Dream Warrior: His Savage Kiss

by Bobbi Smith

  When at last they reached the edge of town and disappeared into the darkness of the countryside, Silver Wolf put his heels to the horse's sides and urged it to a quicker pace. Cari was relieved when they made it out of town without being discovered, and it was that very sense of relief that puzzled her and added to her emotional turmoil.

  Cari had come to town to talk to Silver Wolf and get the answers she so desperately needed about what had happened to her father, but all she'd gotten were more questions. Confusion filled her—confusion about his motives, and about her own. As she rode before him as his captive, the thought that tormented her the most was that there was no reason for him to run if he was innocent. The thought repeated itself relentlessly in her mind as they traveled on in silence through the night.

  As the miles passed, Cari's fear that they would be caught at any moment lessened. As the tension drained from her, she found she couldn't hold herself so stiffly anymore, and she slumped a little. The minute she did, she regretted it, for she found her back pressed solidly against the hard, muscular width of Silver Wolf's chest. Shock waves radiated through her at that contact, and she immediately tried to draw away from him again. As she straightened, however, his arm encircled her waist and held her pinioned against him.

  "Relax. We've got a long ride ahead of us."

  She acquiesced, but she couldn't really relax. There was something too intimate about the contact. "Where are you taking me?"

  "Someplace where we won't be found."

  "But why? Why are you doing this? If you're innocent, why did you break out and run?" At her words, she felt him go rigid.

  "If, Little Snow?" he responded bitterly. "Your faith in me is easily shaken."

  Silver Wolf had been hoping that she'd come to the jail to see him because she believed in him. Now, though, he realized his hopes had been foolish. He didn't know why she'd come, but it hadn't been to tell him that she thought he was innocent.

  "My faith in you?" she returned angrily. "How can I believe in your innocence when they found your medicine bag in my father's hand? I know how important it is to you—you always wear it! You never go anywhere without it! If you weren't there, how did it end up with my father that night?"

  "I don't know. I lost it the night of the dance."

  "You lost it?"

  "After I left you, I went to a saloon and started drinking. The following morning when I woke up, it was gone."

  "You got drunk that night? But you don't drink . . ."

  "I did that night."

  Guilt stabbed at Cari as she heard the flatness in his voice, and she could form no reply. A heavy silence descended on them as they continued their night-shrouded flight.

  Cari remembered the press of his knife against her throat when he'd taken her hostage at the jail, and she wasn't sure who to trust anymore. Did she trust in the law and the proof that pointed to Silver Wolf as her father's killer or did she put her trust in Silver Wolf, the man she believed she loved? The conflicting thoughts left Cari reeling. Her heart ached as she struggled to come to grips with her feelings.

  Cari said nothing more as they rode on through the night. Caught up in her fierce inner turmoil, she was aware only of the solid feel of his arms around her and his body pressed against her as he guided their steed expertly across the deserted land.

  As soon as word reached the Larsons that Daniel Marshall had been caught and would stand trial for the murder of James McCord, the father and son rode for town. They headed for the Sundown Saloon to find out what was going on.

  Sam was in a good mood. He drank heavily in celebration of the way things had turned out. Outwardly, Mark seemed as happy as his father, but, in truth, there was one loose end that was troubling him. As he downed his whiskey straight, he kept thinking of Jenny and wondering where she'd gone. He had to make sure she didn't show up at the sheriff's office and tell him the truth about the medicine bag. The odds were that Jenny was long gone, but until he knew her whereabouts for sure or Marshall was convicted and hung, he wouldn't be able to fully relax.

  "To hell with a trial! I say we go get him tonight!" one man was shouting, red in the face and drunk beyond reason.

  "Yeah! To hell with a trial!" Howard, another drunk, joined in. "What d'ya say, Tom?"

  "He's guilty. We all know that," the man named Tom agreed.

  "The sheriff's got all the proof we need! We know Marshall gunned James down in cold blood!" Howard declared.

  "He's a damned half-breed. Who knows how many others he's killed the same way!"

