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Was it possible that he cared for her? The fact that he had allowed her to sleep was proof he did.
“Why must I change?” she asked. She gazed at the clothes, then unrolled the breeches and grimaced when she saw how large they were. She gave Brave Wolf a perplexed look. “Why, I shall be swallowed whole by th
ese clothes.”
“I will help you adjust them to a smaller size,” he said, relieved that at least she had seemed to accept the necessity of changing her clothes.
“Oh, alright,” Mary Beth said, then turned and stomped away toward a thick stand of trees, where she could have some privacy to change her clothes, and attend to other matters that needed to be done out of sight of the warriors.
She had found it embarrassing to seek ways to relieve herself while in the company of these men. But thus far, she had managed it.
She hurried out of her dress, then worked herself into the other clothes. She sighed heavily when she saw just how big they were on her.
She shook her head slowly as she rolled the sleeves up so that at least her hands were visible. She then bent over and rolled up the pants legs until she felt she could at least walk in them without tripping.
But when she stood up and the breeches fell instantly to the ground, she again sighed heavily. This wasn’t going to work. But she had to give it a try, for she understood that it wasn’t safe to be seen with these Indians during the daylight hours in her own clothes.
She gathered the waist of the breeches up into a tight bunch at her left side and walked dispiritedly back to where Brave Wolf waited for her.
She saw a look of quiet amusement enter his eyes when he caught sight of her.
He went to his travel bag and removed a long buckskin thong, then tied it around her waist so that she would no longer have to hold the pants up.
“That should do it,” Brave Wolf said. He stepped back and eyed her again. A slow smile curved his lips. “You look like a starved wolf pup.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” Mary Beth said, then raked her fingers through her long auburn hair in an effort to remove the witches’ knots.
When she had combed out the tangles, she dropped her hands to her sides.
She eyed Brave Wolf in wonder when he took another thong from where he had stuffed it inside his waistband, then stepped closer to her.
“Turn around,” he said softly.
“Why?” Mary Beth gasped, her gaze locked with his. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me you are going to tie my wrists again. How on earth do you expect me to eat while we travel? I only have two hands.”
“The thong is not to tie your wrists, but your hair,” Brave Wolf said. He had decided not to tie her again, not unless she attempted an escape. Then he would keep her tied both day and night!
“My hair?” she asked, reaching back to lift its heaviness from her shoulders.
“If left to hang long, the sun will reflect off its brightness, and prove to any passersby that you are not Indian, whose hair is black like mine,” he said softly. “If your hair is tied and held back from your face, then less of it will be seen.”
Mary Beth understood his logic. She nodded and turned to wait for him to place her hair in a ponytail.
When she turned back to him, she saw such gentleness in his eyes, such genuine caring, she felt guilty for having doubted his goodness.
Yet . . . might not that look be forced, as well, to fool her?
She would not trust him totally just yet. He had to prove himself first.
The growling of her stomach was a reminder to both herself and Brave Wolf that she hadn’t eaten. She smiled awkwardly at him, and then he turned, reached down for a buckskin bag, and handed it to her.
“Inside you will find food, but it is best that we go to our steeds now and resume our travel,” he said. He took her by the elbow and escorted her to the same horse she’d ridden before. He lifted her onto the saddle. “Wait until we are on our way, and then eat.”
Mary Beth nodded.
She clung to the bag with one hand and lifted her reins with the other.
She was glad that he hadn’t tied her wrists or ankles. He was trusting her to have more freedom.
