Winter Rain smiled as the filly sidled up beside Wolf Shadow’s mare and began chewing on her tail. Smoke’s ears went back and she stamped her back foot, warning the filly away.
Winter Rain laughed softly as the filly reared up and spun around. She ran away, then trotted back to Smoke’s side and began to graze.
“Horses need the company of other horses,” Chance remarked. “She’ll be as tame as a puppy pretty soon.”
Winter Rain nodded. She was certain Wolf Shadow could tame any female, human or otherwise.
At dusk, Winter Rain lit the fire and they ate another meal of jerky and pemmican.
“I’m getting almighty tired of jerky,” Chance said. ”Tomorrow I’ll see if I can get us some fresh meat.”
“That would be good,” Winter Rain agreed. She glanced over her shoulder, back the way they had come. “Do you think the Crow will follow us?”
“I sure as hell hope not,” he muttered.
“What did you say?”
“Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure the rain washed out our tracks.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, and he heard the relief in her voice.
Chance sat across the fire from her, aware of the attraction that hummed between them whenever she was near. He had known a lot of women in his time, some casually, a few intimately, but he’d never felt anything like this with any of them. He was aware of her every move, her every breath, the way her eyes sparkled as she watched the filly kick up her heels.
Leaning forward, he added a few pieces of wood to the fire. A faint breeze sent a flurry of embers shooting upward through the air like fireflies.
He watched Winter Rain’s gaze follow the sparks upward and then her gaze met his. Heat flared between them, hotter than the fire’s flames.
Chance cleared his throat. “We’d better turn in,” he said, his voice gruff. “I want to get an early start in the morning.”
Winter Rain nodded, but she didn’t move. And neither did he.
“We’ll be home sometime tomorrow.”
She nodded again, her eyes slowly widening as he gained his feet and circled the fire toward her.
With every step, he told himself to turn around and go back but to no avail. She was too tempting and too damn close to ignore.
She stared up at him like a doe trapped by a cougar. He could see the pulse throbbing wildly in her throat. Her lips parted and the tip of her tongue moistened her lower lip. Just that simple act, nothing more, and he was hard and aching.
He felt as though he were drowning in the deep blue depths of her eyes as he leaned toward her, his hands closing around her waist. Lifting her to her feet, he drew her up against him and held her tight.
“Rain…”
She looked up at him, speechless. Nervous, but not afraid.
He muttered an oath, then slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her. One of them was trembling, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t her.
She surrendered to his touch with a sigh that aroused him still more. Her lips were warm and soft and sweetly yielding, parting willingly to allow him to explore the depths within.
It was a kiss that seemed to last forever and yet ended too soon.
His breathing was ragged when they drew apart. For a moment, they stared at each other, and then he kissed her again, longer, deeper.
“Rain.” He didn’t seem to be able to say anything but her name. And then he was kissing her again.
Hardly aware of what he was doing, he drew her down on the ground until they were laying side by side, his hands molding her body to his while he scattered kisses on her cheeks, her lips, the tip of her nose. She moaned softly, a purely feminine sound that fanned the embers of his desire still more.
His hands slid up and down her back, cupped her buttocks to draw her more fully against his arousal. She clung to him, her hands as restless as his, if not as bold.
He closed his eyes, the better to lose himself in the taste and the touch of her, only to open them again when she burst out laughing.
He was about to ask her what was so funny and then he saw the filly nibbling at a lock of Winter Rain’s hair.
“Go on,” Chance said, making a shooing motion with one hand. “Get out of here.”
The filly backed off, only to sidle up to Winter Rain and begin nibbling on her hair again.
Winter Rain’s laughed filled the air again as the filly’s tongue tickled her neck.
Muttering an oath, Chance gained his feet, but he couldn’t help laughing at the sight of Winter Rain trying to keep her hair out of the filly’s mouth.
Rain sat up. “Why is she doing that?”
