“Come on,” he said, digging his heels into the mare’s flanks. “I don’t have time for any of your nonsense.”
The mare shook her head and took a step backward.
And then he saw it, a patch of churned-up earth. Dismounting, he held tight to the reins with one hand while he drew his Colt with the other.
Smoke snorted and tossed her head as he moved slowly forward.
Chance studied the bloodstained ground. It was easy to see what had happened. A mountain lion had brought down Winter Rain’s horse, killed it, and then dragged the carcass into the underbrush. He knew the mountain lion would return to feed on the carcass for several days.
But where was Winter Rain? “Rain.” Her name whispered past his lips, and then unable to suppress the rising note of panic from his voice, he called her name again, louder this time. “Rain!”
He studied the ground once more, closer this time, but there was no sign of footprints. Keeping his gun at hand, he backtracked the horse’s trail, climbing steadily upward, until he came to the place where the lion had launched itself at the horse. And there, barely discernable on the hard ground, he saw where she had landed in the dirt, rolled, and gained her feet. He saw a bit of blood, too. Hers, or the horse’s? There was no way to tell.
“Rain! Dammit, where are you?”
He followed the sign, saw where she had crawled into a dense thicket, then crawled out again and started walking. She couldn’t be that far ahead of him. He holstered his weapon, then swung into the saddle.
“Hang on, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’m coming.”
* * * * *
She wasn’t going to make it. In spite of the dirt she had spread over the wound in her shoulder, blood continued to drip down her arm. Her vision was blurred, her legs were weak, she felt lightheaded and dizzy.
With a low groan, she sank down on the ground and closed her eyes. Help me, Wakan Tanka. I am so afraid.
Sitting there, she lost track of time. Bits and pieces of her childhood flashed through her mind as she drifted between sleep and awareness—the rag doll her father had given her the Christmas she was six, the pretty white lace pinafore her mother had bought for her to wear for her seventh birthday party, the day she had taken Snowflake over a jump for the first time, the way Heidi used to curl up on her pillow at night. But mostly she thought of Wolf Shadow—the sound of his voice whispering in her ear, the touch of his hand in her hair, the shivery way it made her feel when he looked at her. Because of her foolishness, she might never see him again.
She pulled the knife from the sheath at the back of her belt as she heard a rustle in the brush to her left. Had the mountain lion come back? The very thought made her mouth go dry.
With an effort, she gained her feet. Her legs were shaking. Her hand was shaking. Help me, Wakan Tanka.
The rustling grew louder. Whatever was coming was big. She stared toward the noise, resigned to her fate. She was too weak to fight, too tired to run.
Her eyes widened as a big bay horse emerged from the brush. Relief washed through her. The knife fell from her hand. The strength drained from her legs. She whispered his name, and then she fainted.
Chance was off his horse before Smoke came to a stop. “Rain!” Running forward, he gathered her into his arms, his gaze moving over her face, the blood that trickled down her arm, the ragged tears in the left shoulder of her tunic. It took but one glance to know that the mountain lion’s claws had grazed her arm when it attacked her horse.
“Rain?” He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Sweetheart, can you hear me?”
Her eyelids fluttered open. “Wolf Shadow.”
“I’m here.” Putting one arm around her shoulder and the other under her knees, he stood up and carried her to where Smoke waited. Settling Rain on the horse’s back, he uncorked his canteen. “Here, drink this.”
She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. Now, she drank greedily.
“Take it easy, sweetheart.”
Reaching around behind her, he untied her sash and wrapped it around her shoulder to stop the bleeding.
“Hang on to the horn,” he said, placing her hands on the pommel.
When he was certain she was steady, he picked up her knife, and stuck it in his belt. Vaulting up behind her, he slipped one arm around her waist.
“Just relax,” he said. “We’ll be home soon.”
She leaned back, her head nestled beneath his chin. “That’s right, honey,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
How was he ever going to let her go?
* * * * *
Edward and Rosalia were outside when he rode up to Kills-Like-a-Hawk’s lodge.
