leaped up to rest his paws on his thigh. In the way dogs have, he grinned and his tongue lolled. “Going to a dance or something?”
“No, I ain’t going any where.” Lucius cast a vicious look toward the house. “She threatened me. Yes, sir, there’s no two ways about it, it was a threat. Said less’n I took myself a bath and let her wash my clothes she’d pour out every last drop of whiskey in the bottle she brought.”
With a grin of his own, Jake leaned against the rail and rolled a cigarette. “Maybe she’s not as stupid as she looks.”
“She looks okay,” Lucius muttered. “Got a streak of stubborn in her, though.” He wiped a soapy hand on the thigh of his long underwear. “What are you doing out here?” “Came out to talk to you.”
“Like hell. I got eyes. She ain’t in there,” he said when Jake continued to stare at the house.
“I said I came to talk to you.” Annoyed, Jake flicked a match and lit his cigarette. “Have you done any checking in the mine?”
“I’ve taken a look. She don’t give a body much free time.” He picked up a rock and tossed it so that the puppy would have something to chase. “Always wanting something built or fixed up. Cooks right good, though.” He patted his belly. “Can’t complain about that.”
“See anything?”
“I saw where Matt was working some, right enough. And the cave-in.” He spit again. “Can’t say I felt real good about digging my way past it. Now, maybe if you told me what it was I was supposed to be looking for.”
“You’ll know if you find it.” He looked back at the house. She’d put curtains on the windows. “Does she ever go up there?”
“Goes up, not in. Sits by his grave sometimes. Breaks your heart.”
“Sounds like you’re going soft on her, old man.”
He reached down to give Lafitte a scratch on the head. “Wouldn’t talk if I was you.” He only laughed when Jake looked at him. There weren’t many men who would have dared. “Don’t go icing up on me, boy. I’ve known you too long. Might interest you to know that Samuel Carlson paid a call.”
Jake blew out smoke with a shrug. “I know.” He waited, took another drag, then swore under his breath. “Did he stay long?”
“Long enough to make up to her. Kissing her hands, he was. Both of them.”
“Is that so?” The fury burned low in his gut and spread rapidly. Eyes narrowed, he flicked the cigarette away, half finished, and watched it smolder. “Where is she?”
“Down to the stream, I imagine.”
Lucius smothered a laugh and bent down to pick up Lafitte before the puppy could scramble after Jake. “I wouldn’t, if I was you, young fella. There’s going to be fireworks fit for Independence Day.”
Jake wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he didn’t think Sarah was going to like it. He hoped she didn’t. She needed a short rein, he decided. And he was going to see to it himself. Letting Carlson paw all over her. Just the thought of it made small, jagged claws of jealousy slice through him.
When he heard her scream, both guns were out of their holsters and in his hands in a heartbeat. He took the last quarter of a mile at a run, her screams and the sound of running horses echoing in his head.
When he reached the stream he saw the dust the ponies had kicked up. Even at a distance he recognized Little Bear’s profile. There was a different kind of fire in him now. It burned ice-cold as he bolstered his weapons. Lafitte came tearing down the path, snarling. “You’re too late again,” Jake told the dog as he sniffed the ground and whined. He turned as Lucius came running in nothing more than his gunbelt and long Johns.
“What happened?” Jake said nothing. Hunkering down, Lucius studied the marks left by the struggle. ‘”Paches.” He saw his shirt, freshly washed and drying in the sun. “Damn it all to hell.” Still swearing, he raced down the path toward Jake. “Let me get on my spare shirt and my boots. They don’t have much of a lead.”
“I’m going alone.”
“There was four of them, maybe more.”
“Five.” Jake strode back into the clearing. “I ride alone.”
“Listen, boy, even if it was Little Bear, that don’t give you no guarantees. You weren’t no more than kids last time, and you chose different ways.”
“It was Little Bear, and I’m not looking for guarantees.”
He swung into the saddle. “I’m going to get her back.”
Lucius put a hand on the saddle horn. “See that you do.”
“If I’m not back tomorrow sundown, go get Barker. I’ll leave a trail even he can follow.” He kicked his horse into a gallop and headed north.
She hadn’t fainted, but she wasn’t so sure that was a blessing. She’d been tossed roughly onto the back of a horse, and she was forced to grip its mane to keep from tumbling off. The Indian with the scar rode behind her, calling out to his companions occasionally and gesturing with a new government-issue Winchester. He’d dragged her by her hair to get her astride the horse, and he still seemed fascinated by it. When she felt him push his nose into it, she closed her eyes, shuddered and prayed.
They rode fast, their ponies apparently tireless and obviously surefooted, as they left the flats for the rocks and the hills. The sun was merciless here. She felt it beating down on her head as she struggled not to weep. She didn’t want to die weeping. They would undoubtedly kill her. But what frightened her more than whatever death was in store for her was what they would do to her first.
She’d heard stories, horrible, barbaric stories, about what was done to captive white women. Once she’d thought them all foolishness, like the stories of bogeymen conjured up to frighten small children. Now she feared that the stories were pale reflections of reality. They climbed higher, to where the air cooled and the mountains burst to life with pine and fast-running streams. When the horses slowed, she slumped forward, her thighs screaming from the effort of the ride. They talked among themselves in words that meant nothing to her. Time had lost all meaning, as well. It had been hours. She was only sure of that because the sun was low and just beginning to turn the western sky red. Blood red.
They stopped, and for one wild moment she thought about kicking the horse and trying to ride free. Then she was being dragged to the ground. With the breath knocked from her, she tried to get her bearings. Three of the men were filling water skins at the stream. One seemed hardly more than a boy, but she doubted age mattered. They watered their mounts and paid no attention to her.
Pushing herself up on her elbows, she saw the scar-faced Indian arguing with one she now took to be the leader. He had a starkly beautiful face, lean and chiseled and cold. There was an eagle feather in his hair, and around his neck was a string of what looked like small bleached bones. He studied her dispassionately, then signaled to the other man.
She began to pray again, silently, desperately, as the scarfaced brave advanced on her. He dragged her to her feet and began to toy with her hair. The leader barked out an order that the brave just snarled at. He reached for her throat. Sarah held her breath as he ripped the cameo from her shirtwaist. Apparently satisfied for the moment, he pushed her toward the stream and let her drink.
She did, greedily. Perhaps death wasn’t as close as she’d feared. Perhaps somehow, somehow, she could evade it. She wouldn’t despair, she told herself as she soothed her burning skin with the icy water. Someone would come after her. Someone.
Jake.
She nearly cried out his name when she was dragged to her feet again. Her captor had fastened her brooch to his buckskin vest. Like a trophy, she thought. Her mother’s cameo wouldn’t be a trophy for a savage. Furious, she reached for it, and was slapped to the ground. She felt the shirtwaist rip away from her shoulder as she was pulled up by it. Instinctively she began to fight, using teeth and nails. She heard a cry of pain, then rolling masculine laughter. As she kicked and squirmed, her hands were bound together with a leather strap. She was sobbing now, but with rage. Tossed astride the pony again, she felt her ankles bound tight under its belly.
There was the taste of blood in her mouth, and tears in her eyes. They continued to climb.
She dozed somehow. When the pain in her arms and legs grew unbearable, it seemed the best escape. The height was dizzying. They rode along the edge of a narrow canyon that seemed to drop forever. Into hell, she thought as her eyes drooped again. Straight into hell.
Wherever they were taking her, it was a different world, one of forests and rivers and sheer cliffs. It didn’t matter. She would die or she would escape. There was nothing else.
