Wildstar

by Linda Ladd

  The last weeks had taught her much, made her realize that she did not have to make a choice between her white and Cheyenne heritage. She had experienced both ways of life and knew both were good in some ways. She put her hand upon the flatness of her stomach and smiled to herself. She and Logan would teach this wisdom to their children, and they would grow up with deeper knowledge and understanding because of it.

  A tide of love warmed her skin, and Elizabeth smiled at Logan's broad back on the stallion in front of her as they picked their way over the rocky trail amid the breathtaking autumn splendor. She shivered slightly, wickedly wishing they did not have to endure the long day's ride before she could snuggle into his strong arms beneath the stars.

  But Logan was eager to be home, and it was late in the afternoon when they stopped to make camp. Logan unsaddled the horses and started a fire, and Elizabeth frowned as he continued to favor his good arm. She would insist that he see a white doctor when they returned, she decided, as she walked through the trees toward the stream.

  She'd donned her riding skirt and blouse for the journey, but she still wore the knee-high moccasins of the Cheyenne, preferring their soft comfort to the stiff leather boots. She knelt at the riverbank and dipped water over her face and neck. She felt grimy and hot, and she unbuttoned the front of her blouse and slipped her chemise off her shoulders. Later she would bathe, perhaps with Logan, she thought with a secret smile, but now the water would cool and revive her.

  Brent Holloway stood motionless, watching Elizabeth where she knelt by the river. He raised his eyes, searching the trees behind her for Lone Wolf and his men. He could not see them, but he knew they were in position, waiting for Brent to make his move.

  He smiled coldly as Elizabeth loosened her blouse and began to splash water upon her arms. She would be his soon, after a very long wait. He'd found Lone Wolf's campsite on a hill overlooking the Cheyenne village. As he'd thought, Lone Wolf had been eager to help him wreak vengeance on Logan. The Cheyenne hated Cord almost as much as Brent did. Logan would die very soon.

  Their plan was very simple, but it would work. They would surprise the couple, Brent capturing Elizabeth while Lone Wolf and his friends took care of Logan. The only thing Brent regretted was that Lone Wolf would get the pleasure of killing Cord. But first, Logan would see his wife in Brent's hands. It was important to Brent that Logan Cord know before he died that Elizabeth was at his mercy.

  And with Logan's life at stake, Elizabeth would be cooperative enough. He would take her to Mexico until Rankin's murder was forgotten. Logan would be dead by then, and he would marry her and control her fortune. And if she refused, he would beat her into submission. It would be interesting to see how long it would take to break her Cheyenne spirit.

  But now it was time to move. He mounted quickly and walked his horse into the open. Elizabeth did not hear him, and he stopped his horse at the opposite edge of the water.

  “Hello, sweet Elizabeth,” he said, his eyes on her bare breasts.

  The deep, familiar voice startled Elizabeth, and she jerked up her eyes, quickly crossing her arms over her torso as she stared up at Brent Holloway astride his horse.

  For the first instant, she could not move, then awareness of danger shot through her, and she began to run. She ducked through the undergrowth and bushes, desperately pulling on her blouse, as Brent's horse splashed through the stream behind her. She screamed for Logan as Brent caught her by her hair, laughing as he jerked her to a standstill: Elizabeth cried out in pain, striking at him and kicking as he slid off his saddle.

  Logan heard Elizabeth's scream, and he snatched up his rifle, heading for the river at a dead run. He stopped and raised his rifle when he saw her struggling violently with Brent Holloway.

  “Let her go, Holloway, or you're a dead man,” he yelled, and Brent wrenched Elizabeth's back against his chest, covering her mouth with his hand. Elizabeth tried to scream a warning to Logan as Lone Wolf drifted out of the trees behind him.

  Logan spun, but Lone Wolf's gun butt slammed into his bandaged shoulder, then came back in a swift uppercut that connected under Logan's chin with a horrible crack.

  Logan's head jerked backward, and Elizabeth screamed as he crumpled at the Indian's feet.

  Elizabeth fought against Brent's tight hold, but he held her securely.

  “Unless you want him dead, you'll do exactly as I say. Lone Wolf wants to kill him very badly.”

