Read Passion's Series for Free Online Page B

heard him call out. He said she had stolen his heart. Then she heard the water splash. Good. He wasn't coming after her.
    She ran her tongue lightly across her still sensitive lips and felt again the longing as she remembered the taste of his mouth and the way his hands felt on her body. With the memory also came the vision of his mocking eyes and she stiffened.. How could she, a woman of the Wolf Clan...a warrior, be so affected by a No Thing! Her chin lifted as she mentally pulled about her the shreds of her dignity and returned to the village.

Chapter Five
     
    The sun had long since set, casting everything beyond the light of the campfire into darkness. Even the stars above were shut out to the ones cocooned in the warmth and brilliance of the flames.
    Men, women and children sat cross-legged and watched as one by one the warriors danced to the rhythmic beat of the drums, their feet, arms, even their heads kept time with the ever-increasing beat. The dancers dipped; swirled, and spun with such control they seemed to become one with their music.
    James found himself not immune to their creative story telling. Not the finest theaters in London could boast of actors more in control of an audience.
    As each warrior finished his tale he reverted back to the solemn, dignified protector of his people. No white man would believe that such as he could have danced with such exuberance and feeling.
    But this chance to flamboyantly express one's tale was not free. In payment, as each warrior completed his performance, he placed an offering that would be of value to one of the needy in their camp on a large buffalo robe that was spread out to one side.
    James carefully lifted the vest of bone and knotted rawhide from his sore chest to allow air to circulate across the scratches there. He impatiently looked around for New Moon.
    "Are you looking for New Moon, Uncle?" Buffalo asked with a hint of conspiracy.
    James turned to see Buffalo making himself comfortable at his side. "Uncle?" He answered with amusement.
    Buffalo stiffened his back and puffed out his thin chest. "Yes, I have learned that it is a show of respect to call older warriors 'Uncle'."
    James chuckled. "Have you tried this new form of respect on Thomas?"
    Buffalo tilted his head as he glanced up at James, an impish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
    James laughed out. "Well, I am honored that you choose to call me Uncle." Ruffling the boy's short topknot he turned his gaze back to the dancers, and his thoughts back to New Moon.
    "Uncle?"
    "Yes, Buffalo."
    The boy sat straight, his face stiff with tension. "When you left to go to the Choctaw you stayed away a long time. Are you planning to stay as long with the Cherokee?"
    James looked to Buffalo and saw the sweat beading on the boy's forehead and upper lip. "I don't know how long I will be here. Why do you ask?"
    Buffalo shifted nervously. "I would like to stay with you."
    "What about your mother?"
    "She has..." his brow wrinkled, "found a friend. I do not belong at the post!"
    He turned to James then, and James recognized the determination as well as the fear of rejection on the boy's features. He'd planned to send Buffalo back to the post with Thomas. The thought had not crossed his mind to take on the role of adoptive parent to the boy, not until it had been mentioned earlier by Cloud.
    Buffalo was obviously becoming anxious by James' hesitation. "I am Indian." He hit his thin chest with his fist. "This is where I belong. With my own kind."
    James looked back to the dancing. "There is also the blood of a white man running through your veins, Buffalo. Some day you will find that you must learn to accept the two people who are inside you, the white man and the red man."
    "I know this thing," Buffalo argued. "I have lived all my life at the post with the two types of men you speak of. I have seen very little to be proud of."
    The silence stretched out between them until finally Buffalo offered his last argument,