Wildstar

by Linda Ladd

  “Starfire belongs to Lone Wolf,” Raging Buffalo said. “She was taken from him by force. By the sacred law, she is his woman.”

  Elizabeth cried out in dismay, not understanding the events which were happening so quickly. Logan pulled her closer as Lone Wolf's eyes turned to her, glinting triumph. He stepped forward, ready to claim her, but Logan moved between them, blocking his path. He jerked the knife from the sheath on his thigh, his eyes locked with Lone Wolf's, and hurled it to the ground between the Indian's feet.

  “I challenge Lone Wolf for the woman.”

  His words rang out, and Lone Wolf's black eyes glittered.

  “To the death,” the Cheyenne gritted, and Elizabeth grabbed Logan's arm in alarm.

  “No, no, Logan, please,” she whispered, but Logan didn't look at her, his eyes still hard upon the Indian.

  “To the death,” he agreed, and Elizabeth bit back a sob of fear. Lone Wolf whirled and stalked away, followed by his men.

  The challenge was set for the following day, and Elizabeth was not allowed to stay with Logan, as a great feast of celebration was prepared in honor of her homecoming. All her happiness at seeing her parents again had died beneath her fear for Logan. She had put him in terrible danger by forcing him to bring her back. If he died, it would be her fault, but she was helpless now to stop the fight. She tried to talk to her father, but although his eyes were pitying, she knew there was nothing he could do to stop the death challenge.

  By the time the festivities began, it was dark, the night cold and clear. She wanted so desperately to be with Logan, to tell him how sorry she was. She wanted him to hold her in the security of his arms. She trembled as she was led to where the tribe had assembled around a roaring fire. Drums beat in a furious din as dancers twisted and shrieked in front of it, and she finally saw Logan. He could not touch her or speak to her as she sat down between Lone Wolf and him, but his eyes were warm with reassurance.

  Elizabeth sat through the dance, her muscles tense, aware of the strength of the men on either side of her. Lone Wolf's courage as a warrior was famous in their tribe, but although she knew Logan possessed the same strength and confidence, her love for him precluded a relief to her anxiety She looked at his carved profile against the glow of the leaping flames, her heart clutching in panic. She could not bear the thought of losing him. She put her hand against her belly, her eyes filled with tears. What if he never saw his child? What if he died knowing that Lone Wolf would be father to it? Her eyes brimmed with tears that rolled down her cheeks as she contemplated for the first time the horror of living without Logan. She sat sick with dread about the coming battle, and was barely able to walk back to her father's tipi after the ceremony.

  She made plans as she lay upon her buffalo robes. She must go to Logan after the village slept. They must leave during the night, leave before the unthinkable could happen. She waited until she heard the even breathing of Raging Buffalo and Gentle Reed, then rose quietly and moved toward the flap. She paused, looking at them a moment, realizing she would probably never see them again. She ducked out the flap, shivering in the cool night air, then crept away from the tent.

  Logan lay upon a bedroll near Elizabeth's tipi. His hands were behind his head as he stared at the sparkling stars scattered across the vast dark heavens. He had been a fool to bring Elizabeth back. Now he faced losing her forever, and at the same time sentencing his wife and child to a dangerous life of hardship among an endangered people. He shuddered. He could not, would not lose to Lone Wolf.

  A sound brought the cold steel of his gun into his palm, and he lay still, searching the darkness with alert eyes. Lone Wolf had loyal friends who would like the honor of killing his enemy.

  He relaxed when he saw Elizabeth's slender silhouette against the starry night sky. He sat up and slid his gun back into the holster as she dropped to her knees in front of him.

  “You should not be here, sweet, it is forbidden,” he whispered. He could not see her face in the darkness, only the starfire glinting off her hair. She reached out and touched his cheek with gentle fingertips.

  “How can you ever forgive me for what I have done? I have been so foolish.”

  Her voice trembled with fear and regret, and Logan reached out and pulled her close. She came willingly, resting her cheek against his soft buckskin shirt.

  “I'm so afraid for you, Logan. I love you so much.”

  Logan smiled, pressing his lips against the top of her head.

  “I would fight a hundred men to hear those words from your lips.”

  Elizabeth clutched him to her, her voice an urgent whisper. “Please, Logan, please don't fight him. We can leave now while they sleep.”

