Captivated (Cutter's Creek Book 18)

by Vivi Holt

  The children ran after him, crying out for him to wait. Chepi dragged Impeme behind her, while Lonan shouted for her to slow down. They glanced back over their shoulders at Maria, her hands clasped together in front of her tightly clenched mouth, and waved. She waved back.

  Tomowa joined Maria. “You’re not going with him?”

  Maria shook her head, biting back a sob. “He doesn’t want me to.”

  Tomowa nodded. “Shiriki and I will go and stand with the children.”

  “Must they go?” asked Maria, her throat closing up again.

  “It’s our way – they must witness the fight. Boda is a warrior and they will learn what it means to be one of The People.” She smiled sympathetically and patted Maria’s arm before marching down the hill to join the rest of the village who were already on their way to the clearing beyond the tree line where the confrontation would take place.

  Maria shook her head and stamped her foot. Why could everyone go but her? If he was killed, she’d be the last to find out that her whole world had been destroyed. If he won, she’d be the last to know she was now the chief’s mate.

  It wasn’t fair that this was happening – she didn’t understand why the council of elders allowed it. Anunkasan shouldn’t have been permitted to make a claim. He wasn’t descended from the line of chiefs. Most of the villagers didn’t want him to be chief – only a few followers stood behind him and his cause. Yet all it would take for him to be in charge was to defeat Bodaway in a fight. It made no sense at all.

  She shivered and felt the bile rise in the back of her throat as panic swept over her. If Anunkasan won, she’d have to take the children and run, leave and never come back. It was the only way they’d have a chance at surviving. But if that happened, it would mean Bodaway had lost, and perhaps even been killed.

  She slumped to the ground and sat staring into the remnants of the morning’s fire, the embers glowing orange and red. Her eyes fell on the dirty breakfast dishes, still laying scattered around. She sighed and pushed herself to her feet, then began gathering them to wash in the nearby stream. After she’d tidied up, she could finish that shirt for Bodaway.

  As she worked, every few minutes, her gaze darted down the hill to where the entire village had disappeared to watch the two men in combat. Her heart hammered, and her chest rose and fell quickly with each shallow breath as she waited for their return.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sheriff Clifford Brentwood ran his fingers over his mustache and crouched low in the bushes. The Lakota camp lay nestled between two hillsides before him, but something was wrong – he couldn’t see anyone around. He’d never spent time in a native village before, but the ones he’d passed in his travels had always been full of life: children rushing here and there, ponies grazing in a herd, dogs trotting around and men and women busy all over. This one looked abandoned, except for the ponies. It made his hair stand on end. Where was everyone?

  He hadn’t been able to get Maria Holloway out of his mind since the last time he’d spotted this camp. He knew he’d seen her – her blonde hair had been impossible to mistake, and her skin, though tanned, was still lighter than that of the Sioux. So he’d decided to come back. He’d rejected the idea of putting together a posse or enlisting the help of the Army, figuring it would be more effective to sneak in and rescue her quietly if the opportunity presented itself. He’d run through a hundred scenarios on the ride south, but at the sight of the silent camp every strategy fled from his head.

  He sighed and lifted his Stetson to run his fingers through his hair. He pushed the hat back down firmly and watched his mare Tilly graze in the tall grass. The other horse he’d brought with him was tied to a tree nearby.

  “Girl, I think I’ll leave you here too.” He led her to the tree where the bay gelding relaxed in the shade, tied her beside it and patted her gently, rubbing his fingers down her nose. She snorted and stamped a foot.

  He chuckled and tickled her forelock with his fingers. “I know you love to be in the thick of it, but not this time. Be right back.” He turned and ran across the bare hillside to the shelter of the first teepee, feeling vulnerable and exposed. He stopped, listening for any sounds of movement or life in the camp.

  A mangy dog appeared around the side of the teepee and growled at him, crouching as though ready to spring. Clifford’s heart pounded and sweat broke out on his brow as it was joined by two other dogs, all growling and baring their sharp, stained teeth. He lunged at them, clapping his hands together gently, not wanting to make too much noise and draw attention to himself. A few dogs weren’t as worrying as an arrow through the chest.

