also his water skin. He took the water skin, grabbed the woman’s dainty elbow, and led her to his horse.
She gasped as they neared the painted beast, and it wasn’t until then that he realized just how large his horse must appear to a woman her size. “Get on the horse,” White Eagle said in Cheyenne. He shook his head in frustration. English. He needed to speak English.
Realizing she wouldn’t be able to mount without help, he lifted the stiff and proper young lady from the ground. Wide, green eyes looked down on his face. The position reminded him of his father when he’d pick him up and playfully toss him in the water. And just as his father had done, White Eagle lifted her above his head. She weighed no more than a child, and despite his anger, a chuckle rumbled in his chest as the woman, stiff as a board, hugged the bag as if it might keep her from falling. Forcing the grin from his face, he set her on his horse. He then pried the carpetbag from her fingers, and as she protested, he tossed it to Spotted Owl who looked none too happy about having to carry the lady’s belongings—he already had a bag of sugar, and some of the white crystals stuck to the corners of his mouth.
“I’m not carrying this.” Spotted Owl made ready to toss the bag on the ground.
White Eagle turned on him. “You will.” He had a feeling that bag was all the woman owned, and he hated the thought of leaving her photographs to the elements. What he wouldn’t give to have pictures of his own parents. Or was that truly the only reason he wished her to keep it? His hand still tingled from touching the white man’s holy book.
Another scream carried from the wagons, but White Eagle pushed it out of his mind, unwilling to investigate. They should leave.
He mounted behind Walks Alone, and she straightened. Her feet dangled over one side of the horse, and he sensed she might jump off, so he wrapped his arm around her waist and clicked the reins. The horse galloped away from the settlers. Spotted Owl, Standing Elk, and the other four warriors joined him. To his surprise, Running Cloud galloped ahead with the dead man’s wife in his saddle. White Eagle clenched his jaw. Now he had two women to protect rather than one.
Walks Alone grasped the horse’s mane then his arm, but quickly released him as if he might bite. Then she grabbed the mane again.
“Be still. I won’t let you fall,” he said, finally in English, his accent strange and thick. How long had it been since he’d used this language? It was one thing to teach his friends how to speak English, but to think on his feet was more difficult.
The other braves rode beside them, and she leaned into him but immediately pulled away.
White Eagle sighed. The settlers were headed for Denver City, but now these two women were headed west.
Chapter Four
White Eagle held Walks Alone in his arms as she moved against his chest. She had fought sleep long enough and finally lost the battle.
He had never seen a woman more tempting and beautiful. Her long hair cascaded over his thigh. He ached to wrap it around his neck and take in its softness. Instead, he gently moved his fingers through her yellow mane, watching it shimmer against his dark skin.
He found it difficult to have the petite, shapely woman so near and not lose control of his senses. He shifted slightly in an attempt to put some distance between them.
She snuggled in closer.
A sigh escaped her full lips, the kind a man would want to kiss, drawing his attention to the slight upward curve of her nose. He fought the urge to run his forefinger along its freckled bridge, fearing she might awaken. Her thin brows, a tad darker than her hair, didn’t arch quite as sharply now that she slept.
What was a woman like her doing alone in a land like this? She didn’t wear a ring, and there was no indentation of one, showing no signs of having been married. Her clothing told him she didn’t come from any of the Western Territories or States. Why had she been walking alone so far behind the other wagons? Was a relative awaiting her arrival in Denver City? He hoped not. If she didn’t show, they might come looking for her.
“It’ll be dark soon,” Running Cloud said. “We’ll camp tonight on Rocky Ridge. It’ll be safe there.”
White Eagle nodded, fearful of what Running Cloud intended to do with the woman on his horse.
After they had left the settlers, White Eagle, Running Cloud, and the rest of the braves had started off toward the west, but as soon as Walks Alone fell asleep, they had turned south, traveling along the hogbacks. The rolling hills looked like giant loaves of bread he recalled the whites serving at his father’s table. Now they were just beyond the hogbacks west of Denver City and climbing into the Rocky Mountains.
“Black Bear will return to our village,” Running Cloud said. “We need to be prepared.”
White Eagle agreed, contemplating the dangers that lay ahead for both the women.
“I’m honored to have you at my side.”
White Eagle didn’t look at his friend. He knew Running Cloud was trying to make it up to him for forcing the woman on him. He ignored him and continued to run Walks Alone’s golden mane between his fingers.
“Because you saved my life at Sand Creek, I call you White Eagle and my brother, but maybe you prefer receiving Walks Alone over the gift of my blood.” Running Cloud’s brow rose. “I’m not as exciting to look at.”
White Eagle grinned then forced a frown, remembering he was angry with him.
Running Cloud’s expression became serious. “The Great Spirit of the Sun has touched your woman. The people of our village will accept her. I’ll make sure they do,” he said. “Song Bird will be pleased that you’ll finally have a woman to share your blanket.”
Now it was easy for White Eagle to be angry. He didn’t want a wife. Sure, they’d been watching the settlers for a few days, and he’d enjoyed watching Walks Alone soaking in the river. Despite that, he’d never shown any intention of taking her.
“Now you can have what you saw,” Running Cloud said.
White Eagle suspected the next several weeks were going to be very difficult on the Eastern-bred Walks Alone. But how much more difficult would they be on him? He had simply smiled when he laid eyes on her, and now she was in his arms.
“White men treat their women like dogs.” Running Cloud motioned to Woman Of Sorrow’s bruised eye.
The slender woman sat stiff in Running Cloud’s saddle, not saying a word or daring to look to the side. Her hands trembled when she reached up to brush a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear.
“This time she’ll have a better husband,” Running Cloud said, his mouth set in a rigid line.
Woman Of Sorrow was pretty, and White Eagle understood why Running Cloud would want her. But as a wife? Did that mean he wouldn’t ravish her? Running Cloud didn’t understand that white women were not gifts to be taken or given away. Sure, it was common to steal women from enemy tribes and force them to marry, but this was different. White Eagle knew that anger still raged inside Running Cloud towards the white man. So, if he intended to marry her, why? He’d killed the woman’s husband. Was it out of honor or duty that he took her? Maybe he was taking Woman Of Sorrow as his wife to benefit the tribe?
That
