The sound of horses’ hooves pounding on the ground filled the air, and soon there was the sound of men talking, greeting each other, and beginning to come together for the first time as a unit. Trevor stepped out of his tent and his eyes hunted for their captain, and when he saw the man he chuckled to himself.
“They must be tired of you already in Austin to send you on this hell of a mission,” Trevor said, extending his hand out to a man nearly as tall as him and just as muscular.
“When I heard Captain Daniels was going to rendezvous with me, I knew I was on one hell of a mission,” the man said with a smile, clasping hands tightly with his friend and they both assessed one another.
“You got older, Daniels.”
“And you got uglier, Greyson,” Trevor said with a chuckle as he led his friend into his tent. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
Ryder Greyson sat down hard on one of the chairs that was considered a luxury only an officer could have and shook his head as he watched Trevor. “What kind of mess have we gotten ourselves into this time?”
Trevor shook his head as he sat down in the only other chair and poured a shot of brandy for himself and his friend. “It’s become a bit more complicated.”
One of Ryder’s eyebrows lifted. “It’s already complicated, Trevor. What could make it any worse than it already is?”
Trevor looked at the brandy in his glass and then drank it in one full gulp. The liquid burned down to his empty stomach. He’d had a hard time eating ever since Serena had been taken. How many days ago had that been? Two? Three? Things were beginning to get foggy in his mind. It felt like it had been an eternity. He poured another shot of brandy before turning his eyes back to Ryder.
“There was a woman riding with us. I know, I know—” He held up his hands defensively to stop Ryder from the barrage of questions and lecture Trevor knew he was about to get. “She snuck in dressed like a man, and it wasn’t until the second day that we realized she was with us.” He shook his head, a half smile touching his lips as he remembered swimming with her in the pond.
“Why didn’t you send her back? Or should I judge by the look on your face why you didn’t send her back?” Ryder’s voice held reproach, and Trevor knew he deserved it.
He should have forced her to go home. But he knew how stubborn she was. She would have tried to return by herself, and the risks would have been profound. He shook his head at himself. What good had it done to let her stay? She was kidnapped by the Indians.
“She made quite the case to stay. She knows the Comanche well. She knows their customs, their rituals, even their language. We realized she could be a valuable tool for us to call upon.”
Ryder frowned. “Was she a former prisoner of the Comanche?”
“No. There was an old Comanche man that lived in San Antonio. He was like a father-figure to her. He taught her all their ways. As well as his son, who joined us recently. He was killed in a skirmish we had with the Comanche a few days ago.”
Ryder nodded. “We came across the mass grave. We saw the single grave to the side and figured it to be one of our own.”
“He was,” Trevor said with conviction.
Ryder inclined his head in agreement. “So is your little lady causing you trouble now?”
Trevor grabbed his brandy and took another long swallow. “No. She’s in trouble. And I need your help to save her.”
Serena was desperate for water. Even just a drop to ease her parched mouth would be welcome. She had lost track of the days, had lost track of the hours. She was kept bound at all times, but the Comanche were on the move. After being slapped by the large warrior, she had awoken face down over the back of a horse.
She had been strapped to it so she wouldn’t fall and her arms and legs still remained bound. Her head throbbed with every jarring step the horse took. And they weren’t moving slow. They rode at a canter, and the withers of the horse dug into her stomach, and she would have thrown up if she had any food in her. Perhaps the Comanche had been right not to feed her or let her drink anything.
At the thought of drinking something, she realized how horribly dehydrated she was and the dust being kicked up by all of the horses riding alongside hers did not make it any easier. For a while, she felt like she was choking, gagging on the dust and unable to gather any fresh air. It was as she fought to breathe that she passed out again into, this time, a welcome oblivion.
She awoke when they suddenly stopped and she lurched from one side to the next from her helpless position on the horse. She glanced around and saw all the Indians dismounting and moving about the area to set up a camp. She wanted to cry in relief. Finally, she would be off of the horse and would be able to breathe again.
But she had forgotten about the women. She was still on the horse easily thirty minutes after they had stopped when she felt the ties keeping her attached to the animal being released. But instead of sliding to the ground, someone grabbed her by the ankle and she was yanked off the beast, landing so hard that her head literally bounced off the ground. Her headache intensified tenfold.
She was yanked to her feet roughly, and her hands and feet were left bound together. Suddenly, the face of an incredibly beautiful young squaw was directly in front of her.
She sneered as she looked Serena up and down. “You not worthy for life be spared,” she said in broken English. “You worthy of death.”
Serena lifted her chin, hating the fact that she had to look up to see into the eyes of the incredible beauty. “I have fought for your rights. I believe in your—”
The loud smack of her palm across Serena’s face seemed to echo in her ears, but she quickly turned back to face the woman, casually licking blood from her lip, trying her damnedest to make it look like she hadn’t been affected at all. It seemed to only infuriate the beautiful woman even more.
