Stacey Kayne Read online

  “Jed!” Frantic to keep him next to her, she clutched his hand. She didn’t resist when his other hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her toward him, not stopping until his lips were touching hers.

  “Rachell,” he whispered against her mouth, “if you start tearing up, they’re gonna think you don’t have any faith in me. Sit up here like the hellcat I know you are and wish me luck.”

  “You’re going to get hurt.”

  “Probably,” he said, just before his tongue slipped past her lips, grazing her teeth and assaulting her mouth with an intensity that both comforted and overwhelmed her.

  Rachell folded her arms around his neck, losing all sense of timidity as she returned the deep, fervent kiss, wishing the magical feelings he stirred inside her could somehow carry them away from this present danger.

  Jed pulled his mouth away from hers and stared into her eyes as though she were the one threatening his life. “Good God.”

  One of the Indians shouted out impatiently.

  “Whatever happens, don’t get out of this saddle and don’t run.”

  “I’m not a deserter or a coward.” She lifted her chin, her features hardening in an instant.

  Lord, I could love this woman.

  The unexpected thought stunned him. Jed shook his head as he turned, pushing the ridiculous thought from his mind. One mountain at a time, he told himself as he eyed the Apache warriors. He hoped Rachell wasn’t the type to swoon at the first sight of blood. There was bound to be plenty of it.

  Hopefully it won’t be mine.

  He drew his knife and walked past the three young warriors, leading them away from Rachell. Sensing their fast approach, he ducked under a fallen log. He heard the thwack of a tomahawk biting into the wood as he straightened on the other side. His fist cracked against the Indian’s jaw, sending him staggering backwards. Jed pulled the tomahawk free as the second man advanced over the fallen tree.

  Jed blocked the knife sweeping down at him with one hand and swiped the tomahawk across the Indian’s chest with the other while turning away from his opponent’s grasp.

  He tucked the tomahawk into the rear waistband of his buckskin pants and backed toward the river, his body honed for the fight. Conscious of the third Apache watching from a few yards away, he eyed the two stalking toward him. The sun at his back glistened on the blood he’d drawn from them. Both had been a warning blow. His next move wouldn’t be so playful.

  Chapter Seven

  The Apache weren’t fighting fair!

  Jed was amazing.

  He maneuvered his body with a speed and grace she’d not thought possible of a man his size. His powerful limbs moved in strong, sure strokes, fighting off attacks and delivering blows as he moved between the two Indians.

  Rachell didn’t know whether to be wary or relieved that the racoon-eyed warrior hadn’t engaged in the fight. He stood several yards away, watching the battle through narrowed eyes. Rachell’s breath caught as those blackened eyes snapped toward her. His slow smile sickened her stomach. His calculating gaze moved over her body, violating her even from the great distance between them. Her heart constricted painfully as he shifted, preparing to take a step toward her.

  A keen cry drew their attention back to the river’s edge where one of the Indians had fallen to his knees, his hands gripping the handle of Jed’s knife, the blade buried in his chest. Rachell gasped as he crumpled facedown onto the rocky shoreline. Without a weapon in hand, Jed lunged aside, dodging the attack of the second Apache. The Indian’s knife sliced only air. Jed grabbed his arm and whipped the Indian off his feet, flipping him onto his back.

  Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, Rachell shifted her gaze back to the racoon-eyed Apache.

  Fear bonded with the blood coursing though her veins as her gaze locked on the dark eyes steadily moving toward her.

  “Jed!” she screamed, then wondered what she was thinking. Jed already had his hands full.

  “Touch her and I’ll hand-deliver you to Satan.”

  Jed’s lethal promise boomed over the hush of the river.

  The Indian stalled, his gaze lingering over her for a long, heart-pounding moment.

  Rachell flickered a glance at Jed. His chilling gray eyes were locked on the black-painted warrior, as his hand held the second Indian pinned facedown on the rocks.

  “Rachell,” Jed shouted, “if he takes another step in your direction, shoot him.”

