Savage Courage (21 page)

She gulped and turned her eyes away. One of his arms had obviously been chewed on, while his bare chest revealed many deep, bloody claw marks.

His clothes were half torn off him, and what was still there was stained with blood.

But the worst of his injuries was to his legs. Shoshana did not want to even think of the pain he must be enduring with so many teeth wounds in his leg.

She did not see how he could still be alive after losing so much blood. But surely men as vile as Mountain Jack, without heart or conscience, did not die all that easily.

Storm gaped openly at Mountain Jack, deep revulsion filling his senses at the sight of his enemy. The knowledge that this man took scalps from any red man he could manage to corner made Storm look past his terrible injuries and see the killer he was.

“Please . . . please . . . get me away from here,” Mountain Jack pleaded, tears streaming from his
eyes. “The panther might return at any moment. It . . . it . . . is keeping me as though I am some sort of toy. It injured me enough to make it impossible for me to escape. Please, oh, please have mercy.”

Storm’s jaw tightened. He swung his rifle up and aimed it at Mountain Jack. “When did you ever show mercy to any of my people?” he growled out.

Shoshana scarcely breathed as she waited to see what Storm was going to do. She understood his need for vengeance.

She sought her own, for she would never forget sweet Major Klein, and how heartlessly the scalp hunter had taken his scalp. Nor would she ever forget how he had taken her hostage, chaining her up and threatening her life.

This man was pure evil.

“Please don’t kill me,” Mountain Jack begged, reaching a bloody hand out toward Storm. “I’m sorry for what I did. Chief Storm, you are a man of peace, a man of good heart. Look past your need of vengeance and show me mercy!”

Storm’s eyes narrowed. His finger found the trigger of his rifle.

Out of your whole life,
give but a moment.

—Robert Browning

The report of the rifle caused Shoshana to flinch and close her eyes.

She trembled as she turned her back to what must be a terrible sight.

Even though she detested and loathed Mountain Jack with every fiber of her being, and knew he deserved to die, she just wasn’t used to seeing death up this close.

Young Major Klein’s death was the first she had witnessed. This time, Mountain Jack deserved to die. Yet she did not want to look upon the face of death again so soon.

“Thank you, oh, Lord, thank you, Chief Storm . . .”

Stunned by the sound of that voice, Shoshana opened her eyes wide in wonder. The evil scalp hunter was still alive.

She spun around and gazed at Storm, who still held the smoking firearm, then looked down at Mountain Jack, who had a strange twisted smile of relief on his face.

“I decided that it was not what I wanted to do after all,” Storm said, lowering the rifle to his side. “Why should I be the one to give this man a quick, merciful death, when he took so many lives in unmerciful ways? It is best that he be made to suffer the wounds the panther has inflicted on him. To kill him would have taken his pain away. It would have been too merciful . . . too quick.”

“But you fired the rifle . . .” Shoshana said, gazing down at it, then looking slowly up at him again.

“I felt that it was best to fire it, in case the panther was close by. The sound will frighten it,” Storm said, looking sternly down at the man groveling at his feet. “We need time to get this man away from here.”

“Where will you take him?” Shoshana asked, gazing down at Mountain Jack.

“To Fort Chance,” Storm said without hesitation.

“Fort Chance?” Shoshana gasped out. “Truly? You are going to Fort Chance?”

“
Ho
, and I want you to go with me,” Storm said, reaching a gentle hand to her shoulder. “It is best that we hand over this hunted man to those who will know what to do with him. He is a wanted man, hunted by both my people and the white-eyes. I would rather his final fate be decided by whites, not the Apache. If I give the
pindah-lickoyee
this opportunity, I believe they will realize, once and for all, how I long to have a permanent peace with them.”

“But you were going to achieve that by going to Canada,” Shoshana murmured. “Are you considering not going there now? Do you think those who are in charge in Washington will truly be swayed by this act of friendship? Will it be enough to make them respect your people?”

“I will still take my people to Canada land, but I feel that handing over the scalp hunter to them will assure that our people’s journey there will not be marred by possible attacks from the white eyes,” he explained.

