Hannah out of the blankets. When Spotted
Doe rattled the bones at the entrance of the lodge Wind Rider bade her enter. She ducked
beneath the flap, her gaze settling on the single
mat that Wind Rider and Hannah had shared. She sent Hannah a malevolent glare.
“I have brought a tunic and moccasins for
your slave,” she said, tossing a bundle at
Hannah’s feet. “They are old but good enough
for a slave.”
Hannah retrieved the bundle and held it to her
chest. No matter how old the clothing, they were better than the blanket she clutched around her shoulders. She wanted to dress immediately,
but not with Wind Rider and Spotted Doe
watching. Wind Rider sensed her dilemma and
reacted to her mute appeal with uncharacteris
tic kindness as he ushered Spotted Doe toward the tepee entrance, holding the flap open so she
could leave.
“I must speak with Red Cloud,” he said,
hoping to speed Spotted Doe on her way.
“Red Cloud is not here,” Spotted Doe in
formed him. “He has gone to a great coun
cil called by the army at Fort Laramie. Many Sioux leaders will be there to negotiate peace
with the white eyes.”
“Peace, bah! Have the Sioux learned nothing from Sand Creek? They should ask the
Cheyenne about promises made by white eyes.”
Modestly dressed in the threadbare tunic that
covered her down to her ankle-high moccasins,
Hannah chose that moment to step out into
the brilliant light of the morning sun. When
Spotted Doe saw her, her eyes widened in dis
belief. Inside the dark tepee she’d noticed the
change in Hannah but had no idea it would be
so dramatic. But now, in the light of day, the change in the slave was utterly astounding.
There was no disguising her slimness, but now it was enhanced by a cloud of copper-hued hair that framed delicate features and
absolutely stunning green eyes. Washed clean
of dirt and grime, her skin was as white and smooth as that of a newborn babe. Her lips
were full, red, and lush. Long feathery eye
lashes the color of rich copper made her green
eyes appear even more dramatic.
“What have you done to her?” Spotted Doe
gasped. “This is not the same woman you
brought here yesterday.”
“I have no other slave,” Wind Rider said,
transfixed by Hannah’s complete metamorpho
sis.
“What is she saying?” Hannah asked as Spot
ted Doe continued to stare at her as if she were
something offensive.
“Nothing,” Wind Rider barked harshly.
“Gather wood; I am hungry. I will ask one
of the older women to teach you to cook the
food I provide. If you do not do as she says, she will beat you.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll run away?”
A grim smile stretched across Wind Rider’s
generous lips. “You are not stupid. You will not run away.”
Seething with anger, Hannah realized that
Wind Rider spoke the truth. There were no
white settlements nearby, and she greatly feared
Indian methods of punishment should she be recaptured. She turned abruptly and walked
toward the river, where many trees grew along
the bank. Wind Rider watched until she was out
of sight, wondering if he should follow.
Wind Rider wasn’t the only one watching
Hannah’s progress through the village. Every young buck lucky enough to be out and about turned to stare after her, including Cut Nose.
The ugly warrior’s eyes bulged grotesquely and the air left his chest in an explosion of disbelief
when he recognized Wind Rider’s slave. He had
been willing to buy her before this miraculous transformation, but now he was more determined than ever to have her in his blankets.
From the very beginning he had looked below
the dirt and grime and seen something no one else had seen, but never in his wildest imagi
nation did he expect anything so spectacular. When he saw Hannah walk in the direction of
the river he followed, taking a different route
so as not to arouse suspicion.
Hannah walked a short distance along the
river bank, gathering sticks and driftwood along
the way. When she had an armful she turned
back toward camp. Fear twisted her gut when
she saw Cut Nose step from behind a tree. The
wood fell from her arms.
“Stay away from me!” She wasn’t certain he
could understand English, but he certainly had to know what she was saying from her tone of
voice.
Cut Nose laughed harshly. He understood
the white man’s tongue well enough. Like most
Plains Indians, he had picked up the language
from traders, mountainmen, and Indian agents.
”A slave has no rights,” His words were slow and
stilted but understandable.
“I belong to Wind Rider,” Hannah felt com
pelled to say. The crafty look in Cut Nose’s eyes told her exactly what he wanted from her.
“He will not mind. Did you not know you will become the village whore when he tires
of you? It is our way. You will be sent to live
in a lodge at the edge of the village, where our warriors can visit you at will.”
“No!” Hannah denied vehemently. “Wind
Rider would not do that.”
“It is the custom. But I have decided I can
not wait. I will mount you now, while you are still young and desirable and before the others
ruin you. My friends are not always gentle, and
since you are white they will not care if they hurt you.”
Without warning he lunged at her. She
whirled, attempting to flee, but she wasn’t fast enough. Cut Nose was upon her in seconds, bearing her to the ground. He fell atop
her heavily, forcing the breath from her lungs. When his hard hands skimmed her thighs and raised her tunic above her waist she struggled
valiantly but to no avail. Inserting his hand
between their bodies, he tore his breechclout
aside and shoved her legs apart. When she
pounded against his chest, he seized her hands
and held them above her head, leering at her
with evil purpose.
Hannah let out a shrill screech, steeling her
self for Cut Nose’s invasion. “Quiet!” Cut Nose barked. Releasing one of her hands, he clouted
her alongside the face to make her more tracta
ble. Finding one hand free, Hannah retaliated
by digging her sharp nails down his cheek. Cut Nose spit out a guttural curse, drew his hand back, and prepared to deliver another blow.
