by Beth Trissel
“He fears my tomahawk.”
“He has a musket.”
Shoka pushed the deerskin-wrapped handle of his knife into her hand. “Keep talking.” He pulled away from her. Dropping down, he crept into the sopping-wet fern.
The knife concealed in the folds of her gown, she called out again, each word a searing effort. “What of the gold? You were paid for me.”
“The cabin burns.”
“Burns?” she repeated, incredulous.
“Lightning struck. None can take the gold.”
She was slow to absorb Tonkawa’s bitter reply. She’d been happy in that log home and comforted by the sense of a caring presence. Had he incurred this spirit’s wrath, causing the cabin to burn and robbing him of the prize?
“You can’t take me instead! Shoka won’t let you!”
“He is very silent.”
She could scarcely think what to say. “Shoka lies wounded!”
Silence greeted her frantic assertion.
“Shoka bleeds, yet holds his tomahawk. Stay away!”
Breathless with near hysteria, she peered through the trunks. It was as if Tonkawa had been swallowed up by the mist. If only he had been. Forever. At a loss as to what more she could do, she slumped back against the tree.
“You lie,” he hissed from behind her.
Rebecca’s heart lurched. A violent tremor ran though her. She spun around to find herself pinned by Tonkawa’s triumphant stare and almost dropped the knife hidden in the folds of her gown. “You’re the very devil!”
His mouth was set in those accursed lines. “Yes.”
Her innate survival instincts took over. She thrust the blade at him with shaky fingers. “Get away!”
A taunting smile touched his cruel lips. “Always you think to fight.”
She lunged at him with reckless abandon. Faster still, he dodged to the side. She flew at him again. Lashing out at whatever she could reach, she gashed a crimson trail across his broad shoulder.
Impossibly, he tightened his mouth even more. He clamped his fingers around her wrist.
She wrenched against his crushing grip, crying out as he pried the knife from her fingers. “Shoka!”
Tonkawa seized a handful of her hair and yanked her head back. She tried to shove him away, but his legs were firmly planted. The faint hint of regret touched his eyes. Not enough to deter him. He twisted her back around and caught her in his bleeding arm.
“Die on Shoka’s blade, Peshewa.”
Weak with horror, Rebecca closed her eyes. Shoka would be here in a moment. But a moment would be too late.
Fierce growls burst snarling and snapping from the foggy leaves beside them. Her eyes opened wide to see the white wolf spring from the haze and slam into Tonkawa.
His death-hold on her fell away and he lurched back against the gnarled trunk. Knocked to the spongy ground, she lay sprawled in momentary shock, shrieking as Gabe fastened powerful jaws onto Tonkawa’s knife-wielding arm. The enraged wolf took him down like an elk.
He screamed, writhing on the wet ferns with the furious creature atop him. His fingers loosened their grasp on the knife.
She dashed forward beside the convulsing mass of muscled flesh and luminescent fur and grabbed the deadly blade.
The roiling struggle between warrior and wolf left the tomahawk at Tonkawa’s side exposed for just a moment. She snagged it by the handle and wrested it from his hip. He and Gabe heaved away from her.
Casting about wildly, she spied his fallen musket. She shifted the tomahawk to her left hand with the knife and snatched up the musket with her right. She staggered back, struggling under the gun’s weight.
With a yell, Shoka burst from the leaves and hurled himself at his bitter enemy.
At his coming, the wolf leapt up and bounded away into the smoky trees that had brought him.
Shoka pummeled Tonkawa across his jaw again and again, beating him into the sodden earth. “Have you more skill than your brother?” he shouted, thudding another blow into his bleeding face.
Whether stunned by the wolf’s attack or Shoka’s fury, Tonkawa didn’t answer. He spit out a bloody tooth and fixed Shoka with rapidly swelling eyes that radiated equal but silent rage.
Shoka ripped him up from the ground onto his feet as if he weighed no more than Rebecca. “Fight!”
She sank onto her knees. Why, oh God, didn’t Shoka just kill him? Dragging the musket and clutching the other weapons, she crawled farther into the rain-beaded fronds.
