To Tame A Rebel

by Georgina Gentry

  Tommy rubbed his head. “She said something about Fort Gibson—asked a lot of questions about Will.”

  Jim blinked, trying to block out the twinge of jealousy that flooded his soul. “Will? You suppose he’s at Fort Gibson and she was trying to reach him?”

  “She didn’t say. What you intend to do, Jim?”

  “Hell, what can I do? I’m going to find her and bring her back.”

  “She may be a long way off by now. You’re risking Yankee patrols if you follow her toward Fort Gibson.”

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  “I’ll go with you.” Tommy scrambled to his feet, swaying a little.

  Jim shook his head. “You’re in no shape to ride.”

  “I wish you’d stop treating me like a baby,” Tommy snarled. “I’m a grown man and can take care of myself. Someday I’ll show you. I’ll be rich and important.”

  “Sure, kid.” Absently he patted Tommy’s shoulder.

  “Why don’t you let her go, Jim? Does General Watie really care if she gets away?”

  Jim faced the truth. He didn’t know whether it made any difference to the Confederacy what happened to the girl, but it did to him. He wanted her, desired her with an urgency that almost scared him. “Try to keep anyone from finding out I’m gone until I find her.”

  “Suppose you don’t?”

  Jim began to gather supplies. “I reckon I’ll deal with that when I get there.” He strode toward his horse, thinking: she’d probably follow the river if she was trying to reach Fort Gibson. Was Will there, and was she attempting to rendezvous with him? Was it something as simple as love, or was it something more? He didn’t know which thought gave him the most discomfort. Jim mounted up and rode out, avoiding the sentries in the darkness as he headed the palomino toward the river.

  It was a bright moonlit night, so he might be able to track her. Here and there, he got off his horse to look at a faint track or a broken weed where someone had passed. She was traveling along the river, all right. Maybe she hoped to find a canoe or an old raft there. Jim rode through the night, remembering his naive little brother’s words. Maybe she wasn’t a spy; maybe she was just a camp follower who intended to work both sides of the line, making money off the sexual appetites of Union and Confederate. He was getting farther and farther away from the Confederate forces. If he had any sense, he’d turn around and go back, get a patrol to accompany him. Jim thought about it a moment, then shook his head. He’d be in trouble for letting her get away, but worse, so would Tommy—and Tommy had plenty of demerits now.

  Jim Eagle had been riding for hours when he dismounted to rest his horse. Leading it, he moved silent as a shadow through the trees along the river.

  April had paused to rest at the riverbank, trying to decide what to do next. She was wearing ragged Union pants and an oversized Confederate shirt. That would make it impossible to sneak into Fort Gibson as a common soldier. She’d gotten herself into a big, dangerous mess without finding a single clue that she could trade to her mysterious Major Smith for gold. Maybe she should try to cross the river and keep walking until she found a town, and forget this whole adventure. April opened the little cache of supplies Tommy had given her, and began to eat.

  She heard a noise in the brush and froze. In eastern Indian territory there were brown bears, an occasional bobcat, some wild tusker hogs, snakes, and prowling bushwhackers from both armies. She didn’t have a weapon, so she was on her own. “Who—who’s there?”

  No answer. Maybe she’d imagined the sound. After a moment, she was satisfied that it was only the wind or some small creature like an owl. She finished her smoked jerky and hardtack and washed it down with water from the canteen. She wished she had some coffee, but even if she had some, she wouldn’t dare chance a fire. Some sniper from either side might pick her off and ask questions later.

  For a split second, she thought she heard a sound, and then a big form came running out of the shadows and collided with her. She fought back instinctively, and they rolled in the dirt as her assailant grappled with her. She made no sound, biting and clawing, but her attacker was bigger.

  The moon came out suddenly, and she realized with horror that she looked into the wild face of a bushwhacker.

  She screamed instinctively, and the man hit her, knocking her backward. April tasted blood as she fell, half stunned. She half heard, half felt him ripping at her clothes. He was going to rape her. The horrid realization gave her renewed strength, and she began to fight, but she was no match against his lust-starved strength.

