by Linda Ladd
Starfire burned with rage, venom coloring her eyes a deep purple. “You'll never take me there, never! I'll kill myself first!”
Her words were laced with a steel resolve that made Tracker sit straighter. It had never occurred to him that she might harm herself, and it was a frightening thought.
“Over my dead body you will, my sweet,” he said harshly.
Starfire's eyes caught fire at his threat, and her words were razor-sharp. “Yes, that is the way I want it to happen, you skulking stealer of women. I would like it that way.”
The hairs at the nape of his neck lifted and waved at her calm hatred, and he stared into her challenging amethyst eyes, noting how her fingers curled in upon her palms, whitening her knuckles. He'd be lucky if he made it back to Boulder with her, as determined as she was not to go. And he was beginning to believe she just might manage to escape, if he wasn't very, very careful with her. So his thoughts ran; but Starfire remained unaware of his doubts as he grabbed her by the arms, speaking coldly into her glittering eyes.
“You will not harm yourself, Starfire, and you will not escape. And if you try either, I just might forget my promise not to touch you again.”
Starfire trembled slightly at his threat, staring after him in hopeless hatred as he moved away.
They ate his savory stew in a stony silence, and afterward, Starfire sat with her arms hugging her shoulders, cold eyes on the big white man. He leaned comfortably against the wall, completely relaxed, although she kept her frigid violet glare upon him. To her inner chagrin, he remained oblivious to her, saying nothing, acting completely uninterested unless she moved toward the outer cave. Then he was on his feet with incredible speed and agility.
Starfire finally gave up and turned her gaze to the fire. She felt much better now. The food had given her strength, and her headache was gone. She spent most of her time contemplating various plans of escape, but had discarded one after another because of his constant watchfulness.
Her only hope was to wait him out. He'd have to sleep eventually, and she vowed to be ready when he did. Encouraged, she glanced up at Tracker to find a mocking grin on his face.
“Since you're waiting for me to go to sleep, I guess I'll oblige you by turning in early.”
His teeth flashed briefly at her startled expression.
“I'm going to turn in now, as a matter of fact.” He paused, watching the disappointment extinguish the hope in her eyes. “And so are you.”
He pulled her to her feet, expecting her to jerk her hand away; She didn't disappoint him and resisted his grip all the way across the cave. He stopped alongside a low natural rock shelf, holding her wrist securely as he spread the blankets, then pushed her down on them. She immediately backed as far against the wall as she could, her eyes scorching him as he stretched out beside her, effectively blocking any possible escape route.
Starfire's fists doubled, and she sat as rigid as stone, while he settled himself comfortably, crossing his long legs and placing both hands beneath his head.
“Goodnight, sweet. Sleep well.”
Starfire gritted her teeth in fury at his taunting words.
“I hate you, you dog, you...”
Tracker turned his head slightly, arching a blond eyebrow, as his mocking eyes raked over her furious face.
“Starfire, I really need some sleep, but if you keep that up for long, I'll have to think of some way to keep you quiet.”
His eyes strayed to her soft mouth, trembling with rage, and lingered there with a very real desire to do just what he threatened.
His arrogance infuriated her, but she believed his threat, because she saw the banked fires in his sky eyes. She bit back her ire, rolling over to face the wall. Presented with a cold view of her back, Tracker chuckled, incensing Starfire further.
She lay tense and unmoving for a long time, listening to his breathing. She had to get away. Get out of the cave and hide from him. Raging Buffalo had taught her to walk without snapping a twig; if she could make it into the forest, he'd never find her. Barely breathing, she slowly turned over until she could see him. He lay very still, his eyes closed, the thick blond eyelashes resting against his tanned face. His profile seemed carved in granite, and her eyes strayed to the curve of his mouth. The fire burned on the other side of the cave, and the thick growth of hair upon his chin and hard jaw glowed golden against it. She wondered how it felt, resisting with disgust the urge to touch him. It was so very different from Lone Wolf's smooth cheeks and long black hair. And his sky eyes were so very beautiful. Against her will, she was fascinated by the white man, who looked so different, but acted much like a Cheyenne warrior. Yet his light eyes and yellow hair were like her own. For the first time, Starfire found herself considering the fact that she was white, like the big man beside her. Always before she'd known it, but the Cheyenne had accepted her, and the strangeness of her skin and hair had not been important.
