She smiled, came up on her toes, and pressed her mouth to his. When she stepped away from him, she said, “Long past time for such as that, I’d say.”
Charlotte’s pulse hammered in her head as Will lifted her into the chimney. While he gripped her calves, she rested her moccasin-shod feet on his shoulders and reached up into the opening to feel for handholds.
The roughly circular chimney was barely wide enough to admit her shoulders with her bow and the quiver of arrows slung on her back, and its sides were slick with soot from the fires that had burned underneath it over the past months. Her hands might be stained permanently black by the time she reached the top.
That was a small price to pay for their freedom.
She would do whatever it took to save Will and remain with him. So much had happened, before they left Philadelphia together and since. She had done things that she would have deemed impossible at an earlier time.
No turning back, they had promised each other, and it was true. Nothing could ever again be as it had been before.
Her fingers closed over a rough protrusion in the rock. “I think I’ve got it.”
“Be careful,” Will said again.
He maintained his grip on her calves as she lifted herself higher in the chimney and used her other hand to search for a second grip. She found one, made sure of it, and pulled herself still higher.
He had to let go of her then. Instantly, she missed his touch.
But she kept climbing. She braced a knee against the side of the chimney. It was so narrow that once she got her body entirely inside it, she could rest her back against one wall and her feet against the opposite wall and work her way up by that method.
“I’ll keep them occupied,” Will called from below, and a moment later she heard a shot. He had told her to be careful, but he was taking a bigger chance than she was. Druke and Blood Eye could fire into the cave mouth, and there was no telling where the rifle balls might ricochet.
Charlotte put that danger out of her mind and concentrated on what she was doing. She heard more shots from inside and outside the cave alike but told herself not to think about them.
The climb was slow going, so slow that the hundred yards might as well have been a mile. The chimney had a slight slope to it, which made it a little easier than if it had been straight up and down. The small circle of light that marked the top came slowly, inexorably, closer.
The upper opening provided enough light for her to see the chimney walls as she climbed higher, helping her locate handholds and footholds. She moved a bit faster, but still cautiously. If she slipped, it was possible she would fall all the way to the bottom.
Such a plummet might prove fatal. At the very least, she would be badly injured and the situation would be no better than it had been before.
At last, the opening was only a few feet above her. She paused for a moment to catch her breath. Sweat from her exertion coated her entire body. Between the dye, the soot, and the sweat, she supposed she looked a terrible sight, but none of that mattered. She could always clean up later.
If they survived.
Ready to make the last haul, she shoved with her feet and reached up. Her right hand gripped the edge and she pulled herself higher, reaching out through the opening with her left arm as she sought something else to grab.
Something grabbed her. Fingers that felt like bands of iron clamped around her wrist. She cried out in shock and pain as someone with great strength lifted her out of the chimney.
Her exclamation turned into a scream as she saw Blood Eye leering down at her.
“Charlotte!” Will shouted at the other end of the passage. “Charlotte!”
She had no chance to respond to him. As Blood Eye hauled her out into the open, he brought his other arm around in a vicious backhanded blow that cracked across her face and drove her head to the side. He hit her in the stomach then flung her on the ground.
Charlotte groped for the knife at her waist, determined to put up a fight even though it was probably in a losing cause.
Before she could pull the weapon from its sheath, Blood Eye kicked her in the head. She felt the brutal blow, and that was the last thing she knew.
Something had gone terribly wrong. Charlotte’s frightened cry had told Will that much. He rushed from the cave mouth to the spot just underneath the chimney and peered anxiously up through the passage. “Charlotte! Charlotte!”
He was too distraught to maintain the pose that she was an Indian warrior called Gray Otter. He saw something dark blocking the chimney’s other end, and then suddenly it was gone, replaced by a small point of light.
The chimney was empty. One way or another, Charlotte had gotten out of it.
