The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,49

in charge.

One day at a time. One night at a time. That was the way Caitie O’Shea had endured her life thus far. Being held captive by Eyes Like Mole had barely changed her situation. The only difference now was that somewhere between being dunked in the river and nightfall, she’d begun to feel sorry for the weak-eyed little man.

“You eat now!”

Caitie rolled her eyes. She’d already eaten when he wasn’t looking and nearly upchucked it all. Now he expected her to swallow more of the foul-looking concoction he kept bubbling in a pot while he hovered only inches away, trying to peer past the shadows between them.

Aware that he operated on sound as well as sight, she stirred the wooden paddle several times around the pot, making it seem as if she was mixing before dipping.

Eyes Like Mole grunted, satisfied that she was cooperating with his orders, and settled next to the door of his lodge. If she tried to make a run for it, he would hear her.

“You will give me fine sons,” Eyes Like Mole announced, just as Caitie was considering the possibility of slipping past him.

His audacity was unexpected. Caitie crawled to her knees, the wooden paddle from the noxious stew held tight in her fist like a club. “I’ll be givin’ ye a fat lip if ye try a damned thing.”

Eyes Like Mole sighed and wondered why the spirits of his ancestors had sent him such a stubborn woman.

“The spirits told me you would come,” Eyes Like Mole argued.

“I didn’t come. I was after bein’ dragged.” Her voice had risen to just below a shout. When he stood and started toward her, she started to shriek. “And I’m not about layin’ with some weak-eyed heathen just to be provin’ a point.”

Before he could react, she stormed past him, stomping out of the tepee with blood in her eye, looking wildly around for something larger than the flat stick to use as a weapon.

Joe Redhawk was on the slope of the hill, several hundred yards away and about to ride into camp, when he saw a woman running out of a lodge. The long fringed tunic she wore looked just like any other Indian woman’s style of dress, but it was the short red hair and unbounded fury that gave her away.

He reined in his horse, watching as she grabbed a stick of firewood then turned toward a small, bow-legged man who staggered out of the tepee toward her. From where Joe sat, things didn’t look good. He nudged his horse into a gallop.

Caitie turned to face her captor with fury in her stance and fear in her heart. It might be her last action on earth, but she was ready to go out fighting. And then as before, it was the unexpected sound of jeers and laughter that stopped her cold.

She pivoted. They had an audience. And from their gleeful expressions, they expected Eyes Like Mole to fail. Her anger died.

Panic, mixed with that of defeat, layered the wild blank look in Eyes Like Mole’s expression. Caitie groaned. A memory of her own childhood came rushing back. Of a time when she’d been humiliated on the streets of Dublin by a gang of young bullies who’d whipped her soundly then laughed when she’d cried. She dropped her head and walked back to Eyes Like Mole, dragging the stick she’d pulled out of the stack.

“Here.” She handed it to him in as subdued a manner as she could muster. “I’ll not be arguin’ with ye again.”

It was hard to say who was more shocked, the onlookers, or Eyes Like Mole. He took the stick, aware that she offered more than herself to be beaten. She’d given up her own freedom for his pride.

His heart swelled. He couldn’t see it, but he knew that his own people were looking at him with respect, and he had the woman to thank. For that reason alone he could not do as she’d asked. But he could give them both an out by showing that he could be generous, as well as forceful. He waved the club above his head and puffed out his chest.

“It is good. You learn lesson.”

Caitie sighed. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll be needin’ me head examined,” then she buried her face in her hands. It was while she wasn’t looking that Joe Redhawk rode into camp.

“Hey Girl, I’m thinkin’ trouble follows your trail.”

Caitie jerked with shock then stumbled backward. She’d heard that voice at her back before!