by Jools Louise
“Round them up,” the voice ordered, and out of the trees came a troop of soldiers, clad in navy blue and bearing rifles.
Hannah spied a female, clad in the uniform of the Arapahoe, and knew that the female had betrayed them. She had heard about the battle back in the valley. What possible reason could she have for acting this way? They had left the valley, and their horses. Why would she be so evil?
“Please, sir,” Hannah said, speaking to the nearest soldier deferentially. “May I see to my friend? She is with child.” She began to sob, using every theatrical skill she had learned whilst under her bastard buffalo hunters’ control.
The soldier stared at her suspiciously, but nodded when he saw her own bulging belly. He looked barely old enough to shave, and a little afraid as he stared at the braves who were glaring fiercely as they were dragged to their feet. Four of Taima’s old tribe didn’t get up, apparently already dead, and Hannah cried for real as one of the youngsters, a little boy of about five, was among the victims. Standing up she glared at the captain in charge.
“You pick on infants now?” she asked him. “We have children and pregnant women here. What possible reason do you have to fire on us so indiscriminately?”
The captain ignored her, ordering his troops about.
“Answer me!” she cried. “What reason do you have for shooting innocent children? Have you run out of slaves? Is that it? Now you have to murder babies to prove your manhood?”
“Silence, squaw!” the captain shouted, his face red with anger. “Go with the others or I will shoot you myself.”
She heard Paco growl, and knew his wolf side was aching to attack the bastard.
“No, my love, do not let him bait you. He will kill you in a heartbeat, and I would die without you. This idiot wants an excuse to kill us. Do you not recognize the Arapahoe bitch in the trees? She’s the one who fought Chatan.” She sent the message to everyone, and watched as they followed her gaze to where the female stood, sneering at them, eyes filled with hatred.
“Check on Mary,” Chatan begged her, sounding distraught. Hannah nodded and crawled over to Mary, turning her gently. She sighed with relief when she saw her friend’s blue eyes open.
“I’m fine, my little wolf,” Mary said to her mate, also using a communal thread. “I’m about to give birth, that’s all. The fall winded me. Your son is on his way.” She began to pant, and gave a low moan of pain, clutching her abdomen.
“Were you hit?” Chatan asked worriedly. Mary nodded, groaning again.
“The bastard hit me in the ass,” she replied, sounding offended. Hannah bit back a smile, finding humor despite their dire situation. “That bitch over there is going to die for this. I’m going to rip her black heart from her chest, you see if I don’t.” She sounded furious. “I planned on giving birth on a comfortable fur rug, not a cold beach surrounded by soldiers and one bitchy female.”
“What’s going on here?” the soldier asked nervously, flushing when Hannah arched a brow at him.
“She’s giving birth, what does it look like?” she asked sarcastically. “And someone shot her.”
He looked alarmed, his hand shaking where he held his rifle at the ready.
“It wasn’t you, was it?” she asked, glaring at him. He was only about nineteen, if that, and had light gingery hair, and a light dusting of peach fuzz on his chin. A baby, really, playing at being a man.
“No, it wasn’t me,” he stammered, flushing beet red. “I tripped and didn’t get a shot off.”
“It was me,” said a nasty female voice as the Arapahoe wandered over, her fist clenching sharp dagger. “The bitch needed to die.”
“You’re the only bitch that needs to die,” Hannah retorted, snarling at the woman. “If you even try to hurt her, I’ll kill you.”
“My friend is hurt,” Mary whispered to the young soldier. “Please, will you see that he is okay? His name is Jacy.”
The young trooper gulped as she batted her eyelids at him, and went to check on Jacy, who still lay on the ground, not moving.
Smirking, Mary glared up at the Arapahoe. “What do you want, bitch?” she asked angrily. “We left your precious valley. Why would you betray us like this?”
The female leaned over, sneering. “Because I can, bitch,” she retorted, laughing mockingly. “You are a Comanche whore, and Comanche are our enemy. Isn’t that enough reason to want you dead?”
