Teton Romance Trilogy Bundle: Includes Yellowstone Proposal (Short Story)
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When he faced Black Sparrow again, he said, “Bold words from a man fully clothed. Perhaps we should both present ourselves to the Ghost Woman without our britches on, and see which one of us she favors. Tell me, my friend, has she ever held you close and kissed you?” Lucas raised his eyebrows at the warrior, taunting him even more. Tori hadn’t exactly held and kissed him in the way he’d just implied, but he smiled inwardly at the fleeting look of surprise on the warrior’s face.
Black Sparrow’s sneer turned deadly. “You will not get the chance to steal her away from me again, Walker,” he hissed between bared teeth. “Soon you will scream like an old woman, begging for death.”
“I can’t steal what doesn’t belong to you, Black Sparrow.” Lucas took a step toward the warrior, disregarding that he was outnumbered. The others immediately raised their bows higher. He stared unwavering at the Indian's cold eyes.
“The Ghost Woman will be mine, Walker,” Black Sparrow smirked. “I have waited an entire winter to return to her cabin and claim her. She will come to my blankets willingly. I will not have to take her by force, as you have done.”
Lucas cursed under his breath. Would Tori have gone with the Indian? Somehow he doubted it. He hadn’t gotten the impression that she thought of Black Sparrow as anything but a friend, if even that. Obviously she didn’t know his true character.
“You can’t find a woman among your own people, so you have to climb the mountains to claim an elusive ghost woman? Are you sure you are man enough for such a woman?” Lucas goaded.
Black Sparrow rushed forward, and held his knife to Lucas’ throat. Lucas lifted his chin away from the blade, but held his ground. Provoking his nemesis gave him a small measure of satisfaction amid his defenseless situation. He gloated silently. He was reasonably sure that he was in no danger of dying at the moment. Black Sparrow wouldn’t be satisfied with simply killing him. He’d want to torture him as long as possible. Hopefully it would be long enough to figure out a way out of his predicament.
The warrior smirked. “Do you remember the first time we met, Walker? The Ghost Woman will taste as sweet as the honey you failed to gather, when I take her to my lodge. You will, once again, be the one who gets stung.”
The thought of Tori in the arms of this Blackfoot ignited a fierce anger in Lucas, and he threw caution to the wind. His arms shot up, and his hands wrapped around Black Sparrow’s wrists. The element of surprise was on his side, and Lucas twisted the other man’s arm away from his neck. He released Black Sparrow at the same moment he kicked up and out with his leg. His foot connected with the back of the Indian’s elbow, knocking the weapon from his hand. With a startled and pained glaze in his eyes, the man dropped the knife. Loud murmurs erupted around them. Among the Blackfoot, disarming one’s opponent without killing him was considered a great act of bravery, and one of the most honored forms of counting coup.
As much as he enjoyed besting his opponent, Lucas wasn’t interested in counting coup at the moment. He may have just enraged Black Sparrow enough for the warrior to decide to kill him now, rather than torture him. The idea that he had made a fool of his enemy in front of a group of warriors gave him little satisfaction. If they ended his life, there would be no one to keep Tori safe.
Lucas refrained from his ingrained instinct to fight. It cost him every ounce of restraint not to lunge for the knife on the ground. He was simply outnumbered, and while none of the other warriors would act at the moment, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him once the hand-to-hand combat with Black Sparrow was over. He relaxed his stance, and glared at Black Sparrow. If he wanted to live, he had to concede defeat at the moment. He would get out of this alive, but he had to bide his time.
Apparently recovered from the unexpected attack, Black Sparrow pulled his club from his belt, and swung at Lucas, the blunt end connecting with the side of his head. Lucas braced for the blow rather than duck or defend himself. He stumbled back several steps to steady himself from the impact, and gritted his teeth as pain rushed through his skull. Several of the other warriors crowded him, pointing knives or arrows at him.
Lucas sneered. He blinked to focus on Black Sparrow. Damn. The Indian had hit him harder than he had expected.
