Wildstar

by Linda Ladd

  Huddleston looked blank.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, she won't remember her white family, much less want to be with them. She'll be Cheyenne through and through. She'll want to stay right where she is.”

  Huddleston frowned, considering what Logan had told him.

  “It doesn't matter. The family wants her back.”

  Logan stared at him contemptuously. “Despite her wishes?”

  “They didn't mention her wishes.”

  Logan shrugged. “What's in it for me?”

  Huddleston relaxed for the first time as he leaned forward slightly.

  “Twenty-five hundred dollars now and twenty-five more afterward.”

  Logan was surprised at the generous figure, but his blue eyes showed nothing to the little man watching eagerly for his reaction. Logan didn't need the money. His gold mine alone had already earned enough to keep him independently wealthy for the rest of his life. But taking the assignment would mean a chance to spend time with Two Bears. It would be his opportunity to leave the city of Denver and Isabel behind, and to feel the freedom of the open land.

  Huddleston peered eagerly at Logan from behind the thick lenses that magnified his eyes. “Are you interested?”

  Logan set down his glass and considered, staring into Huddleston's perspiring face. “What guarantee do you have that I won't take your money and forget the whole thing?”

  Huddleston looked shocked, as if he hadn't thought of it.

  “None, I suppose, but John Walker told me that you could be trusted. If this girl's the right one, her grandfather wants her back.”

  “It'll take time.”

  Huddleston showed relief. “How long?”

  “Three months, provided she's in the village you say she is.”

  Logan paused, then gazed directly into Huddleston's eyes as he went on. “And I do it my own way or I don't do it.”

  “Of course, you'll be in complete control of the entire operation. We can set a date and a meeting place. I'll give you the first half of the money now and when you hand over the girl you'll get the rest.”

  Tracker nodded. “All right. Let's say the first day of October in Denver. The Cherokee Hotel. If I'm not there, wait.”

  Logan waited until Huddleston nodded agreement, then asked, “What else can you tell me about her?”

  “Not much. Her most recognizable feature will be her eyes. They're supposedly of an unusual violet color.”

  “Purple eyes?”

  Huddleston nodded and shrugged. “That's what her grandfather said.”

  “That should be easy enough to check.”

  Huddleston looked around the room, then quickly passed a heavy bundle beneath the table into Tracker's hands.

  Tracker shoved the leather bag into his vest. Without another word he pushed back his chair and headed toward the door. When he looked back at Huddleston, the little man was wiping sweat off his brow with a large white handkerchief. One corner of Logan's mouth lifted in a half-smile as he pushed open the swinging door and stepped out into the dark night.

  One

  The girl sat cross-legged facing a huge bonfire, watching as the bright flames cast flickering shadows across the oiled bodies of the nearly naked dancers. They moved in a circle in front of her, writhing and contorting to the steady beat of a lone drum, their guttural chanting barely audible. She was dressed in the Cheyenne wedding attire: a soft and supple deerskin dress that fell just below her knees with long, beaded fringe at the hem and down each arm. Knee-high moccasins covered her legs, fashioned from the same snow-white deerskin as her dress. Both garments were beaded intricately in red and blue designs, reflecting hours of tedious handiwork.

  The outfit clung to her slight build, emphasizing her full breasts and slim hips. Her blond hair hung past her waist, soft and straight and shiny. A white band, also beaded, encircled her forehead just above her finely arched eyebrows and held the bright hair in place. She turned her head slightly, and the firelight picked up the silvery tints in the pale blond tresses that shimmered down her back like a warm flash of lightning. Her eyes were downcast, her long black eyelashes lowered to form dark crescents against the soft, clear skin of her cheeks. Her nose was small and straight, her lips full and firm. When she raised her face to watch the twisting dancers, her clear violet eyes glittered like precious jewels. Her small, heart-shaped face was beautiful and sorrowful and she held her chin proudly, almost defiantly. Resentment smoldered in her eyes as she watched the ceremony dispassionately.

