Passion's Fury (40 page)

“You’ll hit Lucky,” April screamed in panic, for just at that moment the dog sprang for the hog once more, aiming his sharp teeth for the beast’s throat. The hog ducked, dipped, slung him to the side and then made another charge, penetrating once again with his tusks.

“Damnit, he’s gonna kill him!” Kaid slung his gun aside and charged down the ravine, drawing a knife from his belt as he went.

“Don’t wade into that, Sergeant,” Ellison cried, still holding April. “Goddamn, he ain’t nothing but a dog!”

April screamed as she saw the hog backing up for one final charge toward Lucky, who was lying in the blood and the mud whimpering helplessly. This time, the grunting wild beast would finish him.

But then the hog saw the man running toward him, and he split the air with an angry shrieking grunt and charged toward him, head down, bloodied tusks pointed for the kill. Kaid sprang to the side, rolling over on his back and slashing the knife’s blade upward just as the hog charged over him.

Blood spattered as the brute’s stomach was laid open, but he had enough life left in him to turn sharply and make one final, desperate lunge. April watched in horror as a tusk gouged into Kaid’s thigh just as he brought the knife slashing across the hog’s throat with every ounce of strength he had in him, twisting, gouging, thrusting again and again.

The beast lay on the ground, blood pouring from the fatal wound.

“I will be damned!” Ellison cried, releasing April, who tumbled down the side of the ravine in her haste to get to Lucky and the man who had saved his life.

“He charged right in there to save a damned dog,” Ellison said in wonder.

“Get help!” April screamed up to him as she saw the bloodied wound on Kaid’s thigh. “And hurry!”

“I’m going to be all right,” Kaid told her, grimacing with pain as he mashed down on the wound to attempt to stop the flow of blood. “We got to see about Lucky. He’s hurt bad. We got to get him back to the cabin.”

He yelled up to Ellison to carry the dog, adding quickly, “We don’t need to get the others stirred up. Some of the prisoners might use this as a chance to try to escape, and I don’t want to haul a bunch of snake-bit bodies out of them swamps tomorrow. Let’s just move quietly.”

April attempted to help Kaid from the ravine, but he brushed aside her efforts, saying, “You know a little thing like you can’t help a big bastard like me, darlin’. Now I’m gonna be fine. I been hurt lots worse than this and lived to tell about it. This fellow’s the one I’m worried about. That hog ripped him all to pieces, looks like.”

He struggled to hold his wounded thigh with one hand while using the other to grab at rocks, exposed roots, anything to aid him in his climb up out of the ravine. Once out, he called softly, “Follow me and watch out for snakes.”

There was no sound in the night except for their gasping breath and the thudding of their feet upon the ground as they ran. Just as they reached the cabin, April trailing by perhaps twenty yards, Ellison appeared, holding a lantern. He had brought an anxious-faced guard, wearing only pants. She recognized Delmer Compton, a private.

“Man, you’re soaked in blood,” Delmer cried as Kaid pushed by him and through the cabin door. “You better sit down and let me tend to that leg. Lord, look at the blood.”

“Get me something to bandage it,” Kaid snapped as he brushed everything from the wooden table in the center of the room to the floor with a loud clatter. Ellison had laid the dog down by the table. Now the animal stared up at Kaid with pain-clouded eyes and gave a feeble whimper. Kaid patted his head and said, “I’m gonna fix you, boy. Don’t you worry none.”

Ellison frowned. “Sergeant, let that dog go till we can bandage your leg. You’re losin’ an awful lot of blood.”

“It ain’t deep,” Kaid snapped, shoving him aside as he came forward to bend down and inspect the wound. “It just looks bad, because of the blood. Lucky’s the one who needs tending to, or he’s gonna die. Now get the hell out of my way. Somebody hand me that jug over there,” he ordered.

April watched from the doorway, chest heaving at the sight of the bloodied man and dog before her. Kaid whipped his head around and yelled, “April, you got any thread? A needle?”

She shook her head, feeling completely helpless.

