by Shirl Henke
“Come on, Mrs. Phillips. You don't want to keep your husband waiting,” the cherub-faced young officer said with false heartiness. The lieutenant obviously found escorting the major's tarnished wife a trying duty.
He's afraid I'm going to run screaming across the parade ground, rip off my clothes and climb the flag pole, she thought dismally, but said nothing.
Hugh waited at the corral with their horses. He smiled cordially. “Good morning, dear wife. I trust you're looking forward to our little outing?”
She was sick of oily civility. “Why do you want me to ride with you?” she asked flatly.
“I thought the fresh air and exercise would uplift your spirits. I've been most concerned about your despondency, Stephanie,” he replied.
“I know how concerned you are. Shall we ride?” The lieutenant saluted Hugh after assisting her to mount the cumbersome sidesaddle. Sergeant Bedekker was to accompany them at a discreet distance. As they trotted across the compound and left the fort, she gauged her horse's mettle. Did she stand a chance of outrunning them?
As if reading her mind, Hugh said, “I chose the mare because she's gentle, but I'm afraid she isn't very swift.” His smile would have frozen whiskey.
She eyed him warily. “Do you plan to have Bedekker kill me?” she asked at length. “Or are you reserving that pleasure for yourself?”
He laughed mirthlessly. ‘‘Careful, my dear. If the good sergeant were to hear you, he would attest that you've indeed lost your mind.”
“I doubt at this point you require the sergeant's testimony.” She looked ahead toward the North Platte, a bright serpentine ribbon undulating beneath the brilliant azure sky. Cottonwoods and willows lined the banks in dense stands, many with low-hanging branches. She'd ridden here often when Hugh was first stationed at the post. Perhaps she could arrange a little accident for him. He rode close to her side and she observed the stock of his Springfield sticking out of the scabbard on his saddle. She would need to seize it when he went down if she was going to have some defense against Bedekker when he came to his superior's rescue. To save her baby she'd kill both men in a heartbeat.
As she and Phillips approached the cover of the trees, Stephanie was not the only person sizing up the possibility of disposing of the cavalrymen. From his hidden position on the escarpment to the west, Chase observed the three riders through a pair of field glasses. For over a week he had been watching the route of the patrols and sentries, studying every detail inside the compound. Locating the commandant's quarters and offices had been simple. He figured Stephanie was inside the two-story frame house on the west side of the parade grounds, but she never ventured outdoors.
Chase had enlisted de Boef to ride to the fort with a load of pelts to sell at the trading post. The Frenchman had listened to the gossip about the major's lady, who was confined to her house after a ghastly ordeal at the hands of savages. Everyone tsked sadly about her captivity but secretly relished what they imagined to be the gruesome details.
Armed with the information from de Boef, Chase watched for his chance. He suspected the story of Stephanie's pregnancy had been deliberately spread among his people, and his friends' escape from the stockade had been no accident. Was the pregnancy real or only a ploy to lure him into their trap? Whatever the cost, he had to know.
Chase studied the striking looking couple as they approached the cover of the trees. First he would have to dispose of the sergeant. Remembering his zest for plying the whip, Chase's lips thinned in a ruthless smile. He slid back from the edge of the escarpment and walked over to where he'd hidden his mount.
Leaping onto the horse, he worked his way down the steep slope. Phillips and the sergeant were alone, of that he was certain. He'd been watching the fort from the ridge since moonrise last night. ‘‘Keep on going just the way you are, you damned butcher, and we'll see who traps who,” he murmured as Hugh and Stephanie skirted the trees at the riverbank.
Soon they passed into the cover of the trees where the sergeant would be obscured from the vision of the officer and his lady—if they chanced to look back. Slipping off his horse, Chase used the cover of the trees to race ahead of the sergeant. The soldier would have to die quickly and quietly. Knocking an arrow in the bow he carried, he aimed and let fly the deadly missile. A slight whirring noise was all Bedekker heard before he fell from the saddle with the arrow embedded in his throat. So much for covering your back, Phillips, Chase thought grimly as he slung the bow across his shoulder and began to stalk in earnest.