Her nostrils flaring with anger, she pointed to a spot in the center of the cleared camp area, a spot where they had already placed the boards to hold her upright. “You, go there. Go to your new home.”
Serena didn’t say anything, nor did she move. Finally, she pointedly looked down at her feet that were still tied together. The woman laughed and spoke rapidly to the other women, “The fool think we untie her! Stupid woman!”
Drawing a deep breath slowly, so as not to draw too much attention, Serena began to tiptoe forward stiffly, moving against the ropes that prevented her from taking even a half step at a time. The sharp sting of a whip across her bare lower legs nearly made her fall.
“Too slow!” another squaw shouted at her, and she swung her whip at Serena again. Serena jumped forward quickly, and the whip passed by her so close she felt the breeze of the air as it swiped near her.
But it had opened the door for the others. Suddenly several of the women had whips in their hands and were striking Serena repeatedly across her legs, her buttocks, and her back. She was moving forward as fast as she could, even hopping at some points to try to go faster.
A particularly harsh slash of the whip across her back forced her to her knees, and she fought the tears that threatened to spill down her face. They will not break me. They will not. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself back to her feet as the women hurled slurs at her the entire time. At least they had stopped striking her with the whips as she got back up.
Moving forward as fast as she could, she made it to the wooden posts with only a few more harsh cracks of the whips, and she fell against the posts as if they were her salvation. The women started laughing at her, hurling their slurs at her, and began to untie her hands and feet to retie her to the posts.
Adrenaline surged through her veins and the woman untying her feet received a harsh kick with her heel as soon as one foot was free. With her hands untied, she yanked them free and lunged at the beautiful squaw, the one she knew had cracked her so hard against the back. The stupid woman had bragged about it, thinking Serena wouldn’t fully understand her.
They landed on the ground with the squaw under Se
rena and she grabbed the woman’s silky black hair and slammed her head into the ground. But the squaw wasn’t all beauty. Her hands went up to Serena’s throat and grasped tightly, the squaw hissing in Serena’s face. Serena slammed the woman’s head against the ground again, then raked her fingers down her skin, and the woman’s hissing turned into a cry of pain.
Suddenly, a large hand clamped down on Serena’s shoulder and flung her backwards so hard she fell head over heels. She lunged to her feet, but was drawn up short by the large warrior, staring her down with anger and bitterness. Then he turned to the squaw she had been fighting and helped her to her feet, speaking softly to her. The squaw nodded and turned, but not before she pinned Serena with a scathing glare. Their fight was far from over.
Serena drew in a deep breath as the warrior turned to face her, and she noticed suddenly that all of the other women had scattered. She wanted to run. She wanted to see if she could get away from him fast enough that she could find a safe place to hide until they had moved on. But to run would be cowardly. And she had no doubt they would kill her then. The longer she stayed alive, the more chance she had that Trevor could save her.
Her heart suddenly lurched in her throat. What did Trevor think had happened? Did he think she had run away on her own, to pursue the Comanche her way? Did he think she had grown scared and had returned to San Antonio? What could he possibly be thinking? How would he know there was a lunatic in his camp that had delivered her to the Comanche?
“Who do you think of?”
Serena’s eyes jerked to the warrior’s face at his question, spoken in smooth English. “P-pardon me?”
“Who do you think of right now? Who makes your eyes so sad and so longing at the same time?”
Serena was scared. This man was dangerous. But he was talking to her gently, almost soothingly. “A friend,” she replied softly.
“Do not lie to me. If you have a lover, I will know soon enough.”
“How dare you insinuate such a thing!” Serena sputtered, then stopped suddenly, her breath caught in her throat. “How will you know? How will you know if I have a lover?”
He grabbed one of her hands and began to tie it to the wood, taking advantage of her confusion. “I will know as soon as the rest of the village knows. You are going to be a part of this tribe. In every way.”
He began to secure her second hand as she tried to digest what he was saying. “If you think you are going to make me a whore to pass around in this camp—”
“Do all brown women speak so offensively? You offend the honor of this camp and these people by even suggesting such a foul thing.”
“The honor of this camp? This camp killed one of my closest friends and scalped him. Scalped him! There is no honor in this camp.”
His fingers clamped down hard on her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “You will do well to watch your tongue, filthy woman. There are very few who want you here. The more problems you cause, the more likely you will die. And our chief will not be happy with that.”
Serena stared at him with wide, questioning eyes, then suddenly realized he had distracted her and she was completely bound again. She was an absolute fool. “I cannot trust a word you say. You say things to distract me to get accomplished what you want. I don’t believe you.”
He stood and stared at her for several long seconds, and there was a haunting in his eyes that was hard for her to look at. “Believe what you want, woman. Whether you live or die is no care of mine.”
“Then why do I get the feeling it is? Why do I feel you were trying to protect me, and not the beautiful squaw just a few minutes ago?”
