Colt (12 page)
Authors: Georgina Gentry
He must stop thinking like that, but as he held Hannah, close, he could think of nothing else. She radiated warmth like a small kitten, and he held her even closer as the rain poured and he lay there. Finally he dropped off into a restless sleep in which he dreamed of a small ranch and him riding up to the house and Hannah, in a blue gingham dress and a white apron, running to meet him. He took her in his arms and kissed her deeply, thoroughly, running his hand down the lace of her bodice to cup her breast.
He awoke, sweating and breathing hard. His hand was cupping her breast and he did not move it for a while, liking the feel of it in his palm. Her slender thighs were pressed against him and his manhood was so hard, it was painful. All he had to do was push up the doeskin shift because she wore nothing under it and he could relieve his body of this terrible need. But he had promised her and she trusted him.
With a sigh, he pulled away from her and sat up. The rain had stopped and he wondered what time it was. Silently he slipped out the teepee opening and looked around. The camp was quiet, a few campfires still shone with glowing embers. It must be near dawn. Now would come the hard part, getting out of this camp. He was sure Spider didn't care who won the wrestling match, he wouldn't let Colt take Hannah without a fight. He stepped out into the brush to relieve himself, then quickly took in the landscape. The horses were tied to a picket line a few hundred feet away. Rascal raised his head and nickered, and Colt took a deep breath, froze in place, afraid his horse might have awakened someone. No one moved.
He sighed and crawled back into the teepee, lay down next to Hannah. She seemed to smile in her sleep and cuddled up close to his warmth. God, he could lay here all day, holding Hannah close. That would be enough for him, just to hold her. Right now, he must forget about what he'd like to do. He had to get them out alive.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he whispered against her ear and stroked the yellow hair.
Her eyes flickered open and she started, then seemed to recognize him and lay still. “What time is it?”
“Not far from dawn. If I can get Rascal saddled and gather up some food, can you get Grasshopper without wakin' up the camp?”
She nodded and sat up. “He's a good baby. He knows not to cry.”
Colt was doubtful about that. He thought of the chubby half-breed toddler. They had a much better chance of escaping the camp without trying to take the boy, but of course, it was unthinkable to leave him behind.
She looked at his blue pants with the yellow stripe. “The Comanche can see that color a long way.”
Colt nodded. “You're right. I'll put on these new buckskins I was given. That white doeskin can be seen a long way, too.”
She shrugged. “I can't help that. I can't get other clothing without taking a chance of waking everyone.”
Colt pulled on the buckskin shirt, then reached for the pants and hesitated.
“This is no time for modesty.” She frowned.
“All right then.” He stripped off the blue trousers, stood naked before her while he pulled on the buckskin pants and moccasins. “All right, let's go then.”
She crawled over to the teepee opening and then paused and looked back. “Colt, however this turns out, I want to thank you for risking your life to try to rescue us.”
He made a dismissing gesture to hide his nervousness. “Part of my job as a soldier.”
“Nobody else came,” she reminded him.
He was embarrassed and awkward. “Will you stop yammerin' and get Grasshopper? I'll meet you at the horses.”
She nodded and slipped out into the darkness and he followed, taking some of the dried meat and parched corn from inside the teepee and striding toward the picket line. As he saddled Rascal in the darkness, he knew they hadn't a prayer of getting out of this camp. He, by himself, might have a chance of escaping. All he had to do was mount up and ride out, leaving the burden of the woman and child behind.
It was tempting, but then he saw a picture in his mind of Hannah's blue eyes, so trusting, and the cruel Spider, raping her tonight, running his dirty hands over her pale body. Colt grimaced and knew he could not betray her, even though it would have helped his chances of escaping.
Time seemed to tick by in agonizing heartbeats, and then he saw her hurrying toward him, holding a sleeping child close to her body. He wished that were his son, he thought, and then was surprised at himself.
She ran to him in the darkness, the sleepy toddler moving slightly while she shushed him.
Maybe luck was with them, Colt thought with disbelief. He lifted Hannah and her little son up on Rascal's back and untied the mustang and a pinto horse from the picket line. Taking a deep breath, he led the horses away from the sleeping camp into the thicket of wild cedars near the creek. They might be lucky after all. Colt could hardly believe it himself as he led the horses away. Behind him, there was no hue and cry, no shouts of alarm, no dogs barking to wake everyone. They were several hundred yards away from the camp now and he looked up at Hannah and she smiled at him. They were going to escape after all.
