in which his camp would be conducted. She had not responded, but her expression had been revealing.
Walking Bird’s words returned unexpectedly to stir Shadow Walker’s ire. The girl was pale and weak now, but she had been neither pale nor weak when she had insulted Rattling Blanket’s generosity and angered the camp. He knew her defiance would return with her strength, and that the purpose to be served in undertaking this journey still remained.
He stared at the girl moments longer. But he was not a fool. He knew that what had begun as a challenge to his authority had become something else, something that stirred him deeply.
Suddenly frowning, he lay down and wrapped his blanket around him. The girl was difficult She would continue to fight him with all her strength. Yet he knew that in the end, no matter the course their journey took, victory would be his.
CHAPTER SIX
“No, I won’t do it.”
Miranda stood her ground. She was exhausted. Shadow Walker had awakened her at dawn. They had eaten a meager meal of jerky before she was ordered up onto her horse to continue their journey. They had traveled through another long day making only periodic halts that had provided little relief During that time, Shadow Walker had treated her coldly, speaking little, seeming intent on his own thoughts.
It had occurred to her during the endless sunlit afternoon as the ache in her back had become relentless and exhaustion had reached its prime that Shadow Walker looked somehow stronger with each mile they traveled: that he sat his mount even straighter as her back sagged, that he easily held his head erect as hers nodded, and that although her eyelids grew increasingly heavier, his gaze remained alert and clear.
She didn’t like it. She didn’t like being at the mercy of an enigmatic Cheyenne who had spent the first day of their journey caring for her, only to utter soft-spoken threats later. She didn’t like the realization that he thought hiswarnings would cow her. She didn’t like the uncertainty of not knowing when … where …
why
they were traveling.
The possibilities that had entered her mind had not relieved her uncertainties. Was he taking her to the Northern Cheyenne—where her father would never find her? Did he intend to sell her into slavery there, a practice rumored to be prevalent among the tribes? Or was this truly a cruel game he played? And if it was and he tired of it, what would he do then?
No, she didn’t like it one bit, especially when he had announced a short time earlier that they would halt for the day, had ordered her to set up camp, and had then left without another word—making sure to take both horses with him. She had liked it even less when he had returned and handed her a rabbit with orders to cook it.
Miranda looked at the lifeless, furry animal dangling from Shadow Walker’s hand and shivers of revulsion coursed down her spine. Preparing game had been the duty of the cook at the fort, and although her position as the fort commander’s daughter had afforded her few luxuries, she had never been faced with the gruesome task of skinning an animal.
Unwilling to admit that she had not the stomach for it, Miranda looked up into Shadow Walker’s unrevealing expression and added to her refusal, “You killed it. Cook it yourself.”
Looking at her a few silent moments longer, Shadow Walker then turned to scrutinize the surrounding area where a campfire had not been prepared, where blankets lay exactly as they had been left, and where the water pouches lay flat and empty. He said nothing, prompting Miranda to respond defiantly, “I’m not here willingly, and I don’t intend to act as if I am.”
Refusing to react to the flash of anger in Shadow Walker’s eyes, Miranda remained unmoving as he turned abruptly and walked away. She sat determinedly still until a campfire was burning and the game was set to cook, when Shadow Walker turned toward her coldly to say, “Your horse must be
Walking Bird’s words returned unexpectedly to stir Shadow Walker’s ire. The girl was pale and weak now, but she had been neither pale nor weak when she had insulted Rattling Blanket’s generosity and angered the camp. He knew her defiance would return with her strength, and that the purpose to be served in undertaking this journey still remained.
He stared at the girl moments longer. But he was not a fool. He knew that what had begun as a challenge to his authority had become something else, something that stirred him deeply.
Suddenly frowning, he lay down and wrapped his blanket around him. The girl was difficult She would continue to fight him with all her strength. Yet he knew that in the end, no matter the course their journey took, victory would be his.
CHAPTER SIX
“No, I won’t do it.”
Miranda stood her ground. She was exhausted. Shadow Walker had awakened her at dawn. They had eaten a meager meal of jerky before she was ordered up onto her horse to continue their journey. They had traveled through another long day making only periodic halts that had provided little relief During that time, Shadow Walker had treated her coldly, speaking little, seeming intent on his own thoughts.
It had occurred to her during the endless sunlit afternoon as the ache in her back had become relentless and exhaustion had reached its prime that Shadow Walker looked somehow stronger with each mile they traveled: that he sat his mount even straighter as her back sagged, that he easily held his head erect as hers nodded, and that although her eyelids grew increasingly heavier, his gaze remained alert and clear.
She didn’t like it. She didn’t like being at the mercy of an enigmatic Cheyenne who had spent the first day of their journey caring for her, only to utter soft-spoken threats later. She didn’t like the realization that he thought hiswarnings would cow her. She didn’t like the uncertainty of not knowing when … where …
why
they were traveling.
The possibilities that had entered her mind had not relieved her uncertainties. Was he taking her to the Northern Cheyenne—where her father would never find her? Did he intend to sell her into slavery there, a practice rumored to be prevalent among the tribes? Or was this truly a cruel game he played? And if it was and he tired of it, what would he do then?
No, she didn’t like it one bit, especially when he had announced a short time earlier that they would halt for the day, had ordered her to set up camp, and had then left without another word—making sure to take both horses with him. She had liked it even less when he had returned and handed her a rabbit with orders to cook it.
Miranda looked at the lifeless, furry animal dangling from Shadow Walker’s hand and shivers of revulsion coursed down her spine. Preparing game had been the duty of the cook at the fort, and although her position as the fort commander’s daughter had afforded her few luxuries, she had never been faced with the gruesome task of skinning an animal.
Unwilling to admit that she had not the stomach for it, Miranda looked up into Shadow Walker’s unrevealing expression and added to her refusal, “You killed it. Cook it yourself.”
Looking at her a few silent moments longer, Shadow Walker then turned to scrutinize the surrounding area where a campfire had not been prepared, where blankets lay exactly as they had been left, and where the water pouches lay flat and empty. He said nothing, prompting Miranda to respond defiantly, “I’m not here willingly, and I don’t intend to act as if I am.”
Refusing to react to the flash of anger in Shadow Walker’s eyes, Miranda remained unmoving as he turned abruptly and walked away. She sat determinedly still until a campfire was burning and the game was set to cook, when Shadow Walker turned toward her coldly to say, “Your horse must be
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