Savage Beloved

against my face.

—Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Two Eagles grabbed Candy by an arm and shoved her outside.

She was very aware of the quiet that suddenly descended on the village. The people nearby stopped their activities and stared at her until she was taken inside another tepee.

The light of the flames in the fire pit was enough for Candy to see Short Robe lying on the far side of the fire in a pile of blankets.

He was so lifeless, she thought he was dead.

She saw her own life flashing before her eyes, because she knew that she would be made to pay for the crimes of her father.

She was very aware of a medicinal smell that permeated the lodge, and another aroma she was not familiar with that stung her nostrils. The smells gave her hope that perhaps the elderly man had been doctored; perhaps he would survive his terrible treatment.

Yet . . . he was lying so still. She could not see him taking breaths.

“Is . . . he . . . dead?” she blurted out, her knees trembling so terribly, she felt they might not hold her up much longer.

Her eyes widened, and she gasped when Short Robe opened his eyes and saw her there with his nephew.

He reached a shaky hand out toward her, but it fell limply at his side and he again drifted off into a deep sleep.

Candy was immensely relieved that he was alive. As long as he lived, she herself had a chance, especially if he eventually told his nephew how she had tried to help him.

Two Eagles interpreted his uncle’s gesture very different from the way Candy wanted him to. He glared at her and strengthened his hold on her arm. “My uncle looked at you and pointed at you because he saw that you are rightfully the captive of his people,” he said tightly.

“No!” she cried. “You misinterpreted what he was trying to do . . . to say . . .”

She yanked herself free of Two Eagles’s grip and went to her knees beside Short Robe. “Short Robe, oh, please, Short Robe, awaken again,” she cried. “Please tell your nephew what I did for you. Please, Short Robe. I’m afraid . . . my . . . life depends on you.”

Two Eagles’s eyebrows rose when he heard Candy calling his uncle’s name and pleading with him, as though she might really have spoken to him before.

Could it be true that she had helped him?

Then he recalled his uncle’s description of what he had been fed. He had said nothing about a white woman bringing him food, or doing anything else for him, for that matter.

Two Eagles could not allow himself to be misguided by this woman’s soft voice and lovely eyes. She was as guilty as her father; did she not have his evil blood running through her veins?

He went to her and yanked her to her feet, then took her from the tepee and back to the one where she would be held captive.

Terrified now, truly believing that nothing she said or did would save her life, Candy sobbed as she watched Two Eagles place the bloody irons around her wrists and ankles. The chains attached to them were bloody and heavy.

She already felt the discomfort and feared moving; surely the metal would cut into her flesh.

She recalled the gnats and flies that had buzzed around the old man’s sore, bloody flesh.

Soon they would be on hers!

Rage replaced her fear and nausea. “You are heartless!” she cried out as she glared into Two Eagles’s dark eyes. “How can you do this? I . . . I . . . am not guilty of any crime.” She lowered her eyes. “You are wrong to do this to me,” she sobbed out.

Two Eagles placed a hand beneath her chin and raised it so that she had no choice but to look directly into his eyes. “All you knew at the fort, especially

your colonel father, were the heartless ones. They not only treated an innocent old man inhumanely, but also removed heads from red men they saw as their enemies!”

The horror of his accusation made Candy shiver with disgust. “No!” she cried. “Never! My father was a strict colonel, and he did despise Indians, but he could never do such a heartless thing as that.”

He gave her a long, last look, then stormed out of the tepee.