Daniel adjusted the limp body of Red Fox over his shoulder and cautiously continued his descent into the valley of the Madison. Elk Runner walked beside him, holding Daniel’s rifle and coil of rope. For the last several hours, they had taken turns carrying the unconscious hunter from the mountain. After a quick assessment that the Tukudeka was alive, Daniel and Elk Runner had wasted little time heading back to the cabin. The winter sun had almost set behind the mountains to the west, draping the entire landscape in an eerie gray. The long drawn-out howl of a wolf in the distance added to a continued sense of foreboding that Daniel hadn’t been able to shake since finding the young hunter. The temperature began to drop noticeably.
With the stars twinkling overhead, the sky darkened by the minute, and Daniel drew in a deep breath when his cabin finally came into view. He immediately sensed that something wasn’t right. Sniffing the chilled air, he smelled no smoke that should be rising from the chimney. Out of the corner of his eye, Elk Runner shot him a hasty glance.
“Something’s wrong,” Daniel said, trying to contain the dread in his voice.
“I will carry Red Fox to your cabin.” Elk Runner reached for the man’s arm. Daniel handed him over willingly, and picked up his rifle. With renewed energy flowing through his limbs, fueled by a rush of adrenaline, he lengthened his strides and broke into a jog. He couldn’t manage a faster pace plowing through the snow.
Even before he reached his cabin, the evidence of a raiding party was evident in the dim light. The snow was trampled heavily, leading up from the river, and also away from the cabin.
“Aimee,” Daniel shouted, his heart pounding against his ribs. There was no answer. Dread crushed him like the avalanche that had buried Red Fox and left him for dead. His jaw clenched while he mentally cursed himself for leaving his family, knowing there were hostile Indians in the area. How could he have missed the Blackfoot party? How had these warriors come from the west, and not followed the tracks left behind by the couple?
Forcefully, he swung his cabin door open, his rifle held out in front of him, pointing the barrel into the dark interior. Without allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he rushed inside.
“Matthew? Zach?” he called.
“Papa?” a child called softly from the loft.
Convinced there was no danger in the cabin, Daniel hastily removed his snowshoes and lit the lantern on the table. His eyes scanned the room. A rifle lay on the ground by his bedroom, the door wide open. He darted to the room and peered inside. Nothing looked disturbed. Wheeling around, he caught a glimpse of his sons, huddled together at the top of the ladder.
The air left Daniel’s lungs. His children looked to be frightened, but otherwise unharmed. Even amid the panic that threatened to engulf him, pride for his sons swelled in him. Aimee had no doubt told them to hide when the Blackfoot showed up, and they had remembered their training.
“It’s all right. The danger has passed,” he called to the boys, and reached for Samuel. The boy eagerly reached out his arms and fell into Daniel’s embrace. Hugging his son to him, Daniel’s eyes sought his older boys.
“Where’s your mother?” he asked the dreaded question, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.
“They took her,” Matthew said, climbing down from the loft. “That big warrior hit her and knocked her into the wall. We saw it all from up here.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. His muscles tensed and he ground his teeth. Someone would pay with their life before long.
“Tell me what you know.” Daniel tried to contain his anger, the urge to rush from the cabin and find his wife overtaking every other rational thought in his mind at the moment. Common sense told him he needed to stay calm.
“Mama told us to hide and stay quiet, no matter what. Indians came into the cabin,” Zach said. “We couldn’t understand them.”
“You did the right thing,” Daniel said, forcing a smile and kneeling to eye level with his two oldest. He reached out and patted Zach’s head. Samuel refused to let go of the grip his little arms had around his neck.
A shuffling sound behind him reminded Daniel that he hadn’t closed the cabin door, and that his sons had to be freezing cold with no fire in the hearth. He couldn’t think straight while his mind raced; worry for Aimee engulfing him like hot flames.
“How many warriors?” he asked, and stood to his feet. He raked a trembling hand through his hair. Prying Sam’s arms from around his neck, he set the boy in a chair by the table, and moved to the hearth. The fact that the Blackfoot had taken Aimee with them gave him a small measure of assurance that she was unharmed at the moment. They wouldn’t go through all the trouble to take a captive if they meant to kill her.
