sunshine.
Rolling on the damp earth, Anna slammed into a pole. The wood crashed into her forehead, shattering her nightmare and bringing her back to reality and pain. Blood dripped across her face from a cut at her hairline.
As she reached for her handkerchief in her pocket, Anna touched Chance’s knife. Jerking the blade free of her skirt she stared at it, her bleeding forehead completely forgotten. The knife was her answer, her way out. Twice he’d handed it to her and twice he’d made a point of getting her to focus on it. But why? How could a knife help now? She could kill herself and avoid the worse-than-death future they might have planned for her after they’d had their fun with Chance, or she could wait and use the weapon on the first man who came through the door. She might kill only one, but she would defend herself.
Looking around the tent, Anna made her decision. She raced to the side opposite from where the flap was laced. Kneeling, she grabbed the knife in both hands above her head and slashed at the wall of hides with all her strength.
Fresh air and freedom flooded in, and without hesitation Anna shoved the knife into her pocket and crawled through the hole. She ran as fast as she could to the trees, afraid to look around to see if she was being followed until she was completely covered by brush.
From a hundred feet away, and well hidden in the undergrowth, Anna knelt and studied the campsite, praying for a way to help Chance. As she fought for breath, a few drops of blood from the cut on her forehead blurred her vision. Wiping the blood away with her fingers, she watched the circle of Indians in the clearing.
Chance and the one called Walks Tall were fighting. The leather straps they’d tied around their wrists were now tied together so that neither could move far enough away from the other to avoid a blow. Both were covered with mud.
Wiping more dripping blood from her eye with her sleeve, Anna tried to think. If she could get the knife to Chance, he could cut the strap that bound him to the wild Indian. But Chance was surrounded. Even if he were freed, he’d have no chance to run. As she watched, the Indian swung one mighty arm and hit Chance on the side of the head. Bone cracked. Anna fought back a scream as Chance fell, the Indian tumbling down on top of him. Chance’s skull must have been shattered with the blow!
There was no time to watch more. She could do nothing for Chance. He must have wanted her to run. That’s why he’d offered her the knife. He couldn’t say it, so he’d insisted on the only way available to him.
Gathering her skirts, Anna darted through the trees. She ran without direction, without any purpose except escape. Her heart began to pound in her ears and her lungs burned for air, but she didn’t stop. She had to be as far away as possible before the Indians discovered she was gone. If they had killed Chance so heartlessly, what would they do to her?
Chapter 6
R olling away from Walks Tall as soon as the crunch of broken bone registered, Chance lifted their bound arms with his palm open, telling the crowd that the fight was over. Walks Tall was in too much pain to care. As the white man in buckskin stepped forward to cut the leather binding the fighters, all eyes were on the brave’s broken arm.
Chance stepped back, allowing the others to surround the Indian. He would not dishonor his opponent by offering sympathy. The man in buckskin sheathed his knife and stood beside Chance, his tanned face emotionless. “Appears your head broke his arm, son.”
As he pulled the remaining rawhide from his wrist, Chance sized up the man at his side. He was of medium height and rock hard like men get after they’ve lived off the land for years. A scar stretched across his neck from ear to Adam’s apple, telling of a violent past, and dirt clung to him like a second skin. His hair and eyes were the same faded brown, as if God hadn’t wanted to waste much time in designing
Rolling on the damp earth, Anna slammed into a pole. The wood crashed into her forehead, shattering her nightmare and bringing her back to reality and pain. Blood dripped across her face from a cut at her hairline.
As she reached for her handkerchief in her pocket, Anna touched Chance’s knife. Jerking the blade free of her skirt she stared at it, her bleeding forehead completely forgotten. The knife was her answer, her way out. Twice he’d handed it to her and twice he’d made a point of getting her to focus on it. But why? How could a knife help now? She could kill herself and avoid the worse-than-death future they might have planned for her after they’d had their fun with Chance, or she could wait and use the weapon on the first man who came through the door. She might kill only one, but she would defend herself.
Looking around the tent, Anna made her decision. She raced to the side opposite from where the flap was laced. Kneeling, she grabbed the knife in both hands above her head and slashed at the wall of hides with all her strength.
Fresh air and freedom flooded in, and without hesitation Anna shoved the knife into her pocket and crawled through the hole. She ran as fast as she could to the trees, afraid to look around to see if she was being followed until she was completely covered by brush.
From a hundred feet away, and well hidden in the undergrowth, Anna knelt and studied the campsite, praying for a way to help Chance. As she fought for breath, a few drops of blood from the cut on her forehead blurred her vision. Wiping the blood away with her fingers, she watched the circle of Indians in the clearing.
Chance and the one called Walks Tall were fighting. The leather straps they’d tied around their wrists were now tied together so that neither could move far enough away from the other to avoid a blow. Both were covered with mud.
Wiping more dripping blood from her eye with her sleeve, Anna tried to think. If she could get the knife to Chance, he could cut the strap that bound him to the wild Indian. But Chance was surrounded. Even if he were freed, he’d have no chance to run. As she watched, the Indian swung one mighty arm and hit Chance on the side of the head. Bone cracked. Anna fought back a scream as Chance fell, the Indian tumbling down on top of him. Chance’s skull must have been shattered with the blow!
There was no time to watch more. She could do nothing for Chance. He must have wanted her to run. That’s why he’d offered her the knife. He couldn’t say it, so he’d insisted on the only way available to him.
Gathering her skirts, Anna darted through the trees. She ran without direction, without any purpose except escape. Her heart began to pound in her ears and her lungs burned for air, but she didn’t stop. She had to be as far away as possible before the Indians discovered she was gone. If they had killed Chance so heartlessly, what would they do to her?
Chapter 6
R olling away from Walks Tall as soon as the crunch of broken bone registered, Chance lifted their bound arms with his palm open, telling the crowd that the fight was over. Walks Tall was in too much pain to care. As the white man in buckskin stepped forward to cut the leather binding the fighters, all eyes were on the brave’s broken arm.
Chance stepped back, allowing the others to surround the Indian. He would not dishonor his opponent by offering sympathy. The man in buckskin sheathed his knife and stood beside Chance, his tanned face emotionless. “Appears your head broke his arm, son.”
As he pulled the remaining rawhide from his wrist, Chance sized up the man at his side. He was of medium height and rock hard like men get after they’ve lived off the land for years. A scar stretched across his neck from ear to Adam’s apple, telling of a violent past, and dirt clung to him like a second skin. His hair and eyes were the same faded brown, as if God hadn’t wanted to waste much time in designing
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