by Beth Trissel
“If he doesn’t come, I no longer care what you do to me.”
Tonkawa did not answer immediately. “I would make you my own,” he said more gently.
She turned her face away.
He stroked her throbbing cheek. “Hear me, Peshewa.”
She whipped her head back. “Don’t you dare call me that. It’s Shoka’s name for me.”
The veneer of softness in Tonkawa’s manner faded. “I will call you what I like. Do with you what I like.”
“Go ahead then, damn you. I can’t stop you.”
“I will have your respect, woman.”
“You’ll not gain it by forcing me.”
“I will make you my wife.”
“Is she to have two husbands?”
It was Shoka’s voice outside the door at the back of the cabin. Choking in relief, Rebecca strained toward the stout barrier that stood between them.
Tonkawa sprang to his feet like a hound at the snarl of a fox and hauled her up with him. His eyes were riveted on the door. “How do you still live?”
“Harm my wife, coward, and die,” he warned, his threat punctuated by the loud crack of an ax striking the oak.
Tonkawa imprisoned her with one steely arm. He unsheathed his knife with the other, its blade fixed to a deer antler handle. “You cannot kill three warriors.”
Again the ax smashed against the protesting wood. “Two. One fled.”
“More will come.”
Another crash—the edge of the blade glinted through the door. “Too late to aid you, Tonkawa.”
“Go to hell, Shoka!” He stretched a long leg out and scooted the musket to him with the toe of his moccasin.
“Not without you.”
Before Tonkawa snatched up the musket, another chop of the ax widened the crack and the next blow shattered the bolt. The pieces fell to the floor as Shoka kicked the splintered door open and plunged into the room.
Tonkawa raised his knife to Rebecca’s throat and its deadly kiss nicked her skin. “No closer.”
Shoka pulled up. “If she falls, you will follow.”
“Yet she falls.”
Rebecca dared not move an inch. Tonkawa could draw the blade across her throat before Shoka reached them. Yet Shoka’s face remained as cool and hard as stone.
“Spare her and I will let you go,” he bargained.
Tonkawa shook his head. “One must pay. I much regret it is you, Peshewa.”
Her chest heaved beneath his arm. “Oh, God.”
Still Shoka concealed his fear for her. “You will surely die, Tonkawa.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
“Have you greater skill than your brother?” Shoka challenged.
“We will see. Close your eyes, Peshewa. I will be quick,” Tonkawa said.
Tears squeezed from between her lids as she shut her eyes against the pain.
Shoka’s voice rose. “Wait! Take my life!”
Her eyes flew open to the unconcealed anguish in his face. “No! I’ll not live without you!”
“What is my life without your touch? Your voice?”
Tonkawa hesitated. “I despise to take her life.”
“Do not then,” Shoka pleaded.
“How do I take yours? You will fight me,” he reasoned.
Rebecca was counting on it and on Shoka emerging the victor. But they were at an impasse and Tonkawa was fast losing patience.
The room spun again. She could hardly breathe in his iron grip. “I’m going to faint.”
“Lighten your hold. I will remain here,” Shoka said.
“One step, my blade returns.”
“Agreed.”
Tonkawa lowered the knife. Rebecca toppled against him. She doubted she could stand on her own power, but it could only be to her advantage if Tonkawa thought her unconscious. She lay motionless, her muscles slack, as he lifted her.
“Stay from us, Shoka. I will kill her if I must.”
“How can you kill this woman you hold like a lover?”
“I have no wish for her death. So fair she is.”
“Very fair,” Shoka coaxed.
“Go, Shoka. I keep her in payment,” Tonkawa bartered.
“No trade.”
“You prefer her death?”
“I will cut my heart out before I leave her to you.”
“I will cut it out for you,” Tonkawa growled.
The standoff was quickly deteriorating.
“You want payment? I have gold,” Shoka bit out.
She remembered the stash in the pouch at his waist. The gold had survived the fort battle and the flooded cave, intact. Wabete had said her secreted coins couldn’t buy back Shoka’s life, but perhaps they could purchase hers now. She heard the clink of precious metal.
