Apache Summer

didn't know if it was with vexation or excitement. He wanted her

property, not her person, she reminded herself. Then how could he seem

to insinuate so much that seemed sensual when they talked about dry

land? And then, of course, he could change so quickly. Lose his temper

over simple words when he could tease so long himself. She didn't

understand, but he was occupying more and more of her mind. And more and

more of her heart.

It was light when she awoke. Dolly was already up. Tess quickly slipped

into her dusty brown dress for the second day on the trail. She tied her

shoes and slipped from 115 the wagon. She could smell coffee brewing

already, and something was cooking in a frying pan.

She could hear voices by the fire. Jori and Dolly, she determined. She

started around the wagon then held Still.

Jamie, bare-chested, in only his boots and jeans, was shaving. His

mirror was leaning against the steps at the front of the wagon, his

shaving mug was on the second step, and he was wielding a straight razor

against his cheeks.

Apparently he caught sight of her in the mirror. He nicked himself and

scowled deeply at her. She should have walked by. She could not. She

smiled, enjoying the sight of him so. He had wonderful shoulders, broad

and very bronze. He was nearly as dark as Jori, with powerfully bunched

muscles in his arms and chest, and hard, unyielding ones at his lean

waist. She swallowed suddenly. She'd seen lots of men bare-chested. The

hands often stripped off their shirts after a long day and doused

themselves with water at the troughs. Jamie Slater's chest was

different. She couldn't look at him and wonder if the herd was doing

well. She looked at him and wondered what his flesh would feel like

beneath her fingers.

Maybe he read her mind. Maybe her thoughts were obvious in her eyes.

They were still locked with his in the mirfof.

Her smile faded and she felt a crimson blush rising to her cheeks.

She prayed for motion then and she managed to move her feet and hurry

past him to the fire. "Fish!" she said delightedly.

"Freshwater fish, just wonderful," Dolly supplied happily.

"Jon, you're wonderful!" Tess claimed.

"Oh, I didn't catch these. Jamie did," he told her casually.

Dolly passed Tess a plate.

"I'm taking a walk to the brook with a few of the utensils. I'll be

right back." "Thanks, Dolly," Tess said. Dolly winked. Jon smiled at

Tess as she hungrily ate her fish.

"Coffee?" he asked her.

"Please." He handed her a mug, then said something about finishing the

harness.

She was left alone with a beautiful, early morning sun and the delicious

food and coffee. She set down her plate and took a long swallow of

coffee.

She closed her eyes, inhaled the aroma and felt the heat. When she

opened her eyes, Jamie was standing before her.

"Miss. Stuart, you might want to hurry along a little. The rest of us

have been up a while now, and I'm ready to ride.

We can make Wiltshire by tomorrow if we keep moving." She gazed up at

his newly shaven face. All the planes and angles were handsome, smooth

and rugged all at once-- masculine ... and still belligerent. It was

war, she thought.

She sighed softly.

"Why, Lieutenant, I, at least, am fully clothed.

And I do promise that I can finish this coffee and the fish before you

can be dressed and ready to ride."

" Then let's see it, huh?"

He started to walk by her.

"Oh, Lieutenant," she called. "What?"

"You're bleeding, sir. There seems to be a--a gash right at the tip of

your chin. Have you been Shaving long, sir?"

"Longer than you've been wearing a corset, Miss. Stuart. A whole lot

longer," he told her pleasantly. That time, when he stepped by, she

quickly leaped to her feet, finished her coffee and, as quickly and

delicately as possible, peeled the last of her fish from the bone. She

glanced over her shoulder.

He was buttoning the last button of his shirt.

She cast the last drop of coffee and bit of food into the ashes of the

camp fire and raced for the steps to the driver's seat of the wagon.

She made it just as he rode up on his roan.

"I won," she told him.

"At best--and that's if I'm in the mood to be cavalier-- it was a tie,

Miss. Stuart."

"At best for you, Lieutenant."

He smiled.

"Half of your acreage, Tess."

"A quarter."

"That remains to be seen," he told her, riding close.

"But then, a lot of things remain to be seen, don't they?" He nudged

Lucifer and rode to the rear of the wagon.

"Jon, you ready?

Where's Dolly?"

"Here, here, I am coming, I do declare, the rush you boys get yourselves

into! I was just down at the brook, cleaning up the pans, and there you

are, riding off without me."

"Dolly! We'd never ride off without you!" Jamie promised her solemnly.

"Never," Jon echoed.

"But times awastin', Dolly," Jamie said.

"And suddenly, I'm just darned eager to reach Wiltshire."

Dolly climbed onto the wagon. Tess lifted the reins against the mules,

and they were under way again.

By late afternoon of the following day they had reached the outskirts of

Wiltshire. Then Tess gave the directions to her home, a large ranch

outside of town.

Tess held the reins. As the house came into view, she saw Jamie pull in

on his big roan and stare. He glanced her way.

"That's it? That's your--ranch?"

"That's it."

He started to laugh suddenly, looking at Jon. Then he spurred the roan

and raced toward the house. Tess flicked the reins and hurried after him

with the rumbling wagon. The house was magnificent. Joe had put years

and years of work into the sprawling, two-story ranch house. There were

two large barns to the left and a large red carriage house to the right.

The vegetable garden, lush with summer, could be seen behind the house.

The paddocks, stretching before and behind, seemed to go on forever.

Horses, her uncle's prize thoroughbreds, roamed in the paddocks, the

yeaifs foals seeming to dance alongside their mothers.

Tess knew about the weathered paint on the fine old house, however.

Since the war, nothing much had been done. They had considered

themselves lucky to hang on to the property once the battles had ended

and the dust had died down. There were floorboards on the blue~-gray

porch that needed to be mended, and Tess thought that if Jamie Slater

looked long and hard at the velvet drapes in the parlor, he would see

the material was old and fraying.

In the past few years, all their efforts had gone into their battles

with von Heusen.

She drove the wagon hetwcen the paddocks toward the house. Jamie and Jon

were far ahead of her. They'd reached the clearing before the house, and

Jamie was turning around on the huge roan, looking at everything around

him.

He was still amusd. A--and pleased.

He must have thought I was a potato farmer and that he bartered himself

for a few dusty acres! Tess decided. Well, he should be pleased.

The front door burst open as the wagon reached the clearing. Hank Riley,

Joe's foreman, came hurrying down the st~s, followed by Janey Holloway,

who had worked for them since Tess had begun to work at the paper. Hank

was as tall and skinny as a young oak sapling, with a weathered face so

browned and crinkled that he sometimes looked like an Indian. Janey was

young and plump and pretty, with sandy hair and soft gray eyes.

Jane stared from Jamie to the wagon, then screamed with joy, clutching

her heart when she saw Tess. Hank didn't make a sound. He came hurrying

down the steps of the porch and over to the wagon and reached right up,

catching hold of Tess and swinging her down. He lifted her up and swung

her around again, a smile crinkling his face to 119 even greater depths.

"Tess! The Lord be praised, but that man told us you were dead!"

"I'm not dead, Hank, I'm fine." Hank had set her down. Jane was crying

softly.

"Jane!" Tess took the young woman in her arms to comfort her.

"It's all right! I'm here. I'm alive, I'm well!"

"Oh, Miss. Tess! Miss. Tess, it's just so wonderful to see you! He said

he was coming back tonight~ and at first we thought that you were him

coming back a little early. He had the sheriff with him, you see, and he

said as how everyone had heard that both you and your uncle had been

killed in an Indian raid, and that the land would go up for public

auction. Hank and me and the hands were to clear out. Well, the hands

could stay on until the actual auction, but" She paused, gasping for

breath.

Hank, casting a curious glance toward Jamie and Jori, continued the

story indignantly.

"He said that since Jane and I might think ourselves too close to the

family, we'd have to get out before we started stealing property from

the deceased!"

"He--who the hell is he?" Jamie demanded, dismounting.

Hank frowned, not about to answer the question until he had a signal

from Tess.

"Well, Miss. Tess, I'll answer him about who the hell he is--once this

fellow tells me who the hell he is himself!"

Jamie's eyes narrowed, and his face started to look like thunder.

"Hank," Tess said quickly.

"This is Lieutenant Jamie Slater, he's with the cavalry. And Mr. Jon Red

Feather..

Hank, they've been gracious enough to see me home"--" Then Joe really is

dead," Hank said miserably.

She nodded.

He swallowed hard, looking into the distance.

"I'd kinda hoped, seeing you and all ... Then he really did get it from

the Indians."

"No. From von Heusen."

"Him again," Hank muttered.

"He--him," Jamie interjected.

"Axe we, or are we not, talking about von Heusen all the way around

here?"

"Of course!" Tess stated firmly.

"You mean to tell me," Jamie said, striding toward Hank, "that this yon

Heusen has already been here, telling you that the property is going to

go up for public auction in lieu of being granted to legitimate heirs?"

"Yep, something like that."

"Just like a vulture," Jon commented. "Well, he'll be back," Hank

promised.

"Soon enough.

You'll get to meet him."

Dolly, still on the wagon, cleared her throat.

"Oh, Dolly!" Jamie exclaimed apologetically. He hurried around to help

her down. Dolly smiled and took Hank's hand firmly.

"I'm Dolly Simmons, Hank. Nice to make your acquaintance. And you, too,

young lady. Jane, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"A fine name, a fine name. And I'm mighty parched. Perhaps we could go

inside and have ourselves a sip of something."

"Yes, let's!" Tess said.

She started for the house. Jon dismounted and looped his pinto's reins

around the hitching post in front of the house.

Tess was halfway up the stairs before she realized that Jamie hadn't

moved.

He was still standing with the roan's reins in his hands.

"Jamie, come in, please," she said politely. A bit distantly

perhaps--they were still involved in their fierce, personal battle.

"We'll see to the wagon later. Hank and the boys will help."

He shook his head, looking at Hank, not her.

"That the trail to follow into town?" he asked, pointing toward the

road.

"Yep, that's it."

"Where's the action congregate around here?" Hank was smiling but

curious.

"Why, the Bennington saloon. The best card games in town go on there,

the best whiskey flows there, and the best girls" -- He paused, glancing

quickly toward the ladies.

"Well, Lieutenant, the best entertainment in town can be found there,

too."

Jamie nodded. Smiling at Tess, he told her, "I think that I'll take a

ride in."

"Now?" she demanded. The best entertainment in town! Von Heusen was

expected at the house, and he was about to ride off to enjoy himself

with a dance-hall gift! "No time like the present."

"But von Heusen is going to come here!"

"I don't want to meet Mr. yon Heusen. Not just yet." He swung up on his

horse and glanced at Jon. Tess tried hard to follow his gaze. Something

passed between them, like cons of words, and yet it all happened in a

few seconds.

Jori was staying with her. And still, she was furious. Jamie was

demanding half her land and he wouldn't even stay around to meet his

adversary.

"Lieutenant, if you head into town, perhaps you should stay there for

the night," she snapped. They all stared at her. She had to control her

temper.

She had to quit caring.

He grinned, "Why, Miss. Stuart, do you think there'll be enough there to

keep me occupied all night?"

"I imagine, Lieutenant, that that is entirely up to you. Do what you

feel you must."

She turned her back on him as quickly as she could. He was a free man,

she thought furiously. He could do whatever he wanted to do, drink

himself silly, consort with whores, gamble his life away. He sure as

hell wasn't going to do it on her property, though!

He was going to do it, though. He didn't even enter the house, but

turned and rode away. Tess tried very hard to look back, not to let

anyone see that her eyes had misted with her are and frustration.

Damned Yank. Damned Yank.

"It's a nice place you've got here," Jon complimented as they entered

the house.

"Beautiful!" Dolly exclaimed.

It wasn't exactly beautiful, Tess thought. But it was nice, and it was

livable, too. The parlor into which they entered was vast, and it was

combined with a big dining room that held a heavy carved Mexican table

that could seat fourteen for dinner. To the left of the dining area,

against the rear wall, was the broad staircase that led to the second

floor.

Nearer the door was Joe's desk, on a dais, perched on a cow skin. His

large wing-chair was behind it, and two heavy leather chairs were

situated before it. There was a spittoon in the corner for those who

felt they absolutely must chew tobacco. In the center of the room, on a

beautiful hooked rug, was a. large, soft, brown leather sofa. It sat

next to the fire, with matching chairs across from it and occasional

tables beside it. There were bright Indian flower vases on the tables.

There were flowers in the vases, and Tess smiled. Hank and Jane had kept

up, no matter what.

"Well!" Dolly said.

"Now this is nice! Tess, where would you like us to stay?"

"Oh!" She had forgotten that even though Jamie Slater had ridden away

the moment they arrived, she had other guests to attend to.

"I'msorry. Upstairs, Dolly. Hank, we can wait a while on the other

things, but let's bring up Dolly's trunks. Come up, please!" She urged

Dolly and Jon forward.

When they reached the second-story landing, they looked down a long

hallway with doors on either side and a big-paned window with velvet

draperies at the end.

"There are eight rooms up here," she murmured.

"We shouldn't be wanting."

Jane, who had followed her up the stairs, cleared her throat softly.

"Tess, your room is aired, and Joe's room is 123 aired, and I just

happened to air the back two, but I haven't touched the others yet. I

was getting around to them, but then when we heard ... When we heard

that both you and Joe ... Nothing seemed to make much sense anymore."

"That's all right," Tess said.

"But we'll nee~l linens and all for Mrs. Simmons and Mr. Red Feather.

Can you see to that? We'll put them in those two rooms you aired."

"What about the lieutenant?"

"I believe he's staying in town. And should he wander back, well, he can

wander into the barn."

Jon made a choking sound, then laughed. Dolly gave a little gasp.

Tess didn't care. She walked grandly down the hall.

"Dolly, this room here is more appropriate for a lady, I think.

There's a big dressing table in here, and the light is wonderful in the

morning."

"It is just wonderful!" Dolly said delightedly.

"I love it!" She caught Tess's cheeks between her plump hands and gave

her a kiss on the cheek.

"I am so glad I came. And don't you dare wait on me. I'm here to help.

Jane, you run along and get linens, and I'll get this bed made up, and

then you show me around the house and tell me what I can do!"

' "Dolly, you don't have to do anything but rest. It's been a long trip

" You hush, dear. I'm going to get to know my room!" She stepped inside,

closing the door. Jane hurried down the hall to the little'

linen-storage room.

Tess smiled wryly at Jon.

"She's wonderful, isn't she?"

"Dolly? Yes, she's a wonder."

"I didn't really give her the best room, Jon, both these rooms are big

and have beautiful views. I think you'll be just as happy over here. The

bed is large and firm, and it's very airy."

"I'll be quite comfortable wherever you put me," he sured her.

Smiling, he looked into the room, then backed out again.

"I'll go help Hank with the trunks."

"If you're tired"

"Tess, do I look tired? If yon Heusen is coming back tonight, we want to

look settled in, don't we?"

"It's interesting that you should feel that way. Apparently the

lieutenant wasn't very worried."

"Don't underestimate him, Tess. He knows what he's doing."

"You would defend him no matter what, wouldn't you?"

"Because I know him," Jon said quietly, and he stepped past her, down

the hall and down the stairs. She'd best get moving herself, Tess

decided.

She turned and hurried down the hallway in Jon's wake. While the men

unloaded the wagon, she could see to the horses and the mules.

Then she'd have to find out how many of the ranch hands had stayed

around once they'd heard that von Heusen would be taking over.

And then she'd have to wait. for von Heusen himself.

The town of Wiltshire was not a little hole-in the-wall, Jamie decided

as he rode down the main street. It was really quite sophisticated, with

rows and rows of Victorian houses with their cupolas and gingerbread

lining the roads that ran off the main street. Along the main street

were any number of businesses--two different mercantiles, a barbershop,

a corset shop, a men's wear shop, a cooper, a photographer, a mortician,

a pharmacy, a doctor, two lawyers, a boardinghouse for young ladies and

an inn that boasted a sign, "Perry McCarthy's Shady Rest Hotel--Stop

Here and Dine! We've a Restaurant for Any Respectable Traveler,

Gentleman, Lady or Child."

He wondered how well Perry McCarthy was doing. The streets were very

quiet.

In front of the barbershop a few men sat around and puffed on pipes.

One was missing an arm, another was minus his left foot. A pair of

crutches leaned against the wall behind him.

The men looked at Jamie as he rode by. The 125 war, Jamie thought. These

men had fought in the war.

Southerners, like he'd been. Even if Miss. Stuart was insisting upon

calling him a Yank. Well, he was a Yank. Hell, they were all Yanks now.

Because the damn Yanks had won the war.

"Howdy," he called out to the group.

The fellow with the stump for an arm nodded.

"Stranger in these parts, aren't you, mister."

"Yes, sir, I am. But it seems to be a nice enough place."

"Used to be," the man minus the foot said, spitting on the ground.

"Used to be. But then the varmints started coming in and taking over.

You know how that is. You don't hail from these parts, but I don't think

that's any Chicago accent you got on you, boy. Where you from?"

"Missouri," Jamie said.

"Missouri," the footless man repeated. He stroked his graying beard with

a smile and settled back.

"Well, now, I hope you stay a while."

"I was planning on it. I thought I'd buy some land."

"Don't think you're going to be able to, not good land.

Oh, there's some land up to the north for sale, but it's pure desert.

You don't want that, boy."

"Well, I'll look around. I heard that Joe Stuart was killed. Maybe I can

get my hands on some of his land."

The man without the arm was up in a minute.

"Don't you go looking around to be a vulture after Joe's place. You'll

wind up dead yourself, young man."

"Maybe you'd better shut up, Carter," the other fellow muttered.

Jamie leaned down, smiling.

"Fellows, Joe's niece is alive and well and kicking, I can tell you."

"Miss. Tess!" The one named Carter gasped with pleasure.

"Why, that's the best news I've heard since '61! You telling the truth

there, boy?"

"Sir, I'm over thirty," Jamie politely told him.

"And I think I count. double time for the war, my friends, so that makes

me pretty darned old, and nobody's boy."

"Sorry there, Carter and me, we didn't mean to offend."

"No offense taken. My name is Jamie Slater. I'm look- hag to buy land.

You hear of anything, you let me know."

"We'll do that. But you aren't going to get the Smart ranch. Von Heusen

wants that. He wants it bad."

"But he doesn't want that other land. That's interesting," Jamie mused.

"Hope you stay a while," Carter said.

"Thanks. I intend to."

"My name's Jeremiah Miller, you need any more information, bo--young

man, you look me up. Hell, anybody younger'n me is a boy, son!"

Jamie laughed and urged his mount on. He could see the saloon ahead.

He reined in before it, tossed his reins over the tethering bar and

entered through the swinging doors. He paused for a minute, letting his

eyes adjust to the dimness and the smoke. There was a piano player in

the rear. A singer with a short mauve shirt that barely covered rich

black petticoats and stockings perched on the piano. Her voice was as

smoky as the atmosphere.

There was a bar to his right, running the length of the establishment.

Two heavyset bartenders ha white aprons leaned against the mahogany bar

talking to customers. There were a number of patrons at the twenty or so

tables in the place. Some were well-dressed small-town merchants, others

were ranch men, wearing denim pants and spurs and tall, dusty hats.

Their spurred boots were sometimes up on chairs or tables. It was a lazy

crowd, it seemed, an interesting one.

The crowd went silent the minute Jamie entered the room. The singer

forgot the lyrics to her song. The piano player swung around and stared,

too.

