Captive by Heather Graham

around her wrist must have hurt; she didn’t wince, nor did she fight his hold. She stared at him furiously, and she waited for him to release her.
    “This once,” he warned her, “you’ll get away with that. But remember, we’re at war. Strike a red man, he strikes back.”
    She didn’t reply. She continued to wait, seething, staring at him.
    “Go back to your room!” he snapped at her, releasing his hold on her.
    She rubbed her wrist, still staring at him. Then she spun around, heading toward her open doors.
    But she paused there, head high, looking back. “This once I’ll do as you so courteously request. But we are at war. And this part of the balcony leads from my room, and it’s damned free territory, neutral ground. While I’m in residence, it is my place, and you’ll not order me away from it, sir.”
    She finished the last with a passionate hiss, then spun around again and disappeared into her room, closing the doors sharply behind her.
    He went into his own.
    And to a long, fitful night that seemed to plague him with all the tortures of hell.

Chapter 5
    T he dream began sweetly.
    They were deep in the lands that had been good. The old Indians, native to the area, had all but died out when the Creek had first seen the vacant lands and come south to claim them. Land rich and abundant with deer and otter, wild fowl and fish. The soil was rich—corn and numerous other crops could be easily cultivated. There were acres to hunt, to run, to play … to fall in love.
    They’d been from different clans, of course, for a man was expected to marry outside his own. But he had known her for many years, loved her since they were both children. He had come of age, educated by his father’s family and taught the way of the world by his mother’s brothers and kin. He had taken the black drink and shed his boy’s name for his man’s name. At the Green Corn Dance he would officially make her his wife. While adultery might be sternly punished—ears and noses were sometimes clipped for the crime—sex before marriage was not considered evil, and the time had simply come for them to be together. They were both in love.
    The sun dappled through the trees. The day was hot beneath the sun but cooled by the shade. They had ridden into the forest, dismounted, sipped cool water from the stream, collected berries to eat. He had all but dozed beneath the tree when he heard her laughter, and caught her eyes upon him. She laughed again and ran toward the river when he threatened to make her pay for her laughter.
    She was fleet; he was faster. He caught her mid-river, but even in his dream he could remember the momentjust before he did. She turned back to him, laughing. Her hair, darker than ink, falling thick and rich and arrow straight to her thighs, spun like a black shawl around her as she turned. She laughed still, breathlessly. She’d never had a chance and she knew it. She did not want to escape him.
    He touched her and they fell together into the cool waters. White-tipped, it rushed on by them. He rose then, and she came to her knees, looking up at him. He reached down for her, and she came into his arms. She wore white that day, a bleached-white doeskin dress with leggings to match. He could still remember pulling the dress over her shoulders, dropping it into the river.
    They made love there, in the water, the sun casting shadow and light upon them. They lay again beneath the low branches of a pine, and they spun their dreams just as any other young couple in love might do, with the whole of their lives before them.
    They’d laughed again when they had to travel far down stream to find her embroidered white doeskin dress.
    He tossed in his sleep. She was running again in his dream. He was trying to catch her. He couldn’t keep up. When she looked back, she wasn’t laughing….
    She was gone. He stood in blackness. He saw the back of a man. A white man, kneeling down, his shoulders shaking with his tears.
    James