Captive

by Heather Graham

  “I cannot fight as he wishes me to,” James said simply.

  “I know that. Many men know it. Otter cannot respect it, though I believe he intends to keep his word. But he means death to the whites. If this woman is yours, you must see that she does not leave the fort. And if she leaves it, you must come for her. Many things happen in the heat of battle. Many things that men may not intend.”

  “Thank you, Brown Rabbit.”

  Brown Rabbit nodded and turned hastily to return to his own band.

  James stood in the moonlight. He cast back his head and stared up at the stars.

  He had gone to the fort. He had climbed the oaks outside the clearing where the walls had been raised, and he had silently stared down into the yard, into the very heart of the military fortress.

  He had seen her.

  And his heart had been pummeled and his blood had seemed to run both hot and cold. And he had been seared with both anger and fear, but in the end he had seen what Wildcat had. The Indians could not attack the fort. No matter how many warriors they gathered, the fort was too strong. They would not sacrifice themselves for a futile attack. Jarrett would have known how strong the fort was, how well protected, before he would have allowed Teela to go, no matter what arguments Michael Warren had used.

  If she stayed within the fort, she was safe.

  And if she did not …

  His fingers knotted at his sides. What was she to him? he taunted himself. A white woman he had urged to marry a soldier friend. A sweet, lush body in the night, easy pain and tempest. She could be nothing more.

  She was more. He could not claim her or command her, but she was his. In his blood. In his soul. He could not rid himself of her, of wanting her. Of longing to hear her voice again, see the flash in her eyes, listen to her words, soft or angry, warm or rebellious.

  “Damn you, why did you ever have to come here?” he whispered to the moon.

  Then he cast his head back still farther, his fingers knotted into his fists, and he let out a cry of anger and anguish to the moon.

  It echoed around him.

  And he moved in the darkness again, aware that he barely dared even sleep in the days that were to come.

  Chapter 17

  General Jesup, now in command of all forces in Florida, was a lean, tall, straight man. Teela had heard that he could be shifty, that he wasn’t always to be trusted, but there were few men high in the military who didn’t receive some kind of lambasting from their men. Teela didn’t think that he looked untrustworthy. He had level, keenly intelligent eyes. And as she danced with him, she felt sorry for him.

  “Were it up to me,” he said, sweeping her very properly but just a bit stiffly around the room, “it would all be over now.” He wasn’t really looking at her as he spoke; he was brooding, and seemed sad despite the festivities of Robert’s party. “We have fought a hard campaign here. When Governor Call held the reins of command before me, he fought a hard campaign as well. But when I fought in January, I came to see what they cannot see in Washington. I came to see that we could trek endlessly through brush and swamp and hammocks. No matter how hard we try, parties of warriors slip away. I came close to Osceola once, so close I nearly had that wretched war hawk in my grasp! But he slipped away. The prisoners taken in his pursuit informed us that he escaped our reach with just a few warriors. He’ll come back again with a hundred. It is always the same. We catch our enemies, but always our enemies slip away once again.”

  “Why don’t they just let the Seminoles alone, then, in the south?”

  Jesup sighed, deeply troubled. “Would God that we could! My frustration here has been so great that I pleaded to be relieved of duty. Then gossip hounds and political enemies cast such comments upon my abilities that I can no longer accept the relief I have so craved until I feel I have proven my competence. Good God! I would most gladly leave them to the wretched swamps. But it is the opinion of the United States government, especially that of Secretary of War Poinsett and apparently that of President Martin Van Buren, that we must not back down, that we cannot surrender our position, or we will but extend every fight we face across the whole of the country. I am but a servant of our government and therefore obey orders. I have suggested on more than one occasion that we just leave the Seminoles to the south of the peninsula.” He was silent for a moment. “My orders leave me so little choice. The Seminoles must go, the Seminoles won’t go; I am left to exterminate men I frequently admire. I tell you I am weary of this hellhole where the soldiers sicken constantly, where my regular army officers squabble incessantly with the militia commanders, and where disease plagues us all most pathetically. I am afraid to let the populace know just how many of our soldiers are ill, for they would be terrified to sleep at night. I tell you, it is a wretched, wretched war. Some men, of course, do thrive on it.” He paused. ”Your father is proving to be an admirable officer, never falling to sickness in the heat, following every trail relentlessly until he has hunted down his prey!”

