Cheyenne Captive by Georgina Gentry - Iron Knife's Family 01 - Cheyenne Captive Page B

you’re—”
    “Just a dirty, worthless Indian,” he raged, “not fit to touch a white woman! Even a white whore once rejected me this way, luring me into her bed, and then yellingrape,’ because she was ashamed she had let a dirty half-breed touch her!”
    Summer cowered before his rage. “I didn’t mean—”
    “I know what you meant!” He towered over her. “Twice now, I have saved your life, and yet you spurn me while calling the name of ‘Austin’ in your sickness. Is ‘Austin’ a rich white man, and does he kiss you without your protest as I have longed to?”
    Before she could answer, he jerked her roughly into his arms, forcing her lips apart, kissing her deeply and thoroughly in a way she had never been kissed before. For a split second, she swayed in his embrace, shaken at her own primitive response. Then she pulled away, bringing her hand up to strike him.
    He caught her hand in a steel grip and glared back at her. She shivered as she realized what savage, brute strength was being held back by his sheer will. Abruptly, he freed her hand and turned away, leaning against a lodge pole by the fire pit.
    Why, he’s trembling! she thought, wondering.
    “I didn’t mean what you think,” she said gently. “It isn’t that you’re Indian, but, you see, this is an impossible situation.”
    She went over and touched his arm. He brushed her away. “I meant I won’t forget your kindness when I return to my own people.”
    He turned and looked at her, his face inscrutable. “Enough of this talk of leaving,” he said brusquely. “You are too ill and weak to travel now.”
    “That’s not true!” she protested, even though she had to sit down on the buffalo robe to keep her head from spinning. “I can ride just fine, and I’ll be all right if I can just get back to the fort.”
    “Is the man ‘Austin’ waiting for you there? Are you Austin’s woman?”
    “What an impudent question.” She tossed her head haughtily. “It’s none of your business, but I was being sent to my uncle’s family. He’s the Reverend Harlow, a circuit rider outside Fort Smith. I had displeased my father, and he was angry with me.”
    Iron Knife nodded. “You are at the age when you should have a man. I would know how to deal with such an unbroken filly!”
    “I do not intend to let you deal with me at all.” Her blue eyes flashed fire. ”And I am certainly not used to strangers being so nosy about my personal life!”
    He smiled slowly at her. “After the last several days, I think we are hardly strangers.”
    She felt the blood rush to her face at the memories, and she looked away. It occurred to Summer that it was foolish to make an enemy of the big savage. He was the only one in the encampment who might help her escape. She would do well to make a friend of him. With that thought, she moved closer to him, taking his big hand in her two small ones.
    “I have treated you badly after you have done so much for me. But I will see you are rewarded when I go back.”
    The Indian brushed her hands away, and avoided her eyes. “We will discuss going back when you are stronger,” he said.
    Abruptly, there were sounds outside of a horse reining up, and a male voice called out in Indian. Iron Knife answered and one of his silent sentinels from the stage poked his head through the tepee opening. He eyed Summer curiously, then ignored her as he spoke with Iron Knife in Cheyenne. They talked a few moments and the other nodded and went outside.
    “There is a hunt,” Iron Knife announced to her. “Deer have been seen south of the camp and we are short on meat. Most of the men will be going.” He gathered up his bow and lance.
    “Are you leaving me here alone?” The thought frightened her. She didn’t realize how much she had come to depend on him.
    “Poor little white girl,” he smiled sarcastically, “doesn’t know whether to be more afraid of the big, dirty savage inside or the ones outside the tepee!”
    Summer