To Tame A Rebel

by Georgina Gentry

  Chapter 10

  Twilight thought the day would never end. She hung onto Yellow Jacket’s broad back as they rode into the cold north wind. Around her, people stumbled and fell, got up, and kept walking. Many of the people were without shoes, and now and then she saw bloody footprints in sharp contrast to the white, white snow. Once they passed a dead horse and saw hungry people gathered around, cutting it up for meat.

  Finally, it was almost dark, and the people stopped to camp, sharing whatever food they had. Yellow Jacket gathered buffalo and cow chips to start a fire. People crept close to it and warmed their numb hands. Twilight went about with her medicine bag, bandaging minor wounds, handing out what little medicine she had. No longer did she look on these people as savages. They were only people after all attempting to escape the ravages of war.

  The big mixed-blood, Smoke, rode up, grinning. “Some good news, finally. Stragglers tell us Colonel Drew’s Cherokee Mounted Rifles have deserted. Some of them have joined us, some have ridden over to join the Union forces, and some of them are just tired of the war and have gone home.”

  “That is good news.” Yellow Jacket nodded. “Maybe that’ll delay the rebels while they wait for reinforcements. Now we can take some time to rest.” He returned to Twilight and the small group who had ridden in her buggy.

  She watched him talking to the frail old leader in their native language. The old man bent double with coughing as the pair talked, but he smiled. Twilight caught Yellow Jacket’s arm as he turned to go. “What’s happened?”

  “Some of the rebel Cherokees have deserted, the Keetoowas, the ones we call the ‘pins.’ That leaves their commanders shorthanded. It’s the first good news we’ve gotten in weeks.”

  It wasn’t good news for her, Twilight realized. If the Confederate troops were delayed, the chances of her escaping were getting smaller. And yet, if she got the chance to escape, how could she go, knowing there was no one to look after the wounded and the sick among these pitiful people? She reminded herself that she was a hostage and these Indians weren’t her problem . . . unless she wanted to make them so.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she lied. “Can you possibly find any food for some of the sicker, weaker ones?”

  “I’ll try hunting,” he answered, “but we’re short of cartridges.”

  “We seem to be short of everything except the sick and hungry.” Twilight sighed.

  The wind blew the tiny fire almost out, and Twilight knelt and began to blow on the embers, fanning the fire to a blaze again while others ran about to gather up twigs and cow chips to fuel it.

  Yellow Jacket watched her, nodding with approval. “I’m almost out of matches. When we use them up, we’ll be trying to use a flint and steel. That’s hard to do with the wind blowing.”

  She rubbed her numb hands and held them out to the flames. “I wish we had some coffee. If we’d stayed with the Confederates, we’d have some.”

  Yellow Jacket snorted in derision. “My people aren’t likely to trade a chance at freedom for coffee. I’ll melt some snow over the fire. I think I have a little parched corn left; we can make a thin soup.”

  She was too weary to do anything but nod. “If you could shoot a rabbit, maybe I could make a nourishing soup for some of these people.” Around her, she could see others stumbling to a halt, trying to build fires. It was starting to snow again as darkness came on. Many of these people would not survive the night, she thought, but she would do what she could. Twilight busied herself getting her soup boiling, and after an hour, Yellow Jacket returned with one thin old jackrabbit, which he skinned, cut up, and added to her soup.

  She looked around at the dozens of hungry faces and called out, “Bring your cup or an old hollow gourd and we’ll share what we’ve got.”

  Immediately, small children came running, but the old hung back. Tears came to Twilight’s eyes as she realized why. “There’s plenty,” she lied, urging the old ones to come forward. “There’s enough for everyone.”

  Within minutes the kettle was empty. “Did you get any?” she asked Yellow Jacket.

  “I—I wasn’t hungry. Did you eat?”

  “Sure,” she lied, knowing he would be upset that she had given her share to a frail woman. She couldn’t have eaten anyway with all those hungry eyes watching her.

