White Shadows (4 page)

It had been her need to be alone, to stand atop the world, that had turned her and Spotted Deer into captives. Her guilt for doing this to her best friend sat like a boulder in her belly. Every time she glanced at Spotted Deer, looked into her friend’s wide, scared eyes, Winona felt sick.

Grabbing a fistful of flowing black mane in her hands, she felt the arm around her waist tighten. “Do not try anything foolish,” her captor warned, his voice devoid of emotion, as though kidnapping women were an everyday occurrence.

“I do not have much to lose,” Winona retorted. It would be so easy to yank hard on the mane and send the horse into a rear. Yet as her fingers flexed, she knew she wouldn’t do anything so rash.

Not only would she risk her own neck should the horse bolt, but she might lose all chance at gaining freedom should her captor truss her up like an animal brought in from a hunt. She chose not to believe his threat to kill Spotted Deer, but wisely decided not to put her instincts to the test.

Instead she stared down at the muscular arm banding her middle. A long, faded scar as wide as her finger ran from wrist to elbow. For just a moment she wondered about this warrior. Who was he? Why was he risking his life? She shook her head and focused on the rocky ground. They’d left the pretty meadow behind. “You can relax. I am not so foolish as to risk my own neck.”

Her captor gave a bark of disbelief. “From what I have seen so far, that is precisely something you would risk.”

Frowning, Winona contemplated not the Cheyenne’s words, but his speech. The more he spoke, the better his English. No, not better, she realized, but more natural, as though most of his life he’d spoken the white man’s tongue.

“Who are you? Where are you taking us, and why?” Winona wanted to know, yet feared the answer.

She got no reply, but the warrior loosened his hold slightly as he turned his mount to follow a downward slope. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Spotted Deer was right behind her. The other two warriors brought up the rear. She met Spotted Deer’s gaze.

Hold on. Be brave
. She tried to give comfort and courage but had to wonder if it wasn’t for herself as well. The silence continued but for the sound of horses picking their way over the rocky ground.

“Afraid to answer?” She tipped her head back. Better to know the enemy, know his plans and motives.

Though he didn’t look at her, Winona saw the tightening of his jaw—and noticed another scar on the underside of his chin. By the time she’d blinked her eyes, she’d spotted several other scars. Though he bore many scars, she sensed it was the ones inside that had done the most damage. She turned and faced forward again, troubled by her thoughts. It was nothing to do with her if he was dead inside, as he claimed. So he had no heart. No soul.

A man with no heart or soul also had no conscience. What did that mean for her and Spotted Deer? She didn’t know, and was afraid she’d soon find out.

Along the path, blackened trees and stumps gave testimony to a fire. Renewal of the land was evidenced by clumps of greenery emerging from the charred ground. As the horse picked his way carefully down the hillside Winona tried to put room between her and the man riding behind her. But he tightened his hold, forcing her to ride with her back firmly against his front.

As the sun moved overhead, she grew tired but refused to nod off. Instead she kept a careful watch on their progress, noted the sun’s position and any landmarks they passed. While she had confidence in her father’s ability to track them, she had to admit that these warriors knew what they were doing. She’d hoped that the leader would make a mistake that would make it easy for her people to find them, but so far he’d proven his skill at moving across the land with little trace.

Her spirits sank. When her captor had first run through the trees with her slung over his back, she’d held out more hope. The white warrior had not taken the time to conceal his tracks, and she had been able to snatch at leaves and twigs and leave a trail so obvious a brave as young as her nephew could follow it.

But ever since they’d mounted to continue on horseback, the warriors traveled slowly and carefully across the land as though unconcerned that they were being followed. Each stream they rode through, each path, had obviously been chosen carefully. This more than words told her that her kidnapping was well planned and not random.

The fact that he and the other two warriors had been in her camp weeks ago proved this. Despair slid over Winona. Recalling her captor’s fury at the mention of her husband-to-be, she could only assume that the two warriors were enemies and that she was being used as a method of revenge. But for what?

