Wild Is My Heart

by Connie Mason

  Eagerly Sam sifted through the wealth of dresses offered by the mercantile. She was pleasantly surprised at the rather large selection and took her time choosing an attractive dress within her means. She finally settled on a pale violet linen with scooped neckline, puffed sleeves, and fitted bodice. The full skirt fell softly around her slim hips to the tip of her toes. Sam had no use for the hoops fashionable in more civilized places where clothing played an important role. Truth to tell, she loved wearing denim trousers, but realized that pants had no place in the wardrobe of an expectant mother. Already they were becoming too snug in the waist. And Sam wanted to look her best when Colt returned to their hotel room. She also bought a pair of soft slippers to match her dress.

  Then she carefully studied the fancier offerings until she found what she considered the perfect wedding gown. It was a long dress fashioned of fine lawn in a pale shade of pink and lavished generously with lace. The color and style suited her well. The store clerk promised to hold the gown until closing, and Sam left the store with her dress and slippers done up in a neat package beneath her arm. Her afternoon had ended exceptionally well and she couldn’t wait to greet Colt in her new finery. He had rarely seen her in a dress, and she smiled when she pictured his surprise.

  Concealed in the shadows of the alley, Vern Logan watched Sam emerge from the mercantile and walk in his direction. His eyes glittered unnaturally as she drew abreast. Quickly glancing about, Vern satisfied himself that no one was in the vicinity before acting.

  Sam never knew what happened as a long arm snaked out and she was dragged into the alley, one hand clapped against her mouth, the other around her waist. There was no time for struggle or even to call for help as her mouth was suddenly released, for the hand that had previously stifled her cries now clenched into a fist and slammed into her jaw. She dropped her package as she crumpled into Vern’s outstretched arms.

  Holding his breath, Vern listened for an outcry of alarm. When none was forthcoming, he scooped up Sam’s limp form and quickly made his way along the narrow alley to the opposite end, emerging behind the mercantile where his horse was waiting. Mounting with some difficulty, Vern settled Sam in front of him, supporting her sagging body against his own. Taking a circuitous route out of town, he headed directly into the rugged country south of the city. Once out of sight, he stopped long enough to reach for his rope, tie Sam’s hands together, and secure them to the pummel.

  Struggling upward through layer upon layer of thick, suffocating cotton, Sam groaned, wondering why her arms and legs were numb. Gingerly she attempted to move, but found herself paralyzed. One eye popped open, then another, and the terrible nightmare she found herself in became reality. The last thing Sam remembered was leaving the mercantile in a happy mood. What happened after that, and where was she?

  Excruciating pain penetrated the numbness in Sam’s limbs, and she struggled to free herself, abruptly realizing that she had been bound hand and foot and left lying on a hard, uncomfortable bed. Slowly adjusting to the dim light, Sam surveyed her surroundings. From all appearances she was inside a damp, dark hole. A cave? Perhaps, though it was small and shallow with a hard, rocky surface, attested to by the sharp stones digging painfully into her back. Dragging herself into a sitting position, Sam felt a cold roughness behind her. She shuddered with the knowledge that solid stone hemmed her in and enclosed her. The opening to her dank prison was tall and narrow, and in it stood the figure of a man.

  “Who … who are you? Why was I brought here?” Sam demanded to know. Her raging anger left no room for fear.

  “So you’re finally awake, Samantha.”

  Samantha! Only one man called her Samantha. “Vern? What is the meaning of this? I demand you untie me.”

  “You’re in no position to demand anythin’,” Vern observed, sneering.

  “Release me now, before my husband discovers I’m missing and comes looking for me. Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Are you referrin’ to Ranger Andrews? Or do you mean Steven Colter? Are you really married to that meddlin’ fool?”

  Disconcerted by Vern’s knowledge as well as his frank question, Sam stumbled over her words. “I … I… damn you, Colt and I have been married for weeks.” She failed to add that her marriage was legal only among the Comanches.

  Vern smirked. “Are you surprised I know about Colter? He’s the man who bought your ranch and you knew it all along.”

