Sarah's Heart by Ginger Simpson Page B

and
ambled toward the trees she had visited earlier. “While you clean up, I’ll try
and catch dinner,” he called over his shoulder.

 
    * * *

 
 
    She finished her
toilette, enjoying the feel of clean skin. Wolf had disappeared from sight, and
Sarah felt a mite edgy being alone. She dared not call out and frighten her
supper away. Her mouth watered at the thought of something tasty, but she
didn’t hold out much hope that any animal would find a piece of stale bread
very appealing, unless perhaps a bird.
    The sun began its
descent, setting lower in the sky, casting shadows of the tall trees across the
ground in front of Sarah. She sat next to the fire, waiting patiently for Wolf
to return, while trying to imagine what the future held for her. Without Wolf,
she wouldn’t be alive to plan one. Lifting her torn pant leg, she eyed the limb
that, only days ago, had been swollen twice its size. The bite was barely
visible, and normal coloring returned to replace the angry red. She sighed then
tried to stifle a yawn. It had been a very long day and she was bone tired.
    A noise drew her
attention.
    She looked up. Her
heart seized as her gaze locked on three Indians, standing less than six feet
from her. With faces painted in bright hues, feathers protruding from their
ebony braids, and dangerous weapons clasped tightly in their hands, they leered
at her. She opened her mouth to call for Wolf, but his name couldn’t get past
the lump of fear in her throat.

Chapter Eleven

 
    Sarah’s heart raced
as the trio stood, unmoving and silent, glaring at her. Feeling the weight of
their stares, terror rooted her to the ground. She swallowed hard, trying to
rid her throat of the choking fear. Surely she didn’t survive the wagon train
massacre and a snakebite just to meet her death now.
Her eyes momentarily scanned the sky while her mind once again whispered a
silent prayer for deliverance.
    The shortest of the
three Indians approached her. Holding her breath, her gaze followed him as he
circled her like an animal would its prey. He drew nearer, stopping near her
right shoulder. Sarah watched from the corner of her eye, shuddering as he
dared stroke her hair. Instinctively, she recoiled.
    He spoke to his
friends in a strange tongue, this time lifting a long lock and letting it fall
back into place, then laughing. Horrible images of her scalped traveling
companions passed through her mind. Was that what he had planned for her?
      When he reached for her again, she slapped his
hand away and scrambled to her feet. If she was going to die, she refused to go
easily. She squared her shoulders and locked gazes with him. “What do you
want?” She licked her lips, her mouth devoid of all moisture.
    His two companions
chuckled at him, pointing and speaking in the same unfamiliar language. The short
one’s eyes turned to black ice as he leered at Sarah. Clearly, she had
embarrassed him in front of the others.
    The yellow lightning
bolt on his cheek twitched, and a dark flash of anger crossed his face. Sarah
stood her ground. He leaned in, stopping when his nose was just inches away.
Dropping his weapon on the ground, he grabbed her forearms.
      Sarah sucked in her breath, stifling the
scream mounting inside her. Where was Wolf? Oh God, where was he?
    The Indian’s smooth
brow deepened as his gaze scanned her. “You make plenty sons.” His breath
splayed across her face as he spoke in broken English.
    Her mind raced. Had
he just said he planned to take her as a wife?
      She leaned back and gazed at him, fear gnawing
at her innards. Feigning a smile, she cleared her throat. “Ah...I…I already
have a husband.”
    If he understood, he
disregarded her lie, and with one hand firmly locked around her wrist, he bent
and picked up the hatchet-looking piece he’d dropped on the ground.
Straightening, he tugged at her, forcing her to follow. Sarah dug in her heels,
glancing hopelessly at the place where Wolf had disappeared into the