Lakota Honor (16 page)

He held his arm up, grinding his teeth through the pain in his shoulder. Otakatay's forehead bubbled with sweat, and his stomach convulsed from the stress he put on the injured arm, but he continued to exercise the muscle. The eagle feather fell into his eyes. He thinned his lips. He hadn't forgotten his promise. It had taken him so long to get here. To realize that what he had was enough for now. He'd been driven by revenge and hatred. He should've completed the promise years before.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Elwood sat with his foot elevated on the mahogany desk. Ten stitches below the toes and five more on the bottom of his foot. The bruised foot still throbbed, and he'd been dulling the pain with whiskey since the previous night. The damn dog would pay, and he'd make sure it was painful.

He hoped to have Nora with him when he returned to the mine, but the little bitch wanted nothing to do with him. The fact that she was all alone with no one to protect her sweetened his plan to take her as his wife. But now he realized that she wasn't going to come willingly.

He swirled the alcohol in his glass, spilling some over the sides to run down his fingers. He was resigned to making her his wife the old-fashioned way. He smiled. Oh what fun that would be. Visions of her on his bed naked with terror filled eyes flooded his mind, and he grew hard thinking about it. Yes, he'd devise a plan. If he could get her here and ruin her reputation, everything would fall into place. Soon she'd be overflowing with his seed and so ashamed she'd be begging him to marry her.

"Boss, the boy is giving us trouble again." Red stood in the doorway his hair disheveled and a cut below his bottom lip.

He downed the rest of the whiskey and snatched the braided leather belt hanging on the hook by the door. The leather rope gave him the power he needed to run the mine and the filthy brats that worked for him.

The door to Joe's room stood ajar, and Elwood could hear Levi yelling at the boy.

"What in hell is going on?" He limped closer to them.

"I'm tryin' to get the boy tied to his post, and he ain't cooperatin'," Levi said, out of breath and harried.

Joe stood in the corner of the room. Tears ran from his eyes and into the dirt smeared on his cheeks. He pointed a colt .45 at Levi.

"Where in hell did he get a gun?" Elwood demanded.

"I was tryin' to get him tied up, and he pulled it from my belt," Levi whined.

Elwood scowled at Red unsure if he should hit him or the boy first. "Joe, you put that gun down now, you hear?"

He shook his blonde head. "No, Pa. No. No. No."

The boy would get it once he got the damn gun from him. "Please, Son, hand over the gun."

"I don't want to be tied up, tied up. I don't like it, like it." He cried. "I want June-bug, June-bug."

"June lives in town. Joe, remember the deal we have. No seeing her if you don't obey."

Joe shook his head again and waved the gun around the room. Everyone dived out of the way, and Elwood had to keep from lashing out at the kid as pain sliced through his foot. He needed to get the gun from the boy and quick. "Okay, Joe. I won't tie you up. I promise."

Joe stopped crying, and a big smile spread across his face.

The mind of a simple child perplexed him.

Joe laid the gun on the bed.

"You little bastard." Levi threw his hand back and slapped Joe across the face sending him into the wall. The sticks fell from his armpits as he slid to the floor, clutching his cheek and whimpering.

"Levi, Red, I want you to go into town and get the girl. Bring her here unharmed."

"Yes, boss," Levi said.

"On your way out, check on the others. Make sure everyone is doing what they're told. I'm in no mood for trouble."

Both men nodded and left.

Elwood closed the door and, with his other hand, released the rope with a loud snap. He smiled when Joe jumped. Careful of his injured foot, he walked toward him. The damn kid wouldn't cross him again, not after tonight.

He cracked the whip.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

He laid the dead rabbit on the table outside their house. Little Eagle sat beside him, a thin blanket wrapped around his narrow shoulders. Their mother had been dead two weeks, and their father hadn't returned. Left to fend for themselves, he had vowed to take care of his brother. There had been nothing left to eat in the shack after a few days, so he loaded the shotgun, and together they hunted for meat.

As the days passed, he prayed that their father never came back. He hated him, and because he took Ina from them forever, he wanted to kill him. He'd watch over Little Eagle. They didn't need anyone but each other, and together they'd make it.

He skinned the rabbit as a shiny black wagon bounced along the rutted road leading to their home. His father sat with another white man, on the seat up front. Buck Morgan had no friends, his father was a weasel, and he knew something wasn't right.

He tucked the blade beneath his sleeve and stood. He reached for Little Eagle, and with one arm pulled him close. He watched through hate-filled eyes as their father staggered down from the wagon and walked crookedly toward them. The air carried his familiar scent of sweat, unwashed clothes and alcohol.

He stepped back, taking his brother with him, and peered around his father's ripped and stained shirt to see the other man as he came closer. He couldn't help but gawk, and he forgot all about his father, when he saw the man's fancy suit. He'd never seen anything like him, or his shiny black buggy.

