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But he must keep reminding himself that she was there for only one reason. To achieve a vengeance that had eaten away at his gut since that day he had buried his mother and father.
Suddenly the screech of a panther split the still night air.
Only now was Storm reminded of why he had left his stronghold this morning.
It was not to take a woman captive.
It was to search for a dangerous panther.
He yanked his rifle from its gunboot and searched both sides of the trail.
“Ish-tia-nay, stay close by me,” he said.
The wolf pup let out a tiny growl, as though even it sensed the panther’s nearness.
“Silence, Gray Wolf,” Storm said, releasing his reins long enough to drop the flap down over the pup’s head and curious eyes.
“I’m so afraid,” Shoshana said, visibly trembling. “I have never seen a panther before, but I know they are killers.”
“Not always,” Storm said quietly. “But once a panther has tasted human blood, it does become a killer that must be dealt with.”
“You seem to be very wary of this particular panther,” Shoshana said, edging her horse even closer to Storm’s.
“I was on a hunt for the panther when I spied you and the scalp hunter earlier in the afternoon,” Storm said. “That is how I knew where to search for you.”
“So it was you making that reflection in the sun,” Shoshana said, then gasped and looked quickly upward.
She froze when she saw the panther.
It was on a limb directly above her, gazing down at her with piercing green eyes, its sleek body covered by a beautiful bluish-black coat. It was whipping its tail back and forth against its sides and clawing great pieces of bark from the limb.
It screeched again, and before Storm saw it and could take aim with his rifle, it leapt away to a higher bluff, the action causing Shoshana’s horse to bolt. Snorting, the horse slipped and lost its footing, throwing Shoshana from the saddle.
She screamed in terror as she felt herself being thrown over the side of the cliff.
Chapter Thirteen
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired and got,
’Twas a dream of thee.
—John Donne
Storm’s heart leapt with fear when he saw Shoshana thrown from her horse, and then fall out of sight, down the side of the cliff.
His pulse racing, he slid his rifle back inside the gunboot at the side of his horse, then dismounted and fell to his belly so he could lean over the side of the cliff. He found Shoshana hanging from a limb, her legs dangling.
The moonlight revealed her wide eyes gazing in desperation up at him.
Suddenly Storm saw something else. Far below him, so far away they looked like tiny ants, were soldiers making camp around a huge, blazing campfire. Should they look up, would the bright light of the moon reveal Shoshana to them?
But knowing that saving her life was the most important thing now, he looked back into her eyes. “Hang on a moment longer,” he said reassuringly. “I will save you.”
“My hands . . . hurt . . . I’m not sure how long I can last,” Shoshana cried, her heart pounding so hard, she felt as though her chest might burst.
Storm quickly got a rope from his horse and tied it to his steed, then handed the other end down to Shoshana. “Grab the rope,” he said, holding it fast.
