Gray Hawk's Lady: Blackfoot Warriors, Book 1 (18 page)

“The what?”

“The
ca ca boo
.”

She gave him a puzzled glance. “What’s a
ca ca boo
?”

“It is a very dangerous animal. It is half animal and half lizard. It has fur to keep it warm, but scales and gills for swimming under water.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

He sat forward. “It is as big as the trees, maybe bigger; it lives at the bottom of lakes, and…it is particularly fond of women.”

She snorted, shaking her head.

“You do not believe me.”

“Of course not. The trappers and traders would have told me about such an animal.”

“You think so?”

“Of course,” she said, although she gazed up at Gray Hawk to judge the truth of what he said from his expression.

“During the day,” continued Gray Hawk, “the
ca ca boo
lives at the bottom of lakes, and if one is so foolish as to swim in a lake where one exists, it means certain death. But it is most dangerous at night, when it comes out of the water to look for women.”

“Oh, pooh!”

He motioned toward her. “You go walking by yourself at night. You see for yourself if what I am saying is true or not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He shrugged, jerking his head to the left. “It is safe for a woman to walk the plains at night only if she is with a man. You see, the
ca ca boo
hates men, for the
ca ca boo
cannot defend himself against men on the land—only in the water. But women,” he shook his head, “he will take them back to his home in the lake.”

“That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever—”

“Go on—go walking by yourself at night. You will see for yourself. But remember, a woman is lucky if the
ca ca boo
eats her all up. It is better than a watery home, for he makes slaves of all women.”

“Do stop,” she said. “I want no more of these fairy tales.”

“What is a fairy tale?”

“A story that is not true.”

He grinned. “Go see.” He gestured off to the hills. “Go take a walk. I do not hold you here.”

“You do too.”

He looked taken aback. “Where are the ropes that bind you? Where is the gag to make you cease your prattle? You have been free for a long time. Go ahead and leave.”

She took a deep breath. “You try my patience, Gray Hawk.”

“How is that so?” He made a great show of looking all around their camp. “I see no ties. I see no bindings. How do you say that I do not speak the truth?”

She shook her head. “Where would I go, Gray Hawk? If I knew my way back to St. Louis, I would leave. But I don’t.”

“I will point the way.”

“Yes, and I will get lost and I know it. Do not make a mistake, Gray Hawk. You hold me captive by my own lack of knowledge.”

“That is for you to say.”

“Would you stop it?”

“What?”

“You are baiting me, first with the talk of a dangerous animal that doesn’t exist and now with chatter of freedom, without giving me the means to actually strive for it.”

He gestured off toward the distance. “Go ahead.” He pointed to the west, toward the sunset. “Go in the direction where you keep the sunset to your right side. If you do that, and if you follow the river, you will eventually find this St. Louis. I do not keep you.”

“I would get killed.”

“Why do you say that? Are there not only ‘big’ animals here, not dangerous ones?”

“Now you make fun of me.”

He grinned. “Yes, I do. It is unkind of me. I will stop.”

A moment of silence passed.

In due time, Lady Genevieve asked, “Then you really do protect me when you walk ahead of me?”

He nodded. “
Aa
,
yes, it is so.”

“You are not trying to make me feel inferior?”

“
Saa
, no, it did not occur to me to do this.”

“Why?”

He drew his brows together, puzzled. He asked, “Why…what? Why do I not try to make you feel this…lesser?”

“No, Gray Hawk, why do you protect me? I thought I was your captive. I thought you hated me.”

He glanced at her as though she had lost all sense. “You are my captive, but I do not hate you.” He smiled. “Perhaps once I did hate you, but that lasted only a short while. I protect you now because you are female.”

“Yes…?”

“You are weaker, and so need me to—”

“If I am so weak, why do you make
me
carry all the supplies? In my culture, a true gentleman would never stoop to such a thing. And a gentleman would never walk ahead of a lady.”

He lifted his shoulders. “I do not understand. Are your men cowards?”

“Cowards? Of course not. Why, I never—I—”

“To the Indian,” said Gray Hawk, “if
I did not do these things, if I were to carry the goods for a woman, if I walked behind her, making her lead the way, I would insult her. It would be as to say she was not worth protecting.”

“But I—”

“There are many things on the prairie that could attack an unwary traveler. A wrong step could mean a rattlesnake bite. A bad or careless path could find us in the way of a grizzly. If we were to come upon trouble, would you rather I be prepared for it with weapons in my hands, or would you rather I have my arms full of supplies and be unable to protect us?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but she said nothing.

“If we are to survive,” Gray Hawk went on, “I must be constantly on the alert to my environment and to anything that might cause us trouble—”

“Wait.” She held up a hand. “I’m not certain that you aren’t making this all up.”

He sent her a disdainful glance. “Do you say that I lie?”

“Not lie,” she said, “exactly.” Her voice trailed off. “Mr. Gray Hawk, while I can understand why you might walk ahead of me out here—that makes some sense to me—I am at a loss, still, to comprehend why you make me carry all the supplies. I’m not too certain, Gray Hawk, but I think you might be exaggerating, perhaps to get even with me with tall tales of protection, of animals. I think—”

“Would you rather we run into a grizzly bear and have me unable to fight it because my hands are full of clothing?”

