"Naked they may be in midsummer, but heathens, certainly not. Many of them have been Christianized. They seemed to have managed to accept the white man's God while still retaining their own ancient culture."
"So why did they adopt you? Why do they call you one of their own, these Shawnee?"
He reached out to scratch the mule behind the ears. "No reason in particular."
"No reason, hell." Jon tossed the stick he'd been carrying. It made a terrible racket as it whirled end over end through the treetops. "He saved the lives of an entire village a couple of winters ago."
"Did you?" Alexandra found herself staring up at Hunter's handsome broad face again.
"I didn't save their lives, I just helped them out a little."
"The whole bunch had come down with the smallpox and no one was well enough to fetch food and water. They were dying. Hunter nursed them back to health. He fetched water for them to drink, bathed them, hunted for them and fed them until they were well enough to care for themselves."
She saw Hunter's cheeks grow pink. She couldn't resist a smile. A modest man! She had thought the two words contradictory in meaning! "It was a noble thing to do."
"No it wasn't." He looked at her, his eyes seeming to gaze deep into the soul of her thoughts. "It was the right thing to do. You'd have done the same, put in the situation. As would Jon. As would any decent human being."
"The hell I would have. I've never had the pox." Jon rapped a tree with his knuckles. "Knock on wood. I'd have swept my tail out of there."
Hunter pointed to his companion. "Jon likes to think of himself as a bit of a rogue, maybe even a little crazy. He doesn't want anyone to know he's a good man at heart."
Alexandra nodded, a smile playing on her lips. She was enjoying this easy banter. No one had ever spoken with her like this before. No one had ever made her feel so comfortable. The relationship Jon and Hunter had was obviously good, and she was jealous. They loved each other as she always imagined friends should love. Why hadn't she ever had a friend to love? Was it her sharp tongue, as her parents observed, or was it because she wasn't the kind of person anyone could truly care for?
"There's a small spring up ahead." Hunter shifted the weight of his bow and musket, both of which he carried on his back within easy reach. "We'll stop there for a drink and a few minutes' rest. We're still going to have to move along at a good clip if we're to make it to the village by sunset."
The spring Hunter spoke of was barely more than a bubble of water coming up out of the rocky ground. There was a low streambed stretching out from it, but it obviously had been dry a long time.
Alexandra kneeled and cupped her hands, drinking greedily. The water was so cold that it was sharp on her tongue, but it tasted heavenly. She splashed some on her face and neck as she turned to watch the two men start off into the woods.
"Where are you going?" she asked uneasily.
"Just going to take a quick look around," Jon answered. "Sit down and rest. It's going to be a long day. We'll be right back." His voice was calm and easy, but as he spoke he lifted a spare musket off the pack animal's back and checked to be certain it was loaded.
"Don't leave me long," Alexandra murmured, trying not to sound frightened. "Two Crows could be lurking out there."
"Two Crows is gone, I told you," Hunter said as he disappeared into a hedge thick with greenbriers. "He's taken his fingers and hightailed it home."
Alexandra took another long sip of water and then sat up to wait for the men. She could still hear Jon moving through the brush. Hunter, as usual, made not a sound.
A whippoorwill called out from somewhere high in the tree limbs and Alexandra smiled at the sound of its shrill voice. She had never thought she would admit it, but this wilderness forest was breathtakingly beautiful. At every turn there seemed to be something new to see, to hear, even to taste.
Now that she had accepted the fact that it would take her a little longer to get back to Annapolis, she was actually beginning to enjoy the journey. So what if it was going to take her a few more days to reach home? What was there waiting for her anyway? Only an old man with a bulbous nose and bad breath.
Alexandra heard the snap of a twig and looked up. The sound had come from somewhere down the dry streambed. "Hunter? Jon?" She rose. "Is that you?"
For a moment there was silence, but then she heard movement again. She was certain of it this time.
Alexandra took a few steps back and bumped into the mule. She brushed her hand over the packs on his back, wishing one of the men had left her some sort of weapon to defend herself.
