Sweet Prairie Passion (Savage Destiny) (29 page)

She was surprised at her own cold and practical thinking, but supposed a person got that way when he or she was all alone and had nothing but himself or
herself to fall back on. She had to be very practical now if she was to survive in this new and dangerous land all alone. She adjusted her skirts and trotted her horse over to where Zeke was standing next to his big Appaloosa. She could see he was getting mentally prepared to face Rube Givens and do the man in. He was stonily silent, but the storm inside him rumbled loud and clear. He checked his two rifles, one an extra-fancy Spencer with a fine, carved butt. He wore the menacing knife on his belt in a beaded sheath, and she didn’t doubt that he had one or two more knives on his person, hidden inside that wide, leather belt, or perhaps in a moccasin. With the gun he wore on his hip, plus the extra one he’d shoved into his belt, he looked prepared to go to war. She felt apprehensive, not for herself, but for Zeke. Rube Givens would surely be expecting the man. She had faith in Zeke’s skill and ability, but when a man was expected, it was a strike against him.

Her heart rested easier when she realized that anyone with his wits about him would think twice about getting Cheyenne Zeke riled. Zeke was as fearsome looking as a ten-foot, hungry grizzly, and she could not help but take secret pride in the fact that she’d broken down that strong-willed, fearsome man one night. She’d caught the wild mustang in him and briefly tamed it, and in that moment she’d been wild herself, wild and free just like Cheyenne Zeke, giving herself to an untamed stallion and knowing the joy of it.

But the man she watched now was not the gentle, subdued man who’d made a woman out of her. He was a stalker, a hunter, a killer—probably much the
way he’d been when he’d gone after his wife’s killers. If she didn’t know him so well, she’d have been afraid of him because of the way he looked now. He turned his horse and spoke to Kelsoe again.

“You think you’ll be all right?”

“We’re pretty seasoned now, Zeke, and into good country. We’ll be fine. You just find that poor girl and get her back here.”

Zeke turned to Bradley Hanes. “You’ll keep your promise about looking after Miss Trent when she returns?”

“You know we will. And if LeeAnn is with her, she has a home with us, too, until she’s recovered.”

Zeke nodded. “You’re good people,” he told the man. “But I don’t expect to find LeeAnn alive.” He turned to Abbie, trying to discourage her with the words. “You ought to stay here.”

“She might be alive,” Abbie replied firmly. “I’m going to be with her, whether you like it or not! I’ll not change my mind!”

“You’re stubborn and stupid!” Zeke barked.

“Call me what you will! I’m still going!”

He wanted to hit her and kiss her at the same time, wanted to shout at her and smile at her. He looked her over, suddenly having to suppress laughter. She wore her father’s leather hat, which was too big for her, and a jacket that was also too big.

“One of my first orders is that you eat, hungry or not!” he ordered. “You look like a damned, starved bird! You’ll blow away in the Wyoming winds. I’m not packing along a half-starved kid who doesn’t have the strength to pick up a rifle when she might need it. I’m supposed to depend on you to back me up, remember?”

She puckered her lips in a pout, “I’ll eat,” she replied. She sat there, all of five feet and two inches and perhaps a hundred pounds, and he suddenly wondered with a terrible ache in his groin how he had been able to make love to her without killing her. But the memory of the one lovely night with her that he was trying to forget stirred a fire in his blood. He whirled his horse disgustedly, wondering what had ever possessed him to let her go along. He put a cheroot in his mouth and lit it.

“All set, Zeke?” Olin asked, as David Craig rode up to them on his own mount. Zeke turned and looked Abbie over again, scowling and puffing on the cheroot.

“Let’s ride,” he mumbled. He took off on his Appaloosa, and how he knew which way to go, Abbie could not imagine. Apparently the Indian in him could smell a rat like Rube Givens from miles away. He merely glanced at the ground occasionally and rode hard, and she rode hard to keep up, determined to do everything right so he’d have no excuse to leave her behind. They headed into thick pine trees, and the wagon train was soon lost from sight. She knew Cheyenne Zeke was doing this for her sake, to give her a little hope, a little adventure, something to steer her mind away from the horrors the last several days had handed to her. She needed something to live for, some purpose, some way to vent her terrible sorrow. And he owed her this wish. For he felt an indebtedness to her for stealing her virginity when he knew it did not rightfully belong to him.