  "He's gotta pay for what he's done!"

  "Then let's do it! Let's string him up tonight!"

  Sam cast his son a satisfied look. "Sounds like we might not have to wait for justice to be done."

  Mark raised his glass in salute. "That sounds good to me."

  "Damned Indians!" Howard was raging. "We oughta run 'em all out of the territory!"

  "We can't let him get away with murder!"

  Their frenzied hatred pleased Sam. As riled up as the men in the bar were, he figured it wouldn't take much to get them to attack the Indian village, too, once they'd finished with Marshall. His plan to rid the territory of Indians was succeeding far beyond his wildest imaginings.

  "Why're we just jawin' about it? Let's go hang the red devil and be done with it!!" Tom urged.

  A roar of approval greeted his words, and the drunken men surged en masse toward the swinging doors that led out onto the street. Sam and Mark weren't about to miss out on any of it, and they joined in the bloodthirsty crowd. The rumble of the mob's discontent echoed through the streets of Cheyenne, and their numbers grew as word of their purpose spread. The drunks stormed the few blocks to the sheriff's office with vengeance on their minds.

  "Dixon! Sheriff Dixon! We want to talk with you!" Howard called out.

  When no answer came right away, the crowd grew angrier and even more restless.

  "Sheriff! We want Marshall and we want him now! Send him out or there's going to be trouble!" Tom shouted.

  Again silence answered the hostile demand, and one of the drunken men threw a rock at the office window. The glass shattered, and the sound crashed through the night in a terrible echo. Still there was no response from the lawman.

  "Maybe he's not there!" someone suggested.

  "Maybe he heard us coming and got Marshall out."

  "I'll go see," Howard announced.

  Drawing his gun, he approached the jail. He tried the door and, to his amazement, found it unlocked. Once inside, he could hear something that sounded like grunting coming from the back room, and he rushed back to find the sheriff gagged and bound, locked in one of the cells. He tried to open the cell door, but found it was locked and there were no keys.

  "What in hell happened to you?" he demanded as he reached through the bars to untie the gag.

  "The bastard Marshall had a knife! I don't know how I missed it on him when I searched him, but I did!" Dixon told him, cursing vilely under his breath as he turned his back to Tom so he could free his hands.

  "Where are the keys so I can get you out of there?"

  "Marshall took them with him. You'll have to get the blacksmith to break the door open, and tell him to hurry! We can't let him get too big of a headstart on us. He's got the McCord girl. He took her hostage!"

  "He what?" Howard had started from the cell area to go tell the others what had happened, when he stopped dead-still at this news.

  "He kidnapped Cari McCord at knife point and forced her to go along with him."

  "How long has it been since he broke out?"

  "A couple of hours at least, damn it! I kept hoping someone would come in, but no one did." He was humiliated over the state of things.

  Howard ran out front to deliver the news.

  "The half-breed's broken out and taken the McCord girl hostage!"

  "We knew he was guilty and this proves it! Let's find the son-of-a-bitch and hang him on the spot!"

  "Yeah!!"

&nb
sp; "We ain't going anywhere until we get the sheriff out of the jail cell. Somebody get the blacksmith! The rest of you who want to ride with us, get your horses and your guns! We'll be riding out as soon as Sheriff Dixon's ready!"

  Mark was furious. He couldn't believe Marshall had broken out of jail! He told his father he was going to have one last drink before riding out with the posse, and he made his way back to the saloon, his mood black.

  Sarah Jane had been upset by the ugliness of the mob, and she'd been nervous as she'd waited to see what was going to happen. When a few of the drunks began to straggle back in, aggravated because there had been no lynching, she was glad. She got herself a drink and was standing alone at the bar when Mark Larson returned and came up to her.

  "I'll have another whiskey, Ed," he told the barkeep, "and the company of this pretty lady."

  Sarah Jane managed a smile. "Evenin', Larson." The words almost gagged her, for she had no use for this bastard, and it wouldn't have taken much for her to tell him so.

