by Sara Orwig
“Don’t do this, Dupree. You’ll regret it,” she said, standing so close to him, knowing she wouldn’t gain anything by running outside because one of the men would bring her right back to him. She looked around the tent for a weapon to use against him and found that there was nothing.
His hands moved over her breasts as he unfastened buttons and opened her bodice to stroke her, pushing away the chemise and cupping her breasts. He drew in his breath. “You’re a beautiful woman. I want your hair down.”
He reached around her, unfastening the braid swiftly, combing out her hair with his fingers. “Now,” he said, pushing open her bodice.
The air was cold on her skin, and she gazed beyond him, trying to ignore his hands as he stroked her breasts. His fingers returned to the buttons and he pushed the dress open and ran his hands over her. His touch was loathsome and her skin prickled while a cold fear gripped her. He unfastened her wrists, tossing down the belt. She looked at the heavy buckle, wondering if she could use it as a weapon, but realized it was not enough.
Dupree pulled her closer, yanking down the dress, shoving it off her arms, and letting it fall around her ankles. He ripped away her underclothing until she stood with only her stockings and shoes.
Desperate, Vanessa saw nothing in the tent that she could use as a weapon except the lantern, and he still stood between her and the center post where the lantern hung. His hands drifted over her, sliding between her legs, and she stiffened.
Panting, he wound his fingers in her hair and held her, kissing her hard, and then he released her as he began to unbutton his trousers. As he stepped out of one leg, balanced on one foot, she lunged at him, throwing herself against him and slamming him into the center post, grabbing for the lantern.
Her fingers closed on the metal base and she tried to pull it off the nail where it hung.
Dupree seized her and they went down together. She clawed at him and kicked him, biting his arm.
He pinned her down swiftly as she struggled beneath him. His eyes glittered with lust.
On the keening wind another high shrill sound rose, tearing her attention from Dupree and sending a thrill surging through her. Dupree stilled suddenly.
His head jerked up, his nostrils flaring as he froze over her. “Dammit! Damned redskins!”
The piercing cries continued, a series of yips that sent a chill down Vanessa’s spine while at the same time she wanted to scream for joy.
Outside, men yelled. The pounding hooves of galloping horses thundered in the night.
“Damned Indians!” Dupree repeated. A shot was fired as Dupree yanked on his clothes and ran from the tent.
Lone Wolf. Vanessa’s heart leaped, her fear shifting and changing like water in a swirling stream. With shaking hands, she yanked on her dress.
The cries and pounding horses were unmistakable now. It was a war party tearing through the camp. Guns blasted the night, and men yelled, the constant cries of the raiding Indians a wild challenge carried on the wind.
Something struck the canvas, and the tent burst into flames.
Her hands shook as she fastened buttons and grabbed up her cape to rush outside.
Arms locked around her and Dupree grabbed her, sweeping her up on a horse in front of him and turning to wheel into the darkness and gallop away with her.
Lone Wolf tore across the camp, firing the rifle, searching for Vanessa. He had crept through the darkness close enough to see her near Dupree at one point. Both of them were here. But where was she now? And where was Belva? He hadn’t seen Belva all night. Had Abbot Sutherland taken Belva back to McKavett? And why was Vanessa heading east?
Tents were flaming and suddenly Lone Wolf was cold with fear. Had Dupree tied Vanessa and left her in one of the burning tents. He galloped to a tent, swinging down over the side of his horse to look inside, straightening up to ride furiously to the next tent as a battle raged behind him.
Ignoring the guns of the soldiers, his fright for her safety grew when he couldn’t find her. And he couldn’t find Dupree. In minutes, the smoke would be too thick to find anyone.
A warrior rode past and motioned to Lone Wolf as he fired his rifle, waving his hand in a wide sweep toward the west.
Lone Wolf urged his bay forward, the horse racing into the darkness away from the burning tents and flames.
It took a while for Lone Wolf’s eyes to adjust, and he wondered if he were galloping away from Vanessa and leaving her to burn in a tent or die at the hands of a soldier. And then he saw a shadow ahead of him.
