“Mrs. Brownley!” Colt shouted at him and then strode into the infirmary, his boots making loud sounds on the bare wood floor. “Ahah! Just as I thought!” Her bed was empty.
“What?” Doc scratched his head again. “What’s going on?”
“Our damned captive has run off and she took my horse.”
“Why, she came in from the dance and went to bed.” Doc seemed half asleep and puzzled.
“She’s smarter than we thought she was,” Colt complained. “I should have left her with the Comanches.”
“Now why would she want to go back?” Doc asked.
However, Colt was already whirling to leave. “How the hell should I know? She’s probably not goin’ back to the Indians, she’s just runnin’ away.”
“But why—?”
“Tell the major I’m in pursuit.” Colt took off toward the barn at a dead run.
Doc called after him. “Don’t you think you’d better wait ’til morning and take a patrol with you?”
“She’s stolen my horse,” Colt yelled back and kept running. “Besides the major won’t want a white woman goin’ back to the Indians. It’s unthinkable.”
It was unthinkable, Colt thought. Hannah was either loco or ... he couldn’t think of any other reason. Surely she wasn’t in love with Spider after the way he must have treated her? He shook his head. There was no figuring women. If she wanted to go back to the Comanche, he didn’t give a damn, but the fact she’d stolen his favorite horse was an insult that set his blood boiling.
He went through the barn, looked over horses, and finally picked one, Olivia’s blood bay. It looked better than the others, although he had no faith in the fancy-blooded horses. Obviously, neither did Hannah Brownley.
He made sure he had two canteens of water as he saddled up and mounted. With any luck, he might outsmart her because he, of all the soldiers, had an idea where the Comanches might be camping now. There was a small stream in the desolate area called Llano Estacado, better known as the Staked Plains, and he knew a shortcut. With any luck, he could intercept Hannah before she reached the Indian camp.
As he rode out onto the parade ground, Major Murphy strode out to meet him, still half dressed. “A deserter? Lieutenant, I think it can wait ’til—”
“It’s Mrs. Brownley, sir.” Colt saluted. “I think she may be tryin’ to rejoin the Comanches.”
“What? A white woman who’s just been rescued? Why would she do that?”
Colt shrugged, still furious with her. “Loco, I reckon, sir.”
“We can’t allow her to become a captive again. Go after her, Lieutenant. That’s an order. Maybe when you get back, Doc can do something to help the poor thing.”
Colt saluted again and dug his heels into the big blood bay. He’d make her think twice before she took his horse again. After what he’d gone through to rescue her, she repaid him by stealing Rascal. As he rode through the gate, he imagined turning her across his knee and spanking her. No, he couldn’t do that. She wasn’t his to spank, and besides, her husband should be arriving soon to take her away. As much trouble as she was, Colt would be glad to see her gone.
As he rode through the night at a slow lope, Colt remembered the scent of her when he’d danced with her. She didn’t wear fancy perfume like Olivia. She just smelled clean and warm, and her yellow hair had been soft as corn silk when he pressed his face against it. And she’d just fit into his arms like she belonged there. He gritted his teeth and swore. Yes, she’d pulled at his emotions at the dance, evidently plotting to sneak out, steal his horse, and ride away only a couple of hours later. So much for trusting women.
Colt rode a long time, stopping now and then to rest his horse, and once to pour water out of his canteen into his hat to give the horse a drink. He looked up at the dark sky, trying to guess the time of night. About a half mile up ahead was a pile of rocks that might intersect where she would come riding by. Since Colt had taken a shortcut, he could be there ahead of her. They were still miles from where the Comanche liked to camp. If he was lucky, he would be waiting for her when she came along.
He rode to the pile of rocks and dismounted, let the horse graze while he watched the trail. Maybe she hadn’t come this way or maybe he had missed her. By now, she might be almost anywhere. He started to roll a cigarette, then remembered she had been among the Indians a long time. Hannah might be able to smell the scent of burning tobacco. Living among the Indians taught a person a lot.
