Page 14 of Heart of the Storm (Hearts Over Wyoming #1)

Fourteen

The air was heavy with the stench of death. Ravens flocked the sky ahead of them, their raspy caws announcing what lay ahead. He’d come upon a similar scene earlier that morning already when they’d passed near the area where Tessa and her two companions had been attacked.

At Tessa’s insistence, Baa’koa had broken camp before dawn. Rather than following the creek, he’d deliberately taken a different path that would lead to the place of where she had been attacked. Seeing the ravens in the area was all he’d needed to confirm that the bodies still lay where they’d fallen.

They would soon approach the site where the wagon brigade had been attacked. It was just over the next rise. Every breath felt thick with the weight of what they would find. The sight of death was never pleasant. He’d seen it plenty of times, but how would Tessa react?

The trees that shaped the outskirts of the forest loomed ahead like silent witnesses to what had taken place. The ground beneath his moccasins was soft and still saturated with rain from the day before.

Tessa walked beside him. Her shoulders appeared tense as she looked straight ahead. No doubt she knew what the ravens in the sky meant. This was the moment she had been dreading, the moment when the reality of her loss would solidify into something undeniable.

There was nothing he could do to erase the pain in her eyes or the tremble in her hands. His heart ached for her in a way he couldn’t explain. The frustration and anger he had felt for days was slowly falling away, replaced by something raw and unfamiliar. He had learned so much about her since the attack, especially in the quiet moments of the previous night when she had openly shared pieces of her past.

She had fought through it all – her father’s neglect, the way she had been cast aside after her mother and sister’s deaths, and the bitterness that had defined her life. She had never had the luxury of a true family or affection, but she had still carved her own path, refusing to let those losses define her.

“Perhaps you should wait here. I will go investigate.” It was a futile attempt at protecting her from what was before them.

She responded just as he’d expected. “No,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “I have to see for myself.”

The stench of decay and burned flesh drifted through the air. When they topped the rise and stared into the depression below, Baa’koa reached for Tessa’s hand. She didn’t pull away but wrapped her fingers around his palm as if her life depended on it.

Below them, the grasses were still trampled in places with the ruts from the wagons and horse’s hooves visible. Clearly, the wagons had been maneuvered in a frantic attempt at defense against the attack. Several dead horses were lying where they’d fallen, their rotting flesh filling the air with the sickening odor. Ravens cawed and fluttered about, resting on the dead animals. A coyote pulled and tugged at the hide of one of the horses.

Tessa’s free hand went to her mouth as if trying to hold back a sob, but it escaped anyway – a soft, almost imperceptible sound that squeezed Adrian’s chest. Her grip on his hand tightened. Her face was pale, and her lips were pressed into a thin line as she forced herself not to break. But the tension in her jaw and the trembling of her hands told him all he needed to know. She was crumbling, despite her best efforts to remain strong.

Baa’koa clenched his jaw as his gaze swept over the area. There was a large, dark pile a short distance from one of the horses. At first glance, it appeared to be a mound of dirt. The smell of smoke and singed flesh rose from the mass.

“Where are my men?” Tessa whispered. She sounded weaker than when she’d regained consciousness after being shot.

Baa’koa’s back tensed. He had to tell her. She’d find the answer to her question soon enough on her own. He pointed at the dark pile.

“The bodies were burned,” he said.

A shudder passed through her, right before she turned and nearly collapsed against him. Her face was buried against the top of his chest, and she sobbed quietly. Baa’koa wrapped his arms around her, supporting her in her grief. How well he understood what she was going through.

As a warrior of the A’aninin, he had been trained to bury his emotions, to swallow the grief of losing those he loved without ever letting it show. He had learned to silence the ache, to turn his sorrow into a relentless drive for vengeance, using it as his only way to mourn.

Tessa, on the other hand, was free to express her grief, and whether she now sought comfort from him simply because he was the only one there or for some other reason, it didn’t matter. As he held her close, her pain seemed to seep into him. Despite his instinct telling him to remain distant, his heart embraced her fully.

