Blue Hawk was still asleep when Kaylee woke the next morning. She lay there for a long time, listening to his even breathing. There was something intimate about the feel of his back pressed against hers, even through two layers of cloth. His fever had broken during the night, so heat no longer radiated from his body.
She couldn't remember the last time she had slept with someone beside her. Probably when bad dreams had driven her to her mother's bed after her father died. Thinking of her father brought a smile to her face. If only he could see her now!
She sat up, groaning softly, her whole body stiff from sleeping on the hard ground. Her stomach growled loudly, and she closed her eyes for a moment, visions of scrambled eggs and bacon, and buttermilk pancakes swimming in butter and syrup running through her mind. Extricating herself from the robe, she draped the blanket over him and tucked it in. He sighed heavily, but didn't awake.
She stood, pleased to see that the rain had finally stopped.
She reached for her skirt, but the heavy serge was still damp. Draping it over her arm, she picked up her shirt, stockings, and boots, grabbed a hunk of jerky, and headed for the entrance of the cave.
Dusty whinnied when she stepped outside. Randy's dun stood hip-shot, tail swishing. After spreading her clothing across a bush to dry, Kaylee took up the reins to both horses and led them away from the cave to a patch of grass. While they were grazing, she removed Dusty's saddle, and then the dun's, and spread the saddle blankets on the ground to dry.
It was a beautiful day, bright and clear and already warm. The pines gave off a strong resinous aroma, the earth smelled clean and fresh. With the horses taken care of, she moved away to relieve herself. Noticing a creek a short distance away, she rinsed her hands and face and arms, then stretched out on her belly, drinking from her cupped hands. They would be missing her at home by now. Her mother would be frantic. If Randy hadn't managed to free himself, his people would be looking for him, too.
She was on her way to get the horses when half-a-dozen warriors rode into view.
Kaylee ducked behind a low bush, her heart pounding like thunder. Had they seen her? Oh, Lord, what was she going to do now? She had seen what Indians did to white people. One of their cowhands had been killed and scalped. It had not been a pretty sight.
Bent low, she hurried back toward the cave entrance, praying that they wouldn't notice her.
She glanced over her shoulder, her heart pounding. They were riding straight toward her, six nearly naked copper-skinned warriors with paint-streaked faces and feathers tied in their long black hair. One wore the horns of a buffalo on his head. The earth beneath her feet vibrated as the riders drew closer. She wasn't going to make it.
"Heciyani! "
One of the warriors shouted as he lifted his lance and pointed in her direction.
Overcome by a sense of panic, she began to run. It was stupid, foolish, hopeless, but she was beyond rational thought. She had never been afraid of Blue Hawk, not like this.
She heard a whoop behind her, the sound of the Indians riding in pursuit. She knew she would never get away, knew she couldn't hope to outrun their horses, but she kept going, running until her sides ached and black spots danced before her eyes. She knew they could have caught her long ago, and then she realized they were just playing with her, the way a cat plays with a mouse. And still she ran, until exhaustion was stronger than her fear, until her legs gave out.
Just when she was about to fall, a long brown arm reached down, curled around her waist, and lifted her off her feet. A high-pitched cry of victory rang out as the warrior deposited her, none too gently, across his horse's withers.
She was trying to wriggle out of his grasp when a gunshot ripped through the air. The warrior released her abruptly, and she fell to the ground, rolling quickly to one side to avoid the horse's hooves.
By the time she gained her feet, the warriors had their mounts under control and sat facing the cave mouth.
Blue Hawk stood there, propped against the side of the cave. He held the old Army Springfield that had been part of the cache of supplies in the cave. A thick curl of dark gray powder smoke hung above his head.
His voice rasped out, harsh and commanding, in his native tongue.
The warriors slid off their ponies, weapons clutched in their hands. They rushed toward Blue Hawk. To Kaylee's dismay, she saw that he was swaying, about to collapse. He let the heavy rifle fall to the ground as the warriors approached him. Certain that they were going to do him harm, she cursed herself for leaving her gun inside the cave.
Then the warriors were on Blue Hawk—but they were not attacking.
They dropped their lances and bows and clustered around him, holding him up, muttering rapidly in what she guessed was Lakota. She saw him gesture weakly in her direction, and one of the warriors broke away from the group and trotted toward her.
Kaylee clenched her fists, wondering if she should make a run for it, or scratch his eyes out.