Tonkawa came roaring to life and rushed at Shoka. Scarlet streamed down his knife-gashed, wolf-mauled arms. An unearthly howl tore from him and he punched Shoka full in the stomach then swung up to crack him in the jaw.
A sort of madness seized Shoka. He tore into Tonkawa, driving him back and back with his fists. He still had his tomahawk but didn’t use it.
Tonkawa’s battered and bleeding face was almost unrecognizable now and none of the punches he threw connected with their intended target. He stumbled drunkenly and whipped out his last remaining weapon—his own knife. With a guttural cry and far more strength than Rebecca expected, he leapt at Shoka.
No surprise crossed Shoka’s taut face; his narrow eyes betrayed nothing beyond resolve. It was as though this was what he had been waiting for, not just today but for a lifetime. He cut away from the intended strike and whirled back around. Gabe couldn’t have been deadlier than her warrior husband now closing in on Tonkawa.
She heard a wet crunch—Shoka’s fist smashing up into Tonkawa’s upraised arm. Again he drilled the wounded limb and wrestled the knife from his enemy’s weakened hand. He plunged the knife into Tonkawa’s side, unleashing a crimson tide, and flung the gasping warrior to the ground.
Shoka pounced beside the writhing figure. “Die with your own blade,” he bit out, and opened Tonkawa’s throat with one lightning-fast slash of his wrist.
Tonkawa’s malevolent eyes caught Rebecca’s before they dulled. In that final gleam she read a promise. This was not over.
She sagged onto the damp earth in the fern and the weapons slipped from her fingers.
Chapter Twenty
Shoka came back to himself as if from a murderous dream filled with white rage and blood-red knives. He shook his head and inhaled raggedly then shifted his clearing gaze to Rebecca. She’d taken refuge in the rain-beaded fronds like a wounded doe.
Unspeakable remorse flashed in him. He reached her in one stride. “Are you all right?” he asked hoarsely, crouching beside her and gathering her in his arms.
She lifted dazed eyes. “Tonkawa almost killed me. Why didn’t you come sooner?”
“I lost him in the trees, clever fox.”
“Gabe came,” she said.
Her words were faint. “I know. He saved your life.” Shoka pressed her damp cheek against his, kissing her cold face and lips, whispering her name. “Rebecca, Tonkawa can harm you no more.”
“Are you certain he’s dead?”
“Certain.”
She tensed as though at a fearsome sound. “But I hear him breathing.”
Shoka rocked her in his arms. “No. He moves not.”
“But his eyes—Oh, God, his eyes—”
“Shhhh…he cannot see you. Do not look on him.”
As before, Shoka wanted nothing more than to care for her, but the warning in his head had not stilled. Sharing some of Rebecca’s lingering dread, he gently released her and stood. “We dare not delay.”
She cupped one hand at her eyes to shield her from Tonkawa’s grisly face. “But he lies dead. You said.”
“Others may come. We are not safe here.”
Shoka slid the strap of the dead man’s musket over his shoulder. It was well crafted, he saw with satisfaction. He wiped the flat of his gory blade across the wet undergrowth to clean it and sheathed the knife. He slung the second tomahawk at his side and the crimson-streaked powder horn around his neck.
She rose shakily. Shoka cradled her with a steady arm as he guided her away along t
he trail.
A twig snapped. The sound was faint, but he stopped short. He held a finger to his lips. They were not alone. Straining to see through the cloudy whiteness, he glimpsed part of the trail winding below.
“What is it?” she whispered in renewed alarm.
He pointed at five, maybe seven, warriors emerging from the haze as they rounded the bend. “Catawba,” he said in her ear, and tore her from the path into the trees.
Too late. Voices cried out. They had been spotted.
“I haven’t the strength to escape them. Flee, Shoka,” she urged in hushed desperation.
He sprang behind a large chestnut, pulling her beside him. “I will not leave you for them to take.”
“Take me back. You’ve done it before.”
“Not this time. I will fight them.” He took up the musket in his hands with deadly purpose.
She slumped back against the trunk. “I fear there are too many.”
He leveled the barrel, cocked the hammer, and peered around the tree. “Soon there will be one less.”
