Yellowstone Homecoming: Yellowstone Romance Series Novella

by Peggy L Henderson

  Matthew cursed under his breath, and would have crashed through the thick canopy of bushes he and Zach hid behind, if not for his brother’s quick and firm hands on his arms, holding him back.

  Loud talking in camp followed Witmer’s outburst. The Indian who’d acted as interpreter translated Witmer’s words to his leader, to which the Pawnee nodded. Several people talked at once, Witmer being the loudest.

  “Ain’t no use takin’ back what you said,” Bridger warned him, grabbing his arm.

  “You can’t be serious,” the missionary raged. “I wasn’t offering him my daughter.”

  “It’s what he took it to mean,” Sublette said. “If you refuse him now, we’re all dead. We might take a few of them with us, but we’re outnumbered.”

  “I’ll go with them, if that’s what it takes to make them leave the rest of you alone,” Addy said boldly. She stared at her father, her eyes filled with fear, but her chin was raised and she stood tall.

  Matthew strained against Zach’s hold when Addy stepped forward. Her sister cried her name in panic.

  “We’re all dead if you rush in there,” Zach growled against his ear. “We’ll get her back, but not right now.”

  Matthew cursed repeatedly, his pulse throbbing at his temples. His brother was right. He stared toward the camp. Despite everything, something radiated inside him, staring at the woman who was willing to sacrifice herself for everyone else.

  The Pawnee leader nodded, and leaned over his horse, reaching out his arm. Addy glanced over her shoulder at her sister, whose frantic calls pierced the air, then held out her hand, and the Indian pulled her onto his horse behind him. He raised his hand in the air, and with a loud whoop, kicked his horse into a run. His warriors followed, and the party rode off in a cloud of dust.

  Matthew pulled his arm free from his brother’s tight grip. He sprinted downstream to where he’d left his horse. Anger such as he’d rarely felt burned through his veins.

  “We’ll get her back,” Zach repeated, matching Matthew’s strides.

  “If he hurts her in any way, that Pawnee is as good as dead.”

  Matthew swung up on his horse’s back, and kicked it into a run, back toward camp. He’d get his anger under control first, and then he was going after the woman who’d just stolen his heart with her selfless act of bravery.

  Chapter Five

  Jim Bridger and the other trappers surrounded him and Zach when Matthew rode into camp.

  “Pawnee came to call while you was gone. Took the Witmer girl. Was nothin’ we coulda done. They was on us faster than flies on fresh bison dung,” Bridger said excitedly.

  Zach dropped the pronghorn he’d shot earlier to the ground, and dismounted. “We saw what happened,” he said.

  “And you did nothing?”

  Matthew’s head whipped around at Isaac Witmer’s booming voice. The red-faced man shook visibly as he headed toward them from where he’d stood by his wagon. Several of his followers flanked him. His daughter, Mary, sobbed loudly from inside the rig.

  Matthew threw his right leg over his horse’s withers and landed lightly on his feet. The anger that had nearly made him act like an impulsive fool just minutes ago was gone, replaced with a calm determination. Witmer’s accusation threatened to bring his rage back to the surface. He stared at the man as he strode toward him.

  Matthew stopped just inches from the older man. He leaned forward, his eyes locked on Isaac Witmer. “What would you have suggested we do?” He sneered.

  Witmer’s mouth opened, then closed. His eyes widened. There was no anguish or pain displayed there, like a parent would show after having lost a daughter. He only looked enraged, no doubt because something had happened over which he’d had no control.

  “If those Pawnee had known we were watching, they would have killed everyone in this camp. Even if we’d have been here, we were outnumbered.” He lowered his voice slightly. “We’re going to bring your daughter back.”

  Witmer stepped backward, nearly tripping. “Bring her back?” he stammered. “How can I ever look at her the same again? She won’t be fit for civilized company after today.”

  Matthew’s forehead scrunched. His jaw muscles tightened, and his entire body tensed. Forcing his arms to remain at his side, rather than grab hold of the man in front of him and shake some sense into him, he advanced on Witmer again.