“Four,” Matthew said. His eyes darted to Elk Runner, who entered the cabin and closed the door.
“They took the woman, Kimana, and her baby, too. That big warrior yelled at her a lot. He wanted to kill the baby, but Mama stopped him. That’s when he hit her.” Matthew’s little fists bunched in anger even as tears shimmered in his eyes. Hearing his son tell him again that another man had laid a hand on his wife and hurt her renewed the rage inside Daniel.
His gaze darted to Elk Runner before he forced his attention on the fireplace. Stoking the hot coals, he rekindled the fire that had nearly gone out. Elk Runner lay the unconscious Red Fox on the ground by the hearth, and covered him with a blanket he pulled from the back of the rocking chair.
Daniel stood, and shot his brother a hard look. “Watch over my sons.” He rushed into his bedroom to retrieve his horn bow and quiver of arrows. He needed a better weapon than a single-shot flintlock.
Elk Runner’s eyes widened. “You can’t go after them now, White Wolf. It is nighttime. You will not find them in the dark.”
Daniel knew his brother was right, but common sense had left him, drowned out by blinding rage and fear for his wife. Elk Runner grabbed his arm when he rushed past to retrieve his snowshoes.
“It is foolish, White Wolf,” Elk Runner said more forcefully. “If she cooperates, they will not harm her.” Immediately, a look of doubt flashed in his eyes, renewing Daniel’s conviction to go after the warriors in the dark. As much as he loved Aimee, he knew that she often acted on impulse and didn’t like to be told what to do. Her upbringing in a more advanced world of the future, where a woman was considered to be a man’s equal, often made her behave in ways that could easily get her in trouble in this century.
Although Daniel wouldn’t have her any other way, her independent ways were not easily accepted among his adopted Sheepeater clan, and he’d given up long ago to remind her of her behavior when they were in the company of others. She had learned over the years to watch herself when they visited Elk Runner’s village, and Daniel suspected she only minded her place out of respect for him and his adoptive mother, but in his brother’s presence, she had no qualms about proving that she would not tow behind a man.
She’d raised eyebrows in St. Louis during their first visit there for wanting to barter with other traders like the men did. Daniel finally had to toss her over his shoulder and carry her off, just to put on a show that he was, in fact, in charge of his woman. It had taken quite a bit of convincing later on that he wasn’t the lout she proclaimed him to be, but the way in which they finally made peace had been well worth her tirade.
Daniel understood how difficult it must be for her to give up all her old customs and ways in which she had been brought up, and even after six years, he still had to remind her on occasion when she slipped back into her twenty-first century mindset around other people. She especially did this when she was angry, and Daniel knew being taken against her will by a party of hostile warriors would no doubt make his feisty little wife furious. There was no telling what she might do while in their captivity. A renewed sense of urgency flooded him with that thought. He couldn’t possibly wait until daylight to go after her.
Chapter 9
Without the benefit of snowshoes, Aimee picked her way through the d
eep powder, following in the footsteps of the warrior in front of her. They all walked in single file, and the Indians took turns leading the way to conserve everyone’s energy. She clamped her mouth together and walked silently, wondering how she could escape from her captors. She had no doubt that if she tried to run, they would put an arrow in her back. Aimee looked over her shoulder at Kimana. She should not be out of bed, much less trek through deep snow.
Brave Thunder walked behind Kimana, giving her a shove every once in a while when she moved too slow for his liking. No wonder Kimana didn’t want anything to do with him; let alone marry him. The man’s eyes were filled with anger and jealousy. Kimana’s baby cried, and his hand once again moved to his belt. Aimee stopped in her tracks. The warrior behind her nearly collided with her, his eyes wide with surprise.
Aimee skirted around him to reach the young Blackfoot mother. Brave Thunder shouted at her, and waved his arm.
“She’s exhausted, and her baby is hungry. We need to rest,” Aimee said, pulling her arm from the stunned warrior who walked behind her. She stood facing Brave Thunder, her hands on her hips. Her eyes narrowed for emphasis. Kimana gave her a tired look of gratitude.
