Each Time We Love

by Shirlee Busbee

  After making certain that it was safe, Micajah approached Savanna. She lost in her own thoughts, it was only when he was at her side, a smug grin on his face, that she became aware of him.

  Before he had time to blink, she was positioned in a low fighting crouch, the sunlight flashing on the blade of the knife she held in her slim hand. Her aquamarine eyes narrowed, she spat, "Dios! What are you doing here?"

  Eyeing the knife, his smile gone, Micajah replied uneasily, "I came to see you. Got something to tell you that you might find interesting."

  Not trusting him, she snapped, "I doubt it."

  "It's about your father, Davalos—he knew of a treasure and he died trying to find it for you."

  Savanna was so astonished by his words that she dropped her guard for a moment, and moving with the speed of a striking snake, Micajah's fist caught her viciously on the chin. Savanna gave a soft little sigh and crumpled to the ground.

  After a swift glance around, Micajah scooped her up and carried her into the concealing swampy brush. When Savanna stirred sometime later, she found herself propped against a tree, bound and gagged, sitting across from a grinning Micajah and a weaselly little man she had never seen before. Swallowing the acrid taste of fear that filled her throat, she fought against her bonds, swearing unintelligibly through the gag.

  Micajah smiled and said agreeably, "That's right, honey, curse all you want to. It don't bother me none. Especially since I can't understand you. But if you want to know what this is all about, I suggest you shut up and listen."

  Savanna was afraid she already had a very good idea what this was all about, but she ceased her futile struggles to free her hands and glared at him.

  With her arms tightly bound behind her, her soft bosom spilled out of the top of the coarse brown gown and Micajah forgot the gold, his fingers itching to touch that pale, warm flesh.

  She was helpless, no one to rescue her.... He took a step forward when Jeremy whined, "Let's get out of here. Someone is certain to notice she's missing and come looking for her."

  Micajah scowled and sent Jeremy a black look, but he nodded and growled, "You're right. Get the horses."

  More terrified than she had ever been in her life, Savanna tried to think coolly. She couldn't let them take her away. She might be bound and gagged, but her feet were free. Scooting upright the second Jeremy disappeared, she bolted in the opposite direction, running and stumbling through the tangled undergrowth.

  Micajah gave a startled yelp and thundered after her. For one wild moment, Savanna thought she might make it, but then Micajah came charging out of nowhere and with a flying leap knocked her to the ground. She fought; her feet and knees flaying desperately, but it was no use, and horrifyingly, all too soon Micajah was lying on top of her, his bulky body wedged between her thighs.

  Grinding his hips against her, he let her know how aroused he was and how very helpless she was against him. A toothy grin on his face, he muttered, "There isn't time for us to finish this right now, but don't you worry, I'll take care of you just as soon as I get rid of Jeremy."

  Jerking her to her feet, he half dragged, half carried her back to where Jeremy was waiting with three horses. Roughly throwing her up onto one of the animals, Micajah tied her feet to the stirrups. He grabbed the reins of her horse and, keeping a firm grip on them, mounted his own animal.

  Savanna remembered little of that terrible ride through the jungle-like growth of the swamps. Her shoulders ached from her arms being tied behind her back, and she was constantly buffeted by vines and low-growing branches as they galloped through the wilderness.

  They rode for hours, and with every passing mile Savanna's spirits sank lower. She'd never get out of this alive. The knowledge that she was at Micajah's mercy made her flesh crawl, and she was almost certain that death would be preferable to succumbing to his advances.

  But when they did finally stop, miles and hours away from Campo de Verde, to her relief Micajah had other things on his mind than taking his pleasure. He dumped her near a half-rotted bald cypress at the edge of a sluggish bayou and proceeded to shackle one ankle to the stump with some old slave irons he kept in his saddlebags. Ignoring her after that, he and Jeremy made camp.

  It was only after all the most immediate chores had been done and a fire was flickering in the darkness, a pot of cornmeal bubbling in the center of the fire, that Micajah seemed to recall her presence. A knife in his hand, he walked over to her and Savanna stared grimly at him, determined not to betray how furious—and frightened—she felt.

