A Heart So Wild (15 page)

“W
HAT happened to Dare Trask?”

Courtney considered not answering Romero. She didn't have an answer anyway.

She was sitting close to the fire, managing to take only a few bites from her plate of beans. Her stomach wouldn't stop churning with fear.

It had stopped raining in the late afternoon, and they made camp in the thicker part of a forest, high in the Sandstone Hills. She had almost expected to be beaten by Pretty Boy, and indeed he had nearly thrown her off the horse. But he tended the horse first, and now was rolling dice with Long-Face, who, she'd learned, was called Frank. Both men occasionally glanced at her, just often enough to keep her tensed up.

“What is wrong,
bella?
”

“That angelic-looking killer is going to rape me and you ask me what's wrong?” she answered Romero.

Her eyes were bright with anger, and the fire flecked her hair with golden lights. She had no idea how lovely she looked, or how much Romero wanted her in that moment.

“I am afraid I cannot sympathize. I would
like you for myself. My
amigos
, they would have shared you, but Pretty Boy will not.”

“Can you stop him?”

“You joke,
bella
.” He drew back, looking amazed. “No one challenges that one or gets in his way. He is loco. He does not care who he kills or why.”

“Chandos wouldn't hesitate to challenge him.”

“But he is not here.”

“He will be, Romero,” she warned. “Don't doubt it.”

His eyes narrowed. “The last time we met, you swore he did not care for you.”

“A lot has changed since then.” She looked at the fire before adding, “I'm his woman now.”

“
¡Dios!
” Romero swore. “I think my chances would be better if I did not ride with you and these
hombres
. This is dangerous.”

“You're probably right.” Courtney tried for a casual tone. “But unless you leave now, it's not going to matter much.”

Courtney wondered briefly whether she might be able to get them all to abandon her. She doubted it. Pretty Boy wouldn't be easy to intimidate. He was too confident of his own abilities. Still, the fewer of them, the better her chances of escape.

“Chandos would have found our tracks before the rain started,” she said to Romero. “He'll know how to find me.”

“You were not so confident of that this morning when you would have sent me in to die.”

“I only said that so you wouldn't get yourself killed.” She shrugged. “You don't think I want
anyone to die, do you? But I don't see what I can do about it now…”

After a long, tense silence, Romero repeated his first question. “What happened to Dare?”

“Chandos never told me.”

“You were there.”

“No I wasn't. He sent me on ahead of him. He said he had some things to say to Trask, things I shouldn't hear.”

“He sent you ahead, alone, when he knew there were Indians out there?” Romero was incredulous.

“I wasn't in any danger. He assured me of that.” She decided to stretch the truth a bit, since he couldn't know there had been only one Indian around. “I found out only yesterday that they are friends of his, and he usually travels with them. They've been out there ever since we left Kansas, but they've kept their distance because, well, Chandos knows I'd be scared out of my wits if I saw them.”

“
Sí
. If we did not see three of them, I would have returned to rescue Trask that night.”

“You saw
three?
” Courtney gasped. It seemed she'd been telling the truth after all. “I just never…I mean I assumed…now that I think about it, I don't see how Trask could have gotten out of there alive. Chandos took Trask's horse. He said he didn't kill him, but—but he also said Trask was guilty of some atrocious things, and that he deserved anything he got. I thought he was forcing him to walk back to Kansas, but it's possible he just left him there for…”

She swallowed hard. Yes, it
was
possible, and
that showed how cold-blooded Chandos could be.

What could Trask have done to deserve being left to Comanches? Could he have killed the people Chandos had talked to in his sleep?

“These Comanches are still around?” Romero asked uneasily, looking out into the trees surrounding them.

“Yes. In fact, when Jim Evans snuck up on me this morning, I thought he was one of them.”

“It is possible, then, that they might ride with Chandos to get you back?”

Hope flared. She hadn't thought of that.

