Silken Savage

by Catherine Hart

  Her gaze reviewed their group. Rosemary rode before a tall, stern-looking Indian a bit older than the others. Still in shock, her eyes had a fixed, glazed look, as if she was not aware of a single thing that was happening. Nancy was sitting in a crumpled heap across her brave’s lap. Her chemise was undone and her straight brown hair straggled down across her bared breasts. The coppery hand of the brave rested intimately on her thigh.

  If the situation had not been so serious, Tanya could almost have laughed at Suellen’s predicament. As it was, a smile flirted at the corners of her mouth for the smallest of seconds. The snooty Suellen’s nose wasn’t up in the air now. As a matter of fact, it was just the opposite. She was riding slung stomach down across the Indian pony’s back. Her head and arms dangled down on one side, her legs on the other, and her rear in the air. Every time she attempted to protest this position in her piercing voice, her captor administered a smart slap to her posterior.

  Poor little Melissa drew all of Tanya’s compassion. She sat in tears before one of the ugliest, most repulsive human beings that Tanya had ever seen. She sat stiffly, a look of abject terror on her face. There was a vivid, rapidly darkening bruise on her cheek. Her petticoat was torn half off, revealing the entire upper portion of her body, the cloth lying limply in her lap. Her captor was taking pleasure in tormenting her by squeezing her breasts, cruelly twisting the already red, swollen nipples between his fat, stubby fingers. Down his three chins saliva dripped, and Tanya could almost smell the stench of his fat body from where she rode. Tanya shivered involuntarily and drew a curious look from her captor.

  As she studied the remaining Indians, Tanya reluctantly admitted that though they were a fearsome lot, they seemed a proud people. It showed in the way they carried themselves, even on horseback. For the most part they were tall, fit, and well-muscled. The long, slim bone structure of their faces was cleanly defined with high cheekbones and straight noses, and Tanya was thankful they were not decorated in hideous war paints.

  One young brave came abreast of them and said something in a deep guttural tongue to her captor. Since he glanced at her as he spoke, she assumed his remark had to do with her. Her captor answered in the same language.

  Although the young man was no more of a menace than the man on whose big black horse Tanya rode, she unconsciously shifted closer to her captor for protection. It may have been her imagination, or did his hold tighten on her waist?

  Night fell and they rode on into the darkness. Lulled by the monotonous movement of the horse and the length of the ride, Tanya finally gave up the struggle to keep her eyelids open. She slept, once again supported by that broad bronze chest.

  She opened her eyes to a darkness so black she was at once disoriented. The only reality was the hard wall of muscle behind her, the iron band about her middle, and the warmth of the black horse beneath her travel-weary bottom. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out the shadows of trees on either side of the trail they were on. They seemed to be climbing, so she guessed they were across the plain and into the foothills she had seen.

  Tanya sighed and twisted about, trying to find a more comfortable position. The brave assisted her, grunting something unintelligible near her ear. She supposed he was telling her to sit still. Were they never going to stop to rest or eat? Tanya’s tongue felt like cotton, and her stomach was surely touching her backbone. The attack had come in late afternoon after the wagon train had camped for the evening, and Tanya was regretting her missed supper. It seemed a trifling thing to worry about under the circumstances, but she was bone-weary, and dreadfully hungry and thirsty. To top it all, she was sure to disgrace herself unless they stopped soon. She just had to find a place to relieve herself before her bladder burst.

  When they finally did stop at a clearing in the dense trees, Tanya’s muscles were unprepared. Her brave lowered her to the ground, and before her limbs had adjusted to her weight, he pushed her roughly toward where the other women were being dumped. He grunted a terse order in his deep voice, which she interpreted as a directive to stay put, and went to tend to his horse. The other men did the same, leaving the women in a trembling and frightened huddle in the center of the clearing. Adversely, Tanya now wished they had not stopped, for as long as they were riding she felt somewhat safe. Now a feeling of dread was creeping up her backbone.