Rosalia shrieked when she saw the blood that stained her daughter’s tunic. “Teressa! Mi bambina!”
Corn Woman ran toward Chance and Winter Rain, followed by several of the other women.
Edward looked up at Chance, his face pale as he put a comforting arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Is she…?”
“She’ll be fine,” Chance said. “Someone go find my cousin, quick!”
“I will go,” Corn Woman said.
Dropping the reins, Chance stepped from the saddle, then lifted Rain from the back of his horse and carried her into Kills-Like-a-Hawk’s lodge.
Rosalia hurried in after him. She spread one of the bedrolls, stood aside while Chance placed Rain on the blankets.
Kneeling, Rosalia smoothed a lock of hair from her daughter’s brow.
“Teressa?”
Her eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open.
“Let her be,” Chance said. “She’s lost some blood. She needs rest and…” He glanced over his shoulder as Kills-Like-a-Hawk entered the lodge, followed by Edward Bryant. From outside, he could hear the hushed voices of Corn Woman and Leaf and some of the other women.
“We need to get her to a doctor,” Bryant said brusquely.
“Kills-Like-a-Hawk is a doctor.”
Bryant looked skeptical. “A witch doctor?”
“He’s a shaman, one of the best. I suggest you and Mrs. Bryant stand back and let him get to work.”
Edward glared at Chance. “Now, see here…”
“Eduardo, prego, venuto via.” Rising, Rosalia took her husband’s hand and moved to one side of the lodge.
Squatting on his heels, Kills-Like-a-Hawk stirred the coals until he had a small fire burning. Picking up a buckskin bag painted with colorful symbols, he sprinkled the contents into the fire. There was a gentle hiss, followed by a wisp of blue smoke. Reaching into a larger bag, he placed a handful of white sage into the fire. In moments, the scent of sweet sage filled the air.
Kills-Like-a-Hawk passed his hands through the smoke, chanting softly as he drew the smoke over Winter Rain. Moving to her side, he carefully unwrapped the sash from her arm. He ran his fingers lightly over the wound, chanting all the while.
Next, he filled a bowl with water and gently washed the dirt from the wound. She stirred but didn’t awake.
Still chanting softly, Kills-Like-a-Hawk spread a layer of thick yellow salve over the gashes in her arm and shoulder, then covered the area with a piece of soft cloth. When that was done, he passed his hands through the smoke again, drawing it over her.
“What is he doing?” Bryant asked impatiently. “Dammit, this is a waste of time.”
“Back off, Bryant,” Chance said curtly. “He’s saved a hell of a lot more lives than you have.”
Muttering under his breath, Edward took a step backward.
Kills-Like-a-Hawk sat back on his heel. “She is not bad hurt, tahunsa. She has lost some blood. The scratches are deep and will leave scars. But she will heal.”
“Pilamaya, tahunsa.”
“She should rest now,” Kills-Like-a-Hawk said.
With a nod, Chance gained his feet.
“I would like to stay with her,” Rosalia said. “Would you ask Mr. Hawk if it is all right?”
“Of course it is,” Chance said.
Kills-Like-
a-Hawk handed Rosalia a waterskin. “She will be thirsty when she wakes.”
“Thank you.”
“How soon will she be able to travel?” Edward asked.
“A few days,” Kills-Like-a-Hawk replied. “If the wounds do not become infected.”
“Infected!” Rosalia exclaimed softly. “Oh, my.”
“Barbaric country,” Edward said. “Heathen medicine. No hospitals. I don’t know how these people have survived.”
Chance took a deep, calming breath. “Mr. Bryant, why don’t you go outside?”
“See here…”
“No, you see here. You’re a guest in this place. Your money and your social position don’t mean a damn thing. My cousin knows what he’s doing. If you can’t respect him, at least keep your opinions to yourself. You got that?”
Bryant’s face flushed a deep red; then, without a word, he stomped out of the lodge.
“I am sorry,” Rosalia said. “My Eduardo does not handle these things well.” She shrugged apologetically. “He does not mean to be unkind. It is just that he worries so.”
