In Close Pursuit

by Colleen French

  "I could meet you in Idaho Falls." He kissed her dusty palm. "Jess, I don't want you here. I don't want you to see me fail." He lifted his chin so that he could stare directly into the green eyes he'd come to love. "I don't want you to see me die. This is a terrible way for a man to die."

  She put her other hand over his. "You're not going to die. You can't, Adam. I want you to see my orchard."

  "Sweetheart, there's a distinct possibility I'm not going to get to see your orchard. Now for once, hush that tempting mouth of yours and do as I say."

  She lowered her head, resting her cheek on his hand she still clasped. "I can't leave," she said softly.

  He sucked in his breath. The sun was so hot. His mind reeled with the pain of his wounds and the anticipation of what was to come. He hadn't heard her correctly. He couldn't have. "What do you mean you can't?"

  He'd spoken so softly that she'd had to strain to hear his words. "The bet, Adam. I'm part of it."

  He swore softly. "Winner take all?"

  She nodded. "You lose, Crooked Nose kills you—"

  "If there's anything left of me."

  "Then I'm his," she finished. She lifted her head to look into his eyes again. "It was the only way . . . our only chance."

  He stood, lifting her with him. "Guess I can't lose then, huh, love?"

  Just after dark the Utes began to beat their drums rhythmically. At first it was a soft, gentle beat interspersed with the hollow sound of bone and gourd rattles. They had built two huge campfires, side by side with space enough for a man to walk between them. Just beyond the fires they had dug a deep pit. As the fires, fueled by wood brought down from the mountain ridge, grew higher and hotter, the rhythm of the drum increased. They beat louder and louder until the sound drowned out Jessica's thoughts.

  She and Adam sat in the shelter of the Kiowa leader's tent, listening . . . waiting. She trembled with fear. This barbaric rite was far more frightening than she could ever have imagined. She stared across the tent at Adam. He was not the man he had been this morning, yesterday, the day she'd met him.

  In the hours before dusk he'd transformed himself from a lawman to an Ojibwa warrior. He had bathed in the creek, washing away the dust, and sweat, and dried blood, from his limbs. He had donned a loincloth. He had combed his long, inky black hair with a wooden comb and braided sections of it into intricate patterns, decorating it with colored beads. Then he had walked back to the tent in meditative silence and began the ritual of painting his nearly nude body.

  Adam had explained to Jessica the meaning of each color, each symbol, each diagonal line, in a soft haunting voice as he had smoothed the paint on his bronze skin. She stared through the darkness at his handsomely chiseled face. Blue and white symbols of his Ojibwa lineage marked his forehead. Across his cheeks were narrow and wide diagonal lines in blue and red . . . the red symbolizing the blood of his enemy, the blue, his intended victory. Across the wide expanse of his bare chest were more symbols. They told tales of the bravery of his mother's people.

  The Utes broke into a deafening chant and Jessica's head snapped up. Her gaze locked on Adam's. His eyes seemed as black as the depths of hell. The silence that separated them was intense, yet drawing. She reached for him, but he crawled out of the tent.

  Jessica was filled with overwhelming dread. "Adam," she called as she scrambled out of the tent after him.

  She found him stretching his limbs like a wild cat. He flexed his arms and his legs, the sinewy muscles rippling with strength. His bronze skin glistened in the firelight. "It is time," he said formally.

  "Oh, God, Adam, I don't want you to do it! Just let me go to him."

  He shook his head in a slow, ominous motion. "Too late, love. The challenge has been accepted. I'll do what must be done. As long as I breathe I cannot offer you to Crooked Nose."

  His voice made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It was Adam's voice, low and sensuous, but there was something else lurking beneath the familiar tone, something dangerous, something to be feared.

  "A token," he told her softly, offering his open hand.

  "What?" She looked up at his empty palm in confusion. The Utes were banging their drums in frenzy. They hooted and hollered and spun in circles, dancing around the campfire.

  "A token to take with me on my journey."

  She spread her hands. "I have nothing. Crooked Nose burned my clothes. Caine has my carpetbag." Tears slipped down her cheeks. "I have nothing to give you."