“It’s just something young horses do. You see a lot of dams with their tails chewed off. Some ranchers tie up their mares’ tails until the foals are taken from their mothers.”
Moving over to the fire, he added a few pieces of wood, then walked away from the camp. He didn’t know about Winter Rain, but he needed a few minutes alone.
Dragging his hand across his jaw, he decided it was just as well that things had come to a halt when they had. Bedding Winter Rain would have been a big mistake, one he could ill afford, financially or emotionally. He needed that ten grand, not a shotgun wedding. But as he left the light of the fire behind, he was surprised to find that Edward Bryant’s ten thousand dollars didn’t seem as important as it once had.
Winter Rain watched Wolf Shadow leave the fire. Was he angry with her? As much as she had wanted his kisses, yearned for his touch, she couldn’t help feeling the filly’s intrusion had come at just the right time. She had been taught that chastity was a virtue and that she should stay a maiden until she married. She had never had trouble remembering that until she met Wolf Shadow. He had not spoken of loving her, only of wanting her.
Rising, she spread her bedroll beside the fire and slipped under the blankets, wondering if he would crawl in beside her to share the warmth.
She was still on edge, wondering about it, when she fell asleep.
Chapter Twelve
The next day, the tension between them was palpable. Shivers of awareness rippled through Winter Rain whenever Wolf Shadow passed close by. They ate the morning meal in silence. She rolled her blankets into a tight cylinder while he readied the horses. A short time later, they were riding.
Winter Rain smiled at the antics of the filly. She ran ahead a short distance, then trotted back to nuzzle the other horses. She did this several times, pausing now and then to sniff at a bush or a rock. Sometimes she dashed ahead, rearing and bucking exuberantly.
Winter Rain slid a glance at Wolf Shadow to see if he was enjoying the filly’s antics, but he seemed lost in thought.
“We should be there late this afternoon,” Wolf Shadow remarked a short time later.
Winter Rain nodded, the thought of returning to their village filling her with anticipation and dread. What would they find there? Had anyone else survived the Crow attack?
Gradually, the surrounding countryside grew familiar. They crossed a shallow stream and climbed up the opposite bank. The village lay ahead, just over the next small rise.
Unable to wait any longer, Winter Rain urged her horse into a lope and up the hill. She reined her horse to a halt at the top and stared down at the valley below. The village was gone and in its place stood the remains of scorched lodges. The grass had been blackened by fire. There was no sign of life.
Heavy-hearted, she urged her horse down the hill, afraid of what she might find.
Chance followed Winter Rain, his gaze sweeping the ruins of the village. The signs of battle were everywhere, from the churned-up ground to the charred remains of the lodges. Bits of cloth, broken toys, ruined weapons, and scorched blankets littered the ground.
Dismounting, he ground-reined Smoke, then walked through the deserted camp. There were no bodies in evidence nor any sign that predators had dragged any away, making him believe that at least a few of the Lakota had survived the fight and come back to bury the dead.
He walked tow
ard Winter Rain, who was standing in front of the burned-out remains of her mother’s lodge. She looked up as he approached, her eyes filled with tears.
“They are dead, aren’t they?” she asked, her voice thick with grief.
“I don’t know.” Taking the reins from her hand, he tied her horse to a clump of brush. That done, he began to walk around the outer circle of the camp but the ground was too badly chewed up for him to pick out any tracks save those of the Crow war party heading home.
Brow furrowed in thought, he made his way back to Winter Rain, who was standing where he had left her, looking as if her whole world had fallen apart. Which, he supposed, it had. Still, she was luckier than most. If it turned out that Mountain Sage and Eagle Lance were dead, she still had people who loved her and were waiting to take her in.
He clenched his hands at his sides to keep from taking her in his arms. “If my cousin is still alive, he’ll take the people south to our winter camp. We’ll go there.”
Winter Rain nodded.
“No sense giving up hope until we know for sure.”
