A Heart So Wild (10 page)

“G
OOD morning! The coffee's ready, and I've kept your food warm.”

Chandos groaned at the cheerful sound of her voice. What the hell was she doing up before him? Then he remembered that he'd hardly slept at all last night, thanks to her.

He shot her a level look.

“Do you want to eat now?”

“No!” he barked.

“Well, God sakes, you don't have to bite my head off!”

“God sakes?” he echoed, then began to laugh. He couldn't help it, it seemed so funny.

Courtney stared at him in complete wonder. She had never seen him laugh before, never even seen him smile. She was amazed. The rigid lines of his face relaxed, and he was so much more handsome, devastatingly handsome, in fact.

“I'm sorry,” he said finally. “But I thought it was only Westerners who were fond of getting their point across with as few words as possible.”

Courtney smiled. “I'm afraid my friend Mattie was a bad influence with her ofttimes abbreviated speech, but—”

“‘Ofttimes'?” He cut her short. “My, you do go from one extreme to the other, don't you?” he said, laughing.

Courtney was fast losing her humorous mood. Now he was making fun of her.

“The food, sir,” she reminded him curtly.

“You don't remember my telling you that I don't eat in the morning?” he said softly.

“I remember your words precisely. You said you eat
light
in the morning, not that you don't eat at all. So I made you two corncakes, no more, no less, a very light breakfast to be sure. But I wish to point out that if you would eat more substantially in the mornings, we might forgo stopping for lunch, which is a waste of good daylight. We would make better time, possibly gaining—”

“If you'd stop running off at the mouth, lady, I'd tell you that we stopped at midday yesterday for your sake, not mine. Without you along, I'd be covering this distance in half the time. But if you think your backside is up to it—”

“Please!” Courtney gasped. “I'm sorry. I only thought…no, obviously I didn't think at all. And actually…I'm not up to spending any more time in the saddle than we have been, at least not yet.” She blushed. “And I appreciate your considering my—” She faltered, blushing furiously now.

“I'll take those corncakes,” he said gently.

Courtney rushed to serve him. Once again she had made a fool of herself. And he was so right, she hadn't even thought of her sore body and what a few extra hours in the saddle each day might do to it. As it was, she wasn't suffering nearly as badly as Mattie had predicted,
but that was due entirely to Chandos's thoughtfulness, she realized.

When she handed Chandos his coffee, she asked, “When will we cross into Indian Territory?”

Casually, he said, “About two hours before we made camp last night.”

“Oh!” she gasped. “Already?”

It certainly didn't look any different than the Kansas soil they had left behind. What had she expected, Indian villages? As far as the eye could see there wasn't another living soul, just flat terrain, the only trees those along the riverbanks. Yet this land had been allotted to the Indians and, they
were
there, somewhere.

“Don't worry, lady.”

She glanced back at him with a nervous smile. Was her fear so obvious?

“Won't you call me Courtney?” she asked suddenly.

“That's your civilized name. It has nothing to do with out here.”

She felt chagrined again. “I suppose Chandos isn't your real name, then?”

“No.” She took it for granted that he would say no more, as usual, but this time he surprised her. “It's the name my sister used to call me, before she could pronounce my name.”

What name could possibly sound like Chandos, Courtney wondered, simultaneously glad to know something about him. So he had a sister?

Then he seemed to be speaking more to himself than to her.

“It's the name I'll use until I've finished what I must do so my sister can stop crying and sleep in peace.”

Courtney went strangely cold all of a sudden. “That is quite cryptic. I don't suppose you would care to explain what it means?”

He seemed to shake himself. His eyes, so brightly blue, held her entranced for a long moment before he said, “You wouldn't want to know.”

She wanted to say that she did, in fact, want to know—not just know about what he'd said, but know everything about him. But she held her tongue.

She left him to finish his coffee, and tackled the job of saddling her horse. She knew it would take her twice as long as it took Chandos.

When she fetched her bedroll to secure it behind the saddle, she said, “Does the mare have a name, Chandos?”

He was getting ready to shave and didn't glance at her. “No.”

“Could I—?”

“Call her whatever you like, cateyes.”

