Blue Thunder (9 page)

the happy hunting ground. He leered at her,
remembering her cutting words. He might not know what ape meant,
but he understood stupid. That was insulting! They were white man’s
words not Indians, but she would live to regret them. His anger
gave him the strength to twist his hands harder, ignoring the pain
in his wrists. He had been scraping the ropes against the wagon’s
wheel and his wrists burned unmercifully but the blood made the
ropes slippery and easier to slide from when he got them loosen
enough.

The beauty said she was sorry for losing her
temper and she tried once more. She placed the spoon to his lips,
this time he opened his mouth. She sighed at her small triumph but
it instantly disappeared when he spit the food back into her face.
The foolish girl gasped and sputtered as she wiped the mess off
with the hem of her dress. Surprised she opened her mouth to scream
when his ropes gave way and his hand came up fast to muffle her
cries. Her scream was

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stifled in her throat. The moon shone enough
to let Blue Thunder see her eyes grow wide with fright and glitter
like polished copper.

She struggled. It was useless and he enjoyed
the rise and fall of her firm breasts, straining against the thin
fabric of her dress. Yes, she would be his. His tiny baggage fought
wildly when he dragged her from the security of the wagon train. A
safe distance away, he gave a low shrill whistle. His faithful
pinto, Night Rider, appeared out of the darkness. He was proud of
his well-trained horse that never strayed far from him.

“Take me back, you dirty
Indian! I showed you kindness and this is how you repay me. You…you
overgrown ape!” she hissed. Blue Thunder raised a curious
eyebrow.
Well, at least she didn’t call
him stupid
.
Now
she knew who the stupid one was,
he
thought with much satisfaction

and ignored her ranting. He lifted his
captive onto his horse and climbed behind her swiftly and then they
were racing through the night. But there was one problem: Touching
and sitting so close, with her derriere bouncing against his groin
brought warmth and great arousal. He will love taking this beauty
to his mat and joining with her. Yes, she will be a perfect slave.
If only she didn’t talk so much, but then all white people did.

“I’m sorry Daphne,” she sobbed. “I let you
down. Forgive me, little sister.”

Blue Thunder heard her sorrowful words and
wondered if this Daphne was the little pregnant girl in the wagon;
there was a striking resemblance. Forgetting his vow never to feel
any remorse towards another white person, he rubbed his chin on the
top of her head to feel her soft hair. He was glad his arrow had
missed its target and prayed to his gods that the child didn’t lose
the baby because of him. Once again he wondered why he should care.
This woman bewitched him with some magical power, for he wasn’t
behaving in his true character. He goaded Night Rider into a run,
thinking that things would be different once he was back at his
village. His only regret was the men he lost because of his
stubbornness. He had witnessed his good friend, Eskaminzim fall and
pain ripped through his heart. He had lost a childhood friend.

Also, he knew the remaining braves would be
on their way to tell his father that they believed he was dead.
Dasodaha would take this news with great sadness, and for that that
he was truly sorry. But Apache ways were different from the white
mans; they have lived with much sadness and pain that the chief of
the clan would go on. Then his thoughts drifted to his young

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brother. If he were killed, would Star Gazer
be able to walk in his moccasins? It was a moot point, he was not
dead. He prayed that his father wouldn’t be too angry when he
returned home with a prisoner.

Melissa quaked with fear; she was his
captive and she chided herself for being so stupid. Such irony! She
emitted a self-loathing groan and fought him with all her strength
but she might as well have been wrestling a bear. His arms were
like a steel vice around her waist. The pressure on her mouth from
his hand had caused her teeth to bruise her lips making her taste
warm blood, forcing her to be quiet. When she was given the chance
to scream, no one could have heard her.

Her jaw rattled from the hard ride and she
bit her tongue a few times. Her body was stiff from fright and
rage. By the time the horse was slowed to a trot, she was too angry
to be frightened anymore. Inhaling deeply, Melissa brought her
elbow back with all the power she could muster. The Indian brave
only grunted. The damage inflicted was more on her than the Indian,
for her arm hit what seemed like a wall of petrified wood.
Frustrated to know it caused little or no discomfort, save a slight
exhale of breath, fueled her temper. “Damn ape!”

