Wildstar

by Linda Ladd

  She did not answer at once; and he waited, afraid her hesitation meant she still did not trust him.

  “Yes, I will trust you,” she whispered.

  Tracker breathed easier, but she had not promised to stay with him.

  “Will you promise me you won't try to escape?”

  She was silent much longer, conflicting emotions flickering across her lovely face, and he feared his hopes were too hasty, until she said in a tone so low as to be inaudible, “No, I will not escape.”

  Tracker's smile was quick and triumphant. They would be together, and he would make her happy, as he showed her everything she'd missed in her years with the Cheyenne. The future would be good for her; he would make sure of it. His blue eyes searched hers before he was pulled irresistibly to the softness of her lips. His mouth lowered to take them in a gentle caress that slowly exploded into the rocketing desire she ignited in him so easily.

  Seven

  Starfire watched Tracker move around the big stallion, pulling the girth tight, then checking the saddlebags. Her heart was very heavy, for it was time to leave her beloved mountains. She shivered. The many things Tracker spoke of were strange, incomprehensible, but worst of all was the knowledge that she might never see Raging Buffalo or Gentle Reed again. Or her friend Tree Winds. Tears glistened in her eyes as she wrestled with the doubts that assailed her.

  Tracker finished strapping their gear, eager to be on their way. They had been in the cave for almost a month, and there had been no sign of Cheyenne in over a week. It was already early September, and he wanted to leave before early winter snows trapped them. In a way, though, he regretted having to leave the mountain hideaway. The last weeks had been good, hidden away with Starfire. He'd been amazed at her passion, and the discovery that she stirred his blood as no woman ever had. One touch and she came into his arms eagerly, her hunger rivaling his own. He smiled, glancing over to where she sat by the entrance. His grin faded when he saw the glitter of tears in her eyes.

  He went to her, cradling her small face in one large palm.

  “What is it, my sweet?”

  She raised great amethyst eyes, the vivid violet depths brimming with sadness.

  “I do not want to go.”

  Fear squeezed icy fingers around Tracker's heart. He had thought that as they grew comfortable with each other she'd resigned herself to leaving with him. The thought of forcing her to do anything she didn't want to do was now repugnant to him.

  “Please, trust me, Starfire. I'll take care of you.”

  “What if I hate the way of the whites? What if I am lonely for my people?”

  Her face was miserable, and her eyes begged him to understand.

  Tracker could not bear her distress, the warm tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “If you are not happy, I will bring you home,” he said on impulse, desiring to reassure her.

  Her eyes darted to his face, alive with a great vulnerable show of relief.

  “Is it so? Do you promise?”

  The thought of willingly returning her to Lone Wolf and the Cheyenne was totally inconceivable, but he nodded, certain she would not choose to come back after a taste of civilization. He would introduce her to every convenience, overwhelm her with luxury. He would teach her white ways so that she'd never wish to return to the hardship of Indian fife. He'd never kept a woman before, never found one he wanted badly enough to even consider it. But Starfire was different. She would be his treasured, pampered love, with jewels and fine clothes and servants to wait on her. And if her white family didn't like it, they could be damned. Starfire was his now, and he'd never let her go.

  Starfire smiled tremulously, and Tracker lifted her in his arms, his lips seeking her softness, as always the smell of her, the touch of her, arousing him until he could not think. The kiss was long and leisurely, until he lowered her to her feet, muttering hoarsely, “You make me forget everything but you, sweet. But we must go, so come.”

  He lifted her easily to her saddle, and she straddled the horse gracefully, ignoring the reins as she grabbed the mane with small, sure hands. She had a lot to learn about white ways, and they might as well start now.

  “You must learn to guide him with the reins.”

  She obediently picked them up, lifting her slim nose disdainfully as she guided the horse skillfully with her knees. He swung into his own saddle, grinning, as he preceded her through the narrow passage. It would not be easy to teach his love white ways.

