by Karen Kay
“But—”
“There comes a point when a person must be willing to fight for what is right. There are some things more important than one’s life. One’s home, one’s way of life, the people one loves, are all such a cause.”
Anna, completely at a loss, sat watching him. Honor, duty and a sense of justice emanated from this man. Yet, though his words were filled with wisdom, she also recognized their hopelessness. She became aware, perhaps for the first time, that the Indians were on the correct side of the law. They were not the interlopers they were being made out to be. They were fighting for their homes and their right to live as a people, and because of this, they would fight to the death.
Yet they were doomed. She knew it and perhaps he did, too. The white man was better armed and had more friends in Washington to plead the side of his cause. It was the white man’s words, not the Indians’, that would be heard.
The realization of this made her want to reach out to him. She could not help it. He looked so proud and yet his cause was so hopeless that she found it almost impossible to withhold herself.
In truth, she could not. She placed a delicate hand on his shoulder, surprised to feel his muscles quiver beneath her touch.
Dear God, this man is vulnerable.
The thought came as though from some deep recess within her. Despite his gruffness, his curt manner and stoic indifference, this man felt things deeply.
Oh, how she would love to wipe away his worry. If only she could, she would wave her hand and dispel all the troubles that existed between their two peoples. How she wished it could be that simple.
But she was not capable of such magic and she found she could only give him a lesser compensation, her words. She said, “I am so sorry for the trouble between our societies. Please, tell me more. Is it merely the threat of the cavalry in this country that worries you? Or do you think you will not be able to warn your people in time?”
“I will get to them in time,” he commented, his features rigid. Nor did he spare her a glance.
“Then what is it?”
He shifted uncomfortably, though his profile remained majestic. After the beat of several moments, he answered, “I must take you and the children to the camp of my people.”
She digested this in silence. At length, she commented, “They will want to kill us, won’t they?”
“Haahe, they will.” He sent her a quick glance, as though to measure her reaction.
What had he expected? That she might rant and rave? Did he think she would stoop so low as that? Or worse, that she would not understand?
He really did not know her, if he could think these things about her. She asked, calmly, “What are we to do about it?”
He shrugged. “We will have to hope that my people will abide by the old Cheyenne custom that it is the worst of crimes to abuse captives. I fear, though, that the hostilities run so deep, that there will be a few weakened hearts who will not stop until they have your scalp.”
“Oh,” was was her only comment, as she struggled to remain as calm as she could, given the circumstances. “Could you not leave us somewhere else?” she suggested. “Could you go into camp, warn your people and then return to us?”
“And who would save you if the Pawnee or some other tribe might come upon you?”
“I have a gun.”
“And who would feed you? Have you not noticed how difficult a task this is? There are thirteen of you.”
Undaunted, she offered, “I’m sure we could manage for a few days.”
“You would not last a day, and I must be in camp longer than a mere few days.”
“And if your people don’t respect the old ways?”
“I will not raise my hand against my own countrymen. I understand their hatred, although in your case I might make an exception.”
Anna fell silent. She could not permit this man to take them into his camp. That was all there was to it. She was going to have to convince him to leave them here—alone. Even if it meant potential disaster, it would be better than taking the more certain risk to the children’s lives in the Cheyenne camp.
“Please, Mister War Cloud,” she said, “leave us here. We will manage somehow.”
“I cannot.”
“Then let us wait for your brother to return and send him into your camp. You could then stay here with us yourself.”
“Do you think I have not already considered this? But there are problems with that, for my people would ask him where I am and he would tell them.”
“I see. But he wouldn’t have to mention us.”
“Do you think not?” He sent her a sulking glance. “A scout is a trusted being amongst all the Indians. His must be a tongue that never rests in deceit. He must tell the people all he knows; he must tell it straight and to the best of his ability. My brother would have no choice but to mention you and the children. Besides, do you forget that I sent my warriors on ahead, before me? They know that you accompany me. If I did not come into camp, it would appear that I am hiding you. We would be sought out by the others and I would end up having to fight my own kin.
“This is not something I can or will do,” he continued. “No, the best thing to do is to take you into the village as though there is nothing wrong. This might be your only protection.”
“I understand,” she noted, gently touching one of his hands. “And yet, it is a chance I am unwilling to take. Could you not lead us to a white settlement before you go to your people?”
“And delay reporting the danger?” He clenched his jaw. “Know that we are in Dog Soldier country where there are no white settlements. I would have to go very far out of my way to take you to one. By the time I returned, the warrior-whites might have attacked, perhaps killing hundreds of my people. No, I cannot do it.”
“I see,” she said, and she did. Nonetheless, she tried another tack. “I will not go with you to your village willingly.”
“I know this.”
“Then how do you propose to get me into your camp?”
“I will have to tie you up, I suppose.”
