Beyond The Horizon

by Connie Mason

  “Why have you brought Little Firebird to my camp?” He knew but wanted to hear it from Clive’s lips. Mad Wolf felt nothing but contempt for the trader, aware that a greedy man like Clive Bailey would betray his own mother if the price was right.

  “I thought you wanted her,” Clive answered, licking his lips nervously. Indians made him edgy, especially renegades like Mad Wolf. “I went to great trouble to bring Shannon Branigan to you. I expect to be rewarded accordingly.”

  “Have you harmed her?”

  “I haven’t touched her, you can see for yourself she is in perfect condition. You promised me gold if I brought her to you.”

  “We will smoke first, then you will have your gold,” Mad Wolf said haughtily. “Bring the woman.” He turned and entered his tipi, leaving Clive no choice but to follow. Grasping Shannon’s arm, he pulled her after him.

  Blade, I need you! Shannon silently implored. Just thinking Blade’s name gave her a shot of courage. He rescued her once from Mad Wolf, perhaps … But no, Blade was miles from here, helping his grandfather hold their tribe together. He had no way of knowing she needed him. Shannon knew what Mad Wolf planned for her couldn’t be pleasant, but somehow she would survive. Somehow she and Blade would be reunited. But would he still want her after Mad Wolf had defiled her?

  Once inside the tipi, Shannon was shoved rudely to the ground. She felt hands fiddling with her gag and looked up to see Mad Wolf pulling the offending material from her mouth. “Water,” she croaked, desperate to wet her parched throat. The gag hadn’t been removed since she left the fort.

  Mad Wolf grunted, handing her a skin pouch holding water. She raised it to her lips and drank greedily. When she had drank her fill she set the pouch down and faced Mad Wolf squarely. “I won’t stay here. This—this slimy toad can’t sell me. He doesn’t own me, no one owns me.”

  “Quiet, woman, or I will bind your mouth again.” Then he promptly ignored Shannon as he regarded Clive Bailey through shrewd black eyes.

  “What is your price for the woman, Trader?”

  Never had Shannon felt so degraded as when they discussed her attributes in terms that made her cheeks flame. After several minutes they struck a bargain, settling on a sum that brought a gasp to Shannon’s lips. Where would Mad Wolf get so much gold? She was stunned beyond words when Bailey boldly asserted, “I want the woman one time before I sell her to you. It’s part of the deal. Either I have her or no deal.”

  Mad Wolf’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I could kill you here and now and keep both Little Firebird and the gold.”

  “But you won’t,” Clive stated smugly. “Who will supply you with guns if I’m dead? By now you should be low on ammunition. I have plenty at my store.”

  Mad Wolfs hardened features showed none of the utter contempt and hatred he felt for Bailey. He’d kill him in a flash if he didn’t need what the trader could give him. As for Little Firebird, he no longer wished to make her his wife. She had scorned him, a great warrior, and bedded a half-breed instead. He still wanted her; just looking at her swelled his loins with lust. He’d have Little Firebird, oh yes—as his whore. And this time he’d share her with his friends. The trader wanted her too. And unless Mad Wolf wished to halt the supply of arms and ammunition at a time when they were essential to their survival, he must grant the trader’s request, though it galled him to do so.

  “You may have Little Firebird, trader, for one night,” Mad Wolf conceded grudgingly. “Then she is ours.”

  “No!” Shannon howled, rage rendering her incautious as she surged to her feet and charged a thoroughly startled Mad Wolf.

  The Indian’s reaction was swift and vicious as he raised his arm and backhanded Shannon, putting his considerable strength behind the blow. Shannon went flying. Dazed and hurt, she lay in a limp heap against the tipi wall.

  Abruptly Mad Wolf stood. “Come,” he said to Bailey, who stared at Shannon as if he wanted to fall on her immediately and ravish her. “First we will drink white man’s whiskey, then you can have your fill of the woman.”

  “But I want her now,” Bailey whined, rubbing his swollen crotch in an obscene manner. “I don’t know if I can wait.”

  “White men! Pah!” Mad Wolf snorted derisively. “You are all weak, sniveling creatures with no restraint, no willpower. We will drink first, then we will all have the woman. Come, the whiskey is good. It was taken during our last raid.”

