Cloud Walker ordered Many Deer, the warrior who had claimed the saddle, to give his knife to Shadow Wolf. The warrior was not pleased with the decision, but he complied. He withdrew the knife from the sheath at his belt and threw it with lethal precision so that it landed in the s.p.a.ce between Logan's crossed legs and his crotch, embedding itself in the hard dirt.

"It is done," Cloud Walker said as he motioned that the negotiation for the horses was completed. The pipe was again pa.s.sed around the group.

Sarah brought the skewered cuts of meat over to the campfire and braced them across the rocks she had placed strategically in a ring about the fire. She'd rolled up the sleeves of her dress to tend to her work, and now the firelight danced over scars that marred her pale skin. Logan tore his gaze away, but his mind snagged on what he'd seen. Did such scars cover her body? He'd heard horror stories of women taken captive, some reports sensationalized, some understated. Her experience had left her frightened and scarred, yet here she was using the skills she'd learned as a captive on behalf of warriors like those who'd captured her, all because he'd asked her to.

"It has been decided, Shadow Wolf, on the matter of Yellow Moon, that you will be allowed to fight one of our men. If you win, we will negotiate a price for her. If you lose, we will take her back to Swift Elk."

Logan released a breath of blue smoke, watching it writhe and swirl as it merged with the evening air, rising to the Great Spirit, carrying his silent prayer to be victorious. "I accept that challenge."

When the meat was cooked, the warriors hungrily dug into their portions. Sarah replenished skewers over the fire, keeping the food coming. When she set a fourth round to cook, Logan caught her wrist, stopping her quick retreat from the circle of men. She froze, her face pale in the failing light of the evening.

"Have you eaten?"

She shook her head. Logan gave her the last skewer he'd taken from the fire. "Sit behind me and eat this."

Sarah did as he directed, though fear made it difficult to eat. She'd heard Mr. Taggert's calm acceptance of the fight challenge. He did not seem afraid. Nothing fouled his inner tranquility. She took a bite of the roasted meat. If Mr. Taggert was not successful in his bid to win her, he would be killed, and she would be left to the mercy of Cloud Walker and his men. She had no doubt they would return her to Swift Elk. Once they were finished with her.

Cloud Walker stood up to make a p.r.o.nouncement.

"Shadow Wolf and Many Deer will now fight. You will both pick your weapons. Guns are not an acceptable choice."

Many Deer's eyes were lit with a vengeful fury. He borrowed a knife from another of the men and walked a ways off from the fire. Mr. Taggert went to his saddle and untied his rope. He coiled it into wide loops that he draped over his head to lie across his shoulder, keeping the noose end in easy reach. Bare-handed, Mr. Taggert followed Many Deer.

Sarah felt like crying. Fear clung to her like a shadow. She couldn't shame Mr. Taggert by weeping over him in front of his opponent. They would think she lamented his lack of prowess. She turned away, intending to retreat to the riverbed while the warriors were focused on the fight. If she could get back to her hiding spot, she might be able to elude the warriors by slipping down the river if things went bad.

Cloud Walker stepped in front of her. She resisted looking up at him, but she couldn't avoid his hissed comment. "This is what you, a faithless woman, have brought upon two brave men. One will die tonight. Because of you."

She stood frozen in place, crippled by the warring forces of guilt, fear, and a desperate need to live. She looked back at the men facing off. Cloud Walker was about to start their compet.i.tion.

"Stop this!" Her words were spoken in English. "Stop!" she repeated in Sioux. "It is not right that harm come to anyone because of me. Mr. Taggert, I will go with them."

Many Deer straightened, a look of disgust on his facea"whether for her or for the loss of a fight, she couldn't tell. Neither one boded well.

"Shadow Wolf, Swift Elk's woman has decided the outcome. There is no need to fight. We will take her and go," Cloud Walker declared.

"She is my woman. She has no say in the matter. You will have to fight me to take her. I am not tired of her and have no wish to sell her."

Many Deer grinned. "Then begin," Cloud Walker said as he stepped away from the men.

They circled each other. To Sarah's shock, Mr. Taggert appeared to be enjoying the confrontation. Many Deer charged at him. Mr. Taggert held still until the last minute, when he turned to the side and tripped Many Deer. The warrior reacted quickly, falling into a fluid roll and jumping to his feet again. They grinned at each other.

The next time Many Deer approached more slowly, his knife swiping the air around Mr. Taggert. Sarah watched as he walked backward, ducking, leaning, dancing with the knife, his movements mesmerizing. He grabbed Many Deer's hand, blocking the knife as he swung a fist at the warrior's chin, connecting with his jaw. Many Deer stumbled back.