Will rushed back to the cave’s entrance. As he’d traded potshots with Druke and Blood Eye, he’d thought both of them were behind that boulder with Preacher as their prisoner. He realized that one of the men—probably Blood Eye—could have crawled backward and used the boulder to shield him from view until he was far enough away to circle around and get above the cave.
Maybe Blood Eye had spotted the place where the chimney opened, or maybe the renegade Crow had just assumed there had to be such an opening and had gone in search of it. Either way, it was obvious that Charlotte had run into trouble and everything was going to hell.
Giving in to the fury that surged up inside him, Will fired at the boulder even though he didn’t have a real target at which to aim. The ball spanged off the big rock.
A harsh laugh came from behind the boulder. “What’s wrong, Gardner?” Druke called. “Lose your little friend?”
Will cursed as he reloaded.
Druke laughed harder. “You better come out of there. You need to take a look at what I can see from here. Blood Eye’s got your—” Druke stopped short.
What did that mean? Will thought.
When he got his answer a moment later, he almost wished he hadn’t.
“He’s a woman!” Druke said exultantly. “I mean she is. Gray Otter’s a woman!”
Will groaned. The only way Druke could know that was if Charlotte was Blood Eye’s prisoner.
“Better get out here,” Druke said again. “I was gonna shoot you down where you stood as soon as I got the chance, but now there’s no need. Do what I say, Gardner, or the woman dies!”
Will swallowed hard. As he gripped the rifle tightly, he stepped out of the cave. Druke emerged from behind the boulder and covered him.
“Up here,” a guttural voice called.
Horrified by the thought of what he was going to see, Will turned and gazed up the slope. Blood Eye stood next to the chimney opening with his arm around an unconscious Charlotte to hold her up in front of him. His other hand pressed a knife to her throat.
The Crow had ripped Charlotte’s buckskin shirt open and torn down the band of cloth around her torso, exposing her breasts.
“I knew you had a squaw with you,” Druke said with a smirk, “but I didn’t know it was Gray Otter. Throw all your weapons down, Gardner, or Blood Eye will cut her throat. You know he’ll do it.”
Will didn’t doubt that for a second. He was convinced that Blood Eye wanted to have his way with Charlotte, but he would forgo that evil pleasure if he had to.
“All right,” Will said. “I surrender.”
“Not good enough to say it.” Druke gestured curtly with his rifle barrel. “Get rid of your guns and knife, now.”
Will set the rifle on the ground at his feet, pulled the brace of pistols from his belt and tossed them down next to the rifle. His hunting knife came last as he dropped it beside the guns. He was no longer armed.
Nothing left to him but despair.
CHAPTER 28
Preacher had always figured when it was his time, he’d be staring into the face of Ol’ Scratch himself. After meeting the renegade Crow, he wasn’t sure the Devil could be any uglier than that blasted Blood Eye.
The idea that St. Peter might welcome him instead of Beelzebub occurred t
o him, but given the sinful life he’d led, he considered the possibility pretty far-fetched. But he wasn’t facing either, which just went to prove that he could be wrong from time to time. His head hurt like blazes and that meant he was still drawing breath.
He didn’t smell brimstone, either . . . although smoke stung his nostrils and he heard flames crackling somewhere nearby. Maybe he was wrong and he was in Hell after all, he thought.
Cold water hit him in the face like a fist. He jerked and sputtered, unable to control his reaction to the shock of the water.
“I thought you were wakin’ up,” a man’s voice said. “Now that I’m sure of it, I better go tell Jebediah.”
Preacher forced his eyes open and blinked them rapidly. By the light of a good-sized fire burning nearby, he saw a short, whiskery man in buckskins hurrying away.
Preacher lifted his head, shook it to get rid of the water, and looked around. He was back at Fort Druke, tied to one of those posts where Will and Charlotte had been bound the previous night. At least, Preacher supposed that had been the previous night. He knew he had been unconscious for a long time because it was dark again, but didn’t think he’d been out cold for more than a day.
