Through the Fire (The Native American Warrior Series) by Beth Trissel Read Free Book Online Page A

her behind.

 
    Chapter Five
    Rebecca twisted from beside the campfire to see dozens of warriors filing into camp. She gasped and sprang to her feet, clutching Shoka ’s navy blanket around her shift. The mellow evening light played over the gathering hemming her in on every side. The elk roasting over the flames was their main focus, although many of them also appraised her curiously.
    One warrior in particular caught her eye: iridescent feathers in his scalp lock, twin silver crosses dangling from his ears, red paint streaked across his nose and brow like a bird in flight. His breechclout, deerskin leggings, and moccasins covered in tiny tin cones made a bizarre contrast with his formal scarlet waistcoat. The pewter buttons he ’d left open down the front revealed a tanned chest rather than the traditional white linen shirt.
    No doubt this coat had once belonged to an unfortunate British soldier, as had the Scottish haversack slung over the warrior ’s shoulder. His beaded, quilled shot pouch and the large powder horn, scraped to paper-thinness so the black powder showed through its walls, hung across his other shoulder. A fine French hunting sword and tomahawk swung from the leather sword carriage at his waist. His dress and weapons were an eclectic mix, but many of the warriors wore a unique blend of dress.
    The outlandish brave grinned at her then grabbed the buck-skin wrapped handle of his tomahawk and raised it over her head as if to split her skull.
    Rebecca lurched back with a cry, shrieking again as she bumped into the solid bulk of the warrior right behind her. “Get away!”
    She staggered blindly through the men and hunched to one side of the assembly while the monster responsible for her terror leaned against his amused friend, shaking with mirth. Was this his idea of a joke, or was he just stark raving mad?
    Swallowing shallow pants of air, she darted her eyes over the alien mob in search of Shoka. Strange faces, all. Then his intimidating brother strode into the crowd.
    “ God help me,” she whispered.
    Wabete ’s sharp stare bored into her and lines of disapproval deepened the scars marking his face. He wasn’t the only warrior focused on her. Everyone seemed to want a long look at Shoka’s captive. His name peppered the unintelligible exchanges among them.
    None of their faces were easy to read, but she didn ’t detect any open hostility except from Wabete. Admiration glinted in many of their probing eyes. Meshewa’s welcome features surfaced in the alien sea.
    She fled to the brave and clung to his sleeve like a lifeline. “Don’t let him kill me.”
    Clasping her shoulder with a protective stance, he swept his gaze over the assembly. “Who threatens you?”
    “ Your cousin.”
    He scrutinized her, open-mouthed. “Shoka?”
    “ Not that one. That one.” She singled out Wabete with a trembling finger.
    “ Ah. He will not harm you.”
    “ Look at him.”
    “ He often looks like this.”
    She pointed to the still grinning warrior. “That brave pretended to attack me then laughed his fool head off.”
    Meshewa ’s youthful good looks creased in amusement. “Skaki. It is his way.”
    “ Take me away from them all. Please.”
    He shook his head, a newfound firmness at his mouth. “Wait for Shoka,” he said, and pushed her gently to the leafy ground. “Sit here. I get food.”
    He left her huddled less than a stone ’s throw away from Wabete and walked toward the campfire. Many of the braves jostled him good-naturedly, firing a steady stream of questions at him. His answers were genial but brief.
    She crouched a little apart from the others while he sliced at the roast elk, wishing a gaping chasm would open up between her and Wabete.
    The meat spitted on his knife, Meshewa passed back through the group charged with male energy. Dozens of eyes followed him, fixing on Rebecca as if she were the only woman alive in this heart-stopping world.
    Meshewa sat beside her. “Will they leave us