He leaned low over the bay, kicking its sides, feeling the surge of its powerful muscles as the horse stretched out and pounded across the land. Wind tore at Lone Wolf, and he strained to see, gradually narrowing the gap until he glimpsed a man leaning low over a galloping horse. Was it Dupree? And did he have Vanessa or was she back at the camp?
Lone Wolf wanted Vanessa more than he wanted to take revenge on Dupree. Torn between going after Dupree and going back, Lone Wolf galloped behind the other horse, hoping Vanessa was only yards ahead of him.
In spite of the cold, his palms were damp with sweat because he was terrified he was leaving her when she needed him. He glanced back to see the raging flames dancing high in the dark night.
He remembered Cloud in Sky motioning to him. Cloud in Sky wouldn’t send him out after Dupree. Most of the warriors didn’t know Dupree. Determined to catch up with whoever was ahead of him, Lone Wolf kicked the bay.
The horses raced, the bay slowly closing the lead. Suddenly, the other horse was drawn up short and wheeled around.
“Stop where you are! I’ll kill her!” Dupree shouted.
Lone Wolf reined his horse, recognizing Dupree Milos’s voice. He could see Milos as he held Vanessa against him and kept the prancing horse in check.
“Get down off the horse and put your hands in the air,” Dupree shouted. “I’ve got a knife against her throat and I’ll cut her if you don’t do as I say.”
“Ride away from him! He has a rif—” Vanessa cried and gasped.
“Don’t hurt her!” Lone Wolf snapped, yanking the knife from the scabbard and raising his hands. In the dark, he didn’t think Dupree could see well enough to spot the knife. Lone Wolf held the knife flat against his wrist as he raised his hands.
“You didn’t gain anything by attacking. I’ll take her and when I’m through with her, my men can have her. This time you won’t live to know about it,” Milos yelled.
Vanessa cried softly, as the knife cut into her throat. She knew that if she moved or struck Dupree, he would stab her, yet he couldn’t get the rifle out of the scabbard and hold her at knife point at the same time. “Please go!” she sobbed, knowing he would kill Lone Wolf the first chance he got, and Lone Wolf wouldn’t attack him as long as he ran a chance of hurting her.
She could make out the dark bulk of Lone Wolf’s wide shoulders, his black hair blowing in the wind as he held his hands high over his head.
Suddenly, Dupree flung her away from him. She tumbled, falling through the air off the horse’s back and sprawling on the ground as Dupree yanked up his rifle.
Vanessa screamed a warning.
Twenty-eight
Vanessa slammed against the earth, the jolt dazing her and knocking the breath from her lungs, her hands and face scraping on the rough ground. She twisted as the rifle fired, the blast loud in the night.
With a cry she rolled over and came to her knees. A knife glinted, protruding from Dupree’s chest. He toppled off the horse, and she turned while Lone Wolf ran to her.
His strong arms closed around her and she flung her arms around him, clinging to him, relishing the strength in his shoulders and arms, knowing she was safe now. She sobbed with relief to be in his arms while he tilted her head up. “Are you hurt?”
“No! He fired his rifle—”
“He missed. The moment he released you, I threw the knife. Vanessa,” Lone Wolf said her name in a husky voice filled with longing. The warmth and love
in the one word made her shake with relief and joy.
“I trusted him when he told Papa he would take me back to you. I shouldn’t have—”
Lone Wolf framed her face with his hands. “You’re sure he didn’t hurt you?”
“No, he didn’t. I’m all right.”
“Why was he bringing you back to me?” Lone Wolf asked, frowning at her.
“Because Papa had a change of heart. I will tell you more later, but Papa agreed I could return to you. He sent horses as a wedding gift and he sent a rifle for you.”
“Your father? Abbot Sutherland sent me a wedding gift?” Lone Wolf asked, his brows arching, disbelief in his voice.
“Yes.” She reached up, placing her hand behind Lone Wolf’s head to pull him down. His mouth covered hers and he kissed her hungrily and hard, all his pent-up longing pouring out, making her tremble with eagerness. He pulled her up against him, his tongue going deep into her mouth, touching her tongue, desire and reassurance both evident in his kiss while his hand caressed her throat.
