Texas Heat

by Holly Castillo

  “Chief, I have proven my strength to you, and I know that is something you hold in high regard. May I please leave now to find my people?”

  He shook his head slowly, and the long, feathered war headdress he wore jingled from bells and other trinkets that had been tied to it. “You are with your people now. You will come with us.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Serena swallowed hard, trying her best to regain her composure and not show him she was in pain and absolutely terrified by what he had just said. “No. I must graciously refuse your offer.”

  For the very first time, the chief laughed. “That is no offer. That is fact. You are with us now.”

  The two warriors advanced on her and, once again, she braced herself and held her spear tight. She could take out one. But two at the same time? That was virtually impossible. But she wasn’t about to give up.

  The first warrior circled around her back while the second came around her front, pinning her in. She called upon all of her senses and she could hear the one behind her starting to walk up to her, while his partner danced around in front of her, trying to distract her. But as soon as he was close enough, she slammed the stake backwards, driving the flat, wooden end directly into his sternum.

  But she had left herself exposed, and a strong fist struck her lower right side, then did the same on the left side. She gasped for air and turned with the blade, but the large Comanche warrior yanked the staff away from her and broke it in half over his leg. She put up her arms to defend herself, but there was no defense against an infuriated warrior. She had just maimed one of his friends. He wanted her to die—she could see it in his eyes.

  He lunged at her and hit her with his entire body, the force lifting her up into the air and she was slammed down hard onto the ground. For the third time in less than thirty minutes, the breath had been knocked from her. She watched the Comanche warrior above her form a fist and drop down towards her.

  She rolled out of the way just in time. The Comanche’s fist slammed into the ground and from the cracking and slight groaning sound of the Indian, she was fairly certain he had broken his hand.

  She moved to pull herself to her feet, but was drawn up short when the Indian suddenly straddled her. His fists began to land blow after blow, even though she tried to block them as much as possible, keeping her arms pulled in close to her side and holding her fists over her face.

  But it wasn’t enough. He continued to pummel her with his fists, his blows landing on her stomach, her breasts, her ribs, and all over her face. Before long she was dazed and could feel the darkness of losing consciousness pulling at her, even though she fought as hard as she could.

  She raked her hands down his face and he grunted as her nails dug into his skin, tearing his flesh. The next hit was even harder than the rest, and it was delivered to the side where she believed she already had a broken rib. She tried not to cry out in pain, but she couldn’t contain the harsh sound from escaping her.

  The warrior suddenly grabbed the broken spear and held the tip at her throat, and Serena realized she was going to die by his hands. She wanted to cry for everything she had missed out on in her life... the chance to tell Trevor she loved him, the chance for her to explore and live a life of adventure.

  Now... now she would never experience any of that excitement. And, she would never be able to see if Trevor could ever love her the way she loved him. It was all over.

  “Enough!” the chief barked out and, for a moment, it seemed the warrior was going to ignore the order and was going to finish his plan of executing her.

  But slowly, slowly, he backed away from her and stood over her, watching her with hate and also... respect. She had fought valiantly and to the Comanche, that meant something. She struggled to sit up, but pain shot through her side and she collapsed back to the ground. The sky was swirling above her, and the next thing she saw was the large Comanche, leaning over her.

  This is it. They’re going to kill me now. Yet, instead, the Comanche picked her up and carried her with him to his horse. Another warrior held her as the Comanche mounted his horse and she was passed up to him. He held her with a tenderness she hadn’t expected. She tried to focus her eyes on him, but couldn’t. The darkness won.

  Trevor was having a hard time thinking about anything other than Serena. She could be anywhere, or she could be on the very path they were following—the path of the Comanche. He didn’t know which frightened him more.

  Just below his fear for Serena’s safety was his overwhelming anger. His father’s killer had taken her. His rangers were on high alert to find this man, and they had direct orders to bring him to Trevor as soon as they found him. But, with well over one hundred men in the militia, finding him was going to be difficult—that was, if he was even still there. He might have fled after taking Serena and getting his money from the Comanche when they bought her.

  His horse pranced uneasily, bobbing his head with eagerness to take off and run. The stallion was feeling the same as Trevor. The need to run until he found Serena. The need to fight, to kill, to do whatever was necessary to find and save Serena.

  His mind ran back to the last conversation they’d had and cringed. It had been less than cordial, and she had shown him how his previous comments had hurt her. He had been treating her as if she didn’t know anything about war, anything about death or the hardships she would face. But she had already seen it all in her own hometown.

  He should have done more for her when Stalking Wolf had died. Instead, he had let her pull into her shell and grieve alone. After her tortured sobbing upon seeing his dead body, she hadn’t shed another tear. She had lost all emotion and was cold—aloof.

  He should have held her, comforted her, made her talk through her grief instead of suffer through it on her own. And when she came to him to thank him for his patience with her, he could have been more caring. He could have done more.

  When his ranger arrived with information on his father’s killer, he hadn’t even noticed that she had left him. He didn’t want that to be her last memories of him. He couldn’t let that be the last memories of him, because he intended on making many more memories with her.

