Each Time We Love (26 page)

It was apparent to Savanna that Adam had come to some
decision, although what it was she had no idea, but as they set out at
a punishing pace the next morning, she could only wonder where he was
taking her and if she was ever going to see beloved faces and familiar
places again. She had never ridden at such a fierce gait in her life
and she had never been as sore, exhausted, dirty or hungry either! From
the darkness of predawn until the darkness of dusk they rode, stopping
rarely during the daylight hours and then only for Adam to add, when he
could, to their frighteningly depleted food supply. There was silence
between them as they traveled through the wilderness, but it was not
the silence of friendship; it was a simmering, angry, resentful
silence, one that would take little effort on either of their parts to
cause to explode into something that neither one of them was willing to
face.

Without protest, Savanna continued to wear the breeches and
other clothing that he had procured for her, and she didn't even murmur
an objection when he roughly combed and braided her hair into a pair of
thick plaits and tied them on top of her head. She was almost grateful
for the coolness it afforded her, until he briskly jammed the old wool
hat down on her head, almost to her eyes, and muttered, "At least no
one will see that red hair, and from a distance you just might pass for
a youth! Let's hope so! We don't need to leave any clues for dear
Micajah to find, do we, witch-whelp!"

Adam had considered cutting off that tangled mane of red-gold
hair, but somehow, even with the knife in his hand, he couldn't bring
himself to do it, and decided blackly that he was indeed a bewitched
fool! The breeches and shirt didn't disguise her femininity as much as
he had hoped, the breeches clinging a little too lovingly to her hips
and thighs and the shirt, if not hiding her full breasts, at least not
calling attention to them. He didn't delude himself about the
effectiveness of his efforts to conceal her sex either— only from quite
a distance could Savanna ever be mistaken for a young man!

As they rode steadily southwest, deeper into Texas, the
terrain began to gradually change. They had left behind the pine
forests and had ridden through areas where oak and chestnut trees had
been the main wood, swamp willows and a few magnolia trees interspersed
among them. Knowing that Micajah, after wasting a certain amount of
time trying to pick up their trail, would no doubt head directly to
Nacogdoches to resupply himself and Jeremy before continuing the chase,
Adam had taken pains to stay well away from that area. Steadily he and
Savanna pressed onward, crossing the Angelina and Neches rivers, riding
through endless stands of oak and blackjack, a type of small,
black-barked, gnarly oak. Just before they crossed the Trinity River
some days later, they caught sight of their first prairie of any size.
After so many days of wandering through seemingly endless forests, they
were happy to have the landscape open up before them.

They approached the Trinity River from a high bluff, and once
they had struggled across its rapid, muddy flow, the terrain took on a
semitropical appearance. There were dense canebrakes to traverse; an
abundant variety of green-hued, immense trees grew everywhere, strung
with vines of every kind, huge grapevines dominating, and ghostly
Spanish moss clung thickly to many of the trees.

They camped on the edge of the rich bottomland of the Trinity
River that night, and as a result of being in each other's company for
so long, they had established an
almost
pleasant
routine for setting up camp. Earlier in the day they had surprised a
pack of wild pigs, and Adam had expended one of their precious bullets
and killed a young gilt. They ate well that evening.

Adam should have been at ease that night: there was no obvious
sign of pursuit; his stomach was full for the first time in days;
Savanna was not
overtly
troublesome. And yet… he
felt distinctly uneasy. For the past day and a half, the back of his
neck had prickled incessantly, and although he constantly glanced over
his shoulder, he never glimpsed anything that could explain his
increasing sensation that someone or something was following them.
Whatever was back there had him greatly puzzled—he took what
precautions he could each night against a surprise attack, but if it
were Micajah and Jeremy following them, why the hell hadn't they
launched some sort of foray against him?

