Renegade's Lady

by Bobbi Smith

  "Get down and stay down!" Brand snarled, physically pushing Sheri to the ground.

  "What is it?" she whispered as she heard more shots and screams echoing around them.

  "A raiding party. Don't move!"

  Creeping among the rocks, he tried to position himself to get a shot at the attackers, but they were chasing O'Toole and the others, who had already mounted up and were riding at breakneck speed for the fort.

  "Damn . . ." he muttered, quickly returning to Sheri's side. "We have to get out of here now."

  "What happened? Is Maureen all right?"

  "They managed to get on their horses, but the Indians are chasing them. We've only got a few minutes to hide before they come back for us."

  She looked up then and saw the sun glint off something high in the rocks behind him. "Look out! There! By that rock!"

  He turned and fired, his aim accurate and deadly. The brave who had hoped to pick them off fell mortally wounded.

  "Let's go!"

  Brand grabbed Sheri up and all but threw her on his horse's back.

  "Wait! My bag! Don't forget my bag!"

  He growled something under his breath as he snatched up her bag, then he mounted before her and put his heels to his horse's sides.

  "Hold on and keep quiet!"

  Sheri could do nothing else. She was all but in shock. She had found the trail! She had discovered the presence of the Indians before Brand. She would have trembled, but she was hanging on to him too tightly.

  Brand turned his horse in the opposite direction from the fort and charged as quickly as he could down the craggy hillside. He didn't know how the others were doing, but he would worry about that later. Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting Sheri someplace safe. There was a deep, partially hidden cave several miles farther down the canyon, halfway up a nearly sheer mountainside. If they could get there, he knew he could protect her.

  Guiding his horse with a trained hand, he maneuvered carefully across the rocky terrain. The distant sound of shots kept coming to them, and he hoped O'Toole and the others were faring well. They'd been taken by surprise, but had at least had enough time to mount up and ride. It was a long trek back to the fort, but he doubted the raiding party would give chase the entire way. Once O'Toole found a place to fight back, he'd do it. He was not a man who gave up without a fight. Brand just hoped no one had been seriously wounded.

  "Where are we going?" Sheri asked long minutes into their flight.

  "There's a cave a mile or so up ahead. If we can get there, we'll be safe."

  She nodded against his back and hung on, her arms wrapped tightly about his waist, her cheek pressed to his back. She could feel the power and the tension in him. This was no game. This was a life-or-death run to safety. Oddly, though, she truly believed that she would be all right. Brand was taking care of her. Certainly, if she had to be trapped by the Apache out in the middle of nowhere with any man in the world, she would have picked Brand hands down. She closed her eyes and tightened her grip on the solid strength of him.

  Brand concentrated only on reaching the haven. The feel of her pressed so tightly against him, her breasts against his back, would have aroused other feelings in him had the circumstances been different, but right now there was time only to think about surviving. He had his rifle, canteen, and enough ammunition to hold off the renegades for a day or two, but after that it would be difficult to say how long they could hold out. He only hoped that he managed to lose them, heading through the canyon with its rocky floor. One way or the other, he was going to be alone with Sheri for some time. The prospect was troubling, but more troubling was the thought of her being shot or taken captive.

  Brand felt mortified that he hadn't seen the tracks. Sheri had been the one who'd found them. Her perception and quick learning impressed him even as he guided their mount toward the cave. Because of her, they'd had at least that one moment of warning before the first shots had been fired. She had listened to his earlier instruction in tracking and she had learned from it. Much as he wanted to deny it, his estimation of her rose even higher.

  The last thing he wanted was any involvement with her. The whole point of this trek had been to show her the countryside, give her a taste of what a scout was like and then send her back East innocent, happy, and smiling. It wasn't working out that way, though, and he doubted things would ever be the same. Soon, she would learn the truth of terror. She would see what it was like to live in the wilds. To fight the elements and the Indians, to survive by one's wits and little else. He hoped she was woman enough for it.