"Kay-lee." Blue Hawk's voice was weak but distinct. "He will not harm you. These are my people."
She eyed the lean young Indian standing before her skeptically. He gestured impatiently, indicating that she should follow him.
"Kay-lee."
They were lifting him, carrying him back into the cave. The young Indian gestured again. She nodded and followed them inside.
A familiar voice. The scent of sage and sweet grass. The touch of a cool hand, gentle on his brow. Blue Hawk opened his eyes to see his grandmother looking down at him, her expression one of love and concern. She was a tiny old woman, with long gray braids and knowing black eyes. Life had left its mark upon her face.
"Blue Hawk."
"Hau, unci ," he said. Hello, Grandmother.
"Hou ke che wa ?" She placed a gnarled hand on his brow. "You have been wandering in the land of spirits." She cocked her head to one side. "Did you see your grandfather there?"
"No, unci ."
He was surprised, and pleased, to see her out of bed. Since his grandfather's death two moons ago, Wichapi had been withdrawn, seeking solace in sleep. He had feared for her health, feared she would will herself to die. Except for his cousin Chapa, his grandmother was all that remained of his family.
She grunted softly. "Shappa found you. I knew he would."
"And the woman? Is she well?"
"Ai . She is well. She is young and strong, and only a little frightened. She will make a fine slave."
"No, unci ." Blue Hawk struggled to sit up. "She saved my life. If it were not for her, I would be with Grandfather now."
Wichapi placed a gnarled hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back down. "You must rest, Blue Hawk."
"No, unci . I must go to the woman."
"You must rest and regain your strength, cinksi ." She looked at him thoughtfully. "Who is this white woman who causes you such concern?"
"She is the woman of my vision." And he knew suddenly why Kaylee had been sent to him. She was the answer he had been looking for. He would trade her back to her family for the guns and supplies his people needed so desperately.
He lay back and closed his eyes, troubled by the thought of parting with her. He remembered the feel of her body beside his. Even when he was exhausted and wracked with fever, it had felt right for her to be there, beside him.
But the needs of his people had to come first.
Kaylee paced the floor of the tipi. The warriors who had rigged the travois for Blue Hawk had treated her with deference but no nonsense. They had let her change into her own clothes after searching the garments. One of the Indians had taken her Colt. They had waited while she saddled Dusty, allowed her to check Blue Hawk's wounds after he was secured to the travois. He had assured her that she was in no danger.
When they reached the small village hidden in a pocket of lodgepole pines near a good-sized creek, the whole village had come out to welcome their leader. Over her protests, she had been deposited here. She had been offered a bowl of something that looked like stew and a cup of water.
That had been yesterday. Today, she was still being treated politely, but unceremoniously. Like a prisoner. She wondered where Blue Hawk was. Stooping, she pushed aside the hide flap at the tipi entrance.
A wiry boy, probably in his early teens, sat cross-legged facing her, a bow and quiver of arrows on the ground beside him. He motioned for her to go back inside.
"No," she said, and stepped out.
He rose lithely, bringing his weapon with him, but she saw the gleam of uncertainty in his dark eyes. She turned and strode purposefully toward the creek with him trailing uncertainly in her wake.
She glanced around, studying the tipis, noting that some were larger than others. Many of the lodgeskins were painted with stick figures and horses, which she guessed represented battle scenes; others were decorated with garish suns and moons. The tops of the tipis were blackened from the smoke of countless fires.
It seemed everyone in the camp was busy. She saw women kneeling on the ground, scraping hides with what looked like pieces of bone. Others were cutting meat into thin strips. Some were sewing with odd-looking needles and thread. One was nursing a baby; another was holding a sleeping child in her arms. She saw only a few men, and most of them were older. One man was wrapping a piece of hide around a bow, another was making arrows, another repairing what looked like a halter. She saw only a few children. The older ones regarded her through dark, suspicious eyes, but the younger ones smiled shyly. Several elderly men and women dozed in the sun. A few boys were shooting arrows at a target, and a little girl played with a doll.
She noticed that all the women wore dresses and leggings. Many of the dresses were decorated with bead and quillwork on the yoke. The men wore breechclouts and moccasins. Some wore leggings that reached from ankle to thigh and were tied to a belt. Some of the more elderly men wore loose-fitting shirts with fringed sleeves.