"Hello?" She strained to see what or who was approaching and then gave a sudden strangled cry of fear.
A bear. It was a bear, headed straight for her, not more than a hundred feet away.
"H . . . Hunter. J . . . Jon," she called out.
She stumbled backward and tried to push the mule out of her way. The bear caught sight of her movement.
"No," she whispered. "No, bear. I won't hurt you. I won't—"
The black bear suddenly reared on its hind legs, standing over seven feet tall, and opened its massive jaws in a thundering growl. The mule behind Alexandra brayed in fear, kicked up its heels, and took off, plowing into the thick brush. Alexandra had a mind to follow, but she knew she'd never make it through the thick greenbriers she had backed her way into. Behind her she could still hear the mule braying as it pushed its way through the seemingly impenetrable wall.
Alexandra took the last half step back, her gaze locked on the bear's snapping jaws. It was close enough now for her to smell its strong, musky scent. She could swear she could feel its hot breath on her face.
The enraged animal was now stalking her, staggering back and forth on its hind legs as it came closer and closer.
There was no way for Alexandra to escape. No way to defend herself against the animal she had provoked in no way. It was going to kill her, she knew that. It was going to tear her limbs from her body with its steel jaws and sharpened yellow claws . . .
"Hunter!" Alexandra screamed one last time. "Hunter! Help me!"
Alexandra heard a blood-curdling scream and then suddenly Hunter was behind the bear, waving his arms and babbling like a rabid madman. Hunter had on nothing but his moccasins and one of those revealing loincloths all of the Indians wore. He carried no pistol, no knife, no weapon but a stick that was as big around as his wrist and the length of one sinewy arm.
"M'kwah! Mat ath eeth ee, M'kwah!" he screamed, waving the stick. "M'kwah!" He struck the animal on its rear quarters and it bellowed in almost humanlike protest and whirled around.
Slowly the black bear moved away from Alexandra to face the red-haired man that taunted him.
Alexandra's eyes widened. "Hunter! Take care!"
Jon appeared out of the brush and slipped past the bear and Hunter who were now slowly turning in a circle, determining who was to be prey and who predator.
"Shoot him!" Alexandra cried at Jon. "Shoot the bear before he kills Hunter!"
But Jon kept his musket lowered, putting himself between Alexandra and the bear. "Hush," he whispered. "Don't want to break his concentration." He turned to give her a silly smirk. "The bear's."
"Are you both madmen?" she shouted in fury, striking him in the shoulder. "The damned thing's going to kill him! For the love of God will you shoot?"
But all he did was lift an arm to defend another blow. "Let's see how he does," he told her, seeming to think the entire situation was somehow funny.
"M'kwah!" Hunter taunted, circling the bear. "M'kwah mat ath eeth ee!"
Alexandra tried to advance forward, to somehow help Hunter, but Jon held her back. "What's he saying?" she demanded above the howls of the bear.
"I'm not sure, my Shawnee's rather poor, but I think he's calling him an ugly son of a dog-faced whore." Jon laughed aloud, striking his knee with his hand as he watched.
"I can't believe this is happening," Alexandra muttered, left with no choice but to
watch. "I just can't believe it."
Hunter was now moving in toward the bear in a slow, graceful action that seemed absurdly out of place here in the wilderness. Every muscle beneath his nearly nude sun-bronzed skin rippled with his movements so that it seemed almost like a dance. His thick, sinewy arms, his broad chest, even his muscled legs leading up to his bare buttocks moved together in fluid motions.
"Hunter," she whispered.
Now it seemed the man was stalking the bear . . .
Another step closer and Hunter tossed the stick aside.
Alexandra bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out. The bear was a full head taller than Hunter and was now pressing down on him.
Then Hunter lifted his arms. He drew back his lips to bare his teeth and roared much like the bear.
Alexandra could do nothing but stand back and watch in awe as the black bear roared back.
Then Hunter did it again. He growled like the beast.
