Dakota Dreams (Historical Romance) (34 page)

"What are you going to do?" she asked, fear rising in her throat like bile.

"I am using you as bait, white woman. You will not be so pretty once the sun has cooked your skin." He grabbed her gown and ripped it down the front, exposing her lacy chemise.

"No," he said, running brutal hands over her white shoulders and pushing her chemise down to expose her breasts. "I do not think Dakota will find you so desirable when your skin cracks and dries up like leather."

She cried out when he ripped her gown the rest of the way and threw it aside, leaving only her chemise to cover her body.

Now, in her near-naked state, Breanna could no longer hide her tears. She cried for herself, but most of all she cried for Dakota because he was being lured into a trap. She thought it very likely that she would be the instrument of his death, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

34

Dakota silently jumped from Levi's horse and slapped it on the rump, sending it galloping back the way he had come. He knew that on foot, he was still an hour from his destination, but it would be foolish to ride any farther since it would only alert Black Otter he was coming.

Dakota was on familiar ground now, for this was the land where he had walked in childhood, and he knew every hill and tree. He found an old familiar trail but avoided it, choosing instead to stay within the cover of the trees. Cautiously, he made his way forward, keeping the Wind River to his right and the mountains to his back.

Dakota's eyes were burning, and there was fear in his heart for the woman he loved. He blamed himself because she had fallen into Black Otter's hands.

He had been selfish, thinking more of himself than her by allowing her to come with him instead of insisting that she return to England. He had known the danger she would face, and still he had agreed to bring her along because he had wanted her with him. Even when he had been angry with her, he had found joy just in knowing she was nearby.

***

Breanna felt the heat of the sun on her face. Her throat was dry and she was so thirsty. She tried to remember the times when Dakota had taught her to swim, and to imagine that she was now immersed in cool sea water. But the burning heat from the sun made it impossible to imagine for very long because reality was the hot, scorching sun overhead.

Breanna could feel her strength waning. A groan escaped her lips, and she weakly jerked against the leather thongs that bound her to the stakes. With defeat reflecting in her eyes, she realized she could not free herself.

Red-hot heat was broiling her delicate skin, and she imagined this was the way it would feel to be cooked alive.

Breanna knew Dakota would come for her, but he might arrive too late to save her. She wished she had the means of warning Dakota that he would be falling into Black Otter's trap. A shuddering sob escaped her lips. Today might be the last day of life for her and her love, for Black Otter was cunning and devious, and he had planned well, leaving nothing to chance.

For some reason, Breanna's fevered mind remembered the words of Dakota's father when he had written in his journal that he wanted to be buried with his beloved Cillia so they might spend eternity together. If she and Dakota were both to die today, she wondered if some kind soul would place them in a common grave so they might spend eternity together.

Breanna rolled her head back and forth, knowing she wasn't thinking clearly, and that she must fight against the delirium that clouded her mind, distorting everything with a feeling of unreality.

The sun was a red-hot ball of fire in the sky, and it was drawing every ounce of strength from her body.

"Dakota," she whispered, "if only I could look upon your face once more before I die. I want to tell you that I love you." Her voice sounded weak even to her own ears.

Breanna heard movement to the right of her, and she painfully turned to see Black Otter crouch down as if he was listening to something. By the excited gleam in his dark eyes, she realized Dakota must be nearby!

She considered calling out to warn Dakota about the trap, but then she quickly thought better of it. If Black Otter had not bound her mouth to keep her silent, he must want her to call out to Dakota. She bit her trembling lip, vowing to remain silent. She would not help Black Otter capture Dakota.

At that moment Black Otter confirmed her suspicions. He slunk over to Breanna and whispered up to her in a sharp voice, "Call to your man to help you, white woman. He is near and will rush to save you," he taunted.

"No," she moaned, "never."

***

Dakota flattened his body on the ground and parted the thick bush so he could get a better view of what lay ahead.

With a shuddered intake of breath, he saw Breanna, her half-naked body blistering beneath the scorching sun, her arms and legs stretched tightly between four stakes. Anger such as he had never known shook his body, and hatred for his brother coiled like a snake inside him. Black Otter would pay for doing this to his woman!