“But if you take him to the fort, I must go with you, and you know I left a note that might not have been taken kindly by the colonel. Also, they might follow you to your stronghold,” Shoshana murmured. “I’m not sure about any of this, Storm.”

He took her hands in his. “I feel that it is best to allow them to see the truth between you and me, that we will soon marry,” he said softly. “If not, the
colonel would always wonder where you were, and possibly decide to try to find you, even though you said in your note that you didn’t want to be found.”

“I still don’t,” Shoshana said, her voice full of emotion. “I want to just look forward, not backward. I’m afraid that if I return to the fort now, while George Whaley is still being prepared for burial, they will expect me to stay long enough for the funeral. How can I explain my feelings about him? Perhaps I should have shown them the scalp that I found in George Whaley’s trunk. Then they would understand.”

“It is not important that they understand anything but that you and I are going to be married and that you will live out the rest of your life as an Apache,” Storm said firmly. “I truly believe you should go and let them see that you are all right and let them know what your future holds. Afterward, they can go on with their own lives, no longer concerned about you.”

“You do believe I should?” Shoshana asked, her eyes searching his.

“It is best that we clear the way for many things today by taking this man to the fort,” Storm said, glancing down at Mountain Jack, who regarded them with a look of horror.

“I’d rather you’d have shot me,” Mountain Jack said, his voice breaking. “Shoot me now, Storm. Put
me out of my misery. I can’t bear to come face to face with Colonel Hawkins. That man hates me with a passion. He’ll surely torture me slowly before he hangs me, for he
is
a hanging man. He hangs any man he hates and can get away with hanging.”

“Your fate is what you have made for yourself,” Storm said, his jaw tight. “You will go to the fort. We will leave you there. Whatever happens then is nothing to me, or Shoshana.”

“Ma’am, tell him he’s wrong,” Mountain Jack begged. “Surely you’re grateful to me for not hurting you. You know I could’ve.”

“I know that if Storm had not saved me, I would probably be dead now,” Shoshana said. “I have no pity for you. As Storm said, your fate is what you have made it.”

Storm slid his rifle into the gunboot on his horse, then began gathering limbs that had fallen from the aspens. “We must lash together a travois and get out of this area before the panther returns,” he said, already laying the limbs out. “Come and help me, Shoshana. I’ll show you how. This is the only way we can get Mountain Jack to the fort.”

They worked together until the travois was large enough to carry Mountain Jack. They soon had him tied onto it and covered with a blanket.

Shoshana clung to Storm’s waist as they made their way down the mountainside, and then rode across a straight stretch of land.

This time Shoshana didn’t admire the flowers, or anything else. Her mind was on what lay ahead, and what she would say to Colonel Hawkins when he saw her with Storm.

She gazed down at her dress. It was the dress her mother had given her, the doeskin beautifully embellished with pretty beads of all colors. She felt Apache today and knew that she looked it. Even the soft, beaded moccasins on her feet were like those her Apache sisters wore.

She reached a hand up to her hair and ran her fingers through its thickness. She wished she had taken time to braid her hair before going to the fort. In that way, she would have looked totally Apache.

Today she would show everyone who she truly was, and how she wished to live the rest of her life. She was proud of her Apache heritage, and could hardly wait to begin life as it would soon be with Storm.

As the fort came in sight, Shoshana’s insides tightened. And when she realized they had been spied by the sentries, she felt a frisson of fear over what Storm had decided to do. After so many years of staying hidden in the mountains, avoiding these soldiers at all costs, he would now come face to face with them.

She hoped that his generous offer of handing over the scalp hunter to them would be taken in the way it was meant—as a friendly gesture that would prove he was a man of peace.

“Halt!” ordered one of the soldiers who had ridden out to meet them. He drew rein beside Storm, his hand on his holstered pistol as he gave Shoshana a surprised stare, then looked past her and looked in wonder at Mountain Jack.

“He is now yours,” Storm said stiffly. “We found him. A panther had taken him to its den.”

Another soldier rode up. His gaze met Shoshana’s. “What are you doing with Chief Storm?” he asked, his gaze slowly raking over her, taking in her Indian attire.

