The Peacemaker (16 page)

Still kissing her, Jim slowly turned her around so she was facing him. With a low moan, that to Indy sounded like he was in pain, he wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss.

Unsure of herself, she lifted her arms and tentatively placed her hands on top of his wide shoulders, then little by little moved them until her arms were around his neck and she was clinging to him.

A jagged bolt of white lightning sliced through the clouds illuminating the night. It seemed a fitting symbol of how he made her feel—like she had been struck by lightning. She raised up on her toes and strained against his hard, flat length and every nerve in her body stood up too and danced a jig.

Suddenly he pulled away, leaving her confused, lost. "Come on," he said in a hoarse voice, and before she knew it, he was leading her around the corner of the building.

"I really think maybe I should go."

"No, it's too dangerous." He walked to the end of the next building, away from the people going to and from the reception.

The walk gave Indy's head a chance to clear so she could think. It had been a mistake to let him kiss her and an even bigger one to kiss him back—no matter how right it seemed—no matter how good it felt. She had been upset and vulnerable and he had taken advantage of her susceptibility.

Where he was leading her she didn't know, but she knew she couldn't let him kiss her and get her in that position again. Major Jim Garrity was far too persuasive and powerful a force for her to control.

"Jim! Please. Stop!"

"We're here," he said, halting abruptly, and before she could make a word of protest, he pulled her around and backed her up against the building, catching her hands between their bodies, and brought his mouth down on hers in a hard, savage kiss that took her breath away and made her weak-kneed. She couldn't move; she was literally trapped between two walls, one of adobe brick and one of hard male muscle.

He held her face between his hands to prevent her from turning her head to the side. Where before he had been tender, now he was almost cruel in the way his tongue pillaged the inside of her mouth, and when he was done there, he moved down the curve of her throat, his lips hot and wet, his tongue a flaming torch that set something inside her on fire.

At last, she worked her hands loose but her plan to use them to gain her freedom was gone and instead—as if they had a mind of their own— they found their way around his neck and clung.

He groaned and his mouth moved even lower, to the soft swells of her breasts that rose and fell rapidly with her heavy breathing. His hands were there now too, outside her dress below her breasts, lifting and squeezing them as his mouth worked over their tops.

Suddenly he straightened and his mouth came back to hers with an urgent demand that she felt in his hands too as he grasped her hips.

"Indy— God, woman, if you had any idea how long it's been . . . and what you're doing to me." Then he showed her exactly what she was doing to him by pressing her flat up against the adobe and pushing his lower body into the folds of her skirt.

"No. My God, no," she protested, feeling his hardness, and afraid of him now that she understood what he was doing and what he wanted of her. Afraid of herself too because she didn't really want him to stop. But her complaint died under the onslaught of his kiss and she felt his hips grinding mercilessly against hers, spreading the fire of passion throughout her body.

Off in the distance, a lone coyote called out to its mate and she felt his muscles contract and become tense. It came again a second later and he lifted his head to listen. He stared down at her, his expression agonized. It seemed to Indy that he looked to be in a great deal of pain as if he had been wounded.

"Indy, listen to me," he whispered close to her ear. "Don't make a move or say a word. We've got some uninvited guests."

Alarmed and frightened she stared into his eyes, hoping he would tell her they weren't in any danger.

"Who—?"

"Apaches. There's three of them, maybe four. I'm going to reach my hand down between us and get my knife, so don't make a move."

"No. I won't," she whispered, barely moving her lips. Looking down, she saw his hand remove the wicked-looking blade from the sheath attached to his belt, then slowly bring it up between them.

"Now, as soon as I make my move, I want you to run back to the reception and get Nolan. Don't stop for anything or anybody. Understand?"

She gave an imperceptible nod and he placed a quick kiss upon her trembling mouth.

"Now!" He pushed her away.

She ran like she had never run before. Behind her she heard that frightful cry. Shatto's cry.

"Hai-eee! Hai-eee!"

