This Savage Heart

by Patricia Hagan

  It took a minute to sink in. And then she was stretching her arms out to grasp him, heart pounding, as tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. "Derek... Derek... oh, God, love me, please."

  He embraced her hungrily, kissing her soft lips and neck. She clung to him, never wanting to let go. How wonderful his strong arms felt, how safe and good.

  He held her a moment longer, then gently lowered her to the ground.

  "For the first time," he whispered huskily, "I'm going to make love to you with no ghosts between us. We've a right to it, Julie, because we've committed our souls. Now we commit our bodies."

  He spread her cape out on the ground for them, and she watched with heated eyes as he undressed, his body a study in masculine perfection, emanating a strength so fierce as to overpower. He knelt beside her and gently removed her clothing, both of them oblivious to the cold night. His fingertips traced her face, her neck, her firm, supple breasts. He kneaded them possessively. "I love you, Julie," he declared huskily, "and I'm never going to let you go. You're mine now—for always and always."

  She pulled his head down to her breasts, and his hands stroked her back and then her rounded buttocks. He teased her nipples with his lips in small, nibbling bites, and they stiffened beneath the sweet assault. His head moved on downward, planting the soft curves of her body with warm, moist kisses.

  He reached her thighs, and a spasm of intense joy arched her body as he devoured her with his lips. He tantalized her to her first eruption of ecstasy and then, before the joyful throes within her belly had subsided, he moved to enter her. A cry burst from her at his first penetration, and he continued to thrust mightily until another wave of blessed release left her sobbing.

  He lifted her buttocks to meet his movements, and as he became lost in his needs, he was almost savage in his loving ravishment of her, but she urged him on, moaning and clutching, feeling consumed, as she wanted to be consumed for always and ever.

  When at last he rolled to his side, arms still around her, he remained inside her, hot, pulsating. Her head was cradled on his shoulder. For long moments, neither spoke, wanting the spell to go on forever. Finally, Derek raised his head slightly and murmured, "Amidst all that moaning, woman, I never heard you say yes."

  "Yes!" she cried, gloriously happy. "Yes to being your wife. Yes to giving you all I have to give. Yes to doing everything I can to make sure we'll have the happiest marriage ever."

  He laughed, and she had never heard him sound so much at peace. It was as though the end of a long, terrible journey had been reached. Now only rainbows and sunshine lay in their path.

  A bit later, he suggested they wait until they reached their destination before marrying. The ceremony could take place in the fort. "I'll resign my position as wagon master and become a pioneer."

  She was suddenly apprehensive. "Do you think you will be happy as a farmer, Derek? You've always loved being free to roam. How can you be sure you'll want to work the land?"

  "I loved roaming, Julie, but now I realize I was actually searching, not roaming. I've been searching for what I've found, and that's you and the life we're going to have together."

  She felt movements within her, and once more they were lost in their passion. Moments later, when they had reached their pinnacle together, he withdrew and raised himself on an elbow to look down at her. He said thoughtfully, "I think it would be wise if we kept our plans to ourselves for the time being. We've rough times ahead. I don't need to tell you that. And I don't need the added worry of people saying I've got my mind on you instead of my job."

  Julie quickly assured him she understood.

  "It's not important that anyone else know. As long as we know, that's all I care about."

  Derek felt her shivering and helped her to dress. He dressed, and then they propped themselves against a rock, arms locked around each other. Lost in each other, they didn't at first hear Thomas's cries. But then Derek stiffened, pulling away from her and leaping to his feet. "It sounds like Thomas."

  "Here!" Derek called with a robust cry, running toward the voice. "I'm here!"

  Thomas raced toward them, a black outline in the darkness. As he reached them, they were alarmed by his agitation. "It's Vance! He caught the Webber boy, Lonnie Bruce, nosing around his wagon and beat him up real bad. He's drunk and he's holed up in his wagon with a gun. Webber and the other men are fixing to go in after him."

  Derek spat. "Damn it, I knew there was going to be trouble." The three ran back to the compound, and Derek stalked purposefully toward the scene. The men rushed to meet him, Lonnie Bruce's father the most vocal, as they told him what had happened. In the distance, Esther knelt over her son. Lonnie Bruce was lying on the ground, the other women clustered around him, Esther murmuring.