  Bailey knew better than to argue. Eventually he’d have Shannon; it cost him little to humor Mad Wolf. Slanting Shannon a glance ripe with salacious promise, he followed the renegade from the tipi.

  Reeling dizzily, Shannon knew her time was growing short. After Bailey used her, Mad Wolf and his friends would defile her body, perhaps even kill her if she resisted. Blade! Blade! she cried out in silent supplication. Nothing they do to me will change the way I feel about you.

  While Shannon cringed in terror inside the tipi, Mad Wolf and his warriors sat in a circle passing bottles of whiskey back and forth and getting drunk. Even Bailey felt tipsy, but not too inebriated to forget about the woman waiting for him inside the tipi. Suddenly he reeled to his feet. “Enough!” His face was set in determination, his voice harsh with impatience. “I want the woman and I want her now.” He staggered toward the tipi, noting with satisfaction that Mad Wolf made no move to stop him.

  Mad Wolf merely grunted in response, too sated with whiskey to care. Soon Little Firebird would be at the complete disposal of him and his warriors. What did it matter when the trader took her?

  With a careless wave of his hand, Bailey dismissed the guard Mad Wolf had placed in front of the tipi and entered, closing the flap behind him.

  “Don’t touch me, you vile bastard!” Shannon spat as Bailey stalked her. “Blade will kill you for this.”

  “Swift Blade! Bah! I should have known that savage couldn’t keep his filthy hands off you. You let him poke you and here I thought you were so damn innocent. Now you’ll find out how it feels to have a real man between your legs.”

  “I’m not going to make it easy for you,” Shannon warned, preparing for the fight of her life.

  “That’s just the way I like it,” Bailey responded, grinning viciously as he removed the rope from his belt and walked slowly toward her.

  “Do you see either Bailey or Shannon?” Major Vance hissed in a low voice.

  Due entirely to Blade’s expert tracking, the patrol found Mad Wolfs encampment. It was cleverly located in a tall stand of cottonwood trees beside a bubbling creek below a ridge of rolling hills. It came as no surprise when Bailey’s tracks led them directly to Mad Wolfs camp. Blade, Vance, and the patrol were huddled behind one of the ridges above the encampment, looking down on the renegades and circle of tipis.

  “No, but one of the horses tethered with the Indian ponies is shod,” Blade whispered in response. “We can only assume that Bailey is here somewhere, perhaps in one of the tipis.”

  They exchanged uneasy glances, both aware of what that statement meant in regard to Shannon but neither willing to give voice to their fears.

  “They’re drunk,” Vance observed, nodding toward the Indians below.

  “You’re right, Wade,” Blade concurred. “They’re probably drinking whiskey stolen from wagon trains they raided. Signal your men. We won’t find a better time to attack. I owe that bastard, and if he’s harmed Shannon, I’ll—”

  Suddenly a piercing scream rent the air. Blade spat out an oath, his face grim, his eyes wild with fear.

  The Indians merely laughed among themselves, exchanging knowing leers as they glanced toward the tipi that Bailey had just entered. Blade surged to his feet. Nothing or no one could stop him now.

  “I’m going in.”

  Vance was close on Blade’s heels, signaling his men to follow. Lieutenant Goodman was only a few steps behind. Mad Wolf and his renegades never had a chance. Seated around the campfire, they had consumed large quantities of whiskey and lolled about in a drunken stupor when the so
ldiers came howling down from the surrounding hills.

  Those Indians who were sober enough to defend themselves made a valiant effort to counter the attack, but the outcome was inevitable. Blade didn’t linger to see the Indians cut down by the patrol or Mad Wolf fall victim to Wade Vance’s bullet. He fought his way from tipi to tipi, looking for Shannon, thrusting himself inside one tipi after another, then out again when he didn’t find her, praying he’d get to her in time.

  Shannon heard the commotion outside but was too occupied with fending off Bailey’s drunken attack to think about what it meant. Bailey had finally subdued her, throwing her to the ground and falling heavily atop her. Unfortunately, she hit her head when she fell and was knocked senseless. She had no idea that Bailey tied her hands together in front of her, raised her skirt to her waist and shoved his trousers down below his hips. Nor did she see or hear the man who slipped silently through the tent’s opening and tore Bailey off of her seconds before he thrust himself inside her.