“No,” Hannah replied sharply. “You attacked us. You shot Mary, and attacked us. What else is there behind this witch hunt?”
The female glared at her, hesitating for a second. “This little strumpet stole something from me,” she said, causing both women to exchange startled glances. Mary gave a low moan as another contraction hit her, distracting them briefly.
“What did I take?” Mary gritted out between clenched teeth.
“You worked for the Pony Express, am I right?” the woman asked, and Mary nodded cautiously. “Then you knew an Indian scout called Two Spears.” Mary stared at the female, frowning, and then a light dawned in her eyes.
“Two Spears worked for one of the trading posts,” she said, but still looked puzzled. “I rode there occasionally, to rest my horse and eat. He was a good kid, only young.” She looked up at the woman. “What was he to you? What happened to him?”
“The white eyes accused him of murdering you,” the female said, scowling and raising the dagger threateningly. “They shot him, murdered him, and here you are, healthy and whole and carrying a child. I was pregnant when he died, and I lost my baby. I tried to heal him, hid in the caves, hiding from the soldiers, but they died anyway. I was alone.”
“Your name is Little Otter, isn’t it?” Mary said carefully, wincing and holding her belly, panting a little through a contraction. “Two Spears loved you so much,” she added. “He said you were his moon and stars. I’m so sorry he was killed.”
The woman stared at her, hatred in every pore of her body. “You stole everything,” she said.
“Would he want you to act this way?” Hannah asked carefully, tensing when those hate-filled, dark eyes were turned her way. “Would he want you to hate like this? Mary did not murder him, the stupid bastards who pulled the trigger did.”
“Why did they accuse Two Spears?” Mary asked, sounding puzzled. “I was nowhere near that staging post, I was in Comanche territory when I was found by my mates. What does my disappearance have to do with him?”
Little Otter leapt forward, straddling Mary and placing the sharp blade beneath Mary’s chin, drawing a line of blood from ear to ear, smirking evilly at the fear in Mary’s eyes.
“Not a thing,” she replied, grabbing a hank of Mary’s hair viciously. “I just didn’t like the fact that he spoke of you daily, talking about your beauty and your blonde hair and how kind you were to him,” she sneered mockingly. “I didn’t like my husband speaking about another woman in that way. He was mine.”
“You told the soldiers that he killed me?” Hannah asked, aghast. “How can you love him if you betrayed him like that?”
Little Otter laughed maniacally, cackling like some old crone. “I never said I loved him, stupid whore,” she replied. “I merely said he was mine.”
“Step away from the female, Little Otter,” a harsh voice said from behind. The captain stood there, glaring furiously at her. “This whole trip has been a wild goose chase, hasn’t it? You lied to us, you evil bitch, and I’ve killed a child because of it. I once had a son his age.” He looked at Hannah. “I don’t make war on children.”
“This bitch took my husband and child from me,” Little Otter said, not giving ground.
“Step away or I’ll shoot,” the captain said grimly. “We have no quarrel with these people. You killed your own husband out of spite from the sounds of it. The only reason I obeyed orders is because I believed these people to be warmongers. You fired first, Little Otter, and hit a pregnant woman. You would murder her while she gives birth?”
Little Otter shrieke
d angrily and turned back to Mary, her intention clear. A shot rang out, then another, and the Arapahoe fell to the side, the front of her face exploding as two bullets ripped through her head.
Hannah shoved the bitch off her friend, grimacing at the gore on her hands.
“Sir?” a soft voice said hesitantly. “This young man and another female are injured, and needs medical attention.”
A young trooper stood there, looking as though he’d vomit as he stared at the dead Arapahoe.
“Then see that she gets it, Justin,” the captain replied, arching one brow.
“Yes, sir,” the young man replied and scurried off.
The captain rolled his eyes, his green eyes hard as he looked at Little Otter’s remains. “This woman came into our camp weeks ago, with a message from our fort’s commander. She had some story about some female being murdered by savages, and explained exactly where they were heading.” He frowned, looking to where the young boy who had been shot was being cradled by his mother, who cried softly as she hugged her baby close. “She began firing, not any of us. She was just plain loco. Never knew a woman like her.”