  “N … no! I didn’t know it until later,” Sam refuted. “But that still doesn’t explain why you are holding me prisoner. Or how you got out of jail.”

  “Did you know Daddy disinherited me?” Vern asked, moving farther into the cramped, cavelike enclosure.

  “I… didn’t know. I’m sorry. What happened?”

  “It’s all your fault, Samantha.” He paused to let his words sink in. “If you had married me, none of this would have happened. I’d be wealthy now and you’d be leadin’ a life of luxury and raisin’ my children.”

  Sam grimaced distastefully. “I didn’t love you.”

  “I suppose you love Colter.”

  “Yes. Yes I do. Very much. You can’t blame me for something that was entirely your own doing. It wasn’t me who hired the Crowders to frighten and kill unsuspecting ranchers in order to cheat them out of their land,” Sam spat, warming to the subject. “You and your father were probably responsible for Pop’s death,” she added in a sudden burst of insight. Until this moment she hadn’t considered the possibility that either Vern or his father had ordered Pop’s death in order to seize the Circle H.

  “You can’t prove that,” Vern denied sourly. “The court hadn’t a shred of evidence to link me with Daddy’s dealin’s or even suggest I knew what Daddy was up to. Daddy is dead. He died of a heart attack before the trial, and Lyle Crowder was hanged by a lynch mob. I was released from jail shortly afterwards due to lack of evidence.”

  “You know damn good and well what your father was doing,” Sam said shrewdly. “Someday, somehow, you’ll be justly punished, even if I have to see to it myself.”

  Vern laughed raucously, dropping to his knees before Sam. Grasping her chin between thumb and forefinger, he tilted her face upwards. “When I’m finished with you and your lover, neither of you will be in a position to do anythin’.”

  “What will you do?”

  “First I get Colter out here, then I kill him.”

  “What makes you think he’ll come? Colt’s not stupid.”

  “You’re my bait. When he learns I have you he’ll hightail it out here so fast it’ll make your head spin. Once I have him in my sights he’s a dead man.”

  “Where are we?” Sam asked.

  “In a cave formed by rocks above a shallow valley. It’s called Twin Butte because of the double spires rising from the valley floor. Colter don’t stand a chance. The minute he rides into view I’ll put a bullet through his heart.”

  Sam froze, terror-stricken. Her own desperate situation was nothing compared to what Colt faced. Of course he’d ride out after her if he thought she was in danger. But how will he know? She posed the question to Vern.

  “We’re but a short distance from San Antonio,” he informed her. “I selected this spot very carefully for its accessibility as well as its ruggedness. It’ll be simple to slip back into town and leave a note for your lover with the desk clerk at your hotel.”

  “Vern, please, don’t do this,” Sam tried to reason. “You’re not a vindictive man. I’ve always known you to be kind and thoughtful.” She nearly choked on the lie, hoping to placate him despite the indisputable fact that Vern was a despicable varmint.

  “Someone has to pay for everythin’ I lost. Because of you and that Ranger, I’m penniless.” Vern’s eyes grew cold and empty, his lips tightened, and suddenly Sam realized he was quite mad. Driven, no doubt, by his father and by circumstances that left him bereft of friends, family, and wealth. Or had he always been like that?

  Vern turned to leave. “I’ll be on my way
now, Samantha. Hopefully I’ll be back before dark.”

  “Vern, wait!” Sam wailed. “Don’t leave me like this.”

  “Nothin’ will happen to you. You’ll be safe enough till I return.”

  “What happen then? What are you going to do with me? I won’t marry you. I’m already married.”

  “Marry you?” laughed Vern nastily. “You’re plumb loco. I wouldn’t touch you after that Ranger and all those Comanches had you. True, I might have considered it once, to appease Daddy, but after I learned how you and Colter plotted against me, I wanted nothin’ more to do with you. I’ve somethin’ far more subtle planned for you.”

  “You’re going to kill me?”

  “Too messy.”

  “You’ll let me go?”

  “Not likely. I reckon you’re a born whore. Once I kill Colter I’m sellin’ you to Injuns. I reckon you’ve whored for them before and won’t mind doin’ it again. Only this time there’ll be no Texas Ranger ridin’ out to rescue you. You’ll quietly disappear.”