“Rebecca!” a voice called out.
She looked up at Shoka with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “It’s Skizenoh. The warrior who aided me. Perhaps he can help us.”
Shoka saw no sign of her Catawba friend through the misty foliage. What he did spy were the barrels of several muskets aimed at them; he’d wager there were more firearms he couldn’t see.
“Answer him,” he said.
She glanced cautiously around the bole of the tree. “What do you want?” she called, her voice cracking.
“We speak. You come. All right?”
“He wants some sort of parley,” she whispered.
Shoka wasn’t so sure. In spite of Skizenoh’s former kindness, he was a hot-blooded young male who obviously wanted her. But a parley might be valuable. “Invite him to us.”
“Come here, Skizenoh! You will be safe. I promise!”
A current of voices carried through the leaves, some louder than others. “What are they saying?” she asked her secreted friend.
“Some disagree.”
She rolled back behind the trunk and pressed herself against Shoka’s chest. “What does that mean?”
“A fight. I will not battle behind a woman.” He pushed her down onto the damp humus of the forest floor.
Crouched on her heels at the base of the tree, she pleaded, “Don’t fire.”
“Not until I have a target.” As soon as he did, the battle would begin.
She wrapped her arms around her knees, jerking her head as Skizenoh called out again.
“I will come!”
Shoka lowered his musket. “Come, then.”
The barrels protruding from dripping leaves and around rocks lowered, but he knew how fast they could be resurrected. Skizenoh pushed aside showery pine boughs and walked out into plain sight.
“Leave behind all weapons!” Shoka barked.
Skizenoh stopped to remove his knife and tomahawk and laid them on a moss-covered log then approached the chestnut where they waited. The woods-colored shirt he wore was soaked through. His moccasins and leggings, even his breechclout, were dark with wet. Moisture beaded his face and scalp lock. Traces of green and black paint streaked his lightly bronzed skin; most had washed away. This war party had pushed hard, not pausing for the storm. Were more coming?
With hardly a glance at Shoka, the warrior slipped around the trunk. He had eyes only for Rebecca. Concern and longing filled his gaze. He bent his long legs to squat beside her and touched her bruised cheek.
“You are injured.”
She lifted haunted eyes and crossed her arms over her stomach. “Some. I feel wretched.”
Shoka frowned at the newcomer. “My wife needs food, rest. Tonkawa frightened her badly.”
“We saw his body.” Skizenoh looked up, a question in his face. “You killed him?”
“With the help of a wolf.”
He seemed puzzled. “Mad wolf?”
“No.” Shoka nodded at Rebecca. “Her wolf. A white one. He led us from the cave.”
Skizenoh regarded him as if he’d declared a host of spirits had guided them. “Why does this wolf come to your aid?”
“Who can say?” Shoka wasn’t inclined to further explanation.
Skizenoh returned his dubious gaze to Rebecca.
“Gabe adopted me,” she said. “I have no notion why. He’s not a common wolf.”
The young man’s hand strayed to her hair, falling away at Shoka’s disapproving grunt. “You also are not common. I feared much for you. Tonkawa refused to take me with him to seek you.”
Shoka was fast losing patience with Skizenoh’s attention to Rebecca and only just bore with him.
“I’m sorry for your distress. Tonkawa was furious that you defended me,” she said.
“Much. He left me behind, wished me bound.”
“Enough of this talk.” Shoka thrust his finger toward the hidden warriors. “What of these men?”
“They say I can come.”
“You have found us. What now?”
Skizenoh met his scowl squarely. “You kill our warriors. They wish your death.”
Shoka snorted. “They sent you to speak this?”
The younger man drew himself up. “Not only this. You are difficult to kill.”
“Do they think I will surrender to one unarmed Catawba?”
Pride glowed in his eyes. “We are not so foolish. I have come to request a barter. Give us this woman for the lives you have taken. Then go from these mountains.”
There it was, as Shoka had expected. Anger surged behind his outward calm like flood water about to engulf a damn. “So, Peshewa, you are to pay for the lives of many.”