  Julie ran over and, glad to see Lonnie Bruce conscious, asked if he was badly hurt.

  "I don't know," he wheezed, blood trickling from his mouth and nose as he lay on his back, clutching his sides. "He beat me bad, Miss Marshall. Real bad. The men heard me yelling and come running, and he jumped up in his wagon and poked his gun out and said he'd kill anybody that came any nearer."

  Elisa Thatcher stepped forward, eyes flashing. "They've been looking for the captain. Now it's obvious why he wasn't here when he was needed, here to do his job."

  "Oh, Elisa, shut up!" Julie cried. "This is no time for one of your tantrums."

  Elisa gasped and backed away. People did not speak to her in such a manner.

  Just then a cry went up from the men, and everyone turned to see Arlo Vance appear at the rear of his wagon, his head and the barrel of a shotgun poking through the opening in the white canvas. "Back off," he roared. "I gave that young pup what he deserved for snooping around my wagon. So you all just leave me be before I blow somebody to bits."

  No one saw Derek's hand whip to his holster and bring up his gun to fire the shotgun from Arlo's hands. Derek swung up into the wagon, his fist crashing into Arlo's stunned face, sending him to the ground. Leaping down to tower over Arlo, legs wide apart, Derek cried, "You've got five minutes to get your ass out of here, Vance. If you're still here in five minutes, I'll kill you with my bare hands."

  Spitting out blood, Arlo looked up, eyes narrowed, lips quivering. Now was not the time, he told his drunken brain. Derek Arnhardt would get his, but not right then. The odds were too great. He'd be damned if he'd start a fight he couldn't win. Damn it, he should have gone ahead and shot every damn one of them. Saved the Indians' ammunition.

  Warily, eyes still boring into Derek's and conveying his message of hate, Arlo wiped a hand across his bloodied mouth, then got to his feet and began harnessing up.

  The others fell back a little, and Derek turned and walked over to Lonnie Bruce, who was still on the ground, enjoying all the attention.

  "How bad are you hurt?" Derek asked.

  "I don't know," Lonnie Bruce whined, arms folded tightly across his chest. "It hurts real bad."

  Jasper Wilkins approached them. Jasper, a doctor's son, knew a little medicine. He hadn't been able to help Elisa, but he knew about broken bones. "I checked him over," he told Derek. "He may have a cracked rib or two, but other than bruises and being sore, he'll be all right. A big man like that beating up a young boy! It's a disgrace."

  Derek took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Lonnie Bruce wouldn't be able to take over Myles's wagon tomorrow, but Myles had to take over Elisa's, which meant someone else was going to have to help out. Who could be spared? Blast that woman, anyway. If she hadn't caused Micah to run away...

  "What started it?" he demanded of Lonnie Bruce in a tone that meant he wanted only the truth, and fast. "Why were you messing around his wagon?"

  Lonnie Bruce lowered his eyes.

  Derek waited. He never repeated himself, especially when he was in this kind of mood.

  Intimidated, Lonnie Bruce began to speak, the words spilling forth nervously. "It was just a prank, and he got mad and started swinging. Said I had no g.d. business messing
around his wagon and started hitting me."

  Derek waited. It was not the explanation he wanted, and Lonnie Bruce knew it.

  "It was the other guys," he rushed on, tears springing to his eyes because he knew he was going to get it when his folks heard. "We were over in the rocks drinking from a bottle Hubie Taloe swiped from his father's supply. When we ran out they dared me to get some from Mr. Vance's wagon, 'cause we figured he'd have some, since he's always drunk. So I went over there. He wasn't around, so I climbed up into his wagon. He only had two crates in that big old thing. One was food and the other was whiskey. I just got two bottles, and that's when he came up and caught me and started screaming. I tried to tell him I was just after whiskey. He could see I was holding two bottles, but he kept yelling, asking what I'd found, and then he started hitting me."

  Something was nagging at Derek, and he struggled to pinpoint just what it was. Esther Webber was sobbing because her son had been stealing whiskey. Lonnie Bruce's father was threatening the boy with the worst beating of his life once he recuperated from his injuries. The others stood around talking, expressing opinions about the night's excitement.