  “Yes, my stepfather is excellent at such maneuvers,” Teela agreed. She could see Michael Warren across the floor, in conversation with Tyler Argosy and Dr. Brandeis. He watched her while she talked. For once in his life it seemed that he was pleased with her. Jesup’s recommendations could bring about a promotion for him, and Teela knew that Jesup, whatever his personal dismay at the war he fought, was glad of the men who were winning the battles.

  Eliminating the problems.

  Jesup was looking at her gravely. “It is my understanding, Miss Warren, that you have befriended the hostiles.”

  Teela arched a brow at him, speaking carefully. “I don’t know any of the ‘hostiles,’ sir.”

  “Your father has claimed that you were kidnapped by the half-breed, James McKenzie, that the man is dangerous, that his type will continue the war forever, threatening innocent women and children.”

  “I wasn’t kidnapped by anyone, General. I met James McKenzie at a party finer than this one at his brother’s house.”

  The general sniffed, on the verge of rudeness. He seemed a very bitter man that night.

  “In my experience, I have met so many men who have not seen their brothers in years, and care not if they ever do so again! Then I come here, and Jarrett, a man who knows this frontier of Florida better than any other man, will not fight and seek out the deep-hammock hideouts of these wretches because he shares his father’s blood with one of them. Then there is James himself! Articulate, well educated, fully versed in the white way of life, a man with that life opened to him, and he joins with the savages instead!”

  “It has been my understanding that James has very frequently served both sides well—”

  “As I’ve said, he’s articulate and highly intelligent. He has the rare power to move men with both his example and his words, and a manner of reasoning that puts us all to shame.” He sighed deeply. “I’m afraid I have become nearly as great a burden to many of those civilians I fight to keep alive as I am to the savages!”

  “Surely, sir, you are greatly appreciated.”

  Jesup shrugged. “I think not, Miss Warren. But it is kind of you to pretend that it is so. Especially since it seems I am in charge of an effort you deplore.”

  “I’m not at all sure what I think anymore,” Teela told him. “It is war and bloodshed that I deplore.”

  “Your stepfather rides out again tomorrow with a detachment to follow a trail deep into the swamp. Both your father and young Harrington will be gone. You should perhaps leave this wretched territory. Go on home, be safe.”

  Teela arched a brow. It seemed that everyone wanted her to go home. If Jesup was suggesting she do so, perhaps Michael Warren would be bound to let her do so.

  Her heart was pounding hard. She didn’t think that she wanted to go home. James was out there somewhere.

  “General, you are kind, and I thank you for your consideration for my health and welfare. But I don’t think I should leave without having a chance to speak with J
ohn again.”

  She swept her lashes low over her cheeks, somewhat ashamed of the lie, even if she had John Harrington’s blessing and encouragement to lie.

  “Ah, young love!” the general said, smiling with a faraway look to his eyes. Then he winked at her. “I quite understand. What a commendable wife you will make for such a promising soldier as your Mr. Harrington! I still say, my dear, if you’ve need of anything at all while your men are fighting so bravely on the line, you mustn’t hesitate to ask.”

  “General, I will not,” Teela promised.

  Even as she spoke, there was a sudden commotion at the door to the hall on the ground floor, where they danced. The musicians stopped playing.

  A soldier who had been on guard duty was the first to break through into the room. He was young, freckle-faced, with tawny hair. His flesh was very pale; his freckles stood out upon it. He was followed by two men who held a muddied and bloodied companion between them. Teela screamed, stunned, horrified to see that the blood that streaked his face had come from a small spot on the crown of his head where a patch of hair had been lifted.

