Half-Breed's Lady

by Bobbi Smith

  "Hunt will find Glynna," Tom said solemnly. "Let's get Mrs. Randall inside. One of you had better ride for the doe right away."

  Concerned about Maria, Tom glanced back to see Wes walking with her, his arm around her shoulders supporting her as they came to join them.

  "I'll go for the doe," Wes offered.

  Gib entered the house with Mimi and carried her straight into Tom's bedroom. With great care, he laid her, on her stomach, on the bed. Wes took Maria into the parlor, while Tom went to see to Mimi's injury.

  "Give me your knife," he said to Gib.

  Tom cut Mimi's blouse away so he could get a good look at the wound.

  "Tell Wes to head out for the doctor now." There was urgency in his tone. "There's no time to waste."

  Gib hurried out into the parlor where Wes was sitting beside Maria trying to comfort her.

  "Wes. The boss says you need to ride to town right now. Get Dr. Peterson back here fast."

  Wes stood up to go.

  "Maria, I'll be back in a few minutes," Gib promised as he walked Wes outside.

  He saw him off to town, then tended to Diego's body. He returned to the house to stay with Maria, while Tom did what little he could to help Mimi.

  Nearly two hours passed as Tom kept vigil by the bedside, watching over Mimi and tending to her needs. It was late when they heard the sound of horses riding in. Gib ran outside to see if it was Wes returning or Hunt coming back with Glynna. He found it was Wes returning with Dr. Peterson.

  "Hurry, Doe; she's not doing well," Gib called out as the doctor reined in.

  The doctor dismounted and rushed inside.

  "She's in here," Tom said as he entered the house.

  Dr. Peterson hurried into the bedroom to find the wounded woman lying unconscious on the bed.

  "Wes told me she'd been shot by renegades."

  "They were attacked up by the canyon," he explained.

  "They?"

  "My cook's son, Diego, was killed, and there's another woman missing."

  Dr. Peterson looked grim at the thought of a white woman taken captive by the Comanche. He quickly set to examining the injured woman. There was little doubt that he had to get the bullet out of her as fast as possible.

  "I'm glad she's unconscious," he told Tom as he finished his examination. "I'm going to have to dig deep to get that bullet out."

  "How bad is it?"

  "She's very weak, and she's lost a lot of blood. I don't know if I can save her or not."

  "What can I do?"

  "Pray," was his solemn answer.

  Tom nodded and left the room. He wondered where Paul was. The preacher had said that he would return to the ranch to escort the women back to town. He knew they were scheduled to leave the following morning, and yet there was no sign of him. They could have used his prayers. Glynna, Mimi and Diego needed all the prayers they could get.

  Tom found Maria sitting in a chair in the parlor, staring off distantly, her expression blank. Wes and Gib were sitting quietly with her.

  "What did the doe say?" Wes asked quickly when he saw Tom.

  "He's got to get the bullet out. He said we'd all better start praying. I was just wishing that Paul was here."

  The two men nodded in silent agreement.

  Maria looked up at him, her face tear-ravaged in her sorrow. "Senor Tom, what will I do? My boy, my Diego he's dead."

  Tom went to her. "I'm sorry, Maria."

  She was too emotionally exhausted to respond. She could only rock back and forth, and cry her son's name.

  "Do you want to go to your room and lie down for a while?" Tom suggested.

  Maria nodded weakly, and Tom helped her up. He walked her to her room and stayed with her until she was resting quietly. Leaving Maria, he went upstairs to the rooms Glynna and Mimi had been using to see if he could find their home address. He found the name and address he needed in with Glynna's things, and he was just starting from the room when he glanced over at the two paintings she'd left propped up in the corner.

  Tom found himself looking at his own image, and he was amazed by Glynna's talent. He looked at the other picture and stared in appreciation at the painting of Hunt. His son looked fierce and warriorlike. Tom smiled grimly to himself. Tonight, more than ever before, they needed Hunt to be that warrior. They needed his skills to find the ones who'd murdered Diego, shot Mimi and kidnapped Glynna. Staring at the image of Hunt, Tom knew his son could doit.

