Captivated (Cutter's Creek Book 18)

by Vivi Holt

“I heard something. Not sure what.” Bodaway dismounted quickly and ran softly through the trees.

  Before he knew it, a line of white men dressed in worn and soiled clothing rode past – almost right over him. He hid behind a tree trunk and whistled to the braves waiting for his return to warn them. The men were rough-looking, each carrying holstered revolvers on both hips. Rifles protruded from scabbards attached to their saddles. Wide-brimmed hats or fox skins with the head in front and tail in back, topped unkempt, oily hair, and curling beards climbed thick toward vests with missing buttons.

  His eyes narrowed and he whistled again, a dove call to make sure he wasn’t discovered. He worried about the men he’d left behind and hoped they’d found cover in time. If only he were back with them now. He knew Father didn’t wish a battle with the white man, certainly not unexpectedly like this. But they’d defend themselves if they must. Once the men had passed by his hiding place, he dashed back the way he’d come on silent feet.

  The sound of gunfire close by crashed through the quiet of the copse and his heart thudded. More gunfire followed, and he sprinted now, pulling his bow over his shoulder and fitting it with an arrow mid-stride. The braves must have been discovered.

  He came upon the white men, hiding in a crevice between two large boulders. Behind the boulders a dozen warriors were slinging arrows toward the men, then ducking to avoid bullets. He rushed to where Anunkasan lay pressed against one of the boulders, panting as he fitted another arrow into his bow. “What happened? Didn’t you hear my whistle?”

  “Of course we did, but they’re cornered. See? We have them.” Anunkasan’s eyes gleamed and he grinned before standing to shoot his arrow into the fray. The scheming brave had been punished by the council for his attack on Mariya years before, but they had given him – and Waneta – a chance to work their way back into the People’s good graces. So far, both of them had. Bodaway’s heart skidded. Was this another of Anunkasan’s schemes?

  “Where is Father? Did he sanction this?”

  Anunkasan sank back onto his haunches behind the boulder that shielded them both. “He’s behind the other rock, I think. It was a perfect opportunity – the chief will thank me later.” He jumped up again and fired another arrow.

  More shots rang out and the men below, fewer in number now, were shouting and screaming at each other in English. As Bodaway stood to take aim, he saw the few remaining men galloping off down the path and into the woods. He and Anunkasan went forward cautiously to finish off any that were still alive, and found none. Then he lowered his bow and ran to find his father.

  A few warriors were huddled together around a prone figure, but shuffled back out of his way when he arrived, their eyes downcast. He saw his father laying still on the hard ground, his legs twisted up strangely beneath him and a bullet wound clearly visible in his chest. Bodaway fell on the rock beside him and lifted a hand to his father’s face. “Father, open your eyes.”

  The men shifted uncomfortably around him, swapping glances.

  “Father, it’s Boda. You’re going to be fine. I’ll take you back to the village. Open your eyes.”

  His father didn’t move, and Bodaway felt his chest constrict. He shook his head. Why had he left the others behind? Why had he gone to investigate the noise on his own? And why had Anunkasan gone against the chief’s orders? Anger flooded through his belly and rose up hard and dark within him. This was all Anunkasan’s fault. What was the purpose of such an ambush? There was nothing to gain by attacking a gang of outlaws.

  He stood slowly to his feet and rubbed his hands over his face, fighting back the ache that had risen into his throat. With hooded eyes, he scanned the group, finding Anunkasan watching it all with mild curiosity. But upon spotting Bodaway’s expression, Anunkasan stepped back toward the edge of the boulder as it towered above the thicket below. “Boda, wait. It was an accident … you know that …” He turned to run.

  But Bodaway was too fast. He caught him, slamming him into the rocky surface on the edge of the boulder, and pounded him with his fists, his face thunderous.

  “Stop! You’ll push me over the edge, you fool!” cried Anunkasan, guarding his face with his hands.

  Bodaway stopped. “Call me a fool? You’re a mark on the honor of this tribe. You do nothing but cause trouble and bring down grief on our heads.”

