A Wolf in the Desert by Bj James Read Free Book Online Page B

happier with a chief than a lowly Indian.” He pulled her along the trail with him, ignoring her opposition.
    â€œWait.” She clutched at his vest, her fingers brushing the heated flesh beneath. “I haven’t made my choice.”
    He stopped, turning to catch her in his arms as she bumped into him. His face was fierce, his eyes narrowed. “I made the choice for you.”
    She gripped the supple leather as if she would tear it. Through gritted teeth, she spat, “You have no right.”
    â€œI have every right, and you have none.”
    When she would have lashed back at him, he silenced her with a look so savage her protest died in her throat.
    â€œWhat? No grievance?” he taunted. “Has the wildcat finally sheathed her useless claws?”
    She looked up at him, seeing a man she hadn’t seen before. “Who are you? What are you?” she asked, bemused. “How many men are you?”
    Though he spoke sternly, the anger in him subsided. An anger addressing his weakness as much as her stubborn strength. “I’m one man. Who I am isn’t important. What I am, what I became the moment you chose to travel this path, is your only hope. With or without your cooperation I’m going to find a way to get you out of this. Unharmed and unmolested by anyone.”
    â€œDoes that little declaration include you?” The caustic gibe slipped from her tongue before she could recall it.
    â€œYes, especially me.” His expression was impassive. “There is one choice you have. We’re going to your car. If you have luggage—” a shocked and angry look confirmed his instinctive guess that she did “—you will select the clothing and necessities you might need at our camp. You can cooperate and come willingly, or I’ll carry you.”
    â€œLike so much garbage.”
    â€œLike a willful squaw.”
    Patience knew the leeway he’d allowed her had ended. Painfully she admitted “allowed” was the proper description. Given his half-foot advantage in height, and the extra sixty pounds on his ruggedly muscular physique, allowed was exactly the right word. Now he was allowing her to make a choice. To do what she must with grace and dignity, or to be done with gracelessly as he wished.
    She had few weapons, and dignity could be one of the few. She’d seen it happen. When needed, Mavis, her usually happily undignified mother, could dig deeply for an icy dignity that intimidated the surly as well as the arrogant.
    Dignity, a weapon to preserve and protect. Uncommon and effective, perhaps even against Indian. She released her hold on his vest and stepped past his reach. “I’ll walk.”
    He wasn’t a man to exult in his mastery, one lone, spare move of his head acknowledged victory. “I thought you might.”
    The path he chose to return wandered through shrub and grasses. He didn’t look back or offer an assisting hand. He knew she would follow, that the oblique surrender pledged she would. He knew, as well, she would accept no helping hand.
    â€œIndian.”
    He didn’t slow or turn. “Yes?”
    â€œI don’t trust you.”
    His step didn’t alter.
    â€œIndian.”
    He didn’t answer.
    â€œI never will.” Her defiance evoked no response. She expected none, suspecting taciturnity, rather than heated and lengthy discourse, was his true nature. She watched him, his honed body, his sure and easy step. He moved through the desert as if he were of it, an integral part, and all else was intrusion. And she wondered what manner of man held her life in his hands. Engrossed in thought, she put a foot wrong. The step jolted, but she righted herself with only little effort.
    Indian slowed imperceptibly until he heard her steady step again. He smiled, visualizing her frown in her concerted effort to keep him from knowing her passage was not without difficulty.
    Their trek continued,