A Journey of the Heart Collection (22 page)

His heart pounding, Rand spotted Jacob and Isaac saddling horses beside the post headquarters. He kicked his mount into a canter and pulled up beside them. “What's going on?”

Jacob's voice was grim. “Indians got Sarah.”

The clipped words hit Rand like a blow. He felt light-headed with shock. “When?” He'd been worried about Ben and Jessica's plan, and he should have been praying for safety from the Sioux.

“This morning. We're just back for fresh horses and supplies. You coming?”

“Let me get a fresh mount.” Outwardly he was calm, but inwardly a cauldron of emotion was churning. Anger, guilt, love. He realized in a blinding instant what a fool he'd been. He'd never be able to ignore his
feelings for her. He and Sarah had something precious, and he had treated it as something of inconsequence. And now it might be too late. He shuddered at the thought of what Sarah had perhaps already endured. He followed Isaac and Jacob out of the fort as they caught up with Rooster on his way to pick up the trail.

Just before dusk they found a spot where a large group of horses had trampled the ground. Rand knelt in the dust. “Some of these prints belong to white men. Look here, Isaac. Shod hoof prints and boot heels.”

Isaac knelt beside him and touched the prints. “Looks like two, maybe three, men.”

Rooster came up behind them. “Sure am glad to see you, boy. You look bad, though. Yer skin's blistered and peeling. What happened to you? How'd you git away from them Injuns?”

“I'll tell you later.” Finding Sarah was more important.

Rooster nodded and knelt beside them. “What'd ya find, boys?”

Rand gestured to the boot prints. “What do you make of this, Rooster? What would white men be doing with a pack of Sioux?”

Rooster studied the ground for a moment. “Don't
look too good, young fellers. Don't look too good at all.” He stood and scratched his red hair. “Injuns and white men. Renegades, most likely.” His brown eyes were compassionate as he turned to Rand. “Looks like maybe they got Sarah.”

Rand shuddered. He felt as though his whole body had suddenly turned to ice. Renegade white men were the worst scum to walk the earth. They lived with the Sioux and used them for their own purposes.

Jacob clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. “Don't give up hope yet, Rand. We'll find her. White men move slower than Indians. We have a better chance of catching them now.”

Rand nodded, but he knew Sarah was lost to him. He felt almost crazy with worry and grief as Rooster found the trail, and the detachment followed it up into the Laramie Mountains. The landscape grew more barren as loose rock over a bed of sand made travel more and more treacherous. As they rode, Rand told Rooster and Jacob about his ordeal and what Ben had said.

Jacob ducked under a low-hanging tree. “What if this is part of Ben's plan? Maybe he hired renegades to grab her.”

Rand shook his head. “Even Ben wouldn't stoop to working with men like that.”

By the time it was too dark to follow the trail any longer, they were near the peak of the mountain. The night air was already cold, and a crisp tang to the air mingled with the scent of sage and the smoke from the fire as Rand unloaded his supplies and prepared to bed down near Jacob and Isaac.

Rooster took his rifle out of its scabbard on his saddle. “I'll take the first watch.” He walked over to a large boulder.

Rand lay on the hard ground and stared up at the sky, vaguely aware of the crackling fire to his right as he gazed at the bright panorama of stars. The fire pushed back the blackness of the night, but nothing could push away the blackness in his soul.

The plaintive howl of a pack of coyotes somewhere in the valley below him somehow added to his anguish. He prayed fervently for Sarah's safety, but he was so consumed with worry, he couldn't keep his thoughts together. The fire died to embers before he finally slept.

FIVE

W
hen Sarah awoke she found herself on a pallet on a hard, dirt-packed floor. She sat up slowly and looked around the tiny one-room cabin. A rank odor rose from the grimy blanket over her, and she pushed it off with a shudder of disgust as she rose to get a better view of her surroundings.

Her head throbbed and the room spun as she took a step toward the small, oilskin-covered windows. She paused until her head cleared, then moved gingerly toward the door. She raised the latch and tugged at
the door, but it refused to budge no matter how hard she pulled. She leaned her throbbing head against it and tried to think.

Those savages would be back any minute. What was she going to do? She could still see the painted face of the Indian who grabbed her. But why wasn't she at an Indian camp? And whose old cabin was this anyway?

But there were no answers to her questions, so she pushed away the fears and looked around for another avenue of escape. Her body ached in a hundred places from her contact with the thornbush, and she limped as she picked through the debris on the dirt floor.

She found a small stool among the litter of papers, old tin cans, and rags and dragged it under the window. Standing on the stool, she pulled the torn oilcloth away from the window and tried to pull herself through.

But the tiny opening was much too small for even Sarah's slim shoulders, and the stool collapsed under her weight, one leg rolling useless across the floor, as she fell to the ground. She was hungry and thirsty and scared. Judging by the light, it was close to noon, so she must have been unconscious nearly twenty-four hours. No wonder her mouth was like cotton.