  The mountain air was crisp and clean, the rugged, tree-spiked terrain breathtakingly beautiful. It would take about three days to reach his house in Denver, and Tracker kept them moving at a brisk pace, still wary for war parties. He knew the Cheyenne would not give up easily, especially when the treasure was Starfire.

  They made good time, and Starfire never complained about the long hours in the saddle, but cuddled against him happily as they lay on soft buffalo robes beneath the stars at night. On the last day out from town, snow threatened and the air grew colder. Great rolling dark clouds indicated snowfalls in the higher elevations, but they were nearly out of the mountains, where they were less likely to run into Cheyenne. Starfire's tribe rarely came so far south but kept to the north or west of Denver. Tracker began to relax a bit, although he knew Lone Wolf still searched for his beautiful bride. But Tracker was equally determined that no one would ever take her away from him. He glanced back at her as the wind whipped her cloak and swirled her hair off her shoulders.

  She looked up and smiled at him, and Tracker felt his loins tighten, amazed what she could do to him with one soft look. They followed a small, angry stream, the rushing and gurgling water loud in their ears. They carefully picked their way along the rock-strewn bank, until Tracker pulled back on his reins, squinting at the gray cloud bank on the horizon. They'd reached a point where they could ford the stream safely, and he motioned for Starfire to wait. She nodded and sat her horse patiently while he urged his stallion into the cold water. The current was swift but shallow, and he waded his horse across, spurring him up onto the opposite bank. Now sure that Starfire could cross safely, he turned to wave her forward, but froze when he saw movement downstream. It was a band of Cheyenne, riding parallel to the river, and his eyes riveted on them as they continued to move in the opposite direction. The war party had not seen them, and they were on the other side of the river, Starfire's side. He turned in sudden dread to see if she had spotted them.

  Starfire sat upon her mount, gazing at the dark hills huddled in front of the snowcapped peaks of her beloved land. She was sad, her heart still crying to see her Indian mother and father again. Leaving with the big white man was the most difficult decision she'd ever made. It gave her quivers of uncertainty even now to think of leaving her whole life behind. It especially saddened her to think she could not even say goodbye to them. They would be so very worried about her.

  She stared despondently at the rippling water as it cascaded angrily over rocks and snags, then raised her eyes, idly looking down the stream.

  Tracker watched, his throat clogging as she caught sight of the horsemen. She suddenly straightened and leaned forward, her eyes intent on the distant Indians. Tracker could never cross the stream in time to catch her if she galloped to join them, so he sat stiff and tense, watching. He knew the moment that she realized they were Cheyenne, because pure joy lit up her lovely face, then immediately afterward, her smile faded as she slowly turned her eyes to him.

  Their gaze met and fused, blotting out the rush of the current and the rustle of the trees in the wind. Time stood still, all reality dissolving beneath his silent appeal and her tortured indecision. Starfire could not move, could not break his hold on her, until her horse shifted restlessly beneath her. She tore her eyes from him and sought the riders in the distance.

  Tracker held his breath, reading in her face the intense desire to join them. She was frowning, both hands gripping the saddle horn, torn, as her desire to stay with Tracker warred with her need to
return to her people. He was suddenly afraid, sure she would leave; and he jerked his horse's head toward the water. He could not let her go. He halted as her face turned to him again, the tension draining away to be replaced by a sad resignation. She cast one last wistful look at the far-off band of Indians, then waded her horse into the creek.

  Relief streaked through the man across the water, exhilaration painting a wide smile across his handsome features. He swung off the horse exultantly, waiting as she slowly came to him. Unshed tears darkened the violet eyes, and he pulled her down into the steel cradle of his arms. She was shivering, and he held her close, his warm lips upon her hair.

  “You won't regret it, sweet. I swear you won't,” he promised her.

  After the encounter with the Cheyenne, Tracker rode more slowly, feeling secure in the knowledge that she had willingly chosen to stay with him. She had had her chance to leave him, and she had trusted him. He was elated, but regretted that he couldn't break through her silent melancholy. But his own spirits soared high, because they were nearing Denver and the end of their journey.

