clearing was sheltered by two rock-strewn hills and watered by a fast-running, white-foamed creek.

The old bark was pulled away by eager hands. Women chattered excitedly and the children ran free. The feeling of strain that had permeated the journey was gone. Sentinels stood guard on the hilltops, and warriors accompanied the women who went to strip fresh bark from trees a distance away. Wabethe talked nonstop, and she and Kate worked to clean out a leaf-clogged hut.

"Tonight you sleep here. Tomorrow we..." She shrugged. "Tomorrow Ki-te-hi's wigwam. You like sleep man again, ayi?"

Kate nodded. It seemed like weeks since she and Pride had been alone together. Energetically, she dug at the debris, stooping to pick up a handful. A snake slithered away from the pile of leaves and she jumped back.

A man's laughter brought crimson to her cheeks and she whirled to face him. "Tschi!"

"So Panther Woman, you do not like snakes," he said softly. "I will remember." His eyes were shuttered glass, so black as to be almost lifeless. "My brother tells me you bade him save my life. It is good to know the love you have for me."

Kate spat at his feet.

Tschi laughed and turned away. "Walk softly, little sister," he warned. "And beware of snakes."

Wabethe's eyes narrowed. "Tschi snake."

"I agree."

"You watch back." Wabethe's fist tightened. "No trust, ever."

"No trust who?" Pride asked, catching Kate around the waist and swinging her above the ground.

"Stop," Kate giggled. "Put me down. People are staring at us."

He set her down and kissed the top of her head. "Who cares? Let them look."

"No trust Tschi," Wabethe repeated.

"Don't worry about him. His pride is hurt because I let him live, and because you prefer me over him. But he's my brother. He told me this morning that he was wrong. Tschi's hard, but he's my blood. You've nothing to fear from him, Ki-te-hi." He offered Wabethe a plump turkey hen. "For the evening meal, mother of my woman."

Wabethe giggled and put her hand over her mouth. Her eyes sparkled as she reached for the bird. "No worry. I cook. Ki-te-hi no cook. Wabethe let her pull feather."

"Thanks," Kate said. "Just what I've always wanted." She joined in the laughter, hiding her concern. Did Pride know his brother better than she did? Or was Tschi's hate the living thing she believed it to be? She couldn't argue with him in front of Wabethe. Later, when they were alone, she would tell him what Tschi had said. She would make him understand how real her fears were.

By the following night, their wigwam was up. It was wonderful to have privacy again. They could lie in each other's arms and talk far into the night. And they could know the joy of one another. If she tried hard enough, Kate could almost recapture the dream.

The days and nights fell into a routine. In the morning, Pride hunted with the men, and Kate learned the skills of an Indian wife from Wabethe and her friends. She began to understand more and more of the Shawnee tongue, although her attempts to speak it were met with gales of laughter. Tschi stayed away from her, and his threats faded into the background.

A few trees began to turn color ; stray leaves drifted on the September wind. The days had dissolved into weeks, almost without Kate's realizing. Somehow, the upside-down world of the Shawnee had begun to seem normal. The time before... the time when she had not belonged to Pride Ashton, body and soul, seemed to belong to another century.

There had been a sort of harvest dance that night, with feasting and games. The men had played at gambling and Wabethe had taught Kate the dance step. Even the children had stayed up late, marveling at Rainbow Girl's stories. Kate and Pride had been among the last to leave the dying camp fire for the snug privacy of their wigwam.

A few words and kisses had sent Kate off to sleep. The day had been long, and she was content to cuddle close to Pride. "Night," she whispered.

"Good night, little dancer."

She didn't know how long she'd slept when a hand over her mouth and Pride's calm voice in her ear woke her to total blackness. "Shhh," he warned. "It's me. Don't make a sound. We're getting out of here tonight."

"But how? The camp guards?" She pushed his hand away and rubbed at her eyes. She was barely awake and not thinking clearly.

"It's all right. Tschi's on duty. He's letting us escape."

"I don't believe it." Kate grabbed his arm. "Don't trust him. He hates me. Why should he help us?"

"Shhh. Sound carries easily," Pride warned. "He's as worried about Mother as I am. He knows she needs me there to look after her. Once I'm gone, the people will stop talking about the circle, and he can get back to being a war leader." He handed her a bundle. "There's food in there to last us a few days. Get dressed." No need to tell Kate that he didn't trust her or Tschi any farther than he could throw them. Pride's Shawnee half insisted that a brother would not—could not—betray another brother. It went against all Shawnee law. Family was sacred. A man who would do such a thing risked his immortal soul. And yet... The English half remembered the hatred in Tschi's eyes, remembered the old hurts and angers.

