Savage Autumn (9 page)

The night was dark, and the horses and men were tired, but the band of Blood Blackfoot rode at a fast pace, following where their chief led without question. Not one of them voiced a complaint or asked where they were going. It was enough to know Windhawk wished it so.

Franny crawled out of the remains of the wagon. She knew she had been badly injured. She heard the distant sound of a howling wolf and shuddered. Somehow she had to get to Joanna. It was now dark and she was almost certain that the Indians had gone. She was tortured with the thought that Simon and Tag had probably been killed by the Indians. Simon had not been with them when the Indians struck; perhaps he had been spared. She prayed that he was still alive. Franny knew that she was dying, and she had very little regret. She didn’t want to live if all the ones she loved were dead. She could see Joanna and it appeared she was dead because she hadn’t moved at all. Finally, as the pale moon gave off its shallow light, Franny reached the boulder where Joanna was lying and touched her cheek. Thank God, her face was warm, so she wasn’t dead.

“Joanna, Joanna,” she whispered, shaking her roughly. “Wake up, they are all dead but you and me.”

Joanna groaned but didn’t show any signs of waking.

Franny closed her eyes. Her chest felt as if there were a heavy weight lying on it. She coughed and blood was running out of her mouth. Lying back, she knew that she had only a few moments to live.

“God,” she prayed, “send down your angels to watch over my Joanna.” Franny stiffened and she gasped for breath, her head fell sideways, and she was dead.

The first light of dawn lit the eastern sky as Joanna groaned and opened her eyes. At first she didn’t remember where she was. She only knew that when she tried to move, severe pain shot through her body. Turning her head slowly, she felt dizzy. Why was she lying on the ground? she wondered.

Finally her eyes focused clearly, and she saw all that was left of the wagon was bits of canvas and splintered wood.

“Dear God, no!” she cried as she remembered what had happened.

She saw Franny lying beside her. Her eyes were blank and Joanna knew that she was dead. “Oh, Franny, have I brought this upon you?” Tears of grief blinded Joanna as she reached for Franny’s cold hand. “Franny, what shall I do without you to boss and bully me?”

Her eyes went to the top of the cliff. There was such silence. Surely not everyone was dead! “Tag!” Joanna screamed. “Oh God, please no, not Tag!”

If she could only get up, she thought. She had to know what had happened to Tag. She gasped for breath, and her vision became fuzzy. Joanna closed her eyes, trying to think what to do. She had neither the will nor the inclination to live. Everyone Joanna loved had been taken from her, with the exception of her father, and he would never know what had happened to her and Tag.

Joanna sighed and closed her eyes. It hurt so much to move. Oh Tag, she thought. Have we come so far and been through so much only to have you die in this wilderness? A shuddered sob escaped her lips, and she lost consciousness again.

Windhawk dismounted with a heavy heart. The smell of burning flesh was all about him. He frantically searched through the burned wagons, looking for some sign of Joanna. She could not be dead! he thought wildly. He searched wagon after wagon,
but it was impossible to tell if Joanna was among the dead since the bodies were all so badly burned. If she wasn’t dead, then Running Elk must have taken her captive.

He walked slowly to the edge of the cliff and looked down at the broken wagon which had been smashed on the rocks below.

Joanna regained consciousness just as a dark shadow fell fleetingly across her face. She glanced up toward the high embankment to see two Indians peering down at her. They were no more than shadowy outlines since the sun was behind them. Wild, unbridled terror seized her. The Indians had returned! All Joanna could do was lie helpless as one of the Indians made his way down to her. She closed her eyes, fearing the worst. She only hoped he would be merciful and kill her quickly.

She felt one of them kneel down beside her, and opened her eyes. It was Windhawk! Her fear was joined by a burning hatred. She had trusted him and he had betrayed her!

“Kill me and make it quick,” she whispered. Tears were streaming from her eyes. “You are nothing but a savage—harming people who have never done anything to you!”

Windhawk reached out his hand to touch her face. He felt pain in his heart when she flinched. Did she think that he was the one who had raided the wagon train? Did she not know that he would never do anything to harm her?