  Braced for the worst, she was stunned when Micajah grinned and with one slash cut the gag and the ropes that bound her arms. He did it quickly and danced out of her range just as soon as he had finished.

  The iron shackle around her slender ankle kept her chained to the cypress stump, but after spitting out the gag and shrugging off the ropes, Savanna felt a glimmer of hope—she could at least fight to protect herself now, even if he won in the end. Her hands stung as the blood rushed back to them and she groaned with relief when she was finally able to let her arms hang naturally by her sides.

  Warily she eyed Micajah and her astonishment only increased when he handed her a tin plate of hot cornmeal and dried beef. Suddenly too hungry to plumb his motives, she took the plate and devoured the food.

  Her confidence stirring, Savanna set down her empty plate and demanded, "Don't you think it's time you told me what this is all about?"

  Jeremy and Micajah were sitting nearer the small fire, and after stuffing some food into his mouth, Micajah stared thoughtfully at her. "Like I told you earlier," he finally said, "it's about your father."

  Her puzzlement clear, she asked blankly, "What about my father? He's dead. Dead for ten years or more—everybody knows that."

  "Yeah," Micajah drawled, "but what you and everybody else don't know is that Jeremy here was at his side when he died. Had a very interesting conversation with yore daddy just before he died, did Jeremy."

  Baffled, tired, scared and more than a little impatient, Savanna retorted, "So? Good for Jeremy. But what the hell does it have to do with me?"

  "Well, I know you'll have a hard time believing it, but yore daddy was real worried about you just before he died. Seems he'd been searching for an Aztec treasure all those years—wanted that treasure mighty bad to set you and yore mama up real fine. Wanted you and yore mama to have everything you could wish for—money, fancy clothes, servants, a mansion—everything." Warming to his tale, Micajah went on dreamily. "That's why he wasn't never around for you when you was young—he was searching for this treasure for you and yore mama. Told Jeremy he was gonna marry yore mama once he found that treasure. Said he didn't feel worthy enough to marry her without it. Said Jason Savage murdered him to keep him from finding the treasure and coming back to you."

  If it were possible for someone as lovely as Savanna to gape like a fish, she did so now. Her jaw hanging slack, her eyes glazed, she stared dumbfounded at Micajah. Her first instinct was to reject the tale out of hand, but she suddenly remembered that conversation with her mother the first evening she had arrived at Campo de Verde. Elizabeth had stated clearly that Davalos had believed a man named Jason Savage was his deadliest enemy and that Davalos had been looking for a golden fortune. Elizabeth had dismissed the idea, but could her mother have been wrong? Savanna shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. Was she going to believe Micajah over Elizabeth? She wavered and then her mouth thinned, and with a trifle less vehemence than she would have expressed before she recalled her mother's words, she said, "That's the craziest story I've ever heard. Dios! Are you drunk, or just plain crazy?"

  Micajah sent Jeremy a look and Jeremy gulped and rushed into speech. "It's true! I swear it on my mother's breast! Every word. I found him dying near the Palo Duro Canyon area, and he told me about the treasure and about you and that Jason Savage had murdered him."

  "I didn't believe him at first either," Micajah chimed in. "Thought ten years in a Spanish jail
had addled his wits, but he's convinced me. Told me yore daddy confessed to killing someone named Nolan and hiding a golden armband—said you had it."

  Numbly Savanna stared at Micajah, her thoughts jumbled. The suspicion that her mother had been wrong took hold of her. They were lying... and yet why would they persist in this wild story? Surely not just to get her to go with them. They believed what they were saying. Could there really be a golden armband? But she didn't have it. She'd never heard of it until this very moment. They had to be lying. Fixing them with a look of scorn, she said acidly, "I don't have any damn golden armband! I've never seen it or heard of it."

  Micajah nodded wisely. "Yore daddy told Jeremy that he'd hid it. Told him he hid it so that if something happened to him, you'd find it and you and yore mama would still be taken care of if he wasn't around anymore. Jeremy said all he could talk about as he lay there dying was how much he loved you and yore mama and how much he wanted to set things right."

