Proud Wolf's Woman Read Online Free PDF

schooled her features into revealing nothing. Not her outrage at his logic, nor his justification of what his men, and possibly what he himself, had done.
    We? Julia swallowed hard.
    What could she say? Chastisement would accomplish nothing, would only serve to enrage him further. But deep inside, Julia died a little. We? She licked her lips. It was her only reaction. Slowly, so as not to draw attention to herself, she looked to the ground.
    “Well,” he prodded, “have you nothing to say to that?”
    She hesitated. She kept her eyes focused on her skirts, until at last she muttered, “I say there isn’t a woman alive who ‘begs’ for it.”
    He gritted his teeth in response to her; he glared at her as though she had shouted at him and then, without so much as a further pause, he growled, “What would you know about it?”
    “More than you, it would seem,” she murmured, her head down.
    Silence. Utter, deadening silence, until at last, with a hiss, he snarled at her, “Stay away from me, Julia. From here on forward you are nothing to me. Nothing to anyone.” His lips twisted into a sneer, he spit out, “I know you for what you are now, Julia. And I don’t like what I see. You’re a bitch, Julia. A goddamned bitch.”
    Julia didn’t utter a word. Stunned, shocked at herself with her back talk, and at Kenneth with his ill-chosen words, Julia, her dark hair blowing forward into her face, merely looked away.
    It was some moments before she was able to regain her composure—enough to turn, to gather up her horse’s reins, and begin her long, solitary trek back down the “rise.”
    She didn’t look back. She didn’t see her husband’s red, angry face, and, in truth, it was better that way.
     
    The gunshot came as a surprise.
    Julia’s head came up in an instant. Kenneth ran to her side. Together both man and woman stared out at the company of soldiers, the dragoons, who strove to assemble themselves while under the onslaught of attack. Dust clouded the field, making it impossible for either one to get a clear view of the action. The high-pitched war whoops, the whiz of arrows, the screams, the cursing, the orders to arms, to formation, told the tale.
    More gunshots, more arrows, the squeals of the horses, the stench of raw flesh and sweat permeated the air. Still Julia and Kenneth stood transfixed, unable to move, to breathe.
    The Indians clearly outnumbered the cavalry by two to one, and it was obvious that no white man would survive this attack. It was what the dragoons had feared, what they had expected, yet for all that, it came as a surprise to all of them.
    It occurred to Julia that her husband, the superior officer, should be running back to his men to aid and assist them, but it was no more than a passing thought as Julia watched with horror the cloud of dust in the distance.
    Their horses whinnied behind them, but Julia barely registered the sound until all at once, Kenneth pulled away from her, jumping onto his own mount. He might have helped her onto her horse. He didn’t.
    He might have encouraged her to do whatever it was he was going to do. He didn’t.
    He reined in his steed and Julia, reading his thoughts, knowing that he meant to flee in the opposite direction from the fight, felt her heart sink.
    He means to leave me.
    The knowledge hit her with the strength of an arrow. He said nothing to her, he did nothing, not even inclining his head, until, with a click of his heel to his mount, he turned and shot over the rise.
    “Kenneth?” she called, her voice no louder than a whisper, then, “Kenneth, come back here!”
    She spurred herself into action and, trying to run, she stumbled after him. “Kenneth, where are you…?”
    War whoops interrupted her. Julia froze.
    More war whoops resounded around her. Julia spun around, screaming at the same time. A single warrior descended upon her.
    She thought of running. She didn’t. She couldn’t move. Besides, it would do no good, and she knew