  He stood, wiping his hands on his trouser legs. “You have no place in this tribe. You will leave the village and never return.” He turned his back and strode away, leaving Anunkasan lying on the boulder.

  Chapter Twenty

  Impeme squealed in delight as the pony stepped forward. She clenched her hand around Maria’s arm. “Mama! Mama! Don’t let me fall.”

  Maria laughed. “Impeme my darling, you’re fine. Just hold on.”

  Another squeal, followed by a shout and Impeme flapped her feet against the pony’s sides.

  “Don’t do that!” Maria yelped as the pony took off at a trot.

  The child flopped around on the animal’s back. “Mama, help me!”

  Maria broke into a run, chuckling as she went. “Hold on, darling, I’m coming.”

  Just as she reached the horse’s side, Impeme slipped and fell, landing on the muddy ground with a thud. She burst into tears, and Maria scooped her up quickly, holding her close. She checked the girl for injuries and, finding none, carried her back to the teepee, leaving the pony to return to the herd. By the time they’d reached the tent, Impeme’s tears had dried. “You were so brave,” said Maria, stroking her hair away from her face.

  “Papa doesn’t think so,” sniveled Impeme, rubbing her nose.

  “Yes, he does.”

  “No, all the other children ride but me. They all call me a prairie hen because I’m scared to ride.”

  “Don’t you worry about what anyone else says. You’ll ride when you’re ready, and I have a feeling that won’t be long. Look how well you did today.” She kissed Impeme’s cheek.

  “But I fell …”

  “Yes, but you trotted before you fell. And that’s something you haven’t done before. I’m proud of you.”

  Impeme smiled through her tears and ran off to tell her friends what she’d done. Maria watched her go, her heart swelling within her.

  Her gaze landed on a line of hunters making their way back to the camp across the plain and up the hill by the creek. They rode quickly, and she could see Bodaway and Yarrow at the head of the group. She rose and hurried down the hill to meet him. He hadn’t been gone long, which likely meant either they’d already killed what the village needed, or they hadn’t found any trace of game nearby.

  When she reached Bodaway, he’d dismounted and was striding up the hill, brow furrowed, jaw clenched, hands curled into fists at his sides. “Boda, what is it?” she asked, laying a hand on his arm.

  He stopped. “Father is dead.”

  She gasped and a hand flew to cover her mouth. “No!”

  He nodded, his eyes filled with pain. “Shot by a wasicu,” he spat.

  She stepped back, as though the word had slapped her across the face. “How horrible. I’m so sorry, husband.” She went to wrap her arms around him.

  He pushed her hands away. “I have to speak with the elders.”

  “Of course.” She watched him march off full of anger, not knowing how to comfort him. What could she do? He’d lost his father, the man he most admired and loved, who’d raised him when his mother died at a young age. And he’d lost his chief as well.

  Would Bodaway be made chief now? She wasn’t sure. Some in the village didn’t think Bodaway would make a good chief – he was too quiet, too much of a loner, and being married to a white woman didn’t help. But he had many supporters in the tribe as well.

  She decided to follow him, and noticed that many villagers were already making their way up to the chief’s tent. When she arrived, a crowd had gathered and were milling around, whispering in front of the lavishly decorated teepee. Bodaway was nowhere to be seen, but she could
hear voices murmuring inside.

  Before long, he emerged with the council and stood before the crowd. His eyes were downcast, and he raised them slowly to look at the people who watched him in silence, waiting for him to speak. “Chief Honovi is dead.”

  Shouts of anger, disbelief and cries of mourning broke out around her.

  “He was shot by a wasicu.”

  The anger of the crowd swelled. People pumped clenched fists in the air or cried threats of revenge.

  “Anun ambushed the white men, without Honovi’s permission. During this battle Honovi was killed. Anun has been a blight on this village for too long. I have banished him – he is not to return.”