And then Spider stepped out from behind a tree. The dim dawn light reflected off the big knife in his hand.
Colt slid to a halt, unbelieving. He heard Hannah clap her hand over her mouth to muffle a scream.
Spider stepped toward them, brandishing the knife. “So, my blood brother,” he hissed, “did you think I would actually let you ride out of here with my woman?”
“I won her fair and square,” Colt reminded him.
“And I'm sure you have enjoyed her all night.” Spider ground his teeth. “Did you plunge over and over into Moonlight's hot depths? Did you taste her breasts and bite those soft lips as I have done?”
“No, I am a man of honor,” Colt reminded him.
“Then you are more than a fool.” Spider spat to one side and brandished the knife. “You should have enjoyed her because she would be the last woman you ever took.”
“Spider, let us go.” Colt tried to keep his voice strong. “I am taking her away as Many Scalps promised.”
“No, you won't take her,” Spider promised, crouching, the knife gleaming in the coming light. “And I intend to geld you, white soldier, so that you will never sire sons.”
“Spider, we are blood brothersâ” Colt began.
“I know I may not kill you.” Spider grinned with yellow teeth. “But I will geld you,” he promised. “You will no longer be Young Stallion.”
Colt knew he had to do something quickly. They could not get past Spider without a fight. “If we must fight, let me put the woman in a safe place so the spooked horse won't run away.”
Spider nodded and grinned at Hannah as Colt lifted her and her sleeping child, set them up against the base of a tree, and tied Rascal and the pinto to a limb.
“You,” Spider hissed at Hannah. “Tonight, the white man will no longer be a man and I will remind you what a real man feels like.”
Hannah shuddered. “I haven't forgotten your cruelty.”
Colt tried to think. How was he going to deal with this? He stepped toward Spider, holding out his empty hands. “I have no weapons.”
Spider snorted. “You expect me to be fair? I will give no more thought to this than I would if I were gelding a horse. Before sunup, you will no longer be Young Stallionâyou will be known as White Gelding.”
He must take him by surprise if he was to have a chance at all, Colt thought and dived toward Spider. The Comanche stepped backward and dodged as Colt tackled him, stabbed Colt's arm and ripped downward.
Colt managed to muffle his own scream of agony as he felt the steel blade rip through the muscle and the blood spurted. He heard Hannah gasp and looked toward her. She had laid her sleeping child down and was watching from the sidelines, but there was nothing she could do to help.
He staggered from the pain and felt the warm blood running down his arm. He could smell the coppery scent of it as it dripped onto the dirt. If he didn't disarm Spider quickly, he would soon bleed to death before he could finish this fight.
He must not kill a blood brother, his honor told him that and he must obey, even if this Comanche wasn't willing to. He dove in, grabbed Spider's knife hand, and they struggled for the weapon. Colt used all his strength to push Spider up against a tree trunk and slam his arm against the bark. He slammed the arm hard, trying to dislodge the knife from Spider's grip. They locked and rolled across the ground, Spider now smeared with Colt's blood.
Spider's mouth was near Colt's ear and he swore, “By the four gods of the winds, I will hang your manhood over my blankets tonight as I take the yellow-haired girl and remind her she is mine and only mine to enjoy!”
“Not if I die!” Colt promised as they meshed. He threw Spider against the tree again and the warrior dropped the knife and it clattered to the ground. Before he could retrieve it, Colt charged him again and they fought, both slippery with Colt's scarlet blood.
Colt tripped and went down, and now Spider was on top of him, reaching for a large, jagged stone. “Now!” Spider seethed. “Now your brains spill on the ground!”
He was trying to fend the warrior off, but in his weakened condition, he was not going to be able to stop Spider from crushing his skull. Then past Spider's shoulder, he saw a flash of white doeskin and yellow hair as Hannah bent to pick up the knife and then she loomed over Spider's back and plunged the blade deep, again and again.
