Sergeant Buckham assured him that he did.
When he was gone, Logan leaned back in his chair and took a cheroot from the box on his desk. He lit it and inhaled deeply. It relaxed him to smoke, and he certainty wanted to appear calm as he described to Mr. Blake what had happened—how tragic it was that Miss Calhoun had been snatched from her bed in the guest quarters. Search parties had not been able to find a trace, but he would keep sending them out daily, and, no, there had not been a man traveling with her. She had been alone, separated from her companion, he had assumed, but she'd been so weak when the guards found her staggering toward the gate that she'd been allowed to rest, promising to tell her story the next morning. Only the next morning she was gone. So sad.
Logan smiled as the blue haze of smoke clouded his face. He would send Mr. Blake on his way, with regrets and sympathy, of course. He would explain how he wished he could offer the hospitality of the fort, but security was tight, what with all the Indian trouble. It was best Mr. Blake just go back home and await word as to Miss Calhoun's fate, if it were ever known.
Logan was confident he would have nothing else to worry about. Even the women of the fort would keep their mouths shut if they didn't want to become widows. Eventually it would all be forgotten, like Jacie, because, regretfully, he was sure she would never be seen again—alive.
* * *
The Indian scout listened with interest to the five white men who stood talking animatedly just inside the gate of the fort. He did not understand all the words but heard enough to know they were talking about the white woman Black Serpent had taken with him the night he and his men had robbed the arsenal.
The scout had wished he could have been a part of it all, for he hated working for the pony soldiers, but he had been caught stealing from his people and the chief had banished him. No other band would have him.
The Indian, known as Two Trees, knew how dangerous it would be in such bloody times to roam about alone, so he had taken the job at the fort, where he was given food, a place to sleep, and meager wages.
But Two Trees was not satisfied and wanted to be a part of Black Serpent's war party. And now he was optimistic that Black Serpent would welcome him when he heard this latest bit of information.
Chapter 19
Several days had passed since Luke was injured, and, except for rallying long enough to sip the water Jacie offered, he had slept.
He had been bleeding badly from his left shoulder when she had reached him. She had immediately begun to tear strips of cloth from her petticoat to pack the wound, and when they were gone, she started ripping at the hem of her dress. He had come to long enough for her to help him stand. Then, with his good arm across the horse's back for support, his other over her shoulders, they had made it to the campsite.
The first thing she had done was to rub sticks together and get a fire going. Along with the herbs and potions Mehlonga had given her, there was a lump of pine tar that had to be melted in order to pack it into the wound. She was relieved when he passed out again, sure he would protest her treating him. She also knew it had to be terribly painful for him as she ran the needle threaded with boiled horse hair through the torn flesh to stitch it back together.
Finally, it was done. The pine tar would stop the oozing while the skin mended. Using the remaining material from her skirt, she had finished with a compressing bandage. Since he was strong, apparently fit and hearty, she was hopeful he would heal quickly.
But now she decided it was time to wake him and coax him to eat. When she had searched his saddlebags in desperation for something to ease her own hunger, she had found some beef jerky tucked in the bottom that he had overlooked, but that was gone, and both of them needed food.
Mehlonga had told her how to catch fish by lying on her stomach at water's edge, face inches from the surface, and remaining very still. When the wily fish happened by, she had only to plunge her hands down to catch it and twist about to fling it out and onto the bank.
She removed the buckskin dress. She had found it tucked in the bottom of her satchel and did not want to get it wet, since it was all she had left to wear. She had destroyed her other dress making bandages for Luke's wound.
Wearing only her drawers and chemise, she got in position, but after a while she realized it was not going to be as easy for her as it had been for Mehlonga. Three times she grabbed for a fish and each time the fish escaped with a saucy flip of its tail. She wished there was something else to eat, but fish would be the easiest to cook. She could clean it and skewer it to roast over the fire. Later, she would go out and look for other sources of food that Telwah had told her she might find on the plains—the fruit of the prickly pear cactus, and prairie turnips. But for the time being, she did not want to wander too far from Luke, lest he wake up and think she had abandoned him.
She lunged and at last caught a big fish but was unprepared for the slimy, slick feel of it. It wriggled mightily and she gave a soft scream of surprise and made ready to throw it far back from the water so it would not flip-flop its way back in and escape.
She rolled quickly, raising the fish over her head, but at the sight of Luke sitting up and grinning at her she was so startled she dropped her catch, and with a loud splash it was gone.
"How—how long have you been watching me?" she stammered.
"From the time you first rolled onto your belly and stuck your pretty little bottom up in the air. Please continue. I told you Comanche don't eat fish, but I'm hungry enough to forget that. Besides, I have to confess there have been times I have tasted forbidden fruits." He winked.
His grin was infuriating, and Jacie was suddenly washed with embarrassment to realize how she must have looked, wriggling around on the ground in her undies. Scrambling to her feet, she quickly pulled on the buckskin dress as she asked irritably, "Just how long have you only pretended to be asleep while I made a fool of myself?"