Dakota had to fight against the urge to run to Breanna and cut her loose and hold her protectively in his arms, for he knew that was exactly what Black Otter expected of him. He watched Breanna lick her dry lips, knowing he had to act quickly. Already her body was burned from the sun, and he couldn't be sure how much longer she could endure the heat.

Dakota allowed his eyes to move over each bush and tree, his ears alert to any sound that would give away Black Otter's hiding place. At last his eyes settled on the slope just beyond Breanna. He remembered leaping down that very slope as a boy, to face the bear that was charging his mother and Running Deer. Suddenly he knew that was where Black Otter waited for him.

Dakota glanced up at the sun, knowing he would have a better chance to free Breanna under the cover of night. He gauged that there were still three hours until- sunset—too long to wait—Breanna would never last that long—he had to act now.

Slowly rising to a kneeling position, Dakota gripped his rifle in one hand. In complete silence, he stood up, unsheathing his knife with the other. It flashed through his mind that much of his life had been played out on this spot. Perhaps this was even where his life would end.

Black Otter could feel Dakota's presence, and his dark eyes narrowed with hatred. Soon he would have Dakota's blood on his knife, but first he would torture him, make him cry out for mercy, humble him into the dust.

The renegade warrior hugged the sides of the incline, knowing the time to act was now. The same man had trained them both, so he knew how Dakota was thinking. He would never give his presence away, so Black Otter would just have to draw him out into the open.

Black Otter slowly moved up the incline. When he raised his head, he knew he would already be in Dakota's view, so he rolled forward to keep low. Coming to his knees beside Dakota's woman, he drew his knife.

Breanna's eyes were closed, but they opened slowly as she felt the Indian beside her once more. "No," she murmured weakly, as he pressed the knife at her throat. He yelled out something, and the only word she understood was "Dakota." Was Dakota here? she wondered, feeling as if the hot sun had muddled her mind.

"I know you are here, Dakota," Black Otter called out in the tongue of the Arapaho. "Come forward so you can watch your woman die."

Dakota watched helplessly as Black Otter ran his knife blade down Breanna's neck. His mind would not accept the thought of Black Otter touching his wife. But he could not allow himself to think about that. If his mind was not clear, he would never defeat Black Otter. He needed his concentration if he was going to free Breanna.

"Come out of hiding, Dakota. If you don't, I will plunge this knife into your woman's heart."

Dakota came to his feet and moved out into the open. He was some thirty paces from Breanna, and he knew he could never cover that distance before his brother would make good his threat to end her life.

Dakota's eyes were on his wife as he spoke, pain tearing at his heart. "Leave her out of this, Black Otter. She has nothing to do with our feud."

Black Otter laughed maliciously. "Oh, no, my brother, I cannot do that. This woman will be the means of my revenge." To demonstrate his point, Black Otter ran the knife blade across Breanna's shoulder and sliced through the last remaining material that covered her breasts.

While Dakota watched helplessly, Black Otter ran the knife blade around Breanna's nipples, first one, then the other.

"This woman is beautiful for a white woman. I can only imagine how you must care for her. Shall I carve a scar on her, to match the one the bear gave you?"

"Black Otter," Dakota said, gnashing his teeth. "If you harm her, I will kill you!"

Black Otter's eyes gleamed with something akin to madness. "You are in no position to issue threats, Dakota. Throw the rifle down and toss your knife aside, or I will kill her now." As proof of his intentions, Black Otter's knife pierced Breanna's skin, slicing across her shoulder to the swell of her breast, while "her blood stained the tip of his blade.

Breanna groaned in pain and turned her face to Dakota. Although she could not understand Black Otter's words, she could tell by his tone of voice that he was goading Dakota.

"Don't let him degrade you because of me, Dakota," she pleaded, knowing what a proud man her husband was. "Do whatever you have to do. I . . . Am not afraid to die."