“No, of course not. That’s not the point I’m trying to make. I—”

“I must travel unencumbered so that I can defend us against danger, against the wild animals—”

“An animal like the
ca ca boo
?”

He stopped. He grinned. He shook his head and said, “Especially the
ca ca boo
.”

She smiled back at him. She still didn’t believe him, at least not about his reasons for making her carry their supplies, and especially not about the
ca ca boo
.

Still, that night as they made their way across the moonlit prairie, she was glad to see that, unencumbered, Gray Hawk stood ready to defend them, and as she gazed about her, she wondered if perhaps there was a half-furry, half-scaled lizard creature just waiting at the foot of the next hill.

Waiting for her.

It was not something she wished to put to the test.

“I want to go and see my father. Won’t you take me?”

No answer.

She glanced ahead of her toward Gray Hawk, awaiting his answer.

Several days, perhaps another week, had passed since she had last talked with Gray Hawk about the plains animals. She had hoped to approach him again on the subject, making note that this would add authenticity to her father’s book, but the subject had never been broached again, and she had found other things drawing her attention…other things like Gray Hawk himself.

She grimaced as she looked at the man now. Tall and sleek, his walk resembling the prowl of a wary panther, he trod ahead of her, nonchalantly presenting her with the enticing view of his backside.

She frowned. She should look away, and she knew it. But she didn’t seem to be able to do it. Or perhaps she just didn’t want to. Whatever the reason, she found herself studying the man rather than ignoring him.

He paced ahead of her, walking as though with restrained passion, as if he had to rein in his emotions. And though she knew he was merely being careful of where he stepped, she couldn’t help but be reminded of other things about him: of the warmth of his arms around her, of his foreign features, of how he had looked under the golden rays of twilight, the dim light throwing his face into shadows and highlights; of his kiss and how it felt to have his lips pressed against her own, his taste so seductive, so masculine-sweet. And it was all she could do at present to try to focus her attention elsewhere.

It didn’t work, of course. The more she tried to put him out of mind, the more she pulled him, mental pictures of him, into view.

And as if that weren’t enough, nature, it appeared, also conspired against her.

There were certain things she did not want to notice about him, things that made her heart skip beats, things that made her stomach turn flip-flops. And nature seemed intent on pushing these things into her view.

For instance, take his clothing—or rather, lack thereof.

He wore only breechcloth and moccasins. How was she supposed to look away from him when his clothing left all that skin to her perusal? When the prairie breezes blew back his dark hair, allowing her brief glimpses of his muscular back? When even his quiver full of arrows, which fell almost diagonally across his back, gave no clue that it would ever cover over the power suggested there by his muscles?

No, nature presented her with a problem: how to look away.

Her gaze fell lower.

She grimaced. Here was yet another part of him that she found impossible to ignore.

The breechcloth. It revealed more of his tight rear than it covered, and she found her gaze too often centered upon that area, wondering how it would feel beneath her fingertips, how it would look naked, how it would…

She pulled up her thoughts. What was she thinking?

She
had
to keep her thoughts to herself. She
had
to keep from remembering him, the passion of his response, the hard-rock feel of his chest, the tender sensation of his touch, the…

She shook herself physically.

Enough!

Perhaps her problem stemmed from the fact that they now traveled by day, Gray Hawk having announced only yesterday that they had at last traversed the territory of the Pikuni.

He had been elated. She’d never felt more depressed.

It meant she was even farther from home. It meant any pursuing party from the steamboat would not likely catch up with them, there being very few white men willing to risk the threat of appearing in Blackfoot country alone.

But it also meant that she had to march behind Gray Hawk by day, this presenting her with a new predicament: how to do so and keep her sanity.

“Gray Hawk?”

Again, no response.

“Gray Hawk, won’t you please reconsider and take me back to St. Louis?”

“White woman talks when she should listen.”

“Gray Hawk, I…listen to what? You are not speaking and I—”

He had stopped, and she ran straight into him.

He held up a hand, signaling her to silence.

She wanted to ask what the problem was, but she dared not. He was suddenly too quiet, his eyes narrowed.

Something was wrong.

She took a glance around her. She saw nothing, but then she didn’t know what to look for, how to listen.

They were traveling in a place where trees, fir trees, abounded. The trees were large, and, looking up, she was awed by the natural canopy they created overhead.

The path they had been walking was easier now, too, although a bit noisier, since they trod over dry pine needles that crackled with each step they took. She had thought it seemed safer here than out walking over the open prairie.

Now she wondered.

Gray Hawk motioned her away from him and down, behind a large bush.

He stayed out in front, positioning himself behind a tree.

She fidgeted, and again his hand came out to motion her to silence.

What was it? An animal? Other Indians? Warriors?

She began to fret. All this time she hadn’t really considered what would happen to her if Gray Hawk were injured…perhaps even killed.

She suddenly realized, however, that as invincible as he seemed, Gray Hawk was, like her, flesh and blood. And although she hadn’t been happy about following him, at least he was a predictable companion.

What would happen to her if he were killed? What if this was an enemy tribe of Indians? What if their numbers were too great for Gray Hawk? What then?

At least Gray Hawk had been kind to her…in his own way. At least he was sympathetic toward her…a little.

She closed her eyes. She held her breath.

There was more.

She didn’t want him to die.