you’re going with me?”
Badger huffed as if reacting to a minor irritation. “Well, you sure as hell wouldn’t git far on your own.”
“I’m much obliged,” Clay said, his grin a mile wide. His common sense told him that his chances of finding the band of Indians that kidnapped his sister were far greater with Badger’s help. But his confidence in his ability to accomplish damn near anything he set out to do assured him that he would get a helluva lot further than Badger figured.
Chapter 4
Martha Vinings sat back on her heels, arching her back in an effort to stretch muscles grown stiff from the constant bending. While she stretched, she glanced about at the Indian women scattered around her on the hillside. They worked in groups of two or three, chatting cheerfully as they dug into the hard earth with tools made from bone or antlers, harvesting the wild camas bulbs that would later be buried under a fire and baked for several days. Only she worked alone. Pausing for a moment, she stretched her neck and shrugged her shoulders to relax the stiff muscles. Glancing back toward the other women, she caught Moon Shadow’s eye. Black Elk’s wife favored her with a slight smile.
Of all the women in Bloody Axe’s village, it seemed ironic to Martha that Moon Shadow had been the only one to treat her with kindness. Over the weeks since her capture, the other women had progressed in their treatment of her from open hostility to general indifference. Moon Shadow alone had shown compassion for her from the beginning—this in spite of the fact that Black Elk had brought the white woman to live in her tipi.
There was no doubt concerning Martha’s status—she was a slave, and she was Black Elk’s property, the same as his horses and weapons. In spite of this, Moon Shadow never demonstrated any sign of animosity toward her white slave, often interceding on Martha’s behalf whenever some of the other women were bent upon abusing her. Even after the first day back in the village, when Martha attempted to escape again—only to suffer another taste of Black Elk’s quirt on her back—it was Moon Shadow who rubbed grease into the welts, and spoke to her in compassionate tones. From the first day of her capture, Martha had resolved that she would resist enslavement, vowing to fight for her dignity—to the death if necessary. Moon Shadow’s kindness had all but defused her determination to fight back. Before very long, their relationship leaned more toward friendship than one of slave and mistress.
In the tipi at night, Martha often stole glances at the Blackfoot warrior and his wife, and puzzled over the union of the two. Black Elk was a fierce warrior of such obvious strength that he stood out among all the other men of the village. And Moon Shadow was such a frail little woman, certainly not among the fairest of her sisters. In time, Martha learned that the marriage was arranged as a favor to Bloody Axe, Moon Shadow’s father. Black Elk had shown no interest in taking a wife, but he did this for his chief. Watching the two of them now, Martha was touched by the tender regard the fierce warrior showed for his fragile wife. Moon Shadow confided in her that she wanted to give Black Elk a son, but she’d been unsuccessful in doing so. It grieved her to fail him, although he never complained. The other women were concerned for her. They said she was too weak to carry a baby. Martha couldn’t help but feel deep compassion for Moon Shadow’s plight.
Turning her attention back to the business ofgathering camas bulbs, Martha thought about her life before being captured. It seemed a century ago instead of a matter of months. The first couple of weeks, she constantly thought of rescue. Now it seldom crossed her mind. There would be no rescue. For who would rescue her? Robert? She wasted no thought on that hope. She didn’t fault Robert for his weakness. It was simply not in his nature to face a challenge such as would be
Badger huffed as if reacting to a minor irritation. “Well, you sure as hell wouldn’t git far on your own.”
“I’m much obliged,” Clay said, his grin a mile wide. His common sense told him that his chances of finding the band of Indians that kidnapped his sister were far greater with Badger’s help. But his confidence in his ability to accomplish damn near anything he set out to do assured him that he would get a helluva lot further than Badger figured.
Chapter 4
Martha Vinings sat back on her heels, arching her back in an effort to stretch muscles grown stiff from the constant bending. While she stretched, she glanced about at the Indian women scattered around her on the hillside. They worked in groups of two or three, chatting cheerfully as they dug into the hard earth with tools made from bone or antlers, harvesting the wild camas bulbs that would later be buried under a fire and baked for several days. Only she worked alone. Pausing for a moment, she stretched her neck and shrugged her shoulders to relax the stiff muscles. Glancing back toward the other women, she caught Moon Shadow’s eye. Black Elk’s wife favored her with a slight smile.
Of all the women in Bloody Axe’s village, it seemed ironic to Martha that Moon Shadow had been the only one to treat her with kindness. Over the weeks since her capture, the other women had progressed in their treatment of her from open hostility to general indifference. Moon Shadow alone had shown compassion for her from the beginning—this in spite of the fact that Black Elk had brought the white woman to live in her tipi.
There was no doubt concerning Martha’s status—she was a slave, and she was Black Elk’s property, the same as his horses and weapons. In spite of this, Moon Shadow never demonstrated any sign of animosity toward her white slave, often interceding on Martha’s behalf whenever some of the other women were bent upon abusing her. Even after the first day back in the village, when Martha attempted to escape again—only to suffer another taste of Black Elk’s quirt on her back—it was Moon Shadow who rubbed grease into the welts, and spoke to her in compassionate tones. From the first day of her capture, Martha had resolved that she would resist enslavement, vowing to fight for her dignity—to the death if necessary. Moon Shadow’s kindness had all but defused her determination to fight back. Before very long, their relationship leaned more toward friendship than one of slave and mistress.
In the tipi at night, Martha often stole glances at the Blackfoot warrior and his wife, and puzzled over the union of the two. Black Elk was a fierce warrior of such obvious strength that he stood out among all the other men of the village. And Moon Shadow was such a frail little woman, certainly not among the fairest of her sisters. In time, Martha learned that the marriage was arranged as a favor to Bloody Axe, Moon Shadow’s father. Black Elk had shown no interest in taking a wife, but he did this for his chief. Watching the two of them now, Martha was touched by the tender regard the fierce warrior showed for his fragile wife. Moon Shadow confided in her that she wanted to give Black Elk a son, but she’d been unsuccessful in doing so. It grieved her to fail him, although he never complained. The other women were concerned for her. They said she was too weak to carry a baby. Martha couldn’t help but feel deep compassion for Moon Shadow’s plight.
Turning her attention back to the business ofgathering camas bulbs, Martha thought about her life before being captured. It seemed a century ago instead of a matter of months. The first couple of weeks, she constantly thought of rescue. Now it seldom crossed her mind. There would be no rescue. For who would rescue her? Robert? She wasted no thought on that hope. She didn’t fault Robert for his weakness. It was simply not in his nature to face a challenge such as would be
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