A Heart So Wild (14 page)

C
HANDOS watched Courtney as she reheated the broth she'd been forcing on him all day. The late afternoon sun played with her hair, streaking the thick brown tresses with golden lights. He didn't think he could ever get enough of watching her. And he was finding he was a glutton for punishment where she was concerned.

He had played her a bad turn, his cateyes, and she was going to make him suffer for it. But he couldn't have done anything differently. She was not for him. If she'd known all there was to know about him, she'd have realized that. If she found out everything, he told himself, she would look at him with fear in her eyes.

What he saw in her now was fire, fire and the anger of a scorned woman. Now, if only her anger would stop feeding his male pride. But there was no getting around it—he was pleased by her reaction. He would have been terribly hurt if she'd accepted his pretended indifference. But he discovered that ignoring her made her furious, and that delighted him.

He hadn't wanted to steal her innocence. He had tried his damnedest not to. But having lost
that battle with himself, having made her his for that one incredible night, he'd believed his burning craving was satisfied. Well, he'd learned better. He'd only had to see her taking a bath in the river and his resolves were forgotten.

He was almost grateful to the snake for putting an end to his madness, for he'd surely have made love to Courtney again last night if he'd been able to. And that would be no good. It was going to be difficult enough to part with her as it was. Any further involvement would only make it worse.

She didn't realize that yet, of course. She was in the grip of her first passion, and she was thoroughly vexed with him. She thought he had used her. He sighed. It was better she thought so. It would be even better if she hated him.

The truth was, if he thought for one minute that he could make her happy, he would never let her go. But what kind of life could he offer her? He'd made his decision four years ago to forsake the white world and return to the Comanche way of life. Fifteen evil men had changed that life forever, and when it was all over, what would be left for him? He had roamed so long he didn't think he could settle anywhere, not even with the Comanche people. Could a white woman accept a life like that? Could his cateyes? He knew he couldn't ask her to.

He was startled out of his reverie as Courtney knelt down next to him, handing him the tin cup of hot broth. “How are you feeling?”

“Just as shitty as the last time you asked.”

She frowned. “God sakes, Chandos, must you be so vulgar?”

“Vulgar? You want vulgar, I'll give you vulgar—”

“Thank you, no,” she interrupted. “Last night I heard enough of the extremes of language you're capable of.”

“Did I miss all your blushes, cateyes?” he teased. “That's too bad. I do enjoy them, you know. If all it takes is a little vulgarity—”

“Chandos!”

“There, that's better. It doesn't take much to bring color to your cheeks, does it?”

“If you can be so obnoxious, then you're not at Death's door,” she said primly. And then she caught him unawares. “So tell me—are you part Indian?”

After the briefest pause, he said, “You know, your doctoring was all right until you got it into your head that this weak soup was going to give me any strength.”

Courtney sighed loudly. “A simple yes or no is all I want. However, if you don't want to answer, don't. It doesn't matter to me even if you
are
part Indian.”

“How tolerant of you.”

“How snide you are, Chandos.”

That closed-off look came over his features, and he murmured, “You think I don't know Indians scare you half to death?”

Her chin went up. “I can't help it if the only experience I've had with Indians was a bad one. But you're not like them, for heaven's sake.”

Chandos almost laughed but forced himself not to.

“I warned you not to try to second guess me,
woman. If you're going to make me an Indian, I can damn well act the part.”

“Then you aren't really—”

“No, but I don't have to be an Indian to be a savage, do I? Shall I prove it?”

Courtney jumped to her feet and hurried to the other side of the fire. With that barrier between them, she glared at Chandos, her hands on her hips. “Do you get some kind of perverse pleasure in frightening me?”

“Did I frighten you?” he asked innocently.

“Certainly not,” she retorted. “But you tried—didn't you?”

“Certainly not,” Chandos mimicked.

He was enjoying her fit of temper. He couldn't help it. She was so goddamn beautiful when her honey brown eyes sparked with fire and she rose to her full dignity, tossing her hair and throwing her shoulders back.