"Howdy," Jamie said casually.

People stared. Then the brunette hopped off the piano and walked

forward.

"Hello, there," she said, frowning at the others, offering Jamie a broad

smile.

"What's the matter with you all! We've a stranger in town. Let's not

make him think we haven't a single wit of manners between the lot of

us!"

"Sure thing, Sherry, honey? one of the cowboys called out. He let his

feet fall to the floor.

"Howdy, there, stranger.

Welcome to Wiltshire. We ain't rude. We're just surprised. Strangers

just don't come here very often very more." "Why is that?" Jamie asked.

The cowboy shrugged, but not before looking around the room. In one

corner, a few men in suits were playing cards.

"It ain't a good gamble, that's why," a tall, thin man with heavy

iron-gray whiskers called out.

"But you're here now, so come on in. Hardy!" He called to the bartender.

"Give the stranger a whiskey, on me." "Thank you kindly," Jamie said. He

strode into the room. Sherry brought his whiskey. He sat across from the

man who had invited him, next to a small, nervous man with wir~rimmed

spectacles.

"My haree's Edward Clancy," the bewhiskered man said, offering Jamie a

hand.

"I'm the editor of the Wiltshire Sun."

Jamie nearly betrayed his surprise. He kept a firm smile plastered to

his face.

"The Sun, huh? The newspaper?" "The gossip rag," the man said flatly.

"That's all I dare print, and I'm careful about that. Oh, well, I write

up some articles about President Grant and about the Indians. But not

much else."

"Why?"

'"Cause I like living," Edward Clancy said flatly.

"We're playing poker. You in?"

Jamie pushed back his hair and reached into his pocket for money.

"Sure, I'm in. I like to gamble."

"Then you're in the right town, mister. You're surely in the right towm

What's your name?"

"Jamie. Jamie Slater."

Clancy smiled slowly.

"I've heard of you. You're one of the Slater brothers. Why, I heard that

you can hit a fly in the clouds with that " Rumor," Jamie interrupted

him.

"Rumor, that's something I'd just as soon keep quiet for the time

being."

"It's quiet. It's quiet." Clancy stared at him hard, then grinned again.

"That's Dec Martin. He was one of Joe Stuart's best friends. We'll keep

things quiet. Whatever you say."

"Thanks."

"We'll help you any way that we can," Dec volunteered. "Information is

what I need now," Jamie said, leaning closer.

"Why does this yon Heusen want the Stuart property so damn bad?"

"You know, we haven't figured that one out yet. We just haven't figured

it out. But he does want it badly."

"Badly enough to kill?"

"Hell, yes, I think so. Why, if the Indians hadn't gotten old Joe ..."

His voice trailed away as he stared at Jamie.

"It wasn't a tribe of Indians that came after him, was it?"

"Not according to Tess."

"Tess! She's alive!"

Jamie nodded. The look of pure, unadulterated joy on the man's face was

somewhat irritating. The sun-honey blond seemed to be a golden angel

around these parts. Edward Clancy leaned so far across the table that he

was nearly on top of it. His voice was soft; his features were knotted

up and tense.

"If Tess says it was von Heusen, it was von Heusen all right. Are

you--are you going to stay around and fight him?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

He didn't guess so. He was committed, and he knew it. He had been

committed since he'd first seen Tess's face.

He just hadn't known it right away.

"Hell! Don't look now," Dec muttered suddenly. "What?" Jamie demanded.

"Some of von Heusen's boys. The four fellows who just came in. The

mean-looking ones."

They were a mean-looking group, Jamie decided. Lanky- haired,

glitter-eyed.

Two were light, two were dark-haired.

One chewed tobacco incessantly.

The dark-haired man who chewed tobacco seemed to be the spokesman for

the group. He slammed his fist on the bar, rattling all the glasses on

it. He shouted to the bartender, who couldn't seem to move swiftly

enough to the end of the bar.

"Hardy! What's the matter with you, ya getting' old?" one of the men

demanded.

"Whiskey. And not the rotgut you serve the local swine. Give us the best

in the house." Hardy set a bottle on the bar. The man grasped him by the

shirt collar and nearly pulled him over the bar. Hardy was starting to

turn purple, and his attacker was laughing like a hyena.

"That's enough."

Jamie was on his feet. Once again, everyone went silent. Von Heusen's

men were silent, too. The four of them stared at him with astonishment.

Then they began to smile. "Who the hell are you?" asked the dark-haired

brute.

"That doesn't matter. Let Hardy alone."

"Why, son, you don't know anything about this town at all, now, do you?"

"Let him go," Jamie repeated.

"He needs to be taught a lesson," one of the light-haired men said with

a nasty snarl.

"Yeah. A fatal lesson."

In a flash, the man released the bartender. He drew his gun.

He was fast, but not fast enough. Before he could aim he had dropped the

gun, howling in pain. His friends tried to draw.

Rapid shots sizzled from Jamie's Colts. The second man was on the floor,

clutching his leg. The third grasped an arm. The fourth was on the

floor.

He might have been dead. Jamie didn't know or care.

He looked at Edward Clancy.

"Thanks for the drink, friend," he said quietly.

Then he left the bar, walking over his fallen enemies.

Chapter Seven.

By nightfall the wagon had been unloaded except for the printing press,

which would be taken into town in the morning. Tess had even managed to

fill the hip bath in the kitchen with steaming water and soak for a long

time, washing away the dust and dirt from the trail. She kept reminding

herself that von Heusen was coming back, but she felt strangely calm,

despite the fact that Jamie had deserted them.

Von Heusen wasn't going to come right up to the house and murder her. He

hadn't the guts for that. She dressed in a soft summer-green cotton and

set about making dinner with Jane and Dolly to help her. She was

accustomed to Jane, but it was really nice to have Dolly with her. Dolly

kept up a steady stream of conversation, mostly about her husband, Will,

and their days in the military. Her stories were spicy and fun, and Tess

enjoyed them thoroughly.

They cooked a huge wild turkey on a spit and summer squash and green

beans and apple turnovers. When the table was set and everything was

ready, Tess went out to find Jon.

He was leaning against a pillar, a band tied around his dark hair and

forehead, a repeating carbine held casually in his hand. He looked over

the landscape. "Dinner's on, Jon."

He glanced her way, smiling.

"Thanks, Tess, but I think I'll wait out here a while longer, keep an

eye on things."

"It's turkey and all kinds of good things. I'd like to repay you for the

trip."

I'll eat soon," he promised. She nodded and left him. Halfway inside the

house she paused, wondering if he was looking for yon Heusen or Jamie.

She hoped Jamie was eating stale, weevil-fiddled bread somewhere.

She'had a feeling, though, that he was not.

She walked into the house and to the dining-room table. Hank had come

in, and he was smiling.

"The boys are out at the bunkhouse and they're pleased as peaches that

you're home, Miss. Tess. Well, them that's left. We've still got Roddy

Morris, Sandy Harrison and Bill McDowell. They won't be going anywhere."

"Wonderful!" Tess told him.

"Bring the boys in for dinner, will you, Hank?"

"They're already fixing. their suppers in the bunkhouse, Tess. We'll

have a big Sunday dinner for them all, that's what we'll do."

"Fine. That sounds good, Hank. Now, let's all sit." Dolly offered to say

grace. She thanked God for His bounty, for their being alive and being

together, then she asked God to take a good look at their enemies and

see if He couldn't do something to put bad men in their proper place.

"Amen," she finished.

"Amen," they all chorused.

Tess was about to take her first bite of dinner when she heard the

sounds of horses' hooves. She set down her fork.

How many of them had come with yon Heusen? It sounded like five, r! o

more.

"Excuse me," she said primly, setting her napkin carefully on the table

and rising casually. It didn't matter. Dolly, Hank and Jane all

catapulted to their feet, and they attached themselves to her like

shadows as she walked to the door. She could hear voices before she

reached it. Jon's first.

"That's close enough, fellows. Close enough."

"It's an Injun!" "I said close enough."

Someone must have moved. A barrage of shots went off, followed by a

startled silence.

Then yon Heusen started to talk.

"Hold it, boys, hold your fire! I've just come to talk to Hank and Jane

about removing themselves from the prop" There no need for them to

gemove themselves from the property," Jori said.

"This is private property, and the owner seems to want them here. One

step nearer, boy," he warned someone, "and there'll be a hole in your

chest where your heart used to be."

"Who in the blazes are you!" von Heusen thundered, losing his control.

"A friend."

"A friend! Well, listen here, you red-faced monkey. The Smarts are dead.

They were attacked by Comanche or " Apache?" Jon interrupted. She could

hear something cold and dangerous in his voice.

"Tell me, which Apache?

Which Apache do you think did it? Or don't you know? I'll tell you, I'm

damned sure it wasn't any Apache. Apache, any Apache, make war, or they

go raiding. They make war to 'take death from their enemies." They raid

to fill their bellies. I haven't met an Apache yet who would leave dead

cattle scattered with the corpses of men."

"Who the hell knows or cares what Apache!" von Heusen thundered.

"It doesn't matter. Maybe it was Comanche" -- "Running River denies it."

"There are more tribes of Comanche!" "Yes, there are," Jon said softly.

"But the Comanche know what doin too.

it to man.

"Of course, the whites have been scalping for a long time now. I read

somewhere that they started scalping way back in the east in the sixteen

hundreds. But still. White men in a hurry do a sloppy job. Neither a

Comanche nor an Apache would do a sloppy job. No matter what his hurry."

"Takes an Inj un to know I" someone muttered.

"Maybe we ought to string him up. Who knows? Maybe he's some renegade in

charge of the party that did it himself!" von Heusen said.

"Let's hang him!"

"Let's see you try!" Jon said very softly. "Hold it! Hold it!" von

Heusen said.

"Now listen, Joe Smart and his family are dead. And this property is'

going to go up for public auction. Now I have" -- Tess had taken his

statement as her cue. She threw open the door and stepped onto the porch

behind Jon.

"Correction, von Heusen. I am not dead."

Even in the dusky light that sifted down from the moon and the stars,

Tess could see the startled look that flashed briefly across yon

Heusen's features.

He was a lean man, tall, spare. His features were almost cadaverous, his

cheekbones sucked in, his chin very long and pointed. His eyes were coal

black, and they seemed to burn from his skull. He sat atop his horse

well, though. Jon had his repeating rifle aimed right at his heart, and

von Heusen still sat casually, his hands draped over the pommel.

Around him were four of his men. He had about twenty hired guns on his

place. Only four of them were with him.

Tess didn't like it. He usually paid his visits with an escort of at

least eight to ten.

It made her wonder where the rest of his men might be. Von Heusen found

his voice at last.

"Why, Miss. Smart.

I am delighted to see you alive and well."

" Like hell you are, von Heusen.

"That's uncalled for, ma'am."

"Be damned, you carpetbagging riffraff, but it is."

"Someone ought to wash your mouth out with a little soap, lady. I just

came by" -- "You just came by to rob Joe of everything he ever had, now

that you've murdered him!"

"You watch your accusation there, Miss. Stuart."

"It's the truth. You know it, and I know it. And somehow, I'm going to

prove it!"

Von Heusen was smiling.

"I don't think so, little lady. No, I don't think so. You want to know

what I do think?" He leaned toward her. It was just a fraction of an

inch and he was still far away, but the gesture made her tremble inside.

"I think that this ranch was meant to be mine, Miss. Stuart. Now I've

offered you good money for it. Real good money.

And you still don't want to sell. Miss. Stuart, I want you out of town."

"I'm not leaving."

"I wouldn't be so adamant, little lady. You may find that you leave in

one way or another."

"You threatening her, von Heusen?" Jori asked. "She seems to think that

I'm guilty of something," von Heusen said.

"The whole damned town can tell you that I was in the saloon playing

cards the day the Indians attacked the Stuart train. The whole damned

town can tell you that. But still, if the lady is so worried and so

certain, well then, maybe she ought to plan on riding out of town. What

do you think?"

"I think that you should give reasonable thought to the idea of riding

out of town yourself, yon Heusen," Jon warned quietly.

Von Heusen started to laugh.

"On the word of a half- breed Indian?"

He started to Urge his mount closer to the porch. Jori fired a shot that

must have sizzled a hairbreadth from the man's cheek. Von Heusen went as

pale as the clouds. boss"-- one of Von Heusen lifted a hand.

"Calm down now, boys. Just because Miss. Stuart's resorting to violence

is no reason that we should. We'll be riding off now. But you remember

what I said, Miss. Stuart. I'd hate to see you leaving town other than

all dressed up right pretty and in a comfortable stagecoach!" He smiled

at her.

"It is good to see you alive and well. Such a pretty, pretty woman. And

all that blond hair. Blond hair alone is worth a pretty penny in certain

places, did you know that?"

He stared at Tess. As he did so, she suddenly realized that she could

smell smoke.

Suddenly she knew where the rest of yon Heusen's men were. The smoke was

coming from the direction of the card age house. The printing press was

in the wagon still, and the wagon was next to the buckboard and the

chaise in the carriage house.

And so far, it had been a dry summer. If the carriage house went up in

flames, the blaze could quickly spread to the house, to the barn, even

to the stables. Von Heusen was smiling.

"You bastard!" she hissed at him. Jon hadn't moved; he didn't dare.

If he moved the rifle a hair yon Heusen just might decide to take

advantage and shoot them all down. They stood there, locked in the

moment, yon Heusen staring at Tess with a smile, Tess staring at him,

hating him so fiercely that she should have been able to have willed him

dead. It was lost now.

All lost. The house, Joe's house. The press.

It didn't even seem to bother yon Heusen that he would slaughter all the

horses.

Then suddenly, in the midst of yon Heusen's triumph and her own despair,

a commotion sounded from the direction of the carriage house. There was

still smoke issuing from it--no sign of fire yet.

But men suddenly spilled out of it. Four of them, their hands held high

above their heads. They nearly tripped as they walked, for someone had

apparently ordered them to lower their breeches, and their pants were

tight around their ankles.

Three of them wore long johns; the fourth must have been buck naked.

Tess only caught a glimpse of his bare legs, as he managed to stay

behind the other three.

"Tarnation!" yon Heusen swore.

"You fools! What in bloody hell is going on" -- He broke off and never

finished his question. From the smoke of the carriage house, another man

appeared.

Tess felt her heart catch.

It was Jamie. He had a single gun trained on the men and he followed

them out with the casual air yon Heusen had had.

The men kept walking forward. The half-naked one paused, and Jamie

nudged him forward.

"Ladies, do excuse me," Jamie apologized, "but they seemed to be a

little more docile and trustworthy in this fashion."

"I'll kill you yet!" one of them muttered. "Well, I don't doubt that you

intend to try," Jamie assured him. Then he stared at the men still

mounted upon their horses.

"Which one of you is yon Heusen?"

"I am Richard von Heusen. Who the hell are you?"

"Jamie Slater. But that doesn't matter. What does matter is that I own

part of this spread now. And I'll thank you kindly to keep yourself and

your half-sawed ruffians off my property, is that understood?"

"Your property" -- yon Heusen began.

"My property, yes. Now, take your arsonist friends here and move."

"You must be mistaken. Why would my men set fire to anything here?"

"Who knows why? But that was what they were doing. Ordinarily, of

course, I'd want to get to know my new neighbors. But since you and the

Stuarts don't seem to be very good friends, I really don't think you

should stay. I bet dinner is on. Tess, is dinner on?"

"yes!"

"Something good?"

His eyes touched hers across the dusky night. She nodded, fighting for

speech.

"Turkey. Dressing. Squash. All sorts of things."

"And getting cold. I do declare. Gentlemen, good night," Jamie said

firmly.

He prodded the men.

"Move 'em, now, von Heusen, or they'll start turning into corpses."

"We're nine to one, you fool" -- "Nine to two. See my friend there? He

could hit the hair in a man's nose at a thousand yards, and he's faster

than greased lightning. You're out manned and outnumbered, you just

don't know it yet." "We'll see about that," von Heusen said angrily.

"Get those half-naked idiots up on your horses!" he ordered his mounted

men.

He jerked his mount around to face Tess and pointed a long finger at

her.

"You'll pay for this, Miss. Stuart. You'll pay dearly. I promise you."

He swung around again, and his men followed. They raced off into the

darkness, the horses' hooves pounding on the dry earth.

Silence and stillness fell over the small group on the porch. Jon Red

Feather slowly lowered his rifle. He stared at Jamie.

"What the hell took you so long?"

"Well, there were four of them in the carriage house!"

Jamie announced indignantly. He strode up the stairs. Tess was still

staring at him blankly when he tweaked her cheek and walked past her.

She managed to turn and follow him. He walked over't the table and sat,

then pulled off a turkey leg and bit into it hungrily. Looking up, he

saw Tess staring at him, Dolly and Jane on either side of her, and Jon

and Hank on either side of the women. He paused in mid bite

"Do you all mind?"

Tess stood in front of him.

"Where did you go? How did you happen to come back right then?"

He chewed before answering her.

"I left the saloon as soon as I met a few friendly people--and a few not

so friendly people. I knew he was coming out here. I didn't know he

intended to burn you out." He paused, looking past Tess to Jon.

"Seems strange, doesn't it? The man wants this property, but he doesn't

seem to care if he destroys it.

Makes you think, doesn't it?"

"Sure does."

"Makes you think what?" Tess asked irritably. "Tess, think about it.

It needs a little paint, a little shoring up here and there--but this is

a darned nice house. Solid, sound, big.

Then you've got the outbuildings, the carriages--and the horses. I

haven't seen enough to really make an estimate on the value of the

stock, but I imagine that we're talking hundreds and hundreds of dollars

in horseflesh alone.

And von Heusen doesn't care. He wants the property, but he doesn't care

if he burns it to the ground."

" He's a vile son of a bitch, that's why!" Tess stated.

"Well, yes," Jamie acknowledged with a wry grin.

"But there's more to it than that, I think."

Dolly took a seat at the table again and spooned up a mouthful of

squash.

"Vile, certainly! Why, our dinner has gone quite cold!"

"That's the spirit, Dolly," Jamie told her.

"Jori, sit. The turkey may be cold, but it's delicious."

"That's it?" Tess demanded heatedly.

"What do you mean, that's it?"

"Where did you go? What were you doing? You were supposed to be here!"

"Jon was here," Jamie said evenly.

"But" -- Jamie was buttering a roll. Jane and Hank and Jon sat and

picked up their forks. Jamie's butter knife went still and his eyes were

slightly narrowed as he stared at her.

"Miss. Stuart, I don't like the tone of this conversation. I came back

in time to save your hide."

"You wouldn't have had to rush back if you'd been here--where you should

have been! You want to be paid so highly, and you can't even stick

around!" He stood suddenly. His knife clattered against a dish.

"I

don't argue like this in front of others, Miss. Stuart."

" There is no argument!" she snapped.

"No, there isn't. I'll make it simple. Wherever I choose to go is my own

business, Miss. Stuart. You are not my keeper. And as to payment, hell,

yes.

Tomorrow we'll go into town and you'll turn over half interest in this

place to me."

She gasped aloud, stunned.

"Jamie, she doesn't understand what you're doing," Jon said, ignoring

the rising tensions and reaching for a roll himself.

"If you just explained" -- "Explained! Hell, I feel as if I'm up before

the judge and jury!"

"Judge and jury! I really don't give a damn what you do with your time,

but"

"You begged me to come here, Tess."

"Begged!"

