Comanche Heart

by Catherine Anderson

  A sudden calm came over Amy. She was no longer a terrified little girl. And she’d be damned if she’d give these animals the satisfaction they sought. She was no stranger to pain, after all. She knew from experience that no matter how badly something hurt, the agony eventually passed. She couldn’t prevent these men from violating her body, but she could retain her dignity, regardless of what they did to her.

  Let me say it my way, just once. The words slipped into her mind from nowhere, the sound of Swift’s voice, husky soft and silken, echoing and reechoing. She imagined his dark face, the way his eyes clouded with tenderness when he looked at her, the way his hands whispered over her, making her feel cherished. These men couldn’t steal that from her.

  Her bodice ripped. Amy felt cool air sifting through her chemise. Fingers dug in around her breast, inflicting pain. She tensed, knowing that this was only the beginning.

  Let me say it my way. The calm remained with her. Swift had given her so many things—love and laughter and hope—but the greatest gift of all had been a renewed sense of self. Courage is taking three steps when it terrifies you. Tears gathered behind her eyelids. No matter what these men did to her tonight, she would survive it. And when morning came, she would turn her face toward the horizon and never look back.

  The hand tightened cruelly. “Hey, sweet thing? You dead or somethin’? I like my women with a little life in them.”

  Amy remained limp and concentrated on separating her mind from reality. She remembered the day she and Swift had chased the chickens until the feathers flew. Once again she floated in his arms to the strains of a waltz, in moonlight touched with magic. With the memories came the certainty that tomorrow would indeed come. Tonight was only an instant out of a lifetime.

  The door to the shack crashed open, the sudden sound reeling Amy back to the present. Startled, she opened her eyes to see Hank Lowdry bursting inside. He slammed the door closed behind him and glared down at the man hunkered next to her.

  “Damn it to hell, Billy Bo! What do you think yer doin’?”

  “Just havin’ a little fun. Doggone it, Sly. You near gave me heart failure.”

  “Good. You can fun around later. Lopez ain’t comin’ to have tea.”

  Swift was coming? Amy dragged her gaze to the man who had been tormenting her, a man whom she had known as Steve Lowdry. Billy Bo? The name was so ludicrous she nearly laughed, albeit hysterically. He jerked her torn bodice back into place and rose. Amy’s skin crawled where he had touched her.

  “I can fun around and be ready,” he complained. “Since when do you git so nervous over taking on one man? There’s five of us.”

  Five? Amy slid her gaze around the shadowy room. Including the newly arrived Sly, alias Hank Lowdry, she counted four men, which meant another must be outside. Doing what? Waiting to ambush Swift? Oh, God, Swift was coming here. These horrible men must be using her as bait. Swift wouldn’t realize how many guns he was up against. He was walking right into a trap.

  Sly moved to a window and rubbed angrily at a square of grimy glass so he could see out. “Lopez slapped leather against twenty of Chink’s best men. Are you forgettin’ that? And he plugged Chink in the bargain. Get your mind out of your britches and stick to business.”

  Billy Bo gave Amy a lingering look. Then, reaching under his hat to scratch, he ambled across the room, his spur rowels dragging on the planks. “What’d’ya want me ta do?”

  “Keep watch, you dumb ass. Before you get it shot off.” Sly drew his six-shooter and checked for cartridges. Then he pressed close to the window again. “Douse that damned fire, Poke! Who in hell built it, anyway?”

  “I did,” the third man snarled back. “It’s colder’n a witch’s tit in here.”

  Amy heard spurs chinking toward the hearth. Water splashed and hissed. Smoke roiled over her. She turned her face into her shoulder, glad for the darkness. Five men? And Swift was expecting only two. She had to do something. The question was, what?

  Swift drew Diablo to a halt in the dark shadows beneath a tree. The smell of smoke drifted to him. Hunter was somewhere off to his left. Hilton was on a stand about a hundred yards behind him. Light from the full moon bathed the clearing ahead. Perfect. He and Hunter would be able see one another well enough to communicate by sign language as they advanced on the mine shack.

  Forcing thoughts of Amy out of his mind, Swift closed his eyes, trying to absorb the smells and sounds around him, to become a part of them. The words he had said to Hunter that first night in Wolf’s Landing came back to haunt him. That place within me that was once Comanche is dead. If that was true, then Amy was as good as dead.