Chance nodded. “I think I understand.”
“Grazie, Signore McCloud.” She offered him a faint smile, then moved to her daughter’s side. Murmuring Teressa’s name, Rosalia clasped her daughter’s hand and pressed it to her breast.
Chance watched the two of them for a few minutes and then ducked out of the lodge.
Damn, why had he ever gotten mixed up in this mess? The answer came quickly enough—he’d had fifteen thousand good reasons and once he got shed of the Bryants and their all too tempting daughter, it would be worth it.
Teressa. He needed to get shed of her, too, the sooner the better. She was too big a distraction, too big a temptation, and he didn’t need either one in his life, not now.
* * * * *
Winter Rain moved through a sea of pain and confusion toward his voice. Blinking, she glanced at her surroundings. She quickly recognized Kills-Like-a-Hawk’s lodge though she had no recollection of the journey back to the village. Her mother sat beside her, her head bowed, her eyes closed, her rosary clasped in her hands.
“Wolf Shadow?”
“Teressa!” Rosalia’s eyes flew open.
“Mama.”
“Eduardo! She is awake.”
A moment later, Edward Bryant burst into the lodge, a huge grin spreading over his face when he saw that she had regained consciousness.
“Tessa!” He knelt beside her. “How are you feeling, baby?”
“Better.” Her head hurt, her arm hurt, but she was glad to be alive. “Where is Wolf Shadow?”
Edward snorted softly. “He’s gone hunting.”
“Oh.” She tried to keep the disappointment from her voice but knew by the expression on her mother’s face that she had failed.
“We were worried about you.” Rosalia brushed a wisp of hair from Teressa’s brow, then placed her hand on her forehead, taking her temperature in the way of mothers the world over. She looked up at her husband. “Her fever has gone done,” she said, obviously surprised. “Perhaps Mr. Hawk is a better doctor than we thought.”
“Kills-Like-a-Hawk is not a doctor,” Winter Rain said, struggling to sit up. “He’s a shaman…a medicine man.”
“Yes,” Edward said dryly, “we know. Even though I didn’t approve of his methods, I have no argument with the results.” He grinned at her. “We’ll be homeward bound in no time at all.”
“Yes,” Winter Rain murmured. “Home.”
* * * * *
Chance stalked the deer on foot. He held Kills-Like-a-Hawk’s bow in one hand, carried his cousin’s quiver slung over his shoulder. It felt good to be alone in the Hills, surrounded by towering pines and bird calls.
He tread softly, careful of where he placed his feet. He could see the buck just ahead, moving slowly in the cover of the forest, pausing now and then to nibble at the tender shoots of the trees.
Chance moved forward. His grandfather, Buffalo Shield, had taught him how to hunt with the bow. Buffalo Shield had been a wise and patient man. He had taught his grandson how to track, how to find his way across the plains using the sun by day and the moon and stars by night. He had taught him how to find water. Buffalo Shield had been killed in a battle with the Crow while Chance was hunting the men who had killed his mother. Even though he knew it was illogical, he had always blamed his mother’s killers for his grandfather’s death, as well. If he had been with the People at the time, he would have been in the battle. Perhaps, if he had been there, his grandfather would not have been killed.
Caught up in the past, he neglected to watch where he stepped; a twig snapped beneath his foot. That quickly, the buck was gone.
Chance blew out a breath of annoyance as he watched the buck disappear from sight. He would have to concentrate on the hunt if he didn’t want to go back to camp empty-handed. As it was, he’d probably have to settle for something other than a deer. But it didn’t really matter. He had taken to the Hills to keep his mind off Winter Rain, and that wasn’t working either.
With luck, she would be ready to travel in a day or two.
* * * * *
It was late when he returned to the village. He had given up the hunt late in the afternoon and spent the rest of the day hiking in the Hills. It was dusk when he returned to where he had left Smoke. He looked after the mare, then built a small fire and cooked the rabbit he had killed earlier in the day. Hunkered down on his heels, he had kept his mind carefully blank while he ate his solitary meal.
