His dark face was only inches from hers and he was lying half on top of her. She felt the sudden tension, abruptly aware of the heat of his hard, muscled body against her. He looked down at her, and his body tensed.
“Damn you for lying to me.” He stood up, reached out, caught her wrist, hauled her to her feet, and dragged her toward the horse.
“Mercy! Just what did you expect?” she snapped at him, struggling to break his hold. “You don’t expect me to keep my word under duress, do you?”
He glanced back over his shoulder as he dragged her along. “I’m just a simple savage, remember? I don’t know the meaning of that word.”
“Well, it means—”
“Be silent! I’ll break that defiant spirit of yours; you won’t make a fool of me twice.” He grabbed her, threw her up on the horse, and took the reins as he mounted the other. “By the way, now that you’ve broken your word, I don’t see any reason to keep mine.”
“About what?” She felt a chill go down her back.
He looked her over, caressing her body with his dark, smoldering gaze.
Startled, Glory glanced down, realized her torn bodice exposed much of her bosom.
Just the slightest smile played along his sensuous lips. “You know about what.”
Five
A woman screaming ... screaming. Flames licking around the frame house, smoke rising up across the Texas plains.
Garish colors; war paint and blood. Half-naked Comanche warriors shrieking as they gallop lathered ponies around the burning ranch house.
The woman yellow hair reflects the early-morning sun as she takes off across the yard, running clumsily, too heavy with the imminent child to escape the howling savages that chase her while she screams and screams.
Behind her, the blond young man, hardly more than a boy, tries to hold them off with his rifle, covering her escape, but he is out of ammunition and the shrieking savages surround him. He fights them now with the butt of his rifle, swinging it vainly, but at a shout from their leader, the war party lets loose a volley of arrows and the boy goes down, jerking like a bloody pincushion. He is not yet dead, but the savages are on him, taking his scalp with triumphant shouts.
As he writhes in agony, they turn their attention to the woman, trying so desperately to escape through the cornfield.
Yelping like hungry coyotes, the Comanches chase her down, surround her. They laugh as their leader grabs her, ripping her dress away.
“Please,” she screams, “oh, please, have mercy!”
The Indians advance on her, painted faces grinning with delight, waving the bloody scalp of the boy in her face as they throw her to the ground. There in the dirt of the cornfield, they violate her, grunting with pleasure. All the while, behind them the acrid smoke of the burning ranch drifts up into the pale Texas sky.
Sated, the leader reaches for the knife in his belt, grabbing the woman by her long yellow hair.
Their ugly faces grin down at her as she struggles to escape from their merciless circle.
“David,” she screams, “oh, David, where are you? Please help me! Please! David! David! David! ”
Lieutenant David Krueger came awake with a start, sweat soaking his body, blinking at the sunlight streaming through his window.
A nightmare; the same old nightmare. His younger brother dead and his pregnant wife screaming his name, but David was thousands of miles away in the war.
He put his folded arms over his face and sighed. He had failed Susan in more ways than one. He had not really loved her; she was the girl his father had chosen for him.
Savages. The vivid nightmare reminded him again of why he hated Indians. The Comanches and the Cheyenne were allies. How ironic that he was stuck here in the Territory with the same band of Cheyenne who had cost him his rank at Powder River during the winter of ’76. It was adding insult to injury that he also had to work with Cheyenne scouts.
Two Arrows. David grimaced and swung his legs over the side of his bed. When Corporal Muldoon had told David about Two Arrows trying to jerk Glory from her horse, David had lost all reason, remembering what had happened to Susan.
It was a good thing he was off duty this morning; he had obviously overslept after a restless night. He lingered over getting dressed and sipping coffee in his quarters.
Glory. What was he to do? He was deeply in love with her and bedazzled by her fiery disposition and proud, defiant behavior. He paused in polishing the epaulets on his blue jacket and frowned. He might have to defy his father to marry her, and he had not yet discussed it with old Colonel Krueger. David was the middle son, always craving his father’s approval and never getting it. He knew what Father would think of his marrying a divorcee, what it would do to his military advancement.