“I would rather explain things to Colonel Hawkins,” Shoshana said, even now seeing the colonel riding toward them.

When he drew rein a few feet away and gazed questioningly at Shoshana, then at Mountain Jack, and then at Storm, she felt her insides tightening. She went over what she had said in her note, how she had made it clear that she wanted nothing more to do with the white community, especially soldiers.

She knew that the words must have insulted the colonel, and felt that he looked at her now with antagonism.

“Shoshana, why are you with Chief Storm?” Colonel Hawkins blurted out.

“In my note I failed to tell you that Storm saved me after Mountain Jack took me hostage in his cabin,” Shoshana said, her eyes meeting the colonel’s. “Storm took me to his stronghold. There I was
reunited with my true mother, who I believed dead ever since Colonel George Whaley rode into my village and spared no one . . . but . . . me. I want nothing more now than to live the rest of my life with my people, the Apache. I plan to marry Chief Storm soon.”

“Marry?” Colonel Hawkins said, his eyes widening. “But, Shoshana, you have known nothing but how it is to live with white people. Can you truly live as an Apache?”

“As I said, I want nothing more than that for myself,” she murmured.

“Storm took a chance by coming today to bring the scalp hunter to you,” she said anxiously. “He knew that you could follow him and finally learn where his stronghold is. He trusted that you wouldn’t.”

“That trust is appreciated,” Colonel Hawkins said, smiling at Storm. He glanced down at Mountain Jack, then looked at Storm again. “I appreciate this, Chief Storm. Know this: You will not be followed.”

Then he gazed at Shoshana again. “Your father’s . . . I mean George Whaley’s . . . funeral is in a short time,” he said thickly. “Would you want to stay long enough to attend?”

“Sir, in the past few days I have come to terms with George Whaley, who he was, and what he truly was to me. I have concluded that I was wrong ever to show any love for him,” she murmured. “As a
child, he took everything precious from me. Only because the terrible day was erased from my mind was I able to show this man any love. After I remembered what happened that day, and how much I lost because of him, my love turned to loathing.”

“Then you go on your way, my dear,” Colonel Hawkins said softly. He reached a hand out to Storm. “Chief Storm, thank you for what you did here today. We’ve been searching long and hard for this despicable man. I know you could’ve taken him to your stronghold and dealt with him in your own way. I’m glad you brought him here to meet his punishment.”

“All I want is for my people to live in peace without being threatened by white-eyes,” Storm replied. “Do I have your word that you will not follow me and Shoshana?”

“You have my word, and I will make certain none of the men under my command will go against that promise,” he said. He smiled at Shoshana again. “My dear, you deserve happiness. I do hope you find it with Storm and his people.”

He cleared his throat. “I am so glad that you have been reunited with your mother,” he said. “Your true mother. Be happy, Shoshana. And know that I will never forget you.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Storm clasped the colonel’s hand and shook it, nodded, then waited for the travois to be detached
from his steed. When it was done, he did not bother to take even one more look at the scalp hunter. He wheeled his horse around and rode toward his mountain, with Shoshana clinging to him, her cheek on his muscled back.

Suddenly a voice rang out from behind them. “I’ll get you for this, you damn Apache!” Mountain Jack screeched. “I’ll . . . get . . .
you
, Shoshana!”

Shoshana’s skin crawled at those words, but she knew that there was nothing more to fear from that man. She ignored his threat, as Storm ignored it.

“Now we can concentrate on our marriage and on the rest of our lives together. We can concentrate on making plans to go to Canada,” she murmured. “All of the ugliness has been left behind us.”

Storm gave her a smile over his shoulder, but could not help having doubts about what had been promised him. Too many white-eyes had spoken with a forked tongue to the Apache. How could he believe that the lies would stop just because he had handed over an evil man to these soldiers?

“Yes, behind us,” he said, but only to help put Shoshana’s mind at rest.

He glanced over his shoulder to be certain Colonel Hawkins had not sent soldiers to follow him and Shoshana.

He could not get home quickly enough.