Sagebrush Bride (29 page)

For
long hours afterward, Elizabeth was unable to erase the sound of the Indian’s
voice from her thoughts. Nor could she forget the tenderness in Cutter’s eyes
as he’d loved her again afterward, the feel of his warm hands wandering
possessively over her body.

Never
had she felt more alive.

In
the early hours of the morning, knowing that sleep was hopeless with the sun
beginning to rise on the horizon, they dressed. She traded her blouse for one
Cutter handed her: a white one with buttons down the front and frothy lace at
the sleeves and collar. As distinct as it was, she recognized it at once as one
of Jo’s. But despite Cutter’s disapproving look, she again donned her trusty
old skirt with the tattered hem. She didn’t have the nerve yet to wear the
men’s britches she’d bought, though soon she wouldn’t have much choice. Her
skirt was literally wearing away!

The
packing went swiftly, because they’d unpacked so little to begin with. At last
Elizabeth mounted up, with Cutter’s help. But as Cutter turned to mount his own
horse, the sound of riders approaching kept him from swinging his leg over his
Palouse’s rump.

Sliding
down once more, he turned to see who it was.

Two
men dressed in Union blue reined in. The lead man wore a full beard, along with
his filthy blues. His shoulder-length hair was wild and unkempt, though he
might still have passed as handsome, with his well-chiseled features, if it
hadn’t been for the coldness in his gray eyes. They were icy and unresponsive,
lacking any emotion but for the flicker of malice he didn’t bother to disguise.

“McKenzie,”
the man said in greeting, surprise evident in his tone. In spite of it, the
word managed to sound profane coming from his severe lips.

If
Cutter was surprised by their unexpected appearance, it didn’t show. He nodded,
giving Elizabeth a quick glance, urging her without words to be silent. As
though he’d not heard the man speak, he turned his back to the duo and mounted
up. Once he was settled in his saddle, he turned to them again, tipping his
hat. “Sulzberger,” he replied acerbically. He nodded to the other. “What blood
you lookin’ to shed this far east, boys? War’s over, y’know?”

The
man, Magnus Sulzberger, sprayed tobacco-yellowed spittle on the ground. “Always
were a smart-ass, McKenzie... and you’re dead right... that war is over.” He’d
emphasized the word “dead,” and now his grin widened, his lips tightening over
the lump of tobacco beneath. And then his eyes narrowed again, gleaming with
open hostility. “But there’s still a war goin’ on. Reckon you ain’t heard ‘bout
Platte Bridge?”

“No,”
Cutter affirmed. “And don’t reckon I care to either.”

Magnus
carried on as though Cutter had never spoken. “Three, maybe four thousand of
them redskin bastards drove in a cavalry detachment and wiped out a military
supply train there.”

Cutter
shrugged dismissively. “Ain’t my concern anymore.”

“Well,
now, McKenzie... the way I hear it told... never was. At any rate, you ought to
be remembering, when you go running your mouth and siding with them savages,
that you no longer have government protection. These days, I reckon I might
just watch who I was rilin’ if I were you.” Both of his brows rose abruptly.
“You think?” His beard split and a demonic smile spread across his almost
nonexistent lips.

Cutter
grinned in return, but there was no benevolence in his expression. His eyes
narrowed to dark, predatory slits. “If you were me,” he said pointedly, his
tone low but carrying clearly. “But then, we both know you’re not.”

To
Cutter’s way of thinking, any man who would run down a toddler in cold blood,
spearing him with his bayonet as though he were a cold-blooded trout, was a
coward of the worst kind, and Magnus had done that and worse at Sand Creek.
Much worse. Had it been up to Cutter, the man wouldn’t be wearing his stripes
at the moment, much less the cocksure smile he wore like a badge of honor. But
it wasn’t up to Cutter, and there wasn’t a chance they’d take a half-breed’s
word over a full-blooded white’s, not any day. And so he kept his damned mouth
shut and watched his back.

Magnus’
smile vanished, and there was suddenly cold fury in his eyes.

Cutter
tapped his hat out of his eyes with a finger and, in one smooth movement,
reached down to flick open the leather thong that kept his revolver holstered.
The fluidity of his gesture was a warning in itself. “State your business,
boys, and move on,” he told them. “Oh, and Sulzberger... you’d do well to
remember that that protection you’re talking about works two ways.” The
faintest smile touched his lips, crept into his eyes. “Means I no longer have
anyone to answer to.”

Magnus’
mouth took on a mocking twist. “I hear you,” he drawled, readjusting his wad of
tobacco before spitting it out. “I hear you, McKenzie.” He gave Elizabeth a
bone-chilling sidewise glance. “Hafta wonder, miss, if you know who it is
you’re keepin’ company with?” His gray eyes glittered with unconcealed malice
as he took in her lamentable state of dress.

Elizabeth
averted her gaze, and Magnus laughed harshly, the sound obscene. “Well, hell,
darlin’, maybe you do,” he said cryptically.

There
was no doubt in Elizabeth’s mind that the man was trouble, and she suddenly
couldn’t wait to be away from him.

“Anyhow,”
he carried on, “ain’t lookin’ for trouble with you, McKenzie. Happens we’re out
hunting a pack of renegades. Raided a camp about thirty miles east of Fort
Riley. Swiped some food and supplies.” He glanced again at Elizabeth, and the
look he gave her raised the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. “Stuck one of
my men as they were leaving,” he continued with loathing, tipping his head in
the direction of the youth beside him. “O’Neill here spotted your smoke last
night and... Well, anyhow, you ain’t them. Ain’t happen to’ve seen ‘em, have
you?” There was unconcealed suspicion in his question, as though it really
didn’t matter what Cutter said. He already clearly disbelieved him.