He leaned against the boulder and listened for the sound of hoofbeats. What would he do if he missed her? Let her go back to the Comanche and be damned, he thought, but he wanted his horse back. After a while, he thought he heard the rhythmic pounding of a horse’s hooves coming up the trail. He grabbed his mount’s muzzle to keep it from nickering a welcome. Now as he peered around the boulders, he could see her coming, a small lean silhouette on a mustang, riding at an easy lope. He waited until she was almost to the boulders, and then he stepped out, pistol in hand. “Halt or I’ll shoot!”
Any other woman would have reined in, but this damned feisty girl reined around him, dug her heels in Rascal’s sides, and went around Colt, leaving him standing in the dust looking after her.
“Damn you!” Colt mounted up and took after her. “Stop or I’ll shoot!”
Instead, she rode faster.
He’d never catch the mustang in the long run. Instead he yelled, “Rascal!” And whistled long and loud.
The mustang slid to a halt and the girl went over his head. Colt dismounted and ran to her. “Serves you right! Are you hurt?”
She came up fighting tooth and nail, clawing at him as he tried to help her up.
Any other woman would be nursing her bruises and weeping, but Hannah stood her ground and fought him as he helped her to her feet. “Let go of me! Let me go!”
“You little wench! You stole my favorite horse!”
He had his arms around her, but she wasn’t giving up and it was like hanging onto a bobcat. Now they both went down, rolling in the dirt as they fought. She was slender, but big-breasted, and she kicked at him with those long legs as he managed to pin her against the ground. “Give up, Hannah. You can’t win.”
In answer, she reached over and bit his wrist hard.
“Damn!” He turned her loose and she tried to get out from under him, but his weight held her down. She lay there with her deerskin shift half torn open, gasping for air, but she wasn’t crying. “Let me go! I’ve got to get back to the camp!”
He sat on her now, nursing his bite and staring down at her. Her half-naked breasts were clearly visible as the moon came out from behind clouds again. “Why have you got to go back? Do you love Spider?”
She shuddered and made a face. “God no, I hate him!”
“Then why—?”
“If—if I let you take me, will you let me go?” She looked up at him, still breathing hard, but not fighting anymore.
He realized abruptly how tempting her slender, warm body was, and he hadn’t had a woman in a long time. “Why, you little tart. You’re offerin’ to have sex with me if I’ll let you go? What kind of—?”
“Please,” she whispered and her voice trembled. “I’ve got to get back to the camp.”
God, he was suddenly tempted. And who would ever know? His manhood rose at the thought of taking her right here in the dirt. As much as he was aroused, it wouldn’t take two minutes. But he was engaged, he remembered, engaged to Olivia and he was an honorable man.
Instead he stood up slowly and pulled her to her feet. She was dusty and her deerskin shift torn, but she still wasn’t weeping. She was defiant, blue eyes blazing like cold fire. “All right,” he said, “why is it you’ve got to get back to the Comanches if you don’t love Spider and—”
“There’s a child,” she begged. “I’ve got a little boy in the camp.”
“I thought your little boy died right after birth?” Colt asked, mystified.
“That was my husband’s child. This is
Spider’s son.”
And now it all came clear to Colt. She had left a half-breed son behind, and she would do anything to get back to him. Knowing Spider, he wouldn’t let her take that child, so she had to return to her baby.
Colt nodded in understanding. “Tell me about it.”
She sat down on a rock and brushed the yellow hair out of her eyes. “After he stole me, Spider made me his wife.” She closed her eyes and winced as if remembering the events. “I have a son by him. He’s a little over two years old.”
Colt remembered what he knew about the tribe. “Doesn’t he have other sons? Other wives?”
“Another wife, yes.” Hannah nodded. “But she has given him no children, so she hates me for being his favorite. I’m afraid Tariito will mistreat my son if I don’t get back to protect him.”
Tariito, Colt thought. It meant “Claw” in Comanche, and the tribe tried to give everyone a name that fit their personality. The woman must be a terrible shrew.