  Looking at the pathetic group about her, Tanya’s fright grew. Rosemary was still in her fright-induced trance, staring stupidly ahead at nothing. The other three, Suellen included, were weeping softly. In an odd way Tanya felt removed from them, neither crying nor hidden from reality in a stupor. Admittedly, she was scared, unsure whether her limbs were shaking from fright or weariness, but an icy calm was setting in. Dread of facing an unknown, inevitable fate made her eyes huge golden orbs in her face, but a fierce will to survive whatever was in store was holding the tears at bay.

  Moved by compassion, Tanya wrapped the trembling Melissa in her arms. Melissa clung to her, sobbing. With words so soft and shaky that Tanya could barely understand her, she whimpered, “Oh, Lord, Tanya, I’m so scared! What is going to happen to us?”

  Tanya patted the blond head ineffectually. “I don’t know, Missy,” she answered. “It all depends on them.” She glanced at the approaching Indians.

  Her own tall captor clamped a hand around her upper arm and led her off toward the trees. Quaking inwardly, she stumbled, half running to keep up with his long strides. Just inside the treeline he stopped, and with a few brief hand signals made her understand she was to relieve herself here.

  She stared at him dumbly for a moment. Modesty overcoming her fear, she motioned for him to turn around. Folding his arms across his chest, he continued to watch her steadily, making no move to honor her request.

  Mad enough to spit, she frowned at him. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she complained. “It’s too dark in these woods to see two feet in front of me. I wouldn’t get a yard away before you heard me!” She thrust out her chin and requested primly, “A little privacy would be appreciated, if you please.”

  She knew he hadn’t understood a word, but his lips quirked suspiciously, as if he were holding back a smile. “Indians aren’t supposed to smile, are they?” she wondered to herself.

  Whatever, the result was that he gave her a level, warning look, then turned his back to her. Knowing her chances of escape were nil, she quickly and thankfully used her few seconds of privacy to empty her aching bladder.

  He led her back into the clearing, and Tanya immediately wished he hadn’t. The scene before her was right out of the halls of hell. She stopped so abruptly that she caused her captor to walk right into her rigid back. He grumbled what amounted to a curse, but she was beyond noticing. Mesmerized by the horrifying scene before her, she was at once revolted, but unable to turn away.

  One of the Indians had built a small, smokeless fire that illuminated the area well enough that Tanya could not help but see what was happening, and if ever she had prayed to go deaf it was now.

  Not one of her friends had a stitch of clothing on, and each was being raped by a different savage. Not a sound came from Rosemary as a grunting, sweating savage rutted over her. Nancy was sobbing loudly and crying out, and Suellen was screaming at the top of her limitless lungs and cursing with words she should have never known.

  Tanya’s eyes zeroed in on Melissa, struggling beneath her grotesque captor. The ugly beast was thrusting himself into Melissa’s tender flesh with a malicious vengeance, while he kneaded and bit at her bruised breasts. Melissa’s wild shrieks of agony ripped the air.

  “Oh, God!” Tanya muttered before she bent and vomited violently on the ground before her.

  Her captor gave her little time to recover herself as he dragged her close to the fire and shoved her to the ground. Fully expecting to have to defend herself, Tanya was surprised when he seated himself beside her, dug into a leather bag, and handed her a strip of dried meat. Eyeing him warily, she watched as he took out another container, shook out
some dried grain and berries into his palm and mixed it with water. Cupping her hands before her, he dumped the mixture into her palms, motioning for her to eat it. Then he prepared more for himself.

  Over her initial shock but still revolted, Tanya tried not to notice when other braves replaced the first attackers over the prone bodies of her friends. Feeling guilty that she was the only one not violated so far, she was also honest enough with herself to feel grateful, knowing she did not wish to trade places with any of them, not even to spare them. It was selfish, she knew, and she felt badly about it, but she could not help them by wishing ill on herself. Accepting this, she chewed morosely on her food, willing her stomach to accept the needed nourishment. She took the water he gave her and drank greedily, then sat quietly and waited to see what would happen next.

  After a while, he rose. Motioning for her to stay there, he stalked off toward where the horses were staked. He was gone only seconds before Tanya was grabbed roughly from behind. Thrown onto her back, she looked up into the horrid, beefy face of the beast who had attacked Melissa so vindictively.