The brave merely chuckled and the savage
gently squeezed her soft nipple, making her gasp in surprise.
Melissa pushed his hand away. “How dare you! Keep your filthy hands
off me or... Ouch!” He did it again with more firmness until she
got the idea that every time she whined and swore, she received a
soft pinch. Never touched in this manner before, she was thoroughly
disgusted by his vulgar advances. When her nipple grew taut it
caused a tightening sensation in her groin area. She hated this
man, yet the feel of his muscular chest on her back sent tingles up
her spine. She had no name for that feeling; her emotions were at
war with her body. Thoughts about her promise to her parents
filtered through her confused brain; she was supposed to protect
her sister. Tears slid down her cheeks, she couldn’t even protect
herself. Confused, terror and desire attacked her and she let the
silent tears fall.

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FOURTEEN

They traveled far into the long, inky night.
Melissa stayed awake so her rigid back wouldn’t touch his hard
muscular chest. His nakedness unnerved her and by dawn her reward
was an aching spine. Her head bobbed when she lapsed into moments
of sleep only to awake startled. She had tried counting the stars
but there were too many; after a while her vision blurred. Her
shoulders slumped; it was becoming a familiar existence. And,
blazes, her backside ached and her inner thighs burned from being
chaffed. She groaned in agony and grumbled under her breath.

“I need to see to nature?” The embarrassing
declaration scorched her cheeks.

The horse stopped and Melissa was in so much
discomfort it didn’t dawn on her that he understood her request. He
pointed to a bush and she wasted no time dismounting and scurrying
behind it. When she came from around the bush, he smiled; his smile
was annoying and beautiful and scary. In the moonlight, his perfect
white teeth looked even whiter against his dark skin. Then a notion
dawned on her making her wondered if he could have seen her. She
recalled hearing a rumor, somewhere, that Indian’s could see in the
dark. Blushing was becoming an all too common occurrence around
this brave. Finally, the sun brightened the earth but not her mood,
even the chirping of birds annoyed her.

She never felt so tired and every muscle
ached to the limit. This time when he stopped she slid off the
horse. The Indian opened a small hide bag that had been tied around
the horse’s neck. He bit off a piece of dried meat and her captor
extended his hand, offering her some food; she refused. Why should
she eat his food when he spit her offering into her face?

Holding her chin high, she stared straight
in his eyes. “I know you don’t understand, but I’m going to have my
say.” When he came forward, she backed away a few steps. “You are
an uncouth, ill-mannered man. Now I understand why they call you
savages!”

He came closer. She moved but never lowered
her gaze. His eyes were too dark to read

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any emotion, but then she believed Indians
didn’t have emotions. Melissa continued to call him any name she
could think of, her eyes fixed on a small vein pulsating in his
neck. Had she finally gotten a rise in him? She did, but it wasn’t
the rise she expected. As he shortened the space between them, she
put up her hands to ward him off.

“Don’t you touch me! You….” Her words were
cut off quickly by his mouth on hers. So stunned, she froze. Wide
eyed, Melissa stared into dark pools. When she finally regained
some of her senses, she opened her mouth to protest. Big mistake,
she realized too late. The brave took advantage of her slip and
penetrated her mouth.

At first Melissa struggled. She truly did
want him to stop because her head was spinning like a toy top. Then
she didn’t want him to stop; the power of the kiss traveled down to
her knees. Her legs became weak, her insides were full and alive
and the catch in her heart stunned her. Without realizing it, she
wrapped her arms around his neck when he lifted her off the
ground.