  “Not fit for civilized company?” he echoed. “She’s your daughter. She sacrificed herself for everyone in this camp, including you, because of your stupidity.”

  Witmer’s features hardened even more. He raised his chin. “Adelle has always had a rebellious streak in her. She’s never wanted to conform. This will be her punishment for all her insolence over the years.”

  Matthew held back a curse at the unbelievable words coming from this man.

  “The way you’re trying to conform people to your beliefs and your ways may have worked where you’re from, but it’s not going to work out here. It’s going to get you killed,” he hissed. Matthew turned to walk away from Witmer. Another second, and his control would snap. “I’m going to bring her back.”

  Zach and the group of trappers hadn’t moved, watching the exchange. Matthew headed toward them. Every inch of him screamed to get on his horse and follow that Pawnee raiding party, but experience told him to bide his time.

  “If you succeed in bringing her back, she will not be welcome here. She will be your responsibility.”

  Matthew stopped in his tracks at Witmer’s words behind him. His back stiffened, and he ground his teeth, then continued walking without glancing back.

  “He’s a hard one, ain’t he?” Fitzpatrick said when Matthew joined the group of woodsmen. “Trying to preach to everyone, but might be better off following his own advice about trust and forgiveness.” He looked from Matthew to Zach, and nodded. “What you two done, staying out of sight, was the right thing to do.”

  Bridger laughed. “They’da killed us all if you’d come ridin’ in, and shootin’ at ‘em. At least this buys us some time before they come back. Sure was a brave thing that gal done.”

  Matthew’s glance swept over his comrades, his gaze finally resting on Will Sublette.

  “I’m going to go after Miss Witmer. I suggest you get these wagons moved as quickly as possible toward the mountains. Drive through the night if you have to, and find cover. Once I free her, the Pawnee will be back, and they’ll be out for blood.”

  “I ain’t convinced they won’t be back, either way. They was merely taking our measure this time,” Bridger said. “Pawnee don’t just come for a social visit. Why, I remember one year, when me an’ Hugh Glass --”

  “Let’s get these wagons moved,” Sublette cut him off. “If Witmer doesn’t want to comply and break camp, I ain’t willing to stay here and be a sitting duck.”

  Matthew headed for his horse. His insides seethed with rage. Witmer was the kind of man who would get everyone killed. The man’s last words haunted him. Matthew didn’t doubt for a second that Addy’s father meant what he’d said about not wanting her back.

  She’ll be your responsibility.

  What was he going to do with Addy once he freed her?

  “What’s got you so determined about this woman?” Zach asked quietly, stepping up next to him. “I know I goaded you about her earlier, but I never thought you felt this strongly. You don’t even know her.”

  Matthew held his brother’s gaze. He inhaled a deep breath to calm the rage inside him over what had happened, and shook his head slightly. “Remember what Papa used to tell us about Mama? How they met?”

  Zach nodded.

  “How, from the moment he first saw her, he somehow knew that finding her was meant to be. That he felt an instant connection to her?” Matthew held his brother’s stare before he elaborated. “I understand what he meant a lot better now. There’s something about Addy that . . . I can’t explain it. She caught my eye as soon as we rode into Witmer’s camp that evening.” He smirked. “Sh
e’s not someone I should even give a second’s notice, but whatever’s taken hold of me won’t let go.”

  Zach’s mouth widened in a slow smile. He nodded in understanding, even if the expression on his face conveyed that he didn’t quite comprehend, but he would stand behind Matthew no matter what.

  “Let’s bring her back, then.” Zach gave him a good-natured slap to the back.

  Matthew’s features hardened. He glanced over his shoulder. Bridger, Fitzpatrick, and the other trappers readied their horses, while Sublette had gone off to talk to Witmer.

  “Isaac Witmer doesn’t want her back. You heard him.” He scowled.