Her gaze moved lower to the crisp furring of blond hair at the open throat of his shirt, and she felt small shivers course through her, remembering the hard molded muscles of his chest and thighs as he'd held her so tightly. He was so strong, and he'd shown much courage to come into her village and take her away. If he were Cheyenne, he would be a great chief with many coups, she decided, then quickly forced away her traitorous thoughts, appalled at any admiration of him, however reluctant. He had not moved a muscle, and she moved stealthily down the shelf. She stole another look at him, her heart racing as she slowly inched one arm over his legs.
“Don't try it, Starfire.”
Starfire groaned aloud, darting a despairing look at him. He did not open his eyes, but lay relaxed as if bored with her. Seething inside, Starfire threw herself against the wall, muttering curses under her breath. A long time later, Tracker smiled to himself when he heard her soft, even breathing as she finally slept in exhaustion. He checked to make sure his rifle was propped in position at his side before he closed his own eyes for some much-needed rest.
Five
For the next few days, Starfire tried without success to find a way to escape. The big white man outguessed her every move, until she wanted to scream and scratch out his sky eyes in fury. She had almost given up on catching him unawares. His warm blue eyes watched her incessantly, but he'd been gentle with her, not touching her except to change the bandage. She'd been extremely grateful that he left her to bathe in private each day, even if he remained on guard just outside the entrance.
And he'd begun to talk to her often, telling her wild and hard-to-believe stories of the whites. At first, she'd walked away, covering her ears with her hands until he'd stopped. She had not wanted to hear of it; the very thought disgusted her. But it became harder not to listen to his deep and pleasant voice, and against her will, she felt the first stirring of wonder at some of the things he said, disbelieving such marvelous things could really exist.
Eventually, Starfire's vibrant curiosity began to rise, many questions on her mind about the huge white man who captured women and held them captive. As time went on and he did not touch her, she lost her fear of him and began to examine her captor, unable to stifle the growing admiration of his masculine strength and handsome features.
One night as she watched him turn meat upon a spit, she realized that she did not know his name.
“What do your people call you?”
Tracker looked up at her, his blue eyes glinting in the firelight, and she wondered if he could really be pleased by her question.
“I'm called Tracker, Starfire.”
He smiled warmly at her, his eyes lingering on her in a most pleasant way, and she almost smiled back before she caught herself and turned away, trying to act indifferent. He laughed and handed her a plate.
Tracker felt triumph at her question and sat down with his own plate, watching her eat.
“The whites dine on long, shiny tables,” he said casually, as he took a bite of meat. “And drink from crystal glasses as clear as mountain water.”
“I do not care what white men do! I am Cheyenne!” Starfire cried defiantly. She was proud of her people and their ways, she thought, lifting her chin, and nothing he said would make her want to live among the whites.
“And there are many different foods to choose from,” Tracker continued calmly, as if she hadn't spoken. “So many that you could never sample them all. And when white men travel, they don't have to walk and lead travois; they ride in great iron horses that take them long distances.”
Starfire raised her fine eyes and listened raptly in spite of herself as Tracker told her more of the white man's trains. Then, as was his custom, Tracker left her to check the horses, leaving her a time of privacy before he led her to the makeshift bed against the wall. She had behaved herself so far, but he still did not dare leave her unattended while he slept.
He'd tried hard to entice Starfire into accepting her role in the white world. He had exulted at the sparks of interest she could not hide in her vivid violet eyes when he'd first told her of houses bigger than a hundred tipis that gleamed as light as day in the dead of night. Her eyes had grown round and intrigued at his description of the beautiful velvet gowns the woman wore, and he found himself growing eager to return to town and introduce her to all she'd missed during her life with the Cheyenne.