  "It's all true! Nolan. The golden armband. Happened just the way Micajah says," Jeremy averred piously.

  With an effort Savanna focused her gaze on Jeremy. He still looked like a weasel to her, but there was such an air of truthfulness about him that she faltered. Dios! What if what they said was true. She shook her head again. "I don't believe you," she muttered unhappily. "You're lying!"

  "Now why would he lie?" Micajah asked reasonably. "Don't mean nothing to him."

  There was too much to take in. "All right," Savannah said, "Say it's true—what does it have to do with me?"

  Micajah took another bite of beef and swallowed it before answering. "Well, since yore daddy was planning on coming back and setting everything to rights for you and yore mama, it seems to me that you'd want revenge on the man that stopped him—the man that murdered him before he could make everything right. Jason Savage."

  Helplessly Savanna shook her head a third, trying to make some sense of this whole bizarre situation. "Are you telling me," she finally asked, "that you kidnapped me because you want me to take revenge on Jason Savage?"

  "Not exactly." Micajah's eyes flickered over her and Savanna was suddenly chilled. "You know the reason why I kidnapped you, so don't play coy, darlin'," he said bluntly. "But since it was yore daddy who was tracing the treasure, by rights it should be yore's... and yore mama's, too. And for a large share of it, me and Jeremy are willing to help you find it—and help you take revenge on Jason Savage at the same time."

  "You're mad if you think I'm going to believe that you've become so noble," Savanna snarled, her aquamarine eyes gleaming in the dancing firelight, her red-gold hair flaming like a nimbus around her head.

  "Don't matter," Micajah said equitably. "All you have to believe is that we're going to help you get the treasure and kill Jason Savage."

  "Suppose I don't want to find the treasure or have anything to do with this Jason Savage? What then?"

  "Well, then I guess we'll just have to do it without you—which means yore daddy's treasure will be all mine and yore daddy's killer will go free."

  Despite not being convinced of the truth of what she'd been told, Savanna didn't like the sound of that. If Davalos had found a treasure, by rights she and her mother should have some of it, and if Jason Savage had murdered her father to keep the treasure a secret or steal it, then he should be punished. But joining forces with Murdering Micajah. Dios! It was unthinkable!

  Her chin lifted and she said coldly, "You can have the treasure. Do what you want with Jason Savage. Let me go!"

  Micajah grinned like a shark and shook his head. "Can't do that, darlin'. I've wanted you for too long and now that I've got you I ain't likely to just set you free, not without having first gotten weary of that tender flesh of yore's. Besides, you might know more about the treasure than you're letting on—be stupid to let you go, to follow after us and maybe steal the treasure yoreself."

  Savanna's eyes narrowed. "I'll fight you. I'll make your life so miserable you'll rue the day you ever laid eyes on me. You'll have to watch me every minute, and the moment your back is turned..."

  Unperturbed by her threats, Micajah shook his shaggy head. "Nope, that's not true. You're going to go along with just about anything I say, because if you don't, I'm going to have to start telling yore mama's neighbors the truth about her 'marriage' to Davalos. Going to have to mention about Crow's Nest and that little tavern she ran. Think all her friends and neighbors would find it interesting?"

  Savanna clenched her jaw, her mind racing. Would her mother's friends believe him? Wouldn't they just dismiss his words as a malicious tale told by a vicious, disreputable blackguard? Or would they? Some might. Others might not... did she dare risk it? If her mother's respectable life was ruined, could she live with herself? Her heart sank. For her mother's sake, she had to go along with him. Her mouth set, hatred glittering in the clear aquamarine depths of her eyes, she said coldly, "If I go with you, I'm not going unarmed or in chains. You're going to have to free me and give me back my knife... and you have to swear that you will not lay a finger on me."

  Micajah studied her for several long minutes. He didn't like any of her demands, especially the one about not touching her, but he knew that as long as he kept his distance, she wasn't likely to try to escape, knowing that he would tell of her mother's scandalous past. His gaze moved slowly over her voluptuous form and he sighed. As much as he wanted her, he realized that she would be a dangerous liability if he forced himself on her... before they found the treasure. But after the treasure was found... Hiding the grin that crossed his face, he looked away and considered her other demands. The removal of the chains didn't bother him as much as giving her back the knife—she was quite capable of killing him and returning to Campo de Verde.