The warrior took aim and let loose his knife. Mr. Taggert reacted instinctively, leaping out of the way. When he came to his feet, he was already working his la.s.so, letting the rope out. Many Deer watched his movements with little concern. He started to circle around Mr. Taggert, who threw the rope in a blinding movement, slipping it beneath the warrior's feet. He yanked on the rope, pulling it tight. No sooner had Many Deer fallen than Mr. Taggert was upon him, flipping him to his back, tying his hands to his feet. He stood up and raised his arms, laughing with victory.

Cloud Walker handed him a knife. "It is a fight to the death, Shadow Wolf."

Mr. Taggert stared at the knife a moment. Many Deer ceased his struggles. He simply watched Mr. Taggert, his eyes alive with hatred. Mr. Taggert tossed the knife into the dirt at Cloud Walker's feet. "I will not kill a friend. This fight is ended."

Cloud Walker's face showed no emotion. He nodded. "It is ended. We will smoke a pipe and discuss the bride price for Yellow Moon." He looked at Many Deer struggling with his bonds and chuckled. "Release him."

Mr. Taggert set him free, then gave him a hand up. Many Deer rubbed his wrists. "You are a cruel man, Shadow Wolf. I was the best fighter in our band until that trick. See how they laugh at me now. When we meet next, I will know how to do that trick, and then they will not make a joke of me."

Mr. Taggert laughed and clapped him on the back. "I look forward to that moment."

He glanced at Sarah as she stood in petrified stillness. Changing direction, he walked over to her, pausing only a moment. She thought he might pull her into a hug. And right then, more than anything, she wished he would. "Breathe, Mrs. Hawkins," he whispered against her temple. "This is almost over. I will get you to Cheyenne."

Before she could do as he suggested, he'd moved on, joining the warriors around the fire again. They were joking about the way Many Deer had been bested. A pipe was started and sent around the circle. She turned woodenly, resuming cutting slices of meat to skewer. There was plenty of meat lefta"she could cook ahead for breakfast. Talk in the circle turned to her worth. Her ears burned. She tried to listen, but they had lowered their voices until the drumming of her heart drowned out all but a few words. She prepared the skewers quickly and brought them to the fire. When she retreated this time, she stayed within listening range.

"Yellow Moon was a favorite wife to Swift Elk. He paid eight ponies to his men so that he could own her himself and not share her unless he wished. Once she was his, Swift Elk was popular in the band's gambling. The men would wager anything to be with her. She made him wealthy, for he lost often enough that the men thought their chances of winning her were high."

Sarah felt blood warm her cheeks as shame turned her stomach. She ventured a glance toward Mr. Taggert, catching the hardening of his gaze as Cloud Walker spoke at length about the bets Swift Elk had made. Mr. Taggert's gaze moved from man to man. He said not a word, didn't interrupt Cloud Walker's dissertation of her worth or the crafty way Swift Elk had used her. A chill whispered over her shoulders. If he let anger take him, he would lose the negotiationa"and perhaps her freedom as well.

"What is the price you place on Yellow Moon?"

"Fifteen horses."

"I have only a rifle, a pistol, two horses, and a knife to my name. I am not willing to barter with them. You could follow us to Fort Laramie. There I can acquire a number of horses. Perhaps five."

There was a wave of hurried discussion. "It is a trick," Many Deer complained. "He would have the soldiers arrest us. We would be hanged."

"I haven't built my business by cheating your people."

Cloud Walker motioned the opposition to silence. "Shadow Wolf speaks truthfully, though he does not understand Yellow Moon's worth. You see the color of her hair? It is the color of white sand and yet she is still quite young. Swift Elk would have continued building his wealth for many years with her as his wife. It must be twelve horses. No less."

"She ran away from Swift Elk. If you take her back with you, it will be to kill her, not use her to grow Swift Elk's wealth. A dead woman has no value."

"She is too valuable to kill. But her actions will be punished."

"I have often traded with men from Swift Elk's band at my trading post on the Cheyenne River. I can give you a piece of paper that provides Swift Elk with an account. He can use the paper to trade for the goods he wants."

Many Deer made a disgusted noise. "It is a bad treaty."

"It is no treaty at all. It is a promissory note. Twelve horses similar to the ones I now own would cost me thirty dollars each. I would write the note for three hundred sixty dollars. You could receive payment from my trading post. Or you could take the three hundred sixty in goods from the store. Or in horse flesh. Or cattle. Or any combination that totaled three hundred sixty dollars. It is a generous offer. Most captives are ransomed for less. You are getting twice what the government would pay."

"I am getting nothing. A piece of paper that the rain could destroy."

