by tiffy
ʺYou are so magnificent,ʺ she said softly as her fingers traced the patterns of reddish hair on his chest and belly. When her hand seized his rigid staff and stroked it, he let out a ragged cry of ecstasy and leaned over her to suckle one upthrust breast. His hand cupped the other, feeling the nipple harden in anticipation of his mouth upon it. Now it was her turn to cry out as he suckled one full breast, then the other. ʺPlease, oh, please, Santiago, querido, ʺ she sobbed.
Outside the lodge, Desert Flower stood frozen in horror, listening to the animal sounds of passion coming from within. She had followed the lovers as they slipped into the isolated lodge and knew in her heart what she would overhear.
Even though she did not understand the English words, the images their hoarse voices invoked were clear indeed.
Red Eagle had carried his white woman through the cold night, kissing her passionately, possessively. He loved the white‐skinned witch. He was at this very moment making her his, bonding with her in a mating pleasure Desert Flower had never known.
And I never will! She clasped her hands over her ears and stumbled blindly away, then began to run. Her tear‐filled eyes blurred the pathway in front of her, but she knew the location of the horse corrals even in the icy chill of darkness.
Inside the lodge, all was golden light and radiant heat as Santiago and Elise kissed in passionate abandon. Their hands touched, caressed, glided, explored each other anew. She thrilled at the bunched muscles of his arms and hard chest.
Then her fingernails dug into his shoulders and moved down his back.
When he flinched, she immediately cried out, ʺIʹve hurt you! Oh, my love, when I think of what could have happened. Let me . . .ʺ She sat up and pushed him gently onto his stomach so she could kiss and caress his injured back. Her lips were soft as velvet as she plied the spaces of bare skin between the bandages with light, brushing kisses.
When her hands strayed lower, curving around his small, hard buttocks, he rolled over and pulled her down beside him. ʺEnough of your witchery,ʺ he whispered as he spread her legs and his mouth moved with fierce hot intensity from the slight swell of her belly to the nest of ebony curls below, seeking and finding the hot, honeyed sweetness he sought.
The fierce jolt of pleasure sizzled through her like a flaming brand and her hips arched into his caress. He lay on his side, holding her as he loved her so tenderly and fiercely. She reached for his hardened staff and once again stroked it with her hand, knowing the reaction her touch would elicit. Then she drew nearer, tasting of him as he did of her, experimentally.
Could she do thislove him this way? It seemed so natural, so beautiful, nothing like . . . She blocked all thoughts of the past and turned to the present. Here was her love, loving her. She grew bold and took him in her mouth. At once he stiffened, then moaned in an anguish of pleasure, holding tightly to her hips as he continued making love to her.
Elise felt the gentle rhythm of his caress and matched hers to his, slowly, hesitantly at first, but then gradually spiraling upward, faster, harder, out of control. Just as the blinding waves of shimmering pleasure released her, she felt his staff swell and pulse forth its hot, sweet seed. They lay, sated and panting for a few moments, replete in mutual pleasure. Then he sat up and drew her into his arms, kissing the top of her head as he held her to his chest. She buried her face against the hard, furry wall and whispered, ʺI didnʹt know I could do that. . . .ʺ
ʺIt pleased me greatly,ʺ he said, then added with a worried note in his voice, ʺDid it not please you?ʺ
She raised her face and their eyes met. ʺYes, I enjoyed it very much. I didnʹt understand that a woman could make love to a man that way.ʺ
His lips curved in a wicked smile as he lowered them to kiss her. ʺNow you have learned something new . . . and you are a very gifted pupil.ʺ
She murmured against his mouth, ʺThen let us continue instruction. Perhaps there is more yet to learn. . . .ʺ
Desert Flower reined in her pony and slumped against the fillyʹs neck. She had ridden blindly for hours and now dawn streaked the sky. ʺHow can I return to camp and face them?ʺ she asked aloud.
The cold winter wind stung her tear‐streaked face, throwing her words back at her. She had prayed for a vision, for guidance, but none came. She Who Dreams often said that the Spiritsʹ guidance came only as They willed, never at human command. But surely there must be a sign. The white woman, a foreigner even to the Red Eagleʹs Spanish people, could not be meant for him. Her home was across the Father of Waters.
