At the Evanses’ cabin, Keso and Cleve had talked of leaving at dawn, but it was the middle of the morning before they got away because Cleve had so much gear. Keso complained, but Cleve insisted on taking a tent, canned goods, and several changes of clothes.
“I didn’t know we were going to need a wagon train to haul all your stuff,” Keso grumbled as he looked at the pile.
“Egad, you don’t expect me to live like a savage, do you?” Cleve countered.
“We don’t need to travel like the Grand Duke of Russia,” Keso said. The Grand Duke had been on the plains for a buffalo hunt with Buffalo Bill back in 1872.
Wannie looked at the bundles Cleve was tying to the pack mule. “What is all this stuff, dearest?”
“A few pans and trade goods from Brewster Industries,” he answered.
“No wonder your luggage was so heavy,” Keso grumbled.
“Who knows? We might run across some trappers and get a chance to barter for some furs or something. I’d love to have a bear rug for my library.”
They all gathered out front to see the two off. Cleve rode the old blue gelding, Keso his black stallion, Spirit. They also took a pack mule loaded with the extra luxuries and supplies Cleve insisted on taking. It took all Wannie’s patience not to start another fuss over going with them, but she stuck to her plan.
Cleve gave her a prim smack on the lips. “Good-bye, my dear—we’ll see you in about a week.”
Keso kissed the tip of her nose “ ’ye, brat. Maybe I’ll find you a gold nugget. You can make a necklace of it.”
She smiled and looked down at the expensive ring and all her other jewelry. “Which way are you two going?”
Keso pointed. “We’ll spend the first night up at the spring. We should get there by late afternoon. After that, it depends on what Cleve wants to see.”
It was all Wannie could do to stand there docilely and wave to the pair as they mounted up and rode out leading the pack mule. If they thought they were going to leave her behind to miss all the fun, were they ever mistaken! She knew the location of that spring up in the mountains. Tonight, she was going to sneak off and follow them. The Evanses wouldn’t know she was gone until morning and by then, she expected to have joined the two men. Surely when she caught up with them, Keso would relent and let her ride along. His other option would be to cancel the trip and bring her back. Of course everyone would be annoyed with her, but after all, she was a modern, liberated woman!
The trio watched the pair disappear over a ridge and then turned back toward the house.
Cherokee said, “I’ve got some harness to mend.” He headed for the barn.
“I suppose I might as well start that needlework,” Wannie groaned.
Silver put her arm around her. “I’m glad you realized it was too rough a trip for you. The boys’ll be back before you know it.”
The day seemed to pass slowly. Without arousing suspicion, Wannie went in to clean up her room, but instead she packed a bedroll with a few personal items and Keso’s old shirts and pants. Since her bedroom was farthest down the hall, with any luck she might be able to saddle a horse and ride out tonight without waking Silver and Cherokee. They wouldn’t realize she was gone until they found her note tomorrow morning and by then, she’d be with Keso and Cleve.
It was dusk dark. Wannie yawned as she helped clear away the supper dishes. “I didn’t realize how weary I was—I think I’ll go to bed early.”
“So soon?” Silver looked surprised.
“With the men gone, there’s nothing much to do,” Wannie said. “I might lie in bed and read. Good night all.” She hugged them both and went to her room, feeling a little guilty, but determined to join Keso and Cleve.
She blew out her lamp and crawled into bed, still wearing her calico dress and lace petticoats. An hour passed and the house grew quiet and dark. Taking her clothes and bedroll, she climbed out the window and headed toward the barn. She didn’t change because if Cherokee caught her, she didn’t want to arouse his suspicions like she would if she was dressed for riding in Keso’s old jeans. She’d change into pants when she was safely away from the house.
Quietly, she saddled Dancer, tied her blanket roll behind the saddle, and led the bay filly from the stable. Now if she could just sneak across the pasture and into the forest, she couldn’t be seen from the house.
So far, so good. Once in the woods, Wannie hiked up her skirts and mounted, reining the horse toward the spring where the men would be camping. An owl hooted somewhere in the forest and she paused, the hair rising on the back of her neck. It dawned on her that it was very dark and she was alone. For a long moment, she was tempted to give this up, put the horse away, and return to her safe, warm bed.