"Hurry," he whispered to Kate. A wave of shame passed over him. Tschi always said it was Pride's white blood that made him different, made him distrust. What kind of man would suspect his brother of treachery? This chance might not come again, and to refuse it would sever any chance he and Tschi would ever have of making peace between them. It would be an unforgivable insult to his brother's honor. They would have to risk it.

Kate interrupted his thoughts. "No. I won't go. I'm afraid, Pride."

"I'm going, and you're coming with me. If he tries anything, I can handle him. It's the first chance we've had, and I've got to take it. He loves Rebecca. She's probably the only person he's ever loved. Now, get dressed, or I'll drag you out of here the way you are."

Kate pulled the deerskin dress over her head and fumbled for her moccasins. "I don't feel right about this."

"Do you want to be a Shawnee all your life?"

"No... but..."

"No buts. Come on."

Cautiously, she followed him out of the wigwam. There was no moon. It was so dark she could hardly see Pride inches in front of her. He took her hand, and she clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering.

Every step she took was terrifying. Twigs snapped beneath her moccasins and dry leaves crunched. She could hear the pounding of her own blood in her veins. A baby cried and Kate almost jumped out of her skin. She clenched her teeth and tried to follow in Pride's footsteps.

A shadow loomed ahead of them, materializing out of the haze. "Chobeka?"

"Tschi?"

He grunted and motioned for them to follow him. Three horses were tied in the trees. They mounted in silence and rode off single file down the twisting path.

When they were a mile as the crow flies from the camp, Pride broke the silence. "Why?"

"I'm more familiar with the country than you are. There's a Lenni Lenape camp a half-day's journey away and I want to make sure you give it a wide berth." He switched from Shawnee to English. "You have Panther Woman to slow feet. No good you escape Shawnee, leave scalp Delaware lodgepole."

"He was supposed to be on guard duty," Kate said suspiciously. "Leaving his post demands the death penalty. Even a white squaw knows that." She guided her horse close to Pride's. "Why are you being so good to us, Tschi?"

"Your woman thinks too highly of herself," Tschi said in Shawnee. "She does not believe we left our anger in the sacred circle. H'kah-nih took my place tonight. He is known as a fool. None will doubt you slipped away without his knowledge. It is believed that I went to hunt a bear with three of my friends. My absence will cause no alarm in the morning." To Kate he said, " Chobeka my brother."

"Brother be damned. Pride, he—"

"Enough, Kate. We're too close to the camp to be sitting here. I want to put miles between us and them, and I want to do it before daylight." He kicked his horse into a stiff trot. If they got out of this with their hair they'd be lucky.

They pressed hard for several hours. Kate had no idea of the direction they had taken. Most of the terrain was wooded and hilly. She was grateful for the horse, knowing how hard it would have been on foot.

A false dawn sent halos of shimmering fuchsia spilling across a star-sprinkled sky. The growing light brought trees and rocks into focus, and Kate breathed in the dew-drenched air. An owl gave a final hunting cry as it swooped on a scurrying rodent almost in her path.

With a snort of panic, Kate's horse reared and she fought to hold her seat. Pride turned in the saddle, and a blow from Tschi's rifle barrel knocked him to the ground. Kate screamed, and a form hurtled from the tree overhead on top of her! The force was too great; horse, Kate, and attacker fell backward in a jumble of thrashing limbs.

Kate tried to struggle free. The horse's weight pinned her right leg; only the thick brush kept the bone from snapping under the strain. Cursing, she struck out at the Indian with her fists. He struck her on the face and the sting changed her terror to a white-hot fury. She dragged a knife from the brave's waist sheath and attempted to stab him with it.

The horse scrambled up, and Kate rolled and caught a handful of mane. The animal pulled her to her feet. From the corner of her eye she counted at least three men, all closing on her. Pride lay motionless, a dark stain spreading across his face. "You've killed him!" she screamed. She lunged at the astonished warrior with the knife, slicing a crimson streak down one copper arm.

Iron arms went around her, twisting her wrist cruelly until she cried out in pain. The knife fell from her numb fingers; she was thrown violently to the ground. Tschi kicked her several times. Kate seized his bare leg and sank her teeth into it. A blow knocked her senseless.

As she came to, her arms were being bound behind her back roughly. The blue Storm eyes fastened on Tschi's smirking face and darkened to gray slits of hate. A string of curses rolled from her lips until she had exhausted every foul name and oath she had ever heard. "May God strike you," she gasped, "and put the mark of Cain on you that you deserve. A man who would betray his own brother is yellow scum! What will you tell your mother when she asks? Will you lie to her too? Or will she see through you?"

Tschi backhanded her across the mouth and signaled to the brave behind her. A leather gag was tied over her protesting mouth. Tschi grinned wolfishly. "You talk too much, woman." He slung her up on the horse, tying her legs together under the animal's belly. "My brother is not dead," he said softly. "Not yet." The cold flame in his eyes struck her like blow. "He will die slow. You?" He shrugged. "You may wish for death."