  Silence descended and Maria looked around at the shocked faces. She could see how upset people were by Bodaway’s words, but she was relieved. She’d been hoping Honovi would banish Anunkasan after the incident at the salt spring, but he’d settled on lesser punishments. Granted, Anunkasan hadn’t bothered her again, but seeing him in the village almost every day had left her constantly afraid that he’d attack her once more. She couldn’t pretend she’d be sad to see him leave.

  Bodaway left to return to their teepee. Maria ran after him and stopped him with her hand on his arm. “Husband, please wait a moment.”

  He spun around, his eyes flashing. “What is it, Mariya?”

  She put her arms around his waist and laid her head on his thick chest. “I’m so sorry, Bodaway. I know how much you loved your father.”

  He stood frozen in place and didn’t respond. She released him and he strode away. After all they’d been through together over the last two and a half years, she’d thought he’d have come to her for comfort at a time like this. Instead, he was pushing her away, as though he wanted nothing to do with her. And she couldn’t understand why.

  ***

  Bodaway stood before the council, his arms crossed over his chest and his cheeks burning. He knew the elders would have to meet to announce the next chief. He didn’t know he’d have competition. And the fact that his opponent was Anunkasan only made matters worse. He couldn’t believe that scoundrel had the nerve to return to the village, and approach the council in an attempt to win their support for his bid to lead the People.

  “Will you lay your claim before the council?” asked Mato, an old man with a limp and stringy gray hair. Bodaway had known him since he was a child, and knew him to be fair.

  Bodaway’s eyes narrowed. “I make no claim. You all know I’ve never wanted to be chief. But it was my father’s wish and his blood runs through my veins. That is all I have to say on the matter”

  Mato nodded and faced Anunkasan, who stood with his hands loose at his sides and a smug grin on his bruised face. “And you, Anunkasan? What claim do you make?”

  Anunkasan drew a deep breath and addressed the entire crowd, his voice rising. “Everyone here knows me – you know that I’m strong, determined and focused. You know I can lead this tribe in a way Bodaway can’t. He’s not strong enough. He can’t return the People to prominence, to where we used to be. I alone can do that.” A murmur ran through the crowd, along with a few snickers from warriors who’d witnessed the fight between the two men in the woods.

  Mato spoke again. “Quiet. The council has deliberated and we’ve made our choice.”

  Everyone fell silent, waiting in expectation for what he’d say. Waiting to see what the future held for the village; whose hands would cradle their fate.

  “Bodaway will be our chief. It was Chief Honovi’s wish, and the council believes he will be a good and fair chief. Honovi believed the path of our future would not be in conflict with the white man, and Boda can continue to take us down that path.” He smiled at Bodaway and waved a hand to the crowd, who began to disperse.

  Anunkasan spat on the ground. “I challenge the leadership!” he cried. He scowled.

  The crowd erupted in catcalls and a few whoops of surprise and excitement. A fight for the leadership of the tribe hadn’t happened in many years. Mato nodded, slapped Bodaway on the back and hobbled toward his teepee.

  Bodaway stood in silence, eyes wide, head throbbing and skin bathed in sweat. Anunkasan grinned, and strode down the hill. Bodaway felt a touch on his arm and spun around to find Mariya, reaching for his hand. She brought it to her lips. “Does that mean you’ll be chief?”

  He frowned. “It means I’ll have to fight for it.”

  “Fight Anun? He must like a beating if he wants you to do it again. I know you’ll be the next chief – and you’ll be a good chief. Anun could never lead the people the way you will.”

  His eyes closed and he sighed. “I hope so. I’m sorry, Mariya … I was angry earlier.”

  She laced her fingers through his. “You loved your father.”

  “Yes.” He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. The scent of her hair teased his nostrils and he wrapped his arms around her. He knew it wasn’t her fault that his father was dead. It didn’t make sense to blame her. But still, she was wasicu, like the men who’d killed him.

  The white men were everywhere, filling every tribe’s land, taking the lives of the People without thought, without remorse. And she was one of them.

  Why had he taken her into his home, into his life? Some had said she’d bring trouble to the tribe. What if they’d been right? He felt as if everything was out of his control and spinning further from his grasp with each moment.