  “Who said anything about bringing her back to him?” Zach’s brows rose. “I think the man’s in shock at what happened. People talk in anger sometimes when, what’s really going on, is that they’re scared. But, if he truly doesn’t want her, and if she’s willing, we’ll bring her with us up the Yellowstone.”

  Matthew’s quick laugh earned him a few inquisitive stares from the men in camp. Hadn’t he told the young lady that the likelihood of her seeing the Yellowstone region was slim to none? During the one time he’d spoken to her, she’d impressed him even then, with her challenging retort that he had no business judging her character. She’d proven already that she was far braver than she first appeared.

  Matthew pulled his knife from its sheath, and checked its sharpness on a piece of rawhide. He did the same with his ax. His flintlock was loaded. He glanced at his brother.

  “They won’t hurt her,” Zach said, a serious look on his face. “That was a hunting party. That’s why they didn’t attack. They might be days away from their village.”

  Zach’s words were meant to reassure him. Matthew nodded. Once the Pawnee reached their main camp, Addy would find out her fate. She might get traded or sold to someone, or married off to one of the warriors. Until then, none of the men would touch her. His body tensed. He’d get her back before then.

  “Bridger is right, though. They will be back, and not as a hunting party. I hope they can get these missionaries to safety before then.”

  “It all depends if those warriors feel brave enough to enter Lakota hunting grounds, or if they’ll want to gather a stronger force. If the wagons move through the night, they’ll have a good chance. Sublette and his men know what they’re doing.”

  Matthew glanced toward camp when harnesses jingled, and wagon wheels creaked. He mounted his horse, and met the trappers who flanked the wagons.

  “We’ll catch up with you before you reach the Wind River,” he said, holding out his hand to Will Sublette.

  “You be careful. I don’t want to have to head up to the Yellerstone to tell yer Pa that you lost yer scalp to a bunch of Pawnee.”

  Matthew grinned. He fell back, and waited for the Witmer wagon to roll past. Isaac Witmer shot him an icy stare. Matthew ignored it, and guided his horse up alongside to where Mary sat next to her father on the driver’s seat. Her eyes were swollen and red.

  He looked up at her. “I’ll get your sister back.”

  She stared at him, and nodded, then cast a hasty glance at her father. Mary lowered her head, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

  “One final word of advice, Mr. Witmer.” Matthew glared at the man until he made eye contact. “Don’t say something to an Indian, or in the presence of one, unless you absolutely mean it. I hold you accountable for what happened to your daughter, and you ought to be proud of her for what she did. She’s a brave woman, and every man in this outfit should be thanking her for her selfless act.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he reined his horse away from the wagon, and fell back to where Zach waited for him by the creek. His gaze shifted into the distance, in the direction where the Pawnee had gone.

  The shallow stream they followed soon flowed into a wider, fast-moving creek, and the terrain changed from flat to more mountainous. Deep gullies slowed them down considerably, and large stretches of cottonwoods and shrubs obstructed their view. The creek widened into a river, which had carved out a steep and narrow ravine, making it impossible to ride close to the water.

  “It’ll be too dark to follow their tracks soon,” Zach observed.

  “But also easier to spot their camp. They’ll have stopped for the night somewhere.”

  Matthew glanced down the rocky embankment, the water rushing loudly below. He leaned over his horse, and studied the tracks in the soil. Something wasn’t right.

  The vegetation here was trampled. It appeared as if the warriors had stopped in this spot. No one had dismounted their horses, so perhaps they had held some kind of quick discussion amongst each other. Where there had been dozens of horse prints before, a few had veered away from the main group, while the rest continued in the same direction they had gone.

  Matthew raised his head, and scanned the nearby trees. The hair at the nape of his neck rose. He cast a quick look at his brother, who had also fallen silent. Zach raised his rifle, just as a loud war cry pierced the air. Matthew fired his flintlock at the same time as his brother. Two Pawnee fell from their horses. With practiced speed, he reloaded his weapon, and took aim at another Indian. An arrow flew past him, grazing his arm.