Smoke wafted through the tops of some of the tipis and from outside cookfires. Some distance away, she saw a small herd of horses grazing.
All in all, it was a tranquil scene—except that the people were too thin, the children too quiet.
Two women who were kneeling beside a tipi next to the one where she had spent the night looked up as she walked by. The boy spoke to them, his tone excited.
Her head held high, Kaylee walked past them as if she hadn't a care in the world.
She gasped as rough hands grabbed her from behind. Twisting away, she was surprised to see it was one of the women.
"Get away from me!" Kaylee exclaimed.
The other woman rose to her feet.
Alarmed, Kaylee turned and ran. It was the wrong thing to do. The women and the boy gave chase, and the boy caught her easily. He grabbed her from behind and they both tumbled to the ground. The two women were on her in a minute. The three of them struggled, oblivious to the gathering crowd, until a male voice called out.
The Indian women released her immediately.
Scrambling to her feet, Kaylee turned toward the familiar voice.
Blue Hawk stood a short distance away. "Where do you think you are going?"
"Shouldn't you be in bed?"
He looked at her, one brow arched. It was, she thought, a silly thing to say. What he did was none of her business. Her gaze moved over him. Except for the bandages on his wounds, he looked quite fit.
"Kuwa ." He held out his hand.
Kaylee shook her head. "No. I said I would help you get back to your people, and I did. Now I'm going home."
"No."
'Yes." She stared at him, her heart pounding. She couldn't stay here. She wouldn't. He frightened her in ways she did not understand.
He took a step toward her, and she backed up.
"It is decided," he said. "You will stay here, for now."
"Go away. Leave me alone."
"Kay-lee, you saved my life. I will not hurt you."
"Please, just let me go home."
"I cannot. Not yet."
"Why?"
"Your people have many cattle roaming the land that once belonged to my people. The wasichu count their wealth in cattle as we once counted our wealth in horses."
She frowned at him. "What has that got to do with me?"
"My people need guns and ammunition."
"I still don't understand."
"I will trade you back to your family in exchange for guns."
"Trade me?" She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
He nodded, though she thought he looked uncertain.
"What if my family won't trade?"
His eyes glittered. "They will not refuse. They will not leave you here, alone among"—his lip curled into a sneer—"among savages."
"What am I supposed to do until then?"
Blue Hawk gazed at her. She was young and beautiful, spirited and brave. Had she been a Lakota maiden, he would have raided a ranch and offered stolen ponies to her father. "You will stay here."
"But I don't want to stay here. I want to go home."
A slow smile curved his lips as he added "stubborn" to her other qualities. Again he held out his hand. "Come, let us go back."
"If I have to stay here, I want to take a bath. And wash my clothes."
"You can bathe in the river."
She looked doubtful. "I don't have any soap. Or anything to dry with."
"We have soap. You can dry in the sun. And my cousin Chapa will give you something to wear until your clothes are clean again."
Kaylee blew out a sigh, and then nodded, the thought of being clean too tempting to resist.
She followed him back through the camp. He spoke briefly to the two women she had struggled with earlier. The taller of the two went into her lodge. She returned a few minutes later and handed Blue Hawk a small bundle of what looked like clothing. Blue Hawk nodded his thanks, then gestured for Kaylee to follow him.
They walked down a narrow, winding path that led along the river, then branched off to a small, quiet sunlit pool secluded from view.
Blue Hawk thrust the bundle into her arms. "I will wait for you here."
With a nod, she started walking toward the pool, only to be stopped by his voice.
"Do not try to run away, Kay-lee."
"I won't."
"I have your word?"
"Yes, for now."
He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, then turned and walked a short distance away.
She watched him sit down, his back to the pool. She couldn't help noticing that it was a very nice back, broad and long, the muscles well defined beneath the smooth copper-colored skin. She had the strangest urge to go to him, to run her hand over his sun-warmed flesh.
Chiding herself for her foolishness, she tested the water with her toe. Warmed by the sun, it was not as cold as the river. She opened the bundle, which turned out to be a deerskin dress wrapped around a pair of leggings, moccasins, and a chunk of what she guessed was soap.
She looked at the pool, at the moccasins, and then at Blue Hawk. His back was still turned. In his weakened condition, he probably couldn't move very fast. She had overheard the cowhands talking about the Sioux and the Cheyenne, saying that they were all thieves and robbers, godless savages who burned and plundered, stealing horses and cattle, killing white women and children.