Smiling, he made a decision. He had ordered an expensive gift from a New York store for Glory’s Christmas. He would arrange to have the gift sent to the horse farm. Then he would invite Glory to accompany him home for the holidays to meet the colonel. Surely her beauty and spirit would sway his father. When his father adored her as David did, David would ask her to marry him. But suppose his father still objected? David wouldn’t think about that right now. However, he did drop by the office and ask the soldier at the desk to send a letter about the gift.
Now David walked across the parade grounds in the crisp morning air toward Glory’s little store. Yes, he was due a leave; this Christmas visit would be a great idea. He lit his pipe as he walked, enjoying the taste and scent of fine tobacco. Glory. Sometimes he wished she were a little less independent; she made it difficult for herself around here—and for him. David usually behaved in a slow and methodical manner, but the tempestuous Glory could cause a man to lose all reason. He had lost his temper and whipped one of his Cheyenne scouts because of her. If she’d been home at night like any respectable woman, instead of out riding in the dark, that incident wouldn’t have happened.
David paused at the store’s entry. A CLOSED sign still hung on the door. Odd; he tapped the pipe against his teeth. It wasn’t like her to sleep late. Maybe she was ill. A bit worried, he strode toward her small house and rang the bell. No answer. He rang again, longer and more insistently.
“Glory?” He shouted and banged on the door. It came open under his hand. David hesitated. It was not at all proper for a gentleman to enter a lady’s quarters unless invited. He stuck his head in the tidy home. “Glory? Are you here?”
He waited a long moment, straining to hear any answer over the sound of soldiers drilling on the parade grounds and a bird singing in a nearby oak tree.
His concern caused him to forget that it wasn’t proper either to enter or to smoke his pipe inside a lady’s home without permission.
“Glory?” He strode through the house, looking about. No breakfast dishes in the kitchen. Her bed appeared mussed as if she had lain down across it, but her nightdress was still thrown across the foot as if she had begun to get ready to retire, then changed her mind.
A feeling of dread began to build in him as he turned and strode out across the porch, walking toward the stable. If she wasn’t at home or at the store, perhaps she was out for a morning ride. David smiled in anticipation. He would saddle up Second Chance and join her. The weather was good, and it sounded like a marvelous day.
“Lieutenant?” Corporal Muldoon hurried toward him, faster than the old Irish trooper usually walked. “One of the men found that gray filly grazing along the road near the barns.”
“Oh, good.” David puffed his pipe with a sense of relief. “So Misty got out of the barn and Glory’s out looking—”
“Lieutenant”-Muldoon’s red face mirrored concern—“the filly—she—she is saddled and bridled.”
Oh, Lord. David paused, his pipe halfway to his lips. In his mind, he saw Glory riding recklessly through the darkness. The mare had stumbled and thrown the woman, then limped back to the stable. Even now, Glory was lying out there on the prairie somewhere, injured. Or maybe dead.
No, he shook his head.
He had lost one woman, one he didn’t really love; he wasn’t going to lose this one he adored. “Get a patrol, Muldoon, we’ll begin an organized search—”
“Lieutenant Krueger, sir.” Skinny Private Tanner ran up, puffing with exertion and saluted. “Major Mizner wants to see you in his office right away.”
David had saluted automatically, his mind on Glory. “See me? If it’s about the missing Mrs. Halstead—”
“Sir?” The young man’s black brows knitted together. “I don’t know what it’s about, but he said it was important. There were a couple of southern Cheyenne in his office when I left.”
Cheyenne. What the devil was that about? David looked into Muldoon’s eyes, but his old friend appeared as baffled as he.
“Dismissed,” he snapped. “Come on, Muldoon, I’ll need the major’s help if we have to send more than one patrol looking for Glory.”
The two of them strode toward the major’s office.
“Laddie, I’ll give you eight to five,” Muldoon grumbled, “that this ain’t going to be good news.”
