Wolf Runner (12 page)

Wolf Runner
, she cried silently,
find me!

Night had fallen by the time they made it out of the mountains, and Cheyenne could no longer pretend to be unconsciousness. Ezra jabbed her hard in the ribs and she cried out in pain.

The motion of the horse made her dizzy and her stomach churned. Weak and aching, she was having difficulty holding up her head. She closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them everything would not be spinning.

But it was.

The man was rubbing his hands over her breasts and she thought at that moment if she had a knife she would drive it into his heart. She tried to move away from him, but he only pulled her back to rest against his smelly buffalo hide coat. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she knew she would have to bear him touching her. But it was hard.

Ezra whispered close to her ear. “’Bout time you woke up,” he said, jerking her head up and watching anger sparkle in her eyes. “I got me plans for you tonight. You’re such a pretty gal, I might just decide to keep you for a spell.”

She shuddered as his hand moved up her neck. “Take your hands off me,” she said between clenched teeth.

“Damn, Willie, this here little Injin gal’s got spunk. I’m gonna like doing things to her. You can have her after I’m through if you want.”

“I ain’t taking your leavings. Maybe I’ll have a go at her first.”

“You ain’t having her first,” Ezra protested. “I’ll slit your throat from cleft to gullet if you was to try that.”

“Wolf Runner will slit both your throats,” Cheyenne said with a bravado she was far from feeling. She shouldered Ezra’s hand away when it tightened about her. “I told you not to touch me.”

“I ain’t scared of no Injin. ’Sides, he can’t catch up with us. Ain’t no man can run this far or this fast for very long.”

Cheyenne feared he was right—no human could catch them now. Even Wolf Runner would have to rest sometime.

Without hope of rescue, she feared what her fate would be at the hands of these men. She was even more frightened when they stopped for the day to make camp.

Willie pulled Cheyenne off the horse and set her on her feet. “Stay there and don’t try nothin’.”

Once Ezra had started the campfire, he removed a gold pocket watch from his coat and dangled it over the flames, watching it sparkle. “I’ve sure took a liking to this here timepiece,” he said.

Willie snorted, “You didn’t have to kill the sheepherder to get it—you could have just stole it.”

“In the first place, I don’t like sheepherders, and second of all, he made me plumb mad.”

“Shut up, Ezra. I don’t care if you are my brother, you had no call to take his wife to the woods and diddle around with her. That’s what ain’t right. I make me a habit of not fooling ’round with another
man’s wife. And there was no need to kill ’em both. You could have let that woman live.”

Ezra nodded at Cheyenne. “What about her? She’s got her a man. Should we let her go?”

Willie cut his gaze toward the older man and muttered a curse under his breath. “You ain’t got the sense Mother Nature gave a peanut. You can’t go ’round comparing any Injin with no sheepherder. Injins just don’t count for much.”

Cheyenne pulled at her restraints, but they held tight. She would not give up without a fight.

Wolf Runner was not even winded as he came down out of the mountains just as the sun sank low, painting the sky a deep purple. He was accustomed to running for hours without end, and it was no hardship for him to do so now.

But he had never been this desperate.

He paused beside the discarded saddle he found abandoned on the trail and struck a flint so he could examine the ground around it. There were four horses and his packhorse, one was Cheyenne’s—the one not shod was his. One of the men’s horses had gone lame.

Wolf Runner saw the signs that someone had tried to put a saddle on his mount. He smiled, knowing his horse would not allow anyone to put a saddle on him.

In the gathering darkness it was difficult to pick up the tracks, but it looked as though the men were staying on the trail—if they were, he would find them. “Come on, Satanta,” he told the wolf. “Find Cheyenne.”

As if he understood his master, Satanta put his nose to the ground and started off at a lope. Satanta
could track anything with his keen sense of smell. And he was already on Cheyenne’s trail.

The men were going about setting up camp and seemed unconcerned about being followed. Cheyenne kept twisting her hands, trying to work them free, but it was useless. Ezra had tied her to a scrub tree, and the rawhide was biting into her wrists.

With growing desperation, Cheyenne watched while Willie used his knife to open a can of beans, dumping them into an iron pot. They sizzled and the aroma immediately wafted toward Cheyenne and her stomach tightened with revulsion. Her head was throbbing and she was still sick to her stomach.

The world tilted and she closed her eyes. The fall from her horse must have hurt her more than she had at first thought. Or maybe it had been Willie’s fist.

Her fate rested in the hands of these two men who had no honor.

Cheyenne slowly opened her eyes. Beyond the circle of light reflected by the glowing campfire, it was dark and foreboding. She wanted to cry, but she must show no fear. That would only feed Ezra’s lust. She watched Ezra walk into the darkness and a short time later return with an armload of wood.