He had named her appropriately, for his cateyes could be a tiger. This journey was good for her—if not for him. She had come into her own. There was no telling how much more she would discover about herself before they reached Texas. A week ago she'd been so timid she couldn't stop stammering in his presence. Now, well, he knew damn well she
wouldn't
have fainted if she'd seen Leaping Wolf.

“I'd like to know what you think you could do to me, Chandos, when you can barely raise your head to drink your soup?”

That hit a nerve. “Be careful, lady. You'd be surprised what a man can do when he's riled.”

Courtney shrugged.

“I was only curious,” she assured him.

“Then come over here, and I'll appease your
curiosity,” he said smoothly, and her eyes flared.

“You might not be concerned with your condition, but I am! You should be conserving energy, not fighting. Now, please, drink your soup, Chandos. Then rest while I make something substantial for your dinner.”

He nodded. Why upset her any more?

I
T was going to rain. There might even be a storm, if the gathering dark clouds were an indication.

That was the first thing Courtney noticed when she woke. The second thing she saw was that Chandos was still asleep, so she took the opportunity to fill their canteens at the river, wanting to get the coffee started before he awoke.

The track to the river was darker than usual because there was no morning sun. The gloom began to affect her, and she certainly didn't feel like riding all day in the rain, even if Chandos was up to it. But then, sitting the rain out with only a rain slicker for shelter wasn't a very cheerful prospect, either. She didn't dare complain, though. This was just another aspect of riding the open trail.

The threatening sky received a withering look from Courtney as she bent to fill the canteens. Rain. It wasn't the end of the world, she told herself. Chandos was recovering. She ought to be grateful for that. There was so much to be grateful for, she had no business being depressed by a little rain.

“You Courtney Harte?”

She froze, bent toward the river, her canteen
still in the water. Her whole body went rigid, and she forgot to breathe.

“You deaf, honey?”

Her eyes widened with the sudden realization. “He said you didn't speak English!” she wailed.

“Who? What the hell you talkin' 'bout?”

She swung around, her eyes fixing on the man's face. Relief nearly did her in. “God sakes, I thought you were a
Comanche!
There's one around here,” she babbled.

“How do you know? You seen him?”

“Well no.”

“Well, neither have I. I guess he ain't around anymore, then. Now, are you the Harte woman?”

What was going on? He didn't look frightening. He had the kind of face that was used to laughing, heavily creased around the mouth and eyes, a pleasant face, with well-fleshed cheeks and eyes the color of pale smoke. He was of average height, and a little stocky, about thirty-five years old.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Jim Evans. Bounty hunter.”

“But you don't look like—I mean—”

“Yeah, I know.” He grinned broadly. “Gives me the edge, see. I don't fit the general image. Now, are you going to own up to who you are?”

If he hadn't said he was a bounty hunter, she might have. But she could only think that a bounty hunter would be looking for Chandos.

“I'm not Courtney Harte.”

He grinned again. “You wouldn't lie to me, now would you? The odds on there bein' two women out here who fit the description I have are pretty poor. I'd stake my life I found me the one and only Courtney Harte.”

“Then why did you bother to ask?” Courtney retorted.

“Had to. Can't afford to make mistakes. I don't get paid for mistakes. And what you're worth ain't chicken feed, believe you me.”

“Me? Then you're not after—What do you mean, what
I'm worth?
I'll have you know I am
not
wanted by the law, Mr. Evans.”

“Didn't say you were.”

“But you're a bounty hunter.”

“I collect rewards,” he told her. “Not just on folks wanted by the law. I'll hunt down anyone for any reason if the price is right. For you, it was. Your man is real anxious to get you back, honey.”

“My
man?
” Disbelief was fast turning to anger as understanding dawned. “How dare he! Reed Taylor hired you, didn't he?”

“He's paying the price.”

“But he's not my man. He's nothing to me!”