“You big ’fraidy cat,” she scolded herself, “there’s nothing in these woods that can hurt you. Besides, do you really want to spend the week staring at a piece of silly needlework when the boys are having such a big adventure? In a few hours, you’ll be safely in their camp.”
Thus cheered, she took off in the direction of the mountain spring. With any luck at all, she should find it in the middle of the night.
Hours passed as she rode through the woods. The night had grown chilly and she shivered, wishing she had worn heavier clothes. Occasionally, the wind rustled through the trees or something scampered past her horse’s hooves. Why had she done such a fool thing? Because, she shook her head stubbornly, she would have missed a big adventure.
The moon came out and reflected off the snowcaps on distant peaks. It was so beautiful riding this trail. She had forgotten how much she loved Colorado. When she married, she wouldn’t be coming here anymore. The thought depressed her. The moon slid behind scudding clouds and the trail seemed darker than ever as her horse plodded along. Suppose she reached the spring and the boys weren’t there? Suppose they had decided to take another route? Somewhere, a coyote wailed and the call echoed through the mountains. Keso. If she could just find Keso, she’d be all right. He always looked after her.
The night turned colder and she wished she had a canteen of steaming coffee. She didn’t feel defiant and clever anymore, she felt uncertain and scared. The wind picked up, carrying the scent of pine trees and wildflowers.
Hours passed and she kept riding. It couldn’t be that long until dawn and then she’d be able to see the trail. By her calculations, she should have reached the spring by now.
Smoke—she smelled smoke. There was a camp up ahead, but whose? She didn’t want to blunder into a camp of outlaws, rough trappers or worse yet, hostile Indians. Why didn’t you think of that sooner, you idiot? she scolded herself.
She dismounted, trying to decide how to find out. Abruptly, she heard a horse in the camp whinny as it seemed to scent her mare. Wannie reached and grabbed her mare’s muzzle to keep her from nickering back. She wanted to make sure it was Keso’s camp before she announced her presence. Wrapping a strip of soft rawhide around the mare’s muzzle so she couldn’t nicker, Wannie tied the horse to a tree and crept toward the camp through the underbrush. How would she know if it was Keso’s camp without alerting the occupants?
She could see a tiny fire and what appeared to be two men asleep in their blankets. Thank goodness she had found them!
She led her mare around to where the horses were tied. Her relief turned to puzzlement as she stared at the other mounts. These weren’t Spirit and old Blue and where was the pack mule? She noted then that the horses had the big U.S. brand on the shoulder. Cavalry horses?
She breathed a sigh of relief, knowing she had stumbled on an army patrol. They’d help her find Keso and Cleve. All she had to do was wake them up, tell them her plight and—
“Gotcha!” A big hand clapped over her mouth even as someone reached out of the darkness and grabbed her. Wannie struggled, her heart pounding with terror. Then the moonlight revealed the arm wore a blue sleeve.
Thank God! She relaxed, waiting for the soldier to let go of her so she could explain what she was doing
sneaking about their camp.
He whirled her around, a big figure in blue in the shadowy darkness.
“Look, I can explain,” Wannie began, “I was looking—”
“I know. You was lookin’ for me again, weren’t you, sweetie? We got unfinished business, right?”
She stared up into his face as the moon came out from behind clouds. Oh, no. It was the big soldier who had molested her on the street in Denver. She managed to scream long and loud, even as he slapped her hard and put his hand over her mouth again.
“Shut up, damn you! I won’t have you alertin’ any army patrols out lookin’ for us. Hey, Bill, come here and see what we got!”
She fought him, but he picked her up easily, carrying her back to camp, his hand over her mouth.
The other man rose out of his blankets. “Hey, Clem, what in thunder’s goin’ on?”
“Lookie here what I got!” The big soldier guffawed. “ ’ember me tellin’ you ‘bout the sweet thang I tried to kiss the other day afore we deserted? She came lookin’ for me.”
“Oh God, Clem, we don’t need that kind of trouble! We’re tryin’ to clear out of this country, remember?”
