Chapter 15
By early afternoon, they caught up with Willow and Sloan.
They didn’t pause long for any greetings but spent the rest of the day riding very hard.
In addition to the horses and the cattle, there was a mule in their traveling party that carried all the equipment they needed to camp out in the hills.
Skylar became acquainted with the stubborn creature not too long after sunset when Hawk and Sloan agreed to stop for the night. They were both familiar with the region, knew right where to find a beautiful, bubbling little brook with flatlands right around it sheltered by low-dipping trees.
Skylar was amazed when at last they stopped.
She had ridden all her life and was a good rider, and she had never thought of herself as a person lacking in stamina, but she was so sore she was afraid she’d fall when she dismounted from Nutmeg.
Thank God, for the absolute salvation of her pride, she didn’t do so.
In fact, none of the men even seemed to notice her discomfort, they were apparently so accustomed to such hard rides themselves.
“We’ll see to the cattle for the night,” Hawk said, looking down at her from Tor’s high back.
“Perhaps you could get some coffee started.”
She nodded. He’d made the suggestion politely enough. The brook was clearly in her view, and Willow, bless him, was starting to make a small fire.
“The coffee pot—?” she asked.
“Oh, in the pack. On Skeffington,” Hawk said, gesturing toward the mule before moving on.
And thus she met Skeffington. As soon as she approached him, he turned.
“Stand still!” she commanded the creature.
She came around again. Skeffington moved in another half circle.
“If you’d stand still, you’d be happier.
I’d get those packs off your back, and you wouldn’t have to carry them anymore! ”
Skeffington apparently didn’t care. He moved again.
“Skeffington, we have to make coffee.”
The mule lowered his head and let out a loud bray. He’d been left untethered, and he suddenly started walking off, straight toward the water.
“Don’t you walk off on me!” Skylar said, running after him. But Skeffington was already in the water. “Get out of there!” Skeffington ignored her. He was drinking. She swore and removed her shoes and hose, lifted her skirts, and went after him.
The water was icy. She stepped on little rocks. Her hem was quickly soaked.
“I wonder what mule meat tastes like!” she muttered fiercely.
She reached Skeffington and caught hold of his lead rope.
“Come on. You’re not going to enjoy a drink or anything else until you learn to behave!” she threatened.
She tugged on the lead rope. Skeffington bucked his back legs and tugged in return. She redoubled her efforts.
“Hey! How’s that coffee coming?”
She looked back at the left bank of the brook. Hawk was standing there. As she turned to him, Skeffington suddenly decided to come along. He did so with such an abrupt force that she was sent spinning forward, falling into the icy water.
As Skylar stumbled up, she was shivering wildly. As she found her footing, she saw that Skeffington was standing docilely on the bank, right next to Hawk. Wolf ran around the mule, barking excitedly, wagging his tail.
Hawk wasn’t exactly laughing—his smirk was worse.
“Come out of there!” he told Skylar. “That water is cold.”
Dripping, well aware that the water was damned cold, she walked from the brook. She passed by Skeffington.
“What about the coffee?” Hawk asked.
“Make your own damned coffee!” she retorted. She made her way to Willow’s fire, hunching down before it, trying to warm her hands. A moment later Hawk was at her side, setting the coffee pot atop the blaze, then throwing a blanket around her shoulders.
She stood, allowing the blanket to fall.
“You know, you’re as stubborn as that mule,” he told her.
“You knew I’d have trouble.”
“I know that you are an incredibly resourceful young woman,” he told her. He rose, picking up the blanket. “I have more clothes for you. You don’t need to freeze.”
She arched a brow at him. “You—brought clothes for me?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t know how well prepared you might be for this kind of ride.”
“Thank you. I can prepare on my own.”
“If you insist upon freezing, freeze!”
He left her. She heard him then with Willow and Sloan, back by the brook. She glanced toward the roan and her blanket roll where she carried her own change of clothes.
Not about to undress too close to the men, Skylar led the roan about a hundred yards down water from them.
She paused there, looking around. The barest vestiges of natural light remained, softly glowing upon the landscape.
It had to be one of the prettiest places she had ever seen.