“No, no, they wouldn't ride with Chandos,” she told him. “Why should they? He doesn't need help facing four men. Hasn't he already proved that?”

Romero nodded curtly.

“I think I shall bid you
adiós, bella
. It is not healthy to be around you.”

“You're not leaving, are you?” she called as he walked away.

The others heard. Pretty Boy stood up, confronting Romero. “What's goin' on?”

“I helped you find the woman. It was a mistake. You should have left her with her man.”

“Taylor?” Jim asked, puzzled.

“No,
señor
, she is Chandos's woman, and therefore he will come for her. I do not care to be here when he does.”

“You'd rather ride out now, at night—alone?” Jim was incredulous. “You're loco.”

Pretty Boy broke in. “What'd she tell you to spook you?” he demanded.

“She admits she is Chandos's woman.”

“You expect us to believe a half-breed would give a damn what happens to a white woman?” Frank called over to them.

Courtney was taken aback by the contempt in Romero's dark eyes as he looked them over and said slowly, “I saw what this half-breed did to my
amigos
, and that was before she was his woman, when he was only her guide. But he has claimed her now. Do you know what a Comanche does to someone who steals his woman?”

“He's only half Comanche,” Jim pointed out.

“No,
señor
, that makes him twice as deadly, for he can kill as a white man
or
as a Comanche. We are deep in Comanche territory, and I fear when he comes for the woman, he will not come alone.”

Jim looked at Courtney, his expression hard.

“Then you'll stay, Romero,” Jim said firmly. “We'll need every gun—”

“Let him go,” Pretty Boy interrupted, sneering. “I don't need a coward backin' me up. I don't need any backup at all. I'm the best there is, Evans. That's why you wanted me along. Remember?”

Romero heard himself being called a coward, and every line in his body tensed. Courtney knew he was grappling with his pride, and she cried out, “No!” then covered her ears against the sound of the gunshot.

Romero went for his gun, but Pretty Boy proved his claim. Courtney watched in horror as blood spread across Romero's chest. He toppled over slowly, and lay still.

Pretty Boy was smiling. It was the kind of smile that made her feel ill.

“Quite a commotion you stirred up, darlin'.”

Courtney doubled over with spasms that emptied her stomach. When it was over, Pretty Boy came to stand beside her.

He laughed cruelly. “Didn't think you had such a delicate constitution, darlin', or I would've warned you not to watch.”

“You—you deliberately baited him,” she said.

“Maybe.”

“There's no maybe about it,” she cried. “You wanted to kill him! Why?”

“I wouldn't be so high-and-mighty about it,” he said coldly. “You're the one who stirred him up to show his colors. I just don't like cowards, that's all.”

Courtney groaned. It
was
her fault. No! It wasn't! She might have told a few lies, but she hadn't forced Romero into a showdown. Pretty Boy had done that all on his own.

“I thought the Comanches were savages, but
you're
the savage,” Courtney hissed.

She was sure he was going to hit her, but he only yanked her to her feet. “I think the problem is, I've ignored you too long, darlin'.” His grip on her arm hurt and she squirmed, but he held her tightly while he turned his attention to the others. “Frank, get rid of the Mexican—and take your time about it. And Jim, if you're so worried about Indians, why don't you go scout around a bit?”

Courtney blanched.

“No!” she cried. “Evans, don't you dare leave me here with this monster! Evans!”

Jim Evans didn't even look at her as he caught up his rifle and left the camp. Frank likewise ignored her as he dragged Romero's
body away and out of sight. Courtney had Pretty Boy's full attention then. His grip tightened and the fury in those violet eyes terrified her.

“I—I didn't really mean—what I called you,” she offered fearfully.

“'Course you didn't, darlin'.”

He didn't believe her, of course, and she intuitively understood that there was no mercy in this man. Once before, long ago, Courtney had prayed for the courage not to beg. That had been during the attack by Indians, when her life was at stake. This time, with Pretty Boy, seemed no less horrible, and she ordered herself not to grovel or plead.