  Elizabeth turned her eyes to Lone Wolf. His mutilated ear was uncovered, still a hideous, oozing raw wound. She stilled, watching as three of Lone Wolf's men joined him beside her husband's prone body. Brent released his hold, and Elizabeth ran to Logan, horrified to see the crimson stain darkening his shirt.

  “His shoulder is bleeding!”

  She tore frantically at her petticoat, managing to press some of the fabric against Logan's chest before Brent jerked her to her feet.

  “Very touching, Elizabeth, your last loving gesture for your husband. Because now you're mine. You and your money.”

  “You can have my money. All of it. I'll give you anything you want if you'll let us go,” she begged.

  Brent laughed coldly. “You miss the point, my dear. I already have everything I want.”

  “I'll never leave Logan for you,” Elizabeth said bitterly, pulling her arm free.

  Brent's face compressed into a malignant grimace.

  “Don't you see, love? You will do exactly as I say.”

  Elizabeth's eyes were frozen with hatred as he continued.

  “Because all I have to do is give the sign, and our friend Lone Wolf will kill dear Logan in a very slow and painful way. Look at him, if you don't believe me. He's dying to finish him off.”

  Elizabeth looked at Lone Wolf's black eyes, obsessed with a hatred close to madness. A great calm settled over her as she resigned herself to her fate. Logan was helpless against them. She must protect him.

  “How do I know you speak the truth?” she said coldly. “If I go with you, what will keep Lone Wolf from killing him?”

  “Lone Wolf hates the white man. He intends to make war, but he needs more guns to do it. And I can get them for him. He wants the rifles even more than he wants to kill Logan.”

  Elizabeth hesitated, not trusting him, and Brent's voice grew ugly.

  “Get on your horse, or I'll shoot him myself.”

  “He'll find us,” Elizabeth said, and Brent's smile was lethal.

  “You'd better hope he doesn't.”

  Elizabeth climbed into the saddle, realizing there was no escape, not now. Tears glistened as she watched Lone Wolf and the others roughly sling Logan over his saddle.

  “Where are they taking him?” she cried, and Brent laughed.

  “They're going to detain him for a few days, so that he can't pick up our trail.”

  He left her and walked to Lone Wolf, but Elizabeth's eyes stayed on Logan, her heart breaking as blood ran down his arm and dripped upon the ground.

  “He's all yours,” Brent said in low tones to Lone Wolf. “Do whatever you want to him. Just make sure he's dead when you get finished.” He paused, his eyes on Elizabeth. “I'm just sorry I won't get to watch.”

  Lone Wolf's black eyes glowed with anticipation. “He will plead for death before we finish with him. And what of the guns?”

  “Don't worry, you'll get them. Wait for my message,” he ordered.

  Brent mounted his horse and took Elizabeth's reins away from her.

  “Come, my love, we have a very long ride.”

  Elizabeth looked back at Logan, holding tightly to the saddle horn as Brent spurred his horse forward.

  They rode hard until it was too dark to travel, then Brent stopped, jerking her down from the horse and pushing her to the ground. She sat silently as he built a roaring fire, trying to think how she could get his gun. She had to get away, get help from Raging Buffalo to save Logan.

  Brent moved in front of her, and Elizabeth stared straight ahead. Brent smiled briefl
y, pulling leisurely on his mustache. She would fight like a cat out of hell. The idea excited him.

  “Get up.” Elizabeth did not move, and he gave a short laugh. “So Cord doesn't mean so much to you after all. It's but a short ride back to Lone Wolf and his friends.”

  Elizabeth got to her feet and stood stiffly as Brent's eyes raked over her appreciatively. He reached out suddenly, his hand closing cruelly over her breast. Elizabeth clenched her jaw to keep from crying out, and Brent smiled, dropping his hand.

  “Unbutton your blouse.”

  Elizabeth shuddered, a long undulation that rippled coldly over her flesh. She unfastened her buttons slowly until the front hung apart.

  “Now take it off,” he ordered, and every fiber of Elizabeth's body rebelled as she slipped out of it, letting it fall to the ground.

  “Now the skirt and petticoats.”

