This Savage Heart (9 page)

“How awful,” Julie murmured. “He just gave an order like that?”

Lonnie Bruce nodded. “Last November, about five hundred friendly Cheyenne were camped at Sand Creek, in Colorado, with their leader, Black Kettle. He was one of the three peace chiefs who had signed a treaty. Anyway, he heard about Chivington’s orders, but he’d been told by other U.S. army officers that at Sand Creek they’d be safe from attack. Well”—he paused—“that turned out not to be true. Seven hundred Colorado Volunteers attacked, led by Colonel Chivington. He gave orders not to take prisoners. He went charging into that camp waving an American flag, and Black Kettle waved a white flag. Indians were slaughtered—little children hacked to pieces, squaws killed. And the next day soldiers cut up corpses and took scalps and parts of bodies and hung ’em on their saddles and hat bands and rode on into Denver to show ’em all off.”

Julie felt her stomach roll with revulsion. “But how could they? These were peaceful Indians.”

He snorted. “I know, but you won’t be feeling sorry for ’em if they come after us. It’s bad enough when they got tomahawks and bows and arrows, but you give one of ’em a gun, and look out!”

Julie shuddered. “I’ve heard enough for one day, Lonnie Bruce.”

Julie could not get the story out of her mind, and later that day, after the wagons had circled into their nightly corral, she drew Myles away from Teresa and repeated what she had heard. He did not seem surprised. “I know, Julie. I heard about it back in San Angelo.”

“And you didn’t tell us?” she asked, incredulous.

“We knew when we left Savannah that we were going to be heading through Indian territory. Why make ourselves fearful? There’s not a wagon train heading west from any point that doesn’t face the risk of Indian attack. We just have to be careful. Do you think Arnhardt is riding out every day just to look for fallen trees in our path? Hell, no. He’s looking for Indians.”

“And has he seen any?”

Myles shrugged, averting his eyes.

“Myles!” Julie cried, grasping his shoulders. “I have a right to know.”

Patiently, he said, “As far as we know, we don’t have anything to worry about until Arizona. If you want to know more, ask Arnhardt. Though I doubt he’ll tell you any more than he tells us men, which isn’t much. He isn’t going to get people riled or upset unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

She did go to Derek, and after he had told her more horror stories, he said firmly, “I’m trusting you to keep what I’ve told you to yourself. The men are aware of the dangers, but there’s no point in scaring the women.”

“Ah, yes, protect the women from worry,” she said sarcastically. “Don’t let them worry about anything until a screaming Indian comes at them waving a tomahawk. Then they may worry.”

Suddenly, something flashed in his eyes and he reached over to wrap strong arms around her, pulling her close. “Damn it, Julie, you don’t have to be afraid. Don’t you know I’ll give my life, if I have to, to keep you from harm?”

Julie listened for the command of her brain to pull away from him, but there was only the sound of her heart. A warm feeling was spreading through her limbs, a good feeling, a delicious feeling. She found herself smiling up at him. “Yes, Derek. I do know that, just as I know I can’t deny what I feel for you.”

His mouth claimed hers in a soul-searing kiss, and she clung to him in desperation, wanting the moment never to end.

“You know,” he said finally, angrily, “you’re in my blood like a hunger that can’t be fed. When I’m out on that trail every day, it haunts me—the joy, the pain—every damn thing we had. You feel it, too, I know you do.”

“Yes. I won’t lie, but—”

“Goddamn it, Julie, we can’t go on like this. It’s time we talked again. I’ve come to an understanding within myself, and there’s something you have to know…something that may help you understand me better. I’m not the cold-hearted bastard you think I am.”

Julie was suddenly, gratefully aware that Derek had held a part of himself away from her all along. An intense shudder went through her as she realized the moment of truth was at hand. “Then tell me, Derek,” she urged. “Tell me what I need to know, Derek.”

“We’re going to be together,” he said gruffly, tightening his hold on her. “Like it or not. You’re going to be mine, and—”

An indignant gasp caused them to spring apart just as Elisa Thatcher stepped from the shadows. “This is disgusting! I come here to talk to you, Captain Arnhardt, about the mess I’m in with my nigra running out on me, and I find what I’ve suspected all along—you’re letting this…this
whore
keep you from doing your job!”