  Rachell groped for the rifle as Jed spoke again, this time in the Apache’s language. Before she could pull the long gun free, the Indian turned and set into a hard run toward Jed. Wielding a large knife, he bounded over the fallen tree, intent on reaching his target.

  Jed straightened away from the unmoving man on the ground, just in time to grab the third warrior, deflecting the knife aimed at his flesh. With a heave, Jed tossed him into the shallows of the river. Jed drew the knife he’d tucked into his boot then dove at him.

  Water whipped and splashed around them as they twisted and thrashed in such a tangle of bronze skin, black hair and buckskin, Rachell couldn’t tell one man from the other. The river was drawing them out, pulling them deeper into its deadly current. Fear gripped her soul as they disappeared under the water.

  A moment later the Apache surfaced, Jed’s knife protruding from his shoulder. Blood began to appear from several cuts across his arms and chest. Jed found his footing a second later, just a few feet down river from the Indian. Waist deep in water, his powerful body moved against the rushing force of the water as he stalked toward the Indian. Red dots beaded in a line at the base of his ribs.

  Blood.

  Dear God. He’s been cut! Each movement pulled at the gash, increasing his loss of blood.

  If Jed felt his injury, his expression didn’t show any signs, nor did he give any attention to the wound that was now bleeding steadily into the river which whipped around his waist.

  Armed with the knife he’d pulled from his shoulder, the Apache took a cautious step back.

  Jed reached behind him, pulling out the small tomahawk. As he did, the Apache sent his knife into the air, spinning toward Jed. Jed used the hatchet to knock the knife off-course and into the river. His arm snapped forward again, this time releasing the hatchet.

  The Indian clutched at the ax embedded in his throat. Rachell gasped as he fell forward into the water. The hard current quickly carrying the limp body down river.

  Jed stumbled, his features etched with pain as he struggled to walk from the swift current. Blood drizzled steadily from the wound. He stumbled again. Rachell shouted his name and swung down from the saddle.

  She ran toward the river. Gathering up her skirt, she raced into the water. “Oh my gracious,” she cried, looking at the deep cut in his side. She’d seen men die from such wounds during the war. “I told you you’d get hurt!” she shouted as she looked up into Jed’s wide eyes.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist, intending to help him from the freezing torrent, but the rush of water tugged at her long skirt, threatening to pull her down.

  Heavens, what had she been thinking? Her heart constricted with fear as she struggled to keep her balance.

  As she strained for another step, Jed lifted her from the river’s grasp and into his strong arms. Reaching the riverbank, he set her on her feet then released a deep groan as he bent forward, planting his hands on his knees.

  “Thought you were afraid of water,” he gasped.

  Horrified by the blood now flowing from his side, she pried the knife from his clenched fingers.

  “What are you doin’,” he said in a weak groan. “Tryin’ to finish me off?”

  “Damn you, Jed Doulan! You’re bleeding like a stuck hog!” She stabbed the knife through the bottom of her wet skirt. “You could have shot them with no injury to yourself.”

  “A man’s got to have some integrity.”

  “A lot of good integrity does a man with no blood!”

  Jed’s face
twisted with pain as he straightened. “That’s great,” he said through clenched teeth. “I risk my life to defend you, and all you can do is shout at me.”

  As she finished cutting the wide strip from her skirt, Jed’s body went rigid. All signs of pain and emotion drained from his face. “Rachell, get behind me,” he ordered. He took the knife from her hand and turned his attention toward the woods.

  Only then did she hear what had captured his attention. The sound of approaching horses.

  Jed grabbed her by the arm, tugging her behind him as four more Indians rode out from a cluster of trees not twenty yards down river.

  “Oh, God.” Rachell’s fingers gripped Jed’s waist protectively.

  The largest of the four Indians jumped from his horse and ran toward them. “Jed!”

  Stunned, Rachell stared at the savage who’d called Jed’s name.

  Jed clutched the gash in his side and staggered forward, grinning at the Indian running toward them. Blood continued to spill through his fingers, drizzling down his buckskin pants at a frightening pace.

  “Running Bear.”

  “Brother,” replied the Indian. He wrapped his thick arm around Jed’s shoulders while the bleeding man leaned heavily against him.

