by Bobbi Smith
Brand was ready. Though he was outnumbered twelve to one, he felt no fear. He knew only a driving need to avenge the deaths of the innocent. His blue-eyed gaze narrowed in concentration as he took careful aim at the leader. . . .
"Sheri . . ." Maureen breathed her friend's name as she looked up at her, wide-eyed. It was late and she had been ready for bed when Sheri insisted she read the pages she'd been laboring over for the past few hours. Now she understood why.
"What?" Sheri had been waiting for Maureen's opinion, and she was worried by her reaction.
"I didn't know you felt this way. . . ."
"What way?"
"This description of Brand. It's so . . . uh, so . . ."
"Realistic?"
"Yes," Maureen quickly agreed, reading over the handwritten pages one more time. "This is wonderful. Are you going to let him read it?"
Sheri looked unsettled by her cousin's question. "Not right away."
"Why not? You might impress him with your style. This is really good. You are definitely improving."
''If I let him read it, it just might send him running for the hills."
"Run for the hills? Your predator? Your savage warrior?" She said the phrases with emphasis. "You think he'd run from a little old dime novelist?"
"No, but he's reluctant enough to help me now. I don't want to make things any worse. Let's see how our scout goes in the morning, and then I'll think about letting him read it."
"It is going well. You're almost up to thirty pages."
"I know. I can't believe how much I love this story."
"How gruesome are you going to get?"
"It depends on what I can find out from Brand. Captain Whitmore and Lieutenant Long refused to discuss the depredations with me. They said I was a lady and ladies shouldn't hear such things. I said I was a writer and that I needed to know, but it didn't seem to matter to them."
"I've got the feeling that Brand's not going to hold anything back from you. He'll tell you whatever you want to know, whether you really want to know it or not."
"Good. That's all I want from him. Total honesty."
"I guess we'd better get some sleep. It's late and we're supposed to meet Brand just before dawn."
"I'll try, but the writing's been going so well, I don't know if I can. I might just keep working."
"Please do if it's going to be this good. This book is going to be something special. I just know it."
"I hope you're right."
The hour before dawn came far too soon for Maureen, but Sheri was so excited that she was already up and just about dressed when she woke Maureen.
"Why are you up so early?" Maureen asked in a voice that was husky and confused by sleep.
"I didn't get much rest. I guess I'm just too excited about going out with Brand today."
"This is what we made the trip for." Maureen slowly sat up, trying to get her bearings. "Did you get any more writing done?"
"Just a page or two."
"That's better than nothing. I guess I'd better get dressed."
"Yes, we have to meet Brand and the others at the stable in about twenty-five minutes."
Maureen gave a groan of weariness as she rose and went to the clothes she'd laid out the night before.
"Thank heaven for Cecelia and Laura, the other lieutenant's wife," Maureen said as she began to dress. "They certainly came to our rescue giving us these clothes."
"They sure did. I wasn't about to let Brand know that he was right about the type of clothes I'd brought along. What was I thinking of when I packed those riding habits?"
"Neither one of us has ever been West before. We didn't know what to expect." Maureen smiled wryly. "Who would have dreamed it would be so . . . rugged out here? As far as we knew, our habits would have worked just fine."
"And they still might, judging from what I overheard last night," Sheri said a little angrily, "not that I'm going to take the chance of being laughed at, though."
"What are you talking about? What did you overhear?"
"Only that Brand has deliberately made today's trek an easy scout for us. I'm sure it's because he thinks that well be satisfied with just a glimpse of the surrounding desert and mountains."
"He's probably right."
"Speak for yourself," Sheri countered as she finished tucking her blouse into her split leather riding skirt and then picked up the Western hat Cecelia had given her. "I came heir, to experience the real West. I don't want to be patted on the head like a good little girl and treated as if I don't have any sense."
"That is probably what they're all thinking. After all, we are two women alone in the middle of the Arizona Territory."
"Precisely, and contrary to your way of thinking, the fact that we are here on our own should tell them right from the start that we are not a pair of simpering females. I came here to get a story, and I'm going to get it."
"You're right. I have to be braver. Keep reminding me that I'm no simpering female, all right?"
"I will. Are you about ready? I don't want to be late and give Brand any reason not to go with us." Sheri picked up her small bag and stuffed a pencil and a pad of paper into it. She intended to take notes all day about the sights, sounds, and smells of the area.
"I'm ready." Maureen finished buttoning her last button.
"Then let's ride." Sheri put her Western hat on and grinned as she turned to Maureen for approval. "What do you think? Do I look like a female Buck McCade?"
"I think you look better than Buck. You look like you belong out here."
"Good. That's exactly the impression I want to give Brand. He thinks I'm helpless. I'm going to prove him wrong."
"How do I look?"
"Wonderful," Sheri told her, admiring her split riding skirt, boots, and blouse.
"Then let's go get 'em," Maureen declared as she put on her own hat.
Satisfied that they would show Brand a thing or two, Sheri led the way from their quarters.