  “Sir, General Jesup, sir!” the man being held cried out. “Captain Dixon, fourth volunteers, reporting.” Then his military protocol was lost, and he openly wept. “We’d traced down Otter, sir. Oh, yes, we’d traced down Otter. There were ten of us, and we thought we could surround his camp and surprise him and bring him in. We were so certain. But that damned Otter, sir, he wasn’t in front of us at all. He was behind us. And he came around us just as we came into his village. For the love of God, sir, I crawled back here. They took me for dead, sir, lifted my hair, and by some miracle I did not cry out. But my men, my brave young boys, my beautiful boys. They’re gone, sir. All gone.”

  General Jesup set a supporting arm around Teela, but Brandeis apparently did not see the action, or chose to ignore it. He came behind her, catching her by the hand. “Come, quickly.”

  She followed him, or more accurately, was dragged by him to where the captain stood, supported by the others. Brandeis quickly lifted the man’s head and looked into his eyes. “Sir!” he said to General Jesup. “This man needs care promptly.”

  Jesup stood very tall and straight. “Indeed,” he said quietly. “Captain, you are a brave man. Our prayers are with you, and your fine men.”

  Joshua pushed open the door, urging Teela and the men supporting the captain to hurry along behind him. They strode along the wood decking that led to the door into Joshua’s surgery and hospital, and carried the captain into the back room where Joshua removed bullets, sewed up sword slashes, hatchet and knife wounds, and amputated destroyed limbs. He ordered the captain laid down.

  “Teela, carefully clean the head wound. Get the sulfur. Have we ether?”

  “Yes, we’ve a little left.”

  “Good, it seems his main wound is there, on the side. Open my bag, get me my scissors.”

  Teela hastened to obey him, her heart beating hard as the soldiers who had supported the captain stepped back, wide-eyed, looking as if they might be sick at last. Teela set out the bag with Joshua’s instruments, quickly handing him the scissors so that he could rip open the captain’s homespun shirt and hunting jacket. She started to order one of the soldiers to bring her hot water to bathe the poor captain’s scalpless head, but Joshua glanced up and saw a bottle of whiskey on the table near his instruments and handed it to Teela. “This will do fine. Pour some on his head, then into his belly.”

  In the savage wilderness where supplies were sorely lacking, whiskey was a fine medicine. Except that Teela was convinced the captain could use a good swallow before feeling the sting of the alcohol upon his head.

  He looked into her eyes with his own fine powder blue ones, read her mind. He reached for the bottle and consumed a good quantity in one long, hungry swallow.

  He gritted his teeth, but didn’t cry out when she then bathed his head with it. Amazingly, after all she had learned to do in the surgery, she felt tears stinging her eyes. She liberally applied sulfur to the wound, then helped remove the fragments of cloth from the captain’s shirt. Joshua quietly requested her assistance, and she quickly gave it. Thankfully, the captain had not been riddled with bullets.

  He had been slashed in a long line up and down his side. The whiskey wouldn’t be enough. They did have ether. Joshua administered it; there were a few minutes of waiting.

  The captain looked up at Teela with glazed eyes. She tried to smile, taking his hand. “Nothing will hurt you in a few minutes, captain.”

  He smiled. “I will hurt forever!” he said softly, then moaned. “My boys, my poor boys …”

  She glanced at Joshua. He inclined his head toward the captain.

  “Sir,” she said softly. “Think on this, that they are gone now, in no pain, and abiding with God. They were volunteers, soldiers who knew the danger, glad to follow you, brave men. Captain, surely, you did all that you could!”

  He closed his eyes, nodding. “All that I could …”

  His eyes opened again. “But I have lived to see an angel, they have not.”

  “They are dancing with real angels now, sir!”

  Once again the captain’s eyes closed. His fingers squeezed hers. “Bless you …”

  His eyes didn’t open again. Joshua nodded and inclined his head toward the needles and silk thread they had been lucky enough to receive in their last shipment of supplies.

  Nearly a hundred stitches were required.