  He slipped a hand over her shoulder, threading his fingers through her sable-colored hair. "A kiss will be enough."

  Nothing seemed real as Adam pressed his warm lips to her trembling ones. The drums, the howl of the renegades, the heat of Adam's touch . . . This couldn't be happening.

  She threw her arms around Adam's neck and kissed him deep and hard. It was a kiss of desperation, of unfinished words. "Adam," she moaned.

  "Shhh." He caught one of her tears on the tip of his finger and brought it to his lips to taste the saltiness. "I need you to be strong, Jess. Whatever happens . . ."

  She stared at him a brief moment, then lifted her chin with resolve. "Whatever happens," she echoed.

  Adam turned away and began to walk toward the campfires.

  "Wait," she cried. "I do have something."

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  She swiped up a small eating knife from the ground outside the tent and lifted a strand of hair off her shoulder, sawing through the thick lock. "Here." She stretched out her hand and forced a smile. "A token."

  Adam accepted the lock of hair, bringing it to his lips. He inhaled deeply and was enveloped by the fresh, clean scent of Jessica. His eyes met hers. "Thank you. If I could give you a piece of my heart in return, I would."

  "You already have," she whispered.

  He held her mesmerized for a moment, lost in the depths of his ebony eyes. A hush fell on the camp as she and Adam broke through the circle of men and approached Crooked Nose. Two braves followed as guards, weapons drawn. There was no turning back.

  The soft sound of a drum, and the crackle of the intense fire was all Jessica could hear. The Kiowa grasped her arm and pulled her against him. He glanced up at Adam. "Are you ready?"

  Adam met his gaze, his own bold and aggressive. "I am."

  In an intimate motion, Crooked Nose dropped his hand onto Jessica's shoulder and brushed the rise of her breast with his fingertips. He smiled a smile that dared Adam to flinch. The Ute guards drew closer. Adam watched the Kiowa, tight-lipped, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

  For a moment, Jessica thought Adam would lose control, but he didn't. His chest rose and fell evenly as he stared Crooked Nose down, his dark eyes like daggers in the night.

  The grin fell from Crooked Nose's face. He dropped his hand and motioned to Adam to follow him. "Gather, men, and witness!" the Kiowa called.

  The Utes broke into a soft, ominous chant as they gathered around their leader and the challenger. There was something primal about their voices uniting as one and rising into the heavens with the embers of the campfires.

  Crooked Nose squatted. Adam did the same, an arm's length from him. A Ute approached and offered his leader a long clay pipelike tube and a tiny leather packet. The Kiowa tapped a few puffs of a yellow-green powder from the packet into the end of the pipe.

  Adam braced himself as Crooked Nose inserted the tip of the clay pipe into Adam's nostril and blew into the other end. A tiny puff of yellow-green powder rose from the pipe as the drug was administered.

  Adam rocked back slightly.

  Jessica lunged for him, but Crooked Nose caught her. "Easy, my Jess-i-ca," he whispered in her ear. "There are some men who die of the magic before the trial ever begins."

  She twisted, trying to break the Kiowa's grip, but he sunk his fingers into her arm entrapping her. Her eyes fell on Adam, who was still crouched, his eyes half closed.

  "Adam," she whispered. "Adam, stand."

  Crooked Nose
gave her a shake. "Silence! You can give him no aid! The man must meet victory or death alone!" He laughed and the Utes cackled.

  Her gaze darted back to Adam. She prayed silently.

  Slowly, he began to rise. A drum picked up its beat, another followed.

  Adam forced his eyes open. There was a streak of bright light that pierced his brain, confusing him. He saw a woman . . . Jess, then another . . . Jess again. She multiplied again and again before his eyes until he clutched his head and groaned with pain.

  "Adam," she called . . . they all called.

  He turned his head. The enemy . . . he could hear them, he could smell them. He heard the drumbeat of challenge. The enemy was everywhere, multiplying. Breaking, then dissolving into one again.

  Someone grasped his arm and he swung a fist bashing him in the face. There was a ripple of laughter, a few voices, then a thousand. The bright white light was blinding, it was deafening. Then he heard the voice again.

  "Adam, it's all right."