"Long enough to be impressed by your skills as a medicine woman. But most of the time I was asleep. I knew I had to rest to get my strength back after losing so much blood. But tell me, where did you learn all that? You knew exactly how to close my flesh with the needle and horse hair."
Jacie was astounded. "You were actually awake while I was doing that? But you never moved a muscle. You didn't even twitch."
"The first thing a Comanche learns is how to endure pain. That was nothing, anyway. But where did you learn it?" he asked again.
"A Cherokee taught me."
"Did he also teach you to make that dress you have on?"
"No. We got it at a trading post on our way out here."
The way he was staring at her made her suddenly uncomfortable. Treating him, touching his almost sculptured body, had made her uncomfortable. And now, with him sitting there with knees bent, the breechclout barely covering him, Jacie felt a warm flush.
Luke settled back against the rocks. His wound did not hurt so badly and he knew once he ate, he might even feel like riding, maybe even be so daring as to go find the damn bull bison and take his revenge so they could have meat for supper. He could shoot a gun or throw a spear or knife with either hand, so his injury would not render him helpless. However, he did not want to move just yet, preferring to watch Jacie.
Despite his intent to take her back to civilization and be rid of her as soon as possible, he knew he wanted her. Watching her as he had when she was trying to catch the fish, her drawers pulled tight across her gently squirming buttocks, had aroused him deeply. He had felt desire for her before, but the closeness of her body to his as she had tended him had made it worse. Now images began to come to mind of how it would be to hold her naked in his arms, to touch and tease her into a frenzy of submission. He could close his eyes and picture what it would be like....
"When do you think you will feel well enough to take me to Fort Worth?"
Her voice cut into his thoughts, and he came crashing back to reality to realize he had broken out in a sweat fired by his feverish longing. He was bre
athing deeply, heavily, and for the moment could not speak, nor did he want to. She was kneeling in front of him, a beseeching look on her lovely face. Her eyes shone with warmth and hope in the golden glow of the fire.
She reached out to press cool fingertips against his forehead, then drew back to gasp, "You have a fever. I was afraid of that. You have to be careful—you shouldn't be sitting up." She was scrambling to her feet, hurrying to get his blanket as well as her own.
Returning, she helped him to lie down, and he let her, pretending to be suddenly weak. It was all he could do to keep from smiling, but he forced his mouth to set in a firm, grim line as she fussed over him. And when she began to gently pat cool water on his face with her fingertips, he longed to pull her against him and feel his lips on hers while his hands caressed her all over till there was no turning back.
Jacie hoped he could not feel her tension, the strange emotions coursing through her body. What was wrong with her? She was supposed to be feeling revulsion, fear, for this savage who stared up at her with dark, piercing eyes in a way that set her heart to pounding. She could feel her own fever rising as unaccustomed but delicious emotions began to twist her insides about. She knew so little about sex, about what a man and woman did together once they were married, but something told her she was teetering on the edge of a dangerous precipice here, because this man, this strange and feral man, was making her wonder what it would be like if he were her husband and showed her what it was like to be his woman, his wife.
But perhaps what disturbed her most was the reality that never, even when he had held her, kissed her, had she felt this way about Michael.
Suddenly frightened by what she was feeling, she drew back. "I'd better see about catching another fish."
* * *
Michael shook his head at the bottle of whiskey Pete offered. The temptation was great to drink away the misery, but he was determined to resist. Liquor would keep him from being able to think clearly, and he needed all his wits about him now, because he had never had to face anything as terrifying as the thought of Jacie in the hands of Indians.
Somehow, some way, he knew had to find her, or at least try.
Even if she had run away with another man, Michael would never know another moment's peace if he left her fate to savages. And where was Newton? Why had he deserted her? And when? Just how damn long had she been wandering around by herself before she stumbled onto the fort? It was a wonder she had not been found by Indians or outlaws before then.
The others sat warily watching him in the glow of the campfire. They were camped for the third day in a row in a grove of cottonwood trees, away from the fort, which could still be seen in the distance.
Michael blamed the army for what had happened to Jacie and was furious at Captain Logan's refusal to allow them to go along on the daily patrols. Logan said they would get in the way and told them to go home, that there was nothing they could do. But Michael refused, and every day he and his men tagged along after the patrol, angering the soldiers and accomplishing nothing, for no trace of the Indians was found.
"Why don't we just head on back, Blake? We're wastin' our time," Pete Harkins mustered the nerve to suggest, prodded by meaningful looks from his three companions.
Doggedly, Michael said, "I'm not leaving till I find her, or at least find out what happened to her. I'd feel as if I was deserting her, because the army doesn't give a damn." He had stopped caring about getting the necklace back and realized that had only been an excuse anyway. He knew now it had always been in the back of his mind to try and persuade her to come back to him.
Silence hung heavy. The others were leaving it all up to Pete to speak for them. Finally, he said, "Look, we done figured out that story you told us about your foreman stealin' somethin' was just made up. That's all right, 'cause we understand, and we know it's tough for a man to take when his woman runs off with another man. But it's over, Blake. There's nothin' you can do. Them Indians got her, and you ain't never going to see her no more, and it's best to go home and try to forget her, hard though it'll be. Hanging around here is only gonna make it all hurt that much worse."
