by Sara Orwig
The moment the stage began to move, Lone Wolf took her arm. “We go.”
They hurried to the livery stable and mounted the horses that Lone Wolf had already saddled. As they rode into the street, they turned in the opposite direction from the stage to ride east out of town.
Vanessa knew Lone Wolf rode slowly to keep from drawing more attention to them. They headed due east instead of angling north because Lone Wolf wanted to stay out of the vicinity of Fort Bascom as much as possible.
As they left the town, they traveled on flat land that was unbroken for miles. Dotted with cactus and sparse grasses, the terrain provided little concealment for riders.
The slight dust stirred by their horses hung in the air, a telltale cloud that was slow to settle. They would be easy to follow, and she suspected Lone Wolf would want to travel through the night.
It was late afternoon before they caught up with Muaahap, White Bird, and Belva. It was mid-day before Lone Wolf began to angle to the northeast.
When night came, they continued. White Bird fell asleep against Belva. Then Belva nodded, and Muaahap dozed. When Lone Wolf halted, they ate cold beef because he wouldn’t allow a fire.
He strode to Vanessa as she unfolded her bedding. “We’ll rest for about two hours and then we should ride while we have the cover of darkness. In another hour we can turn north again.”
“No one has followed us?”
“I can’t be certain. No one is close behind, but the soldiers from Bascom could have picked up our trail.” He ran his finger along her jaw and she drew in her breath. Each touch was more volatile than the last. She gazed up at him as he moved closer to her. “Still no regrets that you’re not on the stage with Phoebe?” he asked huskily.
“No. I haven’t regretted it once,” she answered, feeling breathless.
“You would be safer.”
“Phoebe has a long journey across land that isn’t any safer than here. Far from it. And she doesn’t have you with her.”
He smiled faintly. “No, but once she reaches California, she will never have to worry about battles.”
“I don’t regret my decision.”
“I didn’t really think you would. You are as decisive as a man, Vanessa.”
“Some things I feel certain about,” she said, studying him, wanting to be in his arms and feel his hard chest pressing against her, knowing when she was with him she felt complete and as if her life had a purpose.
“We will reach my people soon and then I will take you as my bride. It will be better for you to have the ceremony and celebration. Then you will feel a part of us.”
“I want my own children,” she said quietly, blushing at the admission, yet wanting him to know.
He stepped close, his arms sliding around her and pulling her up against him, his face only inches from hers. “I know you do. You told me that once, remember? They will be ours, Vanessa. And we will bring them into a turbulent world, but we will do our best for them. Kiowa children are deeply loved.” He smiled at her. “I shall selfishly hope I have a son. I need a man to help me cope with all these women in my life.”
“You should have a family. You’re unselfish and you’re good with the little ones. Belva already adores you.”
“If we could just swap Muaahap—”
“She’s not that troublesome, and she obeys your wishes when it’s important to do so.”
“Yes. Only one female disobeys me and cooperates only when it fits her plans, Vanessa,” he said, his voice warm, making her tremble. His masculine mouth, the sensual full underlip, was so close. With a lingering look at his mouth, she raised her gaze and stared into his brown eyes, her heart thudding because she loved him desperately.
He leaned forward, his mouth covering hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, playing over hers as he held her tightly.
She stood on tiptoe to kiss him back, winding her fingers in his hair. Feeling faint with longing, Vanessa held him tightly while he leaned over her, his arousal pressing against her.
And as she kissed him, her heart sang with joy because she knew this was right. She felt complete with Lone Wolf, certain she belonged with him forever.
When he released her, she stepped back. They both were panting for breath, staring at each other, and it took an effort of her will to keep from going into his arms again.
“I’ll keep watch.” he said, moving past her to get his rifle. He sat down near a mesquite where it would be more difficult for anyone approaching their camp to see him.
She awoke from sleep to find Lone Wolf shaking her. He jerked his head toward the horses as one of them tossed its head and a bridle jingled.
