The Spirit of the Wolf

by Karen Kay

  He was a fool not to have realized it sooner. This woman had something to do with him, with his people, with the riddle, with their freedom.

  And he had almost let her go.

  “Please don’t scowl at me like that.” Marietta leaned in toward him. “It’s a pretty name. Of course my full name is Maria Marietta Welsford. Can you not say it? At least once?”

  “Marietta,” he repeated softly. “Marietta.”

  He stared at her hard, very hard, because she was about to become very upset with him. And he was going to have to proof himself against her wrath.

  He only hoped that when it was all over, she would forgive him.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Is something wrong?” Marietta frowned as she looked up to him. “You look…strange.”

  “Hiya,” he said, “something is very right, I think.”

  What in the dear Lord’s name did that mean? “I don’t understand.”

  He nodded. “It is to be appreciated that you do not, but maybe some day you will. Ito, come. I have changed my mind about your journey. You will accompany me now.”

  At first Marietta wasn’t certain she had heard him correctly. “What did you say?”

  “You will accompany me now,” he repeated, his expression grave. “The decision is no longer yours to make.”

  What? What was this? “Changed your mind? But—”

  “You will gather up the meat and put it into bags while I break camp. We will cache my robe and anything else you feel you cannot carry. We will leave at once.”

  “No, we won’t. You can’t just change your mind like that.”

  “I have reason. Now prepare yourself for our journey.”

  “No. You can’t do this to me. What’s happened? One moment everything was fine, and then… What possible cause could have…?” Gently, she shook her head. “Tell me this reason.”

  Though his gaze was subdued as he stared at her, his words were not. “I cannot speak of it.”

  “Cannot?” Shocked, Marietta could only stand before him and gape. “You cannot speak of it? What does that mean? We talked. We communicated. We agreed.”

  “It does not matter. Something has changed.”

  She tossed her head, scowling up at him. “No, you…you can’t do this.”

  “I can.”

  “No. Let’s look back at what we just discussed. You promised me to let me go.”

  “I did not promise.”

  “You said I could go. That’s the same thing.”

  “It is not,” he countered. “I said you could travel alone as long as you learned from me how to journey in the night. I choose now not to teach you.”

  She gasped. “No, no. This is not right.”

  He shrugged. “Prepare yourself and your things. We leave at once.”

  “Very well. I will leave with you—as long as we ride.”

  He simply shook his head. “We have already discussed this. We will not ride.”

  “Then…I…I… No!” she stuttered.

  A muscle twitched dangerously in his cheek. “An Indian husband speaks but once to his wife.”

  “No, I won’t go.”

  He ignored her, and bending, he commenced to break camp, smoothing over the ground, scattering the fire.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I am erasing evidence of our encampment, so that others who come behind us will not know we were here. Now, return to the shelter, get any of the items you wish to carry, including the food, and be back here quickly.”

  Standing over him, hands on her hips, she stated, “I will prepare myself to go on alone, back to the Minnetaree village. Nothing else.”

  It seemed he had no sympathy for her. “Either we go with your things,” he said, ignoring her, “or we travel without them. The choice is yours. And remember this: A good woman does not chatter back to her husband.”

  “Well, in that case, I guess I’m not a very good woman, and, Mr. Coyote, you are certainly not my husband.”

  He said nothing.

  She stamped her foot. “No, I won’t go with you.”

  When he gazed at her incredulously, she raised her eyebrows. “You gave me your word. And that is as good as a promise. I will hold you to it.”

  “We have already held this counsel. Know that if you do not do as I say, I will force you to go with me.”

  She shrugged. “All right. Then do your worst,” she taunted. “You’re obviously bigger than I am, and stronger too. But I will not go into that dwelling—if you want something there, you can get it yourself.”

  “Humph! Know this. If I have to, I will take you captive. The choice is yours.”

  She squinted at him. “Do what you must, but if you take me captive, I will be a very noisy one.”

  “Then I will gag you.”

  “And I will run away at the first opportunity.”

  He shrugged.

  “And how will you take me if we have no horses? Are you planning to carry me yourself?”

  “No,” he said. “You will ride.”

  Her relief was obvious but short-lived, for he went on to say, “But I will not ride. I will walk the horse along behind me and hope that no one discovers us.”

  “But that means we would still be moving slowly, and I… Oh, Grey Coyote, don’t you realize? I must do this. I must try. If I don’t…”

  Grey Coyote’s expression didn’t change, not one iota. As he stood up from his work, his features were tight, grim, and there was no understanding to be witnessed on his countenance. “I have spoken. You are my wife, and you will do as I tell you, and I have no more to say on the matter. Do not question me further.”

  She glared at him. Though she didn’t utter another word, when he turned away to attend to the other chores, she seized the brief moment to step toward their hideaway.

  She wasn’t about to gather up her things. Indeed not. Perhaps it was silly, stupid—the whim of a mere girl—but she had to get away from him.

  She couldn’t meekly follow him. Who did he think she was? A person without spirit? Without pride?

