by E. E. Burke
Redbird's frightened eyes darted back and forth and her brow knitted with confusion. Better she didn't understand.
"I’ll cut her throat and we can run. No one will be the wiser." Charley made the remark as casually as if he were discussing the weather.
Horror thundered through Jake, and in a burst of protectiveness, he moved closer. Charley might be right about the danger of letting her go, but killing her was out of the question. "I've got a better idea. Give her to me."
"You?” his cousin made a sound of disgust. “What are you going to do with her?"
Jake met a pair of frightened eyes as blue as the summer sky. Light freckles were sprinkled like sand over her pale skin. And her hair, he’d never seen the like, tight coils of fire that she’d tried, without success, to subdue into a thick knot. She was exotic, foreign…forbidden.
His mouth went dry. What was he going to do with her?
He blurted out his first thought. "I'll make her man pay us to return her.”
Charley's obsidian eyes filled with respect. "Good thinking, Wa-ya."
Good idea? It was a terrible idea, the worst he’d ever had, and only marginally better than Charley’s suggestion. But it appeared this was the only way he’d keep Redbird safe.
Jake tore off the bandana around his neck and gagged her. Using a leather strip from his hatband, he tied her hands. His thumb brushed the smooth skin on the inside of her wrist. Male awareness buzzed through him. He tried to ignore it, and refused to analyze it.
Whipping out his gun, he stuck the barrel into her side and dragged her to the door. He didn’t want to frighten her, but he couldn't risk having her break and run. His cousin would sink a knife in her back before she got five feet.
The lively music still played, but no one appeared to be paying attention to the last car on the train. Charley doused the light. Jake nudged Redbird down the metal stairs, retracing his steps. As they neared the engine, he veered into the high grass.
She balked, making a distressed sound in the back of her throat.
He moved the gun's barrel to her temple, but didn’t cock the hammer for fear he’d inadvertently pull the trigger. Charley spun around, glaring at her. He took a threatening step toward them. The moonlight glinted off his knife.
Jake holstered his gun, slung the woman her over his shoulder and took off across the field, his captive wriggling like a fish. He stumbled, but kept running. By the time he reached the trees where they'd hobbled their horses, sweat slicked his skin. He set her on her feet. She made a retching sound. Unless she choked, he wasn't removing that gag.
Charley swung into his saddle. "Hurry." His horse danced, impatient as its master.
"You go ahead. I have to get her situated.”
"Strap her on like a side of venison.”
Jake shot his cousin a black look. He wasn't carrying a woman face down across his horse's withers. With a rope, he tied her bound hands to the saddle horn, then mounted and hoisted her up. He shoved her skirts aside to get them out of the way. He’d expected to wrestle petticoats, but she wasn’t wearing any. Instead, she had on leggings similar to those worn by his aunts when they worked in the fields. Only these were made from wool not buckskin. Odd, but convenient.
He shifted, trying to get comfortable, but all that accomplished was to bring the rounded softness of her rear against his crotch. He stiffened as a river of heat coursed through him. Now he wished she had more layers.
Curse her too-thin leggings and curse whatever ill luck had brought her into the railcar at the same moment he and Charley had been searching for the payroll. Had she stayed at the party like everyone else, they wouldn’t be in this fix.
Not entirely true. He’d opened his mouth and claimed her, so now he was responsible.
He wrapped his free arm around her and guided his horse into the trees. The deeper they rode into the forest, the blacker the night became, along with his mood. He could navigate these woods blindfolded, but he’d never find his way out of the dark place where his soul resided. Now, he’d virtually guaranteed his damnation.
An owl hooted. Redbird trembled in his arms. Was she afraid of u-gu-ku? Owls were reputed to be ghosts or witches. Those were just old stories, but the thought made Jake uneasy nonetheless. It seemed a bad omen. He’d only taken her to save her life, and he’d return her, just as soon as he could figure out how to manage it without giving away his secret.