  "Evening, Sarah Jane. You're looking mighty lovely tonight."

  Any of the other girls would have swooned to have his attentions, but she knew what he was capable of. She knew what he'd done to Jenny. "Why, thank you."

  "Let's go sit at a table, shall we? There's something I want to ask you."

  Sarah Jane wondered what he was after. He'd never wanted her before and she couldn't imagine what he wanted with her now. "All right. The girls tell me all the time that I'm the one with all the answers," she said with a laugh as she led the way to a table in the now almost-deserted bar. "What can I do for you?" she asked after they'd sat down.

  "I need some information, and if anybody knows, it'll be you."

  "Oh? About what?"

  "Not what. Who. It's about Jenny. I want to know where Jenny is."

  Anger flashed in her eyes for a moment and then was gone. It would be a cold day in hell before she'd tell him anything about the girl. "Ed threw her out and told her not to come back until she was looking good again. I don't know where she went."

  "I'd like to believe you, Sarah Jane. I really would," he said in a low, threatening voice. "But you and Jenny were friends, and if anybody in town was going to know where she'd gone, it would be you."

  "Like I said, Larson, I can't help you 'cause I don't know."

  She started to stand up, but Mark caught her by the wrist in a painful grip and yanked her back down into her seat.

  "I'm going to find her, Sarah Jane." His eyes bored into hers.

  She could see the danger in his gaze and feel it in his painful hold, and she knew Jenny was in trouble, big trouble. "Good luck. Now, unless you want me to yell and let Ed know you're hurting me, I suggest you let me go."

  "Hurt you? Why, I never meant to hurt you, Sarah Jane. I was just making my point," he said with a cool smile as he released her.

  She cast him a contemptuous look as she got up and escaped his vile presence.

  Larson finished his drink at his leisure and then left the saloon to join the posse. By the time he found his father, the sheriff had been freed from the jail cell and was getting ready to ride. More than twenty men had decided to go with him, and they'd gathered before the office to wait for him. When Dixon finally emerged, his expression was deadly serious.

  "I appreciate your help, men," he told them.

  "You shoulda let us kill him the day we first found him, Sheriff," Deputy Morgan prodded. He wasn't glad that Marshall had broken out, but he was certainly going to enjoy the chase of hunting him down again and, this time, killing him.

  "A man's entitled to a trial," Dixon replied, his jaw set in fury as he reminded himself that he had to follow the law no matter how much he wanted to do otherwise.

  "You ain't plannin' on bringing him back alive, are you, Sheriff?" one of the men demanded.

  "Daniel Marshall's going to stand trial. There'll be no vigilante justice in my town," Dixon declared. He could see the hunger for violence in the faces of those gathered there, and though right now he felt the same, it was his job and sworn duty to uphold the law.

  "But he kidnapped the McCord girl! No tellin' what he's done to her!"

  "Any man who's riding in this posse because he wants to see a hanging might as well quit now and go home. I don't want you with me. I'm going to find Marshall and bring him in for trial. You got any different notions, get out now."

  Morgan and Collins exchanged looks. They knew the sheriff wanted to do it all legally, but they were ready for revenge, and so was most of the town. Marshall had killed James McCord. Now, he'd broken out of jail and kidnapped a white girl. He deserved to die, and when the time came, they planned to see that he did just that. Neither man had any qualms at all about being the one to put an end to the half-breed's miserable life.

  "All right. Let's ride."

  "Where we goin'?"

  "First, to Ben Douglas's office," he directed, and the posse headed there to begin their search for the fugitive killer.

  Ben was working late in his office with the shades drawn, when he heard the sound of horses. When someone started pounding on the door, he hurried to answer it, fearing trouble. His fears were confirmed when he discovered the sheriff and his deputies, armed and ready, standing before him. There was also a heavily armed mob saddled up in the street.

  "Sheriff Dixon, what is it? What's happened?"

  "Your 'innocent' client pulled a knife on me and escaped from the jail!"

  "He what?"

