And as the storm had intensified, Luke had been confident Newton would seek refuge and figured he was inside the shack.
But he was not about to tell Blake, well aware Blake intended to kill him the second he no longer had any use for him.
"I think we should take shelter there." Luke pointed as the storm again lit up the night. "I can't find any more tracks in all this rain."
Grudgingly, water running off the rim of his hat, Michael agreed. "All right. But only till it slacks up."
Luke swung down off his horse and began walking stealthily toward the shack. He knew Blake and the others would be right behind him and he had to hurry. Reaching the porch, which was not a porch any longer but a pile of rotted logs, he stepped through the debris and positioned himself at the window to await the next bolt of lightning.
It came.
And he saw them, a man and woman struggling on the floor.
This time there was no glass to shatter, but the Comanche war cry he gave as he somersaulted through the window and landed feet first inside the room split the air.
Taking Newton by surprise, he was able to easily tear Jacie from him. "Run!" he commanded her. "Get out of here—now!"
But Jacie was paralyzed with shock to hear Luke's voice. As another flash of lightning lit up the room, she fought to believe that it could actually be him.
At last she came alive. "Dear God. Oh, dear God, Luke..." She backed away as Luke and Zack began to grapple on the floor, cursing and grunting.
Michael and his men had heard the noise and rushed to the shack to charge inside with guns drawn. Seeing them, Jacie shrieked, "Don't shoot! You'll hit Luke."
"Jacie!" Michael leapt to her and shielded her as he yelled over his shoulder, "I've got her. Now kill them both."
But Jacie twisted away from him to throw herself in front of Luke and Zach as they continued to fight. "No. You can't kill him. I won't let you."
Michael came after her. "Get back here. Get down, damn it."
Bart roared, "Boss, she's in the way. We can't shoot without hittin' her."
Michael lunged for her again, not seeing the rotted log lying next to a washed-out hole in the floor. With a cry of pain, he pitched forward. His leg snapped, and his face hit the ground hard, momentarily dazing him.
At the same instant, there came another cracking sound, louder, more ominous, as Luke broke Zach Newton's neck with a quick flick of his wrists.
Jacie threw herself against Luke as a torch ignited to flood the shack with an eerie, flickering light. "I don't believe it. Dear God, it's a miracle." She wrapped her arms about his neck and clung to him, sobbing with joy.
"Get away from him, Jacie." Michael lay on his side, his broken leg jutting out from his body at an awkward angle. He gritted his teeth against the white-hot stabs of pain. "Get away from him," he repeated in a deadly tone. "I can't let him take you away from me. I won't, damn it."
She stared at him in pity. "Oh, Michael, don't you understand? I was never really yours. I never said I loved you. I tried to love you, I swear I did. But I couldn't. And when I met Luke, it was like I'd been loving him my whole life, just waiting for fate to bring us together. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you, but it's Luke I want. Please. Let me go." She faced him, trying to keep Luke behind her to shield him, believing as long as she did the men would not shoot him.
But Luke was taking no chances. Nor was he standing behind a woman. He saw the crazy look on the overseers' faces and knew one of them might be stupid enough to think he was a crack shot and could hit him and miss Jacie. He slung her to one side and fiercely reminded Michael, "We had a pact, damn you. You agreed to let her make up her own mind."
"I lied," Michael said with a triumphant smirk. "Jacie has been through so much these past months she doesn't know what she wants. She certainly doesn't know what she's saying if she claims she prefers living with a savage to the kind of life I can give her. She can't be in her right mind.
"But maybe I shouldn't have you killed," he went on thoughtfully, motioning to Bart and his men to lower their guns for the moment. "I've just realized Jacie would hate me forever if I did. And I don't want that. But neither will I let her go away with you," he added staunchly. He looked at Jacie. "You only think you love him. Come here if you want him to live. Listen to what I have to say."
Jacie could only obey, but all the while her eyes were on Luke, drinking in the sight of his dear face. She wanted so desperately to feel his arms close around her, never to let her go.
Despite the anguished throbbing of his injury, Michael drew her down beside him and took both her hands in his and spoke quietly, patiently. "You've been through an ordeal, and as I said, you can't be thinking clearly. Now, you know I love you more than my life, and you must understand that there is just no way I can let you go away with Luke or any other man. It's out of the question. If you don't want to marry me right away, I'll understand. I'll give you time to forget all this. But you must promise to live in my house and let me take care of you. Give me your word you will do that, and I will let the Comanche go free. Otherwise, I'll kill him, Jacie."
She knew he meant it. "I'll never forgive you for this, Michael, but you leave me no choice. I give you my word."
"You will get over it, Jacie. I'll make you so happy you'll forget you ever knew him." Then, to Luke he gloated, "Hear that, Indian? She's made me a promise. Now you get out of here as fast as you can and don't come back, or you're a dead man."
Woodenly, Luke could only concede. "I won't be back. She gave her word. I will not ask her to break it." He could not make himself look at Jacie again, could not bear to see his own anguish mirrored in the eyes he adored as he whispered, "Good-bye, my love."
Michael could not resist a final taunt. "I don't have to keep my word, you know. I can have you killed and still keep her."