Courtney savored the irony of that as she hurried back to the horse. Call it whatever she liked—just as
he
called
her
whatever he liked? He knew she didn't like being called “lady,” but “cateyes”? Well, she preferred it to “lady.” And the way he said it, why, it sounded somehow more intimate even than her own name.

She moved to the fire to clean up and put away the utensils. As she worked, she found herself peeking again at Chandos while he shaved. His back was to her, and her eyes moved slowly, caressingly, over the long, hard length of him.

It was a very nice body, as male bodies went.
God sakes, Courtney, that's putting it mildly. Superb
was more like it. She imagined a sculptor
might carve Chandos just as he was if he wanted an enviable creation.

As she gathered up the cooking utensils to take them down to the river, Courtney sighed. She had finally admitted the truth to herself, and she wasn't really surprised. She admired Chandos's body.

“‘Desire' would be a better word than ‘admire,'” she mumbled to herself as she hurried down the slope.

She blushed. Was it true? Was that why she felt so funny when she looked at him, or when he touched her, and especially when he kissed her? What, she asked herself, did she really know about desire? Thanks to Mattie, who had often been explicit about her feelings for her husband, Courtney knew more than she might have.

“I can't keep my hands off him,” Mattie would say, and Courtney realized she might say the same about her feelings for Chandos. The urge to touch him was certainly there, to trail her fingers over that firm, tight skin, to explore what was unknown.

How was she supposed to push aside these feelings? She couldn't avoid Chandos. On the other hand, he'd shown very little interest in her. She knew he didn't desire her as a woman, not at all. Why, he didn't even like her. That left Courtney alone with her imaginings.

Last night's kiss kept floating to the top of her mind. She was no novice to kissing: kisses from her beaus in Rockley, Reed's possessive kisses. But she couldn't remember ever enjoying a kiss so much, and she wondered intensely what it would be like to be kissed by Chandos if he really
meant
to kiss her. Shockingly, she actually found herself wondering how this man would make love. Primitively? Savagely, as he lived? Or would he be gentle? Maybe a little of both?

“How much washing does one pan need?”

Courtney started and dropped the pan in the water, then had to leap after it as the current caught it. She swung around, pan in hand, ready to upbraid Chandos for sneaking up on her like that, but her eyes lit on those incredibly sensual lips and she groaned instead and quickly looked away.

“I'm afraid I was—daydreaming,” she offered guiltily, praying he wouldn't guess what she'd been thinking about.

“Save it for when we ride, will you? It's past time we lit out.”

He walked away, leaving her fuming over his curtness.
That
was reality, she told herself harshly. He was a gunman, ruthless, hard, savage. Utterly disagreeable. He was no dream-lover.

T
HE difference became noticeable when they left off following the meandering Arkansas River. Gone were the currents of cool air that flowed with the river, so helpful in blowing away annoying insects. Gone too was the shade of trees. But the river was moving southeast now, and Chandos took them southwest, telling her that they would meet up with the Arkansas again later that day, where it snaked sharply westward again. They would cross a fork in the river that evening.

Courtney suffered with the heat. It was the first week in September, but there was no falling off of temperature to announce the end of summer. It was extremely humid. Sweat poured from her temples and brow, down her back and underarms, between her breasts, soaking her thick skirt between her legs. She lost so much moisture, in fact, that Chandos added salt to her drinking water, much to her annoyance.

They reached the sandstone hills region by late afternoon, an area of low, flat hills extending across the eastern part of Indian Territory until it eventually blended in with the Arbuckle Mountains on the southern border. Rising
four hundred feet in some areas, the hills were heavily forested with blackjack and oak, and rich in game.

While Courtney was wringing the water out of her skirt from their second river crossing, Chandos told her he was going out after their dinner. He expected camp to be set up by the time he returned. Courtney got out no more than two words of protest before he was gone. She sat down then and stared angrily after his departing figure.

It was a test. She knew it and resented it. But she did it, seeing to her pinto and Nelly, gathering wood as she had seen Chandos do. Some of it wasn't quite dry, and the fire smoked terribly. She got the beans started—oh, how many cans of beans were in her supply sack—and decided she would never want to see another bean when this trip was over. She even made some sourdough bread.