Frightened, she went to Belva while Lone Wolf shook Muaahap. The old woman came awake at once and hurried to help saddle the horses.
The cold night air added to her chill. Her hands shook as she hastily folded the quilt and yanked it up. She stopped, holding her breath, listening to a faint noise that grew swiftly.
The sound of hoofbeats was unmistakable and then thunderous as horses galloped toward them. Vanessa’s fear changed to terror, and she held Belva’s hand and rushed toward the horses.
“Go!” Lone Wolf yelled, grabbing his rifle as Muaahap raced with White Bird toward a horse.
Men yelled and the pounding horses burst down the embankment, riding into their campsite and stirring a cloud of dust, spreading out to surround them.
Nineteen
The men rode through their camp, and Belva screamed. Lone Wolf raised his rifle and fired as a soldier bore down on him and clubbed him. Terrified, Vanessa cried out and dashed to kneel beside him.
It was over as swiftly as it had started. A man yelled an order and the others reined in their mounts. Dust rose in a thick cloud that gagged her while the horses milled around and Belva cried. Vanessa leaned over Lone Wolf, rolling him over, aghast at the blood that flowed from his head.
As she knelt beside Lone Wolf, hands closed around her arms and hauled her roughly to her feet. “Let go of me!” she yelled, lunging at a soldier.
“Release her, Edwards,” came a deep, commanding voice, and she looked up as a man halted his horse in front of her.
“We’ll take them with us. Tie their hands. Lord knows where the rest of them are. One warrior and four women—there should be others nearby. We can exchange them for white captives.”
As he talked, he looked down at Vanessa. The night was dark and she couldn’t see his face beneath his hat. She wore the deerskin dress and her hair was still in the long braid, and she realized he didn’t know they were white.
“Will you release us?” she pleaded. “You can’t take us prisoner.”
He frowned and dismounted, walking closer to her. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a box. A match flared brightly and he held it out to look first at her and then at Lone Wolf, whose head was turned away, his black hair in disarray.
As the yellow flame flickered, she studied the captain. He had blond hair and handsome features, thickly lashed blue eyes, a full mouth, and a thin nose. His gaze shifted to her and then he looked past her, and she guessed he was looking at the others. “Who are you?”
“I’m Vanessa Sutherland,” she said quietly, realizing he hadn’t followed her from Tucumcari because of the flyers. “We’re traveling back to my family, and this man is accompanying me and my sister. The woman and child are his relatives.”
“Redskins,” he said contemptuously, and she had a sinking feeling of dread that they were held by a man who hated Indians.
He shook out the match as it burned down and in seconds struck another one. It flared brightly with a hiss and the smell of sulfur. He inched even closer to Vanessa and tilted up her chin.
A chill ran through her. She hated the look in his eyes as he studied her with the same assessing scrutiny he would give a horse he was purchasing. “Get their things and tie their wrists. We’ll take them to the fort.”
“What about the man, Captain?” a soldier asked.
“The redskin?” he asked. His voice was thick with hatred.
“Please,” she said, fearing the officer was about to order his men to shoot Lone Wolf. “If you kill him, you’ll stir up the wrath of his people.”
“They’re already on the warpath,” he snapped. “They know we’re understaffed because of the war.”
“Please let him live,” she begged.
The captain held the flickering match and leaned down to look at Lone Wolf. “I’ll be damned,” the captain said in an angry tone.
She stared at the blond officer and her blood turned to ice as her terror grew. The captain knew Lone Wolf. He shook out the match.
“Please let him live,” she repeated.
The captain walked back to her and tilted up her face again, staring at her in the darkness. “Why do you care?”
“He’s important to me.”
“He’ll live,” he said with a grim note in his voice. “He’ll live for now. Edwards, tie his ankles.”
Lone Wolf moaned and shifted. The captain swung his foot, his boot slamming into Lone Wolf’s head.