“Now, Muldoon, you promised you’d stop gambling or you’ll never get your stripes back.” He was making tense conversation, but his mind was on Glory. Where was she? Was she hurt?
“Aye, sir, we’ll both get our rank back together. We’ve got many years ahead of us with honors and a good retirement.”
“Of course. I’ve got to make at least major; it’s important to my father.” They were almost running as they crossed the parade ground and went into the office.
“Good morning, sir.” David and Muldoon saluted the stern officer behind the desk, studied the ragged savages standing there. “I’d like to request a search party—”
“At ease, men. We’ve got trouble.” The major motioned for silence as if he hadn’t heard the other. “These southern Cheyenne tell me their northern cousins took off last night.”
“Took off?” David blinked. “You mean, they’re gone?”
“Bag and baggage, damn their sneaking hides!” Mizner’s stern face turned an angry red, and he slammed his fist on the desk. “These two told because they’re afraid it’s going to bring trouble to their people.”
The two cowardly ones did not look at the men, they looked at the floor.
“I don’t understand,” David began. “The sentries—”
“Didn’t see a damn thing.” The senior officer stood up and began to pace the floor. “They left tipis, fires burning to fool us; the sort of thing you’d expect from a smart general, not ignorant savages.”
“Well, sir, I’m sure they won’t get far.” David tried to soothe his commander, his concern only for Glory. “Now there’s another problem—”
“You don’t think this is a problem?” The major whirled on him. “I’m responsible for keeping the northern Cheyenne on this reservation. With a mess like this on my record, I’ll never get that promotion, get a transfer out of this hellhole back to Washington. Of course, with your record, you don’t have to worry about that.”
David swallowed hard. “Both Corporal Muldoon and I intend to erase that, sir.”
“I know your father.” The other man looked at him, shaming David with his unrelenting stare. “Damned good officer before he was wounded in the Mexican War.”
“Yes, sir.” Was there anyone who didn’t know the colonel?
“Your older brother, William, served under me before he was killed,” the major said. “Had such a brilliant military career ahead of him. I know your father took it hard.”
“Yes, he took it hard, sir.” David closed his eyes. Even after all these years, he could hear his father shouting at him: Three sons and you re all I’ve got left! Why couldn ’t it have been you? Why did it have to be William and Joseph?
David studied the ragged Indians standing silently nearby. A thought crossed his mind, a thought too frightening to contemplate. He looked around the room at the others. “Sir, Mrs. Halstead is missing.”
“Mrs. Halstead?” The major paused and scratched his bald head. “Oh, yes, that divorcee who runs the store.” His tone seemed to be dismissing that as inconsequential.
David felt a flare of emotion; he was slow to anger, but it was building in him. “Is it—is it possible, the Cheyenne took her?”
“Aye, her horse was found grazing loose this morning,” Muldoon volunteered.
“I’ve heard gossip about her,” the major said. “The ladies of the fort say she does all sort of things like ride alone; foolhardy, if you ask me.”
David clenched his fists at his sides. “Surely the major doesn’t listen to idle gossip of a bunch of women—”
“She doesn’t seem to care what people hereabout think of her,” the major said.
“Well, sir,” David admitted sheepishly, “that may be true. She’s a bit headstrong and stubborn—”
“Not a good thing in a horse or a woman.” The commander dismissed him. “Besides, Lieutenant, this talk is nonsense; those savages wouldn’t dare touch a white woman.”
David and the old Irishman exchanged glances, remembering the incident involving Two Arrows. David took a deep breath. “Ask them, sir.”
The commander glared at the two Indians. “I don’t speak their damned chatter.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, sir”—Muldoon fumbled with his cap—“I speak a little Cheyenne. If you’ll allow me-”
“Yes, yes, get on with it.” The officer made an annoyed dismissal with a beefy hand.
Muldoon said a few words that David didn’t understand.
The pair of Indians looked at the floor and shuffled their feet, mumbled something.
