But what cause did he really have to turn his ire on the other man? He’d made no public claim on Shiloh. Not once. Ever. If something had happened to her at Broken Antler’s hands, Jesse reluctantly admitted he’d only have himself to blame.
Not that it should’ve come to this, that Shiloh would be a captive and fair game for any brave who cared to claim her. But it should’ve never come to a massacre at the White River Indian Agency either. Or that the Utes were finally provoked to revolt.
But none of those were events he’d had any control over, Jesse thought as he finally cleared the camp and nudged his pony into a lope. Not now and, unfortunately, not all those times in the past when he’d tried to talk sense into Nathan Meeker before finally giving up and distancing himself from the moody, opinionated Indian agent. And there had never been much he could do to help the People find acceptance in what was happening to them—watching their lives slowly but surely constrained and diminished by the laws and lies of the whites.
There was one thing, however, he could control, and that was preventing Shiloh from becoming a squaw to any other Ute but him. To take her as his wife in the Indian way . . .
The thought appealed to Jesse more than he dared admit. There’d be no family of hers to interfere or stop him. No demands to turn from the People who’d always loved and accepted him. And, safe and protected within the Ute encampment and customs, there’d be no one who’d judge or look down upon them.
He knew she cared for him, perhaps even loved him. Shiloh had never been one to hide her emotions well. And he loved her. In truth, had always loved her, though his feelings had changed from those of a boy to those of a man.
The admission on one level frightened him, yet on another filled him with such joy and yearning. Still, he’d be a fool to pass up an opportunity that might never come again. He had Shiloh exactly where he wanted her, and nothing—especially the minor obstacle of Broken Antler—would stand in his way.
From a distance, the smoke curling from the smoke holes of another encampment of tepees finally came into view. Jesse’s heartbeat quickened. It was Jack’s camp.
The task of finding the chief’s dwelling was a simple enough matter. To his relief, Jack was standing nearby speaking with Shiloh, who sat at the campfire mixing what looked like the beginnings of bread. Jesse pulled his pony to a sliding halt and flung himself off it. In three quick strides, he reached Shiloh, who had seen his approach and scrambled to her feet.
It was hard to say who hugged who first but, in the end, it didn’t really matter. Jesse pulled her close and rested his head on hers. For just an instant, he savored her warmth, the soft contours of her body pressed so close to his, her delicate, feminine fragrance.
“Oh, Shiloh,” he breathed into her hair. “Shiloh . . .”
“J-Jesse.” His name, uttered on a shuddering sob, was the sweetest thing he thought he’d ever heard. “Thank the L-Lord you’ve found me!”
“Yes, I have. You’re safe now.” He leaned back from her and searched her face. “Are you all right? Has anyone hurt you?”
She smiled up at him through her tears. “Now that you’re here, I’m fine. Just fine.”
“But has anyone hurt you? In any way?”
A look of puzzlement flitted through her eyes. “No. Not really. A few children poked me with sticks, but that’s nothing.”
“Broken Antler.” Jesse forced himself to ask the question of which he dreaded to hear the answer. “Has he . . . has he taken you as his squaw?”
Sudden comprehension lit her eyes. “No.” Shiloh firmly shook her head. “No. I told him I was already promised to you, and he decided to wait until your return.” She chewed her lower lip, which Jesse knew she did when she was worried or unsure. “I hope that was all right. Me saying that about us. I didn’t know what else to do, and if I hadn’t . . .”
He laid a gentle finger on her lips. “It was fine. Just fine.”
From behind him, a hand settled on his shoulder. Jesse released Shiloh and, snaking an arm around her waist, turned them both to face Jack.
“I see you have eyes only for the red-haired woman,” the older man said, “and no thought or greeting for your chief.”
Jesse flushed. “I’m sorry. I’m glad to be back. Our hunting trip was a success, but the rest of the party is a few hours behind me.”
“Good. We will feast well tonight.”
The conversation died. The two men stared at each other. Finally Jack broke the silence.
“I gave the woman to Broken Antler.” He indicated Shiloh. “He’s wanted her for a long while, and until just now, you never said you had any interest in her.”
