“Why is he willing to endure such pain?” Elizabeth asked Little Fox.
She looked surprised. “It is a test of manhood for our people. When our braves go on the warpath, they must know the one who rides beside them has courage.”
It was barbaric. And to think she had all but told Swift Hawk he was weak. Then a word Little Fox had used halted her thoughts. “Warpath?”
“Yes.” The Indian girl hesitated. “There will be war for what the shaman plans to do. Our father knows this, so we prepare.”
Elizabeth shivered even though the sun was warm. “Little Fox. Help me escape. Then, there will be no war.”
“I would like to, but I cannot.”
“You can. Say I’m not feeling well. The sun is too hot. I need to lie down.”
“Maybe you should go to the Medicine Lodge, after all.” Little Fox’s eyes were troubled. “The sacred weed will help you to accept what must be.”
“No.” Elizabeth clasped her hands to still the trembling. If she were going to die, she would do it in her right mind. But. She. Was. Not. Going. To. Die.
A short time later, an older woman who bore a striking resemblance to Cactus Flower brought them a rich venison stew. Although it smelled delicious, Elizabeth pushed hers away.
“You must eat,” Little Fox urged.
“I don’t want to be drugged,” Elizabeth said.
Little Fox looked sympathetic. “Would you like to exchange? Here, have mine; I haven’t touched it. I’ll take yours.”
She hesitated. If the girl were ready to trade, the stew should be fine. But that might be a ploy. Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. She would need her strength if she managed to escape. She looked at the bowls. “All right. Let’s switch.”
Little Fox lost no time in cleaning her bowl and after a minute, Elizabeth did the same. The stew had a heady flavor, full of sweet herbs and spices. Sated, Elizabeth gave the bowl back to the woman and gave her thanks.
Ten minutes later, she slumped to the ground, smiling dreamily about Miguel.
• ♥ •
Elizabeth sat up on her pallet, holding her throbbing head. Damp heat stifled her. In the center of what appeared to be a cave a pit had been dug. A grate holding large, flat stones was laid over the fire beneath. No wonder it was so blazing hot in here! She suddenly realized someone had undressed her, leaving her naked beneath a thin blanket.
She started to throw the blanket off, when a woman entered and threw a pail of water over the hot stones, causing more steam to rise. The sweat lodge. As the flames hissed angrily, she became aware that she was not alone.
On pallets around the fire lay the braves from the Sun Dance, the smell of the eucalyptus poultices on their chests flavoring the room. They seemed to swim in and out of her vision. She had been drugged. If the braves were through with the torture, did that mean the sun had set? What time did the moon rise? How much longer did she have to live? She looked wildly around for Swift Hawk, hoping that he might yet help her escape, but he was not there.
She blinked to focus. There was another woman in the room. Where had she come from? The flap to the lodge hung still. Elizabeth rubbed at her eyes for the woman suddenly seemed to be floating in the mist from the steam. She had red hair like Elizabeth’s, but hers was braided and beaded. She wore white leather, and it was difficult to tell her age. Elizabeth shook her head to clear the effects of the drugs.
“Who are you? Can you help me?”
The woman smiled, and it seemed to Elizabeth’s fogged mind that rays of light radiated from her.
“He comes.”
“Who? Miguel?” Elizabeth asked hopefully and then frowned. She was speaking to air. The woman had disappeared. Probably a hallucination. She was so desperate for rescue she was conjuring up images. Stifling a sob, Elizabeth struggled to think more clearly, but the effect of the drugs had not worn off and her eyes began to close.
Sometime later, she awoke to the sounds of war whoops. Sweet Mary! What time was it? Were they coming for her? It could not be time already. How could she have actually slept? More shouting ensued, and she heard a horse’s hooves clattering on the rocky terrain. The noise grew louder, and the men outside the cave entrance grew silent. And then, she heard him. Miguel.
“Where is she?”
