“Well,” Tate-Johnson said as he came alongside him, “at least, Chief Jim Ned is retreating. I was afraid he wouldn’t accept the outcome.”
“He hasn’t,” Miguel replied. “He only waits. He’ll put out a call to other tribes.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because his response to my signal should have been a raised spear. All he did was throw down a challenge.” Miguel looked up to the empty horizon. “Comanches on the warpath, and now, we have no hostages to stop them.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN—WEDDING BELLS
Elizabeth waited up late into the night for Miguel to return. She had only briefly seen him when he returned from Houston and stopped by on his way to the trial in Fort Worth. She had wanted to go with him, but after her abduction, her presence would only incite an already emotional crowd to riot.
Finally, she heard the steady cadence of his horse’s hooves pounding the road. With relief, she went to the door and opened it as he dismounted and came toward her.
Miguel wrapped his arms around her and kissed her thoroughly before leading her to the sofa, keeping her in his embrace. “What are you still doing awake at this hour?”
“Waiting for your kiss,” Elizabeth said as she snuggled against him. “You’ve been gone too long.”
He rubbed a hand over his eyes and for the first time, Elizabeth noticed how tired he looked. She sat up. “They were found guilty, weren’t they?”
“Yes. Guilty and hanged on the spot.”
Elizabeth was shocked. “Without waiting for an appeal?”
Miguel gave her a strange look. “An appeal?”
She bit her lip. Death row appeals were automatic in the twenty-first century, but not in the nineteenth. Frontier justice was carried out immediately. When would she remember not to keep bringing up the future? That was only a memory now. “Never mind.”
He pressed her head back to his shoulder and stroked her hair. “It’s okay if you have a quirk about the future. I love you anyway.” He paused. “Maybe I’m a little crazy, too. I thought I saw a druid priest during the trial.”
It was the first time he had even mentioned the possibility of a parallel time period. “How did that happen?” she asked.
“The lawyer—the one from Houston—delivered an emotional speech about ancient rituals and tolerance of others’ belief systems. It wasn’t enough to convince the jurors, but he believed in what he said.” Miguel shook his head. “Ah, well. I’ve been on the road too long and there was a lot of tension in that courtroom. They wanted a lynching. I guess stress just made me think I saw the lawyer dressed as a priest.”
“Maybe you caught a glimpse of him from another life,” Elizabeth said. “Some people believe in reincarnation.” If only Miguel would accept a little bit of the paranormal; maybe then one day he would believe that she really was from the future.
“Okay, Red. Stop trying to convince me to accept something that’s impossible.” He brushed his lips across hers slowly. “How are the wedding plans coming along? Have we set a date?”
She recognized the diversion, but the wedding was something she was happy to talk about. “May Day,” she said, “the heralding of spring.” Brooke would have reminded her that it was also Beltane, the ancient festival of fertility. Well, she hoped she’d be fertile. Raul needed a brother or a sister.
“Did you post the Banns while I was gone?” Miguel asked.
“Banns?” She hadn’t even thought of the old practice of putting their intention to marry in writing and having the clergy read it to the public. “I—I thought it would be better to wait for you.” That was true. It would have been awkward to ask the priest to announce their wedding without the groom present.
“Tomorrow’s Sunday; we’ll do it then,” Miguel said as he rose from the sofa and brought her with him. He nuzzled her neck, one hand gently kneading a breast. “How am I going to wait three more weeks to bed you?”
She let her hand trail down his chest, across his flat belly and then lower until her fingertips touched the increasingly hard bulge that was growing. “You don’t have to.”
He made a growling sound low in his throat. “Keep doing that and I won’t wait.” Briefly, he pressed himself against her and then he took her hand. “I promised Olga, on my mother’s grave, that I would do the honorable thing and wait.” He sighed. “It’s getting late. We have to be up early. Now go, before I change my mind.”
As Elizabeth left, she thought of Abigail Parsons. The schoolmarm no longer posed a threat, but she’d be at church in the morning. Elizabeth would have given nearly anything to have a twenty-first century camera with her to catch the look on her face when the Banns were read.