The bear took half a step back. Hunter growled again. The bear growled again, but with less conviction this time. Hunter shouted something in the strange tongue he had spoken in before and growled once more.
Then, to Alexandra's utter amazement, the bear dropped down on its four feet.
Hunter growled one last time, his voice frighteningly primal, and the bear turned and ran back in the direction it had come.
Alexandra ran toward Hunter. "Hell's bells!" she cried before she even reached him. "What in God's living name did you think you were doing?"
Chapter Six
Hunter took a deep breath, his mouth widening into a grin as he slapped his bare chest with his palm. "Damnation, I love to win!"
"Are you daft?" Alexandra demanded, circling him. "You could have been killed! No, no, that would have been simple, that would have been easy. You could have been maimed! That bear could have ripped your arms and legs off! You could have lain here in the grass and died bleeding from your belly!" She dropped her hands to her hips, panting. "Why didn't you kill it? Tell me that, will you?" She stared at him, determined to get an answer.
Hunter touched the shiny copper-band earring in his ear, as she noticed he often did when taking his sweet time in answering her. Standing in front of her nearly nude in the heat of the day, his muscular chest heaving from exertion, his hazel eyes bright with adrenalin, she found him strangely attractive. It was crazy. She knew it was crazy. For God's sake, he was crazy! But as she stood an arm's length from him waiting for her answer she wondered what it would be like to be this man's woman, his wife . . . his lover.
"Well," she demanded, alarmed by her thoughts. "What have you to say for yourself?"
Hunter threw back his head and laughed, his rich voice echoing in the sumac treetops above. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were concerned for my welfare, you mouthy wench!"
"Concerned for your welfare, the blast! I didn't want to have to help Jon dig your thumping grave!" she shouted, infuriated again.
Jon came up behind her and tossed Hunter a water skin. "You're getting better," Jon told his companion, a lazy smile on his face. "Only took you, two, two and a half minutes this time."
Alexandra's eyes widened. She looked from Jon, to Hunter who was pouring water into his mouth, letting a little dribble down his bare chest, and back at Jon again. "You mean he does this all the time?"
Jon shrugged. "Not all the time. I mean he doesn't seek them out . . ." He looked at Hunter, his forehead crinkling. "You're not out looking for these damnable bears are you, Hunter?"
He grinned, wiping the water across his chest with a sweeping hand. "Of course not," he joked. "Bears are dangerous. Ferocious. They can rip a man limb from limb!"
Alexandra spun around. He was making fun of her. She knew he was. "Crazy," she muttered beneath her breath, stretching her legs into long strides. "The both of you are crazier than May butter. Crazier than a pair of bedlamites, crazier than, God, I don't know!"
"Where are you going?" Hunter called after her, his laughter mixing with Jon's.
"To find the mule," she shouted back over her shoulder. "Because the sooner we can get to that village, the sooner I can get away from you two lunatics!"
Alexandra could still hear their laughter as she disappeared into the brush, following the mule's trail.
For the remainder of the day, Alexandra walked in a silence that echoed in her own ears. Several times Jon tried to make conversation, but she told him to leave her alone. She was tired and she was confused.
Hunter was crazy. That was obvious; after all, only a crazy man would fight off a charging bear by growling at it. But the thought that she found this growling man attractive was what was really bothering her.
Alexandra brushed back a lock of tangled hair, forcing herself to keep walking. She had reached a point beyond exhaustion. When she took into consideration the time she had spent wandering through the wilderness with Two Crows, she figured she'd been walking around in circles in the middle of nowhere for nearly a month,
How could her life have taken such a turn so quickly? Six months ago she had been in her father's house, bored, but comfortable. She still had parties to attend—no one dared not invite the Earl of Monthrop's daughter, whether they liked her or not. She had chambermaids to draw her bath, manservants to make her tea, ladies' maids to dress her. Her only concern in life had been her lack of a suitable prospect in marriage. Now suddenly she was thousands of miles from home, fighting for survival.
