“Yes, they are brave. And good men.” Somehow, she knew this Indian was a good man too. She sensed a bizarre connection to him, as though he had purposefully come here to help her.
“You go now,” he said and took a step back. “Run from bad man.”
Louisa exhaled her relief. He was going to let her live.
When she didn’t move, he gestured with a sweep of his arm that she should go.
“I am lost.” She gestured trying to indicate her confusion. She pointed in each of the four directions, shrugged her shoulders, and opened her palms. Since it was so cloudy, she couldn’t tell north from south, east from west. “I don’t know where to go.”
The brave actually chuckled. Then he vaulted upon his horse, reached down, and pulled her up behind him as though she weighed nothing at all.
Surprised, she stared wide-eyed at his broad back. After the heavy rain, the man’s scent wasn’t bad, it was just distinct, almost like the musky fragrance of freshly toiled earth.
A soft mist still falling, they rode toward a stand of towering pines. The warmth of the brave and his horse beneath her legs made her trembling ease and her numb feet began to thaw. Her nerves also settled down and she heaved a sigh of relief. Ironic that she should she feel far more comfortable and safe with this brave than she had with her father and Commander Long.
All too soon, though, she heard riders coming from behind them. At once, her heart clenched into a tight knot.
They had found her.
Louisa hung on to his coat as the brave whirled his mount around.
It was Long and her father some distance behind them, both coming at a fast gallop. The sight made her breath solidify in her chest.
“Bad men?” he asked her.
What should she tell him? Yes, they were both bad men. Nevertheless, she didn’t want them killed. She couldn’t speak. An unintentional whimper escaped her though.
That was all the Indian needed to hear apparently because he lowered her off his horse and trotted off to the side. The muscles of his body tightened as he readied himself for battle. He held his deadly spear up, but made no moves toward the approaching riders.
Astounded, Louisa stood there aghast as she realized this Indian stranger was going to fight to protect her. Her own father would not protect her from Long, yet this young brave was willing to.
Long galloped toward the Indian with rage on his face. She saw him withdraw his pistol as his horse came within firing range. Why hadn’t he waited to see if the Indian was friendly? Why hadn’t Long given her a chance to tell them that the brave was only helping her?
The brave bent over his horse and took off at an angle, riding at an incredible speed.
The boom of the black powder weapon echoed through her and then reverberated through the forest.
Long’s shot had missed. He sheathed the pistol and withdrew his long sword.
“Stop!” she yelled.
Holding his rifle, her father caught up to Long, his face and eyes lit with the hatred he held for all Indians. He tried to aim the rifle, but he couldn’t hold his horse steady enough to take a shot.
“No! Don’t shoot him, Pa!”
Riding in a wide arc, the Indian swiftly circled behind both men. She’d never seen a man ride with such skill. He seemed to be one with his magnificent white horse, remaining well-balanced even without a saddle. And both the horse and the brave exuded a surreal strength, the aura of their courageous spirits radiating from within them. A force unseen, but one she could sense nonetheless.
Her father jerked viciously on his reins as he tried to turn his horse around. The gelding balked at the rough handling and let out a high-pitched neigh that left no doubt he was unhappy with his harsh treatment. Her father had never treated his horses well.
Or his children.
Swearing at his horse, her father quickly dismounted, held his rifle to his shoulder, and tried to aim at the brave.
The Indian sneered with disgust and galloped toward her father, his lance raised. The brave’s fearless eyes made known his intent—death.
“Pa!” she cried.
Her father’s shoulder jerked back as he shot at the brave.
At the same instant, the white horse cut sharply to the right at an almost impossible angle. The shot missed.
The brave managed to stay atop his horse and then angled back again. This time, heading directly for her father.
A second later the brave’s lance pierced her father’s chest.
Louisa stared in horror, her eyes disbelieving.