Once the trail leveled out, Winona sat forward, putting space between her and her captor. This time her act of rebellion was met by indifference, and after a while her back and shoulders ached from the stiff position. Stubbornness kept her upright, and by the time her captor stopped at the edge of a gushing stream, she could have wept with relief.

“We stop only for a short break.” Without helping her down, the Cheyenne warrior dismounted.

He paused below her. “Do not try anything foolish,” he warned.

Head and shoulders straight, Winona refused to speak. Instead she narrowed her eyes and watched as he walked away. Her fingers flexed in the horse’s mane.

“Do not bother,” the warrior called out without even turning his head. “He won’t respond to any command but mine.” He swung his head around and pierced her with his dark gaze. “We won’t stop again until after nightfall.”

Did she believe him? Dared she try to escape?

She glanced at Spotted Deer, who stood on the ground. She looked frightened. With a sigh, Winona swung her leg up and over the broad back of the gleaming horse and dropped down to the ground to join Spotted Deer.

After a brief hug, Spotted Deer stepped back. “You should have tried to run,” her friend whispered, sending fearful glances at the warriors deep in conversation. “It is not too late. Run. Get free.”

“No,” Winona said fiercely. “I will not leave you.” She swallowed hard at the ball of guilt lodged in her throat. For the first time since their capture tears threatened to overwhelm her. Not only was this her fault, but she’d made it incredibly easy for these warriors to take them captive.

She reached out and took Spotted Deer’s hands with her own. “I am so sorry, my sister. This is my fault.”

Spotted Deer’s hard grip on her arm made her wince. “No. It just happened.”

Winona closed her eyes and nearly wept at Spotted Deer’s assumption. But she didn’t say anything—she didn’t want to frighten Spotted Deer further. A sharp tug on her arm brought her attention back to Spotted Deer.

“Promise that if you get the chance, you will run.” Spotted Deer’s voice wavered, and her grip on Winona’s arm left marks.

Unwilling to make a promise she could never keep, Winona pulled her friend toward the thicket—and privacy. Though none of the warriors were watching, she knew the leader, the one who’d kidnapped her, was fully aware of their actions. She scowled.

“He acts too sure of himself,” she muttered. It would serve him right if they kept going or found a place to hide, but realistically Winona knew this wasn’t the moment to do either. She’d just have to bide her time. And the time would come, she vowed. She’d gotten them into this mess; she’d get them out of it.

Each woman kept an eye on the conversing warriors while the other took advantage of the stop and relieved herself. When they were finished, Winona led them back to the edge of the thicket. Rebellion kept her from returning to their captors like a well-trained dog.

Three of the warriors wore their long hair in twin braids that reached midback. The leader, the one she’d been forced to ride with, wore his hair short and free, the soft strands brushing the tops of his broad shoulders.

With breechclouts swaying in the brisk breeze, leggings accenting long, strong legs and tight buckskin shirts that outlined bodies honed to perfection, any maiden—attached or unattached—would cast her admiring gaze over these men.

Curving her lips into another scowl, Winona tipped her chin. But not her. Hoka Luta was the only warrior for her. She ignored the small voice that reminded her that she had noticed these warriors weeks ago, as had every maiden.

But her mind and heart had been so eagerly awaiting Hoka Luta’s arrival that she’d paid them little attention. The man she planned to marry was brave and honorable. He didn’t terrorize innocent women.

Winona glared at the leader. He was
tatunkce.
Dung. He would pay dearly for his crime, by her own hand, when the opportunity arose. Without warning, her captor turned his head. His gaze locked with hers as if he’d felt her eyes upon him. She tried to glance away as if he meant no more to her than an annoying
tehmunga
. But to her discomfort, he held her gaze with nothing more than his own.

Winona’s mouth went dry and she couldn’t look away.

Not because she was frightened of him. He’d soon learn she had a bite. And he didn’t hold her gaze because he was handsome. With his scarred face, he wasn’t, though he was undeniably better-looking than Hoka Luta.