She wondered if Blue Hawk had ever stolen Double R cattle, if he had attacked any of the neighboring ranches, killed women and children and taken their scalps. Her breath felt trapped in her throat as she recalled every horrible, bloody tale she had ever heard, tales of women who were tortured and raped or who were forced to become slaves, begging for food and shelter. Was that what was in store for her? Had all his talk about trading her to Shaun been a tall tale?
The thought spurred her to action. She wasn't going to wait around and find out. Sitting on a boulder beside the stream, she pulled off her riding boots and stepped into the moccasins, which were a surprisingly good fit. The fact that she had given him her word was of no importance now. She had to get away from here, had to get back home where she belonged, before it was too late.
Fear put wings on her feet. She ran along the riverbank, her mind empty of every thought except escape. She had to get away from here, away from him, now. Who knew if she would ever get another chance?
She ran and ran, not daring to look back, ran until her sides ached. She shrieked when a muscular arm wrapped around her waist and jerked her to a halt.
"Let me go! Let me go!" Arms and legs flailing, she struggled to free herself from his grasp, but his arm was like iron around her waist. Breathless, she went limp. As soon as he relaxed his hold a little, she drove her elbow back, into his wounded side.
He gasped with pain, but he didn't release her. Panting heavily, he swung her up into his arms and carried her back to the pool. Without hesitation, he dumped her, fully clothed, into the water.
She landed on her backside, hard.
He stood bent over, his hands resting on his knees, his breathing ragged. He looked unusually pale. In spite of her fear and outrage, she felt a sharp pang of alarm flood through her. It was her fault that he was hurting.
"Do not run away again, Kay-lee," he warned in a hard voice.
"I hate you!"
"You are behaving like a foolish child. Why did you run?"
"Because I want to go home!"
"You gave me your word you would not."
"You're keeping me here against my will," she retorted sharply.
"What are you afraid of, Kay-lee? I have told you I will not hurt you. You have nothing to fear from me or my people."
"I don't believe you. I've heard what Indians do to white women!"
"What do we do?" he asked, his voice taut.
"You know." She wrapped her arms around her body, feeling suddenly vulnerable and more than a little foolish sitting on her rump in the water, fully clothed.
He straightened, his eyes narrowed. "Tell me, Kaylee. What do we do?"
"Kill them. Scalp them." She felt a rush of heat climb into her cheeks. "Rape them."
"Have I hurt you in any way, Kay-lee?"
"No."
"And I will not. I cannot deny that my people have killed yours, just as yours have killed mine. But you have nothing to fear from me. No one will harm you while you are here, under my protection." Bending down, he grabbed the soap and tossed it to her. "Wash yourself."
She watched him walk a few feet away and turn his back. She felt suddenly foolish for running away. He had treated her kindly, done nothing to inspire her fear. If she'd managed to elude him, what would she have done? She had no idea where home was, couldn't hope to survive on the prairie alone, on foot. If she decided to try again, she would wait until she could get to Dusty. The mare would show her fleet heels to the scrawny Indian ponies. And ranch horses could always find their way home, to where the oats waited.
Filled with new hope, she stripped out of her newly sodden riding outfit, scrubbed it hastily with the soap, wrung each piece out and spread it on rocks around the pool. She squeezed the water from the moccasins as best she could and placed them in the sun. Then, keeping one eye on Blue Hawk's back, she washed herself. The soap didn't make much lather, but she scrubbed until her skin glowed, and then she washed her hair, twice.
She felt much better when she stepped out of the water. Blue Hawk was sitting as before, with his back to her. Feeling terribly self-conscious, she stood in a patch of sunshine and let the heat dry her skin. Her hair was still damp when she picked up the buckskin dress. She turned it back and forth to determine which was the front, then slipped it over her head. It was a plain, loose-fitting garment, made of what she thought might be doeskin. It felt almost like velvet against her bare skin.
She pulled on the leggings and stamped her feet into her riding boots again. Even though she was fully clothed by Lakota standards, she felt almost naked without her chemise, drawers, and stockings. The boots at least felt familiar.
How did she look in this strange apparel? Grasping the trunk of a sapling, she leaned out over the pool, studying her reflection. Abruptly she was seeing a double reflection. Blue Hawk was beside her.
She didn't quite jump out of her skin. "How do you do that?" she asked irritably.
"Do what?"
