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But he could not allow himself to forget what had happened to his uncle and that Short Robe was even now surely dying because of his horrible treatment at the hands of the white soldiers.
For a moment, Candy seemed to see a softening in the handsome Indian’s midnight-dark eyes, as though he realized that what he was doing was wrong.
But then, in the very next blink of an eye, there was that fierceness and anger again as he glared at her.
Still, she did have a glimmer of hope because of that one brief moment when his conviction had wavered.
He had a good reason to hate her.
She, too, would hate anyone who had treated her beloved uncle in that manner. God rest his soul, he had died while she was living in Saint Louis with her parents at the lovely fort that overlooked the Mississippi River.
He had loved taking walks with her as they gazed down at the paddlewheelers passing down below in the muddy Mississippi. It was on one of those outings that he had suffered a heart attack. He had died in her arms after he had fallen to the ground, unconscious.
Yes, she did understand how one could hate so much, but . . .
“I am not responsible for any of this,” she blurted out. “Especially not for what happened to . . . your . . . uncle. I was horrified by all that was done to him. But I had no voice in the matter. Please believe me. I could do nothing to stop his mistreatment.”
Two Eagles leaned closer to her until their breath mingled as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Again he found it hard not to weaken beneath the pleading in her lovely blue eyes.
Even her voice had momentarily entranced him. Never had he heard such a soft, sweet voice.
But he forced himself to remember his uncle and what had happened to him. And he would never forget the two scalps he had found in the colonel’s office . . . scalps of his mother and sister.
He had already taken them to where they should have been all along . . . to their graves.
“Did you plead for my uncle when you saw him being beaten?” he hissed out. “Did you ask that he not be treated in such a way? Did you ask for his release?”
“I did, but nothing I said helped, for I had no say in anything that happened at the fort,” she said, her voice breaking. “My father . . . was . . . the colonel. He . . . listened . . . to no one, especially not his daughter.”
Candy suddenly realized what she had said when she saw a fire leap into the warrior’s eyes at the news that her father had been the commanding officer of Fort Hope. It was the worst thing she could have told him.
She was doomed now!
Two Eagles took a step away from Candy, only now realizing that he had achieved more than he could have hoped for. The very man who had ordered the inhumane treatment of his beloved uncle, who had abducted and scalped his mother and sister, was this woman’s father!
Ho, Two Eagles would get much pleasure in having her at his mercy, yet . . . yet . . . he saw much about her that said she was not like the man her father was, even though they shared the same blood. She was strong and courageous in the face of danger, and she had spoken in behalf of his uncle. She seemed helpless, sweet, and oh, so beautiful.
But he would not be sidetracked by his emotional response to her.
She would be used as an example to the white eyes, just as his uncle had been used.
Tears spilled from Candy’s eyes as she tried one last time to make this Indian see reason. “After I saw how the old man . . . your uncle . . . was being treated, I gave him food and water when none saw me do it,” she murmured. “I . . . even . . . washed his bloody feet.”
Two Eagle was filled with rage at her words, for when he had asked his uncle if he had been fed while he was incarcerated at the fort, he had spoken of weevils in his food, and stringy, spoiled meat. He had most certainly not said one word about a woman being kind enough to bring him food, much less bend low and wash his feet!
“You lie!” he spat. “You lie in order to be treated better by the Wichita than my uncle was treated by whites!”
Candy’s eyes widened. “I . . . I . . . have never lied about anything in my life,” she said, her voice breaking again. She gazed into his eyes. “How . . . how . . . is your uncle?”
“You want to know how my uncle is faring?” Two Eagles asked, dropping the chains to the mat-covered floor of the tepee. “Come with me. You will see firsthand the damage done to the man I have admired and loved all my life.”
Candy’s heart sank, afraid now that the elderly man was dying. If he was, what then would be her own fate?
Chapter Seven
I love your hair when the
strands enmesh your kisses
