Authors: Georgina Gentry
Colt (8 page)
Hannah gave her a cold stare. “I'd rather not discuss that, thank you.”
Doc must have caught part of the exchange because he stopped talking suddenly and took Hannah's arm. “I forget my manners, Mrs. Brownley. Would you like some punch?”
“Oh, yes, that would be lovely.” Anything to get out of this situation. She had a sudden desire to slap the major's daughter, and that would never do. She let Doc lead her over to the refreshment table and get her a cup of punch.
Now a group of ladies who had been standing nearby nudged one of their older members and she came over to Hannah. She wore expensive dark blue lace with a fine cameo at the throat. “I'm Captain Van Smyth's aunt, Mrs. Maude Van Smyth, visiting from Boston. How do you do?”
“Very well, thank you,” Hannah replied, “and I amâ”
“Oh, we all know who you are. The ladies are wondering if you'd care to tell us about what it was like being a captive of the savages. Did theyâ?”
“I don't think I care to discuss it,” Hannah said, gritting her teeth and forbidding herself to throw the cup of pink punch in the stern older woman's face.
“Well!” The lady humphed. “I was only trying to be sociable.” At that point, she whirled and marched back to her group of ladies, and the murmuring and laughter started again.
Doc took a deep breath. “Danged old biddies don't have enough to occupy themselves,” he muttered. “Oh, look, the band is about to start up. I'm sure lots of the men will want to dance with you.”
“I don't think they will.” What she'd really like to do was leave. She'd had enough of the stares and tittering, but she wasn't going to let them run her out of here. She was a survivor and she'd dealt with much worse than a bunch of curious people. She knew what the women wanted to know: Had she been raped by a lot of the savages and what was it like to be bedded by a Comanche warrior? She flinched, not even wanting to think about it. Both Luther and Spider had tried to break her spirit, and turn her into an obedient, spineless female, but she was as defiant as ever.
“You gonna let them win?” Doc asked as the band started a slow waltz and some of the couples took the floor.
“IâI can't stop them from gossiping.” She swallowed hard, watching the young officers gathered around Olivia like bees around a honey tree, vying for her attention.
Doc asked, “Mrs. Brownley, would you care to dance?”
“I don't thinkâ” But he was already taking the punch cup out of her hand and leading her toward the dance floor. Lieutenant Prescott and Olivia were on the floor now, with eager officers cutting in.
Could Hannah even remember the steps? She wasn't sure, but she raised her chin, pasted a frozen smile on her face, and let Doc lead her out on the floor.
Doc took her in his arms and whispered in her ear. “Now, it'll come back to you, just follow my lead. I wanted to get my dance in before all those young officers start asking you.”
But of course they didn't. After that dance, she and Doc stood on the sidelines as song after song was played. While men looked at her and whispered, none asked her to dance. They probably didn't dare, not with their women glaring at Hannah.
“Doc, I think we should leave early. I'm getting a headache.”
“You gonna turn tail and run?” Doc challenged. “Or are you gonna stand your ground like a real Texas girl?”
She was a Texas girl, all right. She took a deep breath and glared back at the people who were staring at her. Then the music stopped, and Lieutenant Prescott led a reluctant-looking Olivia to join them.
“Goodness gracious, isn't it a great dance?” Olivia laughed. “Why all these handsome soldier boys have about danced me breathless, even though I'm an engaged woman.” She smiled at Hannah, but it was not a real smile.
Just then the major stepped up on the bandstand. “Well, before the band starts again, I'd like to make an announcement, something my daughter told me a few minutes ago. I'm announcing her engagement to Lieutenant Colton Prescott and I'll be very pleased to have him as my son-in-law.”
The crowd applauded and then circled around the couple to shake Colt's hand and wish Olivia much happiness. The major opened several bottles of champagne and everyone took a glass and toasted the happy couple, including Hannah, but she couldn't swallow the wine. She didn't think Colt really knew what Miss Olivia was like, and the rich society girl would make married life miserable for him. Hannah wished she'd met a man like Colt before she married Luther, but now it was too late.