Jim Evans shrugged. “Whatever he is don't matter to me. He wants you back in Kansas, and that's what he'll get, 'cause I don't get paid until you're delivered.”

“I'm sorry to disappoint you, mister, but I'm not going back to Kansas, not for any reason—and certainly not because Reed Taylor wants me to. I'm afraid you've wasted your time. Of all the—”

“And I'm afraid
you
don't
understand
, honey.” He used the same agreeable voice, but his expression had hardened. “I never waste my time. You're going back to Kansas. Whatever objections you have, you can take up with Mr. Taylor, not with me.”

“But I refuse—”

He drew his gun and pointed it at her. Courtney's heart did triple leaps. And before she even remembered that she had her own gun tucked in her skirt, he'd found it and taken it from her.

“Don't look so surprised, honey.” He grinned. “I'm good at what I do.”

“So I see. But would you really shoot me? I doubt Reed would pay if you brought me back dead.”

“True,” he drawled, “but he didn't say anything about what kind of condition you had to be in.”

Courtney didn't mistake his meaning. Could she take the chance and run for it? But he was one step ahead of her.

“Don't even think about running or screaming. If the man you're with comes rushing down here, I'll just have to shoot him.”

He motioned upriver. “Let's go.”

“But, my things! Surely you don't expect me to leave without—”

“Nice try, but forget it. After what the Mexican told us 'bout that breed you're riding with, I'd just as soon not meet him at all. And if we just leave, he won't know what happened to you.”

She began to panic. What he said was true. By the time Chandos got around to looking for her, it would be raining and her tracks would be washed away.

She stalled for time, hoping Chandos was up by now and wondering what was taking her so long. “The Mexican you mentioned wouldn't happen to be Romero, would he?”

“Yes. We came across him and two others a while back. Quite a story they told 'bout your
friend. Made him sound like a one-man army. 'Course, you can't believe everything a fella says when he's making excuses for his own shortcomings. Or covering for whatever they did. Thought they mighta done you in and just weren't owning up to it. Pretty Boy was all for killing them and turning back to Kansas, but the Mexican offered to show us where they'd last seen you, and we picked up your tracks easy enough from there.”

“Who is Pretty Boy?”

“You don't think I'd be fool enough to enter this territory alone, do you? The others are waiting up the river, with the horses. We figured your friend would be less suspicious if only I came in, and I'd have a better chance of getting the drop on him.”

“I suppose you saw me heading down here alone, though?”

“Yeah, lucky wasn't I?” he said, grinning. “'Cause I tell you, honey, I sure wasn't looking forward to meetin' the breed.”

He pulled her along with him, and she realized this was her last opportunity to scream. She couldn't do it, however. If Chandos had been himself, she wouldn't have hesitated. But he was weak from the snakebite, and might have gotten killed. And it wasn't as if she were in any danger. She was only being forced to return to Kansas, that was all.

It wasn't long, however, before she regretted her decision to go along quietly and not scream for Chandos.

P
RETTY Boy Reavis was aptly named, with thick, silver blond wavy hair and eyes of deepest violet. He was in fact amazingly handsome, even beautiful. Twenty-two, lean, just under six feet tall, he presented a fantasy feast for the female imagination.

Courtney was so struck by the sight of him that she didn't even notice the two men with him. And Pretty Boy found her just as interesting.

“Taylor said you were beautiful, darlin', but he didn't do you justice.”

He'd probably been away from women for a long time, Courtney thought, for she was standing there in her mussed riding skirt and the white silk blouse that was now a mass of wrinkles after being washed but not pressed. Her hair fell in wild disarray to her waist. And she hadn't washed since the night Chandos was snakebit.

“You'll ride with me,” Pretty Boy said, coming forward to take her from the bounty hunter.

“Pretty Boy—”

“She rides with me, Evans,” he said, grit in his voice.

There was a good deal more to Pretty Boy than his face.

Jim Evans heeded the unmistakable warning, letting go of her arm.