  Somehow, he already knew she was.

  And that troubled him.

  "It's there," he said to her after a long silence.

  Sheri had been thinking of nothing but holding on and not losing her precarious seat behind him, but at his words she looked up. There, high above her, was the opening to the cave in the rough-hewn rocks. It was virtually invisible unless someone knew where to look for it, and she prayed the Indians who'd ambushed them did not know of its existence.

  "Well be safe here?"

  "As safe as I can make us. They aren't after us yet, so if we can get in there before they return, I should be able to hold them off until help comes."

  "So you think they'll be back?" There was unmistakable fear in her voice.

  "Well know soon enough. Hang on, this is going to be a steep climb."

  Though his mount was weary, it was used to such runs. Under Brand's skillful guidance, the steed carefully picked its way up the mountainside. Though it seemed an eternity to Sheri, they actually reached the cave quickly.

  Brand swung down first, then reached up and helped her down. She rested her hands on his shoulders as he lowered her to the cave floor. When her knees almost buckled beneath her, Brand was forced to hold on to her for a while to make certain her legs would support her.

  "Are you all right?"

  She gave him a quavering smile as she looked up at him. "Just a little frightened, I guess. What can I do to help?"

  Brand looked into the depths of her eyes and saw the fear she was valiantly struggling to control. It made him even more determined to protect her from harm.

  "Just stay down and stay quiet," he ordered harshly. "It won't be dark for hours yet, so we have to keep out of sight. You just find a seat toward the back where it's protected and keep low, while I set the horse loose."

  "You're turning it loose?"

  "If they come after us, I want them to have a false trail to follow."

  "Oh." The idea of being on foot in the mountains intimidated her, but she trusted that Brand knew what he was doing. She nodded and started to go sit down. Then she turned back to him. "Brand?"

  He glanced up at her, thinking something was wrong.

  "Thank you," she said simply.

  Brand stared at her. For the first time since he'd met her, she looked vulnerable. He knew a great urge to go to her and hold her, to reassure her that everything would be all right, but he fought it down. He would not allow himself to feel these things. Never again. The pain when he'd lost Becky had been too terrible. He'd vowed then never to care for another person again. He would not forsake that vow. Sheri was proving too dangerous for his peace of mind. He had to concentrate on getting them out of there. He had no time to be comforting women.

  "It'll be all right."

  "Is there anything I can do?"

  "Just stay out of my way." He deliberately made his words cold, wanting to distance himself from her.

  Sheri heard the change in his tone and recoiled from it. Without another word, she retreated. Judging from his mood, she believed he was blaming her for their predicament. If she hadn't come to the Territory to go on a scout, they wouldn't be trapped in this cave in the middle of the desert, all alone, without any help. Recalling all the resentment he'd shown toward her since she met him, she felt miserable. Somehow, she was going to have to help him, but she didn't know how. The only way she could help right now, was
to do as she was told and watch for the opportunity later to prove her worth to him.

  Brand took up his vigil behind a boulder at the front of the cave. It appeared quiet for as far as he could see, but he knew that could change in the blink of an eye. He checked his rifle and waited. It was going to be a long afternoon.

  The shots had taken O'Toole and the others by surprise, and they had only time enough to throw themselves on their horses and race off. Charles had stopped to help Maureen and, as he had lifted her to safety on her horse's back, a shot had rung out and he had been thrown forward.

  ''Charles!" Maureen had screamed, unable to help herself as she watched crimson blood stain his shirt. She'd started to dismount to help him, but O'Toole had been there, half-carrying, half-dragging Charles to his own horse.

  "Can you ride?"

  "If I can't, we're dead," Charles had ground out from between clenched teeth. "Get me the hell up there. . . ."

  O'Toole had helped him and then they'd been off, racing out across the desert, back the way they'd come.

  "What about Sheri?" Maureen cried out.