Spider made a surprised, gurgling sound and then the rock fell from his nerveless fingers. He fell and Colt scrambled out from under him. The warrior now lay jerking on the ground, the knife up to its hilt in his back, scarlet blood running everywhere.
Hannah stepped away, her mouth wide with horror. “Oh my God! I didn'tâ”
“It's okay, you saved my life.” Colt grabbed a sleeve of his shirt and tore it off. “Quick, tie my arm up before I bleed to death.”
Hannah seemed to come out of her stupor, although she was still shaking, and began tying a tourniquet around Colt's arm. “IâI couldn't let him kill you.”
I know.” Colt took her in his arms. “But the Comanche will think I broke a taboo and did it. If they catch us, they'll torture me to death and maybe bury you alive in Spider's grave.”
“My child.” She ran over and picked up the sleeping toddler.
“Here,” Colt ordered, “get mounted and let's clear out of here before the camp awakes and they find the body.”
She just stood there seemingly hypnotized as she stared down at the bloody corpse.
Colt grabbed her and the child, carried them both, and put them on Rascal. “Here, you ride on ahead of me. I'll stay back in case they start after us. If they catch me, you can still get away and follow the tracks back to the fort.”
“No, I can't let you do that,” she protested, “not after you saved meâ”
“Hannah, you do as I say,” he ordered in a no-nonsense tone. “Now get!” He slapped Rascal across the rump hard and the little mustang took off running down the trail.
He watched them disappear over the rise, and then he looked down at Spider. They had been boys together and had shared many adventures. Many Scalps had taught Colt to hunt and track, and he would feel betrayed, thinking Young Stallion had murdered his son. He wished he could explain, but the tribe would not give him a chance. They would kill him slowly for breaking the taboo and killing his blood brother. He must get away, if for no other reason than to make sure Hannah made it safely back to the fort.
He mounted the Comanche pinto mustang and took off at a gallop, listening to the sounds of the camp coming awake behind him. It wouldn't be long before they found Spider's body and then an agonizing death awaited Colt, but he didn't intend to be caught.
Chapter 8
Colt caught up with Hannah and her son and they rode hard, knowing the Comanches would soon be looking for them.
Finally Colt yelled to her, “These horses are about tuckered out. We're gonna have to give them a break.”
He dismounted and helped her down, reached to take the little boy from her arms. The child jabbered at him in Comanche and smiled with dark eyes and big dimples.
“Come on, little buddy.” He grinned and put Grasshopper on the ground.
The horses were lathered and blowing as the couple began to walk to cool them off. Grasshopper toddled along beside his mother.
Colt looked at her. “If they catch us, I'll tell them I killed Spider.”
She stared at him in horror. “They'll torture you to death for breaking the taboo.”
“But Grasshopper needs a mother, so if need be, I'll try to delay them so you can get away.”
She shuddered. “I can't go back. I'd rather die.”
He smiled down at the little boy. “I don't intend we should be caught. I know a place, a small cave along a bluff on the river, if we can get that far.”
“I'm worried about you,” she said. “You look bad.”
“I'm fine,” he lied. In truth, he had lost a lot of blood from the knife wound and feared it might become infected. He knew lockjaw was a common threat on the frontier.
Soon they mounted again and kept riding.
“I'm not usin' the usual Comanche trails,” Colt explained, “and they'll expect me to.”
At almost noon, they came to the river and Colt pointed out low brush under the edge of the bank. “There's a cave behind that and the brush is thick enough to hide the horses.”
“Won't they be tracking us?”
Colt looked up at the sky. It had turned dark with cool winds and ominous thunder. “If we're lucky, we'll get another rain that'll wash out the tracks. Indians don't like to ride in the rain. They may camp and wait for the storm to pass before they take up the chase again.”
Little Grasshopper began to whimper for food.
“Be quiet, baby,” Hannah whispered in Comanche. “I'll give you a few bites of bread.”
“There's some dried meat in my knapsack,” Colt said, “and here's my canteen.”
“You look like you could use some water and some food yourself,” she answered as she dismounted and took the canteen, then dug in his saddlebags for food.
“I'm just fine,” he lied again and licked his dry lips. He needed some food bad to give him strength, but he wanted the toddler fed worse. Grasshopper was a handsome and sturdy little boy and someday, he would grow into a fine man, a Texan.