  He left the room to find Wes and Gib. He was going to send one of them back to town, for they needed to send a wire to Glynna's father in New York City and let him know what had happened.

  Gib agreed to make the trip this time, and Tom and Wes went outside to see him off. As he was about to leave, they heard another rider coming in.

  "Do you think it's Hunt coming back with her already?" Wes wondered, hopefully scanning the dark countryside for some sign of the rider.

  "It's only one horse. If it is Hunt, then it means something terrible has happened to Glynna," Tom said worriedly.

  All three men were greatly relieved when they found it was Paul returning.

  "Thank God, you're back!" Tom called out.

  Paul was startled by his shout. While he'd been gone, he'd agonized over the time he had spent with Marry Catherine. He'd been sorry that he'd run from her again. He had made up his mind to come back to the ranch and tell her everything. He was going to be totally honest with her and tell her the complete truth of his feelings for her. Now, though, he sensed from Tom's welcome that something was very wrong.

  "What's the matter?"

  "We were hoping you'd get back tonight. There's been trouble.. .big trouble."

  "What happened? Where are Mary Catherine and Glynna?" he asked as he reined in and dismounted in a rush. He hurried to stand before the three of them, looking from one to the other, wanting answers to his questions. At their awkward silence, his expression became strained with unspoken terror.

  Finally, Tom spoke. "They were out by the canyon today, and renegades attacked them."

  "No." The heartsick denial was strangled from him. He should have been with them. He never should have let them ride out with just the young boy to protect them. Guilt seared him. "Mary Catherine? Glynna?"

  Tom quickly went on to tell him what had happened. "The boy Diego was killed. Mimi was shot--"

  "Is she alive?" He was horror-struck

  "Barely. The doe just got here from town. He's working on her now."

  "What about Glynna?"

  "She was taken captive. Hunt's gone after her."

  "Dear Lord." Paul's thoughts were chaotic. Guilt over his own failure to protect the women assailed him. Pain over Diego's death stabbed at him. If he'd been with them, he might have been able to stop it. If he'd only been there, he might have been able to save the boy.

  "I was just sending Gib into town to wire Glynna's father. His name is Charles and he's in New York City, right?"

  "Yes. That's him. He'd want to know. He'll come as soon as he gets word."

  Tom nodded to Gib to go into town and send the telegram.

  "Where's Maria?" Paul asked, forcing his personal feelings aside, turning to the faith that had guided his life during the last twenty years. "I want to see her."

  "Come on in. She was resting in her room, but I know she'll want to talk with you. Diego was all she had. He was her whole life."

  Paul followed Tom to Maria's room in the back of the house. She was awake and got up to speak with Paul.

  Tom left them alone, knowing they needed privacy. He returned to the parlor to wait for Dr. Peterson.

  It was nearly half an hour later when the doctor emerged from the bedroom. His clothes were covered with blood, and his expression was serious.

  Tom stood up as he came into the parlor. "How is she, Doe? Is she going to live?"

  He shook his head wearily. "I don't know, Tom."

  "Did you get the bullet out?"

  Peterson nodded. "Yes, but it wasn't
easy. She's one tough lady, or she would have been dead by now."

  Paul had heard the doctor's voice, and he and Maria came out of her room to speak with him.

  "Hello, Rev. Chandler," Peterson greeted him.

  "How is she?"

  "Alive, but only barely. We won't know for hours whether she's going to make it or not."

  Paul stiffened at his statement, fearing the worst. "May I see her?"

  "For a minute. She's unconscious."

  Paul left them and walked quietly into the bedroom where Mimi lay on the bed. His heart constricted at the sight of her. She was deathly pale and unmoving. She lay on her stomach, her face turned toward him, her eyes closed and dark circles beneath them. The doctor had covered her with a blanket, and only the slight rise and fall of it gave any indication that she was alive. Paul dropped to his knees beside the bed. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to tell her that he loved her.

  "Mary Catherine. .1 love you," he said softly, knowing she couldn't hear him, but not caring. He had to say these things before it really was too late. "I'm sorry I ever left you. I'm sorry I hurt you."