Elizabeth whisked the blanket around her in one stroke and staggered for the door. One of the braves stood and she bared her teeth. “Don’t try to stop me.” She didn’t know if it was something in her voice, or perhaps he was still too weak, but he sat down abruptly and nodded. She raised the flap and tottered outside.
“Over here, Miguel,” she called weakly. Please, God, he has to be real, and not a hallucination. She shook her head to clear it.
He was beside her in an instant, one strong arm around her waist, supporting her. She closed her eyes and laid her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Nothing had ever felt so good as being held in his arms.
“Thank God, Elizabeth, you’re safe.”
She struggled to open her eyes. “They want to kill me, Miguel. How many men did you bring?”
“I’m alone,” he whispered
“Alone?” She could have wept. “Then they’ll kill you too. Oh, Miguel, why did you come alone?”
“I had no time to waste. Don’t worry.” Slowly, he led her back to where Chief Jim Ned waited with the shaman. He addressed the chief, ignoring the medicine man. “You don’t want war over this. Your braves still sit in a white man’s jail.”
The chief narrowed his eyes. “You show courage to come by yourself.”
Miguel shrugged. “The Rangers and the U.S. Cavalry are less than a day behind me. If you kill me, it will only incite them.” He finally turned to the shaman. “I still hold your daughter hostage.”
For the first time, Elizabeth saw softness in the shaman’s face. “I haven’t seen Cactus Flower in four years. She is well?”
“You can see for yourself. She rides with the Rangers. I will exchange her life for Elizabeth’s.”
The shaman’s gaze lingered on Elizabeth’s hair. “She will bind us to this land.”
“You won’t have the land if you don’t let her go,” Miguel said. “Those of you who survive will be carried off to a reservation before you can pack your tepees.” He turned back to the chief. “I have always allowed the Comanche the use of my lands for grazing. We have lived in peace when others warred. Is this the way you thank me?”
The chief glanced at his shaman. “He speaks truth. Many braves’ lives have been spared because of this man."
“But the land—“
“What about Cactus Flower?” Miguel demanded, his arm tightening around Elizabeth. “Do you wish her returned to your people?”
The woman whom Elizabeth had thought looked like Cactus Flower burst through the gathered crowd. “Gray Eagle,” she said to the shaman, “I want my daughter back.”
The women gasped, and the men looked stunned. The woman put her hands on her hips and stared at her husband. He gaped at her. “Know your place, Running Water.”
“I honor you in all things, my husband, but if you deny me this, I will leave my people and go to her.” Running Water stepped over to stand beside Miguel.
“Perhaps,” Chief Jim Ned said quietly, “an arrangement can be made. Don Miguel, do you love this woman?”
He did not hesitate. “Yes.”
Elizabeth shook her head, sure that the drugs had affected her hearing. Did Miguel just say he loved her? She must have misheard. She was having an auditory delusion. For a moment she panicked. Maybe this whole thing was a hallucination brought on by the drugs. Maybe Miguel wasn’t even here. She was in denial because of impending death. That must be it. She looked up at him
The look on his face could not have been more tender or real. “I love you, Red.”
“Oh, Miguel!” She threw her arms around his neck, the blanket parting to bring her bare skin ag
ainst him.
He gave her a smoldering look as he carefully pulled the blanket close around her. “You might want to hold that shut for now.”
The chief cleared his throat. “Since it seems Fire Woman feels the same way,” he said, “you should not mind our keeping the Andalusian mare and your stallion, as well. I have wanted to breed that stock into mine for years. A fair trade, I think.”
Oh, no! Not Diablo! He treated the horse like a brother. She could feel Miguel’s arm tense around her and a muscle in his jaw twitched. Silently, he glanced over to where Diablo waited. The horse nickered in response.
“Done,” he said.
