Wild Is My Heart

by Connie Mason

  More fear than he had ever known accompanied Vern on his headlong flight across the grassy plain. The shot only increased his terror, and he reacted by digging his spurs into his mount’s heaving flanks, caring little that the poor animal had already been driven beyond its endurance. Intuitively Colt knew the valiant beast must be stopped before his heart gave out. Drawing alongside, he snaked out his arm, snatching the reins from Vern’s hands. Both horses shuddered to a halt, Vern protesting vigorously until his panic-stricken mind accepted the fact that it was not Indians pursuing him. At the same time he recognized Colt.

  “What’s your hurry, Logan?” Colt drawled with deceptive calm.

  His breath still ragged in his chest, Vern gulped and replied, “Injuns! A whole damn raid in’ party. Let me go, they’re on my tail.”

  “You’re loco,” Colt returned, looking pointedly in all directions. “What are you doin’ out here?”

  Glancing fearfully behind him, Vern saw nothing but rocks, hills, and trees. Maybe the Indians had given up on him. “They … they were right behind me,” he stuttered, his heart slowing to a steady bounce. “They must have decided the cattle were more important than me.”

  “Cattle?” repeated Colt sharply. “What cattle? Might as well start from the beginnin’, you’re goin’ nowhere till I hear everythin’. Includin’ what happened to Sam.”

  “Later, Andrews,” Vern pleaded, growing desperate. “The Injuns—”

  ‘Talk, Logan. The faster I learn the truth, the sooner you’ll be on your way.”

  Licking his parched lips, Vern explained reluctantly, “The Indians were after the cattle the Crowders stole from ranchers. They were penned up in a canyon back yonder in the hills.”

  “I don’t give a hoot in hell about those red devils, or the cattle. I want to know about Sam. Do the Crowders have her?”

  Vern nodded slowly. “They were holdin’ her for ransom.”

  “Why didn’t I hear about it?”

  “I’m the only one with money enough to ransom her. They knew how I felt about Samantha and demanded ten … ten thousand dollars for her safe return,” he stumbled over the lie. “One of their members led me to their camp where the money was exchanged.”

  Colt eyed Vern narrowly, slowly and pointedly looking all around him. “That’s odd, either Sam has made herself invisible or you lost her somewhere along the way.”

  “That… that’s what I been tryin’ to explain,” Vern muttered nervously. What would the Ranger do when he learned the Injuns had Samantha?

  “I’m waitin’,” Colt ground out, his patience swiftly deserting him. “Where’s Sam?”

  “The … the Injuns took her. The Crowders tied her to a tree and the camp was overrun before … before I could free her.”

  “What! You left her!” roared Colt, shaking with fury. “You yellow-bellied sonofabitch! I’da fought till the Injuns hacked me to pieces. Nothin’ would have made me leave Sam, or any woman, to Comanches. I oughta kill you and rid the world of your slimy presence.”

  Beads of sweat gathered on Vern’s forehead, and after looking into the golden inferno of Colt’s condemning eyes he knew icy fear. In the brief span of a moment his entire life passed before his eyes, certain he was on his way to meet his maker. But the instant Colt might have made him a corpse passed with the approach of riders. Vern tried desperately to escape, but Colt held tightly to the reins of his horse, preventing his flight. Keeping a firm grip on his emotions, Colt watched as Jake, Will, and riders from the Circle H wheeled to a halt.

  “We heard shots, boss,” Jake said anxiously. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Jake,” Colt replied tightly, still grappling with his profound anger.

  “Colt, what about Sam?” Will injected.

  Colt swung his gaze to Will, his expression conveying such pity that Will immediately assumed the worst.

  “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

  “No, not dead, Will, don’t even think it. It’s a long story, but the short of it is that the Crowders had Sam.”

  “Let’s go after them!” Will exclaimed recklessly.

  “It’s not that simple. The Crowders were attacked by Indians and they took Sam, or so Logan says.”

  “What’s Logan got to do with it?” Jake asked.

  “Logan was with the Crowders when it happened. Claims he was there for the purpose of payin’ ransom for Sam’s safe return.”