Unable to stop his taunt, Lucas said, “What I remember about our first encounter, Little Sparrow, is that you ran like a coward when your ploy to shoot me out of that tree didn’t work.” His lips twitched in satisfaction when the warrior’s eyes widened for a split second. “You’re going to be the one to get stung this time, not me,” Lucas added, his voice raised with confidence. If he couldn’t fight his opponent with weapons at the moment, at least he could anger him with his mocking.
The muscles in Black Sparrow’s jaw and neck tensed, and Lucas grinned inwardly. The man looked to be in physical pain, trying to remain in control of his actions and not kill him. Abruptly, Black Sparrow coiled a rope around Lucas’ wrists, pulling the leather tight. He yanked forcefully, and shoved Lucas in front of him.
“You will die a slow and painful death, Walker, and the Ghost Woman and I will dance on your entrails the day I take her as my woman.”
He gestured with a flick of his hand to the other warriors, and the group headed out into the clearing. A youth emerged, leading seven horses, and the warriors all mounted up. Black Sparrow kicked his horse to the front of the group, and pulled Lucas along behind the animal. Lucas gritted his teeth while stumbling over hard ground, trying to keep pace with the warrior’s horse. Hell would freeze over before he conceded to this Blackfoot.
The man had surprised Lucas once before, during their very first encounter nearly ten years ago. They had been no more than boys at the time, but Black Sparrow’s aim with his bow had almost cost Lucas his life. Not from the projectile itself, but because the arrow had hit a beehive that Lucas had been trying to reach to get honey. The enraged bees had stung him over and over again, and if not for a Bannock shaman coming to his rescue, he would have died that day. Black Sparrow had run like a coward when the bees began to swarm.
There was no shaman nearby to save his hide this time. Lucas clenched his jaw as he ran to keep up with the pace Black Sparrow set. Despite the chill in the air, sweat began to bead on his forehead. Running with his hands tied in front of him, Lucas kept his eyes trained on the ground to keep from stumbling over a rock or other jagged objects. If he fell, there was no doubt that the warrior would drag him all the way to their destination. He closed his mind to the pain in his feet, arms, and head, and forced his thoughts to Tori. Part of him seethed with anger at her for putting him in this predicament. The single thought of what would happen to her if the warrior found her kept him on his feet, running behind his captor’s horse.
Lucas lost all track of time or how far he’d run when the group suddenly stopped. They’d passed the valley where he and Tori had camped for the night, then made their way up a steep mountain pass that, thankfully, had forced the horses to move at a slower pace. Every once in a while, Lucas had glanced up to get a bearing of his surroundings. It became clear to him early on that they’d been heading back in the general direction of Tori’s cabin.
He blinked away the sting of sweat that trickled into his eyes, and squinted. They had reached a clearing among a grove of conifers. Thankfully, the ground here was softer than the rocky terrain they’d covered for the better part of the morning. Lucas gritted his teeth at the bite of countless cuts and scrapes on the bottom of his feet, but at least he hadn’t fallen. If these warriors planned to run him to death, he could go all day if need be. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d sprinted through the mountains on foot, although he did concede that he usually wore moccasins and at least a pair of britches.
The sun had reached its zenith, and the trees surrounding them provided little shade. Lucas smacked his dried lips together in response to the sounds of a creek gurgling nearby. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. The side of his head where Black Sparrow struck him with his club throbbed dully.
Lucas cursed under his breath. It appeared as if the rest of the warriors were prepared to camp here for the remainder of the day. They dismounted their horses, and turned them loose to graze and drink. He continued to glare in the direction where Black Sparrow had disappeared.
A hard jerk on his arms brought Lucas’ head around to stare at the menacing sneer of the man who held his tether. The warrior pulled his knife from his belt and held it up dramatically in front of Lucas’ face. Slowly, he sliced the knife through the air in a taunting gesture. Several of the other warriors surrounded him. The man with the knife held it against Lucas’ throat.
Lucas stood his ground. Matched in height, he held the man’s stare, and his lips curved slowly upward.
