Yellowstone Deception (Yellowstone Romance Series Book 5)

by Peggy L Henderson

  Dan grabbed her waist, and lifted her off the ground. Reflexively, she straddled his hips. He slid one arm beneath her bottom, the other behind her back, and held her close to him. Nothing had ever felt as simultaneously wondrous, scary, and exciting as his arousal pressed up against the junction of her thighs.

  No man had ever brought forth such a rush of feelings in her. Did she want to take the next step? Was it worth the risk? Part of her gave in to the wildly delicious sensations as Dan continued to explore her lips with his own. Her body responded, and she ached for him. That little nagging voice at the back of her mind tapped at her conscience, growing more insistent even as her heart pounded fiercely in her chest to give herself completely to him.

  Unable to bear the exquisite torture of unfulfilled longing and desire, she pulled her head away, gasping for air. Dan’s chest heaved against her breasts, his breathing as labored as her own.

  “Jana,” he whispered, and buried his face in her hair. His lips along her neck sent renewed ripples of desire along her spine. She tilted her head back to allow him freer access to the delicate skin along her neck and throat, and moaned from sheer pleasure. Just one more kiss. She had to stop this now, or there would be no turning back.

  “Dan, please . . .” she gasped, unable to bring forth any other words. He must have understood. His hand relaxed along her thighs, and she dropped her legs to the ground, not sure whether they would support her own weight or not. Dan’s arms around her waist kept her from collapsing to her knees. She released her grip from around his neck, her arms shaking.

  “I . . . I love you, Dan,” she said, her voice hoarse, and stared into his passion-glazed eyes.

  He cleared his throat, and swiped one hand along her cheek, pushing a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I’ll never do anything you don’t want me to do, Jana. If you’re not ready for . . .”

  A slow, loud clapping sound behind them startled Jana out of her dream-like, passion-filled state. Dan immediately tensed. He released her, and quickly pushed her behind him, a string of curses on his lips.

  “That was - how shall I say - an arousing performance,” a man’s voice spoke. He didn’t have quite the heavy French accent Jana remembered from the trapper they had met the previous night. She wheeled around, and Dan gripped her arm to keep her shielded behind him.

  “I cannot wait to try that maneuver myself. Perhaps it would work better with less clothing, no?”

  Jana stared wide-eyed, as three men emerged from behind the trees. She recognized Etienne Bautiste, who stood between the two others, his flintlock raised and aimed at Dan. Another man stood to Etienne’s left. He looked to be in severe discomfort. One leg was raised up slightly, not bearing any weight, while the trapper leaned heavily on his rifle that he propped in the dirt like a crutch. The man who spoke had a visible sneer on his face, and a predatory look in his beady gray eyes.

  “Etienne, you fool. This is not Daniel Osborne. Look at him.” The trapper waved a disgusted hand at Dan. “Daniel Osborne dresses like the Snakes who raised him. This man,” - he assessed Dan from top to bottom with his eyes – “doesn’t even carry a weapon.”

  “My name’s Daniel Osborne, and I’ll dare you to disprove it,” Dan said heatedly.

  The trapper leered at him. “And the woman? Daniel Osborne’s woman is said to have hair like gold.”

  “Then you must not have heard right.”

  Jana grabbed Dan’s arm. The adrenaline rush of passion from a few moments ago was replaced by cold fear. Her eyes darted around their little camp. The canister of bear spray was hooked to the carabiner on Dan’s backpack. She had no idea where the knife was.

  The trapper who’d been speaking slowly walked closer, his pistol raised at Dan’s chest.

  “If you are Daniel Osborne, then today is the day you die. I have been waiting for an opportunity like this.” Jana gasped at the man’s words.

  “I don’t even know who the hell you are, so why don’t you tell me why you want me dead.” Dan seemed much too calm. Jana’s own heart was racing. It seemed like their luck had finally run out. She glanced at the other trappers, their weapons raised, ready to shoot. There seemed to be no way out of this situation.