"Begged!"

"Oh!" she cried. Then she wound her fingers tightly together.

"I don't argue in public either, Lieutenant!" she snapped. She was

shaking, she realized. She'd been so damned amazed and grateful to see

him, but she'd also been scared, and now she was furious and shaking and

she wasn't even sure what she did want. She turned, having no taste left

for dinner.

Angrily she began to stride for the door. "Tess!" He was on his feet,

calling to her. He really expected her to stop because he had commanded

her to. She didn't stop, she didn't turn, she didn't even pause. She

sailed straight for the front door. She would go to the carriage house

to make sure the fire von Heusen's men had started had been stamped out.

"Jamie, give her a minute," Dolly suggested.

"The hell I will!" Jamie snapped.

Before Tess heard the door slam in her wake, she thought she heard

Jamie's chair hit the floor as he pushed it over.

She started running toward the carriage house, anxious to reach it

before he could see her. She was at the side door when she heard the

front door to the house slam. She slipped into the eaniage house. She

inhaled and exhaled, but couldn't smell any smoke. All she could smell

was the fresh scent of the alfalfa hay that was being stored behind the

chaise.

She fumbled in the darkness to light the gas lamp by the door. When the

glow filled the carriage house, she went to check the wagon and the

printing press. She crawled into the wagon and gave a soft sigh of

relief as she saw that the printing press was fine. She sank down on one

of the bunks. "Tess!

Where are you!"

Jamie was obviously angry. She clenched her teeth and tried to ignore

him.

She stepped from the wagon and went to the buckboard. No flames had

lapped against it. The chaise, too, seemed untouched. Walking around,

she discovered a half burned bale of hay. It had been dragged into the

center of the room and lit. Von Heusen had meant it to be a slow fire.

He had really meant to be long gone when the place burned.

She moved away from the hay and from the faint, acrid smell of fire that

remained.

"Tess!"

He was still calling her, like a drill sergeant. With a sigh she

determined that she would have to open the door, but she hesitated with

her hand upon it. Where had he been? He'd been gone for hours. Had he

really enjoyed the saloon so much? What part of the saloon?

And why was she torturing herself so thoroughly over him? She couldn't

change the man.

The before twist the With a back.

was hat less, his shirt open at the neck, his hands on his hips, his

sandy hair tousled casually over a brow, but his manner anything but

casual.

"Why didn't you answer me?" he demanded. "Because I didn't want to speak

to you."

"It didn't occur to you that I might have been worried?"

"I could have been in and out of the carriage house all evening, and you

wouldn't have known. What, I'm supposed to be on a ball and chain if

you're around? But if you're not, it doesn't matter?"

She saw his jaw twist and a pulse tick hard against his throat.

"That's about it, yes. Think you can live with the niles?"

"No!"

"Then I'm leaving."

"what?"

"You heard me."

"But--'," In astonishment she stared at him. She inhaled sharply. She

couldn't let him leave her. She couldn't!

But she thought he wouldn't go. He just wanted to see her beg.

"Leave," she told him. She'd call his bluff, she determined.

He turned and reached for the door. She thought quickly and desperately,

then said,

"I thought you liked the property.

And the house, and the horses. And I thought you wanted half of

everything.

If you want it, you have to earn it."

He swung around. A smile curled his lip as he leaned against the door.

"You just can't say please, can you?"

"It isn't that! My God, this isn't fair! You want thousands of dollars

worth of property" -- "If yon Heusen has his way, there won't be any

property."

"But you're unfair!"

"Because I went to the saloon?"

"Because you weren't here!"

"But I was here. I was here exactly when you needed me." He walked

toward her. She took a step back and tripped over the pile of half

burned hay. He kept coming, and she reached out a hand, expecting he

would help her up. He didn't.

He dropped down, half on top of her and half beside her, his arms braced

over her chest so that she couldn't move.

Gray eyes looked into hers. He'd had a shave in town, she thought.

HIS cheeks were clean, and he smelled slightly of a cologne. He smelled

good all over, like good clean soap and like a man. He'd had a bath,

too, she realized, and her temper soared again. He had stayed at the

saloon. He'd had a drink and a bath and maybe a meal and. Maybe a woman.

"Get off of me, Yank!" she said angrily. The smoke left his eyes. He

stared at her with a gaze of cold steel. He leaned closer. So close that

their faces nearly touched. The heat of his body was all around her, and

she forgot everything, afraid, excited, wanting to ere ape him and run.

And wanting to know more of him.

"You're hurting me," she began.

"No, I'm not," he corrected her flatly.

"And I'm not moving a hair, because I really want your attention. Now

listen. I can go, or I can stay. The choice is yours. But if I stay, we

do things my way. I'll try to explain. I'm not desperate for land,

cattle, a house or money. I've done all right myself, thanks, despite

the war, despite everything. But tomorrow, you're going to turn over

half of this place to me on legal papers.

That way you may have a chance of keeping it. Pay attention. You're a

smart girl, Tess. Von Heusen thought that all he had to do was kill you

and your uncle and he could have this place. You have no next of kin.

But dadin', I've got plenty. I've got brothers, nieces and nephews.

It would take yon Heusen years to find them all if he did manage to kill

both of us. That might give him some serious pause. Do you understand?"

Staring at him, Tess simply nodded. He was right, and every word he was

saying made such perfect sense. And she wanted to be sensible. She

wanted to be dignified, grateful, strong.

She wanted to be able to fight her battles, but she could not fight

alone.

If only she didn't want him as a man, if only she didn't grow jealous

and angry so quickly. And yet. he still had that haunting aroma. His

flesh would be slick and clean, and she wanted to know how the warmth

would feel beneath her tongue.

The way he lay against her, she felt the thunder of his heart, and her

own, and the beats seemed to rise together, and fall away, and rise

together again, quick, wild, rampant. She felt his breath against her

cheeks, and the iron lock of his thigh upon her own. She wanted to reach

out and run her fingers through the sandy tendrils of hair that fell so

hauntingly over his forehead, and so often shadowed and shaded his eyes,

and hid his innermost thoughts.

"Yes? You do understand?"

"Yes!" she cried out.

"And it all makes sense to you? You'll do what I'm asking you to do?"

"Yes. We'll go into town. As soon as I've stopped by the paper"

"Before."

"What difference does it make?"

"Maybe none. But the sooner von Heusen hears about this, the better

things are going to be."

"Fine!" She was nearly screaming again. She was close to tears because

she was desperate to escape him and the sensual blanketing of his body

upon hers.

"Please, let me up!"

He rolled to his side, and she was free.

"You do sound more like him every day, though," she muttered heedlessly,

lpache Summer 145 rolling from him to rise and dust the hay from her

gown.

"Carpetbagging Yanks, all of" -- "That's another thing we're going to

get straight here once and for all!" he stated. Before she could flee as

she had intended, his arm snaked around her, and she was tumbling into

the hay again. He straddled her, and his hands pinned her down.

"I'm not a Yank. I'm all.S. Cavalry of- ricer now, Miss. Stuart, but I

was born and bred in Missouri and I fought with Morgan for many long

years in the war. As a Reb, Tess. Got that straight? Don't you ever go

calling me a carpetbagging Yank again, and so help me God, I mean that!

Understand?"

She stared at him blankly. She had called him a Yank a dozen times, and

only now was he telling her the truth.

"Tess!"

"Yes!" she cried. She tore at her wrists and freed them from his grasp,

then shoved him as hard as she could. He didn't move.

"Either Jon or I should know where you are at all times.

All right?"

"No hiding in barns or carriage houses."

"I wasn't hiding! I was trying to make sure the fire was really out."

"I wouldn't have walked out of here without making sure the fire was

out."

"Maybe I needed to see for myself. The printing press is in here."

"That damned press! It's everything to you."

"Yes! The paper does mean everything! It's the only means I have to tell

the truth!"

He was silent for a moment. Then he moved slowly to his feet and reached

down for her. She tried to ignore his helping hands, but they were

quickly upon her. He stood her up, but he wasn't ready to release her

yet.

"I know what I'm doin [."

She inhaled the scent of him.

"I do imagine that you do, Lieutenant ."

"What does that mean?"

"You've had a nice bath, so it seems."

"And a shave."

"May I go now?"

He was smiling again.

"Jealous little thing, aren't you?"

"Why should I be? I had a wonderfully pleasant afternoon with Mr. Red

Feather. He's extremely well read and well traveled."

Jamie's eyes darkened and narrowed. For an instant she hated herself;

she had no right to want to cause trouble between the friends. But she

seemed driven to try and make Jamie angry.

And then it hit her like a bolt from the blue. She was falling in love

with Jamie!

No! I am not in love with him, she thought in dismay. But maybe she was.

She wanted him. In ways she had never imagined a woman would ever want a

man. "It's important," Jamie repeated softly, "that Jon or I know where

you are at all times. Did we get that one down yet?"

"Yes, thank you, I think we did. But since I do seem to get along much

better with Jori, don't you think I should report to him, Lieutenant?"

She twisted free and saluted stiffly.

He caught her shoulders and pulled her back.

"You're a minx, Tess. A tart-mouthed little m'mx with siren's eyes and

the longest claws this side of the Mississippi."

"Lieutenant, you're" -- "I'm not a Yank, or a carpetbagger, Tess, and so

help m ~"

"You're about to crush my shoulder blades, Lieutenant," she said as

regally as she could manage.

"Oh." He released her.

"Do excuse me."

"I try, Lieutenant. Daily. Hourly." She started for the door.

"Tess?"

She didn't turn.

"I could have made you beg, you know?"

She spun around. He was laughing. She raced forward in a sudden surge of

energy and butted him in the stomach.

Taken off guard, he fell into the singed hay. She didn't stay to hear

anything else he might have to say.

She raced from the carriage house and back to the house, not pausing

until she was inside. She leaned against the door, gasping for breath.

The dining table was clean. Jane came from the kitchen and paused when

she saw Tess.

"They've all gone to bed, Tess. Hank just went to the bunkhouse. Mr. Red

Feather suggested that the hands take a few hours apiece on a kind of a

guard duty. Roddy called in that big guard dog of his and he's going to

have the dog on the porch, once he sees the lieutenant and tells the dog

that the lieutenant is a friend. I was going to go to bed. It's been a

big day for me, Miss. Stuart. A real big day."

Her eyes rolled and Tess laughed. Impulsively she gave Jane a big hug.

It was a mistake. Jane looked as if she was going to start crying all

over again.

"I'm just so happy that you're alive!" she said.

"Thanks. And I'm happy to be home. Come on, let's go They walked up the

stairs together. Jane hugged Tess quickly and fiercely again and headed

toward her own room. Wearily Tess pushed open the door to her bedroom

and walked in.

Lighting the lamp at her bedside, she shed her clothing and dressed in a

soft blue flannel nightgown. She sat in front of her dressing table and

picked up the silver-embossed brush that had belonged to her mother. It

was good to be home.

She pulled all the pins out of her hair--and then all the little pieces

of hay that had stuck into it--and began to brush it. It fell down her

shoulders, long and free. She brushed it mechanically for several

minutes, staring at her reflection and not seeing a thing.

Jane had been fight. It had been a big day.

But yon Heusen had been beaten back. Between Jamie and Jon, he had been

beaten back. She never had told Jamie that she was grateful. Truly

grateful.

He never seemed to give her a chance to say thank you. He was on her

side, but it seemed that she was always fighting him. At first, she had

been fighting him to make him believe her. Now she was certain he

believed her.

He had met yon Heusen. He couldn't have any doubt that yon Heusen had

been responsible for the attack on the wagon train.

And now. Maybe she wasn't fighting him. Maybe she was fighting herself.

First it had been that darned Eliza. Tess had managed to walk away from

Eliza with her dignity intact, but she had heard Jamie speaking to the

woman.

No one can make me marry anyone.

No one can make me marry anyone. So he wasn't the marrying kind.

She was. She wanted a man, a good man. She hadn't had much time to think

about it, what with the war and then everything that had happened since.

But when she thought for a moment, she knew. She didn't want to be a

spinster.

The paper was important to her, and she wasn't just copublisher and a

reporter anymore, she was the only publisher.

She had to keep it alive. But she wanted more, too. She wanted a

husband, one she really loved, and one who loved her. And she wanted

children, and she wanted to give them a world that wasn't forever

tainted with the memories of conflict and death.

And she wanted Jamie Slater. She wasn't at all sure how the two things

intertwined-- they didn't intertwine at all, she admitted. She sighed.

She had to get by the present for the moment. She had to survive yon

Heusen.

She shivered suddenly, violently, remembering the way von Heusen had

threatened her. She would be getting out of town, he had told her. If

not by stagecoach, then by some other means.

What could he do to her? She wasn't alone. She had help now.

But to pay for it she was about to turn over half her property--half of

Uncle Joe's legacy to her--to Jamie Slater. If he chose, he could be her

neighbor all her life. She could watch him, and torture herself day

after day, wondefing who he rode away to see, wondering what it was like

when he took a woman into his arms.

She groaned and pushed away from the table. She couldn't solve a thing

tonight. She needed some sleep. She needed some sleep very badly.

She doused the light and crawled beneath the covers. It felt so good to

be in her own bed again. The sheets were cool and clean and

fresh-smelling, and her mattress was soft and firm, and it seemed to

caress her deliciously. A faint glow from the stars and the moon entered

the room gently. It kept everything in dark shadows, and yet she could

see the familiar shapes of her dressing table and her drawers and her

little mahogany secretary desk.

The breeze wafted her curtains. She closed her eyes. Perhaps she dozed

for a moment. Not much time could have passed, and yet she suddenly

became aware that nome thing was different. Her door had been thrust

open.

She wasn't alone.

Jamie was standing in the doorway, his hands on his hips, his body a

silhouette in the soft hazy moonbeams. There was nothing soft or gentle

about his stance, however. She could feel the anger that radiated from

him.

"All right, Tess, where's my room?"

His room?

"Oh!" she murmured.

"Your room ... well, I didn't think you were going to stay here."

Long strides brought him quickly across the room. She scrambled to a

sitting position as he towered over her.

"I

just spent two days riding with you to get here. I spent two nights

sleeping on the hard ground beneath the wagon."

"The hay in the barn is very soft."

"The hay in the barn is very soft," he repeated, staring at her. He

leaned closer.

"The hay in the barn is very soft? Is that what you said?" She felt his

closeness in the shadows even as she inhaled his clean, fascinating,

masculine scent.

His eyes seemed silver in the darkness, satanic. She was rid- died with

trembling, so keenly aware of him that it was astonishing.

"You don't have a room for me?" he demanded. "All right, I am sorry.

But you were gone, and we were all exhausted. And you did have a bath

somewhere. I just believed that you meant to sleep where you had

bathed."

He was still for a moment--dead still. Then he smiled. "Miss. Stuart,

move over."

"What?"

"Move over. If there's no room for me, then I'll sleep here."

"Of all the nerve!"

"Hush! We share this bed, or we sleep in the hay together," he warned

her.

He meant it! she thought, still incredulous. She started to rise, trying

to escape from the bed. He caught her arm and pulled her gently back.

"Where are you going?" he whispered.

"Where else! You're bigger than I am--I can't throw you out! I'm going

to the barn!"

"Wait."

"For what?" she demanded.

For what? Every pulse within her was alive and crying out. She felt him

with the length of her body, with her heart, with her soul, with her

womb.

He did not hold her against him. He caressed her. He was warm, and his

smile and the white flash of his teeth in the night were compelling and

hypnotic.

"I said that we'd go together," he told her. He swept her up, cocooned

in a tangle of sheet and quilt. He held her tightly against his body and

started for the door. Her arms wound around his neck. She stared at the

planes of his face and felt as if the soft magic of the moonbeams had

wrapped around her. She should have been screaming, protesting, bringing

down the house.

But she was not. Her fingers grazed his nape, and she felt absurdly

comfortable in his arms. He was dragging her out to the hay, she

thought, and she did not care.

Nor was there anything secretive or furtive about his action. He moved

with long strides and went down the stairway with little effort to be

quiet. He opened the front door, bracing her weight with one arm, then

let it close behind him. He stood on the porch and looked out into the

night. Then he stared at her, and she knew that she was smiling.

"Where am I heading?"

"I don't know."

"Where do the hands sleep?"

"In the bunkhouse, by the far barn."

"Then I want the first barn?" he demanded softly. She couldn't answer

him.

She wasn't sure what the question was. All she could think was that he

meant her to sleep in the hay.

She wasn't sure what else he meant for her to do there, but though she

was in his arms now, and though he carried her with a certain force, she

suddenly knew that what happened would be her choice. Still, he had

caught hold of something deep within her, and she wasn't angry.

She smiled again as she looked at him and told him primly, "You, sir,

are completely audacious." "Maybe," he said, and smiled in return. Then

it seemed they were locked there in the night, their eyes touching, and

something else touching maybe, with the tenderness of the laughter they

shared. Then the laughter faded.

He pulled her more tightly against him, higher within his arms. And as

she watched him, fascinated, in the glow of the moonbeams, his lips

parted upon hers, and the world seemed to explode as his kiss entered

into her.

Darkness swirled around her, and sensation took flight. She had to get

away from him. and quickly.

No. she had to stay. She was where she wanted to be. Exactly where she

wanted to be.

Chapter Eight.

He carried her, in the moonlit night, to the barn. He entered it and

laid her, in her cocoon of covers, in the rear of the building, where

soft alfalfa lay freed from its bales, ready to be tossed to the horses.

The smell of the hay was sweet, almost intoxicating.

He lay down beside her and brought the back of his hand against her

cheek, touching the length of it, as if he studied just her cheek and

found the form and texture both beautiful and fascinating. Then his

finger roamed over the damp fullness of her lip. He watched the movement

as he touched her, then his eyes met hers. She could still feel, in her

memo~j, in the pulse that seemed to beat throughout her, the touch of

his lips against hers. And yet when he kissed her again, though the feel

was poignant, she knew that he would move away when he did.

He lay back against the hay, staring at the rafters and the ceiling.

He groaned softly, then rolled suddenly, violently, to face her again.

He didn't touch her, but leaned on an elbow to stare at her

reproachfully.

"You couldn't have just arranged a room, for me, huh?"

"You couldn't have just stuck around for a while, huh?" ahe retorted.

He was ruining it, dissolving the moonbeams, destroying the moment she

had imagined and waited for.

He rolled on his back again.

"Go to your room," he told her.

"I had no right to drag you out here."

Tess leaped to her feet, her cheeks flaming, her body and soul in

torment.

She stared at him furiously.

"You have no right to do what you're doing now! To ruin everything!"

"To ruin everything?" He scowled.

"Tess! I'm trying damned hard to do the decent thing!" And she would

never know what an effort it was taking. He felt on fire, as if he

burned in a thousand hells. It had been all right before he touched her,

before he felt her lips parting beneath his.

Before he sensed her innocence and the sweet wildness beneath it, the

passion, the sensuality that simmered and swept beneath it all, that

promised heaven. She was different. He wasn't sure if he dared take her

all the way, because he knew it would mean fragile ties that might bind

him forever. He couldn't find a simple fascination in her beauty; it

would be more, and though he couldn't begin to define it, it was there.

He already slept with dreams of her haunting his mind; he never forgot

for a moment the way she had looked upon the rock, as naked as Eve, as

tempting as original sin.

"Tess, don't you see? I'm trying to let you go!" She paused, and it

seemed that she waited upon her toes, as if she would go or stay

according to the way the breeze came.