  Logan tightened his arms around her comfortingly, his voice very gentle.

  “We cannot. Your people would shun me for a coward, and you'd never be able to return here.”

  “I don't care.” Elizabeth was sobbing softly now. “I thought I'd be happy if I came back here. I thought everything would be the same, but it isn't the same. Nothing is the same. All I want is to be with you. I don't care where we go. I'll go anywhere with you.”

  “Ssssh, my love, please,” Logan said, tenderly wiping away her tears. “Everything will be all right. I promise you.”

  Elizabeth raised her face, her voice breaking. “But I cannot bear the thought of your being hurt, or of Lone Wolf being my...”

  She choked on the word and was unable to finish, and behind the cloak of night, Logan's face hardened, the very thought piercing him like a blade. He swallowed, his voice low and gruff.

  “I will win, because you are mine, and you will always be mine.”

  Elizabeth pressed herself closer, wanting to believe him, having to believe him, and Logan held her tightly, his palm smoothing the satin of her hair.

  “Why didn't you tell me about our child?” he said, after a long silence.

  Elizabeth's voice was low and regretful. “I was afraid that if you knew, you would never bring me here.”

  “You were right, sweet,” Logan answered softly. “I would never have taken any chances with you if I'd known, but I am most pleased by the news.”

  Tears welled in Elizabeth's eyes and coursed down her cheeks.

  “What will happen to us, Logan?” she murmured, and Logan was quiet for a moment before he spoke softly, his eyes on the stars.

  “Nothing will ever come between us again. We will be happy together, and our child will grow and give us joy. We will come back here often, so Raging Buffalo and Gentle Reed can teach their grandchild the wisdom of Cheyenne ways.”

  “And will we have other children?” Elizabeth asked, and Logan nodded and squeezed her to him.

  “Many others.”

  “I love you, Logan,” Elizabeth said, as their lips melded together in a tender kiss, salted by her tears. They lay together, content to hold each other tightly, until the first light of dawn forced Elizabeth to return to her tipi.

  She did not sleep again, pacing endlessly in front of her father's tent, wringing her hands with anxiety. The day was clear, the sky blue and unbroken over the yellow grasses of the plain, but its beauty was lost upon Elizabeth. Her only thoughts were of Logan, and she continued to move about restlessly, while Gentle Reed watched her quietly, aware her daughter's love for the blue-eyed one rivaled her love for Raging Buffalo. There were no words that would comfort Starfire now; only her Tracker's victory could erase the fear in her eyes.

  The challenge was to begin when the sun burned directly overhead, and the drums had begun before the sun had risen, a long, slow beat that grated on Elizabeth's nerves and rattled her composure. The wait was interminable, and when Elizabeth was finally summoned to the field of combat, she walked white-faced beside her father.

  The tribe had gathered in a meadow close to the river and stood in a wide circle, waiting silently as Elizabeth was led to a buffalo skin spread upon the ground. She sat there alone, searching for Logan, wanting to cover her ears against the wil
d frenzy of the drums that had now joined the lone beat. The cacophony was deafening, until all stopped at once as if controlled by the same hand. The abrupt silence was unnerving, and Elizabeth jerked her head around as Logan appeared.

  The circle parted to give him entrance, and he rode to the center of the ring, his spirited stallion stepping high and proud. He wore only a loincloth, his broad, sunbrowned shoulders held erect, his sinewy muscles rippling as he handled the reins with one hand. His head was bare, wind from the river ruffling the blond hair away from his forehead. She stared at the beloved face, the handsome, carved features that meant everything to her. Straight black arrows of paint slanted across his cheekbone with a streak of white just beneath. It was the mask of death, and Elizabeth held her breath as he jerked his horse's head toward her, the clear penetrating blue of his eyes stopping her heart.

  Lone Wolf entered from the opposite direction, his tightly muscled physique rigid with controlled anger. The death paint covered his dark, vengeful features. His stern eyes did not seek Elizabeth but watched his foe with deadly intent.

  Slowly rising horror spread through Elizabeth as Raging Buffalo bound their left wrists together with a cord of rawhide, then gave each a long hunting knife. The two men stood facing each other, muscles tensed, faces hard, as Raging Buffalo stepped back.