  She obeyed, her eyes burning with hatred, until she stood before him in her thin chemise.

  “You are even more beautiful than I imagined,” he murmured, fumbling at his belt.

  “I despise you,” Elizabeth gritted, but Brent smiled into her eyes.

  “Good, that will make it all the better. Lie down.”

  Elizabeth stood still, her eyes on the rifle in the sheath of his saddle. He pushed her roughly to the ground, then jerked off his shirt and doubled his belt into a loop.

  “Now I'll show you what Cord never could,” he boasted, and Elizabeth shut her eyes as he dropped to his knees in front of her. She couldn't bear for him to touch her, she thought frantically, she couldn't. Her fingers found sand, and she squeezed it into her palm. When he leaned close, she threw it into his eyes, then rolled away from him and ran for the horse. She had to get the rifle, she had to kill him!

  Just as she reached for it, Brent's hands swung her around, his open palm coming forcefully against the side of her head. Pain exploded in a white flash that numbed her, and she fell to the ground and lay looking up at him. He moved over her, slapping his belt against his palm, his mouth curved in a cruel smile.

  “Now, Elizabeth, my dear, let's start over—” The arrow struck him in the throat, severing the jugular vein. Elizabeth watched in horror as blood spurted in a pulsating stream, and his shocked eyes stared down at her, slowly glazing into an unseeing mask as he reeled backward to the ground.

  Elizabeth jumped to her feet, sobbing with relief, as she searched the night for her savior. Two Bears materialized from the trees, his bow still in his hand, and she watched him gather her clothes and walk toward her. He handed them to her, and she put them on quickly. Two Bears looked down at Brent's corpse.

  “I have avenged the death of Little Doe. Her spirit will soar free,” he said, and Elizabeth glanced down at Brent's wide-open eyes and shuddered.

  “How did you find me?”

  “I went to the camp of your people, so Tracker could help me track the white devil. When I found you were already gone, I followed your trail. When other horses joined you at the river, I followed the tracks of the two horses.”

  “Thank God,” Elizabeth said. Then she put her hand on his arm, her voice urgent.

  “But we must go swiftly to help Logan. Lone Wolf has him!”

  Two Bears listened intently as she told him what had happened, his eyes inscrutable. When she finished, he leaped upon his pony. Elizabeth mounted and followed him without a backward look at the staring corpse.

  Bright moonlight filtered through the forest, lighting their path, the trees long, hulking shadows all around them. It took them almost two hours to reach the stream where Logan had been taken, and Two Bears knelt upon the ground, his fingers touching the hoof-churned earth.

  “They do not hide their tracks. Come.”

  They rode for another hour, Two Bears often dismounting to study the ground, and each minute that passed increased the cold fear inside Elizabeth's breast. Her heart pounded when Two Bears raised his hand to halt her and spoke low words to her.

  “They are camped just ahead. I smell their fire.”

  He tied their horses, and Elizabeth gripped the pistol she'd taken from Brent as they climbed a small rise. Beneath them in a rocky clearing, two Cheyenne Indians lounged around a campfire, while Lone Wolf paced agitatedly not far away from them.

  “I don't see Logan,” Elizabeth whispered urgently, and Two Bears put a finger to his lips.

  “He is there, in the pit,” he said very low. “And another man guards the ponies.”

  Elizabeth's eyes found the gaping dark hole in the ground. It was perhaps five yards from the fire, and a faint glimmer showed a torch had been hung down inside it. Elizabeth went rigid with fear.

  “We must get him out of there,” she cried, lifting her gun, but Two Bears stopped her, both hands on her shoulders to calm her.

  “No, little one, there are too many. If we fire from here, Tracker will surely die.”

  Elizabeth saw the wisdom in his words, but her eyes went again to the pit, terrified at what she'd find at the bottom.

  “I will release their horses.” Two Bears’ whisper was quiet. “When they run to stop them, I will kill them one by one. You must free Tracker while I do this.”

  He faded away without a sound, and Elizabeth moved carefully down the rocky slope, remembering the many times she'd stalked deer with her father. Her moccasins were soundless, and she crept to within feet of the fire.

