Captive Bride (13 page)
The sound of his mother’s name on his enemy’s lips sent waves of hatred coursing through Davy’s veins. He tamped it down. If he allowed his feelings to rule him, he could make a mistake, a costly mistake, maybe the last one he’d ever make.
Silver Feather leaped toward him, but Davy spun away. As he moved, he managed to slice a long, bloody gash in the Indian’s arm. “Come nearer, old one. We cannot settle this if you do not stand and fight. Are you afraid?”
Silver Feather screamed again and rushed forward. As he neared Davy, he slid to the ground and kicked Davy’s legs out from under him. As he fell, Davy twisted his body so that he landed on his back, ready for the Indian’s attack. Silver Feather leaped on Davy’s chest, his dagger held low and stabbing toward Davy’s stomach.
****
From her hiding place among the boulders, Abby held her breath as the knife slashed downward. When Davy warded his attacker off, she screamed in relief. She had to help him. She shoved herself to her feet and ran toward the two men. “Davy, Davy!”
His body jerked as he heard her voice. He turned toward her. From behind him, Silver Feather rushed him. “Davy, watch out.”
The Indian hit him from behind, his knife digging into Davy’s shoulder. Davy slammed into the ground. She cursed herself—her cry had distracted him.
Silver Feather jumped onto his back. His hand lifted, and he grabbed Davy’s hair and jerked his head back. With the other hand, he put his knife to Davy’s throat. She lifted her rifle to fire, but fear that she would hit Davy stopped her. She dropped the rifle, then dashed toward the two men. With a cry of desperation, she threw herself on the Indian’s back. Knowing his strength was much greater than hers, she gouged his eyes with her fingers. He screamed and grabbed her hands.
Davy threw the man from his back, sending her tumbling to the ground. The knife flew across the circle of stones. As she scrambled to her feet, Davy yelled at her. “Abby, run. Get on your horse and leave. Now!”
“No,” she screamed. “I won’t go.”
“Then you will watch him die,” Silver Feather yelled as he dashed for the knife.
She picked up her rifle and aimed it at the Indian. “Then you will die too. If Running Wolf is dead, I have no reason to live. So throw down the knife.”
Silver Feather must have heard the desperation, and determination, in her voice. He tossed the weapon to the ground. She walked toward Davy and handed him the gun. At that moment, the warrior launched himself at Davy, throwing dirt as he toppled Davy to the ground. As Davy fell, he fired. Silver Feather slumped to his knees. Blood spurted from the gaping hole. He clutched his hands to the wound. A look of surprise flitted across his bronzed face, then he collapsed face-first into the dirt.
Abby rushed to Davy and threw her arms around him. “Oh, Davy, thank God, it’s over, it’s over.”
“Yes.” He stood, then helped Abby to her feet. “It’s finally over. My father’s spirit can rest in peace.”
“And you can too.” She stood on tiptoes and pulled his face down to hers. “You are hurt. Let me look at the wound.”
“It is nothing. How did you get here?”
“I heard Philip tell my father about meeting with Silver Feather and that he’d sent the Rangers here. I knew I had to warn you. I think God led me here.”
“I love you, Abby O’Sullivan.” He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them.
“I love you Davy Larson, and I love Running Wolf too. Let’s go home.”
“To which home, my love? I have no home, and I don’t think your father will welcome me in his home.”
“If he doesn’t, then I’m not welcome there either.”
“I can’t ask you to give that up.”
“But I’ll be getting a lot more in return.”
The sound of distant hoofbeats interrupted them. “The Rangers come,” Davy said as he picked up the rifle, “and perhaps your father. I should go.”
“No, we’ll face them together and put this behind us once and for all.”
“I do not think they will listen to a half-breed. Your father’s words will be heard.”
“They’ll listen to me,” Abby vowed.
****
The Rangers came in with guns drawn and surrounded him and Abby. A cloud of dust rose from the desert floor.
“Throw down the weapon,” the lead Ranger yelled. “Now.”