Indy ran as fast as she could, driven by the knowledge that Jim would need help to fight off the Apaches. She hadn't gone more than a dozen yards when a bolt of lightning slashed across the sky and struck the roof of the butcher's building directly in front of her. Wood and adobe splintered in every direction sending Indy to her knees, screaming. She tucked her chin into her chest and covered her head with her hands to protect herself from the flying debris and from the deafening explosion of thunder that accompanied the lightning.

The ground beneath her vibrated with the sudden fury of the storm.

It seemed the world was coming to an end.

The first drops of rain fell cold and hard upon her neck and arms. Like a turtle peeking out of its shell she raised her head and looked about. The butcher's building was on fire; tongues of flame escaped from the roof and through the windows, carrying with them the overpowering smell of roasting beef.

Then she saw him: an Apache warrior. Cold fear washed over her and her heart pummeled her chest like a blacksmith's anvil. She pushed the hair away from her eyes and strained to see through the rain and smoke. He seemed to have come straight out of the inferno—a demon from hell. And now he was riding directly toward her, his horse bearing down hard upon her.

Shaking, she struggled to her feet and stood as if bolted to the ground, unable to move so much as a muscle.

Nearly upon her now, the warrior bent low over the galloping horse's neck and leaned off to the right, stretching his arm toward her. At the last possible second instinct took control. She darted away, avoiding the Apache's reach by a scant inch. She picked up her skirts and ran toward the burning building, her screams following her like a pennant.

If she could get past the fire, she could make it to the mess house. She saw herself dashing through the doorway into the middle of the reception and announcing that she and Major Garrity had been attacked by Apaches.

The next second changed everything.

The Apache's horse came galloping up from behind. She could hear its hooves pounding the hard ground but had no idea how close or far it was. Glancing over her shoulder she saw the horse gaining on her. She knew she couldn't outrun it, but neither could she change her course. She had to go on. Jim's life depended on it and so did hers.

She had no sooner turned back than the horse came up even with her, then abruptly swerved. By the time Indy saw what was happening it was too late. She couldn't stop soon enough. She hit the horse's flank and bounced backward. The ground rose up to meet her and everything went black.

Indy blinked her eyes open and groaned. When she tried to take a breath she realized that the wind had been knocked out of her. She panicked and clutched her throat.

Hovering over her, watching her like a hungry vulture, was the warrior. He made some sort of guttural sound that drew her gaze. He had frightening eyes, shiny like bits of volcanic glass set deep into his face. His features were ugly and his skin thick and scarred. But most fearful of all was his mouth—a sharp, narrow-lipped gash that split his face.

When he bent down to reach for her, blessed air came rushing back into her burning lungs. She gasped and gasped again, each breath deeper and stronger than the one before. Each breath filling her with the dusty-wet odor of him. Each breath possibly the last.

She winced when he jerked her to her feet. He half dragged, half carried her across to his mount. Then he tossed her onto the animal's back and vaulted up behind her, capturing her legs beneath his to hold her while he quickly removed his headband and tied her wrists together behind her back.

She hurt too much to put up a fight and besides she knew it was useless; he was twice her weight and half again her size, a giant of a man. His arm whipped around her middle eliciting a small, pained cry, which he ignored.

Taking his reins in his left hand, he snapped them over the horse's withers and the animal moved forward. They had ridden only a short distance when they stopped. Indy saw that it was the same place where she had left Jim a short time ago.

In a matter of minutes it had become a battlefield. One dead warrior lay face up in the mud, rain falling into his sightless eyes. A second warrior knelt beside a boulder, trying to hold back the stream of blood that poured from his stomach. Expressionless, he stared at Indy, made a grunt of noise and slumped down in front of the boulder. Dead.

Her captor's arm tightened like a cinch around her waist. Again she cried out and again was ignored. He said something to her in Apache but she didn't understand his words. Again, he touched his heels to the horse's flanks, signaling it to walk forward.

