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Authors: Julia Templeton
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Jordan said with firm resolve.
For some reason her mind was telling her differently as her gaze strayed to him yet again. His body was muscular and athletic. His strong back was turned to her, his long hair that was braided nearly fell to the band of his breeches. Her eyes moved lower to his tight buttocks. Her face began to burn when she realized Kari was watching her.
"Perhaps you're right. We should leave tonight," Kari said abruptly.
"I'll start getting things together," Jordan said, needing to get away from Gray Hawk and Running Deer.
Planning to check on Winnebe and Kari's horse, she hadn't gone far when a loud, shrill cry rang out in the valley. The hair on the back of her head stood on end when a band of fierce-looking Indians appeared from all directions, bearing down on the unsuspecting villagers. Men, women and children ran for cover and weapons.
Jordan watched with open-mouthed horror as a warrior with painted face and cropped off hair came bearing down on an elder of the tribe. She screamed as the warrior's spear pierced the man's chest.
She ran for the teepee, but before she could reach it, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her from the ground. Suddenly, she was flung through the air and landed with a grunt across a horse's back. All she could see were pounding hooves and dust stir. Lifting her head, she swallowed a scream as she found herself face to face with a menacing warrior. His face was painted bright red, with two angry black streaks beneath eyes so black they seemed fathomless as he glared at her with pure hatred.
Chapter 7
JORDAN CLAMPED her chattering teeth together.
Sitting cross-legged on the hard ground, her wrists bound behind her, she glared at the warrior who had tied the rope around her neck, and had pounded a stake into the ground to make sure she wouldn't be going anywhere.
She had stopped crying, realizing long ago, that tears only added to her captor's pleasure. They had traveled the better part of the day without stopping. When they finally reached the camp, the villagers had been hostile, spitting, hitting, pinching and taunting her. It was by far the most horrifying experience she'd ever endured.
The horses neighing in the makeshift corral caught her attention. Seeing her mare among the stolen mounts made her yearn for escape. If only there was a way to get out of her binds. But even if she did, escape would be difficult, and if she were caught, it would mean certain death. Plus, it seemed that every time she thought she was alone, she turned and there was someone watching her.
Her thoughts were in turmoil as she constantly wondered if her cousin and Gray Hawk had been killed in the raid. Refusing to believe they had, she chose to be grateful that at least Kari hadn't been taken captive, too.
Although Jordan wanted to remain positive, she had a horrible suspicion that her days were numbered. All she could hope for was a miracle--and his name was Gray Hawk.
How ironic it was that now, when it was too late, she finally realized how good the Cheyenne had been to her. Life with them had been simple in comparison to this. Gray Hawk had often warned her how bad things could be, and now she knew first hand that he was right.
Hopefully the Cheyenne would retaliate. Surprise attacks were obviously a way of life for the Indians. Already the Crows were waiting for their enemy. Guards were posted throughout the village, particularly around the anxious horses. Jordan prayed few Cheyenne had died in the surprise attack, and that they would have a force strong enough to rescue her. Yet a disquieting thought came to her, making her stomach clench. Would Gray Hawk want to rescue her? After the way she'd acted, she wouldn't be surprised if he looked upon her capture as a godsend.
Something wet hit Jordan's cheek. Glancing up she saw a white woman standing before her, hands
For some reason her mind was telling her differently as her gaze strayed to him yet again. His body was muscular and athletic. His strong back was turned to her, his long hair that was braided nearly fell to the band of his breeches. Her eyes moved lower to his tight buttocks. Her face began to burn when she realized Kari was watching her.
"Perhaps you're right. We should leave tonight," Kari said abruptly.
"I'll start getting things together," Jordan said, needing to get away from Gray Hawk and Running Deer.
Planning to check on Winnebe and Kari's horse, she hadn't gone far when a loud, shrill cry rang out in the valley. The hair on the back of her head stood on end when a band of fierce-looking Indians appeared from all directions, bearing down on the unsuspecting villagers. Men, women and children ran for cover and weapons.
Jordan watched with open-mouthed horror as a warrior with painted face and cropped off hair came bearing down on an elder of the tribe. She screamed as the warrior's spear pierced the man's chest.
She ran for the teepee, but before she could reach it, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her from the ground. Suddenly, she was flung through the air and landed with a grunt across a horse's back. All she could see were pounding hooves and dust stir. Lifting her head, she swallowed a scream as she found herself face to face with a menacing warrior. His face was painted bright red, with two angry black streaks beneath eyes so black they seemed fathomless as he glared at her with pure hatred.
Chapter 7
JORDAN CLAMPED her chattering teeth together.
Sitting cross-legged on the hard ground, her wrists bound behind her, she glared at the warrior who had tied the rope around her neck, and had pounded a stake into the ground to make sure she wouldn't be going anywhere.
She had stopped crying, realizing long ago, that tears only added to her captor's pleasure. They had traveled the better part of the day without stopping. When they finally reached the camp, the villagers had been hostile, spitting, hitting, pinching and taunting her. It was by far the most horrifying experience she'd ever endured.
The horses neighing in the makeshift corral caught her attention. Seeing her mare among the stolen mounts made her yearn for escape. If only there was a way to get out of her binds. But even if she did, escape would be difficult, and if she were caught, it would mean certain death. Plus, it seemed that every time she thought she was alone, she turned and there was someone watching her.
Her thoughts were in turmoil as she constantly wondered if her cousin and Gray Hawk had been killed in the raid. Refusing to believe they had, she chose to be grateful that at least Kari hadn't been taken captive, too.
Although Jordan wanted to remain positive, she had a horrible suspicion that her days were numbered. All she could hope for was a miracle--and his name was Gray Hawk.
How ironic it was that now, when it was too late, she finally realized how good the Cheyenne had been to her. Life with them had been simple in comparison to this. Gray Hawk had often warned her how bad things could be, and now she knew first hand that he was right.
Hopefully the Cheyenne would retaliate. Surprise attacks were obviously a way of life for the Indians. Already the Crows were waiting for their enemy. Guards were posted throughout the village, particularly around the anxious horses. Jordan prayed few Cheyenne had died in the surprise attack, and that they would have a force strong enough to rescue her. Yet a disquieting thought came to her, making her stomach clench. Would Gray Hawk want to rescue her? After the way she'd acted, she wouldn't be surprised if he looked upon her capture as a godsend.
Something wet hit Jordan's cheek. Glancing up she saw a white woman standing before her, hands
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