When he tried to move her, Joanna cried out in pain. “Leave me to die. You have killed all that I love in life. Allow me to die in peace.”

Windhawk could see that she had been badly injured and must be moved carefully. His heart was glad that she was still alive. But she could yet die from her wounds.

Three of his braves joined him, and he sent two of them to search for any other survivors. Windhawk knew when he lifted Joanna into his arms that he was causing her pain, but he had to get her out of the ravine. Joanna closed her eyes refusing to look at Windhawk. What did it matter if he killed her—had he not already killed all she held dear in life?

She bit her lip trying not to cry out when he gently lifted her into his arms. No matter how much it hurt, she would not give him the satisfaction of witnessing her pain. Each step he took seemed to send a thousand knife blades through her body, but she didn’t once voice her pain.

By the time Windhawk reached the top of the ravine, his two braves had joined him. He saw that Joanna’s eyes were open, and he recognized the pain in the violet-blue depths.

“Don’t hurt me,” she pleaded in a weak voice. He nodded his head, knowing what it had cost her to plead for herself. He remembered her courage in coming to his camp to find her brother. She was a woman like no other, and he wished he could spare her any more pain. He used his body to shield her view of the death and destruction all about them.

He handed Joanna to Gray Fox while he mounted his horse, then Gray Fox lifted her up to him.

“Renew the search for her brother. If you find his body, lay him to rest. Then climb down below and search the wagon and bring all that might belong to Jo-anna.”

Gray Fox nodded.

Joanna understood nothing the two men said, but she knew they were talking about her since Windhawk had spoken her name.

She was in such pain that she prayed for unconsciousness. She tried to turn her head to see if she could locate Tag’s body, but Windhawk shielded her view.

He nudged his mount forward, knowing each step the horse took would cause her pain.

“I will camp beside the river. I dare not take her any farther in her condition—you will see the campfire,” he told Gray Fox before he rode away.

Joanna turned her face against his soft buckskin shirt wishing she were dead, and thinking she might be before the day was over.

Windhawk dismounted, taking care not to cause Joanna undue pain. She groaned and opened her eyes when he laid her down upon the soft grass.

Joanna watched him return to his horse and remove a blanket through a pain-filled haze. What was he going to do to her? she wondered. When he returned, he placed the blanket down beside her and carefully moved her onto it. Joanna looked into his dark eyes and shivered at the unreadable depths. If she didn’t know better, Joanna would have thought she saw sadness in his eyes.

Could he regret what he had done to the families of the wagon train? She hoped he was feeling remorse. One thing was certain, she would never forgive him. He turned away and she watched as he built a fire. His back was to her and she wished she had the strength to take his knife and drive it into his murderous body.

He seemed to sense her glare, and turned his head, looking deeply into her eyes. Joanna’s heart fluttered at the dark eyes knowing they were filled with compassion for her. Was it possible for a man to have two sides? Could he murder and destroy human life one moment, and feel compassion and regret the next?

She cringed as he moved to her side and knelt down. His hand was gentle as he felt along both of her arms to see if they were broken. Joanna bit her lip, trying not to cry out when he touched her right forearm. Windhawk was grim-faced when he saw the beads of perspiration appear on her face. He feared her arm might be broken. Turning it over, he saw with a glance that it was not broken, but badly sprained.

An involuntary groan escaped Joanna’s lips when he unsheathed his knife. Now was the moment of her death, she thought, praying for the strength to meet her death bravely. Instead of plunging the knife into her heart as she expected him to, Windhawk cut her gown along both sleeves. Joanna tried to protest when she realized he was going to remove her riding habit. Windhawk easily restrained her movements. Her eyes widened in fear. No, she wasn’t going to die, not yet. What he had in mind for her was a fate worse than death. She had no intention of submitting to him willingly. He would have to kill her, she thought, renewing her struggle.

Windhawk knew what she was thinking. “Jo-anna,” he said, shaking his head and laying the knife down to show her he only intended to help her.

“Don’t touch me,” she pleaded.

Windhawk gestured to her arm, then nodded his head. “I want only to help you,” he said in broken English.