  Swift opened his eyes and stared up through the gnarled tree branches at the moon. Mother Moon. His heart twisted. It had been so long since he had begun denying his Indian heritage. Could he still taste a man’s sweat on the air at a hundred yards? Could he still distinguish the sounds of an animal from those of a man, those of friend from foe? Could he still move through the darkness like a shadow? Warble like a night bird? Hoot like an owl? Cry like a coyote? Would he remember the signals he had been trained to use in battle?

  Fear crawled up Swift’s spine. A picture of Amy flashed in his head. And now the Gabriel brothers had her in that mine shack. Her worst dread, and it had come to pass. He had to get her out of there.

  An owl hooted. The hair on Swift’s nape prickled. Without moving his body, he slid his gaze across the clearing. He saw Hunter crouched behind a bush. His hands flashed. Swift deciphered the signal and stiffened. There’s a man ahead of you.

  Swift lay forward along Diablo’s neck and cupped his hand over the horse’s muzzle. The animal grew motionless. A smile touched Swift’s mouth. Some things were never forgotten. He slid off the horse like a wraith and flattened himself to the ground. Tipping his head back, he worked his throat. “Hoohoo! Hoo-hoo!” Rolling onto his side, he signaled back to Hunter. I will take him. Hunter nodded and melted into the black shadows.

  “Goddamn it! Rodriguez should be here by now!” Sly turned from the window. The bright moonlight enabled Amy to see him as he pulled his timepiece from his pocket. He tipped it toward the light. “We were supposed to change the watch ten minutes ago. Something’s happened.”

  “He’s probably sittin’ out there asleep!” Billy Bo grumbled from somewhere near Amy’s head.

  Sly jabbed a thumb at the door. “Poke, go see what the hell’s keepin’ him. One of you report back to me within five minutes. Fernandez,” he snarled at the third man. “I want you on the roof. Move it!”

  “Why can’t Billy Bo or Fernandez go check on Rodriguez?” Poke argued. “If something’s happened, why’s it gotta be my neck on the line?”

  “Because I said!”

  The man named Fernandez leaped to do Sly’s bidding and quietly exited the shack. From the shadows Amy heard Poke shoving up from the floor, still muttering under his breath. “I’ll tell ya why it’s me and Fernandez that’s gotta go. It’s ’cause we don’t hearken to the last name Gabriel, that’s why.”

  “Quit yer goddamn bellyaching!” Sly shot back. He glanced up at the roof, cocking an ear at the thumping sound of footsteps above them. “He sounds like a herd of horses up there. Don’t he know to be quiet?”

  Poke stepped into a shaft of moonlight and clamped his hat on his head. Amy was glad that his snoring had stopped. It seemed to her that she’d been lying in the same position for hours, listening to him sputter and smack his lips.

  Hours. Had it been that long? Or had only minutes passed? Amy had no idea. She only knew that she couldn’t work the ropes on her wrists loose, that there was nothing, absolutely nothing, she would be able to do if Swift needed help. He would come for her. Of that, she had no doubt. And he might die for his efforts.

  Poke pulled his gun and made sure it was loaded. With a last curse to show his displeasure, he opened the door and stepped outside. Shortly after the portal closed behind him, the hoot of an owl drifted through the night.
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br />   Amy registered the sound and nearly discarded it. Then she froze and stared through the darkness at Sly’s dark silhouette against the window. He was hunched over, doing something with his hands. A moment later a lucifer flared, spraying sparks. The light of the flame bathed his craggy face as he dipped his head to light his cigarette. Amy swallowed and glanced beyond him at the window. If he had heard the owl, he didn’t realize the significance of it. At least he hadn’t yet. But he might at any moment, if she didn’t distract him.

  She swallowed again. Until now she had been as unobtrusive as possible, terrified to call attention to herself. But if Swift was out there, she couldn’t just lie here doing nothing.

  “Why—” Her voice cracked. She licked her lips. What if the sound she had heard was just an owl? What if Swift was still back in Wolf’s Landing? What if—She shoved the thoughts away and focused on the opposite. What if Swift was out there? Sly Gabriel might spy him creeping toward the mine shack and kill him. “Wh-why are you doing this?”

