Captive Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

leave you to bake out on the prairie. As it is, you owe me your life. I carried you over five miles today, and I risked my own neck getting water.”
    “Did you conjure the rainstorm then, you and your Indian friends?” She didn’t wait for him to reply but looked away as she took another drink, replaced the lid, and then rolled onto her side, away from him.
    Her body protested the move, and Emmalyne bit her lip to keep from groaning. Another shiver ran through her as gooseflesh sprang up along her arms. He wasn’t joking; she did have a fever. Though her head felt on fire, the rest of her was freezing. She tucked her feet—her bare feet she realized, further mortified—up under her skirt. At least she was still wearing that .
    She heard the outlaw rise and walk toward the doorway again. The rain continued steadily, though the thunder seemed to be passing them by. Emmalyne was grateful. She hated storms and didn’t feel up to dealing with the usual terrors they evoked.
    The cabin grew silent, and she looked over her shoulder to see if he had left. He stood in the doorway, his back to her. Perhaps she’d made him angry, referring to the Indians like that. She’d just wanted to provoke him into telling her something— anything about his plans. She rolled onto her back and, gathering her courage, dared to start their conversation again.
    “Will you tell me about them?”
    “Who?” His voice was wary.
    “The Indians, of course.” Who did he think I meant? Emmalyne wished she could see his face, but he continued staring out into the darkness.
    “The Lakota are friendly enough. They’ll not harm you.”
    “Friendly?” she asked, disbelieving. “Surely you know what they did to General Custer and his entire army last year.”
    “Yup.” The outlaw nodded. “Custer deserved it.”
    “How can you say such a thing?” Feeling it too difficult to argue while lying down, Emmalyne struggled to sit up. The bandana fell to her lap. She watched as the outlaw grabbed the lone stool from the center of the room and placed it by the door. He sat down, tipping the stool and leaning against the wall.
    “The U.S. Army promised the Sioux that land, said we’d leave ’em alone. Then Custer’s expedition goes in a few years back—finds a pittance of gold—rumors spread . . . Next thing, white folks are settling all over the place, repeating history.” His face was grim.
    “What do you mean?” Emmalyne asked. The chill permeated the room. She pulled her skirt tighter around her legs and reached for her jacket.
    “Indians have lived on this land for years. The land thrived, they thrived. Then we came along, destroying everything in our path. Trees are cut down, buffalo killed, mountains dug up in search of gold . . .”
    Emmalyne was confused at the regret she heard in his voice. Across the room, he caught her eye as he continued. “Did you know that Custer boasted—said he and the Seventh Calvary could whip all the Indians in the Northwest?”
    “Well—” She wasn’t certain what to say. He had presented a valid point of view she’d never before considered. But it did nothing to lessen her fear. “Regardless of your opinion, regardless of who was in the right or wrong of things, the Indians have proven themselves dangerous. Friendly hardly seems the word to describe their actions toward white men.”
    “The chiefs who fought Custer have all gone north into Canada or been killed. There’s no one left to cause you any concern.”
    “But why must you take me there? Am I to be traded? I’ve heard stories of tribes taking whites to replace their own lost. Is that—”
    “No.”
    His tone told her the discussion was over. Still, she could not let it go. Anxiety over what was to be her fate overcame even her fatigue and fever. She persisted. “Is it so terrible you cannot tell me what is to become of me?”
    He ignored her question. “Why don’t you tell me first why you were headed out west?”
    “I already