  Matthew gritted his teeth, and swore under his breath. His rifle was too slow and useless to fend off this many warriors. He leapt from his horse and crouched near a rock, yanking his pistol from his belt. Zach had already done the same. Three warriors, their clubs raised, advanced on his brother. Matthew aimed, and fired. One Indian fell from his horse. Zach swung at another one with his rifle, using it as a club, bringing down one of his attackers.

  Matthew dropped his pistol, and ripped his knife from his belt, then charged. Loud thunder of hooves echoed behind him, and a sudden, sharp pain to his back halted him in his tracks. He fell forward, landing hard on the rocky terrain. A triumphant whoop rang in his ear. He braced his hands in the dirt to stand, when a moccasined foot kicked him in the gut. The air left his lungs, and Matthew rolled to the side from the impact.

  Somewhere in the distance, Zach called his name. A thousand thoughts raced through Matthew’s head as his body made impact with the ground. The arrow in his back sent searing pain through him.

  When the Pawnee advanced again, Matthew kicked out with his leg, sending the warrior to the ground. Groping for the knife he’d dropped, he clamped his hand around the handle, and threw it.

  Breathing hard, Matthew raised himself up off the ground. Another warrior came at him, his war club raised. He ducked to avoid the blow, and staggered backward. The ground beneath him gave way. His head shot up. More warriors than he could possibly fend off surrounded Zach.

  “Zach,” Matthew called weakly, just as he lost his footing. He fell over the embankment, tumbling down the ravine. Sharp rocks battered and jarred him. His body hit the frigid water as loud war cries screeched from above.

  Matthew gulped in a deep breath. The cold water quickly numbed the pain from the arrow in his back, and he clawed his way toward shore while the strong current swept him further downriver.

  “Zach,” he rasped. Dammit. What was happening with his brother? By now, the Pawnee would have killed him. He’d been lucky enough to fall down the ravine, but not Zach.

  The Pawnee war cries stilled, until there was only the sound of the rushing water over rocks. Matthew groped his way up the rocky shore, beneath some branches that reached into the water, and pulled himself from the frigid river. Bracing his hands in the dirt, he pushed his upper body off the ground. Renewed pain shot through his back, and he sank down into the soil beneath the vegetation.

  He had to pull that arrow out of his back, but his arms were too weak to cooperate. His last conscious thought was of his brother. A sinking feeling of sorrow engulfed him. He’d failed to help Zach.

  What seemed like an eternity later – or was it happening now - a woman’s voice echoed somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind. It was a voice he’d longed to hear. She called his name, beckoning him back fr
om the darkness that threatened to consume him.

  Chapter Six

  Della sat against a tree, her knees pulled tightly under her skirts. After a heart-stopping ride for several hours over rough terrain, she’d breathed a sigh of relief that she’d been allowed to get off the horse’s back. Her legs had barely supported her when she’d stumbled to the tree.

  While astride the horse, she’d clung to the Indian who’d agreed to take her in trade for leaving peacefully. Now, however, she couldn’t get far enough away from him. After her father’s impulsive outburst, she’d seen no other way out of the situation but to agree to go with the Pawnee.

  Renewed fear gripped her for her sister, her father, and all the men in their company. The Indians had stopped shortly before arriving at this spot, and had talked excitedly. They’d come to some sort of a decision. The leader had handed her over to one of the men who were with her now, and all but these two warriors had ridden off in a different direction. What if they had gone back to kill everyone, after all? Her sacrifice would have been in vain, and she would much rather die at her sister’s side.

  The two Indians who’d been left behind ignored her completely. One gathered branches while the other tethered their horses. She glanced discreetly toward her two guards. If they thought she’d just sit there because she’d willingly come with them, they could think again.

  The trappers had looked shocked at her father’s words, even if everyone but the Indians seemed to know he hadn’t been serious. Her father had a reputation for saying things in the heat of the moment that he took back as soon as he calmed down. Della had realized instantly that this had been one time when he couldn’t take his words back. There was no doubt in her mind that the Pawnee would have killed them all had she not agreed to her father’s off-handed remark.