Say You Love Me (20 page)

Black Serpent stumbled into the clearing, which was ringed on three sides by rock.

Jacie was trapped.

She had backed as far as she could, holding the powdered seeds behind her, wondering frantically how she was going to get them into the bottle. He was still holding on to it, a bit of liquid sloshing around in the bottom.

He looked her up and down hungrily, his tongue darting across his lips. "I did not at first want to learn the white man's language," he said, voice slurring. "But now I am glad, because I can tell you how to please me." He set the bottle on a ledge and commanded, "I want you naked! Now!"

She could only stare at him in horror.

His hand snaked out to clutch her throat. "Do as I say or I will punish you with pain as you have never known."

Jacie squirmed in his grasp. "Don't do this. Have mercy, please..." she whispered.

A dark, brooding hatred flashed in his black eyes. "Mercy?" he echoed with deadly menace. "When have your people ever shown mine any mercy?" He yanked her against him, and she could feel the hard heat of his chest. She fought to keep her hand behind her as he bent her head back. Her eyes locked on the red, raw scar that swept across his cheek, and she could not control the shudder of revulsion that shot through her.

With a shriek, he slapped her. "So you cannot stand the sight of my face? My scar sickens you? Perhaps you would like one of your own, then you will know what it is like."

She had staggered from his blow, but he grabbed her again, only to slam her head back against the rock so hard she felt a dizzying pain and had to fight to hang on to consciousness. From out of nowhere came the knife; he held it ominously above her. Jacie closed her eyes and prayed as she had never prayed before, sure that any second she would feel the cold steel slashing into her flesh.

"Answer me!" he screamed. "Would you like a scar so you will not find me ugly?"

Jacie opened one eye and later wondered how she could have been so bold as to taunt, "I would find you ugly without a scar, damn you."

He laughed at her bravado and returned the knife to his belt. "No. You would find Black Serpent the most handsome warrior of the Comanche, like the girls who crept into my tepee night after night. They taught me well, as I will teach you. And it will make no difference that you cannot bear to look upon my face. You will look upon my body, instead, for it is still glorious as a man's should be. And I will look upon you. All of you."

Jacie's arm ached terribly, bent back against the rock, but still she clung to the seeds, hoping he would pass out. His eyes were getting bleary, and he seemed to be having difficulty staying on his feet.

"You want me to tame you, little she-wolf?" he taunted. "Is that what you want? I have ways to make you obey me and no one cares about your screams..." He trailed off, suddenly unable to ignore any longer the annoying pressure from all he had drunk. He would have to relieve himself before taking his pleasure.

Spinning about, reeling as he did so, Black Serpent turned his back on her, directing himself toward a clump of bushes as he lifted his breechclout.

Jacie knew she had but one chance. Snatching up the bottle, she opened her hand and released the powder. She gave it a quick shake, wiped the residue from the rim, and set it back down.

He turned back around, annoyed to feel so heavy-headed, so sleepy. Perhaps another swallow of the firewater would make him feel better. But where had he left it? The world was spinning. And then he saw the bottle. With a grunt of satisfaction, he lifted it to his mouth.

Jacie felt an excited rush.

He drained the bottle, then sent it crashing against the rocks. "Now I will have you," he yelled, beating on his bare chest with his fists.

He lunged, and she ducked and tried to dart under his arms but was not quick enough. Grabbing her hair, he yanked her back, but she fell against his legs, knocking him off balance, and he went down, taking her with him. He caught her wrists, rolling to the side to pin her beneath him. "You will beg to die before I am through with you, bitch," he vowed with a snarl of menace. "And you will never refuse me again."

He was all over her, fingers digging, mauling, tearing at her clothes. She screamed again and again, horror searing wherever he touched. She managed to free one hand and brought her nails raking across his cheek. With an oath, he whipped out the knife to press against her throat and threatened, "I will take you after you are
dead
if you keep fighting me."

