There were grunts of agreement and heads nodding around the circle. “A hostage. Yes, that might be a good idea.”
The cowardly one frowned. “I say we kill her and be done with it. If we bury her quickly, the whites will never know what happened to her.”
The others nodded. “That might also be an answer.”
“Do not listen to him,” Yellow Jacket snapped. “The whites will find her buggy tracks and come looking for her. If they do not find her, they will attack us. However, if we hold her hostage, they will not attack us as we move north.”
He held his breath as the chiefs fell silent, thinking. If they ordered him to kill her, he did not think he could do it. He had a sudden image of grabbing her up and running for his horse to save her life.
Opothleyahola thought a long moment, then spoke. “Yellow Jacket gives wise council. I say that her presence among us as a hostage will protect us. Now let us scatter and get our people ready to move out. We will start north at the deepest part of the night. Yellow Jacket, take charge of the prisoner. She is going with us to Kansas, whether she likes it or not!”
Chapter 7
Twilight was too frightened even to struggle as the big savage tied her and lifted her. For a moment he held her, looking down into her face. She could feel the heat and the muscle of the virile male through his buckskins as he glowered down into her face.
“Damn you,” he muttered, “why do you have to complicate my life when I have no time for thoughts of you?”
With that, he sat her up on the seat of the buggy and stalked away. Gagged as she was, she couldn’t scream for help, and anyway, there was no one around who would help her. Why hadn’t she been a dutiful Southern woman and stayed at the settlement, where she belonged?
Around her in the firelight, she could see Indians bustling about, saddling horses, hitching up wagons, bringing down tents. Three warriors unloaded the supplies from her buggy, sharing them around, where the food and blankets were greeted with glad cries. Many had to walk away empty-handed because the things she’d brought were so few and the hungry so many. Around her in the darkness, she heard sounds of confusion, shouted orders, whinnying horses as the Creeks prepared to move out. What was she to do?
She must do something, not sit here like a trussed chicken waiting to be slaughtered. A genteel lady would weep, but she was determined not to do that. Twilight struggled against her bonds, but Yellow Jacket had tied her up expertly as well as stuffing a rag in her mouth. She could only hope the savages didn’t kill her before Harvey or Captain Wellsley discovered she was missing and came searching for her. But they were not due back at the settlement for days, and no one would question the fact that the store was closed. By the time anyone discovered she was missing, she might be tortured and ravished or even killed. After all, she was surely going to be a burden to these Indians as they fled north. Somehow, Yellow Jacket didn’t seem like that kind of man, but who knew what savages thought?
In less than an hour Yellow Jacket returned, tied his great brown and white stallion behind her buggy, and climbed up on the seat beside her. She felt the heat of his muscular thigh against hers and scooted away from him. He glared at her and frowned. “You flatter yourself, Mrs. Dumont. I don’t have time for that right now.”
But maybe later you will, she thought with a shudder.
He seemed to notice her trembling. “Cold, are you? Well, it wouldn’t do to have our hostage freeze to death before we need you.” He reached for a buffalo robe and draped it around her shoulders. For a moment in the moonlight, he looked down into her eyes as his hands gripped the robe about her neck. For just a second he leaned forward ever so slightly, and she thought he might kiss her. She was horrified to realize the thought excited her. Instead, he slid over to his side of the buggy and picked up the reins.
Grateful for the warmth, nevertheless she grunted a protest as he yelled to the horse and the buggy moved out, following hundreds of other Indians as they made a straggly line toward the north.
Yellow Jacket turned on the seat and gave her a warning glare. “You’d better behave yourself, white girl, or you may not last long enough to be ransomed. Some of the others want to kill you and be done with it.”
Twilight blinked back tears and fell silent as the buggy bumped along. She was too terrified even to pray. No doubt the Indians intended to kill her anyway as soon as they got a distance away from the camp. Before they killed her, some of these braves would probably . . .
