Savage Hero Page 4

  Yes, he had been lucky to have gotten away with stealing a renegade’s horse and supplies. Had they caught him, they would have enjoyed killing him slowly, then scalping him and leaving him for the wolves to feast upon.

  He had been so relieved when he reached his childhood hideout in the mountain.

  But now?

  He was afraid that he might die where he had at one time been so happy.

  He hated the thought of dying alone.

  Chapter Six

  There was never any yet that

  wholly could escape love,

  and never shall there be any,

  never so long as beauty shall be,

  never so long as eyes can see.

  —Longus

  The smell of food cooking on an open fire came to Brave Wolf in the soft breeze. He looked cautiously around him, and then up ahead, for he knew that where there was food cooking, there were those who were waiting to eat it.

  When he saw the flames of a campfire through a break in the trees, he drew a tight rein, his warriors following his lead as they stopped, as well.

  Two Tails brought his horse closer to Brave Wolf’s. “Perhaps we have found him,” he said, his voice only loud enough for Brave Wolf to hear.

  Brave Wolf gazed intently at the fire, and then shook his head. “No, the man I know as my brother would not be so careless,” he said stiffly. “If he is still alive, he knows that there are those who wish that he was not. He is where no one can see or smell food cooking over his fire.”

  Two Tails gazed at the fire again, now making out shadowed figures crouched around it. In the night breeze came laughter and voices . . . voices that did not speak the language of the Crow.

  “Renegades?” he said, his voice suddenly filled with hate. “Would they be this reckless? Or do they place themselves out in the open because they wish for a confrontation?”

  “They believe they are invincible,” Brave Wolf growled. “So, yes, I do believe we have found a renegade camp, but no, I do not think they wish for a confrontation. It is late in the night. They would not expect anyone to be riding past, especially this far from all villages and forts.”

  “Could these be the Ute?” Two Tails asked, frowning at Brave Wolf. “The same renegades who spilled the blood of our people on our land? Who took our chief, your ahte, from us?”

  “Ka, no, I do not believe it is they, or that they are anywhere near, for they know that if they show their faces again where we can see them, they will have no more time on this earth,” Brave Wolf said tightly. “When they took my ahte from his people and family, they knew they had crossed the line. They scattered far and wide, knowing that was the only way they could keep from dying a slow, painful death for the crimes they committed.”

  Brave Wolf dismounted and tethered his horse to a low tree limb. He motioned for his warriors to do the same.

  After they were all on foot, the warriors gathered around Brave Wolf.

  “We shall go see whose camp this is,” Brave Wolf said. “Bring your bows and quivers of arrows. We must be ready to fight if there is reason.”

  Each man positioned his quiver of arrows on his back, and carrying their powerful bows, they crept stealthily closer to the campsite.

  When they got close enough to see more clearly, they halted in surprise.

  “A woman,” Brave Wolf gasped as he gazed with troubled eyes at a white woman who was tied to a tree behind the campfire. Gathered around the flames, the renegades were laughing, talking, and eating. “A . . . white woman.”

  Brave Wolf felt great hatred for the shameful men who took whites captive, especially women. To him such men were the worst of cowards.

  He himself had worked hard at keeping a peaceful relationship with the washechu, white eyes, for he saw that it was necessary in a world where whites now outnumbered his own people.

  Brave Wolf had learned from his peace-loving ahte how to make things work with the white eyes. So many people of other clans, who had fought against the whites, had lost their freedom, confined on plots of land called reservations.

  Brave Wolf had hoped that if he proved to be a strong and peaceful leader, he could keep his people on their own land at least for a while longer. He did not want to see them forced onto land where the deer were not as plentiful, and where the soil might not be fertile enough for growing food.

  Tonight as he gazed at the white woman being held captive, he knew there was only one thing to do: release her and reunite her with her people.

  “The woman must be saved from a fate worse than death,” Brave Wolf said, his gaze moving from renegade to renegade. “I hope that she has not yet suffered the disgrace and shame of being raped by those who took her.”

  Brave Wolf nodded at his warriors. “We shall make a wide circle around the camp, and then I shall shout at them and tell them how it must be if they wish to live to see another sunrise,” he growled out. “We must try our best to settle this peacefully. It is not best that we enter into a fight with these renegades. I am on a quest. I do not want it hampered by more spilled blood, even if it is not our own.”

  His jaw tightened. “But have an arrow notched to your bowstring in case they do not listen to reason,” he said, his eyes narrowed.

  Their bows notched with feathered death, they circled the camp. Brave Wolf positioned himself somewhat closer than his warriors, with his friend Two Tails only a short distance behind him.

  “Renegades, you are surrounded!” he then shouted. “But there need be no fight tonight. Just hand over the white woman and then you can be on your way, unharmed. If you do not comply with my demands, you will all die. There is an arrow readied for each of you renegades. So which shall it be? Life? Or death?”

  Mary Beth’s heart skipped a nervous beat as the voice in the dark came to her. She couldn’t help believing that things were getting worse for her by the minute, for surely the presence of other Indians meant still more men who would want to take their pleasure of her.

