Texas Wildcat (11 page)

The athey wagon, a miniature bulldozer without a cab, was unmanned and it took the brunt of heat from the blowout. Worriedly, Kelly watched as Sam urged the operator of the bulldozer closer and closer to the fire. The roar of the holocaust forced everyone to wear earplugs. She was amazed at the multitude of hand signals the team members flashed back and forth to one another to coordinate the gigantic effort.

The effects of jet lag and the stress of the day were taking their toll on Kelly. Finally, after watching the operation for more than an hour, she turned in. The shacks had little more in the way of bedding than cotton mats on which to sleep. She had been assigned a small room in the rear where the air conditioner was positioned. Sam would take no argument from her, telling her she needed the coolest room because she was not used to the extreme temperature. Reluctantly, Kelly agreed. The low-watt bulb in the bathroom provided enough light for her to wash. The water was tepid as she scrubbed herself clean.

Feeling almost human, she slipped into a light cotton nightgown of pale pink and padded softly to her room. Kelly stared at the door. Should she leave it ajar so that the coolness of the air conditioning would continue to spread throughout the entire area? Sam had told her in no uncertain terms to lock the door. Still, she felt guilty. She didn’t want to rob the men of what little coolness was available. Images of their sweaty, strained faces danced before her tired eyes. To hell with it, she decided wearily, I’m leaving it open.

Curling up on the thick mat, Kelly quickly fell into a deep slumber. Outside the small window the yellow and orange glow created an eerie light. But even the light and the freight-train roar of the blowout didn’t prevent Kelly from falling asleep.

Seven

S
hadowy figures crept like ghosts through the quiet shack. Needle in hand, one of them stole into the last bedroom. Deftly, he slid the hypo into the sleeping woman’s thigh. A brief moan came from her as she roused incoherently from sleep, her hand moving instinctively to her leg. He crouched down on his haunches, waiting…watching. A smile edged his lips. It was too late for her to help herself. Within thirty seconds the white-skinned woman with the fiery red hair would slide into a heavily drugged state. Satisfied, he stood, turned and motioned to his accomplices to join him. Within moments they had wrapped her unconscious body in a dark wool burnoose and slid a large burlap bag over her head and shoulders. At a quick nod from the leader, one of the men hoisted her easily upon his thickly muscled shoulder, and they hurried out of the shack.

* * *

Sam wearily entered the porta-camp, throwing his dirty hard hat on the table. Boots, Coots and Colly followed closely behind. It was almost three a.m. and exhaustion showed on every man’s face. Sam glanced down the hall toward the sleeping quarters. He frowned. Why the hell was Kelly’s door open? Cursing under his breath, he walked toward it. Damn her. He had told her to lock it. Moving quietly, he gripped the doorknob and pushed it back just enough to check on her. His eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness. Scowling, he stared down at the empty pallet in the corner.

“Kelly?” he called, stepping inside. His heart began a slow pound as he approached the sleeping mat. Kneeling down, he touched it, his throat constricting. It was cool to his hand. Glancing around, he stood up. Maybe she was in another room…. Quickly, he checked the other two.

“Boots, Coots,” Sam called, returning to the dining room area.

Boots wearily raised his blond head. “Yeah?”

Sam’s eyes were dark with fear. “Kelly. She isn’t here.”

Coots looked up scowling. “What are you talking about?”

Fear ate at Sam. “Maybe she’s in the other shack. I’m going over to check.”

He came back after five minutes, his face hardened. “She’s gone,” Sam said.

Boots looked at his partner. “This smells,” he growled, rising.

“It’s the sheik,” Sam hissed.

“What are you talking about?” Boots demanded, his face betraying his agitation.

“Kelly had a run-in with Sheik Hassad earlier today. He wanted to punish her for showing him disrespect. I told him to keep his hands off her, that Kelly was my woman.” Sam angrily ran his fingers through his damp hair. “Damn it, anyway!”

Coots’s mouth turned into a grim line. “We’d better move fast on this one. White slavery is damned profitable over here.” He cast a look over at Sam. “I wonder if Hassad wants Kelly for himself or if he’s gonna sell her outright.”

Tyler released a string of oaths. “Where’s his camp? I’ll take a truck out there right now.”