She slid from the pony and knelt by the edge of a small pool of water, gazing at her reflection on its placid surface. Nothing. No vision. Angrily she slapped her hand beneath the icy surface, breaking its tranquility, shattering her own image.
Just as her heart had been shattered last night.
As she crouched in silent misery, Desert Flower did not see the Comanche warrior crest the hill and stand silhouetted against the blood‐red sky of sunrise.
His keen obsidian eyes took in the lovely Lipan woman kneeling by the pool, then darted around the rough, rock‐strewn terrain. Surely she must have a protector? Or had they at last come near their ancient enemyʹs hidden stronghold? He slipped silently behind a juniper, then began to climb down the hill to report to the Spanish leathercoats who rode with their scouting party.
After a few moments, Desert Flower collected herself and rose, brushing dirt from her beautiful buckskin tunic. It was time to return to the stronghold.
Everyone would be worried about her if she were discovered missing. Then there would be questions about why she had done such a foolish thing as riding out alone in the middle of the night. She swung up onto her fleet little mare and kneed her into a canter.
As she rounded a large boulder, climbing higher into the trackless mountains, she heard the pounding of hoofbeats behind her. Seven Comanche warriors, in their horned buffalo‐skull headdresses, were riding toward her. With them were two Spanish leathercoats!
She kicked her pony into a gallop and turned toward the protection of a cluster of rocks that were strewn across the side of the mountain. If only she could elude her deadly pursuers in the rocky maze, she could make it to the outer perimeter of sentries at the eastern entrance to the stronghold. As she rode the twisting, treacherous trail, she dared not look behind to see if they were gaining on her.
Just when she thought she had made it, the hiss of an arrow rent the air. The shaft grazed her arm, leaving a long bloody furrow that burned like fire. She cried out in Lipan as she neared the walls of the pass into the stronghold.
Suddenly, a shot rang out over her head and one of the Comanches pitched backward from his mount. As the Lipan sentries fired again, the war party turned and rode away.
Desert Flower raced her lathered pony into the heart of the village, screaming for Hoarse Bark and Red Eagle. The chief was the first to reach her as she slipped from her mount and began to explain her brush with a fate too hideous to contemplate.
Santiago awakened to the shots and heard the sound of excited voices. He had taken a sated, exhausted Elise to She Who Dreamsʹ lodge late last night, then returned to sleep restlessly, still uncertain of what their future would be. After quickly pulling on his buckskins and lacing up his moccasin boots, he strapped his sheath knife to his thigh and fastened his pistols in the sash he had tied about his waist. When he reached the center of the commotion, his breath caught. Ana stood sobbing brokenly in Hoarse Barkʹs arms as the chief questioned her tersely.
Her arm was soaked with blood!
Shoving his way through the crowd, he reached out to her and spoke in Lipan.
ʺWhat has happened, Little Sister? Who did this to you?ʺ
She flew into his arms and he held her protectively as Hoarse Bark explained about the Comanche scouting party and the leathercoats who accompanied them.
ʺIf they leave these mountains alive, they will ride to Santa Fe or El Paso del Norte and bring the presidials down on usalong with a hoard
of their butchering Comanche allies!ʺ Red Eagleʹs eyes met Hoarse Barkʹs in immediate understanding. The very existence of their people was at stake.
ʺIt is all my fault. If I had not ridden out and led them back hereʺ
ʺThere is no time for such wailing now, Ana,ʺ Santiago said. ʺAre you hurt badly?ʺ His eyes scanned the crowd for She Who Dreams, but he did not see the slow‐moving old woman. ʺYou must let She Who Dreams tend your hurts, but first there is something I would have you do for me.ʺ
His hands held Anaʹs trembling shoulders, willing her to listen to his instructions in the midst of the chaos swirling around them. Men rushed to arm themselves while women herded children into lodges to pack supplies in case they must flee for their lives. ʺI would have Elise safely away from here. She cannot ride through the mountains like the Lipan. Raise an escort of warriors to take her and her brother back to Santa Fe. Tell her to wait for me there. When we are done here, I will come for her.ʺ
ʺI will see that the American woman is safe. Ride carefully, Red Eagle.ʺ
From a distance, Elise watched the exchange between Santiago and the beautiful Lipan. What did it mean? Pandemonium reigned, yet the tall renegade held Ana and spoke to her intensely. When he turned as if to leave, Ana pulled him to her for a swift embrace, then ran off. Santiago strode in the opposite direction, shouting commands at the warriors. In moments, he and Spybuck rode out with several dozen heavily armed warriors. Elise hid in the shadows of the lodge, feeling betrayed and alone in this alien wilderness.