A lifetime could have passed by, and he wouldn’t have moved. He only let go after Tessa shifted in his embrace. When she raised her chin, her eyes shimmered with moisture, and her lips trembled. As if realizing what she’d done, she took a quick step back and hastily wiped the moisture from her face. She cleared her throat and turned back to look at the gruesome scene before them.

“Ike,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

She took a tentative step forward, heading toward the pile of charred bodies. Baa’koa’s hand reached out to hold her back.

“You shouldn’t go any closer.”

She turned to look up at him. “I can’t…we can’t just leave them like this.” Her voice was hoarse and heavy with pain. “We have to bury them.”

“We can gather rocks from the creek to cover the bodies.” It was the best he could offer. Tessa nodded solemnly.

He wasn’t sure what else he could say or if his words would even mean anything to someone so immersed in grief. She turned, scanning the site of the attack as if hoping for a sign or some indication that at least one person had survived this slaughter. The bodies were too burned to identify any of them. Without moving them, it was hard to even count how many there were.

Hours passed as they worked in silence, gathering river rocks from the creek. Baa’koa piled them on top and around the bodies. When he was done, Tessa stood beside the large mound as silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

The weight of her silence pressed down on him. It was almost suffocating. Should he reach out to her to try to comfort her? Unrestrained memories flooded his mind of his father’s lifeless body and Nahko’tah’s last breath. Baa’koa shook the images away to focus on Tessa instead. They shared so much grief.

The protectiveness he felt went deeper than he was willing to admit. She was alive, and he would make sure she was safe, now that she was truly alone.

She quietly slipped her hand in his and neither of them said anything more, but the bond between them had shifted once again into something that was unspoken but growing stronger.

Baa’koa tensed moments later as his colt snorted from somewhere behind them. The animal had been grazing contentedly downwind from the attack site, but something had caught his attention. He whinnied a greeting, which was instantly returned by another horse.

Baa’koa released Tessa’s hand and stepped away from her then reached for the bow lying beside him. Tessa looked up at him with wide eyes, then directed her gaze toward the trees.

“Old Billy!” she called out and ran toward a bay-colored horse that emerged from the tree line. The animal’s head was held high as it sniffed the breeze then whinnied again and trotted toward Baa’koa’s colt.

Baa’koa caught up to Tessa and pulled her back, then stepped in front of her. “We must be cautious,” he warned.

“It’s my horse,” she said, her tone much brighter than a moment ago. “He must have followed the scent of the wagons and other horses when he ran off after…” She didn’t finish the rest of her thought. “Maybe Zeke’s and Shaky’s horses are nearby, too,” she added hopefully.

Baa’koa released her, but his bow was ready. His eyes slowly scanned the tree line. It was possible that the horse had remained in the area on its own, but there was always the chance that there were enemies nearby.

Tessa caught the rein dangling from the animal’s bridle and patted its neck. The horse’s saddle hung from its back at an odd angle. It certainly seemed safe to assume that the gelding had been alone in the wild since the day of the attack. At least now they both had horses to ride.

His colt and Tessa’s gelding continued to greet each other. Tessa ran her hands over every inch of the horse, checking for injuries, then she adjusted the saddle to its proper position. A groan escaped her lips, and her hand went to her side. She’d never openly admit that her wound was still causing her a great deal of discomfort, especially after carrying so many rocks from the creek. At least the horse offered her a much-needed distraction.

Baa’koa caught his colt and waited. Despite all the tragedy surrounding them, a smile cracked his face as his heart warmed. What was he going to do about Tessa Beckett and his growing feelings for her?

“Are you able to ride?” he asked, leading his colt toward her. There was nothing left for them here.

Tessa glanced over her shoulder. “I have to be,” she said quietly. The joy on her face from reuniting with her horse faded. Her eyes immediately returned to the pile of rocks, then a determined gleam flashed in her eyes. “I’m not going to be able to follow the wagons by walking.”

Baa’koa raised his brows. “Follow the wagons?”

Her chin lifted. “Yes. They’ll lead me to the men who did this.” Her hand pointed at the rocks.

“You wish to follow them, so they can kill you, too?” A twinge of anger rose in him. He’d pledged to protect her. How was he going to do that if she chose to ride headlong into danger? Besides being alone, she had no weapons.

