Captive Bride (31 page)

 
Rozalyn shivered as Hawk faced this ghastly giant. Half-Head stood six-foot-six and must have weighed at least two hundred and forty pounds. How could Hawk fight both men? He was wounded and one of his enemies was huge and bloodthirsty.

 
Although Rozalyn kept her pistol aimed and ready, she was unable to get a clear shot at either of Hawk's assailants, and she would not risk hitting Hawk. Watching the bloody battle was frustrating. She felt utterly useless. Frantically, she tried to think of a way to even the odds without getting Hawk killed in the process.

 
Half-Head kept Hawk at arm's length, allowing the Blackfoot warrior to charge into him like a battering ram and then pellet his defenseless prey with one punishing blow after another. Finally Rozalyn vaulted onto her horse and thundered between the men, knocking the brave to the ground and dazing him momentarily. When she reined the steed around to make another run, Half-Head cursed a blue streak. He had not expected interference from the woman. He cursed again when Hawk squirmed free. Then his murderous glare riveted over Rozalyn who was gouging the steed in the flanks and, charging at him.

 
Although Half-Head dived to safety, Hawk's fist had struck his face and, as he got to his feet, Hawk's second well-aimed blow sent him stumbling backward. Half-Head
 
twisted
 
around
 
to
 
crawl
 
beneath
 
the steed's belly, avoiding Hawk's next attack. When the frightened horse reared, Rozalyn clung to the saddle, but it stumbled, so she leaped to safety. Her gaze darted to the stunned Blackfoot warrior who was staggering to his feet to lend Half-Head a helping hand. Frantically, Rozalyn grabbed the discarded rifle and clubbed the brave over the head.

 
When the warrior wilted into a senseless heap, Rozalyn breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. Her eyes landed on the twosome battling each other so ferociously she would have sworn two grizzlies were fighting for supremacy. Hawk's once handsome face was bruised, swollen, and battered. Half-Head, ugly ordinarily, presented an even more gruesome sight with one eye swollen shut and blood trickling from the corner of a mouth that was twisted in a murderous snarl.

 
When Hawk sidestepped an oncoming fist and then kicked Half-Head in the groin, Rozalyn flinched. The half-scalped brute came uncoiled like a vicious rattlesnake about to sink his fangs in an intended victim. And he did! Rozalyn swore the barbarous beast would chew Hawk's arm off at the elbow. Half-Head was like a madman, swearing, pouncing, and retreating, pouncing again.

 
Hawk's loss of blood and his fierce battle against difficult odds were beginning to drain his strength. His movement was not as agile as it had been and his blows lacked the force required to bring Half-Head to his knees.

 
Rozalyn could not follow Hawk's instructions to save one bullet for her own defense. At the moment, he seemed more in need of assistance than she. Clutching the long-barreled flintlock in shaky hands, she took careful aim. When Half-Head leaped on Hawk, his powerful fingers clamping around his foe's neck and choking the life from him, she discharged the pistol. With a pained grunt, Half-Head collapsed on top of Hawk, clutching the wound in his side.

 
It took the last of Hawk's strength to shove Half-Head away. Panting in attempt to catch his breath, he then crawled from him on all fours. Sickening dread drained Rozalyn of color. When she raced over to pull Hawk into an upright position, she found the entire right side of his shirt was stained with blood, and the shaft of the arrow had broken off beneath his flesh. Hawk's face had paled beneath his ruddy tan, but he struggled to keep his feet, though the world was careening about him. Breathing was an effort and standing was virtually impossible. If Rozalyn had not offered him assistance, he swore he would have been sprawled beside Half-Head.

 
"Get the horses," Hawk commanded. Latching onto the trunk of a nearby tree, he cradled his right arm against his bruised ribs.

 
Rozalyn nodded mutely and hurried off to gather their belongings. When she led the string of horses back to Hawk, her breath froze in her throat. Half-Head's outstretched arm was reaching toward the dagger that lay in the grass. His dark eyes flickered maliciously as he propped up on an elbow and hurled the knife at Hawk.

