Savage Arrow (22 page)

That could be the reason behind the Sioux curse that caused him such horrible nightmares!

She looked quickly away, for she did not want to have the same temptation that Reginald had had. She wanted nothing to do with the silver, although she knew that it could possibly pay her and Lee-Lee’s passage back to China.

But it could also give them a lifetime of miserable nightmares.

Nay. She would not look at the silver ever again. Let it stay with the spirits!

“Lone Wing is sweet and kind, and he told me that his uncle was a very compassionate man,” Lee-Lee said.

“Then you see, Lee-Lee, that when we go and ask for help, it will be given to us,” Jade said.

“Especially if Lone Wing is there when we arrive,” Lee-Lee said, suddenly getting stars in her eyes. “He is a handsome brave.”

“
Tcha!
He is younger than you, Lee-Lee, so do not dream of things that can never be,” Jade said tightly.

“He is not that much younger,” Lee-Lee quickly corrected. “And does age truly matter that much when you fall in love?”

“Love?” Jade said, her voice filled with shock. “Remember your age. You are older than that young man. It was not written in the stars for you to be with him in the way you are imagining.”

Lee-Lee smiled softly, lowered her eyes humbly, then ate the last of her bread and cheese. She knew, down deep in her heart, that there was something good
between her and Lone Wing. If they should marry when they both got somewhat older, she knew the stars would smile down on their union. They had a special bond already. Nothing would tear it asunder.

“Mother, I miss Tak Ming so much,” Lee-Lee then said, tears in her eyes. “My big brother would have favored Lone Wing as my future husband. There is much about Lone Wing that reminds me of Tak Ming.”

“Tak Ming is gone from us forever. It only hurts to talk of him, Lee-Lee,” Jade said, swallowing hard.

She was transported back in time, to the ship that she and her children had been forced to board. The long journey from China to America had been hard. Tak Ming had not survived the grueling work the Americans had forced him to do.

But she and Lee-Lee had survived . . . and they would continue to survive, for she would not allow anything to stand in the way of their freedom or happiness.

“I hope these days in the cave pass quickly by,” Lee-Lee said, stretching out on a blanket close to the fire. “I am so weary, Mother, of this life we have been forced to live. And now? The cave? It is horrible.”

“It is by fate that I found this cave; by hiding here we will survive,” Jade said. She reached out and stroked her daughter’s face. “This is our destiny, Lee-Lee. Be happy that we are here, not sad.”

“
Ai
, I shall try,” Lee-Lee said, then closed her eyes and fell into a restful sleep, the first since she had arrived in America.

Jade watched her daughter sleep and prayed that she could make things better for her. It did seem that it all
depended on one man, and that man was Chief Thunder Horse.

His studies completed for the day, Lone Wing made his way swiftly toward Tombstone.

As always, he was on foot, having left his pony some distance away. He felt he would be less noticeable if he were traveling by foot as he came into the horrible town. He always ran fast until he came to the cribs, then darted quickly into the alley where he had first met Lee-Lee at the door of her assigned crib.

It was the hour of the day when he knew she would not be on display in the front window.

It was the time when she rested or prepared herself for the dreadful nighttime hours when she was forced to spend time with the filthy men who came filled with spirit water, their grubby hands and mouths ready to touch his Lee-Lee’s beautiful, frail body.

He so badly wanted to find a way to help her escape. And he had to do it before he and his people started on the long journey to the reservation.

He could not even think of how it would be to leave Lee-Lee behind. No. He could not leave her behind. He had to convince his uncle to help effect her escape.

But there were two things foremost on his uncle’s mind now: his ailing father, and the woman.

He was now so close to the door of Lee-Lee’s assigned crib, he could almost see her standing there, smiling a sweet welcome to him. Lone Wing broke into a faster run and stopped at the door of the crib.

He looked cautiously from side to side. There was
no sign of the man who guarded the crib, so he knew it was safe to knock on the door.

He would ask her if he could come inside this time, for while he’d been standing in the alley talking to her, there had been a chance they both would be caught. He did not want to think what might happen to them if they were caught together. He knew that the white men who frequented the cribs would get much pleasure in humiliating him, would possibly even go so far as to kill him.