There were other considerations to bother him that night also.
They had used up their small supply of food days ago and were reduced
to eating only whatever he could trap or shoot; the bullets were
diminishing alarmingly, especially in view of their vulnerable
situation. With the corn gone, their horses, while able to find a
certain amount of forage—and the forage was bound to improve as the
grassy prairies became more prevalent—were less and less capable of
traveling much farther, at any speed.

Staring glumly into the darkness, Adam knew it was only a
matter of time before one of the animals came up lame, or simply lay
down and died. And being on the run in the vast Texas wilderness,
without horses, soon to be almost weaponless and with no food, made
their outlook seem particularly bleak.

He glanced across at Savanna's sleeping form and unknowingly
his hard features softened. Her face was gaunt from their ordeal, her
hands and arms were scratched and sunburned and her clothing was torn
and filthy, but she had endured uncomplainingly, he'd give her that. Of
course, he reminded himself cynically, it was
her
fault she was in this position; if she hadn't been a greedy little
bitch and joined up with Micajah to go after the gold in the first
place, none of this would have happened. She deserved whatever she got.

Adam frowned. The powerful attraction she held for him was
unabated, and even though he fell into exhausted sleep each night, his
dreams were full of her, the sweetness of her kiss, the softness of her
body. Generally he woke up in a foul mood, furious that he could not
escape from her even in sleep.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, the sun a hot yellow
orb in the brilliant blue of the sky, and the scenery changed again as
they rode over small, flat, boggy prairies, raggedly edged by thick
timber. The grass was coarse and reedy, and by late afternoon they came
upon oaks which changed to blackjack, but Adam had little eye for the
terrain. That uneasy feeling that something was on their trail had him
increasingly jumpy.

Perhaps it was because he was concentrating so much on what
might be behind them that, just prior to dusk, when the ragtag, tiny
village suddenly appeared before them, Adam was taken by surprise. From
a small stand of timber he stared disbelievingly at the half-dozen or
so shabby buildings clustered protectively together in the middle of
nowhere. The sight was unbearably welcoming, but, mindful that they
were deep in Spanish territory illegally, and not especially inclined
to spend his remaining days immured in some godforsaken Spanish prison,
Adam hesitated to approach the tattered structures.

In the fading light, he ran his eyes speculatively over the
village—a grand name for the pitiful shacks before him. He suspected
that it was a military outpost, which didn't exactly bode well. There
were several horses tethered about, however, and he spied a rough
corral holding a dozen or so more. Situated out here in the middle of
nowhere, the outpost would hopefully be well supplied—although he was
aware of the deplorable conditions that were normal at most of these
remote garrisons. From this distance he could faintly hear the low of a
cow and the squawks and squeals of chickens and pigs, so he knew there
was
some
food available. The problem was getting
it and escaping with his hide intact!

For several seconds he stared consideringly at the outpost.
The inhabitants would be soldiers and perhaps a few families of the
more senior men. As he watched, it became apparent that one of the
larger buildings was a cantina; the sounds of guitar music, the clink
of glass and bursts of raucous laughter drifted to him. His eyes
narrowed. The men would be bored out here; they would spend the evening
drinking and gambling… A wolfish smile curved his mouth.

He glanced back at Savanna. He'd have to leave her as he had
when he'd gone to that plantation, and this time there was a very real
possibility that he might not make it back if the soldiers discovered
him raiding their corrals and storerooms. He frowned. The knots that
bound her hands together would have to be tied so that he could be
assured that she could escape within a few hours in case something did
happen to him. He wouldn't want her starving to death alone in this
copse, nor would he want the soldiers to find her. Adam found himself
strangely reluctant to be parted from her; uneasy about leaving her
alone, but swearing softly at his own folly, he angrily convinced
himself it was the only way.

His plans were risky, but he had great confidence in his own
abilities and he intended to be in and out of that outpost without the
Spaniards ever guessing he'd been in the vicinity. With fresh horses
and supplies, he'd return to Savanna before she'd even had time to undo
the first knot—unless, of course, he admitted with a grim twist of his
lips, he was captured or dead…

Dusk had fallen, and from a couple of the smaller buildings
the glow of candlelight spilled out into the encroaching darkness. It
would be several hours yet before he dared venture closer, and turning
his horse away, he led Savanna back a half mile to a spot they had
passed before.