  “What! You!” Bailey gasped, eyeing the rifle pointed at him with misgiving. “What are you doing here?”

  “The government is on to you, Bailey,” the man hissed. “I can’t let you be taken alive and spill your guts about me. I don’t trust you.”

  “No, I swear—”

  The man pulled the trigger. Bailey spun around, dead before he hit the ground. The killer then turned his sights on Shannon, who was just beginning to regain her senses. He was astute enough to realize that he couldn’t allow her to live and tell the authorities about him. Even though she didn’t know his identity, it would only be a matter of time before she figured it out. But before he could squeeze the trigger, Blade threw open the flap of the tipi. Bailey’s killer dove for the back of the tent, scooting beneath the buffalo hide and into the open just as Blade burst inside.

  Adjusting his eyes to the dimness, Blade spied Clive Bailey sprawled on the ground. His trousers were shoved down past his hips and it took little imagination to realize what he had been doing. A large hole punctured Bailey’s chest, and he was apparently dead. Then Blade’s eyes fell on Shannon. Quickly he knelt beside her, his face a mask of agony as he flipped her skirt down over her legs. Shannon moaned, thick layers of cotton slowly peeling away from her fuzzy brain.

  “Shannon! Little Firebird, please be all right.” He gathered her in his arms, rocking her back and forth as he crooned in her ear. “If Bailey wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him all over again.”

  Shannon’s dream was so delicious, she resisted opening her eyes. Strong, tender arms held her—Blade’s arms. She smelled his special scent, inhaled his clean, woodsy aroma. She heard his voice—low, vibrant, tender, coaxing. Never had a dream seemed so real. When he brushed her lips with his, Shannon knew she wasn’t dreaming.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Blade? I—I thought I was dreaming. Is it really you?”

  “It is me, Little Firebird.”

  “How is it you always arrive in time? How did you know where to find me?”

  “I met the search party on my way to the fort,” Blade explained. “Major Vance told me everything. We both suspected Bailey immediately. Fortunately I picked up his tracks and followed them here to Mad Wolfs camp.”

  “Clive Bailey intended to sell me to Mad Wolf,” Shannon revealed.

  “Why? What did you do to arouse his suspicion? I could have sworn he had no idea we were on to him.”

  “Is everything all right in here?” Major Vance entered the tipi, paused a moment before Bailey’s body, then said, “Did you kill Bailey, Blade?”

  “No,” Blade replied. “I wish to God I had been the one.

  “Perhaps Shannon—”

  “Bailey is dead?” Shannon said, shocked. She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture and only then did Blade realize she was bound.

  “The bastard,” he ground out, making short work of the ropes. “Shannon couldn’t have shot Bailey, she was unconscious and bound when I arrived. But I’m almost positive there was someone else inside the tipi. He crawled out the back beneath the buffalo hide just as I burst inside.”

  “Who was it?” Vance asked sharply.

  “Damned if I know,” Blade shrugged, helping Shannon to her feet. He was more concerned about Shannon than he was with Clive Bailey. “Are you hurt, Shannon? Did they …”

  “I’m fine, Blade,” Shannon assured him somewhat shakily. “Except for the lump on my head. Whoever killed Bailey arrived in time to—to stop him from hurting me. Do you have any idea who it could have been?”

  “I haven’t a clue.”

  “If one of my men is responsible for Bailey’s death, I’ll find out soon enough,” Vance said. “The fighting is over and things are well in hand. A few of the renegades survived, and I’m taking them back to the fort. I’ve already set men to digging graves.”

  “Mad Wolf?” Blade asked, his voice tense.

  “Dead,” Vance replied. “Killed him myself. Bring Shannon out when she is ready.” He turned to leave.

  Suddenly Shannon thought of something. “Major, wait! There is something you and Blade should know.”

  “You don’t have to talk about it now, Shannon,” Vance said gently. No one could ever doubt Shannon’s courage.

  “I have to tell you now,” Shannon insisted, quietly determined. Both men regarded her with keen attention. “Clive Bailey had a partner.”