Jacie caught her breath and held it, her struggles ceasing. She had put a heavy dose in the bottle but had no idea how long it would be before it took effect. Combined with the whiskey she hoped it would work more quickly than usual and dared believe her hunch was right when she saw his eyes begin to roll back in his head.

He dropped the knife, his hands clawing first at his throat, then his stomach, as he made a thin whining sound. Then he dropped to his knees, still holding his belly, and pitched forward onto his face.

Jacie wasted no time. Grabbing up her satchel along with Black Serpent's knife, she made her way quickly down from the rocky alcove and on past the other Indians, who appeared to be sleeping deeply.

She went to where the ponies were tethered and selected a pinto that looked a bit stronger than the rest, leading him a short distance before throwing a blanket over his back. Tying on the satchel, she walked him farther from the camp before mounting and galloping away.

***

The sun was high in a cloudless sky and seemed to melt into a shapeless bed of golden flame as it stretched to touch the faraway mountains.

Jacie shielded her eyes and tried to figure out where she was. The Trinity River ran from northwest to southeast; she knew because she had asked Tehlwah its course when they had made camp that last night. She did not know why she wanted to know, except that since leaving home, she had the need to have some idea, at all times, of where she was. It made her feel less apprehensive, somehow, about constantly being in new surroundings.

Jacie made a mental note of when they had crossed the river, estimating they had ridden an hour or more after doing so before entering the shadowed ravine. She had dozed after that but guessed it had been another hour's ride before they got to the camp. Several times she had glanced upward to find the north star and suspected that they had gone through the ravine to keep parallel to the river so they would not pass directly by the settlement of Fort Worth, which was where she wanted to go.

Her stomach rumbled. Many hours had passed since she had eaten at the fort. She was weak and weary but plodded onward, knowing that when the Indians finally woke up to find their leader drugged and sick, they would come after her. She had to get to the settlement as fast as possible or they might overtake her—and God help her if they did.

Back in Georgia, Jacie knew, signs of autumn would be everywhere, the hills and ridges burning with red and yellow and orange as the leaves offered a spectacular farewell before falling to the ground. But here the earth shimmered with waves of heat. Her dress, soaked with sweat, clung to her, and her hair hung limp and damp. She could feel her skin burning from the relentless sun.

She tried to push thoughts of food from her mind but wondered how long she could go without proper sustenance. She felt herself growing weaker as the day wore on, and it was getting harder and harder to stay on the pony's back. She would feel herself slipping, about to fall but mercifully would rally at the last instant to wrap her fingers in the pony's mane and haul herself back into position.

To get her mind off eating, and the heat, and the seriousness of her situation, she tried to turn her thoughts to Michael, and how perhaps she should have told him everything.

No. She shook her head firmly. She had to do it her way. Still, she drifted to think how protected he made her feel when he held her in his arms, and the sweetness of his kisses, and what a comfort it had been to hear him vow that she would never have to worry about anything ever again in her whole life once they were married. He would always take care of her. She'd not have to worry her pretty little head, he would laugh and say, because he would do everything for her. To be sheltered and cherished, that would be her life as Mrs. Michael Blake.

Jacie could not help laughing aloud—a weird sound in the barren wilderness—to wonder what Michael would think if he could see her right then. She had journeyed all the way from Georgia to Texas with a Cherokee medicine man only to be abducted by a Comanche Indian and threatened with rape and death. Now she was weak and racked by hunger and, God help her, completely lost. But she was still alive, undaunted and determined to survive. Hardly the image of a genteel planter's wife in ruffles and lace. Michael would be amazed. And surely he would be impressed by her courage. She was certainly impressed with herself, and when it was all over, she would tell him and describe it all in detail, and he would know her for the strong woman she was and surely respect her all the more for it.

Her head began to loll. It was getting harder and harder to sit on the pony. He was moving slowly. She dared not urge him into a faster gait for she could never hold on then. She could see green in the distance, a cluster of trees. If she could make it there, she would rest, if only for a little while. But then she felt herself falling again. This time, she was unable to rally in time to hold on.

