Say You Love Me (23 page)

Luke had not listened. The romance had continued on through the summer. He was completely bewitched, and when he finally got up the nerve to speak of a future together, she had given no indication she did not share his dreams, as she moaned and thrashed wildly in the sand beneath him.

Luke kept it all a secret, how she had agreed to be his wife and go with him to Mexico, where they could live in peace. There he did not feel their union would be so frowned upon, and he did without things, starving himself sometimes, to save what meager wages he earned for their future. Luke knew he would break his back, if need be, to take care of her.

Then one day, when Luke was unloading a ship that had just docked, shadows fell on his happiness. Amelia appeared, all dressed up, accompanied by her parents and her three older brothers. She very carefully did not look in Luke's direction, and the other workers noticed and teased Luke about how she pretended not to know him.

He watched in misery as a smartly attired man came down the gangway and the Prescott family swarmed around him in greeting, including Amelia, who threw her arms around his neck. But Luke told himself that was what she had to do. No doubt the man was an important business associate of her father's. So he went about his work, filling his mind and heart with thoughts of the passion to come later that night.

Only that night she did not come, and Luke stood outside the Prescott house with fury mounting to see how the family fawned over their guest. And later, when Amelia drew the stranger out to the porch and went into his arms and pressed her mouth against his, Luke had exploded with rage. He had lunged from the darkness, forgetting how he had vowed to turn his back on his heritage and become part of the white man's world. He had screamed the words of the Comanche counting coup as he tore the stranger from the embrace of his beloved.

Will Prescott and his sons heard and charged out to drag Luke off of him, but Luke had turned savage, and he gave them a fight they would never forget. It was only when one of them ran back into the house for a gun that Luke retreated. But he froze at the sound of Amelia's voice screaming hysterically, "Shoot him. Shoot the crazy Indian!"

Amelia's brother fired once, striking Luke in the arm. But Luke did not run. He stood where he was, meeting Amelia's glare while Will Prescott snatched the gun from his son and cried, "He's not armed. No need to kill him if he'll get the hell out of here now."

Still, Luke did not retreat. Instead, he drew a ragged breath from the very depths of his soul and looked straight into Amelia's furious eyes. "You said you loved me."

"Love you?" she trilled incredulously. "I don't even know you." She whirled on her brother. "Kill him. He's out of his mind. He's dangerous."

Luke had left then but had not sought help for his wound. He had kept on going and did not stop until he reached his people and the woman he called mother. She had tended him, and the damaged arm had healed—but not his heart.

His mind snapped to the present. He was upon the buffalo without realizing it. He had let his concentration wander, a deadly mistake, because a bison bull whirled around, nostrils flaring. Beside him was a cow, and Luke knew there was nothing more dangerous than an ill-tempered bull intent on rutting.

The beast charged.

In a flash, Luke had the bow in place and pulled back on the string. The arrow shot through the air, striking the bull on target, right below his rib, piercing his lung. But the bull did not falter and kept right on coming.

Luke's horse did not have to be told what to do. Cutting to the side, he avoided the first charge, and Luke was able to get off a second shot, also on mark. The bull was weakened but his rage of pain kept him coming. Luke fired again but the arrow was high, hitting muscle. Mustering nerves of steel, he was ready with yet another arrow, but suddenly the horse cut too sharply. Luke felt himself falling and grabbed for the rawhide thong just as his back struck the rocks below.

Ignoring the anguish, he called on every bit of strength he possessed and pulled himself up. Just as he was clearing the ground, the bull was upon them, and Luke felt a hot, sharp stab as he was gored in the shoulder. Teeth digging into his lower lip, it was all he could do to hang on to the thong, but he knew if he dropped it and fell back, it was over. The mighty bison would charge again, killing him.

Luke screamed at the horse in Comanche, urging him to go faster. Blood was pouring from the hole in his shoulder and torture was a great fist choking his entire body. He knew he could not cling much longer. Behind him he could hear the thundering hooves of the crazed bison in heated pursuit—but was the anguish now filling his ears, obstructing his hearing? Miraculously, it sounded as though the bison was actually slowing.

Luke managed to twist his head, realized it was so and felt first a thrust of joy, then a stupendous burst of strength. He managed to dance his legs in front of him, digging down with his heels as he yelled to the stallion to stop. At last he was able to let go, and he slumped to the ground, the fist clenching about him ever tighter and finally squeezing him away to merciful oblivion.

Jacie came to life. She had frozen in terror as the macabre scene was played before her horrified eyes but now she scrambled down from the rocks to race toward him, all the while praying she could remember everything Mehlonga had taught her.

* * *

Captain Logan looked at the soldier standing before his desk. "Are you sure?" he asked tensely.

"Yes, sir." Sergeant Buckham had hated to be the one to bring the news. Everybody on the post knew Captain Logan was plenty upset over the Indians taking the woman. The latest development would only make things worse.

"What did you say this man's name was?"

"Blake, sir. Michael Blake. He comes from Georgia and he's got some other men with him."

Logan groaned inwardly, Jacie had told him that her fiancé's name was Michael Blake.

"He told the guards at the gate he was looking for her and a man by the name of Zach Newton, because he was told they were heading for this fort."

Logan seized on that, Jacie had been traveling alone. Could it be she had originally run away with another man? There had been so much about her story that was mysterious.