• ♥ •
Elizabeth had just finished purchasing some material Monday morning when the door to the general store burst open and Abigail Parsons swept through. She had a copy of the Banns that had been posted yesterday in her hand and she slammed it down on the counter and glared at Elizabeth.
“You think you’ve won, don’t you?”
Elizabeth stifled a grin. She had won, but there was no sense in enraging a scorned woman who was already angry. Abigail hadn’t been in church yesterday, but she obviously had heard the news.
“Miguel is marrying me, yes.”
The schoolmarm’s golden eyes slitted, giving her the appearance of a feral cat. “Don’t be too sure about that.”
“There isn’t anything you can do about it, Miss Parsons.” Why didn’t she just give up? Miguel had never really encouraged her, and he had made his choice.
The schoolmarm snarled, and Elizabeth almost stepped back. Almost. Instead, she managed to inquire, “I’m assuming that means you aren’t going to wish us well?”
Abigail made a strangled noise and picked up the paper only to crush it in her clawed hand. Elizabeth noticed for the first time how long and sharp the schoolteacher’s nails were. For a brief moment, Elizabeth had the impression the woman was going to crouch and spring, as coiled as her body was. Elizabeth tensed. She had always detested breaking up cat-fights at the high school. Girls fought dirty. Those nails could do some damage, and the timid young woman behind the counter would be of no help. Miguel was down the street at the smithy, but Elizabeth was not about to run out of the store looking for help. Suddenly, Miss Parsons loosened her grip on the paper and smiled.
“I’m going to ruin you.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath and pulled herself up to her full height. “How are you going to ruin me?”
The schoolmarm’s smile twisted. “I’m going to make sure everyone in this town knows the truth about you.”
The truth? That she’d time-traveled? How could she know that? Elizabeth decided to fish. “What are you talking about?”
“Your little secret. You know.”
Miss Parsons couldn’t prove anything. “Refresh my memory, will you?”
The schoolmarm smirked. “Very well. I’ll tell you what you already know. Swift Hawk found you nearly naked in Miguel’s barn, did he not?”
“How do you know that?”
A knowing smile appeared. “The Indian is a lonely man. I got him to talk.”
Swift Hawk? Elizabeth remembered the looks they’d exchanged that day in the library. Okay, so Miss Parsons cornered him. Maybe more than that. Swift Hawk thought Elizabeth was some kind of spirit dream-catcher person.
“Yes, Miss O’Malley, he talked. He says you speak of strange things in distance places. That you have knowledge of future things. Of course, he thinks it’s because his gods sent you; I say you’re either a witch or you’re mad. Either way, once I start spreading the rumors that there’s something odd and possibly dangerous about you, people will shun you. It’s amazing how little it takes to get people to believe what you want them to. A subtle suggestion here. A little allusion there. Built slowly, the rumors will ruin you. Miguel is a Ranger, and also influential. He can’t afford to be saddled with a lunatic.”
Elizabeth stared at her. In a way, it was exact
ly what Miguel had warned her about—that people would think she was crazy. Why did she not learn to keep her mouth shut?
Abigail smiled sweetly as she turned to leave. “I intend to have Miguel, and I always get exactly what I want.”
• ♥ •
Two days later, Elizabeth was still shaky over the encounter, even though Miguel had assured her he would be able to quell any rumors that might get started. He also sent an inquiry out about Miss Parsons' background. The knots in Elizabeth’s stomach twisted even more when an army soldier came galloping into the yard on a nearly spent horse.
“Major Arnold asks you to come quick!” he said as he slid down from his blowing and heaving mount.
“Comanche?” Miguel asked even as he signaled for fresh horses.
The young soldier nodded. “Fur trapper named Cockrell was returning from his trap lines and he nearly ran into Chief Jim Ned’s camp. He heard them talking of meeting up with Chief Feathertail and rode to warn the garrison.”