“Look, Tonkawa. More gold than you will ever see again. All for you if you free her,” Shoka offered.
Tonkawa sucked in his breath. “Where did you get these?”
“Her English husband gave her the sovereigns.”
She sensed Tonkawa’s whetted interest even with her eyes closed. “How do we make the trade?” he asked.
“I will throw the coins in the place beneath the floor and go, with my woman. Never to return. I give you my word.”
He snorted. “The word of a Shawnee warrior?”
“I do not lie. Sheathe your knife, rest my wife on the bearskin. I will toss in the coins.” Shoka’s reply burned with barely restrained fury.
Tonkawa lowered her to the fur.
She sensed him hovering over her as she listened for the fall of coins onto the hard-packed earth. She detected the slightest clink. Shoka had done it.
“Leave your musket. Get away from her,” he said.
She didn’t hear Tonkawa’s silent tread, but his absence was palpable and the noxious scent retreated with him. She opened her eyes to find his fixed on her from across the room.
“I said you would not faint,” he muttered.
“No thanks to you.”
Shoka stood her on shaky legs and grabbed the discarded blanket. She clutched it around her, jumping as he rounded on Tonkawa. “Take back your hand!”
Tonkawa lowered his hand, the knife in his fisted grip.
“Drop the blade.”
His eyes darting daggers, Tonkawa let the knife clatter to the floor.
“Stay still or my tomahawk flies,” Shoka warned.
Tonkawa remained as he was and Shoka nodded toward the hearth. “Get your shoes, Rebecca.”
She ran forward and snatched them. He tossed her the fresh gown, petticoat, shift and stays.
“Out the door. Go,” he urged.
Would she make it safely past Tonkawa? He stood like a coiled snake ready to strike. But he didn’t make a move against her. She scrambled through the shattered doorway, over the stoop, and down the steps.
Shoka backed out after her, his tomahawk upraised. “Follow us and die!”
Chapter Nineteen
Shoka gazed at the foggy woods behind them, deeply attuned to the slightest rustle or shadow—anything out of place. Rebecca crouched on the muddy trail to pull on her shoes and stockings. Darting anxious glances across her shoulder, she did the laces.
No doubt Tonkawa was back there somewhere, snaking through the underbrush like a vile serpent. Black clouds billowed overhead in a surging mass and thunder rumbled. It seemed the mounting storm, too, chased them. Somehow, they must stay ahead of both.
She straightened and thrust her golden head through the neck of the shift then pushed slender arms through the sleeves. Her pale skin was further bruised and scraped from her battle with Tonkawa. The purplish stains and red blotch on her cheek contrasted sharply with her white face. Shoka silently cursed the cause of this evil.
She sprang into the stays and petticoat, and cinched the ties at her waist. “My gown can wait.” She bunched the blanket together in front and clutched the bundle under her arm.
Shoka gave a nod. Breaking into a run, he retook the lead. Rebec
ca sprinted over the muddy trail at his heels, fear driving her beyond what she could normally endure.
Robust mountain laurel rose up on both sides of them, six, even ten feet tall in places, hemming them in. If he’d been out for a leisurely hike through the woods, he would have enjoyed the fragrant pink blooms covering the green plants. As it was, the laurel presented an impenetrable barrier and slowed their headlong flight. If Tonkawa stalked them, they were trapped every way except ahead.
At this thought, he spurted forward in a burst of speed. “Faster,” he prodded, hating that he had to force her on.
Rebecca doggedly kept his pace as they passed the hedge, stretching on and on. Her breathing labored with the desperation of one whose life was at stake. Then she dwindled and lagged behind, panting with grunts of pain. Her breath rasped against the rising wind and tore at his heart. Despite the extreme danger to them both, he slowed to a trot then to a brisk walk. Stopping altogether, he swiveled around.