  “You cowardly swine! Despicable jackass! Why not let me go?” Sam appealed. “I won’t tell a soul what happened. I … I’m expecting a child. Colt’s child.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. “Whore! If you really married the varmint you’ll soon be a widow. And I reckon the savages will rid you of your bastard soon enough.”

  Tossing her a venomous glance, Vern turned on his heel and stormed away.

  Colt hurried back to the hotel, anxious to tell Sam all that had transpired. Particularly the arrangements he’d made for their wedding. No one was going to call his son a bastard, so the ceremony had to take place as soon as possible. Besides, Sam belonged to him. He loved her. Christ, how he loved her! Though it was later than he had anticipated, Colt reckoned there was still plenty of time left to shop for their wedding clothes.

  To Colt’s consternation Sam was not in the room. All that remained was a tubful of cold water. Why hadn’t she rested as he suggested? he wondered. Where had she gone off to?

  Colt spent an anxious hour stomping about the room waiting for Sam to appear, still not overly worried, assuming she had become bored and gone out for a walk. But when another hour passed, Colt became convinced that something had happened to Sam, and cold fear motivated him into action. He rushed from the room to question the desk clerk and learned that Sam had left earlier in the afternoon and had not returned. He snorted in disgust, for he knew that much without asking. What the clerk failed to mention, for at the time it seemed unnoteworthy, was the fact that Mr. Vern Logan, a guest of the hotel, had inquired about Sam.

  Starting at one end of the street, Colt made inquiries at each store until he reached the mercantile, where the store clerk recalled waiting on Sam earlier in the day. Encouraged yet strangely disheartened, Colt continued down the street, taking only a few steps before something in the alley next to the mercantile caught his eye. It was a bundle neatly wrapped and tied, and Colt snatched it up from where it lay on the dirty ground. Breaking the string, he carefully inspected the contents. The dress and slippers looked like things Sam would buy.

  Unwilling to trust his own intuition, Colt retraced his steps to the mercantile, where the clerk identified the items as those purchased by Sam. In a daze Colt left the store, a terrible dread gnawing at his innards. He returned to the alley and carefully read the signs. What he found only added to his distress.

  There were strong indications of a struggle, and tracks that suggested someone had been dragged through the alley. Following the prints, Colt found where a horse had been tethered, and surmised that whoever had been in the alley rode the animal away. The signs were all there. Someone had taken Sam away—but who? And why?

  Colt was of a mind to get his horse and follow the tracks until he realized it was growing dark. As much as he hated to admit it, nothing could be accomplished until daylight. Clutching the package containing Sam’s new clothes to his chest, Colt stumbled back to the hotel, numb and in more pain than he had ever experienced in his life, and he’d experienced plenty.

  “Oh, Mr. Colter,” the desk clerk greeted as Colt walked past the desk. “I’ve a message for you.” He waved an envelope in the air. Colt froze.

  “Yes, sir, a boy delivered it just minutes ago.”

  Snatching it from the clerk’s hands, Colt merely nodded his thanks, then continued to his room, staring at the missive as if it were the snake in the garden of Eden.

  The room was just as Colt left it, except the tub of water had been removed. He tore open the envelope, drawing out the single sheet of paper with shaking hands. His heart pounded, his body grew taut as a bow string as he read the brief note. At the end, he read it again, then cursed violendy.

  “I’ll kill him!” Colt thundered. “If he’s hurt Sam I’ll kill the bastard.”

  Several long minutes passed before Colt realized someone was banging on the door. Jim’s insistent voice brought him to his senses, and reluctantly he answered the summons. To Colt’s chagrin both Jim and Captain Ford stood before him.

  “What in the hell happened to you, Colt?” Jim asked worriedly. “Where’s Sam? When you failed to show up at the church, we hightailed it over here. You were so eager about your weddin’ we grew concerned when seven o’clock came and went with no sign of the bride and groom. Where’s Sam?” he repeated.

  “Gone,” Colt said, his voice thin and reedy, his emotions drawn taut.