There was a curiously soft smile on her face, almost wistful, a look he

had seldom seen.

"What if I don't want to be let go?" she asked him very quietly, with a

breathless, melodic whisper. He wasn't sure he had really heard the

words.

Real or not, they ignited embers within him. He came to his feet and

looked at her across the small, shadowed distance that separated them.

He could almost reach out and touch her. If he did, he would be lost. If

he put his hands upon her now, he would never let her go.

"You have to make up your mind." He almost growled the words.

"No strings, no promises, no guarantees. You should run. You should run

from me just as fast as one of those thoroughbreds of yours."

"Why?"

She didn't move; she hadn't taken a step. There was a note of amusement

and challenge in her voice. Her chin was raised high; her eyes were

brilliant, nearly coal-black in the shadows. He forced himself to walk

around her, but that was a mistake. The moon was filtering through the

windows, and the light played havoc with the flannel gown she wore.

Light touched fabric, molded it, saw through it. He felt again the

softness of the woman he had held, and his hands itched to touch her

again. A hunger took root inside him, one that made him long to caress

and taste and know.

"Why?" He repeated her question.

The reasons were swiftly leaving his mind. If she was willing, he was

more than anxious to drown in the sweet depths of her fascinating

waters. He clenched his fingers and kept moving casually.

"Because we're in a barn, because I've the distinct feeling you don't

know what you're doing, because you're young and because you're probably

the type of woman who ought to fall in love, deeply in love, with the

right man, and have a band of gold, and all the rest. Because I'm the

hardened refuse of an ill-fated war, and though I don't mind a fight, I

wouldn't be looking for more than a lover."

She smiled.

"Lieutenant, what makes you think I'd be looking for anything more than

a lover?"

He almost groaned aloud. If she didn't leave soon. "Tess, I don't think

you know" -- "I'm twenty-four, Lieutenant. And just as much the refuse

of an ill-fated war as you are. That war taught me a great deal. You

can't always wait to seize what you want. Life is too short, too quickly

severed."

She was smiling still, and there was something poignant about her words

that caught hold of his heart. He had never seen her more beautiful,

more feminine, more arresting. Her eyes were wide; her smile was gentle;

her still form was compelling in the flannel that was draped over her

shoulders, nearly falling from them, that conformed to the rise of her

breasts, then fell to the floor. Her hair was a river of dating, honeyed

light that caressed and embraced her, waving around her shoulders and

falling almost to her waist. Her eyes. When he came close, he saw that

they were not coal-black at all, but so deeply colored in the near

darkness that they appeared to be a rich and hypnotic purple.

He held still. He watched her and tried to find the fight words, the

words that would get her to leave. She would hate him for humiliating

and rejecting her, but maybe that would be better than what he wanted.

To own her, to have all of her, to teach her everything she wanted to

know so thoroughly that she would forget everything but the feel of him

beside her.

"Come here then," he said hoarsely.

She still seemed to pause. Like a sprite, like a night witch or angel,

he knew not which. A rueful curve came to her lips, and she said softly,

"Jamie?"

"What?"

"Where did you take your bath?"

He smiled, too.

"At the livery stables. Not at the saloon."

"Thank you," she murmured, then she took a step toward him, and another

step, and she was in his arms.

His mouth closed upon hers, and he let his hands wander where they

would. He had tried to do the decent thing. And it hadn't worked. So

now. She was fragrant, like a drug. He breathed in the scent of her hair

and the scent of her flesh. He kissed her lips and her earlobe, and he

pressed his tongue against the surge of her pulse at her throat, and he

took her lips again, savoring the caress of her tongue, feeling the rise

of heat and need and the rampant beat in his loins as the thrusts of

their tongues became ever more erotic and telling. He stroked her body

through the flannel, caressing her breast, finding the peak and

massaging it to a hard pebble with his thumb and fingers. Then he cried

out and lowered his mouth upon her, his teeth grazing the fullness of

her breast and the hard peak through the fabric, the dampness of his

mouth pervading it and bringing whispers and whimpers to her lips.

She braced herself upon his shoulders, and cried out, falling against

him.

Trembling, he lifted her and set her on the cocoon of sheet and quilt in

the hay. Then he stood over her, watching her. He ripped away the

kerchief at his throat and slowly undid the buttons of his shirt. He

watched her all the while, but her eyes did not close. He threw his

shirt upon the hay, and pulled off his boots and socks, unbuckled his

gun belt and then his pants belt and finally peeled away the last of his

clothing. Her eyes closed at last, but not before her cheeks had taken

on a dusky hue.

"You can still run," he told her harshly.

She shook her head. Her hair lay spread across the quilt and sheet and

dangled into the hay around them. He knelt before 'her and set his hand

upon the hem of her gown, pushing it up.

She had beautiful feet. Small, the toenails neatly manicured. Her ankles

were trim. Her calves were shapely.

He paused to press kisses against her kneecaps, then he continued,

thrusting the gown up to her hips where he paused because his breath had

caught. The entire length of her legs was fine and beautiful, and her

hips were seducflared. Her waist was very narrow, and she was endowed

with the same touch of honey hair to add even greater purity and

innocence to her beauty.

That very touch of purity seemed to be driving him insane. A ragged

pulse beat at his groin, and in his mind, and raged throughout his fin-

gem and his limbs and all of his body. He buried his face Ilgainst her

belly, and a harsh sound escaped him, a cry of ~onging, of need, of

desperate desire.

Some soft sound esi~aped her, and she gasped when his lips moved upon

her fi~h, when he turned his head against her, his hair teasing the

flesh of her abdomen, then his kiss and lips caressing it As he kissed

her he continued to push the gown up. The flannel raked over her

breasts, over her hardened nipples.

He rose and knelt over her again, taking each breast fully into his

mouth.

She was alabaster, as perfect as marble with the dusky, rose-tipped

peaks, so hard, so compelling, drawing his body into a tighter, harder

knot all the while, exciting him to an ungodly high with the mere

whisper of her breath, the tiny gasps that escaped her, the sultry,

sensual way her body moved against him. Such little movements, as if she

was afraid, as if she discovered the haunting rhythms of making love.

He paused, meeting her eyes. Half-closed eyes--dazed, damp, luminous and

honest--meeting his. Her gaze fell upon his naked and aroused body, and

her eyes widened again. They met his again, and the beautiful flush of

rose came to her cheeks. He reached for her gown and pulled it over her

shoulders, and they knelt facing each other. She threw her arms shyly

around him, but that served to press them together, all their nakedness,

and he felt her breasts upon his chest as thoroughly as he knew that she

felt the ripple of his muscle and the blinding heat that led him now.

He pressed her into the quilt, down, down, into the hay. He crawled over

her again, seizing hold of her lips, kissing her until her breath came

raggedly, until her breasts rose and fell heatedly in his hands, until

she trembled wherever he touched her. Then he kissed her breasts again,

fascinated by the shape and texture and by the perfect marble beauty. He

lowered himself against her, near blinded by his own need yet driven to

see that she felt no pain, that she savored this time between them as he

did, that she remember the passion; the desperation, the aching, longing

need.

He kissed her between her breasts, then strayed down the length of her

breastbone. He touched her ribs with the tip of his tongue and delved

deeply into her navel the same way. And then he dropped his head still

lower. He felt her legs quiver and a quickening within her and heard the

soft, 159 shocked protest on her lips. But he ignored her and made love

completely to her, delving into the very femininity of her. She cried

out, this time not so softly. He laced his fin gets with hers and

touched and delved ever deeper. He brought the searing, damp heat of his

kiss and earess to the very bud of her desire. Her fingers tightened

painfully around his, but he wedged himself firmly_ between her thighs

and tenderly caressed her. She whimpered, tossing her head so her hair

spread out like a burst of sunrise. And still he drank ever more deeply

of her sweet scent and taste, until he could feel the pulse of desire

rising within her.

He crawled atop her then, discovering her eyes dosed, her face ashen.

And yet her fingers dug into his shoulders, and when he carefully

lowered himself over her and pushed slowly within her, he found her damp

and welcoming. He watched her face even as he thrust past the portals of

her innocence, and she never cried out or murmured a single protest or

whimper.

He sheathed himself slowly inside her, then he held and caught hold of

her chin.

Her eyes flew open, so large and dark, then they fluttered closed again

as he took her lips and caressed her with long, slow, leisurely

kisses--taking all of her mouth, exploring, tasting, savoring. And as he

kissed her he began to move within her, strokes as soft as velvet, slow

and evoea- five, coercive.

He felt something give within her when the pain had ~ faded and the new

pleasure began. There was an easing of her arms around him, and her

long, enchanting legs wound tightly around him. Her fingertips grazed

his shoulders, the nails lightly stroking. Soft sounds of passion began

to escape her.

He thrust hard then, unleashing the passion that had grown and simmered

and become explosive 'within him. He moved like the wind and like the

earth, and he whispered to words that meant nothing, words that barely

found and yet words that meant everything. Their lips met again and

again, parted, fused and sealed together, as did their bodies. He felt

himself grow slick with the heat they ignited in the night, and he knew

that he could not hold on much longer. And still he fought the climax

that clamored in his loins, in his heart, in his mind. He fought it,

driving her ever upward, leaving her shivering in moonbeams, taking her

ever higher. Then he felt it. A wild stiffening in her body, a stark

moment in which she seemed to fight him, then she was trembling beneath

him in great shudders.

He cast back his head. He felt a groan rumbling in his throat just as

the heat and fever and excitement within him drew to a massive pitch.

The sound escaped him, the life and energy and heat of his body shot

from him, filling her.

Again and again, shudders seized him, and he filled her again and again.

Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her very tightly. He eased

to her side, taking his weight from her but keeping his arms around her

so that she fell atop him. She sighed softly. Damp tendrils of her hair

curled over him. He touched it and remembered wondering how it would

feel against him.

Like silk. it felt like silk. And it looked like the sun, so blond

against the bronze of his skin. And she felt like silk, her body so

slick with all that had been between then, covering him.

Her face lay against his chest. She didn't say a word, and she didn't

seem to want to look at him.

"Are you all right?" he asked her, softly smoothing back a tendril of

her hair.

She nodded against him.

"Did I--hurt you?"

She shook her head, but still she didn't say a word. "You're not crying,

are you?" he asked her.

"No!" she said in muffled, indignant protest. "Women do, you know."

"Women do!" she repeated, speaking at last. She sat up, and her eyes met

his.

"How many women do you--did you ... Oh, never mind!" She started to

pull away. Her breasts swung heavy and fascinating before him, and he

quickly laughed, pulling her back. His voice was husky when he spoke.

"I've never, never, been in a--er, circumstance like this one before."

"Like" -- "With a virgin," he said flatly.

She flushed crimson. He pulled her close to him. She was wiggling and

squirming, ready to retreat now that it was all over, despite the way

she had played the seductress so boldly. He didn't want to lose her.

"Tess!"

"What? Will you please" -- "I didn't go back to Eliza that night,

either.

The whole thing was a show" -- "Eliza is in love with you."

"Eliza is in love with a lot of people." She Paused, tossing her hair,

studying him with her enormous eyes.

"And what about you?" I m not in love with anyone, he said. Agam"~e felt

her pulling away. He tightened his hold around her. But I am your eyes.

And I love the way you fight until the bitter end, though I could also

strangle you for that same quality. I love the way you think, and I love

the way you take ~ of the people around you, and I even love the way

your ~Yes flash when you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous" -- "Then nosy. You were damned determined to I had

taken my bath."

"Because" -- She broke off, staring at him. i He grinned.

"Because you weren't about to come near me had been near another woman,

was that it?"

He laughed again, hugged her close and rolled her over in the hay.

"Never fear, my feisty little love. When I am near you, I will never

find the need for another."

His lips closed over hers. He stroked his hand down the length of her,

touching her openly and intimately. A sound rumbled in her throat

against his kiss. He ignored her. All the fires of hell were burning

inside him again, and this time he need not be so slow, so careful. She

had learned about tenderness. She was ready to learn about the tempest.

Later, when dawn neared, she slept. Jamie stared at the rafters as the

first pale light of day appeared, impressed by the eagerness and

complete abandon with which she had approached lovemaking. He had never

known a feeling of such relaxation, of physical bliss as her sleeping

body against his.

She had learned many things this night. She slept with her knee slightly

curved upon him, her hair tangled around his shoulders and chest. He

touched a strand lightly, and it was almost as if the gold and honey

touched him back, as if it gave him warmth. He looked at her face, so

beautiful, so perfect, her lips just slightly parted, cherry red in the

first rays of light, tempting. He stroked her shoulder and her back. She

moved against him, and he felt the warmth of her breath upon him as she

sighed softly.

She had learned so much. But he had lea rued a great deal that night,

too.

He had learned that he'd never really made love before. He'd had women,

but he had never really, truly made love. He'd never wanted anyone like

he'd wanted her.

Wanted her still. Who had taught whom? he wondered.

He kissed the soft skin of her back and wondered again at the ripple of

longing that went through him. Then he sighed. He had to wake her up and

let her go hack to the house before the morning began, before the ranch

came alive.

By nine that morning they arrived in town. Jamie drove the wagon with

Tess sitting primly by his side.

Morning had changed things amazingly, he thought. Since he had awakened

her, she had been distant. She had donned her flannel gown, and with it

a peculiar silence. She hadn't seemed remorseful about anything; she had

been cool and quiet. She hadn't sneaked back to the house; she had

walked very calmly. She had promised him she would be ready in thirty

minutes. When he had pressed his lips to hers on first awakening, she

had responded with warmth, but already there had been that widening

within her eyes, as if she thought that something very grave had gone

on, something she hadn't quite realized at the time. He'd almost braced

himself, waiting, but she hadn't anything to say to him at all. She had

dressed quickly and walked to the house. Her chin was high, and she

wasn't about to hide anything, but then again, Jamie thought, maybe she

wasn't about to do anything again, either.

I never wanted to rush it! he reminded himself in silence. But he still

hadn't found the right words to say to her, and she sat by him quietly

as they rode into town. They didn't five words.

It was early, and the streets were nearly still. Only a pass- by or two

walked the plank sidewalks in front of the bank and the barbershop and

the offices of the Wiltshire Sun. Tess bit her lip and looked at the

newspaper office, but she remained silent on that point.

"Mr. Barrymore's office is fright ahead. He was always Joe's solicitor."

"Well, then, fine, we're going to go see Mr. Barrymore." He helped her

from the wagon. She was dressed for ll~ ring in light-blue-and-white

checked muslin, with a matching wide-brimmed bonnet.

The touch of her fingers against his seemed electric. She met his eyes

and flushed.

"We need to talk," he told her.

"I need to get to the newspaper," she retorted.

"So hurry along now, will you?"

"Eager to turn it all over to me, eh?"

"I shall resent it to my dying day," she said sweetly, "but then, you

are better than von Heusen."

"Such a compliment!" he teased, bowing low as he opened the door to the

lawyer's office.

Tess started to reply, but instead smiled at the tall, lean man behind

the desk.

"Mr. Barrymore, how are you?" she inquired, walking forward, reaching

out her hand. The man rose instantly to his feet. He reached out for

Tess's hand, but his eyes were on Jamie. Jamie winced inwardly,

realizing this man had been in the saloon the other night when he had

met von Heusen's boys.

Tess didn't see the recognition in his eyes.

"Mr. Barrymore, this is Lieutenant Slater. Lieutenant, Mr. Barrymore,

who has helped my family for years."

Mr. Barrymore was still staring at Jamie. "Mr. Barrymore!" Tess said

more sharply.

"Oh, my dear, my dear, I am so glad to see you! Of course, you know that

Joe left everything in your name" -- "That's why I'm here," Tess said.

"Of course, of course" -- "No, you don't understand. I want to turn over

half my holdings to Lieutenant Slater."

"Half your holdings?"

"Half."

At last, Mr. Barrymore looked at Tess. The pen he held in his hands

nearly snapped as he stared at her.

"Half?"

"Half."

He cleared his throat and stared at Jamie.

"That will make you a very rich young man."

"I intend to pay the lady, but the money is going to be due to her in

payments over the next few years. Can we draw up a schedule?" Jamie

said.

Tess stared at him then.

"You're going to pay me?"

"Of course. You didn't think I was just going to whisk away your

property." "Yes, but" -- "Tess," he said softly.

"You're--I mean, the land is worth it."

He thought she was going to leap to her feet and scream. She managed not

to.

She leaned over the desk and smiled at Mr. Barrymore.

"Make sure he pays the premium price then, will you?"

"Well, yes," Mr. Barrymore said nervously. He looked at amie, then he

looked at Tess, then he cleared his throat.

"You're sure this is what you want, Tess?"

"And Mister--er--Lieutenant Slater, would you, uh, like ~,to explain how

you want these payments to be made?" . Certainly," Jamie said. He

rattled off sums and amounts, and Mr. Barrymore began to write quickly.

"And When we're done with this," Jamie said, "I need to make and Miss.

Stuart is go' rag to do so, too. In the case deaths, the property is to

be equally divided in between my two brothers, Cole Slater and and in

case of their deaths, to their heirs."

smiled at Tess reassuringly.

"Oh, yeah, and Mr. I want you to make sure you talk about this. I the

whole town to know that there's just no way, no at all, the Stuart

spread is ever going to be up for sale.

understand me?" stayed silent for a long moment, then he be" You got it,

Lieutenant Slater. Damn, but it! Oh, excuse me, Tess.

I plumb forgot you were there!" amusing," Tess said with a stiff smile.

"They'll know, all right, they'll know ... " Mr. Barrymore was writing

quickly.

"I must hand it to you, Lieutenant, you do seem to know what you're

doing with property and the law. Though it ain't surprising, not one

bit. You sure do know what you're doing with those Colts of yours. Why,

in all my life, I've never seen anything like the shootin' you did in

the saloon the other night" -- "Shooting?" Tess interrupted, sitting

straight. "Oh, my, yes, you should have seen him! Some of those

hooligans of Mr. yon Heusen's come in and they were giving Hardy a bad

time, but the Lieutenant here, he stood right up to them." Mr. Barrymore

slapped his hand hard on his desk and hooted with laughter.

"It was a joy to these weary eyes, Tess, it was! Didn't you tell Miss.

Stuart about it, Lieutenant? Hell--heck, boy, if it had been me, I'd

have told the whole damned--darned--world about it!"

"I didn't seem to have the chance, Mr. Barrymore. When I got home, a few

more of Mr. yon Heusen's boys were at the ranch.

And someone needed to tell those fellows that it wasn't a good thing to

play with matches."

"You shot yon Heusen's men in the saloon?" Tess asked, staring at him.

"Sure," Mr. Barrymore said cheerfully.

"Why, you would have heard about it if you'd gone into the paper, Tess.

The lieutenant was sitting with Ed Clancy and Dec?" Tess stood and

stared at Jamie.

"I think I'll take a little walk over to the Wiltshire Sun right now.

I'm sure, Lieutenant Slater, that you know exactly how you want

everything worded. Then Mr. Barrymore can draw up the papers and I will

come back and sign them. Excuse me, will you?"

Jamie and Mr. Barrymore both stood quickly, but Tess was already at the

door.

She stormed out, feeling her face red, wondering if she should be

furious with the man or if she should run back and kiss him. She wasn't

going to do 167 either--she was going to see Ed and find out exactly

what had happened.

She walked into the Wiltshire Sun office as if she were a battleship.