Julie struggled against her own fury, grateful when Derek took over. He said, “Elisa, what I do is none of your business, and you would be wise to watch that nasty mouth. Now what the hell do you want?”

Shaken, she stammered, “My…my nigra, M-Micah, ran away.”

“I heard,” Derek replied.

“You’d best find me a driver, then, Captain,” she ordered.

“I’ll do what I can. Later. If you will excuse yourself now, you’re interrupting.”

“Oh, I can see that”—she laughed shrilly—“but I’m afraid you’re going to have to bridle your animal lust for the moment and treat one of my animals, which seems to have taken ill.”

Derek took a deep breath and smiled at Julie apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I’d better check on it. The poor oxen aren’t as fortunate as Micah. They can’t run away from her.”

“Very funny!” Elisa snapped. “You can be sure my husband is going to hear how you’ve conducted yourself, Captain. You might find yourself out of a job.”

He touched his fingertips to Julie’s chin and mouthed, “I’ll find you later,” then turned away resolutely.

Julie watched them disappear, sorrowful because the tender moment was spoiled. What, oh, what had Derek been about to tell her? Wanting to be alone with her thoughts, she began walking among the cactus and scrubs…unaware that she was being stealthily followed.

Chapter Eight

Julie inhaled the crisp, sweet air, gathering her wool cape tighter about her, stepping cautiously among the tiny rocks and rivulets of sand. She had always loved nighttime, exhilarating in the secret mystery of its beauties, never fearing its shadows. Peaceful, so peaceful. Here was the black, velvet shroud to hide her worries. The dancing stars seemed to say, when there is mirth, how can there also be gloom? Standing very still, her gaze became transfixed upon one star, brighter than the rest. Was that the way life was? She wondered, one soul brighter than the others? Some souls who merely provided a backdrop for the chosen one? It was times like this when her infinitesimally tiny existence seemed a sacrilege even to contemplate. Her soul was probably no more nor less significant to God than the faintest glimmer of the tiniest star in His heavens.

There, melting into the night, becoming part of it, she was able to give herself to the thought that provoked her: What had Derek been about to say when Elisa interrupted? In what way had he come to terms with himself? She shivered, not with cold but with anticipation. Perhaps, she thought suddenly, her own position had not been stated clearly enough. Maybe he thought she was bent on marriage. Not true! There had to be time for proper courtship, time to decide whether they wanted to spend a lifetime together. Meanwhile, she would not be relegated to the status of mistress. What kind of marriage would they have later, after she’d been his mistress? It would taint their love forever.

She heard footsteps and whirled about, expectant, happy, then realized it wasn’t Derek. A scream began, changing to an angry gasp as she made out the scarred face of Arlo Vance. “Why are you following me?” she demanded furiously. “You frightened me, creeping up on me like that.”

“Afraid of Indians?” His voice was arrogant. “No need to be when you’re with me, Julie. The Indians are my friends.”

“I’m surprised you have any friends,” she said impetuously.

“Now, that’s no way for you to talk to me, honey, not when I want us to be friends. Good friends.”

“I don’t wish to speak with you, Mr. Vance, and if
you don’t leave me this instant, I’m going to scream and bring the whole wagon train running.”

“Now, honey,” he cooed, blasting her with whiskey breath, “I only followed you out here so’s we could be alone to talk. I’ve been trying to get you off to yourself ever since San Angelo. I know you’ve seen me watching you, but all I want to do is apologize for the other night. That’s all. See, I’d had too much to drink before the dance and, well, I guess I was just desperate to be with a woman. You’re so pretty. I wanted to be with you so bad, so I just kept saying the wrong things. In my state of mind, I figured I’d lost you before I even had you, so I was just going to go ahead and make my bid right then.”

“And you lost, Mr. Vance,” she told him icily. “We can never be friends. If you will excuse me, someone is waiting for me.”