  They stepped back briefly, but then, emboldened by his retreat, rushed at him, barking furiously.

  So much for keeping quiet.

  He spun on his heel and ran from them, ducking and weaving between the conical structures that dotted the green hillside. Cold fire circles squatted between the tents, and he realized that if anyone was home, they were well and truly alerted to his presence by now.

  Just then, someone shouted to the dogs, who immediately gave up their pursuit. He looked up to see a woman, her blonde hair pulled into plaits, her blue eyes piercing and red-rimmed.

  “Maria?” he asked, stretching his hand toward her. “Maria Holloway?”

  Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth. “Who … are you?” Her words were stilted and slow.

  “Sheriff Clifford Brentwood from Cutter’s Creek. I’ve been looking for you.” He shook her hand, but she tugged it away from him and hid it behind her back. “You are Maria Holloway, aren’t you?” He was confused, thinking she’d react differently to seeing a white man after all this time. Shouldn’t she be relieved?

  “I … I am. Yes, I’m Maria Holloway.”

  He smiled and rubbed his hand across his beard, pulse racing. Taking his hat from his head, he let out his breath. “Phew, that’s good to hear. I’ve been searching for you a long time, Mrs. Holloway.”

  But she didn’t smile, just stood there staring at him with those big blue eyes. Then she glanced down the hill, to the other side of the valley.

  He followed her gaze, feeling the nervous tension rise up in his gut again. “Where is everyone, Maria?”

  She glanced downhill again. “Over there,” she said.

  “What are they doing?”

  She kept her eyes on the woods at the edge of the clearing. “They’ll be back soon. You should go.”

  He shook his head and his eyes narrowed. “I’ve come to take you back to Cutter’s Creek with me. I’m here to rescue you.”

  She sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. “Oh.”

  “So I think we’d better go. If they’re likely to be back any moment, we should hurry. I don’t really want to run into any of them if we can help it.” He scanned the empty village again, a trickle of sweat ran down his spine as her eyes flitted back and forth between him and the woods. “Maria?”

  Her eyes, full of pain, found his. “Yes?”

  “We have to go.” He took her hand, clammy and limp, and realized he’d have to help her. She didn’t seem capable of leaving on her own. “Come on, Mrs. Holloway – just follow me,” he encouraged softly.

  He tugged her hand, and she followed him meekly across the thin patches of snow that pockmarked the hillside, her eyes downcast. When they reached the safety of the woods to the north of the camp, he helped her onto the bay’s back, then mounted Tilly. He could see she was in no state to manage the horse on her own, so he took her horse’s reins into his own hands and led the animal along behind him, just as he had on the way there.

  Clifford checked on her every few minutes beneath hooded eyes. She was silent, riding obediently, her eyes clouded. Heaven only knew what she’d been through the past three years. He shook his head and tightened his grasp on the reins as they headed home to Cutter’s Creek.

  ***

  Anunkasan circled Bodaway, his chest heaving and eyes filled with fury.
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br />   Bodaway gasped for air as blood trickled into his right eye. They’d been at it for what seemed like forever and his strength was fading. He wanted to give up, walk away, let Anunkasan be chief. What did it matter to him anyway? He never wanted to lead the tribe – his father knew that. Yet for some reason he’d insisted Bodaway follow in his footsteps.

  He took a deep breath and felt the energy return to his limbs. A slight respite, a brief reprieve and they were both ready to continue. Anunkasan rushed him, pushing him backward toward the circle of onlookers. He caught a glimpse of his children bunched together, their small faces pinched with fear. Tomowa stood behind them, her arms resting on Impeme’s shoulders, her lips pulled together tightly.

  Anunkasan punched him in the gut, sending him to the ground, the breath knocked out of him. He gasped, unable to refill his lungs, as Anunkasan came at him again. He was exhausted – there was no reason to go on.