The music started again and the crowd scattered to the dance floor or the sidelines. Colt set down his glass and held out his hand to Hannah. “Mrs. Brownley, you look like a sunbeam in that yellow dress. Would you do me the honor? I've been waitin' to dance with you all evenin'.”
Olivia snapped, “I don't think she wants to dance, do you, Mrs. Brownley?”
Hannah looked into the other's flashing eyes and then took Colt's hand defiantly. “Why, yes, Lieutenant, I think I'd enjoy waltzing with you.”
She heard Olivia's gasp of dismay as Colt led Hannah out onto the floor. People began to whisper and gave way, leaving them plenty of room to waltz. Hannah closed her eyes and held onto the man's big hand, enjoying being in his arms. This was a real man, a true Texan, who could hold his own in a fight, or hold a woman protectively. For a long moment, they waltzed and she was aware of nothing else but the pleasure of his embrace. If only she had met this man long ago, but now he was engaged and she was heading back to the Comanche camp.
Then as she slowly opened her eyes, she became aware that everyone else had left the dance floor and were watching the lone couple with horrified looks and scandalized whispers. When she looked over at the sidelines, Olivia looked like an angry shrew, her pretty face flushed and her fists clenched.
It occurred to Hannah that she might be ruining the lieutenant's chances for advancement, him dancing with a woman who had been in the bed of savages. She didn't want to do anything to cause him trouble.
“IâI think I need some air,” she whispered, pulling out of his arms and walking rapidly out the door. She leaned on the porch railing, taking deep breaths. She had known it would be like this if she was ever rescued and had to return to white civilization. The public expected a virtuous white woman to kill herself before she'd let herself be used by a savage. Well, there hadn't been that much difference between Luther and Spider. Only her indomitable spirit had kept her alive all these years, and now there was another reason....
She heard the door open behind her. Maybe it was Doc. Good, she'd like to go back to the infirmary now.
“Are you all right?” It was Colt's deep Texas drawl.
“IâI'm fine.”
“You're not cryin', are you?”
She turned to look up at him, shook her head. “I haven't cried in a long, long time. It doesn't do any good.” And besides, it made her look vulnerable and she would never be that again.
“I didn't mean to cause you pain by askin' you to dance.” He put his hands on her shoulders and she tried not to tremble.
“I know you meant well, Lieutenant, but it wasn't good for your reputation and besides, your fiancée wasn't happy that you asked me.” She turned and gazed out across the fort's grounds.
“Olivia? Oh, I'm sure that's not true. She's a wonderful girl.”
He was warm against her back. She didn't say anything but pulled away from him. His nearness was too much for her. She wanted to go into his strong arms and have him hold her close and tenderly, tell her she was his and he would protect her from pain and misery and hurtful people from now on. No man had ever held her tenderly.
“I shouldn't have come,” she said. “I knew that, but I hopedâ”
“They just don't have much to talk about around here,” Colt said. “And anyway, you'll be leavin' soon, when your husband hears we've found you and comes after you.”
That would be even worse than going back to Spider, she thought with a shudder. However, she didn't intend to be here if and when Luther Brownley showed up.
“You go back to the dance.” Hannah managed a smile as she turned to face him. “And I'll walk on back to the infirmary.”
“I'll walk you back,” he said.
“That would cause talk.” She shook her head. “I'll be all right.” She stepped off the porch as she heard the door open again and Olivia's voice.
“Darling, what are you doing out here?” Olivia sounded angry. “People are talkingâ”
And then Colt's annoyed voice. “Damn it, Olivia, are you cryin' again? I haven't done anything wrong.”
“But you followed thatâthat woman outside and you danced with her andâ”
“Let's go back inside, Olivia, and please stop cryin'!”
Hannah heard the door slam shut, and she paused, listening to the faint music and laughter from inside. For a long moment, she remembered dancing in Colt's arms and sighed. She had never met a man like him, powerful, protective, yet gentle. Olivia didn't appreciate him like she should.