  They watched the chief as he raised his arms to the sky, each nerve quivering in readiness. Raging Buffalo dropped his arms abruptly, and Logan moved, slamming his back against the ground as he jerked savagely on Lone Wolf's arm. His feet thudded into the Indian's hard chest and flipped him to the ground behind him. Logan scrambled to his knees, but Lone Wolf wrenched away from Logan's thrust, aiming a vicious kick at Logan's throat.

  Logan dodged him, then both men recovered their footing and began to circle each other warily. Lone Wolf jabbed at Logan's legs and Logan evaded it, but the Cheyenne's blade streaked up and hit its mark. Elizabeth cried out as a crimson slash appeared upon the tanned skin of Logan's bare chest, but Logan ignored the wound, knocking Lone Wolf's feet from beneath him. They rolled desperately in the dirt, locked in a lethal embrace. Elizabeth covered her mouth as Logan's knife was knocked from his grasp and Lone Wolf raised his bloodstained blade high over Logan's heart.

  Logan clamped his fingers like a steel band around Lone Wolf's wrist as the Indian pushed the blade downward with all his strength. Logan held him, every muscle straining, face contorted with effort, until he pushed violently against him with his knee, sending Lone Wolf sprawling upon his back. Before he could regain his breath, Logan had his blade in hand and pointed into the vulnerable hollow of the warrior's throat.

  Elizabeth's heart stood still as Logan held the knife poised there, his chest still heaving with exertion.

  “Kill me, wasichu, kill me,” Lone Wolf gritted through bloodied lips, and Logan stared down at him for an instant, then relaxed his hold, one quick upward jerk severing the rawhide rope that bound them together.

  He stood and hurled the knife into the ground inches from Lone Wolf's face. He wanted to kill no one. He'd seen enough killing and hatred in his life. Lone Wolf was not his enemy. His only crime was wanting Elizabeth, and Logan knew what that could do to a man. He'd won his wife fairly and with honor, and that was all that mattered to him. He turned and started toward her, and Elizabeth laughed in joy and ran to meet him.

  Lone Wolf jumped to his feet, his face raw and vicious, and jerked the knife out of the ground. Elizabeth drew up in terror and screamed as she divined his intention.

  “Logan, behind you!”

  Logan's quick reflexes saved his life as he lunged to one side, causing the razorlike steel to slice into the meat of his shoulder instead of his spine. He staggered backward on impact, then jerked the blade out, ready to defend himself with it. But the other Cheyenne warriors had already subdued Lone Wolf. With his action, the brave had lost all honor.

  Elizabeth ran to Logan where he stood, one hand over his wound, his fingers spread apart to stop the blood. The field of combat had grown very quiet, and Raging Buffalo's voice drifted across the field to them.

  “You must decide the fate of Lone Wolf.”

  “I have no wish for his death,” Logan said. “I have what is mine. Show him mercy.”

  Raging Buffalo turned to where the braves held Lone Wolf spread-eagled upon the ground.

  “You are no longer worthy of our people. You will leave our camp forever, and you will wear the brand of a coward.”

  Another Indian knelt beside Lone Wolf, knife in hand, and one quick slice of the sharp blade severed Lone Wolf's right ear. Elizabeth turned her face into Logan's chest as a terrible shriek of agony rent the air and echoed far out over the river.

  High upon a hill overlooking the camp, Brent Holloway steadied his spyglass on the scene below as Lone Wolf's scream died away. Two warriors hoisted the half-conscious man onto his pony and sent it galloping out of the camp. Several of his friends mounted quickly and followed him, and Brent lowered the glass. He frowned, raising it again until he brought Logan into focus as Elizabeth helped him to a nearby tipi.

  “Damn him to hell,” Brent said hoarsely, his face contorted with hatred. Cord had survived, but he would only live to pay for what he'd done to Brent. It was Cord's fault he'd hurt Isabel. It was his fault that Elizabeth hated him. He'd seen her face when Rankin had said his name.

  But he'd repay him. He'd hurt Logan where he was the most vulnerable. Elizabeth would be the instrument for Brent's revenge. He would kill Logan, to be sure, but first, before he died, Cord would know that Elizabeth was at Brent's mercy.