  "She's with Brand," O'Toole answered, whipping her horse to an even faster gallop as they tore away from the attackers.

  The renegades gave chase, wildly. O'Toole turned on them and covered for the others as they rode. He was pleased to see that Charles was handling his horse well in spite of his wound. Lieutenant Long was staying with Maureen, but when she was a distance away, he turned back to help O'Toole. Together, they fired heatedly at the attacking renegades.

  It was a bloody exchange. At least four warriors fell before their fire. The Indians regrouped and came at them again, only to be driven back once more. When it had quieted, O'Toole and Long mounted up and followed quickly after Maureen and Charles. They found that they had reined in and dismounted behind a rocky formation that offered protection from the gunfire.

  "I'd always heard the pen was mightier than the sword, but they didn't say anything about guns." Charles tried to laugh, but he could only groan in agony. The bullet had slammed into his shoulder, but had not exited. It would have to be taken out when they reached the fort.

  Maureen tried to staunch the bleeding by using her handkerchief, but it did little to stop it.

  "Here," O'Toole growled, taking off his neckerchief and pressing it firmly against his wound. "We've got to get him back to McDowell."

  "Do you think it's safe?" Maureen asked. "What if they come back?"

  "That's what we're here for," Philip said with confidence. "We killed at least four or five of them. I don't know if they'll try again or not."

  "They might," O'Toole said worriedly. "We'd better travel while we can. He needs a doctor. We'll stay close to the rocks and keep moving. It'll be dark before too long, and they rarely attack after sundown."

  Maureen nodded, feeling safe in O'Toole's care. No wonder she'd felt so uncomfortable all day. Who knew how long those Indians had been watching them? "What about Sheri and Brand? Do you think they need our help?"

  O'Toole looked up at her and smiled grimly. "If there's a man alive who can avoid being taken by the Apache, it's Brand. If there's any way out for them, he'll find it. My guess is, they might beat us back to the fort."

  Maureen wanted to believe him. "I hope you're right."

  "Let's get moving. The quicker we get him back, the better." He shared a concerned look with the lieutenant, and they helped Charles back on his horse.

  "Are you going to be able to handle this?"

  White-faced with pain, Charles nodded. He didn't argue as O'Toole took his reins to lead his horse.

  "All right. We'll keep you between us, just in case. Hold on."

  It seemed the ride back to McDowell would take forever, and Maureen wondered if they'd ever reach the fort. The terror she'd felt on the stage coming into Phoenix when they believed they'd been under attack by Indians faded before this true horror. She had just seen men killed and a man wounded. She swallowed against the bile that rose in her throat. She would not disgrace herself or Sheri. She would be brave. She would be strong. She had to beshe had to help Charles.

  Chapter Seven

  Brand, the Half-Breed Scout, or Trail of the Renegade

  Danger

  Threatens Rachel and Mercy had grown numb with the passage of time. There had been no rest for them since they were taken from the stage. Their captors had not physically harmed them yet, but they knew it was just a matter of time.

  "We have to escape," Rachel whispered to Mercy.

  "Escape?" Mercy turned terrified eyes to her. "How can we escape these devils? They are Satan's spawn. . . . They are hell's demons. . . ."

  "Keep your voice down," Rachel cautioned.

  Though she realized the warriors couldn't understand English, she didn't want them to figure out that she was planning something.

  Mercy trembled visibly and tears filled her eyes. "How in heaven did I ever come to this? They're going to kill me. I just know they are."

  "Not if we don't let them!" Rachel hissed. She had been through a lot in her life, and now that she was this close to happiness, she was not going to lose her dream of marrying and having a family! She'd been afraid before, but she'd always found some way to save herself. There had to be a way to escape from the renegades. There had to be. . . .

  Darkness claimed the land, and only then did Brand allow himself to relax his vigil. He had heard shots in the distance, but had not seen any sign that the raiding party was returning for them. Still, he knew better than to believe they were completely out of harm's way. He would watch and wait. By dawn, he would know if it was safe to attempt a return to the fort.