Jesse pulled Shiloh closer. “She is promised to me.”
Captain Jack arched a brow. “So she says. Now. But I’m not so certain either of you made any promises until it became convenient for you. And Broken Antler asked first.”
He’d never known Jack to be so unyielding, leastwise not when it came to him. His chief’s response troubled him.
“Broken Antler already has a wife,” he said. “I have none.”
The older man shrugged and gestured to Broken Antler, who’d evidently noted Jesse’s arrival and was even then striding purposefully toward them. “You may work it out with him. I tire of this little game you play, Nuaru.”
Jesse bit back a caustic response. Maybe he had been playing a game, but if so, it had been with himself. A game in which he’d done everything he could to convince himself he didn’t want Shiloh, didn’t deserve her. But now, faced with the possibility of losing her to another, he suddenly knew what he must do. What he had always been supposed to do.
“Shiloh is mine,” Jesse said as Broken Antler halted before him, preemptively taking the offense. “We made our promises to each other months ago.”
“But she is not yet your wife, is she?”
“No.” Jesse met the other man’s gaze with a steely one of his own. “But I will not give her up.”
“Not even for twenty ponies, five rifles, and ten new annuity blankets?”
A goodly bridal offering to be sure. Extravagant even. But Broken Antler could offer all the ponies and other ill-gotten Agency goods, and Jesse would’ve still refused.
He shook his head. “She is mine, and not for the bartering.”
The Ute brave standing before him scowled. “Then I will add three army mules, one soldier’s jacket, a fine hat, and a pair of his boots.”
Again, Jesse shook his head. “No.”
Broken Antler narrowed his gaze, and his lips thinned. His hand moved to the knife hanging in its sheath at his side. “You’d do well to reconsider. While you still draw breath.”
The barely veiled threat didn’t sit well with Jesse. He released Shiloh and pushed her behind him. Then, one hand on his own sheathed knife, his other hand fisted at his side, he took a threatening step toward the other man.
“If you mean that as a challenge to fight for her,” he growled, “then it’s a fight you’ll have. But, one way or another, you’re not getting Shiloh!”
17
Shiloh watched in horror as Jesse and Broken Antler shed their buckskin shirts and drew their knives. Men and women, alerted to the pending fight, hurried over to form a large circle around the two men. She soon found herself standing in the back of the crowd, along with Jack.
“Do something!” she cried, turning on him. “Make them stop!”
He graced her with a disinterested look. “They both mean to have you, and Nuaru has refused Broken Antler’s most generous offers. Now they will have to settle the matter another way.”
“But does it have to be with knives? Someone could get killed!”
Jack shrugged. “It was their choice. A wrestling match is usual, but neither seemed to want it that way. Now, they must work out their disagreement as they decide.”
She couldn’t believe how uncaring Jack seemed over the possibility of losing one, if not both men, in a knife fight. She, however, wasn’t abou
t to helplessly stand there and allow that to happen.
“Well, if you’re not going to stop this, I am.” Shiloh turned, intending to force her way through the crowd and confront Jesse, when a hand settled tightly on her arm and pulled her back.
“Do you think to shame them both by interfering?” the Ute chief hissed in her ear. “It’s too late for that. You should’ve thought more carefully what the consequences would be to play the two against each other.”
“I didn’t!” she cried, wheeling about to face him. “I never wanted Broken Antler. It’s always been Jesse. Always. But I won’t stand here and watch him get killed just to protect me.”
“Then you’d give yourself to Broken Antler to save Nuaru?”
For an instant, Shiloh hesitated. The thought of becoming Broken Antler’s woman filled her with revulsion. But to see Jesse die and still have to go with Broken Antler was worse still. Her possible fate with Broken Antler was in the Lord’s hands. Jesse’s survival right now, though, could well be in hers.
“Yes,” she replied, forcing the word past a throat gone dry with both dread and resolve. “I love Jesse, and his life is worth that much to me.”
A strange light flared in Jack’s eyes. For a passing moment, Shiloh imagined she saw a look of satisfaction there.