Here, where she stood, an outcropping of rocks rose high to her left, with the brook bubbling just to the side of it.
Wildflowers grew around the rocks and trees in profusion, their colors a soft palette in the twilight.
The night was cool but beautiful, the air incredibly fresh.
She could immediately understand why this place was so important to the Sioux people.
It did seem like a holy land, shrouded in natural beauty.
The roan suddenly hedged back on her, much as the mule had done, neighing, snorting restlessly.
“Not you, too!” she warned the horse. “So far, you’ve been an angel. No acting up on me now.”
She glanced around, a feeling of unease settling over her. She felt as if she were being watched. No wonder the poor horse had been so skittish. “It’s nothing, nothing at all.” She lowered her voice. “Just another trick being played upon me, probably.”
She sensed movement behind her, as if the rocks were coming alive. She spun around, still cold and shivering, feeling the dampness of her clothing more fully now with such a keen sense of discomfort stealing into her as well.
She wasn’t alone.
Four braves had slipped down in silence and now stood on the ground, creating a semicircle around her.
Despite the coolness of the night, they were dressed in moccasins, leggings, breechclouts, and paint.
Their chests were bare, other than the designs sketched upon them in shades of yellow, black, blue, and red.
More of Hawk’s friends! she thought, her anger simmering hotly.
He didn’t dislike her…hah! He didn’t believe a word she had said about never hurting his father, and even if he had sent for Sabrina, he was still furious over discovering himself married.
He meant to torment her until the end of her days.
First the stupid mule and the icy water. Now this.
Well, she wasn’t going to fall for any of it anymore.
One of them, the brave in the middle with several feathers plaited into his long hair, raised a knife to her, then his free hand, indicating that she should come to him.
“Oh, no. I don’t think so!”
He frowned angrily, brandishing the knife again.
“You can stop it right now. You’re not frightening me in the least. I’ve done this once already.”
The men looked at one another, then all four painted faces stared back at her.
She walked up to the one closest to her on the right, a fellow with one feather stuck into his head of waist-length ink-black hair.
He, too, lifted a knife to her threateningly.
She struck out with her palm, hitting his arm with such force that she sent his knife clattering down to the rocks.
“I said I’ve had enough of this! I’ve had this game played on me once before.
I’m not afraid, and I’m not doing it again!
You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Just what do you think you’re doing?”
They had been quiet, almost uncannily so. Now the fellow toward the center with the most feathers started laughing at the brave whose knife she had knocked away. The other two joined in, coming behind him in a taunting circle.
“Fellows,” Skylar said. “This is enough. You were great. You looked wonderful. But I’ve had it. Now…”
She broke off with a startled scream. The single-feathered warrior she had struck was now coming toward her, plucking up his knife and walking with menace.
“You take it any farther, and I’ll press charges, whether you’re a friend of Hawk’s or not!
” she warned. “I won’t be responsible for what I do to you. You could wind up hurt yourself.”
Her threats didn’t seem to carry much weight.
The warrior kept coming toward her. “Stop it—I mean it, now!” An arm snaked out for her, dark fingers encircling her wrist and wrenching her forward.
She let out a loud shriek, slamming her free fist against the brave’s face while kicking him in the shin.
The others continued laughing as the brave wrenched her forward, then dragged her back toward the center of their group.
“Let me go, I mean it!” she cried out.
Then she heard her name called. The sound of pounding hooves against the earth.
Hawk, bareback on Tor, burst into the clearing. He cried out words she didn’t understand. He leaped down from Tor, pulling his own knife from a sheath at his calf as he faced the party of four, speaking again in an Indian language.
“I’ve told them to stop it,” Skylar said. “I’ve told them that enough is enough, that the joke isn’t funny—”
“It isn’t a joke,” Hawk said.
“But they’re your friends—”
“Not even my acquaintances.”
“But—”
“They’re not Sioux, Skylar. They’re Crow!”
“Crow?” she repeated.
She was wrenched around then by the Indian with the knife. Hawk came flying across the ground, tackling the Crow brave who held her. Freed from his touch, Skylar instantly backed up against the rocks. There were four Crow Indians. And Hawk. Where were Willow and Sloan?