  After the renegade had abducted her, he was soon joined by others. But her heart had sunk when she had seen that none of them had David with them. She could only conclude that the renegade who took him had gone on elsewhere, or . . . he had killed her son and left him somewhere for animals to feast upon.

  The possibility of her son dying such a death made her heartsick and ill.

  And now?

  What was going to happen to her? Would she become a pawn between two factions?

  She was even more afraid than before. Whichever group won her, she would more than likely end up being raped, perhaps by many, then surely slaughtered.

  She waited breathlessly to see what the response of the renegades would be to this new threat.

  She watched, then flinched and screamed when one of the renegades raised a rifle and shot it. A cry of pain from the hidden Indians was proof that although the renegades could not see whom they were shooting at, a man had been hit.

  Brave Wolf turned and gazed in disbelief at Two Tails as he crumpled to the ground, a bloody wound gaping in his chest. By the stare of Two Tails’s eyes, Brave Wolf knew that he had been killed instantly.

  A rage he had not known since the death of his father swept through him. He shouted at his men to release their arrows.

  Mary Beth gasped as she heard the whine of flying arrows. The deadly missiles sped from the darkness and showered onto the renegades until they had all fallen.

  She felt a bitter taste rise from her throat at the sight of all that blood . . . even though those who had died were her ardent enemies.

  Everything was now eerily quiet. All that could be heard was the crackling of the campfire.

  Mary Beth watched, wide-eyed, as the killers stepped from the darkness and entered the camp, their bows now resting over their shoulders, their eyes moving from one fallen renegade to another.

  “They are silenced forever,” Brave Wolf said quietly.

  His gaze moved to Mary Beth; then he looked over his shoulder
at one of his warriors. “Big Hawk, take our valiant fallen warrior home for burial,” he said, his voice hoarse with sadness. “Tell his mother, ahte, and wife that a piece of my heart died with him, and that he will be honored in death, as he was in life. Take his children into your arms and tell them they will be cared for and loved, forever and ever.”

  The warrior silently nodded and went to Two Tails.

  Mary Beth soon heard hoofbeats and knew that the one who had been given the order was now on his way home with a warrior who had died at the hand of the renegades.

  Then she swallowed hard when she saw the warrior who seemed to be in charge coming toward her.

  The flames of the campfire gave off enough light for her to look deeply into his midnight-black eyes and she felt a moment of relief when she saw something in his eyes that said he did not plan to kill her.

  She saw kindness.

  Or . . . was it a ploy to gain her trust?

  No.

  She would never trust a red man. Was it not Indians who had killed poor Lloyd and stolen David?

  She had no choice, though, but to wait and see what this redskin’s intentions were for her. She was at his mercy, as David had been at the mercy of the renegade who had taken him.

  She truly doubted now that she would ever see her son again. Perhaps she would never even see a new sunrise.

  There was one thing that she could not help noticing about this man. Not only did she see gentleness in this warrior’s eyes, but also how handsome he was. There was a clean, noble quality about him that she had not seen in the renegades.

  She would have to watch herself. She could not allow herself to be fooled by his handsomeness . . . by his attitude.

  She must remember to be on guard at all times. She had to find a way to survive . . . to escape. Above all, she needed to be able to search for her son.

  Brave Wolf saw the fear in the woman’s eyes and how she cowered from him as he took another step closer to her. “Do not be afraid,” he said, speaking English surprisingly well. “I am a wicasaiyutanyapi, a man of honor. I am from a friendly clan of Indians. I am Chief Brave Wolf of the Whistling Waters Clan of Absarokee, Crow.”

  Mary Beth was stunned that this young warrior was a chief. His face was so handsomely set, so perfectly formed, and he was tall and very muscled, not at all how she envisioned an Indian chief to be. She had always imagined chiefs to be old, gray, their faces lined with wrinkles.

  She wasn’t sure if it was a good thing that he was so young and vital, his dark eyes so mesmerizing.

  What danger was she in now? Would he assist or rape her?

  Brave Wolf went behind her and cut the ropes that held her captive, then stepped quickly in front of her as she crumpled to the ground, her legs seeming to have lost their ability to hold her up.

  He bent to his knees before her and gazed into her eyes. “What is your name?” he asked, seeing now just how beautiful she was.

  Her hair was the color of autumn leaves, and hung down past her waist. And her oval face had such soft, pretty features. And she was so tiny! He could not see how any man could want to harm her.

  He was so glad that he had come this way tonight and found her. A night with the renegades would have probably been her last.

  And her eyes! The fire’s glow revealed to him a color like that of the tiny flowers he saw growing in clusters along the mountain slopes—violets.

  Mary Beth used every bit of strength that she could muster to stand again. She pushed herself up from the ground, then leaned against the tree for support as the Indian rose and stood before her.

  “You want my name?” she said, her voice filled with disgust. “Here is all that I will give to you.”

  She spat angrily at his feet, then shot him a defiant stare.