As soon as Stephanie saw the big willows she began to implement her plan. As far as she knew Hugh had never ridden beneath them so he wouldn't expect the low-hanging limb from one tree which was hidden by the densely leafed canopy of the tree in front of it. She would have to time this just right. It would be her last chance.
When they drew within a dozen yards of the willows, Stephanie leaned forward and kicked her mare into a gallop toward the curtain of leaves. When she reached the trees, she flattened herself against the mare's neck and wheeled her around after passing beneath a horizontal limb that was easily a foot in diameter. Hugh was right behind her, cursing as he yelled, ‘‘Don't be a fool, Stephanie. There's nowhere to run!”
He'd no more than uttered the words when his head slammed into the limb, knocking him from the saddle, unconscious. Stephanie lunged for the frightened horse's bridle as it shied. She screamed as a steely arm coiled suddenly around her from behind. Desperately she kicked and flailed until a familiar voice murmured in her ear, “Stop struggling, Stevie.”
Stephanie froze. “Oh my God! They told me you were dead,” she whispered, feeling him warm and solid against her. When he turned her to face him, for the first time in her life Stephanie almost fainted. Everything went black for an instant. She ached to hold him, to touch his beard-stubbled jaw. Tears swam in her eyes, blurring his face, but she could tell he was studying her, an intent and cold perusal. “What...how did you—”
“I escaped from the Rawlins jail after your major had his fun.”
Your major. The words stung. “Chase, he forced me to watch them whip you. You can't think—can't believe…” With dawning horror she blinked back her tears and looked into his eyes.
He felt her shudder in revulsion, then go very still. “I don't know what to think, Stevie. We didn't exactly part on the best of terms. I no more than returned to the stronghold when Phillips and his butchers swept down on us, Custer style. No one's ever found that place. You were in town when they brought me in. I saw you and Phillips walk off arm in arm...then that night at the jail...what could I think?”
“You could have believed in me,” she replied intensely as a bit of the old spirit reanimated her. “I don't know how Hugh found you but I do know how he forced me to endure that night in the jail.”
“By threatening to kill you?”
Her eyes blazed like the sun now. “He planned to kill me no matter what I agreed to. I'm certain that's why he brought me out here today.”
He searched her face...and believed her. “I may be a fool...but I couldn't leave you without being certain you were safe.”
Stephanie could see the truth shining in his eyes and her heart surged with happiness. There was so much she longed to tell him and to ask him. “I love you more than life itself. Hugh threatened to kill our baby that night if I didn't do exactly what he said at the jail.”
“Then it's true,” he replied, cradling her in his arms. “Blue Eagle and Plenty Horses heard the soldiers—”
“They're alive, too?” she asked, incredulous with joy. “Hugh told me he'd executed all your warriors. And the children, Kit Fox, Red Bead and Stands Tall?”
His expression hardened thinking of the decimation of his band. “Red Bead is dead, killed by a Blue Coat. So is Elk Bull and the rest of my warriors. Stands Tall and Kit Fox got Smooth Stone, Tiny Dancer and most of the children to safety during the fighting, but Phillips rounded them all up afterward. They've been sent to the reservation at Fe
tterman. Blue Eagle and Plenty Horses went after them. With luck they may be able to slip away and reach Little Wolf's band. After that…”
“Oh, Chase, what can we do?” Her voice choked with tears. So many of her friends, her family, dead or living under terrible conditions that would break their spirit.
Chase raised his hand to wipe away her tears. “I don't know,” he replied disconsolately. She reached up and embraced him but he flinched when her fingers dug into his shoulders. At once she realized what she had done. “Your back—it must still be terribly painful. I'm sorry. Oh, Chase, how did you endure such—”
“He always was difficult to kill.” Burke Remington stepped from behind the trunk of a huge willow that had concealed him. “Throw your knife and pistol on the ground or I'll kill Mrs. Phillips,” he said as Chase attempted to shove Stephanie behind him, cursing his stupidity. He was certain Phillips and Burke had laid a trap but how had his uncle gotten here without his seeing him?