She clutched the saddle horn, holding herself as far away from him as possible. They had a long ride ahead and she’d be in agony by the time they reached the hideout if she remained rigid.
He drew her back, using gentle pressure to urge her to relax against him. She finally did, which brought his nose into contact with a mass of soft, curly hair. He inhaled a lemony fragrance that reminded him of a plant growing in his aunt’s garden. Did Redbird smell like this all over?
She jerked forward, at the same time ramming her heels into the horse’s sides.
The stallion bucked.
Jake struggled to stay in the saddle and keep Redbird from toppling off. He forced her hips down and barked a warning in Tsa-la-gi. She might not understand the words, but she’d get his meaning. What had he been thinking to allow himself to become distracted? He better start paying attention or he’d be on his ass in the dirt.
The moon reappeared after they left the woods and started into rockier terrain. His cousin set a grueling pace. Charley wouldn't slow down for his own comfort, much less Redbird’s. The sky turned leaden as they neared the river. By dawn, they would reach the bluffs, which concealed countless caves, including their hideout.
Redbird started to squirm.
Jake clenched his jaw. Sitting this close, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about his body’s inconvenient reaction to her bottom rubbing against him. He eyed her suspiciously. Was she purposely tormenting him, or trying to distract him? She wasn’t kicking or bothering the horse. Perhaps she needed to relieve herself.
“Tsa-li, hold up,” he called out. “She needs a rest." And so do I.
After his cousin halted, Jake dismounted and helped her down. Every muscle in his body had knotted up, and he ached for a release he wouldn't get unless he went off somewhere and took care of it.
He motioned to a clump of bushes where she could have privacy. They hadn't spoken a word of English the entire time. He didn't want her to know he understood her language because once he took off that gag she would try to talk to him. He didn't want to talk to her. In fact, he didn't want to look at her. And he sure as hell didn't want to feel her soft body pressed up against him for one more second.
Redbird raised her bound hands and behind the gag her face twisted with misery. She couldn't take care of her needs with her hands tied.
Jake unknotted the leather bonds and his chest tightened. Beneath the cords, her wrists had been rubbed raw. He hadn’t intended to hurt her. How could he reassure her without words that he meant no harm? There was no way around it. He would have to talk to her.
"Go take care of yourself, then come back. If you behave, I won't tie you up again. But if you try to get away, I'll strap you over my horse."
###
Kate gaped at her captor, astonished by the flawless English that had come out of his mouth. All these hours, he’d spoken to his comrade in guttural words she couldn’t understand. Why had he waited so long to make her aware he could speak her language? He must have been trying to hide the fact.
She withdrew her hands from his grasp, a gentle hold that seemed at odds with his stern expression. When she pulled the gag from her mouth, his eyes narrowed, but he didn't stop her. She darted a nervous glance at his partner, who stared unblinking. The horrible stories she’d heard of rapes and scalping swirled through her mind. Was that what lay in store? Her skin, already damp with perspiration, turned clammy.
“Go on,” her captor urged. His eyebrows, which were the color and shape of raven’s wings, gathered in a frown. "And be quick about it.
&n
bsp; Kate stumbled away on rubbery legs, behind the bush he’d indicated. If she didn't relieve herself soon, her bladder would burst. As she squatted, she heard him walk away. After she’d finished relieving herself, she stayed crouched. Hopefully, the two men would think she was still occupied.
Best she could tell, they’d ridden in a southerly direction. Beyond that, she had no idea where she was, except it wasn’t anywhere near civilization. She withdrew a small compass from a pocket sewn in her skirt. It was something she always carried in case she ever got lost. She hadn’t imagined she would be abducted. The compass and her memories of the maps she’d studied wouldn’t do her much good if she couldn’t get her bearings.
How far away was the worksite? Had anyone noticed she was gone? Henry might if he weren’t focused on his guests. Her father rarely paid attention to her, and he was leaving as soon as the party was over. By now, both men were used to the way she came and went as she pleased and would think she’d simply left without telling anyone. Misery lodged in her throat. She slipped the compass back into her pocket, praying someone would notice she was missing, even if she had to eat her words about being self-sufficient.