Well, that didn't matter now. Hannah walked back to the infirmary. She would roll up a small bundle of clothes and a little food and hide it under her bed. After Doc came back and went to his quarters, she would wait until the whole camp was asleep, then sneak over to the stables and steal a horse. The Comanche camp had surely moved by now, but she could follow tracks and by this time tomorrow, she'd be back in Spider's teepee. She shuddered at the thought, but she had to do it.
Hannah got her stuff together and went to bed. When Doc came in, she pretended to be asleep and heard him go into his quarters and shut the door. It was all working out the way she had planned. She would wait another hour until she was certain everyone was asleep; then she would be fleeing this fort.
Chapter 5
Hannah waited until it was silent as a tomb outside before she gathered up her things, put on the dirty old hide dress and moccasins. Then, taking her small bundle, she sneaked out the door. Once outside, she paused, listening. The night was dark and moonless, which was good. It was so silent, not even a dog barked. She began creeping toward the barns.
There would be a sentry on guard at the fort gate, of course, but if she were lucky, he might be half asleep and wouldn't hear her riding away.
A slight breeze blew across the prairie, bringing the scent of bluebonnets and scarlet Indian paintbrush. The barn loomed large and silent in the night, but when she opened the creaking door, she smelled the pleasant aroma of fresh hay and the warm scent of horses. Several of them stamped restlessly in their stalls and one whinnied. She held her breath, worried the noise might disturb someone who would come to investigate, but the breeze was blowing in her favor.
Which horse should she take? She didn't have much faith in the army's fancy thoroughbreds; she'd been riding Comanche mustangs too long. Lieutenant Prescott rode a mustang, a scrubby, tough little bay horse. That's the one she needed, not a fancy grain-fed mount that would give out under her if the army pursued her. What did he call it? Oh, yes, Rascal. She went up and down the stalls, trying to find the horse in the darkness. “Rascal? Rascal, are you here?”
In answer, she heard a soft nicker down the row of stalls and felt her way down there. The moon came out from behind a cloud, and through a barn window, she could see the wiry little horse. The lieutenant would be furious, and she felt bad about it because he'd been so nice to her, but she needed the best horse for covering lots of plains country.
Quickly she got a saddle and bridle, led the little horse out of his stall. He nuzzled her and she patted his ears. “When we get there, I'll turn you loose and you can come back to Colt.”
She saddled up, tied her small bundle on the back of the saddle, and mounted. Then they eased out of the barn as quietly as possible and started toward the gate. The moon had gone behind a cloud and she was grateful for that. Maybe she could get out of the fort without the sentry being aware of her. The little mustang's hooves seemed to echo in the silence as they rode across the parade grounds. There was no sound except the cicadas, and somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled faintly. At any moment, she expected to hear a sentry shout at her to halt, but it was silent in the warm Texas night. How would she get past the fort gate without being spotted?
Then she remembered she had seen a break in the low stone wall a few hundred yards from the gate. She reined the mustang that direction, still walking it and hoping for luck. The moon came out big and yellow, illuminating the whole scene and throwing shadows of her and the horse across the bare ground. Up ahead lay the break in the wall. She took a deep breath and headed for it. In the distance, she saw the sentry at his post by the gate.
“All right, little mustang, we've got to go fast now.” She leaned down on Rascal's neck, making herself as small as possible as the horse stepped through the broken place in the stones. At the same time she dug her heels in Rascal's flanks and gave him his head, the sentry seemed to come alive.
“Halt! Who goes there?”
At that, she slapped Rascal with the reins and they took off at a gallop with the sentry yelling after them and then a shot echoing through the silence. Hannah thought she felt the bullet whizzing past her, but she didn't slow down. She kept the horse at a gallop for another quarter of a mile; then she paused the lathered mount for a long moment on a rise and looked behind her. Dim lights winked on here and there at the fort. It would take a while before they figured out what had happened and who was missing. Maybe they wouldn't bother to pursue her, she thought; then she grimaced. No, she had taken the lieutenant's favorite horse. He would come after her, no matter what.