Tessa lifted one foot into the stirrup of her saddle and pulled herself up. Her mouth was set in a grimace as she swung her other leg over the horse’s back. She breathed in several quick breaths before she looked up at Baa’koa.

“I know who did this,” she spat. “And when I find him, Victor Rattler is going to pay for what he did. You, of all people, should understand about seeking justice for those you’ve lost.”

An icy sensation rolled down Baa’koa’s spine like an avalanche bearing down on him and threatening to swallow him up.

“They can lick their wounds and tell their people that no one messes with Victor Rattler and his brigade.”

Victor Rattler…Victor Rattler

The name echoed like a crack of thunder in Baa’koa’s head. A name he’d vowed never to forget, along with the face belonging to that name.

His eyes fixed on Tessa. They shared a common enemy. Their fates were bound together in ways he had never anticipated. From the first moment he’d seen her, he’d sensed a connection. He hadn’t understood it before, but now it was undeniable. First, it had been the weight of her bloodline, the daughter of the man who killed Jacob Storm. Now, their bond was forged in their shared grief and need for justice against the man who had taken everything from them both.

Baa’koa swung up on the back of his colt and moved the animal next to Tessa’s horse.

“We leave now, but you will do as I say when we find these men,” he growled.

Tessa’s brows shot up, clearly surprised by his words. Their eyes met and held.

“Victor Rattler and his men killed Matso’onah and Nahko’tah,” he explained, lightening his tone, then he nudged his colt in the sides. The animal sprung forward, apparently eager to finally get to move at a faster pace than a leisurely walk.

Baa’koa followed the now-faint tracks of wagon wheels through the tall grasses of the valley. At one point, they led into the timber and hills, having veered away from the creek and easier route. The tracks became more difficult to read on the harder ground. Clearly, the trappers who had taken the wagons had chosen this route to conceal their tracks.

When he glanced over his shoulder at one point, Tessa had fallen behind. She didn’t sit quite straight in her saddle but leaned to the side slightly. Her wound must be giving her problems. Baa’koa reined his colt to a stop. As much as he wanted to go faster, he couldn’t leave Tessa behind. Now that he knew who he was pursuing, he would catch up to Rattler in due time.

“Why did you stop?” Tessa called.

“After you rest, we’ll continue to follow the wagon trail.”

He brought his right leg over his horse’s withers and landed on his feet. He stepped up to Tessa’s horse and took the gelding by the bridle. Tessa might just be foolish enough to ride on.

“Rattler already has a four-day head-start,” she argued. “We can’t waste any time.”

Baa’koa reached his hands up and gripped her by the shirt until she had no choice but to slide from the horse’s back. His hold on her kept her steady until her feet touched the ground. When he looked down at her, the thoughts and feelings rushing through his mind as he held her were reflected back at him through her eyes. Baa’koa swallowed. He couldn’t–

Twigs and branches snapped behind them through the trees. Baa’koa instantly released her. He gripped his bow and spun around. His jaw clenched as riders emerged from the thickets. Baa’koa cursed under his breath.

“Baa’koa,” the leader of the group called out but not in a friendly tone.

“Ahan,” Baa’koa returned.

A triumphant sneer came over the A’aninin’s face. “Do you remember what I told you when we parted ways?”

“I remember,” Baa’koa said, keeping his voice calm. Ahan now saw him as his enemy and no longer his brother.

Ahan glanced at Tessa, and his eyes narrowed. “You betrayed your people for a woman? A white woman?” He laughed. “You are weaker than I thought, Baa’koa.”

Without haste, Ahan slid from his horse’s back. The ten warriors who flanked him remained on their mounts.

“Should I kill you first, or let you watch as I kill this woman who made you a traitor?” he spat.

“You should leave us alone,” Baa’koa answered. His back was to Tessa, and he took a step in front of her.

“What’s going on?” she asked, coming around him. She glanced at Ahan, then back to Baa’koa. “Do you know these men?”

“Stay silent,” he hissed. “Ahan and the other warriors consider me a traitor because I didn’t attack your wagons,” he explained since she couldn’t understand what was being said. He raised his hand to emphasize his warning for her to be quiet.