“No!” Elizabeth said, “You can’t give him up.” She turned to the chief. “Maybe another horse. You don’t understand what Diablo means—”
The chief’s wise eyes told her he did. He understood exactly what pound of flesh he was extracting, although Elizabeth was sure he’d never heard of Shakespeare. But Miguel knew, and he was willing to do this for her. Love for him filled her until she thought she would burst. A tear trickled down her cheek.
“Hush. It’s done,” Miguel said. “Now, go put on some clothes.”
“No.” She clung to him. “I want to get out of here right now. Before they change their minds.”
Miguel nodded and looked at the chief. “I will have to borrow a horse.”
The chief gestured and a moment later, a pair of well-matched paints was led out. One of the braves unsaddled Diablo and put the gear on the pinto. Miguel watched mutely as Diablo was led away and Elizabeth felt him take in a gulp of air.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He looked down at her. “He’ll be well cared for. The Comanche have always appreciated their horses.”
“I’ll have the mare’s saddle brought for the second horse,” the chief said.
“No need,” Miguel answered and lifted Elizabeth sideways unto his horse and swung up behind her, gathering her into his arms.
“I am taking two of your animals,” Chief Jim Ned said. “I repay in kind.”
“Not this time,” Miguel answered. “I’ll have this horse returned when I meet the army.” He looked at Running Water as he turned the horse. “Cactus Flower will be home tomorrow. You have my word.”
As he set the horse to a swift canter, Elizabeth saw Swift Hawk being restrained by two braves at the edge of the crowd. He managed to break through and started running after them. As the distance grew, he stopped and gave her a mock salute. Elizabeth hoped she’d never see him again.
She felt the awkward position of riding sideways surprisingly comfortable as the miles rolled away. Miguel’s right arm was supporting her back and her legs were draped over his left one as she leaned against his broad chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist and the wayward blanket slipped down to her waist. Vainly, she tried to pull it up, but it wouldn’t stay unless she held it and she’d much rather be feeling the hard muscles of Miguel’s back.
He grinned. “Why is it I’m always rescuing you when you’re half-naked?”
For an answer, she burrowed more tightly against him and felt his shaft thicken and harden under her. She gave a wicked little wiggle.
“Stop that,” he commanded, “unless you’ve a mind for me to stop the horse before we leave Comanchería.”
She smiled slowly. “I wouldn’t mind.”
He reined in the horse. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
His hand began to gently stroke her breast. Then he broke off and swore.
The U.S. Army was headed toward them at a full gallop.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN—THE TRIAL
They had no time for private talk after that. The Army made camp for the night, and the next morning, Elizabeth, clothed in one of Cactus Flower’s dresses, bade her a teary farewell.
“I know you’re going home,” Elizabeth said, “but I’ll miss you.”
The Indian girl nodded. “There is much of the white man’s life that I like.” She looked up as Miguel led the paint horse toward her. “I’ll make sure Diablo and Plata are cared for.”
“Thank you,” Miguel answered as he helped her mount. He pulled a small bag from his pocket and handed it to her. “Sugar cubes. Diablo likes one after he’s been brushed.”
Her doe eyes were soft. “I’ll see to it. You’ve been good to me, don Miguel.”
They watched as she rode away with her escort. Tate- Johnson joined them leading two army mounts. “Major Arnold’s troops will wait for the escort to return. The Rangers better get back and make sure there’s no trouble in town.”
Elizabeth took the reins he handed her and contemplated mounting in a dress. The skirt was full enough to cover her legs, once in the saddle, but how to get there? She stole a glance at Miguel only to find him watching her with that lopsided smile of his. “Maybe I should ride with you,” she said teasingly.
“Nothing I’d like better, but that position puts your derriere in a location I will not be able to resist for the whole day’s hard ride we have ahead.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “I doubt Tate-Johnson would mind if we lost ourselves in the brush on a rest break, but it wasn’t what I really had in mind for our first time.”