Mary suddenly let out a loud scream, her back arching and her face contorted in agony. “Chatan!” she cried. “Maska, Kata, Dustu, the baby’s coming fast.” She screamed again, and the captain looked alarmed when four fierce looking braves broke from the group of soldiers, and came running. They fell to their knees beside her, stroking her hair gently and murmuring sweet nothings in her ear, soothing her.
“I’ll check on the injured,” Hannah said softly, which they ignored. “Captain? Will you allow us to pass peacefully? Or will you herd us to a reservation like cattle, where we will be kept prisoner for the rest of our days?”
“You brought that bitch here,” Mary gritted, her knuckles white as she gripped Chatan’s hand in hers. “Because of her, we lost four of our people, one a child, and two others are injured. We want no more of war, only freedom to live free and raise our children in safety. We are heading far away from here, and we will trouble you no more.”
The captain stared at her and looked away. “It would be the end of my career if I let you go,” he said. Then he paused and stared at the female clutching her limp child, weeping quietly.
“It will be the end of us if you don’t,” Hannah told him grimly and met his look fearlessly. “You have the freedom to roam where you like. You take the lands of people who have lived here for centuries, claiming it for your own, and kill those who defend what’s theirs. Their way of life is over, but for pity’s sake, can you not just allow us this one concession? Thousands have perished, murdered for the price of gold and grazing land for fat cows. I’ve watched the buffalo slaughtered in their hundreds and left to rot, plentiful food wasted for the greed of unwelcome hordes. Those buffalo would feed whole families, who respected these lands, merely taking what was needed to survive. Do you have not one shred of compassion in you? Can’t you just let us leave?”
“Sir,” the young trooper interrupted again, flushing when his captain turned a fierce green gaze on him once more. “Er, there’s something you should see,” he said, beckoning the officer to follow him.
Frowning, Hannah followed the pair over to where the youngster lay in his mother’s arms. He had been still as death, the bullet piercing his young flesh brutally. But he was not dead. Instead, his eyes were open and alert, and where the wound had been, was a small pink scar.
“This can’t be possible,” Hannah whispered, knowing how powerful their wolf’s totem was, but unable to believe they could be brought back from the dead.
“He was hit,” the trooper said, sounding awestruck. “Then the wound began to close, and this popped from the hole.” He opened his fist and showed them the bullet that had caused such catastrophic damage.
The captain stared, stupefied.
“That’s…” he started to say. Then he turned and headed over to where Jacy lay on the ground. His buckskin trousers were ripped, but no blood came from his wound. It was fully healed, the missile lying on the pebbles beside him. The young female who had been injured, Petunia, sat a few feet away, and looked nervous when the soldier approached. He knelt beside her, and gently pulled her shawl off her, revealing where her injury was healing fast.
He sat back on his ass, dumbfounded.
* * * *
Captain Ryan DuBarry had seen some strange shit in his twenty-eight years of living, but nothing beat this. He’d seen, with his own eyes, a young boy killed and five others shot and killed or wounded. Nasty wounds that would take months to heal. Not minutes.
He heard a low snarl, and glanced, startled, over to where the young brave sprawled. Fangs appeared as the younger man curled his lips back, and Ryan knew this was a day he would never forget…if he didn’t die of shock first.
“That’s Jacy,” the young female whispered in perfect English, and he met her gaze, the brown depths smooth as chocolate.
“Jacy?” he asked, mesmerized by her.
“He takes care of me,” she said, smiling shyly. “You have pretty eyes.” She flushed and ducked her head, as though embarrassed.
“He has fangs,” Ryan said, glancing over to Jacy, who glared back, not giving an inch.
“Yes,” the girl said, and smiled, revealing her own set of gnashers.
“Petunia, that isn’t wise,” another female called, coming to stand beside them, glaring at Ryan furiously. “He’s a soldier. They’ll hunt us down like dogs now.”