She glanced up at Shoka with stricken eyes then held out an entreating hand to Skizenoh. “Do not attempt to take me from him. I beg you.”
Skizenoh eagerly clasped her fingers. “This is not only for me to say, Sweet Dove. Others must speak.”
Shoka could scarcely believe his boldness. Would he make love to her right in front of him? “Return to your friends, Skizenoh. Ask them how many warriors they think I can fell.”
“This is your answer?”
“As long as I draw breath.”
The young man released her hand with evident reluctance and stood. “You have much skill, Shoka. Yet you will surely fall this day.”
“Not alone,” he assured him.
“Seven warriors wait for you. Can you defeat so many?”
“Must I defeat all? Some may flee.”
Skizenoh’s youthful features hardened. “Our warriors are not cowards.”
“Not all. You are not,” Shoka said grudgingly.
His affronted posture relaxed a little. “You put your woman in great danger if you fight us.”
“I will not give her to you,” Shoka said flatly. “Only a very foolish man would try to take her.”
“I would care for her,” Skizenoh protested.
“Another demanded her today. He lies dead. Do you wish to invite the wrath of her guardian?”
Hesitation crossed the fervor in Skizenoh’s eyes. “What creature is this?”
“I know not. Only that the wolf seeks her protection. Mine also.”
Skizenoh tightened his jaw. “A wolf can be shot.”
Rebecca uncurled from her tight ball and leapt up in violent protest. “Whoever shot Gabe would surely draw evil on himself.”
Shoka eyed Skizenoh like one as good as dead if he attempted such rash sacrilege. “Never would I dare do this,” he said through tight lips.
Skizenoh considered their dire warning. “The wolf will come?”
“If we are threatened,” Shoka said.
“At her call?”
“At her call,” Shoka echoed, as if he had seen her do so countless times.
Skizenoh nodded. “Call this Gabe. I return to the others, tell them of your protector.”
“If Gabe comes, will they let us go?” Rebecca plead
ed.
Skizenoh shrugged, his expression wistful, as though he wasn’t entirely resigned to giving her up.
Pressing herself against Shoka, she said, “If I must, I will die with him. Is this what you want, Skizenoh?”
His eyes dimmed. “No. I will speak for you.” He gave her hand a parting touch and turned away. Without a backward glance, he crossed the trail and collected his weapons.
She stared after him like a hunted deer. He stepped into the trees and she looked fearfully at Shoka. “Are you mad? Promising him Gabe will come?”
“This is our best chance.” A murmur of voices carried from the leaves. “Skizenoh has told them.”
“What if they refuse to give me that chance?” she asked.
“They wonder how I found my way into the cave, wonder at the bites on Tonkawa’s arm. They are curious to see Gabe.”
“And if he doesn’t come? We don’t even know if he will answer to that name.”
“Try. This gives me time to move into place behind them.”
“No,” she moaned. “Not again.”
He closed his arm around her shoulders. “I cannot fight here, risking your life. All eyes will watch for the wolf.”
Rebecca gave a tearful nod and rested her head on his chest as they waited. Tense minutes passed.
“Call your protector,” Skizenoh finally bid her.
She wrapped her arms around Shoka’s neck. “Stay.”
“I cannot. They wait for you, Peshewa.”
“I wish they didn’t. Wish they would all just go away.”
“And I. Do as they ask.”
“If you must fight, don’t shoot Skizenoh,” she entreated.
“You prefer he fires on me?”
Her eyes reproached him. “Never.”
“Perhaps I will have no need to fight. Summon your wolf.”
“Gabe!” she called, her voice quavering like a timid child’s.
“Louder,” Shoka whispered.
“Gabe! Come to me!”
Was he somewhere in the misty leaves, watching and listening? Or had he departed?
“Call more. I will go now. Have courage, meh newah.”
****
Rebecca fought a nearly overwhelming impulse to hold onto Shoka. Instead, she let her arms fall away. God help her.
He lowered his head, pressing tender lips to hers in what might very well be a final kiss. Then he dropped to a crouch on the ground and slipped into the shroud of leaves. In a moment he was gone, just as the wolf had been.