  Rachell was sure he would have fallen to the ground if the large Indian wasn’t there to support him.

  The Indian’s dark eyes clouded with worry as his gaze dropped to Jed’s side. “You growing old, my brother.” He glanced at the two dead Apache further back on the riverbank. “I know day when you fight ten men with no loss of your blood.”

  Jed’s laugh was drowned out by a painful groan. “Right now, I feel old,” he said, his face twisting with pain. “That’s what I get for swimmin’ with vipers.”

  “You should bathe with woman, not enemy.”

  Rachell was astonished by the muffled laughter of both men. The Indian was as crazy as Jed. She reached around Jed’s waist, pushing his hand aside as she bound the fabric from her skirt tightly around his waist to slow the bleeding. She gasped as Jed slumped against Running Bear, nearly falling from his grasp. Running Bear motioned the other three men to assist him.

  “My Imp,” Jed groaned.

  The Indian glanced down at Rachell. “Imp will be safe.”

  As though he’d been holding out for that reassurance, Jed fell unconscious. The other Indians quickly grabbed hold of him. Running Bear motioned to the patch of grass she and Jed had sat in earlier and spoke in his foreign tongue.

  “Come, Imp,” he called as they carried Jed away from the river.

  Jed was carefully laid out on the grass. Rachell dropped to her knees beside him. The strip of her skirt had darkened, already drenched with Jed’s blood. Hearing Sage nicker, she turned to see Running Bear barely avoid Sage’s teeth as the horse sidestepped, trying to keep Running Bear out of Jed’s saddlebags.

  Rachell didn’t have any idea what he could be looking for and figured if he couldn’t see the warning in Sage’s flattened ears and sharp whinnies, he deserved the bite. Turning her attention back to Jed, she began to tug at the binding that was soaking up Jed’s blood like a dishrag and doing little to stop the bleeding.

  “You sew,” a deep voice ordered from behind her. Rachell looked up as Running Bear knelt beside her. “His blood flows fast,” he said as he laid a piece of folded leather between them. He quickly untied the leather binding of the pouch and turned back the sides to reveal an assortment of surgical instruments; scalpel, tweezers, small pliers, scissors, and needles for stitching, along with the necessary thread.

  She’d seen and used such instruments during the war when the Carlsons’ home had become a battlefield infirmary.

  Running Bear cut away the useless binding. Rachell took the curved needle, and with a steady hand that came from months of tending wounded soldiers as gunfire surrounded the Carlsons’ Louisiana estate, Rachell set about stopping the bleeding and closing the gash in Jed’s side.

  When she’d finished, Running Bear handed her a strip from Jed’s wet shirt which he had shredded for bandages. He assisted her, lifting Jed as she wound the cloth around his middle. As she secured the end of the tight binding, a large hand engulfed her shoulder. Warily, she glanced up at Running Bear’s face. For the first time, she actually saw him.

  A rather small flap of leather was all that covered his extremely large person. Thick black braids draped across the dark skin of his broad shoulders. Three black bands circled his wide biceps in what looked to be permanent tattoos. Thin metal hoops pierced his ears. A heavy cluster of necklaces hung from his neck, some woven, some beaded.

  His sharp amber eyes quickly assessed her before he said, “No worry. My brother is too stubborn for death. He will rest in my camp.” He turned away, calling to his companions.

  The three equally-underdressed and decorated men were working on a cot made from two thick branches and Jed’s bedroll. They helped Running Bear hoist Jed’s limp body onto the makeshift cot, and then secure him behind Running Bear’s dark horse.

  Rachell went back for Sage. She didn’t bother to raise her wet skirt which now hung only to her shins as she lifted her foot to the high stirrup. She silently followed Running Bear as he led his horse by the reins.

  Chapter Eight

  Although they couldn’t have ridden more than a few miles, an eternity seemed to have passed before Rachell spotted white plumes of smoke filtering up from beyond the distant hillside.