But while Hoka Luta was impressive, with his sheer size and commanding presence, this warrior possessed something else. Something she couldn’t name. It wasn’t just his body—not even under these circumstances could she find complaint with his fine form. It wasn’t his face—the scar itself had destroyed the perfection he must have carried in his youth. There was something else, something intangible, and whatever it was, it encompassed the man. The whole man.

The fact that she could even notice or acknowledge him in this fashion upset her almost more than the circumstances she found herself in.

“What are we going to do?” Spotted Deer whispered, breaking into her silent contemplations.

Winona drew in a deep breath. She was not admiring the enemy! She absolutely was not! She was simply studying him, searching for weakness. To prove that he held no control over her, Winona held his gaze and answered, “We wait until dark. Don’t sleep. When my father and Hoka Luta come, we must be ready.”

Finally, and to her secret relief, the Cheyenne warrior turned his head back to the rest of the warriors, releasing her from his spell with an abruptness that left her insides churned up.

“That is a good plan. They will attack when darkness falls.” Spotted Deer’s voice trembled.

Another wave of guilt curled and twisted through her insides. She put her arm around Spotted Deer. “Do not worry. They will come.”

Winona tried to believe her own comforting words, but they brought her no relief, for she knew just how difficult it would be for her father to follow. That he would pick up their tracks she had no doubt. But would he be fast enough to catch up with them? Nature would easily erase signs of their passage—unless she could leave some sort of sign. While relieving herself, she’d disturbed as much of the underbrush as she could.

With that in mind, she broke off a few more branches and leaves. A sharp command snapped her head up. Reaching out, she took Spotted Deer by the hand. “All will be right. You will see.”

Spotted Deer hung back. “Promise, Winona. Promise to escape if you get the chance.”

Winona opened her mouth to tell Spotted Deer no, but changed her mind. If a small untruth gave comfort to her friend, then she would offer what comfort was at her command.

“I promise.” To herself she added,
to
get us out of this mess
.

“Nenaestse!”

At the stern command, Winona turned her gaze back to the Cheyenne warriors. Two were already mounted. To her surprise they rode off, taking no particular care not to leave a trail. Her mouth went dry.

“We’d better hurry,” Spotted Deer whispered.

Lifting her brow, Winona glared at the leader. Tempting though it was to make him come get her, she allowed Spotted Deer to pull her forward. Retaliation, had it been just herself to worry about, was one thing. But she’d done enough to her friend already.

The two women separated. With worried eyes, Winona watched as Spotted Deer was hauled up in front of a different warrior. Standing beside the black horse, Winona waited for her captor to mount and pull her up in front of him.

To her surprise, he grabbed her wrists and worked the rope free. Immediately Winona’s mind began to work. With her hands free, there was much she could do: grab a rock, a tree limb, maybe even snatch the knife from her captor’s sheath.

“You will do nothing,” the Cheyenne warrior said.

Winona narrowed her eyes and tilted her chin. “You are a fool. I will find a way to escape.”

“I think not.” He jerked his head toward the other warrior. After a terse command, the warrior rode off with Spotted Deer.

With his dark eyes holding hers, the Cheyenne warrior warned, “Run, or harm me in any way, and you will not see your sister again.”

Eyes wide, heart pounding, she tried to run after Spotted Deer, but her captor had a firm grip on her upper arm. Winona whirled about. “Do not do this. I give my word to do as you wish. Do not separate us. My…sister—she is frightened.” Winona had almost forgotten that he thought them sisters. She had to be careful, for if he learned the truth he might not hesitate to harm Spotted Deer. He clearly thought her valuable because of her relationship to Winona.

The Cheyenne warrior lifted a brow. “And you are not frightened?”

Winona called upon every ounce of her courage. “Hoka Luta is the son of a powerful medicine man. It is you who should be afraid.”

A bitter bark of laughter made her wince. Deep shadows dulled the warrior’s eyes. “You have much to learn, wild one,” he said. “Sometimes the one you should fear is the very one you trust. Let us hope you never have to learn that lesson.”

With that he drew his knife out from the sheath he wore around his shin. Winona’s eyes widened when he grabbed her dress and sliced a piece from the hem. Without taking his eyes off her, he cut his arm and used the hide to soak up the blood.