She looked up at him, mute. If he had the sense God gave a goat, he’d take her to the Bryants now. But he couldn’t go, not until he knew what had happened to Kills-Like-a-Hawk and his family.
“Rain, it’ll be all right.”
She took a step toward him and all his good intentions evaporated. She needed comforting and there was no one else to offer it. He held out his arms and she stepped into them. Her tears were warm where they fell on his chest.
He held her for several moments, forcing himself to remember she had come to him for solace and nothing more. But he couldn’t keep his body from reacting to her nearness and he turned sideways to keep her from noticing how her proximity affected him.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart. You still have people who love you.”
She jerked her head up, her gaze boring into his. “How can you speak to me of them when my parents may be dead?”
“Dammit, Rain, the Bryants are your parents.”
“No!” She wrenched herself out of his arms. Head tilted to one side, she regarded him for a long moment. “What difference does it make to you whether I go back to them or not?”
Chance cleared his throat, somehow reluctant to tell her the truth. “I met your father. I told him I would try to find you. You’re their only child. They miss you. They’re worried about you.”
“Go back to them. Tell them I am well. Tell them I am happy here.”
“We need to go,” he said, abruptly changing the subject. He made a gesture that encompassed the village. “See if you can find anything we can use. I’m going hunting.”
She glanced at the ruined lodges. He could tell she wasn’t keen on the idea, but she didn’t argue. Squaring her shoulders, she began to rummage through what was left of the lodge nearest them.
Taking up the reins of his horse, Chance swung into the saddle and rode toward the river. With any luck, he might be able to find a deer, or at least a rabbit.
It seemed unusually quiet as he approached the river. He glanced at the place where he had killed the first Crow warrior. There was no body, of course. The Crow would have carried their dead home.
With a shake of his head, Chance urged his horse upriver. He hadn’t gone far when he spied a buck turning away from the water’s edge. Lifting his rifle, Chance lined up his shot, curled his finger around the trigger. Steadying Smoke with his knees, he took a deep breath, let out half of it, and squeezed the trigger. The buck sprang forward, then dropped to the ground.
Dismounting, Chance gutted the deer then draped the carcass over Smoke’s withers. Swinging into the saddle, he rode back to where he had left Winter Rain.
He found her a good distance from the carnage, sorting through a small pile of goods she had retrieved. There wasn’t much. Among other things, she’d found a waterskin, a trade blanket singed along one edge, a small cooking pot, a skinning knife, as well as a bowl and a spoon made of buffalo horn.
She looked up at his approach. “They left very little,” she remarked, gesturing at what she had found.
Chance shrugged. “It’s more than we had.”
Dismounting, he lifted the buck from the back of his horse and dropped it on the ground. “At least we’ll have fresh meat for dinner.”
He led the horses to a patch of grass. After stripping the rigging from Smoke, he hobbled his horse and Winter Rain’s so they could graze. The filly nuzzled his arm and he spent a few minutes scratching her ears before going back to kneel beside Winter Rain. Butchering and skinning were women’s work, but that didn’t seem to matter just now.
They worked side by side, skinning the deer, cutting the meat into quarters and then into strips for drying. Winter Rain built a fire and spitted a couple of thick steaks.
Chance’s mouth watered as the scent of roasting venison filled the air. When they finished skinning the deer, he found some sturdy branches and put together a drying rack. As tired as he was of jerked meat, there was no way to keep the rest of the venison fresh while they traveled.
They took a break to eat when the steaks were done. Chance stared into the distance. Unless he missed his guess, Kills-Like-a-Hawk would head for the Black Hills to hole up while the people nursed their wounds. There was food and shelter in the Hills. Game was plentiful. The people could hunt enough food to see them through the coming winter.
Chance shook his head. Damn, this couldn’t have happened at a worse time. He needed to haul Winter Rain back to the Bryants, collect the rest of his reward, and hightail it to the bank. That was what he should do, he thought glumly, but he couldn’t just ride off without knowing Kills-Like-a-Hawk’s fate. Couldn’t carry Winter Rain kicking and screaming all the way back to her parents. He didn’t stop to wonder why. He had taken other women back home against their will.
