Wind Warrior (Historical Romance) Read Online Free

her through sickness and Uncle Matt who put her on her first horse, and soothed her when she fell and skinned her knees.
    As far as school was concerned, Marianna always looked forward to her daily lessons with Aunt Cora, who had a way of making history come alive. Most of all, Marianna loved geography, because Aunt Cora had been to many of the countries she told her about, and shared her experiences.
    Marianna’s gaze swept across the distance toward the river. She stood motionless as she watched a paddlewheel boat making its voyage back to Independence, Missouri. The boat would no doubt be loaded with fine furs and trade goods. She lost interest when the boat disappeared around a bend in the river.
    The sound of happy laughter floated on the air, and Marianna smiled as she watched several small children dart behind trees and thick bushes, playing a game of tag. Deciding not to join the picnickers just yet, Marianna climbed out of the ditch, laying her flowers on the embankment. There were thickets near the river and huckleberries would soon be in season. Uncle Matt loved huckleberry pie.
    Suddenly Marianna’s attention was drawn to muffled sounds coming from the river. Curious, she climbed up high enough to see over the embankment and noticed about a dozen canoes.
    Her heart froze.
    Indians!
    She tried not to panic because there were always Indians hanging around the fort.
    But these Indians looked different somehow—they were taller, leaner. Lifting her hand, she shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun—it looked to her as though their faces were painted! Uncle Matt had told her that when Indians went on a raid, they usually painted their faces.
    Frozen in horror, Marianna watched them paddle toward the shore. It appeared that they were deliberately staying within the shadows of the trees to avoid being seen. Her first instinct was to run, to hide. She slid back down the embankment into the ditch, huddling close to the side, her body quaking.
    Closing her eyes tightly, she hoped the Indians would paddle on by. Since this part of the woods was on a high incline, surely the Indians could not see the picnickers from the river. At least Marianna hoped they couldn’t.
    Dread filled her heart when she heard the Indians pulling the canoes onto the riverbank. She hunched lower in the ditch, hoping they wouldn’t discover her hiding place.
    But what about the others?
    She must warn them of the danger.
    Marianna rose up enough to peer past a clump of pine trees where the unsuspecting picnickers were still playing tag, unaware of the danger. She attempted to call out to warn them, but her throat was clogged with fear, and only a shuddering moan slipped past her trembling lips.
    Glancing hopefully toward the fort, Mariannarealized it was too far away for help to reach them in time. With her heart pounding, Marianna heard a shout and saw some of the men grabbing up their rifles and herding the women and children toward the wagons. She was thankful they were aware of the danger.
    That’s when Marianna realized her own plight. If she attempted to run to the others, the Indians would see her.
    Hide!
    That was her only hope.
    It was as if her body were frozen in place and she couldn’t move. Burying her face in the spindly grass that grew alongside the ditch, she clamped her hands over her ears, flattening her body against the muddy embankment. A sob was building inside her throat and she swallowed twice, trying not to make any sound that would draw the Indians’ attention.
    Suddenly screams filled the air, followed by the sound of gunfire. Above the fray she heard Widow Harkin’s voice as she directed the others to the wagons. Why were the Indians raiding so near the fort? No one had considered it dangerous to picnic so near Fort Benton.
    Tremors shook Marianna’s slight body and she clamped her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming when she heard the clatter of wagons and realized that she was being left behind. If