Comanche Rose (34 page)

She hesitated, then looked at Hap. "There was a time when I wished he
had
bought me, as shameful as that sounds. I would have done anything to escape the hell I was living. I suppose that shocks you, doesn't it?"

"No. I always kinda figured nothing a body did to survive was wrong. You did what you had to, and I still admire you for it."

Hot tears stung her eyes again, and her heart was full. She swallowed painfully. "Thank you," she managed gratefully. "I don't know anybody else that would have said that. You make me feel so very lucky, Hap."

He ought to have felt good about that at least, but there was something missing that struck at his very core. He didn't want gratitude; he wanted her to love him. He wanted to hear the words, and he never had. Not yet, anyway.

But all he could bring himself to say aloud was: "Come on, we've probably got another ten to twelve more miles of daylight. And I'd sure like to get to that cedar, whether you're interested or not. I'd kinda like a soft bed."

CHAPTER 23

The Llano was a rugged, isolated area stretching across the border between New Mexico and Texas, then almost up to the Indian Territory in Oklahoma. And it was known almost exclusively to the Comanches and the Comancheros who traded with them. In a few months Colonel Ranald S. Mackenzie and his Fourth Cavalry would be coming up here, but as Hap looked across the high, grassy plains, he didn't see how the hell Mac was going to manage it. The supply problems alone would be formidable.

The land itself was deceptive, with grasslands going along for miles, then suddenly they'd end in sheer dropoffs, yawning chasms that looked like the earth had been split to its core. And down at the bottom would be some little stream that had been carving that ravine for a hundred thousand years. There were nine rivers crossing the Llano from east to west, and at all of the headwaters, arroyos, deep canyons, high escarpments, and sheer buttes dotted the landscape with a barren, almost frightening beauty. It was the heart and soul of the Comancheria.

Looking for a particular group of Indians here was like looking for a pebble at the bottom of a muddy creek, but Annie wouldn't give up. For well over a month, they'd been going up dead-end ravines, isolated canyons, climbing steep, almost impossible walls of rock. But while they'd encountered a number of small Comanche and Kiowa encampments stretching along the streams and the Prairie Dog Fork of the Red River, they'd found no white captives of an age to be Susannah Bryce. The most promising lead, provided by a Kiowa named Two Owls, had turned out to be a ten-year-old Mexican girl from south of Sonora.

For all her fear of individual Comanches, particularly the men, Annie had proven herself a diplomat far beyond anything Hap would have expected. Armed only with the language and her conviction, she'd managed to convey the notion that she was more or less a relative come home to visit, bringing her warrior husband with her. To his chagrin, he'd been recognized, admired, and feted in every little camp between the Pease River and Palo Duro Canyon. He'd watched her play Indian with amazing success, and his pride in the way she handled herself was nearly boundless. She had more guts and will than any man or woman he'd ever known, except maybe Clay.

But they were no closer to finding her little girl than if they'd stayed home. It was as though the child, and the nameless, faceless Quahadi who'd bought her, had fallen off the face of the earth. They could be anywhere, but it looked like they were nowhere. As determined as she still was, it was getting harder for Annie to hide her discouragement. And all Hap could do was watch her disappointment build, and wait for her to finally give up the search.

But the journey had provided a catharsis of sorts. Having faced the Comanches in their villages and being welcomed by them seemed to have brought respite from Annie's bad dreams. She no longer woke up beside him screaming and shaking in the dead of night. Now only lightning and thunder still terrified her.

Daybreak found them in the bowels of the Palo Duro, camped along a stream, shaded by hackberry and cedar. Already awake, Hap lay behind her, his arm over her shoulder, drinking in the seeming peace of the place, watching Spider cavort with a bug at the end of his tether. That had to be the gamest cat he'd ever seen. Easing closer to his wife, he turned his attention to her. He could tell something was bothering her.

She'd been up once to start the cooking fire and tend to nature, but instead of fixing breakfast, she'd crept back to the fragrant cedar bed, and now she lay still and silent, lost in thought. Thinking to distract her from obvious melancholy, he caressed her nipple with his thumb, feeling it harden. Usually that was enough to get her to turn over, but not this morning.

