Free White Shadows by Susan Edwards Page B

to someone he’d obviously loved. Winona bit the inside of her cheeks. Clay risked not only his own life, but his actions against the Sioux risked peace between the Sioux and Cheyenne. And that brought her right back to needing to know why Clay had kidnapped her, for she felt sure that her family could not have done anything to anger or hurt this man.
    A harsh shout from Clay reminded her that she was prisoner to a man who was bent on revenge. She was the means. He’d promised not to harm her as long as his demands were met. What were those demands?
    When he mounted she reached up and grabbed his hand and mounted behind him. Resting her cheek against his shirt-covered back, Winona wished she knew what was happening.
     
    Clay rode almost nonstop for three more days, pausing only for short periods of rest. Winona wanted to scream. She was cranky, tired and dirty. And sick of riding. And sick of not knowing what was going on.
    “When are we stopping?” she asked. She didn’t expect an answer.
    He surprised her by stopping at the edge of the lake they’d been following. When he dismounted and walked away, Winona gratefully slid down.
    “How long this time?” Winona asked. Usually they stopped only to rest the horse. Clay didn’t give her a chance to ask questions. He normally just handed her the water skin and a piece of hard pemmican, then walked off to be alone.
    Night Shadow glanced around. “For the night. The horse needs rest.”
    “So do I,” she muttered, irked that her needs meant nothing.
    While her captor busied himself, Winona took advantage of the small blue lake to bathe. Shielded by bushes, she removed her dress and walked into the water. The water lapped gently around her; its cold bite stung her skin but also refreshed and cleared the fog from her mind.
    Her teeth chattered as she rubbed handfuls of gritty soil from the bottom of the lake over her skin. Her fingers turned blue and she could no longer feel her feet, but after days of nonstop riding, nothing was going to keep her from cleaning the dust and sweat from her hair and body.
    And after her bath she planned to soak up the warmth of the afternoon and do what she did every day: watch her captor and learn his weaknesses. When the time came to escape with Spotted Deer she’d be ready.
    After scrubbing her hair with the root of hupestola, she waded deeper into the lake to rinse her hair, keeping her back to the man beyond the brush shielding her. By the time she finished, dried herself off and re-dressed in her dusty clothing, she was shivering so hard she could barely walk.
    Hugging herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, Winona headed for a rotting log bathed in the late-afternoon sunlight. She sat, shook her wet hair out behind her and glanced around. This side of the stream was heavily wooded. Across the lake there were fewer trees. A peaceful meadow lined the bank. From where she sat she could pick out the tiny splashes of color and see birds darting through the air as they caught flying insects.
    She sighed. The beauty, the normalcy of the scene, unsettled rather than soothed. As did the obvious fact that her captor felt safe enough to stop so early in the day. She sat in the open and he seemed not to care. Did this mean there was no one on their trail?
    Winona wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Yes, she wanted her father to ride in and rescue her. Yes, her captor would pay—with his life. But what would happen to Spotted Deer should her father catch up with her captor before he rejoined the other warriors and Spotted Deer?
    Another chill racked her body. This one came not from being physically cold, but from deep inside. This was her fault. Her impetuous actions had put not only Spotted Deer in danger, but each warrior who rode with her father. She had no idea if Clay had more warriors waiting wherever he was taking her.
    Winona stared at the pale yellow fingers streaking across the sky. Daylight was fading fast. Night would