Free Silken Savage by Catherine Hart Page A

the leather against the girl’s throat. “I’ll tell you one thing, honey pot, you ever come near me again with this whip, and I’ll take it away from you and strangle you with it, with or without permission from anyone!” she threatened.
    Mountain Flower sputtered and looked at Panther for help. Panther merely smiled and said, “That is why I call her Wildcat. Take heed, Mountain Flower, I think she means it. After your attack on her today, she probably feels you’d deserve it, and so do I. I will not stop her if you harm her again.”
    Turning to Tanya, he said, “If you are done here, I suggest you return to the tipi.” At her hurt look, he continued softly, “Your wounds need tending to, my little spitting kitten.”
    “Oh,” she said, blushing, “I thought you wanted your meal.”
    Panther shot her a definitely suggestive look. “I do not believe I will starve, but that is not what I had in mind after I soothe your injuries.”
    Tanya blushed even deeper and docilely followed Panther to the tipi.
     
    By that evening, word of Panther’s woman had spread through other bands. No matter whose version was told, the end result was the same. It was clearly understood that Panther would brook no interference with his woman. Her status was not clear, but Wildcat was no mere slave.
    Had it not been for Shy Deer and Walks-Like-A-Duck, Tanya would have been very lonely for female companionship throughout the next weeks. Though Panther’s own tribe accepted her presence and doubtful status with their chief 's nephew, the women did not socialize with her as they would a member of the tribe. Tanya was in her own no-man’s-land, neither slave nor Cheyenne, and she was thankful for Shy Deer’s and the old woman’s company.
    Curiosity brought many women from the other tribes past Panther’s lodge, to catch a glimpse of the daring Little Wildcat. Stories of her capture and her courage had spread rapidly, growing with each retelling of the accounts, and they were eager to see the white woman who inspired the tales. None were willing to extend a hand in friendship yet, however, and certainly none wished to incite Panther’s anger by taunting this woman with the hair, eyes and purported temperament of the cougar.
    To Tanya’s delight, the children were not so shy. Their avid curosity overcame any lingering timidity, and soon she felt like the Pied Piper of the village. Once they were assured she meant them no harm, they followed her everywhere, at first Tanya thought they came to taunt and tease, but soon realized they were merely drawn by curiosity, and a kind word and a smile wrought wonders.
    It helped that she could communicate with them in their own tongue, and because of their constant chatter, her own language skills broadened daily. Before long, she found herself responding easily to their many questions, and was surprised one day to find herself thinking in Cheyenne, rather than first in English and having to translate her thoughts.
    Panther was not unaware of Tanya’s attraction to the children, or theirs for her. Whenever he neared his tipi he would hear the laughter and the ringing of young voices. The little girls would sit about her and watch her tan or sew, sorting beads or cutting fringe for her, listening to the tales she wove for them as she worked. Sometimes she translated children’s songs for them. The boys gathered around to hear her tales too, but more often they showed up while she was cooking, hoping this would be the day Wildcat would make a batch of candy or sweetened cakes for them. They would help her gather firewood or haul water from the river, or tend the horses. Sometimes they fished or hunted for berries, each learning something from the other.
    On one occasion, Panther found the boys teaching Tanya how to shoot their bows and arrows. He bit back a laugh at the look of intense concentration on her face as she took aim at her target. Her straight white teeth caught at her bottom lip,