“Feathertail. That means the southern Comanches are joining forces with Jim Ned. You’re talking several hundred warriors.”
And all of them hungry for revenge. Elizabeth remembered the Comanche were horrific fighters, even having managed to push the fierce Apache tribes further west. Feathertail was ruthless. And now the blood lust flowed through them for what had been done to the braves.
Miguel turned to Elizabeth. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. I know Jim Ned better than any white man. He must be stopped before Feathertail reaches him.”
She nodded dumbly and watched him mount. He leaned down to give her a quick kiss. “Don’t worry about anything.”
“Be careful,” she said. Why did the Army need him anyway? Couldn’t they fight their own war? She sighed. She knew the answer. Miguel was a Ranger; he would no more shirk his duty than her father had done.
Elizabeth shivered suddenly, although the sun was warm. A feeling of dread inched its way through her. What if something happened to Miguel? She wouldn’t be able to stand it. Then she heard her father’s voice in her mind. “You have to trust, daughter. We each have our time.”
Elizabeth shook her head to clear it. Miguel would be all right. She was just being silly. She hoped.
• ♥ •
Miguel knew, as soon as he entered the major’s office late that afternoon, that there would be no negotiating this time. The major had maps strewn all over the table with defense tactics scribbled over them.
Arnold acknowledged him with a nod, but didn’t stop giving orders. “We’ll attack from three directions. He turned to his officers. “Captain Maclay, you’ll head north. Lieutenant Street, you’ll go south and swing around. Be careful Feathertail’s not on your back. I’ll take my troops and head directly west. Jim Ned will be flanked on three sides. He’ll either fight without Feathertail or he’ll retreat. Miguel, you ride with me.”
“When do we leave?”
The major frowned. “As soon as we’ve eaten. It’s a Comanchería moon. Jim Ned will move tonight. I want to be waiting for him.”
Miguel sat on his horse, several hours later, peering into the darkness. The full moon had just risen and there wasn’t enough light yet to see far ahead. The Comanche were stealthy, but they were mounted. It would be hard not to hear their approach, but his concern was for Indian scouts who could count coup and flee before anyone knew someone was dead.
One of their own outriders returned just then. “You were right, sir,” he said to the major. “They’re on the move, less than a half-mile from here.”
The major nodded and dispatched two riders for his captain and lieutenant. “Here we go,” he said and urged his horse forward.
The initial clash did not last long. Surprised and out-numbered, the Indians had no choice but to turn back. Miguel saw Swift Hawk hesitate, tomahawk in hand, but a terse command from Jim Ned made him follow. The chief was no fool and this wasn’t over yet, even though they left thirty-seven dead and fifteen more wounded.
Major Arnold rode up to Miguel. “Not one casualty on our part. Not bad for a night’s work.”
“What are you going to do about their wounded?” Miguel asked.
The major looked around. “We should just shoot them.”
“That’ll incite even more trouble,” Miguel said.
“You have heard of taking no prisoners, I assume?” he answered.
Miguel clenched his jaw. God. He was glad he’d never joined the Army. All he wanted to do was go home and hold Elizabeth. Beginning a range war would not make things safe for her, or anyone else.
“Then don’t take prisoners,” Miguel finally said when he could speak civilly. “Leave them here. The Comanche will come back for their dead once we’re gone. Let them take their wounded, too. Maybe it will mend things with Jim Ned. War can be prevented.”
“You think so? I was trained to stand and fight. I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t.” The major frowned as he spoke, appearing to be fighting an internal battle. “But Washington wants peace. The sooner we can convince the Comanche to move to the reservations, the better.” He sighed and signaled the retreat. “I sure hope you’re right.”
They camped by the Brazos River that night, anticipating the path that Feathertail’s warriors would take. At dawn, just as the first red streaks lit the sky, the Indians appeared on the horizon.
Spotting the army, Feathertail let out a war whoop and broke into a gallop.
“They’ve got us outnumbered this time,” Captain Maclay said grimly, “and our men haven’t had much sleep.”