  He was a drifter, running on his own all the time. His farm was his sanctuary. It was where he could go for solitude. But when he held Serena in his arms, he felt like he was already home. And he didn’t want to lose that feeling. He needed Serena.

  His second-in-command, Logan, rode up alongside him. Trevor nodded to him, but didn’t want him to see how anxious he was for a report.

  “There are a lot of rumors going around, but only a few sound plausible. The first is that Serena ran away on her own. You and I both know that one is false. The second one is that the Indians invaded overnight and chose to pick just Serena to abduct. And the third, which belongs to me and the other rangers, is that she was taken by your enemy.

  “We’ve hunted through the ranks but haven’t seen him based on your description.”

  Trevor shook his head and tightened his grip on the reigns, then slowly let them relax. “It’s hard to recall exactly what he looked like twenty years ago. But the scar over his eye... that’s one of his features I’ll never forget.”

  “And with all of the men wearing hats low over their eyes because of the sun, it is nearly impossible for us to tell if he is still with us.”

  “What does your gut tell you?” Trevor asked, his eyes watching the path ahead of them closely.

  “My gut says he is in hiding. I think he’s riding nearby, but isn’t with the militia. I believe he has other reasons for being here.”

  “Whatever those reasons are, they weren’t apparent when we first started this journey. In fact, I still don’t think he knows who I am. He just knows the rangers are looking for a man, and he has done plenty of things wrong in his life, which caused him to retaliate against me.” Trevor frowned deeply. “What could be his motives, though?”

  “Maybe he’s like many that we know and is just hung
ry to kill some Comanche.”

  Trevor shook his head. “It doesn’t strike me as the way this man thinks. Going on this journey with us puts his own life in danger. The cowardly man who killed my father would piss his pants if he thought there was ever danger to his own life.”

  Logan rode alongside Trevor in silence for several minutes.

  Finally, scratching his ear, he squinted over at Trevor. “You know... you’ve never told us how your father was killed, or why. We would all follow you to the pits of hell and back if that’s what it takes to catch this guy. And if you don’t want to tell us—”

  “No.” Trevor spoke over him. “You and the other rangers have every right to hear what happened and why it destroys me that this man is still alive today.” Trevor took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and his skittish horse. “My mother died when I was young. I remember her face, I remember how she smelled, I remember her hugs. But that’s about all. Someone told me once I was about five when she passed from some sickness that claimed a lot of the settlers. My father became everything to me.”

  Trevor shook his head at himself and chuckled. “He was a sheriff in that small town, and I remember how he told me it was incredibly important to take care of the people. He said that was why laws were made—to protect the people. I was so proud of him. He took me to work with him most days, and I would sit in that small jailhouse, up underneath his desk, playing as if I was the sheriff.”

  Trevor’s face darkened as other memories pressed in on him. “I was underneath that desk the night it all went wrong. Usually, he was only having to deal with some drunks from the saloon. But that night, things were different. A professional gambler had come into town. But the buddy he brought along to help him was a professional cheat. They had an entire system worked out. But the men in town were quite observant. It didn’t take long for them to realize who was playing who, and a fight broke out.

  “My father broke it up. And when he checked the stories out, he had no choice but to arrest both of the men. But the cheat threw a good punch, drew his guns on any man that tried to make a move on him and then made his escape. So my father brought the gambler to the jail. I ducked under the desk just before they came in, but I got a good, solid look at the man. He was dressed so distinguished I wanted to stare longer. I wanted to know someone that had enough money to have the fancy clothes he wore.

  “As my father headed towards the only jail cell, I watched from the floor where I had flattened myself so I could see everything under the desk. But somehow the gambler got my father’s gun away from him. My father almost regained it, but the gambler kicked it away from him. That was when he pulled out a knife. They struggled for a while, and I knew that my father would beat him. There was no other way for it to go. But the gambler was good with his knife. He stabbed my father with such force I could actually hear the blade stabbing his body. I hear it in my dreams to this day. By the way my father lunged at that man, I thought he had somehow shaken off the stabbing and was going to defeat the gambler. But then my father kept moving, sliding to the floor. He stretched his hand out to me, but I was too scared. I heard the spurs of the gambler leaving the room. When I was finally able to touch my father’s hand it was beginning to grow cold.”

  Logan hadn’t looked at him the entire time he’d been talking. After Trevor had fallen silent for several minutes Logan nodded solemnly. “We’ll catch him, sir. And we’ll get your girl back.” Without any further words he rode back into the line of militia and left Trevor to his thoughts.

  Something small and jagged was hitting her in the face. Over and over and over again. She flinched, but when she pulled her head back the throbbing ache behind the eye sockets nearly took her down again.

  Breathing deeply through her nose, she slowly cracked her eyes open just as another shower of small, jagged pebbles struck her face. With extreme determination and sheer stubbornness, she was able to lift her head upright, and she suddenly realized she was strapped to two large pieces of wood, forming a cross that allowed her to barely touch her feet to the ground to provide some welcome relief to the strain on her limbs.