He had begun to turn away from her and hesitated, looking back over his shoulder. “Nothing is ever as it seems, woman. Remember that, and you may live.”
She rode astride the horse this time, though she didn’t know why. She had learned how to ride horses at a young age, and her body moved easily with the rhythm of the horse’s gait. They traveled again at a slow canter, and she kept her fingers wrapped in the horse’s mane, using it to help guide her horse in its place in the back center of the tribe, with all the other squaws and children not yet old enough to fight.
They had started later in the day, their pace easy and smooth, as if they had no fear of the militia that followed them so closely. Serena had struggled to move when it came time to leave and be hoisted to the back of the horse, but she had forced herself to give all appearances that she was fine.
The burning across her legs and her back was excruciating, and when she had first started moving around she had felt the deep slash on her back crack open and seep blood. She had spied the beautiful squaw from a distance, and her face bore terrible marks down both sides and Serena had felt a small piece of satisfaction.
But the large warrior had stepped in quickly and tossed her onto a horse. “Just because your feet aren’t bound doesn’t mean you have any more freedom. These warriors won’t hesitate to kill you as soon as they get the slightest reason. In fact, they will enjoy it. Ride with the squaws, and stay away from any trouble.”
“What trouble? Why are you telling me so much?”
His hand had cracked across her mouth. “You talk too much. And you ask far too many questions. Now keep your mouth shut and just do as I’ve told you. Do you understand me?”
Her ears were still ringing as she had nodded. And now they rode south, towards what, she didn’t know. Perhaps the Comanche felt they could hide away in Mexico until things cooled in Texas. The very idea made her skin crawl. They had just barely made it to freedom from Mexico. Being forced to live with these Comanche, if they chose to let her live, in her enemy’s country was unthinkable.
They rode through the late morning and into the early afternoon, the burning Texas sun searing down upon them. Serena felt lethargic in the heat and wanted nothing more than to just lean down on her horse and doze through the ride. If she had a saddle, she would have been able to do just that.
When they made camp, sleep was virtually impossible standing in the awkward position they forced her in. At some point the previous evening they seemed to have realized she was going to die without water, and one of the squaws had brought her a tin cup holding water and she drank from it gratefully. But as soon as she was almost finished, the woman yanked the cup away and threw the rest of the water in her face, then kicked her in the shin, before walking off laughing.
The warriors stayed away from her. Which was probably the most surprising thing she had found so far. All of the horror stories she had heard of Comanche prisoners were of the women being raped and beaten by the warriors. She hadn’t heard of the squaws being the ones to dole out the punishment.
It was still fairly early in the afternoon when she heard the horrible whooping sound that had fallen upon her ears only once before. Terror instantly consumed her mind, and she looked ahead of them, whispering, “No, no, no. Dear God, no.”
But the warriors were already making their move. There were several slaves working in the fields, and their heads jerked up as the horrific sound greeted their ears. They began to run, dropping everything they held, but Serena already knew what was in store for them. She averted her eyes, but the squaw next to Serena grabbed her chin and yanked her face around. “Watch. Watch what happens and know that we are the leaders here.”
Chapter Twenty
Serena wanted to scream. She wanted her guns. She wanted Trevor’s arms. And that was how she was able to get through the next several difficult minutes. She pictured Trevor and his kind face, the gentle way that he held her every night, the way he had been at her side when she had been shot, and the soothing sound of his voice.
But the image of Trevor was shattered as the screams echoed across the field back to them. A firm hand grabbed her chin and shook her head and Serena’s eyes snapped open. One of the squaws glared at her and pointed towards the fields. They wanted Serena to watch.
She began to feel ill to her stomach as the warriors charged their hors
es at the helpless slaves and began to circle them like trapped prey. They held their long lances in their hands and kept prodding the slaves with them, leaving slashes of blood after each prod. After circling them just a few times, they seemed to become bored, and suddenly swung their lances hard. Serena couldn’t help but cry out when she saw the slaves’ throats slit, some of the cuts so deep it appeared the slave would lose his head completely.
The squaw holding her chin laughed at Serena’s horror.
“It is what should have been done to you, a long time ago,” came the voice of another squaw and Serena’s eyes fell upon the beautiful woman, the one still bearing her claw marks down her face.
She wondered if it would leave scars or not. But the woman looked at her with such hatred, Serena was surprised she hadn’t already been killed by the infuriated woman. Perhaps they planned to have some sort of event around her death—some sort of celebration.
The warriors were riding back at a fast gallop, glancing behind them every few seconds to look at something Serena couldn’t see. Once they arrived, she saw the subject of their fascination, and bile rose in her throat. There was a white man, probably the owner of the plantation that had been tied around the neck with a rope, and then dragged through the field behind the galloping horse. It was apparent, at this point, that the man was dead. Either from the strangulation of the rope or the beating of the ground upon his head and body, it didn’t matter. They were toying with these people as if their lives were worth less than nothing.
Texas Heat Page 19