She fought but Clem held onto her easily. “We’re still goin’ Bill, but now we got a little gal who wants to go with us and keep us both happy, right, baby?” He ran one dirty hand up under her coat and pawed her breasts. “Some big Injun stopped me the other day, but now she’s mine.”
Wannie sank her teeth into his dirty fingers so that he pulled his hand away, cursing. She tried to scream again but he hit her hard, half stunning her. “Shut up, gal!”
Wannie tasted blood from her cut lip as she struggled. What was she going to do now? She shouldn’t have been so headstrong, following Keso and Cleve. Now she was going to be raped and held captive by a pair of filthy army deserters!
FIFTEEN
Keso had decided against stopping at the spring in the late afternoon. When they’d ridden near, he’d recognized one of the men already camped in that spot as the drunken soldier he’d whipped in town. He didn’t know what those soldiers were doing out here—on a scouting party, maybe—but Keso didn’t intend to invite trouble by stopping at their camp. He insisted on skirting that spring and riding on to the next watering place only a few hundred yards above the other. What Keso didn’t need was trouble with the army.
Keso lay barely asleep by the smoldering fire, listening. The wind was blowing from the direction of the spring. He came awake at a slight sound; it might have been the faint cry of a rabbit as a night-hunting owl swooped down on it. It might have been the echo of a lonely coyote pup. It might have been a woman’s scream. He lay there a long moment, listening, tense as a bobcat. Cleve was in his tent, snoring so loudly it was difficult to hear anything else.
The cry had been so faint, he’d probably imagined it. After a long moment, Keso closed his eyes and tried to return to sleep, but the sound haunted him. Who or what might be out there in the darkness? Keso reached for the rifle next to his blankets and checked the big bowie knife that was always within reach. He got up and crept into the darkness, sniffing the wind and listening. Generations of warrior blood kept his senses keen even though he had been living as a white man.
The sound had come from the direction of the soldiers’ camp. Keso hesitated. He didn’t need any trouble from an army patrol—many didn’t like Indians of whatever variety. He paused, wondering whether to awaken Cleve, then shook his head. Cleve would be worse than useless in case of trouble. Keso dared not take his horse; he couldn’t risk a soldier’s mount nickering at Spirit’s approach. Gripping his rifle and knife, Keso took off running toward the soldiers’ camp, his swift stride silent as a shadow. If he was heading into trouble, he might be outnumbered, but he’d have surprise on his side.
Wannie had never been so terrified as she was at this moment, fighting to get out of the big soldier’s arms. He only laughed, holding onto her easily. “See, Bill? How eager she is to give us a little sugar?”
“Oh God, Clem, let her go!” The other hovered in the background, pleading. “We got enough trouble with the army lookin’ for us—I didn’t agree to rape no women.”
“Wal, now, she came lookin’ for us,” Clem grinned through broken teeth, “didn’t you, sweetie?”
Wannie tried to bite his hand again but he held onto her and laughed. “See how much she wants me to do it to her?”
“Clem,” the other pleaded, “a pretty gal like this means trouble.”
“Naw. When she goes missin’,” Clem said, “they’ll think them red-skinned devils, the Utes, got her.”
“Don’t be loco, Clem, we can’t keep her.”
“Sure we can.” The deserter ran his hands over her slim body and laughed when she tried to fight him off. “She can cook for us and pleasure us every night as we cross the country. We get to Utah, we head south. There’s still a Comanchero or two who’d pay good money for a pretty gal like this one.”
Oh Lord, what was she going to do? Wannie struggled again and tried to strike him with her small fists, but Clem laughed and paid no more attention than if she’d been a pesty mosquito.
“Now, sweet, you just save all that energy for the lovin’ I’m gettin’ ready to give you.” With one dirty paw, he ripped the front of her bodice open and squeezed her breast. “I can hardly wait to get my mouth on these.”
In sheer terror, Wannie began to fight and claw but he was pulling at her clothes. He was going to have to kill her before she’d submit.
And at that moment, something stepped out of the shadows behind Clem. She saw only the silhouette of a dark face and the flash of a knife glinting in the moonlight. Oh God!
