Page 37 of West Wind

“Welcome to our camp.” He nodded respectfully. “You are welcome to stay and share our food with us tonight.”

This greeting seemed to please the Indians. One member of the party slid from his pony and approached Charles boldly, but without open threat.

“You are passing through land that belongs to the Cheyenne. Bathing in our water, sleeping on our grass.” His voice was deep and sonorous. “You must pay.”

Charles frowned. “We have little, but we will gladly share what we have.”

Well armed with long rifles, knives, and wicked-looking tomahawks that hung from their belts, the Indians wandered around the camp, making themselves at home as the women continued to cook. They looked inside each wagon while the men watched warily. One bold warrior gently caressed the braid that hung down Annabelle’s back.

After a while they gathered, talking in their own language, pointing and arguing. Finally the Indian who’d initially spoken to Charles stepped forward.

“We will take tobacco, sugar, red boots, and that pony.” He pointed to Annabelle’s mare.

“No.” She rushed to her horse. “Please. Don’t take her. Shelley bought her for me.” She couldn’t stand the thought of being confined to one of the wagons for the remainder of the trip. She sat on the ground and started unlacing the red boots. “You can have these boots. Just please, leave me my horse.”

He began to laugh, the arrogant savage who’d demanded her boots and her horse. She looked up, wondering what was happening to make the man laugh. He continued to stare at her. Two of the Cheyenne warriors jumped on their ponies and rode away, disappearing over a small hill.

“No.” The Indian who spoke English so well pointed to her. “You are Red Boots,” he said, and she finally realized that they were calling her Red Boots, and intended to take her captive.

Charles stepped forward. “You cannot have the young lady! Take everything you want, but none of our people.”

The bold warrior looked at him with expressionless eyes. “She is your woman?”

“No, but she is my responsibility,” Charles said sternly.

Jim Butler stepped forward and whispered loudly. “Let them have her. They might kill us all!”

The Indian ignored him. “Which of you is her man?”

Butler spoke up quickly. “She has no man. She’s traveling alone.”

“Then we will take her.” The Indian smiled. Annabelle stood and backed away, coming to a halt with her back to a wagon. The Indian planted himself in front of her and offered his hand. His black eyes pierced her, untouched by the smile that still graced his rugged face. He would’ve been a fine-looking man, with his strong straight nose and smooth bronzed skin, if not for the coldness in his eyes.

“Come. You will like Swift Eagle. Swift Eagle is good to his squaws. You will be well cared for, and will not need to work. You will have your own tepee.” She refused to take his hand. She thought about the derringer stuck in her waistband. Two shots. Even if she killed two of the Indians, that would still leave four. She might get everyone else killed, even the children.

“Who is Swift Eagle?” she asked, trying to disguise the fear in her voice.

He pointed to his chest with pride. Numerous scars marred his dark skin. “I am Swift Eagle.”

She smiled faintly, trying to appear confident. “I’m flattered, really I am, but even though my man isn’t here right now, I am promised to another.”

Swift Eagle shrugged. His smile vanished. “White man break all promises.”

She shook her head. “I don’t break my promises. I have a man, and I need no other.”

Swift Eagle became agitated. His eyes blazed at her, and that was much more frightening than the coldness she’d seen there before. “Where is this man? What man leaves his woman to travel with those who would give her away?” He gave Jim Butler a look of disgust.

She opened her mouth to reply, but Shelley’s voice, as calm as if he’d been asking for a sip of water said,

“This man.”

Annabelle ran past Swift Eagle. Shelley was flanked on either side by the two Indians who’d ridden away, but his smile remained easy.

“Shelley!” She was waiting for him when he dismounted, and practically threw herself into his arms. “They want to take me with them.”

“I know, darlin’.” He faced Swift Eagle with her at his side, his arm draped possessively over her shoulder.

Swift Eagle scowled. “He-Who-Follows,” he said, staring at Shelley. “If she is your woman, why do you stay so far back?”