  Starfire was angry with her father, Raging Buffalo. He had promised her to Lone Wolf against her wishes. She did not wish to wed. Not Lone Wolf. Not anyone. She wished to remain a maiden, free to hunt and ride with her father and help her mother as she'd done all her life. She did not wish to become a man's slave. And besides that, she did not love Lone Wolf. She did not love any man.

  She had argued with Raging Buffalo as much as she'd dared, but he'd stood firm, not allowing her to sway his decision. His words had been final: She would wed Lone Wolf. She would bear him many strong sons.

  Starfire grimaced, her smooth brow furrowing into a frown as her vivid eyes found Lone Wolf. She met his gaze steadfastly, refusing to be intimidated by the intense black eyes fixed on her. She felt a shiver course down her spine as he stood, the hard muscles of his arms ridging as he folded them across his bare chest. He wore only a white loincloth, made from the same hide as her own dress. Her eyes lowered to the long muscled legs braced apart in an arrogant stance. His dark face was hard and handsome, with high cheekbones and a broad forehead. Long black braids hung on either side of his square jaw. He wore no headdress; he carried no weapon. It would not be a night of war, but one of love. He had awaited this night for many months.

  Starfire lowered her gaze, knowing it would soon be time to go to him, to become his woman. Despite her inner resentment, she felt her insides quiver in anticipation. Lone Wolf was a brave and handsome warrior. He would be a suitable husband for her. He was so strong, yet he'd touched her hand with gentleness on the few occasions when he'd been alone with her. She glanced again at his hard, lean body and wondered what it would feel like to be possessed by him. She was yet a virgin, but her wedded friends had told her the experience was pleasant at times. She flushed and lowered her eyes. It would be soon. Lone Wolf paced impatiently now, his tall frame silhouetted against the night sky as he moved about restlessly.

  Starfire looked at the row of chiefs where they sat in the position of honor in front of the dancers. Their wives sat behind them, and Starfire could see her mother, Gentle Reed, there among them. It was a joyous occasion for Gentle Reed, who had longed for grandchildren for many years.

  Raging Buffalo watched Starfire solemnly, aware of her dissatisfaction with her wedding. Starfire forgot her anger long enough to smile at him, her teeth showing white against honey-tanned skin. He did not return her smile, but his eyes looked relieved as he turned his attention back to the ritual. Starfire stared at his granite-cut profile and the strong lines of his face. He looked so fierce sitting there in his full headdress among the other chiefs. Raging Buffalo was famous in many camps for his brave coups, but he'd never been anything other than kind and loving to her. It was Gentle Reed's barrenness that had prompted him to adopt Starfire so long ago. He'd loved his beautiful young wife too much to take another, so he'd taken the tiny white girl with the wondrous silver hair to be his only child.

  Starfire knew Raging Buffalo and his warriors had killed her real parents when she was very small. He'd told her the tale himself. The white wagons carrying her parents and many others had crossed the sacred burial lands, defiling the spirits of the Cheyenne dead. Two Cheyenne had been killed as they tried to prevent the desecration. Starfire sighed. Although she'd tried many times, she did not remember her parents, nor did she grieve for them. All she could recall of that long-ago day was the fear. And the snake. A rattler had found her where her mother had hidden her among the rocks. S
he'd frozen as it had crawled over her, its long, thick body slithering across her skin. Raging Buffalo had found her and hacked it to pieces. He'd taken her in his arms afterward, and Starfire had clung to him, her small arms clenched around his neck.

  A cold surge of horror inched up Starfire's spine as she remembered how the snake's blood had spattered on her skin. She shuddered. Even now, the sight of a snake still paralyzed her with a blinding, blood-chilling terror.

  “Are you ready, my daughter?”

  The soft voice jerked Starfire out of her fearful memories, and she stared up at her mother, who stood quietly at her side. Gentle Reed was as sweet and malleable as her name, and Starfire loved her as much as she could have any real mother. She despaired at the thought of leaving her parents, even though she knew Lone Wolf desired her and would be good to her. Had he not given Raging Buffalo six ponies in exchange for her? It was a generous and honorable gift.