Luke did not respond. He walked out, but Jacie pulled herself from Michael's grasp to run to the door and watch after him through her tears.
Then, her heart breaking into bits and pieces inside her, she turned back to Michael. "Yes, you could have killed him," she said coldly, remembering the time when she had begged Luke to slay the cougar. "But you don't have to kill everything you fear. Sometimes it goes away on its own, in peace. You should kill only to save yourself, Michael, and Luke was never a threat to you, only to what you think you feel for me."
"Think?" Michael echoed incredulously. "Oh, dear, beloved Jacie. I've never been more sure."
"Have you ever considered anything else?" she challenged to his further bewilderment. "I think not. You have wanted me since I was a child because I was a part of Red Oakes, and you had to own me like you own your slaves, your land, your precious mansion. It didn't matter whether I loved you, because you always got what you wanted. That's how it is with you and your rich family."
She turned from the door with a sigh wrenched from her very soul. Luke had been swallowed by the night and had taken a part of her with him, but it was over. For him to live, it was the way it had to be, and her only solace was knowing her mother would be with him, would be cared for.
Long moments passed. There was no sound save for the wind of the storm, the rain pelting down on what was left of the tin roof.
The men shifted uneasily, not sure what was expected of them and afraid to ask.
"Go to him."
All eyes were on Michael, but Jacie was the only one to speak. "What did you say?"
"I said go to him—now. Before I change my mind." He nodded to Bart. "Give her my horse... now," he commanded. "Do what I say, damn it."
Jacie was not about to argue and ran toward the door but suddenly stopped. Looking back at him in wonder, she felt the need to say something in parting and began, "Michael, I will never forget you for this—"
"Just go!" he yelled again, waving a hand at her, then viciously rubbing at his eyes, because he would be damned if he would let his men see him cry.
And after she had gone to disappear into the
dregs of the storm, Bart and the others hurried to gather scrap wood and make a litter to carry Michael home.
When it was made and they were about to leave, Bart went to Michael and said, "I know it's your business, boss, but for the life of me, I can't understand why you let her go. She'd have got over him sooner or later."
"I don't expect you to understand," he responded thoughtfully. "It's only important that I do.
"Besides," he added with a sad little smile, "She's right. She never said the words... never said she loved me." But I believe she's said it to him, he thought miserably, just as I believe she meant it when she did.
***
Elyse had kept a vigil by her window all night, and when she saw them approaching she hurried out to meet them. "You're hurt," she cried, running to kneel by the litter. Then, seeing it was only his leg, she breathed thankfully, "At least you're alive."
Michael saw her glancing about and knew she was wondering why Jacie was not with them. "She's gone," he said. "She went with him. It's what she wanted. I think..." He drew a ragged breath of resolve and let it out slowly before admitting, "It's probably for the best."
Elyse's heart skipped a beat. She did not know what it would ultimately mean for her future, and for the moment she dared not ask. There was still much for Michael to forgive her for—if he ever could.
She told the men to carry him inside.
As they lifted him up, Michael reached to take her hand and say, more to himself than to her, "Maybe Jacie was right. Maybe I haven't ever thought of anything else... or anyone."
* * *
Luke and Jacie rode toward the sunrise, toward the future.
She rested against him; his arms wrapped about her tightly.
There was no need for the words. But they spoke them in unison all the same, the words whispered to the heart, from the heart… I love you.
The End
Page forward for excerpts
from Patricia Hagan's
Starlight
and
Simply Heaven
available in ebook format
Excerpt from
Starlight
by
Patricia Hagan
Cade rolled backward, catching Sam's arms as she came at him. He squeezed hard, making her drop the knife and at the same time lifting his knee to her stomach to easily throw her up and over him. She landed with a grunt of pain and outraged fury. He was amazed when she did not hesitate to bounce up and come at him again. Was she crazy? As far as she knew, he was an authentic warring Indian, vicious and brutal. And no matter how angry and desperate she might be, she was no match for his strength.
With hot tears of rage blinding her, Sam cried, "You'll have to kill me, you spawn of the devil."
He wrestled her back to her bed, laid her face down, then pressed firmly to indicate she was to stay there. When she continued to struggle, he put his foot on her back to hold her still.
"Damn you, damn you, damn you," she muttered between clenched teeth, banging her chin up and down and beating the ground with her fists. "Damn you straight to hell, you son of a whore."
Cade's lips quirked slightly. How he would love to be a fly on the wall when the newlyweds had their first fight. Jarman Ballard would probably drop dead of a heart attack when he heard how his supposedly genteel, well-bred bride could unleash profanity that could make some men blush.
He found another rope and trussed her again, this time making sure she could not wander about. He had to get some sleep but knew if she weren't properly tethered, she'd come after him again.
She spat another oath, and he clamped his hand over her lips and motioned he would gag her if she didn't shut up. She understood and fell silent, not wanting the rag stuffed in her mouth again. He sat and watched her for a while, thought about offering her something to eat but knew she was too mad to care about food. Eventually, when she came to realize that no one was going to harm her, maybe she would calm down. If not, he knew the next weeks were going to be miserable.