Boots gripped Sam’s arm. “He’s stupider than I thought. He was told earlier she was Coots’s daughter. Is he out of his mind?”

Sam jerked one of the metal suitcases from beneath the bench, quickly unlocking it with the proper combination. Inside were holsters and .357 magnum pistols. Grabbing one, he buckled it around his waist. “Coots, I think you’d better come with me since Kelly is supposed to be your daughter.”

“You going to confront him now?” Boots asked.

Sam’s eyes flashed with anger and fear. “Hell yes. If he’s thinking of shipping Kelly out of the country, I don’t want to give him a head start.” He jerked a look over at Coots. “You coming?”

“Yeah, you bet. Hand me that other pistol,” he ordered.

“What about this well?” Boots asked.

Sam turned at the door. “You tell the government, if we don’t get their cooperation in this matter, we’ll let it burn until doomsday.”

Boots agreed. “Look, I’ll grab the head honcho right now and find out where Hassad’s camp is located. I’ll continue to coordinate from this end. Take one of the portable radios. That way, we’ll be in contact.”

Sam nodded, picking up the radio he normally carried in his belt. “Good idea,” he agreed.

* * *

Kelly moaned, and a shaft of pain shot through her head. She rolled listlessly onto her back. Her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton balls and her throat was dry for lack of water. Her eyelids felt as if a hundred tons of weight had been placed upon them. She forced them open. Where was she? Sounds, different sounds from the ones at the blowout, drifted into her consciousness. The soft whinny of nearby horses mingled with the muted bleating of goats or sheep. Pain forced her to lie still. Groaning, Kelly held her head and curled up into a fetal position.

She slept again to escape the pain. The second time she awoke, reality returned almost immediately. She sat up and her hair tumbled across her shoulders and down the front of her cotton nightgown. Her lips were chapped and dry. She gazed around. Was she in a tent? The walls around her were of heavy canvaslike material, and a rug was on the ground beneath her. A man holding a rifle in his arms at the only entrance to her room drew her attention. Fear began to eat away at her composure. Frowning, Kelly touched her thigh. Just a slight amount of pressure caused pain. Pulling up the gown, she saw a huge black and blue bruise around what appeared to be an insect bite. Trying to swallow against the fear, Kelly struggled to her knees.

“Hey!” she croaked. “Hey! Where am I?”

The guard turned, giving her a steady but unreadable look. Another similarly clothed and armed guard came to the entrance and they conversed about her in an unintelligible language.

Kelly forced herself to stand but she was unsteady. She placed a hand on her forehead, trying to relieve the sudden pain that standing up had produced. “Dammit,” she growled, forcing one foot ahead of the other. The guard turned, his gaze drilling into her. Kelly halted.

“What’s going on here? Where’s Coots Matthews? I want to see Sam Tyler!”

The guard gave her a blank look. Around his waist he wore a scimitar as long as a man’s arm. Kelly decided to retreat to the center of the room. Her mind was spongy. Why couldn’t she think straight? After carefully sitting down, Kelly cradled her aching head. Something was desperately wrong. Where was Sam? What was that horrid bruise on her leg? Nothing made sense….

“Ahh, I see my American rose with thorns has awakened,” a voice growled.

Kelly jerked her head up. A gasp escaped her as she recognized Sheik Hassad. He gave her a perfunctory smile as he entered the room.

One part of her wanted to be as far away from him as possible. But another part of her said, hold your ground. He’ll hunt you down if you show fear or cowardice. She mustered what little courage she had left and thrust out her jaw, her green eyes blazing.

“Just what is going on? Where am I? And how did I get here?”

Hassad folded his long hands together. “Are you always a rose with thorns? I think I shall call you Thorn from now on, to remind me that you have a caustic tongue.”

She clenched her teeth. “You’re not making sense!”

Hassad smiled broadly, looking like a wolf who had effectively cornered his prey. He leaned down and stroked her fiery red-gold hair. She jerked away from him and scrambled to her feet, weaving drunkenly from the effects of the drug.

Hassad straightened, his eyes glittering with a terrible light. “Even a rose with thorns must learn when to be still. You are mine now,” he said, his voice deepening with chilling authority. He watched her large green eyes widen incredulously. “I have chosen you as the newest member of my harem. Henceforth, you will be called Thorn.” His smile disappeared. “And if you do not curb yourself, woman, I will take great delight in ridding you of your tongue myself.”