As her father fell, she ran toward him. She collapsed to her knees next to him. His head rested in a pool of muddy water. She slipped her hand behind his neck and raised his head. With her other hand on his cheek, she gazed into his eyes, hoping to see love and perhaps regret.
“I loved you and your brother…in my own way.” Then, an all too familiar anger filled his eyes as he took his last breaths.
The brave rode up, reached down, and jerked out the spear.
She watched her father’s blood drip in a surreal slow motion off the spear point, each drop flooding her with drowning disbelief.
She looked away from the lance, disoriented, too stunned to react or to cry. She wondered if she would ever cry for her father. Would the rain that fell from her lashes be the only tears she would ever shed? Could she mourn someone who had never comforted her? Someone who had only intimidated and terrified her? She had always been afraid of him. She couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t. The scars she bore on her heart were proof that her fear of him was real and deep.
Now, she would never have to fear him. But she still did, she realized in a dazed exasperation. And that made her angry. Pent up resentment spilled from her and she beat a fist against his bloody chest. It wasn’t grief that provoked her rage. It wasn’t his death. It was that her father took with him all her hope that one day he would become a good father. He would never tell her he was sorry. He would never give her a father’s love. It would never be right between them.
She glanced up and shuddered when Long let out an unearthly howl from a considerable distance away.
The Commander charged toward them. Long held his sword high and glowered at the brave. Would the Commander meet the same fate at the end of the Indian’s deadly lance?
Or would this brave Indian die defending her?
She didn’t want either one to die. “No!” she yelled toward Long. “Please stop!”
The brave, still mounted and beside her, raised the bloodied lance and prepared to take aim. His lance was far more lethal than Long’s sword because the Indian could throw it from a distance.
Long must have suddenly grasped the same deadly truth. When he saw the Indian take aim, he yanked his horse’s reins, jarringly turned the mount away, and took off at a gallop. His spurred boots beat against the sides of his mount as he sped away, retreating at an even more rapid gait than when he approached.
Her father’s horse took off, running hard to catch up to Long’s mount.
The brave glanced down at Louisa. Was he trying to decide whether to stay with her or go after the fleeing man?
For an instant, she thought about waving him on. Long had intended to dishonor her and force her into a loveless sham of a marriage. A marriage created by some obscure law—not by God. Now, Long was leaving her in the hands of an Indian brave to face, as far as he knew, an unknown fate. He was a disloyal and a dishonorable scoundrel. The coward deserved to die. But there had already been enough bloodshed. She would not be the one to decide Long’s fate.
“No.” She shook her head and stood.
The brave stared after Long’s retreating form with an intense fierceness. Finally, he said, “Not his time to die.”
Not yet, Louisa thought.
She squeezed her eyes shut and took a moment to calm herself and to collect her thoughts. She had to get back to Adam. He would be so worried about her. And she had to find Samuel. This was supposed to be her wedd
ing day. She hoped the brave would still help her find the Wyllie homeplace.
They would have to come back later to bury her father. She made a mental note to try to remember where this place was so she could find her way back.
“What is your name?” she asked the brave as he rode closer to her.
“Kuukuh. Means water.”
“Thank you, Kuukuh, for helping me,” she said. “I am Louisa.”
“What does name mean?”
She had no idea. She thought for a moment. “A new life.”
He nodded and a corner of his mouth pulled into a slight smile.
“Are you a Caddo?” she asked.
“Yes. Still, my spirit is free.”
He brought his horse up next to Louisa, reached down, and pulled her up behind him.
Again she gripped his coat to keep from falling off. They rode a while in silence, Louisa lost in her turbulent thoughts.
“Who was man I killed?” Kuukuh finally asked.
She considered the question a long moment before she answered. “A bad man. An awfully bad man.”
Chapter 20
“What do you mean she’s missing?” Samuel demanded of his father as he dismounted by the horse shed.
He’d waited out the worst of the storm at the settlement. As soon as it let up, he’d left. When he arrived home, he’d found his father, Baldy, Thomas, and Cornelius, all saddling their horses preparing to launch a search party.