Rather than sitting down with his back against the post like the other prisoners had been, Preacher was tied so that he was standing up. His weight hung forward on his arms, which caused his shoulders to ache and throb.
He couldn’t feel his hands, so he knew the bonds around his wrists were cruelly tight.
A few feet to his left, Will Gardner was in a similar predicament. His head drooped forward, and from the limp aspect of the young man’s body, Preacher could tell that he was unconscious.
In the firelight, Preacher saw numerous bruises and bloody scrapes on Will’s face. He’d been beaten savagely.
Preacher suspected that Jebediah Druke was responsible for that punishment. It was the sort of crude viciousness in which the outlaw would indulge.
Blood Eye went for subtle but more agonizing torture.
Preacher looked around for Charlotte, but didn’t see her. His blood boiled with anger as he thought about her being Blood Eye’s captive all day. There was no telling what perversions the renegade might have subjected her to during that time.
He spotted several men coming toward him. One of them was the little whiskery gent who had thrown the water in his face.
Next to that man strode Jebediah Druke. He wore a big smile on his face as he approached. It didn’t make him any less ugly. Three or four other men followed him, all of them hard-faced individuals who looked capable of almost anything.
“Sam told me you were awake,” Druke said as he came to a stop in front of Preacher. “I want to know who you are. I tried to convince Gardner to tell me, but he was stubborn.”
“You want to know who I am, eh?” Preacher asked as a wry smile curved his lips under the drooping mustache.
“That’s right.”
“I’m the fella who’s gonna kill you and bust up your phony little kingdom.”
Druke’s smile disappeared as his face darkened with anger. “That’s mighty big talk for a man who’s tied hand and foot,” he snapped.
“Maybe I won’t always be. Fact is, if you want to cut me loose, we can settle this here and now, Druke. Just you and me.” Preacher paused a moment. “Oh, I reckon you can get your tame Injun to help you, if you want to even the odds a mite.”
Druke took a step toward him.
The man called Sam said quickly, “Better take it easy, boss. He’s just tryin’ to get your goat. No need to give him what he wants. He ain’t goin’ nowhere until we’re ready.”
Druke glared at Preacher for a long moment, then drew in a deep breath and blew it out. “You’re right, Sam. I planned on killing him first thing, but that was before I knew we were going to take him alive. We can have the same show we planned all along with Gardner and Gray Otter. We’ll just have an added attraction now.”
“Well, I ain’t so sure Blood Eye’s gonna give up that gal,” Sam said nervously. “He’s had her off in the woods all day and acts like she belongs to him. But we got Gardner and his friend here for sport.” Sam shook his head. “Who’d have ever figured that Gray Otter was a gal? She must’ve killed half a dozen of us! I never heard of no woman doin’ anything like that.”
Preacher said, “I doubt if she’s like any other woman gutter trash like you boys would ever run into.”
“You just keep runnin’ your mouth,” Druke said. “You’ll be sorry before it’s all over.”
“I’m already sorry I run into a varmint like you.”
At the other stake, Will Gardner suddenly groaned. He shook his head slowly from side to side as he regained consciousness.
Druke stepped over to Will, took hold of his chin in a brutal grip, and wrenched his head up. Will blinked and grimaced in pain.
“Now you’re both awake,” Druke said. “That’s good. I’m not exactly sure yet what we’re gonna do with you, but when I figure it out I want both of you to know.”
“Ch-Charlotte . . .” Will said through bruised, swollen lips.
“She’s with Blood Eye,” Druke replied harshly. “Has been all day. I reckon he’s probably put her through the wringer. Even if the two of you were free, you wouldn’t ever want her again.”
“That’s where . . . you’re wrong,” Will said. “Nothing any of you villains do . . . could ever touch her. Not the real Charlotte . . . the one I love.”
“Keep telling yourself that, boy. Keep telling yourself, and try not to think about all the things Blood Eye’s done to her . . . and all the things he’ll do to her in the future.”