Even as she watched, a strong brown arm reached out and jerked Clem’s head back. She saw the sudden surprise in the deserter’s eyes as he turned loose of her and began to fight. At that moment, the mysterious intruder cut the soldier’s throat.
She screamed, stumbling backward from the smell of fresh blood, then turned and ran blindly, clutching the front of her shredded dress. She fell, scrambled to her feet, and ran on. Behind her, she heard Bill’s terrified shout and then the sound of a horse as he swung up on it and escaped.
Wannie paused, breathing hard. Behind her, she heard a running footstep. Whose? Renegades would treat her no better than Clem had. She’d rather be dead than to lose her virginity to rape. She ran on, stumbling and falling. Her heart pounded with the effort and her legs and arms were skinned and bruised. Her lungs seemed on fire and she was certain her pursuer could hear her agonized breathing. Nothing mattered but escaping as she fled blindly through the woods. Abruptly, a figure stepped out in front of her and she screamed again as she realized her pursuer had outsmarted her, circling to step into her path. There was no way to avoid him as his hands reached out and grabbed her. She fought him as he pulled her against him.
“Hush, Wannie,” a familiar voice commanded, “you’re safe now.”
“Keso?” She collapsed in his embrace, throwing her arms around his neck and sobbing.
“It’s all right, honey, it’s all right, I’ve got you. Don’t make so much noise.” He was holding her, stroking her, soothing her.
“Oh, Keso,” she sobbed, clutching him, “I thought it was your camp, and then he reached out and grabbed me—”
“I know, I know,” he whispered and kissed her forehead. “You’re all right now, I’ve got you.” He swung her up in his arms and began to walk.
“They—they were deserting, Keso,” she sobbed, “did you—did you—”
“I killed the big one,” he muttered as he walked. “The other one cleared out as if the devil was after him.”
“I was so scared,” she wept against his neck.
“I know, honey, I know. It’s all right—nobody’s going to hurt you.”
Honey? Was he calling her honey? She looked up at him, but he was intent on his mission. She held onto him, awed at the strength of the man and the way he carried her as if she we
ighed no more than a flower petal. She realized abruptly that she had her bare breasts pressed against his chest and his shirt was unbuttoned so that her nipples brushed against his warm flesh. The thought sent a shiver through her, but he had not even seemed to notice.
“Where are we going?”
“To my camp. Where’s your horse?”
She gestured. “Over there. Where’s Cleve?”
“Still asleep and snoring, I reckon.”
She relaxed in Keso’s strong arms and nestled her face against his brawny chest as he walked toward where she’d tied Dancer. “What made you come?”
He glanced down at her, then paused as he seemed to realize she was almost naked from the waist up. His eyes seemed to darken with intensity. “I heard a faint sound and decided I’d better investigate.”
“Thank goodness you did,” she breathed.
He frowned down at her. “Brat, now you tell me what you were doing out here in the first place?”
“I was following you.”
“I might have known,” he snorted. He put her up on the filly and swung up behind her. When he slid his arms around her, his hand brushed her bare breast and he jerked back is if touched by a hot ember.
She relaxed in his arms as they rode, breathing a sigh of relief. She could always count on Keso. She hoped she could do the same with Cleve, but somehow, she didn’t have much confidence in her fiance’s ability to cope with hostile surroundings. That thought made her feel guilty.
Keso reined in at his camp, dismounted, and motioned her to slide off the horse and into his arms. She slid all the way down his body until her feet touched the ground. He took a deep, shuddering breath and ran his tongue along his lips, his eyes dark and intense.
“Keso? What’s wrong?” She looked up at him, intensely aware that her nipples were almost brushing his chest in the unbuttoned shirt.
“Nothing. I—I always forget how small and delicate you are.” He swung her up in his arms and carried her over and stood her by the smoldering fire, but he didn’t let go of her shoulders. They paused only inches apart, his shirt open, her bodice torn away. Heat seemed to radiate between them and she had a sudden feeling that he was about to pull her to him so that her bare breasts would be pressing against his chest. If he did, what would she do? The answer came to her then that she wouldn’t be strong enough to stop him ... or that she wouldn’t want to.
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