  “Stop it, bitch,” he growled, “or I’ll kill you. I aim to have you, so save yourself the trouble.”

  Not without a fight, she thought, and screamed again. With a curse, he hit her across the face as she fought to get away from him. He might rape her, but he’d have to kill her first. She had never been so terrified in her life.

  At that moment, another big shadow darted out of the woods. Oh, my God, he had a partner. She didn’t stand a chance, but she fought anyway. Then in the moonlight she recognized the second man. “Jim! Oh, Jim!”

  He didn’t answer as he attacked her assailant, but she saw the fury in his dark face as he hit the man hard, sending him stumbling backward over a log. With a roar like a crazed beast, the man clambered to his feet and attacked Jim Eagle. He picked up the Cherokee in a terrible bear hug and held him off the ground.

  From her spot on the edge of the clearing, she saw the pain and desperation in Jim’s face as he struggled. She had to do something. April grabbed up a rock and attacked the crazed giant. He dropped Jim with a muttered curse and turned toward her. “You bitch, I’ll kill you for that!”

  Jim staggered to his feet, breathing hard. “Not unless you kill me first!”

  The giant turned toward Jim, blinking and muttering.

  “Look out, Jim,” she shrieked, “he’s got a knife!”

  She saw the sudden gleam of a pistol barrel as Jim pulled it from its holster, and the sudden flash as he fired.

  The bushwhacker grabbed his big belly with one hand, lurching toward Jim with his blade. The moonlight flashed on the steel as he cut at the empty air. The Cherokee dodged away skillfully.

  April took a deep breath and held it. The hot summer air smelled of gunpowder and warm blood as the giant lurched toward Jim and then collapsed and lay still.

  “April, are you all right?”

  With a sob, she ran into his arms without thinking, and he held her close. “It—it was terrible. He was going to . . . ”

  “I know.” He held her close and patted her hair. “Don’t think about it; you’re safe now.”

  She looked up at him, and he kissed the tears from her face. Then she was returning his kiss while he murmured reassurances to her. “It’s okay, Kawoni, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  Nothing mattered at this moment—not the war, not the spying, not the reward money. Nothing mattered but being safe in this man’s embrace while he kissed and caressed her.

  The kiss deepened, and Jim Eagle drew a sharp, shuddery breath. She clung to him, letting his tongue probe along her lips until she opened them in surrender so that he could explore the velvet depths of her mouth. “Oh, Jim, Jim . . .”

  Her bare breasts were pressed against him in her torn shirt, but she was oblivious to everything except his hands stroking her flesh, and then he lifted her in his arms and kissed her nipples, so that she gasped and wanted more.

  “I’ve dreamed of doing this a thousand times since the first time I saw you,” he murmured, and his breath was warm against the valley between her breasts.

  She put her arms around his neck and urged him to taste and caress more with his mouth. Nothing counted to her anymore—nothing except finally meshing with this man she had loved since she was a young girl. “Take me, Jim,” she whispered. “Oh, I can’t stand it any longer; take me!”

  He seemed to need no further urging as he carried her deeper into the forest and laid her down on the sof
t grass. “I want you like I’ve never wanted another woman.”

  She didn’t even worry about what he would think when he realized she was a virgin. Her pulse pounded in her head, making a roaring sound that drowned out everything else but their mutual need. Then they were both naked in the moonlight and kissing and caressing as their heat built.

  April arched her back, offering him her breasts as he came down on her, pushing her thighs apart. He hesitated just a moment, and she felt his big manhood rigid and pulsing with need. Then he plunged into her, deep and hard. The sudden pain almost made her cry out, but then his mouth covered hers in a deep kiss that muted her voice. He began to ride her hard, stroking deep into her velvet softness. She could feel the heat pulsating from him, and her own need rose. She wanted him deeper and deeper still. “More,” she whispered, “and faster . . .”