  He put his hand on her shoulder. “You have a good heart, Twilight.”

  She didn’t answer and looked away.

  “You should have eaten,” he scolded gently. “If you’re returned in poor shape, Harvey will say we mistreated you.”

  His words stung her. How could she almost have forgotten that she meant nothing to him except for her medical skills and being a valuable hostage?

  Darkness came on, cold and sharp, the wind howling like a wild animal as it blew through their campsite. The fire had dwindled down to glowing coals. The people had scattered, seeking shelter in gullies out of the wind.

  Yellow Jacket cut and spread fragrant juniper boughs, then laid his buffalo robe on top of those. “Let’s see if we can make it through the night without freezing to death. Bring your blanket.” He sat down on the robe and gestured for her to join him.

  Twilight reasoned that the whites need never know she had shared blankets with this big savage male. Surviving the night was all that mattered. After a moment’s hesitation, she brought her blanket and lay down on the juniper boughs next to the big man. The scent of the fragrant branches reminded her of Christmas. She wondered then how many days had passed and how close to Christmas it was. Did it matter anymore? All that mattered was staying alive and out of the range of the rebel guns until she was rescued.

  Yellow Jacket pulled her close to him. She stiffened in protest for a moment; then she lay down on his muscular arm and pulled the blanket over them. They turned toward the fire, spoon-fashion, and he curled protectively around her. The heat and the power of him enveloped her, and she was warm and secure. “How far is it to Kansas?”

  His warm breath stirred her hair. “I don’t know. We’ll just keep moving until we run across Yankee troops.”

  “Suppose the Confederates catch up to us again?”

  “Then we’ll fight them again,” he answered sleepily. “Now, go to sleep; we’ll be on the trail again before dawn, and you’ll need all your strength.”

  “I am so tired of being hungry and cold,” she whispered, “and watching people die when there is so little I can do to help them.”

  “Me, too,” he murmured, “but there is no quitting unless we want to be killed or captured by the rebels, so we’ll just keep moving north until we either reach safety or the rebels kill us.”

  She was finally getting warm. She lay on his muscular arm, listening to the crackle of the fire. She didn’t want to think about the hardships and the hunger of tomorrow. Tonight it was enough to be warm and safe, to be able to sleep. She began to drift off.

  He pulled her closer, and she pretended to be asleep as he stroked her hair. She felt him kiss the side of her face, and then his big hand pulled the blanket closer around her small shoulders. “I’m sorry I got you into this,” he whispered, and then he laid his face against hers, his big arm encircling her protectively. In minutes she heard his steady breathing as he dropped off to sleep.

  There was no telling what lay ahead of them on the windswept prairie tomorrow—death, or at least pain, hunger, and heartbreak—and a relentless army was coming behind them. She would not think of that. She would think only that she was warm and in the arms of a man who held her as if she were a precious object.

  What was she thinking? Of course she was precious to him; she was a hostage and might come in very handy if the Indians needed a bargaining chip with the Confederate army. She must remember that and stop thinking of this big savage as a virile and protective man. She put her cold face against his chest and dropped off to sleep.

  In the middle of the night, she awakened to find him propped up on one elbow, loo
king down into her face.

  She blinked. “Is it—is it time to move on?”

  “Not yet,” he whispered, with a slight shake of his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just like looking at you, that’s all.” His big hand traced the line of her jaw.

  His gentleness touched her. Without thinking, she reached up and caught his hand. “What are you thinking?”

  “How much I’ve wanted to do this.” Before she realized what he intended, he bent his head and kissed her gently.

  She froze in surprise and then realized she’d been waiting for this moment since the first time she had seen him, since he had claimed her with his eyes so arrogantly and boldly. She let his tongue open her lips, and then she reached up and put her arms around his neck, returning his kiss with an ardor that surprised her. She had not known she was capable of such feeling.