  Anunkasan fell on top of him, grabbing Bodaway’s throat with a sneer. “Just give up – you know it’s your destiny. And it’s mine to be chief. You’re not made for it. I’m just sorry it had to happen like this. We were friends once, but that ended when you snatched the wasicu away from me at the council. It was my idea to attack the wagon train, my idea to take her hostage. I wanted her, but you just had to poke your nose in where you weren’t wanted. Why is it you always feel the need to take what’s mine? Not anymore – it’s time I took everything back.” He laughed and tightened his grip around Bodaway’s throat.

  Flashes of light skipped across Bodaway’s vision as he grew dizzy. The villagers murmured and cried out in fear and grief. He could see them out of the corner of his eye, already beating their chests, believing he was dead. His children had looked away, cowering against Tomowa, their bodies shaking.

  Mariya. He couldn’t leave her to face Anunkasan on her own. An image flitted through his mind of Anunkasan, advancing on Mariya, a look of determination on his face – No! He lifted his legs beneath him with a grunt and kicked as hard as he could, sending his opponent flying.

  Bodaway coughed and wheezed, finally drawing cool air into his burning lungs. He staggered to his feet as Anunkasan steadied himself and prepared for another attack. As he charged, Bodaway stepped forward and kneed him hard in the abdomen, then brought his fist up against the side of his head. Anunkasan fell, hacking and groaning as he rolled onto his side. Bodaway landed on him and knocked him flat on his belly. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and his heart pounded.

  Sitting on Anunkasan’s back, Bodaway pulled the other warrior’s head by his hair. “I could kill you now, Anunkasan, but I choose not to,” he growled in the challenger’s ear. “I choose to show you mercy. Don’t mistake it for weakness – I don’t want to see you again. You’re banished.”

  The breath knocked out of him, Anunkasan, for once, had no words.

  Bodaway climbed off him and Mato hobbled over, a grin on his wrinkled face. He laid a hand on Bodaway’s shoulder, then raised his arm high in the air. “Meet your new chief!” The villagers broke into whoops and catcalls, lining up to thump him on the back and congratulate him on his victory. Bodaway smiled wearily and tipped his head in acknowledgement.

  Finally Chepi, Lonan and Impeme met him. Impeme sniffled and rubbed the back of her hand across her nose. “Are you all right, Papa?” she asked.

  He squatted beside her, wincing at the pain that shot through his legs and back. “I’m fine, my darling flower.”

  Lonan stared at the ground, his eyes wet. Finally, he looked up, meeting Bodaway’s gaze. “Papa, why didn’t you kill him?”

  Bodaway laid a hand on Lonan’s thin arm. “Because showing mercy takes great strength too. I didn’t want to begin my time as chief by killing. I don’t want to be that kind of man, or that kind of chief. Do you understand?”

  The boy nodded and sniffled. “Yes, Papa.”

  Bodaway ruffled Chepi’s hair and she rolled her eyes. “Papa!” she complained.

  He laughed. “Let’s go and tell Mariya. She’ll be worried.”

  The rest of the village was already making the trek back to camp. Anunkasan had disappeared, and Bodaway hoped he had good enough sense not to show his face again. He stood with a groan and walked with the children back home. They peppered him with questions and held his bruised hands gently as they went, and he worked hard not to show them how much pain he was in.

  All he could think about was seeing Mariya. He had to tell her what he’d realized while Anunkasan had his hands around his throat – that it didn’t matter about their differences, didn’t matter that she came from another world. He loved her more than he’d ever admitted before, even to himself. He couldn’t imagine life without her.

  He knew it wasn’t her fault that her kind were flooding into their lands. She couldn’t control them, any more than he could control Anunkasan. And he wouldn’t hold any part of himself back from her any longer. Wouldn’t let the fear that she might leave them be the one thing that stood in the gap between them.

  When they reached the teepee, he wanted nothing more than to lie down. Everything hurt, his face and hands were beginning to swell and he was desperately thirsty. “Chepi, please find Mariya, then fetch me some water.” He ducked through the doorway and lowered himself onto a sleeping mat.

  “Yes, Papa.”

