Wild Splendor

Leonida became aware of the wonderful fragrance of meat cooking over open flames. She realized how long she had been asleep. Long enough for an animal to have been slain, skinned, and cooked. Her gaze followed the aroma and caught the sight of a large hunk of meat roasting brown over the campfire, its juices dripping into the flames, sizzling tantalizingly.

Carole reached for Leonida’s hand, drawing her attention back. “I’ve got something that needs to be said,” Carole said, her voice thin. “You can’t totally blame the Indian chief for my condition. There is more than hunger that makes me weak. I—I never confessed my illness to anyone. Not even my husband. I had planned to, then . . . then . . . my husband was shot on one of the recent Indian raids. I had no one else. I was hoping that someone would have mercy on my Trevor once I worsened. Leonida, perhaps you can . . . ?”

“What are you saying?” Leonida asked.

“I’m dying,” Carole said, tears rushing from her eyes. “It’s a lung disease. There is no hope. Do you think you could look after Trevor? He’s such a dear boy and—and as you know, he has become quite attached to you.”

Leonida’s heart despaired at the news of Carole’s illness, and she was torn with conflicting feelings about the sick woman’s request. She glanced at Trevor, who was looking ever so trustingly into her eyes, and then at Sage, who was removing the meat from the spit over the fire. She suddenly realized how short life was and how one must take from it what he or she could.

Putting an arm around Carole’s frail shoulders, Leonida drew her into her embrace. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Yes, I’ll see to Trevor’s welfare. He’s so dear. How could I say no?”

“Thank you,” Carole murmured, holding back torrents of tears. “God bless you.”

Carole went to Trevor and sat down beside him, then took him onto her lap, cuddling him close. Leonida watched, filled with many tumultuous emotions. She did not know how long Carole had, and she did not want to ask. Knowing that she was dying was bad enough.

Again she gazed at Sage, wondering how he would feel about her mothering Trevor? Would Sage want him as well if Sage and Leonida were ever free to commit themselves to one another?

Realizing where her thoughts had taken her, and feeling foolish for it, Leonida started to look away, but when Sage turned to her with a large chunk of meat, she forgot everything but the hunger gnawing away at the pit of her stomach. She didn’t hesitate. She accepted the meat and sank her teeth into it. She gobbled it down hungrily, watching as everyone else joined in the feast until there were only stripped bones lying on the ground beside the fire. The bones were carried far away from the camp and discarded.

Everyone took turns going

to the river to splash water onto their faces and take deep, refreshing drinks.

By then the sun was low in the sky. Leonida watched Sage anxiously, afraid that he was going to command his warriors to ready their horses for travel again. But to her relief, he instead went to his stallion and removed a roll of blankets from behind the saddle. He began unrolling them close to the campfire, and gave Leonida occasional questioning glances. Her heart began to pound. Was he going to force her to sleep with him, as he had forced her to travel with him on his stallion?

The thought sent a sensual thrill coursing through her veins, yet she knew that she couldn’t. She could not be that close, so intimately close to his hard, muscular body, without dying inside with need of his lips and hands, although this was something new to her, had only become a part of her after having met this handsome Navaho chief.

Leonida looked slowly around the camp, seeing that the other Navaho warriors were spreading blankets. Then Sage turned and locked eyes with her.

“Tonight we sleep. Tonight you will be warm,” Sage said, gesturing toward the blankets with an outstretched hand. “You will share blankets with Sage.”

A blush heated Leonida’s cheeks. “No, thank you,” she murmured. “I’ll do just fine sleeping by myself beside the fire.”

“The flames of the fire lose their warmth as they turn to embers,” Sage said flatly. He went to Leonida, took her by an elbow, and led her toward his blankets. “You sleep beside Sage, whose heat never dies.”

Leonida’s pulse was racing maddeningly. She stumbled as she gazed over her shoulder at the women who were staring, aghast, at this order that had been given her. She watched the Indian warriors settle down onto their blankets, some already snoring.

That did it. It was obvious that she was to be the only captive who would have blankets for warmth tonight, and she could not stand for that.

The others, especially Carole, needed protection from the chilly dampness of this mountain valley.

She jerked sharply to be set free. “I absolutely refuse to sleep with you between your blankets, especially if the women and children have none with which to keep warm tonight,” she fumed, daring Sage with an angry stare. “Give the women and children blankets. I will fuss no more about where I must sleep or with whom.”

Sage glowered at her, then shouted to his warriors, waking them, telling them to give half their blankets to the captives. There was much grumbling of dissatisfaction, but being the dutiful warriors they were, they did as Sage ordered and soon everyone, including the women and children, was settled in beside the fire beneath a blanket.

Sage stood over his blankets with his arms folded across his chest and his feet spread wide. He gave Leonida a silent stare, then went to her and took her hand and led her down beside him beneath the blankets.

Her heart thumped wildly as she lay with her back to him, wondering what to expect next from the handsome chief.

She was surprised when he did not attempt approaching her in any way sexually. Instead he was soon fast asleep behind her.

Sighing heavily, Leonida relaxed and closed her eyes, quickly welcoming the soft cocoon of sleep herself.

* * *

Harold shoved his chair back and rose hastily from behind his desk when he heard a commotion out in the courtyard. His lips parted and his eyes widened as he saw the stagecoach that had taken the wives and children from the fort. Driving alongside it were horses, upon them several wounded soldiers.

A quick shuffling of feet and harsh breathing behind him caused Harold to turn around and come eye to eye with Lieutenant Nelson, who came red-faced and sweaty into the office. The lieutenant saluted, then began talking so fast that Harold could hardly understand him.