When the party of mounted men had gone, she walked through the village, intent on finding She Who Dreams so that she might learn what had happened to cause the commotion. The old woman made her uneasy, but she had been hospitable after her own fashion, Elise supposed. Santiago had told her that Indian names were most often earned, and She Who Dreams was a seer of some sort. I wonder what she sees in the starsor whatever Apaches use to predict the future?
What is my fate with him?
Ana watched the white woman wander aimlessly through the busy village. The idea that had been gnawing at the back of her mind ever since Red Eagle had given her his instructions now seized hold of her. ʺIf only my dreams were clear,ʺ
she murmured to herself. ʺSurely I must do it. Why else would events have unfolded this way? He is truly fearful that she cannot live the life which he has chosen.ʺ
Ana had informed Elk Catcher to ready a small party of armed warriors to escort the American visitors to Santa Fe, then had Spotted Deer bind up her gashed arm. She did not wish to confront She Who Dreams just yet, although Ana would not admit that to herself. Taking her courage in hand, she approached her palefaced rival.
ʺI spoke with the Red Eagle before he rode out,ʺ she said to Elise in Spanish.
ʺI know.ʺ Eliseʹs face flushed as she added, ʺI saw the two of you.ʺ
Anaʹs eyes glittered with triumph. So you already think I am better suited for him than you. The Spirits had meant it to be this way. She felt reassured as she said, ʺHe instructed me to see you and your brother safely to Santa Fe. There is great danger here. A party of Comanche with their white allies, the Spanish, have found our hidden stronghold. If any of them escapes, we will be attacked.ʺ Elise paled. ʺYou mean Santiago and the rest of those men must track down and kill every one of the intruders?ʺ
ʺYes,ʺ Ana answered flatly. ʺThe Red Eagle is wise to send you away. Your voice condemns him for fighting with usfor being Lipan. He told me you could never accept his way. You and your brother are to return to your own land once we escort you to the Spanish governorʹs city. His soldiers are your friends,ʺ she added acidly.
ʺNo! Santiago would not send me away without so much as a good‐bye. I do not believe you, Ana.ʺ Elise studied the younger womanʹs expression. The Indian was in love with Santiago. Had she made up the tale to get rid of her rival? Still, visions of Ana tending a naked Santiago in his lodge, and Santiago holding the wounded girl in his arms before he rode off flashed through her mind. Ana belonged in this savage place. She had been raised as a Spaniard and possessed the blood of the Lipan, who were his own adopted people. I am an outsider.
Ana studied Elise with contempt, then shrugged indifferently as Samuel Shelby and Elk Catcher rode up, along with four warriors. ʺBelieve as you like, but you and your brother will return to Santa Fe. The Red Eagle has commanded it.ʺ
Elise looked at the squat, muscular Lipan who dismounted before them. Samuel did likewise and strode up to Elise with a stern look on his face.
ʺWe have to ride for Santa Fe, Liza. Weʹre sitting right in the middle of a war. Iʹll hear no arguments from you.ʺ He gestured to Ladybug, saddled and packed with the few meager items Elise had brought with her to the stronghold.
Tears clogged her throat as she looked from her brotherʹs commanding expression to Anaʹs implacable features. Returning her gaze to Samuel, she said, ʹʹIʹll return to Santa Fe, but Iʹm going to wait there for Santiago.ʺ
ʺJust mount up and ride,ʺ was all Shelby replied as he watched the orderly but intense activity all around them. The entire village was preparing for attack!
She Who Dreams did not join in the frantic packing, but remained inside her lodge until the white man and woman were gone. She stared into the flames of her fire. Seeing the faces of Samuel, Elise, Santiago, Ana, and Spybuck, she murmured low, ʺYou must all journey far so that the will of the Spirits may be fulfilled.ʺ
Llano Estacado, Three Days Later
ʺWe have them all but the one leathercoat. That one is crafty and swift. See how he hides his trail?ʺ Strong Bow knelt beside the stream where the lone rider had quit the cover of the water. Only a few small scratches on the rocks from his shod horseʹs hooves gave away his change in course.
