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“You did not tell me when I asked what name you go by,” Storm said, stepping out into the moonlight and looking guardedly around them for any sign of the scalp hunter’s return.
“Shoshana,” she murmured. “It is the name I was given as a child by my mother. The man who took me from my mother allowed me to keep the name, but only because his wife, who has long since passed away, loved its prettiness.”
She paused, then took his free hand in hers. “It was destiny that brought us together tonight,” she said, her eyes searching his. “The scalp hunter unknowingly led me to the very man I was searching for.”
“You were searching for me?” Storm asked, raising an eyebrow.
His flesh felt hot where her hand held his. He could not help feeling so much for her that he wished to deny.
But when she was so close, her hand in his, her eyes so hauntingly beautiful, her body so enticing, he suddenly remembered his sister’s warnings. She had told him about a woman . . . an Apache woman who had betrayed her people by living as white.
But Storm now knew that Shoshana was not a woman guilty of betrayal. She had been forced to live with the white-eyes. She had never had a role in her own destiny . . . until now.
From the moment George Whaley had abducted Shoshana, he had had full control of her life.
Well, now that had changed. Storm had just made Shoshana’s destiny his.
He put his sister’s warnings in the farthest recesses of his mind. This woman had come to Arizona for a reason. She was sent to him by Maheo, the Great Spirit, to help Storm finally achieve the vengeance that he had sought since the day of his people’s massacre.
“Your name is known well among whites,” Shoshana said, interrupting his thoughts. “I was told of your courage and how you have kept your band safe high up the mountain in your stronghold. You are admired for your dedication to your people, and for the way you have kept peace between them and the whites.”
She paused, then said, “You will take me to your home, won’t you?” she asked, her eyes wide. “It has been so long since I have been among my own kind. I have ached for such an opportunity as this.”
“Yes, I will take you,” he said quietly. Little did she know that she would be taken not as a free woman, but as a captive.
“We must hurry now,” Storm said as he gently took Shoshana by the arm, ushering her away from the cabin.
Shoshana felt no fear, only hope, and something even more. She was intrigued by everything about this man. She had never felt such a strong attraction to any other man. Chief Storm made her come alive inside where she had never known such feelings existed.
She hoped that she was right to trust him, as well as her feelings for him.
Chapter Twelve
Does there within the dimmest dreams
A possible future shine?
—Adelaide Anne Procter
“The wolves,” Storm said, stopping beside their pen. “Gray wolves should never be imprisoned. They are the spirit of the wilderness.”
“Mountain Jack mates them and raises their young for pelts that he sells to the same people who buy scalps from him,” Shoshana said. She watched the younger ones romp and play in the moonlight. Except for one. It stood apart, much thinner than the others, trembling visibly. “It looks like one of the pups isn’t all that strong, or well.”
“I shall release them, all except for the one that is not strong enough to be set free,” Storm said, already stepping toward the gate.
“What are you going to do with it?” Shoshana asked, taking a step away from the pen. “And . . . and . . . is it safe to set any of them free? How do you know they won’t attack us?”
“They are smart animals,” Storm said, slowly lifting the latch that held the gate closed. “They will take advantage of their freedom. They will not take the time even to look at us, much less attack us. They have been penned up for a long time. They are as anxious to taste freedom as you were when you were chained up in the cabin.”
Shoshana heard what he said, but, still unsure whether to trust his judgement about the wolves, she took another step away from them.
She watched as one by one they ran to freedom.
Shoshana marveled how one grown wolf stayed with the weak one and tried to nudge it with its nose to get it to leave the pen.
But the tiny one was not convinced. Its legs wobbled. It gazed wistfully into the eyes of the older one, which Shoshana now assumed was its mother.
“The mother won’t leave the pup behind,” Shoshana said, amazed at the dedication and love the mother had for its pup, especially when freedom beckoned.