Will groaned again, and Preacher said, “Keep your spirits up, son. These fellas are a bunch of talk and not much more.”
Druke was about to say something else, but Sam touched him on the arm. “Look who’s comin’, Jebediah.”
Preacher twisted his neck to gaze in the direction the whiskery little man was looking. Two figures had entered the large circle of firelight and came toward the prisoners.
“Charlotte!” Will cried in a choked, horrified voice.
Charlotte stumbled along. She might have fallen if not for Blood Eye’s hard hand on her arm. Her face was puffy. Her thick black hair tumbled loose around her shoulders. She still wore her buckskins, but the torn shirt hung open. It swayed a little with each step she took, revealing the valley between her breasts.
The rest of Druke’s men began to gather. Most of them eyed Charlotte with open lust. They were careful not to stare at her for too long at a time, though, from fear of offending Blood Eye.
“I didn’t know if you’d bring her in to watch the sport or not,” Druke said to the renegade Crow as he and Charlotte came up to the group and stopped. “I’m glad you did. After all the things she’s done, she deserves to see everything that happens to Gardner and this other fella.”
With a sneer, Blood Eye said, “This other fella, as you call him, is Preacher.”
Druke pulled his head back a little and frowned. “Preacher, you say? The one who’s supposed to be such a ring-tailed roarer? Sticks his nose into everybody else’s business? That one?”
Blood Eye jerked his head in a curt nod.
Charlotte looked at Preacher with a miserable expression on her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell him—”
“Don’t you worry about it, missy,” Preacher broke in on her apology. “Whether they know who I am or not, it won’t make a whole heap of difference.”
“Now that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re supposed to be the toughest man in the Rocky Mountains.” Druke laughed. “Well, you don’t look like it now.”
“I told you . . . turn me loose and we’ll see,” Preacher said in low, menacing tones.
“Actually, I was thinking about doing that,” Druke said.
Preacher frowned in surprise.
Sam began, “Boss, I don’t know—”
“Her
e’s the deal,” Druke went on, ignoring his lieutenant. “You can fight one of us—not me, but I’ll pick your opponent—and if you win, I’ll put a bullet in your head and kill you quick. If you lose . . . Blood Eye gets you.”
“So I die either way,” Preacher said.
“That’s about the size of it. But I promise you, a bullet in the head is a worthwhile prize compared to what Blood Eye will do to you.”
Druke might actually be right about that, Preacher thought grimly, but he didn’t intend to let things go that far. Turning him loose would be a bad mistake. Preacher planned to do more than just win the fight.
A lot more.
But he was willing to play along. “I might agree with that idea on one condition.”
“What’s that?” Druke asked.
Preacher inclined his head toward Will. “Gardner gets the same reward I do. If I win, you kill him quick, too.”
“No!” Charlotte cried in horror.
“It’s all right, Charlotte,” Will told her. “Preacher’s just trying to help me. And he’s right, I’d rather have the bullet in the head.”
She covered her face with her hands and began to sob. The cool, deadly pose she had maintained as Gray Otter was gone, finally overwhelmed by the horror of everything she had gone through.
“Do we have a deal?” Preacher prodded Druke.
“Sure. Why not? Do you want to know who you’ll be fighting?”
Sam laughed. “You’re talkin’ about Pierre, aren’t you, boss?”
“That’s right.” Druke turned and called, “Pierre!”
The crowd parted. The man who came forward from the shadows and shambled through the gap was huge. Close to seven feet tall, with shoulders as wide as an ax handle and arms like the trunks of small trees, he looked more like a bear than a man. The wild thatch of dark hair and the tangled beard added to the animalistic impression.
“There’s your opponent,” Druke said in satisfaction. “A little simple-minded, but strong enough to tear a man in half with his bare hands. All you have to do to earn quick, clean deaths for you and Gardner, Preacher, is put him on the ground and keep him there. Still want to go through with it?”
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