by Karen Kay
She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I…I…” All at once, she threw back her shoulders as she countered, “I will do exactly as I see fit and I might as well let you know, Mr. War Cloud, that I will not be taking your orders now or in the future, and if I see fit to save you in order to ensure your life so that you can help me and the children, then that is exactly what I will do. And you should know, too, that if I leave now to go and see to the children, it is because I think it the best thing to do, not because you tell me to do it. Do you understand?”
Shocked by this sudden outburst, War Cloud found himself able to do little more than gape at her. With her brown-gold hair falling around her shoulders, with the blush of anger on her cheeks and the light of battle in her eye, she was beautiful…
Stunned to silence, he stared at her, watched as she flung herself around on her heel and headed back in the direction of the island.
He was looking at her still when his brother turned to him, asking, “Why were you so harsh to her?”
War Cloud could not answer right away. In truth, he barely heard the question. At last, however, sanity returned and, dragging his regard away from the woman, he shrugged, saying, “What she did was unthinking, and brought me dishonor.”
“But she did not know.”
War Cloud sighed and turned away from the sight of her. “Haahe, you are right, my brother. Still, it is enough that I am leading her and the children to safety. Must I also be kind to them every moment of the day?” He trod away from his brother, toward the waiting horse. “We had best leave quickly. You round up the remaining ponies while I go and erase all traces of our camp.”
His brother signed agreement, while War Cloud went on to observe, “It is strange that the warrior-whites are this close into Dog Soldier country. It is not a good sign. They must have some reason to feel confident in their force.” He paused, then noted as though talking to himself, “The sooner we release these whites back to their own kind, the safer we will be, I think.”
With a shrug, Lame Bird nodded and sprinted off to go capture the other ponies.
Chapter Twelve
If those Pawnee were attached to the warrior-whites—and War Cloud was certain that they were—it was important to catch the remaining three ponies quickly, lest the animals return to their owners. Luckily Lame Bird accomplished the task in little time, returning to their camp as War Cloud was preparing to leave.
Climbing up the incline to the prairie, War Cloud met his brother at a distance from the island. The two exchanged greetings, whereupon War Cloud took possession of one of the ponies, leading it by its reins.
After a time, Lame Bird said, “Na’neha, my brother, I have been thinking. Our people will need to be warned of the danger, if there is any.” As he talked, both Lame Bird and War Cloud slowed their step. Ahead of them, still on the island, waited the white woman and her children. But both brothers held back from going there. Lame Bird continued, “Why do you think our enemy was so close to Dog Soldier country?”
War Cloud inhaled deeply, his brows pulled together in a frown. At length, he said, “I believe they are the advance guard for a troop of warrior-whites. I cannot be certain, but it is the only explanation that makes any sense.” He fell silent, until after a brief pause he said, “I am troubled by the Pawnees’ manner. Did you see that they were overly confident? They showed no concern about traveling through our country, though the sun is high. It was as though they had no fear of meeting up with a Cheyenne war party.” War Cloud’s frown deepened. “I do not like it.”
“Their trail is still fresh,” said Lame Bird. “I could double back on their tracks and see if they lead me to the warrior-whites.”
War Cloud nodded. “Haahe, that is a good thing to do. Follow us first, however. If there is danger in our country, I will need you to follow behind us and erase our tracks. Then go back and see what you can discover. Do not be gone longer than the night, however.”
“Haahe,” said Lame Bird. Then, “If we go to Tall Bull’s Dog Soldier camp—as we must—what do you plan to do with the woman?”
War Cloud hesitated. “I have no choice but to take her and the children into the camp.”
“But she will not be safe there.”
“I realize that,” said War Cloud. “But the tribe must be warned. Perhaps our people will honor the old ways and not harm these captives.”
“Perhaps.” One of the horses nudged Lame Bird and absentmindedly, the boy began to pet it. Lame Bird said, “Will you give some of the captives to families who have lost a loved one in these wars?”
War Cloud grimaced. “I cannot.”
If this statement startled Lame Bird, the youngster hid the fact well, for all he said was, “Why can you not?”
“Because I made a pact with the woman, promising her that I would take her to one of the white outposts where she can find homes for the children.”
“Na’neha!” Lame Bird appeared startled. “It would be very dangerous to take these people to a white camp. Do you forget what happened to our cousin?”
“I do not forget.”
“But the children could find homes with our people.”
War Cloud sighed. “I thought so, too, at first. There are problems, however.”
Lame Bird remained silent, a way of encouraging his brother to continue, but when War Cloud said nothing, Lame Bird went on to say, “Perhaps I could stay with the woman and children while you go into Tall Bull’s camp and tell the elders and the chiefs what you have seen.”
“I thought of that as well, but the plan is not sound. Have you forgotten how difficult it is to provide food for all of these people? You know that I cannot predict how long I would have to be in camp.
“And what if you were to be found by more Pawnee scouts, or worse, by the warrior-whites?” continued War Cloud. “No, nasemahe, my younger brother, I made a mistake once in leaving you in the Kiowa camp where I thought you would be safe. Yet look at what happened. You were recognized by those men of the white race who have no spirit. And you were captured when the Kiowa camp fell. Hova’ahane, I swore that I would never repeat that mistake again.”