He knocked on the door and clasped his hands behind his back as he waited. When the door swung open, he took a quick step backward, for it wasn’t Lee-Lee standing there.

It was another woman.

He could tell that she was much older. She had a hardness about her that made him cringe.

And when she reached a hand out for him, smiling, he knew that she wanted him to go inside the crib for all the wrong reasons.

“My, oh, my, don’t they come young in this town?” Marla Bates said, raking her violet eyes slowly over Lone Wing. “And Indian. I think it would be interesting to have an Indian boy in bed with me.” She beckoned with a hand. “Come on. Don’t be bashful. You knocked on my door. Surely you have coins to pay for my time with you.”

“No, I do not,” Lone Wing said, blushing. He looked quickly past her. “Where . . . is . . . Lee-Lee?”

Marla shrugged. “No one knows,” she said. “She just up and disappeared. But aren’t I pretty enough for you? Much older, yet I’m good—”

Lone Wing didn’t stay to hear anything else. He swung around and ran from the alley, not stopping until he reached his pony.

Panting, he slumped to the ground, his head hanging.

“Where is she?” he whispered, near tears.

He could only conclude that Reginald Vineyard had done something horrible to her.

What if he’d found out about her being visited by a young Indian brave? Would he have killed her for that reason alone?

Could something else have happened to her? The lady had said she’d disappeared.

A sick feeling swept through him as he mounted his pony. He sank his heels into its flanks, riding hard until he finally reached his village.

He could not get to his uncle’s lodge quickly enough, even though he knew he would be scolded for going into Tombstone again to see the lovely woman.

“Thunder Horse!” he cried outside Thunder Horse’s tepee. “Chieftain uncle?”

Thunder Horse opened his entrance flap and gazed down at his nephew. “What is it?” he asked, holding the flap aside so that Lone Wing could enter.

Lone Wing stepped past him. He stopped and looked from Jessie to Thunder Horse as she came to stand beside his uncle.

Then Lone Wing gazed intently into his uncle’s eyes.

“She is gone,” he said, his voice breaking.

“Who is gone?” Thunder Horse asked.

Lone Wing lowered his eyes as he drew up the courage to tell his uncle he had ignored Thunder Horse’s warning.

“Lee-Lee,” he blurted out. “I went to see her again. She is gone. The woman who is now in her crib said that Lee-Lee had disappeared.”

Panic entered Jessie’s heart, for she could only imagine the worst—that Reginald had done something to Jade’s daughter.

And then . . . what . . . of Jade?

“Thunder Horse, I’m afraid for not only Lee-Lee, but also—” Jessie said, but stopped when Sweet Willow ran into the tepee.

“You must come quickly,” she said, gazing into Thunder Horse’s eyes through streaming tears. “Our father. He . . . is . . . dying.”

Thunder Horse gasped, then brushed past Sweet Willow and Lone Wing and left the tepee.

“How long . . . ?” Jessie murmured, already feeling Thunder Horse’s pain inside her own heart. She knew the anguish of losing someone you loved. She had lost everyone she loved, her whole family. Reginald was her only living relative, and he was no longer anything to her.

She would never claim him again as her cousin!

“Soon,” Sweet Willow said, taking Lone Wing into her arms and hugging him as he began sobbing.

They forgot everything and everyone but their imminent loss. Even sweet and beautiful Lee-Lee. . . .

Enraged that the Sioux seemed to have the upper hand, and that Jessie had hidden from him in their village, Reginald had made a rash decision. He needed help, and he knew just the man to provide it: an outlaw friend of his.

Reginald was approaching his hideout even now in his horse and buggy. He was driving through winding trees, where there was just barely enough room for the conveyance to pass.

He had seen a lookout, watching for intruders, and was glad that the man had recognized him and let him pass. If he was a stranger, he knew that he wouldn’t still be alive.

Bulldog Jones couldn’t afford to get careless.

He had lived many a year without being caught. He wasn’t about to let it happen now.

Sweat poured from Reginald’s brow, his fingers trembled with fear, even though Bulldog Jones knew
him. They had become friends several years ago when they had been traveling the same road and Bulldog Jones had seen a snake coiled up in the path of Reginald’s horse, ready to strike. He had thrown a knife at the snake, cutting its head off in an instant.