Gasps tore from her and she staggered. Her unsteady legs shook like a newborn foal’s. The strong breeze whipped her long hair around her and she trembled in the chill. This was too much, too soon, after her grueling trial. Even stronger women had succumbed to less. Shoka longed to take her in his arms and let her rest, to warm her, feed her, and soothe her troubled spirit.
Heaping silent venom on Tonkawa, he reached out and took her cold fingers. “Hold on to me.”
He spun back around and towed her behind him over the path. The ever increasing storm growled at their backs. Her struggle to force air in and out of her bursting lungs heaved in his ears.
Even with his support, she stumbled. Slipping on the rain-slicked path, she lurched into him. She doubled over, clutching one arm around her middle as though pierced through with an arrow, and sank to her knees.
“Shoka—I can’t.”
“I can.” He bent down and scooped her up off the ground. She drooped, gasping in his arms, hugging her bundle.
Thunder rumbled more loudly now. The stiff breeze flapped her petticoat. The growing storm was fast overtaking them. He only hoped it would hinder Tonkawa.
Like the evening before, Rebecca shivered against him and he feared she would lapse into that dangerously chilled state again. Easily done, after she’d already succumbed once. He paused along the rock-strewn path to wrap the cover more securely around her. At least she was dry; although the rolling thunderheads threatened to douse even this small measure of comfort. The thunder roared almost without ceasing now and the trees rocked with deep echoes.
“How will we know if Tonkawa pursues us?” she asked.
“We cannot.” Shoka clutched her to him as if Tonkawa reached out claw-like talons to snatch her away.
“Tonkawa fears you. I saw his face,” she said.
“His hate is greater. Blood vengeance rules all.”
“Why did he let us go? It wasn’t only for the gold.”
Shoka climbed across a fallen log encrusted with lichens, lifting her with him. “He knew I would kill him in the cabin. Out here, he hopes for ambush with his musket.”
“Will he fire on us both?”
“He desires my death, not yours.”
“You would escape so much faster without me.” Tears muffled her words.
Shoka smoothed back the long tendrils of hair lashing her cold cheeks. “You think I will leave you for him to find?”
She hid her face from the biting wind in his shirt. “Tonkawa will not find us apart. If he would fire at one, he must also strike the other.”
“Again you think to shield me. We will not die, Peshewa. We will escape him.”
Shoka hiked on with her in his arms. The compelling urgency, coupled with the precious burden he carried, spurred him on.
Large spatters of rain fell just ahead of the wall of clouds and beat the leaves overhead. Vivid bursts of lightning split the sky. Thunder crashed as they gained the top of the crest. The thunderbirds that Shawnee believed beat their wings among the clouds must be very angry. Their eyes flashed fire.
Then it was as if the very air they breathed fled before the storm. The wind rushed up to full gale force and the scattered raindrops united in a liquid curtain.
“Seek cover!” Rebecca pleaded.
Shoka ducked off the trail between the trees bending under the force of the storm’s onslaught. He stooped beneath a heavily branched hemlock and set her down on the bed of evergreen needles. A blast of rolling thunder shook the earth.
Giving a startled yelp, she crawled further underneath the boughs and huddled next to the trunk. “If Tonkawa doesn’t finish us, this storm surely will,” she gasped. “Even the heavens seem to rage against us. And it’s my fault. We would be safely in camp if it weren’t for me.”
Shoka crouched between her and the worst of the torrent. Sheltering her from the downpour, he enfolded her in his arms. “The fault is also mine. I should have made you go.”
She jumped at a flashing hiss and crash that followed. “It’s a sin to be a seductress.”
“Even with your husband?”
“Are you truly my husband in the eyes of God?”
“He sees our hearts are joined.”
She burrowed into him. “I’m not sure that counts.”
Lightning crackled across the rain-swept trees. An enormous clap right over them singed the air. Rebecca cried out and Shoka hugged her harder.
“It is all right. We are safe,” he soothed.
“I thought we were safe in the cabin. I’ve never been so wrong.”