What would the men who had turned down her father's handsome dowries think of her now? She almost smiled at the thought. They'd probably have been more adamant in their refusals. After all, wouldn't any decent young Englishwoman have lain down and died that morning on the boat on the river? No decent woman would have fought the way Alexandra did. No decent woman would have come with men like Hunter and Jon.
Suddenly Alexandra realized that the two ahead of her had stopped in their tracks. They were listening, though for what, she didn't know.
She stopped too. All she could hear was the sway of the trees, the rustle of the leaves, and a squirrel scurrying across a branch over her head. All she could hear were the sounds of the forest around her, and her own breathing.
"What is it?" she called in a loud whisper.
Jon brought his finger to his lips and then reached for a musket protruding from one of the leather packs on the mule. A shiver crept up Alexandra's spine. Jon didn't usually carry a weapon. It seemed that was Hunter's role. So why did Jon suddenly see the necessity?
She glanced around. She saw nothing unusual. They were traveling on a game path, as they had since the morning they left Two Crows at the trading post. The usual blend of deciduous and evergreen trees stretched high above their heads, bending to block out part of the sun's light as well as its warmth. She saw the usual assortment of rabbits, squirrels and birds that she had grown used to in the last weeks, animals she actually took pleasure in seeing as of late.
But something had set the forest out of balance. Something was different. She could almost feel it.
Alexandra walked up to Jon. "What is it?" she whispered.
"Hunter thinks—"
Jon's words were silenced by a spine-tingling screech. Suddenly, an Indian appeared out of the treetops above. He descended through the air and landed on Hunter's back. Hunter hollered, startled as he swung around, the wild Indian latched onto his back.
Alexandra almost screamed, but she clamped her hand over her mouth, afraid the sound of her voice would distract Hunter.
Jon grabbed Alexandra's arm and pulled her back out of the way of the tussling men, but made no attempt to aide his friend.
"Aren't you going to do something?" she cried, watching as the Indian wrestled the musket out of Hunter's arms and threw it to the ground. "Help him, for God's sake! It's not a bear! He can't growl at him! He's going to kill him!"
With the half-naked Indian still on his back, Hunter whirled around and around, trying to use his momentum to dislodge the heathen
. The redskin was babbling in his own tongue and whooping loud enough to wake the dead.
Hunter shouted and grunted, his own voice matching his opponent's.
Alexandra shoved Jon forward. "Help him! Get the beast off his back!"
Jon lowered his musket, butt down, and leaned on it. "Best just to let Hunter handle himself. Bears and wild Shawnee. He gets aggravated when I intrude. Besides"—he shrugged—"there's just one of them. I join in and it would be an unfair fight."
Alexandra looked at Hunter, fighting for his life and then back at Jon. What was wrong with him that he wouldn't help his friend in such grave danger?
Without thinking Alexandra lunged forward.
"Alexandra!" Jon called, "Stop!"
But she was too fast for him. She darted across the game path and grabbed the musket Hunter had lost in the scuffle. She contemplated shooting the redskin off his back, but only for an instant. If she missed, she'd kill Hunter.
Instead, she swung the heavy musket around and brought the carved wooden stock down on the Indian's black-haired head. He fell like a stone.
"Jesus!" Hunter swung around to see Alexandra place one foot square on his attacker's chest and raise the musket butt to strike him again. "I don't know if you understand English, but I don't care," she threatened. The Indian stared up at her with round, dark eyes, slightly dazed by her blow. "But, you move, and I'll brain you, I swear to God I will."
Hunter burst into laughter. Then Jon. Then the black-eyed Indian.
Alexandra pulled her foot off the laughing Indian's chest and took a step back, the musket still raised over her shoulder.
She'd missed something. Why were the men laughing? Why was the redskin laughing? Was everyone in these godforsaken colonies as mad as May butter? Was she the only person in the wilderness that still had any sense?
Hunter came up behind her and gently took the musket from her hands. His voice was oddly soft in her ear. "It's all right, Alexandra. I think I can take over from here." He was obviously amused, but his tone was not unkind.
His Wild Heart Page 6