Lame Bird nodded. “Then I think, na’neha, that you should tell her what you are doing and why.”
“Why should I? She is a hostage.”
“Because she is more than that, and I believe, too, na’neha, that you know it.”
War Cloud remained silent. What could he say? To deny his brother’s claim would be to lie.
Yet, for all his attempt at truthfulness, War Cloud could not quite admit to the eagerness with which he awaited more contact and more conversation—even to their sparring—with the white woman. In essence, such acute awareness of the woman puzzled him.
“I think,” said Lame Bird, “that if my brother were to look into his heart, he might discover that part of his anger at the woman today was the shock of seeing her so close to danger.”
War Cloud cringed, his brother’s words being too close to the truth.
Lame Bird continued, “If I were my brother, I would find a time that is right and tell her. It is the only way, for I do not believe that she would willingly follow you into one of our camps unless you convince her that she must.”
War Cloud grinned. “I fear you speak the truth, nasemahe.”
Lame Bird smiled, while War Cloud laid a hand upon the lad’s shoulder, an expression of affection.
War Cloud said, “I will think on this, nasemahe, my brother.” And with no more to be said, the two siblings began their descent down to the island.
But War Cloud’s concerns could not be put aside so easily, for he could not help feeling that there were sentiments at play between this woman and himself that he dared not examine too closely. Certainly his body behaved as though it would like nothing more than to roll her upon the ground.
Startled at the direction of his thoughts, War Cloud tightened his mouth. He could not afford to develop feelings for this woman—for any wom
an.
So it was with a feeling of relief that War Cloud sent up a prayer to the Above Ones, thanking them for making this woman the same as his enemies, a white woman. At least in this way War Cloud could ensure that he would never fall in love with her…
Because they were in country controlled by the southern Cheyenne, War Cloud had explained to Anna that he would not have to run off these particular ponies. Their party would be able to keep the mounts, thus allowing ten of the children to ride.
It left only three of their party to walk, since neither War Cloud nor his younger brother had demanded to ride. That this action on his part had done much to stir Anna’s admiration, she refused to consider. She was still too angry at him.
Collin, because he was one of the older boys, had volunteered to walk. It was interesting because, as though by some mutual consent, a friendship had sprung up between Lame Bird and Collin. Even now, as she glanced behind her, Anna could see the two boys pulling up their troop’s rear, with Lame Bird instructing Collin on how best to erase a trail.
Anna, herself, trudged along after the four ponies, carrying the youngster, Patty, on her hip. But the Kansas heat and humidity were almost tearing her apart.
That, along with the incredible pace that War Cloud kept, might account for Anna’s constant lagging behind their group. Still, she was happy. The children were riding and not wearing themselves out unnecessarily, and Collin was happier than she had ever seen him.
She chanced to send a glance up, far ahead of her, there to catch sight of War Cloud’s tall form. She frowned. He looked entirely too lively and spry, she feared, while she felt as though she were wilting.
She reminded herself that she was not too happy with him. In fact, so angry had she been that after the island fight, she had vowed she would never again speak to the man. How dare he order her about as though she were no more than his slave to command?
But she had to admit that when he and his brother had caught all four horses, putting the children upon them without even a hint from her to do so, Anna had felt herself weakening toward him. Kindness and humility fairly exuded from such an act, and Anna had realized, as she had watched, that these were not the actions of a lord and master.
Unfortunately—at least in her consideration it was unfortunate—any resentment she might have been harboring toward the man had died a quiet death right then.
Though these actions by no means wiped away War Cloud’s harshness toward her, she had also realized that perhaps some of his anger had been misplaced because of the fight. It was not because of her.
It did not make his anger any better and it certainly did not excuse him. It was only that she understood.
She watched War Cloud now as he led their small party. He had given Collin a weapon to use, handing over some knives, as well, to the other older children. A necessity, he had said, out here on the plains.
“Are we ever going to stop and rest?” asked Patty.
“Yes, dear, we are. But not until we’re out of danger.”
“I’m hungry.”
“I know, darling, so am I. But we must keep going until there is little likelihood that we will be attacked. As it is, we’re taking a chance, moving about in the daylight. But War Cloud says that we have to be on the move quickly.”
“I like his name.”
“Yes, I do, too,” Anna answered.
“He’s handsome, isn’t he, Miss Wiley?”
Surprised by the astute observation, whatever Anna might have said in response stuck in her throat. What could she say? she wondered, when in truth, she considered the man more than merely handsome. His look was exciting, exotic and more thrilling than the rather simple image that the word “handsome” evoked. But yes, she admitted to herself, he cut a very handsome figure, indeed.
Patty gave her a strange look. “Don’t you think so, Miss Wiley?”
“Hmmm?”
“Don’t you think he’s handsome, Miss Wiley?” the child asked again.
Anna gulped. “Yes,” she said at last. “I believe I do.”