  Gentle Reed waited patiently, sensing Starfire's reluctance although her daughter hadn't complained since Raging Buffalo had made his decision final. Starfire sighed sadly and stood. Her eyes found Lone Wolf, and he watched her hungrily as Gentle Reed took her hand and pulled her into the darkness. They walked through the deserted camp slowly, not speaking, until they reached the marriage tipi. It was decorated with fertility symbols and set apart from the rest of the camp on the bank of the river. The newlyweds would be afforded complete privacy. For a whole day and night, they would remain in isolation. It was the sacred custom of their people. No one would dare intrude on them.

  Gentle Reed smiled and embraced her warmly, her voice low beside Starfire's ear.

  “You will bear many strong sons for Lone Wolf, my daughter. I know you will. He will be pleased with you.”

  Starfire nodded unenthusiastically and watched as Gentle Reed walked back toward the distant glow of red of the fire. Her eyes watched the fiery sparks ascend in the great cloud of gray-white smoke for a few moments, then she sighed again as she lifted the rawhide flap and entered the wedding tipi.

  Inside, she stopped in surprise and looked around. It was very dark, the sides of the tent steeped in black crouching shadows. Starfire frowned and squinted into the dusky interior. She hesitated, then stepped closer to the center. Only a dim, reddish glow lit the ring of rocks on the ground. She could not understand it. The tent should have been readied by Gentle Reed before she'd come for Starfire. The fire could not have burned down in such a short time.

  She knelt close to the rocks and looked at the logs. They were spread out and scattered, almost as if they'd been kicked apart.

  She stared at the fire, puzzled. Suddenly a premonition of danger streaked through her like liquid fire and she whirled around, ready to run. She froze in shock as a man stepped from the darkness and blocked the flap. She couldn't see him well. His face and head were hidden in shadows as he towered over her slight height, seeming as huge as a grizzly bear in the small tent. He did not move toward her, and Starfire took one faltering step backward, her eyes huge and shocked. Then she panicked and tried to dart around his long legs. His powerful arms moved so fast that she barely saw them before she was scooped off the ground and held against an immense chest in a grip that took her breath away. One strong arm held her firmly around the waist and a huge hand clamped over her mouth tightly. She struggled furiously, jerking and kicking against his hold.

  Starfire's violent movements caused Tracker to lose his grip, and she twisted out of his arms. Her terrified screech chilled his blood and he swore aloud, afraid she'd bring half the tribe down on him. He grabbed her again and tried to stifle her yell with his hand.

  She was sobbing in terror but managed to sink sharp’ teeth into him. Tracker grunted, trying to shake her off, but she hung on stubbornly like a dog with a bone. He grabbed her hair and jerked hard, groaning again as her teeth ripped loose.

  She started a strange, strangled yelping, and he clamped his hand back over her mouth immediately to smother her next hysterical shriek. He held her away from him, trying to dodge her feet as she kicked viciously at his groin. He was incredulous that such a tiny little thing could cause him so much trouble.

  He carried her bodily to the entrance of the tipi, his grip so tight she could barely breathe. Their encounter hadn't exactly been quiet, and Tracker took a quick look out the flap. There were no signs of alarm, and he breathed easier. Now if he could just keep her quiet he could get the bridegroom. He'd have to tie and gag her. The girl was small but hard as hell to hold on to. He growled harshly in Cheyenne for her to hold still and shook her back and forth several times.

  Starfire felt herself being jerked around until her eyes would no longer focus. She tried in vain to stop her head from spinning. Great waves of pain beat from side to side in her skull and her stunned limpness gave Tracker time to jerk his neckcloth off and wrap it tightly around her mouth. He then quickly tied her hands behind her back. He couldn't take any chances with her. She fought like a demon.

  Starfire grunted as she was shoved roughly to the ground. Tracker went down on one knee beside her and reached for her feet. She got her breath back quickly, and her anger came gushing after it. She aimed a hard kick at his face, while he fumbled in the dark with the cords. Her foot connected with his jaw with a loud crack, and when he groaned in pain she felt a grim triumph at hurting him.

  “Damn it, hold still!”

