Silken Savage (13 page)

Knowing they were soon to be parted, he woke her time and again that night, each time renewing her desire for him; each time taking her to a land of light and fire and love, where passion knew no bounds. The last time they made love, she lay quiet beneath him once more, fully sated and thoroughly loved; the dawn was not far away.

“I shall think of you every minute and dream of you each night,” she vowed.

“I shall will the time to pass quickly so I may claim you as my bride.”

“Come back safely from your raid, Panther. Our child needs his father.”

“I will return, Wildcat. Do not worry. Just take good care of yourself and our child.” His dark eyes glowed into hers. “I love you, Little Wildcat, woman of my heart.”

“As I do you, my beloved Panther.”

TANYA DIDN’T need to turn around to know that she was being followed. She could literally feel her shadow’s eyes upon her, yet she knew that if she yielded to the temptation to look back, she would see nothing. He had trailed her all afternoon, ever since she had parted from Panther and the war party. She did not know which of the braves it was. Panther could tell her nothing more than to assure her that it would not be Ugly Otter, for the gruesome warrior was included in the war party headed for Ute territory.

They were high into the foothills now. The September sun dappling through the trees was warm, but the higher they climbed the cooler the air became. The slight breeze was crisp and clean, and Tanya breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the tangy smell of pine and moist earth. She was enjoying her trek into this virgin territory where few feet had trod. It was almost as if she had the world to herself, alone with nature at its finest.

The last lingering light was fast fading in the western sky when Tanya halted Wheat in a tiny glade and set up her camp. Building a small, smokeless fire to warm herself and ward off predators, Tanya watered and rubbed down her mare before she fed herself. Tonight she would fare on pemmican and water. Tomorrow she would search out a permanent camp, and hunt. With her knife in her belt and her bow within hand’s reach, Tanya wrapped herself into her blanket and slept.

Early the next morning she woke, ate, and was on her way with the dawn. Midmorning, she found a sweet mountain stream, stopped for a while to refresh herself and her horse, and went on.

It was late afternoon when she stumbled onto the secluded clearing. Surrounded by mountain forests on three sides and a river on the east, it was a peaceful, welcoming place. Beyond the river, the land dropped off steeply, giving way to a magnificent view of the valley far below and a small mountain range in the distance. There were no signs of anyone having been here recently, if ever, and Tanya judged it a safe, defendable, beautiful hideaway.

When she had thoroughly scouted the area, noting the lush grass for her mare, she staked her horse, then dug a pit and started a small fire, surrounding it with rocks from the river. Cutting green limbs, she formed a spit, and then decided to go ahead and prepare a drying rack for meat. She came across a good sized rock that, over the ages, had somehow had its center eroded, forming a large bowl. Gleefully she lugged it up to her campfire. It would make a perfect cooking pot.

The sun was dipping low when Tanya collected her bow and quiver and headed for the woods. A short time later, she cut a well-traveled deer trail and soon had herself concealed and waiting. It wasn’t long before two does wandered by, but Tanya let them go, having already noted the larger, heavier tracks of a buck. A short quarter-hour behind them, sure enough, the buck appeared. He was a beauty! Gracefully he balanced a wide, fourteen point rack high above his head.

Cautiously drawing back her bowstring, Tanya lined up her arrow, patiently waiting for the buck to reach the right spot for a perfect shot. As he did so, she let the arrow fly. The big buck stopped, startled, then took two leaps forward and fell as his knees buckled.

Within minutes Tanya had slit his throat. She field-gutted him, burying the remains in a shallow pit. Lashing her rope about his legs, she half-carried, half-dragged him the short distance to her camp. There she hoisted him from a limb on the edge of the clearing and left him to bleed out, slicing off only two small steaks for her supper.

For a long while that evening Tanya lay on her bed of pine needles, gazing at the bright stars and thinking of Panther. She wished he was here to share this lovely place with her, and fell asleep thinking of him.