“Compton,” he barked, “Go over and ask the women if anybody’s got a needle. Don’t let on anything’s wrong. Then go to the barn and get me some horse hair, from the mane or tail, and get back here as quick as you can.”

Ellison handed him the jug, and he took a quick swig , before holding Lucky’s muzzle up and parting his mouth to pour in a good-sized dose.

“You givin’ that popskull to the dog?” Ellison asked in wonder, eyes bulging.

“Hell, yeah. If it makes it easier on a man when he’s hurtin’, it’s bound to make a dog feel better, too. Hold that lantern. April, get me some rags—shirts—a sheet—anything. I got to mop up this blood so I can see what I’m doing.”

She moved around the cabin, gathering cloth, and when he yelled for a basin of water, she got that for him, also. Ellison just stood nearby with his hands on his hips, watching in amazement as Kaid worked feverishly.

Compton returned with a needle and a handful of horse hair. By then, Lucky’s wounds were cleansed, revealing four long slashes, one of them quite deep. Blood continued to flow. Kaid packed rags into the opening to stifle the oozing as he began to work with the other cuts. Threading the needle in the light of the lantern, using a long strand of horse hair, he quickly and deftly pulled the split skin together and began stitching it closed.

“Sewing up a danged dog.” Ellison shook his head back and forth. “I just can’t believe it. And you risked your life to charge down there in the middle of all that fightin’, too. And you’re still bleedin’.”

Kaid paused, needle in hand, long enough to cast a menacing look in the soldier’s direction. He snarled, “I can take care of me, but this dog can’t take care of himself. Now just shut up, Ellison, ’cause you’re botherin’ me.”

Ellison snickered as April caught his eye suddenly. She still wore Kaid’s shirt, and perspiring from running caused the garment to stick to her skin. Her large breasts heaved, nipples moving provocatively up and down as she breathed. “Lord…” he whispered under his breath, “I’d strangle that dog if he’d stopped me from gettin’ some of that.”

Kaid did not hear him, and April ignored him. She folded her arms across her chest and stepped closer to the table. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked anxiously.

Turning his head only slightly from his intent stitching, he gave her a lopsided grin. “Just stay close to me, darlin’. Right now, I can’t ask for anything more than that.” Then the smile faded as he noticed what she was wearing. He yelled to Ellison to get her clothes from the cabin.

Long, tense moments passed as Kaid worked over the dog. It was perhaps a half hour later that he finally stood back and motioned to Compton to bandage the dog. “He’s stopped bleeding. I think he’s gonna be all right—”

And then he toppled forward, Compton leaping forward to catch him just before he hit the floor. Dragging him to the bed, a trail of blood behind him, he lifted him
up and snapped at April to get the jug, the needle, and more horse hair. “Now we gotta try to save him,” he said, giving her a condemning look.

She did as she was told while Compton ripped open his sergeant’s trouser leg, exposing the gaping wound. “You know anything about sewing a man up?” he asked her. She shook her head wildly from side to side, and he snapped, “Well, you better learn fast. Thread that needle. I’m going to hold the skin together, and you start stitching. Then we’re going to get some whiskey in him, and I’m going to burn it shut.”

When he had the ragged edges of skin together, April took a deep breath and poked the needle through, joining the edges. After that first stitch, she knew she could do it…would do it. He had saved Lucky. He deserved saving, in turn. April breathed deep, even breaths while she worked. Compton’s eyes never left Kaid’s face.

When it was done, she stepped back, swaying dizzily. Ellison had returned, and he caught her elbows and helped her to a chair.

“Good job,” Compton said, surveying her work. “The bleeding has stopped, and I don’t think we’ll have to burn it. Now all we got to do is sit and wait and see what happens.”

“Ahhh, he’ll make it,” Ellison said breezily, settling down with the remainder of the jug. “The Sarge is tough. I’ll wager they both make it. Let’s take a drink.”

April picked up the prison dress he had brought to her and slipped outside the cabin to put it on quickly in the darkness. Then she returned, ignoring the two drinking soldiers as she walked over to kneel beside Kaid. He was breathing heavily, but evenly. There was no more blood oozing from the bandage wrapped around his leg. He would, she reflected gratefully, survive. And so would Lucky, thanks to a man who cared about one of God’s own creatures more than himself.