  After a moment, he pulled away. “I’m sorry, I should not have done that.”

  Her heart was hammering. “I’m a captive; I couldn’t have stopped you.”

  “I wouldn’t want you that way.” He got up and poked up the fire. “I’m going hunting. Maybe I’ll get lucky and get something big like a deer. That would save a lot of people from dying today.”

  She went from the magic of his forbidden embrace to the harsh reality of the coming day. With a sigh, she got up and pulled the blanket around her shoulders. How many miles would they walk today, and how many people would they lose to the cold and hunger?

  Yellow Jacket did bring in a deer, and Twilight gathered snow and soon had a big pot of broth going to share around. By dawn, the caravan was winding through the hills, headed north again. However, as she sat behind Yellow Jacket on the big paint horse with her arms around his waist and her face pressed against the leather on his muscular back, she remembered that kiss time and time again and smiled ever so slowly.

  They traveled in peace that day, the rebels behind them evidently waiting for reinforcements. Despite the cold and the lack of food, they kept moving until old Opothleyahola, still riding in her confiscated buggy, called a halt.

  Twilight did not want to think about tonight and what might happen. She did what she could to relieve suffering and ate some of the deer meat left from early this morning.

  Finally, the pair bedded down near the fire. She did not protest when he pulled her shivering body close to him. Instead, she reveled in the warmth and closed her eyes. Civilization was very far away, and she might not make it through the dangers of tomorrow, but tonight she was finding comfort curled up against this man. She closed her eyes and began to drift off to sleep.

  Then she felt him stroke her hair and pull her close. Twilight’s heart began to hammer. She wasn’t certain if she should protest, or, worse yet, whether she wanted to. Not that it mattered, because she was a captive and he could do with her what he wanted. He stroked her hair. “Twilight?”

  She pretended that she was asleep because she was uncertain how she should or wanted to react.

  She felt his lips brush her cheek in the gentlest of kisses. She turned her body slowly so that she lay facing him, her breasts against his powerful chest. In the darkness she felt his hard manhood against her body. She had never felt this way toward any other man before, and tomorrow they might freeze to death or be killed. Her pulse began to beat hard as something deep within her stirred with an emotion that she had never felt. He rose up on one elbow. She could see the hard, rugged planes of his face in the flickering firelight.

  “Twilight?” He was asking, and her heart said yes.

  Without saying a word, she reached up, put her arms around his neck, and pulled him down to her. He gasped and breathed harder as his mouth covered hers. Never had she been kissed this way before. He claimed her mouth as a prize that he had won, and yet his lips were gentle as a butterfly’s wings as they brushed hers. Then his insistent tongue pushed against hers, and she threw back her head and opened her lips in surrender so that his tongue went deep, caressing and tasting hers. His big hands went under her to pull her up against him, and then one of his hands went inside her bodice to stroke there. She, who had never known the ecstasy of a mutual hunger, clung to him now, trembling like a hesitant virgin while he kissed her as if he would never get enough of her. His rugged face was cold as it brushed against hers, and suddenly she wanted to warm him in the most intimate way. She reached to jerk open her bodice and put his face against her breasts. He moaned once, and then his eager lips sought her nipples. Now she was the one who moaned as his hand went to push up her skirt.

  His hand stroked her thighs until she trembled with anticipation. Even if she died or were rescued tomorrow, she would have the ecstasy of this night to see what it was that she had missed in the cold, ritual matings with her husband.

  “Twilight, are you sure?” He paused and drew back.

  “If we were to die tomorrow, I don’t want to regret that I missed this,” she whispered, and pulled his mouth down to hers.

  He hugged her fiercely, his mouth all over her body as he caressed her. She touched him, and he was rigid with need. She opened and enveloped him, her own greedy body pulling him deep within her. She could feel his hard lance pulsating in her as he kissed her deeper still. Then he began to ride her in a rhythm of love, and she had never experienced this soaring emotion before. She dug her nails into his broad back and hips, urging him deeper still in a frenzy of pumping and gasping. Then he began to give up his seed, and in her wonder, her own body responded, locking on to his so that he might not escape the grasp of her long legs until her body had what it craved from him.