Harry, the printer, looked up from his plates.

Edward, at work at his desk, also looked up. The naked joy in his eyes

as he saw her made her first questions flee. He leaped up to hug her,

nearly breaking ~ery bone in her body.

"I knew you were all right, Tess, because I saw Slater.

But, girl, it does an old body good to see you!"

" Thank you, Edward, thank you!" she told him.

Harry, toothless and shy, was standing behind him.

"And you, too, Harry, come here. Let me give you a big, sloppy kiss

right on that jaw of yours!"

He flushed a bright red from his throat to his white, tufted hair, but

he accepted a kiss and hugged her tightly in return.

"We just kept doing the paper, Miss. Tess. Even when they tried to tell

us that you weren't coming back, we just kept the Sun going out on

schedule.

Every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, we had a W~tltshire Sun out on the

street!"

"And I'm so grateful and so proud of both of you I" Tess assured him.

Edward cleared his throat.

"Well, I didn't exactly have the news of the nation going out," he

admitted.

"Ah, hell, I didn't really have the balls to print too much. Von Heusen

was breathing down my neck, and I" -- "You kept it going," Tess said.

"And I'm grateful." She gloves and headed for her desk.

"Am I in time a story for the Tuesday edition?"

"Yes, yes, Miss. Stuart! I'll clean out the presses, I'll" -- "I've just

got one story," Tess assured him.

"But it's an one. I want it on the front page." smiled at Edward and

inserted paper into the new typewriter she had insisted they buy. She

closed her pausing for a moment, smelling the ink on Harry's Then she

smiled and started to type. She described the small wagon train, then

she described the attack. She described the attackers, who had looked

like white men painted up to look like Comanche. She wrote about being

saved by the cavalry, then she wrote about Chief Running River and how

he had sworn his people had not had anything to do with the attack. Then

she wrote that she knew she was an eyewitness. and a survivor. She ended

the piece with a bold accusation.

"Certain tyrants in this town will stoop to any means to bring about

their chosen results. This town has been mercilessly se'tzed upon. We've

seen our friends and neighbors disappear. Some say it was the war, but

the war has ended, and all good men are trying to repair broken fences

and lend a helping hand. In this town, however, we have been met by

evil. Yes, my friends, evil lives in man. The evil that killed a man

like Joe Stuart. Joe Stuart's death must not be in vain. We must band

together and fight the evil. It does not come from the war. It comes

from a man, and no matter how he threatens, we can beat him--if we stand

together." She left it at that. She hesitated for a moment, searching

for better words, then shrugged. She had said what she wanted to say.

She pulled the sheet of paper from the machine and handed it to Edward.

"Read this over for me, will you, Ed?"

His eyes were already racing over the piece. He was a swift.

proofreader, and he quickly came to her final paragraph.

His fingers trembled, and the paper wavered within them. "Tess" -- "I

want it out tomorrow," she said.

"Tess, he'll come after you lock, stock and barrel" -- "He already left

me for dead once," she said.

"But, Tess" -- "Print it, please. And now tell me--what happened at the

saloon the other night?"

Edward stared, trying to change his train of thought quickly as she was

changing the conversation.

"The 169 night? Why, Miss. Tess, I was just in a little need of

companionship-"

"Not that, Clancy, not that! I want to hear about the lieutenant."

"The lieutenant?"

"Slater, Edward Clancy! Jamie Slater and the yon Heusen men and the

blazing guns."

"Oh, it was something, Tess. Honest to God, but it was something!"

"Something? Fine. What? Tell me about it, please!"

"Why, he just-come into the bar, and we all kind of greeted him" --

"Everyone in the place stared at him, wondering if he was : dangerous or

not "

"Right, right. Doc and I were playing cards and we invited him over for

a whiskey. He started asking questions right away, then yon Heusen's

guns came in. One of them had Hardy the bartender by the throat when

Jamie Slater him to stop. The man laughed. Then they were all

threatening to shoot up Slater, but that Slater, he had their number!

Before you know it--one, two, three, four! All of were lying on the

floor and choking and crying and on like babes. And Slater just stepped

over them, as a cucumber, and walked over to the barber and got a shave

and a bath.

"Well, of course, yon Heusen's fellers, they were threat- right and

left, but those boys lit out of town as as Doc patched them up, lit

straight out of town, they Don't know if they went back to yon Heusen or

if they away for good. I ain't seen a one of them since. Of one young

feller, he ain't gonna be ridin' anywhere a while, he kind of took his

shot in the posterior sec- if you know what I mean." I think I know what

you mean," Tess said. She gave Ed kiss on the cheek.

"You take care now. I'll be in tomorrow morning. You make sure my piece

goes on the front page."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Tess left the office and walked slowly down the street toward Mr.

Barrymon~'s office.

What had she gotten?

She'd wanted a hired gun. And she'd gotten one. She railed against Jamie

for leaving the ranch when he'd been finding out what he could--and

shooting it out with some of yon Heusen's toughs at the same time.

And gaining quite a reputation as he did so. She shivered suddenly.

She'd seen him shoot the snake. She'd known that he was fast and good.

She shouldn't have been surprised to hear that he had knocked down four

of yon Hensen's men in a matter of seconds. Then he'd humiliated yon

Heusen at the ranch. Von Heusen was going to be mad, and he was going to

be thirsting for blood. Her blood.

But she'd known she had to fight him. And she had Jamie. She'd wanted

the gun.

And she'd wanted the man.

And now she had both.

She tightened her fingers around the drawstring of her little purse and

stopped walking to lean against a wooden wall as a fierce trembling

swelled within her. hard and inhaled deeply as she remembered the

previous night.

She couldn't have been so brazen. Or so wanton. or so decadent. or so

searingly intimate.

But she had been. He had warned her away. He had given her every

opportunity. He had told her that she should be with a man who cared. He

implied that he didn't care. Surely that wasn't true. He liked her.

There were about her he loved.

But it didn't mean anything. That was the rub. It mean anything at all.

She was just a woman, a warming body. Just like Eliza. She had thrown

herself at him.

And one day he'd turn away from her, just as he had turned from Eliza.

She inhaled, exhaled, then forced herself to walk. She must not let it

happen again. Even if it had been more than she had ever dreamed. She'd

never imagined that making love could be so erotic, so wonderful. She'd

never imagined that it was possible to feel so excited,- so cherished,

so ~ explosive and so sated. She'd never imagined that a man's hands

could do what his had done, or that a man's kiss could awaken everything

in her body, or that a man could 'join with a woman so completely and

bring about such splendor.

It could quickly become addictive. But he didn't intend to stay. Even if

he bought her land and settled down, he had made it clear that he didn't

intend to stay with her.

She had taken care to sound independent, too. And now. Now she wanted to

lie down beside him again. She wanted ~to laugh and feel his touch and

explore his shoulders and his chest and his long, muscled legs and .

everything. Even the parts of the body that she couldn't quite bring

herself to name aloud. She had wanted him. never deny that. But now she

was afraid of the long that seemed to have escalated since she had known

his touch.

Having him hadn't quenched the desire at all.

It had set it all afire. She was in front of the lawyer's office. She

set her hand knob and twisted it and walked in. Mr. Barrymo~e finishing

copying out a second set of papers. Jamie directed him as to what he

should write.

timing," Jamie said, applauding her.

"We need ~ " Shouldn't I read the documents?"

"Be my guest."

Tess took the papers from Mr. Barrymore, but she couldn't quite manage

to read. She pretended to, skimming the words. They all swam before her.

"We need a witness," Mr. Barrymore said. "No problem," Jamie told him.

He stepped outside. A moment later, he was back with Doe. He signed one

set of papers, then Mr. Barrymore and Doe signed as witnesses. Then Tess

signed, not having the least idea of what was really on the papers, and

her signature was witnessed, too.

"That's that, then!" Jamie said, pleased. He counted out gold coins to

Mr. Barrymore, who seemed very pleased. So much was being done in paper

currency lately. "Let's go, Tess," Jamie said.

"Good day, Mr. Barrymore, Doe. Thank you," she told the lawyer. But

Barrymore and Doe were hardly able to respond before Jamie had his hand

on her elbow and was leading her out.

When they reached the wooden sidewalk, she wrenched her hand free.

"Jamie, I just might not be ready to head home."

"We're not heading home," he told her.

"We're going to talk."

"What if I had something to do?" she demanded. "It would have to wait."

"It wouldn't!"

"Today, Tess," he insisted, "it would." The brim of his hat was pulled

low over his eyes, hands were firmly on his hips.

"Now, listen" -- "You listen," he told her, wagging a finger beneath

nose.

"I'm not going to live like this. We're straighten out the

relationship."

"There is no" -- "The hell there isn't. Now get in the wagon, or I'll

put you in it."

"You wouldn't" -- He took a step toward her. Before she knew it she was

off her feet, then she was sitting in the wagon. She swung around, but

he was beside her in an instant, and the reins were in his hands, and he

was clucking to-the thoroughbred that pulled the small conveyance.

Tess crossed her arms over her chest, staring straight ahead.

"You are intolerable!" she told him.

"I just don't like a bunch of bull, that's all."

"Bull" -- "The way you're acting."

"I'm not acting" -- "I hope to hell you are."

"I don't know what you're talking about." They were already out of town.

He was silent for a moment.

The horse picked up its gait and it seemed they were flying down the

road.

Then, suddenly, Jamie reined in. The horse slowed and Jamie hooked the

reins around the brake. He jumped down and came around the wagon for

Tess.

"What?" she demanded, staring down at him. He reached up, placed his

hands around her waist and lifted her down. When she was on the ground,

his hands still her. His eyes were like smoke, and his jaw was She knew

that he did, indeed, intend to have things She opened her mouth, wanting

to protest again, want- to deny and denounce him and run away. But she

was because that wasn't what she wanted at all. She to trust him. She

wanted to lean against him.

And, of all, she wanted to feel his lips upon hers again, as as the sun,

as rich as the earth. But she didn't want to him so badly. she didn't

want to make a fool of her- like Eliza.

Because, like Eliza, she was falling in love with him.

"Come on," he told her.

"Where?" she protested.

"Down by the water."

The road ran along the river. He held her hand and led her through the

trees until they came to a little copse. They were alone with the sounds

of the rippling waters, with the occasional call of a bird, the soft

rustle of a tree. He drew her close, and when she stiffened, he drew her

even closer.

"What is this?" he demanded.

She moistened her lips, staring at his eyes, then at his mouth.

"What is--what?" she asked.

"Miss. Stuart, I gave you a chance last night. Hell, I gave you several

chances last night. You wanted to stay."

"You wanted to make love."

"I ... yes," she whispered.

"And now you're running. Why?"

"I'm' not!" she protested.

"It's just that" -- "I can't do it, Tess. I can't live with it if you

think you can blow hot and cold in a matter of hours."

"Then what?"

"I'm just trying to give you ... space!"

She lowered her head. She desperately wanted to put her~ shoulder

against his shirt. She breathed in, smelling clean male scent of him,

and she felt a furious pulse flight at her throat, in her heart, in her

veins. He slid fingers into her hair at the sides of her head and lifted

face. He stared, and she tried to return his gaze tering. But then his

hand came to her breast. She muted something softly, then she did lean

against him.

sky seemed dazzling, but not so dazzling as the man. "Tess, Tess!" he

whispered to her, holding her close.

frightening, it's damned terrifying. You're coming so much to me."

His arms were around her. She parted her lips and moistened them with

her tongue again. His parted and moved upon hers, and they melded and

tasted until finally he drew his lips away. Then they sank down together

upon a bed of leaves, with the river just beyond them. Their arms locked

together and they kept kissing, tasting one another, and it ~ ~eemed

that the sound of the rushing water grew louder and louder.

Tess found that she was pressed into the leaves. His hands were upon

her.

She set her palms against his cheek, and desire took flight within her

as she felt the planes and textures , of his face. She thought

confusedly that she loved the way he looked with his smoke-dark eyes and

sandy, disheveled hair, with the rough touch and the rugged angles and

lines of his face, the twist of his jaw. She wrapped her arms around

him, sliding her fingers through the hair at his nape, drawing him to

her for another kiss. The earth beneath her began to heat. She ran her

fingers over the opening of his ~ahirt. She felt the ripple of muscle

with her fingertips. She teased at his buttons until his shirt opened,

until she could reach her hands inside and slide her nails over his

naked ~t~h and feel the trembling that she evoked.

him groan and she felt his touch upon the tiny of her dress, then she

felt herself being freed from Her slip and her chemise remained, but

they were the feel of his searing kiss upon her body and Soon her slip

was wound beneath her, and she felt earth with her bare flesh. His hard

and driving man teased her for a split second, then drove within her a

startling, shattering thrust that swept her breath The sun was above

him. She heard curious cries, then re- they came from her and that she

was clinging to arching, writhing. meeting him, welcoming him, him. She

felt the slap of his body against hers, and earthy and real. She felt

the sun upon his naked flesh, and that, too, was real. And she felt

more. the certain heat, the glow of the sun, which heightened every

swift pleasure, a touch of the blue, cloudy sky. She was damp, and so

aware of him within her, and aware of the rising ecstasy inside her

body. Coiling tighter and tighter until she was crying out again, then

gasping in a soft shriek as something came upon her so strong and sweet

and volatile that it rent the whole of her with shivers, while something

like hot nectar seemed to swamp her body. She couldn't move. She could

scarcely breathe, and it seemed that the world went dark before the sun

burst upon her again. And just as it did, he thrust hard within her and

stayed and stared at her, the whole of his face tense and haunting and

taut with passion. Then he exploded within her, and thrust and thrust

again. and lay down beside her, wrapping her in his arms.

The sun was still above them.

"I'm afraid of you," Tess admitted.

He had been flat on the earth. He rose up on an elbow. "What?"

"I'm afraid of caring too much."

He touched her cheek.

"We're all afraid of caring too much ."

"I don't believe you're afraid of anything." He smiled, a crooked,

rueful smile.

"Yes, I am. I'n afraid of losing you right now."

"Right now," she repeated.

"But what ... what about tomorrow, Jamie?

That's what frightens me."

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head. She rolled away from him, rising to her feet,

straightening her slip and dusting bits of leaf and dirt and grass from

it.

She smiled at him, then hurried toward the water.

He must have stripped off the remnants of his for when he came up behind

her, he was stark naked.

placed his hands around her waist and kissed her nape.

177 he whispered in her ear, so softly that she wasn't sure she heard

him.

"Tomorrow? I'm not sure. But I think that I'm falling in love with you,

Tess."

He left her, walking into the river, then ducking beneath the surface

and swimming into the center of it. He rose, let out a cry and shivered.

"It's damned cold for summer!" he called out to her.

Tess stooped and threw water over her face. She watched as Jamie dove

beneath the surface again.

A twig snapped suddenly behind her. She leaped up, spinning around.

There were four of them. The so-called Indians. They were clothed in

bronze paint and breech clouts

"Jamie!"

she whispered.

But of course there was nothing he could do. The men were armed with

bows and arrows, rifles, even a few tomahawks.

They were going to kill her, she thought, and Jamie would never have

time to reach the surface. And it would be her fault, because if she had

talked to him this morning, he would never have brought her here, and he

would never have become so involved with her that he forgot danger.

"Jamie!" she screamed as one of the men lunged toward her. She fought.

She kicked, she scratched, she screamed and struggled, but a second man

came up, grasping her legs, and between them, she was tossed over a

shoulder. She still fought, clawing, screaming, pounding.

Bronze coloring came off in her hands. "Tess!" Jamie was charging, naked

and unarmed, out of the water. She saw his eyes. They met across the

distance and locked with hers; the pain and the horror of the moment was

mirrored between them.

"Tess!" He screamed her name again in a loud, long cry and he was

speeding furiously toward the emthe man carrying Tess began to run with

her. She craned neck, straining to see Jamie. She saw him reaching the

shallows, and she saw him running, running to the shore. He rammed one

of the armed attackers with such violence and force that the man fell.

He spun and kicked his next opponent, then thrust his fists against him

in a fury.

But then Tess saw that another man was behind Jamie as he fought. She

saw the second man raise a battle club and bring it down upon Jamie's

head with all his strength. She heard the cracking sound. And she

screamed as she saw Jamie crumple to the ground, and then she saw no

more, for blackness descended over the sun.

Chapter Nine.

Tess didn't know how much time passed before she regained consciousness.

When she did, she was hanging facedown over the flanks of a sweating

horse in front of the pseudo-Indian who had grabbed her. She was acutely

uncomfortable.

Although the sun was setting, it was still ferociously hot. The sticky,

wet hair of the horse irritated her flesh, and the continual and

monotonous thump-thump- thump of its gait was bringing a ferocious pain

to her head.

Her arms hurt, her back hurt, and her neck burned like blue blazes.

She was a great mass of pain, and at first that was all 'she could think

of.

After a while she remembered. She'd been kidnapped. The bronze paint

worn by the "warrior" behind her was coming off on her flesh and chemise

where the man's thighs and knees rubbed against her.

And Jamie Slater was by the river with his head bashed in. couldn't be

alive. He had fought for her, and he had b~n killed in the attempt.

Scalding tears stung her eyes. She fought back the urge to aloud.

Jamie could perhaps have survived. Maybe just been knocked unconscious.

They had left her for once, and she had survived. Jamie was tough. He

had the war, he had. She had seen the club come against his skull.

Still, she couldn't accept it. She had to believe that he was alive

because if she didn't she wouldn't care if she lived or died.

Maybe there wasn't much chance of her surviving, anyway. Von Heusen

didn't know yet that there was now no way he was going to get his hands

on the Stuart holdings. She wondered briefly about the other Slater

brothers and their wives. Would they come to Wiltshire to accept an

inheritance? When they saw what had been happening, would they pick up

her fight? Why should they? Because they were probably close. Because

Jamie wouldn't have taken the time and the care to see that things were

done the way they were if his brothers weren't willing to fight. To

fight for him. To avenge his death.

No, no, he couldn't be dead. Please! God in heaven! she prayed silently.

Don't let him be dead, don't let him be dead, don't let him' be. "Let's

hold up here!" someone called out.

The horse she was thrown over ceased plodding. A second animal trotted

up beside it. The man spoke again.

"We've come far enough. Even if someone manages to find Slater's body,

they won't be able to track us. Not across the river. And we left plenty

of Comanche arrows behind. She still out, David?"

"Seems to be, Jeremiah."

"Well, that's good. Still, let's stop here for the night. By tomorrow

afternoon we'll meet up with the Comancheros and turn the girl over to

them."

Comancheros? Despite herself Tess felt a sizzle of terror sweep through

her.

They weren't exactly Mexicans, and they weren't exactly Indians; they

were a wild grouping of both who savagely lived off the land. They

raided, pillaged, murdered and raped without thought, and they made much

of their income by selling arms illegally to the Apache.

Von Heusen meant to have his revenge this time. He hadn't planned a

quick, easy death for her. He had consigned her to a living hell.

She couldn't let them give her to the Comancheros. Somehow, she was

going to get the best of these men. And if they had killed Jamie, she

had to see that they were brought to justice.

"Come on, let's get started setting Up a camp for the night," the man

David said. He started to dismount.

"Boy, that did feel good, swinging that club against that bastard

Slater.

After everything he did to us out at the Stuart place the other night, I

just wish I'd had time to gouge out his eyes."

"Or take ' '~" a scajp. Jeremiah suggested with laughter.