“You would deny Black Sparrow the pleasure of torturing me before I die?” Lucas taunted. “He might not be pleased if you kill me before he returns. He might take out his anger on you.”
“Black Sparrow’s mind is on the fair-haired woman the Bannock call Ghost Woman. Once he brings her here, he will not care how you die.” The warrior stepped back, and hauled Lucas forward, pulling him toward one of the trees. The Blackfoot tossed the end of the rope over a branch above their heads, and pulled. Lucas was forced to raise his arms. When he stood stretched out as far as possible without his feet completely leaving the ground, the Indian tied the ends of the rope around the tree trunk. Wordlessly, he left to join his companions. Some had started setting up camp, while others stood and watched, their faces full of anticipation.
Lucas ground his teeth. He was strung up like the deer he'd skinned just the day before. Luckily these Indians hadn't thought to hang him upside down from his legs. His arms ached, and he grabbed hold of the rope hanging above him to steady himself in this unnatural position. He licked at his dried lips, and cursed his predicament. Discreetly, he tested the strength of the rope binding his wrists together. In the daylight, it would be impossible to try and make an escape. He would bide his time until nightfall.
Thoughts of Tori filled his mind. If Black Sparrow touched her, or hurt her in any way, metal chains wouldn’t stop him from killing the Blackfoot bastard.
Chapter 10
Tori slid off the horse’s back, groaning when her feet touched the ground. The muscles in her thighs tingled and it took her a moment to find her balance. She hadn’t sat astride a horse for this long in more than a year, and certainly not without a saddle. The ride off the mountain yesterday had left her slightly sore in the legs, but today’s ride back to her cabin had tested her strength to the limit. The gelding was rather difficult to handle, but he cooperated for the most part. He hadn’t tried to throw her again, but he had a definite will of his own, and Tori had to use all her strength to keep the animal moving forward.
As mule-headed as its owner.
Without the extra weight of carrying two riders, the horse had covered the distance back to her cabin in far less time than it had taken her and Lucas yesterday to leave the mountain.
“I think I’ll call you Lucas.” Tori patted the horse’s neck and led him to the creek to drink. The horse shook his head and blew hot air through his nostrils as if to protest his new name.
A cold breeze rustled through the trees, and Tori hugged herself, rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms. Her clothes had dried several hours ago, but she’d been chilled the entire day, and the higher she climbed up the mountain, the colder the air had become. She’d even slipped Lucas’ dirty shirt on over her own shirt in an attempt to stay warm. It would have been nice to put on his britches in favor of her wet ones, but they were much too large.
The constant scent of him that lingered on his shirt, even through all that dried mud, had driven her forward with even greater determination to put as much distance as she possibly could between herself and that infuriating man. Stealing his clothes and weapons had hopefully slowed him down enough to where she could gather a few supplies at the cabin and then be on her way to disappear further into the high country. No doubt Lucas Walker was spitting mad at this point, and was plotting her death this very moment.
After the horse drank its fill, Tori hobbled his legs so he could wander and crop at some of the vegetation without running off, and headed quickly to her cabin. The deer Lucas had started to butcher yesterday still hung from the tree. Both front limbs of the carcass were missing, a definite sign of predator activity – most likely a bobcat or even a cougar – but that wouldn’t stop her from helping herself to some of the meat to bring along. It was a shame to waste it all, but she simply didn’t have the time to properly strip and cure the entire carcass.
The heavy cabin door creaked on its hinges when she pushed it open. The sound was louder in the ominous stillness of the yard around her than she remembered. Somehow it sounded out of place. It seemed too quiet. For the last week, Lucas Walker had occupied the cabin with her, and without his presence, a sudden odd feeling of loneliness swept through her. There was no welcoming fire in the hearth. She shuddered involuntarily at the chill that ran down her spine.
Tori’s eyes adjusted to the dark interior of her one-room home. Tears filled her eyes. There was no alternative but to leave, and it had to be today. She couldn’t afford to stay even one more night. By tomorrow, Lucas would catch up to her. She stepped fully into the room, letting her eyes wander slowly from her bunk to the hearth, to the table where she and her papa had spent countless evenings telling stories, until her gaze finally settled on his bunk.