"My word is not so easily destroyed. As you know, I don't have to make any payment at all. She is mine already. The payment I offer is in consideration of my affection for your people."

Cloud Walker motioned for the pipe to be refilled and circulated again. When it came to him, he drew a draft of smoke into his lungs and held that breath while he considered the deal. He released the breath slowly, letting a wisp of blue smoke into the air.

"I have thought on your offer, Shadow Wolf. I will accept it." He handed the pipe to Logan.

When the pipe had completed the circle, Logan took a sheet of paper and a pencil from his saddlebag and wrote out the promissory note. He handed it to Cloud Walker. "Take this to any of my trading posts. They will honor this contract."

Cloud Walker motioned for his men to take the cooked meat. They retreated to their horses and rode away, leaving behind the two ponies.

Sarah was frozen to the spot where she knelt. She heard the sound of Cloud Walker's band as it moved off into the shadowy range, an outcome so different from the night her home had been raided. Mr. Taggert was able to send them on their way with a promissory note. A piece of paper. Tears washed her cheeks. Mr. Taggert knelt in front of her. She lifted her gaze to him, wondering what kind of man it was that she now found herself traveling with across this savage land.

He didn't speak, didn't try to touch her. He studied her, waiting silently. "There is a little left of that antelope," Mr. Taggert commented. "Do you think you could get a few more pieces from it? We could cook them now for the morning. Then I will dispose of the carca.s.s. We don't need wolves prowling around while we sleep. And I don't want to keep the fire going through the night."

She picked up his knife and cut a few more strips from the remains of the antelope. She skewered them, then put them on to cook. Setting back on her haunches, she caught sight of her hands, reddened with blood. Mr. Reimer, Mrs. Powell, and the driver were all dead. Life was so easily extinguished. Her world was in a crazy spin of loss and pain and deliverance.

"Look at me, Mrs. Hawkins," Mr. Taggert ordered. She forced herself to look at him. "Let's go wash up while that cooks. I'll give you privacy while I take the carca.s.s off a ways. Will you follow me?"

She moved after him as docilely as a trained dog, her hands limp at her sides. He led her to the river's edge, then walked off to leave the carca.s.s far away from their camp. She looked at the river, whose banks were swollen with the heavy spring flow, rippling and roaring. It looked deep in the dim light of the night. She'd seen a woman taken by a river once, another captive. Sarah didn't know if she'd been pushed into the rapids or if she'd chosen that death. It wouldn't be a painful way to go. Not really. Her lungs would burn a bit, but death would be fast.

She closed her eyes, feeling the pull of the water, its ebb and flow. She didn't want to die, didn't want to listen to the seduction of the river. But it called to her. The pain and the fear could end.

She didn't hear Mr. Taggert return, but when she opened her eyes, he was there. Watching her. He took her hands and pulled her down to a squat, dipping her hands into water so cold that her breath caught in her chest. He rubbed his hands over hers, up her wrists. He cupped a handful of water and smoothed it over her face. "It is done. It is over." He washed her face again.

She tried to focus on the river and its promise of peace, but his constant ministrations broke her focus. He drew her to her feet. Using the sleeve of his shirt, he mopped her face dry. She breathed in his scent, his essence. She breathed it again. Odd that his scent made her feel safe.

He took her hand and pulled her over to where she'd hidden her satchel. "See to your needs, then come up to the fire. And no more thinking about quick dives into cold water." Even in the shadow of the darkening sky, she could see his eyes burned with a chilling fervor. The intensity of his look cut through the haze of her mind.

"You're alive," he whispered harshly. "And I'm alive. And we will each of us live until we die. There is a reason for that, Mrs. Hawkins. We will not find it by cheating ourselves out of our remaining time."

Logan set out his bedroll, and opened Mrs. Hawkins's on top of it. When she returned from washing up, she came to a hard stop.

"No."

"*No' to what?" Logan asked.

"I won't do this with you. I won't be intimate with you."

"I didn't ask you to be. It's a cold night. Our blankets won't provide enough warmth if we sleep separately. I'll even keep my boots on."

She frowned at him, clearly not following his train of thought.

"I can't very well make love to you with my boots on. I might hurt you." He turned and had started to move off when he caught her comment, barely audible as it was.

"It wasn't love they made with me."

Rage stiffened his spine. "No, it wasn't."

He walked back toward her and kept his voice lowered so he wouldn't frighten her with the intensity of his reaction. "It was war. All of it. You, your husband. The Indians don't recognize noncombatants. It is how they make war, how they've made war for thousands of years. You're either an enemy or you're not. There is no gray area. You were a victim of war, Mrs. Hawkins. If you were strong enough to survive what the men who captured you did to you, then they let the women have at you. And if you were strong enough to withstand their treatment, you ceased being an enemy. You became worthy of marrying a warriora"which is exactly what happened."