*      *      *

They headed northeast into wooded hills, Zeke following a trail that seemed obvious to him, but one Abbie could not see at all. She took it for granted he knew what he was doing and followed, trying to decide as she rode just what she could do or say for her sister once they found the girl. It seemed ironic, after the nasty things LeeAnn had said about Zeke, that it was now Zeke who was risking his life to go after her, but that was the kind of man Cheyenne Zeke was—a man who would defend a girl’s honor, no matter how that girl might treat him. And Abbie did not doubt that what was happening brought back memories of his own wife and a new thirst for vengeance.

Within a day, they came upon a spot where several men had obviously made camp. There was evidence of a large fire not long extinguished, and the foilage all around was trampled and scattered with horse dung. LeeAnn’s carpetbag lay on the ground near the fire, ripped open, its contents scattered.

“Oh, God!” Abbie gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. She started to dismount; but Zeke ordered her to stay put, and she’d promised to do everything he asked. Only Zeke dismounted, while the others waited, watching him prowl around the campsite like a bobcat. Abbie watched in fascination as he studied the trampled earth and the remains of the campfire. He walked around for several minutes, not speaking, seeming as alert as a wild animal, listening, studying the dirt and the grass and the trees, kneeling down and studying hoofprints and bootprints.

“I figure at least six, maybe seven,” he finally spoke up to Olin. “One of them is Rube for sure. Here’s that funny print he leaves. Them boots of his must be full
of holes by now because he’s still wearing that pair with the run-down heels. I tracked those boots that first time I went after him when he’d shot you up.”

“Must figure they’re his lucky boots or somethin’,” Olin said sarcastically. “Where do we go from here?”

Zeke stood up and seemed to be sniffing the very air. He walked off into the woods a ways, then came back. “West,” he replied. “They’re keeping to the hills and the land gets too flat east of here.”

“How did they get ahead of us in the first place?” Abbie asked. “Robards and LeeAnn headed back the other way.”

Zeke walked over to his horse. “The way I figure it, Givens had an idea Robards would turn back before we crossed the Platte. Apparently, he and Robards had had an agreement to begin with—probably for Givens to guide them back East. Only Robards didn’t know Givens had no intention of getting them there because he planned on taking LeeAnn for himself.”

He mounted up. “At any rate, I figure they planned to make the break at a time and in a way that would make it hard for me to go after them and stop them, and they succeeded in doing that. Givens figured Robards would do it before we entered that hellish canyon between the Platte and Independence Rock, so my guess is Givens waited somewhere around the north fork of the Platte, right where Robards rode off with LeeAnn like Givens expected he’d do. He probably met up with them pretty quick, then Givens headed West, too, only north from us and out of our sight. They got to the other side of the canyon before we did because they were on horseback and not slowed down by wagons and not confined to the route they
could take. Then they killed Robards and staked him out for us to find—to get back at Abbie for shoving that pie in his face and to goad me into coming after him.”

It was all like a nightmare, to think of LeeAnn being with Givens and his men. They’d all have their turn at her, that was certain, and, shuddering at the thought, Abbie literally shook her head to try to get rid of it.

“You all right?” Zeke asked her. “You have plenty of time to go back, Abigail.”

“I’m … fine,” she replied, holding her chin up.

Zeke turned away, not believing what she’d said but admiring her courage. “Those tracks were made sometime yesterday—late. So, they aren’t all that far ahead of us. In fact, they’ll probably deliberately go slow, let us catch up, maybe lay a trap. We have to be awful careful.” He looked at Olin and David. “I don’t want Abigail to be part of their catch. If anybody sees any movement in the bushes—anything—shoot first and ask questions later. And we’ll build no big fires. Maybe I don’t know for sure where Givens is, but I don’t want him knowing where we are either. We’ll make a small fire, just enough to heat some coffee and beans, but not big enough for much warmth. Let’s go.”