  He waited, his eyes closed, listening to the noises of the camp as it bustled back to life outside. Dogs barked in the distance. Pots were stirred and fires crackled and spat. Voices murmured, and laughter floated through the evening air, soothing his frayed nerves. Soon, Chepi returned with a gourd of water. “I couldn’t find Mama,” she said, shifting back and forth on her small feet.

  He sat up and gulped down great mouthfuls of the cold, refreshing drink. “What do you mean?” he asked between swallows. “Did you try Shiriki’s?”

  “Yes. She’s not there, and Tomowa doesn’t know where she is. I didn’t see her anywhere in the village and no one else has either.”

  Just then, the door flap opened and Shiriki stepped inside. “Sorry to bother you, Boda … er, Chief … but we found some shod hoofprints on the edge of the clearing. Looks like two horses. The tracks are fresh. The area was grassy, so we couldn’t pick up many prints, but they were definitely shod hooves.”

  Bodaway stood, his face pinched with pain. “Have you seen Mariya?”

  Shiriki shook his head. “No.”

  “Chepi can’t find her. I’m going to look for her.” He drew a deep breath, raised himself painfully from his mat and strode outside, biting his lip to stop himself from groaning.

  “I’ll help. Tomowa will stay with the small ones,” said Shiriki, his brow furrowed. The two men hurried through the village, asking everyone about Mariya, with Chepi scurrying after them.

  By the time they reached the place where Shiriki had discovered the hoofprints, they were certain no one had seen her and that she was not in the village, by the river, or with the ponies. She wouldn’t have been likely to stray into the woods on her own, and none of the horses were missing. The only possible explanation for her absence had to do with the horseshoe marks that were pressed into the muddy earth along the tree line that bordered the clearing.

  Bodaway was certain of it. The English had taken her back. She was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Maria heard them whispering in the other room – about her, no doubt. Camilla, the sheriff’s pretty wife, had met them at the door just as darkness was falling over the town. After three days of riding and camping on the open trail, they’d finally made it to their destination, and Maria had barely uttered a word the entire way. Her entire body felt numb, her mind was awash with grief, pain, confusion and fear, and she could do nothing other than what the sheriff told her to.

  She’d met Camilla before on the wagon train, but of course she’d never been to Cutter’s Creek. That was where Fred had dreamed of setting up a new life for them. But after all this time, when they reached the town, the sight of
the happy little community filled her chest with a heavy weight that hadn’t budged since she’d arrived.

  Still, the sheriff’s house was cozy and warm, and she’d forgotten how nice it was to sit on a comfortable chair within four sturdy walls. It had been so long, she’d forgotten so many things about this life. She felt strangely out of place, uncomfortable and almost afraid. She wasn’t sure what of, but her heart pounded, her pulse raced and her skin was damp with sweat.

  She jumped when Camilla walked into the living room, a warm smile on her dainty, freckled face. She sat opposite Maria on a settee and twisted her hands together in her lap. “Do you understand where you are, Maria?” she asked sweetly.

  Maria nodded, her face blank. “Cutter’s Creek.”

  “That’s right. And my name’s Camilla – do you remember me?”

  Maria nodded. “Yes, of course, I do. We rode in the wagon train together. We played cards.”

  “That’s right, we did. Can I get you anythin’?”

  “Water, please.” Maria hadn’t heard or spoken English in so long, her tongue twisted awkwardly around the words and they came out clumsy and disjointed.

  “Of course.” Camilla stood and hurried into the kitchen, soon returning with a cup of water and a plate. “I brought you some bread as well – you must be hungry after the last few days.” She set the cup and plate on the coffee table in front of Maria, then ran her palms down her skirts and cleared her throat.

  Maria took a long drink and a bite of the bread. It felt strange in her mouth, so different from the food she was used to. But it was tasty – she’d forgotten just how wonderful bread with butter could be. “This is delicious, thank you,” she said with a smile.

  Camilla beamed and straightened her skirts. “You’re most welcome. I’m sure you’d like to go to bed. I’ll show you where the guest room is and you can settle in there whenever you like. I’ll lend you a nightgown too.”