Free Wind Rider by Connie Mason Page A

stretched. Then he pulled a thick mat of furs from a corner of the lodge and placed it close to the fire, indicating that Hannah should lie down upon it.
    Hannah licked her suddenly dry lips. “Where are you going to sleep?”
    “I have no other mat. We will share this one.”
    “I’ll sleep on the ground.”
    His expression hardened. “Why are you afraid? We have shared a mat before.”
    That’s why I’m afraid, Hannah thought but did not say.
    Her arguments were ineffectual as Wind Rid er shoved her down upon his mat. Before she could rise he whipped off his breechclout and joined her. Grateful for the protective covering, Hannah pulled the blanket tightly around her and tried to relax.
    Wind Rider cursed himself for a thousand fools. How could he desire this white woman when those of her race were slowly destroying his people? He trusted no one with white skin. He had lived his life for the past fifteen years as a Cheyenne and had no desire to change now.. Turning his back on Hannah, he forced his body to relax, convinced that she was a wicked spirit who used strong medicine to make him want her. The storm raging outside was not nearly as fierce as the one raging inside Wind Rider.
    Spotted Doe arrived early the next morning. Wind Rider had already arisen and nudged
    Hannah out of the blankets. When Spotted Doe rattled the bones at the entrance of the lodge Wind Rider bade her enter. She ducked beneath the flap, her gaze settling on the single mat that Wind Rider and Hannah had shared. She sent Hannah a malevolent glare.
    “I have brought a tunic and moccasins for your slave,” she said, tossing a bundle at Hannah’s feet. “They are old but good enough for a slave.”
    Hannah retrieved the bundle and held it to her chest. No matter how old the clothing, they were better than the blanket she clutched around her shoulders. She wanted to dress immediately, but not with Wind Rider and Spotted Doe watching. Wind Rider sensed her dilemma and reacted to her mute appeal with uncharacteris tic kindness as he ushered Spotted Doe toward the tepee entrance, holding the flap open so she could leave.
    “I must speak with Red Cloud,” he said, hoping to speed Spotted Doe on her way.
    “Red Cloud is not here,” Spotted Doe in formed him. “He has gone to a great coun cil called by the army at Fort Laramie. Many Sioux leaders will be there to negotiate peace with the white eyes.”
    “Peace, bah! Have the Sioux learned nothing from Sand Creek? They should ask the Cheyenne about promises made by white eyes.”
    Modestly dressed in the threadbare tunic that covered her down to her ankle-high moccasins, Hannah chose that moment to step out into the brilliant light of the morning sun. When Spotted Doe saw her, her eyes widened in dis belief. Inside the dark tepee she’d noticed the change in Hannah but had no idea it would be so dramatic. But now, in the light of day, the change in the slave was utterly astounding.
    There was no disguising her slimness, but now it was enhanced by a cloud of copper-hued hair that framed delicate features and absolutely stunning green eyes. Washed clean of dirt and grime, her skin was as white and smooth as that of a newborn babe. Her lips were full, red, and lush. Long feathery eye lashes the color of rich copper made her green eyes appear even more dramatic.
    “What have you done to her?” Spotted Doe gasped. “This is not the same woman you brought here yesterday.”
    “I have no other slave,” Wind Rider said, transfixed by Hannah’s complete metamorpho sis.
    “What is she saying?” Hannah asked as Spot ted Doe continued to stare at her as if she were something offensive.
    “Nothing,” Wind Rider barked harshly. “Gather wood; I am hungry. I will ask one of the older women to teach you to cook the food I provide. If you do not do as she says, she will beat you.”
    “Aren’t you afraid I’ll run away?”
    A grim smile stretched across Wind Rider’s generous lips. “You are