Through the rain, Indy saw a young warrior, naked but for his breechclout, and Jim, who had stripped off his shirt. They faced each other across a distance of several yards. The orange-yellow glow of the fire reflected off Jim's rain-wet body, accentuating the rippling, fluid muscles in his back and arms. Watching him closely, she saw that he was clearly the more skilled of the two. Crouching down, his legs spread wide, he thrust and jabbed his long-bladed knife, tempting and teasing his opponent. In his left hand, he held his shirt, which was twisted around itself like a thick rope. He used it like a whip to lash out at the warrior's legs.

He was Shatto now—as much of a savage as his rival and her captor. Shatto—Major Jim Garrity—one in the same no matter how he dressed or what language he spoke. A dangerous adversary who wielded a knife as easily as he reined a horse. A savage who could kill a man without a bit of remorse. And a man who had the power to turn her inside out and make her feel things that no respectable woman should feel.

Thunder rumbled overhead and the horse blew out of its nostrils. The noise must have reached Shatto's ears for he glanced around at Indy. Then, without warning, he raised his left arm and lashed out at his opponent's face with his shirt-whip. The young warrior reeled backward. Shatto seized the opportunity and closed the distance between them and threw him to the ground.

Indy felt the tensing of her captor's hard-muscled thighs against the backs of her legs. His reaction seemed to indicate his anxiety over his companion's fate. But, if that was true, why didn't he get down and help him? Perhaps it was a matter of custom or pride with the Apaches not to come to the other's aid?

Holding a knife to the young warrior’s throat, Shatto called out, "Let the woman go, Chie."

"No. The woman is mine."

Indy's heart sank. She had not realized that her captor was Chie, the warrior who had led the attack on the ambulance the day she came to Bowie. Since then she had heard any number of stories regarding Chie. Apparently he was an outcast even among his own people.

"Let her go now or I'll kill this brave," Shatto warned, his eyes mirroring the flames of the burning building in the distance.

"He is nothing to me."

"If he is nothing to you, why didn't you ride away and take the woman with you when you had the chance?" Shatto challenged. When Chie did not answer, Shatto taunted him with "Is it because this foolish brave is Chie's son?"

Indy knew by the way Chie stiffened that Shatto had hit upon the answer. Was it a guess or did he know?

"Shatto has eyes of the hawk but sees only what is before him. If you kill my son, I will kill the woman."

"We will make a bargain. I will give your son back to you if you let go of the woman."

Chie then said something in Apache that Indy took as an agreement. Next thing she knew Chie was slicing through her wrist bindings and shoving her off his horse. She moved away quickly, running toward a boulder, afraid he might change his mind.

"You all right, Indy?" Shatto called to her.

"Yes." It was all she could manage as she tried to rub some feeling back into her hands.

Like Indy, the young brave had also gotten away as quickly as he could. He had dashed across to where his father sat upon his horse.

It was over, Indy thought. She breathed a sigh of relief, then cringed when she heard Shatto's taunting words.

"Chie is a woman who sends old men and boys to fight Shatto."

Chie's chest expanded with an indrawn breath of rage. "Chie is not woman. Chie is great warrior with much power."

"If Chie is so great a warrior why does he not fight Shatto himself?" Shatto mocked.

Oh, God, Indy thought. Why? Why did he have to insult Chie? Why couldn't he just let them go? Angry and afraid all over again, she considered abandoning him and running back to camp to get the help she had sought in the first place. Only she couldn't do it. She couldn't move.

Chie dismounted and tossed the reins to his son. "Shatto is a fool like the bluecoat
nantan
."

Indy held her breath as the two men moved toward some invisible central point and stopped. It seemed an interminable time that they did nothing but stare at each other.

A tremendous burst of light illuminated the sky. Fiery fingers of lightning streaked across the sky, linking heaven to earth. Chie's horse bolted and ran off in a panic toward the camp.

The relentless rain combined with the lightning flashes made it difficult for Indy to see. Reluctantly she came out from behind the boulder.

Like dancers, the two men moved in a sort of circle, reaching, thrusting, jabbing, each testing the other's skill and agility. Chie was the more graceful, but Shatto was faster and his superior skill with a knife was immediately evident. He lunged forward and slashed the tip of his blade across Chie's upper arm.