"Yeah--or take a scalp."

"Do you think Hubert and Smitty have made it back with the good word for

yon Heusen yet?"

"Probably. I told them to head straight back. Someone will find Slater's

body soon enough. We want to make sure we can't be blamed for it. Come

on, now, let's get her down and tied up before she comes to."

Jeremiah hopped off the horse. The one named David reached for her.

The one whose hands would be forever stained with the blood of Jamie

Slater.

Tess let out a wild scream when those hands touched her. She was ready.

He wanted to gouge out eyes? Her fingers were flying madly for his. She

caught him completely by surprise. He howled like an infant when her

nails swiped his face, missing his eyes but digging deeply into the

flesh of his cheek.

He stumbled, and she tried to right herself upon the horse.

The animal, panicked by the screams, reared high, its forelegs kicking

and flailing. Desperate as she was, Tess couldn't quite gain her

balance. The horse came down on four legs, kicking up great clouds of

dust, then rose, pawing the sunset-hued air once again. Tess went flying

into the bushes.

She lost her breath and lay stunned for several seconds. David and

Jeremiah were shouting at one another, David giving the orders.

"Get the horse! Get the fool horse! I'm going for the girl."

Fear spurred her aching and bruised limbs into action. She managed to

rise to her bare feet and race down a narrow trail between rows of dry

bush. Her feet encountered rocks and stickers, and she gasped out and

tried to pray.

Despite the pain she kept running. She felt as if her lungs would burst,

as if her calves would buckle, but she kept going, desperate to be free.

But arms suddenly swept around her legs, and she plunged forward into

the dirt. Mouthfuls of it seemed to choke her and fill her nose. She

gasped and choked and wheezed and finally managed to open her eyes.

David sat atop her, straddling her. He was still wearing a breech clout

and streaked theatrical paint, but he had discarded his black braided

wig. His own reddish hair looked strange against the melted bronze

paint, but matched the blood-red welts she had drawn across his face. He

wasn't much past his early twenties, and might even have been halfway

attractive if his way of life had not done things to his face and his

eyes. Both were cold, and there was a permanent twist of dissatisfaction

about his jaw. He smiled as he looked at her, enjoying her situation,

reveling in his power and in her misery.

She swung out again and managed to connect her fist against his cheek.

He swore and secured her wrists, then started laughing as he stared at

her.

"My, my, Miss. Stuart, it is a pleasure to see you this way!"

She was barely clad, she realized. Her chemise was dusty and pulled

high, leaving her midriff bare. And her cotton petticoat was rucked up

against her knees; her legs were bare 183 beneath it. As he stared at

her she felt sick.

She could see his intentions in his eyes, and she wanted to die. Not

long ago Jamie had whispered on the breeze that he thought he was

falling in love with her. And not long ago, he had taught her what it

was to feel feminine beyond belief, to know the beauty of a mutual

yearning, a soaring passion, all the sweet and fascinating things that

should be shared between a man and a woman. Not long ago. And now this

horrible man with blood on his hands was looking at her and laughing.

"I always did want to get to know you better, Tess!" he assured her.

He lowered himself against her. She twisted wildly, hating the feel of

his greased flesh, despising him. He tried to find her lips. She twisted

and thrashed and screamed, and still she felt him touching her.

"That's all right!" he hissed against her cheek.

"It's all right.

You'll come to like it soon enough. I'm real good. I'm real, real good.

I'll have you screaming in a way you just ain't imagined yet, honey. And

later on, you'll be grateful.

"Cause you're going to Nalte, one of the chiefs of the Mescalero Apache.

He's wanted a blond woman like you for a long time. They say he tried a

few raids to acquire one, but he kept coming up with brunettes. Our

Comanchero friends promised him a beautiful young blond white woman.

Nalte is tough, Miss. Stuart. You'll be real glad that I initiated you

into this ..."

He tried to secure both her wrists with one hand while he spoke. Tess

fought him like a wildcat, delaying his purpose but losing her strength

quickly.

Nalte? An Apache? Then the Comancheros were the delivery men. Von Heusen

was dealing with the Comancheros, and the Comancheros were dealing with

the Apache. She would be safe from the Comancheros. Because she was

meant for the Apache!

But she wasn't safe from David. She sobbed as she fought to free her

wrists. She threw his weight from her hips, but he seemed to enjoy

feeling her move against him. She twisted and sank her teeth into his

fingers.

He shouted out in pain and sat hard on her, plunging his fingers into

his mouth and stating at her murderously. Then his palm connected

sharply with her cheek, and the world seemed to spin. His hands were

upon her, upon her breasts, tugging at her petticoats.

"No!" she screamed in desperation and horror. But there was no one to

help her out here. Jamie was by the river, dead. The vultures might well

find his body before anyone else could.

David's hands were upon her, and he was tugging on her clothes. He was

about to violate the only beauty she had ever really dared to reach out

and hold.

"Get off her!" someone suddenly roared. And David was plucked away from

her.

Tess crawled quickly backward on her elbows. Her heart soared as she saw

that David and Jeremiah were involved in a fistfight with one another.

David was swinging and screaming at the same time.

"What the hell's the matter with you, Jeremiah? You can have your damned

turn when I'm done" -- "No! Von Heusen said no! He promised the chief an

in- noeent woman " -- "What do you think she was doing by the river with

Slater?"

"I don't know anything! I saw the girl washing her face, and I saw

Slater going for a swim. That's all I saw. Von Heusen promised the

Comancheros an innocent. And he made us swear not to touch her. I'm not

getting my balls shot off for your entertainment, and that's a damned

fact."

"I give the orders here" -- "Von Heusen gives the orders here!"

Tess realized that she was just staring at them. They were fighting like

madmen and not paying the least bit of at ten- 185 finn to her, and she

was just staring at them. She rolled over and stumbled to her feet. It

was time to start running again, before David convinced Jeremiah that

she was no innocent and that no one would ever know if the two of them

used her, too.

She hadn't gone three steps before fingers laced into her hair, dragging

her back. She gasped and sobbed, swinging and flailing out, but she was

so exhausted, and in so much pain, that she knew that no matter what her

will, she could not fight much longer.

"Stop it! Stop it! Come on, Miss. Stuart, calm down, and make the night

easier on all of us! I won't touch you, and he won't touch you, you

understand? Just calm down." It was Jeremiah who held her. He was as

young as David, she decided. He had lanky blond hair and colorless blue

eyes, but they didn't yet hold that absolute cold, cruel streak that

touched David's.

He almost smiled.

"I'm going to get you something to wear. Then I'm going to tie you up. I

have to. But I'll get you water, too, and something to eat. We're not

going to touch you."

"Speak for yourself!" David snarled from a few steps away.

"We're not going to touch her?" Jeremiah snapped. "We're going to turn

her over to the Comancheres, just like we promised yon Heusen."

Tess didn't know who would win out. Jeremiah kept a firm grip upon her

arm and pulled her along. She saw that there was a third horse on the

trail, and that a number of rolled packs were tied on the animal's back.

Jeremiah kept one hand and one eye on her as he tugged at the bundles to

free them.

When they fell to the ground, he pulled her down with him to dig into

one.

"Here," he said roughly.

"Take this. And get into it. But if you try anything funny, I'll turn my

back and close my ears and David can do whatever the hell he wants.

Understand?"

She understood. She hadn't the strength to fight them. She needed some

sleep. She needed a little time to think and plan.

She snatched the clothing Jeremiah handed her. Apache, she thought.

There were fine, soft trousers and a traditional blouse of buckskin with

beadwork and tin cone pendants. She slipped into the bushes with the

garments.

"You stay where I can hear you!" Jeremiah called. "I'm here!" she

replied.

The buckskin garments concealed much more than the tattered remnants of

her clothes had. She couldn't believe she could be grateful to Jeremiah

for anything, but she was glad of the clothing. If--not if, when! --she

found her opportunity to escape, she would be much better able to

weather the elements.

"You still there?" Jeremiah demanded.

Tess tossed her torn undergarments into the bushes and stepped 'out in

the Apache attire.

"She should have had a skirt. No warrior trousers," David commented.

"She couldn't ride in a skirt," Jeremiah retorted. Tess stood quietly.

Jeremiah was the one to work on, she thought. He seemed to have a few

human qualities left. She lowered her eyes and stood still.

"Miss. Stuart, you come over here and let me tie your hands," he said.

She didn't move.

"Please ..." she murmured softly. "Well ..." Jeremiah began.

"Well, nothing! She's taking you strictly for a fool, that's what she's

doing!" David strode over angrily and snatched the rope from Jeremiah's

hands. He walked roughly toward Tess. Seeing his face, she almost

panicked.

She almost ran.

"Try it. I'd love it if you did!" he told her, his eyes narrowing. He

meant it. He liked the chase, he liked the fight and he even liked the

smell of blood.

She held out her hands mutely. David looped the rope around them

tightly, tugging hard on the knot. Then he caught her arm and dragged

her past the horses to the center of the little clearing where they had

paused. He shoved her down to her knees and warned her, "Sit! Just sit?

He looked over to Jeremiah.

"There's a creek down past the scrub bush over there. Nothing much. But

you can go get rid of that paint. Then I'll decide if I trust you to

keep an eye on her so I can do the same!"

Jeremiah hesitated.

"Don't you go getting' no ideas, now, David Birch."

"I ain't going to get any ideas! I want to get this blasted paint off,

and that's all!"

Jeremiah walked to the bundles and picked up a satchel of clothing.

He stared at David, then walked toward the brush.

Tess kept her eyes on David. He smiled as he watched her in turn.

"You think you're going to get around Jeremiah, don't you? Well, you're

not going to. I'm going to see to that.

You're going to reach old Chief Nalte, and then you won't have to worry

about writing those rabble-rousing pieces in that newspaper of yours

anymore, ever again.

You'll have lots of other things to think about." He cackled with

laughter.

"Lots and lots of other things. Like raising a whole little troop of

papooses, yeah." ,. Tess edge~l-around in the dirt, turning her back on

him.

He laughed all the harder, then he came forward and jerked her head back

so her eyes watered as they met his.

"I'm going to enjoy knowing where you are. Just like I enjoyed hearing

Slater's skull crush this morning. I really got a kick out of that."

She forced herself to smile.

"Maybe his skull didn't crush," she said very softly.

David gritted his teeth and yanked harder on her hair. "He's gone, lady.

Dead and gone. And you don't need to worry about that no more, either."

He walked away, leaving her in peace at last. In time, Jeremiah

returned, and he became her silent guard.

She hadn't the energy to say anything to him. They sat in silence while

the darkness fell upon them. When David re.

turned, the two men made a fire. There was cold chicken to eat and water

from canteens, but they wouldn't untie Tess's hands, and the effort to

eat suddenly seemed too great. She left the food, sipped some water and

lay down in the dirt.

She tried to tell herself that Jamie was alive. Any minute now he would

come rushing out from the bushes and kill the two men and take her away.

But he did not come. She closed her eyes in misery and tried to forget

the nightmare visions of the day.

Jeremiah came over and tossed a blanket around her shoulders and shoved

a pack beneath her head for a pillow.

"Don't think about going nowhere," he warned her. David obviously didn't

think the warning was enough. He stood and walked to the piles by the

packhorse and came back with a good length of rope. She tried to inch

away from him, but he tied one end of the rope around her ankle.

Pinching her cheek, he spoke directly into her face.

"If you move, I'll feel it. If you run, I'll make you pay for it." He

walked away with the other end of the rope in his hand.

It didn't really matter. If she had been threatened by evexy demon in

hell, she couldn't have run that night. She was too weary. Tears stung

her eyes.

When she closed them, she saw Jamie again, fighting, then falling. And

she heard his whisper.

I think I'm falling in love with you. It hurt to close her eyes; it hurt

to open them. She prayed for sleep against the nightmare images. She

tried to tell herself that he was still alive. But he would have come

for her if he was alive. He would have come.

And if he was not alive, well, then, she didn't want to live, either.

Jamie was alive, if only just barely.

Jori found him around midnight, when the moon was full and high. The

wagon had come home without Jamie or Tess, but very late. Jon had to try

and track them from town in the darkness, and even when he had found

signs that the wagon had stopped and the two of them had walked toward

the river, it still took him time to find Jamie's still, crumpled body.

He drew off his buckskin jacket and wrapped it around his friend. He

touched the wound at Jamie's temple where the blood had dried. Carefully

moving his fingers over the skull, he decided that it was not cracked or

crushed. He took his kerchief to the river and soaked it and brought it

back to Jamie, cleansing the bloo~way. Jamie's body was icy cold.

He needed warmth, and quickly.

Jon rose carefully and lifted his friend's body into his arms. He called

to his pinto and the animal obediently trotted over to him. Bracing

Jamie's weight with his hand upon the pommel, he managed to somehow

swing up with Jamie in his arms. Then he made a clucking sound and the

animal took off at a smooth lope.

At the ranch, Dolly, Hank and Jane were waiting with anxious concern.

When Jori burst in with Jamie's half naked body, Jane gasped and turned

white.

"Don't you dare faint on me, young lady!" Dolly ordered her.

"Bring him right to the sofa, Jori. Jane, you run upstairs and get

blankets, lots of them. And you, Hank, I'm going to need a sewing kit

for that wound.

Some water and ~ome alcohol to clean him up, and maybe a little for the

lieutenant to sip. My, that's a mean and nasty bash!" Hank was on his

way out. Jane was still staring in horror. "Move!" Dolly commanded her.

In a moment the young woman was back with blankets. Jon draped them

around Jamie and rubbed his feet. Hank ~turned with water and a sewing

kit, and Dolly began to clean the wound. A long gash ran into the left

side of Jamie's temple.

"It's amazing he's still breathing!" Dolly murmured. "He's Missouri

tough," Jon told her.

"He'll make it, you'll see."

"I intend to do my best to see that he does," Dolly assured Jon. She

looked at him anxiously.

"What about Tess.9" Jon shook his head.

"I don't know. I had' to get him back here before he died. I'm going

back out to see what I can find." He liftext his hat to Dolly and left.

At the door he paused and looked back.

"Now, don't you let him die."

"I'm just going to sew him up. And I'm going to pray." Jon hurried out.

But when he returned to the river, he discovered that whoever had

attacked Jamie and Tess had made an escape through the water. He would

need daylight to track them. There was nothing he could do that night.

But maybe there was. It was late, but saloons had a tendency to cater to

the late crowd. Maybe he could find out more from casual conversation

over a poker game than he could from a broken branch.

He turned the pinto toward town.

Jamie's d~s were occasionally dark and occasionally erotic, but always

fevered.

He fought giants with buffalo headdresses. Then the battle would fade

away, the powder would dissipate, the roar of the guns would cease. He

wasn't fighting Yankees anymore, he tried to tell himself in his dream

world. He was a Yankee, dressed in blue. He was a specialist in Indian

affairs, a linguist. And he knew Indians. He hadn't needed Jon Red

Feather to tell him that the Apache didn't like scalping. It was a

contaminating thing to them, and it had to be done with 191 careful

ritual. He should have known from the very beginning that the woman

hadn't lied.

The woman. Tess. And the Yankees were gone, and the Indians were gone,

and he was lying by still, cool waters, and she was walking toward him.

Her hair was like the sun, falling in soft, delicate tendrils over her

breasts and down her back, and her smile was at once wistful and

innocent and full of the most alluring promise. She knelt beside him and

her fingers touched him, raking gently over his naked flesh. He couldn't

take his eyes from her. Her eyes were so giving, velvet and deep, deep

blue, and startling in their honesty. He had thought that she would run,

but she had not. And now, no matter whether he woke or slept, she was

with him, the sun- ray webs of honey-gold hair spinning around him and

wrapping him in the sweetest splendor.

Her breath was soft against him. She leaned over him, and her breasts

brushed against his chest, and he groaned aloud and waited. He wanted to

pull her beneath him. He wanted to see her eyes widen and darken to

mauve with the startling strength of passion. He wanted to feel her arms

wrap around him.

But the smoke was coming again. The powder. And people were shouting;

they were at war again. The war was over, but the fighting hadn't ended.

It was the Indians. It wasn't the Indians. That was it. They could dress

up all they chose, but they were not Indians. They had Tess. he couldn't

remember. yes! They had Tess, they had ridden away with her. By God!

What they would do with her! He awoke and jerked up. A staggering pain

seized his temple, and he cried out hoarsely, grabbing his head. The

pain slowly subsided to a dull thudding, and he opened his Jori was

sitting in front of him, watching him. Jamie groaned again.

"what the hell happened? Where's Tess?"

"Von Heusen's pseudo-Comancbe," Jon said calmly, still studying him;

Alarmed, beginning to remember much more clearly everything that had

happened, Jamie sat up. He saw that his legs were bare, that he had only

been covered with blankets, and he saw that Dolly and Jane and Hank were

hovering anxiously behind Jon. He gritted his teeth against the new pain

that had come with his movement, frowning.

"Tess?"

"She was gone."

"Gone! And you didn't go for her"

"Wait a minute, my friend," Jori warned him.

"You were supposed to have been dead--that's the way they left you.

You would have been dead, if I hadn't brought you here. I couldn't trail

them in the dark"--" You can trail anyone!" Jamie savagely reminded him.

" Not when they ran the river, not without some light," Jon said'.

"But I did find out where they're taking her."

"Where?"

Jamie exploded. The sound of the word seemed to reverberate in his

skull, and he grabbed it in an effort to ease the savagepain.

"They're taking her to the Comancheros. And the Comancheros are taking

her to a renegade Apache chief down in Mexico named Nalte."

Jamie grabbed a blanket and staggered to his feet. Dolly cried out

softly then scolded him, "Jamie Slater. What do you think you're doing?

You can't go anywhere" -- Jon had risen, too.

"Sit down, Jamie. rll go."

"No! It's my fault they took her. I'm going after her."

"You're in no condition" -- "I'm in damn fine condition!" Jamie roared.

The sound of his own voice ravaged his temple. He shook his head.

"I

need my pants. And if you don't want to be offend&t, Jane and Dolly, I

need you two ladies to disappear. Now!"

"Jamie Slater" -- Dolly began. But he was already rising.

"Jamie" -- She turned around, pinkening. Jane let out a little gasp and

went tearing up the stairs.

"Want to wait until I've got some clothes for you?" Jon asked dryly.

"I'll throw something down the stairs," Dolly said. She let out an

indignant little snort.

"Although what good you think you're going to do that girl when you can

barely hold your head up, I don't know." "I'll be with him," Jon said.

Dolly was heading up the stairs.

"I'll go saddle up your horse," Hank told Jamie, heading out.

Jamie nodded his thanks, then confronted Jon.

"You can't come with me. I need you here."

"You can't ride alone. You're in no shape to do so."

"Then I'll let you come as far as the border. Maybe we'll catch up with

them before that. If not, you'll have to turn back.

Jon, once I go after Tess, you'll be the only one who can stand against

yon Heusen here. You've got to do it." He shuddered and sat on the sofa.

"Comancheros! She could already be dead! And after yon Heusen's men" --

He broke off, white, panicked.

"I'll kill him," he swore.

"I'll kill yon Heusen with my bare hands, and every other man who came

near her.

Jesus, Jon, it was my own damned fault"--" This was going on long before

you came into it, Jamie. They meant to kill her on that wagon train. And

it's not as bad as you think. Von Heusen's men won't touch her, and the

Comancheros won't touch her, because Nalte wants his golden blond for

himself, so I learned at the saloon."