“What’d he say?” David blurted, his fear for Glory’s safety outweighing everything else.
Muldoon hesitated. “They may not know anything, sir.”
David felt a sudden dread. “That one, American Horse, I recognize him; he speaks a little English.” David confronted the man. “Tell me what you just told the corporal.”
American Horse cleared his throat. “Some say,” he muttered, looking out the window, “Two Arrows hungered for her. Maybe he take.”
“Oh, my God!” It was more of a prayer than a curse as David put his hands out in front of him, sagged against the top of the major’s desk. In his mind, he heard a woman screaming as a savage raped her; only this time, the woman had dark hair blowing as wild as a mustang filly’s mane.
The major asked several more questions of the Indians, but their words were a blur to David. Two Arrows hungered for her. Yes, David had seen the way the scout looked at her. He closed his eyes, not wanting to think of all that hinted at. He would do more than whip the Indian when he caught him this time, he would kill him slowly and painfully if he’d dared to touch the woman David loved. He hadn’t realized how much he’d cared until she was in danger. Oh, Glory, my darling Glory.
“Lieutenant? Lieutenant Krueger?”
“Sir?” David snapped to attention.
“Send Captain Rendlebrock to me. With any luck, we can find Mrs. Halstead and get those stinking savages back on this reservation before word gets out they’re gone.”
His reputation and his promotion, that was all the officer cared about, David thought bitterly. “Begging your pardon, sir, don’t you think we ought to telegraph ahead for troops to cut them off, too?”
“And have them know what happened here?” Major Mizner snorted as he glared at David. “Let’s contain this thing, keep this embarrassing news from spreading.”
“But sir, Mrs. Halstead’s safety—”
“Much as I hate to say it”—the major dismissed his words with a curt gesture—“we all know what might happen to her.”
David didn’t want to think about that, his worst fears. The commander’s words forced the image into David’s unwilling mind; his beloved Glory lying helpless and naked while dark savages took turns possessing her ripe body. It was Susan all over again; with one major difference; he had not loved Susan, more’s the pity. And he had no more brothers to
lose.
Bile rose up in David’s throat, and his hatred of all Indians deepened. “We can have the troops mounted in less than thirty minutes.”
“Good! Captain Rendlebrock will be in charge. You’re dismissed.” The major began to shuffle papers on his desk.
Rendlebrock. Once David would have led this expedition, before he’d been broken in rank. He had no confidence in Rendlebrock.
“Yes, sir.” David saluted, but he had a sick, helpless feeling in his gut as he and Muldoon left the office. “Muldoon, get over to the telegraph and then get the boys moving.”
“The telegraph?” His old friend eyed him as he walked. “You tryin’ to end up as a private? You’ll be finished if the old man finds out you ignored his order—”
“I care about Glory, I don’t give a damn about anything else.” David shrugged. “That’s an order, Corporal. Maybe the troops ahead can cut them off, but I intend to catch them first. When I get my hands on that Two Arrows ...” He gritted his teeth until they hurt.
“Now, don’t worry, laddie, we’ll get her back.”
“I’m going to kill him with my bare hands,” David promised. “I’m going to show him what real savagery is!”
It was past high noon, David thought with annoyance as he sat before the mounted troops, ready to ride away from the fort on his fine chestnut stallion. There was no telling when the Cheyenne had left last night; one thing was certain, they had a good head start and a way of melting into the landscape so that the soldiers might ride within a few yards of them and not know they were there. Out in the rolling hills and gullies of northwestern Indian Territory, there were lots of places to hide. More than that, Two Arrows had spent years as an army scout; this was no simple savage. He would be wise to the ways of the soldiers, what they might think and do. Except for his growing dependence on whiskey these past few months, Two Arrows was as formidable, cunning, and tough as any professional soldier. David had whipped him like a dog, and now Two Arrows had David’s woman. There was no telling what the Indian would do for revenge.
Corporal Muldoon galloped up to him and saluted.
Cheyenne Song Page 7