Patty grinned and drew her arms around Anna’s neck. “I think he likes you, too.”
Anna scoffed. “I think not.”
As though Anna had not said a thing, however, Patty continued, “When he looks at you, his eyes go all soft.”
“They do?” Anna cast the youngster a brief glance. Such adult observations from this child—her Patty, her artist.
“Yes, they do,” confirmed Patty. “Maybe you should marry him. Do you think you might, Miss Wiley?”
Anna did not know how to respond to the youngster. She was certain the children knew nothing of the pact she had presented to War Cloud, a pact he had accepted, she reminded herself, yet…
“What do you think, Miss Wiley, do you think you might marry him? If you did and he liked me, too, maybe you could adopt me yourself.”
Anna wanted to cry. “Oh, Patty,” she murmured, catching her breath. “I would love to adopt you, but it is impossible.”
“Why is it?” answered Patty. “I think you’re pretty when you don’t wear that ugly dress.”
Anna could only smile, such was the honesty of children.
“And besides,” continued Patty, “I think I’d like to stay with you forever.”
Anna’s heart constricted with pain since, if the truth were known, she would love to keep Patty with her. But it could never be, and Anna could barely keep her voice level as she said, “And I’d love to have you with me forever, Patty.”
“Would you really?”
Anna could not speak this time; her voice wouldn’t let her. She nodded toward Patty instead.
Patty gave her one of the biggest hugs Anna had ever received, before she settled back onto Anna’s hip. Quite astutely, she asked, “Am I too heavy?”
“Not at all, dear,” Anna lied. “Don’t worry about it. You’re just fine, darling, just fine.”
Yet, with the combination of the sun beating down on her and the ungodly humidity, Anna thought she might surely collapse at any moment. As it was, it was all she could do to place one foot in front of the other.
Also, amidst the scurry to leave, Anna had somehow lost the brown dress. And though secretly she rejoiced at its loss—since the garment had been too hot for comfortable travel—more guardedly she would admit that she felt more vulnerable without the outer layer of clothing; more feminine, prettier perhaps, but definitely more defenseless.
The situation also left her to travel in nothing more than her chemise and skirt, a circumstance that, had she lost the dress only a few days previous, would have startled her no end. Now, however, she felt little embarrassment about her predicament, only the joy of knowing that the lack of excess clothing was helping to keep her a little cooler.
She was glad to note that ahead of them, War Cloud appeared to have stopped and Anna, upon drawing closer, saw the reason for it. Their party had come to a stream. Frustration gave way to joy and she felt her step quicken in anticipation.
The horses were the first to wade into the water, and despite their precious loads, the animals lowered their heads to drink.
The children, who were none of them experienced riders, sent nervous glances back at Anna, and drawing at last level to the water, she set Patty down on the shoreline and ventured into the stream. The task of taking each child from the horse and carrying him to shore became quite lengthy, exhaustion settling within her too soon.
Shortly, however, Collin came up to give her a hand, while Lame Bird and War Cloud sat beside the stream, watching.
She knew she crossed cultural barriers when she called out to War Cloud, “You could help.”
He simply shook his head in response and smiled at her. He said, “Next you will want me to wear dresses.”
She gave his figure a quick glance, deciding that even in a dress this man would look much too masculine and all too handsome. However, she would keep that observation to herself.
She said, “In the white man�
�s world, men help the women with this chore.”
Again he smiled back at her, observing, “When my skin changes to white, I will help you.”
That sassy statement had her biting her tongue. Darn the man. He had almost made her laugh.
At last her chore was done, and she began to help each child to drink, finding the task unnecessary. Instinctively the children knew what to do.
War Cloud watched them with seeming patience, she noted, although now and again, she observed him scanning the area around them.
Presently, he stood up and paced toward her.
Drawing to her side, he said, “Wait here with the children and do not follow me. I am going to see if there are signs of an enemy nearby. If there is no evidence of an adversary, we might stop here for a while and rest. Also, I think there might be some shelter ahead for us, and if there is, we will go there for the afternoon to rest.” He pushed a knife into her hands. “Do you still have your gun?”
She nodded.
“Do not be afraid to use it, or this knife. Your life may depend on it.”
Again, she nodded.
And then it happened. He brought up his hand to run a finger through a lock of her hair, his gaze upon that single tress, intense.
What was he thinking? What was he doing? Did he find her attractive? He could not, and yet…
Anna could not speak. Alas, she could barely breathe.
In a whisper he said, “Leave your hair free.”
Anna swallowed with difficulty and wondered, did his eyes really go soft whenever he looked at her?
She stared up at him; she could do little else. At the same time, she tried desperately to read his thoughts. But it was impossible.
Murmuring softly, “I will,” she wondered, Will what? Will stay with the children? Will leave her hair down? Will become his wife?
She almost groaned at the direction of her thoughts and she worried briefly that he might be a mind reader. But he pushed away from her so quickly, she felt as though she had been left in midair.
She prompted herself to feel her feet beneath her and she wiggled her toes as if to make sure she still stood on solid ground. And letting her breath out slowly, she watched as he trod away from her.
