Wild Is My Heart (21 page)

Once again Sam was struck with poignant memory when Fawn’s tawny eyes searched her face. In all her life Sam had known only one other person with eyes that color. She shook her head to rid herself of the picture of Colt, those distinctive golden eyes demanding her soul but offering nothing of himself in return. Certainly there could be no connection between that uncivilized varmint and this fragile, shy creature who wasn’t what she appeared.

“Spirit Dancer wishes me to convey our greetings and tell you that you are to be our guest,” Fawn said, a shy smile hovering about her lips.

“Your guest?” Sam repeated, thoroughly bewildered. “But I don’t want to be your guest. I want to go home.”

Fawn translated her words and waited for the shaman’s reply. “That is not possible,” Fawn repeated Spirit Dancer’s answer. “We have awaited your coming for many moons. You cannot leave until the Great Spirit’s wishes have been revealed. Perhaps you will never leave.”

“You … your people have been waiting for me?” Sam stuttered, astounded. “You’ve never seen me before.”

“Spirit Dancer has seen you in his visions. Until we learn why your coming is important to us, you will remain as a guest in our village.”

“Am I a prisoner?” Sam asked bitingly. “Will I be punished if I try to escape?”

“You are not a prisoner,” Fawn replied, her eyes dimming beneath Sam’s verbal attack, “and I hope you will not want to leave. I want to be your friend, Violet Eyes, if you will allow it. My people wish you no harm.”

Fawn’s wounded expression made Sam realize how unfair she was being when Fawn was obviously following orders. Besides, the girl was white despite her staunch denial.

“I would like to be your friend, Fawn.”

“It is done. I will introduce you to my father, Chief Black Bear, when he returns. Meanwhile, I will find something fitting for you to wear. Tonight a great feast with dancing and much food will be held in your honor.”

Colt reined in Thunder sharply, his body tense, ears attuned to familiar sounds echoing across the hills. Gunshots! he realized, instantly alert. His keen senses served him well as he turned Thunder and pounded in the direction of the shots.

Not once did Colt consider that he might ride into a situation he couldn’t handle. Neither the Crowders nor Indians could keep him from riding to Sam’s defense, the odds be damned. She was infuriating, headstrong, argumentative, contrary, and proud to a fault, but he’d have her no other way. The love he had just discovered was a fragile thing, perhaps not even strong enough to last, but he wanted the opportunity to put it to the test.

Colt had given little thought to where their volatile relationship might lead. His first inclination had been to blurt out his feelings the moment he saw Sam. But on second thought he decided it was pure folly to bare his soul when he had no idea how Sam felt about him. They made love wonderfully yet seemed unable to say a civil word to each other. Cautious by nature, he had no reason to change now, Colt ruminated, deciding to carefully guard the fragile love he felt for Sam and nurture it only if it was returned. But first he had to find her.

Suddenly a lone rider appeared, racing across the plains. Bent low over the saddle, whipping his horse to a froth, the man seemed immune to all but his need to escape some unseen danger. Acting instinctively, Colt gave chase, urging his noble mount to even greater speed. Colt was nearly abreast of the man before recognition dawned. Vern Logan! What in the hell was that slimy varmint doing out here? He bet his ass it had something to do with Sam. Colt decided there was only one way to gain Vern’s attention as he drew his gun and fired over his head.

More fear than he had ever known accompanied Vern on his headlong flight across the grassy plain. The shot only increased his terror, and he reacted by digging his spurs into his mount’s heaving flanks, caring little that the poor animal had already been driven beyond its endurance. Intuitively Colt knew the valiant beast must be stopped before his heart gave out. Drawing alongside, he snaked out his arm, snatching the reins from Vern’s hands. Both horses shuddered to a halt, Vern protesting vigorously until his panic-stricken mind accepted the fact that it was not Indians pursuing him. At the same time he recognized Colt.

“What’s your hurry, Logan?” Colt drawled with deceptive calm.

His breath still ragged in his chest, Vern gulped and replied, “Injuns! A whole damn raid in’ party. Let me go, they’re on my tail.”

“You’re loco,” Colt returned, looking pointedly in all directions. “What are you doin’ out here?”

Glancing fearfully behind him, Vern saw nothing but rocks, hills, and trees. Maybe the Indians had given up on him. “They … they were right behind me,” he stuttered, his heart slowing to a steady bounce. “They must have decided the cattle were more important than me.”

“Cattle?” repeated Colt sharply. “What cattle? Might as well start from the beginnin’, you’re goin’ nowhere till I hear everythin’. Includin’ what happened to Sam.”

“Later, Andrews,” Vern pleaded, growing desperate. “The Injuns—”

‘Talk, Logan. The faster I learn the truth, the sooner you’ll be on your way.”

Licking his parched lips, Vern explained reluctantly, “The Indians were after the cattle the Crowders stole from ranchers. They were penned up in a canyon back yonder in the hills.”

“I don’t give a hoot in hell about those red devils, or the cattle. I want to know about Sam. Do the Crowders have her?”

Vern nodded slowly. “They were holdin’ her for ransom.”

“Why didn’t I hear about it?”

“I’m the only one with money enough to ransom her. They knew how I felt about Samantha and demanded ten … ten thousand dollars for her safe return,” he stumbled over the lie. “One of their members led me to their camp where the money was exchanged.”

Colt eyed Vern narrowly, slowly and pointedly looking all around him. “That’s odd, either Sam has made herself invisible or you lost her somewhere along the way.”

“That… that’s what I been tryin’ to explain,” Vern muttered nervously. What would the Ranger do when he learned the Injuns had Samantha?

“I’m waitin’,” Colt ground out, his patience swiftly deserting him. “Where’s Sam?”