She sat there until the sun no longer shone through
the east window, feeling more and more abandoned. What if she was left here to die with no food or water? Panic overwhelmed her, and she ran to the door and pounded on it. She backed away when she heard horses approaching. The click of a lock being pulled back on the door.

Trembling, she faced the door, so frightened she felt faint. If only she could see who was on the other side. Had the savages come back, or was she about to be rescued? She didn't dare hope.

The sudden flood of sunlight into the dark cabin blinded her momentarily, then she blinked in surprise as she recognized the two figures framed in the doorway.

“Be-Ben?” she croaked through her parched throat. “Thank the Lord you're here.”

Although she would rather anyone else rescue her, Ben was a welcome surprise from the savages she'd expected. She had opened her mouth to thank him when she noticed how unsurprised he seemed to see her.

“Been awake long? I wanted to give you time to appreciate my appearance.”

“You knew . . . I was here?” Her chest thumped hard, and she took a step back.

“Of course.” He kicked some refuse away from
the door. “Shut the door, Labe.” He reached out and touched a lock of her hair, and she flinched away. His lips tightened as he dropped his hand. “The Indians were eager for the guns I offered for the ‘soldier girl with hair like the sun.' But I must give credit where credit's due. Jessica came up with the idea.”

Sarah felt the blood drain from her face. Ben and Jessica had arranged for her kidnapping? But why? Her lips quivered as she forced back tears of weakness. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

“Aren't you interested in why you're here?” The cruel light in Ben's eyes grew as she took a step back. “Remember that marriage we were supposed to have? You should have been my wife by now, and I aim to put that to rights.” He pulled her to him and wrapped a hand in her hair.

Pain encased her head as he tightened his grip on her. “Let go of me.” She couldn't hold back a moan when he pulled even harder.

“Too bad about your beloved Rand,” he sneered. “You have no one to blame for his death but yourself.”

A shudder shook Sarah's frame, and she closed her eyes. “Wha–what do you mean?”

“I'm sure he's dead by now.” He smirked. “Being staked out in the sun without food or water isn't a pleasant way to die, but he deserved every bit of torment.”

Rand dead? She
wouldn't
believe it. “You're lying,” she whispered. After all, she'd believed Ben before—and look what had happened.

“Think so? Tell her, Labe.”

His brother looked away and shuffled his feet. She stared into Ben's face. How had she ever considered marrying him? The silence grew heavy as Ben stared back at her with an unsettling conviction in his eyes. He'd fooled her before, though. Labe's nervous shuffle broke the silence.

Sarah turned her eyes toward him. “Please. Please, Labe. Help me.”

Labe's eyes darted from his brother's set face to Sarah's. “Come on, Ben. Let's take her back. She won't say nothin', will you, Sarah?”

“No. No, of course not.” She wet her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. “Just take me back to the fort, and I'll say you rescued me from the Indians. You'll be heroes.”

Ben's lip curled. “You must take me for a fool!” He let go of Sarah's hair and shoved her off her feet, then
spun toward Labe. “Get out!” He pushed his brother out of the door, then shut and locked it.

While Ben's back was turned, her hand groped along the dirty floor. Her seeking fingers closed around the broken stool leg. Ben turned back toward her and leaned down with a smile. She twisted around and with one last desperate effort, she smashed the stool leg against his head. He slumped against her without a sound.

She scrambled to her feet, rushed to the door, and pulled it open. She blinked as she surveyed her surroundings. The tiny cabin was in a small clearing enclosed by heavy forest. A meadow filled with wildflowers was in front of the door, and a narrow, barely discernible path ran through the middle of the meadow. She caught a glimpse of Labe's head over near a stand of aspen with his back to the cabin.

Watching to make sure Labe didn't see her, she stumbled along the path, casting furtive glances behind her to make sure neither Labe nor Ben was following her. The path narrowed further, then disappeared at the bank of a small stream. Sarah sank to her knees and drank.

Birds twittered from the budding branches above
her head, but that was the only sound as she followed the stream into the forest. The stream soon joined a larger river, and Sarah rushed along the bank. How long would it be before Ben regained consciousness? He would pursue her. She had to get as far away as she could.

Labe had fallen asleep leaning against an aspen tree, but he woke with a jump when Ben staggered out of the cabin.

“Where is she?” Ben looked around wildly.

“Who?” Labe peered past Ben into the dark cabin as if trying to see Sarah.

“Who do you think?” Ben held his aching head and tried to think. “Why didn't you stop her?”

“Honest, Ben, I didn't see nothin'.” He backed away from his brother and stared slack jawed as Ben stumbled toward the horses. “Where you going? I thought we was going to hole up here for a few days.”

“Plans have changed.” Ben tightened the cinch on his mare's belly. “Thanks to you, I've got to track Miss Sarah down.”

“Can't we just leave her be?”

Ben wiped away a bit of blood from his face. “She's not getting off after what she did to me.” He swung into the saddle and waited impatiently while Labe followed suit. Ben's face burned. No one got in Ben Croftner's way without paying for it.