“Did you hear that wolf?” he asked his brother. “Sounds like it’s nearby.”

“I heard it,” Willie said as he went through the stolen supplies from the packhorse.

“Don’t you think we’d best keep the fire up all night?”

“It ain’t gonna bother us, Ezra. Stop whining.”

Cheyenne felt the first hope bloom in her heart. She had heard the wolf too, but had not considered it might be Satanta.

Was it possible?

No.

Even if Wolf Runner walked all night, he would not reach her in time. And no man could run for such a distance—it would be impossible.

There was grim desperation in Wolf Runner’s hurried stride. He had been running full out for hours, and his chest burned from lack of air. But still he did not slow his pace, and neither did Satanta, although Wolf Runner knew the wolf was tiring.

Just ahead through a small clearing of trees, Wolf Runner glimpsed a flicker of light. And hope gave him new energy. He had to reach Cheyenne before those men did anything to her. She had been in his care and he had been negligent, allowing her to be captured.

It was his fault.

He was filled with anger and bloodlust. Too much time had passed—if they were going to harm Cheyenne, the deed was already done. Hatred burned in Wolf Runner’s heart for the men who had taken her captive. If she had been a white woman, they may have merely robbed her and left her on the trail—but those men were trappers—he had smelled their stench—and they would have had no compunction about taking an Indian woman.

He knew their kind; when they looked at Cheyenne they would see only that she was an Indian.

At last he was near enough to see the campfire, and his gaze flickered over the crackling flames. The clouds had parted enough to let the quarter moon shine down upon the land with a faint light. Wolf Runner saw the horses had been hobbled, and he saw the faint outline of two men.

Falling on his stomach, he watched the camp, taking in every detail. Wolf Runner’s lip curled in distaste as he watched one of them going through his supplies.

Frantically he looked for Cheyenne. When he saw her tied to a tree, he was relieved she was still alive. Stealthily moving closer, his gaze perused her face—she looked pale, and sick.

He was seething inside, and rage almost choked him. What had they done to her?

His eyes narrowed as he watched one of the men untie Cheyenne and drag her to her feet.

She struggled and tried to twist away, but with her hands tied behind her she could do nothing to help herself.

Wolf Runner rose in a rush when the man struck her with his fist doubled.

Cheyenne’s knees buckled and she fell to the ground.

Shaking her head, she glared up at Ezra. “If you touch me, Wolf Runner will kill you!”

“Your man’s way back there in the darkness and he ain’t never gonna catch up with us, so just save your threats.”

Cheyenne managed to stand, but she had to brace herself against the trunk of a pine tree. “He will find you.”

The trapper grabbed her arm and yanked her forward and she spit in his face. Ezra merely laughed and wiped the back of his hand over his face. “Go ahead and fight me. I like it that way. Or you can come with me peaceful-like, but either way I’m gonna have you, pretty little Injin gal.”

With grim determination, Wolf Runner silently moved forward, gripping his knife and carrying his
rifle. When he and the wolf entered the encampment at a run, Wolf Runner yelled out an order in Blackfoot, “Kill, Satanta!”

The wolf was airborne, going for the throat of the man who had been tormenting Cheyenne.

Wolf Runner’s attention centered on the other man, who was edging toward his rifle. “Do not try it,” Wolf Runner warned him.

“What you want with us?” Willie cringed in terror. “Call off the wolf. We weren’t going to hurt your woman any. We’d of left her for you when we was done with her.”

A quick sideways glance told Wolf Runner that Satanta had the other man on the ground, tearing at his throat—the man thrashed about and a gurgling sound told Wolf Runner he was near death.

“That there’s my brother. You’re wolf’s killing him. Call him off, mister. Do it now.”

“Your brother is dead. And you will soon join him.”

Cheyenne turned toward a tree and hid her eyes, not wanting to witness the horror of what was happening to Ezra. When it was quiet, she opened them again and saw blood pooled at the trapper’s head, soaking into the ground around him.

“Are you all right, Cheyenne?” Wolf Runner asked, not taking his eyes off the white man.

“Yes,” she answered with tears running down her face. “I am, now that you’re here.”

He saw Willie dive for his rifle, but before the man could even touch the stock, Wolf Runner’s knife sailed through the air and struck the man in the heart. He did not even make a sound as he fell over dead, and Wolf Runner turned away, hurrying toward Cheyenne.

She ran to him and he caught her in his arms. He
felt her trembling and held her even closer. “Did they hurt you?” he asked, cutting her restraints with his spare knife.

She shivered. “Nothing I couldn’t bear.” She pressed her face against his shoulder. “He touched me. I want to wash my whole body.”