Burke gloated now as Chase tossed the Army Colt and the blade down. “I told your husband this would work. I knew he'd be watching, planning, but be unable to resist when he saw you. I slipped into the woods along the river at dusk last night before the moon came up, then slept until dawn. Living out of doors in tune with nature is greatly overrated...unless one is a savage such as you, dear nephew,” he said, his geniality turning to deadly venom. Then he returned his attention to Stephanie. “You see, I've known this bastard since he was a sniveling brat...and now I hear you're about to bless the Remington name with yet another mongrel.”
While Burke talked, Chase inched imperceptibly away from Stephanie, closer to his uncle, his mind racing for a way to distract him long enough to move into position. He had to bring down Burke before Hugh regained consciousness. “You've never gotten over the fact my mother loved another man—married him and bore him a son—my Cheyenne blood is the least of my sins in your eyes, Uncle Burke,” he taunted, watching the tic in Remington's cheek, the fiery blaze ignite in those freezing blue eyes.
“The Remington heir, a half-breed bastard,” Burke rasped. “Anthea never married that savage. She was raped.”
“Yes, she was, Uncle, but not by my father. She loved Vanishing Grass. You raped her—you, the filthy pervert who was her brother!” By now, Chase was struggling to control his own anger. He heard Stephanie's sharp intake of breath and saw Burke's complexion redden with rage.
“I loved her! I was the only one worthy, the one—”
“It killed you, didn't it, when you couldn't have children with her—or Sabrina, or any other woman? But Anthea ran away from you and had a son with an Indian. A son who, in spite of his tainted blood, would inherit everything.”
“I wanted heirs for the Remington name—but only with her. She was the only one...but she betrayed me and Jeremiah's God struck her down with madness.”
“You drove her to madness the night her fourteen-year-old son saw you invade her bed. She couldn't live with the shame.”
A feral grimace of triumph twisted Burke's face. “I wanted you to see who she really belonged to—me! Me!” he bellowed, raising the rifle.
Stephanie's scream rang out as he pulled the trigger. The bullet slammed into Chase, hitting him in his side when he dodged. He kept coming as Burke fired again. The shot slashed wickedly into Chase's leg when he struck the barrel, wrenching it from his uncle's hands. Locked in a primal embrace, they fell to the ground like two snarling wolves. Frantically Stephanie looked for a weapon. The red stains blossomed around Chase's side and down his leg. He couldn't hold out for long against Burke's maniacal strength, not shot twice! She saw Chase's discarded Colt lying on the ground and darted over to seize it but dared not fire for fear of hitting him.
Dear God, this was Chase's vision, her dream! Chase was the white wolf and Burke the gray. It made a bizarre sort of sense now. Chase would win. He would kill Burke. And then he would leave her.
The combatants punched and gouged. Burke aimed his blows at Chase's bleeding side and kneed into his injured leg, eliciting grunts of agony from the younger man. Chase clenched his teeth against the pain and rolled with all his strength, pushing off on his good leg so that he came up on top of Burke. The older man was literally foaming at the mouth, fueled by an insane rage. “The Remington blood will out, eh, Burke?” Chase gasped as his fingers tightened on his uncles throat. “You’re the one who's mad—you always were!”
Stephanie stood with the gun raised and cocked, but it was unnecessary. Over Chase's labored breath she could hear the sickening crack of Burke Remington's neck snapping. She almost dropped the Colt to run to him when she caught a movement from the corner of her eye.
Hugh had regained consciousness. He was crouched, his pistol trained on Chase. ‘‘It's a good day to die, you red bastard.”
“Only for you, Hugh.” Her husband whirled to face down the barrel of the Colt. Startled and infuriated that his wife had drawn a bead on him, he aimed at her heart and pulled back the hammer, snarling, “I always planned to kill you.”
A single shot rang out and Hugh fell backward with a look of amazement on his face. “I know,” she replied quietly. He lay with his eyes staring sightlessly up at the willow branches overhead. Stephanie stared at the man she had married with such high hopes four years ago. She was not sad, only relieved that it was at long last over. Trembling, she dropped the weapon and rushed to Chase, who had crawled off Burke's body and knelt in a daze, his blood soaking into the ground around him.