Cutter
was silent a long moment.

“And
what if I have?” Cutter asked casually, one brow lifting in challenge.

Magnus
responded with a slow sneer. “Well then... I reckon you ought to say so.”

One
side of Cutter’s Ups lifted contemptuously. “Yeah?” His wintry smile crept into
his eyes. “And you say they stuck an officer?” He hoped it was one of Magnus’
colleagues, and he found himself feeling sorry for the kid at Magnus’ side.
Sulzberger knew the art of intimidation only too well. Likely he’d have the
whelp dancing over bullets for his kicks and believing it was his lucky day for
being able to do so.

“That’s
right,” Magnus drawled.

Cutter
gave him a nod. “Well, now, seems I do recall they went that way.” He pointed
halfheartedly in the direction the Indians had, in fact, gone. “Came through
yesterday, late afternoon. Four of ‘em.”

Elizabeth’s
breath snagged, and her eyes widened. She couldn’t believe Cutter had actually
given them away! Didn’t he realize what these vile men would do if they caught
up with them? She didn’t find it so difficult to believe that the Indians had
perhaps killed a man. They’d seemed perfectly capable, but for some strange
reason, she felt connected to them, even grateful. And some little voice in the
back of her mind told her that they wouldn’t have killed for sport, that it was
perhaps hunger... or even revenge that had driven them, for even in Sioux Falls
she had heard tales of Sand Creek. Still, she refrained from saying anything to
refute Cutter, only because she knew it wouldn’t help matters even if she did.

Once
again Magnus glanced her way, appraising her thoroughly, and his answering grin
was malignant. “Much obliged,” he said curtly, never taking his scrutiny from
Elizabeth. Then he turned his mount away, and back again. “Oh, and, McKenzie...”

Cutter
didn’t respond, only sat back in the saddle and crossed his arms, watching the
men before him with keen eyes.

“Reckon
you ought to know... General Sully is looking for you.”

Cutter
shrugged apathetically. “So let him look,” he replied tersely. “It ought to
make you pretty happy when he doesn’t find me, Sulzberger.” And with that, he
touched his hat brim in dismissal, spurring his mount closer to Elizabeth’s.
Snatching her reins out of her hands, he turned his back to the gawking pair,
and led her away without another word.

“Be
seeing ya, now,” Magnus called after them, staring.

“If
y’ say so,” Cutter responded without turning.

Elizabeth,
on the other hand, for all that she tried, couldn’t tear her gaze away from the
duo behind them. When the younger man touched the smooth butt of his revolver,
she tensed, and started to scream out a warning, but Cutter eyed her sternly.

Elizabeth
stiffen, and Cutter said, again without turning. “Draw that gun up out of
there, Blue-boy... and you’d better be prepared to use it.”

Astonished
that he had known, and dazed by the peculiar exchange she had witnessed,
Elizabeth lagged behind and turned to look at his back with something akin to
awe and then again to the disgruntled pair behind them. Magnus gave the younger
man a vigorous shake of his head, and the youth immediately abandoned his
revolver, muttering an inaudible curse.

“How’d
the bloody son of a bitch know?” Elizabeth heard him ask.

“Savage
in him,” Magnus replied sourly, spurring his mount in the exact opposite
direction Cutter had indicated. “Last man to underestimate him ended up with a
.44 between his baby blues—but don’t you worry none, O’Neill, he’ll come
into his own someday. Real soon—damned redskin-lovin’ deserter!” With
that declaration, he cast them a backward glance, smiling with promise at
Elizabeth. Tipping his hat, he gaffed his mare.

When
they finally disappeared from view, Elizabeth urged Cocoa up beside Cutter’s
mount. “How did you know, Cutter?”

“With
that look on your face?” Cutter shrugged. “It was evident someone was going
after their gun. Sulzberger’s been round long enough to know better... That
left little Blue-boy back there.” He shook his head. “Kid like that’s always
rarin’ to show off his gun hand. Thing is, he’s like t’ end up six feet under
before he ever shaves his first whiskers.”

He
led her up the bluff, following the same path the Indians had taken, leaving
the river at their backs. Again, Elizabeth lagged behind, musing about what
he’d just revealed.

“No,”
she said at last, catching up with him once more. “Not that. How did you know
that those men would search in the opposite direction?”

Cutter
adjusted his hat and sat back in the saddle to better see her. There was wonder
in her eyes. He grinned engagingly. “Didn’t,” he admitted with a gleam in his
eyes. “Never thought anyone could be so contrary that they wouldn’t believe
God’s truth when they heard it... till I met you. Just took a gamble, and it
paid off.”

Elizabeth
gasped, her eyes widening at the affront. “Contrary! You are... are just...
just... ” She couldn’t find the words to describe him. What kind of man could
make love to a woman and then insult her in the next breath? “The worst!”

Chuckling,
Cutter responded, “That bad, huh?” And with that, he winked at her, turning his
attention to the steep trail before them.

They
reached the bluff-top to find rolling hills as far as the eye could see, white
oak and cottonwood trees flecking the view. Having abandoned the riverbed and
bluffs, Cutter made use of every last watering hole they encountered. While the
horses fed late in the afternoon, they lunched, then set out again and didn’t
stop until they reached the Grand River. By then, Elizabeth had fallen asleep
in the saddle.