Bone weary, Santiago slumped on True Blood. They had killed the six remaining Comanche and one of their leathercoat companions here on the plains. But the second Spanish presidial had escaped during the breakneck chase. Somehow he had split off from his companions and headed back into the mountains.
Santiago cursed in Spanish and English as he read the sign Strong Bow had just uncovered. ʺHe could be anywhere by now. The ground here is dry and hard.
Scratches on stone do not give us any idea of how long ago he left the wateran hour, a day. We must split up, fan out to the west.ʺ He gestured the length of the stream. ʺHe must be one of the Spaniardʹs tame Indians from Analco to be so good at eluding pursuit,ʺ Strong Bow said.
ʺWhere will we rendezvous when we have finished with the soldier?ʺ Spybuck asked Santiago and Strong Bow.
Santiago looked at the sun, already past its zenith in the heavens. ʺEach man will search for another two days, then return to the stronghold. If no one has stopped the presidial by then, he will be in Santa Fe. And our people will need us for the battle that is to come,ʺ the renegade replied grimly.
They mounted and rode, each taking a separate path. Santiago headed in the most southerly direction, having an intuition that told him the crafty soldier would take this oblique route to further throw them off his trail.
By twilight, he had uncovered no sign of his quarry. After days without sleep, eating only a few handfuls of parched corn and strips of dried meat, he was nearing exhaustion. All during the riding and fighting, thoughts of Elise had haunted him. Would she wait in Santa Fe?
Perhaps his preoccupied fatigue was the reason he did not see the glint of a musket barrel from the western ridge as a lone man in leather armor took aim and fired.
Quinn fell from True Blood, struck in his right side. He hit the ground rolling for a stand of Spanish dagger. Another shot sounded, and the rocky earth beside him sprayed his clothes with bits of shale and powdery, dust. A rifle shot quickly followed the musketʹs second report. Then a familiar Muskogee war cry rang from the ridge where the soldier had been hiding. Grinning, Santiago began to staunch the blood flowing from his side as he waited for Spybuck to climb down to where he lay.
ʺIt would seem I must make a lifeʹ
s work of rescuing you from your own folly,ʺ
the big Creek said drily as he dropped the presidialʹs weapons beside Quinn.
ʺYou were thinking of Elise instead of watching the ridge ahead of you.ʺ
The renegade grunted noncomittally as he wrapped his pistol sash around his bleeding side.
ʺI caught his trail about half an hour ago and saw him head over that ridge.ʺ
ʺI wish you had found his tracks ten minutes sooner,ʺ Quinn replied with a wry grin. Then he slumped over, unconscious.
Chapter Twenty‐Six
Santa Fe
ʺWeʹve overstayed our welcome, Liza. Alencastre may not trust Castal, but he doesnʹt trust us either. Weʹre Americans, remember?ʺ Samuel stared at his sister over the cup of bitter coffee the innkeeperʹs wife had just brought with their meager breakfast of cheese and tortillas. What a primitive wilderness this was!
Elise looked away from Samuelʹs compelling gaze and wondered when he had become the dominant one in their relationship. Somehow, his journey west had changed him. But then, it had changed her as well. I will always love Santiago Quinn. But he doesnʹt love me.
As if echoing her thoughts, Samuel persisted. ʺItʹs been a week since we left the Apache camp. If he were coming for you, heʹd have been here by now.ʺ His voice gentled as he reached across the small table and took her hands in his. ʺHe doesnʹt love you, Liza. Heʹs chosen to stay with those savages. Youʹll be much better off without himand without Edouard Louvois. Iʹm going to do what I should have done five years ago. Petition President Jefferson for his help in securing you a divorce.ʺ
ʺWhy?ʺ she asked bleakly. ʺThe only man I would ever wed has chosen another woman. I was so certain Ana was lying to me. . . .ʺ Her voice was whisper soft now as tears threatened again. How often in the past days had she cried? ʹʹNo, I really wasnʹt certain at all. I only hoped she was lying.ʺ