Authors: Elaine Levine
Logan's Outlaw (6 page)
Many Deer straightened, a look of disgust on his faceâwhether for her or for the loss of a fight, she couldn't tell. Neither one boded well.
“Shadow Wolf, Swift Elk's woman has decided the outcome. There is no need to fight. We will take her and go,” Cloud Walker declared.
“She is my woman. She has no say in the matter. You will have to fight me to take her. I am not tired of her and have no wish to sell her.”
Many Deer grinned. “Then begin,” Cloud Walker said as he stepped away from the men.
They circled each other. To Sarah's shock, Mr. Taggert appeared to be enjoying the confrontation. Many Deer charged at him. Mr. Taggert held still until the last minute, when he turned to the side and tripped Many Deer. The warrior reacted quickly, falling into a fluid roll and jumping to his feet again. They grinned at each other.
The next time Many Deer approached more slowly, his knife swiping the air around Mr. Taggert. Sarah watched as he walked backward, ducking, leaning, dancing with the knife, his movements mesmerizing. He grabbed Many Deer's hand, blocking the knife as he swung a fist at the warrior's chin, connecting with his jaw. Many Deer stumbled back.
The warrior took aim and let loose his knife. Mr. Taggert reacted instinctively, leaping out of the way. When he came to his feet, he was already working his lasso, letting the rope out. Many Deer watched his movements with little concern. He started to circle around Mr. Taggert, who threw the rope in a blinding movement, slipping it beneath the warrior's feet. He yanked on the rope, pulling it tight. No sooner had Many Deer fallen than Mr. Taggert was upon him, flipping him to his back, tying his hands to his feet. He stood up and raised his arms, laughing with victory.
Cloud Walker handed him a knife. “It is a fight to the death, Shadow Wolf.”
Mr. Taggert stared at the knife a moment. Many Deer ceased his struggles. He simply watched Mr. Taggert, his eyes alive with hatred. Mr. Taggert tossed the knife into the dirt at Cloud Walker's feet. “I will not kill a friend. This fight is ended.”
Cloud Walker's face showed no emotion. He nodded. “It is ended. We will smoke a pipe and discuss the bride price for Yellow Moon.” He looked at Many Deer struggling with his bonds and chuckled. “Release him.”
Mr. Taggert set him free, then gave him a hand up. Many Deer rubbed his wrists. “You are a cruel man, Shadow Wolf. I was the best fighter in our band until that trick. See how they laugh at me now. When we meet next, I will know how to do that trick, and then they will not make a joke of me.”
Mr. Taggert laughed and clapped him on the back. “I look forward to that moment.”
He glanced at Sarah as she stood in petrified stillness. Changing direction, he walked over to her, pausing only a moment. She thought he might pull her into a hug. And right then, more than anything, she wished he would. “Breathe, Mrs. Hawkins,” he whispered against her temple. “This is almost over. I will get you to Cheyenne.”
Before she could do as he suggested, he'd moved on, joining the warriors around the fire again. They were joking about the way Many Deer had been bested. A pipe was started and sent around the circle. She turned woodenly, resuming cutting slices of meat to skewer. There was plenty of meat leftâshe could cook ahead for breakfast. Talk in the circle turned to her worth. Her ears burned. She tried to listen, but they had lowered their voices until the drumming of her heart drowned out all but a few words. She prepared the skewers quickly and brought them to the fire. When she retreated this time, she stayed within listening range.
“Yellow Moon was a favorite wife to Swift Elk. He paid eight ponies to his men so that he could own her himself and not share her unless he wished. Once she was his, Swift Elk was popular in the band's gambling. The men would wager anything to be with her. She made him wealthy, for he lost often enough that the men thought their chances of winning her were high.”
Sarah felt blood warm her cheeks as shame turned her stomach. She ventured a glance toward Mr. Taggert, catching the hardening of his gaze as Cloud Walker spoke at length about the bets Swift Elk had made. Mr. Taggert's gaze moved from man to man. He said not a word, didn't interrupt Cloud Walker's dissertation of her worth or the crafty way Swift Elk had used her. A chill whispered over her shoulders. If he let anger take him, he would lose the negotiationâand perhaps her freedom as well.
“What is the price you place on Yellow Moon?”
“Fifteen horses.”
“I have only a rifle, a pistol, two horses, and a knife to my name. I am not willing to barter with them. You could follow us to Fort Laramie. There I can acquire a number of horses. Perhaps five.”
There was a wave of hurried discussion. “It is a trick,” Many Deer complained. “He would have the soldiers arrest us. We would be hanged.”
“I haven't built my business by cheating your people.”
Cloud Walker motioned the opposition to silence. “Shadow Wolf speaks truthfully, though he does not understand Yellow Moon's worth. You see the color of her hair? It is the color of white sand and yet she is still quite young. Swift Elk would have continued building his wealth for many years with her as his wife. It must be twelve horses. No less.”
“She ran away from Swift Elk. If you take her back with you, it will be to kill her, not use her to grow Swift Elk's wealth. A dead woman has no value.”
“She is too valuable to kill. But her actions will be punished.”
“I have often traded with men from Swift Elk's band at my trading post on the Cheyenne River. I can give you a piece of paper that provides Swift Elk with an account. He can use the paper to trade for the goods he wants.”
Many Deer made a disgusted noise. “It is a bad treaty.”
“It is no treaty at all. It is a promissory note. Twelve horses similar to the ones I now own would cost me thirty dollars each. I would write the note for three hundred sixty dollars. You could receive payment from my trading post. Or you could take the three hundred sixty in goods from the store. Or in horse flesh. Or cattle. Or any combination that totaled three hundred sixty dollars. It is a generous offer. Most captives are ransomed for less. You are getting twice what the government would pay.”