He grunted softly. He had yet to find a kidnapped white woman who wanted to go back to the white world after living with the Indians. He didn’t know if it was because they were ashamed, or because they genuinely liked living with the Indians, but after a year or two of captivity, none of them were happy to be rescued. He had wondered, from time to time, how long it took them to readjust to civilization. He had rescued one woman who had been abducted from her home in New Mexico. She had borne a son to an Apache warrior. The boy was three when Chance found her. She had put up a hell of a fight when he took her back to her husband. She had made her way back to her Apache warrior three times before her husband stopped trying to get her back.
He couldn’t fault the women for wanting to stay with the Indians. In spite of the hard work and grueling winters, it was a good way to live. Sometimes he wondered why he fought so hard to hang on to the ranch. It would be easier to let the bank have it and take up tipi living again. But some stubborn streak refused to let him just give up. The ranch had belonged to his old man. Making a go of the place had been the old man’s dream and by damn, he intended to hang on to it.
He looked up to find Winter Rain watching him. “Think you could make me a shirt out of that hide?” he asked.
She nodded. “If you wish.”
“Thanks.”
They spent the next couple of days waiting for the meat to dry. Chance killed a couple of rabbits. Winter Rain gathered some wild vegetables and they had rabbit stew for dinner, along with some wild berries he had found. Winter Rain began the process of tanning the hide.
They spoke little. Chance had the feeling she was waiting for him to throw her on her horse and take her back to the Bryants. He had to admit the thought crossed his mind at least once a day. But his mind was more often occupied with thoughts of Rain herself. Every time he looked at her, he was reminded of the way she felt in his arms, the sweet taste of her lips, the way her body felt against his.
He dreamed of her at night, erotic dreams that had him waking in the dark, hard and aching.
Tonight was no different. Roused from sleep, he glanced over at the woman who occupied so much o
f his thoughts whether he was awake or asleep. She was sleeping soundly, her lips slightly parted, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. She looked young and vulnerable and so damned desirable it was all he could do to keep from crawling under the blanket beside her and taking her in his arms.
The worst of it was, he didn’t think she would put up much of a fight.
Muttering an oath, he rose and followed the moonlit trail down to the river. Dropping down on his belly, he buried his face in the cold water, then took a long drink. It cooled his thirst but did little to cool his ardor.
Tomorrow, he thought. They would leave for the Black Hills tomorrow morning. The sooner they found out if Mountain Sage and Eagle Lance were alive, the sooner he could return Winter Rain to the Bryants and get on with his own life.
Sitting there, staring at the moonlight shimmering on the face of the water, he wondered why the thought of getting back home seemed to have lost its appeal.
Chapter Thirteen
Winter Rain felt a tremor of excitement when she saw the Paha Sapa rising in the distance. They had ridden hard for the last three days. In the evenings, she had worked on the shirt for Wolf Shadow. She had finished it last night. He wore it now. It gave her pleasure to know he was wearing something she had made with her own hands.
Winter Rain drank in the sight of the Black Hills. At last, they had almost reached their destination. It was a place she had loved for as long as she could remember. Rising high about the plains, the Black Hills were the heart and soul of the Lakota people. Pines grew so thick on the hillsides that the sacred mountains looked black from a distance. She loved the deep green of the pines, the rust red shale, the varied colors of clay and sandstone cliffs, loved to hear the songs of the pretty mountain bluebirds and the western tanagers.
Mato Paha, Bear Butte, was located here, as was Mateo Teepee, the Devil’s Tower, which rose thousands of feet above the surrounding prairie. It was here that Strong Elk had received his vision. A lump rose in her throat as she thought of him. Had he been killed by the Crow? And what of Dawn Song and Two Beavers and Pony Boy? What of all the other young men and women she had grown up with, worked and laughed with? Were they all dead?
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