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“You’re an Injun squaw all right,” he said. “You’re full of spunk and sassiness.”
Then he glared at her. “I want to know why you’re wearin’ white woman’s clothes when it’s obvious that you’re a full blood,” he said tightly. “You’re an Apache, ain’t you? I ain’t never seen any Apache squaws wear duds such as you’re wearin’ today.”
Shoshana proudly lifted her chin. “Yes, I am full blood all right,” she said. “I am Apache. And it’s none of your business why I’m wearing the clothes of one people while my blood is of another.”
He slunk away from her, pale at the knowledge of the tribe she belonged to. It was an Apache that took his manhood from him.
He grabbed his pistol from his holster.
Breathing hard, his eyes glittering in the
moonlight, he aimed at Shoshana. “The Apache are the worst of all Injuns,” he said, his voice drawn. “I loathe ’em all. It is always a pleasure to remove their scalps. And it will be a pleasure to remove yours now that I know for certain you are Apache.”
Her heart pounded and her knees went weak at the realization that she was going to die at any moment now. Yet, being strong-willed and proud, as proud as her Apache mother and father had been, Shoshana held her chin high and challenged him with her sparkling black eyes.
Seeing that Shoshana showed no fear, and intrigued by her courage, Mountain Jack lowered his pistol and slid it back in his holster. “For now you’re safe, but you’d better watch yourself,” he warned darkly. “Too much insolence on your part will send you into an early grave.”
He took her elbow and forced her back inside the cabin.
Shoshana stood back from him as he gathered up the scalps, took them outside, and prepared to place them on his horse. He hid them in blankets, then tied them securely behind his saddle along with several skins of various animals, wolves the most prominent.
Shoshana stepped aside as Mountain Jack came back into the cabin and got his saddlebag. Again he spoke directly into her face. “There’s plenty of grub,” he said solemnly. “Help yourself.”
He nodded toward the wolves in the pen. “And don’t forget to feed them,” he flatly ordered. “There’s fresh meat outside in a shack. It’s for the wolves.”
Laughing gruffly, he left.
Shoshana stood still, scarcely breathing, until she heard Mountain Jack ride away into the night.
She felt as though she was in a state of shock over everything that had happened to her. She was the prisoner of a crazy man!
Dragging the chain behind her, Shoshana began searching the cabin for something she could use to cut it off. She guessed that her search would be fruitless, for surely he wouldn’t have left anything for her to find.
“A key?” she whispered. “Could there be a key?” She searched in the cabin until she lost hope of finding one, then went and sat down on the floor before the fireplace.
She hid her face in her hands.
“Please come and find me,” she whispered, uncertain whom she was imploring. “Anyone . . . please . . . ?”
She shivered when the wolves outside in the pen began howling at the moon.
It was an eerie, lonesome sound.
It made Shoshana feel even more alone . . . and afraid.
Chapter Ten
There is a garden in her face
Where roses and white lilies grow,
A heavenly paradise in that place
Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow.
—Thomas Campion
Almost ready to give up the search for both the panther and the scalp hunter, knowing that traveling at this hour on the mountain was full of risks, Storm began wheeling his horse around. He stopped halfway when the moonlight revealed something he had not seen before while traveling up and down the mountain.