Vanessa acted without thought, lunging at the captain and shoving him. She caught him by surprise; he stumbled, and she went for his gun. Arms closed around her from behind, yanking her off her feet and squeezing until she cried out. A soldier held her tightly while the captain got to his feet. He kicked Lone Wolf in the side, the blow a dull whack that made Vanessa scream and Belva sob.
“Tie them up!” he snapped, glaring at her. “Take all their things,” he ordered as he remounted his horse and cantered away. “Let the two children ride together. It’s not necessary to bind them.”
Thankful for so small a kindness to Belva and White Bird, Vanessa clamped her jaw shut. She was handled roughly as two soldiers tied her wrists. One ran his hands over her breasts and tweaked her. She turned her head away, his scornful laughter ringing in her ears.
“Two children and an old woman. Too bad they aren’t all like this one,” one soldier said.
“Get her on a horse,” the captain commanded, and the men ceased their banter.
“Tie the redskin’s ankles to your saddle horn, Edwards.”
“Yes, sir.”
“No!” Vanessa cried, turning to the captain. “If you do that, he’ll die.”
“No, he won’t. He’s tougher than that.”
“Please, put him on a horse. He’s already hurt,” she pleaded.
The captain studied her speculatively, then repeated his order. “Tie his ankles, Edwards.”
Vanessa averted her head, agonized because they would drag Lone Wolf for miles. As they started, she rode stiffly. She focused her eyes straight ahead, hating the captain as much as she would have if he had tied her by her feet and dragged her behind a horse.
More than twenty soldiers closed ranks around them, and she could think of no way to overpower them or break free. She closed her eyes, horribly aware of Lone Wolf being dragged behind them.
After an hour they halted for water at a creek. While the horses drank, she crossed to the captain. A soldier barred her progress, and she glowered at him.
“Get out of my way. I want to talk to the captain!”
The man’s eyes narrowed, but he shrugged and stepped aside, allowing Vanessa to pass him. She found the officer beside his horse at the creek bank. He acknowledged her presence with a curt nod.
“Please put him on a horse,” she said, fighting to keep her tears from falling. Again she received a cold, speculative inspection.
“Are you his woman?”
“I’m his wife.”
He turned and glanced at his men. “Bickers, tie the injun on a horse.”
“Yes, sir,” a thin soldier answered and moved to Lone Wolf’s inert body. Unconscious, he was covered with blood, and Vanessa prayed that the heavy buckskin had protected him.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“You’ll get your chance to thank me fully,” he answered, a faint smile on his face. He turned away. “Let’s ride!” he called, and the men mounted their horses again.
As they continued on, she twisted around to look back. Lone Wolf was on his belly across a horse, lashed to the animal, his arms dangling and she guessed he remained unconscious. She was terrified for Lone Wolf. She was certain the officer had recognized him and assumed they were old enemies.
Dawn came, and the captain returned to ride beside them. His gaze ran over Muaahap, White Bird, and Belva. He barely glanced at Lone Wolf. His attention shifted to her and he closed the gap between them, giving her another intense appraisal. He studied her thoroughly and she stiffened, raising her chin. “Two whites and three redskins. Tell me how you came to be with them.”
“He’s escorting us across this country.”
“To where?”
“North. I have relatives in Missouri.”
“I don’t believe you,” he replied. “I’ll learn the truth. His people probably took you captive, and now you want to stay.” He flicked his reins and rode ahead.
By afternoon she was thirsty and exhausted, but her fear overrode all other concerns. She didn’t trust the captain and was wary of his intentions toward her. Since, thus far, he had ignored Muaahap and the girls, Vanessa prayed that he wouldn’t harm them.
She was amazed that White Bird rode without complaint. She sat in front of Belva, and Vanessa knew she must sense something was wrong because she remained unusually quiet, her thumb in her mouth. Belva looked pale, but not overly frightened, while Muaahap looked her usual stoic self.
“Can’t you let the woman and children go free?” Vanessa asked, when the officer returned to her side.