She sat up stiffly.
Grinning, he glanced to his side and shook his head. “Though the idea has much merit,” he said, “still, it has its own problems.”
She sat up straighter, folding her knees under her as though she might jump up at any moment. She said, “I should hope so.”
“There is one way to keep you safe, but I do not like to put it to you.”
“Oh?” she asked. “Please, what is it?”
“You will not like it.”
She cut a brief glance at him before turning aside. “Still,” she said, “you could tell me about it and let me decide for myself.”
He grimaced. “Do not say that I did not warn you.”
“I won’t.”
He sighed and waved a hand in the direction of the children, saying, “I think that all your children will have to be my own.”
She arched a brow at him, as though she expected him to elaborate. When he did not, a look of noncomprehension crossed her face.
He caught her glance, appeared to understand her confusion and went on to explain, “And in order to make them mine, I would have to take you now as a man takes a woman…”
Chapter Fourteen
She wondered if her eyes mirrored her shock. Yes, she knew she had pledged herself to marry this man, but now…?
As a man takes a woman? Perhaps she was mistaken, but that did not sound to her as if War Cloud meant marriage. Or did he?
“A-are you saying you wish to marry me in all due haste?” she stammered.
“Haahe, we must commit the act that is shared between a man and his wife.”
She froze. “The act…?”
He sent her a knowing glance. He said, “Haahe, the physical deed that binds a man to a woman.”
She could not look him in the eye and, as she felt a blush spread across her cheeks, she feared he would have little trouble reading her thoughts.
“What means this word, ‘drastic’?”
She hesitated. “It means extreme, rather harsh.”
“Saaa, not drastic,” he said, “but…necessary. If I am to keep you and the children safe in my camp, then you and all of them must pretend to be mine. It would have to be a good act, too, for we will have to convince the others.”
“Pretend?”
“Haahe, pretend.”
“But—”
“I have been pondering other ways to ensure you are safe. And though I have thought a great deal about it, I have found no other resolution that might work. Still, I have been looking within myself to try to understand if perhaps I am the problem. But I fear that even if I am, there is no other way, I think.”
“I see,” she said, although did she? She tried to swallow, realized her throat was too dry, and fell into silence. Nevertheless, a sudden kindling of inspiration had her asking, “What do you mean, that you could be the problem?”
He did not answer, his look at her irritated, before he shot his glance away. But in that brief glimpse, quick though it was, she realized that he invited her to read his thoughts.
She did not have such mental powers, however, and after a time, she proffered, “We wouldn’t have to do the deed, so to speak…in order to make the pretense good, would we? As long as we’re married, no one would know the difference but you and me.”
He sent her a frown. “I have considered this. It would be easier on you at first.”
“Good.”
“It would also mean your death, most likely.”
“What?” She drew her breath in so quickly, the air almost hissed. She asked, “Why?”
He twisted his chin to the left, obviously piqued. He said nothing.
One moment followed upon another until, almost beside herself, she touched his arm. Exasperated or not, the man needed to communicate his concerns to her, not let her guess. She asked again, “Why could we not just pretend the whole thing without needing to…to…?”
He held up a hand, as though he might interject something, but he remained silent. When he did, at last, mouth some words, it was only to ask his own question. “Are you so innocent that you do not know my problem?”
She felt as though her head were spinning. She asked, “Know what?”
More silence.
Her curiosity was turning into a tangible quality by the time she spoke up, “Please, I don’t know what it is that you’re implying.”
He grunted, and she had the strange suspicion that this big ferocious warrior was exhibiting signs of…reticence.
She prompted, “Know what?”
He said it so quickly, she could barely believe he had spoken. Worse, she had not heard him, his words being lost to the wind. She said, “I did not hear that. Could you say it again?”
He let out his breath in a rush before uttering, under his breath, “I desire you, and that is the problem.”
Though said quickly, that comment made her go completely still. Had the earth suddenly opened up and swallowed her whole?
She cleared her throat, tried to speak, but all that came out of her mouth was a croak. Licking her lips, she glanced away from him, out into the night.
He desired her? This extraordinarily handsome man wanted her? In a sexual way? And this was a problem?
Strangely enough, her body was behaving to his declaration in a highly feminine way. Tiny flickerings of pleasure pulsed over her nervous system, the whole of it settling like butterflies somewhere in her midsection. It made her want to respond to him in kind, made her want to touch him, to hold him, to be touched and to be held in return.
But she could do none of that. Still, she knew she had to say something, anything, but what?
She gulped and tried to voice a response, at length coming up with the highly intelligent words, “I…I…ah…”
She gave it up.
He saved her the trouble and asserted, “Surely you have known this.”
She? Known it? Again, she tried to speak; opened her mouth, closed it. It was impossible.