  Tracker's whispered curse was harsh and angry, and he mumbled a string of oaths under his breath as he tried to grab her flailing feet. He finally managed to lock them under one arm to tie them. She was still squirming furiously, and he could hear muffled sounds from behind the gag. He released her and took a deep breath, rubbing his aching jaw as he gently moved it from side to side. He felt as if he'd been kicked by a mule. She had spirit, that was for sure. And she was a lot stronger than she looked.

  Tracker moved quickly to the flap. No one was coming, and he settled back into the shadows beside the entrance, hoping the bridegroom would be easier to handle than this little she-devil. He sat still, eager for the man to come so he could be out of the camp. It had taken himself and Two Bears a month to find the right village after heading to the vicinity Huddleston had described. Then another month had passed as they hid in the hills nearby waiting for the right moment to strike. For days, he'd focused his spyglass on the white girl as she rode upon a huge palomino, her fair hair billowing behind her. But it wasn't until Two Bears had hidden in a tree perch above the stream that they'd heard the Cheyenne women chatter about the forthcoming marriage. When Two Bears had told him of the isolation of the Cheyenne nuptial tipi, Tracker had known this would be the perfect opportunity to steal her. Now the time was at hand.

  Starfire struggled impotently for a while, pulling desperately at the cords but succeeding only in tightening them across her skin. She exhausted herself and was forced to rest. Every time she moved, the rawhide bands sent jagged arrows of pain up her arms and legs. The corners of her mouth ached where the taut cloth stretched cruelly between her teeth. She turned her face, trying to see her attacker, but the fire was out now, and it was too dark to discern him.

  She listened for his breathing, but all she could hear was the faint rushing sound of the river outside and the faraway, repetitious din of drums. She had not seen him up close, but she knew he was big, and incredibly strong. He had handled her like a child, picking her up and carrying her as if she weighed nothing.

  Starfire laid her head back and closed her eyes. She lay helplessly in the dark, aware that he was waiting for Lone Wolf, probably to kill him. But why? What did this giant want?

  Her blood turned icy and her stomach muscles knotted as a single word crystallized and froze its way into her brain. Pawnee! He had to be! Who else would try to steal her? A new fear gripped her. Pawnees were sacrificers. Stealers of virgins. She must have been chosen as a victim. Terror washed over Starfire in a violent shudder as the tales of their bloody sacrificial rites came back to her. Panic flared and blotted ou
t reason, and she began to scream beneath the gag. She sobbed in despair when she realized all that was audible was a slight, muffled moan. She tensed as she heard Lone Wolf softly call her name from the tipi's entrance. She tried to warn him, but her cry died in her throat as she heard the dull thud of metal against his skull. His heavy body hit the ground, and Starfire closed her eyes as Lone Wolf was dragged away and bound.

  The big man came to her, and desperation flared as he leaned down and hoisted her over his shoulder. She lay unmoving for the first instant, then wrenched away with all her strength. He almost dropped her, and she heard a low laugh as he caught her and slung her back into place.

  Tracker held his arm against the back of her knees and peered cautiously out the rear slit of the tipi. All was quiet, and he ducked out and started for the river at a fast trot, his slight burden not slowing him in the least. He made it safely to the bank and waded into the water. The swift current he felt would carry them quickly out of danger.

  He felt the girl shiver as the cold water swirled around them, but he continued to walk deeper into the current. He let go with one hand to adjust his arm across her chest, and she wrested away from him. He cursed in exasperation as she disappeared into the dark water. He searched desperately and got a hold on her almost immediately, pulling her head above the water. He secured one arm around her waist as he drew his knife to cut off the gag. She immediately let out a hysterical shriek that echoed up the river.

  He tried to stifle her yells, but she twisted away, still screaming. Tracker turned her quickly and gave her one short blow on the jaw. Starfire went limp, although he hadn't hit her hard. He didn't like doing it but he'd had to do something before she drowned them both or, worse, alerted the whole village.

  Tracker held her tightly against his chest, letting the water carry them away from the Cheyenne camp. He floated in the darkness beneath the stars, his eyes constantly on the receding glow of the bonfire upriver from them.