She took courage in anger.

“All right, I
did
mean it! You're a vicious—”

Fire exploded in her cheek. No sooner had he slapped her than he dragged her down to the ground, the weight of his body holding her so she couldn't move at all. Stunned, she found his mouth grinding against hers, cutting off her breath.

She was being shown the difference between passion and brutal lust. Pretty Boy was hurting her deliberately, and she knew the pain was only just beginning. There would be more, much more.

His teeth slashed across her cheek, then sank into the side of her neck. Courtney cried out, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking his head back. It didn't bother him. He grinned down at her.

“You go any farther,” she gasped, “and Chandos will kill you!”

“Haven't you got it straight yet, darlin'? Your half-breed don't scare me.”

“If you're not scared of him, you're a fool!”

His hand closed on her throat, cruelly squeezing while she fought for air. He let her struggle for nearly a minute before finally letting go. In the next instant, her blouse and chemise were ripped open in one movement, and a long red line ran down her chest where his nail had cut the skin.

“You'd do better to keep your mouth shut,” he told her coldly. “I've taken more crap from you than I've ever taken before.”

“Then no one's ever told you the truth before, is that it?”

Courtney couldn't believe she had said that. It got her another slap, this one bringing tears to her eyes, but there was a devil riding her and she couldn't stop herself.

“There's one thing you've overlooked, Pretty Boy,” she said, panting. “You've killed the last man you'll ever face in a showdown. Comanches don't fight that way. If they want you, five or six will come at you at once. What will your fast gun avail you then?”

“Is that what you told the Mexican to make him run scared?” he said, sneering.

“No.” She shook her head. “I told him Chandos would probably come alone 'cause he wouldn't need help to dispose of vermin like—”

She screamed as his fingers dug into her breast. His other hand quickly covered her mouth, but she bit him and he snatched the hand away.

“Chandos!” Courtney screamed, knowing it
wouldn't do any good, but needing the small bit of hope.

“Bitch!” Pretty Boy growled. “I ought to—”

He broke off as they heard a horrifying scream. It silenced Pretty Boy and froze them both. It was a death cry, a cry of pain, a man's scream. And then there was another scream, even more horrible than the first. On the heels of it they heard someone charging through the brush, and then Frank burst into the camp.

“Goddamn!” Frank gasped, nearly out of breath. “They got Evans!”

Pretty Boy had leaped up, gun in hand. “Could've been a bear. Or a wildcat.”

“Sure, but you don't believe that any more than I do,” Frank said. “It's an old trick. They'll torture him all night long so we can hear him scream. It's supposed to drive us crazy so that, come morning, we'll be easy pickings.”

Pretty Boy turned his gun on Courtney.

“Get up. We're gettin' out of here.”

She rose slowly. “I thought you wanted to face them,” she said innocently.

That got her another slap, and she went reeling over backward and landed hard on the ground. She stayed there, holding her face with one hand and her blouse closed with the other. Her eyes met Pretty Boy's, and her hatred was unmistakable. He was a bit taken aback, despite himself.

“Go easy, will you?” Frank said. “She's all we got to bargain with.”

“We're leavin',” was Pretty Boy's confident answer. “Won't need to bargain if we ain't here.”

“We don't dare. You don't think there ain't
one of them out there watching us right now? We'd be cut down if we tried to leave. This is one we'll have to fight our way out of—and they're calling the shots.”

Pretty Boy knew Frank was right. He whirled around, trying to spot a target. Courtney took a perverse pleasure in Pretty Boy's fear despite her own fear. They all had good reason to be afraid, but for different reasons.

Frank was wrong about Evans. Ten minutes passed with no further screams, and they assumed Evans was dead. The two men also assumed that the Indians out there were after Courtney, but Courtney knew it was just as likely these were Indians who'd just happened across them, not friends of Chandos's. And if they weren't friends of Chandos's, then she would soon be as dead as Pretty Boy and Frank.