It was still dark as they headed to the stables. Sheri was not surprised to find that Brand was already there. He was wearing a loose-fitting shirt, buckskin pants, and moccasins that came up to just below the knee. A single lamp was burning, and the horses were saddled and ready to go.
"Good morning, Brand," Sheri said sweetly. "Is there anything we can help you with?"
"No."
His gaze swept over her, but Sheri couldn't tell if there was a change in his expression in the dimness of the half-light. She'd expected him to notice and comment on her attire. After all, he had been concerned about it the night before. His lack of reaction irked her for some reason.
"Shall we mount up?"
"The horses are ready, but we're still waiting for the lieutenant and Brennan."
O'Toole came out of the stable just then leading his own horse. "Good morning, ladies. I'm Sergeant O'Toole."
Sheri and Maureen quickly introduced themselves.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Sheri said as she went to shake hands with him. "I've heard a lot about you."
"Oh?"
"All good, I assure you."
"That's a relief." He smiled at her.
He was a bear of a man, standing well over six feet tall. His hair was dark, his eyes brown, his manner friendly. Sheri liked him immediately.
They heard the sounds of a conversation in the distance and looked up to find Charles and Lieutenant Long coming toward them.
"You ladies are up bright and early," Long commented.
"We're excited about the ride today," Sheri answered. "I'm looking forward to spending this time with Brand learning what a scout does."
Brand said nothing, but swung up into the saddle and waited for the others to follow his example.
"Allow me to help you," Long said as he went to Sheri. Putting his hands at her waist, he helped her to mount.
"Maureen, do you need a hand up?" Charles asked.
"If you don't mind," she said. The horse they'd given her was a tall one, and she'd been
wondering if they had a block she could stand on to take her seat. Charles's hands at her waist were strong and sure, and soon she was comfortably seated. She rewarded him with a bright smile as he looked up at her.
"You comfortable?"
"I'm all set."
"Let's ride," Sergeant O'Toole announced.
Charles quickly climbed on his own horse and they were ready to go.
The small party rode slowly from the fort, heading toward the Superstition Mountains. Brand and O'Toole were reasonably certain that they would be safe and the trip there would be uneventfull, which was just what they wanted.
Brand had to admit to himself that he was surprised by the women's riding ability. He'd expected them to ask for sidesaddles and riding crops; instead, they were wearing practical riding clothes and had mounted without complaint. They were keeping up without incident and both seemed adept at controlling their horses. He cast a glance back toward Sheri and saw that she was deep in conversation with Long, which was just fine with him.
"Seems like our fine upstanding lieutenant has taken a liking to Miss St. John," O'Toole remarked after catching Brand looking back their way.
"Maybe she'll make him her hero."
"I think he'd like that just fine."
"Good. Then I can head back to the fort right now."
"Don't get your hopes up. She's heading your way. Get ready." O'Toole was grinning at Brand's discomfort as he kneed his horse and distanced himself to give them time to talk.
"Brand?" Sheri reined in beside him. "Do you mind if I ask you some questions while we ride?"
"What do you want to know?"
He was abrupt, but from the way things had been going between them she'd expected no less.
"First, tell me about a normal day in the life of a scout." She was ready. She'd been waiting for this time with him since she'd read the article in New York. She hoped she could remember everything he was about to tell her, and hoped they would stop for a while so she could take notes on what she remembered.
"If we're tracking renegades, we ride as soon as it's light."
"Are there troops with you?"
"Usually. We're always ahead of them, though, checking the trail, watching for trouble."
"How long do these scouts last?"
"As long as it takes."
"So you never give up?" She looked over at him.
He turned a piercing gaze on her. "No."
"But aren't there times when you lose the trail and are forced to turn back?"
"Not often," Long interrupted as he rode up to join them.
Sheri almost groaned out loud. It seemed there was no escaping this man. Every time she turned around, he was there. She'd wanted some time alone with Brand, and here was Long again. As solicitous as he was, she was certain that he wanted to be included in her book, and with his vanity, there was no doubt that he wanted to be more than just a minor character. He'd asked her to call him by his first name, Philip, and she'd agreed, even though it implied an intimacy and friendship that she didn't feel.
"So the scouts of Fort McDowell are the best?" she asked.
"The men of Fort McDowell are the best," Philip corrected, giving her a winning smile.
Refusing to be deterred from questioning Brand, Sheri turned back to him. "Where did you learn to track so well?"
"I was raised by my father's people. One of the first things an Apache boy must learn is tracking."
"Can you show me how to do it? Is there a trail around here we could follow for a while?"
Brand reined in and dismounted. He moved a short distance away and hunkered down to study the rocky ground.
"Why did we stop?" Maureen asked, looking puzzled as she rode up next to Sheri.
"Brand's going to show me how to track," she said excitedly.
Sheri quickly grabbed her bag off the saddle horn and slid down off her horse's back. She tugged her paper and pencil out of the bag and immediately went to stand beside Brand, taking notes describing everything he did.