They rode down a trail to the brush just as the rain pattered a little, making small splats in the dry dust. Colt tied up the horses under the lee of the cliff, in the brush where they wouldn't be spotted, and took the gear and blankets into the small cave.
She looked at him as he swayed unsteadily. “Colt, you stay here with Grasshopper. I'll go down to the river and fill the canteens.”
“Let me do it,” he protested, but she jerked the canteens from his hand.
“You look like you might faint, and then how would I get you back up the rise and into the cave as big as you are?”
“You're right,” he said, but he didn't like a woman having to look after him. He took Grasshopper by the hand and led him into the small cave, then held his breath, watching Hannah crouch down and move along the treacherous narrow ledges down to the water. In minutes she was back inside the cave just as the rain came down in torrents. It smelled good, he thought in a daze. Fresh rain on a dusty day always smelled so good.
She handed him a canteen. “Here, you lean back against this wall and drink some of this.”
Colt tasted it. It might be a little muddy, but it was cool and he was parched. He drank and drank.
The temperature slowly dropped and he began to shiver. Little Grasshopper watched him curiously.
“I was afraid of this,” Hannah said and reached for a blanket to wrap around Colt. Her hand went to his forehead. “You've got a fever.”
Her hand felt cool and gentle on his sweating face. Colt couldn't stop his teeth from chattering, and she took a second blanket and wrapped it around him. Outside, the rain poured and the river became a white-foamed torrent as it rose and raged through the arroyo.
“Hannah, I want to tell you how to reach the fort if I get so bad you have to leave me.”
“I'm not leaving you,” she said.
“If I get too sick, you'll have to,” he whispered. “You can't stay here long. We don't have that many supplies. Besides the longer you stay here, the better the chance the Comanches will find you.”
“You're not in command anymore, Lieutenant,” she snapped, “and I'm not leaving you; not after what you went through to get me out.”
He was too weak and tired to argue with her. “I'll just rest a minute,” he murmured, “and then we'll ride on.”
“Okay,” she said, “now just hush and sleep.”
When he opened his eyes, she had torn off a piece of his shirt, soaked it in cold water from the canteen and wiped his hot face.
“That feels so good,” he whispered, loving the gentle touch of her hand on his fevered brow.
“I'm sorry I can't light a fire,” she said, leaning over to brush his dark hair from his eyes. “Then I could get some coffee or broth going.”
He enjoyed the touch of her hand stroking back his hair. “I know. The Comanche would smell the smoke for miles. We can't chance it.”
“What are the odds we'll make it back to the fort?”
“Oh, good,” he lied. “The Comanches will probably give up huntin' us and go back to their camp.”
“After I've killed a major warrior? Not likely.”
“Then why did you ask?” He sighed.
She turned and watched the little boy playing happily with a couple of sticks at the back of the cave. “They will want Grasshopper, and I don't want him raised as a Comanche.”
“We'll get him back to the fort,” Colt promised, but he was not at all sure he could keep that vow. He slipped off to sleep in spite of himself and awoke late in the afternoon to find Hannah washing and dressing his arm wound. It looked swollen and discolored. Outside the rain had stopped.
She noticed he had awoken. “It doesn't look so bad.” Her voice was more cheerful than her face.
“Your blue eyes don't lie,” he said. “I've seen wounds like this before. That redness and discolorin' will gradually spread all over the arm and I'll get delirious and out of my head.”
“Maybe not.” She cleaned the wound and poured a little whiskey over it.
He winced and had to grit his teeth to keep from screaming in pain.
“I'm sorry, Colt. I don't want to hurt you.”
“I know. You're a brave girl, Hannah, a real Texas girl.” He looked down at his arm. “I've seen doctors in the war saw off an arm not much worse than mine.”
“I'm not sure I could do that.”
“You're a Texan. You could do anything you had to, but I'd rather be dead than lose my right arm. A soldier or a cowboy without an arm is useless.”
“Don't say that.”
He managed to turn his head and saw the toddler now asleep on a blanket at the back of the cave. “He's a good kid, a brave one; any man would be proud to have him for a son.”
She shook her head. “He's a half-breed bastard. No white man would accept him.”
“I would,” Colt said impulsively, “If only ...” He let the words drop. What the hell was he saying? He was engaged and she was married with a husband due to come for her anytime.
