She was wrenched around then by the Indian with the knife. Hawk came flying across the ground, tackling the Crow brave who held her. Freed from his touch, Skylar instantly backed up against the rocks. There were four Crow Indians. And Hawk. Where were Willow and Sloan?
The two men on the ground rolled furiously in the dirt. She heard a thudding sound. Both men were dead still. Then the Crow, who had been on top, slid into the dust, blood staining his bare chest. Hawk leaped to his feet. Even as he did so, Skylar let out a warning shriek. Two of the remaining braves rushed him then, their knives raised high, aiming to take his life.
She leaped to her own feet, searching the area frantically for a weapon. She found a heavy rock and lifted it, then threw it hard at one of the braves Hawk had pushed away from himself. She’d aimed for his head, but the rock hit him in the shoulder. He let out a bellow of pain, then struggled to his feet with fortitude, staring at her. He no longer seemed interested in the fight between Hawk and the other Crow. He lunged toward her.
She turned to run but tripped over the body of the dead Crow warrior. She landed next to him, staring into his open, glassy eyes. She shrieked out again in terror, trying to rise to her feet. The brave behind her caught her around her waist. She struggled wildly, kicking, flailing, screaming.
Nevertheless, she was dragged away.
The fourth warrior had apparently gone for the Crow ponies. Skylar suddenly found herself thrown atop one, with the Crow leaping up behind her. While Hawk continued in hand-to-hand combat with the Crow on the ground, the other two warriors began to ride, with her draped over one of their horses and her roan being led along. They paused long enough to try to steal Tor as well, but Tor would have none of it. He reared with such violence that the Crows quickly abandoned their attempt to take him.
Skylar screamed again as loudly as she could manage. She’d been so determined to put some distance between herself and the men! Now there was no one to help her. Hawk would be murdered, and she would be…
Crow.
She struggled to rise, but the Crow were excellent horsemen. The pony she’d been tossed upon was moving at reckless speed in the twilight, running ridiculously hard over land that was rocky, uneven, rising, falling.
Her head slapped against the horse’s haunches. She tried to brace herself. She could see the ground moving, dust flying up from it. If she fell, she’d die.
What of Hawk? If he died, she realized, she’d be heartbroken. How insane! This had been his fault. Her fault, too. She’d left the camp. Because of the stupid mule incident. His fault. He taunted her constantly. His fault. Because she couldn’t quite manage to tell him the truth. He’d never given her the benefit of the doubt. But he had been ready in an instant to risk his own life for hers.
Tears suddenly flooded her eyes. Was he dead? He had to be, or he’d be coming for her now. How did she know that he wasn’t?
As they approached a high outcropping of rocks, the Indians reined in their horses. She heard voices, a number of them, excited voices. She was dragged down from the pony. There were more warriors here. She tried to count them. The two who had taken her and five more men. They encircled her and spun her around to face each of them. They were mocking her. tormenting her, she thought.
Yet she wasn’t as terrified as she should have been. She had known this fear once before. And strangely enough, she was now more worried about what might have happened to Hawk than about anything that could befall her.
One brave thrust her toward another, and then another. She’d had enough. The next time she landed in a pair of arms, she kicked the brave in the shins with all her strength. He howled, raising a hand to strike her down.
It didn’t fall.
A warrior whose face was painted black across the eyes suddenly grasped her. She struggled as he pulled her arms behind her back, tying her wrists securely. He issued a few harsh commands to the others, then dragged her behind the outcropping of rocks before thrusting her down. Though shecould see a great deal around her, the rocks would conceal her from anyone coming from the east. She stared up at him belligerently. He made a sitting motion with his hands. She realized that she was to remain where she was. For the time being.
She leaned against the rock, closing her eyes.
How long did she have?
She opened her eyes. The last of the daylight had gone. Night had come. A full moon was rising, casting its glow over the beauty of the landscape.
She looked around her. The Crows were not far from her, on the flat stretch of plain on the westward side of the rock and cliff formation. They sat around a small open fire upon which two spitted rabbits roasted.
One lone warrior stood closer to the rock, a rifle in his hands. She strained to see what it was. It appeared to be a very old Enfield, a weapon she knew well because it had been in heavy use during the Civil War. It wasn’t a repeater, but she had heard that soldiers good in the use of the rifle had managed to get off several shots in a minute during the war. It wouldn’t compare with a six-shooter, she thought.
She wondered if he was waiting for his friend to return—or if he was prepared for an attack.
She sighed, closing her eyes again. She couldn’t just sit there. She had to plan. Something. Anything. How could she plan? She was numb with fear and pain and worry.
She had to plan. Things could become much worse. These Indians might well decide to kill her. Torture her. Scalp her. At the very least, she’d be scraping buffalo hides for the rest of her days for the men who might very well have killed her husband.
Don’t think that way! she warned herself.
She forced herself to watch the braves again. The two who had abducted her, it seemed, were acting out what hadhappened. The Crow who seemed to be the leader of their party asked questions. There seemed to be laughter, then sorrow as well, and then amazement. The leader with the painted face suddenly turned and stared at Skylar thoughtfully. He smiled in a way that brought a new terror into her heart.
She had to escape. There was no reason she could not. She was not tied to the rock. Her wrists were merely tied together. If she could just free them…
Never. He had tied her with some kind of rawhide. It was very tight, chafing. Perhaps if she worked the strip of leather against the rock…
She did so. It was slow going, painfully tedious, but she concentrated very hard on her work.