“A giant,” she whispered so low that Ellison and Compton could not hear. “A
gentle
giant.”

She touched her fingertips to his forehead. His eyelids fluttered, then opened. Smiling wanly, he reached to caress her hand. “How’s the mutt?”

“He’s going to be fine. So will you, if you’ll lie there and get some rest. You lost an awful lot of blood.”

He nodded, then emitted a feeble snicker. “Maybe it was ugly blood. Maybe all the ugly blood drained out, and now I won’t be ugly no more.”

“Anyone who did what you did can’t be ugly, Kaid.”

He closed his eyes, head dropping wearily to the side. “Stay with me,” he whispered, still holding her hand. “Don’t leave me tonight—”

“I’ll be here,” she assured him. “Just sleep. I’m going to look after you and Lucky.”

Just when she was sure he was finally asleep, he opened his eyes and turned to stare at her once more. “When I’m back on my feet, I’m going to get you out of this, April…get you out and make you love me.”

Soon, he slept.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Rance crawled slowly along the ground on his belly, pausing every few yards to listen for some sign that they might have been detected by Yankee sentries. Behind him, Edward Clark followed, moving equally as cautiously.

The only sounds were the occasional mournful hooting of an owl, and the night wind dancing through the forest. Ahead, they could hear the restless pawing of horses’ hooves in the Pennsylvania dirt.

They were getting close.

Edward scrambled forward to plop down next to Rance, their arms touching. “How much farther?” He whispered so low Rance had to strain to hear him.

“Maybe fifty yards. There’s only one sentry posted at the corral. You know the plan.”

Edward whispered that he was ready, and Rance hoped he was telling the truth. There could be no slipup now, for they were right in the middle of a hotbed of Yankees, and if spotted, would be killed on the spot. Everything had to go exactly the way he had planned.

Ahead, in a hastily constructed corral of split rails, a hundred Union artillery horses were waiting, horses that would bring a small fortune when rebranded and resold to the Union army. There was no time for the ploys he had used in the past—steal the cavalry’s horses, rebrand them as artillery, resell their own horses to the Yankees; then use the money to buy prime stock for the Confederacy. Hell, no, the war had busted wide open this summer of ’63, and Rance knew he had to move fast. The object was to get the best possible horses for the Rebel cavalry. There was no time to waste on playing fancy tricks—or for making money for his own pocket, he reflected with a touch of chagrin. He would not come out of this war broke by any means, but he’d had to forego much of a profit as he became caught up in the war itself.

Beside him, Edward waited quietly. It was part of the plan that they would crawl this far in the dark and then wait at least a half hour to make sure all was calm before making the final move.

He slapped at a pesky mosquito and wished for a jug of popskull. Licking his upper lip, he tried not to realize that death could come at any moment. The march was on. There was no time to think about anything except getting these fine horses for Jeb Stuart. After Stuart’s current mission, his whole cavalry unit was going to need horses badly.

Besides, Rance thought with a wry grin, he was in uniform now. Confederate gray. President Davis, himself, had bestowed the commission, saying he wanted to make sure he was duly made a part of the Confederate army. He could have been an officer of just about any rank, he knew, but he would accept nothing higher than Captain. Being an officer, he had been allowed to sit in on conferences with General Robert E. Lee, himself, as Lee planned the next move for his Army of Northern Virginia.

Lee had begun his move in early June, by shifting his troops northwest from Fredericksburg behind the line of the Rappahannock River. His aim was to reach the Shenandoah Valley and then cross the Potomac River west of the Blue Ridge mountains. He had divided his army into three corps. One was led by James Longstreet, and the others were being commanded by two new Lieutenant generals, Richard S. Ewell and A. P. Hill.

Rance knew that Longstreet’s corps had led off, pausing at a place called Culpepper Court House in Virginia, while Ewell’s corps leapfrogged it and moved on to drive a few scattered Union detachments out of the lower valley. Meanwhile, Hill had stayed in Fredericksburg to keep an eye on the enemy there.