Wild Is My Heart

by Connie Mason

  “Everythin’ went quite well, Samantha,” he confided. “I paid an urchin to deliver my message to the hotel, and by now your lover knows you are in my hands. By noon tomorrow he’ll be dead. Wild animals will carry off his body and no one will ever know what happened to him. Or to you.”

  “This … this will solve nothing, Vern,” Sam croaked, finding her voice with difficulty.

  “Maybe not,” Vern admitted, “but I’ll feel a helluva lot better for it.” He noted her wary look and laughed. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

  “I… no, no, of course not!” Sam refuted, not wishing to rile him.

  “Don’t lie, Samantha. Nothin’ will stop me from gunnin’ down that blasted Texas Ranger.”

  “What did your note say?”

  “I told him to be at Twin Butte at precisely noon tomorrow if he wants to see you alive. His life in exchange for yours.”

  “You’re nothing but a stinking polecat with a yellow stripe running down your back,” Sam blasted. “You’re too cowardly to meet Colt like a man.”

  “You always did have a smart mouth, Samantha. Too bad you never saw fit to accept my proposal. I would have enjoyed taming you into a proper wife. We could have ruled Daddy’s empire together.”

  Sam bit back a scathing retort. Obviously she was getting nowhere with Vern. He was beyond reasoning with, utterly ruthless in his desire to kill Colt and punish her for both imagined and real offenses. Instead, she said, “I… need some privacy.” Her bladder was near to bursting and her discomfort acute.

  Vern eyed her sharply, then waved vaguely toward the rear of the cave.

  “I… I can’t. I want to go outside.”

  “No! It’s here or not at all.” Calmly he returned to his preparations. “Don’t worry, I told you before I no longer have the slightest interest in you as a woman. You sicken me. I’m surprised Colter wanted you after the Indians finished with you. No doubt he’s not as fastidious as I.”

  Sam saw no reason to explain about Black Bear and her Indian ancestry. Instead she rose unsteadily to her feet and stumbled to the far reaches of the cave. Her legs felt like rubber, but the circulation was returning. Vern paid her little heed as she found a private niche in the solid stone walls. Evidently Vern had inspected this place thoroughly and knew there was no possibility of escape. Disheartened, she returned to her place near the entrance.

  Silently Vern handed Sam a plate and cup of water. She ignored the food but drank thirstily, draining the cup and asking for more. Setting her plate aside, she asked, “What now?”

  “We sleep. Then we wait for Colter to show up. I don’t trust him. I’m willin’ to bet he’ll try somethin’, and I’ll be waitin’.”

  Colt reached Twin Butte an hour after leaving San Antonio. The rugged area was well known to him and he immediately recognized the twin spires rising in the air like a sentinel against a clear blue sky. There was a nip in the air, and Colt hoped that Logan had provided Sam with a blanket to ward off the chill. He hadn’t.

  Colt reined in some distance from the butte, tethered his horse to a tree, and traveled the rest of the way on foot. He reached the appointed place well before noon, selected a concealed boulder, and crouched down to wait—and watch.

  Carefully Colt scanned the surrounding hills, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Somewhere up there Sam was the prisoner of a madman. But not for long, Colt reflected—not if he could help it.

  Nothing /moved. It was as if Colt were the only person left on earth in the pristine stillness. The dun-colored hills looked newly created by God, so fresh, so silent, so peaceful in the early hours of morning.

  An hour elapsed, then two, and still Colt waited. He estimated the time at about nine a.m. He grew anxious. What if Logan lied to him and Sam was already dead? Then he saw it. Halfway up a craggy mesa Colt spied a lone figure emerge from what looked to be a tall, narrow opening between two rocks. It was Vern Logan. He walked to the edge of a narrow ledge and carefully scanned the ground below. Colt remained well hidden behind the boulder, his sights fixed on the place from which Logan had emerged, committing it to memory. Then Logan turned and disappeared back into the slim opening.

  Just thinking about Sam being held prisoner in that dark hole nearly cost Colt his sanity. But he knew Sam’s life depended on his remaining calm. He took his time making a slow survey of the area, noting that the place where he had seen Logan was easily accessible. It sat above a narrow ledge or lip about halfway up the north face of a rocky butte. His mind worked furiously, finally deciding that the only way he could possibly reach Sam without being seen was by climbing up from the opposite direction and working his way around.

