Tin-Stars and Troublemakers Box Set (Four Complete Historical Western Romance Novels in One)

by Rice, Patricia

  There was a settlement nearby, she had learned, called Fort Worth. She would go there and seek help. She would not give up.

  And she would forget all about the Comanche and the strange sensations he had evoked in her.

  Finally, she slept.

  Deeply.

  And when she awoke once more to find a hand over her face, she thrilled to think he had returned and lay very still to let him know she was neither frightened nor angry.

  * * *

  Black Serpent was puzzled by how the white woman did not fight him. Perhaps she was frozen in fear, like an animal knowing it was about to die.

  Slowly, hesitantly, he moved his hand, ready to press down should she try to scream but was further bewildered to hear her excited whisper, "You came back. You're going to take me to her, aren't you? Bless you."

  Black Serpent could not believe what he was hearing but then instantly realized what had to be happening—she thought he was Luke. Luke had been here, and now she thought he had returned to take her to Sunstar.

  With a surge of triumph, Black Serpent knew abducting her was going to be much easier than he'd thought. "Yes," he murmured in reply, not wanting to say anymore than necessary, lest she discover the truth by his voice. "Come. Now."

  "Wait outside. I have to change."

  It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud as he left, this time going through the door.

  * * *

  Jacie knew they had to leave fast, so there was no time to pack what belongings she had.

  Shaking with excitement, she took off Amy Lou's borrowed nightgown and reached for her muslin dress. All the while she was thinking how she should be terrified to be stealing away in the middle of the night with a Comanche Indian, but she could not let fear stop her. Not now. She had come too far and reasoned if he had meant her any harm, it would have come to her before now. The only possible motive he could have was to take her to her mother, and that belief gave her all the courage she needed.

  Grabbing up the satchel with the blanket and its secrets inside, she rushed out into the night to meet her destiny.

  * * *

  It was nearly dawn when Luke nestled down to sleep among some rocks, hidden from view all around.

  He knew he needed to join his people but could not get the woman out of his mind. He told himself it was because he owed it to Sunstar to look out for her if she was indeed her daughter.

  Maybe he would never know for sure.

  Perhaps it was not important that he did.

  He just knew it could do no harm if he stayed close to the fort for a few more days to keep an eye on her.

  She was obviously disgusted with the army, having gotten no help from them, so it would probably not take much longer for her to heed the wisdom of his words and give up.

  He settled down to rest a few hours before changing into his army scout's uniform and returning to the fort.

  Chapter 15

  Jacie knew, too late, she had made a fatal mistake by daring to trust the Indian.

  Grabbed and quickly gagged and bound the instant she stepped out the door, her struggles were futile.

  "Ah, you brought me your treasures," Black Serpent gloated as he realized she had a small satchel. He wound the ropes that secured her wrists through the satchel's handle, then threw her over his shoulder.

  Terror stabbed Jacie like a thousand needles as he ran with her in the dark.

  "Hey, what—"

  The startled voice rang out directly in front of them. Instantly there came a sickening thud as blade violated flesh and, with a thick grunt, the soldier who had happened upon them fell to the ground.

  His yell, however, had been loud enough for the sentry atop the gate to hear, and he fired his rifle to sound the alarm. At once, shouts rang out amidst the clatter of people running.

  Jacie heard other voices speaking in a strange, guttural language she did not understand, which meant more Indians. She was shoved through the hole in the fence, and then slung up on her captor's shoulder again. Jostled and bounced, she continued to try and scream against the foul-smelling gag.

  In the scant moonlight she was able to see horses, and men hastily tying things onto the animals' backs, and she knew the Indians had stolen from the fort. Probably weapons, she thought, cringing at the thought of army weapons in their hands.

  She was lowered to the ground but left for only a moment before being hoisted to sit astraddle a horse behind the Indian who had abducted her.