  Derek touched a thoughtful finger to his mustache, eyes narrowed, jaw muscles tensing. He turned to watch covertly as Arlo Vance whipped his horses into a gallop and, wheels kicking up dirt, hurried from the camp.

  Derek motioned to Thomas and Myles to follow him, and when they were out of hearing range of the others, he said tersely, "Don't say anything to anyone. Get your horses and mount up. We're going after Vance. We'll wait till he's a good distance from the camp, and then we're going to stop him and search that wagon. I have a bad feeling about this."

  Thomas and Myles exchanged looks, and Myles whispered, "What are we looking for?"

  "Guns," Derek told them quietly.

  Thomas echoed, "Guns? What makes you think he's smuggling guns? Hell, he wasn't carrying hardly anything in that big wagon."

  "Exactly." Derek smiled. "But he has a large Conestoga, doesn't he? Now why is he pulling a big, empty wagon? And why do you suppose Vance went into such a rage when he caught the boy in the wagon?"

  "But where are the guns?" Myles wanted to know.

  "False bottom," Derek explained with a grim smile. "If I'm right, he's carrying guns. He joined up with us so he wouldn't arouse suspicion traveling alone. Alone in such a big wagon... with only two crates in it...."

  Chapter 9

  Their impulse was to gallop ahead, but they held back, moving their horses cautiously as they strained to hear the sound of wagon wheels in the sand.

  Derek had told them not to move on Vance until they were far enough from the camp that gunfire wouldn't be heard. He didn't want anyone getting curious and riding out to investigate. This was his job. He intended to do it without endangering others.

  Ever alert, Derek glanced around in the black night, watching sprinkles of stars and gliding silver clouds. Wryly, he thought that each star was like an eye. There were so many at night. The sun was the giant star of day, fading at night to be cast out by thousands. He loved the desert and its tranquility. And, having acknowledged his love for Julie, something he had struggled against for so long rose within him. Derek knew peace.

  He smiled to himself, thoroughly happy. Julie. Spirit. Beauty. Grace. Courage. She possessed, by God, everything he wanted. And he'd be damned if anything would stop him from having her for always.

  "Arnhardt."

  His communion with himself was interrupted by Thomas's soft whisper.

  "If he is smuggling guns, what do we do?" Thomas whispered urgently. "Arrest him?"

  Derek allowed his reins to relax. No need to hurry. This trail led straight to El Paso, and while he doubted that was where Vance was headed, he knew the road well enough to know it would be a while before he found a place where he and his wagon could cut off. "Detain him, is more like it," Derek replied grimly. "We'll confiscate the guns for our own use. I'd planned to buy more in El Paso, anyway. We'll turn him over to the authorities there."

  Myles unleashed a low, guttural snarl. "If he's smuggling guns to Indians, we should kill the son of a bitch and leave him for the buzzards."

  "We'll leave his punishment up to the soldiers at Fort Bliss," Derek said firmly. "All I'm interested in is confiscating the weapons he's carrying. I'll just assume he plans to sell them to Indians, yes."

  They rode on for a time. After a while, Myles felt the need to say what was on his mind. "I think you and I need to get a few things straight. I noticed—like everyone else—that you came riding in tonight with my sister."

  Derek gazed straight ahead. "Yes?"

  Myles, unintimidated, rushed on, "I don't want her hurt, and you seem to have a talent for doing that, so I'm going to ask you to stay away from her."

  "That's going to be hard to do, Myles," Derek said quietly. "I'm afraid I just can't honor your request."

  Thomas looked at Derek in surprise. Was he actually smiling? Why? Derek Arnhardt didn't goad men into fighting. He stated his position frankly, and if someone differed, then he was ready to defend his beliefs. But Derek never taunted a man into attacking.

  Myles was on the brink of losing his temper. "It may be difficult for you to ignore her, since this journey throws everyone together so intimately, but you don't have to take her off by yourself every chance you get. That's what I'm talking about—the little trysts you seem to be having."

  Derek responded lightly, "I'm afraid those trysts are going to be more frequent, Myles."

  It was only with great effort that Myles was able to keep his tone low. "You aren't going to honor my request? You're pushing me, Arnhardt, and while you may be bigger than I am, I'll not back off."