  Her breath caught as they topped another stone ridge. She hadn’t expected to find such a large gathering of Indians. Beside a small stream, thirty or more dwellings were clustered in the narrow valley below. Capturing the glow of the setting sun, the gentle strip of water looked like a white satin ribbon weaving across the grass of the valley floor.

  As they approached the Indian village, men, women and children rushed out to greet them. Running Bear instructed a few men to help him with Jed. Rachell dismounted and stood by Sage, unsure of what to do. Seeing Jed’s limp body sickened her heart with worry. The sound of his name being murmured among those who’d gathered around them drew Rachell’s attention toward the crowd of Indians.

  Startled by so many eyes focused on her, she took a step back and bumped into Sage.

  The natives seemed to be just as startled by her. Many bodies moved as one, taking a giant step backward.

  I must look a fright. She glanced down at her blood-stained hands and bodice. The jagged bottom of her skirt revealed her ghostly-white shins and scarlet boots.

  “Come,” called Running Bear.

  Jed was being carried into the village by Running Bear and three other men. Rachell quickly fell in step behind them as they moved through a maze of huts unlike any she’d ever seen. Though they had the same shape as the skin-covered teepees she’d only seen in pictures, with tall poles protruding from narrow tops, the outsides of these homes were covered with tightly bound reeds and sticks. Running Bear and the men ducked into a dwelling near the edge of a meadow. Rachell crowded in behind them. An Indian woman was already inside, spreading blankets and a large fur on the ground.

  Jed was placed on the fur. The woman and three men quickly departed, leaving only Rachell and Running Bear with Jed.

  “Check injury,” Running Bear instructed as he began to unlace Jed’s wet moccasins.

  Rachell was already on her knees, reaching for the binding. Loosening the strip of cotton, she was relieved to find that all her stitches had held. As she checked each stitch, making sure none had been pulled or loosened during Jed’s transport, Running Bear shifted Jed on the blanket and removed the rest of his clothing.

  Rachell sat back, and lost her ability to speak.

  In the dim light of the hut, the muscular lines of Jed’s body were well defined. Realizing she was gaping at Jed’s strong, naked body, heat stung her face. She quickly stood up and looked away.

  “Imp?” said Running Bear.

  Rachell pulled in a deep silent breath, allowing herself a moment to regai
n her composure before she glanced back. When she finally managed to turn around, she was relieved to find a blanket covering the lower portion of Jed’s body.

  “You are wife of Jed?” Running Bear asked, his gaze questioning as he stood and took a step toward her.

  “We’re married,” Rachell replied truthfully, “but—”

  “My heart feels joy,” Running Bear said, slapping his hand against his chest, and causing Rachell to jump. Before she could explain she wasn’t truly Jed’s wife, Running Bear’s large hands gently clasped her shoulders. “My vision is complete,” he said, smiling into her eyes. “You are light of my vision. Now my brother will find peace.”

  Rachell didn’t know how to respond. He would surely be disappointed to know that she’d brought anything but peace to his unconscious brother. It was because of her he’d nearly bled to death. As she struggled to think of a proper response, the sharp sound of a horse’s protest carried through the skin shelter. Rachell turned away from Running Bear and darted toward the opening, certain the distressed horse was Sage.

  In the meadow just outside, another half-naked man held the rearing horse by the reins. He slapped a long switch across Sage’s neck.

  Jed would have had a fit if he’d seen his horse being handled in such a manner!

  “Don’t!” Rachell cried, shoving the Indian aside and jerking the reins from his hands. Sage turned away and galloped into the nearby meadow. Rachell glared up at the Indian backing away from her with wide, fearful eyes.

  “You don’t have to beat him!”

  The Indian stiffened and stared at her. Fuming, she spun and started toward Sage. He certainly wouldn’t allow any of them to get near him now. She walked deep into the meadow, talking gently to Sage as she approached him.

  “Easy, boy,” she soothed, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Running Bear stood at the edge of the meadow, watching Jed’s fearless wife calm the ill-tempered horse. Unlike his choice of mount, Jed had chosen his woman well. Running Bear entered the meadow, careful not to spook the skittish animal. The woman also sensed his presence and whipped her head in his direction.