"Don't."

"I'll make it good for you," he whispered close to her ear.

"I don't want to—not now, anyway."

Sighing, he rolled away and sat up. "All right, do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Annie—"

Bursting into tears, she hugged her knees to her chest and rocked. "She's out here somewhere, I know it!" she sobbed. "I know it! Can't you understand, Hap? I know it!"

"Hey, have I said I want to turn back?"

"No, but you don't have to!" she cried. "You don't believe anymore! You think she's dead!"

"Annie... Annie..."

"Go ahead, say it! You're thinking it, aren't you?"

He'd thought it for a long time, but he knew he couldn't admit it. "I'm still looking, you know," he said quietly. "I haven't said anything about quitting, have I?"

"Hap, it's nearly June! Pretty soon the soldiers will come, and when that happens, I'll never find her!"

Lying back down, he stroked her hair where it touched her shoulder. "I'm willing to give it the rest of the summer, Annie. I'm willing to look that long."

"I haven't even found anybody I know, Hap. I just keep asking strangers. Every time we stop somewhere, I keep thinking it'll be the place where I find out something, but there's nothing—nothing at all."

"Shhhhh." At a loss for a means to comfort her, he drew her closer and nuzzled her hair. "Don't, sweetheart," he whispered. Reaching around her, he found the neck of her dress. "We'll keep on," he promised, working the button.

Pulling away, she struggled to sit. "Is that all you think of?" she demanded angrily. "It's not the answer to everything! Don't you think I know what you're doing? You just want to make a baby so I'll forget her—but I won't!"

Stumbling away from the blankets, she caught a hack-berry branch, leaned her head against it, then was sick. By the time he got to her, it was over. But she was still pale, ashen, and her skin was clammy to the touch. The heat he'd felt moments ago was gone, replaced by guilt.

"Why didn't you say you were sick?" he demanded. "All you had to do was say it, Annie. I'm not some kind of animal, you know."

"I wasn't, until just now—until I sat up," she choked out. "It's the heat—I can't stand the heat."

"Here, let me get you some water," he offered, going to the packs for a cloth. "Just hold on, and I'll be back." Walking to the stream, he bent down and wet the rag, then wrung it out. When he turned around, he felt sick himself. Dropping the rag, he lunged for her and the Henry at the same time.

"Cheyennes!" he gasped.

For a moment she was paralyzed with fear. Then he pushed her toward a mound of rocks and boulders. "Take cover—and keep your head down. They haven't seen us yet," he told her urgently.

"Spider, they'll get Spider! They'll eat him!"

"You can't get him, Annie."

But she'd stopped and was turning back. Cursing himself for a fool, he pushed her down into a crevice between the rocks, threw the rifle in after her, then he went sliding down the craggy hill. He didn't even have time to save Old Red, but he was going back for that damned cat.

Crossing beneath the cover of cedar, he passed the horses and mules, cut the tethers, then stood up, shouting, "Yeehaw!" The big roan, having caught the scent of the oncoming Indians, took off down the canyon, with the other animals following him. Dropping down again, Hap crawled on his belly to the hackberry where he'd tied Spider, grabbed the cat and his gun belt, then scrambled back up the rocks, diving under a boulder just as the Cheyennes thundered past in pursuit of the horses and mules. He could feel four sets of claws tearing into his chest.

Pulling the cat loose, he thrust it down to Annie. "Here's your damned cat," he muttered. "Keep it quiet—they'll be back. And for God's sake, lie low." Crouching, he drew the Peacemaker and spun the cylinders, adding a bullet to the sixth chamber. "Don't fire the Henry unless you have to," he told her. "The sound'll echo, and there's no telling who'll hear it. If it looks like they're going to find us, I'm taking off up there. No matter what happens, you stay put, you hear? I'll come back for you."

"Your leg—"

"I can make it. If I don't, then you wait until it's over before you hightail it back the way they came. Whatever you do, don't try to come after me."

"Hap—"

"Shhhh. Just keep the cat quiet." Reaching down, he clasped her hand, massaging her fingers, feeling his father's ring. "Look, it'll be all right," he tried to reassure her. "But if it looks like they're going to pin us down, I want 'em to follow me up that cliff."

