Sophie Read online

  Sophie

  Women Betrayed Series

  Book 4

  By

  Award Winning, Best Selling Author

  Margaret Tanner

  Sophie

  Women Betrayed Series

  Copyright © 2018 Margaret Tanner

  Thank you for downloading this e-book. It remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial use without permission from the author and publisher. Quotes used in reviews are the exception. No alteration of content is allowed. If you enjoy this book, then please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy.

  This story is a work of fiction, and some literary license has been taken regarding setting. All characters are a figment of the author’s imagination.

  Please Note: Sophie was previously part of the Soiled Dove Series, which has now been disbanded, and each of the authors involved have had their stories returned to them. Sophie has been revised, and is now going to form part of my new series – Women Betrayed.

  Cover Art by Susan Horsnell

  Acknowledgement: Thank you Susan Horsnell and Cheryl Wright for your on-going help and support.

  Heat Level: Adult themes, mild sexual content.

  Chapter One

  While she waited for the other women to return, Little Bear placed three fish on a thick layer of grass and rested them on hot stones. She covered them with another layer of grass and heaped ashes on top. Her stomach grumbled at the prospect of warm food in her belly. Squatting on the ground, she held her hands out to the warmth coming from their meager fire.

  The hunting had been scarce in the valley where the women and children of the once proud tribe of Chief Straight Arrow now hid. After a battle with soldiers had decimated them, the remaining warriors had ridden off, searching for a permanent place to live.

  The braves had not returned even though many moons had passed. With the cries of hungry children and the wails of the elderly squaws echoing in her ears, she and the only other young women who were not heavy with child, or suckling babies, had left to search further afield for food.

  White Dove returned with a small deer slung across her slim shoulders, its blood streaming down one arm. She had only recently become a woman, but already three warriors wanted to marry her. Bright Moon loped along behind her carrying a bow and arrow, small enough for a woman to use, but deadly accurate just the same. Three other maidens staggered under the weight of reed baskets full of roots.

  A weak sun shining from a cloudy blue sky gave out no warmth, and Little Bear was glad of the beaver cloak she wore draped around her shoulders.

  Once relieved of their loads, the maidens squatted around the fire waiting for the fish to cook.

  “I think I will marry Running Wolf when he returns,” White Dove said suddenly. “He is so handsome and he doesn’t have other wives.

  “Wild Elk is old, but he makes powerful medicine,” Bright Moon said. “I would choose him.”

  Little Bear listened with a stab of envy. The tribe had taken her in after they had found her collapsed and near death after she had escaped from Max Russell and his evil plans. They were her family now Pa had been killed by a falling tree three years ago.

  The Lakota had treated her well, but she was barren, and no brave wanted a wife who couldn’t give him sons. Other than that, she was one of them, except she had to keep more of her body covered than her friends because of her fair skin.

  A thunder of hooves spun her around. Several cowboys raced toward them.

  “Run. Run,” she screamed out in the Lakota tongue.

  Gunshots rang out, and Little Bear ran for her life. She knew only too well what the white man could do to Indian women.

  The trees and safety were close now, but the horses and riders were gaining. Her breath came out in gasping pants. A scream pierced the air. She dared not glance around. Another horse charged out from behind a clump of trees. She was trapped between two riders.

  Darting to one side, she tried to outrun the mounted men. They herded her away from the sanctuary of the forest. She kept on running until one of the riders dived from his horse and brought her to the ground with a sickening thump. Her head hit something hard and blackness followed.

  Little Bear awoke and blinked her eyes. She tried to move her head and pain shot through her skull. A rope was tied around her neck and wrists, shackling her to another young woman. Terror overwhelmed her. Her head pounded so hard she feared it would crack open. Six of her friends, including White Dove had been captured.

  “I don’t see why we can’t give them a poke or two before we hand them over,” one of the men said. “They might be filthy savages, but they’ll spread their legs the same as any other bed faggot.”

  “You couldn’t pay me enough to touch any of ‘em,” another said.

  “I’d mount ‘em for nothing. I like brown meat, much tastier than white.”

  She had not heard men speak English for many months. Max and some of his friends often used vile language like this.

  Her skull ached so badly now she couldn’t think coherently, but if she didn’t come up with a plan they were doomed. Should she admit to being white like them? Would it help or make things worse? Better to let them think she was Lakota like the others for the time being. The buckskin dress hid her white body. Her face arms and legs were tanned. With animal fat rubbed into her limbs and the ingrained dirt, she did not look much different from the other women. If she kept her head lowered when the men were close by they wouldn’t see her grey eyes. She would remain Little Bear of the Lakota tribe, not Max Russell’s woman, Sophie Bear.

  She closed her eyes to blot out the terror, the sheer horror of their predicament. A scream of terror opened her eyes. A young man with a scar slashing his left cheek in two, was on top of one of the captives.

  A florid faced man arrived on the scene. “Wilson, get off that filthy squaw,” he yelled. “The Reverend won’t pay for damaged goods.”

  It took three of them to drag Wilson off. His trousers were open exposing his bare flesh. The man gave him a backhander, which sent him flying to the ground. “I’m in charges here. If you want to get paid you sonofabitch, do as you’re told.”