“Though especially at a time like this I don’t care to risk two of my best braves,” he said, “I will not allow you to stop the fight. It is their right to choose how to settle this matter. But I also tell you not to fear for Nuaru. He’s a strong and clever fighter. It’s unlikely that Broken Antler will best him.”
It wasn’t what she’d hoped to hear, but she knew she had no choice but to accept the small comfort Jack offered. “I won’t interfere. But please, let me be there for him.”
“Then come.” Jack indicated that she follow him. “They won’t begin until I give the word.”
As Shiloh finally cleared the crowd to stand in front along with Jack, Jesse met her gaze. He smiled grimly, but she knew it wasn’t just an expression of determination but one of encouragement too. In spite of her best efforts not to embarrass him with an unseemly display of emotion, tears still filled her eyes. She smiled through them, though, and gave him an acknowledging nod.
“Begin!” Jack cried just then, and the two combatants pivoted about to face each other.
In the next instant, knives flashed and glinted in the day’s waning sun. Broken Antler lunged at Jesse, and if Jesse hadn’t nimbly leaped aside, Broken Antler’s knife would’ve skewered him in the chest. For his efforts Jesse’s stockier opponent received a glancing slash on his arm. With an angry snarl, Broken Antler whipped around and came at Jesse again.
It was soon evident that though Jesse intended only to wound and wear out his attacker, Broken Antler had far darker intentions. Jesse was taller by at least half a foot, leanly muscled, and fast. But Broken Antler was equally fast and used every means at his disposal, be they fair or foul. Several times, if not for Jesse’s speed and accurate anticipation of what his opponent intended, he’d have likely received a serious if not fatal knife wound.
Despite the slowly falling temperature as the sun began to set, sweat began to glisten on Jesse’s torso. Both men were superbly fit, and for a time, neither seemed to hold the advantage. Then, with one quick feint that drew Broken Antler off to that side, in a blur of motion, Jesse changed direction and thrust his knife deep into Broken Antler’s right upper thigh, then withdrew it.
With a cry the Ute fell. Grasping his leg, he writhed on the ground. Jesse walked over to him.
“Do you agree the woman is mine?” he asked.
“Take her!” his opponent gasped, clutching his leg in an effort to staunch the bleeding.
Jesse squatted, wiped his blade clean of blood, then returned his knife to its sheath. “Then it is settled, once and for all?” He held out his hand to Broken Antler. “And there’ll be peace between us, as before?”
“Be gone!” The other Ute pushed Jesse’s hand aside and shoved to a sitting position. “You’re no friend of mine. Not now or ever again!”
“As you wish.”
Jesse stood and turned. Once again, his glance locked with Shiloh’s and he smiled. Joy filled her and she began to walk toward him.
As she did, though, a surreptitious movement behind Jesse caught her eye. She saw a hand reach out and grasp a knife.
“Jesse!” she screamed. “Behind you!”
He spun about. Even then, Broken Antler was throwing the knife. Because of Jesse’s quick reaction, the weapon missed him. It sailed past and directly at her.
A sharp pain lanced through Shiloh. She stopped, surprised and confused, and looked down. Broken Antler’s knife hilt protruded from her right shoulder.
She lifted a befuddled gaze to Jesse. Horror widened his eyes.
“Shiloh!”
He moved toward her, but everything suddenly seemed to be in slow motion. Myriad tiny lights sparkled before her eyes, then the edges of her vision began to gray. Her strength fled. Her legs buckled.
“J-Jesse . . .” she whispered as he reached and caught hold of her. She sagged in his arms as everything—the sky above, the world around them, and even his dear face—disappeared.
Rage engulfed Jesse as he gently lowered a now-unconscious Shiloh to the ground. He pulled the knife from her shoulder and watched as the blood swiftly welled and stained her blouse. A red mist filled his vision, and he stood, turned, and advanced on Broken Antler.
His face gone pale with fear, the man raised a hand in supplication, but Jesse felt nothing but a hunger for vengeance. Then hands were on him, pulling him back, wrestling Broken Antler’s bloodied blade from his hand as well as his own.