Logan let his words sink in. He did not reach for her, did not speak, did nothing to break into her thoughts. The poisonous memories inside her had to come to the surface so that they could be expunged from her soul.

"My husband fought for us. They killed him as if he were no more significant than a gnat."

"He was a d.a.m.ned fool. He had no business being out here."

"He did what he did for the good of the Sioux, the people whose land was being stolen."

Logan shook his head. "I'm willing to bet he did what he did to line his pocketsa"at the cost of the Sioux. And you, Mrs. Hawkins, have paid for his foolishness with everything that you held dear."

He breathed the crisp night air and tried to calm the anger within him. He thought of her at the river earlier, the way she'd faded before him. "You have a choice now. You can choose to live, reclaim what is left of your life, fill it with the joy denied you thus far. Or you can surrender to your wounds. Let the past take you. Die of a broken heart. It's a decision only you can make."

Chapter 5.

Sarah's eyes shot open. She held herself still, waiting for the fuzz of sleep to clear her head. She felt disoriented, trying to recall why she was sleeping outside, if she was still on the run with the warriors who'd taken her a year ago. Her coat rested over her, as did half of a man's coat. There'd been no coats that first trip. She ventured a look at the heat source next to her under the blanket. Mr. Taggert. He was awake, but lying still. Watching her. She pushed up on her elbows to search for Cloud Walker and his men.

"They didn't come back," her traveling companion said. His breath condensed in the cold morning air.

"Are we safe?"

"For now. Let's get moving. I think we're in Wyoming Territory now. With the horses, we should make Fort Laramie by midday tomorrow. Are you up for a hard ride? We've no saddles."

"Anything to get off this prairie."

"Then go wash up. I'll get our horses watered."

She took advantage of the privacy he offered. They ate a quick meal of the cold skewers from last night, then got the horses ready. Mr. Taggert spread their bedrolls across the backs of the horses as padding for the long ride ahead of them. One of the horses also had his saddlebag on it. He bent over, his hands cupped to boost her atop the pony. Her skirt was wide and covered most of her legs. He ignored the stretch of black stocking her skirt exposed.

He smiled up at her. "I got a bargain last night."

"How so?"

"I would have paid thirteen horses for you."

She frowned at him. "Mr. Taggert, I have no way of adequately thanking you for what you have done for me. No funds with which to reimburse youa""

He leapt up to the back of the second horse, her satchel in hand. Spreading the straps, he slipped them over his arms and settled it on his back. "There's no need to reimburse me, Mrs. Hawkins. You were in need of rescuing and I was in need of a wife."

Sarah tapped the sides of her mount, bringing him even with Mr. Taggert's. "I thought I made it clear that I do not intend to marry you."

He kneed his mount forward. "It seems only polite that you wait until I actually do propose before you refuse me."

Nearly an hour later, they crested a hill and came upon the ashen remains of the stagecoach. Sarah drew to a full stop and stared at the ghastly sight.

"Keep moving," Mr. Taggert ordered, but she was unable to comply. Two bodies lay near the coach, a man and woman. Naked and untouched by the fire, bloated in death. Several arrows were sticking out of them, their skulls bloodied. Mr. Taggert took hold of her reins and pulled her forward.

"We should at least bury them."

"I don't have a shovel. And I don't want to waste a day seeing to their final resting spot if it means we may have to find our own. This ain't a good spot to dawdle. When we get to Fort Laramie, we'll let them know what happened to the carriage."

Sarah couldn't tear her eyes from the still-smoking wreckage. As they came round the front of the carriage, they found the driver pinned to the coach with an arrow through his throat. His body was blackened, his slack jaw exposing a ghastly smile of white teeth.

Mr. Taggert kneed his horse to a trot, drawing hers along with him. Fear sliced through her hurt. Violence had become the fabric of her life, and every thread that unraveled terminated in blood, pain, and loss. She let him hold her reins, emptying her mind of everything but the rhythm of her mount, a fast rocking motion. Forward and back. Wind. Sun. These things were real. Only these things.

That night, as they lay side by side again between their opened bedrolls, Sarah held herself utterly still. She waited for Mr. Taggert to reach over to her, to use his strength against her. The blanket was not very wide. They couldn't lie on it next to each other and not touch. Every time he moved, she tensed. An hour pa.s.sed. She stared up at the stars, waiting for him to do what men did to women. Waiting for him to disappoint her, too.