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Authors: Connie Mason
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face into an ugly mask. “Soon, very soon,” he added slyly, “we will fight the white man with his own weapons.”
Blade’s interest sharpened at the mention of weapons. Were the guns he was tracing intended for Mad Wolf and his band of renegades?
“How will you get weapons? It is against the law to sell guns to Indians.” When it became obvious that Mad Wolf wasn’t going to respond, Blade prodded, “You haven’t answered my question. What are you doing so far from the village?”
“We go where we please,” Mad Wolf said after a pause. “Yellow Dog is old and dreams of peace, but we know that day will never come.”
“So you kill and raid indiscriminately,” Blade charged. His contemptuous gaze settled on the scalps decorating Mad Wolfs lance. “You make war on helpless women and children.”
“The soldiers take our women, use them, insult them, and then discard them. They kill our children and old people and destroy our villages. It is up to us, the young and strong, to defend our people. You have lived with the whites for many moons, ate their food, enjoyed their women. Have you also betrayed your mother’s people? Are you a spy for the soldiers?”
Blade started violently. Mad Wolf was closer to the truth than he knew. Unfortunately, Shannon chose that moment to bring attention to herself by tugging at Blade’s arm and asking, “What is it? What are you talking about?” She sensed the tension in Blade, felt the antagonism leap between the two men, and could hold her tongue no longer.
Mad Wolfs cold gaze slid to Shannon, raking her trim figure from head to toe, drawn hypnotically to the rich chestnut sheen of her hair. Noting the direction of Mad Wolfs gaze, Blade hissed, “Put on your bonnet!”
Shannon obeyed instantly, but it was too late. Mad Wolf’s face had already assumed an anticipatory gleam and his hard, dark eyes blazed with an inner glow that Blade correctly identified as lust.
“Who is this woman? If she is yours, I will buy her from you.” Mad Wolfs expression sent a chill down Shannon’s spine. “She will give me fine sons and daughters.”
“Little Firebird is not for sale.” The moment they met, Blade had given Shannon the rather colorful Indian name, but this was the first time he had dared speak it aloud.
Shannon was frighteningly aware that the fierce warrior was talking about her. She didn’t like the way his bold, black eyes impaled her. Unconsciously she stepped closer to Blade, seeking the protection of his comforting presence.
“What is he saying?”
“Mad Wolf wants to buy you.” Blade’s words were accompanied by a chuckle of amusement.
“Buy me? No one owns me!”
“I will give you ten ponies,” Mad Wolf offered magnanimously. By Indian standards it was a generous offer.
“Little Firebird is not for sale,” Blade repeated. This time there was no hint of amusement in his voice. “She is my woman and I intend to keep her.”
Mad Wolf merely grunted as he continued to devour Shannon with an avid gaze that set her teeth on edge. Blade broke the tense silence by asking, “Are we free to go? Yellow Dog still wields enough power to demand retribution from the man who harms his grandson.”
“Go back to the wagon train and the white man’s ways, Swift Blade. You ceased being Sioux long ago. Take Little Firebird with you, but don’t grow lax, for you haven’t heard the last from me. I have been following the wagon train for many suns.”
“You planned to attack the wagon train,” Blade accused him.
“Perhaps.” His words gave away nothing. “Then again, I might have been merely watching its progress.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I owe you no explanation, Swift Blade. Take your woman and go before I forget you are Yellow Dog’s grandson and Sioux blood flows through your veins.”
He sent Shannon a burning look, then wheeled his pony and galloped off, his war cry loud enough to raise the dead. His followers were close on his
Blade’s interest sharpened at the mention of weapons. Were the guns he was tracing intended for Mad Wolf and his band of renegades?
“How will you get weapons? It is against the law to sell guns to Indians.” When it became obvious that Mad Wolf wasn’t going to respond, Blade prodded, “You haven’t answered my question. What are you doing so far from the village?”
“We go where we please,” Mad Wolf said after a pause. “Yellow Dog is old and dreams of peace, but we know that day will never come.”
“So you kill and raid indiscriminately,” Blade charged. His contemptuous gaze settled on the scalps decorating Mad Wolfs lance. “You make war on helpless women and children.”
“The soldiers take our women, use them, insult them, and then discard them. They kill our children and old people and destroy our villages. It is up to us, the young and strong, to defend our people. You have lived with the whites for many moons, ate their food, enjoyed their women. Have you also betrayed your mother’s people? Are you a spy for the soldiers?”
Blade started violently. Mad Wolf was closer to the truth than he knew. Unfortunately, Shannon chose that moment to bring attention to herself by tugging at Blade’s arm and asking, “What is it? What are you talking about?” She sensed the tension in Blade, felt the antagonism leap between the two men, and could hold her tongue no longer.
Mad Wolfs cold gaze slid to Shannon, raking her trim figure from head to toe, drawn hypnotically to the rich chestnut sheen of her hair. Noting the direction of Mad Wolfs gaze, Blade hissed, “Put on your bonnet!”
Shannon obeyed instantly, but it was too late. Mad Wolf’s face had already assumed an anticipatory gleam and his hard, dark eyes blazed with an inner glow that Blade correctly identified as lust.
“Who is this woman? If she is yours, I will buy her from you.” Mad Wolfs expression sent a chill down Shannon’s spine. “She will give me fine sons and daughters.”
“Little Firebird is not for sale.” The moment they met, Blade had given Shannon the rather colorful Indian name, but this was the first time he had dared speak it aloud.
Shannon was frighteningly aware that the fierce warrior was talking about her. She didn’t like the way his bold, black eyes impaled her. Unconsciously she stepped closer to Blade, seeking the protection of his comforting presence.
“What is he saying?”
“Mad Wolf wants to buy you.” Blade’s words were accompanied by a chuckle of amusement.
“Buy me? No one owns me!”
“I will give you ten ponies,” Mad Wolf offered magnanimously. By Indian standards it was a generous offer.
“Little Firebird is not for sale,” Blade repeated. This time there was no hint of amusement in his voice. “She is my woman and I intend to keep her.”
Mad Wolf merely grunted as he continued to devour Shannon with an avid gaze that set her teeth on edge. Blade broke the tense silence by asking, “Are we free to go? Yellow Dog still wields enough power to demand retribution from the man who harms his grandson.”
“Go back to the wagon train and the white man’s ways, Swift Blade. You ceased being Sioux long ago. Take Little Firebird with you, but don’t grow lax, for you haven’t heard the last from me. I have been following the wagon train for many suns.”
“You planned to attack the wagon train,” Blade accused him.
“Perhaps.” His words gave away nothing. “Then again, I might have been merely watching its progress.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I owe you no explanation, Swift Blade. Take your woman and go before I forget you are Yellow Dog’s grandson and Sioux blood flows through your veins.”
He sent Shannon a burning look, then wheeled his pony and galloped off, his war cry loud enough to raise the dead. His followers were close on his
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