  He trained his spyglass upon the retreating figures of Lone Wolf and his men. The maimed Indian would be a formidable ally now, and the wagonload of rifles that Brent drove would be enough to gain his cooperation.

  He smiled coldly, sliding the spyglass together as he climbed upon the wagon seat and turned the horses in the direction that Lone Wolf had disappeared.

  Twenty-Two

  Logan and Elizabeth stayed in the Cheyenne camp for a fortnight, while Logan's wounds slowly healed. But as the nights grew cold and the surrounding aspen trees melted into the yellow and crimson hues of fall, Logan began to think of their departure. He often worried about the simmering unrest between the Indians and the whites, and above all, he wanted Elizabeth and their child safe in Denver.

  It was late one warm afternoon, after a day filled with idle pleasures, that Logan watched Elizabeth where she waded in the river. They'd chosen a spot far from the camp, where low-hanging branches veiled their presence on the riverbank. He smiled, at peace with his life. At last, things were as they should be. Months of distrust and anger were over, and he basked in the contentment he felt.

  Much of their time had been spent in the sun and fresh air, and Elizabeth's skin had taken on a soft apricot glow that emphasized her light eyes and blond hair. He chuckled to himself as he watched her where she stood in the stream. She was trying to catch a trout with her hands, and her lovely face was bent in concentration as she peered intently down into the water. She wore only her chemise, and the current had wetted the front, making the thin, transparent shift cling to her breasts as the skirt floated around her bare legs. His loins ached as his eyes searched her trim waist for any sign of the babe, but her belly was still flat.

  She suddenly lunged into the still water, then triumphantly brought out a small trout in one hand. She looked up at him where he leaned against a tree in the shade, giving him a brilliant smile. He smiled back and stood, and Elizabeth watched as he walked out into the water toward her, fully dressed, a look in his blue eyes that made her give her hard-earned fish a careless backward toss into the water. His good arm folded about her waist and lifted her off her feet.

  “I want you.”

  “But I'm all wet,” she protested, nevertheless wrapping willing arms around his strong neck as he sloshed out of the water with her. He lowered her gently to the blanket, then dropped to his knees beside her. Elizabeth's fi
ngers slid inside his shirt and touched the bandage with gentle fingertips.

  “But your shoulder...”

  “It hasn't bothered us before, has it?” he murmured, his fingers teasing loose the laces of her bodice. His blond head dropped to her shoulder as he pushed the damp shift away. Her skin tasted warm and sweet, and he gave a soft groan as her fingers went to work on his laces. Their clothes were soon in a wet heap beside them, and Elizabeth lay atop Logan, his palm sliding over her velvety back, her hair encasing them in a silken tent.

  She suddenly sat up, straddling his hard waist as her open hands caressed the molded muscles of his hard chest, her fingers running across the crisp blond mat. She smiled seductively and shook the silver silk away from her face as she moved lower, exploring his leanly fleshed ribs. He groaned, shutting his eyes as her breasts came against him, her soft red lips pressing hot kisses along his collarbone.

  His hands encircled her waist, fingers meeting front and back, and lifted her easily, bringing her down upon him. The exquisite sensation forced a strangled gasp from Elizabeth. She moaned weakly, her eyes closed in pleasure, her fingers sliding into the thick blond waves at his neck.

  “I love you,” she whispered, then all words were forgotten as their lovemaking rose to the quivering, brilliant starburst that left them weak and sated.

  Afterward, they lay limply entwined, bound by silken silver, and after a time, Logan lifted her chin to look searchingly into her violet eyes.

  “It is time for us to go, my sweet love.”

  A fleeting regret passed over her face, but she smiled. She had only been waiting for his signal.

  “If I am with you, my husband, I will be content.”

  “Then you will be content forever.”

  Their lips met gently and the kiss was long and leisurely, until the fire once again took them in its grasp.

  Their leavetaking was difficult for Elizabeth, but she knew Logan was anxious for news of his sister, and Elizabeth looked forward to seeing Amanda and Lily and her family. She hugged Raging Buffalo and Gentle Reed, promising to return after the child was born. She looked back often to wave at Gentle Reed where she stood at the edge of the village. But Elizabeth was not really sad, not with the tiny babe in her body, and Logan's love to warm her.