"Move like that. One minute you're sitting over there, and the next you're here. I never even saw you move. I didn't hear you come up."
He grinned at her. "Our enemies never hear us."
"Is that what I am?" she asked, turning away from the pool. "The enemy?"
The grin faded from his face. "No, Kay-lee," he said quietly. "You are not the enemy."
The intensity of his gaze brought a rush of color to her cheeks. "Stop that."
"What?"
"Stop looking at me that way."
"What way?"
"Like that! The way a man looks at a woman when he—" She pressed her hands to her burning cheeks. "Just stop it."
"I am a man," he replied, his voice suddenly low and husky. "And you are a woman."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean!"
He took a step toward her.
Her heart began to beat faster. She licked lips gone suddenly dry as he lifted one hand and reached toward her, felt a sharp sense of disappointment when he merely plucked a small leaf from her hair.
He looked at it a moment, then let the leaf fall to the ground. And then his gaze met hers again. "Tell me you do not feel it, Kay-lee," he said, his voice thick. "Tell me your heart does not pound like a buffalo stampede whenever I am near."
Heat flowed between them, hotter than the sun shining on her back.
He took another step toward her. He was close, so close she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. She wanted to run away, but she refused to let him think she was afraid of him. And she wasn't afraid of him, she realized. But she was terribly afraid of the way he made her feel.
She lowered her gaze to his shoulders and chest. It was a very nice chest, well muscled and smooth save for a faint white scar over each breast. His shoulders were broad, and she was overcome once again with the urge to touch him, to rest her hands on those broad shoulders, to feel the warmth of his skin, to run her fingertips down his arms, to curl her hands around his biceps . . .
She looked up to find him watching her, a knowing look on his face.
"Tell me again that you do not know what I mean," he said.
She didn't answer. Lifting her chin defiantly, she swept past him.
She came to an abrupt halt as his hand gripped her arm. "This way, Kay-lee," he said, and pointed her in the right direction.
His laughter made her cheeks burn all the hotter. He chuckled all the way back to camp. When she veered off toward the lodge in which she had been held, he stopped her.
"Come," he said.
"Where?"
"To my lodge."
Kaylee shook her head, certain her face must be as red as the sunset. "No."
"You will be safe there." He grinned at her. "My grandmother will protect you."
"You live with your grandmother?"
He nodded. "Come."
Thinking that a grandmother would probably make an excellent chaperone, Kaylee fell into step beside him.
"You are a stranger to our ways," he said. "While you are with us, there are things you must know."
"What things?" she asked suspiciously.
"The lodge belongs to my grandmother. Her place is to the left of the fire. Mine is to the right. You may sit anywhere else. You must not walk between Unci and the fire. It is considered impolite to do so."
"Is Unci her name?"
"No. Her name is Wichapi. Unci means 'grandmother.' "
She followed him across the camp and into one of the larger tipis. It was dim inside and smelled of smoke and sage.
She paused just inside the entrance. The floor was covered with furs. A small fire burned in a pit in the middle of the floor. Two objects that she guessed were backrests were placed on either side of the fire. On the far side of the fire pit there was a small raised mound of earth, and beyond that, several bags and bundles. A woman with long gray braids was asleep under a blanket to her left. Even in repose, she looked careworn.
To the right was another pile of bedding. Some cooking utensils were stacked just inside the door, and a couple of hide pouches hung from the lodgepoles. Lining the tipi was a cloth of some kind, painted with scenes that depicted warriors hunting and fighting.
Blue Hawk gestured at one of the backrests. "Sit."
She did so, crossing her legs beneath her. "Is your grandmother ill?" she asked quietly.
He nodded and tapped his chest. "She is sad in here. She mourns for my parents and her husband."
"What happened to them?"
His expression turned hard. "They were killed by wasichu soldiers."
"I'm sorry."
"Are you?"
"Of course!"
He looked skeptical. "Your people will not rest until we are all dead or on reservations."
She didn't know what to say to that. Conversation at the ranch often concerned the Indians. They were savages, her stepfather said, a menace that must be dealt with firmly, destroyed if necessary.
"When will I be able to go home?"
"I have sent two of my men with a message for your father."
"My stepfather."
He frowned. "Stepfather?"
"My mother's second husband."
"Ah. If he agrees, we will meet with him when he has the guns."
Of course Shaun would agree, Kaylee thought. How could he refuse?