  Momentarily too stunned to do more than emit a startled squawk, Tanya’s survival instinct suddenly erupted full force. If she were going to be violated, it would not be by this animal if she could avoid it, even if it meant her life! A low, vicious snarl issued from deep in her throat, startling both herself and her attacker. Then Tanya was a blur of flailing arms and legs as she fought him. He threw himself onto her, trying to subdue her with his weight, aiming blows at her body and face. She successfully deflected the worst of his blows with her arms, scratching and biting. Then one of her kicking legs landed a knee hard in his groin. The fat, blubbery savage roared in pain and struck her hard on the chin with his fist.

  Stars of pain blurred Tanya’s vision and swirled in a gathering mist as she fought to stay conscious. When she felt his stubby fingers hook in her chemise, ripping the material to expose her breasts, she rallied. With a furious shriek that rivaled that of a mountain lioness defending her cubs, she lunged at him, unaware of the crowd of onlookers they had attracted. Her teeth connected with the lobe of his ear and she bit down hard. He howled in agony and hit at her, trying to shake her loose, but she clung like a dog to a chunk of raw meat. She felt the flesh give way under the pressure of her teeth until her jaws met. Her attacker pulled loose, leaving his earlobe still between her clamped teeth, and leveled a blow to her head that nearly cracked her jaw.

  Several things happened at once. The ugly savage’s weight was lifted from her, and Tanya recognized her original captor. He had a hold on the fat Indian’s shoulder, whom he lifted and propelled away from her. Her mouth full of blood and part of the Indian’s ear, Tanya rolled over and retched violently for the second time that evening. Pulling herself to elbows and knees, she willed herself not to faint as she concentrated on the events going on nearby. Her tall, bronze captor had subdued her attacker and was issuing what sounded like terse commands. From the angry tone of his voice and various gestures at her, she gathered he was making it clear to all that she was his alone, at least for the time being. She hoped this was what he was saying, though what the difference was between being ravished by one savage or another, she couldn’t have said.

  Her captor yanked her up and propelled her to a spot he had picked out. Throwing some blankets at her, he directed her to spread them out on the ground. Afterward, he lay down, motioning for her to do the same. She did so warily.

  He lay on his back, his arms folded beneath his head, eyes closed. After a few minutes of listening to her fuss and squirm trying to adjust her torn chemise and rid her mouth of its acid taste, he sighed and sat up. Handing her the water flask to rinse her mouth, he pulled a strip of leather from one of his braids. This he handed to her to lace her bodice back together. Taking another thong, he tied it about her right wrist and tethered it to his left one. Once again he lay down to sleep, leaving her to do as she wished, as far as her leash allowed.

  She sat for a while studying her situation, reviewing the events of the day. However, she was exhausted, and it wasn’t long before she eased herself down on her blanket, as far from his body as she could reach, and went to sleep.

  * * *

  The sky wasn’t even light when she was shaken awake. She lifted sleep-heavy eyelids to find her head nestled on a bronze shoulder and her face just inches away from that of her captor. Her arm was thrown across his chest and her leg rested intimately between his. During the night she must have gravitated toward the heat his body had offered.

  Tanya was mortified. Talk about embracing your enemy …literally! He gave her a level, measuring look, awaiting her reaction, which was not long in coming.

  First she turned a delightful shade of bright pink and immediately tried to push herself away from him. With his arm clasped about her shoulder and her leg caught between his, he held her easily, watching her struggle for a few seconds. Then she quieted, and he could see her thinking the problem over in her mind, her straight pearly teeth worrying her lower lip. He nearly laughed aloud as she very gingerly tried to untangle her limbs from his, her small white hand grazing his thigh as she tried to get him to move his leg without actually touching him. His chest shook with repressed laughter as she finally gave up.

  Resting her forehead on his shoulder, she sighed in defeat. “Will you please let me up, you big bronze brute?”