“The storm will soon pass, Rebecca. Camp is not so far.”
“Tonkawa may find us before we reach it.”
“Wabete, Meshewa, others search for us. We are not without aid,” he said, but she still shuddered against him.
“I’ve brought you nothing but trouble. You should have sold me when you had the chance.”
“Never. I would not surrender one moment with you.”
“But I wanted you to have the gold. A new rifle at the very least. You lost your musket because of me. Even the locket is smashed,” she lamented.
“Your locket saved my life. What more can a gift do?”
“Everything’s gone,” she gulped out in a flood of tears.
The thunder roared with less violence as he let her cry. “Do you weep for me or for yourself?” he asked gently.
“Both. I was a lady, and now—”
“You are mine.”
“But I wanted your life to be better because of me.”
“Be my wife, only mine. This is all I ask.”
****
The rumbles from the sky came from an increasing distance. Relaxed against Shoka, Rebecca almost forgot they sheltered beneath the hemlock. Hunger gnawed at her. She shook with the damp cold, but these discomforts were not as overwhelming as the need for sleep. Drawing warmth from his solid strength, she drifted into an inviting haze.
He jostled her gently, and then more firmly. “Do not sleep now. Food and fire are in camp.” His voice was muted as if he spoke from a distance.
Somewhere in the back of her foggy mind she knew they couldn’t remain where they were, but it was as if she’d taken a sleeping potion.
“Your gown is not too wet. Dress.”
Rebecca couldn’t seem to move.
He tore her blanket away. “Now.”
The sagging boughs loosed a shower of cold droplets down her back. She sucked in her breath. “Shoka!”
He swiftly covered her mouth with the palm of his hand. “Be still. Thunderbirds no longer drown your words.”
She nodded in growing realization. And horror at her slip.
He freed her mouth and helped her to unbundle the cloth and push her arms into the sleeves. He tugged the gown in place and laced the bodice over the stomacher then rewrapped her in the damp blanket. He scooted out from under the tree.
She crawled after him on bruised knees and stood, swaying slightly.
He steadied her. “Can you walk? It
will warm you.”
She lied with a nod. She’d be fortunate to put one foot in front of the other and followed him back to the trail dazedly, as if some other part of her walked through the mist. In her muzzy state, she could just as easily have ventured in the opposite direction if Shoka hadn’t been careful to keep her right behind him.
To her relief, the wind quieted to a soft breeze and she wasn’t so cold. Her hazy surroundings blurred together and she floated down the ridge like a sleepwalker.
Reality snapped back into focus as she lurched over a root and pitched to the ground with a low cry.
Shoka bent to help her. Musket fire exploded that instant, spewing the bark from the trunk just above his head.
He dove beside her and rolled with her behind the broad trunk. “If you had not cried out, I would lie dead.”
She covered her mouth in icy dread. “Tonkawa?”
“Must be.”
“What are we to do?” she whispered.
“Speak to him.”
She stared at Shoka. “Are you out of your mind?”
His keen eyes scanned the woods. “He knows where we are. Help me find him.”
“Is there no other way?”
“None I know.”
“Tonkawa!” Forcing the syllables from her unwilling throat, she called his black name through the listening trees.
No answer.
“Again,” Shoka prompted, his voice barely audible.
“Tonkawa!”
Silence.
“Talk to him, Rebecca. Make him speak to you.”
“How did you find us?” she asked, appealing to his pride.
“Did your Shawnee husband not teach you to keep silent in the trees?”
She bit her lip at his scorn. Again, it was her fault they’d been detected.
Shoka pointed at the jumble of boulders just visible through the hazy leaves. “Speak more.”
She’d far rather hide, if hiding from such an enemy were possible. “Why have you come?”
“For you, Peshewa.”
Her heart stopped then pounded so violently that she thought she really would faint dead away. “Shoka—”
“Shhhh. I’ll go get behind him,” he mouthed in her ear.
She seized his arm in panic. “Don’t leave. He’ll come.”