With a hiss he pulled away and looked down. “That bastard—”
She looked at Lone Wolf’s hand, which was dark with blood. He leaned closer, peering at her throat. “He cut you!”
“I felt something, but I didn’t think it was a bad cut.”
Lone Wolf pulled out a soft thin strip of leather from a pouch on his belt and placed it against her throat.
He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll get the knife Muaahap gave me and see if he is still alive.”
Lone Wolf set her down gently and moved away. Vanessa watched him lean over Dupree’s body and finally return to her.
“He’s dead.” Lone Wolf placed his knife in his scabbard. He picked Vanessa up and placed her on his horse. Then he went back one more time, and leaned over Dupree. She saw the knife glint in the moonlight.
Lone Wolf fastened a bit of Dupree’s hair and scalp to his lance. Clamping his jaw closed tightly, he held the lance toward the gray sky while he remembered the moment when White Bird’s mother had died in his arms. He gave a high, keening wail. “Tainso, he is gone,” Lone Wolf added quietly.
He turned and walked back to the horse, seeing Vanessa watching him, her eyes large as she looked at the lance. She shivered and turned away. With ease, he mounted behind her, his arms winding around her.
The moment his arm slid around her, Vanessa turned, throwing herself against him to kiss him wildly. Startled for a moment, his arm tightened around her while he kissed her in return. Leaning over her, he tried to remember not to hold her too tightly. He had been so fearful that he wasn’t going to find her in the camp, and the moments when Dupree had held the knife at her throat had been agony. Now here she was in his arms, kissing him joyously.
He wondered if he would ever become accustomed to that exuberance and fire that could burst forth so swiftly from her when she was excited or pleased. He held her tightly against his pounding heart, his shaft hard with wanting her. He kissed her, feeling her hands flutter over him.
She raised her head to stroke his cheek.
“I would take you now, but we have to join the others or someone will come searching for us,” Lone Wolf said, his voice raspy with the need for her.
She turned to look ahead at the flames that still curled skyward, a pall of smoke hanging over the camp.
“If they’re still fighting—”
“They’re not. There’s no gunfire, Vanessa. I’ll leave you in the darkness outside the ring of light while I let someone know we’re here and that we’re all right.”
“You don’t have to leave me. I don’t want you to.”
“It’s a battlefield now and it won’t be a pretty sight.”
“I can close my eyes. You have two horses from Papa if they’re still alive. All my things are on the packhorses.”
“We’ll find your belongings. The horses should be fine.”
He urged his horse to a canter and then slowed again as they neared the camp.
She turned her head, placing her forehead against his chest, feeling his strong arm across her shoulders while she closed her eyes. She could feel his warmth and she wanted to be in his arms, alone in his tipi, instead of facing a long, grueling ride back to camp.
As he talked, she leaned against him and felt the slight vibrations in his chest. Around them, flames still crackled, and the smell of burning canvas, gunpowder, and woodsmoke hung in the air. Men’s voices were loud; a horse whinnied. Finally, a man gave a cry and she felt Lone Wolf urge his horse forward and the bay broke into a run.
Horses galloped and she started to raise her head. Lone Wolf’s hand cupped the back of her head, pressing her against his chest so she couldn’t see the campground or the dead.
She held him as the dark night enveloped them again. She raised her head, and this time he didn’t stop her. When they slowed to a walk, she turned to him.
“Did you get the horses?”
“Yes. We have all the horses.”
She shivered. “Dupree said he would spend a couple of days with me and then give me to the men who were with him.”
“That’s over,” Lone Wolf said flatly. “And I have avenged Tainso’s death and his cruelty to you.”
She turned to look ahead. Warriors fanned out in a broad line and rode silently. Lone Wolf followed slowly behind them, letting the distance widen. Her gaze ran over the warriors who were streaked with paint and had feathers in their hair. Their ponies were painted with stripes on their legs, circles around one horse’s eye, a palm print on the another’s withers.