No, she didn’t even want to think about that. Twilight tried to keep her balance as the wagon rolled along, but time and time again, when they hit a rut in the dirt trail, she was thrown against Yellow Jacket. He seemed not to notice, his rugged countenance frowning as he watched the ragtag group moving ahead of him. “We’ll never get all these people to Kansas with this cold weather,” he muttered, “even if the rebels don’t come after us—which they will, once they figure out we’ve got you.” He turned his head ever so slightly and glared at her.
This journey was a fool’s errand, Twilight thought in silent agreement. Why didn’t these tribes accept their fate? Resisting the winds of chance was futile. Even she could see how poorly armed and provisioned these people were. Burdened down with thousands of the old and feeble, not to mention women, children, and livestock, they didn’t stand a chance against the hundreds of well-armed, well-fed Confederate troops that would soon be in pursuit.
The cold night seemed endless, tied as she was. The gag kept her mouth dry, and her arms seemed to have no feeling left. Somewhere along the line, livestock mooed and baa-ed; a baby cried, and several dogs barked, but the column did not stop until almost dawn. Then Yellow Jacket climbed down off the buggy and went to confer with a handful of important warriors who had gathered nearby. Twilight tried to pick up their words, but mostly they spoke their native language. In a few minutes, Yellow Jacket returned. “We’re going to stop long enough to eat and rest the horses; then we’ll move on.”
She didn’t think she could stand another minute of sitting on this seat with her hands tied. In the cold moonlight, she tried to talk and pleaded with him with her eyes. He reached up and removed the gag.
“Thank you,” she gasped.
He shrugged, his face motionless as stone. “I’m not attempting to do you a favor, white girl. There’s no one to rescue you around here, so you might as well lose the gag.”
“I—I need to . . .” She felt herself color.
“Oh, all right.” He tossed aside the buffalo robe, pulled her to him, lifted her to the ground. Then he reached behind her and began to untie her hands. It was almost as if she were in his embrace, the heat of his wide chest against her breasts, his powerful arms around her. “You can go over there in the bushes where some of the other women have gone. Don’t try to run away. You can’t escape with no horse.”
“I know that.”
He stepped back, surprise on his rugged face. “Well, the genteel lady is getting a little spunk.”
“It’s desperation.” She pulled her hands in front of her after he untied her, began to rub her wrists to bring feeling back into them. “Is there any water?”
He nodded and handed her his canteen. “Be careful with it—we may not find another stream for a while.”
In her newly found defiance, she turned the canteen up and began to gulp the cold water. It tasted better than any water she had ever tasted.
“You white bitch!” he swore, and grabbed it out of her hand. “I told you we were short on water.”
“You’ve got to keep your hostage alive,” she reminded him, and wiped her mouth. She was too tired to be afraid at the moment. Her legs were so stiff, she wasn’t sure she could walk. The frost crunched under her small shoes.
“Don’t go far,” he warned. “You can’t get away.”
“I know that.” She turned and headed for the woods, going deep into the shadows to relieve herself. When she looked around, the other women had already turned and were returning to
the column. Twilight took a deep breath and moved so that she could see Yellow Jacket. He stood talking to that big mixed black, Smoke.
Could she get away? Maybe if she could hide deep enough among the walnuts and oaks, Yellow Jacket wouldn’t spend much time looking for her. After all, the tribes were on an urgent timetable, and daylight would be here soon. Once the Indians had passed, all she had to do was follow the tracks back to the settlement. Twilight shivered again. It was cold and the wind was blowing harder, but she had to risk it. She ran deeper into the woods. Behind her she heard that deep, angry voice: “White girl, where are you? Damn it, answer me!”
She didn’t answer. The fury in his voice caused her to run even faster. Behind her, his voice grew fainter, but she could hear the whips cracking and the shouts as the column started up again. Probably she wasn’t important enough now for the Indians to waste time trying to find her. After all, the secret that they had fled would be out soon, and the Confederate army would come in pursuit.