  She put her hands on his lean hips and felt the power there as he drove into her rhythmically. She couldn’t get enough of him. They were both covered with a fine sheen of perspiration as they locked in the eternal ritual of mating. He was panting and grinding down hard on her as her emotions built. She didn’t know what was happening or what to expect; she only knew she never wanted this moment to end.

  And at that instant, it built to a climax, and he paused, straining against her even as her own passion raced out of control like a prairie fire. She held him close, digging her nails into his back as they locked and strained together. It seemed like an eternity of pleasure, but it wasn’t enough, she thought; she could never get enough of this virile man’s arms. Then it was over, both of them still locked together in a passionate embrace, breathing hard and shiny with sweat.

  “Oh, my God,” he gasped, “no wonder you charge so much. I never had a woman love me like this before.”

  He still thought she was a whore. Anger and hurt flooded her soul, even though she knew she should feel relief that her secret was safe. She wanted to scratch his face and beat him on the chest, scream and bite. I hate you, she thought. I hate you for thinking I’d do this with anyone else, especially for money.

  Then the realization flooded over her. She’d just given her virginity to her captor out in the woods. In this bright moonlight, he would soon see the evidence of her virginity, and then she’d have to answer tough questions.

  “Be quiet.” Jim Eagle tensed, still lying on her.

  “What?”

  “Listen. I think I hear horses.” His voice was low, urgent. “We’ve got to clear out; there’s no telling how far the sound of that gunshot carried, and we may run across a Yankee patrol.”

  For her, was that good or bad? Then her anxiety was for Jim because he might be killed rather than taken prisoner. “Let’s go,” she whispered.

  Now she could hear the horses coming, too. She scrambled up, grabbing for her clothes. “What’ll we do?”

  “No time to make a run for it. Toss your clothes over here in the shadows, and we’ll go into the river. Maybe they won’t find that body.”

  The horses sounded closer now.

  April was suddenly afraid for him. If it was a Yankee patrol, they’d kill or capture him. “What about your horse?”

  “Left him deep in the woods. With any luck, no one will see him. Come on, let’s hide in the water.”

  He took her hand and led her naked into the stream.

  “Maybe it’s a Confederate patrol,” she whispered.

  “We’ll find out; here they come.”

  They both grabbed reeds and went under, watching the riverbank as they stayed submerged all but their eyes. The current was strong, and she felt Jim grab her hand to keep her with him as they crouched in the dark water.

  In minutes, a cavalry patrol galloped into view and reined in near the river. The moonlight gleamed on their brass buttons. The uniforms were blue.

  “Sergeant,” one of the men yelled, “are you sure you heard a shot?”

  The grizzled old sergeant looked around. “I would have sworn I did. Maybe it came from another direction.”

  April held her breath and did not move, breathing through the straw. She felt Jim’s arm reach out and pull her naked body close to his. All I’ve got to do, she thought, is stand up and raise the alarm. The Yanks will capture Jim Eagle, and I’ll be taken to Fort Gibson to continue my search. That’s where the major will be expecting to find me. As she thought it, she knew she couldn’t betray him.

  After a moment and some discussion, the Yankee patrol rode away. She raised her head up out of the water, gasping for air, and listened to the hoofbeats fade into the distance. “That was close.”

  “More than you know,” he muttered. “I recognized a couple of old friends riding with that patrol: Yellow Jacket and Smoke. We were Lighthorsemen together before the war.” He took her hand and looked down into her face. “Thanks for not giving me away.”

  She shrugged, both of them still standing in the shallow water. “I told you I wasn’t a spy; I was just a whore trying to make a living.”

  “And you are good at what you do,” he murmured, and pulled her close, kissing her deeply. They clung together, naked in the river as his hands explored her body. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

  At least the evidence was washed away, and he’d never know the difference. “So now you gonna let me go on to Fort Gibson? I figure those Yanks have more gold than rebels.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders, scowling down at her. “I haven’t had my fill of you yet. Why should I let damned Yankees have any entertainment?”