  She sat with the captain until it was very late. About two in the morning, Joshua came and looked at the captain, the whiskey bottle now in Joshua’s hands. He pulled a long swig of it.

  “He will make it, I believe. As long as no infection sets in. We tended him quickly enough. Come on, come into the office. Have a drink yourself. You need a drink, and you deserve one. Good, stiff whiskey, no sherry or the like.”

  Exhausted, Teela followed him into the small cubicle that served as his office. There were shelves loaded with books and medications. The desk was littered with supply forms, discharge papers, letters, and reports. He swept them to one side as he sat behind the desk, indicating that Teela take the chair before it. He opened the bottom drawer of his crude desk and drew out a glass, filled it with whiskey, and thrust it across the desk to her.

  She took a sip of it and shuddered slightly.

  “Oh, come now, down it in a gulp!”

  She arched a brow to him, then did so. She shuddered fiercely, but she felt as if she had been warmed from head to toe.

  “Better?” he asked.

  She nodded. She set the glass down carefully. “He’s a good man!” she said. “A very good man.” She felt like crying again.

  “And you hated the Indians like hell when he came in,” Joshua said.

  She arched a brow again and nodded as he poured her more whiskey.

  “I hated the Indians. I thought of them all as despicable savages. Just like I hated Captain Julian Hampton the day that he massacred everyone in that village.”

  “It’s a damned dilemma, isn’t it?”

  She nodded, inhaled and exhaled. “Oh, God, Joshua! I don’t know why, I just keep thinking that I could do something here, but I can’t. I thought that I could change things in some small measure. Oh, what a fool I’ve been! I’m humbled, and I’m tired. And I’m frightened. And I—”

  “You don’t want to see James McKenzie dead, and right now you’re not certain you want to see him alive.”

  “Oh, dear Lord! Of course, I want him to be alive—”

  “But sometimes he is one with those savage creatures who ripped this poor good man to shreds tonight!”

  She stared down at her lap and nodded. “Just this evening General Jesup suggested I go home. And I didn’t want to go home. I thought that I needed to be here. But now, so suddenly, I just want to be away. I do want to go home. I—please don’t say anything. I’m going to wait until my stepfather has ridden out. General Jesup has told me that I can come to the milit
ary for help. I’ll ask the commandant if I can leave as soon as possible. Perhaps ride north to St. Augustine when a detachment of men is going for supplies.”

  Joshua was silent. Teela stared down at her hands. She felt so numb tonight. So tired. So beaten.

  “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “I’m grateful to you, to John Harrington, to others. Perhaps I shouldn’t go. I owe him, I owe you—”

  “You need to go,” Joshua said suddenly, fiercely.

  She was startled by his vehemence. She felt her cheeks redden. She knew she was sometimes the talk of the stockade; everyone knew that she had pushed Julian Hampton into the water. Some of them mocked her as an Injun lover.

  “If I’ve offended you—” Teela began.

  “For the love of God! You’ve not offended me! I will miss you, but I pray that you will go.”

  “Will you explain to John for me?”

  “John will understand.”

  “Perhaps he will be relieved.”

  “Teela, do not be a fool. Go on, get out of here, go home. If your fiance does not love you, Teela Warren, I do. If you have lain with a thousand Indians, I don’t care.”

  She stared at him, shocked, startled—and again glad of Joshua Brandeis because he was so blunt, because he spoke the truth, because he read into the hearts of men and women, and chose not to judge them. But tears stung her eyes because she was sorry to realize that she meant something to him that he did not mean to her.

  “I haven’t lain with a thousand Indians,” she said softly.

  “Only one.”

  “Joshua, it isn’t that he is a Seminole. It’s—”

  “You’re in love with him.”

  “It isn’t that he is a red man, or a white man, or both. It …”

  “I understand,” he said with a slow sigh, picking up his whiskey bottle and swigging deeply again. “I understand, and I ache for you, and for James. What you cannot see is the unavoidable tragedy of it.” He stared at her. “James McKenzie will not leave his war. Especially since he has been branded all but a true renegade now. Because of you.”