  “And he stood by and let the Indians take her?” Will cried, his face mottled with rage. “Let me at the yellow polecat, I’ll kill him!”

  Before Colt could react, Will drew his gun and got off two rounds. He was blinded by anger and both shots whizzed harmlessly by Logan’s head, missing by mere inches. “Someone stop that crazy kid!” Vern yelped, ducking.

  Jake sprang into action, wresting the weapon from the enraged youth when he would have squeezed off another round.

  “Let me at him, Jake, the sonofabitch deserves to die!”

  Colt had other plans for Vern Logan and they didn’t include being killed by a green kid. One day Vern and his shifty father would get what was coming to them. Leaving Sam to the Indians would not put Vern in jail, but cattle rustling and illegal manipulation would. Soon he would have enough proof to hang them both. “Let him go!”

  “What! Are you loco?” Will protested violently.

  “Nope, just older and wiser,” Colt said evenly. “Don’t worry, son, I’ll get your sister back.” Vaguely Colt wondered how he would keep his word when he had failed to find his own sister after years of searching.

  “What’re you gonna do, boss?” Jake questioned worriedly.

  “Ride to the Crowder camp and look around. Then decide what to do next.”

  Vern didn’t linger for further discussion. Puzzled by Colt’s decision to let him go and fearing he might change his mind, he spurred his horse, quickly putting distance between him and Colt.

  “Colt!” Will cried in warning.

  “It’s okay, Will, I have other plans for the Logans. Findin’ Sam comes first.”

  The Crowder camp yielded little in the way of clues as to Sam’s whereabouts. Colt found tracks indicating that Indians had raided the camp and driven off the cattle. He saw where they had split up into two groups, each traveling a different route toward Kiowa Territory. The tracks wouldn’t be difficult to follow, Colt surmised, but Sam could be with either group, complicating things.

  “What do you make of it, boss?” Jake asked.

  Suddenly Colt’s eyes found the tree and severed ropes indicating Vern hadn’t lied about Sam being tied up by the Crowders. A string of curses singed Jake’s ears. “This is where Sam was bound to a tree,” he pointed, his eyes two flaming pools of rage. “If they harmed her, I swear I’ll personally gun down every last man ridin’ with the Crowders.”

  Jake examined the ropes carefully, as well as the ground surrounding the tree. He found a scrap of plaid material that matched Sam’s shirt and held it up for Colt’s inspection. If either had a lingering doubt that those ropes had once held Sam, none remained. “It ‘pears like Logan was tellin’ the truth. The Crowders might have had Sam at one time, but the Comanches have her now,” Jake said, a pained expression on his face.

  While Jake and Colt conferred, Will came up to join them. A sob wrenched past his throat when he heard Jake’s sober words. “No! They can’t have her! Colt, do somethin’!”

  Will’s plea struck a responsive chord in Colt’s heart. He had felt exactly the same when his own sister had been taken by Comanches and his parents killed. He hated Indians with a deep abiding emotion.

  “I promised I’d find Sam, son, and I will,” Colt said tightly. “If we split up we’ll more than likely find them before nightfall. Take half the men, Jake, and follow one set of tracks. My group will trail the others. If Sam isn’t with the Comanches you followed, don’t bother with them. We’ll need our strength and numbers to take on the party that does have Sam. Meet back here at dark to compare notes an
d plan our attack. Surprise is on our side. Cattle travel slow, and the Injuns don’t know we’re trackin’ them.”

  Breaking into two groups, they took off in clouds of dust and jangling spurs. No one noticed the single set of tracks separating from the two main parties of Indians and cattle, heading alone into the hills.

  “Sam’s not with them,” Will hissed hoarsely. “I don’t see her anywhere.”

  “Just our damn luck,” spat Colt disgustedly.

  Perched in the rocks high above the narrow gorge into which the cattle had been herded, Colt and his men scrutinized the valley below. Several Indians dressed only in breechclouts and leggings, their bronzed torsos glistening in the setting sun, faces streaked with paint, crouched in the dirt talking in low voices.

  “That’s them all right,” one of the cowboys said beneath his breath. “Comanche. I’d recognize them red bastards anywhere. Where do you reckon they’re takin’ the cattle?”