Kelly stared in disbelief and horror. This couldn’t be happening! This was almost the twenty-first century! She was an American! “You kidnapped me!” she yelled. “Against my wishes. You can’t do that and get away with it! Tyler will kill you when he finds out what you’ve done. I’m his woman. Not yours!”

Hassad gave her a suave smile. “I will make you mine tonight. My five wives will prepare and anoint you, Thorn. If you do not cooperate, I shall personally break your fiery spirit once and for all.”

Kelly stared at him in total shock. He left as quietly as he had come. With a small cry, she sank to her knees, fighting against the sobs that threatened to tear from her throat. Oh, God! Sam, she screamed in her mind and heart, Sam, where are you? I can’t…I won’t submit to that horrid monster! I won’t!

She sat cross-legged, forcing herself to think clearly. She had to get control of her emotions. She had to accept the fact that she was kidnapped. Why hadn’t she paid attention to Sam’s warning to lock the bedroom door? A hundred recriminations drove her more deeply into gloom.

As her head cleared, Kelly formed a plan. She ate the food given to her and drank deeply of the tepid water from the goatskin bag. Sam had to be hunting for her. He must! Desperation entwined with fear. She tied her thick mass of hair into a ponytail and search the room for clothing. A small ornate chest yielded various pieces of masculine attire. She discovered a pair of men’s pants and slipped them on beneath the nightgown. She had heard the whinny of horses. No stranger to riding, Kelly grimly decided to try to escape by horseback. The guard slowly walked back and forth in front of the open entrance.

Judging from the slant of the sun beneath the tent tarp, Kelly guessed it must be near three in the afternoon. The bottom flap of the tent was not that carefully staked down. There was just enough room for her to slip beneath the edge of it. Fear closed her throat as she counted the seconds until the guard passed. She had no idea where Hassad’s camp was located or which direction to go. The only guide might possibly be the blowout. How far could they have taken her in one night? The flame from the well would guide her! She trembled visibly, fear making her heart pound wildly. The choice was either to try to escape now or be raped tonight. She shivered, her skin crawling as she thought of Hassad’s talonlike fingers on her body. No!

Now! She dropped to the floor, squeezing out from beneath the tent. The sunlight made her squint. Without shoes, the soles of her feet were burned by the sand, but she was oblivious to the pain. To her left stood at least eight Arabian horses tied to a long rope. All were saddled. Sprinting through the sand, Kelly closed the distance between her and the animals. A shout in Arabic suddenly erupted behind her. She flinched and continued running.

The horse closest to her jumped sideways as she lunged for the reins. More screams and curses rent the air. In seconds, she was mounted and kicking the horse. The wind tore at her as she yelled at the animal, taking the leather reins and slashing them downward along the animal’s shoulders. She looked back. Horror overrode her triumph. At least five men were mounting in pursuit!

Grimly, Kelly glanced around. There! To the east lay the blowout. She guided the white mare in that direction. The horse fairly skimmed the undulating sand dunes. Her hair, once bound, had come undone, the fiery red cascade flying across her shoulders. The horse ran tirelessly. Kelly had expected that any animal running in the stifling heat would collapse within the first ten minutes. But it wasn’t so. The mare’s nostrils flared bloodred, but it took each dune with seeming ease. And at each rise, Kelly glanced back over her shoulder to find that the five men pursuing her were no closer than before. She saw them brandishing swords and two of them held rifles high above their heads. Would they fire on her? Would they try to hit her horse to halt her escape? Fear forced her to urge the horse even faster.

Time melted into the inferno around her. Very soon she was feeling lightheaded. Whether it was a drug reaction or the effects of the horrible sun beating down upon her unprotected head and body, she had no idea. The white mare had broken out in a sweat. Kelly gripped at the saddle, which had no horn. She willed herself to stay alert, forcing herself to move in unison with the galloping horse. If she fell off…if she fainted…No! She would rather die first than go back into that bastard’s harem! Heat waves hung like heavy shimmering curtains in all directions as Kelly crossed the reflective white sands. Her arms were red with sunburn in no time, her head ached fiercely and she felt the cotton nightgown clinging to her upper body, soaked with perspiration.