Elizabeth blushed and felt warmth flooding through her body, culminating with a pulsation between her thighs. Sweet Mary. If his words could have this physical effect on her—
He laughed as if reading her thoughts and then put his hands around her waist, lifting her into the saddle. His fingers found their way under her skirt and he caressed her thigh and calf before spreading the folds of the dress to cover her properly. “Until tonight, then,” he said.
• ♥ •
Both Olga and Olaf were waiting up for them when they arrived late that night. Miguel knew immediately something was not right. He had pushed the horses to near their limit, hoping to be able to finally claim Elizabeth as his own. Now, he sensed that would not happen.
Olga took one look at Elizabeth’s drawn face and whisked her away, muttering something about a hot bath and a good night’s sleep.
Miguel watched them leave and then took the horses to the barn. Elizabeth had been through an ordeal and she was looking tired and exhausted. A few hours’ sleep might be just what she needed. He’d enjoy waking her up slowly with soft kisses.
“What’s wrong?” he asked later when Olaf joined him in the kitchen as he was having some left-over stew. The older man had been too quiet since their return.
“The townsmen are all fired-up,” Olaf said as he sat down. “Elizabeth getting carried off makes them want to string up the braves still in the brig. The few soldiers Major Arnold left behind have had a time of it, pullin’ double shifts and all.”
A few minutes later, Miguel sat back and wiped a hand over his tired eyes. “I’ll ride out at dawn and collect the Rangers. We can spell the men until the Army returns.” When Olaf didn’t reply he glanced over at him. “There’s more?”
Olaf nodded reluctantly. “It ain’t just Johnson Station men. Village Creek heard too, and this afternoon, men arrived from Bird’s Fort, all of them in a mood for lynching. They remember Mary. Now this.”
“Damn.” Miguel stood. “Get me a fresh horse. I’ll be ready to leave in five minutes. Just let me check on Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth? Not Red? What happened out there, anyway?”
Miguel gave him a slow grin. “She’s still Red. It’s just that—“
“It’s just that you finally came to your senses and figured out that you love her,” Olga finished for him as she came through the kitchen door. “About time. The way you two have been carrying on, always arguing with one another and both of you wanting each other so bad the air’s fair thick with the smell of it.”
Miguel hoped he wasn’t turning red. He hadn’t blushed since he’d lost his own virginity. Had his lust been that obvious? Wait—both of them wanting each other? Did Elizabeth really feel the same way about him, too? She’d responded to his ha
nds and his mouth readily enough, but he’d supposed that was because of her not-remembered profession, even though she always held him off. “I’ve got to see her,” he said and turned to go, but Olga put a restraining hand on his arm.
“Your mother isn’t here, Miguel, so you listen to me. This time there’s not going to be any sneaking around at night, hiding from Raul, like you did with Katy. Do the right thing. Make Elizabeth your wife. She loves you.”
He stared at her. “She loves me? She said that?”
Olga snorted and took the cups to the sink. “Didn’t have to. It’s all over her face plain as handwritin’ on paper.” She shook her head. “A person would think you’re both daft not to see it.”
“Five minutes,” he said to Olaf and turned to run up the stairs.
He opened the door quietly not to startle her, but she was lying on her side, her copper hair spread over her shoulder, one hand curled around the pillow, sound asleep.
He bent over her and inhaled the clean scent of her skin from the bath. Gently, he brushed back the silky strands of her hair. He wanted to wake her and take her right then: to fill her mouth with his tongue, to let his hands roam every inch of that soft flesh, to taste her juices before sliding himself into that hot, wet sheath that was the very essence of her. Yet, he knew Olga was right. His feelings for Elizabeth were different from any he had ever known. Besides the ever-present lust that raged continuously, he trusted her, he realized with surprise.
After Elena had turned on him, trust was the one thing missing from all of his relationships. Yet this woman—wherever she came from—would not let him down. Her defense of him with the major should have been a clue. Bull-headed as he was, he hadn’t seen it.
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