“Tell them we will not go another step until you’ve rested and I’ve made sure you’re well enough to continue,” Aimee said to the girl. “And not until you’ve fed your son. If they don’t like it, they can carry us to wherever it is we are going.”
Kimana’s eyes widened at Aimee’s words. She shook her head slightly.
“Tell him,” Aimee said again, nodding her chin at the warrior.
Kimana spoke to the big man, who shot Aimee the same surprised look as the girl had done. The other warriors mumbled. One of them distinctly said the words dosa haiwi, a name the Shoshone had given her when she first came to the nineteenth century. Brave Thunder assessed Aimee as if he was looking at her for the first time. A brief hint of admiration flashed in his gaze, just before his eyes darkened in anger again.
Apparently even these Blackfoot had heard of her. Word in the mountains traveled fast, even between tribes, and Aimee had always been treated as something of an enigma among the natives. She was well aware that her blond hair was a wonder to them. Most had never had any contact with white men, or very few trappers. Her nursing skills from the twenty-first century had come in handy on more than one occasion, even without modern equipment or medicine, and the number of people who sought her help with an illness or injury increased each summer.
Aimee sliced her hand through the air, hoping her gesture told Brave Thunder that she meant what she said that they’d have to carry her if they didn’t comply with her request. Clenching his jaw, the warrior grabbed Kimana’s arm and led her to a grove of lodgepoles, and gestured for her to sit. Aimee made a move to follow, only to have one of the other warriors hold her back. She whipped her head around and shot him what she hoped was a look of warning, then yanked her arm from his grip.
The four men stood off to the side, their heads together and mumbling, while Aimee sank to her knees in the snow next to the Blackfoot girl.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, pulling her buffalo robe from around her shoulders. She draped it over Kimana to offer her some privacy while she nursed her infant. “Do you have any pains, or are you bleeding?”
“No,” Kimana shook her head. She looked up at Aimee. “I am sorry to have brought this trouble to you, Dosa Haiwi.”
“You’re not the trouble,” Aimee scoffed. “It’s him.” She gestured with her chin over her shoulder. Turning back to the girl, she asked, “I am at a loss to understand how you met Red Fox and came to be the wife of a Sheepeater.” It was time for some answers.
Kimana glanced at Brave Thunder, then back at Aimee. “Kitche Keme came to my father, asking for me. My father gave his consent. I told him I did not want to marry Kitche Keme, but he didn’t want to listen. Kitche Keme offered many horses and robes for me, and my father told me he was a brave warrior, and that I should be proud that he chose me for his wife.”
Aimee scoffed. “Yeah, he’s quite a prize,” she said, glancing at the warrior who leaned against a tree several yards away, watching her with narrowed eyes.
“My father’s eyes were clouded by Brave Thunder’s deeds in battle against his enemies. I have told my father I disdain the endless raiding on other tribes. My view is frowned upon by my people. Any other member of the tribe would have been banished for such thoughts, but I am my father’s only child. My mother was his first wife, and he cared for her deeply, so he was tolerant of me, but warned me not to make my feelings known.”
Kimana paused, and held her infant to her shoulder. Aimee waited for the girl to continue.
“Shortly before my marriage was to take place, a Shoshone captive was brought into camp,” Kimana resumed her story. “The men meant to make sport of torturing him. Brave Thunder told me he would gift the man’s scalp to me as a wedding present.” Her eyes filled with tears. Aimee placed her hand over the girl’s hand.
“They tied him up and left him standing in the hot sun all day.” She raised her eyes to seek Aimee’s gaze. “How can men call themselves brave warriors if they weaken a man first, and then tell him he must fight for his life? Kitche Keme is nothing but a coward,” she spat. She shot him a hate-filled look. The warrior stood up straighter, but didn’t move any closer. He obviously sensed that they were talking about him. Aimee absently felt for the knife tied to her calf, reassuring herself that it was still there.
“After everyone was asleep in camp that night, I cut Red Fox loose. He escaped into the night.” Her lips curved into a soft smile. “I followed him.”
Aimee gaped at the girl. Most Indian women she’d known wouldn’t have acted so impulsively.
