?
They walked together toward the trees, Thomas’s hand gripping Violet’s like a brand. Ezra followed, his expression unreadable. Behind them the camp stirred with low voices, women watching, men frowning. Grey Horse did not move, though his eyes burned like coals banked under ash.
Violet’s heart pounded. Her promise held her feet to the path, yet each step felt like a tearing away from her true self.
She dared one last glance back. Grey Horse stood rooted by the fire, tall and still, the braid he had woven shiny faint in the sun. Their eyes met for a moment that felt like an eternity.
Then the trees closed around her, and the camp was gone.
Chapter Seventeen: Torn Promises
The trees swallowed the Kiowa camp behind Violet, muffling the sounds of women’s voices, the crackle of fire, and the low whisper of the river. Thomas’s hand remained clamped over hers, hot and unyielding, dragging her forward through the high grass. Ezra trailed behind, his steps careful, his silence heavier than words.
Every stride jolted through her body like betrayal. She wanted to stop, to turn, to look back again, but Thomas’s grip was iron. She dared only the smallest glance over her shoulder. The camp had vanished. Only a faint plume of smoke rising above the tree line marked where her heart still stood.
Her throat burned, though no tears came. She had chosen. She had spoken the words.I will go.And now each step carried her farther from the warmth of Grey Horse’s eyes, farther from the braid heavy against her back, farther from the sense that her life might yet be her own.
Thomas said nothing, but the weight of his possession spoke louder than speech. His hand crushed hers, his belly jostling as he moved, his breath harsh in the damp heat. He smelled of sour sweat and stale tobacco, nothing like the clean earth and river scent of Grey Horse.
Her heart shrank. She had imagined someone else, someone younger, someone who might at least smile. What she had instead was this man—older than she had thought, thick in thewaist, his face rough and pitted, his beard streaked with gray. His eyes held no gentleness. Only claim.
Shock rippled through her again, so fierce her knees wobbled.Can this truly bethe man I promised myself to?
Yes. And she could not take the words back.
?
At the river’s edge Thomas pulled her onto his horse with a grunt, seating her before him in the saddle as though she were a sack of goods. Ezra mounted his own gelding and said nothing.
Thomas kicked his bay into the shallows. The current surged, cold around Violet’s legs. She clutched at the saddle horn, her stomach knotting as the horse fought for footing. Thomas’s bulk pressed hard against her back, his arms tight around her waist.
“Keep still,” he barked.
She bit her lip, nodding.
Finally on the far bank, the horse’s hooves found wet clay. Thomas turned and looked back, his eyes sweeping the woods with suspicion before he jerked his head toward Ezra. “We move fast. Hard. I want miles between us and them before they think to follow.”
Ezra gave a short nod, though his eyes flicked to Violet with something unreadable: pity, perhaps, or warning.
Thomas gripped her painfully. “You’re mine now.”
The words stung harder than the river’s chill.
?
That night they camped in a hollow away from the river. Ezra gathered wood while Thomas tethered the horses and spread his blanket with the air of a man laying claim to the ground itself.Violet stood near the fire, her arms wrapped around herself, the braid Grey Horse had woven heavy across her shoulder.
Thomas’s eyes fell on it. “Take that out,” he said flatly.
Her breath caught. “What?”
“That braid. I won’t have you looking like some savage’s squaw.”
Her hands rose slowly, trembling. She loosened the ties and let her hair fall free. It tumbled around her face, a shield against his gaze, but inside she felt stripped bare.
Thomas watched with satisfaction. “Better. You’re not one of them. You’re mine.” Then he narrowed his eyes and stared right through her. “He didn’t have you, did he?”
“What?” she responded, puzzled.