"Ina, Ina," Little Eagle cried into the back of his shirt as he hid behind him.

He reached back and patted the top of his brother's head.

"Un ohiti ke," he whispered. "Be brave."

The white man walked toward them.

He squeezed the knife and cupped his arm around Little Eagle to protect him. No one would harm his brother. He glared up at the well-dressed man and hissed, baring his teeth.

"What is this? Is your son part animal?" the man asked.

"He thinks he's tough, but once you knock him around a bit, he's like the rest of 'em half breeds. A coward," his father said, laughing before he took another drink from his bottle.

"What about the little one? Can he do the same amount of work?"

"I won't even charge ya for him. You can have him for free."

He studied his father then the other man. What did the man want? He took a step backward, pushing his brother with him toward the door. They wouldn't take Little Eagle, he'd protect him with his life. The rich man motioned to two large men behind him.

"Slim, Bob."

Slim had light hair, and Bob stringy and on top of his head, none at all. He hadn't even seen them he'd been so distracted by the rich man and his father.

He took another step back. Little Eagle whimpered into his shirt, and he wished there was something he could do to ease his fear. Large hands shoved him out of the way and yanked Little Eagle up into the air. Ear-splitting screams burst from his mouth. He watched helpless as Slim smacked Little Eagle on the side of the head.

He shouted, using the war cry his mother taught him, and ran up onto the tree stump catapulting himself into the air toward the man that held his brother. He slid the knife from his sleeve and into his hand, driving it into Slim's back. He yanked the blade from the flesh and swiped it across Slim's forearm.

The man dropped Little Eagle, and he dove for his brother, he had to protect him. He was struck from behind. Dark spots danced in front of him as he fell to the ground with a thud. The back of his head throbbed, and his arms hung to the sides, no longer able to fight. Two large hands picked him up and threw him into the back of the pretty black wagon. Little Eagle snuggled close burying himself into his neck and cried for Ina as it drove away.

Nora woke to Otakatay mumbling in Lakota. There was little light in the room, and she figured it was past midnight. She lit the lamp and pulled her tired muscles from the sofa and into the bedroom. She could see that he wasn't awake and knew without coming closer he was having another dream. She watched his face contort and twist. His arms jerked, and she went to him afraid he'd hurt himself more if she didn't wake him.

She put the lamp on the table and shook him.

"Otakatay, please wake up."

He stilled beneath her hand.

"You're dreaming. Wake up."

He opened his eyes and closed them again. "Leave."

She sat down in the chair and picked up the yarn and needles from the basket.

"Are you deaf? Leave." His tone left no room for challenge.

"No."

"No?"

Without looking at him, she said, "Yes, no."

"I don't want you here. Go away."

"I'm staying. Now if you'd like to go back to sleep, feel free. Or you can continue to pout. I don't care which you choose."

He grunted, said a few words she didn't understand, and she was sure she didn't want to, as he kicked his feet out from the quilt.

Minutes passed before she glanced up at him. He scowled at her.

"Tell me where you're from."

"Hell."

"Oh, nonsense. Where are your father and mother?"

"Dead and," he paused, "dead."

She stopped knitting and put the needles on her lap. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to bring up horrible memories for you."

He grunted again. "Buck Morgan wasn't worth the shit in the outhouse."

She didn't know what to say. He practically spat the words from his mouth as if they were poison. "He must've been an awful person for you to say that."

"Awful is too kind a word."

What had his father done to cause such hard feelings to come from his own son?

"How did he die?"

"I killed him."

"Oh."

She was silent while she debated her next question. Curiosity and the profound feelings she had for him all but shoved the words from her mouth. "Why did you kill him?"

"He was a snake who thought of himself and not his wife or two sons."

"You have a brother?"

He closed his mouth and held it shut, thinning his full lips. She met his eyes, and saw such anguish, such despair. How could she have been so daft? It was obvious that something had happened to his brother as well. The sheer magnitude of what he felt was reflected on his face. Pain and torment twisted his features and almost sent her fleeing the room to sob in a corner.

"Otakatay, I'm so sorry." She placed her hand over his.

He focused on her face, and she smiled.

"I cannot change the past."

She nodded thinking of Pa and how she'd love nothing more than to go back, and have him here once more. Life was not so easy, loved ones died. She wove the needle around the yarn and through the hole. She had no idea what she was making, and in truth it didn't matter. The hobby gave her something to do while she sat with Otakatay.

"When did your mother pass?" she asked, hoping to ease some of his pain by allowing him to talk about it.

"I was eleven winters."

"Was she sick?"

"My father killed her."