She rode the mustang at a slow lope for a while, trying to decide which way to go. The Comanches would have moved their camp by now. She had to rein in and think. Where would they be? Maybe in the rough, untamed Llano Estacado. It was a long, difficult ride, but she had a good horse under her and a full canteen. If she were lucky, she could find the Comanche camp before the soldiers found her.
Back at the fort, Colt came awake to a pounding on his door. “Lieutenant! Lieutenant Prescott!”
He jumped out of bed and ran barefooted to the door, swung it open. “What the hell?”
Mulvaney stood there, breathless and nervous as he saluted. “Aye, sorry to wake you, sir, but the major said to get you.”
“What's happened? Let me get my pants and boots on.” Colt ran back into his room with the old sergeant following him. “I thought I heard a shot.”
“That was me, sir,” the little Irishman said. “I don't know who, someone stealing one of the horses. I fired at him but he kept riding. You think it's Injuns?”
“Not hardly.” Colt had his pants on and grabbed his shirt and boots. “They wouldn't take just one horse. Reckon we got a deserter who's had enough of the Cavalry.”
They walked outside and Colt sat down on the step and pulled his boots on. Other soldiers were milling around, awakened by the noise. “You men go back to your bunks,” Colt ordered. “If it's a deserter, we can wait 'til mornin' to go after him. If he doesn't know the country, he won't get far; especially if he heads west. It's so desolated, hot, and flat out there, even jackrabbits and coyotes avoid the Staked Plains.”
Sergeant Mulvaney said, “Beg pardon, sir, not tonight?”
Colt shook his head. “He'll be lucky if we find him before the Comanches do. They'll roast him alive. Tell the major I'll look into it and I'll go see which horse he took.”
“Yes, sir.” Mulvaney saluted and was gone.
Damn it all to hell, he hated being awakened like that. He always came up out of his bunk grabbing for his pistol. It was a reflex of all these years living on the Texas frontier. He lit a lantern and strode toward the barn. Inside the darkness, he was greeted by the scent of hay and warm horseflesh, and several horses nickered a greeting. Colt walked up and down the rows of stalls. These big thoroughbreds couldn't take the long haul. The deserter would find himself stranded out on the plains with a played-out horse and not enough water if he hadn't thought to take a canteen.
Everything seemed to be all right, he thought as he walked up and down the row of stalls. And then he came to Rascal's stall. It was empty. He held the lantern higher in disbelief, than began to curse. The deserter was smart enough to know which horse could take the heat and still keep running.
“Damn his eyes! When I get my hands on him, I'll beat him to a pulp before I toss him in the guardhouse.”
Immediately, Colt forgot about waiting until morning. Some trooper had stolen Colt's own horse. That added insult to injury. Now who in this bunch of troopers would be smart enough to take the ugly mustang instead of one of the fine thoroughbreds? Then an idea crossed his mind. “No, she wouldn't dare.”
But the captive was just the one who would know which horse was the best for a long ride. He'd better check first. Still carrying the lantern, he left the barn and with long strides, crossed the parade ground to the infirmary and banged on the door. “Doc? Doc? Damn it, open up!”
After a moment, Doc opened the door, still yawning and in his drawers, scratching his bald head. “Dag nab it! What in theâ? Oh, it's you, Lieutenant. Whatâ?”
Colt pushed past him, looking around. “Where's Mrs. Brownley?”
“Who?” Doc blinked in the lamplighter.
“Mrs. Brownley!” Colt shouted at him and then strode into the infirmary, his boots making loud sounds on the bare wood floor. “Ahah! Just as I thought!” Her bed was empty.
“What?” Doc scratched his head again. “What's going on?”
“Our damned captive has run off and she took my horse.”