Tanya awoke to overcast skies. During the night clouds had moved in, and the breeze had freshened. Before the day was out, there would be rain. That meant Tanya had a busy day ahead of her. Her primary concern was shelter. Scouting about the edge of the clearing, she found a suitable spot at the western side. Here she located a stand of saplings perfect for her needs. With the help of her horse and a few strips of raw deerhide, she bent the saplings over one another and lashed them together to form a leaf-covered bower. Closed on three sides, she purposely left the opening to the east, as Indian tradition dictated. Crude as it was, it would keep her dry and allow for a tiny, carefully tended fire for warmth.

This done, she set up a similar structure nearby. Then she set to work on the buck. After skinning it, she cut the meat into strips and placed them on the rack to dry, starting a stew for her dinner at the same time. Staking the skin out, she scraped it well, then removed it to the second small hut and staked it out to dry safe from the threatening rain. The meat rack she carted into her own small lodge to finish drying over the fire. Tying Wheat in the lee of her shelter, she snuggled down just as the first huge raindrops began to fall.

Tanya ventured out long enough to collect some wild onions she had spotted near the river’s edge. These she added to her venison. Later she tended the small fire in the shelter where the buckskin was staked. Using the fat and brains she had reserved, she worked these into the hide, then rolled it up for better absorption.

It rained far into the night, but cleared by dawn. Tanya’s private world lay sparkling before her, wet grass and leaves glistening like jewels in the morning sunlight. Once more she staked the deer hide outside in the sun. She wet it and scrubbed it with sand to make it supple, then left it to dry.

Deciding to supplement her diet with berries or nuts, if she could find some, Tanya automatically collected her weapons and headed into the woods. With her she took a leather pouch and her blanket to hold her discoveries.

She wandered far from her base in her search. Finally, her pouch full of berries and her blanket carrying a fair collection of nuts, she turned back. She wasn’t sure if it was a sound she heard or something she only sensed, but Tanya suddenly halted stock-still and listened. She heard nothing. Frowning, she thought to herself, “It is only the warrior.”

Several paces further she stopped once more. Now she was positive she had heard something behind her.

Flinging down her bundles, she slipped her bow from her shoulder and drew an arrow from her quiver as she turned. Her eyes scanned the trees and bushes, but could detect nothing.

Suddenly, from the side of her eye, she caught a flash of movement. She brought up her bow, drawn and ready. Her mind just had time to register the fact of the cougar launching itself at her. She let the arrow fly and threw herself to one side. The tawny panther screamed as the missile found its mark. One huge paw reached out and clawed Tanya’s shoulder, rending the doeskin and drawing four long lines of blood as Tanya fell to the ground.

The animal shrieked in pain and rage, and with supreme effort, drew itself to its feet and lunged at Tanya’s supine form. Tanya’s knife flashed in a stray ray of sunlight as she brought it up and drove it straight into the panther’s heart. The magnificent creature’s golden eyes blazed into hers for a long moment, and then with a shudder, it collapsed.

Tanya lay for some time without moving; stunned, shocked, regretting. Tears of remorse stung her eyes. When Panther had years before gone in search of his vision, he had taken the name and identity of the panther. In doing so, he assumed a protective attitude toward the animal whose name he now bore, and an affinity with it. Never would he harm one of the big cats unless it was a matter of necessity.

Bitterly Tanya recalled the many times he had compared her to a cougar; her coloring, her actions. He had explained that he called her Wildcat because of that, not in reference to the smaller spotted cat, but as a small, wild she-panther.

Now Tanya had been forced to slay one of his beloved panthers. She knew deep in her soul she’d had no choice, and she prayed Panther would understand and not despise her for it.

She knelt beside it, stroking its tawny fur, so like the color of her own hair. The glowing eyes had almost mirrored the color of hers. Then she noticed what depressed her further. This was a she-cat, and from the looks of her she’d given birth sometime in the last few weeks, for her teat-milk was not yet fully dried up.

Tanya shook her head and sighed. Heaving herself to her feet, she carefully examined the smarting, bloody welts left by the cougar’s claw. They were not deep, thank goodness.

Having determined the extent of her injuries, she retrieved her bow, arrows, and knife. Then she set off in search of the missing cubs. Surely she had come close, intruding on the cougar’s territory, and this is what had upset the mother. Tanya searched diligently throughout the afternoon, with no success. Finally she admitted temporary defeat, knowing she would have to head for camp now if she hoped to reach it by dark. Tomorrow she would come again and try to find the babies.