  Repulsed by the feel of his bare flesh, the sweat and smell of him, she shrank back. He laughed, and when he spoke she knew for sure he was not the one who had first come to her room. "So, you do not want to touch me? That is too bad, because I have no intentions of letting you fall. You are Black Serpent's woman now. Scream and you die," he warned, and removed her gag.

  All around them, the others were busy loading the horses. Jacie seized the time to dare plead, "Let me go. The soldiers will be after you and I'll only slow you down."

  He pushed against her, his back rubbing against her breasts. At the same time, he squeezed her thigh and said huskily, "You will make me hurry to where I am going so I can see what you look like. If you look as good as you feel, then I have a bigger prize from the fort than guns."

  Swallowing against hysteria, Jacie told herself that all she could do was wait for a chance to get away from him. For the moment, it was best to make him think she was too terrified to do anything. But all the while she pretended to be a whimpering mass of fear, she longed desperately to get her hands on a knife.

  Someone called out in the Comanche language, and Black Serpent snapped the horse's reins, setting him into a full gallop.

  As they raced through the darkness, Jacie knew she was in terrible danger, for she had overheard stories of Indian atrocities. But even as the horror of her plight coursed through her veins like a mountain river run wild, she was able to keep her senses about her, ready to seize any opportunity of escape.

  They rode into a creek, water splashing about them. She could feel Black Serpent's knife against the inside of her right forearm. It was tucked at his waist. All she had to do was twist her bound hands sharply to the side, then jerk backwards, grab the knife, yank it out and plunge it into him. She would have but one chance and one chance only. If she failed, he would kill her.

  Over and over, Jacie played the scene in her mind but could envision no other ending except him falling off the horse and taking her with him due to how her arms were tied around him. There was nothing to do but wait until later, when they were alone.

  The night wore on. They left the water, and Jacie wondered if they were ever going to stop. At last she felt them slowing just a bit and dared hope they had reached their destination, but great shadows hovering on both sides told her otherwise. They were apparently going through some kind of ravine that seemed to be bordered by rocky outcroppings. Soon it was necessary to ride single file and allow the horses to pick their way over the rocky terrain.

  The last thing Jacie wanted to do was fall asleep, but with the horse walking so slowly, almost rhythmically, and her exhaustion, she could not help herself. Her head fell against the Indian's back, and she went limp.

  He smiled. It was good that she slept. He was also tired. They would camp soon and count their loot before resting. But he would keep the woman from the others, for he was not about to share. She was his. He would not take her for a wife; he had more pride than Great Bear and would never make a white woman his wife. She would be his slave, do his bidding, and he would teach her a thousand ways to please him in his blankets.

  At last the Indians, outlaws from their own people, arrived at the campsite, where they could feel safe. Situated among rocks, there were many little caves and overhangs where they could take refuge. Black Serpent untied Jacie's wrists, grinning as he whipped about to grab her in his arms and take her with him as he dismounted. With the sun having leapt from the horizon he could see her face and noted she did look som
ething like Sunstar, but he would think about that later. His comrades were shouting happily to each other as they began to unpack their pillage from the fort. Rifles, pistols, ammunition; it was a bountiful harvest.

  Hoisting Jacie over his shoulder again, Black Serpent carried her to his favorite place—a big cave in the face of a rock, far away from the others. He had taken women there before and known many hours of pleasure.

  As he lay his newest prize on the ground, he paused to run his hands over her breasts in delicious anticipation. "Soon," he promised, "I will have you again and again."

  Fiercely, bravely, she dared to plead, "Why have you done this to me? If you are a Comanche, I beg you to hear me out and help me. My mother—"

  "Your mother," he spat. "Forget your mother. Forget everything about your old life. You are mine now, I say."

  He walked away, and she thought it just as well, knowing it was useless to beg. Now she focused on the fact that he had not retied her, probably thinking she was too scared to think of running out into the wilderness.

