Proud Wolf's Woman by Karen Kay

wasn’t as if he wouldn’t do his duty toward her. He was bound to take Julia to the white man’s fort, anyway, but it didn’t mean he had to like it; it didn’t mean he had to like her.
    Yes, he decided, he would show the woman, Julia, no mercy.
    None at all.
    And strangely, though the thought should have brought him some measure of relief from his thoughts, it gave him nothing, not even the peace of mind which he sought.
     
     
    Julia watched the early morning sun rise over the eastern horizon, shedding its glowing warmth across the endless prairie, where the buffalo grass and spring flowers waved in the strong, westerly wind. Behind her stood the Indian camp, now fully awake, the sounds of children and adults stirring in the breeze below. She gazed to the north, where Black Mesa rose to its majestic height, in defiance of the flat, sprawling prairie.
    Neeheeowee stirred at her side. Encircled by the camp’s pony herd, Neeheeowee inspected a few of the animals. Julia gazed all around her, doing her best to focus her attention away from Neeheeowee. She was angry with him for what she considered his mistreatment of her, and she refused to acknowledge him.
    Still she could not help but notice how his breechcloth fell forward and back with his every movement. Nor could she keep her gaze away from his movements, which seemed to entice her to observe so much more than just a small portion of his firm backside.
    She shouldn’t look. She couldn’t; she mustn’t. Still…
    She tried to tell herself it was only because she was female. Who wouldn’t look at all that skin there, all that…?
    In truth, her preoccupation with the occasional view of his buttocks did much to incite her anger further. She had decided he would feel her displeasure.
    She glanced back at him, determination in her gaze, yet instead of a quick flare of irritation, she caught sight of his hands, firm and smooth, as he patted first one, and then another mount.
    She looked away at once, a strange feeling washing through her. And breathless all at once, she inhaled deeply, smelling, as she did so, the clean scent of prairie air, the wind having chosen that moment to rush by her, its feel warm and smooth against her skin. She sniffed, and the aroma of prairie, mixing with the unmistakable scent of horseflesh, gave her a distinctive feeling of pleasure, not anger.
    It was not something she wanted to feel.
    “Darn!”
    Neeheeowee glanced over at her as she spoke, but she pretended not to notice, turning her attention to scanning the plains stretching out before her, spotting not so much as a tree to mark where they stood.
    “Eaaa!”
    She glanced back over her shoulder to see that Neeheeowee had singled out a pony from the huge herd, and it took no genius to observe he chose the most inferior pony in the bunch. Shouldn’t he be looking at another mount? Shouldn’t he be…
    Neeheeowee had reached out to run his hands down over the animal’s haunches.
    And a shiver tore over her skin, making Julia tremble. Quickly she averted her gaze.
    Why was he concerning himself with that particular mount? Couldn’t he see that the pony, a filly, had a curved backbone? That the animal’s legs stood bowed out, and that a bluish film covered the filly’s eyes. Didn’t he notice these things?
    The animal was truly inferior to the others, and Julia, as she stared at Neeheeowee, wondered at his knowledge of horseflesh.
    “I always thought Indians were knowledgeable about matters pertaining to horses,” she said aloud, wondering why she had even voiced the concern. He did not understand her, plus, in truth, his apparent inability to evaluate horseflesh gave her cause to think badly of him, something she greatly desired at this moment. For it kept her thoughts off of him and away from that flapping loincloth.
    He didn’t glance at her as she spoke, but he lifted his shoulders in a highly communicative gesture. At length, he finished his inspection of the mare, and,