Chapter Eight

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It woke him during the night, the barest whisper of buckskin rubbing together. Easing his eyes open, Duncan held himself still until he saw the source. She-Cat! That blasted woman was almost to the horses, her hand stretched toward the mare's lead rope. His temper flared and Conner lunged to his feet with an oath. Half-turning, she saw him coming and made a wild scramble for the horse's back.

Nervous, the piebald sidestepped, tossing her head. She-Cat barely got her legs over when Duncan took her to the ground, knocking them both off the other side. Hitting the sand, she turned into a writhing, scratching wildcat. It was a short, vicious struggle, one she swiftly lost. Powerful fingers were around her throat, his eyes blazing in the dark, so mad he was ready to throttle her. It was her very stillness that kept her alive, for she abruptly went limp, just staring up at him. There was no fear in her eyes, or anger, just a silent acceptance.

Breathing hard, feeling his heart slam against the back of his ribs, Conner let out a low growl of irritation as he abruptly let go, getting up. Pushing a hand through his hair he gestured impatiently at her.

"Get up." When she did not move immediately, he bent and roughly yanked her upright. "What's goin' through that head of yours, woman? Didn't I make it clear you wasn't to go near them animals without my say so?"

This time defiance sparked in her eyes, and she ripped his hand from her with a scowl. Challenged, he took a step closer to her. Though she backed away, her brown eyes stayed rebelliously to his.

"I won't say it again, an' I'm sick'n tired of having to sleep with one eye open." He warned. "You go near them horses again I'll take to tyin' you at night. I got no use for a thief, so you try stealing anything at all, I'll kill you. I got enough of my own troubles without you heapin' more on top of me. Mind yourself, an' we won't have no more problems. Misbehave, I won't warn you again."

For an instant she was silent, then in sudden rebellion she spat at him. That did it. Pushed past the limits of his patience for the middle of the night, Duncan grabbed her arm, dragging her back toward the camp. He meant to hog-tie and gag her if he had to.

S~H~E

I waited a long time until I was sure he'd fallen asleep. Waking on the mare, helplessly tied, vulnerable, had sparked a deep desire in me not to ever feel like that again. I understood the white man's reasoning, and respected his cleverness in thinking of it, but that did not mean I wanted it to happen again. It would be better, I reasoned, to take the mare and escape to my people. With so many years forced to the will of another, I had no tolerance for it, and trusted no one enough to be defenseless. That left me with one option.

His breathing was deep and soft when I eased from the ground. Tempted to take a water pouch and some food, perhaps a weapon, I decided against it. There would be one chance at this, and I couldn't risk his waking. Getting the mare would be enough. Mindful of my healing ankle, careful of where I placed my feet, I slowly moved from the camp and into the darkness.

I had made it to the picket line, and bending started to pull it from the ground as I reached for the lead rope. I heard the white man wake, and glancing back, saw him lunge to his feet. Desperate, I grabbed for the mare, but she was nervous of the sudden tension and movement, dancing lightly aside. I had managed to half pull myself to her back when the white man reached us. Leaping up, he swept us both off the mare and we landed in a breathless jumble on the ground on the far side of the horse.

Fear was almost blinding as I fought to get away, frightened of what he would do to me. But the white man was strong, and his anger made him ruthless. He got a grip on my throat, squeezing almost hard enough to choke me. Knowing that to fight meant death, I went still, hardly able to even draw a rattling breath. Fire burned hot in him, and I could tell he wanted to hurt me, but even at the edge of control, he did not.

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