They had reached an uneasy truce, and even the fact that he'd found signs of Cheyenne presence nearby did not unduly worry him as he returned and led Starfire to their bed. She'd been most cooperative the last few days, even smiling at him on occasion, but he was not foolish enough to let down his guard. She was too smart to take lightly and too savage to underestimate. He'd found that out the hard way.
Tracker watched her obediently stretch out on the bed, moving over to make room for him. His breath halted when his eyes discovered the open throat of her shirt, where the full swelling of her breasts had been too much for the buttons. One soft pink peak was offered to his view, and he was unable to force his eyes away from the satiny skin, or the way her long hair fell over her shoulders in a shimmering mantle of silver. He wanted to touch it, touch her, and his hand moved toward her of its own accord, stopping when Starfire turned her innocent gaze upon him. He could not move, did not trust himself to speak, and his silent stare unsettled Starfire. Her mouth suddenly went dry, and she nervously ran the tip of her tongue over her parted lips. The totally provocative message it sent undid the man above her.
Tracker muttered hoarsely to himself, leaving Starfire staring after him, perplexed by his strange behavior. Outside, he walked straight to the falls, lifting his face into the spray. The frustration of having her near and being unable to touch her was an agony invented in hell. Any other woman he would have taken long ago, but Starfire was not like the other women he'd known. She had strength and courage he'd never found in any other woman. Her spirit was as free and wild as the Cheyenne she loved so much. He wanted her for his own, wanted her to want him.
If he vented his passion for her now, it would destroy what little trust he'd managed to win. But the constant restraint tore at him more each day, more each time he lay sleeplessly beside her warm body. But he refused to give in to his desires, not wanting her to fight and claw at him in hatred but to wrap her silken limbs around him and open her soft red lips for his pleasure. His vivid fantasies did not help, and he stood miserably for a long time, hoping the frigid water could calm his lusty thoughts and soothe his feverish body.
It did not work, and when he went back into the other’ chamber where Starfire slept in peaceful repose, her silvery hair spread upon his side of the ledge, he slumped down against his saddle by the fire, not trusting himself to approach her. He dozed fitfully until just before dawn, making love to Starfire in dreams so real he could almost smell the fragrance of her.
He finally arose, muttering an oath under his breath, and left the chamber to check the horses. They stood quietly at their picket, and Tracker walked past them and out the back opening of the chamber where he could scout the area for Cheyenne. The sun was just beginning to rise, and he climbed the steep rock ledge that rose on either side of the entrance to the cave. He moved along the cliff, looking toward the forested hill at the end of the passage that led into the cave. He dropped at once to his belly when the whinny of a horse drifted up to him. He crawled to the far edge of the cliff, keeping low, his heart pounding.
Two Cheyenne bucks, their hard faces streaked with yellow and black war paint, picked their way over the terrain below him, passing within feet of the camouflaged opening of the passage. He sucked in his breath, his rifle in readiness, but they did not detect his presence. He watched them until they disappeared into the trees, then hurried to the cave for his spyglass and a supply of ammunition.
Starfire still slept, and he did not wake her. He hurried back to his position atop the rocks, and within an hour, saw twenty painted ponies come into view. Tracker watched them closely as they scouted out the area thoroughly, then divided, half the war party moving toward the falls while the others set up camp among the trees about fifty yards from Tracker's position. They sat around a campfire, awaiting their meal, and Tracker lay very still, praying Starfire would not awaken.
Starfire came awake suddenly, sitting upright and blinking away strands of sleep. She looked around for Tracker in the darkness of the cave. Tracker had never allowed the fire to dwindle beyond a blaze, and she swung her slim legs over the edge of the shelf, knowing instinctively that something was wrong. She walked swiftly to the entrance and peered cautiously into the outer chamber.
Her heart began to hammer in excitement as she realized her long-awaited chance had come. Tracker was nowhere in sight, and she moved cautiously, oblivious to the roaring water as she tried to remember how they'd first entered the cave. She searched the shadowy walls and easily found the passageway, her hopes rising with each footstep away from her detested cell.