“The … the Injuns took her. The Crowders tied her to a tree and the camp was overrun before … before I could free her.”

“What! You left her!” roared Colt, shaking with fury. “You yellow-bellied sonofabitch! I’da fought till the Injuns hacked me to pieces. Nothin’ would have made me leave Sam, or any woman, to Comanches. I oughta kill you and rid the world of your slimy presence.”

Beads of sweat gathered on Vern’s forehead, and after looking into the golden inferno of Colt’s condemning eyes he knew icy fear. In the brief span of a moment his entire life passed before his eyes, certain he was on his way to meet his maker. But the instant Colt might have made him a corpse passed with the approach of riders. Vern tried desperately to escape, but Colt held tightly to the reins of his horse, preventing his flight. Keeping a firm grip on his emotions, Colt watched as Jake, Will, and riders from the Circle H wheeled to a halt.

“We heard shots, boss,” Jake said anxiously. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Jake,” Colt replied tightly, still grappling with his profound anger.

“Colt, what about Sam?” Will injected.

Colt swung his gaze to Will, his expression conveying such pity that Will immediately assumed the worst.

“She’s dead, isn’t she?”

“No, not dead, Will, don’t even think it. It’s a long story, but the short of it is that the Crowders had Sam.”

“Let’s go after them!” Will exclaimed recklessly.

“It’s not that simple. The Crowders were attacked by Indians and they took Sam, or so Logan says.”

“What’s Logan got to do with it?” Jake asked.

“Logan was with the Crowders when it happened. Claims he was there for the purpose of payin’ ransom for Sam’s safe return.”

“And he stood by and let the Indians take her?” Will cried, his face mottled with rage. “Let me at the yellow polecat, I’ll kill him!”

Before Colt could react, Will drew his gun and got off two rounds. He was blinded by anger and both shots whizzed harmlessly by Logan’s head, missing by mere inches. “Someone stop that crazy kid!” Vern yelped, ducking.

Jake sprang into action, wresting the weapon from the enraged youth when he would have squeezed off another round.

“Let me at him, Jake, the sonofabitch deserves to die!”

Colt had other plans for Vern Logan and they didn’t include being killed by a green kid. One day Vern and his shifty father would get what was coming to them. Leaving Sam to the Indians would not put Vern in jail, but cattle rustling and illegal manipulation would. Soon he would have enough proof to hang them both. “Let him go!”

“What! Are you loco?” Will protested violently.

“Nope, just older and wiser,” Colt said evenly. “Don’t worry, son, I’ll get your sister back.” Vaguely Colt wondered how he would keep his word when he had failed to find his own sister after years of searching.

“What’re you gonna do, boss?” Jake questioned worriedly.

“Ride to the Crowder camp and look around. Then decide what to do next.”

Vern didn’t linger for further discussion. Puzzled by Colt’s decision to let him go and fearing he might change his mind, he spurred his horse, quickly putting distance between him and Colt.

“Colt!” Will cried in warning.

“It’s okay, Will, I have other plans for the Logans. Findin’ Sam comes first.”

The Crowder camp yielded little in the way of clues as to Sam’s whereabouts. Colt found tracks indicating that Indians had raided the camp and driven off the cattle. He saw where they had split up into two groups, each traveling a different route toward Kiowa Territory. The tracks wouldn’t be difficult to follow, Colt surmised, but Sam could be with either group, complicating things.

“What do you make of it, boss?” Jake asked.

Suddenly Colt’s eyes found the tree and severed ropes indicating Vern hadn’t lied about Sam being tied up by the Crowders. A string of curses singed Jake’s ears. “This is where Sam was bound to a tree,” he pointed, his eyes two flaming pools of rage. “If they harmed her, I swear I’ll personally gun down every last man ridin’ with the Crowders.”

Jake examined the ropes carefully, as well as the ground surrounding the tree. He found a scrap of plaid material that matched Sam’s shirt and held it up for Colt’s inspection. If either had a lingering doubt that those ropes had once held Sam, none remained. “It ‘pears like Logan was tellin’ the truth. The Crowders might have had Sam at one time, but the Comanches have her now,” Jake said, a pained expression on his face.

While Jake and Colt conferred, Will came up to join them. A sob wrenched past his throat when he heard Jake’s sober words. “No! They can’t have her! Colt, do somethin’!”

Will’s plea struck a responsive chord in Colt’s heart. He had felt exactly the same when his own sister had been taken by Comanches and his parents killed. He hated Indians with a deep abiding emotion.

“I promised I’d find Sam, son, and I will,” Colt said tightly. “If we split up we’ll more than likely find them before nightfall. Take half the men, Jake, and follow one set of tracks. My group will trail the others. If Sam isn’t with the Comanches you followed, don’t bother with them. We’ll need our strength and numbers to take on the party that does have Sam. Meet back here at dark to compare notes and plan our attack. Surprise is on our side. Cattle travel slow, and the Injuns don’t know we’re trackin’ them.”

Breaking into two groups, they took off in clouds of dust and jangling spurs. No one noticed the single set of tracks separating from the two main parties of Indians and cattle, heading alone into the hills.

“Sam’s not with them,” Will hissed hoarsely. “I don’t see her anywhere.”

“Just our damn luck,” spat Colt disgustedly.

Perched in the rocks high above the narrow gorge into which the cattle had been herded, Colt and his men scrutinized the valley below. Several Indians dressed only in breechclouts and leggings, their bronzed torsos glistening in the setting sun, faces streaked with paint, crouched in the dirt talking in low voices.

“That’s them all right,” one of the cowboys said beneath his breath. “Comanche. I’d recognize them red bastards anywhere. Where do you reckon they’re takin’ the cattle?”