  “Tonight you'll sleep in a real bed,” he told her with a smile, and she looked blankly at him. His words meant nothing to her, for buffalo robes spread upon the ground were the only bed she'd ever known.

  Tracker frowned slightly and asked, “Have you never seen another white man? Not in all the years with your tribe?”

  Starfire gazed innocently at him. “No one but Father Donegal,” she replied.

  “Your tribe did not trade with the whites?”

  It was hard to believe she was so inexperienced about the world.

  “Our chiefs met wasichus at times. But Raging Buffalo kept me hidden away. He was afraid they would try to take me, and he did not wish to kill a wasichu.”

  Tracker stared at her delicately chiseled profile, knowing exactly how Raging Buffalo had felt. But he knew her total ignorance would make her adjustment to civilization more difficult. He smiled tenderly at her, vowing he would do everything in his power to make it easier for her. And with her beauty and intelligence, she would be accepted quickly, and her childhood with the Indians would become part of the past.

  Denver was a young town, founded a mere five years before, and the wide, deeply rutted streets proclaimed its youth. The town slept as Tracker's horse clopped through the silent darkness. Starfire had grown weary of the journey, and not wishing to stop for the night so close to town, Tracker had taken her on his stallion in front of him. She now lay nestled in his arms, feeling tiny and warm and sleepy.

  He walked his horse slowly through the night, his destination a large house on a rise on the eastern perimeter of the settlement. He was glad the moonless night cloaked their arrival. It would spare him from answering questions about the beautiful girl slumbering so peacefully in front of him. He was not ready to share her. Not yet. Not with anyone.

  Weary himself, he drew up before the dark house, then held her securely as he slid off his horse. She was exhausted, and he wanted her to sleep as long as possible. She'd been through much in the last weeks, and as they rode through the silent town he had resolved to shield her from further unhappiness. He walked up the wooden stairs, his footsteps soundless in his moccasins. The carved front door was locked, and he kicked at it a few times, then waited.

  Minutes later, light appeared at a window on his left. Holding Starfire's slight weight easily, he waited for the door to open, then grinned at the little man dressed in a long white nightshirt who was grumbling crankily as he raised his lamp.

  “A man can't even sleep the night through anymore without somebody having to come and disturb him...”

  Tracker smiled as the light shone upon his face, and James Parker's sleepy eyes widened. He began to stutter then, as Tracker pushed past him.

  “Sir ... sir, we had no idea you were coming. We didn't get a message to expect you.”

  Tracker hesitated just inside, the dim light illuminating a circle around them in the darkened hall, the gilt-edged tables and velvet chairs only vague outlines in the deep shadows around the walls.

  “I didn't send one, Parker. But it doesn't matter. Just get the master suite ready. We have a guest.”

  The servant's eyes dropped for the first time to the small bundle in Tracker's arms, his eyes widening as Starfire stirred, turning her face toward Tracker's chest. Her long, silvery tresses fell free, tumbling over Tracker's arm, and Parker tried to hide his initial shock. He was accustomed to his young employer's female companions, but never before had he brought an unconscious, scantily clad one home with him in the dead of the night.

  “Is she ill, sir?” he asked falteringly.

  Tracker's teeth gleamed white for an instant, and he gave a low laugh.

  “She's just asleep, and I want her to stay that way, so you'd better hurry up and get the room ready.”

  He started for the wide staircase at the rear of the hall, and Parker hurried after him.

  “Which guestroom do you want for her, sir?”

  Tracker's blue eyes glinted amusement.

  “I made no mention of any guestroom, Parker. I said the master suite.”

  “But ... sir, I...”

  Tracker cut him off abruptly, ignoring his offended sense of propriety, as he started up the steps.

  “Never mind the sermon, Parker. I don't intend to hold her in this chilly hall all night, so I'd appreciate it if you'd do as I say.”

