The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,45

stopped as the people ran out to gaze at the unbelievable sight. Eyes Like Mole was riding in with a white man in tow. It took the second, and then the third look before the people in the village realized it was a woman and not a man tied at the end of Eyes Like Mole’s rope.

Chief Little Deer was torn between admiration and shock. Eyes Like Mole had never been able to accomplish much past being a good, long-distance scout. To see him riding into camp with a prisoner in tow was quite a feat. On the other hand, it was a white woman that he’d captured. At this time, the Arapaho had a peaceful relationship with the white man and wanted to keep it that way. This could cause a great problem.

Chief Little Deer ran forward. “Eyes Like Mole! What have you done?”

Eyes Like Mole dismounted, trailing the rope in the dust as he swaggered toward the sound of his chief’s voice.

“I have had a vision. The spirits of my ancestors sent a woman to me. I will take her as my wife.”

Caitie groaned and sat down in the dust, eyeing the tepees, the barking dogs, as well as the suspicious glares of the Arapaho women with total disgust.

“And here I’ve been thinkin’ this couldn’t be gettin’ worse.”

“She speaks with a strange tongue,” Chief Little Deer said, noting, as Eyes Like Mole had, the odd catch to the white woman’s voice. “And if the spirits sent her to you, why is she tied?”

“She does not come willingly.”

Chief Little Deer frowned and felt compelled to add, “It is difficult to keep a woman who does not want to stay.”

Eyes Like Mole thought a bit before he answered. He’d given that point some thought on his own.

“I believe it is because she did not hear the spirits voices as I did.”

Chief Little Deer felt obliged to warn him while taking careful note of the fact that Caitie O’Shea did not look weak and distraught. In fact, when their gazes had collided moments earlier, he’d had the distinct impression that he’d just faced an insurmountable foe.

And then Caitie got her second wind. “Ye’ll be untying me now,” she said, and yanked the rope from Eyes Like Mole’s unsuspecting fingers.

He spun, staring glassy-eyed in the direction of her voice, but all he could see were the vague outlines of the people surrounding him. He couldn’t distinguish Caitie from any of the others.

The sudden shock and then fear that swept across his face startled her. What the hell could he possibly be afraid of? She couldn’t outrun several dozen people, even if she tried.

“I’ll be wantin’ food… and water… and a place to sit down.”

So great was his relief, Eyes Like Mole seemed to wilt on the spot. Even her demands were music to his ears.

He motioned toward what he hoped were the lodges.

“My woman gets such things for herself.”

Caitie sensed something more than her capture had taken the tribe’s attention. It was then she noticed they were not watching her. They were watching him, as if they expected to see him fail. She looked closer. Eyes Like Mole seemed to be waiting for the same thing.

She grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him away from their prying eyes.

“Listen you bleedin’ sod. I can be smellin’ fear as good as the next. I’m not knowin’ who’s worse afraid, the likes of you… or the likes of me.”

A small child darted forward and clasped Eyes Like Mole’s hand. As Caitie watched, the child tugged at him, changing their direction toward a tepee near the edge of the camp. It seemed abandoned.

No fire burned outside its doors. No spirit designs had been painted upon the skins around his lodge. Eyes Like Mole’s small brown horse had instinctively wandered to the area and now stood with head down, reins hanging, waiting to be cared for.

“What’s happening? Why be they treatin’ ya like a child?”

He stopped outside his lodge, drooping like the small brown horse who waited, searching for the English words to explain himself.

“I am weak.” It was humiliating to admit the truth to a woman, but if she was to be his wife, it must be said.

Caitie’s stomach tilted. His dejection was so obvious she felt compelled to find the source of his pain.

“Ye walk, talk, an ride like any other. Where be the weakness? And why have ye need of stealing a woman when I’m seein’ dozens of your kind. They can’t