  Entertainment. Yes, that’s all it had been to him. She had just given this warrior the precious gift of her virginity, and he was treating it as a moment’s pleasure. Well, what had she expected? Even if she told him the truth, he surely wouldn’t believe her any more than he would believe the truth about who had sent her and why. If she got out of this intrigue alive, she was going to go back north and never try spying again.

  “Let’s get dressed,” he said.

  She nodded, and they came up out of the water and began to dress. April’s mind was busy. She wasn’t learning anything of value in the rebel camp, and if she didn’t get to Fort Gibson, she would miss rendezvousing with the major. If she didn’t get further instructions, she wouldn’t know what to do next.

  A thought occurred to her as she finished dressing. Jim had his back to her, putting on his boots. She still had the money he had given her earlier in camp. All she needed was a horse. Jim Eagle had a horse. He was putting on his boots now, oblivious to her, his pistol still in its holster in the nearby shadows. Did she have the courage to do this? She thought about the money that would give her the respectability of a white girl. It was worth the chance.

  April stepped noiselessly across the grass and took the pistol from its holster.

  Jim turned and half rose at the sound. “What the—?”

  He never got a chance to finish, because April brought the butt of the Colt down across his head. He swayed just a moment and then collapsed and lay still.

  Oh, dear God, she hoped she hadn’t hurt him. No, he was breathing. When he came to, he’d come after her, she thought, and he’d be furious and dangerous. If she was smart, she’d shoot him and rid herself of that threat. Even as that thought crossed her mind, she knew she couldn’t do it. For a moment she stood looking down at him, resisting the urge to touch his face and make sure she hadn’t hurt him too much. He’d only be unconscious so long, and if she was still here when he woke up . . . The thought of his anger galvanized her into action. She took the pistol and tucked it into her waistband, then ran through the woods until she found his fine palomino tied in the shadows.

  Would the great stallion even let her mount up?

  “Steady, boy, steady,” she crooned, and the horse started and snorted. She put her hand on its velvet muzzle, and it quieted so she could mount. She urged the horse forward and took off at a lope through the woods. She knew she could follow the river and find Fort Gibson, but riding a horse with a Confederate sa
ddle and blanket and wearing a ragged, mismatched uniform, she’d face a lot of questions she didn’t want to answer. Well, she had Jim Eagle’s silver dollars. Out here in the Territory, real money would buy almost anything. She’d figure it out as she went. It wasn’t long until dawn. The main thing now was to clear out before Jim Eagle regained consciousness.

  For a split second, she worried about the man. Jim Eagle would awaken only slightly worse for wear and walk back to the Confederate camp. That might take a while, so no one would set up a hue and cry after her for a few hours. That thought cheered her as she rode. Somewhere up ahead was the fort, and she had some planning to do before she got there.

  Chapter 19

  Jim came back to consciousness, his head throbbing. Where in the hell was he? Gingerly he reached to touch his head, then remembered what had happened. Why, that little . . .

  He stumbled to his feet in the darkness and looked around. She was gone, as were his horse and pistol. She’d knocked him in the head and fled, leaving him here in the woods. He was only lucky he hadn’t been found by an enemy patrol. There was nothing to do but start walking back to camp and hope he didn’t run into trouble along the way.

  He had only walked a few hundred yards when he heard the sound of horses coming. For a split second he was cheered, thinking Tommy had sent a patrol out looking for him; then he realized it might also be Yankees. Quickly he crept behind some brush. If he only had a weapon . . . Jim flattened himself against the dirt, watching the trail in the moonlight. His heart hammered, thinking how much danger he might be in with no way to defend himself. The sound of drumming hooves grew louder. Now in the distance, he could see a patrol coming, the moon throwing distorted shadows ahead of the horses. Then the light caught the flash of brass buttons, and he saw the blue uniforms.

  He didn’t want to spend the rest of the war in a miserable prison camp. He could only hope the patrol rode on. Jim held his breath as the horses passed so near, he could have reached out and touched the nearest one.