  She started to rise up to investigate her surroundings, but then she heard someone coming and lay very still, pretending to have fainted. Watching through lowered lashes, she saw one of the Indians throw her satchel down and walk away. No doubt he had looked inside but found only the blanket and decided there was nothing worth stealing.

  When all seemed safe, she crept out to peek over the rocks and watch as the Indians danced around, whooping and hollering and waving some of the newly stolen guns. She hoped to spot the one who had come to her earlier, wanting revenge against him as well for making her believe she was in no danger, but she did not see him.

  One of them was searching through a box and suddenly let out a shriek that drowned out all the others. He held up a bottle, and as the Indians began to push and shove to get at it, Jacie saw they had found a cache of whiskey. Perhaps a soldier had hidden it, sneaking drinks when no one was looking. But it made no difference how liquor had gotten into the arsenal, all Jacie knew was that now the Indians had something that could make them even more dangerous.

  She watched as the bottle was snatched back and forth between them, each man gulping long and deep. The merriment continued, and Jacie settled back in the cave to wait. As she did so, she contemplated her situation.

  She was certain the Indians would not be awake for long. They had been up all night, riding hard, and with their senses numbed by the whiskey they were guzzling they would sleep deeply and long. If she could slip away without being seen and take one of the Indian ponies, she could be far, far away before they woke and discovered she was gone.

  For the time being she was not going to worry about which way to go. Mehlonga had taught her how to read the stars for direction, and she knew Fort Worth was up the Trinity River at the confluence of the Clear and West forks. When she was sure she was not being followed, she would head that way.

  The sounds of revelry grew louder.

  Jacie chanced another look and saw that Black Serpent was right in the middle of it all, slapping his hand against his mouth and emitting a strange, yodeling kind of whoop. He stomped about in circles, lifting his legs up and down frantically, knees almost reaching his chest.

  She took a good look at his costume, as well as those of the others. Mehlonga had told her as much as he knew about Comanche garb—the trouserlike garment they wore, edged with beads and nickel rivets, was called leggings. And the apronlike cloth with fringes and tassels at the end was a breechclout. The faces were painted red, and their hair was parted in the center and braided on each side, with a scalplock at the top of the head. A few had a single yellow or black feather stuck in their scalplocks, but she saw that Black Serpent had donned a headdress with buffalo horns.

  She counted sixteen Indians dancing and decided Black Serpent was definitely the most ominous-looking of the bunch. Ever so often he would whip his knife from his breechclout and make vicious motions as though striking out at an invisible enemy. He was also large, with a barrellike chest, shoulders like shank hams, and forearms like hocks. The long jagged scar on his face made him appear even more fearsome, and Jacie cringed to think of him touching her. She had to get away, she thought, biting into her lower lip. Dear God, she just had to.

  Finally, their dancing grew less spirited. A few were stumbling, and one fell flat on his face. But Black Serpent was still jumping about, apparently able to hold his liquor better than his followers. Holding a bottle, he continued to drink.

  Soon, everyone else had passed out. Black Serpent staggered forward a few steps, lifted the bottle to his mouth, then apparently changed his mind as he belched and hiccupped, trying again to walk, lurching from side to side.

  "Just hang on to that bottle, my horn-headed friend," Jacie muttered under her breath as she parted the leaves of a shrub to see him coming her way. "Just hang on to it, and don't drink it all, because I've got something to make it a little more potent."

  She was clutching the pouch containing the morning glory seeds. She had already beaten them into a powder with a flat rock, but there had not been time, or facility, to soak them or strain them. She would just have to find a way to get them into the bottle Black Serpent was carrying—and pray he was so drunk he would not know what he was drinking.

  Chapter 16

  Black Serpent stumbled into the clearing, which was ringed on three sides by rock.

  Jacie was trapped.

  She had backed as far as she could, holding the powdered seeds behind her, wondering frantically how she was going to get them into the bottle. He was still holding on to it, a bit of liquid sloshing around in the bottom.