Dakota felt a sensation so unfamiliar to him that it took his breath away. His eyes burned with unshed tears, and his pride was great for this woman whom his grandfather had chosen to be his wife. He had always known she was extraordinary, but until now, he had not known how courageous she was.

"Do not despair, Breanna, for my love for you is great. If I cannot free you, then I will walk with your spirit this day," he promised her.

Dakota did not realize that he had spoken in Arapaho and Breanna had not understood his declaration of love.

"Very touching," Black Otter hissed. "But when I am finished with you both, there will be only enough left of you to scatter to the four winds."

"You may kill us, Black Otter, but in doing so, you go against our father's wishes and condemn yourself in a way that will one day destroy you."

"I do not have to listen to you, white man, because Two Moons was not your father, he was mine. The time for your walk in the spirit world is near, and I will never have to think of you again. Enough talk. Throw down your weapons, or I will slay your woman now!"

"No, do not touch her," Dakota said, tossing down his rifle and knife in defeat. Black Otter had found the only way in which he could hurt him —through Breanna. Too late, Dakota realized he had made a mistake in allowing Black Otter to see how much he cherished his wife.

Breanna moaned, knowing if she had not insisted on following Dakota to America, then he would not be burdened with her welfare and could have fought Black Otter on his own terms. Now he had no weapons to defend himself with and it was all her fault. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, but the words stuck in her parched throat.

As she watched Dakota standing before his enemy, stripped of his pride and humbled because of her, she wished desperately that there was some way she could help him.

Breanna was confused when Black Otter sliced through her bonds, freeing her arms and legs. He roughly grabbed her about the waist and hauled her to her feet. Breanna felt like a rag doll with no substance, and she had to hold on to the Indian to stand upright.

Black Otter's laughter was ugly to her ears. "You are a fool, Dakota. Look behind you and you will see one of my warriors, who only waits for my command to kill you. I have you now, Dakota. You will never save this woman!"

Breanna saw the pain and indecision on Dakota's face, and she knew Black Otter was once again taunting him. In a haze of pain, she saw the other warrior with his rifle aimed at Dakota, and she knew her husband was facing impossible odds. "Do not allow Black Otter to . . . humble you because of me," she cried past the dryness in her mouth. "Do what you must."

"Do not talk, woman," Black Otter commanded, shaking Breanna as if she were indeed a rag doll.

Suddenly Dakota needed to know if Black Otter had ravished his wife. He would never be able to bear the pain if Breanna had been forced to suffer that degradation. "What have you done to her?" Dakota asked in a warning voice.

Black Otter's eyes gleamed. He was enjoying himself because he had Dakota where he had always wanted him. "I have done nothing to this woman . . . yet. But after you are dead," he shrugged, "who knows?" His eyes gleamed at the pain he saw on Dakota's face. "Of course, I may decide to be merciful and kill her first," he taunted, "so you can watch."

Black Otter was so caught up in toying with Dakota that he allowed his eyes to rake the half-naked white woman. That was when Dakota saw the knife which Black Otter held at Breanna's throat waver, and he knew now was the time to charge his enemy.

Leaping through the air, Dakota felt a hot burning in his shoulder, and he realized that he had been shot by Black Otter's warrior. But that did not stop him or slow him down as, maddened with anger, he caught Black Otter off guard, knocking both him and Breanna to the ground.

Breanna rolled down the incline and landed with a thud at the bottom, while Dakota and Black Otter were caught in a death struggle.

The two men fought for possession of Black Otter's knife. Both men were straining, their muscles tense and trembling as the knife blade moved from Dakota's throat, back to Black Otter's throat —wavering, varying, changing directions several times.

Dakota knew the helplessness of his situation. Even if he should overcome Black Otter, there would still be the other Indian to deal with, and his strength was waning fast. What would become of Breanna should he die?

He had overestimated Black Otter's bravery. He should have known his brother would not stand alone, for he was too much of a coward.

Dakota had gained the advantage, and he now rolled Black Otter over and straddled him. With a strength that came from his love for Breanna, he grabbed his brother's wrist, wrenching the knife from his grasp.