Brand was hard pressed not to scowl as she trailed after him.
"What are you looking for?" She could see nothing indicating that any creature, human or animal, had passed this way.
"Signs," he replied as he concentrated.
"What kind of signs?"
"A broken twig. A partial print in the dust. A grain of barley. Anything that would indicate that someone or something has traveled through here." He studied the ground again, then slowly stood looking off toward the mountains. "They headed this way."
Sheri noticed that his expression had changed. He looked more serious, more thoughtful. There was a sudden tension about him.
"Who?" she asked, confused. She could see no sign whatsoever that anything had passed this way.
"Apache." Brand frowned. There was no mistaking the signs. "At least three of them."
"How can you know that?"
"There's a moccasin print there near the brush." He pointed to the nearly invisible track in the dust.
Sheri was amazed. She knelt down to try to get a look at it, but could barely make it out. "Where?"
"Here." He knelt beside her and showed her where a small patch of the desert grass had been pressed down and was discolored.
"How can you tell that's an Indian footprint?"
Sheri turned her head to stare at him in amazement. He was close. Too close, almost, and when he glanced over at her, their eyes met and locked. Suddenly, she felt off-balance, lost somehow in the intensity of his blue-eyed gaze. She stared at him, committing to memory the dark slash of his brows, the strength in the hard line of his jaw and the firm line of his lips. Her gaze lingered on his lips for a moment, and she wondered how handsome he would look if he ever smiled . . . wondered what it would feel like to press her lips to his. At the realization of her thoughts, she mentally jerked herself back to reality and looked away, to hide the blush that threatened at her runaway musing.
"How can you tell?" she asked again, forcing herself to stare at the ground.
"A boot would have made a heavier imprint, so this was no white man. And see here?" He pointed to the slightly irregular pattern that was revealed for only an inch or two in the dust. "I can tell by the stitching which tribe they're from."
"That's amazing," she breathed, in awe of his abilities. She would never have seen the print to begin with, let alone be able to identify the Indian who'd made it.
"They came through here some time last night."
"How do you know that?" Sheri stared down at the imprint, then drew a quick sketch so shied remember everything he was telling her.
"By the color of the grass. It's been dead for a while, more than four hours, so they're far ahead of us."
"And that's good?"
Brand gazed off into the wilderness, wondering.
"That's good . . . unless I was tracking them."
"You said you were raised by the Apache. . . . That's how you came to learn all this," she said thoughtfully. "Doesn't it bother you to be hunting down your father's people now?"
Something in Brand's expression hardened as he glanced sharply back at her."I hunt down murderers and thieves. The Apache who kill so freely are not my people."
"Who are your people?" Her question was innocent.
Before he could answer, Philip and O'Toole strode up to them.
"Trouble?" the lieutenant asked. He had seen the way Brand was studying the ground and wondered what he'd found.
Brand glanced at the two men and nodded in the direction of the footprint. "Take a look."
O'Toole studied the ground and then stood, his gaze sweeping the craggy landscape. "It's been hours."
"We'll just have to keep a lookout," Philip said. In a way he was glad for the unspoken danger for it made him look even more heroic.
"Is there a problem?" Charles asked as he rode up closer with Maureen.
"Nothing to be too concerned about. There were Apache here overnight, but there are no fresh tracks.
&
nbsp; We'll just have to keep an eye out.''
As the men talked, Sheri walked over to Maureen. "Brand just showed me how to identify tracks."
"Do you understand it well enough to write about it?"
"Yes," she said proudly, then she lowered her voice. "Will you do me a favor?"
"You know I will," Maureen said. "What is it?"
"Try to keep the lieutenant busy, will you? It seems like every time I start to get Brand talking, Long interrupts."
"So I've noticed." Maureen looked to where the tall, fair-haired officer was conversing with his scouts. "I think he wants a major role in your book."
"I hate to disappoint him, but he's no half-breed scout."
"So change your hero. He'd definitely be more agreeable to work with," she teased, knowing full well how her cousin was coming to feel about Long.
"Absolutely not. This is Brand's book. No one else's."
"Just trying to help."
"Well, you can help the most by keeping him busy. Ask him questions, distract him. I need some time alone with Brand to try to feel him out and learn everything I can about him."
"I'll do my best."
"Thanks. I knew I could count on you."
"If not me, then who?"
"Exactly."
Charles came to join them then. "What do you think about our trek so far? Have you seen anything you can use in the book?"
"A lot. Brand was just showing me how to track and the terrain is like nothing I've ever seen before."
"I'm glad it's helping you. Long just suggested that we ride on for about another hour, then break for the noon meal. Are you up to a few more miles in the saddle?"
"I'm ready for anything today." With a confident grin, she put away her paper and pencil and returned to her horse to mount up.
When everyone was ready to ride, Sheri managed to maneuver herself next to Brand again.
"Please tell me about your rescue of Mrs. Garner. How did you hear about it? Did it take you a long time to find her? If the Apache are so bloodthirsty, why hadn't they killed her?"