  Brand hoped that O'Toole and the others had managed to get away. All he had for evidence one way or the other was the sound of shots and the memory of Maureen's scream. It didn't look good for them, but he wasn't about to say anything to Sheri. There was no telling how she'd react if she thought her cousin had been killed or taken hostage.

  At the thought of Sheri, Brand glanced back to where she was sitting, still clutching her bag to her breast. She had remained silent just as he'd told her to do, and he was glad. The one thing he hadn't needed was a distraction, and she was definitely that. Hell, if she hadn't been up there talking to him and aggravating him when they stopped for a rest on the scout, they wouldn't be in this fix right now.

  "Are you all right?" he demanded.

  "I'm fine . . . I think," she answered. "Is it safe? Can we leave now?"

  "No, and it won't be until at least morning. Maybe not even then."

  "You mean we're going to have to spend the night here?" For some reason, Sheri had imagined that the renegades would just disappear and that they would return to the fort as they'd originally planned. She'd thought this was just a temporary distraction from their original purpose that could easily be rectified.

  "Yes." His answer was terse. He didn't like the idea of spending the night out here any more than she did.

  "Oh."

  "You sound unhappy about it. I thought this would fit perfectly into your plan." There was an edge of sarcasm to his tone.

  "What plan?"

  "You did say you wanted the scout to be realistic."

  She grimaced. "Not this realistic."

  Brand looked impatient. "You should have thought about that before you insisted on coming."

  "But I overheard you last night talking to the lieutenant. You said this was going to be an easy scout. One day on the trail, just out and back, I believe is the way you put it."

  "You're right. That's exactly what it was supposed to be, and that's what it would have been if you hadn't had me so distracted with all your questions that I missed the trail."

  "If I hadn't distracted you?" she countered, outraged. "I'm the one who found the tracks!" Fire flashed in her eyes, and she forgot all about being afraid. ''Shouldn't you be thanking me for saving you, instead of criticizing me for asking pertinent questions about how you do your job?"

 
; "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have needed 'saving' in the first place!" he roared. "If it wasn't for you, I'd be back at McDowell right now, eating a hot meal and relaxing. I wouldn't be stuck in this cave with you, surrounded by who knows how many Apache looking to take our scalps!"

  They glared at each other, neither giving an inch.

  "You're no hero!" she snapped.

  "I never wanted to be!" he snarled back. "That's your fantasy, not mine, and right now, you'd do well to forget all about it. This isn't a fairy tale. No prince is going to come charging up this hillside on a white horse to rescue you. You are trapped in a cave in the middle of the desert surrounded by bloodthirsty Apache who'd like nothing better than to kill you or take you captive!"

  They stood eye to eye, neither giving an inch. Finally, Brand spoke.

  "Do you know how to use a firearm?"

  "I took some lessons at the hunt club back home. Why?"

  He looked skeptical as he drew his gun and handed it to her. "Well, just in case, here's my pistol. It's loaded, so be careful, and only use it if I'm dead. All right?"

  Her eyes widened at his words. A new, numbing terror began within her. She stared down at the revolver in her hand as she repeated, "If you're dead?"

  "That's what I said."

  "Do you really think we're going to die?" There was a sudden vulnerability in her voice.

  "I think I'd better get back to keeping watch."

  "The Indians truly are nothing but savages, aren't they? To kill for no reason . . ."

  Her generalization stung him as a long-buried memory of his life with his father's people surfaced. "They have a reason," he told her tersely. "They think the white man is stealing what is rightfully theirs. The Indians were here long before any whites showed up."

  "How can you defend them when they're so brutal and vicious?"

  "Have you forgotten that I'm a half-breed?" he asked in a low, almost threatening voice as his expression hardened.

  "But you're not like them," she protested.

  "How can you be so sure?"

  A sudden sense of unease came over Sheri as he took a step toward her. "I just know it."