“Bah.” The major snorted and patted his sidearm. “We have five bullets riding on our hips and we have these.” He raised his rifle. “This will be over as quickly as last night was.”
But it wasn’t. Miguel knew last night had been a fluke. Jim Ned had no way of knowing the trapper had overheard him. His braves were not even painted for battle, which meant they had planned to wait for Feathertail.
Feathertail fought fiercely, making charges, firing arrows and then quickly retreating to form another line. The infantry held its ranks in a double line, the first line firing, then dropping to their knees to reload, while the second line above them fired. The cavalry counter-charged, trying to flank the Indians but they were too spread out.
It was mid-morning when Feathertail led a suicidal charge, infiltrating the army lines and bursting through. Miguel wheeled his mount around and found himself face-to-face with the chief. He raised his hand and asked for peace in the Comanche tongue.
Feathertail sneered at him and raised his tomahawk, bringing it down in a felling swoop. At the same time, the chief arched his back, his eyes opening in surprise as a bullet found its mark. The tomahawk slipped, missing Miguel’s chest and imbedded itself into his thigh.
Dimly, through the haze that was filtering over his eyes, Miguel was aware of the Indians retreating now that their chief was dead. The pain in his leg seared like a knife through the rest of him. The world was becoming darker, as though the sun had set. He felt himself being eased from the saddle, and then, he knew no more.
• ♥ •
Miguel woke groggily in the infirmary to pain and blurry vision. The scent of lye disinfectant assailed his nose and the white-washed walls and white sheets covering him made him think he was drifting in a cloud. A woman faded in and out of his consciousness. At times, she looked like Elizabeth and then she shifted into traditional Indian dress, although her braided hair remained red. She placed a cool hand on his fevered brow and the pain receded. He blinked his eyes hard to bring her into focus, but she was gone.
“You’re awake.” Elizabeth came to his side quickly from the chair where she had been dozing. “How do you feel?”
“The pain…it was there, and now it’s gone.” He tried to sit up, but Elizabeth pushed him down and held unto his hand. He gave her a feeble smile. “Did you just touch me a minute ago?”
She shook her head, looking puzzled. “No. I’ve been dozing in the chair. Why?�
��
“Well, someone did. She made the pain go away.”
“There’s been no one in here but me, Miguel. Maybe you’re still delirious.”
“Still? How long have I been here?”
“Four days. The wound got infected and you were burning up with fever. The medic didn’t know if you’d make it. That’s when they came and got me.”
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’m glad you’re here.” Then he frowned. “But you didn’t see a red-haired woman with braids, dressed in fringed white leather and moccasins?” Elizabeth looked startled and Miguel asked, “What is it? Did you see her too?” He pushed himself up against the headboard. “Not my imagination, then. I’d like to thank her if you can find her.”
“I can’t Miguel. I…I may have seen her, too—in the sweat lodge—but I thought she was just a vision. Elizabeth wrinkled her brow in thought and then widened her eyes. “There was another time—” She looked at him apprehensively. “It was in a dream. Just before I found myself in your barn and the nineteenth century.”
• ♥ •
Miguel wasn’t strong enough to travel for another week and even then, he walked with a slight limp although he was determined to go home.
When they returned to the hacienda, Cactus Flower was waiting for them.
Elizabeth hugged her. “What are you doing here?”
“Chief Jim Ned sent me. He’s returned your horses. He said he angered the Great Spirit since you took nothing in return. My father said it was the reason Chief Feathertail was killed.” She looked at Miguel. “I am to remain your hostage.”
“You are free to go,” Miguel said. “Having Diablo back is all the token I need for peace.”
She gave him a shy smile. “I would prefer to stay, if that’s all right.”
“Of course.” Miguel studied her. “The white man’s ways appeal to you, then?” When she nodded, he went on. “Perhaps you can be the ambassador that we’ve wanted. Someone who understands both cultures. You could relay messages from time to time.”
“That would give you an opportunity to see your mother, too,” Elizabeth added.
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