  Wilson got up and with a string of curses, lumbered away.

  “I will say this one more time,” the man growled. He had harsh features, his cold, ice-blue eyes were devoid of any humanity. Twin colts filled the holsters resting against his hips, and by the look of him, he wouldn’t be afraid to us them.

  “Don’t tamper with these Injins, the Reverend pays top money for virgins. Take that from them and they’re worthless, and we’ll have to waste a bullet on them.

  An angry murmur rippled through the men, fiends that they were, they obviously didn’t dare defy him. Who was this Reverend? Probably a brothel owner, it was the only explanation she could come up with.

  If only her head would stop pounding it might allow her to think more clearly. A couple of the women started wailing.

  “Shut up you filthy bed faggots,” someone snarled.

  ˜*˜

  For two days, they were dragged along in single file behind the horses. As they stumbled along a rough track they passed no-one. The countryside became rougher, more barren and had it been summertime, they would have perished on this enforced march.

  Twice a day they received water, in the evening a few handfuls of beans. It was tossed on the ground in front of them. Sophie was so hungry she wolfed it down, dirt and all.

  By the flickering firelight she watched the men lolling around. She had to get away, but how? Once they reached the grasslands escape would be impossible. There would be no cover, nowhere to hide.

  She wanted to speak to White Dove or Bright Moon, bu
t could not, dared not even make eye contact with them. Her head throbbed, the soles of her feet burned and she shivered in the chill of the evening. The man called Wilson had taken their moccasins. “Ya won’t get far in the dark without these,” he said with an evil smirk.

  ˜*˜

  Sophie was awoken from an exhausted sleep by a kick in the ribs. “On ya feet, if ya want water.”

  She struggled up on to her knees then pushed herself upright. One of the men slopped water into a tin mug, shoved it at her and she gulped it down. Wilson thrust a piece of dry bread into her hand and she finished it in a few mouthfuls, unpalatable though it was.

  At first light, they set off again. Hours passed, dizzy, light-headed, and with black spots dancing before her eyes, she finally could not go on. Her head felt ready to explode. She stumbled and fell to her knees and her neck was nearly snapped by the rope collar as the column of captives shuffled along, dragging her with them.

  “Get up,” one of the men bellowed, riding over to her. He dismounted, came over and kicked her in the chest. She was so exhausted she didn’t even have the energy to scream with the pain that shot through her. He kicked her again, but she remained motionless.

  “This one’s nearly dead.” Another rode over. “Want me to put a bullet in her, boss?”

  “She ain’t worth a bullet, cut her loose and leave her here. She won’t last long, then the buzzards can feast on her stinking hide.”

  When the rope was cut away Sophie collapsed in the dirt. She felt a boot to her head, then nothing.

  ˜*˜

  Well, Gabe, aren’t you glad you came on this trip with me?” Carl elbowed his friend in the ribs. “A wagon load of whiskey and two days of almost non-stop fun at the cat house.

  Gabe grinned. “Good old Londrigan.” He chuckled. “She never disappoints.” Once he had hated the place and had vowed to never return. With the passing of years, the bitter memories had faded so he did occasionally visit. Most times Carl journeyed there alone, when they needed to supplement their supplies while they waited for their tri-monthly order to be delivered by bullock wagon from Deadwood.

  The first time he had seen Londrigan was when the soldiers had brought him in, delirious with grief and half dead. “A pity those Mail Order brides didn’t show up?” He turned to Carl. “I’ve been thinking, it’s time I had a permanent woman in my life.”

  “And where are you going to get a woman who will be submissive, sexually responsive, yet expect nothing in return. It can’t be done.”

  Gabe cracked the whip over the bullocks to keep their minds on the job of pulling the heavily laden wagon over the rutted road. “I can give them a comfortable life, and within reason, as much money as they want to spend. I had love once and look what it did to me?”

  “It’s been years since she died.” Carl ran his fingers through his short grey hair. “You’re letting hatred of Max Russell ruin your life. We’re both wealthy men, South Dakota has been good to us.”

  What his friend said was true; the hatred was like a festering wound eating him alive. It would be pleasurable having a woman of his own, instead of using soiled doves when his need became too great to ignore.

  “What in tarnation!” An Indian gal in ragged animal skins stumbled on to the road in front of them. “Whoa.” He pulled the bullocks up.

  “Don’t stop,” Carl yelled. “It could be a trap. Dirty savages.”

  “There’s no-one else around. It’s so isolated and flat we can see for miles,” Gabe said. He had lived a life peppered with unsavory deeds for years, but was not so devoid of humanity he would leave a young woman to die out here, even if she was an Indian.

  Gabe climbed down from the wagon. “I’m Gabe, he’s Carl.” By this time the gal had collapsed on to the dusty ground.

  “Give me the water,” he yelled.

  Cursing, Carl climbed down from his seat and handed it over. A scowl marred his normally cheerful countenance.

  Gabe poured water over the gal’s matted hair. Grabbing a handful of it, he tugged her head up and dribbled water into her mouth. Her eyes flickered open and he expelled a shocked breath. “She has grey eyes.”