  He hid a smile and lifted her chin in his palm, tilting her face to his. With a look that said he knew he had her at his mercy and could do with her whatever he wished, he released her. He severed the thong that bound her to him and led her into the trees for her morning nature call, politely turning his back. Then he threw her some more dried meal and meat for breakfast and indicated she was to retrieve the blankets and follow him.

  When his big black horse had been tended to, he gave Tanya her ration of water and they mounted. The rest of the band followed suit.

  A quick look around at the other women made Tanya realize how fortunate she had been thus far. Suellen, Melissa and Nancy all looked half dead. Surprisingly, Rosemary was starting to rally. Having survived the previous night, she was coming out of her stupor and seemed more aware of what was going on around her.

  An hour into their ride, the sun was up, and Tanya was trying to get her bearings. Now that darkness did not cover the landscape, she saw that they were indeed in the foothills. The sun was behind them; the mountains ahead. On the top of a rise, Tanya twisted about, trying to memorize landmarks and mark the direction of their travel in relationship to the probable location of the wagon train. A smart slap on her thigh brought her attention to her captor’s face. He glared at her in disapproval, fully aware of what she was thinking. A sharp, negative shake of his head told her to forget all ideas of escape.

  Chapter 2

  THEY REACHED the Indian encampment just before dusk. In the fading light, Tanya saw what looked like a city of tents spread out in the secluded mountain valley.

  At the edge of the encampment, Tanya’s captor halted his party of braves. Looping a length of leather about Tanya’s neck to fashion a collar and leash, he pushed her from his horse to fall to the ground at his mount’s hooves. With a tug at his end, he urged her to her feet.

  Fear and anger warred in her golden eyes, making them blaze. He felt them shooting darts into his straight bronze back as he turned from her and rode proudly through the maze of tipis,his leonine captive in tow.

  Never would Tanya forget the humiliation of that trip through the avenue of tipisto the center of the village. Forced to trot to keep up with the pace of his horse, it was difficult to maintain her dignity. As they wound their way past the skin-covered conical structures, a crowd gathered about them to welcome the returning braves and torment their victims.

  Tanya stiffened when the first red-brown hands reached out to touch her pale skin. Vaguely she heard Nancy, behind her whimper, and Melissa cry out in alarm. More hands reached out, pulling at her arms, pinching, tugging at her
tangled hair. Jostled and pushed about, Tanya struggled to keep her balance. Hands struck out at her; feet deliberately thrust into her path, threatened to trip her. A sea of taunting faces loomed closer.

  An inner strength she never knew she had stiffened her spine and held the tears at bay. Staring straight before her, Tanya refused to look to either side. Compressing her lips tightly together, she called upon her fierce pride to school her features into rigid planes, refusing to show her growing fear and panic. Stoically she bore the taunts and blows, ignoring the pain, willing herself not to cry out.

  Once she lost her footing and fell headlong in the dirt. The leather thong cut into her neck, cutting off her air, choking her. Amidst the throng of bronze limbs thrust at her, she fought her way to her feet, stumbling after her captor’s horse. Scraped, scratched, and bleeding, she clawed at the noose until she could once more draw a ragged breath. Hatred and pride rescued her flagging composure.

  In a clearing at the center of the camp, they stopped. The captives were herded together to one side as the returning braves dismounted and were greeted by their fellow warriors. Out of the largest and most ornate of the decorated tipisemerged a tall, gray-haired Indian. His proud stance proclaimed him a man of importance in his tribe. He spoke to Tanya’s captor, his deep commanding voice carrying to where Tanya waited with her fellow captives. A silence fell over the crowd when he spoke. Tanya’s captor responded, and together with several other men, they went into the ornate tipi.

  This seemed to signal a return to camp activity.

  Standing with her friends, Tanya watched as two Indian women lit the huge fire in the center of the clearing. As the flames drove away the encroaching darkness, so did it drive away all hope of escape. Glancing about her, Tanya winced at the number of tents surrounding them. Should they somehow manage to slip unnoticed to the edge of the camp, they would have to cross an open expanse of field separating them from the forest’s edge. For the moment the Indians seemed content to ignore them, but Tanya sensed their every move was being monitored.