desert night, and it had seeped into her bones. Tied as she was, Hannah hadn’t been able to curl into a ball to conserve her escaping body heat. The minute her feet were loose, she ignored the scream of her sore muscles and tried to bend her body together to find some vestige of warmth.
The sight of her own nudity was not a shock to her anymore; the excruciating experience of having her dignity stripped away was gone. Now she was revolted by the bloody water seeping from the broken blisters and the worst sores. Her body was a mass of scabs.
The rank odor of the Apache came to her as he crouched at her head to loosen the rawhide strip tied to the base of the mesquite trunk. She shrank from him and from the memory of the violation she’d known by him. Some fierce burning inside—fear, hatred, pride,or a mixture of all three—refused to let him see the primitive creature he’d reduced her to.
When he straightened, her wrists remained bound. As he walked away, Hannah realized that she was to stay tied. Dully she hunched over her drawn-up knees, shivering in the dry cold and aching endlessly. Her mouth was so dry there was no saliva in it. Just for a tiny moment she let herself wonder what was to become of her—whether she was to be killed when Lutero was tired of forcing himself on her or if he intended to keep her for his squaw.
Stephen was out there. She must remember that. She must remember that he was looking for her. Hope briefly lifted her flagging spirits.
A shadow fell across her as a shy sun peeped over a ridge and cast its new light on the Apache, throwing his dark outline onto Hannah. She looked up and saw him holding the water bag. This time she was wise and did not drink so much when it was offered to her. Even then it kept trying to come up, and she had to swallow at intervals to keep it down.
The bridled horses were all packed with his stolen goods when Lutero led them from the grassy area. He untied her hands, hoisted her onto the bay horse’s sweat-caked back, and tied the reins to the brushy tail of his horse. Hannah had not eaten since breakfast the previous morning. She didn’t know if Lutero had eaten anything, but he’d given her no food.
Walking, trotting, always moving, they went up canyons, across ridges, along rocky defiles, and through narrow gullies. To Hannah, it was endless motion, another ache, another hour in the merciless sun. Again it was near sundown when Lutero stopped to make camp for the night. Hannah collapsed onto the ground. He tied her hands to a tree, then staked the horses in a hollow depression close by. He looked at Hannah.After a second’s hesitation, he took the water bag and slipped away into the brush, as soundlessly as a lizard.
Feverish and exhausted, she shut her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, mauve shadows cast an odd tint over everything—and Lutero hadn’t returned. The half-light was fading quickly, and she strained to listen for any sound that might signal his approach. The wild thought occurred to her that she’d been tied to this tree and left here to die. She started tugging and gnawing at the rawhide strip with her teeth.
A low voice cursing in Apache burst into her hearing. Hannah ceased her efforts and looked around just as he kicked her in the back, knocking the breath out of her. For a long while, she lay there struggling for air. Vaguely she was conscious of Lutero moving about and of a warm, unusual odor in the air. Finally, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, wary of him as he approached.
“Eyanh.
Eat.” He held something out to her, but in the dark she couldn’t see what it was.
“What is it?” she asked, then remembered to use Spanish. His answer was a word she didn’t understand. The thought of any food turned her stomach, but she knew she had to eat if she wanted to regain her strength. She held out her bound hands and something warm and wet slid into them. Its softly firm texture and slick feel made her
The sight of her own nudity was not a shock to her anymore; the excruciating experience of having her dignity stripped away was gone. Now she was revolted by the bloody water seeping from the broken blisters and the worst sores. Her body was a mass of scabs.
The rank odor of the Apache came to her as he crouched at her head to loosen the rawhide strip tied to the base of the mesquite trunk. She shrank from him and from the memory of the violation she’d known by him. Some fierce burning inside—fear, hatred, pride,or a mixture of all three—refused to let him see the primitive creature he’d reduced her to.
When he straightened, her wrists remained bound. As he walked away, Hannah realized that she was to stay tied. Dully she hunched over her drawn-up knees, shivering in the dry cold and aching endlessly. Her mouth was so dry there was no saliva in it. Just for a tiny moment she let herself wonder what was to become of her—whether she was to be killed when Lutero was tired of forcing himself on her or if he intended to keep her for his squaw.
Stephen was out there. She must remember that. She must remember that he was looking for her. Hope briefly lifted her flagging spirits.
A shadow fell across her as a shy sun peeped over a ridge and cast its new light on the Apache, throwing his dark outline onto Hannah. She looked up and saw him holding the water bag. This time she was wise and did not drink so much when it was offered to her. Even then it kept trying to come up, and she had to swallow at intervals to keep it down.
The bridled horses were all packed with his stolen goods when Lutero led them from the grassy area. He untied her hands, hoisted her onto the bay horse’s sweat-caked back, and tied the reins to the brushy tail of his horse. Hannah had not eaten since breakfast the previous morning. She didn’t know if Lutero had eaten anything, but he’d given her no food.
Walking, trotting, always moving, they went up canyons, across ridges, along rocky defiles, and through narrow gullies. To Hannah, it was endless motion, another ache, another hour in the merciless sun. Again it was near sundown when Lutero stopped to make camp for the night. Hannah collapsed onto the ground. He tied her hands to a tree, then staked the horses in a hollow depression close by. He looked at Hannah.After a second’s hesitation, he took the water bag and slipped away into the brush, as soundlessly as a lizard.
Feverish and exhausted, she shut her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, mauve shadows cast an odd tint over everything—and Lutero hadn’t returned. The half-light was fading quickly, and she strained to listen for any sound that might signal his approach. The wild thought occurred to her that she’d been tied to this tree and left here to die. She started tugging and gnawing at the rawhide strip with her teeth.
A low voice cursing in Apache burst into her hearing. Hannah ceased her efforts and looked around just as he kicked her in the back, knocking the breath out of her. For a long while, she lay there struggling for air. Vaguely she was conscious of Lutero moving about and of a warm, unusual odor in the air. Finally, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, wary of him as he approached.
“Eyanh.
Eat.” He held something out to her, but in the dark she couldn’t see what it was.
“What is it?” she asked, then remembered to use Spanish. His answer was a word she didn’t understand. The thought of any food turned her stomach, but she knew she had to eat if she wanted to regain her strength. She held out her bound hands and something warm and wet slid into them. Its softly firm texture and slick feel made her
Similar Books