  He turned to her, to the Jessica, and slowly they melded into one. Beside her stood a man, an evil man. He pointed. Adam turned.

  Before him a blaze burned hotter than hell itself. Two blazes, three . . . four. They went on and on in a line that stretched to the limits of his imagination. He was surrounded by fire, a wall of hate and heat.

  "Walk!" the evil voice, the voices commanded. "Walk!"

  Adam took one staggering step forward. The Jessicas cried out. He blinked again and again, trying to focus, trying to fight the stark, immobilizing fear that threatened his sanity. Even in his drug-induced state he knew what he had to do. He stared up at the great wall of fire. The heat was so intense that his skin burned. He could smell the scent of singed hair . . . his own.

  He took another step.

  The drums pounded faster, harder. Loud, frenzied voices egged him on. "Walk," they called. "Walk the fire!"

  Adam concentrated. He knew he must trust his own instincts, the instincts born to all people of the Ojibwa. He dug deep within his soul and took another step forward. The pain of the blinding light in his head was easing. He could still smell the burning wood, still feel the heat of the blaze on his flesh, but he could feel something drawing him to the right. Someone was calling him in a soft, gentle voice.

  Adam lifted his head. A vision appeared, first wavy and without substance, but then slowly taking form. "Jess?" he called softly.

  Somewhere in the distance, behind him, he heard a woman sobbing. He threw a glance over his shoulder. It was Jessica, all of the Jessicas, sobbing. Concentrate, focus, he told himself. He turned back to the apparition. How could this be Jess when there were so many of them behind him?

  "Jess?" he whispered again. She was nude, her long pale limbs glistening in white light. Her thick, silky hair was brushed across her back in a cloak of sable-brown. Her green eyes glimmered as if she held some secret she wanted to share. She reached out to him, beckoning him. She called him, yet he heard no voice.

  Adam took another step forward. He could feel the power of the drug waning. There was fire all around him. He could smell the heat, yet there was a cool mist, a path, leading through the inferno.

  The Jessica surrounded by white light led him through the wall of fire. Each time he thought he would reach her in another step, she floated back. All he wanted was to touch her, to take her into his arms and feel the love she radiated from within.

  Just one more step . . .

  She smiled. Then slowly she began to fade. Her limbs disappeared, then her torso. The white light seemed to absorb the apparition until there was nothing but a face . . . then only white light.

  "Jess!" Adam stumbled forward, out of the fire, reaching for her, grasping the air.

  Suddenly the ground gave way. There was a scream, high-pitched and filled with fear. It was Jessica.

  He landed at the bottom of the pit in a crouched position, his face protected by his hands. At first he smelled only dirt and smoke, but then he became aware of the heady scent of an animal. Something growled at the far side of the earthen pit.

  Adam straightened. The fall seemed to have cleared his head. The drug's illusions had faded. Now he only saw cold reality. The pit had been dug into the ground only waist deep, but three sides had been built up with wood to make him feel as if it was deeper.

  A badger. On the far side of the pit he could see it. He nearly smiled at the Kiowa's ingenuity. Adam had expected a wolf, maybe a coyote. But not a badger. A badger could rip a man to shreds with its long yellowed claws and fanged teeth. It was a painful way to die.

  The animal was about two feet long. It had silvery grizzled gray-black fur marked with white stripes and patches. Its black beady eyes darted to and fro with fear and pain. Even in the shadows of the pit he could see its long sharp, deadly claws. The Utes had tantalized it before throwing it into the pit, Adam was sure of it.

  Above, he heard voices. He glanced up. The Utes began surrounding the pit. A drum still beat rhythmically. Crooked Nose appeared with Jessica in tow. She'd been crying. There was a mark on her cheek where she'd been hit, by the Kiowa's hand no doubt. A trickle of blood oozed from the corner of her mouth. Adam winked at her.

  Jessica offered a bittersweet smile. She couldn't believe Adam had made it through the fire! Just when he had been about to walk directly into one of the campfires he had veered right and walked between the two.

  "So, you have survived the first stage of the challenge," Crooked Nose said, not bothering to hide his angry disappointment.

  Adam returned his gaze to the snarling badger. "So I have."

  Crooked Nose gave a nod and one of the Utes lowered a pole into the pit and prodded the animal.