And now he stood outside his cousin’s lodge wondering how Rain had spent her day. Was she feeling better? He knew she was in good hands, what with Kills-Like-a-Hawk and her parents there, but he had a sudden, overpowering urge to see her for himself, to make sure she was all right.
Dropping Smoke’s reins, Chance drew back the lodge flap and stepped inside. Light from the dying fire cast faint shadows on the lodge skins. He spared hardly a glance for Edward and Rosalia, who were sleeping soundly on the left side of the lodge. On silent feet, he moved around the fire pit to the other side of the lodge.
“Where were you all day?” Winter Rain asked in a soft whisper.
“What are you doing still awake?”
“I could not sleep.”
He hunkered down on his ankles beside her. “How are you feeling?”
“Why did you leave?”
He shrugged. “I went hunting.”
“Why are you avoiding me? Have I done something to displease you?”
“Of course not.”
“I thought…you and I…” She took his hand in hers and placed it over her heart. “I thought you felt something for me, in here.”
“I did. I do, but…”
“My heart beats fast whenever you are near. I thought it was the same for you.”
“Rain…Teressa, once you get back home, you’ll be so busy getting reacquainted with your parents and meeting new friends, you’ll forget all about me.”
“No! I will never forget you,” she said, and he heard a catch in her voice that might have been a sob. “Will you forget me?”
“You know I won’t.”
She lifted her free hand and traced his lips with her fingertips. “Will you not kiss me again?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You do not want to?”
He glanced over his shoulder to where her parents slept. “This isn’t the time,” he said dryly. “Or the place.” Gently, he disentangled his hand from hers and drew the blanket up to her chin. “Get some sleep now.”
With a nod, she watched him rise and pad quietly out of the lodge.
Before her parents took her home, she would find a time, and a place.
Chapter Twenty-One
The next few days were strained. Winter Rain stayed in bed most of the time, recovering from her wounds and trying to think of some way to catch Wolf Shadow alone. Her mother and father hovered over her as if they feared she would vanish again
. They tried not to let her know how worried they were, but she could see it in their eyes. Occasionally, at night, when they thought she was asleep, she overheard them whispering together. They talked about returning to San Francisco, about redecorating her room, about hiring a private tutor, about a coming-out party. Most frightening of all, she heard them discussing possible beaux. She wasn’t even home yet, she thought, and they were already planning to marry her off!
She saw very little of Wolf Shadow. He stopped by to check on her each day, his manner cool and aloof. He spoke politely to her mother, avoided her father if possible, and never stayed more than a few minutes.
Her eyes devoured him whenever he was in the lodge. She couldn’t stop thinking of him, dreaming of him. The accidental brush of his hand against hers sent waves of heat flooding through her. The sound of his voice awoke a thousand butterflies in her stomach. She often asked him foolish questions just to hear the sound of his voice, just to keep him with her a few minutes longer.
Today was no different. “Will we take the filly with us when we leave?” she asked as he moved toward the door.
Wolf Shadow shook his head. “She’ll be happier here,” he answered, and stepped out of the lodge.
Winter Rain stared after him. “So will I,” she murmured, but there was no one to hear her.
Corn Woman, Yellow Fawn and Leaf came to visit her each day, as did several of the other women, both old and young. Kills-Like-a-Hawk also came by. On the third day, he pronounced her well enough to get up.
Her mother was at her side when she left the lodge. It felt good to be outside. She went for a short walk, then mentioned she would like to bathe. Her mother wouldn’t hear of her bathing in the river, so they returned to the lodge and Rosalia filled a paunch with water. When it was hot, Winter Rain washed with warm water for the first time in ten years. There was no tub, of course, but her mother kept the hot water coming. They even managed to wash Winter Rain’s hair.
Later, when her father came in, he announced they were leaving for home the following morning.
With that in mind, Winter Rain went from lodge to lodge to bid her friends goodbye. She managed to keep a brave face until she went to visit Corn Woman, and then she dissolved into tears.
Wolf Shadow Page 17