“I know Spider. He is my blood brother.” Colt held out his arm for her to see the scar. “You don’t want to go back; he will continue to be cruel to you.”
“I know,” she said. “He tried to break my spirit, but I was as determined as I was against Luther and my stepfather. No man can make me vulnerable. Still I have to return to protect my son from Tariito.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that the night we captured you?” He sat down next to her with a sigh.
“I—I tried. No one would listen to me and there was so much confusion and I couldn’t remember the words. It’s been a long time since I spoke English.”
“Where were all the warriors the night we hit the camp?”
“Gone on a hunt. Little Grasshopper was inside the teepee with Tariito. I was trying to reach them so you could take us both out of the camp.”
“Oh God, I wish I had known that.”
“So you see why I have to go back.” She looked up at him with those wide blue eyes.
“Look”—he put his big hands on her small shoulders—”I can’t let you return, knowing he’ll beat you and rape you again.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’ve got to protect my son.”
“If I promise to bring the troops to save him, will you go back with me?”
“I don’t know if I can trust you.” She looked deep into his eyes and she seemed so defenseless and vulnerable. He fought an urge to take her in his arms and hold her close, protect her from all the horrible things that this brave Texas girl had endured.
“Hannah, I promise. You know when a Texan gives his word, it’s as good as gold.”
“Yes, it is. I trust you, Colt, and I’ve never trusted a man before. My real father was killed in the Fannin Massacre and my stepfather drank and beat me. I ran away at fifteen and married a man I thought loved me, but he didn’t.”
“Luther Brownley?”
She swallowed hard and nodded.
“He’ll be comin’ to get you,” Colt said.
She shook her head. “Maybe not. Would you want a woman who had been used as a plaything by a savage?”
“It wouldn’t make any difference to me,” he answered.
She gave him a rare smile, and he thought, in that moment, that she was beautiful when she smiled. Why had he thought her plain?
“You’re different than most men, Colt. All right, I have your word, so I’ll go back with you.”
“And you’ve got to promise me you won’t try to take off again.” He stood up and reached a hand down to her.
She took it with a strong, callused hand that had always worked and worked hard. “I promise.”
“Come on then. Let’s get back to the fort before it gets daylight. I don’t want a stray Comanche scout to run across us. I left the tribe on bad terms with Spider.”
He pulled her to her feet and they walked toward the horses. Rascal nickered and nuzzled Colt’s shirt. Colt scratched his ears. “You’re a good judge of horseflesh, Hannah.”
“I knew the mustang would get me there. How did you find me?”
“I lived among the Comanche, remember? I know about that spring in the Llano Estacado. There’s almost no other water out on those dry Staked Plains.” He looked over his fine thoroughbred, realized it was going lame. He bent and examined the blood bay’s leg, shook his head. “I told the major these fancy horses were no good out here. I’ll have to lead him back and we’ll ride double.”
He offered his cupped hand. She put a moccasined foot in it, and he lifted her to Rascal’s back, then mounted up himself. He could appreciate a woman who would sacrifice everything, even her own freedom, to return for a small son. He would talk to the major about leading a raid into the Comanche camp again. He had made Hannah a promise and he intended to keep it.
She fit so naturally against him as they started back to the fort. He felt her shiver and, without thinking, he pulled her close against him and tried to remember that he was engaged to a beautiful lady. It was difficult with Hannah leaning back against his chest as they rode.
He could smell the sweet, clean scent of her yellow hair as he put his arms around her to guide the horse. Something about her made him want to hold and protect her. Then he reminded himself he must not have feelings for this girl. Her husband would be coming for her and besides, he was engaged to Olivia.
They got back to the fort just before dawn. Colt returned her to the infirmary and went about his duties. Hannah said she would begin a vegetable garden and help Doc with the few patients.
That evening at dusk, Colt stopped her out near the infirmary. “I’ve talked to the major. He’s waitin’ for new supplies to come in, but I reckon we’ll head for the Comanche camp in a few days.”
