Say You Love Me (24 page)

"Long enough to be impressed by your skills as a medicine woman. But most of the time I
was
asleep. I knew I had to rest to get my strength back after losing so much blood. But tell me, where did you learn all that? You knew exactly how to close my flesh with the needle and horse hair."

Jacie was astounded. "You were actually awake while I was doing that? But you never moved a muscle. You didn't even twitch."

"The first thing a Comanche learns is how to endure pain. That was nothing, anyway. But where did you learn it?" he asked again.

"A Cherokee taught me."

"Did he also teach you to make that dress you have on?"

"No. We got it at a trading post on our way out here."

The way he was staring at her made her suddenly uncomfortable. Treating him, touching his almost sculptured body, had made her uncomfortable. And now, with him sitting there with knees bent, the breechclout barely covering him, Jacie felt a warm flush.

Luke settled back against the rocks. His wound did not hurt so badly and he knew once he ate, he might even feel like riding, maybe even be so daring as to go find the damn bull bison and take his revenge so they could have meat for supper. He could shoot a gun or throw a spear or knife with either hand, so his injury would not render him helpless. However, he did not want to move just yet, preferring to watch Jacie.

Despite his intent to take her back to civilization and be rid of her as soon as possible, he knew he wanted her. Watching her as he had when she was trying to catch the fish, her drawers pulled tight across her gently squirming buttocks, had aroused him deeply. He had felt desire for her before, but the closeness of her body to his as she had tended him had made it worse. Now images began to come to mind of how it would be to hold her naked in his arms, to touch and tease her into a frenzy of submission. He could close his eyes and picture what it would be like....

"When do you think you will feel well enough to take me to Fort Worth?"

Her voice cut into his thoughts, and he came crashing back to reality to realize he had broken out in a sweat fired by his feverish longing. He was breathing deeply, heavily, and for the moment could not speak, nor did he want to. She was kneeling in front of him, a beseeching look on her lovely face. Her eyes shone with warmth and hope in the golden glow of the fire.

She reached out to press cool fingertips against his forehead, then drew back to gasp, "You have a fever. I was afraid of that. You have to be careful—you shouldn't be sitting up." She was scrambling to her feet, hurrying to get his blanket as well as her own.

Returning, she helped him to lie down, and he let her, pretending to be suddenly weak. It was all he could do to keep from smiling, but he forced his mouth to set in a firm, grim line as she fussed over him. And when she began to gently pat cool water on his face with her fingertips, he longed to pull her against him and feel his lips on hers while his hands caressed her all over till there was no turning back.

Jacie hoped he could not feel her tension, the strange emotions coursing through her body. What was wrong with her? She was supposed to be feeling revulsion, fear, for this savage who stared up at her with dark, piercing eyes in a way that set her heart to pounding. She could feel her own fever rising as unaccustomed but delicious emotions began to twist her insides about. She knew so little about sex, about what a man and woman did together once they were married, but something told her she was teetering on the edge of a dangerous precipice here, because this man, this strange and feral man, was making her wonder what it would be like if he were her husband and showed her what it was like to be his woman, his wife.

But perhaps what disturbed her most was the reality that never, even when he had held her, kissed her, had she felt this way about Michael.

Suddenly frightened by what she was feeling, she drew back. "I'd better see about catching another fish."

* * *

Michael shook his head at the bottle of whiskey Pete offered. The temptation was great to drink away the misery, but he was determined to resist. Liquor would keep him from being able to think clearly, and he needed all his wits about him now, because he had never had to face anything as terrifying as the thought of Jacie in the hands of Indians.

Somehow, some way, he knew had to find her, or at least try.

Even if she had run away with another man, Michael would never know another moment's peace if he left her fate to savages. And where was Newton? Why had he deserted her? And when? Just how damn long had she been wandering around by herself before she stumbled onto the fort? It was a wonder she had not been found by Indians or outlaws before then.