  “We know,” Vance smiled indulgently. “That big Swede who was killed by Mad Wolf.”

  “No, someone else.”

  Now she really had both men’s undivided attention. “My God, Shannon, who?” This from Blade who appeared stunned by her disclosure.

  “I never saw his face,” Shannon told him, “nor did I recognize his voice. He disguised it. But believe me, there is another man. I wouldn’t be in this predicament if I hadn’t learned of it by accident.”

  “Tell me about it,” Vance said earnestly.

  Taking a deep breath, Shannon told them everything, exactly as she remembered it.

  “Damnation, that man could be with us now, a part of the patrol. It certainly would explain Bailey’s mysterious death,” Vance surmised. “The man probably thought Bailey would talk in order to save his own skin and made short work of him.”

  “Jesus, he could have killed Shannon!” Blade exploded. Raw fear contorted his features.

  “Sir, the men have buried the dead and await your orders.”

  Lieutenant Goodman stuck his head through the tent flap, spied Shannon, and came the rest of the way inside. “Is Miss Branigan all right?”

  Blade’s dark eyes blazed with hatred when he saw Lieutenant Goodman. If not for that bloodthirsty Indian-hater, his sweet mother would still be alive and his grandfather in good health. But wisely he realized this was not the best time to confront the slimy bastard. As sure as he breathed, Blade knew that one day Goodman would pay for his evil deeds.

  “Miss Branigan is fine, Lieutenant. We’re almost ready to leave. There is another body to bury.” He motioned to Clive Bailey. “See to it.”

  Goodman looked with distaste at Bailey’s stiffening body. “He got exactly what he deserved.” Then grasping him by the heels he dragged him from the tipi. Major Vance followed him out.

  “Can you ride, Little Firebird?” Blade asked, concern coloring his words. Shannon looked shaken and pale and on the verge of collapse.

  “Do we have to leave tonight, Blade? I’m exhausted.”

  “I’m fairly certain Wade will make camp tonight before returning to the fort tomorrow. The men have been riding hard all day. Wait here while I find out his plans.”

  A short time later Blade returned. “Wade ordered the patrol to camp a mile or two down the trail. I told him you were too exhausted to travel and that we’d stay in Mad Wolf’s lodge tonight. We’ll catch up with the patrol in the morning.”

  “What will the men think, you and me alone here?”

  “We won’t be alone,” Blade smiled. “Wade put Goodman in charge of the p
atrol and told the men he will remain behind to protect you. No one need ever know we will be sharing the tipi.”

  “But won’t Major Vance think—”

  “Wade knows how I feel about you, but if you’d feel more comfortable alone …”

  “No, I want you with me tonight!” Shannon cried. She never wanted to be without Blade again. “I love you, I don’t care what anyone thinks. I need you, Blade, don’t leave me alone.”

  “Never again, love. I’ll always be with you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  After a hastily prepared meal, Shannon sat beside the campfire with Blade and Major Vance discussing Clive Bailey and speculating on the identity of his partner. Vance revealed that none of the men in the patrol had admitted to entering the tipi and killing Bailey, a clear indication that Bailey’s unknown partner was running scared and had killed Bailey in order to silence him.

  Once they had exhausted the subject, Vance tactfully excused himself and disappeared into another tipi a short distance away. Blade took Shannon’s hand and led her inside Mad Wolf’s lodge. Earlier he had built a fire to keep them warm and laid down a thick mat of buffalo robes for their bed.

  Inside the tipi, firelight eased the dark shadows, dispelling the gloom and distasteful memories. With Blade beside her, the tipi seemed almost cozy now, its welcoming warmth and Blade’s presence suffusing her with a rosy glow. Shannon knew Blade was going to make love to her tonight, and God knew she wanted it, yet an unexpected shyness brought a rosy flush to her cheeks.

  “Little Firebird, you look exhausted. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. I should leave you to your rest.”

  Her porcelain paleness, the violet circles around her eyes, and her fragile beauty caused Blade to have second thoughts about his plans for the night. He cursed himself for being a selfish bastard and thinking only of personal gratification at a time when Shannon needed his loving the least. Whenever he was near Shannon he could think of nothing but how much he loved her, how desperately he wanted and needed her. It had been so long—too damn long.