Wolf Runner rested his chin on the top of her head. “I will find a stream and you can wash.” He raised her face to his. “Did he—”

She smiled through her tears, knowing what he was asking. “No. I am no worse than I was except for the bumps and bruises.”

Wolf Runner noticed her face was swollen and bruised. “I am sorry I left you to face those men alone. It was my fault they captured you.”

Moving her head so she could look into his eyes, Cheyenne took his face in her hands, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world. “It is not your fault those men kidnapped me. You are the one who saved me.”

She wanted him to hold her forever, but Wolf Runner dropped his arms and moved away from her.

The wolf came to her, his yellow eyes staring into Cheyenne’s. When she bent down to Satanta, he flopped down on the ground as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

She laughed as Satanta continued to stare at her. “You are my hero,” she told the wolf.

Cheyenne dropped to her knees beside the wolf, feeling almost lighthearted as relief still washed over her. “You are wonderful,” she told Satanta, sliding her fingers lovingly through his thick fur and pressing her face against the wild animal that had just killed a man and was capable of killing her.

Satanta pressed against Cheyenne and laid his head
on her leg, while Wolf Runner looked on amazed that his wolf should so totally accept Cheyenne’s overture, especially when he had just made a kill.

“We must leave this place as soon as possible,” Wolf Runner said, pouring water onto the campfire and listening to it hiss. “We do not know who might have seen the campfire.”

Cheyenne stood. Wolf Runner had killed for her today, and she was glad he had put an end to those evil men’s lives. They would never be able to hurt anyone else as they had the sheepherder and his wife, or do to any woman what they had intended to do to her.

But she was safe now.

If only her head would stop aching, and the world would stop spinning.

Wolf Runner hurriedly gathered their supplies and reloaded them onto the packhorse. He cut the hobble on the horse that had belonged to the trappers, turning it loose.

Cheyenne was still feeling light-headed and leaned against a tree for support. “Aren’t we going to bury these men?” she asked dispassionately.

“They do not deserve it. By morning the buzzards will arrive and nature will take care of the remains.”

Shaking and pale, Cheyenne braced her hand against a tree in an attempt to steady herself. “But we should—” Her voice trailed into silence as she considered if she really cared whether Willie and Ezra were buried or rotted where they lay. What was wrong with her—even if those men were evil they deserved to be buried. “Wolf Runner, why can’t we just bury them in a shallow grave?”

Wolf Runner swung around and pinned her with a glare. “It is not the Blackfoot way. I will hear no more about this.”

Cheyenne watched him retrieve his knife from Willie’s carcass and wipe the blood off the blade on Willie’s shirt. She looked into Wolf Runner’s eyes, and they still held a hint of anger, so she made no further objection.

Tonight she had seen the real Wolf Runner. The
two white men had never stood a chance against him.

There was a part of Cheyenne that had been fascinated by his daring and courage, and another part of her had been frightened by his ruthlessness. She was sure her mother’s people would be much the same. How would she ever fit into a culture where life had so little value?

Of course she was not sorry the men were dead—they had admitted to killing a man and a woman, and they would have done unspeakable things to her if Wolf Runner had not saved her.

Allowing the matter to drop, Cheyenne lifted her saddle and placed it on her horse, tightening the cinch. “Will we make camp nearby?”

Mentally Wolf Runner looked her over. Her eyes were wide with the horror she had witnessed and she seemed ready to collapse. “We must ride a distance,” he said with a kindness she had not expected, considering his mood. “We do not know if these men had companions that will come along later. Do you feel you are up to going on?”

Under Wolf Runner’s watchful gaze, she swung into the saddle. Managing a weak smile, she said, “I’m up to it.” Cheyenne hoped she was, but she wasn’t even sure she would be able to stay astride her horse because the dizziness was getting worse, and everything was whirling about her.

But Wolf Runner had not noticed. After mounting his horse, he glanced about to see if he had overlooked anything. His gaze skimmed over the two dead trappers with no more emotion than he would have felt for a flea on a dog. “Let us leave this place,” he said, urging his horse forward.

Cheyenne was glad that clouds now covered the
moon so she could not see the scene of death and carnage they were leaving behind.

They had been riding for over an hour and Cheyenne was not sure how much longer she could go on.

She was relieved when Wolf Runner finally halted his horse beside a creek and turned to look at her.

“You said you wanted to wash. There is ice in the water and it will be cold. But it is neither swift nor deep, so there is no danger.”

Resolutely, Cheyenne slid off her horse, already unlacing her dress. Despite feeling dizzy, she hurried toward the creek. “I don’t care if it is cold.” She ripped off the traveling gown and tossed it to the ground, knowing she would never wear it again.