Hannah closed her eyes and waited, hoping he’d strike her hard enough to render her
unconscious. But the blow never fell.
The pressure of Cut Nose’s body eased and then was gone. Hannah opened her eyes, sur
prised to see Wind Rider standing over her, his
expression fierce. He had kicked Cut Nose from
atop her and stood with his fists clenched, his
magnificent body tense, ready to strike again as
Cut Nose picked himself up from the ground. Though Hannah had no idea what they were saying, their harsh tones and loud voices led her to believe the situation was explosive.
“The slave is my property. I have said no one
is to touch her,” Wind Rider challenged.
“And I have offered to buy her from you,”
Cut Nose returned. “I will give you three horses
instead of the one I offered before. I am
being most generous to my Cheyenne brother. Besides,” he added slyly, “the slave wanted me. She enticed me here and offered herself to me.”
“You lie!” Wind Rider denied vehemently.
“The blood on your face tells me she was not
willing. For the last time, Cut Nose, Little Spar
row is not for sale.”
Cut Nose’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t about
to give up so easily. “She must be very good
between the blankets for you to turn down
three horses. I will give you five horses, but
no more.”
“I don’t want your horses.”
“And,” Cut Nose offered as an added induce
ment, “you may have my sister. She will make
you a good wife. She has already told me she
favors you. Many good braves have offered for
her.”
“You are more than generous,” Wind Rider said with a hint of sarcasm, “but I do not want
a wife.”
By now Hannah had staggered to her feet, nursing her aching jaw. It was already turning
black-and-blue from Cut Nose’s blow. Wind
Rider saw it and sent Cut Nose a threatening
glare. Then he reached out a protective arm and
pulled Hannah beside him.
Cut Nose sneered derisively. “You are a white
eyes masquerading as a Cheyenne. How long
will it be before you turn traitor to our people?
I will ask the council to banish you from our
tribe; then I will claim the slave as my own.”
Wind Rider laughed harshly. “You may try, but they will not listen to you. I have fought
bravely beside my Sioux brothers. I have raided
army supply wagons and counted coup upon
the enemy many times. I challenge any man to
question my courage or loyalty.”
Cut Nose sent a leering glance at Hannah,
who was plastered against Wind Rider’s side.
“Perhaps I will challenge you, my white Chey
enne brother, if the council does not vote to
banish you from the tribe. You have refused
to join with my sister and shamed my family.”
Whirling on his heel, he strode away.
Hannah allowed herself to breathe again. “He
wanted to rape me,” she said shakily.
Wind Rider grasped her chin and turned her
face toward him. The bruise on her cheek
glowed an ugly purple against her white skin.
“Did he hurt you?”
The question angered Hannah. Why should
Wind Rider care if Cut Nose hurt her when he
hadn’t treated her with any degree of kindness
since he’d captured her? “Do you care? I’m sur
prised you stopped him from raping me. You Indians are all savages.”
Wind Rider’s jaw stiffened. “You belong to
me. No man has a right to touch you unless I
allow it. Did you invite his attention? Did you
entice him as he said?”
Hannah paled. “I did no such thing! Cut
Nose said you’d make me the village whore
when you tired of me. He said it was the
custom.”
“Cut Nose is right, it is the custom, but it is
my decision whether or not that happens. We
will speak of this later. Gather the wood; I am
hungry.”
Her mind in a turmoil, Hannah did as she
was told, aware that her future—or lack of
one—depended on this fierce Indian, who did
not look at all like an Indian.
Wind Rider did not let Hannah out of his
sight as he followed her back to camp. “I will
build a fire this once, but in the future the
chore will be yours. You must not forget that
you are my slave.”
Hannah already knew how to build a fire; she had done it when she traveled west with the Harleys. They had joined a wagon train at
Independence, and all the difficult chores had fallen to her.
Hannah was wondering what Wind Rider
expected her to cook when an old woman
hobbled over and placed a skillet on the fire
to heat. Then she took some ground grain from
a parfleche she had brought with her and mixed
it with water, placing it in the sizzling skillet. The aroma was delicious, and Hannah’s mouth began to water. When the old woman spoke to
Hannah in guttural Sioux, Hannah looked at
her dumbly. Angered by Hannah’s inability to
understand, the old woman picked up a thin
stick and began beating her about the shoulders
and back.
“She wants you to get the bowls and honey.”
“I don’t know where to look.”
“Inside the tepee. There is a deerskin pouch
hanging on one of the back poles. Inside you’ll
find bowls and a small amount of honey for the frybread.”
Hannah hurried inside the tepee, and the
old woman smiled broadly and nodded. When
Hannah returned the woman was gone. Spotted
Doe had taken her place. The Indian maiden’s
dark eyes rested on Hannah, so filled with mal
ice, Hannah stopped abruptly in her tracks. Hannah listened intently to the conversation
between Wind Rider and Spotted Doe and didn’t
need an interpreter to know that the woman was angry.
“Cut Nose told me how you shamed our fami
ly,” Spotted Doe said sourly. “Am I not good enough for you? Is there some other maiden
you wish to join with? Perhaps you prefer a
Cheyenne maiden. If you wish it, I will become
your second wife.”