Kimana shrugged, and lowered her head. “When I first saw him, I noticed how handsome he was.” She giggled softly. “He was furious when he realized I was following his trail, and told me to return to my village. I refused. I told him I did not wish to marry a man I have no feelings for.”
“So he took you with him?” Aimee’s eyebrows shot up. It was highly unlikely for a Tukudeka man to spend time alone with a girl. Amongst the Sheepeaters, it might be seen as a declaration of marriage.
“Not willingly at first,” Kimana said conspiratorially. “I reminded him that I had saved his life, and he owed me a favor in return.” She looked at Aimee as if waiting for her to comment. Aimee wasn’t about to pass judgment on the girl. How could she not admire this girl for her independent nature and spunk?
“I simply wanted him to take me away from my people, ” Kimana said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. Perhaps she mistook Aimee’s silence for disapproval. Aimee renewed her grip on the girl’s hand, and smiled widely.
“I admire your courage, Kimana,” she said.
Kimana’s eyes widened in surprise. Her face lit up, and her eyes sparkled, then quickly clouded over with a hint of sadness. “Red Fox and I developed feelings for each other while we journeyed through the mountains to reach his people. He taught me the customs and language of the Tukudeka, and when we came upon several families of Sheepeaters, he took me as his wife. The elder of the clan advised that we stay with them for one winter; that Red Fox’s father believed him dead, and swore hatred against the Piikani. I would learn fully to become a Tukudeka woman during this time, and Fallen Eagle would have an easier time accepting me. The clan kept our presence a secret from all other Shoshone. When we heard of the raid on Fallen Eagle’s camp, I knew it had to be Brave Thunder. I was already making preparations in the birthing hut for the birth of our son when the elder advised us to leave; that we would be found if Brave Thunder reached our camp. The rest, you know.”
Kimana had barely uttered her last words, when Brave Thunder stomped toward them, his perpetual angry glare shooting daggers from the girl to Aimee. He spoke loudly in a commanding tone, pointing with his arm in the direction they had been walking.
“Time to go?” Aimee asked sarcasticall
y. She glanced up at the darkening sky. How long would it take Daniel and Elk Runner to find Red Fox’s body and get back to the cabin? She hoped that maybe she had bought enough time with their rest stop to give Daniel a better chance to catch up to them.
Chapter 10
Aimee huddled with Kimana under her buffalo robe, shivering in the frigid night air. After walking for hours in the dark, the Blackfoot warriors had reached their destination. Aimee’s heart sank when she smelled wood smoke, and realized they had met up with a larger camp. Horses snorted softly between some trees. She counted an additional five warriors sitting around several large campfires. How was she going to get herself and Kimana out of this? Even Daniel was no match against this many opponents by himself.
Brave Thunder strode boldly into camp, and several of the men at the fire jumped to their feet. A heated discussion ensued.
“Do they always argue when they talk?” Aimee whispered to Kimana. This was in stark contrast to the laid back culture of the Tukudeka that Aimee had gotten accustomed to over the years.
Kimana peered discreetly toward the warriors. She leaned her head closer to Aimee. “The other warriors are not happy with Brave Thunder. They say their chief…” Her words trailed off, and she gasped.
“What is it?” Aimee asked, grabbing the girl’s arm. “Are you in pain?” In the dim light, she could see Kimana’s eyes had gone as large as saucers.
“My father. He is here.”
“Here?” Aimee echoed. “In this camp?”
Kimana shook her head. “No. He is here in these mountains somewhere. He followed Brave Thunder.” She stopped to listen to the men. Brave Thunder seemed to be calming down. His head suddenly turned in their direction, and Aimee held her breath. He barked out an order at them.
“We are to sit by the fire,” Kimana translated.
“The man has a heart after all,” Aimee scoffed, and moved toward one of the fires at the periphery of camp, rather than the one in the center. Her mind raced. She was cold, and tired, and hungry. She’d fought off her fatigue and nausea since her kidnapping, and wasn’t about to divulge her vulnerability now. Even with this many warriors milling about, there had to be a way for her and Kimana to escape. She would have to bide her time until an idea came to her.
A Yellowstone Christmas (Yellowstone Romance Series (Christmas Novella)) Page 5