“Why, she came in from the dance and went to bed.” Doc seemed half asleep and puzzled.
“She's smarter than we thought she was,” Colt complained. “I should have left her with the Comanches.”
“Now why would she want to go back?” Doc asked.
However, Colt was already whirling to leave. “How the hell should I know? She's probably not goin' back to the Indians, she's just runnin' away.”
“But whyâ?”
“Tell the major I'm in pursuit.” Colt took off toward the barn at a dead run.
Doc called after him. “Don't you think you'd better wait 'til morning and take a patrol with you?”
“She's stolen my horse,” Colt yelled back and kept running. “Besides the major won't want a white woman goin' back to the Indians. It's unthinkable.”
It
was
unthinkable, Colt thought. Hannah was either loco or ... he couldn't think of any other reason. Surely she wasn't in love with Spider after the way he must have treated her? He shook his head. There was no figuring women. If she wanted to go back to the Comanche, he didn't give a damn, but the fact she'd stolen his favorite horse was an insult that set his blood boiling.
was
unthinkable, Colt thought. Hannah was either loco or ... he couldn't think of any other reason. Surely she wasn't in love with Spider after the way he must have treated her? He shook his head. There was no figuring women. If she wanted to go back to the Comanche, he didn't give a damn, but the fact she'd stolen his favorite horse was an insult that set his blood boiling.
He went through the barn, looked over horses, and finally picked one, Olivia's blood bay. It looked better than the others, although he had no faith in the fancy-blooded horses. Obviously, neither did Hannah Brownley.
He made sure he had two canteens of water as he saddled up and mounted. With any luck, he might outsmart her because he, of all the soldiers, had an idea where the Comanches might be camping now. There was a small stream in the desolate area called Llano Estacado, better known as the Staked Plains, and he knew a shortcut. With any luck, he could intercept Hannah before she reached the Indian camp.
As he rode out onto the parade ground, Major Murphy strode out to meet him, still half dressed. “A deserter? Lieutenant, I think it can wait 'tilâ”
“It's Mrs. Brownley, sir.” Colt saluted. “I think she may be tryin' to rejoin the Comanches.”
“What? A white woman who's just been rescued? Why would she do that?”
Colt shrugged, still furious with her. “Loco, I reckon, sir.”
“We can't allow her to become a captive again. Go after her, Lieutenant. That's an order. Maybe when you get back, Doc can do something to help the poor thing.”
Colt saluted again and dug his heels into the big blood bay. He'd make her think twice before she took his horse again. After what he'd gone through to rescue her, she repaid him by stealing Rascal. As he rode through the gate, he imagined turning her across his knee and spanking her. No, he couldn't do that. She wasn't his to spank, and besides, her husband should be arriving soon to take her away. As much trouble as she was, Colt would be glad to see her gone.
As he rode through the night at a slow lope, Colt remembered the scent of her when he'd danced with her. She didn't wear fancy perfume like Olivia. She just smelled clean and warm, and her yellow hair had been soft as corn silk when he pressed his face against it. And she'd just fit into his arms like she belonged there. He gritted his teeth and swore. Yes, she'd pulled at his emotions at the dance, evidently plotting to sneak out, steal his horse, and ride away only a couple of hours later. So much for trusting women.
Colt rode a long time, stopping now and then to rest his horse, and once to pour water out of his canteen into his hat to give the horse a drink. He looked up at the dark sky, trying to guess the time of night. About a half mile up ahead was a pile of rocks that might intersect where she would come riding by. Since Colt had taken a shortcut, he could be there ahead of her. They were still miles from where the Comanche liked to camp. If he was lucky, he would be waiting for her when she came along.
He rode to the pile of rocks and dismounted, let the horse graze while he watched the trail. Maybe she hadn't come this way or maybe he had missed her. By now, she might be almost anywhere. He started to roll a cigarette, then remembered she had been among the Indians a long time. Hannah might be able to smell the scent of burning tobacco. Living among the Indians taught a person a lot.
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