  “My guess is Kiowa Territory,” Colt replied. “They make their summer camp with their Kiowa brothers.”

  “How do you know so much about Indians?” Will questioned.

  “I’ve spent years trackin’ them and lookin’ for my sister,” Colt revealed, a pained expression darkening his features. “I traveled from village to village as far north as Colorado and even learned their language in an effort to find Laura. But it was like she disappeared into thin air.”

  “I… I didn’t know,” Will stammered, embarrassed. He was stunned to learn that they both had lost a beloved sister to the Indians. “Did you ever find her?”

  “Nope. Someday I’ll tell you all about it, Will,” Colt promised, “when Sam is with us to hear the tale.”

  “Let’s get the murderin’ thieves,” Will urged, his gun slipping easily into his hand.

  “I have reason to hate the Comanche more than any man alive,” Colt said through clenched teeth, “but we can’t spare the time. If Sam is not with this group she’s bound to be with the other. We have to find Jake and figure out how to get Sam back before they reach Kiowa Territory.”

  Suddenly a commotion at the entrance of the gorge captured their attention. From out of a cloud of dust rode several Indians driving a dozen or so head of cattle to join the others. Evidently this was the meeting place agreed upon ahead of time by the raiding party. Anxiously Colt studied each rider, hoping to recognize Sam’s beloved face.

  “Sam’s not with them, boss.” Colt started violently, turning to find Jake crouching beside him. “I reckoned I’d find you somewhere up here when I saw this was some kind of meetin’ place.”

  “Sam has to be with the Indians you followed,” thundered Colt.

  “Look closely, boss, there’s nothin’ but Comanches down there. I figured Sam was with those you followed till I got here and found out different. I told the boys to spread out, that you’d be holed up here someplace.”

  Darkness was only a breath away but Jake could see clearly the agony and desperation on Colt’s expressive face. No longer could he doubt Colt’s feelings where Sam was concerned. Somehow the feisty filly had penetrated Colt’s thick skin and found a home in his heart whether he realized it or not.

  “Christ, they tricked us!” Colt spat, tight-lipped with disgust.

  “What now?” Will asked worriedly.

  “’Pears Sam was taken directly to their village,” Colt said thoughtfully. “Won’t do no good trailin’ these cattle thieves. Take the boys and go on home, Jake.”

  “Home!” croaked Will, aghast. “You can’t mean that! What about Sam?”

  “I’m goin’ after Sam, son, alone,” Colt explained as patiently as time allowed.

  “I’m goin’ with you.”

  “Not this time. I’ll be travelin’ through Indian territory. The Kiowa are as fierce as Comanches and I’ll likely meet up with both of them. I know their language and how these savages think. Alone I have a chance of bringin’ Sam home. Besides, you’re needed on the ranch. Jake tells me you’ve more than earned your keep these past weeks.”

  Refusing to be mollified, Will protested vigorously, but it did him no good. Colt had melted into the darkness, and within minutes the sound of hoof-beats vanished too.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sam knelt in the dirt outside Black Bear’s tipi helping Singing Wind, the chief’s wife, grind corn into flour. She didn’t mind this chore. It was rendering deer hides smooth and pliable that she couldn’t abide. First they were scraped clean with a sharp knife, then spread with a mixture of animal brains and left to soften and cure. Later the mess had to be scraped off. Thankfully, after the first time she had been spared that task and assigned simpler duties by the chief’s kindhearted wife. Her treatment by the Comanches had been a contradiction to everything she’d ever heard about these fierce warriors. Yet she fully believed that the stories about the atrocities they committed were true. What made her different from those hapless victims? she wondered, her apprehension growing with each passing hour.

  Sam was convinced she’d awaken one morning to learn the Indians had mistaken her for someone else and would kill her. Or worse, torture her. A shudder of fear rippled down her deerskin-clad back.

  That first day in Black Bear’s camp Fawn had provided her with a beautiful beaded doeskin dress and leggings. The workmanship was exquisite, and Sam was stunned to learn that Fawn had made it herself as part of her trousseau. At first Sam had refused such a lavish gift, but Fawn was adamant.