  The old man shook his head, appalled at Tracker's intentions, but he rushed past him up the steps to do as he'd been instructed. His young master was never one to be overly worried about appearances, but at least when he'd had other female houseguests, a guestroom had been prepared, even though the bed was never used.

  He shook his head as he hurried across the landing and threw open the doors of the master bedroom. He moved to the large brass bed and pulled back the coverlets. The room was cold, so he went directly to the marble fireplace and lit the fire that was always laid in readiness for just such an occasion.

  Tracker lowered Starfire gently to the bed, covering her carefully with the silken linens. She moved slightly, opening sleepy violet eyes long enough to breathe his name, before she closed heavy black lashes and slept again. He bent to brush the soft hair away from her temples, staring tenderly down at her, entranced at her innocent beauty.

  He was sharply brought back to the present when Parker cleared his throat in embarrassment, and he turned, feeling a bit foolish.

  “That will be all, Parker. Thank you.”

  “Very good, sir. Goodnight.”

  Parker backed out the door, glad that his master was safe at home again, despite his reservations about the young lady in his bed. He wondered how long either one would stay; his employer wasn't known to keep one woman in his bed for long, or stay in town for any stretch of time.

  Starfire opened sleepy eyes slowly, her head cradled upon Tracker's bare shoulder, his strong arms holding her slim body possessively close. It was not the first time she had awakened in his arms, and she smiled dreamily, snuggling closer to him. She was still drowsy, and her thick lashes drifted together again, and the steady thud of Tracker's heart lulled her back into a half-sleep. She dozed contentedly until the faraway sound of a woman singing snapped open her eyes. She glanced around quickly, her fragile jaw dropping a degree.

  The bedroom was large and resplendently decorated, and Starfire's eyes widened at the rich draperies of royal blue velvet, hung with gold tassels. Her gaze moved slowly to the huge fireplace and paused at the golden, fan-shaped andirons. The place was full of strange and beautiful objects, with many more upon the walls. She stared hard at everything, then sat upon her heels, her long silvery hair tumbling around her naked shoulders. She sat unmoving, her eyes sweeping the room again, awe suffusing her beautiful face.

  Forgetting the woman's voice, she looked down at Tracker, who slept on his back, one arm flung over his head, and the other outstretched where it had fallen when she'd moved. They were
atop a large, shiny metal rack, and she peered over the side to find they were several feet off the ground. The white man's bed, she mused wonderingly, and ran her small hand across the gold threads embroidered into the red satin coverlet. It felt so good to her fingers that she brought it before her eyes for a closer examination.

  Everything was so very pretty, with more colors than she'd ever seen before. Except in the glory of the autumn trees. She inched toward the edge of the bed, shocked when the mattress moved with her. Oblivious now of Tracker, she climbed down, her eyes still moving over the wondrous place. She looked down as her feet touched the thick Persian carpet. It felt soft to her bare feet, even softer than buffalo fur, and she knelt to touch it, marveling that it covered all the floor.

  She had no idea where she was, but everything was new and exciting to look upon. Her curiosity sent her to each foreign object. She touched the gold brocade wingback chairs, then gazed into a picture of a wide river in the mountains. She ran her fingers over the marble mantel, then jumped, whirling around, when the tall grandfather clock in the corner hollowly bonged the hour.

  Starfire eyed the frightening contraption warily, noting with a hint of trepidation the swinging pendulum in the lower glass case. Suddenly afraid of it, she ran quickly to the bed, scrambling into Tracker's arms.

  Tracker was alert to her fear at once, raising himself on One elbow and drawing the other around her as she pressed close to him.

  “What is it, sweet?” he asked.

  She shivered, burying her face in his shoulder, muffling her words. “There is something in the corner. It lives, I think.”

  Frowning, Tracker sat up and looked around the room. “Where?”

  Starfire sneaked a hesitant glance over her shoulder, pointing an accusing finger at the silent clock.

  “What? The clock?”

  “Clock?”

  At her confused expression, he looked at the corner again, realization dawning. He threw back his head and boomed out a laugh, then cut it off abruptly at her startled look.