  "You heard me! Now, step on out here while my men search your office."

  Ben had barely moved when Morgan and Collins, their guns drawn, roughly pushed past him and began to search the office.

  "How did this happen?" Ben demanded, thinking it a possibility that the deputies who were so intent on killing Daniel might have deliberately allowed him to escape so they could hunt him down as they were doing now.

  "I wish I knew. He had a knife and he took the McCord girl hostage."

  Ben was surprised by this news. She'd been devastated when they'd been together at the ranch, and he wondered why she'd come.

  The sheriff nodded, "He threatened to kill me if she didn't go with him."

  Ben swore under his breath, unable to understand his friend's reasoning. He believed unfailingly in Daniel's innocence, but he didn't understand why he had run. Running just made him look more guilty. "Have you sent anyone out to the Circle M to tell Mrs. McCord what's happened?"

  "No, but I'll be doing that as soon as I'm sure they ain't hiding here with you."

  Ben stiffened perceptibly at his insult. "Rest assured that I have no idea where my client is. But allow me to remind you, Sheriff Dixon, that he is to stand trial for James McCord's murder."

  "Don't lecture me on the law, Douglas."

  Morgan and Collins came charging out. "He ain't in there."

  "Check upstairs!"

  They rushed off again, leaving Ben, frustrated and maddened, with the sheriff and the rest of the posse. In minutes, they were back.

  "Nothing," they reported.

  "All right, then let's ride," Dixon ordered, and the two deputies quickly mounted back up. "If you find your client before we do, Douglas, you'd better make sure he turns himself in. Since he's taken a white girl hostage, I won't be responsible for what happens to him if the men find him when I'm not around."

  Ben's expression was filled with contempt. "I'm riding with you, and I'm holding you personally responsible for Daniel's safety, Sheriff."

  The two men stood, their hardened gazes dueling.

  "Remember what I said, Douglas," the sheriff repeated as he turned and walked over to his deputies. "Morgan . . ." he directed. "You ride for the Circle M. The rest of you come with me!"

  Fighting for control of his anger, Ben quickly prepared to ride out with the posse. He grabbed his rifle, locked the office, and went out to the stable to get his horse. He had no idea where Daniel had gotten the knife he'd used or what had possessed him to break out of jail, b
ut he knew he had to be with the sheriff and his men when they found him.

  Sheriff Dixon paused with the posse at the edge of town. "We'll split up here. Half you men come with me, the other half ride with Collins."

  "Where you want me to search, Sheriff?" Collins asked.

  "Go out to the fort to apprise Captain Greene of the situation. Then search south and west of town. We'll ride in the direction of the Cheyenne village. I don't think Marshall went there, but I want word spread that he's a wanted man and anyone giving him help will be in trouble. If you find him and the girl, bring them back to town. If not, we'll meet here in five days."

  "We'll find them," Collins vowed fiercely, and they rode off in the direction of the fort.

  Dixon turned in his saddle to speak to his men. "It'll be slow going until daylight, but I don't want to risk giving Marshall too big a lead. He knows this land like the back of his hand, and it's going to be hard to find him regardless. Anybody wants out, say so now. Otherwise, we're riding."

  He paused, waiting to see if any of the men had had a change of heart. None did, so he motioned for them to follow him as he led the way from town.

  The Larsons were glad they were riding with the posse, but they were less than pleased that Ben was going along. The half-breed had been set up perfectly, and they didn't want Ben stepping in to ruin things if the posse decided to take matters of justice into their own hands. They followed the sheriff, hoping it didn't take them too long to catch up with Marshall and the girl.

  After Larson left, Sarah Jane was nervous and frightened. She waited until she was sure Larson had gotten out of town and then told Ed she was feeling sick and had to get outside for a while. Ed wasn't too happy, but let her go anyhow. Away from the bar at last, she hurried back to the small house and shook Jenny awake.

  "What's the matter, Sarah Jane?"

  "You gotta get out of here. Mark Larson's looking for you, and he means to find you."