Slater Bros: Apache Summer Part 12

"With the help of a scurvy rodent who can shoot."

"With whatever help I can get. And you do believe me about the attack, I know you do."

He shrugged.

"Maybe. I've still got my reservations, but I do intend to go into Wilts.h.i.+re with you."

"And that's all?" she asked, horrified.

He smiled.

"Just what, Miss. Stuart, do you want out of me? Spell it out. We might need to come to a few terms here."

"But, but" -- she sputtered.

"But you said you'd find out the truth!

You told Clara"--" I told Clara I'd find out the truth. I didn't tell her that I'd go to war on your behalf."

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Tess spat out the epithet.

"Calm down, Miss. Stuart! Such language from a very proper and genteel young Southern woman! I told you, say what you want, and we'll take it from there."

"What I want? Well, I ... I want you to stay! Then when he sends his guns, I'll have my guns!"

"Jon Red Feather and I against a horde of hired gunmen. Mm. I should stand tall and let this man pump me full of bullets for the benefit of having you call me a scurvy rodent?"

Tess caught her breath and tried to control her temper. She lowered her lashes and counted to ten, then kept going to twenty, then started all over again because he was laughing at her.

She moved suddenly, and he must have thought that she meant to strike him because he cast an imprisoning 97 arm around her. She stiffened in his hold.

"Lieutenant, this is completely unnecessary."

"Is it? I can't help but feel cautious around you, Miss. Stuart."

She swore softly.

He laughed.

"Go ahead! Laugh!" she said angrily.

"And just run like a cur with its tail between its legs-when we get to Wilts.h.i.+re."

"A cur? I thought I was a rodent."

"I can't find words for what you are, Lieutenant."

"Pity," he drawled. His eyes were on her, smoke and fire.

His arm was warm and strong around her. The heat of the sun bore down on them, and she felt as if it touched her and brought a liquid rush throughout her. She could not draw her eyes from his, nor could she dispel the sudden, brilliant memory of his lips upon hers.

"We could bargain, Miss. Stuart."

"Bargain?"

"Yes. If I'm going to die, I'd like it to be for a little more than a smile."

She stared at him. She felt a heat like that of the sun suffuse throughout her body, bringing a rampant beat to her heart, a flood of burning red to her cheeks and a tremor deep inside her. He could only mean one thing, she was certain. If he was going to stay, he wanted her.

She should have been outraged. She should have been able to say that he could be d.a.m.ned, that her honor was worth far more than her life.

Except that. There was something that washed over the outrage 'like the deep, rich waves of the ocean. It was the same thing that caused the pulse to beat ever more fervently in the column of her throat, the thing that held her speechless. He watched her, that wry smile twisted so tauntingly into his features. He was horrid. He was awful.

He was exciting, sensual, masculine. The scent of him beguiled her, just as his arms beckoned and just as his kiss evoked feelings inside that she would never be able to forget.

She couldn't just stare at him. She moistened her lips and swallowed quickly, vowing that she would never let him know just how deeply he did affect her. "Did you bargain with Miss. Eliza, Lieutenant?"

"Is she still on your mind?"

"Is she on yours?"

He cast back his head and laughed.

"The situation is not at all amusing, Lieutenant."

"Oh, but it is, Miss. Stuart, it's very rich. As you might have noticed, I didn't really need to bargain with Miss. Worthingham.

If that's what you were inferring. And yet, I didn't happen to mention yet what our bargain should be. Alas, I could see it in those huge, innocent, violet eyes! He wants to sully my honor, this cavalry man. For the price of a pair of spitting Colts! Her heart beats, and she wonders-my cause! This is my cause! Shouldn't I lay down my honor and my pride, and give all to this wretched rodent-all for my cause?"

"Someone should shoot you," Tess warned him. "Well, you're trying to make me into a target, aren't you?

Ah, but then maybe, just maybe, I could die with the exquisite Miss.

Stuart's kiss still damp upon my lips."

She squirmed. She did intend to slap him. "Whoa, Miss. Stuart!" He laughed, and his arm wound even tighter against her. They were sitting like newlyweds, she thought disgustedly. She was halfway atop his lap and she could barely move.

"Lieutenant, you're squas.h.i.+ng me!"

"I'm trying to save my jaw, Miss. Stuart! Now calm down. You are desperate, aren't you?" His eyes looked into hers, and a hard note crept into his voice.

"You would do anything--anything at all that I asked. How very intriguing."

"Jamie Slater" -- "Jamie!"

A sharp call from Jon caught their attention. Jamie's arm fell from around her shoulder, and he leaned forward, reining in. Jon was riding hard toward them. "What is it?" "Company," Jon said.

"Comanche?"

"Yep."

"How many?"