Puzzlement in her lovely eyes, Savanna stared at him as he
dismounted and untied her hands from the saddle horn. "Why didn't we
approach the village?"

"Because, sweetheart," he said caustically, "we're not exactly
welcome in Spanish territory! And there is the fact that those soldiers
down there would take one look at you and clarify what constitutes rape
even more vividly than I did!"

Savanna drew in an angry breath, but didn't rise to his
deliberate baiting. For some reason, he wanted to pick a fight with
her, and she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of provoking her
to blind rage. He was up to something, she decided uneasily as she
watched him move around the area, only partially unpacking their few
belongings. The animosity between them had been kept carefully banked
these past weeks—there had been no references to what had transpired by
that forest pool until tonight.

Stepping in front of him, she touched his arm, and her eyes
locking with his, she asked levelly, "What are you going to do?"

In the dusky light she could barely make out his hard
features, the thick black beard that had grown over the weeks hiding
the strong line of his jaw and granite chin. The blue eyes were almost
black in the murky darkness and the expression in them made Savanna's
heart leap painfully in her breast. "You're going back there, aren't
you?" she asked incredulously.

He nodded curtly and replied evenly, "It's the only way we're
going to get resupplied. I'll wait until after midnight before I risk
it—you'll remain here. I shouldn't be gone very long."

Savanna swallowed with difficulty. "And if they capture you?
What then?"

Adam smiled derisively. "Well, then you'll be on your own,
sweetheart, and you'll have the immense satisfaction of knowing that
the Spaniards did the job for you of cutting my throat."

His words stabbed her and she suddenly realized that she
didn't want him hurt—despite what she had been telling herself for
weeks. Concealing her bewildered anguish, taking refuge in defiance,
she muttered savagely, "I only wish I could watch them do it!"

There were no further exchanges between them, and when it was
time for him to leave, she stoically endured the bonds he placed around
her, telling herself it didn't matter that she might never see him
again. It was only when he started to put the gag in her mouth that her
composure broke and she lifted pleading eyes to his. "Please," she
said, "not that."

He stared for a long moment into her upturned face, the
distasteful knowledge that this might be the last time he ever looked
into those bewitching aquamarine eyes suddenly coursing through him. It
shouldn't have made a difference, but it did, and with a muffled curse
he threw down the gag and dragged her into his arms. He kissed her
fiercely, his mouth bruising and feverish on hers, and then he thrust
her from him abruptly and leaped onto the back of his horse and
disappeared into the night.

How long she remained alone in the moon-filtered darkness,
Savanna never knew. Time stood still in the beginning, but after a
while, she had the uncomfortable feeling that she was not quite alone.
It was unnerving to think of something out there in the darkness
watching her, waiting… She shrank back against the tree to which she
was shackled, telling herself it was probably just some roaming beast
and praying fervently for Adam's swift,
safe
return. Then, suddenly, Adam was there before her, leading what seemed
to be an inordinate amount of horses. He was grinning when he
dismounted, his teeth flashing whitely in the shadowy light, and it was
obvious he was very pleased with himself. Kneeling, he immediately
undid the shackles. A moment later, her hands were free. "A supply
train must have arrived just a few days ago, because their storehouses
were well stocked and the animals are in excellent condition," Adam
explained as he turned away and began to transfer her saddle to the
back of a fresh horse. Flashing her a sardonic look, he added, "As for
the soldiers themselves, I'm afraid you'll just have to wait for
another opportunity for someone to rid you of me!"

Some of her joy at his safe return ebbed, and glaring at him,
she snapped untruthfully, "Well, it can't be soon enough for me!" Adam
only laughed at her and began to tighten the cinch on her saddle.