She started by him, but he caught her arm, giving it a painful twist. “Now listen, Julie, honey, the last thing I want to do is hurt you, but I will if you don’t calm down and give me a chance to talk.”

“You’re hurting me,” she cried. “Let me go, please. I don’t want trouble, and if I scream, and my brother comes out here…”

“You don’t want to see him killed, do you?” He laughed, a nasty, evil sound in the once-sweet night. “So just listen. I want you to forgive me for the other night so we can start over. I’m sweet on you, Julie, ’cause you remind me of my sainted wife. All you got to do is be nice to me. Let me know I’ve got a chance with you, and I’ll let you go.”

His next move took her completely by surprise. She suddenly found her lips smothered by his, her neck bent backward. Then, just as quickly, he released her and shoved a hand across her mouth to stifle her scream of protest. “It’s my face, isn’t it?” he accused. “You like pretty faces, like Captain Arnhardt’s face. Oh, I’ve seen the way you pine for him. I saw you leave with him the night you were supposed to be with me, and I saw how you looked when he was done with you. I know what you two were doing, ’cause I had a yen for the same thing. He got what I was supposed to have—what I
will
have before long. I promise you, I will.

“I want to tell you something.” He pressed his hand harder as she struggled to release the rising screams. “I can’t help these scars on my face: They’re there for a reason. They proved to them goddamn savages that I’m a man. I played their game, and I won. The Apaches said if I could stand red-hot lances cutting into my flesh and not scream, they’d let me live. I wanted to scream. Oh, Lordy, when they stuck those lances in a fire and then put them on my face, and I could feel my own skin burning, the smoke stinging in my own nostrils, everything in me ached to scream. But I knew if I made one sound, they’d stick them lances in my eyeballs, like I’d just seen them do to the men with me. So I didn’t scream. They kept on burning me till my whole face was almost in flames. Then they let their medicine man work on me. And when they were done, they told me I wore the brand of a great warrior, and no Apache would ever challenge me or try to hurt me again.”

He forced her to the ground, throwing himself on top of her, his hand still pressing painfully over her mouth. “I heard you back there talking to the captain, asking about Indians, and I know you’re scared. You want me to fix you so they’ll think you’re a great warrior, too? Why, when that wagon train goes into Apache country, they’ll all be slaughtered except you. All you got to do is be brave, like I was brave.”

Her eyes widened in horror, and she felt herself slipping away, for his hand was also pressing against her nostrils, and she couldn’t breathe. Soft, gasping whimpers replaced the groans, and he drew his hand away. “Relax, honey, I’m not going to scar that peachy-pretty face of yours. And I won’t let those redskins hurt you, either. You’re safe with me. I do plan to keep you with me.”

When she could force the words out, she said hoarsely, “Arlo Vance, you are…insane.”

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing in the stillness. Then, in the blink of an eye, his mood became somber. “I’m going to let you go now, Julie, but you will belong to me one day. I will win your heart, remember that. And remember also that if you are repulsed by my scars, they are what will save you from the fate the others will have. Go now. Tell your pretty captain. Tell your gimp-legged brother. If they wish to deal with me, so be it. I’ll send their scalps back to you on the end of a spear!”

She scrambled to her feet, then stumbled and fell to her knees. After a moment she was able to stand. She lifted her long skirt and began running through the night to the compound.

She reached the wagon she shared with Myles and Teresa and leaned against the side, away from the glowing camp fires. Reason was slowly replacing panic. Arlo was drunk. Maybe there was no need to be frightened—just wary. No more solitary night walks, no more opportunities for him to accost her. With this soothing thought in mind, she was able to take a deep breath. No need to upset Myles. Why tell him Arlo’s lies? What for? They all had enough on their minds without worrying about a drunken story like Arlo’s. That decided, she was able to take several deep breaths, smooth her hair, straighten her dress, then step around the wagon and into the light.

“There you are!” Teresa called out brightly. She sat at the front of the wagon, mending one of Myles’s shirts, fingers stiff with cold. “I was wondering where you’d disappeared to.”

“Teresa, why aren’t you beside the fire?” Julie admonished her. “It’s much too cold for you out here.”