“I am getting nothing. A piece of paper that the rain could destroy.”
“My word is not so easily destroyed. As you know, I don't have to make any payment at all. She is mine already. The payment I offer is in consideration of my affection for your people.”
Cloud Walker motioned for the pipe to be refilled and circulated again. When it came to him, he drew a draft of smoke into his lungs and held that breath while he considered the deal. He released the breath slowly, letting a wisp of blue smoke into the air.
“I have thought on your offer, Shadow Wolf. I will accept it.” He handed the pipe to Logan.
When the pipe had completed the circle, Logan took a sheet of paper and a pencil from his saddlebag and wrote out the promissory note. He handed it to Cloud Walker. “Take this to any of my trading posts. They will honor this contract.”
Cloud Walker motioned for his men to take the cooked meat. They retreated to their horses and rode away, leaving behind the two ponies.
Sarah was frozen to the spot where she knelt. She heard the sound of Cloud Walker's band as it moved off into the shadowy range, an outcome so different from the night her home had been raided. Mr. Taggert was able to send them on their way with a promissory note. A piece of paper. Tears washed her cheeks. Mr. Taggert knelt in front of her. She lifted her gaze to him, wondering what kind of man it was that she now found herself traveling with across this savage land.
He didn't speak, didn't try to touch her. He studied her, waiting silently. “There is a little left of that antelope,” Mr. Taggert commented. “Do you think you could get a few more pieces from it? We could cook them now for the morning. Then I will dispose of the carcass. We don't need wolves prowling around while we sleep. And I don't want to keep the fire going through the night.”
She picked up his knife and cut a few more strips from the remains of the antelope. She skewered them, then put them on to cook. Setting back on her haunches, she caught sight of her hands, reddened with blood. Mr. Reimer, Mrs. Powell, and the driver were all dead. Life was so easily extinguished. Her world was in a crazy spin of loss and pain and deliverance.
“Look at me, Mrs. Hawkins,” Mr. Taggert ordered. She forced herself to look at him. “Let's go wash up while that cooks. I'll give you privacy while I take the carcass off a ways. Will you follow me?”
She moved after him as docilely as a trained dog, her hands limp at her sides. He led her to the river's edge, then walked off to leave the carcass far away from their camp. She looked at the river, whose banks were swollen with the heavy spring flow, rippling and roaring. It looked deep in the dim light of the night. She'd seen a woman taken by a river once, another captive. Sarah didn't know if she'd been pushed into the rapids or if she'd chosen that death. It wouldn't be a painful way to go. Not really. Her lungs would burn a bit, but death would be fast.
She closed her eyes, feeling the pull of the water, its ebb and flow. She didn't want to die, didn't want to listen to the seduction of the river. But it called to her. The pain and the fear could end.
She didn't hear Mr. Taggert return, but when she opened her eyes, he was there. Watching her. He took her hands and pulled her down to a squat, dipping her hands into water so cold that her breath caught in her chest. He rubbed his hands over hers, up her wrists. He cupped a handful of water and smoothed it over her face. “It is done. It is over.” He washed her face again.
She tried to focus on the river and its promise of peace, but his constant ministrations broke her focus. He drew her to her feet. Using the sleeve of his shirt, he mopped her face dry. She breathed in his scent, his essence. She breathed it again. Odd that his scent made her feel safe.
He took her hand and pulled her over to where she'd hidden her satchel. “See to your needs, then come up to the fire. And no more thinking about quick dives into cold water.” Even in the shadow of the darkening sky, she could see his eyes burned with a chilling fervor. The intensity of his look cut through the haze of her mind.
“You're alive,” he whispered harshly. “And I'm alive. And we will each of us live until we die. There is a reason for that, Mrs. Hawkins. We will not find it by cheating ourselves out of our remaining time.”
Logan set out his bedroll, and opened Mrs. Hawkins's on top of it. When she returned from washing up, she came to a hard stop.
“No.”
“âNo' to what?” Logan asked.
“I won't do this with you. I won't be intimate with you.”
“I didn't ask you to be. It's a cold night. Our blankets won't provide enough warmth if we sleep separately. I'll even keep my boots on.”
She frowned at him, clearly not following his train of thought.
“I can't very well make love to you with my boots on. I might hurt you.” He turned and had started to move off when he caught her comment, barely audible as it was.
“It wasn't love they made with me.”
Rage stiffened his spine. “No, it wasn't.”
He walked back toward her and kept his voice lowered so he wouldn't frighten her with the intensity of his reaction. “It was war. All of it. You, your husband. The Indians don't recognize noncombatants. It is how they make war, how they've made war for thousands of years. You're either an enemy or you're not. There is no gray area. You were a victim of war, Mrs. Hawkins. If you were strong enough to survive what the men who captured you did to you, then they let the women have at you. And if you were strong enough to withstand their treatment, you ceased being an enemy. You became worthy of marrying a warriorâwhich is exactly what happened.”
Logan let his words sink in. He did not reach for her, did not speak, did nothing to break into her thoughts. The poisonous memories inside her had to come to the surface so that they could be expunged from her soul.
“My husband fought for us. They killed him as if he were no more significant than a gnat.”
“He was a damned fool. He had no business being out here.”
“He did what he did for the good of the Sioux, the people whose land was being stolen.”
Logan shook his head. “I'm willing to bet he did what he did to line his pocketsâat the cost of the Sioux. And you, Mrs. Hawkins, have paid for his foolishness with everything that you held dear.”
He breathed the crisp night air and tried to calm the anger within him. He thought of her at the river earlier, the way she'd faded before him. “You have a choice now. You can choose to live, reclaim what is left of your life, fill it with the joy denied you thus far. Or you can surrender to your wounds. Let the past take you. Die of a broken heart. It's a decision only you can make.”
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