Page 38 of West Wind

Shelley shrugged. “We had a fight.”

Swift Eagle raised his eyebrow. “You hit little Red Boots?” It was clear he did not approve.

“Not that kind of fight.” Shelley extricated himself from her arms. “An argument.” He gestured wildly.

Swift Eagle looked confused, and it became clear to Annabelle that the Indian was not as fluent in English as she’d first thought.

Shelley pointed to her. “Red Boots says, ‘Shelley’”— he raised his voice an octave—“’I hate beans. Shelley, it’s too hot. Shelley, it’s too cold. Shelley, you snore too loud.’”

The other five Indians laughed, pointing at Shelley and then at her. Only Swift Eagle remained stony-faced.

“Snore?” he asked.

Shelley demonstrated loudly; the Indians’ laughter increased in intensity.

She moved closer to him. “I never said…”

He turned to face her. With his back to the Indians his smile disappeared. “Quiet,” he whispered in a low voice only she could hear. “Or do you want to be a squaw?”

She snapped her mouth shut. When Shelley turned around he wore an easy grin again.

“See what I mean? She even tried to kick me in the balls.” He looked to the Indian for sympathy.

Swift Eagle momentarily appeared distressed. “Then you won’t mind if I take her.”

“But I do mind.”

Swift Eagle scowled. “I will give you four ponies for her,” he offered.

Shelley shook his head.

“Six,” Swift Eagle said, more loudly.

Shelley turned to look at her, made a despairing face, and whispered, “He wants you bad, darlin’.”

“That’s a lot?”

Shelley nodded and faced Swift Eagle again. “No. I won’t give up my woman.”

Swift Eagle shook his head, and Annabelle sighed with relief. Shelley had saved her again. The nightmare began anew when the warrior insisted in a loud voice, “We will fight for Red Boots.”

Shelley groaned almost silently. Only she heard it. “All right, but here are the rules⁠—”

“No rules,” Swift Eagle interrupted.

Shelley looked pained. “I don’t want to have to kill you over a woman. Even this one.”

His confidence briefly unnerved the savage.

Shelley continued, “No weapons. We fight until you can’t get up or else you say, ‘You can have her, Shelley.”’

Swift Eagle grinned. He looked his opponent up and down. “You are big white man, but you are no match for me. We will fight until you can’t get up or you say, ‘You can have her, Swift Eagle.’”

Annabelle grabbed Shelley’s shoulder as he unstrapped his six-shooter. His grin was in place until he turned to her, and no one else could see his face. “If I lose—” he whispered.

“Don’t say that.” She grasped the front of his shirt with both hands as he began to unbutton it.

“If I lose, don’t run. If you run it’ll just make Swift Eagle mad, and he’s likely to pass you around the campfire like a bottle of tequila.”