  For a moment, it was almost as if she were dying, because the firelight, the wind, everything faded but the emotion and the warmth of him riding her deep and hard, and she couldn’t get enough of him. Finally, as she came to, she realized he, too, was gasping, limp and satisfied.

  “Now the captain won’t want you,” he whispered. “You’ve been taken by a savage.”

  “Is that why you did it?”

  He looked down at her. “I wanted to give you my son,” he whispered. “If I don’t survive this, at least I will have left a son to carry on.”

  Did he really care about her, or was it only his need to leave his progeny that had driven him? She dare not ask, because she was not sure she wanted the truth.

  He leaned over and kissed her again, but he did not whisper words of tenderness.

  What on earth had she done? Mating with a savage captor out in the middle of a hostile wilderness with possible death facing her tomorrow? She was greatly troubled, but her body was relaxing in sleep already. She felt Yellow Jacket cradle her in his arms as he rolled over on his side and they both slept.

  Before dawn, Yellow Jacket shook her awake, and she blinked, uncertain how to face him this morning after last night’s intimacy. She would pretend it never happened. The whole camp was stirring, babies crying, horses neighing. She knew without looking that in this bitter cold, some of the less fortunate had frozen to death last night. She might have, too, but for the warmth of Yellow Jacket’s big body. Wordlessly he handed her a cup of hot water, and she looked up at him and said nothing.

  Absently she reached into her pocket and touched the blue bead. She had forgotten about that. She brought it out and stared at it in the first light. Immediately, Yellow Jacket grabbed her wrist.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “Stop it! You’re hurting me!” In their struggle, the blue bead flew from her hand and was lost in the white snow. “What’s the matter with you?”

  He glowered down at her. “My niece, Pretty, had a bracelet made of those. It wasn’t found with her body.”

  “Harvey sells beads of all colors; I picked this one up off the floor of the trading post.” She decided not to mention that it was under his bed.

  Yellow Jacket’s jaw clenched. “They say Pretty killed herself, but I think she was murdered.”

  “Murdered?” She backed away, shaking her head.

  “
Your brother would turn a girl’s head with jewelry and ribbons. Pretty was young and foolish. There were boot tracks where she was found, but they weren’t those of a man who limped.”

  She remembered the pebbles in Harvey’s boot. Without the pebbles, he did not limp.

  “What’s the matter with you? You’re pale.”

  “N-Nothing,” she lied. “I doubt Harvey has the courage to kill anyone.”

  “If I was sure, I would track him down and kill him very slowly,” he said. “Anyway, it doesn’t make any difference now, does it? The Muskogee are on the run, and I’ve got Harvey Leland’s sister as a hostage.” His cold tone hinted of revenge. She’d meant nothing to him but a moment’s pleasure. What a fool she had been.

  “I’ll ride in the buggy today,” she said coldly.

  “No, you won’t. It’ll be overloaded already with our sick leader and some of the women and children. You’ll ride behind me. Now, get a move on; the others are already pulling out and who knows how far the rebels are behind us?”

  There was nothing to do but let him pull her up behind him on the big paint horse. This time, his body felt tense and unrelenting when she put her arms around his waist. At least his body was breaking the cold wind. They started out again heading north, all the people stumbling through the snow, ignoring the dead and dying who lay along the trail.

  “Don’t look,” he muttered. “We can do nothing to help them, and they know it.”

  She wanted to protest, but she knew he was right. “Maybe the Confederate soldiers will care for them when they catch up.”

  He laughed, a short, humorless laugh. “You don’t really belive that,” he scoffed. “Nothing will slow the rebels while they’re trying to capture my people.”