The others chimed in to agree.
Michael knew he was probably right but said, "I still can't go. But I don't expect you all to stay, and there's no hard feelings. I'll write a note for you to take back to my banker so you'll get your money."
And then the idea struck, and he hastened to add, "But if any of you will stay on, I'll pay twice what I promised. No"—he swept them with an excited gaze to see they appeared to be interested—"I'll pay you three times what we agreed on. I swear it. I'll even go ahead and write the note for that amount now, so you'll have it should anything happen to me."
The men looked at each other. It was a lot of money, and they were tempted to agree but still leery. Pete was their spokesman again. "My scalp is worth more than that, Blake, and that's damn sure what I'm riskin'—what we're all riskin'. There's five of us and no tellin' how many Comanche. We wouldn't stand a chance against them."
"I'll hire more men," Michael offered.
"How many more?" Joe Clyder asked.
"As many as it takes. There's a settlement upriver, and we'll go there and round up our own army, by damn."
"And you'd pay us three times what you said you would?" Sterne Walters wanted to confirm. It would be more money than he had ever seen in his lifetime. Maybe he could even buy some land and settle down and farm and give up being a hired gun. "You'll promise that much money in addition to hirin' as many men as it will take, so we won't be committin' suicide? You swear?"
"I swear. I'll send back east for whatever it takes to run down those redskin bastards. And I'll hire scouts so we can track them down no matter how far they try to run, and—"
"You will not need them."
They whipped about, startled to see the Indian step from the shadows and into the fire's ring of light. Big and heavyset, he was naked except for a small apron attached to a tasseled belt. Long plaits of coarse black hair hung down to his hips. And when they saw the lowered rifle he carried, they did not dare reach for their holsters.
The Indian held up a hand in greeting. "My name is Two Trees. I am Comanche. I will not hurt you unless you make me. I come in peace to talk with you about the white woman you are seeking."
Michael slowly got to his feet. The others began to edge away, sure he was about to get himself shot, because his face had turned to a mask of rage, and his voice, when he spoke, was trembling with fury. "You have her? You have the woman? You're one of the devils who took her from the fort?"
"Do not come any closer," Two Trees warned him as he glanced about anxiously to make sure no one would be so foolish as to challenge him. He was swift with gun and knife, confident he could kill all five of them and flee before the pony soldiers heard the shots and screams and came to see what had happened. To Michael he said, "I was not among them. But that is not important, because they no longer have her."
Michael unleashed a guttural snarl and reached for his gun, but Pete's hand shot out to grab his arm and keep him from drawing. "Don't do nothin' foolish," he whispered urgently. "He wouldn't have come here to tell you they killed her. Now just simmer down and see what he wants. And he's probably not alone, anyway. The woods are probably full of the bastards."
Michael fought for calm, but hatred for the man standing before him was searing his insides. Through clenched teeth, he ordered, "Tell me what happened to her."
"She was stolen by our enemy, a man named Luke, and—"
"You mean a white man has her? Who—"
"He is Indian," Two Trees was quick to assure. "Comanche. And I do not know why he has a white man's name. I was not told. It is not important, but our leader, Black Serpent, despises him and wants revenge."
"Well, so do I," Michael cried, bewildered that the man had dared come to him. "I want revenge on all you bastards. Now what's the reason you're here?"
"We know you have come a long way seeking her,
and we are willing to let you take her if you will join with us in our vengeance."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Michael demanded.
Pete still held on to his arm. "Go easy. Hear him out," he urged. "If he'd wanted us dead, we already would be. He's up to somethin'."
Two Trees continued, happy over the plan Black Serpent had thought of when he was told it appeared the white woman was now with Luke. He was also happy that Black Serpent had welcomed him into his band for bringing the information. “We have scouts out looking for them, but they have disappeared. No one has seen them. No one can find them. We only know our enemy has her, and we have many ears listening for the drums to tell us which direction they are going when they are found, but we believe sooner or later he will take her to his people. When he does, we will follow. You will go with us with your men and your guns. We will kill them all, for they are enemies of the great Black Serpent. Then you may take your woman. We will count coup."
Michael looked at Pete. "What the hell is he talking about—count coup?"
"They get points for how many enemies they kill, as well as the way in which they do it. It's like a game."
"No game," Two Trees corrected. "High coup make high warrior. Mighty warrior." He struck his chest with a fist.
Michael lashed out at him. "Listen, I don't give a damn about your coup or your mighty warriors. All I'm interested in is getting the woman back. If you want me and my men to help you kill the ones who have her now, we'll do it, but I warn you, once it's over, don't try to stop me from taking her."
Two Trees nodded solemnly. "We want our enemies more. You have my word."
"Then let's go." Michael started toward where the horses were tied but stopped at the Indian's next words.
"Not now. At dawn you will follow the pony soldiers as you have done every morning. Let them get far ahead of you, and when the time is right, our warriors will find you and the search will begin."
Say You Love Me Page 17