As the wind whipped against them, Lone Wolf sheltered her, his body giving her warmth. He looked down at her. “When you returned to the fort,” Lone Wolf said quietly, “what happened?”
“Papa wanted me to marry Dupree. I told him you and I were wed, and at first he didn’t want to accept our marriage. I was shut in quarters where I didn’t have anyone to talk to and I didn’t see anyone for days.”
Lone Wolf’s arm tightened around her. “What made your father change so much?”
“He received a letter.” She twisted to look up at him. “My brother Ethan was killed in Virginia.”
“Ah, Vanessa,” Lone Wolf said, regret in his voice. “I’m sorry you lost a brother.”
“It tore Papa up. I’ve never seen him upset like that. Then he seemed to realize he had shut all of us out of his life. By the next morning when he came to talk to me, he said he would let me return to you. He talked Belva into going with him. He changed—I think he felt completely alone and lost. He intends to build a home in Denver and stay there so Belva will live in one place long enough to have some lasting friendships. He’ll buy her a horse, and she doesn’t have to go away to school.”
“He meant all this?”
“Yes, he did. You can’t imagine how his life revolved around Ethan.” She paused and looked up at Lone Wolf again. “And I think I know one reason for his hatred toward Indians.”
“Other than building railroads, what?”
“Papa was distraught over Ethan’s death, and he talked more openly with me than ever before. He told me that my mother ran away with a man who was one-quarter Chickasaw. Papa found them and killed him and brought her back. I’m not his daughter. My blood father was the Chickasaw.”
Lone Wolf gazed over her head into space beyond her. “So all that time he was offering bounties for Indians, he was trying to get back at your father,” he observed.
“I imagine that’s right. He took Mother home and killed my father. He said no one knew what happened because they had run away to Arkansas. Papa requested and received a transfer to Virginia, where I was born. Phoebe and Belva are his own daughters.”
Lone Wolf ran his hand over her hair. “Maybe that explains some of the clashes you had with him and his withholding love from you.”
Suddenly she threw her arms around Lone Wolf. “Thank heavens you came!”
His arms tightened around her, and he leaned down to kiss her.
Three days later, as they rode down into the canyon, snow swirled and blew against them. Pressed against Lone Wolf, Vanessa was warm. Everyone came out to greet them, and they circled the camp with the horses brought from the raid. Vanessa saw Muaahap and White Bird waving.
“There—” she started to point to them.
Lone Wolf swung her to the ground, and White Bird ran to her with her arms held out. Vanessa caught her up, holding her closely to hug and kiss her cheek while White Bird hugged Vanessa’s neck.
“Mama! Mama!”
Lone Wolf dropped to the ground and walked over to her, snow white in his dark hair, flakes on his long lashes. “I think it’s time she calls you kkaw-kkoy’. I will tell her about Tainso, but you will be mother to her,” he said, his arm encircling them both.
“Kkaw-kkoy’,” White Bird repeated, her dark eyes gazing at Vanessa. Vanessa held her tightly, love filling her heart for White Bird. Muaahap came up, grinning at Vanessa, who turned to hug her. She said something to Lone Wolf, and he nodded.
Vanessa looked at him curiously. “What did she say?”
“She reminded me that she knew I would get you back without harm and that I would get my revenge. She had a dream about it. She had told me not to ride too hard and push you because she wouldn’t be along to tell me when to halt.”
Vanessa smiled, touching his cheek.
“I want to be alone with you now, but it’s our tradition to celebrate a victorious raid so we’ll have to wait until tonight when the festivities are under way. Muaahap has gone to our tipi to wait for you so White Bird can be with you. We will be alone tonight,” he said quietly. “We didn’t get our time together, so Muaahap and White Bird will sleep elsewhere for the next two weeks.”
Vanessa stood on tiptoe to kiss him, a lingering, heated kiss that escalated as his arm tightened around her waist and he held her against him.
She walked away to find White Bird and Muaahap. Snowflakes pelted her, but she barely felt the cold as she looked back at Lone Wolf, who looked back at her.