  The man smiled, but it was a cold, calculated, murderous smile. “If that is truly the woman the Snakes call Dosa Haiwi, she will have the magic of healing.” The trapper glanced over his shoulder. “My companion took a swipe to the leg from a bobcat the other day. He needs medicine.”

  Jana stepped quickly out from behind Dan. His hand reached for her, but she pulled away.

  “If I save your friend’s leg, you will leave us alone,” she called out, hoping her voice didn’t betray the fear she felt.

  The man laughed. “You are not in a position to make such a bargain, but I will grant you this. Heal Gaston’s leg, and we will kill your man quickly.”

  Jana’s heart sank. What had Daniel done to elicit this man’s hatred? They had obviously never met the real Daniel Osborne before, or they would have realized that Dan was not him. “And what if I refuse?” she asked.

  “You will not refuse, ma cherie. Unless you enjoy watching this man be tortured to death.”

  Dan yanked Jana back, and took a step toward the trapper. “She’ll not help you regardless,” he said roughly between clenched teeth. The man cocked his pistol, and Dan stopped. Jana had no doubt he would have disarmed this trapper in an instant, but Etienne had his own rifle pointed at Dan. There was no way he could fight all three of these men at once.

  “After she is done healing my friend,” the trapper snarled, “you will have the pleasure of watching her ride me the way she rode you moments ago. Only I will possess her like a real man.”

  In a move that happened quicker than in the blink of an eye, Dan shoved Jana to the side, then kicked his leg out, effectively dislodging the pistol from the man’s grasp. In the next instant, he grabbed the trapper by the front of his shirt, and slammed his fist into his opponent’s face. Jana stumbled to the ground from the momentum of Dan’s shove just as a shot fired. Her head darted from Etienne to Dan, but she couldn’t tell if the shot had hit its mark. Etienne whipped his pistol from his belt, and ran toward Jana. She scrambled to her feet, but he grabbed her by the arm and held the weapon to her head.

  “Release Claude, or this woman dies,” Etienne called loudly. Jana gagged at the stench coming from the man’s mouth. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the third man, Gaston, limp quickly toward Dan, his own pistol raised at him.

  “You idiot,” Claude yelled toward Etienne, gasping and spitting blood that dripped from his mouth where Dan’s fist connected with his lips. “You could have shot me.” He turned his blood-splattered face toward Dan, who stood frozen in front of Gaston. His eyes filled with fear as he stared toward Jana.

  “Leave her be,” Dan called. Claude pulled a long strip of leather from the pouch around his neck.

  “Do not fight me, or your woman is dead,” he sneered. “Put your hands together behind your back,” he commanded. With fury in his eyes, and his jaw clenched, Dan complied, and Claude tied the leather around his wrists.

  “You,” Claude called to Jana. “Fix Gaston’s leg. Do it now, or I will take great pleasure in killing your man as he killed my cousin last summer.”

  Jana’s eyes darted to Dan. Was he thinking what she was? He laughed slowly. “Your cousin? Would that have been one of those stinking coyotes who kidnapped my . . . wife?”

  “Pierre Renault was my cousin,” Claude barked, advancing on Dan. He pulled his knife and held it to Dan’s throat.

  “No!” Jana screamed. “I’ll . . . see what I can do for your friend’s leg. Leave Dan. . . Daniel alone.” She glared at Etienne, who still held the pistol to her head. Every cell in her body screamed to rush to Dan.

  “When I heard this past winter what had happened to him and to my good friend, Franscoise Chaubelon, I swore vengeance.” Claude continued, apparently unmoved by Jana’s plea. Abruptly, he pulled
the knife back, and stuck it back in his belt. “You will die a slow and torturous death, Daniel Osborne.” With those words, he turned toward Jana.

  “Fix my friend’s leg. We are wasting time.” He motioned for Etienne to lower his weapon. Etienne shoved her toward Gaston, who still stood next to Dan, his pistol pointed at him.

  Jana looked toward Dan, who nodded his head slightly. There was nothing on his face that gave away what he was thinking. Jana took a deep breath, and motioned for the trapper to sit by the fire.

  “Let me look at your leg,” she said.