  Derek, unable to conceal his amusement any longer, chuckled. "Now, Myles, is that any way for you to talk to your future brother-in-law? After all, we may be living close to each other once we get where we're going, and it would be nice if we could be one big, happy family." He was grinning happily.

  Myles was speechless but only for a second. "Brother-in-law? Are you saying what I think you are saying?"

  "Hey!" Thomas whispered urgently but was ignored.

  Derek laughed. "I am. Tonight I asked Julie to be my wife, and she said yes."

  "Arnhardt—" Thomas's voice was strained.

  "I'd like for you to be my best man, but if you're opposed to our marriage, then I suppose it would be awkward for you."

  "Opposed?" Myles was ecstatic and reached across to shake Derek's hand eagerly. "I think it's damn wonderful! I've known for some time Julie loved you, but—"

  "Damn it, will you listen to me?"

  They both looked at Thomas. "I don't hear the wagon anymore."

  Silence prevailed. Each man strained to hear.

  "He probably just got out of hearing range," Thomas offered worriedly.

  "No," came Derek's instant reply. "He couldn't have gotten that far. Let's move on, but cautiously. Don't quicken the pace. If we don't pick up the sound soon, then we'll move faster."

  Derek bit his lip. Had Vance been able to hear them? Hell, they hadn't been that close, but the horses' hooves beat into the tiny rocks of the desert floor, and there was no other sound.

  With each passing moment it became obvious that Arlo Vance's wagon was not moving. Or had he moved out of their hearing?

  Suddenly, an outline loomed ahead. The wagon. Derek reined his horse to an abrupt halt, and Thomas and Myles did the same, all being as still as possible.

  Derek slid slowly from his saddle to the ground, and Myles and Thomas followed silently. There were a few boulders around, for they were at the base of a mountain. But for the most part, it was them, the wagon, and the open desert. "I'm moving closer," Derek whispered. "Cover me if he starts shooting."

  Hunching so his body was nearly doubled over, Derek stepped away softly. When he was close enough to the wagon he saw that his unspoken hunch was right—one of the horses was missing. Still, that could be a trick. Having spotted a
nearby boulder for cover, he darted behind it and broke the still of the night with his cry. "You're covered, Vance. Throw down your gun and come out with your hands up."

  Silence was a thick, suffocating shroud. Derek waited, then hollered again. When there was no response, he fired a shot into the canvas covering over the wagon, figuring that would bring Vance out fast enough.

  Nothing happened except for the horses' nervous shuffling. Derek ran quickly to the wagon and threw open the canvas. No one was inside. "He's gone," he called out to Myles and Thomas, who hurried toward him. "He figured out he was being followed and abandoned the wagon. Now, let's take a look. If my guess is wrong, though, why did he abandon the wagon?" Hoisting himself up into the wagon, he began yanking at the thin wooden flooring, and within seconds the cache of guns was uncovered. Gleaming, oiled metal.

  "Whew, would you look at that!" Thomas shook his head, eyes wide. "Lord, I'm shaking just to think of it."

  "It makes me want to rip him to pieces," Myles hissed. "To think he was riding with us, passing himself off as one of us, and all the time he was bringing Indians the very guns that would have slaughtered us. Damn it, let's go after him. When the others hear about this, there'll be a lynching."

  Derek was paying no attention to Myles's outburst. "There must two or three hundred rifles here," he surmised. "Maybe more. He was going to make himself a nice profit. Indians pay in gold or silver, I've heard."

  "Let's go after him!" Myles was shaking. "We can't let him get away."

  Thomas spoke up quickly. "I'm with Myles. We can't let him get away. He'll only go after more guns. This loss won't put him out of business."

  "It might," Derek said matter-of-factly, climbing down out of the wagon and brushing his hands against his thighs. Just touching those guns made him feel tainted. "The Indians will be plenty mad to find out they aren't getting what was promised. He'll have to lay low for a while. It isn't worth our time to go after him. I don't imagine this is his first trip. He probably knows his way around these parts, and there's no telling where he's hiding now. Right now I want to get this wagon back to camp, and then I want us to move and get to Fort Bliss as soon as possible. The Army needs to know about this—and we need to get out of this territory."