She cocked her head. Muttered conversation in a language she didn’t understand came from the direction of the mounts. No chance she could get to the horses without being seen and they would shoot her if she tried to sneak past. At least, the one with the scar would. The younger man was harder to read. She knew he’d protected her from his partner, but it might be he simply wanted to claim her as his prize.
Goose flesh prickled her skin, the same sensation she’d felt when he’d drawn her against him and put his nose in her hair. She bit back a fearful moan. Heaven help her, she had to escape regardless of what he’d threatened. Being armed would give her a fighting chance. But how would she steal a weapon?
"Hurry up," her captor demanded.
She spotted a rock the size of her fist and tucked it into the folds of her skirt. If she could bring him close, she could knock him out and take his gun. "I need help, please.”
Her request was met with silence, a quick exchange, then slow footfalls made by someone with a long stride. The younger Indian was the taller of the two.
Kate rested on her knees and kept the rock hidden.
"What's wrong?" He sounded worried. That could work to her advantage. He wouldn’t be expecting her to strike.
"I can't stand. My legs feel weak. I'm not used to riding."
Her captor appeared around the side of the bush. In the early morning light, he didn’t look like a savage. Rather, he reminded her of the cowboys she'd seen around town in their brown jeans and boots and leather vests. Only, none of those cowboys had abducted and threatened her.
She tightened her grip on the rock, hidden in her skirt’s folds.
He hooked his thumbs over his gun belt. "What do you want me to do?"
That seemed a stupid question. Most men would sweep in and scoop her up. Did she have to give this one instruction? "I need help. I can't walk."
Again, he just stood there. For a heart-stopping moment she thought he'd refuse. Then what? Her plan wouldn’t work if he didn’t come to her aid.
Her heart jumped when he started towards her. He towered over her, but the bushes would conceal him when he bent down to pick her up. Then she would hit him hard enough to render him unconscious and get his gun before the other man realized what had happened.
But instead of bending over, the dratted man went down on one knee. He removed his hat and threaded his fingers through straight hair that brushed his collar. The inky strands looked damp where the hatband had pressed against his head. Close up, he no longer resembled a cowboy. His native heritage was stamped on his features—a broad forehead, blade nose and high cheekbones. And his eyes were a warm brown flecked with gold. Something fluttered in her stomach, as if she’d swallowed a butterfly. Oh my, he was strikingly handsome.
The trapped insect lodged in her chest. She couldn’t think about his handsomeness or the flashes of civility she’d seen. He was a savage, and savages raped and killed women who weren't smart enough to seize their opportunity to escape.
He held out his hand. "If you walk around, the feeling will come back."
"My legs won’t support me. Will you carry me?"
With obvious reluctance, he slipped an arm around her waist.
Kate forced her body to relax even though her muscles screamed from being tensed and her fingers ached from clutching the rock. She looped her other arm around his neck. His grip on her waist tightened. The warmth from his fingers seeped through her clothes, setting off the tingling sensation she’d felt before at his touch. Only this time, it seemed to crackle.
Had he felt it, too? He must have, because he stared at her mouth as if he wanted to take a bite. She licked her lips, too nervous to speak. As he drew her closer, his breath feathered her cheek. Her insides quivered…with fear, surely.
She wrapped her other arm around his shoulders, trying to keep the rock out of sight. Now. She must strike, for she wouldn’t get another chance.
"Wa-ya!" His partner’s cry split the air.
He dropped her and jerked to his feet.
She hid the rock behind her back, tried to control her trembling, but she shook like a leaf in the wind.
"We're coming.” His voice came out a full octave lower than before. He clamped his fingers on her arm and yanked her to her feet. "Give me that," he growled, snatching her weapon.
The fury gathering in his eyes turned her blood to ice. Was he going to beat her to death with that rock?