  A fierce yell suddenly rent the air, followed by the wild neighing of panicked horses, and the Cheyenne left the fire to run toward the noise. One fell almost immediately as an arrow pierced his chest, and Elizabeth waited only a moment before she ran toward the hole.

  She stopped as Lone Wolf appeared before her, his gun in his hand. She did not hesitate but raised her pistol and fired. The bullet sent him sprawling backward, and Elizabeth clutched the smoking gun tightly as she fell to her knees at the rim of the pit. She peered into the dim reaches of the hole, her eyes horrified when she saw Logan.

  He lay at the bottom, his hands and feet bound together behind his back. His shirt was red with blood, and his face was battered and bruised. His eyes were closed, and Elizabeth's heart stopped.

  “Logan!” she cried frantically.

  He stirred, only half conscious, and she sobbed her relief as he tried to open eyes swollen by the brutal beating.

  “Logan, can you hear me? Are you all right?”

  He squinted, trying to see her. His voice was a hoarse croak.

  “Elizabeth?”

  He seemed to realize then where he was, and his words came stronger.

  “Elizabeth, go quickly, before Lone Wolf sees you.”

  “No, I won't leave you. Lone Wolf's dead, and so are the others. Two Bears killed them.”

  Logan shifted, groaning as his cramped muscles screamed in pain.

  “Go, Elizabeth, please. They will get you.”

  “No, we're going to get you out. Two Bears will help me.”

  She looked around, growing panicky again, breathing in relief when she saw Two Bears running toward her.

  “Hurry! Logan's hurt!”

  Neither of them saw Lone Wolf lift his head and slowly aim his gun. A shot cracked in the night, and Two Bears fell. Elizabeth screamed, raising her gun and firing pointblank at Lone Wolf. He rolled over and lay still, and Elizabeth leaped up and ran to Two Bears. He had been hit by a bullet, and he lay unmoving on his back.

  Elizabeth sobbed over the still form, then gathered her strength and ran back to the hole, knowing she had to get Logan out by herself. She found the rope that Lone Wolf had used to lower Logan into the pit and tied it with trembling fingers around a small pine tree, then tossed it over the side.

  Logan heard it fall, his mind alert now to her danger. He called up to her, his voice hard with authority.

  “Stop, Elizabeth, and listen to me. You can't come down here. This is a snake pit.”

  Elizabeth froze, her eyes going in cold horror to the shadowy confines of the hole. Hairs rose on her neck, her
phobia sending gooseflesh across her skin. Her hands shook as she saw thick coils piled together in the corner near Logan's feet.

  “Did you hear me? There are rattlers in here with me.” His voice was still quiet, but desperate to make her stay above.

  She clutched the gun tighter.

  “I have a gun, Logan. I can shoot them.”

  Her voice shook out of control.

  “A bullet will ricochet or cave in the walls.” Logan's voice came up calmly to her, trying to keep her from doing anything foolish.

  “You must drop me a knife, sweet, so I can cut the ropes.”

  Elizabeth quickly fetched Two Bears’ knife and leaned over the opening with it, her knuckles white around the handle.

  “Drop it somewhere behind me, where I can reach it,” Logan said softly.

  Elizabeth moved, terrified she would hit him with the blade. She dropped it carefully, and it clattered loudly on the stones behind him. She cried out in dismay as it slid downward across the slanted pitch of the floor, disturbing a coiled rattler lying indolently in the shadows. The snake quickly wound itself into a writhing coil, its rattles clicking loud and angrily.

  Logan kept his eyes glued to it as it whipped out of its corner, his fingers working desperately to loosen the cords on his wrists. A second snake slid out of the darkness behind Logan's head, and Elizabeth waited no longer. She had to help him. She grasped the rope tightly in her hands and swung herself over the ledge.

  Logan's eyes were horrified as he watched her descend slowly toward him.

  “No, damn it, go back,” he whispered hoarsely, and the deadly rattling grew louder as other serpents began to sense danger. Logan lay still then listening to their slight scrapings on the floor behind them.

  Elizabeth looked around cautiously, moving downward one foot at a time. She forced herself to move, her fear for Logan overruling all else.

  Logan's forehead ran with sweat, knowing she'd come too far now to stop.