Petunia blushed, and looked horrified, her eyes glittering with tears. She stared at him glumly, then at the other female.
“Pavati, I didn’t think,” she said regretfully. “He killed that evil bitch, he can’t be all bad.” She smiled at him again. “And he has such pretty green eyes. Like emeralds.”
Pavati rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. “I think perhaps these soldiers are going to be a liability,” she said fiercely, and Ryan felt a growing sense of fear as he stared at her. He had seen what they were, and still couldn’t quite believe it. They had some kind of magic within them, all of them it would seem, and healed rapidly, it was miraculous, what he had just witnessed. They may just kill him to keep their secret safe. They may think that he would kill them. This was not going to end well.
A scream rent the air just then, and everyone looked over to where Mary writhed on the beach. A guttural cry followed, and then the sound of a baby squalling. A cheer went up, and even the soldiers looked pleased.
Ryan had a young troop, youngsters who had come from farms and the big city to be soldiers. They were afraid of everything, most having only shot at squirrels or rabbits before. The lure of the wild west had brought them here, and he had taken them under his wing. The bitch, Little Otter, had flirted with them, causing squabbles and disharmony whenever she could. These boys had no clue about the wiles of a she-cat like the Arapahoe female. The oldest was only twenty-one, Ryan himself only twenty-eight and already a captain.
“It’s a girl,” Petunia said, smiling in delight. A moment later, after a long pause and several pained groans, they heard a second infant’s cry. “Twins!” Petunia said, clapping her hands together excitedly.
“If you four make me go through that again, any less than a year from now, I’ll rip your balls off with my fingernails,” Mary said loudly to the four men crowding around her, all looking pale, but happy.
“Who’s the father?” Ryan asked delicately, and heard a snort from Pavati.
“All of them,” she said, arching a brow delicately. He met her gaze in surprise, and felt a connection between them, as he had with Petunia. Pavati flushed slightly, her nostrils flaring and her lips parting. Jacy snarled once again, and crept closer. He appeared to sniff the air, his fangs still bared, cautiously approaching.
Ryan remained perfectly still, seeing the fear in the other man’s eyes. He felt something, a yearning that drew him to all three of them. He had never felt a connection like it, and his cock twitched insistentl
y. Jacy had eyes of a pale gold that glittered with an almost feral light. He sniffed at Ryan, moving even closer, crawling on all fours across the ten feet that separated them. Reaching out tentatively, Ryan cupped Jacy’s cheek gently when the man was within reach. Jacy leaned into his touch, rubbing his face against Ryan’s palm. Silken tendrils of hair touched Ryan’s fingers, the strands falling in a smooth veil over Jacy’s cheek. Dark brown, with reddish highlights, it flowed like a waterfall to his waist. Intricate tattoos were inked skillfully onto his chest, his muscles well defined beneath his dark copper skin.
“Jacy?” Ryan said, staring into the man’s stunning golden eyes.
“We are mates,” the man breathed, sniffing again. “You are mine. You are all my mates.” Blinking, Ryan sent a startled glance to Petunia and Pavati, who nodded. Petunia smiled her shy smile, while Pavati’s hard stare had him ready to cup his balls for protection. She looked fierce and untamed, her dark gaze swirling with mystery.
“Mates?” he asked, breathing in shallow pants when Jacy moved closer still.
“Sir?” asked a familiar voice. The young trooper, actually a corporal, had approached without him realizing. The man was casting wistful glances at the young female who had nearly lost her son.
Ryan closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure. “Yes, Corporal,” he said, flushing.
“Sir, we’ve all been talking,” the man said nervously.
“Talking?” Ryan asked, looking up.
“Yes, sir,” the soldier replied. “We don’t feel it’s right that these people, who have pregnant women and young children among them, and are obviously special in some way, should be harmed.” He sounded firm, despite the nerves. Ryan bit back a smile at Brad’s pugnacious tone. “We feel that we should help them get to safety. I heard what the young woman said before, about us taking their lands. And I agree with her. We’d like to help, that’s all.”