  While Logan remained out of sight, Colt dropped to his stomach and inched his way into the open, praying Logan wouldn’t suddenly appear on the ledge anytime soon. It was slow work but luck was with him, and once he reached a point where Logan could no longer see him, he rose to his feet and made his way around to the south side of the butte. He quickly found a place to scale it, hoping to surprise Logan when and where he least expected it.

  It was rough going, and Colt stopped often to wipe the perspiration from his brow. By now the sun had effectively banished the morning chill. Colt’s steps were sure and nearly soundless due to long practice stalking outlaws and Indians. Halfway up the butte he encountered the ledge that appeared to be part of the same one Logan had stood on earlier. Evidently it girdled the entire butte. Grasping the edge, Colt carefully pulled himself over the lip.

  It proved an easy task, and soon Colt was crouching on the ledge, pausing to catch his breath and get his bearings. He decided to follow the ledge around to the norm side and surprise Logan long before the hour of noon when he was expected to appear. Only he failed to consider Vern Logan’s cunning.

  Colt’s first inkling that he wasn’t alone came when a twig snapped just off to his right. Whirling, he reached for his gun but was stopped dead when Vern Logan calmly ordered, “Don’t move, Ranger.”

  Colt looked up to see Logan’s gun trained on him, his finger caressing the trigger. He had materialized like magic from behind a scrub pine. “Did you reckon I was fool enough to trust you not to pull some dumb stunt like this?” Logan smiled nastily. “I’m way ahead of you, Ranger.”

  Colt cursed violendy. He should have known Logan would expect a trick and be prepared for it. Though Colt wouldn’t give a wooden nickel for his own life, his thoughts were only of Sam.

  “Where is Sam? Is she all right?”

  “I’ve not harmed Samantha,” Logan sneered.

  “Then let her go. Now that you have me, Sam isn’t important to you.”

  “You’re right, Colter, Samantha isn’t important enough to kill. I have somethin’ altogether different planned for her. Somethin’ she’s not gonna like.”

  “I want to see her.”

  “Take your guns out very carefully and drop them over the ledge. One false move and you’re dead.”

  Colt did exactly as he was told, tossing his guns over the ledge to the valley below. Then he felt Logan’s six-shooter poking his ribs.

  “Walk,” Logan prodded. “Slow and easy.”

  They followed the ledge around to the north side of the butte until Logan suddenly called a halt. Colt looked around, his eyes widening when he saw the narrow opening in the rocks to his left. Rudely Logan shoved Colt inside. It took several minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, but when they did he bellowed in outrage.

  “You cowardly bastard! What have you done to her?”

  Sam lay on her side, hands and feet tightly bound, eyes closed. Logan had tied her up again so he could grab a few hours sleep during the night. She had been released briefly in the morning to relieve herself and eat, then rebound. Logan strongly suspected that Colt would try to pull off something unexpected, so at dawn he had begun patrolling the entire area. He had just reached the south side of the butte when he saw Colt pull himself over the ledge. It wasn’t yet noon, but Logan w
asn’t foolish enough to think Colt would meekly allow himself to be killed without a fight.

  “I haven’t touched Samantha,” Logan said peevishly.

  Colt dropped to his knees, turning Sam to face him. Only when he saw the steady rise and fall of Sam’s chest did he draw in a ragged breath. “Thank God.”

  Voices reached out and beckoned at Sam. She imagined Colt was here, touching her, offering comfort. She had begged Vern not to tie her up again but he ignored her. The past night had been pure hell. Numb with pain and chilled to the bone, Sam wondered how much abuse she could endure without it affecting her baby. When morning came she was untied for a spell. Then, despite her fierce pride she had broken down and cried when Vern bound her again and left her alone. She prayed that Colt wouldn’t appear, for she wanted him to live—even if she did not.

  Slowly Sam opened her eyes, the dim contours of Colt’s beloved features floating directly above her. “Colt? Oh my God, why did you come?” she sobbed. “He’ll kill you.”