Wherever she looked, Lucas Walker’s image invaded her thoughts and mixed with memories of her father, until only the man who had seen to her every need and safety over the last week remained. Jasper Williams slowly faded as a pleasant memory. Images of Lucas’ penetrating eyes when he glanced at her from across the table that first day she’d regained consciousness, demanding to know her name, haunted her now. Lucas, leaning over her on her bed, concern in his gaze when he began the chore of stitching her wound together. Lucas, sleeping soundly in her papa’s bunk.
The cabin door creaked behind her, and Tori snapped out of her reverie. She spun around, her heart hammering in her chest, and instinctively raised Lucas’ rifle that she’d held in the crook of her arm. A loud breath of relief escaped her lungs that it wasn’t Lucas who had caught up to her. She lowered her weapon.
“Black Sparrow,” she stammered in surprise.
The Blackfoot warrior filled the frame of the cabin door, and the predatory gleam in his stare faded when his lips curved slightly upward. Had she only imagined that harsh look in his eyes? Damn Lucas Walker for putting the ridiculous thought in her head that Black Sparrow would harm her. The man she helped last summer had never given her cause for concern. He’d been deeply respectful, not to mention grateful, when she helped him escape that group of Bannock.
“Victoreeah,” he mouthed slowly, every syllable in her name pronounced long and drawn out.
“I’m so glad to see you safe,” Tori said, and took a hesitant step toward him. Lucas’ warning that this man was dangerous rang in her mind. She mentally shook it off.
“It is good to see you are unharmed,” Black Sparrow said, his English much better than she remembered from the previous summer.
“You’ve learned to speak English?” Her eyes widened in surprise. Back then, they’d had a difficult time communicating. His words sounded stilted, and she had to strain her ears to understand them all, but it was good that they could communicate better.
The warrior glanced around the room, his eyes slowly sweeping over everything, as if he was appraising each item. When his gaze rested on her, Tori’s mouth went dry. A predatory possessiveness gleamed in his eyes, and held none of the warmth and friendliness s
he remembered.
“I have learned to speak your words over the winter months.” Black Sparrow nodded. “I have returned, as I promised.”
“That’s wonderful, Black Sparrow. I’m sorry that man shot at you yesterday. There was nothing I could do to stop him.” Tori bit the inside of her lip. She had stopped Lucas Walker from taking a fatal shot, but Black Sparrow didn’t need to know that she’d kissed him to divert his attention. Somehow, distancing herself from Lucas in front of his enemy seemed the right thing to do. Black Sparrow would not react kindly if he knew that she had been reminiscing warmly about his enemy only a few minutes ago.
Although she was glad to see Black Sparrow unharmed, this was not a good time for a visit. She really needed to get away from her cabin before darkness set in. What if Lucas showed up, too? There would be another fight between him and Black Sparrow. Without a rifle, would Lucas be successful at chasing the warrior off a second time?
Why do you even care, Tori? The man is a lout.
“I have come to take you to my village, Victoreeah.”
Tori choked back a cough. “You what?” Her forehead wrinkled.
“I have kept you in my thoughts over the winter months. A woman cannot live alone on this mountain. You have saved my life. I will do the same for you. I would take you to my village.”
He took a step toward her, and held out his hand. “I am an honored warrior among my people. I have counted more coup in battle than I have killed my enemies. I own many ponies.”
Tori blinked. Comprehension failed her. Counting coup? She’d heard the term before. Her papa had often told her that Indians took more pride in battle against an enemy if they could simply touch or disarm an opponent without getting hurt. It was considered a greater act of bravery than actually killing someone.
She laughed nervously. “That’s . . . remarkable,” she said for lack of something better to say. Was he trying to impress her? His polite words were in sharp contrast to Lucas’ rude behavior toward her, but something in his hard stare belied his sincerity.