"Fifty at least. They're covering the hill over the next dune."

"Is it a war party?"

"They're out in feathers and paint, but I think it's a show. I'm pretty sure it's Running River."

Tess watched as Jamie climbed from the wagon. She wondered if she should be frightened, and she wondered with greater exasperation if he should be walking away from her without a thought. He disappeared behind the wagon, then reappeared on his roan.

"Let's go see Running River," he told Jon. "Wait a minute" -- Tess began.

"You wanted to drive the wagon," Jamie called.

"Pick up the reins.

Drive."

Then he turned, and he and Jon raced forward. Swearing beneath her breath, Tess picked up the reins and called to the mules. They started plodding along.

Dolly crawled into the seat, puffing.

"Comanche! Never did trust 'em."

The mules pulled the wagon over the dune. Tess felt as if her heart stopped, as if it caught in her throat.

The Comanche seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see.

Bare-chested, in buckskin pants, with various types of feathers banded around their heads, they sat as still as ghosts. Many carried spears and s.h.i.+elds, others wore quivers at their backs and held their bows proudly.

Not one moved.

They just sat on their horses, looking down at the small party that approached.

Tess wondered dismally if she was about to become the victim of a real Indian. Her heart thundered, and she dropped the reins. Jon and Jamie had pulled in before them, and they sat on their horses on the dune, watching the Comanche.

The sky seemed afire with the morning light. Earth and horizon seemed to stretch together in shades of dusty coral and crimson and gold. The quiet was eerie; not even the wind whispered in the sagebrush.

Then Jamie lifted his hand in some kind of greeting. A loud, shrieking cry sounded from atop the hill.

And then the Comanche were coming.

Tess screamed as the Indians started toward them in a blazing cloud of dust, their whoops and cries loud. No one could ride like a Comanche.

The men lay braced against their ponies' necks, they swung beneath them, they righted themselves again. They came closer and closer. Their cries sounded ever louder.

Ever more deadly.

"My G.o.d, we're going to be butchered!" Tess breathed. "No, no, I don't think so," Dolly told her calmly.

Astonished, Tess stared at the woman.

"Well, it's Running River. He and Jamie are blood brothers."

"Blood brothers," Tess repeated.

"Yes. The Comanche are warlike, of course. But not this tribe.

Running River has been peaceful since Jamie came out here. He always deals with the lieutenant, and though there have been Comanche attacks, they've never been perpetrated by Gray Lake Comanche."

Tess was still unconvinced. There had never been a Comanche attack on Wilts.h.i.+re--in fact some Comanche even came to town for work now and then--but she had heard about the things that could happen, and watching the extraordinary hors.e.m.e.n bear down upon them did nothing to ease her spirit.

"My G.o.d ..." she breathed, sitting very still. The riders were circling the wagon, shaking their spears and bows in the air. Now that they were closer, she could see that their faces and chests were painted in brilliant colors.

She didn't move, although she didn't know if it was courage or pure terror that kept her still. She e0uld see Jon and Jamie, still mounted, as they watched the thundering horses and their riders. Neither reached for a weapon.

It would be suicide, she thought. They were drastically outnumbered.

The Indians raced by them. The whoops and the cries were suddenly stilled, and there was silence. Only the dust remained to settle.

The Comanche were motionless again, surrounding the wagon and Jamie and Jon.

As Tess watched, Jamie lifted his hand again. One of the Indians, his ink-black hair falling down the length of his naked back, wearing a band with a single dark feather, urged his mount closer. He walked his horse straight over to Jamie. Then he reached out his hand, and Jamie clasped it.

The Indian began to speak. Tess didn't recognize a word, but Jamie and Jon paid rapt attention.

Then Jamie responded in the Indian's own tongue, easily, effortlessly.

Jon spoke, too, then the Comanche again.

"See," Dolly whispered.

"It was a show. It was a performance. There never was any danger."

Tess exhaled silently. One question had been answered for her. She'd seen something like this before, but there had been differences. She'd seen the riders--but with saddled horses, in wigs and feathers and paint. They hadn't ridden like these Comanche. And they hadn't let out the terrible eries.

They had been absolutely mute, carrying out their silent executions.

But she had a right to be afraid of this show. "What's going on?" she asked Dolly.

"How should I know, dear? I don't speak that heathen gibberishl" Tess stiffened, realizing that Jamie was gesturing to her. The Indian he was talking to urged his pony toward her, followed closely by Jamie. Reining to a halt in front of her, the Comanche stared at her. He started to speak.

Tess swallowed.

He was lean, wiry, menacing in his paint, and yet when he spoke he smiled, and his teeth were good and strong, and the smile gave some strange appeal to his face. Tess smiled in return.

"What did he say?" she asked Jamie, between bet teeth.