  He looked her up and down hungrily, his tongue darting across his lips. "I did not at first want to learn the white man's language," he said, voice slurring. "But now I am glad, because I can tell you how to please me." He set the bottle on a ledge and commanded, "I want you naked! Now!"

  She could only stare at him in horror.

  His hand snaked out to clutch her throat. "Do as I say or I will punish you with pain as you have never known."

  Jacie squirmed in his grasp. "Don't do this. Have mercy, please..." she whispered.

  A dark, brooding hatred flashed in his black eyes. "Mercy?" he echoed with deadly menace. "When have your people ever shown mine any mercy?" He yanked her against him, and she could feel the hard heat of his chest. She fought to keep her hand behind her as he bent her head back. Her eyes locked on the red, raw scar that swept across his cheek, and she could not control the shudder of revulsion that shot through her.

  With a shriek, he slapped her. "So you cannot stand the sight of my face? My scar sickens you? Perhaps you would like one of your own, then you will know what it is like."

  She had staggered from his blow, but he grabbed her again, only to slam her head back against the rock so hard she felt a dizzying pain and had to fight to hang on to consciousness. From out of nowhere came the knife; he held it ominously above her. Jacie closed her eyes and prayed as she had never prayed before, sure that any second she would feel the cold steel slashing into her flesh.

  "Answer me!" he screamed. "Would you like a scar so you will not find me ugly?"

  Jacie opened one eye and later wondered how she could have been so bold as to taunt, "I would find you ugly without a scar, damn you."

  He laughed at her bravado and returned the knife to his belt. "No. You would find Black Serpent the most handsome warrior of the Comanche, like the girls who crept into my tepee night after night. They taught me well, as I will teach you. And it will make no difference that you cannot bear to look upon my face. You will look upon my body, instead, for it is still glorious as a man's should be. And I will look upon you. All of you."

  Jacie's arm ached terribly, bent back against the rock, but still she clung to the seeds, hoping he would pass out. His eyes were getting bleary, and he seemed to be having difficulty staying on his feet.

  "You want me to tame you, little she-wolf?" he taunted. "Is that
what you want? I have ways to make you obey me and no one cares about your screams..." He trailed off, suddenly unable to ignore any longer the annoying pressure from all he had drunk. He would have to relieve himself before taking his pleasure.

  Spinning about, reeling as he did so, Black Serpent turned his back on her, directing himself toward a clump of bushes as he lifted his breechclout.

  Jacie knew she had but one chance. Snatching up the bottle, she opened her hand and released the powder. She gave it a quick shake, wiped the residue from the rim, and set it back down.

  He turned back around, annoyed to feel so heavy-headed, so sleepy. Perhaps another swallow of the firewater would make him feel better. But where had he left it? The world was spinning. And then he saw the bottle. With a grunt of satisfaction, he lifted it to his mouth.

  Jacie felt an excited rush.

  He drained the bottle, then sent it crashing against the rocks. "Now I will have you," he yelled, beating on his bare chest with his fists.

  He lunged, and she ducked and tried to dart under his arms but was not quick enough. Grabbing her hair, he yanked her back, but she fell against his legs, knocking him off balance, and he went down, taking her with him. He caught her wrists, rolling to the side to pin her beneath him. "You will beg to die before I am through with you, bitch," he vowed with a snarl of menace. "And you will never refuse me again."

  He was all over her, fingers digging, mauling, tearing at her clothes. She screamed again and again, horror searing wherever he touched. She managed to free one hand and brought her nails raking across his cheek. With an oath, he whipped out the knife to press against her throat and threatened, "I will take you after you are dead if you keep fighting me."

  Jacie caught her breath and held it, her struggles ceasing. She had put a heavy dose in the bottle but had no idea how long it would be before it took effect. Combined with the whiskey she hoped it would work more quickly than usual and dared believe her hunch was right when she saw his eyes begin to roll back in his head.