"I don't want you to leave me, Hap, not now."

"I aim to stay, if I can." But he could hear the Cheyenne war party coming back. He took a deep breath. "Look, whatever happens, I have no regrets, Annie. I want you to know that. I've loved you since I woke up during that bath you were giving me. I saw that hair and thought you were an angel."

"Hap, I—"

"Shhhhh."

He felt her fingers tighten around his, drawing his hand to her cheek. It was wet. Then she pressed her lips into his palm and whispered, "I love you more than anything."

He'd never wanted to die, but he'd always thought if it happened, it wouldn't matter much. But now he wanted to live more than anything, and it didn't make any difference if he spent the rest of his life on that farm. As long as he had her, he didn't need anything else. Moving his head ever so slightly, he peered around the edge of the boulder that shielded him.

They were down there, going through his things, emptying the packs, dragging out Annie's two extra dresses, taking what they wanted. He held his breath, knowing they knew he and Annie were either up here or down in one of those narrow fissures in the canyon wall. Several painted bucks began the search on foot, turning over the cedar boughs he'd cut, kicking through the brush.

One of them gave out a sharp, startled cry and backed away. An Indian with him fired an ancient gun, and a rattlesnake writhed in a loop, then was still. As the report reverberated off the rocks, Hap knew the place was going to be crawling with Indians in a matter of minutes. There were too many little camps strewn along the canyon floor, and fearing attack, the warriors would be pouring out of every one of them.

There were about ten or twelve Cheyennes down there, and they were dividing up. One pointed directly toward the boulders where Hap and Annie hid; then he and several companions began climbing, carefully picking at the rocks, ascending the steep hill. If they got too close, he'd have to kill them. Then all hell really would break loose.

One Indian was probably within twenty feet of him now. Easing his fingers from Annie's, Hap cocked the Peacemaker and waited to make his break. He had to time it right, to surprise them into following him. He twisted his neck, looking upward, trying to decide the best way to go. When they got above her, he didn't want them to be able to see her.

He couldn't wait any longer. Praying that the damned cat stayed quiet and that Annie stayed put, he stood up and fired, catching the closest Cheyenne between the eyes. The bullet slammed him backward and sent him rolling down, knocking a companion over. Then his body slid into a crevice and lodged there. Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, he cut sideways across a ledge, then fired again, wounding another Indian. He had to get them as far away from Annie as possible, and he had to keep them looking at him.

But he'd given himself a damned poor place to make a stand. The ledge ended in a sheer drop, and there wasn't any way up either. Cursing fate and his leg, he grasped an overhang and tried to pull himself up. A bullet nicked the limestone within inches of his hand. He was probably the best target they'd had in a long time. Summoning every last ounce of strength in his shoulders, he heaved his body upward, threw his foot over the edge, hung there for a moment, then half rolled onto a rock shelf, dragging his bad leg behind him. While he caught his breath, he replaced the two cartridges.

When he looked down, his heart nearly stopped. A handhold away from Annie, a buck was coming up. He took aim, fired, and missed. But at least he'd warned her. As the Cheyenne looked up at him, he got off another shot, this time hitting his mark. The Indian rolled, screaming all the way down the hill.

Thinking they'd seen her, Annie rose and fired the Henry, picking off a man just starting up the steep, rocky wall. To Hap's horror, she was going to try to come up after him. Clasping the cat against her breast, she fired several shots as she ran, gaining the rock where he'd started.

"Behind you, coming up the other side!" he yelled.

Her foot slid as she tried to turn around, and for an awful moment he thought she was going to fall into the Indian's arms. And he didn't have a clear target. He squeezed off a shot at a rock nearby, splintering a piece off it. As the Cheyenne ducked, she scrambled higher, clawing her way up on the ledge Hap had nearly stranded himself on.

This was it. Armageddon. Mounted Comanches were pouring around the bed in the canyon, and before long the whole wall would be swarming with them. And they wouldn't be wanting to listen to anybody now. But he wasn't going easy—he was going to take as many as he could with him. He reloaded, looked down again, and saw that Annie realized her predicament.

"Cover me. I'm coming down!" he shouted.