  “Half-breed,” Carl snapped. “Not much better than a full blood.”

  “Yeah, well. Do you understand English, gal?”

  She nodded and put her hands out for the canteen. He handed it over, silently watching as she took several desperate gulps.

  Sophie glanced from one man to the other. The grey-haired man stood scowling at her; the younger one was quite handsome in a rugged kind of way. His dark hair was tied back with a leather thong. He had blue eyes, and his skin was tanned under his beard stubble.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Little Bear,” she said softly, making a split-second decision not to let them know she was white. She pointed to her mouth.

  “Hungry? You want food?”

  She nodded.

  He pulled out a stick of beef jerky from his pocket and gave it to her. She gobbled it down.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Carl growled. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this place and her.”

  “Get in the back of the wagon, gal. There’s a church mission a few miles away, we can drop her off there, won’t be far out of our way.” Gabe could see Carl was annoyed, but he didn’t know what else to do.

  “All right. I still think you’re loco, she’s just as likely to scalp us if she gets the chance.” Carl ran his finger across his forehead, imitating it being cut.

  There was a strange, earthy odor coming from the gal, not exactly offensive…. Gabe shrugged. Why should he care? He had done the humane thing and once they dropped her off at the mission his conscience would be clear.

  He watched through narrowed eyes as she clambered on to the wagon. He caught a flash of slim brown leg; definitely a half-breed. Cleaned up she would be an attractive enough gal with her fine facial features and those huge dove grey eyes. God alone knew what color her hair would be if the filth and dirt was washed away.

  Taking his seat, he cracked the whip over the bullocks a couple of times as they strained against their yokes and the wagon slowly moved off.

  Sophie collapsed on to the rough wooden floor and closed her eyes. Gabe was certainly a fine specimen of manhood. Probably in his early thirties. Was he married? She could not understand why she cared one way or the other. Once they dropped her at the mission church she would probably never see either of them again. Would the Reverend her captors had mentioned be there?

  A shudder racked her body. No true man of God would send such brutal men to capture Indian maidens. More likely it was a made-up name to hide his true identity. Just the kind of thing Max would do. The girls would probably be forced into prostitution at a high-class establishment if they were lucky, or the very worst option, end up in some filthy cattery servicing miners.

  She was starting to think like a white woman now. Should she declare herself to these men now? Better to wait a while. If she regained her strength escape might be possible. Where would she go? She would never be able to find her way back to the others now, that’s if any of them were still alive. Carl’s angry voice snapped her attention back to him.

  “Dammit. We shouldn’t have picked her up.”

  “She’s half white.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “Apart from those grey eyes, I glimpsed her bare leg, her skin is light. If she cleans up all right maybe I could train her to serve in the hotel.”

  “And service you, too?” Carl shot back.

  Gabe grinned at his friend. Neither of them ever interfered with Indian women, although a half-breed, if she was attractive enough to appeal to his manhood, well, he might be tempted. The women at Carl’ brothel, were attractive enough and were always eager to please him. He craved a permanent woman in his life now. He would never forget Laura, a corner of his heart was reserved for her. It was time to move on if he could find the right woman. Not that this would eas
e the burning hatred he had for Max Russell and his weak, selfish wife. Hatred still burned inside him, as fierce as it did on the day the Russells had left them to die on the prairie.

  Sophie listened to the men talking and memories came flooding back. How many years had she lived in the wilderness with her father. She could scarcely remember her mother. She was alone and destitute in this vast land where only the strong survived. Fear surged through her. She would never make it back to the tribe now; her future belonged with the white man. That was if she had any future at all.

  Mid-afternoon, Gabe slowed the bullocks down. It had been foolhardy taking on those extra crates of whiskey without a thought to the weight, and the need for a bigger team. Six bullocks would not be able to drag the heavily laden wagon up over the mountain.

  “I think we should find somewhere to stop. This team is not going to be able to haul us over the mountain.” Gabe gnawed his lower lip. “We’ll have to unload a few of those crates and leave them behind.”

  “And waste all that money?” Carl growled. “I noticed the bullocks have been laboring over the last couple of hours. I agree, we should lighten the load. You could stay out here with your little Indian gal, while I continue the journey and come back with a fresh team tomorrow.”

  “It could work,” Gabe mused.

  “Well, it’s either that, or we dump the extra crates and leave them.”

  What Carl suggested was reasonable. He cursed under his breath. If the bullocks failed them they stood to lose everything. They could find a place near water, and he could set up camp and wait for Carl to return with a fresh team tomorrow. Where to stop was the question. Carl had been an army scout for many years and knew the Dakota Territory well.

  “Have you made up your mind what you’re going to do?” Carl asked as he climbed back on board.

  “We’ll stop. Is there anywhere near here where there’s water and we could set up camp for a day or so?”

  Yeah, another couple of miles up the road, in one of those canyons, there’s that hot springs place,” Carl said. “It’s about a mile in from the track; the ground is flat, so the bullocks wouldn’t have any trouble traversing it.”