" At the saloon?"

"There's a whore there named Rosy who knows yon Heusen well--personally,

that is. Every once in a while yon Heusen sends for her, and she goes

out to his ranch. Last time she was there, he was sending out messages

and making plans. This Nalte has always wanted a blond woman for a

bride. You know the Apache. They usually only take one wife, unless they

consider themselves well able to afford more than one. Nalte does very

well. He has an Indian bride, but he wants a white woman, too. A blond

white woman. And his requirements go a little further. He wants an

innocent white woman."

Jamie stared at Jori blankly, then his face began to pale again.

Jon frowned, then slowly sucked in his breath.

"She isn't an innocent white woman any more, is that it?"

"Jamie Slater, here are your pants!" Dolly cried, dropping a pair of

trousers down the staircase. Jamie wrapped the blanket around his waist

and went to retrieve them. His hands were shaking as he stumbled into

his pants.

Dolly tossed down a shirt, and he shrugged it on also. "Jamie?" Jon

said.

Jamie paused, looking at his friend.

"Maybe they won't know. I doubt it's something that Tess is going to

rush around telling them," Jori suggested.

"First, yon Heusen's men are going to have to be damned afraid of him

not to hurt her," Jamie said.

"Then the Comancheros. Who the hell ever trusted a Comanchero?" He

strode to the sofa and stared at Jori.

"I've got to catch up with them before they get to this Nalte. Or I'll

have to try to talk to Nalte himself."

"Yes, you'll very definitely have to talk to him," Jon said gravely.

"And carefully, Jamie. Nalte will not be easy to deal with. He's watched

wars and treaties go by for years, and he is a law entirely unto

himself. He eschews everything white--except for the white men's guns,

horses and women.

He moved his people into the mountains when the white men took over the

plains, rather than have to deal with them.

"He keeps to the old ways. His women do not buy cotton for their

dresses, and his scouts do not wear cotton shirts. He moves about in a

breech clout as do his braves in summer, in winter he warms himself with

hides and furs.

He is also intelligent, astute and very dangerous--an Apache to the

core."

Hank had come in.

"You need the cavalry," he said. Jamie shook his head.

"No, Hank. No. If I do that, they might ?dll her. If I don't catch up

with them before they hand her over to Nalte, I'll have to speak with

him personally and convince him to give her back. I_t's our only

chance." Listen Hank, yon Heusen is going to think that he has both Tess

and me out of the picture. If anyone comes around, act as if you haven't

seen either of us. That lawyer will let out the information about the

will, and that will stall yon Heusen for a little while."

He paused, then strode over to the big desk, sat and drew out a piece of

paper. He wrote on it quickly.

"Now Hank, you make sure that this telegraph gets out today, you

understand?

It's real important."

"Yes, Lieutenant Slater, I understand."

"Good. Jon will be back soon, and if I've any luck at all, I'll bring

Tess home to you again." He paused.

"If not, Hank, you hold tight. Help will come. Von Heusen isn't going to

win this one." He stood again, gritting his teeth.

I'll be damned in hell a thousand times over before I let yon Heusen win

this one!" He strode around the desk again in his bare feet.

"Hank, I need a pair of boots that will fit me."

"Sure thing, Lieutenant.

I'll find you something." Jamie nodded.

"Jon--I need new guns."

In silence, Jon left to fulfill the request. They'd come with plenty of

guns, and he would know what Jamie wanted and what he needed.

Twenty minutes later the guns were assembled and Jon and Jamie were

ready to ride out. Dolly had made some coffee, and Jamie drank some

quickly, wincing as the hot liquid filled him. He felt a twitch at his

temple and felt the stitches there for the first time.

"You sewed me up, Dolly?"

"As pretty as a young girl's ball gown, Jamie."

"Thanks."

They moved outside. Jamie and Jon mounted with the others looking on.

"You bring Tess home now, you hear?" Hank said. "Please, please, bring

her home!" Jane added, her large doe eyes wide and damp.

Jamie smiled at Jane.

"I'll bring her home. I promise, Jane. I'll bring her home, or I'll die

trying."

He tugged on the reins, and he and Jon turned their mounts and started

off.

The sun was rising already. It was falling in orange and gold splotches

across the dry earth. Beyond them, it shimmered upon the mesas.

He'd been out a long time, Jamie reckoned. And von Heusen's men had

already had Tess for a long time.

His muscles clenched tight, his jaw locked, he damned himself again and

again for what had happened. He should have been more careful. They

never should have had the opportunity to sneak up on him. Hell, if he'd

been that careless during the war, he'd have been dead half a dozen

times over.

He'd always been so damned good: he could hear a twig drop in a forest,

he could hear the rustle of trees when it wasn't just the wind, he could

hear bare footsteps against the dry ~rth. But when it had mattered, he

had failed.

He'd failed Tess. He'd forgotten everything, staring into her

violet-hued eyes, feeling her against him, hearing the whisper of her

voice, the tremor of her words. He'd just had to prove something.

She'd been so aloof, and he'd been so angry, and he hadn't known why.

Because she'd tried to draw away, and he hadn't been about to tolerate

it.

No, he hadn't been about to let it happen.

He had just wanted her, and he hadn't wanted her to escape him.

He was falling in love with her.

So what? he mocked himself. He hadn't wanted to do so. He hadn't

suggested that she marry him--he'd just wanted to touch her. To sleep

with her. To feel her beneath him, her breath coming in a desperate

rush, her hips and thighs moving, her eyes, those eyes, so wide and

still, sultry upon his. But he hadn't been able to let her walk away

from him. He just hadn't been able to give her time.

And so she was gone.

He felt his jaw lock anew. She had infuriated him. No matter how he

touched her, she could hold herself aloof.

And his anger and determination had brought them both down.

Damn!

He didn't know that he had cast back his head and cried the word aloud

with anguish until he saw that Jori was watching him. Until he saw the

pity on his friend's bold features.

"It's too late for recriminations, my friend," Jon said quietly.

"Yeah. Too late."

"If you want her back, you'd better forget your feelings. You can't make

any more mistakes." "I won't," Jamie said.

"You should let me go alone."

"A half-breed Blackfoot? The Apache won't like you any better then

they're going to like me."

"Nalte isn't going to be fond of either of us." "I can deal with Nalte,"

Jamie said. He spun'ed his horse forward, calling to Jon to follow him.

He would deal with Nalte. One way or another, he would get Tess back.

One way or another.

Comancberos.

They lined the dry, dusty hilltop that overlooked the desert, seeming to

go on forever, covering the horizon. A hundred of them, at least.

Her hands tied before her, Tess sat in her buckskins in front of

Jeremiah on his big horse. She didn't know how long or how far they had

ridden that day, but they had finally come to this desert that stretched

to the mountains-- a beautiful area, with myriad colors, a barren,

forbidding area where the vultures sat upon the branches of the few

scrawny trees, where cactus eked out an existence, where most life was

lived in the cool that settled over the golden landscape by night. Soon,

the terrain would change again, as they entered the mountains.

They were already in the land of the Apache. And Tess was realizing how

little she knew of this feared tribe. She knew they were fierce, and

that they did not go to reservations. She had read that President Grant

had initiated a "peace policy" toward the Apache this year, but that

meant one thing in Washington, quite another here. Apache. it took an

Apache to track an Apache, so they said. Once Cochise had been a captive

of the American Army, but the trap had infuriated him. He had drawn his

knife, slit apart the tent--and disappeared. An entire cavalry company

had 199 been unable to find him.

She shivered. Perhaps more so than any other Indian on the Western

frontier, the Apache could strike terror into the hearts of the people.

But nothing could be more fearsome than the Comancheros who faced her

now, staring down at their small group of three from the hillside and

the horizon.

Tremors tore at her heart. She had ridden with Jeremiah and David for a

day and a night and through much of this day as well, and she had done

her very best with Jeremiah.

She had looked for eve~ possible opportunity to escape, but David had

taken great care never to give her a chance. She was never alone. Even

when she relieved herself, he was not more than a few steps away, and

his promises of what he would do if she even tried to move made her

weigh her circumstances very carefully. As long as she was with them,

she was safe. Jeremiah wasn't going to let David touch her, and David

was frightened enough of von Heusen to listen to Jeremiah.

Hour by hour she had dreamed. Jamie had to come for her. If he was

alive, he would have to come for her. HIS sense of honor would let him

do no less.

But he had to come while she was still with David and Jeremiah. The odds

would have been pretty even then, he could have ridden in with the sun

and carried her away into the sunset. But he had not come, and although

she could not allow herself to believe that he had been killed, she knew

the odds were no longer even. Not even Jamie Slater could come riding

into a throng of a hundred Comancheros, guns blazing, and carry her

away. She was indeed here, and. The Comanchcros were all staring down at

her. Suddenly, wild screams and shrieks filled the air, and the army of

Comancheros came galloping toward them. The cries made her heart

flutter, and as they came nearer and nearer, Tess felt an even greater

terror growing within her. She began to see their faces, and they were

frightening. Most were Mexicans, dark, with long, scruffy beards and

heavy, dipping mustaches. They wore hats and shirts and trousers and

boots; many wore blankets over their shoulders.

All were heavily armed, some with shell cases crisscrossed over their

chests.

They would not run out of bullets in a fight. There were Indians, too.

Renegades of many tribes, Tess thought, Apache, Comanche, Navaho, some

in the Mexican regalia of their comrades, others in more traditional

buckskin, at least two of them in simple breech routs riding nearly

naked in the wind, hooting their triumph and their catcalls, racing

around and around the three of them again and again.

They meant to terrify her! Tess thought angrily. Well, supposedly she

wasn't in danger yet, even if she was so frightened that she wasn't sure

if she could talk or move. David had been a nightmare, but this was far

worse.

Any dreams she had entertained of rescue fell crashing down into a

horrible pit of despair. She had never felt more vulnerable in her life.

She swore, though, that she would not cower before these men who were so

determined to unnerve her. They wanted to see tears, she thought. Panic

and hysteria. She was close to giving them all that they desired, but

she locked her jaw against its trembling and raised her chin. And as the

Comancheros raced by her one by one, she kept her eyes levelly upon

them, and she ignored the dirt that rose to choke her, bringing tears to

her eyes. She sat very still, and she waited.

The horsemen rushed by, then doubled back, bringing their horses to a

halt behind her. Jeremiah and David swung around to face them. Tess

didn't know whether to find pleasure or new anxiety in the fact that her

captors seemed as unnerved as she by the rugged Comancheros. The

Comancheros were all lined up again, and silent once more. The leader

emerged, edging his horse forward. He was frightening indeed, with

coal-dark hair and coal-dark eyes and a dark olive complexion. He had a

great, drooping, handlebar mustache, and though he grew no beard, the

rest of his face was not clean shaven. A western hat sat atop his head,

the brim pulled low. His chest was crisscrossed with ammunition, and a

long, lean cigarillo fell in a slash from the corner of his mouth.

He paused before them and reached into his pocket, then struck a match

against his boot to light his cigarillo. He stared at Tess, a smile

forming on his features. "So, amigos, the goods are delivered, eh?" He

smiled, staring at Tess. She returned his gaze. His smile deepened. "She

stares at me hard.~Maybe she will be just what Nalte desires. Untie her

hands."

"Chavez, she is dangerous," Jeremiah warned him. "Dangerous? One little

blond girl is dangerous when there are a hundred men around her? I told

you--untie her hands. Send her to me."

Tess felt the movement as Jeremiah reached for his knife. She heard the

rasping sound as he severed the ties that bound her hands together.

Instinctively she brought her hands before her, massaging her wrists

where the rope had burned them.

"Come down here, nirut," Chavez ordered.

She was ready to defy him; Jeremiah was not. He dismounted quickly from

the horse and reached for Tess. He set her hastily on the ground, then

moved away from her as if she were a rattler.

"There she is, good as new, just as we promised. Now, where is the gold,

Chavez?"

Chavez motioned to one of the men behind him, a half- naked Indian

wearing a headband of eagle feathers, a breech clout twin leather strips

of rifle bullets and nothing more.

He carried a small leather satchel that he tossed to Jeremiah. Jeremiah

instantly opened the bag. He let out a joyous whoop and looked to David.

alpache Summer "Gold. I mean gold!" He bit the coins, smiling wolfishly.

"See, David, it was all worth it!"

"Wait, my friend," Chavez said. He took a step closer to Tess.

"These rat piss, they did not touch you?"

Tess narrowed her eyes, then thought of her own safety. "No, they did

not touch me."

Chavez nodded.

"Nalte, he does not like to be he- trayed." He raised his voice,

shouting in Spanish. A Mexican rode up leading a small pinto pony.

"You," he told Jeremiah and David.

"You are done. You go. That is all.

And you, woman, you will ride this horse."

She did not move. Jeremiah mounted his horse once again, but Tess made

no move. Angry, Chavez urged his mount forward until his large buckskin

was nearly stepping upon her.

Still, she did not move.

"Ni~a" -- "I'm not a girl, Chavez, and I have a name. It's Miss.

Stuart."

Chavez started to laugh. He laughed so hard that he crunched down on his

cigarillo. He nearly swallowed part of it and started to choke.

When he caught his breath, he dismounted from his horse and thundered

furiously over to her. He was a short man, she thought. One who looked

much better on a horse than standing. She was almost as tall as he. She

would be taller.

She raised her chin and met his stare.

"Get on the horse," he said. Still, she refused to move. "Eh, nifta, I

am talking to you." He reached out a hard, callused palm and set it

against her cheek. Tess slapped him with all the strength in her.

There was silence from every man there.

Then Chavez let loose with a spate of Spanish oaths. Tess thought he

would strike her, but he did not. He lifted her, setting her upon the

bare back of the pinto. She fought and clawed at him. His hat went

flying into the dirt.

Her nail imprinted a bright line upon his unshaven cheek. He swore

again, stooping to swoop up his hat.

"Hey, Chavez!" David snickered.

"We warned you she was dangerous."

Chavez calmly pulled out his pistol and shot David through the heart.

Tess, who had despised David, nearly gasped aloud. She clenched her

chattering teeth, managing to remain immobile and silent as she watched

the red stain flare out on David's shirt.

His eyes widened, and then glazed over, and he crashed down from his

horse.

He had deserved it. He had savagely, heinously attacked Jamie. He had

nearly raped her. And yet the cold brutality of his shooting sent waves

of shock rippling within her. "You--you shouldn't have done that,"

Jeremiah stuttered, shocked.

"Mr. von Heusen, he" -- Jeremiah's words broke off in a scream as he saw

Chavez lowering the still smoking pistolin his direction. Chavez was not

a man of mercy. The pistol barked again.

That time Tess did scream. She catapulted from the pinto horse and threw

herself against Chavez, clawing, raking, pummeling him. He swore,

dropping the pistol, ducking her blows, trying desperately to seize her

wrists.

Finally he had her. His heavy arms locked around hers, and she was

assailed with the scents of onion and sour breath and unwashed human

flesh. A sickness nearly overwhelmed her, and she locked her jaw,

standing very still as he stared into her eyes with his own coal-black

ones.

"Don't be too dangerous--Miss. Stuart. You see how I deal with people

who can no longer serve me. You will behave until we have delivered you

to Nalte.

Do you understand?"

"No, I do not. I do not, because I do not give a damn!" He swore again,

savagely. His arms tightened around her as if he intended to break every

rib in her body, but as suddenly he released her, thrusting her into the

dirt.

The dust rose high around her. Tess started to cough and choke. Chavez

wrenched her up and helped her onto the pinto pony. The horse protested,

letting out a shrill sound and prancing back and forth.

"You will ride!" Chavez yelled, his eyes black upon her. Trying to

maintain her balance, Tess reached for the reins.

She wanted to protest; she wanted to fight.

But she said no more. She held the reins and leveled a glare at Chavez.

She didn't want to be bound once again. At least she was not tied, and

the pinto pony was sound and sturdy. Her dreams had escaped her, but now

they were finding a rebirth. There were a hundred men surrounding her,

but feeling the power of the horse beneath her, the determination

reawakened within her that she would escape. She would survive.

"Ride!" Chavez roared again. She was going to obey him, and he knew it.

He started to laugh.

"Miss. Smart. Yes, Miss. Smart, you must ride! Nalte is waiting!" The

Comancheros shrieked again. Men lifted their rifles in the air; some

chanted.

Horses pranced around, and their hooves hit the dust. Then they were

off.

Tess found herself holding tight to the pinto lest she be thrown and

trampled in the stampede.

"Damn?"

High atop a cliff where the mountain range began its craggy rise to the

sky, Jamie threw himself against a rock near his perch overlooking the

broad, dusty plain below. He closed his eyes in pain, then opened them

to stare across at Jon, who was still squatting on the flats of his

feet, stating down at the riders who were racing away in a cloud of

dust.

They had ridden hard and long, and they had nearly caught up with Tess

before David and Jeremiah had come upon the Comancheros. Nearly. Not

quite. They had come in time to watch the Comancbero kill yon He, usen's

men in cold blood, and in time to see Tess hit the mustachioed Mexican

bandit.

And they had come in time to watch the men ride away with her.

"There was nothing to be done. Not now," Jon said unhappily.

Jamie nodded bitterly.

"Tonight. We have to catch up with them tonight." He was silent for a

moment, then he pulled off the low-brimmed hat he was wearing and

slammed it against the dirt.

"What the hell is the matter with that woman? Doesn't she realize that

Chavez is a cold- blooded killer? He's going to rip her to shreds if she

keeps that up! I could rip her to shreds myself right at this moment." ~

"She can hardly know that we're sitting up here watching her," Jon

reminded him.

Jamie stood up, retrieved his hat and set his hands on his hips as he

stared at the sun. Twilight was coming soon enough. He didn't want to

follow so closely that they stood a chance of the Comancheros doubling

back on them, but he didn't want to be very far behind.

"She's getting closer and closer to Nalte's territory. I have to get her

back before she winds up in Apache hands." He paused.

"Before Nalte discovers that he hasn't been brought ..."

"A virgin bride?" Jori suggested.

Jamie scowled. He was staring down where the dust still rose in the wake

of the horses.

"I met Cochise once," he murmured.

"I admired the man. He was willing to meet with me under a flag of truce

in spite of the number of times the cavalry betrayed his trust. He is

our enemy, he is dangerous, but I would not hesitate to go to him. I

wonder if this Nalte is a man like Cochise."

"Nalte is powerful," Jon said.

"He is the head of his family, and the chief of many families. He

usually makes war with the Mexicans because of the war they have made

upon him, but he will deal with the Comancheros because they bring him

the arms he needs to fight his battles. He is fiercely against the

reservation life, and will battle for his land to the bitter end. But

from what I have heard, he is still a man with ethics and honor."

Jamie inhaled and exhaled.

"I just don't know. I'm going to try to get her back tonight," he said.

"I daren't risk waiting to deal with Nalte."

He turned and started sliding down the cliff toward the small clearing

in the rock where they had left the horses.

"Coming?" he called to Jon.

"I'm fight behind you," Jon assured him.

The Comancheros rode hard alongside the range until the daylight waned

and night began to fall upon them,~ Then they moved into the mountains.

The terrain became very rugged, and their pace slowed.

Chavez dropped back to ride beside Tess.

"This is Nalte's territory.

You will meet your bridegroom very soon." He sneered at her, very

pleased with himself. Tess said nothing, but watched the man with as

much disdain as possible.