  Brave Wolf was not at all surprised by her attitude toward him. He knew that she was right not to trust him, for she surely knew the horror stories that had spread about what some redskins did to white women . . . what was probably even planned for her tonight had he not come along and rescued her.

  So he was not insulted by her behavior.

  In fact, he saw it as valiant. This lone woman might pose more of a challenge than the renegades he had surprised tonight. They were all dead. This woman was very much alive.

  He thought of Two Tails’s death, and an ache crept into his heart. He and Two Tails had been friends since they were young braves learning the ways of warriors. It did not seem possible that he was gone from him so quickly, and so needlessly.

  He wondered how he might have approached the confrontation without placing his best friend in danger. Shaking his head, he left off such fruitless speculation. He had to decide what he was going to do with the white woman.

  He couldn’t take the time to escort her to Fort Hope, where he had friendly relations with the colonel. And he did not dare send her away with just one of his warriors, especially since there were still renegades out there who would enjoy getting their hands on a white woman.

  She was best kept where there were many warriors to protect her from the threat of any other renegades who might wish to claim a white woman as a prize. Yes, he had to keep her with him and his warriors, at least until he could return her to people of her own skin color.

  “White woman, I have no choice but to take you with me for now,” Brave Wolf said, making certain that his voice was friendly and reassuring.

  “I am on a quest for my mother,” he said. “I am looking for my brother and I have traveled far in my search. I cannot turn back for your sake. You must travel with me, but I assure you that when I succeed with my quest, I will return you safely to your people.”

  He was not surprised when he saw no look of relief upon her face. He guessed that she truly did not expect to come out of this alive. But there was no way to reassure her other than what he had already said. She would learn to trust him in time.

  “Please, oh, please take me to Fort Henry,” she begged, overwhelmed by a horrendous sense of powerlessness. “That was where I was headed before . . . before the renegades attacked our wagon train.” She hung her head, then slowly looked at Brave Wolf. “I am so weary . . . so tired.”

  “I have promised to return you to your people at my first opportunity,” Brave Wolf softly explained, yet even then he would not take her to Fort Henry. The colonel there was not his ally.

  He gazed into her eyes and saw a renewal of defiance. She looked guardedly around her, as though she had it in her mind to attempt an escape.

  He sighed heavily. “Seeing that you just might try to escape, I have no choice but to tie your wrists as we travel,” he said.

  He nodded to a warrior and told him to bring leather thongs from their travel bag.

  “No, please don’t,” Mary Beth pleaded. “I promise not to try to run away. I will cooperate.”

  “I do not know you well enough to know whether or not promises mean anything to you, so I must secure your wrists,” he said regretfully. “I am doing this for your own benefit, to assure that you won’t suddenly break free and ride away from me and my warriors. I fear for your safety should you find a way to escape. There are other renegades besides those who abducted you. You are treated as a captive by me now only to keep you safe from harm. In my heart you are anything but a captive.”

  Mary Beth’s eyebrows rose at what he had just said.

  She had no idea how to feel about her situation now. How should she regard this handsome chief who had come in the middle of the night to save her from the hands of those hideous, murdering renegades?

  She was quiet as he tied her wrists, then led her to a horse and lifted her into the saddle. She winced when he tied her ankles to the stirrups.

  “You will be riding my best friend’s steed. Two Tails was slain as we rescued you,” Brave Wolf said.

  Mary Beth could see torment in his eyes when he mentioned Two Tails. She almost felt as though she should say she was sorry for being the cause of his friend’s death. But no,
she was the one who was owed an apology, not him.

  She set her jaw firmly and looked straight ahead, ignoring anything else this redskin savage might say to her.

  When Brave Wolf mounted his own steed, he rode close to Mary Beth. He took the reins of her horse, then held them as he rode onward without another word to her. He noticed that as she rode beside him she was giving him occasional angry glances. He ignored them.

  Once again he focused on the true reason he was riding so far from his home in the middle of the night: the guest he had undertaken for his mother.

  Seeing that giving him angry glances did not seem to move the young chief, Mary Beth looked straight ahead. Her thoughts returned to David. She was far more worried about him than herself.

  Where could he be?

  And was she being taken farther and farther away from him?

  She wished she could tell this Indian about her son’s plight and seek his help. But she couldn’t because she wasn’t even sure what his true plans were for her.

  And why would he care about her child? Did he not have his own worries? Was not he searching for his own brother?

  She had no choice but to keep her fears to herself and pray that the good Lord above would keep her son safe from harm. She prayed that she would see him again one day, and that they would be reunited.

  For now both she and her son were at the mercy of Indians, but not the same ones. If only they could at least be together in their captivity, she might find some peace.

  As it was, she felt only hurtful despair deep inside her soul!

  Chapter Seven

  There was never any yet that wholly

  could escape love, and never shall there

  be any, never so long as beauty shall

  be, never so long as eyes can see.

  —Longus

  Lightning lit the sky in lurid flashes. Thunder boomed, shaking the ground beneath the horses’ hooves. When rain began falling, Mary Beth shivered, the wetness seeming to go clean into her very soul.