His father appeared worried. “When we saw the storm coming, we stopped all the wedding preparations and pulled everything inside. After the storm let up, I sent Thomas to the Grant’s cabin to go check on Louisa and Adam. But they weren’t there, so he searched the entire cabin. When he still didn’t find them, he ran back.”
“Then we all started looking for them and calling their names,” Melly said. “They were nowhere to be found.”
“Adam was playing the last time I saw him,” Baldy said. “But that’s been some time ago. He must be with Louisa.”
Samuel tried to remain calm. Something was terribly wrong. Louisa would not have left on her own. She was getting married today.
“Hopefully, they just went for a walk and got caught in the storm and are on their way back now,” his father said, but he didn’t sound convinced.
“Cornelius, take this pup and hide him somewhere in the horse shed. I want it to be a surprise for Adam.”
Cornelius took the tired pup into his arms. “Cute little guy.”
“That’s a smart looking little mare,” his father said. “For Louisa?”
“Yes. A wedding present,” Samuel told him hurriedly. “Steve, wipe her down and then brush her. I’m going to look for Louisa.”
“Sure,” Steve said, taking the mare’s reins.
“I’m going with you,” his father said.
“I’ll come too,” Baldy said. “If they’re hurt, they might need me.”
“I’m coming too,” Thomas said.
“Cornelius and Steve, stay here and guard Melly,” their father ordered. “If Louisa and her brother come back, fire one shot into the air.”
His father, Thomas, and Baldy were already well-armed and their horses saddled, so the four of them mounted up.
“Let’s circle around the Grant’s cabin and clinic to see if we can spot anything,” Samuel suggested.
“The storm would have washed away any tracks,” Baldy said.
Samuel headed in that direction anyway and the other three followed.
They rode around to the back of the cabin and Samuel studied the ground as did his father. They were both excellent trackers and if there was something to be found, they would find it. He spotted something and rode over to it. Two piles of soaked horse droppings.
Baldy frowned. “Why would there be horse droppings behind my cabin? None of us ride back here.”
His father leaned down to study the ground and the nearby bushes. “Someone had three horses tied here, but not for long.”
“I can guess who,” Samuel said, anger welling up inside him. “Those two ratbags, Pate and Long, stole her away! And they took Adam too!”
“That’s the most likely explanation,” his father said. “I knew those two were not to be trusted.”
“Any hope of following their tracks was washed away in the storm,” Thomas said.
“Where do you think they might have gone?” his father asked Samuel.
“Long mentioned Nacogdoches. But I doubt they would attempt a trip that far in this weather.” He glanced up. The sky still appeared unfriendly and the north wind still held a serious chill.
“They wouldn’t take them home. They’d figure we’d look there first,” Samuel said.
“Agreed,” Baldy said. “I suspect they’ll be looking for a preacher to perform a quick wedding. What about Jonesboro? There’s a lay preacher there.”
“We have to hurry,” Samuel said, already turning his gelding toward the front of the cabin. “We can’t let Long marry her. If he does, I’ll have to kill him.” He fought to control his anger. At the very least, Long was on the eve of an almighty thrashing.
“We’ll stop him,” his father said. “One way or another.”
As they came around the corner of the cabin, Old Bill jogged up. His back was bent with the weight of a fat turkey. “Hold up,” the trapper said, raising a hand and breathing hard. “I spotted a Caddo brave with Louisa riding behind him on a white horse. Since I was on foot, I didn’t want to risk him taking off with her, so I stayed hidden and ran all the way here.”
“Is Adam with them?” Samuel asked.
“No, it was just Louisa,” Old Bill said.
“Is she okay?” Samuel asked. Real panic took hold of him. He’d been so sure that that Long had abducted Louisa and Pate had taken Adam. But being taken hostage by an Indian could be even worse. “If that Indian has…”
“She appeared calm,” Old Bill interrupted. “So I doubt he touched her. From the direction they were traveling, I believe they are actually on their way here.”