His blue eyes stared at her impassively before he looked away. “We can exchange them for white captives taken by redskins.”
She grew silent, despising the sly touches she received when they stopped for water, the remarks she tried to ignore. Lone Wolf regained consciousness, groaning and then riding limply. Once she looked over her shoulder and he turned his head. His black hair hid his bloody face, so she didn’t know whether or not he had seen her.
She hurt for him and was terrified at what lay ahead. Late in the day, in the shimmering distance, she saw the walls of a fort. She guessed they were approaching Fort Bascom.
They halted inside its walls and the captain gave orders briskly, waving his hand. “Take the redskin to the stockade. Take the old woman and children to a room. Bring the woman to my office.”
He strode off, and she saw a soldier come toward her. He pulled her off the horse, catching her in his arms, his hands going over her brazenly as he fondled her.
Vanessa clamped her jaw shut, determined to try to ignore as much as she could, watching as three soldiers rode away with Lone Wolf.
As the soldier entered a building, he pulled her along by the arm, turning into a large office. The captain stood on the other side of the room, his back to her while he poured a glass of brandy. Sunlight streamed through the wavering speckled-glass windowpanes. A desk stood along one wall with a cabinet close beside it. Chairs and a leather settee completed the decor.
“Here she is, sir.” The soldier left and shut the door, and the captain turned to look at her as he drank his brandy. He had tossed aside his hat and his blond hair was tangled. He had a faint stubble of pale whiskers on his jaw; under other circumstances, she might have considered him a handsome man, but now her dislike for him overwhelmed all else.
“I’m Captain Dupree Milos. You said your name is Vanessa.”
“Yes. Please let us go.”
“No. I can exchange the others.” He crossed the room, and as he approached her, he unbuttoned his blue coat. He set down the glass of brandy and pulled off his coat. From a scabbard on his hip, he removed a knife.
Vanessa drew her breath because she saw he intended to use the weapon. He moved closer, his blue eyes boring into hers as he reached out. Sunlight glinted on the blade as he moved it close to her throat.
She raised h
er chin and stared at him, wondering if he intended to slit her throat now, here in his office.
“You don’t frighten easily, do you, Vanessa?” he asked softly.
She shrugged. “There is little I can do to stop you from whatever you intend, so I’m waiting. I can’t overcome you.”
“I thought you might fight me.”
She wondered if he were toying with her in the manner of a cat with a mouse, trying to torment her and see what kind of fearful reaction he could get. “It seems useless.”
“It is,” he answered matter-of-factly. His fingers locked in the neck of the buckskin dress and he yanked her toward him as he raised the knife.
Twenty
With strong sweeps of his arm, he slashed the buckskin down the front. It parted and she stood naked before him. He shoved the dress open, looking at her.
Vanessa pulled away from him, holding the torn dress together and backing up.
“You’re white, no question about that. Why are you with him? The last I saw of him was a battle we had at the old fort of Adobe Walls. I thought I killed him. Were you one of their captives?”
“No. I met him on the trail. He was searching for his little girl, who had ridden off during the battle. Her mother was killed by your soldiers!” she snapped, angry with him.
“We lost many men in that battle, and they were more important than a few dirty redskins who are no loss to anyone. I’ll have a bath drawn for you and I’ll find a gingham or calico dress. You’re to put it on and clean yourself up for me.”
“And if I don’t?” she asked, knowing the answer, but needing to hear him say it.
“Then I’ll take my anger out on the redskin and you can watch.”
“Let them all go, and I’ll do what you want.”
He drew closer to her and slipped his finger beneath the buckskin and cupped her breast. She drew a breath and stepped back.
His eyes narrowed. “I’ll let the women and children go.”
“No. Let him go, too. There’s a difference between a woman who is willing and one who is all but dead,” she argued, feeling the clash with him, desperate to get Lone Wolf and the others to safety because she suspected the captain intended to kill Lone Wolf slowly and painfully.