“Can’t it happen any faster?” She was concerned for her son.
Colt shook his head. “Just be patient. You promised, remember?”
She nodded, trusting this man as she had never trusted another.
Finally darkness fell and one light after another winked out.
Hannah went to bed, but she could not sleep. She lay there, thinking about Colt and wishing things were different, but of course he was engaged to the major’s daughter and she was uncertain what her future was after the army rescued little Grasshopper. She didn’t think Luther would come for her and certainly she didn’t intend to return with him and live as his wife. Finally, she dropped off to sleep.
She was awakened sometime in the middle of the night by a sound. For a moment, she wasn’t sure what it was and wondered if she had imagined it. Then she realized it was the slight noise of a window sliding open and then light footsteps, no louder than a cat.
She froze, ready for anything, still not completely awake. And then a dark shadow loomed over her and she felt the sharp blade of a knife against her neck.
“Do not call out,” the guttural voice snarled in Comanche, “or I will cut your throat.”
She felt ice-cold terror, but she did not move. There was no mistaking that cruel voice. It was Spider.
Chapter 6
Colt was awakened just before dawn by fists pounding on his door and Doc’s voice. “Lieutenant! Lieutenant! Wake up! Mrs. Brownley is gone!”
“What? Not again!” Colt came out of bed in his drawers and stumbled to the door, opened it to chubby Doc, his bald head shiny with sweat, the white fringe all disarrayed. “What happened?”
“I tell you, she’s gone. Must have run away again in the middle of the night.”
“Well, damn it all to hell!” Colt walked over to grab his pants and boots. “She promised me she’d stay until we could mount a patrol to get her little boy back.”
“Dag nab it, I don’t care what she promised, she’s gone.” Doc rushed into the room as Colt stepped into his trousers and sat down on his bunk to put on his boots.
Then Doc seemed to hear Colt’s words for the first time. “Boy? What boy?”
“She’s got a son in the Comanche camp.” Colt was more than annoyed with the blonde; he was disappointed
. He would have bet his life the girl would keep her promise.
“Ohh.” Doc nodded in understanding as Colt pulled on his boots and the two walked out onto the porch. Outside there was noise of confusion from the gate, a bugle blowing, sleepy troopers running about.
“Now what?” Colt grumbled, running his hand through his tousled black hair. He yelled at a running soldier, “What’s happenin’?”
The soldier slid to a halt and saluted. “With the changing of the guard, they just found the night sentry with his throat cut.”
“As you were, soldier.” Colt waved him on, his mind working. No, Hannah would not cut a man’s throat.
“What the hell?” Doc asked. “You think she killed—?”
Colt shook his head. “There’s only one man I know who could kill a guard, sneak inside a fort full of armed men and take a prisoner, sneak out again without wakin’ anyone. It has to be Spider.”
“You mean that Comanche—?”
“We’d better get to the major,” Colt said and took off in long strides so fast Doc’s short legs couldn’t keep up.
The major was already up and in his office, still buttoning his shirt as Colt walked in and saluted. “I know, I know. We’ve had a guard killed.”
“Also,” Colt said, “Hannah—Mrs. Brownley is missin’.”
Olivia came into the office just then in her pink satin dressing gown. “Goodness gracious. What on earth is happening?”
“Now, daughter, don’t get upset.” The major made calming motions. “We’ve had some sort of trouble.”
“Mrs. Brownley is missin’,” Colt said, “and a sentry’s been killed.” He decided to spare the delicate lady the gruesome details.
“You think she killed the guard?” Olivia’s eyes grew wide.
“Certainly not!” Colt growled. “That’s the most ridiculous—”
“Then what—?” Olivia asked.
“We had a warrior in the fort sometime during the night,” Doc said, still puffing from the walk.
“Oh my! We could all have been murdered in our beds.” Big tears welled up in Olivia’s dark eyes.
Colt Page 8