“See to your woman,” Jack said. “We’ll take care of this cowardly snake.”
For a few seconds more, Jesse struggled against the hands restraining him. Then he stilled, dragged in a deep, shuddering breath, and nodded.
“Let me go. You’re right. Shiloh must be my first concern.”
Ever so gradually, they released him, though stood warily by as if suspecting some trick. But Jesse just wheeled about and hurried to where Shiloh lay, never once looking back. Some of Jack’s wives were already kneeling beside her, one cradling Shiloh’s head in her lap, while another patted her hand as if to try and wake her, while yet another pressed a wadded cloth over the knife wound.
He squatted at Shiloh’s side. “Let’s get her to my tepee,” he said. “And someone fetch bandages, salves, and a burning stick, in case we need it to staunch the bleeding.”
The women stood, stepped back, then hurried off to fetch what he had requested. Jesse slid one arm beneath Shiloh’s shoulders, the other beneath her legs, and rose. With rapid strides, he headed to where his tepee had been set up, grateful to whichever women had seen to it once their own tepees were readied.
As he walked along, he glanced down at Shiloh. Her face was pale and skin clammy. She weighed little more than a feather to him, and he pulled her even closer.
The bloodstain continued to grow, drenching her blouse. Jesse feared she’d definitely need her wound cauterized and prayed she’d remain unconscious at least until that was accomplished. He also prayed, for the first time in many, many years, to the Christian god he’d long ago rejected.
If You’re truly there, he fervently entreated, spare Shiloh’s life. And, whatever the purchase price You may demand for that, I’ll gladly pay it instead. Just don’t let her die. Please, don’t let her die.
By the time he reached his tepee and carried Shiloh inside to lay her on a soft buffalo robe, several women had crowded in behind him. After handing the burning stick to Jesse to hold, they set to work. He stepped back to allow them to care for Shiloh, knowing they were far more skilled in the treatment of wounds than he’d ever be.
They quickly stripped off Shiloh’s ruined blouse until only a lace-trimmed chemise covered her. After a time attempting to stop the bleeding with pressure, Kwana, the oldest
woman, took the flaming stick from Jesse. After wiping the oozing wound with a cloth, she immediately applied the stick to the cut edges.
A sizzling sound filled the air, then the scent of burning flesh. If it had been anyone else, the act wouldn’t have affected Jesse. But he couldn’t control his involuntary wince at seeing them burn Shiloh.
Kwana paused, wiped the wound clean, then watched as blood began to seep again, though this time far more slowly. She applied the still-smoking stick to the wound and held it there for a few seconds. This time, no blood flowed when she sponged the wound clean.
Shiloh was then most efficiently bathed to remove any blood that had spread over her upper body, a healing salve was applied, and her wound bandaged. Mercifully, she never woke. After covering her with another buffalo robe, the women gathered their supplies and began to leave.
“Build a fire to keep her warm tonight,” old Kwana said. “And if she wakes, give her nothing but sips of water. I’ll be back throughout the night to check on her.”
“My thanks,” Jesse said, grasping her arm. “I know you live alone, now that your man has died. I will hunt for meat for you as soon as I can safely leave her.”
She nodded. “That will be appreciated. When you can safely leave her, of course.”
Once he was alone with Shiloh, he scooted over close to her. For a time, he watched her closely, afraid her breathing would cease and she’d leave this life. Finally, however, as time passed and he became aware of the night’s growing chill on his bare skin, he remembered the old woman’s instructions to build a fire.
He climbed from his tepee to find his buckskin shirt folded and laying just outside. After donning it, Jesse went off to Jack’s tepee to borrow some firewood. Tomorrow, he’d gather extra to replace it, knowing Jack wouldn’t begrudge him what he took tonight.
It didn’t take long to get a fire going, and its warmth soon filled the enclosure. Once more, he crawled over to sit close to Shiloh. She slept on, but a quick check of her bandage reassured him that the bleeding hadn’t resumed.
Heart of the Rockies Collection Page 52