Kate's mind fastened on Tschi's words, "My brother is not dead." If Pride were alive, it would be all right! He'd find a way to save them. She watched as they tied his unconscious body to the horse in front of her. The wound was still bleeding. It should be stitched. He moaned, and she strained helplessly at the leather thongs that held her. It was maddening to have him hurt, only a few feet away, and to be unable to help.

As the light increased, Kate recognized the braves with Tschi. Two were still in their teens. She knew none of them well enough to remember their names. They were Shawnee, from the village, and, she assumed, friends or followers of Tschi.

To her surprise, they did not turn back along the trail they had come on. Instead they turned west. She could get some idea of direction now, by the sun. It was rising in the east. Where was Tschi taking them if not back to the Shawnee village? She fought against the gag, succeeding only in rubbing a raw spot on her lip. I'll get even with you, Tschi, she vowed. On my brother's grave, I swear it!

There was no stop for food or water all through the long day. By the time night came, Kate was reeling from exhaustion. The leather gag was soaked with her own blood; her wrists had long since become fiery wounds. Only the bonds on her raw ankles kept her from falling off the horse.

Still, they pressed on. Kate's mouth felt like a desert. She would die before she would beg water from Tschi. In any case, she had seen no water. They had crossed no streams or rivers. Foggily, she began to pray for rain.

She was worried about Pride. He had drifted in and out of consciousness all day. Even when he was awake, he didn't seem lucid. He was talking crazy, half in English and half in Shawnee. He didn't seem to realize they'd been betrayed and captured. He kept talking about a bear hunt; Kate's fears grew with every passing hour.

The horses stopped, and Kate slumped forward. If they made camp, she might have a chance to get water, to see to Pride's injuries. Tschi fired his rifle in the air. Kate's horse jumped and she grabbed at the mane to keep her balance.

Two shots answered from the woods ahead. Tschi and the men dismounted. Figures began to appear in the trees. Kate soon lost count. They were not Shawnee. She didn't know who they were. The language they called out was totally meaningless to her. Tschi waved, and they walked forward, leading the horses.

Strange braves closed about them, fierce and hard-eyed. It was too dark to see clearly, but most wore their hair like Tschi's and seemed to be tattooed. They carried modern rifles and painted war clubs with vicious balls on the end. Kate had seen nothing like them before.

Tschi spoke with them in the strange tongue. A warrior took the reins of Kate's horse and they moved quickly down a tree-studded hillside. Kate heard the welcome sound of running water. When they rounded a bend, she saw a circle of camp fires.

"Ho!" Tschi called. "I come! Tschi of the Shawnee! I bring the man you want! I bring Pride Ashton!"

A white man stepped into the firelight. He wore fringed buckskin clothing and pistols at his waist. Cradled in his arms was a French long rifle. "Bon soir, my friends."

Waves of nausea washed through Kate as the man's accent sounded in her ears. He was French! Tschi was turning them over to the French!

The gray eyes appraised her thoroughly. "Madam," he said, coming forward to stand by her horse. "Permit me to introduce myself. I am Captain Andre DeSalle." He smiled and inclined his head slightly. "Be at ease." His English was stilted, but letter-perfect. "You are under my protection."

"I bring prisoner; you give guns," Tschi said. He lowered his own rifle menacingly.

DeSalle looked at Pride, saw he was still breathing, and nodded. Two Indians came forward carrying a heavy box. They put it on the ground and slid back the lid. It was full of rifles. "I keep my word, Tschi," DeSalle reminded him. "Tell your brothers, the Shawnee, the French are their friends. We will give them fine weapons, powder, and shot. The French King is generous to all his allies."

A brave pulled Kate from the horse, cutting the ties at her ankles and removing the gag. "Please," Kate cried.

"You're a white man! For the love of God, help him. He's badly hurt."

Tschi's men began to remove the guns and tie them on Kate's horse. Tschi cut the thongs holding Pride and he tumbled to the ground. Kate would have run to him, but the Frenchman stepped in front of her.

"Leave him to me, madam." He was not much taller than she was, but stocky. His white-blond hair was caught in a queue at the back of his neck. He smiled at her kindly. "You are in need of care yourself." The handsome young face was smooth and without blemish, his beard freshly shaved.

"You don't understand," Kate pleaded. "You must let me—"

The Frenchman's hand cracked across Kate's face. "It is you who does not understand, madam. I will have no trouble from an English whore. When I speak, I expect to be obeyed." He turned to an Indian and gave an order.

Hands grabbed Kate and pulled her away, struggling. "Damn you!" she cried. "Damn you! You're a white man! You're worse than they are!"

DeSalle rolled Pride over on his back with a booted foot. "Bon soir, Monsieur Ashton." He laughed coldly. "I told you we would meet again."