"Wait until you meet Nalte. He is tall and as strong as the rock.

He crushes arrogant little girls between his fingers. He is fierce in

his paint and breech clouts and he is merciless upon his enemies."

"Chavez, he cannot be anywhere near as repulsive as you," she said

pleasantly. So pleasantly that it took several long moments for the

smile to fade from his weathered features. He shook a fist in her face.

"I have not given you to Nalte yet, little girl! You hold your tongue,

or you will pay!"

He rode forward again. Tess shivered but kept her eyes straight ahead in

the growing darkness. She could feel the horses and the men bunched

around her, could feel their eyes upon her, could smell the sweat of

their bodies. But she kept her eyes on the trail, looking neither left

nor fight, trying desperately not to acknowledge them--or her own fear.

The rocks stopped suddenly. They had come upon a small plateau studded

with crude buildings barely discernible in the dusk. An open fire with a

huge spit set above it burned in the center of the clearing, and there

were women there and a number of armed men awaiting them. Tess figured

it had to be a headquarters of sorts for Chavez in the mountains.

Perhaps his last stronghold before it became Nalte's territory in full.

She remained on her horse as the men rushed into the clearing, yelling,

screaming, calling to their women, cavorting as they dismounted.

Chavez rode over to her.

"Welcome to my home, little girl." He laughed.

"Mi casa es su casa. Always, my house is yours. Tomorrow, Nalte's tepee

will be your home!" He roared with laughter, as if he had just said the

most amusing thing in the world.

He dismounted from his horse and lifted her down from hers. He pulled

her close against him, still roaring.

"Maybe I will keep you myself. You have so much to learn about manners.

Maybe you are like a very fine horse to be broken, eh? A magnificent

mare to be ridden and tamed, eh?" Tess struggled fiercely against him.

He enjoyed her distress and continued to smile. She shouldn't fight him,

she thought.

He enjoyed it so very much.

But just as she went limp, a sharp female voice called out, "Chavez!"

His features hardened. He did not release Tess, but turned around and

stared at the dark-haired, buxom young woman coming toward him. She wore

a white peasant blouse and a full, colorful skirt. Her brown feet were

bare. She was young and pretty but her features were wide and her hips

showed signs of broadening With age and the birth of children.

She scowled furiously at Tess and scolded Chavez in Spanish.

"Woman, shut your mouth!" Chavez roared at her. She did not stop talking

until Chavez turned, his fist raised as if he would hit her. The woman

fell silent, but her eyes were eloquent. Her look said that she hated

Tess.

"I am Chavez, and I will do as I choose!" he warned the dark-haired

woman.

He pushed Tess toward her.

"Take her.

Take her to the house. I will come shortly."

The woman put a hand on Tess's shoulder. Tess shook free from her hand.

"Don't touch me!" she warned her sharply.

"What a woman!" Chavez sighed, and Tess did not know if it was with

mockery or pleasure. She gritted her teeth and stepped past the woman,

striding toward a house she indi The dark-haired woman hurried behind

her.. ~ The daylight was almost gone. By the glow of the fire, Tess

tried to take measure of where she was. The rocks of the mountains rose

all around them, but there were many trails that sprang from the

clearing. She had no idea where they led, but if she could escape during

the night, she could get some distance from Chavez.

"Stop! You stop, you gringa slut!" the woman called out. Tess ignored

her.

She reached the house and threw open the door.

There were just two rooms there. One was a kitchen with dirty shelves

and boxes. Old liquor bottles, chipped and broken, lay upon a dirty,

rickety table. Beyond the kitchen was a bedroom.

Tess stared in horror.

"This is filthy. I cannot stay here." Behind them, Chavez laughed

sourly.

"Anna, she is right. This is a sty. You will clean it up." Anna turned

and hit out at him. He grabbed her hands.

She fought him wildly, then went limp. She pleaded with him in Spanish,

her voice catching on a sob. Tess tried to ignore them. She looked

around and saw there was a back door in the bedroom. She tried not to

stare at it, wondering if it wasn't especially designed as an escape

route for Chavez if a stronger force came after him.

She didn't want him to catch her staring at the door so she turned

around and sat on one of the crude wooden chairs that surrounded the

filthy table.

"Tell her to clean it up!" Anna suddenly said, stamping her foot hard on

the floor.

"I will not," Tess said immediately. She crossed her arms over her

chest.

Chavez was convulsed with laughter once again. He unbuckled his gun belt

and tossed it on the table on top of the debris. He sat in a chair

opposite Tess and stared at her, still very amused, so it seemed.

"She will not clean up your slop, Anna. She is Miss. Stuart. She wears

an Apache squaw's buckskins, but she is a lady. You don't know this,

Anna, to be a lady. You must watch her. You musn't ask her to pick up

swill." He stopped looking at Tess for a moment and slammed his fist

against the table.

"I am hungry, Anna. You will bring me something to eat. And you will

bring something--for the lady."

Anna didn't like that at all. She began to argue again. This time Chavez

rose and slapped her hard across the face.

Anna stared at him, tears forming in her eyes. But she said no more,

choosing to obey him. Chavez looked at Tess sternly.

"That is how to handle a woman!" he told her firmly.

"That, Chavez, is not even the proper way to handle a dog," she told

him.

But a second later it was all that she could do not to shrink away from

him as he jumped to his feet and stood over her, his hand raised, ready

to strike. She willed herself not to flinch.

Slowly, his hand fell.

He smiled, then he laughed, and returned to his seat, still looking at

her.

"I would like to keep you here. I would like to see you change your

tune. I would like to see you after your eyes had been blackened and

your body used by every man here. Then you would not be so proud."

"You could never really touch me, Chavez," she said softly.

"You can hurt Anna because she loves you. You cannot hurt a woman who

despises you. That is something that you cannot even begin to

understand."

He looked at her, puzzled, then the door opened again. Anna was back

with a plate of food for Chavez and one for Tess.

Tess didn't want to touch anything in the filthy hovel, but she thought

again that she needed strength if she was going to escape, and she

hadn't had anything but water all day. She accepted the plate Anna

handed her, saying a soft, "Thank you." Anna looked at her curiously,

then went to sit in a chair facing Chavez, her head bowed.

Tess chewed the stringy beef she had been handed, and scooped up the

beans with a spoon. She ate quickly but she still had not finished when

Chavez let out a loud belch and wiped his face with the back of his

sleeve. She glanced at him and felt ill. Knowing she could eat no more,

she set her plate on the table.

"You see? She does not eat much, just little, little bites, like a

lady," Chavez told Anna. He pushed himself back from the table and rose.

Belching again, he growled at Anna to get out of his way.

"I will drink with my comrades!" he said. He went to Tess and gripped

her chin hard.

"I will come back when I have drunk my fill. And I will decide if you

get to learn your lessons from me--or the Apache." Laughing, he released

her, collected his guns from the table and strode out of the house. When

he was gone, Tess stared at Anna, watching the woman's jealous face.

Suddenly she leaped to her feet.

"Anna, listen to me. You want Chavez. I do not! Help me. Get me out of

here."

"No!" Anna cried in alarm.

"You want him. I hate him] Please" -- "No! No, no, no! He will beat me!

He might kill me." The woman wasn't going to help her, no matter how

jealous she was. With a deep sigh of exasperation Tess wandered back to

her chair.

She closed her eyes for a moment.

Lord, she was tired.

Seconds went by, then minutes. Anna stayed where she was, her head

lowered.

Tess looked longingly at the rear door. If she tried to escape, Anna

would sound the alarm. She wouldn't have a chance.

She wondered how long Chavez had been gone. The Comancheros were all

outside drinking. Drink might make Chavez think he wanted her more than

he wanted the gold the Apache was paying for her. He was a brutally

cruel man, she had to remember that. It wasn't difficult. She had only

to close her eyes to remember how he had murdered Jeremiah and David in

cold blood.

And then an idea came to her. She hurried over to Anna, falling to her

knees before the woman in her excitement.

"Anna! What if we fought? What if we pretend that I bested you and that

I"

"You could not beat me, puta!" Anna claimed. "Anna! Chavez is your man!

This is pretend. I tie you up.

I gag you. Then I am gone, and you have Chavez, and he cannot hate you

for letting me go. He must love you all the more for what I have done to

you." Tess didn't know if that was true or not, but she was certain that

Anna would survive Chavez, and equally certain that she might not do so

herself. Anna's eyes had narrowed, as if she was giving the idea a great

deal of speculation.

Tess picked up a lock of her hair.

"I am blond! That is what they want. If I stay, Chavez might throw you

out."

That decided it. Anna stood and looked around the room. She rushed' from

the kitchen to the bedroom and found some scarves.

"Is this good?"

"Yes, yes."

Anna moved to the hearth where she picked up a heavy cast-iron skillet.

She thrust it toward Tess.

"Hit me. You must hit me hard on the head. I must have a bruise."

"I--I don't think that I can" -- "You must! If Chavez should beat me, it

would be much worse. ' " All fight," Tess agreed doubtfully.

"Let's get in the bedroom. I want you to fall on the bed. I don't want

to hurt you ."

"You must hurt me some."

They walked into the bedroom. Like the kitchen, it was a mess--with the

bed unmade and clothes strewn everywhere.

Anna stood before the bed.

"Now hit me."

Tess closed her eyes and bit her lip. Then she raised the iron skillet

high and brought it crashing down on Anna's head. The woman fell without

a sound.

Panicked Tess checked to see if she had a pulse and if l~er lungs still

rose and fell with her breath. Assured that the woman was alive, she Set

to tying her wrists and ankles and gagging her with the scarves.

She was just finishing the task when the front door slammed open.

Chavez was back!

Tess ran to the rear door. She moved soundlessly and with tremendous

speed, and yet it wasn't enough. The door stuck when she tugged upon it.

Chavez was behind her. He grappled her shoulders and spun her around, a

rich growl thundering against his throat.

Tess stared into his ebony eyes. His fingers closed around her throat.

"You are dangerous! The gringos were right about you! You are trouble

and you need to be taken care of, now?

He was strangling her. She could barely breathe. In desperate

self-defense she brought her knee slamming as hard as she could against

his groin. It was a powerful and direct hit, and Chavez screamed out his

pain, staggering back.

Tess did not want to stay to see if his condition improved. She grabbed

the door again. Gasping, nearly crying, she strained against it.

Then, it opened. She nearly fell against Chavez, it opened so suddenly.

She was about to bolt through it when she gasped. Her heart seemed to

stop in her chest, her knees grew weak, her mind went blank of anything

other than the man standing in the doorway.

It was Jamie. He had come.

Hands on hips, he stood there, staring. The breadth of his shoulders

filled the doorway. He seemed to tower over her and Chavez, and indeed,

the entire room. He stared at Tess and at Chavez, swiftly summing up the

situation.

He was alive! He had come for her. She had not allowed herself to

believe he could be dead, but still he was a dream standing before her,

the hero come to sweep her away. She was so stunned to see him she could

not move, she could not utter a word, she couldn't even cry out her

thrill at seeing him standing there alive, warm blood pulling in his

veins, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. She saw

nothing but Jamie.

Chavez had not seemed to notice Jamie was there. Chavez was staring at

Tess, and there was pure, cold murder in his coal-black eyes.

"Tess!" Jamie hissed to her.

"Move!"

She found motion at last as Chavez charged after her. She pitched

herself toward Jamie. He caught her shoulders, and his smoke-gray eyes

stared sternly into hers. "Go!" he commanded her.

"Go, get out of here, run! Do you hear me? Get the hell out and run!"

Then he thrust her behind him and out the door, into the darkness of the

night. Tess heard the sound of the impact as Chavez came thundering

against Jamie.

She couldn't run. She paused and turned back. Chavez had pulled his

knife.

The steel glistened in the pale moonglow of the night.

"Jamie!" she cried.

But Jamie had seen the knife. She expected him to draw his Colt, but

when he didn't she realized he couldn't draw down the entire camp upon

them with the sounds of bullets.

He, too, drew a knife.

"Go!" he thundered to Tess.

Still she hesitated, tears forming on her eyes. "Jamie" -- "Go! I'll

deal with you later?"

His furious, high-handed tone finally sent her into motion. She had been

kidnapped and abused, and now he was yelling at her.

Yelling at her. and facing Chavez with a knife. She bit her lip, then

turned and ran. The trail stretched~ out in the darkness before her,

narrow, twisting, rising higher and higher into the mountains. Gasping

for breath, half choking, half sobbing, Tess continued to run. She

stumbled into a huge rock, glowing white in the moonlight.

She caught hold of it, wincing against the pain in her feet, inhaling

deeply and desperately. Then she started to run again, almost blind as

the shrub grew thicker and rose higher, adding to the darkness of the

night.

Staggering, she kept on running. She grabbed at shrubs, still running,

heedless of discomfort or pain.

Then, in the darkness, she slammed against something with such impetus

that she fell to the ground, barely catching herself to break the fall,

scraping her palms with the rock and dirt beneath her hands. Stunned,

she tossed the hair from her eyes and looked up, trying to discern what

had happened.

She gasped yet made no noise, and her heart began to thunder with

renewed terror.

He stood before her, naked except for a breech clout his arms crossed

over his chest. He was as tall as Jamie, as broad, and very, very dark.

His hair was ebony and it streamed straight down his back. He was nearly

copper in color, and his features were very strong and hard.

He reached down, grasped her wrists and drew her to her feet.

Instinctively she tried to pull away from him. His grip upon her

tightened.

He smiled very slowly, and though she struggled, he held her tightly.

"Let me go," Tess said.

"Jamie--er, Lieutenant Slater is right behind me, and he'll shoot you."

She was losing her mind. She was trying to explain things in English to

an Apache savage.

"So you are the blond woman who costs so dearly," he responded in

perfect English.

"You have escaped the Comancheros. You will not escape me."

She shook her head wildly.

"No! You do not understand me! Let me go.

I've a friend. He's fight behind me. He's killing that Comanchero and

he's going to kill you. He"--" Shut up, Sun-Colored Woman."

"My name is Tess. Or Miss. Stuart. It's" -- "Sun-Colored Woman. That is

to be your name. I am Nalte, and it will be so."

"Nalte!" she breathed. She had escaped the Comanchere to run into the

arms of the very Apache who had ordered her as if she was dry goods for

a mercantile store! "You--you speak English," she said.

"Yes. Now you will come."

"No! Please, listen" -- He wasn't going to listen. He grasped her wrists

and drew her over his shoulders. She slammed her fists furiously against

him.

"Let me go, you savage! Let me go fight now! You can't just buy a blond

woman! Please ..."

But he wasn't listening to her. He was moving flcetly up the hail. He

didn't seem to be running, but the trail was disappearing beneath his

feet, and they were moving higher and higher into the mountains. He was

ignoring her pleas.

"Bastard!" she cried in furious panic.

"Savage! Horrid, horrid savage!"

That brought him to a halt. He lifted her and slammed her down upon her

knees. She tried to rise, and he pressed her down with such fury that

she w~nt still. He towered over her.

"Savage? You, a white woman, would call me savage? No one knows the

meaning of brutality so well as your own kind. Let me tell you,

Sun-Colored Woman, what the whi~ man, the white soldier has done to us,

to my people." The moon rose high, shimmering down upon him with sudden

clarity. Nalte, his bronze shoulders slick and heavily muscled, walked

around her.

"In 1862 your General James Carleton sent a dispatch unit through Apache

Pass. Cochise and Mangas Coloradas lay in wait. There was a fierc~

battle, and Mar~gas Coloradas was seized from his horse. He was taken to

Janos, but his followers told the doctors that he must be cured or their

town would be destroyed. So he survived.

"Mangas Coloradas survived so that he could come a year later, under a

flag of truee, to parlay with the soldiers and miners for peaee. He was

seized.

Your general ordered that he have Mangas Coloradas the next morning,

alive or dead. So do you know what your civilized white people did to

him?

They heated their bayonets in the fire, and they burned his legs, and

when he protested, they shot him for trying to escape. It was not

enough. They cut off his head, and they boiled it in a large pot. Do you

understand? They boiled his head. But now you would sit there, and you

would tell me that I am savage?"

She wasn't sitting, she was kneeling, in exactly the position in which

he had pressed her. She was trembling, shaking like a leaf blown in

winter, and she was praying that Jamie would arrive and rescue her.

But of course, she didn't know if Jamie was alive or dead. He had faced

Chavez in a knife fight, and she couldn't know the outcome. And now she

was facing an articulate Apache who seemed to have reason to want

vengeance.

"You speak English exceptionally well," she said dryly. He did not

appreciate her sense of humor. He wrenched her to her feet and pulled

her against him. "You will find no mercy with me," he assured her.

"Do not beg." "I--I never beg," she said, but the words came out in a

whisper. She wasn't certain if they were defiant or merely pathetic. It

didn't matter. He pushed her forward, then tossed her over his shoulder

again.

"No!" she protested wildly. She hit his back, but he did not notice her

frantic effort. She braced against him and screamed, loudly.

desperately.

Jamie. Dear God, where was he now?

Perhaps it did not matter. Perhaps there was no help for either of them

anymore.

That brought him to a halt. He lifted her and slammed her down upon her

knees. She tried to rise, and he pressed her down with such fury that

she went still. He towered over her.

"Savage? You, a white woman, would call me savage? No one knows the

meaning of brutality so well as your own kind. Let me tell you,

Sun-Colored Woman, what the white man, the white soldier has done to us,

to my people." The moon rose high, shimmering down upon him with sudden

clarity. Nalte, his bronze shoulders slick and heavily muscled, walked

around her.

"In 1862 your General James Carleton sent a dispatch unit through Apache

Pass. Cochise and Mangas Coloradas lay in wait. There was a fierce

battle, and Mangas Coloradas was seized from his horse. He was taken to

Janos, but his followers told the doctors that he must be cured or their

town would be destroyed. So he survived.

"Mangas Coloradas survived so that he could come a year later, under a

flag of truce, to parlay with the soldiers and miners for peace. He was

seized.

Your general ordered that he have Mangas Coloradas the next morning,

alive or dead. So do you know what your civilized white people did to

him?

They heated their bayonets in the fire, and they burned his legs, and

when he protested, they shot him for trying to escape. It was not

enough. They cut off his head, and they boiled it in a large pot. Do you

understand? They boiled his head. But now you would sit there, and you

would tell me that I am savage?"

She wasn't sitting, she was kneeling, in exactly the position in which

he had pressed her. She was trembling, shaking like a leaf blown in

winter, and she was praying that Jamie would arrive and rescue her.

But of course, she didn't know if Jamie was alive or dead. He had faced

Chavez in a knife fight, and she couldn't know the outcome. And now she

was facing an articulate Apache who seemed to have reason to want

vengeance.

"You speak English exceptionally well," she said dryly. He did not

appreciate her sense of humor. He wrenched her to her feet and pulled

her against him. "You will find no mercy with me," he assured her.

"Do not beg."

"I--I never beg," she said, but the words came out in a whisper. She

wasn't certain if they were defiant or merely pathetic. It didn't

matter. He pushed her forward, then tossed her over his shoulder again.

"No!" she protested wildly. She hit his back, but he did not notice her

frantic effort. She braced against him and screamed, loudly.

desperately.

Jamie. Dear God, where was he now?

Perhaps it did not matter. Perhaps there was no help for either of them

anymore.

Chapter Eleven.

Nalte moved through the darkness so swiftly that Tess had little idea of

how far they traveled. She felt as if they twisted and turned