Samuel prayed that was true. “Perhaps a friendly Indian is trying to help her. Maybe she and Adam got lost and the brave found her. But where is Adam?”
“I sure hope the boy isn’t hurt,” Baldy said. “Let’s go.”
“Show us where they are,” Samuel told Old Bill.
“They’re not far,” the trapper said.
“Drop that turkey and climb up,” his father told Old Bill. “My stallion can carry us both.”
Old Bill grabbed the back of George’s saddle and hopped up with surprising ease.
The five of them rode nearly a mile at a gallop before they spotted the brave with Louisa riding behind him.
At the sight of her, Samuel’s heart bumped. “Thank God.”
The brave caught sight of them and halted. He turned his head toward Louisa and spoke to her.
Samuel urged his horse to an even faster run but he did not pull out any weapons. “Don’t shoot,” he called back to the others. He didn’t think his father would, but Thomas might.
Louisa slipped off the back of the Indian’s horse as Samuel reached them.
He quickly dismounted and she ran into his arms as the rest of the men rode up behind him. She was soaking wet, disheveled, and filthy, but the feel of her in his arms was the cleanest, purest heaven. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, thanks to this brave. Oh, Samuel, I was…I was…afraid we would never be able to marry.” She was trembling.
He hugged her tightly to his chest. “No one will ever stop you from becoming my wife.”
“They almost did. This is Kuukuh,” she said, glancing up at the brave. “He speaks some English. He saved me from the Commander and my father. They stole me away and were going to force me to marry Long, even without a preacher, using some legal term about a future bride. I knew I had to save myself. So I escaped and ran and ran. They chased me, but Kuukuh found me before they caught up to me.”
“We suspected they took you,�
� Samuel said heatedly when he noticed her raw wrists. “And Adam? Do they still have him? Is he all right?”
“No, they only took me.” Alarm filled her eyes. “Where’s my brother?”
“We’re not sure. We thought he was with you. I promise we’ll find him. You know how little boys are—always running off to play.” He’d said that to ease her worry, but where was Adam? At least Pate didn’t have the boy.
“Dr. Grant told him to go play,” she said.
“He’s probably back by now,” his father said. “He must have waited out the storm under a tree. We’ll have to let him know how unsafe that is.”
Samuel strode over to the brave. “Thank you, Kuukuh.”
The brave nodded and held up his lance. “Killed one bad man. One ran like rabbit.”
Samuel turned his head back to face Louisa. “Which one did he kill?”
“Father.”
Everyone stood still in stunned silence. Even Kuukuh seemed astounded. He must not have known that he’d killed Louisa’s father.
“He was only my father in name. Not in my heart,” she said.
“And Long?” his father asked.
“When Kuukuh threatened him with his lance, he turned his mount around and fled,” Louisa said. “Like the coward he is.”
Samuel’s jaw tightened. “You mean he left you with an Indian brave, not knowing what might happen to you? No offense, Kuukuh.”
“Some braves hold no honor in here,” Kuukuh said, thumping his fist on his chest. “Some would have hurt Louisa.”
“And other braves have much honor,” Old Bill said. “Like you.” He repeated what he said in what Samuel assumed was the language of the Caddo.
Kuukuh nodded his thanks to Old Bill.
“Yes, Commander Long raced away and left me with Kuukuh,” Louisa said. “Fortunately, this brave is a man of great honor. His name means water and he said the storm god sent him to help me.”
They all glanced up as the sky reverberated with thunder.
“I’m grateful for Kuukuh’s help. But if I ever see Long again,” Samuel swore, “he’ll be sweating blood instead of water before I finish with him.”
He noticed that Louisa was shivering. He removed his jacket and placed it on her shoulders.
Red River Rifles (Wilderness Dawning—the Texas Wyllie Brothers Series Book 1) Page 19