Faintly in the distance, she heard Yellow Jacket shouting and cursing. Twilight found herself a hollow behind a big bush and knelt down, hugging herself to preserve warmth. Too bad she hadn’t grabbed that buffalo robe, but if she had, Yellow Jacket would have suspected she wasn’t coming back. The wind picked up and brought the sound of the column moving again. Good, he had given up more easily than she had expected. Maybe a hostage was more trouble than she was worth. Even if she froze to death out here, it was better than being raped and tortured by savages.
She did not know how long she crouched there. It seemed like hours after the sounds of the column had moved on before she dared venture out. She cut through the shadowy woods, still in sight of the muddy trail with its hoof and moccasin prints. She would walk in the shadows until daylight, keeping the trail in sight, then hide until dark and follow the trail in the moonlight back to the white settlement. If she could walk fast, she might reach safety before dark. Somewhere a coyote howled, and Twilight started. If she didn’t reach help by nightfall, she might either freeze to death or get attacked by coyotes or hungry wolves. Being Yellow Jacket’s captive suddenly seemed not so bad.
What was she thinking? The old Twilight would have returned to the buggy, not struck out on her own, risking everything for freedom. Funny, that’s just what the Indians were doing. No, of course it was not the same. The Confederates wouldn’t mistreat their captives. Then she remembered how thin and ragged these people were, and a small shadow of doubt crossed her mind as she walked.
Twilight was cold, colder than she had ever been in her life. Daylight came, and the weather warmed a little—a weak sun peaking through the scudding clouds. It looked as though a blizzard might be on the way. She ought to hide, she knew, but she had a feeling that if she stopped for any period of time, she might freeze to death. Her thin clothes were not much comfort against the wind.
She kept walking, realizing that if she were to perish out here in the wilderness, her stepbrother and Captain Wellsley would never know what had happened to her.
Her feet felt like bricks as she walked, her dainty shoes no match for the rough terrain. Once she fell, got up, and stumbled on. At least the walking kept her warm. However, she couldn’t walk forever, and when she sat down to rest, would she freeze to death? She wished she had some food or at least some water. Damn that brave for taking her prisoner, and now the Creeks had her buggy. Harvey would be upset about the stolen buggy. The thought of her stepbrother ranting and raving made her smile, where not too long ago she would have trembled at his rage.
The weak sun moved across the horizon as she went to the rutted trail and kept walking, following the tracks home. Once again she tripped and fell, this time landing in a half-frozen mud puddle. She scrambled to her feet, but the damage was done. She could already feel the cold seeping through her wet black skirt. Twilight sat down on a stone to catch her breath and began to shiver again. If she didn’t keep moving, she knew she wouldn’t make it. The pursuing soldiers would find her tomorrow, lying in the middle of the Indians’ escape route, dead and frozen.
The old Twilight would have done just that: given up with a whimper. That thought angered her as much as it scared her. She didn’t intend to die until she got revenge on that damned savage for abducting her. Her anger gave her new strength, and she got up, scraped some frost off a tree, and licked it. It numbed her mouth, but it was delicious. She wished she could find more, but she didn’t see any. Then she began walking again. The slant of the weak sun told her it was late afternoon, but she had no idea how far she’d come. All she knew to do was keep moving forward, putting one numb foot in front of the other.
It was dusk when she realized that she could walk no farther. Twilight paused, gasping for breath. Maybe she could find shelter from the wind in the nearby grove of trees and rest a few minutes. She turned off the trail, looking desperately for water. She found a small patch of unmelted snow and began to eat handfuls of it, knowing it would only lower her body temperature, but she was too thirsty to stop. As she began to move deeper into the woods, she stumbled again and fell in a little patch of snow, white against the blackness of the earth. For a long moment she lay there, too weary to move, feeling the wet cold seeping through her dress.
You must get up or you will die here. She wasn’t sure she cared. It was so much effort to move anymore. She only wanted to close her eyes and drift off to sleep. No, she must not do that. She stumbled to her feet, brushing the wet snow from the front of her dress. Deep in the straggly trees, she found a small hollow out of the wind, but she was shivering violently now, and she had no matches.