Courtney started to wonder who was in charge, but just then Evans told them all to mount up, and they did. Evans was in charge. Yet Pretty Boy had gotten what he wanted without an argument.

Pretty Boy was feared. From the way Evans had backed off so quickly, Courtney had the feeling that nobody challenged Pretty Boy. Maybe he wasn't just another gunman, but the kind that enjoyed killing for its own sake.

She was tossed up onto Pretty Boy's horse, after which he mounted, sitting behind her. Only then did she notice the Mexican. He met her startled gaze with the darkly serious look she remembered. That look had the ability to infuriate her in an instant.

“You don't learn from your mistakes, do you, Romero?” she asked caustically.

He had the audacity to smile. “You are still full of fire,
bella
. But,
sí
, I learn.” He glanced over at Jim, who was just mounting up. “We heard no shots,
señor
. What have you done with Chandos?”

“Not a thing,” Jim replied. “Didn't have to get near him. She was down by the river.”

“You mean he don't even know we got her?” This from a long-faced fellow with an even longer red handlebar mustache. “I like that! He'll be hanging around waiting for her to return, and she won't!” He laughed. “Breeds ain't smart. Wonder how long it'll take him to figure she's gone.”

“You are wrong,” Romero said quietly. “My
amigos
and I made the mistake of underestimating that one. I for one will not be able to sleep until he is dead. If you will not see to it, then I will.”

Courtney almost cried out, but she realized that wasn't the way to stop the Mexican. Chandos had gotten the better of Romero, and he had a score to settle. No amount of pleading would sway him. It might even goad him on.

Thinking quickly, she said, “Oh, thank you, Romero. I was afraid Chandos would think I had fallen in the river and wouldn't even bother looking for me.”

“Is she serious?” Long-Face asked. And then he said to Courtney, “You want to see the breed dead?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” she replied with a touch of haughtiness. “Chandos isn't going to die. He's too clever to be taken unawares. But how else is he to know what's happened to me unless he sees one of you?”

“You don't like Romero much, do you, darlin'?” Pretty Boy chuckled. Then he said to the others, “Forget him. If the breed follows us, I'll take care of him.”

Apparently, no one doubted his ability, including Romero, for they moved out. Courtney breathed a sigh of relief. Chandos was safe.

But she wasn't. Not long after they crossed the river, Pretty Boy's hands began to roam. One hand drew alarmingly close to her breasts, and Courtney gasped in outrage as that hand did in fact clamp over a breast. She yanked the offending hand away, only to have both of her
hands caught and twisted up behind her back, the pain bringing tears to her eyes.

“Don't play with me, darlin'.” Pretty Boy's voice was an angry whisper. “We both know you've been givin' it to the Comanche breed. That makes you fair game.”

The hand holding the reins moved up her belly and over her breasts. The horse sidestepped, shaking his head. Courtney squeezed her eyes shut against the pain in her shoulders and arms, still twisted behind her.

“Consider yourself lucky that I've taken a likin' to you, darlin',” he continued. “I'll keep the others away from you—but only as long as you show your appreciation. Taylor wants you back, but before we get there, I mean to take a bonus for my trouble.
How
you want it is up to you.”

He released her arm. Courtney stayed silent. What could she say? And she had no defense.

Yet she was in no way resigned. Incredibly handsome though he was, his cruel touch repulsed her. And as soon as the pain in her shoulder eased, she let him know what she thought of his mauling, consequences be damned.

Her elbow slammed into his stomach, and a tussle followed as she tried her best to jump off the horse. He gave her a blow to the side of her head, but she kept on fighting until, at last, his arms circled her like steel bands and she couldn't move at all.

“All right,” he growled furiously. “You made your point. I'll keep my hands off you for now. But you better start praying I've cooled off by the time we make camp tonight.”

As if to emphasize the warning, a flash of lightning streaked across the sky, and a rumble of thunder followed. A burst of hard rain drove down on them, ending further threats as Pretty Boy fished out his slicker and tossed it over them both, then kneed his horse to catch up with the others.