Finally he slept, but Sam was awake much longer, emotions torn between fear and anger.
* * *
The next morning she awoke with a start, and the nightmare came flooding back as she saw the Indian. He was sitting with his back against the wall, his hands folded casually on his knees, which were drawn up to his chest. Was he smiling? She could not be sure, for it was difficult to tell because of the way his face was painted. But she did notice something odd—his eyes were blue.
Sam didn't know much about Indians, actually knew nothing except what she'd heard, and most of that had been on the train, but somehow she knew they didn't normally have blue eyes. She'd noticed the others had dark eyes, almost black.
And there was more to bewilder, such as the way he didn't really appear to be hostile. This morning she could see, feel, a warmth in his piercing gaze.
She also noticed something else, something she'd not seen in the dim light last night. There was a scar on his chest, perhaps six inches long. No doubt he had been seriously wounded in the past.
"I wish you spoke English," she said dolefully. "Maybe I could talk you into letting me go."
His expression did not change.
"The entire army will be out looking for you, because my fiancé is a commander there. By now he knows what you've done, and they have hundreds of soldiers out searching for me."
He did not even crook a brow, which told her he wasn't trying to understand. She might as well be talking to someone unable to hear. But even the deaf tried to read lips; this brute just kept on staring, which was maddening. She decided to try again. After all, what did she have to lose? He might know a word or two.
"Let me go, and we'll forget it ever happened. I'll persuade the soldiers not to go after you."
Cade was fascinated. Not only did he find her lovely, despite being potentially dangerous if he dared turn his back, but he also admired her spirit. Most women would never have fought as she did, much less sit before their enemy and try to reason despite a language barrier.
He looked at her mesmerizing eyes and realized she strangely reminded him of a bobcat with which he'd once come face to face. It was during the war, while on a raid into Alabama. He had made his bed away from everyone else in his regiment that night, wanting to be alone. The moon was full, the night bathed in an eerie, silver glow. He was just about to fall asleep when the cat had suddenly dropped from the tree above to land only inches from his face.
At first Cade had been too stunned to move; then, as shock subsided, he'd realized it would probably be a fatal mistake to go for his gun. The creature was close enough to leap right for his throat and would no doubt do so if threatened. So he had lain there, fascinated, looking at the cat and realizing that as the beast's emotions seemed to change, so did the sheen and color of its eyes.
At first the animal had been angry to encounter a human, an intruder in its world. Its lips curled back in a snarl, fangs gleaming ominously, and its eyes had seemed to glow with dark red embers. Then, evidently deciding there was no danger, a golden hue appeared, wary but not so menacing. The bobcat took a few steps in retreat, then hesitated as their gazes continued locked for long, tense moments. Gold. Green. A wary flash of red, an eventual blending to hazel.
Cade had watched each transition of feeling, and now he found himself intrigued once again with the mirror of intense emotion—only this time he had an idea there would be no peaceful retreat.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" Sam asked, suddenly annoyed. "And why can't you untie me? If you keep me trussed like this, I'll be so stiff I can't move. And the ropes hurt, too. They're too tight, see?" She held up her hands.
Cade knew she was lying, because he had made sure the ropes did not cut into her flesh. Still, he knew he had to free her long enough to allow her to tend to her personal needs.
He got up and untied the end of the rope from where he'd looped it about protruding roots, then led her through the tangled passageway and into t
he morning sunshine. After unbinding her, he pointed to a clump of bushes about twenty feet away, then to the narrow branch before them that fingered off from the main channel of the river.
Sam took a hesitant step, afraid he would follow. Realizing he was apparently headed for his own privacy in the opposite direction, she quickly appraised the situation, heart pounding, and realized there might be a chance to escape. She rushed into the shrubs, relieved herself, then kept on going.
There was a spot just up ahead, narrow enough that she could wade across. Then she would be at the river and could hide among the brush until a boat passed. The current was strong, but she was sure she could stay afloat long enough to be spotted. It was risky, but she had to try.
Cade had anticipated what she planned and had circled about. As she came out of the bushes, he was standing to block her path, arms folded across his chest, legs apart.
"Oh, damn you!" she exploded at the sight, and without pause turned sharply and plunged right into the water.
Cade was right behind her, lunging to catch her as she threw herself out into the stream and began to swim. They both went down, but Sam did not stop struggling. The water was not deep there, and they rolled and scraped against the rocks on the bottom. Surfacing, she gasped for air, at the same time kicking out at him, her foot slamming into his stomach to stun him momentarily. Again she started swimming, but he caught her, and she continued to thrash wildly as he managed to stand and hoist her up over his shoulder as he'd done the night before.
Hearing laughter, she lifted her head to see two Indians, a man and a woman, standing on the bank. But it was only the man who was amused, because the woman, who appeared to be near her age, was not smiling. Her expression was grim and severe as she watched them approaching.
"You were the one who said there would be no problems." Bold Eagle spoke in his own language. "And what do I find? You fighting with her in the middle of the stream. Dog Eyes told me she was a she-wolf to be reckoned with, but I never thought the great warrior Wild Spirit would find himself doing battle with a mere woman."
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