  But the rocks wouldn’t let up, and neither did the incessant, bitter words being hurled at her. Squinting against the sunlight and the pounding in her head, she saw several Comanche squaws circling her, pausing ever few moments to grab more of the tiny, sharp stones off the ground to hurl at her naked body.

  Being naked didn’t bother her. She had expected to be in far worse condition at this point. She wondered how long she had been unconscious. The sky was already beginning to turn dark as nighttime descended.

  She could tell she hadn’t been raped, and she wondered briefly why she hadn’t been killed. It was normal for the Comanche to strip their victims for humiliation purposes. The women’s insults were becoming like a litany in her head, and she tried to sort out the words to understand what they were saying.

  “Filth!”

  “Beast!”

  “Weakling!”

  “Coward!”

  “Useless!”

  “Disgusting!”

  And somehow, throughout all of that name calling, they would all say one after the other, “You are not worthy. You are not strong enough. You are not worthy!”

  Not worthy of what? Getting the crap beat out of her by a bunch of women while she was tied, unable to defend herself? “You are the cowards!” She spat at them, and their dance around her slowly came to a standstill.

  All of the women around her pressed in on her.

  “What did you say, little brown one? Little, disgusting, worthless brown one?” One of the Comanche women spoke, and Serena slowly turned her head until she could see her. Blood dripped down her eyelashes and she blinked it away.

  “You are the coward,” Serena said forcefully, glaring at the older squaw who addressed her. “You throw rocks at me when I cannot be free to knock you down. You fight like a child.” With her heart pounding in her chest, Serena deliberately looked away from the woman, demonstrating that she was dismissing her as she would someone of a lower stature than her.

  The woman’s low growl of rage warned Serena to duck her head as the squaw launched herself at Serena, her nails scraping down her cheeks and breasts. The other women joined in, kicking her and punching her, even pulling on her hair.

  Serena was afraid she was going to throw up. The pain was so torturous, and they continued hammering at her. But she couldn’t show a sign of weakness. She couldn’t let any of them know how terrified she was. When the black void began to open under her again, she fought it desperately, not knowing what she would awake to the next time. Her hands were working frantically with her bonds, and her already rough cuts from the previous bonds reopened, and the blood seemed to only make the ropes tighter, instead of making it slick and easy for her to slide her hands free.

  “Enough!” The loud bellow made Serena jump, and the squaws backed away from her quickly. She lifted her head again and straightened as tall as she could, even though it felt as if every inch of her body was one giant bruise. To her horror and curiosity, the large warrior from earlier approached her, his eyes raking her body.

  He went directly up to her, standing so closely, if she took a deep breath her breasts would touch his chest. She kept her breaths shallow. A slow, very male smile spread across his face and she pulled all the moisture she could from her mouth and spit in his face.

  The smile vanished quickly, and he wiped his hand down his face, then cracked her across the cheek with his open palm. The black hole opened up and swallowed her completely.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The scouts that trailed them to be sure they weren’t being followed returned at a hard gallop and Trevor signaled for the militia to stop. They had seen them coming from a distance and he already had men in the few sparse trees they had around them just in case it wasn’t their scouts that were riding so fast towards them.

  But upon seeing that it was friend rather than foe, he signaled for them
to exit and rejoin the rest. The riders were grinning, which gave Trevor hope. Had they found Serena? She’d been gone from them for nearly two days if he counted the night of her disappearance. The Comanche rarely let their victims live more than a day, if that.

  “Another militia regiment marches this way from the north. Looks like they may be from out of Austin.”

  Trevor was conflicted with disappointment that they weren’t returning with news about Serena, and relief that they had finally met up with more men. “How far off are they?”

  “Just a few hours to our northwest.”

  “About how many did it look like were in the group?” Trevor questioned, trying to hide how eager he was to rendezvous with them so he could focus more of his time and efforts searching for Serena.

  “Appears to be ’bout two hundred of ’em, sir,” one of the men answered, his drawl hard to recognize.

  Trevor nodded. It was a good size group for them to connect, and their forces would be that much stronger as they continued breathing down the Comanche’s neck. “Ride back and tell them Captain Daniels requests to rendezvous at Arenosa Creek this eve.” He gestured to his men to move out, and his great bay jumped forward at a fast canter. The sooner they all arrived at Arenosa Creek, the sooner he could get to Serena.

  But, for Trevor, it seemed to take forever for evening to arrive. They made it to the creek nearly two hours before sunset, and he spent the next few hours gathering reports from his scouts, his rangers, and those in the militia that he trusted. The Comanche weren’t much further ahead of them. From what he could tell, they were headed towards Victoria, and he prayed to God the town had already evacuated. If not, the casualties could be devastating.

  But as dusk began to fall, he saw the amber liquid of brandy sitting on his table beginning to quiver to the movements in the ground—the movement of something large headed their way. A thousand emotions warred within him. He was excited that there were more men about to join in the already risky pursuit of the Comanche. He was concerned that they might be risking lives for a helpless cause. And then there was the overwhelming desire to get to Serena, to soothe away any pain inflicted upon her, to hold her, to taste her sweet kisses of strawberries and cream, and to be transported into the beauty of her green eyes.