Joanna frowned, beginning to understand. He was going to tend her injuries. She closed her eyes, knowing she was too weak to protest.

“Jo-anna,” he touched her face softly and she opened her eyes. He had apparently torn a strip from her riding habit and wet it in the nearby river, for he began to wash the dried blood from the wound on her forehead.

Windhawk saw that the wound on her head was not too bad, so he carefully picked up her arm and began binding it tightly with a leather strap which he took from about his waist. He knew he was causing her pain, and was relieved when he felt her go limp, knowing she had lost consciousness. Her arm was the least of his worries. He feared she might have suffered internal injuries. He was glad she was unconscious so he could examine her thoroughly.

After Windhawk removed her riding habit and boots, he looked confused for a moment…he didn’t know that white women wore so much clothing. He had never before seen a petticoat, nor the soft white garments she wore next to her skin. It took him several moments to remove her undergarments. When that was accomplished, he examined her entire body with the professionalism of a physician. He found no other injuries except for minor scratches and bruises, to which he applied some healing salve. He had done all he could for her…she was now in the hands of Napi.

Now that he had tended her as best he could, he allowed his eyes to wander over her body, starting with her long shapely legs, across her well-rounded hips that gently sloped to her tiny waist. He drew in his breath as his eyes traveled to her silky breasts with their rosebud tips. Her skin was so silky and white…his hands trembled as he lightly touched her creamy
breasts. Never had he seen a woman of such beauty. Fearing where his thoughts were leading him, he decided it would be best to replace some of her garments. With considerable effort, he managed to pull her petticoat over her legs without causing her pain. Covering her with a blanket, he sat down to wait for his warriors to join them.

Windhawk knew Joanna was in no condition to travel, but he had to get her away from the area, fearing the long knives at the fort would soon be searching for the Indians who had raided the wagon train. He knew the soldiers would believe as Joanna had, that it was he and his Bloods who were responsible for the massacre. He had decided they would camp by the river tonight, and then tomorrow, they would ride for his village.

His eyes rested on Joanna’s face. How was it possible for one to have such beauty? he wondered. Her long dark lashes rested against her pale cheeks, hiding her beautiful blue eyes. He reached out and took her limp hand in his, willing his strength to enter her body. He felt sorrow, knowing she thought he was responsible for the raid on the wagon train. Would he ever be able to convince her that he hadn’t taken part in the deed? Somehow it was distasteful to him to think of defending himself to her. She should know in her heart that he would never harm her.

With his free hand he traced the outline of her face. Should she die, a part of him would die also. He softly touched her glorious hair. Would Napi be so cruel as to take her away from him when he had just found her?

Windhawk heard riders approaching, and stood up. He watched as his warriors dismounted. “Did you find Jo-anna’s brother?” he asked Gray Fox.

“No, we searched among the burned wagons and around the countryside, but could not find the boy.”

“You are sure you searched thoroughly for the little brother?”

“Yes, my chief.”

Windhawk’s heart felt heavy, knowing the pain Joanna would feel at the death of her brother. Windhawk had liked
the flaming-haired boy. His eyes burned with hatred. Running Elk would pay for what he had done to Joanna. One day Windhawk knew that he and the chief of the Piegan would face each other, and one of them would die.

Joanna slept fretfully all night. Once she awoke to find Windhawk sitting beside her. When she felt his dark eyes scan her face, she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep. She didn’t want to dream, because her dreams were more like nightmares. She dreamed of Tag being tortured by the Indians.

The next morning Joanna was awakened by Windhawk touching her cheek. She shivered as the hands that had caused her brother’s death touched her. Windhawk merely wanted to examine Joanna’s arm to make sure the leather sling was still in place, but Joanna, not knowing his intentions, clutched the blanket tightly about her neck. Windhawk saw her cheeks take on a pink tinge, and he knew he was causing her embarrassment.

Joanna was relieved when he stood up and walked away from her. She had feared that he would ravish her before his warriors, and even though she had been spared this time, she couldn’t stop her body from trembling. Her fear was renewed when Windhawk returned. Joanna was surprised when he laid her riding habit within her reach, then turned and walked away to give her privacy to dress herself.