  Sam wondered if she would ever escape to return to Will—and to Colt. Did Colt miss her? Probably not, she decided. It stung to think that someone else would promptly take her place should she never return.

  In the meantime there was Brave Eagle to contend with. In the nearly four weeks since her arrival in the Comanche village, the handsome brave had made his amorous intentions known. Sam had quickly picked up a smattering of the Comanche language, and with Brave Eagle’s limited knowledge of English, plus sign language, they had been able to communicate. It soon became apparent that the proud brave was courting her. The bold, assessing glances he slanted in her direction were the same the world over and could not be mistaken. His looks spoke of desire and need and an emotion she’d rather not define.

  Sam couldn’t begin to explain the Comanches’ reasons for keeping her with them and treating her with respect. Perhaps when Spirit Dancer returned from his vision quest, all would become clear. The holy man had left over a week ago, and when he returned Sam felt in her bones that she would know things that might be better left hidden. She never set much store in superstition, but somehow this defied everything she’d been taught. Sam wasn’t certain she was prepared to face what Spirit Dancer’s vision unveiled, but at least she would escape the uncertain existence in which she found herself.

  Sam paused in her task to wipe the sweat from her brow with a tanned forearm. A pair of moccasined feet appeared at the edge of her vision, and she raised her eyes past muscular calves, corded thighs, and massive bronzed chest to gaze into Brave Eagle’s impassive face.

  “Greetings, Violet Eyes.”

  “Greetings, Brave Eagle.” Sam curbed her annoyance as Brave Eagle devoured every detail of her face and form. From past experience she knew it would do little good to lose patience. In good time she would learn the reason for his visit.

  “Spirit Dancer has returned from his vision quest. He is speaking now with Chief Black Bear. Though he is weak and exhausted from his long fast, he is much enlightened and anxious to see you. I think you will be surprised at what he has learned, Violet Eyes. Come, I am to bring you to Black Bear’s tipi.” It was the longest speech the taciturn Comanche had ever made in Sam’s presence.

  Rising swiftly, Sam ventured a glance at Fawn before following Brave Eagle. The girl’s tawny eyes were wide and encouraging, bolstering Sam’s courage as she trudged off after Brave Eagle. There was no question of refusing, for Sam was anxious to find out the mystery surrounding her, if indeed there was a mystery. Perhaps when the Comanches lea
rned that she was not what they thought she’d be allowed to return home.

  Soon Sam stood before Chief Black Bear and Spirit Dancer, who looked drawn and wasted after his week-long ordeal of fasting and prayer. “Sit down, Violet Eyes,” Black Bear invited. The chief spoke passable English which Sam followed easily. Sam saw that Brave Eagle was to be a part of this powwow as he hunkered down on his haunches beside her. Spirit Dancer was already sitting, his face a wrinkled mask carved in stone.

  “Spirit Dancer has returned from his vision quest much enlightened,” Black Bear intoned. “The Great Spirit has blessed him with knowledge and revealed things long forgotten about Violet Eyes and the Comanches.”

  Sam sucked in her breath, waiting, anticipating, speculating. Did Black Bear look at her with more fondness than usual? There was a spark of some profound emotion in the dark depths of his eyes. More confusing was Brave Eagle’s uncharacteristic behavior. Why did he keep looking at her in such a proprietary manner?

  Black Bear cleared his throat, fixed Sam with a piercing stare, and asked in a commanding voice, “Tell me about your mother.”

  Confusion numbed Sam’s senses. Her mother? What did that gentle creature have to do with all mis? “My mother was Elizabeth Ashley from Virginia. She died birthing my brother Will.”

  Suddenly Spirit Dancer came out of his trancelike state as he pointed a bony finger at her. “Not so, Violet Eyes. Your brother’s mother was Elizabeth Ashley. Your mother was a beautiful Comanche maiden named Shy Deer. The spirits do not lie. My vision pointed the way, and my memory of the past provided the answers.”

  “That’s not true!” Sam refuted hotly, probing her brain to recall the beautiful blond angel who had been her mother. But all her searching provided were vague memories of gentle hands, a sweet voice, and sad blue eyes. Sam had been only six when Elizabeth died giving birth to Will.