Wide eyed and mouth open, the shock of what he'd said was too much. She cleared her throat. She wanted to hold him and cry for all the horrible things he'd seen, all the unthinkable things that had happened to him. She didn't know where he'd gotten those scars, but she'd guess it was from when he was young. She couldn't imagine anyone inflicting that amount of torment on him now and living afterward.

"Is this where you were born?"

She glanced up from her knitting, taken aback by his question. He'd never asked about her past, she didn't think he cared.

"No, we moved here last year." She smiled sadly. "I've lived in every town from here to Texas." She took his silence to mean that he wanted to know more, and she continued. "Pa was always moving. He never liked to be somewhere too long. We were like gypsies, travelling from one place to the next. It was wonderful. I have fond memories of it." She had to keep from making a face as she lied, but there was no way she could tell him the truth. She didn't trust him.

"A simple yes or no would've worked."

Well, that didn't last long. Did he have a kind bone in his body?
"Sorry I took up your valuable time," she huffed, and went back to knitting. She jerked the needle from the yarn. "You'd think you had somewhere to go."

"I do."

She glanced at him. "And where is that?"

"I need to kill the man who shot me."

He spoke in such matter-of-fact tones that, if it weren't for the gravity of what he'd said, she'd have burst out laughing.

"I see."

"Good. Now get my clothes."

"You are not going anywhere until your shoulder is healed."

He raised a brow.

"What good are you with one arm?"

"Want me to show you?" His dark eyes wandered her body.

She didn't miss the heated look he gave her, and it didn't take long to figure out what he meant.

She cleared her throat, shifted on her seat and went back to her knitting.

He swung his legs over the end of the bed, and she couldn't help but peek through her lashes as the blanket slid down his broad chest to rest on his lap. He yawned and stood, allowing the blanket to fall to the floor.

She buried her head in her hands. "What are you doing?"

"Stretching."

"Please, cover yourself." She waved her arm while still hiding her face.

He chuckled but didn't pick up the blanket.

He laughed?
She opened her fingers enough for one eye to peek through.
Yup, he's naked, and damn it he was laughing.

"Tsk, tsk, Wicicala."

"I am not a little girl." She shot up off the chair—her knitting fell to the floor. "I'm a grown woman."

He stepped toward her, and his chest skimmed her breasts.

"Prove it."

Without thinking, she ran her hand through his hair and pulled him toward her. She smashed her lips onto his in a feverish kiss.
No turning back now.
She thrust her tongue into his mouth and pressed her breasts up against his muscled chest. A low moan came from his throat, and he wrapped his arm around her waist lifting her from the ground.

She couldn't contain herself and ran her finger nails down his chest. He straightened, and she sensed his embarrassment. Not willing to end their embrace, she nipped at his bottom lip and was surprised when her hips rubbed against his groin. What was he doing to her?
I turn into a harlot in his arms.
But she felt whole and safe there. He sank into her and slowly pulled his lips from hers.

Nora's heart beat as fast as a wild mustang galloping across the prairies, and her breaths came in short puffs. Her breasts pulsed, and she yearned for more of him. She placed her hands on his chest.

He removed them, bringing them to her sides.

"They don't bother me," she whispered.

He coughed.

"They bother me." He picked up the blanket, and wrapping it around his middle he left the room.

She knew he didn't want her to follow, so she sat down in the chair.
I kissed him
. She touched her lips, still wet from his. She cared for him. Her stomach flipped, and she peeked at the doorway.

He aroused sensations within her she'd never felt before, making her hungry for his touch. How did this happen? She barely knew him. But as she licked her lips, remembering their kiss, warmth spread over her to linger in her most private place.

Otakatay peered out the window. He couldn't see a damn thing it was so dark. He needed to get out of this cabin. Being near Nora was no good, and he needed to stay on the path he'd set out for himself. He pulled the blanket tight around his waist. The little twit had actually risen to his challenge. He'd been playing with her, trying to get her to ask him to leave, and instead she'd surprised him with a kiss. An unbelievable kiss, one he'd think of over and over again for the rest of his life. He didn't need these distractions, especially the one that had just happened.

He rubbed his chest. He was shot here he knew it. He remembered the piercing pain when the bullet struck him. But where had the wound gone? He knew she was keeping that bit of information from him, and he figured it was because she was scared. A part of him wanted to know, to demand the information from her, while the other was intent on leaving and killing the son of a bitch who shot him.

He needed to finish this.
Wahi—I am coming
. The time had come, to become the venomous bounty hunter once again. He'd stalk his prey and use his knife to end lives. He made a fist. His shoulder was still sore, but he had to go. He had to place some distance between himself and Nora.

Tomorrow he'd leave and make sure she was in no more danger from the wasichu. As hard as it was for him to admit it, he liked the girl. She annoyed the hell out of him, and she talked endlessly, but she was soft and kind. He owed it to her to make sure she was safe, and he'd enjoy killing the white eyes.