She was unconscious by the time she hit the ground.

* * *

Luke knew something had happened when he came in sight of the fort. The gates were wide open and a patrol was riding in, met by one headed out. He could see a hubbub of activity inside and could feel an air of tension all around him.

Riding toward the departing soldiers, he recognized Sergeant Major Ward Stackhouse and hailed him to ask what was going on.

"Damn Injuns made a hole in the southeast corner of the fence and broke in to raid the arsenal. They got away with a hell of a lot of guns. Ammunition, too."

Luke's teeth ground together to think of what it meant. "Any idea which tribe was responsible?"

"Comanche," Stackhouse said flatly, aware some of his men were casting hostile glances at Luke.

While they knew he was a good scout, they were wary of him, especially now, after what had happened.

"How can you be sure?"

"Hell, Luke, I know a Comanche when I see one. We caught one as he was scrambling through the hole."

"Is he still alive?"

"No. Had to shoot him. He wouldn't surrender. Kept swinging a tomahawk. He's Comanche, all right. And it's worse than just stealing, by the way," Stackhouse added. "A soldier was killed. Stabbed."

Luke reined his horse in the direction of the fort as Stackhouse called out, "Hey, aren't you gonna ride with us to try and track them devils?"

"You won't find them, and I've got business to tend to."

Stackhouse was about to tell him that a woman had been taken, but Luke rode away before he could do so.

Luke hurried on to the fort, hoping the Indian's body had not been disposed of. It hadn't, and his suspicions were confirmed when he recognized one of the young bucks who had chosen to follow Black Serpent. Now he knew beyond a doubt who was responsible for all the trouble.

Hearing Luke was at the fort, Captain Logan sent for him to tell him he wanted him to head up the next patrol going out. "You know those bastards better than anyone else. They're your people. You know what to look for."

Luke frowned. If he was off on patrol, he couldn't keep an eye on the woman. Maybe last night's trouble had scared her into wanting to leave. "I hear there is a white woman here who thinks her mother is living among the Comanche."

Logan paled to think how it was bad enough that under his command the fort had been robbed by Indians without the added humiliation of having a young lady abducted. With marks like that against him, he would never get his transfer back east and would likely wind up being sent to the least desirable post in the west. Maybe he would even be stripped of his rank. He didn't want to think about it and had made up his mind, during the tortured hours of the night, to whitewash the situation as much as possible, but he saw no reason to discuss it with an Indian, for heaven's sake. "That's no concern of yours. I gave you orders. Be ready to move out with the next patrol."

Luke noticed the captain's unease. "I want to know what is to be done with her. Is the army going to help her in her search?"

"Hell, no!" Logan cried, exasperated, then tested the lie he had conjured to paint a less grim picture of what might be considered the dereliction of his duties. "The Comanche themselves are going to help her. She went with them willingly last night." He knew that could not be so but was clutching at straws.

Luke knew it too but felt as if he'd been slammed in his gut to hear she was now in the hands of Black Serpent. "I want to know her name," he said through tightly clenched teeth.

Logan did not like the almost maniacal gleam in the scout's black eyes and decided maybe if he answered him, he would leave. And what difference did it make if he told him, anyway? "Her name is Miss Jacie Calhoun."

"And what makes you think she would go with the Comanche willingly?"

"Oh, hell, I don't know. All I do know is that she didn't scream or make any sound. Nobody heard anything till the guard that got stabbed hollered out. But all that's got nothing to do with you. Now get out of here. You've got your orders." Logan bolted to his feet and pointed to the door.

"You don't think she went with them willingly at all," Luke said quietly, coldly, all the while wondering if the woman could actually have been lured out after mistaking Black Serpent for him. But Logan could not know that. He was just trying to make the situation less embarrassing personally.

He turned on his heel and left.

Logan did not protest, because as badly as he needed Luke to try and track down the Indians, the expression on Luke's face had chilled him to the very marrow of his bones.