  “Has that swine hurt you, darlin’?”

  “N … no, not like you think.”

  “Our baby, is he all right?”

  “I … I think so.”

  “How touchin’,” Logan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Are you two really married? Or is Samantha your whore?”

  Colt whirled, crouching low and coiled to strike, until he heard the metallic click of a pistol hammer. Of what good would he be to Sam dead? Breathing deeply, he forced himself to relax.

  “You’re smart, Colter. One more move and I would have blown you away. Answer my question. Are you really married?”

  “We’ve been married for months,” Colt snarled, baring his teeth. “Sam’s expectin’ my child. What do you want from me, Logan?”

  “Your life. Because of you and Sam I’m a ruined man. She had the gall to refuse my marriage proposal and made me look like an inept fool in front of my father. Then you came to town and brought ruination to the empire Daddy was buildin’. Everythin’ would have been mine. It should have been mine. You’ll both pay for what you did to me.”

  “Sam can’t hurt you, let her go.”

  Logan laughed. “Get up.” Colt complied, his mind working furiously. Was there no way to stop this lunatic? “Walk.” Logan motioned toward the narrow entrance.

  “Colt!” Sam’s voice quivered in terror. It was a sound Colt would never forget.

  “Don’t fret, Sam, I’ll take care of you.” It was a rash promise and Colt knew it, but nothing comforting came to mind.

  Logan laughed again, prodding Colt out into the bright sunlight toward the ledge. “What do you hope to gain from this?” Colt asked, playing for time.

  “Satisfaction,” Logan ground out.

  Behind them, Sam mustered what little strength she had left and began moving toward the opening, dragging herself forward on her bottom using her bound limbs as levers. She emerged into the sunshine at the same moment Colt was forced out onto the ledge. He turned to face Logan just as Logan pointed his weapon at Colt’s head and pulled the trigger.

  “C-o-o-lt!” Sam’s warning came a fraction of a second before the shot, and instinctively Colt ducked. But it was too late. Colt plunged headlong over the ledge, tumbling down, down, to the valley below. Sam’s scream followed him to the bottom, where he lay in a broken heap.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jim Blake was not one to give up easily. His night had been every bit as sleepless as Colt’s. He and Colt had been close friends for many years; they had saved each other’s skin, shared meals, confidences, women. Jim had no intention of abandoning his friend now, despite Colt’s obvious reluctance to confide in him. For Colt’s good and his own peace of mind, Jim was prepared to meddle in affairs where his help was actively discouraged.

  It was noon the following day when Jim decided to disregard Colt’s plea not to interfere and resolutely headed for Colt’s hotel room. His knock brought no response. Undaunted, Jim tried the knob, and was surprised to find it turned easily. Evidently Colt had left in so great a hurry he failed to lock the door behind him. Stepping inside, Jim gave the room a cursory glance, finding nothing amiss or even suspicious. But his Ranger training dictated that he investigate more thoroughly, for things were not always as they appeared.

  His perseverance paid off. Within minutes Jim found Logan’s note where Colt had carelessly kicked it, under the bed. It was wadded up in a ball and badly wrinkled but still legible. The message therein brought a groan of anguish from Jim’s lips. He held little hope that Colt still lived. Nor could he be certain that Sam had survived Logan’s coldblooded vengeance. Logan had made it abundantly clear that he held both Sam and Colt responsible for all his troubles. A foul oath burst from Jim’s taut lips. Why in the hell hadn’t Colt trusted him enough to confide in him? Had Logan’s threats on Sam’s life robbed Colt of his senses? It was the only reason Jim could think of to explain Colt’s behavior.

  Realizing he had wasted enough time with conjectures, Jim swallowed his worst fears and rode immediately for Twin Butte. It was a landmark he knew well, and suspected that Logan had concealed Sam somewhere amid the buttes and mesas in the rugged area. He prayed he would find Colt still alive, that Logan hadn’t already disposed of him. It heartened Jim somewhat when he considered Colt’s cunning as well as his vast experience in dealing with desparadoes of all kinds. He had always known Colt to keep a cool head in tight situations. But the woman Colt loved had never been involved before, and that could make all the difference in the world.