Quickly, he broke off the kiss and she had
not doubt that she was blushing remembering how her body made
contact brushing against his swollen manhood. What had he done to
her? Why did her emotions come alive to his touch? Melissa looked
up at him in confusion and hurt and wondered why he was now
rejecting her. Totally mortified, she quickly lowered her gaze,
experiencing unknown sensations; desire coupled with frustration.
Did he possess some power of witchcraft? Rejection was a stab in
the heart. Then she wondered why she felt that way. He was the
enemy! She fumed more at herself for allowing him to make her feel
things she shouldn’t have; things that were unbecoming a lady.

“Torture me by whipping me or tying me to an
aunt hill, but touch me again and I’ll kick you in the groin!” she
snarled as much to convince herself. She didn’t know which was
worse, the desire or terror that flowed through her body. His
expression was inscrutable.

When Blue Thunder’s tongue danced around
hers like an Apache danced around a hot flame, his breath was on
fire. All he wanted to do was to still her wagging jaw with a kiss,
to stop this silly chatter. But when those beautiful, honey-colored
eyes met his, his loins swelled with desire. No Indian maiden, not
even a bold one, would look directly into a warrior’s eyes. When
their lips met, she stiffened and he believed she had never been
kissed like this before. This idea

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made him happy. This woman was untouched, he
was sure. She was indeed a prize worth the risk of his life.

When her small hands travel up his chest,
his body respond in a tremor. No other maiden had affected him like
this; surly she possessed magical powers. His passion surged and he
wanted

her but…he could not chance being spotted.
There were soldiers in the area, he needed sharp senses and she was
slowly dulling his mind. With much regret, he unlaced her fingers
from behind his neck and ignored her scaling remarks. They had
wasted too much time and must find water; his deerskin pouch tied
to Night Rider’s neck was almost empty. He had taken a couple of
swigs last night without offering her any. Let her see what a
parched throat was like.

They rode all day in the hot desert sun,
stopping only to cut cactus, to squeeze a little moisture from its
pulp. The woman grumbled and complained that it tasted strange but
she greedily drank what she could. He believed her throat was as
dry as her mouth and her lips began to crack; she let him know that
she was miserable beyond belief. Her bonnet had been blown off her
head during the hard ride last night and her fight to keep her back
from touching his chest had waned. Now the sun was like a drug to
her brain and he was sure that she gratefully welcomed the darkness
for awhile because the stubborn woman relaxed into a deep
sleep.

When they stopped Blue Thunder retrieved a
knife from a small leather bag that was tied around his horse’s
neck, along with the pouch he drank from. He cut off some of her
dress and tied the material around her head. Fearing sunstroke, he
covered her from the sun but the rays scorched her arms, shins and
face, making painful blisters. The skin on her nose and under her
eyes began to tighten and he knew it was probably stinging. Her
face was covered with freckles and by nightfall, her pretty eyes
were so swollen, she could only squint, making her skin look
tighter than a snake’s spine. By the time they stopped to camp, she
appeared tired, and in pain. To add to her agony, she had leaned
over the horse with dry heaves.

Blue Thunder carried her from Night Rider,
feeling some shame for not protecting her

fair complexion. He should have wrapped her
limbs, not only her fair head. Laying her down on the ground, he
winced when he saw her beautiful face blistered and red. He’d never
forgive himself if he’d marred her beauty with his stubbornness. He
decided to go in search of aloe leaves.

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“Stay, Night Rider and guard the girl,” he
instructed his faithful mount and trusted his pinto to do as asked.
He would run until he found some of the healing plants; his
reputation for being the swiftest buck in his tribe preceded him
and could run fifty miles without stopping. As a youth he had
defeated his own father, Dasodaha. He returned with his miracle
plant finding the girl was still asleep. He patted the horse’s nose
rewarding him with a handful of the precious water. He knew of a
water hole and replenished the bag. He cut many leaves to release a
clear, odorless sap that he applied generously to her face, arms
and lower legs. He let some water trickle over her dry, cracked
lips, remembering how soft they were. His captive moaned and licked
her lips. He lifted her head and placed the water bag to her mouth.
She blinked her swollen eyelids and gasped, but sipped the
refreshing liquid.

“Not too much, you get belly ache, Honey
Eyes.”