The others sat warily watching him in the glow of the campfire. They were camped for the third day in a row in a grove of cottonwood trees, away from the fort, which could still be seen in the distance.

Michael blamed the army for what had happened to Jacie and was furious at Captain Logan's refusal to allow them to go along on the daily patrols. Logan said they would get in the way and told them to go home, that there was nothing they could do. But Michael refused, and every day he and his men tagged along after the patrol, angering the soldiers and accomplishing nothing, for no trace of the Indians was found.

"Why don't we just head on back, Blake? We're wastin' our time," Pete Harkins mustered the nerve to suggest, prodded by meaningful looks from his three companions.

Doggedly, Michael said, "I'm not leaving till I find her, or at least find out what happened to her. I'd feel as if I was deserting her, because the army doesn't give a damn." He had stopped caring about getting the necklace back and realized that had only been an excuse anyway. He knew now it had always been in the back of his mind to try and persuade her to come back to him.

Silence hung heavy. The others were leaving it all up to Pete to speak for them. Finally, he said, "Look, we done figured out that story you told us about your foreman stealin' somethin' was just made up. That's all right, 'cause we understand, and we know it's tough for a man to take when his woman runs off with another man. But it's over, Blake. There's nothin' you can do. Them Indians got her, and you ain't never going to see her no more, and it's best to go home and try to forget her, hard though it'll be. Hanging around here is only gonna make it all hurt that much worse."

The others chimed in to agree.

Michael knew he was probably right but said, "I still can't go. But I don't expect you all to stay, and there's no hard feelings. I'll write a note for you to take back to my banker so you'll get your money."

And then the idea struck, and he hastened to add, "But if any of you will stay on, I'll pay twice what I promised. No"—he swept them with an excited gaze to see they appeared to be interested—"I'll pay you three times what we agreed on. I swear it. I'll even go ahead and write the note for that amount now, so you'll have it should anything happen to me."

The men looked at each other. It was a lot of money, and they were tempted to agree but still leery. Pete was their spokesman again. "My scalp is worth more than that, Blake, and that's damn sure what I'm riskin'—what we're
all
riskin'. There's five of us and no tellin' how many Comanche. We wouldn't stand a chance against them."

"I'll hire more men," Michael offered.

"How many more?" Joe Clyder asked.

"As many as it takes. There's a settlement upriver, and we'll go there and round up our own army, by damn."

"And you'd pay us three times what you said you would?" Sterne Walters wanted to confirm. It would be more money than he had ever seen in his lifetime. Maybe he could even buy some land and settle down and farm and give up being a hired gun. "You'll promise that much money in addition to hirin' as many men as it will take, so we won't be committin' suicide? You swear?"

"I swear. I'll send back east for whatever it takes to run down those redskin bastards. And I'll hire scouts so we can track them down no matter how far they try to run, and—"

"You will not need them."

They whipped about, startled to see the Indian step from the shadows and into the fire's ring of light. Big and heavyset, he was naked except for a small apron attached to a tasseled belt. Long plaits of coarse black hair hung down to his hips. And when they saw the lowered rifle he carried, they did not dare reach for their holsters.

The Indian held up a hand in greeting. "My name is Two Trees. I am Comanche. I will not hurt you unless you make me. I come in peace to talk with you about the white woman you are seeking."

Michael slowly got to his feet. The others began to edge away, sure he was about to get himself shot, because his face had turned to a mask of rage, and his voice, when he spoke, was trembling with fury. "You have her? You have the woman? You're one of the devils who took her from the fort?"

"Do not come any closer," Two Trees warned him as he glanced about anxiously to make sure no one would be so foolish as to challenge him. He was swift with gun and knife, confident he could kill all five of them and flee before the pony soldiers heard the shots and screams and came to see what had happened. To Michael he said, "I was not among them. But that is not important, because they no longer have her."