Reginald had been speechless when he saw what had happened. Bulldog Jones had come up to Reginald, holding his hand out for a handshake, and that had been the beginning of a strange sort of friendship that even today puzzled Reginald.

In time, Bulldog Jones had learned how rich Reginald was, but he had never attempted to steal from him. Bulldog Jones could brag of having his own riches. In fact, these days he rarely attacked innocent people who happened along in their wagons on the trail.

Reginald went for visits at Bulldog Jones’s established hideout, where the outlaw still kept many men to protect him and his riches.

Reginald wasn’t sure whether Bulldog Jones would agree to help him; since the outlaw hardly ever ventured forth from his hideout nowadays. Reginald hoped that the man would be restless and itching to do something exciting, like kill a few savages.

He smiled as he slapped his reins and rode onward, now able to see smoke spiraling lazily from the outlaw’s stone chimney. He also saw many horses in a corral at the back of the log cabin.

Although rich, the outlaw lived simply. He had once said to Reginald that all he needed was a roof over his head, a warm fire to sit by in his rocking chair, and an
occasional pretty lady whom his men brought to him for one or two nights’ stay.

Of course, they were blindfolded so they couldn’t lead the authorities back to the hideout. The ladies of the night had also been threatened with their lives if they told anyone that they had been with the famous outlaw.

Yes, Reginald was fortunate to have been rescued that day by this man, not only because Bulldog Jones had probably saved his life, but also because of who he was. He was the very outlaw who killed Jessie’s father, who had been his associate before Jessie’s father hung up his guns and became a family man.

Reginald had recently learned that Bulldog Jones was the very same outlaw who had recently robbed the stagecoach Jessie had been on, not knowing that she was the daughter of Two Guns Pete. He had heard the story in town from some of the outlaw’s men.

“Well, now, won’t Bulldog Jones be pleased to know just where the daughter of his most hated enemy is hiding?” Reginald snickered to himself.

Yes, Reginald knew just what to say to the outlaw to bring him out of retirement and to send him after the daughter of his longtime enemy Two Guns Pete!

Reginald rode up to the house and drew rein as several men appeared out of nowhere, their rifles poised and ready to fire if Reginald made a wrong move.

Reginald swallowed hard as he looked slowly from man to man, praying that Bulldog Jones would step from the cabin soon. Otherwise, he was afraid these men might shoot him down in cold blood. He was so scared, he thought he might wet his pants.

“Guns down, gents,” a gravelly voice said, drawing Reginald’s eyes quickly to the tall, lanky outlaw, whose coppery red hair hung down to his shoulders. “Don’t you recognize Preach, our friend?”

Bulldog Jones came down the steps and took the horse’s reins, wrapping them around a hitching rail. “Come on inside, Preach,” he said, nodding toward the door. “Have a cup of java with your old buddy.”

Relieved, and wheezing, Reginald stepped from the buggy.

His shoulders slightly hunched, he shuffled along, watching the men over his shoulder sheepishly, until he came to the steps and hurried up them.

“You look like you’ve been cornered by a polecat, Preach,” Bulldog Jones said, opening the door for Reginald.

“I feel like I have,” Reginald said, reaching a hand to his brow and swiping beads of sweat from it as he stepped past Bulldog Jones into the cabin.

“They meant you no harm,” Bulldog Jones said, motioning with a hand toward two rockers that sat before a roaring fire in the huge stone fireplace at the far end of the room. “Come and sit with me. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Reginald nodded and sat down while Bulldog Jones poured two cups of coffee and brought one to Reginald.

“Want some spirits in yours?” Bulldog Jones said, nodding toward a bottle of whiskey on the table between the rocking chairs. “Do you think that’d calm you down a mite?”

“I’m fine,” Reginald said. Yet his hand was trembling so much, it splashed coffee over the side of the cup and onto his brand new breeches. He knew it would leave a stain, but Jade would be able to get it out. She was good at such things.

Bulldog Jones settled himself into the cushion of the chair next to Reginald and began slowly rocking. “Tell me what brings you here today, Preach,” he said, eyeing Reginald with dark brown eyes. “It’s an uncommon thing . . . you coming here like this.”