  “Gone?” Jim echoed, stunned. “What happened?”

  Abrupdy Colt recalled the words in the note left by Vern Logan. He warned Colt to tell no one if he wanted to see Sam alive, and that included his fellow Rangers. Sam would live only if Colt followed directions. He was to go to Twin Butte, a local landmark south of San Antonio named for its tall spires, alone, at noon, unarmed and prepared to exchange himself for Sam.

  Colt agonized over the terse words. It had been hand delivered by a messenger boy, and Colt neither doubted its authenticity nor discounted its threat. He was given no choice but to follow directions. He would gladly lay down his own life to save Sam’s. He had only his cunning to rely upon, and his friends must not know the torment he was going through. At the moment Logan was calling the shots, and it was vital that neither Jim nor Captain Ford guess at what was going on.

  “The weddin’ is off,” Colt growled, hoping to convince Jim. “Sam left.”

  “Hogwash!” Jim said, dismissing the notion. “That doesn’t sound like Sam. Somethin’ is wrong. What is it?”

  “If you or your lady are in trouble, Colt,” Captain Ford injected, “the Rangers will rally behind you. You can speak freely. You have my word it will go no further than this room.”

  “Much obliged, Cap’n, but I can handle it,” Colt replied stubbornly.

  “What is this all about, Colt?” Jim’s brow puckered in concern. “Is Sam in some kind of danger?”

  “Jim, we’ve been friends a long time, please trust me. Don’t ask questions I’m not at liberty to answer. When the time is right, you’ll both know everythin’.”

  “I’m convinced, Colt,” Captain Ford said. “Be careful.” He turned to leave. “Are you coming, Jim?”

  “Give me a minute, Cap’n. I’ll meet you in the lobby.” Captain Ford left, quietly closing the door behind him.

  “I want to help, Colt,” Jim beseeched, undaunted by Colt’s obstinance. “I think you know how I feel about Sam. If she’s in danger, I want to know.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Jim, but there’s nothin’ I can tell you. You’ll have to trust me in this.”

  Jim’s lips thinned as he stuthed Colt from beneath narrowed lids. He knew that something was terribly wrong but was powerless to help unless Colt confided in him. Then suddenly an alarm went off in Jim’s brain. “It’s Vern Logan, isn’t it? Jesus, Colt, Logan has Sam!”

  “No, Jim,” Colt said tightly. Jim was too astute for his own good. “You’re way off track.”

  Jim found himself being rudely edged toward the door, and before
he knew it stood in the hallway staring at the closed panel. Momentarily stumped by Colt’s stubbornness, he left, determined to find some way to help two people he cared about.

  Sleep was impossible. Colt spent the endless night pacing and planning. Vern Logan had to be insane, he reasoned. A sentence in his note made it abundantly clear that Vern blamed Sam for the loss of his inheritance, and him, Colt, for bringing about his downfall. Logan wanted revenge, and Colt seriously doubted that Logan meant to let Sam go despite his offer for an exchange. There wasn’t an ounce of honor in the man’s black soul.

  The longer he thought about it, the more convinced Colt became that Logan meant to kill both him and Sam. With this in mind he formulated a plan that had a slim chance of working. Colt hoped to beat Logan at his own game.

  Sam writhed in pain, wondering if Vern meant to leave her alone in this godforsaken hole all night trussed up like a Christmas goose. Just when she gave up all hope of leaving this place alive, Vern returned. He spared her little more than a contemptuous glance.

  “Vern, please untie me, I’m in agony.”

  “I don’t trust you, Samantha.”

  “I promise I won’t try to escape.”

  Vern seemed to consider her words, then made up his mind and untied the ropes binding her wrists and ankles. If Sam thought she’d been in pain before, it was nothing compared to the excruciating agony she suffered now as the blood rushed to her limbs. Tears streamed from her eyes and the power of speech left her as incoherent sounds gurgled in her throat. With a notable lack of compassion, Vern turned away to prepare a makeshift meal for them. Evidently he had shopped for supplies. As he set about opening various tins of food, he chattered on as if he and Sam were the best of friends. His lively mood sent Sam’s spirits plummeting.