  “You have the power to heal?” he asked, an almost fearful look in his eyes.

  “Well if I don’t, you’ll soon find out, won’t you?” Jana answered heatedly. She didn’t have to look up, but she heard Dan chuckle. Annoyance, mixed with fear, filled her, and made her reckless. If this was going to be the last day she and Dan lived, what did she have to lose? She didn’t need to resort to niceties.

  She glanced toward the backpack. “I need my medical supplies,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Etienne. “Go bring me that pack.”

  The man’s eyes widened briefly. “Do it,” Claude ordered. Etienne grabbed the pack and dropped it at her feet.

  “If you want me to examine your leg, I need you to remove your pants, or whatever it is you call what you’re wearing.” She looked in disgust at the blood-soaked, ripped leather wrapped around the man’s leg. She didn’t have to be a medical genius to know that this man’s leg was beyond saving. The stench of rotting flesh and gangrene filled the air.

  Jana knelt down to unzip the pack, when her eye caught the bear spray canister hanging on the clip. Her heart sped up as a plan formed in her mind. She hastily unclipped the spray, and released the safety.

  “Etienne, Claude, come here and help this man cut this leather strip from his leg,” she commanded. “How long ago did this happen?” She stood to her feet. While the two trappers leaned over their companion, Jana glanced at Dan. Close your eyes. She formed the words with her mouth, hoping he understood. The corners of his lips twitched.

  With Gaston on the ground, and the two other trappers right beside him, Jana said, “look at me for a moment, boys.” All three raised their heads, looks of surprise on their faces. She quickly held the bear spray in front of her, nozzle pointed at the men, and pressed the trigger. At the same time, she ran backwards to get out of the vicinity of the spray. Luckily, she was facing upwind from them. Dan sprinted after her, his hands still tied behind his back.

  The three trappers coughed, gagged, and one even managed to shout.

  “Argh, my eyes. I am blind!” Claude screamed. They scrambled to their feet, neither Etienne nor Claude waiting for Gaston to get up off the ground. They stumbled blindly through the camp, their hands on their faces, trying to rub at their eyes.

  “You were amazing,” Dan said quietly in Jana’s ear. They ducked behind some trees, well out of the path of the three blind trappers. Jana shuddered. She could only imagine the pain their eyes and lungs must be in at the moment. Using bear spray on a person in modern times, even in self-defense, would probably be grounds for arrest. And she had sprayed it at such a close proximity, she had no doubt the men would suffer permanent eye damage, and possible lung damage, if they survived.

  With trembling hands, she fumbled with the knot that tied Dan’s hands together. After he was free, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

  “I love you,” he whispered huskily in her ear.

  “I was . . . am so scared, Dan. They wanted to kill you, and—” Dan kissed her, stopping her from saying more.

  The trappers, still howling and screaming, had found their way to the lake, and plunged loudly into the water. Jana’s skin began to crawl. All three were destined to die a horrible death, and she was the cause of it. She had sprayed them directly in their faces, and it would take days for their eyesight to recover, if at all. A blind man in the wilderness was as good as dead. She collapsed against Dan’s chest, unable to hold back the tears.

  “Shhh. You did what you had to do in order to survive,” he said, stroking her back. “It was either them or us.”

  Dan gripped her tightly all of a sudden. His body tensed. Jana’s head shot up to look at him. Her heart sped up again. Something was wrong. What danger could there possibly be now?

  Slowly, she turned her head in the direction his eyes pointed. Her heart sank to her belly. Standing among the trees behind them stood four Indians, bows in their hands. One man stood slightly ahead of the others, looking at Dan as if he had just seen a ghost.

  Chapter 22

  Dan slowly released his hold around Jana’s waist. He didn’t take his eyes off the Indians, who continued to stare at him. In the distance, the howls of the trappers echoed through the valley. They were still in the water. Their attempts to wash away the burning sensations on their faces and in their eyes would be futile. Dan could only imagine the blisters forming on their skin. If one of them came away without serious eye damage, it would be a miracle. In his mind, they got what they deserved.