  He believed she truly wanted to be with him now. But as more and more English came, it might only be a matter of time before she changed her mind and returned to the life she once had. Deep down inside, he only wanted her to be happy. But he still didn’t wish to lose her, and he knew she could be happy here too. She said she was content, telling him repeatedly she wanted to stay, but he still wondered if it was true.

  They walked together down the hill to where his father’s body was being prepared for the death rites. People were already gathering where he’d laid out his father’s most memorable items for all to see. They’d add their own mementos to the body when it was brought out, and he’d be buried with them in three days time after the rites were completed. He’d known this day would come, but he’d hoped it wouldn’t be so soon.

  Lonan ran to his side, followed closely by Chepi dragging Impeme by the hand. They arrived together, ready to mourn together as a family. Chepi sobbed and hid her face behind her long black hair. Lonan stood tall and straight, his face a mask covering his grief.

  Bodaway hugged each child close, kissing them one by one. He couldn’t think yet about the conflict with Anunkasan and what it could mean for them and the tribe. He had to get through the next few days first.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Maria stoked the fire in the center of the teepee and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why go through with this if you don’t want to be chief? I know you’ve always beaten him before, but what if he kills you this time?”

  “You think I should just hand it to him? Let him be chief?” Bodaway’s eyes blazed and he turned his back on her.

  She didn’t understand this man she’d lived with for so long. He’d never shown any interest in being chief before, even shunning social interactions and skipping opportunities to impress the elders most of the time. Yet now he was willing to risk his life in hand-to-hand combat with Anunkasan out of what – loyalty to the village? She sighed and studied the contours of his muscular back. “Boda, please – does being chief mean that much to you? Think about your children.”

  His shoulders sagged. “I don’t want to be chief. But it’s a matter of honor – I can’t dishonor myself or my father’s name by backing down. Anun has called for a battle, and I have to go. You wouldn’t understand – you don’t comprehend our ways. And …”

  She fumed inside. How dare he tell her she didn’t understand their ways? She’d lived with them for three years now. And it was always the same — she didn’t understand, she wasn’t one of them. Soon they would return to the winter camp beside the river for h
er fourth time. And yet to Bodaway she still didn’t belong here. Would she ever really belong? With her blonde hair and blue eyes, she’d always stand out – did that mean she’d always be an outsider?

  The people of the village treated her well enough, and Tomowa had become as close a friend as any she’d ever had. Even Waneta didn’t pick on her now. And she loved Bodaway’s children as if they were her own. But Bodaway apparently still saw her as a foreigner, and she was sure the others did as well. The thought made her heart ache. “And what?” she demanded sharply.

  “And … I’m afraid of what he’d do – to you and the children, to the whole village. If he was chief, he could follow his own set of rules, and who would challenge him?”

  She fell silent, thoughts swirling in her head. Bodaway was right — having Anunkasan as chief would be disastrous for the village. And for her.

  He turned to her and laid his hands on her shoulders. “Mariya, I have to focus. I don’t want you to come with me.”

  Her eyes smarted with tears. “What? Everyone’s going – I can’t stay behind.”

  His voice softened and he rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “Mariya, I won’t be able to concentrate with you there. Anun is strong and fast. I need to give him my complete attention. The fight isn’t meant to be final, but I know him well – he’ll kill me if he gets the chance. And you’re right, I can’t risk that, not with the children watching. So please don’t come.” He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her back, pressing her hard against his warm chest.

  “But Boda …” Her voice broke with emotion, and she couldn’t go on. “All right, I’ll stay behind and work on your new shirt. I want to get it finished before you come back. You’ll look so smart in it when the council makes you chief.” She pulled away and stared up into his dark eyes, tears trailing down her pale cheeks.

  He laughed. “That sounds perfect. I can’t wait to wear it.”

  They stepped outside together, hand in hand, fingers entwined. He leaned down, kissed her softly on the lips, then let her hand drop and strode down the hill without looking back.