Stephanie steeled herself to forget the ghastly deed she had just committed, letting the trained nurse in her take over. Seizing his knife, she began to slash the long train of her riding habit into makeshift wrappings to staunch the bleeding. “I have to get you to a doctor.”
“Take me to Sabrina Remington at the Brunswick Hotel.”
“Burke's wife?” Stephanie asked incredulously.
“She's the one who broke me out of jail,” he said with a feral smile. “I have to tell her I kept my word. She'll be able to get a doctor quietly.”
“But it's too far. You're bleeding,” she protested.
“I've lived through worse for longer.”
His speech was growing slurred. Stephanie knew the signs of shock. There was no choice. If they returned to the post, Chase would be arrested. So would she. After placing his Colt in his holster she gathered the reins of Hugh's gelding and slipped Burke's rifle in the scabbard. Then she helped Chase mount the cavalry horse. He hung onto the horse's mane as she climbed up behind him, baring her calves so she could ride astride.
* * * *
Twilight was falling when the doctor finally finished stitching up Chase's wounds. White faced but steady, Stephanie assisted him with the ether as he probed the muscle of Chase's thigh to extract the bullet. The one in his side had passed clean through and was less serious than the leg injury which had missed an artery by a scant half inch. While they worked with the physician in his small cluttered surgery, Sabrina Remington paced nervously outside.
Sabrina had been relieved when she received Chase's blood-smeared message saying Burke was dead, although she was frightened to death about helping a shot-up renegade with a five-thousand-dollar price on his head. But she knew Burke had planned to have her killed—would have, too, if she had not persuaded his aide Stokley Aimes that she would be much more accommodating alive than dead.
Stokley had read the note when she showed it to him, grinning boyishly at his own wisdom. He'd made the right choice. Now the rich widow would be grateful and generous.
A debt was a debt. Sabrina sent Stokley to help Stephanie bring Chase to Dr. Kandell's office. The old physician had a reputation for discretion, having tended numerous men considered on the periphery of the law. And he drank. That afternoon he had been mercifully sober when the senator's wife asked for his help, offering a very substantial payment in return for treating a shot-up half-breed “trader.”
“How is he?” Sabrina asked when Stephanie emerged from the
surgery into the dingy waiting room.
“He'll live, although he's lost so much blood the doctor considers it a miracle. He may walk with a limp the rest of his life from the leg wound. It nicked the femur, almost punctured an artery.” She shuddered with fear, thinking of how close she'd come to losing him.
“You look pale. Here, you'd better sit down,” Sabrina said awkwardly, taking Stephanie's arm and guiding her to one of the half-dozen battered wooden chairs scattered around the room.
Stephanie sank onto it gratefully and smiled wanly at the beautiful brunette who had proven such an unlikely ally. “We owe you so much. If you hadn't helped us, Chase would have died—or been recaptured. He told me how you helped him escape from jail.”
Sabrina’ s blue eyes were cold and hard as sapphires in contrast to her soft Southern drawl. “I owe him for killing Burke...and other things.”
“You were lovers once, back in Boston, weren't you?”
Sabrina's full lips bowed up and a tinge of amusement softened her expression as thoughts of her dead husband faded. “It was a long time ago. No need to be jealous. He was beautiful as sin even when he was a nineteen-year-old boy. I was...a bit older, very unhappily married. I'll admit I was put out when he was the one to end our little dalliance but I'd done it as much to spite Burke as anything else.” She shrugged dismissively, then chewed her lip. “Now what are we going to do to get him away from the army?”
“He can't travel for some time, probably several weeks,” Stephanie replied. “I need someplace safe to hide him while he mends.”
Sabrina chuckled. “I have just the thing—that nasty little ranch Burke bought. It's just outside town, but I'm certain that no one else—except for possibly Phillips—even knows about the place. He had planned for me to have a riding accident on it at some point, while he was here in town. I managed to foil that little scheme,” she added with a grin of satisfaction. “Let me send for Stokley. He'll see to all the details. Then I'm off to the bright lights of San Francisco with all Burke's lovely money to spend!”