  “Doin’ what?” Sly turned his head from the window to peer at her. “Havin’ a smoke?”

  “N-no. Wh-why did you kill Abe Crenton?”

  “We didn’t like his looks.”

  He turned back to the window. Amy’s pulse quickened. “No, seriously. I’d really like to know. What purpose did killing him serve?”

  “None. That’s why we ended up having to take you.”

  He obviously wasn’t going to talk, not unless she spurred him into it. Amy stared at his hulking shape. “Ah, so your plan fell apart?”

  He turned to look at her again. “Only because you’re a lyin’ bitch. Lopez wasn’t with you all night last night.”

  “How can you know where he was?”

  “We were watchin’ him, that’s how.” He leaned his hips against the windowsill, completely turning his back on the window. “He left your place about two. We waited until after he left to kill Crenton.”

  “So he wouldn’t have an alibi for the time of death.” Amy felt some genuine curiosity stirring. “You wanted him to hang, that’s clear. But why? If you wanted him dead so badly, surely you could have thought of a dozen more expedient ways to accomplish it.”

  He laughed softly. “Exped—what?”

  “Expedient . . . faster ways.”

  He shrugged. “Fast ain’t always healthy.”

  “I’m afraid you’ve lost me again.”

  “We saw a way to kill him legal. Bein’s we’re strangers to these parts, it was a darned sight safer than doin’ it ourselves. Especially since Lopez went righteous on us and quit wearin’ his guns.”

  “I’d think being strangers would have served you well. No one knew who you really were. As for him not wearing his guns, I’d think that would make it easier, not more difficult.”

  A breath of laughter escaped him, the inference being that she was incredibly stupid. “Sure, if we wanted to gun down an unarmed man and have every lawman in the place after us. There ain’t many roads outa here. If the law took after us—” He took a drag off his cigarette and flicked ashes, which flared orange en route to the floor. “Well, you get the idea. I’d hang just as dead whether they knew my real name or not. We don’t know these mountains good enough to strike off through uncharted territory to avoid the roads.”

  It was beginning to make sense to Amy. She slid a glance toward the window. “So you decided to kill Crenton, make it look as if Swift did it, and let him hang for it.”

  “Lopez threatened to slit the man’s throat in front of a dozen witnesses. It was too good to pass up. All we had to do was carry through on his threat. Me and Billy Bo have taken our share of scalps, so we do a clean job. A few years back, the army paid good for Injun hair.”

  Amy’s stomach knotted. Injun hair. Human life meant nothing to him. Her throat felt dry. She swallowed the nausea down. “One more question, just to satisfy my curiosity. Why do you want Mr. Lopez dead?”

  “He gunned down my brother Chink.”

  “Why?”

  “Over a woman.” He laughed again. “A yellow-hair, like you. The man’s got a thing for blondes, don’t he?”

  For just an instant, a pang of jealousy cut through Amy. Then she swept it aside. She could never doubt Swift’s love for her. If he had killed Chink Gabriel over a woman, he must have had reasons other than the obvious.

  “I’d say your brother must have liked blondes, too,” she came back softly.

  “It didn’t matter to him what color their hair was,” Sly snarled. “He was just havin’ some fun. And Lopez killed him over it.”

  The hatred in Sly Gabriel’s voice chilled Amy. She wondered if his brother Chink’s idea of having fun with a woman had been anything like Billy Bo’s.

  Chapter 25

  IT SEEMED TO AMY THAT SEVERAL MORE HOURS had dragged by since Sly Gabriel had ended their conversation and returned his attention to the window. She knew that much time couldn’t have elapsed. Sly had instructed Poke to report back to him within five minutes, and Poke still hadn’t returned. If even one hour had gone by, Sly would be getting antsy by now, wondering what was amiss.

  As if he read her thoughts, Sly pulled his watch from his pocket and checked the time. He swore and turned back to the window. “That goddamn Lopez is out there, Billy Bo,” he hissed to his brother. “I think he’s tryin’ to pick us off one by one.”

  “How in hell you know that?” Amy heard Billy Bo shuffling from the shadows. “I ain’t seen nothin’.”