  "I swear not to touch you," he said eventually, his dislike of the situation clear. "I'll even take off the irons, but I'm not fool enough to put a weapon in your hand."

  She didn't believe him about not touching her, but she was in no position to argue. She hadn't thought she'd get any concessions from him, and concealing the gleam of fierce satisfaction that leaped to her eyes, she glanced down at the shackle around her ankle and demanded, "Then release me now!"

  As careful as if dealing with a savage wildcat, Micajah approached and warily handed her the key to unlock the irons. Keeping out of her reach, he muttered sourly, "Since we're sort of partners, you can clean up the utensils, and yore bedroll is there, where the horses are tethered—being as you're not chained anymore, you can damn well fetch it yourself."

  Meek as a mouse, Savanna did as she was told, but she kept a cautious outlook for any sudden moves from Micajah. She didn't fear Jeremy; instinct told her that his interest lay solely in the gold and that her body held no charms for him. When she walked over to get her bedroll, the temptation to try to escape was almost overpowering—the horses were so near—

  "I wouldn't try it, if I was you," Micajah said softly from not six feet away. "You make one attempt to get away and the deal is off."

  The chances of succeeding were slim, and promising herself that there would be better opportunities, she shrugged. With the bedroll clutched in her hand, she walked beyond the light of the fire and made her bed as far away from Micajah and Jeremy as she could. After the events of the day and all the astonishing things she had learned, Savanna had been certain she would not be able to sleep, but exhaustion claimed her and she fell asleep almost as soon as she lay down.

  It was Micajah's hand on her arm that woke her when the first misty light of dawn was gliding through the swampy forest. Like a scalded cat, she was on her feet, her hands curled into claws as she faced him. He smiled nastily and said testily, "We're breaking camp—get your gear together."

  They traveled in silence for hours and it was only when they stopped to eat, around midday, that Savanna found out their destination.

  "Jason Savage," Micajah said as he finished off a cup of strong coffee, "lives several days north of here with his wife and children, on his p
lantation, Terre du Coeur. We're going there and we intend to kidnap him and head for the Sabine River. I've already made arrangements to have fresh horses and the supplies we'll need waiting for us at Nacogdoches. Once we're safe, I'll force Savage to tell us how to get to the treasure."

  Savanna's spirits sank lower. Micajah had everything planned and it didn't look as if she were going to be able to escape any time soon. She wasn't certain that she wanted to—the tale of her father's motives and the Aztec gold made an insane sort of logic, and if she allowed herself to believe it, it explained so much and enabled her to think of Davalos with something other than resentment. Reluctantly she admitted that she wanted to believe it.

  She glanced at Micajah. It was unlikely that he was really going to let her share in the gold, but surely, by the time they found it—if there was any gold to be found—she would have been able to concoct some sort of plan of escape. A faint smile curved her lips. And if she was escaping, she might as well take some of the gold with her. Besides, if even half of the tale was true, she was entitled to a share of it. Thinking how much she could accomplish for her mother with a fortune, she closed her mind to further speculation. She would cling to the thought that Davalos had loved them and that he had died trying to find a treasure with which to make a better life for all of them. As for Jason Savage having killed her father... Her smile faded. Elizabeth had come to the wrong conclusions about the gold and about Jason Savage.

  By the time they reached their destination some days later, Savanna had convinced herself that she was doing the right thing. She had even been able to arouse a modicum of hatred for Jason Savage—the bastard who had murdered her father.

  Micajah had been true to his word and had made no overt moves toward her, but she didn't trust him or the expression that sometimes came into his eyes when he looked at her. She didn't rest well at night, fearful of being attacked by him as she slept, and her lack of a weapon was on her mind constantly. But Savanna was a gambler by nature and she couldn't deny that the prospect of finding a fortune in Aztec gold was a powerful lure. Gold her father had died for, she reminded herself when despair leaked into her thoughts, gold that she was entitled to possess.