He nudged his horse into motion, and the others followed. Soon they were into even thicker pines, and in spite of the danger involved and the purpose of the trip, Abbie could feel herself becoming attached to the beautiful country through which they rode. Everything was big: the sky, the woods, and the beautiful mountains west of them that stood stalwart and
strong. The smell of pine was all around them, penetrating their nostrils with a lovely, soft aroma. Squirrels and chipmunks dashed here and there, but Abbie dwelled on the glorious hues of the forest wild flowers. Their maze of colors and their lovely designs helped ease her mind, for each time Zeke stopped to dismount and study the trail, she concentrated on the flowers, blocking out the ugliness of what could have happened to her sister.

They rode through lovely meadows and past small lakes, through more fragrant forest and past cascading waterfalls, always with the jagged peaks and spires in the distance. She was beginning to see why men had come West and why most who did stayed. And Cheyenne Zeke fit this country. It was obvious he loved it. He was as much a part of it as the trees and the animals, and if she could ever be his woman, she would have to be a part of it also. She knew in her heart that it would not be difficult to love this land and call it home. But she also knew how harsh it could be, how cruel and demanding. Yet, with Zeke at her side, she could bear all things. Of that she was sure.

Zeke drove them hard for two days, and at night the three men took turns keeping watch, while Abbie was allowed to sleep. Concerned that she’d get too cold, Zeke gave her all his blankets except one, and she loved him for it. But she worried about him, for he had just one thin Indian blanket, and he never even lay down at night. He just sat, even when it was supposed to be his turn to sleep. She would wake up, and there he’d be, sitting near her, his knees drawn up with his arms wrapped around them and the blanket about his shoulders. She was sure he couldn’t possibly be asleep
in that position, and she wondered how he could keep going like he did. But Zeke was a disciplined man, who always seemed to be in control of himself and his body—except for the one night she'd broken through that wall of discipline. The thought of it made her smile. She snuggled under her blankets, relaxed in the knowledge that if one twig snapped or one pine needle fell out of place, Zeke would be up and shooting.

On the second night Abbie woke up with a start, a nightmare about Givens making LeeAnn scream forcing her suddenly awake. Her breathing quickened and she blinked back tears.

“What is it?” she heard Zeke’s voice ask nearby. She turned her eyes to see him sitting there, as usual, keeping watch and quietly smoking.

“Nothing. I had a bad dream,” she replied in a near whisper.

Their eyes held in the moonlight, and he changed his position. “I never should have let you come along,” he told her quietly. “I don’t feel right about it. Something’s amiss.”

“I’d have followed you if you hadn’t let me come,” she replied.

“I knew that. That’s the only reason I gave in. You’re a single-minded girl, Abigail Trent.”

“No more than you,” she replied. “And I don’t scare easily, not from dark forests nor from men like Givens. I’m more scared of being all alone than of those things. A person can be alone even with a hundred people around her.”

“That’s a fact,” he replied. “I surely do understand that. I’m just sorry you’re learning such things so hard and so fast.”

“It isn’t your fault. It’s a fact of life.”

“I haven’t helped matters any,” he answered. He puffed the cheroot and picked up a leather-covered shaft with something hanging from its end, also covered with leather. Abbie could see well now in the bright moonlight. He dangled the strange instrument and seemed to be testing the strength of the leather thong that was tied between the shaft and the round object that hung from it.

“What’s that?” she asked. He moved a little closer, the cheroot dangling from the corner of his provocative lips.

“This, Miss Trent, is a paggamoggon. It’s an old Indian weapon—works pretty damned good, too. I’ve used it a few times.”

“How does it work?”

“Well, you see this leather strap on this other end?”

She sat up a little. “Yes, sir.”

“A man ties that strap around his wrist and then gets a good, firm grip on the shaft here. Then he just uses it to swing the heavy rock on the other end here. It’s a good horseback weapon. Your enemy rides up on you and you take a swing and …”

Swiftly he swung the paggamoggon and took a chunk right out of the bark of a tree. She jumped a little at this sudden movement and realized the damage that could be done to a man’s head with the weapon.

“I see,” she replied with raised eyebrows. Zeke smiled a little. He handed the weapon to her, and she studied it. “The Indians and their ways fascinate me,” she told him. “They’re so … so independent … self-reliant. They live completely off the land, whereas
we have to shop at stores and all.”