He continued, “I do not know how this has come to be a difficulty, especially since you are white. But recently…” He shook his head, staring away from her as he left the rest unsaid.
“Recently…?” she prodded.
He took a deep breath and resumed, “The others in my camp would see through me at once, I fear. I could, of course, seek out a willing widow in the camp and take care of my carnal feelings in this way. But word of this would fly through the camp like a devil wind, and our secret would soon be out. I would be caught out in the lie, and because our people are at war, you would be imperiled.”
Surely, she thought, the lump in her throat would diminish with time, wouldn’t it? For she found she could do no more than moan.
But even the sound of her voice appeared to have an unsettling effect upon him, for when he glanced at her, such fervor filled his eyes, she thought his look might set her afire. She could feel a flush rising and a tingling sensation spread over her body all the way down to her toes. Indeed, so intense was her reaction to this man, her heart pounded as though to alert every perceptive point within her body that pleasure awaited. In fact, she feared her heart’s beating was so loud, he could hear it.
He said, “You have already offered yourself to me. So this is not something you have not, yourself, considered. Would it be so bad to give yourself to me now instead of later?”
She tried again to speak; she wet her lips with that distinct purpose in mind. She opened her mouth. Nothing happened.
Meanwhile, he reached out and covered her hand with his own. He said, “I promise that I will try to make your first experience good.”
She gulped. The good Lord be praised, the moment the man touched her, she was lost. A yearning for something she could not explain, something deep and consuming, swamped her so utterly, she found herself wanting to…caress him. It was practically a physical need.
Yet, on another level of awareness, his words about her, about the children, suddenly hit her. And she wept with realization. In truth, so caught up was she in the newness of these sensations, she had forgotten about the children and their welfare.
She blinked. How could she? How irresponsible of her, she inwardly scolded, perhaps criticizing herself too harshly. Nonetheless, she felt the lesser for her brief lapse in duty.
Possibly it was this sense of guilt, however, that at last gave her the ability to speak, and she found herself able to murmur, “And did you want to…to consummate this pact between us tonight?”
She heard his low groan, the sound of his voice sending shivers of erotica erupting along her already strained nerves. Ultimately, however, he commented, “I would have you consider it first. There are a few days before we will arrive in the camp of my people.”
“And…and you think this will save our lives?”
“It is the only thing I can think of that will. For, as I have said before, many of my countrymen will want to take some of the children into their own homes—to replace those of their own lost in the war. And as for you, unless you pretend to be married to me, giving me full rights over you, there are some within my camp who may desire to abuse you, as many of our women have been used. Hova’ahane, I fear that I can envision no other way for us.”
“I see.” She drew in a deep, strained breath before muttering, “But I don’t see where the pretense of a marriage comes into this. If we marry, we marry, and I suppose a woman must at some time realize that with marriage comes the act for which man and woman…that is to say…”
She glanced at War Cloud, who was giving her the strangest look—as though he were seeing her for the first time.
He opened his mouth to say something, closed it and glanced away from her. Momentarily, however, he said, “Know, white woman, that I am not offering you marriage. I never have.”
Not offer her marriage? Wha
t sort of lie was this? She said, “You most certainly did. I even remember you proposing.”
He scowled at her. “That is not possible… Try to remember back, Nahkohe-tseske, to a few nights ago, when you came to me on the hill and suggested that we lie with one another.”
“I made no such suggestion.”
“It appeared that way to me.”
She began to fume. The man had to be insane. She had not made an indecent overture to him, she had been forming a pact, a treaty. Yes, it might have been a rather personal settlement, but that was all it was.
She reiterated, “I made a pact to stay with you if you performed your duty to take the children to a white settlement. It was a treaty between the two of us. Nothing more.”
He leered at her. “I think it was a womanly advance, for I never agreed to marry you. You told me you would be mine. You did not mention marriage and…what was I to think?”
“But I meant—”
He held up a hand. “That is not what you said.”
Fury rose up within her. But whether it was directed at herself or at him, she would have been hard-pressed to tell. Especially because it was true. That was exactly what she had told him.
But she had thought that he would understand her; that she could never contemplate such an act with him without marriage.
She sat back. Well, what was she do to now?
At length, she observed, “And so now you want to seal this arrangement with the…the intimate act of marriage without actually being married? Let us be specific. Is this what you are asking of me?”
“It is either that or get yourself killed.”
She made a harsh noise with her tongue, scoffing him. “There must be some other way. I refuse to believe that this, and this alone, will ensure the lives of my children… You realize that you are asking me to become a woman of ill repute?”
He made no comment.
“I would run away from you first, that’s what I’d do.”
“Fine,” he said. “Do it then, but I think you would get yourself and the children killed.”
“Why?”
He shrugged, as though that were answer enough, and made a move to get to his feet, but she reached out to detain him.