At once Logan decided to let Blake think she had been abandoned by her lover and unfortunately seized by Indians. Logan certainly didn't want Jacie's fiancé to think he had been stalling her search for her mother so he could court her. Perhaps Blake didn't even know about her mother. If not, he would certainly not be the one to tell him. "Has anyone else on the post talked to this man?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

"Just the guard at the gate. And the minute he found out it concerned the woman, he sent me to tell you."

"That was wise. Now you go and bring this man to me, but you keep your mouth shut, and spread the word that if anyone gives him more than the time of day, they'll find themselves on a suicide patrol into the heart of Comanche territory. The last thing I need right now is civilians raising hell about army business. Do you understand me, Sergeant?"

Sergeant Buckham assured him that he did.

When he was gone, Logan leaned back in his chair and took a cheroot from the box on his desk. He lit it and inhaled deeply. It relaxed him to smoke, and he certainty wanted to appear calm as he described to Mr. Blake what had happened—how tragic it was that Miss Calhoun had been snatched from her bed in the guest quarters. Search parties had not been able to find a trace, but he would keep sending them out daily, and, no, there had not been a man traveling with her. She had been alone, separated from her companion, he had assumed, but she'd been so weak when the guards found her staggering toward the gate that she'd been allowed to rest, promising to tell her story the next morning. Only the next morning she was gone. So sad.

Logan smiled as the blue haze of smoke clouded his face. He would send Mr. Blake on his way, with regrets and sympathy, of course. He would explain how he wished he could offer the hospitality of the fort, but security was tight, what with all the Indian trouble. It was best Mr. Blake just go back home and await word as to Miss Calhoun's fate, if it were ever known.

Logan was confident he would have nothing else to worry about. Even the women of the fort would keep their mouths shut if they didn't want to become widows. Eventually it would all be forgotten, like Jacie, because, regretfully, he was sure she would never be seen again—alive.

* * *

The Indian scout listened with interest to the five white men who stood talking animatedly just inside the gate of the fort. He did not understand all the words but heard enough to know they were talking about the white woman Black Serpent had taken with him the night he and his men had robbed the arsenal.

The scout had wished he could have been a part of it all, for he hated working for the pony soldiers, but he had been caught stealing from his people and the chief had banished him. No other band would have him.

The Indian, known as Two Trees, knew how dangerous it would be in such bloody times to roam about alone, so he had taken the job at the fort, where he was given food, a place to sleep, and meager wages.

But Two Trees was not satisfied and wanted to be a part of Black Serpent's war party. And now he was optimistic that Black Serpent would welcome him when he heard this latest bit of information.

Chapter 19

Several days had passed since Luke was injured, and, except for rallying long enough to sip the water Jacie offered, he had slept.

He had been bleeding badly from his left shoulder when she had reached him. She had immediately begun to tear strips of cloth from her petticoat to pack the wound, and when they were gone, she started ripping at the hem of her dress. He had come to long enough for her to help him stand. Then, with his good arm across the horse's back for support, his other over her shoulders, they had made it to the campsite.

The first thing she had done was to rub sticks together and get a fire going. Along with the herbs and potions Mehlonga had given her, there was a lump of pine tar that had to be melted in order to pack it into the wound. She was relieved when he passed out again, sure he would protest her treating him. She also knew it had to be terribly painful for him as she ran the needle threaded with boiled horse hair through the torn flesh to stitch it back together.

Finally, it was done. The pine tar would stop the oozing while the skin mended. Using the remaining material from her skirt, she had finished with a compressing bandage. Since he was strong, apparently fit and hearty, she was hopeful he would heal quickly.

But now she decided it was time to wake him and coax him to eat. When she had searched his saddlebags in desperation for something to ease her own hunger, she had found some beef jerky tucked in the bottom that he had overlooked, but that was gone, and both of them needed food.

Mehlonga had told her how to catch fish by lying on her stomach at water's edge, face inches from the surface, and remaining very still. When the wily fish happened by, she had only to plunge her hands down to catch it and twist about to fling it out and onto the bank.

She removed the buckskin dress. She had found it tucked in the bottom of her satchel and did not want to get it wet, since it was all she had left to wear. She had destroyed her other dress making bandages for Luke's wound.

Wearing only her drawers and chemise, she got in position, but after a while she realized it was not going to be as easy for her as it had been for Mehlonga. Three times she grabbed for a fish and each time the fish escaped with a saucy flip of its tail. She wished there was something else to eat, but fish would be the easiest to cook. She could clean it and skewer it to roast over the fire. Later, she would go out and look for other sources of food that Telwah had told her she might find on the plains—the fruit of the prickly pear cactus, and prairie turnips. But for the time being, she did not want to wander too far from Luke, lest he wake up and think she had abandoned him.

She lunged and at last caught a big fish but was unprepared for the slimy, slick feel of it. It wriggled mightily and she gave a soft scream of surprise and made ready to throw it far back from the water so it would not flip-flop its way back in and escape.

She rolled quickly, raising the fish over her head, but at the sight of Luke sitting up and grinning at her she was so startled she dropped her catch, and with a loud splash it was gone.

"How—how long have you been watching me?" she stammered.

"From the time you first rolled onto your belly and stuck your pretty little bottom up in the air. Please continue. I told you Comanche don't eat fish, but I'm hungry enough to forget that. Besides, I have to confess there have been times I have tasted forbidden fruits." He winked.

His grin was infuriating, and Jacie was suddenly washed with embarrassment to realize how she must have looked, wriggling around on the ground in her undies. Scrambling to her feet, she quickly pulled on the buckskin dress as she asked irritably, "Just how long have you only pretended to be asleep while I made a fool of myself?"