"Hawk!" Rozalyn screamed at the top of her lungs.

 
His gaze swung around and he ducked away from the dagger that sailed through the air to pin his left shirt sleeve to the tree. A wicked smile raised Hawk's puffed lips on one side. Then he yanked the knife free and stalked toward Half-Head, the dagger poised in his left hand.

 
"When last we met, I left my task half-finished," he said. He stalked steadily toward his wounded prey, his eyes glittering menacingly. "I will see that your headstone bears your new nickname."

 
"No!" Rozalyn charged at Hawk to snatch the dagger from his hand. She had seen enough blood for one day and she doubted she had the stomach to watch this murderous beast lose the other half of his scalp.

 
Despite Hawk's reservations about allowing a man like Half-Head to live, he permitted Rozalyn to herd him toward the horses, and, with considerable effort, he swung into the saddle.

 
"If you survive your wounds, we will end our feud at another time, Half-Head," Hawk told him coldly.

 
"Will you still be hiding behind a woman's skirt?" Pushing himself into a half-sitting position, the monstrous Ranes gave Hawk a scornful glance.

 
"Will you fight your battle alone or will you surround yourself with a Blackfoot war party?" Hawk countered, his tone as taunting as Half-Head's had been. His gaze drifted to the unconscious brave who had not moved a muscle since Roz had pounded him into the ground with the butt of the rifle.

 
Before the two men got into a shouting match, Rozalyn snatched up the pack horses' reins and she slapped Hawk's steed on the rump, sending him trotting off through the trees. Then her eyes drifted back to the grisly-looking mountain man, whose disgusting leer made her shiver repulsively. His sordid thoughts were obvious, and his words gave credence to his lurid stare.

 
"You may elude me for a time, woman, but I will come for you. Do not doubt it." Half-Head chuckled roguishly, and his lips curled in a suggestive smile. "I will prove to you that I am more of a man than Hawk, the kind who can tame a woman like you,"

 
Gouging her steed, she followed after Hawk, but Half-Head's vow continued to ring in her ears until she eased her horse up beside Hawk. Her relieved smile vanished when she met Hawk's icy glare.

 
"I should have killed him," Hawk muttered. He sucked in his breath when the horse's canter jarred his aching body.

"One man is dead, another is seriously wounded, and the third has been stripped of his senses." Rozalyn grumbled. "I should think that would satisfy your thirst for blood."

 
"Half-Head will follow us," Hawk growled. "It was a mistake to let him live."

 
"I'm sure he feels the same way about you," Rozalyn assured Hawk tartly. "As a matter of fact, I'm wondering why I permitted either of you to . . ." Her voice trailed off as she watched the last of the color drain from his peaked face, and she gasped when Hawk buckled over in the saddle, his head resting against the stallion's neck. "Hawk?"

 
He could hear her calling him, her voice echoing as if she were at the opposite end of a long tunnel, but he could not find the strength to utter a word. Darkness circled him like a vulture waiting to swoop down on its prey, and he gave way to the black abyss that closed in on him. Gratefully, he surrendered to the deafening silence that blocked out his pain.

 
Rozalyn heaved an exasperated sigh. Blast it! The man was ranting about disposing of his foe one moment and the next instant he was crumpled over his saddle. Did she dare stop to tend Hawk's wounds? She knew Half-Head would be tracking them as soon as he could walk. Perhaps Hawk was right. Letting that vicious scavenger live was an invitation to more trouble. But dammit, she could not stand there and watch Hawk lift Half-Head's scalp any more than she could allow Half-Head to strangle Hawk.

 
Her thoughtful gaze circled the surroundings, seeking a secluded spot in which to hide Hawk until he recovered from his wounds. Her eyes settled on the bluffs that^ towered on the opposite bank of the river. Rozalyn guided the horses into the water, hoping their course would be difficult to track if she followed the North Platte until she could find a suitable place to make the climb onto the precipices.