  Sly drew his gun and rechecked the ammunition, which told Amy how nervous he was. He had already checked the weapon once. “Rodriguez never came in to change the watch. Now Poke hasn’t come back.” His voice trembled slightly. “The son of a bitch is out there. I feel it in my guts.”

  Billy Bo pressed closer to the window and peered out. “What we gonna do?”

  “Well, we ain’t gonna sit in here and wait to get our throats slit, I can tell ya that. Grab the woman!”

  Billy Bo turned toward Amy. “What’re we gonna do with her?”

  “We’ll use her to force him into the open,” Sly replied. “Lopez’ll show himself if we start carvin’ on her a little.”

  An icy cold pooled in Amy’s belly. Billy Bo approached and grabbed her bound wrists to jerk her to her feet. Her arms twisted upward behind her back. Pain knifed through her shoulders. She gasped and staggered against him. Heaving up on her wrists again, he sent her reeling toward the door. Amy clenched her teeth to keep from screaming.

  Sly threw the door wide. Billy Bo steered Amy out into the yard. Releasing his hold on her wrists, he snaked an arm around her waist, jerking her back against him.

  Using Amy and his brother as a shield, Sly Gabriel came up from behind. “Lopez! Hey, Lopez, we know y’re out there!” Sly roared. “Take a nice long look at yer lady, amigo. Here in a minute, she won’t have a nose.” He pressed in closer to Billy Bo. “If that don’t bring you out, next he’ll slice off her ears.”

  As if to demonstrate his willingness to start cutting, Billy Bo pulled his knife and pressed the sharp side of the blade against Amy’s upper lip. She swallowed down a whimper. A single sound from her might make Swift do something rash.

  “I’m gonna count to ten, Lopez,” Sly called. “If you aren’t in plain sight by the time I finish, we start carvin’.”

  Fernandez whispered down from the roof. “Want me to take him out, boss?”

  “You think y’re up there for a nap?” Sly retorted in a low voice.

  Amy scanned the clearing. Moonlight bathed the immediate area in front of the shack, but when she tried to see farther into the shadows, her night blindness hindered her. Was Swift out there? Did he realize Fernandez was lying on the roof, ready to pick him off? Oh, God. She rolled her eyes downward to stare at the knife under her nose. If she screamed a warning, Billy Bo would probably flinch and cut her.

  A horrible quivering seized her. She imagined Swift stepping out into the moonlight . . . imagined him getting shot. A
scar on her face was nothing if it meant he might live. She braced herself, inhaled slowly, and then screamed, “There’s a man on the roof!”

  Billy Bo did flinch. Luckily, when he jerked, the knife dropped a fraction, rather than slicing upward.

  “Goddamn it, Billy Bo, shut her up,” Sly cried.

  Billy Bo swore and clamped his hand over her mouth, grinding the knife handle against her lips. Amy’s legs nearly folded. She closed her eyes on a wave of relief, praying Swift had heard her.

  As if in answer to her prayer, a wonderfully familiar, silken voice came from out of the darkness. “Let her go, Gabriel. It’s me you want, not the woman. I’m wearing my guns. You’ll get your gunfight, so you can call it self-defense. So do the decent thing and get her out of there.”

  Amy stared into the darkness beyond the clearing, her heart slamming. Swift. She wanted to run to him. Every muscle in her body strained against Billy Bo’s hold.

  “Show yerself,” Sly ordered.

  “Not until you get the woman out of harm’s way.”

  “So you can pick us off? How dumb do ya think we are, Lopez? Show yerself right now, or she dies.”

  A shadow moved. Amy tried to twist her mouth free of Billy Bo’s hand. He clamped down all the harder. She knew Swift’s chances would be decreased if she remained in his line of fire. He’d have to pick and choose his targets, which would slow him down. Even if he shot Sly and Fernandez, he wouldn’t risk aiming at Billy Bo for fear of hitting her. Billy Bo would undoubtedly take advantage and reward Swift with a bullet.

  The knife blade pressed against her cheek. She knew Billy Bo would slit her throat with little provocation. Her life or Swift’s? Without him she wouldn’t have much of a life, anyway. She shifted her weight to one foot. Then, before Billy Bo could guess her intent, she knifed up with her knee and dug the heel of her shoe into his shin, shoving downward with all her might.