Michael unleashed a guttural snarl and reached for his gun, but Pete's hand shot out to grab his arm and keep him from drawing. "Don't do nothin' foolish," he whispered urgently. "He wouldn't have come here to tell you they killed her. Now just simmer down and see what he wants. And he's probably not alone, anyway. The woods are probably full of the bastards."

Michael fought for calm, but hatred for the man standing before him was searing his insides. Through clenched teeth, he ordered, "Tell me what happened to her."

"She was stolen by our enemy, a man named Luke, and—"

"You mean a white man has her? Who—"

"He is Indian," Two Trees was quick to assure. "Comanche. And I do not know why he has a white man's name. I was not told. It is not important, but our leader, Black Serpent, despises him and wants revenge."

"Well, so do I," Michael cried, bewildered that the man had dared come to him. "I want revenge on all you bastards. Now what's the reason you're here?"

"We know you have come a long way seeking her, and we are willing to let you take her if you will join with us in our vengeance."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Michael demanded.

Pete still held on to his arm. "Go easy. Hear him out," he urged. "If he'd wanted us dead, we already would be. He's up to somethin'."

Two Trees continued, happy over the plan Black Serpent had thought of when he was told it appeared the white woman was now with Luke. He was also happy that Black Serpent had welcomed him into his band for bringing the information. “We have scouts out looking for them, but they have disappeared. No one has seen them. No one can find them. We only know our enemy has her, and we have many ears listening for the drums to tell us which direction they are going when they are found, but we believe sooner or later he will take her to his people. When he does, we will follow. You will go with us with your men and your guns. We will kill them all, for they are enemies of the great Black Serpent. Then you may take your woman. We will count coup."

Michael looked at Pete. "What the hell is he talking about—count coup?"

"They get points for how many enemies they kill, as well as the way in which they do it. It's like a game."

"No game," Two Trees corrected. "High coup make high warrior. Mighty warrior." He struck his chest with a fist.

Michael lashed out at him. "Listen, I don't give a damn about your coup or your mighty warriors. All I'm interested in is getting the woman back. If you want me and my men to help you kill the ones who have her now, we'll do it, but I warn you, once it's over, don't try to stop me from taking her."

Two Trees nodded solemnly. "We want our enemies more. You have my word."

"Then let's go." Michael started toward where the horses were tied but stopped at the Indian's next words.

"Not now. At dawn you will follow the pony soldiers as you have done every morning. Let them get far ahead of you, and when the time is right, our warriors will find you and the search will begin."

Michael sneered. "And how do we know you won't lead us away so you can count us as part of your damn coup?"

But Two Trees did not answer, because he had already disappeared as quickly and quietly as he had come.

Michael stared after him in the darkness, aware that his men were watching, waiting. He turned to face them. "All right. I know I may have spoken prematurely. You haven't said you'd stick it out with me, and I don't blame any of you if you want to turn back, but I don't have any choice except to hope I can trust them."

Joe Clyder had taken out his pistol and sat gripping it tightly. More to himself than anyone else, he muttered, "We coulda taken the bastard. There was one of him and five of us. We coulda killed him "

"Sure we could," Pete agreed. "But you were thinkin' like the rest of us, Clyder, how there might have been more of them hidin' out there. It was best to sit and listen, 'cause we're still alive."

"It'd be crazy to trust them," Sterne Walters put in.

Ethan Terrell said, "Well, I know a little bit about Indians, too, and it's true that most of the time when they give their word, they'll keep it, unless you turn on 'em. And he came to us. And like Pete said, we're still alive. So maybe he's makin' a genuine offer, and they really do want us to help 'em kill their enemies."

Sterne shook his head. "I don't know. It's still risky."

"Do what you want. All of you," Michael said sharply.

They all looked at him.

"You're forgetting the one thing I care about. Jacie is alive, and I intend to do everything I can to free her, even if I have to do it alone."

"I still think it would be takin' a chance," Sterne said. "They could use us and then scalp us."

Ethan again argued, "And I say the bastards have a sense of honor."