A horse whinnied softly when she entered the other cavern, and Starfire moved toward it quietly, stroking its velvety muzzle, murmuring soothing Cheyenne syllables. Horses! She was confident now she could escape, but petrified that Tracker might return. She quickly loosened the bridle from the picket and led the horse down a slight incline toward a soft glow of light. Hooves rang against the rocky floor, sending amplified echoes through the silent chambers, and Starfire increased her pace. She breathed easier when she ducked out into the warm sunshine, squinting from the bright glare, her eyes unaccustomed to the sun after days inside the dim, cool cave. She raised her face to the sky, shielding her eyes as she breathed in the fresh air. Her confidence rose as she started through the rocky crevice.
Tracker saw Starfire the minute she emerged from the cave, and he swore under his breath at her bad timing. He had to stop her. He glanced quickly at the stand of trees behind him before he followed in a low crouch on the rocky ledge above her. If she should clear the passage or even let out a yell, the Indians would be upon them in minutes.
Desperate to stop her before she unwittingly warned them, he trod soundlessly above her. She was moving slowly and carefully, picking her way around rocks, giving him ample time to jump her. He hung his rifle over his back, taking one last look at the Indian camp before he leaped down, grabbing the unsuspecting Starfire from the side, then rolled with her, protecting her body with his own. The horse reared in fright, thrashing his front legs in the air, neighing loudly as he backed away in panic, his hooves clattering like bells on the stones.
Tracker uttered a string of oaths, jerking Starfire upright, one palm tightly pressed over her mouth. She hung limply against him, not struggling. He realized he had knocked the breath out of her and counted himself lucky. He got one arm in a steel band around her waist and edged to the hidden opening. The Cheyenne warriors still relaxed around the fire, and Tracker headed back to the cave before Starfire could recover from her shock.
But Starfire knew help was near, and she began to scream under the huge hand, her legs kicking viciously as she clawed the back of his hand wit
h her fingernails. He'd learned his lesson with her the last time, and his grip tightened brutally. Although she struggled furiously, she was helpless against his enormous size and strength.
Tears of despair welled in her eyes as the darkness of the cave swallowed the warm sunlight, and Starfire ceased fighting as he carried her into her prison.
Tracker knew what he had to do, and he didn't like it. But he had to get back outside, and he didn't have much time. If the Indians did find the opening, his only chance would be to pick them off from his hiding place atop the rocks. He jerked his scarf from around his neck and wrapped it around her mouth, trying not to look at her violet eyes as they glared at him in fury.
“Sorry, Starfire, I just can't take any chances,” he muttered, lowering her to the ground. He tied her hands behind her back, making sure the cords were not tight. He hated himself for what he was doing, knowing she'd never forgive him, but he had no choice. He avoided her eyes as he fashioned a rope into a narrow loop and slipped it around the fragile column of her neck.
“Now listen to me, Starfire, and listen good.” He tried to ignore the hatred in her glittering eyes, his voice growing gruff.
“This won't tighten any more unless you pull too hard. And if you do, you just might choke yourself to death. So it wouldn't be too smart to try to get loose.”
While he spoke, he knotted the other end tightly to a rock outcrop. “You'll be fine here, as long as you stay near the fire and behave yourself. I won't be gone long.”
He threw several logs on the fire, then gave the rope one last tug to make sure it was secure. His eyes went to Starfire, where she knelt by the blazing fire. Tears shone vividly in a violet gleam before she turned her face away. Tracker frowned, feeling guilty, before he headed back to keep watch over the enemy.
Alone, Starfire let the hot tears roll down her cheeks, giving vent to her disappointment. She'd almost succeeded, had been just a few feet from freedom when the white devil had grabbed her. After a few moments, she shook away her self-pity and scrambled up, walking until the rope tightened dangerously around her throat. She stopped at once, then moved to the other end, trying to pull it free from the rocks. It was impossible to loosen, and she sank to the shelf, heartsick.