Turning to Ahan, he said, “I am not your enemy, Ahan. I am following the trail of our chief’s murderer. You and the rest of the warriors may follow me. We will finally have our revenge against those responsible for Matso’onah’s death.”

A few of the warriors looked at Baa’koa with eager eyes but remained silent. They didn’t express the same animosity as Ahan, which was a good sign.

“I will lead the warriors to find the killer of our chief,” Ahan said, raising his voice. “You are no longer in a position to lead. There is a group of trappers camped a few miles from here. Their leader is the old mountain man who walks with a limp. Our pledge was to kill all trappers who cross our paths.”

“I once thought as you, Ahan. I, too, wanted to kill every trapper on our lands, but I was wrong.”

Ahan sneered. “We will find Matso’onah’s murderer. We do not need you to lead us to him.” He pulled his knife from his belt and sneered. “But first, I shall kill this white woman.”

Baa’koa dropped his bow and ripped his knife from its sheath at his waist. He pushed Tessa aside and stepped forward “You won’t touch her,” he growled, his voice hard and cold. “You’ll have to kill me first .”

Ahan’s attack came suddenly. He lunged at Baa’koa with a ferocity that matched his threats. The blade in Ahan’s hand gleamed as it swung toward Baa’koa’s side, but Baa’koa was faster. He sidestepped as his knife cut through the air in retaliation. Ahan jumped back, then lunged again.

From somewhere, Tessa gasped and shouted, “Stop this,” but there was no time to warn her to stay out of the fight. His focus right now needed to be on his opponent. If he lost this fight, Tessa would die, too.

“I’m not your enemy, Ahan!” Baa’koa shouted, but no words would sway the other warrior.

Ahan sneered, his lips curling into a snarl. “You are a white man. You chose a white woman over your people!” he spat, his eyes flashing with hatred. “You are no longer one of us.”

Baa’koa’s heart twisted, but his focus remained sharp. Ahan was relentless, the fire in his eyes like a beacon of rage. He swung again, his knife aimed straight for Baa’koa’s chest. Baa’koa leaned back. Then, with the speed of a striking snake, he lunged forward and sliced his knife into Ahan’s arm.

Ahan recoiled backward, his breath coming in short gasps. The blood from his wound flowed from his skin, but the fury in his eyes was undimmed. He attacked again, but he was too enraged to fight with a clear mind. Baa’koa ducked and assumed a warrior’s stance, then lurched forward and grabbed Ahan by the arm, twisting it to force Ahan to drop his weapon. At the same time, he wrapped his other arm around his opponent’s neck and pressed the blade of his knife against Ahan’s jugular.

“Finish it,” Ahan spat, his voice hoarse.

Baa’koa stood there for a heartbeat, his muscles taut with the tension of the fight. His heart pounded, and his thoughts swirled in a dizzying storm of emotions. He couldn’t bring himself to end Ahan’s life. He couldn’t kill the man who had once been his brother, even if Ahan now thought of him as a traitor.

“I won’t kill you, Ahan,” he said, his voice low. “My revenge is against the men who killed my father, not with my own tribesmen and brothers.” He glanced up to see the other warriors nodding. None of them had tried to interfere.

Baa’koa shoved Ahan forward as he released him. As he did, his breath came in labored gasps, but he remained alert in case Ahan chose to attack again. His hands shook, but he held his knife steadily. Ahan’s gaze flickered with disbelief. Baa’koa’s jaw tightened as he stood tall, facing his opponent. Ahan’s shoulders slumped. He cast a quick glance at the warriors and then stumbled to his horse.

Baa’koa turned away. The fight was over. He had won, but the victory was hollow. Perhaps he’d regained some of the respect he’d lost from the other warriors.

Tessa stood by the horses with wide eyes. Baa’koa sheathed his knife then took his colt’s reins.

“We are leaving,” he said, then swung onto the horse’s back. He waited while Tessa mounted her gelding, then turned his head to the warriors one final time. “You may follow me, and together we will find Matso’onah’s murderer, or you can choose to remain with Ahan as your leader and continue raiding men who are innocent.”

With that, he guided his horse one step closer to bringing justice back to the lands of the A’aninin.