“I've got a little dried meat and hardtack,” she said and dug in the saddlebags.
“Save it for Grasshopper.”
“But you need to keep up your strength,” she protested.
“I can manage until we get back to the fort.” He almost added,
if we get back to the fort
, but stopped himself. “We'll wait for dark and then we'll ride out again. Hannah, I want you to promise me one thing.”
if we get back to the fort
, but stopped himself. “We'll wait for dark and then we'll ride out again. Hannah, I want you to promise me one thing.”
“Anything, Colt.” She took his hand between her two and looked deep into his eyes.
“If I get too delirious and out of my head, I want you to abandon me and ride on. The fort is about ten miles to the northeast.”
“No.” She shook her head. “After what you've done for me, I couldn't leave you out here to die.”
“You listen to me.” His voice became stern and he was once again a commanding officer. “It's important to me that you and your son get out of this alive. I didn't go to all this trouble to have you die out here on the plains because I fell out of my saddle or couldn't remember my directions. Now you promise me.”
He was clinging to her hand, his green eyes so intense with fever that she nodded. “Of course I promise. Now you just take it easy and maybe we can all get out alive.”
He relaxed and settled back against the cave wall, shivering.
About dusk, as little Grasshopper was awakening, she heard the distant thunder of hoofbeats. She took a deep breath, trembling. What were the chances it was the Cavalry looking for them?
Then she heard a shout in Comanche and knew it was a war party searching along the river. Colt's eyes opened wide, and she made a shushing sound to him, then grabbed for her child.
Grasshopper began saying, “Mama, Mama,” in Comanche, and she put her hand over his mouth and held him close, praying that the Comanche wouldn't find them.
Her heart seemed to be beating so hard, she thought everyone must surely hear it. It was almost dark, so that was in the fugitives' favor. She held her child close and prayed for the darkness to come faster. From the mouth of the cave, she saw the silhouettes of the war party on their painted ponies, spears and shields in hand, searching along the riverbank below, looking for where the fugitives might have crossed.
She understood some Comanche language, but not enough to understand what they were shouting to each other. She turned questioning eyes toward Colt.
He whispered, “They are lookin' for tracks and promisin' they will roast us both alive if they find us.”
“Oh, God,” she gulped, but she did not cry and she did not get hysterical like most women would have.
Colt found himself admiring her even more. “Listen, Hannah, if they capture us, I'm gonna tell them I killed Spider and carried you off against your will. That way, you and your child will be taken safely back to their camp.”
“I'd rather die than become a Comanche slave again. And what would they do to you?”
He shook his head, closed his eyes. “You don't want to know, but it doesn't matter. I want you and Grasshopper to be safe.” He had ridden with the tribe for ten years and although he had never participated in the torture, he knew the Comanche could keep a man alive for days, screaming in agony, hurting him enough that he prayed for death. Well, he didn't intend to be captured; he had to get this woman and her child to safety.
They watched the warriors hunting along the stream for tracks, crossing the river, looking about, then riding farther downstream, until they were lost in the blackness of the coming night.
Colt heaved a sigh of relief. “That was close. We'll wait a while until we're sure they're gone.”
Hannah trembled now; he could see her outline in the mouth of the cave. “I didn't intend they should take us alive,” she whispered. “I've got your pistol. I was going to get as many of them as I could, then save the last bullets for us.”
“You're a brave woman, Hannah,” he said with admiration. “Give Grasshopper some of that dried meat and some water, and then we'll try to get out of here.”
“I don't think you're fit to ride,” she protested.
“We've got to,” he said, struggling to get up. “They'll be back at daylight, rechecking all along the river.”
He was sicker and weaker than he had realized, he thought as he stumbled to the mouth of the cave. “You gather up our stuff and I'll saddle the horses.”
“All right.”
His fever was raging and he had to fight to keep his teeth from chattering, but he managed to get the two horses saddled. “You ready?”
She came out of the cave carrying a bundle of gear and leading Grasshopper by the hand. “I'm ready.”
He helped her on Rascal, then handed up the toddler. “Now, Grasshopper,” he said in Comanche, “you must be a brave warrior because we have a long ride ahead of us.”
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