  The badger sprang and Adam jerked up his hands to protect himself. He felt the claws dig into his forearms. The smell of his own blood was thick in his nostrils.

  The Utes broke into a roar of shouting and laughing.

  Adam grasped the badger and flung it. The animal screamed as it hit the dirt wall and scrambled after him again. The moment its long yellow teeth made contact with Adam's bare leg he swept it up by its back legs and threw it again making it somersault before it hit the back wall.

  The animal lay stunned for a moment. One of the Utes lowered the pole down and jabbed the beast. The badger came up snarling. The moment it spotted Adam it attacked again. He beat it with his fists, trying to grasp its neck. The badger clawed and snapped its jaws, slashing Adam's arms.

  Sweat and blood ran down Adam's face temporarily blinding him. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He held the badger at arm's length. He'd be damned if he'd be beaten by a weasel! He drew it to him and threw it as hard as he could.

  The animal hit the dirt wall and slid to the ground. It was tiring. The Utes shouted and shook their fists in disappointment. Just as the badger rolled back onto all fours one of the Utes swung the pole and knocked Adam to the ground. The moment he hit the floor the badger pounced on him. It ran over his chest, it claws sinking into his flesh. It snapped its jaws aiming for his neck.

  Adam heard himself cry out in surprise . . . in anger. They had cheated. The sons of bitches had cheated!

  Ignoring the pain of his wounds, Adam grasped the badger by the head, twisting its neck. He leaped to his feet and swung the animal over his head. But instead of snapping its neck, he released the screaming beast and it flew through the air, out of the pit, hitting one of the Utes in the chest and knocking him to the ground.

  The Ute screamed and several braves came to his rescue beating the animal off with clubs and sticks. Adam took the instant of confusion to run to the side of the pit where no wall had been built and to leap up out of the death hole.

  Jessica flew into him, throwing her arms around his neck. Adam held her tight, panting. His whole body was on fire from the razor cuts of the badger's claws and teeth.

  Crooked Nose came to them.

  "I have met the challenge," Adam managed. "We are free."

  The Kiowa's
blotched face was completely blank for a moment and then he smiled. With a wave of his hand there were Utes all over them, tearing Adam and Jessica apart.

  Crooked Nose caught Jessica and yanked her into his arms as the Utes dragged Adam backward toward the blazing campfires.

  "I have met the challenge," Adam screamed. "I have earned the right to go free and take my woman!" He fought and twisted like a madman deranged by betrayal.

  The Kiowa looked at Jessica, trapped in his arms, and then turned his gaze to Adam. His face twisted in a sneer. "You didn't really think I was gonna give her up, did you?"

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rage bubbled up in Jessica. After all Adam had endured, Crooked Nose had no intention of letting him live . . . of setting her free. "You son of a bitch!" Jessica muttered under her breath. With one swift movement she rammed her elbow into the soft pit of Crooked Nose's stomach. He gave a grunt of surprise, then just as he drew back his hand to slap her, Adam broke free of the Utes.

  He barreled into Crooked Nose and Jessica, knocking them both over. She scrambled to get out of Adam's way as the men swung fist against fist, rolling in the dirt.

  Crooked Nose barked a command to his men, but to Jessica's astonishment, none of the Utes moved to aid their leader. The entertainment arena had moved from the pit to the bare ground. It was the Ojibwa against the Kiowa now, rather than the badger.

  So his dogs have turned on him, she thought, eyeing the braves carefully. This could be the break she and Adam needed. A stroke of luck. There was no loyalty among this band of renegades. They had tired of following Crooked Nose's commands.

  She watched them as she backed up slowly, moving toward the herd of horses. She and Adam would need their horses to escape. The Utes were passing around bottles of whiskey, laughing, shoving each other as they watched their leader and Adam fight in the dirt. The Kiowa shouted to his men again as Adam flopped him over and pinned him to the ground.

  The Utes laughed harder. Adam was holding his own, slowly gaining ground. The small Kiowa was wiry and fast, but Adam held the upper hand in brute strength. Again and again Adam's fist connected with Crooked Nose's jaw. Blood poured from his nose and mouth.