  The Indian at the front of the group leaned forward, his wide, almost terror-filled eyes scanning Dan from top to bottom, then lingered on his face. He stood rooted to the spot. Dan didn’t know what else to do, so he took a hesitant step toward him. Jana grasped his arm tightly, and attempted to pull him back.

  “It’s okay, Jana,” he told her quietly. “I don’t think we have anything to fear from them.” She didn’t answer. Dan eyed the weapons these men carried. Hunting bows not made from wood, but from the horn of mountain sheep. He’d only seen an authentic hornbow in a museum once. There was no doubt in his mind he stood face to face with a group of mountain Shoshone – Sheepeaters - an indigenous people to the Yellowstone area whose way of life and existence had died out after the government took over these mountains as a national park. The few Sheepeaters who had survived on the reservations had long lost their culture by integration with other, far larger tribes.

  Historical accounts of these people painted them as poor beggars, and cowardly. Standing before these four men, Dan could see nothing that would give truth to those words. These hunters, although they were not of large stature, stood tall and proud, their buckskin shirts and leggings made of the finest hides.

  Dan extended his hand in greeting, and the apparent leader of the group took several steps back. The other three murmured amongst themselves, nodding with their chins at Dan.

  These are your ancestors. The thought raced through his mind. Although he had very little Shoshone blood in him, he could trace a small part of his roots back to these people through his great-great grandfather, Josh Osborne. Dan’s interest in the tribe had led him to learn all he could about their culture and language from some elders on the Wind River Reservation in Wyoming. Only a few could tell him about the Sheepeaters, and the dialect they spoke was a lost language.

  “Hakaniyun,” Dan said, and continued to hold out his hand. The three men behind their leader murmured louder. The one in front cocked his head to the side, his eyes filled with uncertainty.

  “You speak Indian?” Jana whispered loudly, and gripped his arm tighter.

  Dan turned his head toward her without taking his eyes off the men. “I speak a little Shoshone. I’m not sure if they can understand. The dialect I know is different from these people’s. I can only hope it’s close enough.”

  “Tsoapittsi,” the man said hesitantly. He made no move to shake Dan’s hand.

  “What did he say?” Jana whispered.

  Dan had to think for a moment, trying to decipher the word. “I think he said something like ghost, or spirit.”

  Jana squeezed his arm even more, surprising him with her strength. “Dan, that guy is looking at you like you’re possessed. What if they know Daniel? That’s why they’re all looking at you like that.”

  “Do I really resemble him that much?” Dan asked. The trappers, at least Bautiste, had immediately thought he was Daniel. And the way these
Sheepeaters were looking at him was downright unsettling.

  “You do,” Jana confirmed. “Daniel has shoulder-length hair, and there’s some minor differences, but it’s uncanny how much you look like him.”

  At that moment, an angry roar reverberated through the trees. Everyone’s heads turned. The trapper, Claude, came stumbling through the trees like a rabid dog, his pistol raised. His bloody face and eyes were a gruesome sight. Dan shoved Jana behind him. Without hesitating, the Shoshone at the head of the group raised his bow, and with practiced speed and grace, reached behind his shoulder for an arrow from his quiver, strung the bow, and released the deadly projectile. It happened so fast, Dan barely had time to make out the movement.

  The force of the arrow’s impact in Claude’s chest made him stumble back several steps. He hit the ground with a loud thud, and lay still. Jana buried her face in Dan’s shirt. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her up against him, shielding her from the gruesome sight.

  The Indian spoke to his companions, and two of them trotted off through the trees, in the direction of the lake. Dan could only guess that the other two trappers were about to meet a similar fate as Claude. Dan slowly turned back to the Shoshone. Their eyes met. There was no hostility in the other man’s expression, only a sort of awe, and a certain amount of confusion.

  Dan nodded his head in a gesture of thanks.

  “Patuhuyaa nuukwi,” the man said, and his eyebrows raised expectantly. “Samopuu?” He took a step toward Dan, then first to one side and then the other. He stooped forward, and assessed him again with a critical eye.