  He fell silent as he searched for a way to phrase what was in his heart. Tears burned his eyes as he gazed down at her. She looked so fragile, so helpless, so beautiful. He had lost her once, had deliberately thrown away her love. He could not lose her again not now not to death.

  "Mary Catherine, listen to me. Don't leave me. I love you. Give me another chance, and I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you."

  There was no response from her. Paul did not move away, but stayed there beside her. He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her ashen cheek. Her skin felt almost cold to his touch, and he began to shake.

  Paul bowed his head and began to pray, fervently, harshly, demandingly. God answered all prayers. He knew God did! He wanted to make sure God heard this one and knew how important it was. He prayed for grace for Diego's soul and peace for Maria's torment. He prayed for Glynna's safe return. And he prayed that Mary Catherine would recover.

  He did not ask for anything for himself.

  With God's grace, if she lived, he would be given the opportunity to earn her love again.

  Paul remained beside the bed for a long time. Then he returned to Maria to minister to her pain.

  The night was long.

  Until that night, Hunt had never fully appreciated all the lessons his uncle had taught him during the years he'd spent with his mother's people. Striking Snake had been a fierce taskmaster, and Hunt had learned much under his tutelage. He was glad now for the humiliation he'd suffered at his hands, learning the Comanche ways. His uncle's demands had forced him to be his best, to hone his skills.

  His tracking ability was serving him well now. The night was cloudless and the moon was bright, so he was able to continue to trail the raiding party. Glynna's life was at stake. He could not stop until he found them.

  Warrior was proving to be as fine a mount as Hunt had hoped. The stallion had not faltered. They rode on through the night, their pace slow but steady as they followed the signs that indicated the renegades' passage.

  Hunt's thoughts were dark. Guilt haunted him. The responsibility for what had happened fell to him, and he knew it. His father had come to him first and had asked him to take the women out, and he had refused. His father had needed him, and he had let him down.

  If he had been with Glynna and her aunt, things would have turned out differently. He would have known the renegades were near. He would have known how to fight them off when they'd attacked. He could have prevented this disaster.

  Diego had been little more than a boy. Certainly, at thirteen, he'd been no match for warriors on a raid. His death proved that. And now Glynna was a captive and her aunt lay seriously wounded, possibly dying and it was all because of him. He'd been afraid to be near Glynna. He'd been afraid of what he'd been feeling for her and had wanted to stay away from her.

  Glynna...The memory of the night before, when he'd found her painting near the house, returned to him, and a muscle worked in his jaw as he struggled to control his emotions. Glynna was beautiful, and holding her and kissing her had been heavenly. He'd wanted her, yet he'd deliberately sent her from him. Even now, he knew it had been the right thing to do. There had been no point in allowing himself to love her. There could be no future for them together.

  But Glynna was going to have a future. He was going to see to it. That was why he was following her, and that was why he was going to free her from her captor.

  Hunt urged Warrior to a faster pace. He knew the raiding party would not rest, and he was many hours behind them.

  Dawn was brightening the sky in the east, and still the raiding party rode on. Glynna was past exhaustion as she sat slumped before her captor on his mount. The miles they'd covered through the long night had seemed endless, yet they had not stopped to rest. She understood far better now why the white ranchers feared the Comanche so much. These warriors knew the land. The handled their horses far better than anyone she'd ever seen, with the exception of Hunt, and they were deadly and without conscience.

  Thoughts of Aunt Mimi and Diego assailed Glynna, and she wondered how they were. She feared they had been seriously injured or maybe even killed, and she wondered if she would ever see them again. Her aunt was so special to her. Aunt Mimi had always been there for her, never missing her birthdays or holidays. Glynna's mother had died when she was an infant, and Aunt Mimi had been the one she'd turned to whenever she'd needed female advice or comfort. Thinking of home, she thought of her father and wondered, too, if she would ever see him again. Her heart ached with loneliness and despair.

  Glynna remembered the tales about other white women who'd been taken captive and had survived. They had told of how they had suffered torture and abuse at the Indians' hands. Glynna hoped she was strong enough to survive.