  How dare he treat her as though she were nothing more than a mere extension of himself, as though she were a lifeless entity with no personality of her own, no hopes, no dreams. Perhaps in Indian country this was how the men treated their women, but she would never forgive herself if she let him get away with this. She was made of firmer stuff.

  So, while he was busy elsewhere, she would do everything within her means to escape. If she were successful, she would find her way to the Minnetaree village, do or die.

  She crawled into their shelter, scooted toward the very back of it, and digging out a hole through the shrubs that covered it, she slithered into the wild.

  At last she was free, at least for a moment. True, he would most likely come after her, but she was certainly not going to cooperate with him. Let him do his worst. She would show her displeasure.

  Certainly she intended to be trouble. Lots of trouble.

  Stooping over, she crept forward as fast as she could, until, after rounding a corner in the gully, she began to climb up to the level of the plains. Her feet skidded over sharp rocks, but she ignored the discomfort.

  As she had predicted, however, Grey Coyote seemed to read her thoughts, and alerted to what she was doing, he easily caught up with her. Taking hold of her, he wrestled with her, until she was lying on her back on the harsh, rocky ground.

  She lay beneath him, his hands holding her arms to the side. She tried to kick out at him, but she did absolutely no harm. Having placed one of his knees between her legs, he held himself up, slightly above her but out of the line of fire.

  He shook his head at her. “Why don’t you simply obey me?” he asked, as though the idea of a man’s orders going undone was beyond him. “There is a good reason why you must now come with me.”

  “If that is so,” she said, “then tell me what it is.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Then don’t expect
me to do as you say. Believe me, if you do this, I promise that I will be an annoyance and will create as much trouble as I possibly can.”

  He breathed out harshly. “You already are much trouble.”

  “Good!”

  He sighed. “You realize I will have to tie you now, don’t you?”

  “Do what you must. But you should be aware that I will escape. And if you find me, I will try again.”

  His voice was calm when he said, “Then I will have to ensure you are never again successful.”

  She let out a harsh breath but otherwise remained silent, although if a glance could have done injury…

  She kicked out at him, and in response to her fidgeting, he sent her a carefully contrived look of boredom.

  She threw another fit, thrashing about, twisting and using her feet, tried to assault him. But he was prepared.

  He lay over her, holding both of her hands away from her body as she wiggled and squirmed beneath him.

  “Tula, lie still.”

  He might as well have kept silent. She lashed out at him all the more, but the effort had taken much energy, or so it appeared. At last, she lay still. Then, sucking in her breath, she opened her mouth, and he didn’t wait to find out what she was intending.

  He reacted the only way a man should. He covered her mouth with his own. It wasn’t a kiss. It wasn’t meant to be.

  It was simply a means to keep her from screaming, and yet, with the first touch, he was at once transported. His body stood alert. After the last few days, he practically knew this woman’s body by heart, and it was with the most extreme control that he did not press the matter further.

  Her wriggling against him was having the opposite effect than the one she most likely intended, and as her teeth bit at his tongue, thoughts of other things, much more pleasant things, came swiftly to his mind.

  He deepened the kiss and was rewarded to hear her low-pitched moan.

  Still, she twisted in his arms, flailing about as though she believed he might intend her bodily harm. Instead of fighting her, he kissed her more fervently.

  She groaned again, and the sound of it tore at whatever self-control he had left. He should let it go, let her go. But he couldn’t.

  His mouth slanted over hers, his tongue searching out her own, dancing with hers, tasting her, delving even deeper into the moist recesses of her mouth. At last the struggle seemed to wear itself out, and gradually he let go of one of her hands, if only to determine what she would do.

  He was ready for most anything except what happened. Her hand came up to hold on to his shoulder.

  Imperceptibly, so slowly he barely recognized it for what it was, she responded back to him in the sweet way he loved so well. She returned his kiss, running her hands down his back. It sent him quietly out of his mind.

  He then performed the most natural thing in the world. He made love to her, right there on the side of the gully.

  There was no leading up to it, no waiting, no honeyed words. She might be furious with him, she might think him an unworthy beast, but she opened her legs to him, as if she could barely tolerate the distance between them too.

  It was lovemaking at its rockiest. It was taking, but also giving. It was rough, yet gentle. They bore against each other over and over, straining together as if each thrust were another well-argued point in their disagreement.

  The release was heavenly, yet earthy at the same time, and they came together in a madness of thrusting hips. The pleasure went on and on, as if each clung to the moment, as if each understood that the pleasure was fleeting.

  At last it was over, and both were breathing heavily as he settled down on her.

  As he inhaled the scent of her spicy femininity, it was on the tip of his tongue to apologize, to explain himself, to tell her everything, even though he knew he dare not.

  Pushing against him, she said, “Please get off me. If it be your intention to humiliate me, you have certainly done so.”

  “I?” He came up onto his elbows and looked down into her eyes. “But…I thought…you wanted it too.”

  However, if he had hoped to finagle a confession out of her, he was to be disappointed.

