Or, rather, the day he killed her and their baby.
He relived it in his mind, that terrible event, seared into his memory forever. The day he came back to his lodge to find Mad Wolf there. She had the baby to her bosom and was pleading with Mad Wolf to leave.
For half a dozen moons Mad Wolf tried to win her away. Mad Wolf had more horses and his father was high in the council, and he thought he had the right to any woman he wanted. Mad Wolf wanted Yellow Fox. Mad Wolf didn’t care that she was spoken for. Mad Wolf didn’t care that she had told him over and over that she would never come to live with him.
Mad Wolf kept after her. One fateful day he had dared to enter their lodge and press his suit.
The Outcast had never been so mad. Even now, it made his blood grow hot in his veins. They had heated words, Mad Wolf and he. One angry word led to another, and Mad Wolf reached for his knife.
Without thinking, the Outcast reacted. He drove his lance into Mad Wolf’s body with all the strength in his sinews.
The Outcast hadn’t realized that Yellow Fox had come up behind Mad Wolf. He hadn’t realized his lance went all the way through Mad Wolf and through the baby and into her until she cried out.
It wasn’t one body that fell.
It was three.
It was the day the Outcast died inside. When the elders called him before them, he listened with an empty heart. No Kainai had ever done such a thing. Kainai were never to kill Kainai. To kill a woman and an infant—it was unthinkable. It was bad medicine. With deep regret the council acted for the good of all.
They banished him.
No one came to see him off the day he rode from the village. Those he passed turned their backs to him.
The Outcast wandered. An empty vessel that refused to be filled, he traveled where whim took him. In his sorrow and grief he thought he would never feel again.
He hadn’t, until now.
In grim anger, the Outcast started after the scarred warriors.
They had taken his horse and his captive.
He would have their lives—or they would have his.
Chapter Fourteen
“There.” Star Dancer pointed.
“I see him,” Skin Shredder said.
The breed was after them. As yet he was well down the mountain, but climbing rapidly.
“He will overtake us before the sun goes down.”
“Let him.” Skin Shredder would rise high in the esteem of his people if he brought back two captives instead of one.
Louisa wondered what they were talking about. She was on the pinto a little way ahead in the trees and could not see where they were looking. She hoped against hope that Zach was coming. She refused to believe he was dead. She’d survived the talus; so could he. He was a lot tougher.
The Heart Eaters continued their ascent.
Lou was tempted to try to escape. All she had to do was yank the reins from the hands of the Indian holding them, and use her heels. But with warriors on both sides and the leader and his friends behind, she would be lucky if she got ten feet.
Lou had to do something. Not just for her sake. She had the new life to think of. If something had happened to Zach, she owed it to him to stay alive so she could give birth to his legacy.
Lou put a hand on her belly. It was too soon to feel the baby kick, but she told herself that now and then she felt it move. Her imagination, most likely, but there it was.
Skin Shredder was watching her. He’d noticed how she was constantly putting a hand on her stomach. At first he thought she had been hurt when she was caught in the talus. Then he thought maybe she was sick. Finally he remembered his own women and the one who had just given him a son, and he blurted, “She is with child.”
Splashes Blood looked at him. “Who?”
“How many captives do we have?” Skin Shredder nodded at the white woman. “We must keep her alive until it is born.” Of all the delicacies life offered, of all the delicious kinds of meat, the heart of a baby was the choicest.
“The other Bear People will come after us,” Splashes Blood mentioned.
Skin Shredder knew of whom he spoke—the giant with the black beard and the old man with the white beard. They were dangerous, that pair. “Let them come to our valley. They will never leave it.”
A slope of lodgepole pines was mired in gloom. The slender trees grew in ranks so close together that at times there was barely space for the pinto. Skin Shredder doubted the white woman would try to escape until they were out of them. She could not ride fast with the trees pressing in on her. He relaxed his guard and stopped watching her.
Lou was bubbling with excitement. Here was her chance. She girded herself, and when most of the warriors were looking the other way, she coiled her legs and leaped. Her outstretched hands wrapped around a lodgepole, and with a lithe swing she was on the ground and running. She moved so quickly that she had a five-yard lead before a harsh cry alerted her captors to her flight.
Lou was fleet of foot. She wasn’t as fast as Zach, but he often liked to say that she was a female antelope. In britches, anyway. Dresses slowed her. She poured all she had into her legs and bounded down the mountain in long loping strides. She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw that four of the Heart Eaters were after her. The rest had stayed with the pinto.
Skin Shredder was startled by how fast she was. He was going all out, but he couldn’t gain. Star Dancer, though, was faster, and would catch her before she was out of the lodgepoles.
Heavy breathing and the thud of flying feet warned Lou one of them was almost on top of her. She dared another glance and saw bronzed fingers reaching for the back of her dress. The warrior was intent on her to the exclusion of all else. Inspiration struck, and she ran straight at one of the pines. The warrior’s fingertips brushed her, and he smiled, thinking that he almost had her. He didn’t see the tree until Lou swerved.
Skin Shredder heard the thud of impact. He didn’t stop. He streaked past Star Dancer, who was holding an arm and thrashing about in pain. Now it was up to him.
Lou was pleased with herself. Her little ploy had worked. But now their leader was hard after her, and she didn’t think the same trick would work twice. She started weaving among the slender boles, turning right and left, never running straight for more than a few yards. As she hoped, he lost a little ground.
Skin Shredder fumed. She was clever, this white woman. He settled into a rhythm, pacing himself, conserving his energy for a spurt when his chance came to catch her. And it would. He could run for many leagues without tiring. His stamina was superior to hers, and in the end, it would be her undoing.
An ache in Lou’s side reminded her of how long it had been since she had run any distance. Cabin life had softened her. Add to that her condition, and it was small wonder that soon she was panting and her legs pained in protest at their abuse.
Lou refused to stop. She would never give up, not so long as she had breath in her body. She weaved right, ducked under a limb, weaved left and had her cheek opened. A branch snatched her dress and broke.
Skin Shredder admired her tenacity. She was so slight and frail that he would not have thought she had it in her.
The lodgepoles were almost at an end. Below was a slope sprinkled with spruce.
Lou must do something to slow Skin Shredder, but what? The breaking of the limb gave her an idea. She deliberately ran at another and snapped it off without breaking stride. Then, twisting, she threw the branch at his face.