 
It was almost two hours before she located a winding path that led up the cliff. During that time Hawk had roused only once, and her growing concern for him had caused her to quicken her pace. Rozalyn breathed a grateful sigh when she spied a cave among the fallen boulders. Nature had provided a corral for the horses and sanctuary for two weary travelers.

 
With a great effort Rozalyn dragged Hawk's bulky body from the saddle. He stirred long enough to drape his arm around her shoulders and to make the walk to the mouth of the cave. Once inside it, he wilted like a delicate flower that had been too long in the sun. Rozalyn wore herself out hauling his lifeless body farther into the cavern.

 
Heaving an exhausted sigh, she trudged back outside to tend the horses and fetch water to cleanse Hawk's wounds. She grimaced as she drew his blood-stained shirt over his head so she could inspect his wound, but summoning her composure, she poured whiskey on the knife and on Hawk's jagged flesh. In the wake of a hasty prayer, she performed primitive surgery. Then, having removed the splintered arrow shaft from his shoulder, she bandaged the wound and wrapped his right arm tightly against his ribs.

 
When she had completed her task she raked trembling fingers through her tangled hair and sank down cross-legged beside Hawk. A tender smile overshadowed her worried frown as she bent to press a kiss to his swollen lips. Peering into his ashen face evoked warm, protective emotions she would have preferred not to feel.

 
If she had any sense at all she would take the supplies and flee. Hawk was in no condition to pursue her and Half-Head was nursing his own injuries. But she couldn't leave Hawk like this. He needed her as he never had before. Rozalyn brushed his tousled raven hair over his forehead; then her fingertips wandered down his cheek to settle on the dark matting of hair on his chest. She could feel his heart thudding faintly against the palm of her hand. He seemed so vulnerable.

 
My, but she had come full circle, loving, hating, and then loving him again. Rozalyn swore she never wanted to see this green-eyed devil again but here she was, playing nursemaid to the very man who had broken her heart.

 
This is all Lenore's fault, she thought sourly.
Grand’mere
staged her sickness to force my hand.

 
One deceit had led to another and Rozalyn had been caught in the middle. If Lenore hadn't pushed her granddaughter into a hasty courtship none of this would have happened.

 
Sagging back against the musty wall of the cave, Rozalyn dragged the Hawken rifle up onto her lap, determined to stand watch over her unconscious patient. When her eyes flitted back to Hawk, a small voice whispered in her soul: You will never get over loving this man, Rozalyn. He may never care deeply for you, but that won't keep you from chasing an impossible dream.

Chapter 15

 
Hawk groaned miserably as he shifted on his pallet. Every bone and muscle screamed when he moved. Even his eyelids ached when he tried to open his eyes. His fuzzy gaze settled on the vision that hovered above him.

 
"Roz? I didn't think you would be here when I awoke," Hawk rasped. Then he grimaced when a sharp pain stabbed at his shoulder.

 
"I might not have been if I could have found your compass," she teased. Masking her concern, she pressed a damp cloth to his fevered brow.

 
Gritting his teeth, Hawk propped himself up on his left forearm and peered at his surroundings. "How long have I been asleep?" he asked.

"Three days," Rozalyn said calmly.

 
"Three days?" Hawk echoed. Then he collapsed on his back, clutching his tender ribs. In a softer tone he continued, "Have you seen any sign of Half-Head?"

 
"No, I doubt that he is any more capable of moving than you are. If he tries, he will risk having his insides fall out. Hawk?" Rozalyn's mouth dropped open when the mulish man pushed himself into an upright position and struggled to his hands and knees. "What the sweet loving hell do you think you're doing?"

 
"I intend to stay one step ahead of your father's henchman," he hissed as searing pain shot through his arm.

 
"You will be too busy killing yourself to notice whether Half-Head is sneaking up on you," Rozalyn scolded.

 
Hawk seemed as determined to leave as Rozalyn was to have him stay put. She crouched before him and then settled herself on his lap, forcing him to lift her weight as well as his own if he attempted to rise from his pallet. He was going nowhere, even if she had to use her feminine wiles to make sure of it.