  Shock and disbelief froze Sam’s face into a mask of abject horror. A silent scream formed in her throat as she watched Colt topple over the ledge. Lowering his weapon, Logan walked to the edge and looked down for what seemed to Sam like an eternity, frowning in annoyance.

  “It was too damn easy,” he muttered sourly. “I had hoped the bastard’s death would give me more pleasure.”

  Suddenly Sam found her voice as hysteria seized her and refused to let loose. She screamed, and screamed, and screamed, the sound bouncing from hill to hill and echoing through the valley below. Spitting out a curse, Logan sped to Sam’s side, grasped her shoulders and struck her face several times, the blows sharp and violent.

  “Shut up, damn you, shut up! He’s dead, and all your caterwaulin’ won’t bring him back.”

  The blows had the desired effect, for Sam’s screams disintegrated abruptly into sobs, moans, and hiccups. Once she had quieted, Logan untied her ankles, and a new agony assailed her. Only this one was short-lived, not like the pain she would have to live with the rest of her life—if she had a life after Vern finished with her.

  “Get up,” Logan prodded, nudging Sam with his toe. “We’re leavin’.”

  Leaving? Leaving Colt? “No, Colt needs me.” Struggling to her feet, Sam tried out her legs, fully intending to stumble down the butte to Colt’s side.

  “Samantha, your lover is dead,” goaded Logan cruelly. “He hasn’t moved a muscle since he fell, and the sooner I get rid of you the happier I’ll be. Soon as I get me enough money I’m gonna hire a lawyer to break Daddy’s will.”

  Sam heard nothing beyond Logan’s words confirming Colt’s death. “Colt’s not dead! Let me go, I have to go to him.”

  “You’re comin’ with me, Samantha. Didn’t you hear? Colter is dead. I killed him.”

  “How do you know he’s dead? He could be badly wounded.”

  “Look for yourself, damn you.” He dragged Sam over to the ledge, forcing her to look down where Colt’s body lay sprawled against a stubby pine. Her eyes easily picked out the path his body had taken down the butte, noting the trail of broken brush left in his wake, and a wail of despair left her bloodless lips.

  Though logic told Sam that Colt was dead, her heart said otherwise.

  “C’ mon, Samantha, it’s time to leave.”

  Reluctantly Sam allowed herself to be dragged by her bound wrists away from the ledge, though her eyes remained on Colt until she could no longer se
e him. And in that split second before he was torn from her sight, she saw something that filled her heart with joy. Colt wobbled to his knees, then flopped back down into nearly the same position in which he had fallen.

  Fear lancing through her veins, Sam swiveled to look at Vern. Thank God he was too intent upon settling her on his horse to notice. And Sam was determined that he didn’t. If he had the slightest inkling Colt lived, he would surely finish the job. Don’t move, Colt, she silently implored. Please don’t move. As they began the slow descent down the trail, Sam wracked her brain for a way to keep the knowledge that Colt still lived from Vern.

  Dear God, she wanted to go to Colt. Was he badly hurt? Or bleeding to death? Or had he broken bones? Deliberately stilling her rampaging emotions, Sam decided to distract Vern somehow in order to keep him from examining Colt more closely. She began to struggle against his imprisoning arms, making certain his attention was on nothing but preventing her flailing arms and legs from unseating them. It took all Vern’s strength just to keep Sam in the saddle and left little time to watch Colt.

  A short time later and after much travail, they reached the valley floor. Sam was seated in front of Vern, her hands tied to the pummel. They rode within ten feet of where Colt lay, but thankfully he hadn’t moved again and Logan was so intent upon subduing Sam he barely spared a glance in Colt’s direction.’

  From the corner of her eye Sam saw buzzards circling overhead and stifled the scream rising in her throat. Vern pulled out his pocket watch, noting that it was exactly noon. He smiled, pleased that everything was going so well. He rode northwest into the hill country.

  Jim Blake found Colt’s horse grazing contentedly some distance from Twin Butte. After a few minutes of indecision, Jim decided to ride on instead of traveling the rest of the distance on foot as Colt had done. It proved a prudent decision, for it saved him precious time when he needed it most.