Dumping the nuts, she managed to tuck the blanket under the mountain lion and tie it around. The animal weighed almost as much as she did and was approximately five feet long; a good eight feet if you counted the tail. Huffing and puffing all the way, she nevertheless managed to drag the cougar back to her camp.

Conscious of her need to provide nourishment for her body and her unborn babe, Tanya took time to eat as soon as she had cleaned her wounds. Then, by the light of the fire, she skinned the mountain cat. With the aid of a torch, she went a fair distance from her camp, dug a hole with her tomahawk and buried the cougar meat. Under no circumstances could she bring herself to eat it.

Back at camp, she worked late into the night scraping and cleaning the panther hide. Then she staked it next to the deerskin and crawled wearily off to bed.

Early the next morning she again worked both hides. Then she packed some dried meat, saddled Wheat, and rode back to the area in which she had encountered the cat. Try as she might, she could not locate the cubs.

Late in the afternoon she finally gave up hope. Returning once more to her base, she oiled and scrubbed and softened the hides once more. The deerskin was nearly done, soft and pliable, and she’d made a good start on the cougar skin. This, she had decided, she would leave the fur on and sew a hooded coat for Panther for winter. She hoped he would accept it, along with her apologies for having to kill the marvelous creature.

Just before sunset, Tanya went down to the river and speared a trout for supper. After cleaning it, she set it on a spit over a low, smoky fire and went back down to the stream. Aware of her warrior-spy, she hid herself behind a large boulder to undress. Wading into the cool, clear water, she bathed and washed her hair, then scrubbed her dress clean of the stains they had collected over the last couple of days. Carefully wrapped in her clean blanket, she went back to her fire and her dinner.

The fifth and the last full day she would be there, Tanya smoked the deerskin in the smaller shelter, then finished curing the cougar hide. She smoked the cathide to rid it of any lingering vermin, then treated it with grease and sand, washed it thoroughly, and staked it to dry.

When the deerskin was finished, she fashioned waterproof drawstring pouches from it and packed her dried meat away in them.

That evening she shot a rabbit and made a stew with some onions and nuts. Tomorrow she would start down the mountain again. Satisfied by both her meal and her contented thoughts, she fell asleep quickly.

In the middle of the night Tanya woke abruptly, her senses instantly alert and alarmed. She knew what had awakened her. It was a soft whinny from Wheat. Quickly, without benefit of light, she dressed. Her eyes were adjusted to the dark, and her movements were swift and sure as she located her bow.

“Hallo! Anybody there?” came the greeting in English.

Her sharp ears counted the hooves of three horses. Adjusting her quiver, she stepped out of the shelter. There was no sense hiding and being trapped like a bird in a cage.

Two men had entered her clearing, leading a pack mule. They looked to be traders or miners. Whichever, they had a rough, shifty appearance to them. Both sported shaggy hair and unkempt beards. Their clothing was so dirty Tanya was sure one good washing would leave them in shreds. Both had their rifles in hand and ready, though not aimed as yet.

Had they not spotted her immediately, Tanya might have tried to make a run for it and get away on Wheat, but they were looking directly at her as she stepped into the open.

“Ho! What we got here?” the one with the red hair and beard said.

“What do you want?” Tanya asked in English.

“Why, it’s a white squaw, Zeke! How d’ya like that?” Red commented lazily. “Where’s yer man, honey?”

“He and my brother went hunting this morning,” Tanya lied. “At first I thought that’s who you were. I expect them any time.” She had been going to say he was in the lodge, but they would have soon found out that she was alone, so she thought it best to let them believe someone was due soon.

“You here all alone, darlin’?” Red persisted.

“Not for long,” Tanya said. “I wouldn’t get off that horse if I were you,” she warned, bringing up her bow as Red made to dismount.

“Now, that ain’t a friendly way't’ be,” Red complained. “Me an’ Zeke here don’t mean ya no harm. Do we Zeke?”

“Shucks, no!” It was the first Zeke had spoken. “Why, if we was up't’ no good, we’d a shot ya by now. There’s two o’ us.” He nodded his greasy blond head at his partner.