  She had come to Texas for adventure. She had wanted to see the land and the people. She had wanted to experience the Wild West and paint it, but she'd never wanted this. The stage robbery had been traumatic enough. Now she was a renegade's captive.

  Thoughts of Hunt came to her then. In her mind's eye, she relived the moment when he'd swept her up in his arms to save her from the bull, when he'd returned with her sketchbook, and when he'd smiled the other night. His kiss had been the most wonderful thing she'd ever experienced. He had been so exciting, so warm and passionate... but then the man who had shown her such tenderness had vanished, and he'd turned cold and indifferent again. She wondered if he'd learned yet about what had happened to them that day. She wondered, too, if he'd care.

  Dr. Peterson came out of the bedroom and went to seek out Tom and Paul in the parlor.

  "Is she better?" Paul asked the minute he saw the physician.

  "No. There's been no change," he answered. His expression was grim.

  "What more can you do for her?" Paul pressed. He had been sitting by Mimi's side for most of the night and was growing more and more worried with each passing hour. She'd shown no signs of improvement.

  "I've done everything I can. Now it's just a matter of waiting it out."

  "How long?" Tom asked.

  "There's no way of knowing. It could be hours, or it could be days. By all rights, with what she's been through, she should be dead by now. A lot of men couldn't have lived through what she just did."

  "Mary Catherine's a very strong woman," Paul declared. "She'll make it."

  "I hope you're right, Reverend," the doctor said, understanding his need to remain optimistic, even in the face of such devastating odds.

  "I do, too," Tom put in.

  "Gentlemen, I'm going to go back to town. There's nothing more I can do for her. It's in God's hands." He met Paul's gaze. "If you need me, just let me know."

  "Thanks, Doc," Tom told him as he walked him from the house.

  Paul stood in the middle of the parlor, searching for the strength he needed to get through the rest of the day. In just a few hours they
would be burying Diego. Gib and Wes had built the coffin for the boy overnight.

  "I guess we'd best get ready for the burial," Tom said as he came back inside. His expression was sad. His shoulders were bent with sorrow.

  "I know. It's going to be a long day."

  Paul lifted his gaze to look out the window. In the distance, he could see two of the ranch hands digging Diego's grave in the grove of trees that overlooked a small creek. It was a shady, peaceful place. Diego would find his final rest there.

  The knock came at Charles Williams's study door, interrupting the serious conversation he'd been having with Edmund about business interests. He looked up in irritation as he called out, "What is it?"

  "A telegram was just delivered for you, sir," the maid answered. "It's from Texas."

  His scowl disappeared, and a smile lit up his face. "It must be from Glynna," he said to Edmund. Then he called out to the maid, "Come in, come in."

  The gruffness of his tone disguised his pleasure at the thought that Glynna had taken time to wire him. They hadn't parted on good terms, and he'd been missing her. He couldn't wait for her to get back home, where she belonged.

  The door opened and the diminutive maid hurried in to hand him the telegram.

  "Thank you, Trudy."

  "Yes, sir." She rushed from the room and closed the door on the way out.

  "I'm glad she's contacted you, sir," Edmund began, though he was more than a little irritated that Glynna hadn't bothered to contact him in all the time she'd been gone. He planned to marry her just as soon as she returned from this crazy trip of hers. She was not only a beautiful young woman, but her family's wealth was equal to his own. Theirs would be a fine match. The thought of the Moore fortune coupled with the Williams estate was very impressive. "I've been missing her."

  "So have I," Charles admitted as he tore open the envelope and started to read. "What the hell?" he roared, surging to his feet and knocking his chair over backward. "And Chandler's there, the son of a bitch!"

  "What's wrong? Who's Chandler?" Edmund was shocked to see Charles go deathly pale.

  "Good Lord, man!" He ignored Edmund's questions, looking down at him but not really seeing him. His expression was tortured. "I have to leave for Texas now! This morning! Trudy!" he bellowed, tossing the wire carelessly across his desk toward Edmund as he ran to open the study door.