  She said, “I suppose you think this is the way to quiet my rebelliousness.”

  “Hiya! Truly, I thought you wanted this as much as I did.”

  “I did not. I do not. I am angry at you, and I…do not wish to have more of your attentions.”

  He stirred uneasily but moved to the side of her, though he kept hold of her around the waist.

  She sat up, settling her skirts around her ankles. “I need to wash.”

  “I will take you to the stream, and then we will leave here.”

  She glared at him, and he could barely hold her glance as she said, “As far as I’m concerned, you have broken your word to me, and I will not go anywhere with you willingly. Though my protest may be fruitless, for you are obviously stronger than I am, believe me, that will not stop me. I promise you, I will hound your every step.”

  His sigh was long and deep. “I know. I even understand.”

  “Humph!” was all she said in return. With a brief nod, she rose and headed toward the stream.

  Though he had no choice but to follow her, he did so at a great distance.

  In the end, Grey Coyote had merely to whistle for his pony, and it came, trotting happily toward them. He’d had to haul her up onto the animal, for she would not help him. Tying her hands in front of her, he had settled her in a straddle position. He had also gagged her.

  True, Marietta had screamed at him, as she had promised she would. In that way she supposed he had a reason for what he did, but she wasn’t particularly interested in giving Grey Coyote quarter at the moment. However, they had been underway for no more than a few minutes when Marietta discovered it was possible to squirm and shift about until, the good Lord willing, she could throw herself from the pony. Though such an action could be deemed childish and would only serve to irritate him, it was all she could think of to do.

  So she did it. She twisted about until she could feel herself sliding off, but instead of falling to her feet as she had intended, she found herself hurtling toward the ground, face first.

  “Do you mean to hurt yourself?” Grey Coyote scolded as he raced toward her, catching her before she made contact.

  She didn’t respond and merely glared her dislike at him.

  But from that moment on, Grey Coyote had tied her feet together, and without a single word of apology, had thrown her over the pony’s back in a position like a dead man, face down, arms over her head. She couldn’t have been more uncomfortable if she’d been a sack of potatoes. How could he do this to her? Blood drained to her head, and her stomach muscles were tired from the constant need to tighten themselves against the movement of the pony.

  She squirmed, pressing her elbows into the flanks of the animal, and lifted her head in order to prevent the constant rush of blood. She tried to cry out, but mostly she only hurt herself.

  At last, after what seemed like hours, Grey Coyote stopped.

  They had been traveling through the night, their pace slow, and she wondered if Grey Coyote meant to taunt her. They had also been keeping their trek to the gully. She supposed Grey Coyote was afraid to range out onto the open plains, even though, in her opinion, there was little light by which to see them. At present there was only a sliver of a moon, as well as the multitude of stars.

  Stepping back toward her, Grey Coyote pulled her off the pony and carried her to a large, flat rock, where he placed her upon it, seated. Though she couldn’t say a word, her fiery gaze expressed her anger at him.

  Grey Coyote didn’t speak, returning instead to the pony, where he hobbled the animal, petted it, then reached up to grab hold of a bag. She recognized the bag at once as being one that was filled with their food.

  Still silent, he returned to sit directly across from her, and to her utter chagrin, ate his snack in front of her, never once taking his ey
es from her. He even quenched his thirst from another pouch that was filled with water, looking as though he were enjoying himself thoroughly.

  Hazy moonlight shone down on him, casting his features in stunning shades of grey light and shadows. Though she marveled at his handsomeness, at the moment she would have rather died than admit it.

  In due time, he asked, “Are you hungry?”

  She refused to answer. Instead, she glanced away from him.

  “Very well, we will travel onward, then.” He stood to his feet.

  “Hmm…” It was the only sound she could make.

  “Did you say something?”

  She rolled her eyes but then realized he might not be able to see it.

  “Know that we are in enemy territory,” he cautioned as he stepped toward her. “War parties generally have a scout that accompanies them, and these men cross the prairie at night also, so do not think you are free to scream. If I remove this gag, you must promise me you will not screech or yell. Do you promise?”

  She nodded.

  Carefully, he untied the gag, and it seemed to Marietta as though he took pains to avoid touching her.

  At last the gag was gone, and he squatted before her. “Shall I feed you, or can I trust you to your word that if I untie your hands, you will not attempt to leave?”

  “I will not attempt to leave.” She said it resentfully, hatefully, but she said it nonetheless.

  He nodded and carefully untied her hands and her feet. He offered her the pemmican and the water, and she accepted them both greedily.

  As she ate, he sat back across from her to watch.

  After a while, her thirst and hunger satiated, she spoke. “I will repay you for this indignity.”

  He inclined his head but didn’t speak.

  “I notice that we are traveling south and west.”

  “That is a good observation, and it is so, we travel south and west. The forest that I seek is in Paha Sapa, the Black Hills. They are a little west of where we are now.”

  “I do not know of them. But tell me, where is the trading post in relation to where we are?”

  “It is almost due south. We do not travel so much out of our way.”