Davy dropped the rifle and held up his hands. The rest of the men dismounted and circled them. Two walked to the prone body of Silver Feather.
“That’s him, Lieutenant Saunders,” Philip screamed as he slid out of the saddle and ran forward. “That’s the Injun who kidnapped Abby. I want him arrested.”
The lieutenant rushed toward Davy, grabbed his hands and pulled them behind his back. The wound in his shoulder brought a grimace to his lips.
“Stop it,” Abby yelled. “Can’t you see he’s hurt?”
“I’m all right, Abby,” Davy said.
“No.” She marched up to Lt. Saunders and grabbed his arm. “I wasn’t kidnapped. I went willingly. I, er, we set up that whole thing so I could save…face. I heard Silver Feather confess to everything. He murdered Davy’s father. He admitted Philip paid him to steal the deed to the Larson Ranch,” she glared at Winston, “so, Lieutenant, you can just turn around and go home. You too, Father.” She turned back to Philip. “You’d best just get out of town before I change my mind about pressing charges against you.”
He stumbled backward, his face turning beet red. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh no?” She took Davy’s hand. “Just try us.”
“You can’t take an Injun’s word over mine?” Philip turned, climbed into the saddle and rode away.
“Wait a minute,” the Ranger called.
“Let him go,” Davy said.
“Yeah,” Abby added. “Good riddance.”
Lt. Saunders turned to her father. “Well, it appears Mr. O’Sullivan, that your daughter went willingly with this man. Therefore, I see no reason to arrest him.”
“She’s lying to protect him,” Sam protested.
The Ranger shrugged. He pointed at the dead body of Silver Feather. “We’ll take him back to town.”
Davy shook his head. “No. I will bury him, as is our custom.”
“All right. Mount up, men. Let’s get back to town.” They scrambled into their saddles and rode off. Only Sam O’Sullivan stood there.
“Abby? Why?”
“I told you I was in love with Davy.”
The look O’Sullivan sent him made Davy’s skin crawl. This man would never accept him as a proper husband for his daughter. “I am in love with her, and I want to marry her if she’ll agree to be my wife.”
“I’d be honored to be your wife. I love you so much.” She turned to her father. “Well, Papa, it’s up to you. We can live at Davy’s ranch and be close to you, or if you won’t give his ranch back to him, we’ll leave and go somewhere else. I love you, but I also love Davy.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing, Abby.”
“Yes, I do. Like my mother did when she disobeyed her parents and married you and came west. Like Davy’s mother did when she married a white man. I’m following my heart.”
“But the scandal, the censure…”
“I don’t care. The only thing that matters is we’re together.” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited.
“Very well. I can see your mind is made up.”
“Yes, it is.”
Sam nodded. “If you have half as much happiness as your mother and I shared, then you’ll be all right.” He turned to Davy. “The ranch is yours, Larson. I’ll have Winston draw up the papers.”
Abby ran to him and hugged him. “Thank you, Papa.”
“Well, I want you near enough so I can see my grandchildren grow up.”
Davy grabbed Abby’s hand and pulled her into his embrace. “I love you, Abby.”
A word about the author...
Sandi has been writing longer than she cares to remember. Her efforts finally paid off when her first historical western romance was published in 2008 by The Wild Rose Press. Five more releases followed since then. Her latest manuscript,
Miss Lily's Boarding House
, was released by The Wild Rose Press on November 21, 2012. Sandi’s debut novel with Champagne Books,
Broken Promises
, was released in July, 2012. Her short stories have appeared in
New Love Stories
Magazine, and several of her poems have been published in small press magazines and anthologies.
Despite the fact that Sandi is a Florida native and has never lived outside of Florida, she loves everything “western” and her passion for the “Old West” shows in her historical novels.
She resides in Tampa with her husband Howard of 32 years. She has four grandchildren and two great grandsons.
Readers can contact Sandi through her website:
through her e-mail:
or through her Facebook page.
Sandi also maintains an author’s page at Manic Readers, Night Owl Reviews, The Romance Studio, and The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
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