Did she hear a horse coming? Maybe she only imagined it. No, it sounded louder now. Hope leaped at the thought the army was coming to rescue her, then died in her throat as she peered out and saw Yellow Jacket on his pinto stallion, coming along the trail. She shrank against the ground as he stopped, dismounted to study the tracks, then turned toward the woods. “Twilight?” he shouted. “White girl, damn it, where are you?”
She almost cried out with relief, then decided she wasn’t any better off as a hostage. She might still find her way to a settlers’ log cabin. Jumping up, she began to run. Behind her she heard Yellow Jacket’s shout of protest. “You! Come back here!”
She didn’t answer but kept running, fell, scrambled to her feet, and ran on. Behind her she heard curses of protest and then the sound of running moccasins. She had to outrun him; she had to. The footsteps behind her sounded as swift and light as a deer. “Damn you, white girl, stop!”
She stumbled and kept running. It sounded as if he was gaining on her. She didn’t stop or look back, even though she could hear his panting breath now. A big hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder, tearing her dress.
“I told you to stop!” He whirled her around, but she fought him. Better to freeze to death trying to get back to the settlement than be a Creek slave.
He grabbed her and they both went down; he came up on top. “Stop it, Twilight, you’re half frozen!”
“Thanks to you!” she shrieked.
He caught her wrist and jerked her to her feet. “You’re lucky I found you. You wouldn’t make it through the night.”
“Better than be your captive!” She fought to keep the scalding tears back, but they came anyway.
“Stop it, woman,” he ordered, and turned to whistle to his horse. The big pinto came trotting toward them. “I’ve got matches and blankets. We’ll make it through the night, then join the others in the morning.”
Morning. That meant she had to spend the night alone with this big savage. He led her into the shelter of some brush, where he sat her on a rock and wrapped a blanket from his saddle around her. She wiped her eyes and watched him build a small fire.
“Can’t get it too big,” he cautioned. “The rebels might see it.”
She huddled close to the small flame, shivering. “Have you got any food?”
He frowned at her. “As much trouble as you’ve caused me, I s
houldn’t give you anything.”
She wasn’t going to sacrifice her dignity by begging. “All right.”
“Here.” He tossed her a canteen and a small packet wrapped in oiled paper. “Here’s some jerky.”
She gulped the water, then unfolded the package and took a bite. It was salty and smoky-tasting. “This is good.”
He strode over to a small patch of snow, filled his coffeepot, put it on the fire. “I should have abandoned you. The others wanted me to. They said you’d die of exposure before you ever made it back to the settlement.”
“I reckon that was about right,” she admitted as she watched him work. “Why didn’t you?”
“Oh, hell, I don’t know,” he growled, not looking at her. The smell of boiling coffee drifted to her nostrils. He handed her a cup, and she wrapped her cold hands around it and sipped the strong, hot brew gratefully.
“Well, thank you for coming,” she whispered.
He frowned at her. “Let’s get one thing straight. You’re nothing but a hostage to me, and the minute you become too much of a burden, the others will insist we kill you, so from now on, don’t create trouble.”
She looked into his dark, hard face. Was he bluffing?
They finished eating their meager food; then he led his horse behind some bushes out of the wind and unsaddled and hobbled it so it could graze on the dried grass.
“Now,” he said, confronting her, “we’ve each got a blanket and I throw the buffalo robe over both of us.”
Twilight hesitated. “We’re—we’re to share a bed?”
“You fear for your virtue?” he sneered. “How like a Southern belle to worry about that with everything else that’s happening. Don’t worry, Mrs. Dumont, I’ve got too much else on my mind right now to think about ripping your clothes off and ravishing you as you expect from a bloodthirsty savage.”
She looked away, feeling foolish. Maybe he found her so unattractive that he wouldn’t have hungered for her under the best of circumstances. She took her blanket, wrapped up in it, and lay down by the fire. He brought the buffalo robe and the other blanket and lay down next to her. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look into his face as he arranged the blankets and pulled the robe up over them both. She felt the heat of the big man filtering through the covers and instinctively moved a little closer. If he dropped off to sleep, maybe she could steal his horse and ride out.
To Tame A Rebel Page 10