She cringed, anticipating the blow. When it didn't come, she cracked her eyes open.
His gaze burned hot as a bonfire. He cast the rock aside with a harsh word that sounded like a curse.
"I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to hurt you. If you’d just let me go—”
Clamping down on her arm, he dragged her back to his horse. She stumbled over the uneven ground, and bit her lip to keep from crying out at his bruising grip. When he snatched the scarf from his pocket, she thought he meant to gag her again, but instead, he bound her hands.
Would he strap her over his horse as he'd threatened? She nearly wept at the thought of the humiliating ride ahead. Rather than taking control of the situation, she’d made it ten times worse.
His partner pinned her with a murderous glare. Had he suspected something and that’s why he called out? Without a word, he turned his mount and started up the incline.
Ahead, the earth seemed to drop off into the sky. She could hear water rushing. Her heart raced as she called to mind a horrible scene from one of the James Fenimore Cooper’s Leatherstocking tales. Did these men intend to murder her on a precipice like that mad Huron had done to poor Cora? Kate struggled not to beg for mercy. She was a Parsons. She would leap to her death, not go there on her knees.
Her captor gripped her waist and hoisted her up. Startled, she snagged the saddle horn and swung her leg over the horse. Was he allowing her to ride astride like before? She sagged with relief. Perhaps he’d had a change of heart.
When he mounted behind her, she scooted forward to avoid contact. With a grunt, he grabbed her hips and wedged her bottom against his pelvis. Her entire body caught fire. The wretch wasn't going to spare her. He'd just come up with a different punishment.
He took up the reins in one hand, curling his other arm around her in an embrace more
intimate than any she'd experienced. "Don't even think about moving,” he ordered, in perfect English.
Chapter 2
"Wa-ya, get up."
Jake jerked awake at the touch on his shoulder. He rolled over, wincing as a rock dug into his side. He couldn't have dozed for more than ten minutes.
Charley motioned. "Come outside. I want to talk to you."
Sitting up, Jake rubbed his stinging eyes. Less than a foot away, Redbird lay curled up in his blanket with her back to him, facing the rock wall of the cave. He'd planned t
o punish her by making her sit pressed against him for the remainder of the journey, but all that accomplished was to make his balls ache and his head pound. By the time they reached the hideout shortly after daybreak, he was ready to shoot her or himself, or both.
With a weary sigh, he pulled on his boots, snagged his gun belt and stalked outside.
The sun peeked over the opposite bluff, and a silvery haze hovered over the river. The surface ruffled as water flowed over a bed of stones. Along the shore, still pools made for easy fishing. He loved this quiet, hidden place, which was tucked into a gorge bracketed by waterfalls. Pity they wouldn't be able to use it again. Redbird would be able to describe it—just as easily as she'd be able to describe the two men who’d taken her.
The thought shattered Jake’s brief moment of peace. He couldn't ransom Redbird. If the Army thought his people had started abducting white women, they would send soldiers over the border. What had happened during the white man's war of rebellion, the wanton killing and plundering, it would happen again. Only this time, it would be his fault—his and Charley’s.
His cousin sat perched on a rock near the river and looked far too calm for a man whose actions might start a war. He'd set a fire and had two fish roasting on spits, as well as a coffee pot steaming over a clump of coals. He'd want to know the plan. Problem was, Jake didn't have one.
He hunkered down next to the fire. The delicious smells made his stomach rumble. "You wanted to talk?"
"Get something to eat." Charley wiped his knife on the leg of his jeans. He flicked his wrist, sending the tip into the dirt. It landed a scant inch from his foot. He retrieved it and tried again, this time coming closer.
When he’d been a lanky youth and Jake still a child, he’d urged Jake to join him in a game to see who could get the knife closest to his foot without injuring himself. It seemed a stupid risk and Jake had balked at doing it. That was the first time Charley had called him a coward.
"Why do you do that?" Jake grumbled.