Wolf Runner had turned away to gather wood for a campfire. “After you have rested and warmed yourself, we must ride farther before we stop for the night.”

“I will hurry,” Cheyenne said, testing the water with her toe and shivering.

After Wolf Runner had built a campfire, he stood with his back to the creek. He could hear Cheyenne splashing in the water and he closed his eyes, imagining his hands were touching her. When he heard her make a small shivering noise, he wished it was his kiss that had made her react in such a way.

Wolf Runner heard her come out of the water, and without turning, handed her a blanket. He did not look at her until she was wrapped in the blanket and sat trembling with cold before the fire.

Long, wet hair clung to the sides of her face and her lips were trembling with cold. “The water was so icy it was painful,” she said, her teeth chattering. “But I’m glad I washed.”

Wolf Runner’s gaze dropped to her shapely legs, which were not entirely covered by the blanket, and he turned away, not wanting to think about her naked body beneath that covering.

“When you are warm, you should dress,” he said huskily.

When Cheyenne nodded, the movement of her head sent the world spiraling around her. “I’ll do that right away.”

The pale moon cast very little light as they rode across the creek. They had been riding for some time when Cheyenne realized she could no longer sit her saddle. With a cry of alarm, she slid sideways and landed on the hard ground. She must have blacked out for a moment because when she came to her senses, Satanta was licking her face and Wolf Runner was bending down beside her.

She tried to rise. “I’m…sorry.”

Wolf Runner gathered her in his arms, holding her as gently as he would have held a baby. “You should have told me you were ill,” he whispered against her cheek. “I would not have pushed you so hard.”

Then for a long moment he just held her, saying nothing.

Too weak to speak, Cheyenne nestled closer to him. She felt safe and warm in his arms and there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

When Cheyenne awoke, the sun was streaming through a pine grove. Sitting up quickly, she looked about her, but Wolf Runner was nowhere to be seen. She had a moment of unease, trying to remember what had happened. Then it all came back to her in a flash and she was momentarily terrified of being
alone. That was when she saw the wolf, and he came to her, dropping down to rest his head on her lap.

She was not alone.

She gripped Satanta’s face and made him look at her. “You are a wonderful animal. As mysterious and unpredictable as your master.”

Satanta’s eyes focused on her and she could see the intelligence in the golden depths. “You stayed here to guard me,” she said, laying her cheek against his head.

“I am afraid you are going to spoil my wolf and he will be useless to me,” Wolf Runner said, coming into camp and smiling.

Cheyenne watched him drop an armload of wood. “The wolf will always obey you.”

“I am not so certain. Lately Satanta prefers your company to mine.”

She smiled. “I am glad he has accepted me at all.”

“His loyalty has turned to you,” Wolf Runner said thoughtfully, wondering how such a thing could happen. “Satanta has become devoted to you.” He tossed several logs on the campfire and made a neat stack with the rest.

Cheyenne watched him move toward her, and her heart stopped. When he knelt beside her she could not catch her breath.

He looked her over carefully. “How are you?”

Cheyenne met his worried gaze and reached out to him. “I feel strange.”

He tilted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Such a thing sometimes happens when you have a blow to the head.” He touched the knot on the back of her head. “Like the one you have.”

Her lips curved slightly. “I am even more embarrassed
to tell you how I got that knot. Although my hands were tied behind me, I tried to outrun them and fell off the horse.”

Standing, Wolf Runner looked down at her, his expression unreadable. “You will rest for today. We will start out early tomorrow morning.”

Scrambling to her feet, Cheyenne shook her head. “I can ride on now. I don’t want to hold you up.”

“You will rest,” he reiterated in a strong voice that brooked no disagreement.

The morning was warm, and he had stripped off his shirt. Cheyenne watched Wolf Runner move away, the muscles rippling across his back.

A strong new feeling took hold of her and she did not know how to react. She wanted to be in his arms. She wanted him to hold her like he had when she had been hurt.

The difference between their two worlds yawned between them. In his case, that part of him that was Blackfoot was dominant, and she had been raised as white. She doubted the two of them would ever fully understand each other.

Pushing her troubled thoughts aside, she moved to the campfire where Wolf Runner had meat roasting on a spit and her mouth watered. She did not care what kind of meat it was—she was starved and would have eaten anything at the moment.

He swiveled and looked into her eyes. “Rest. I will bring you meat when it is done.”

She nodded and returned to her blanket as a new and troubling thought took hold. Before long they would reach her grandfather’s village, and Wolf Runner would leave her.

Turning her head away so Wolf Runner could not
see her face, tears of grief rolled down her cheeks. With an angry wipe of her hand, Cheyenne gritted her teeth.

She must not allow him to mean so much in her life.