She was extremely proud of herself when she was done. It had taken only a little over an hour, and most of that time had been devoted to the horses. It was only when she sat down to await Chandos's return that she remembered her wet skirt, realizing this would be a good time to wash it and her underclothes. And as long as Chandos wasn't in camp, she could take a nice, long bath.

Her spirits soared instantly, and she was no longer annoyed with Chandos for leaving her alone. The light was still good, with a dusky pink sky overhead, and she had her Colt revolver, even if she was clumsy with it.

She quickly gathered soap and towel and a change of clothes. The bank was rocky with
stones and boulders. One boulder had fortuitously fallen right in the path of the current, which stemmed the worst of it, giving her a few square feet of gentle water to bathe in.

She sat in the shallows and washed her clothes first, tossing them up onto the rocks. Next she washed her matted hair, and then her underclothes, which she refused to remove. She soaped them down on her body. She scrubbed her body with a vengeance, getting rid of dust and sweat. The water was invigoratingly cold, delightful after the sweltering ride. She was happy there in her sheltered place. Unable to see over the rocks, she felt delightfully isolated.

The sky was just beginning to streak with vivid red and violet when she came out of the water to gather her wet clothes. She got no farther than the water's edge. Four horses were spread out along the bank, blocking her way back to camp. Four horses and four riders.

They weren't Indians. That was Courtney's first thought. But that didn't stop alarm bells from going off in her head. They sat there, all four staring at her in a way that made her skin crawl. The men were wet from the legs down, which meant that they had recently crossed the water. If only she had seen them crossing, or heard them approach.

“Where's your man?”

The one who spoke was a study in browns, hair and eyes, jacket, pants, boots, hat, even his shirt was light brown. He was young, in his late twenties, she guessed. They were all young, and she recalled the adage that all gunmen die young. These were gunmen. They had
that look she had come to recognize, the look that said they made their own rules and wore guns to enforce those rules.

“I asked you a question.” The man's voice was raspy.

Courtney hadn't moved an inch. She couldn't. She was frozen. But she had to get hold of herself.

“My escort will return any moment now.”

Two of them laughed. Why? The one in brown didn't laugh. His face remained impassive.

“That doesn't answer my question. Where is he?” he repeated.

“He went hunting.”

“How long?”

“Over an hour.”

“Ain't heard no shots, Dare,” said a red-haired youth. “Looks like we got a long wait.”

“That suits me just fine,” said a huge, black-haired fellow with a scraggly beard. “'Cause I can think of a way to make the time pass real quick.”

There was more laughter. “There'll be none of that, not now anyway,” said the brown-clad man. “Bring her up to their camp, Romero,” he ordered softly.

The man who dismounted and approached her looked as Mexican as his name sounded, except that he had the greenest eyes she'd ever seen. He was only a few inches over her height, but his body was wiry and encased entirely in black, with silver conchas shining bloodred in the sunset. His face was swarthy and as darkly serious as Chandos's usually was. This one was dangerous, perhaps more dangerous than the others.

When he reached her and took hold of her arm, Courtney found the courage to shake the hand off. “Now, just a minute—”

“Do not,
bella
.” His warning was sharp. “Make no trouble,
por favor
.”

“But I don't—”

“
¡Cállate!
” he hissed.

Instinctively, Courtney knew he was telling her to keep her voice down, or something to that effect. It was almost as though he were trying to protect her. The others were already climbing the hill. She began to tremble, as much from the river breeze against her dripping wet body as from the man standing beside her, his green eyes cold.

He took her arm again, but again she shook it off. “You can at least let me dry off and change.”

“To those wet clothes?”

“No, to those.” She pointed toward the bush at the top of the bank where she had left her other clothes.

“
Sí
, but quickly,
por favor
.”

Courtney was so nervous when she reached for her towel with the gun under it that the gun slipped out of her fingers, dropping loudly on the rocks. The man beside her gave an exasperated sigh and reached down to get it. She groaned as he stuck it into his belt.

Ashamed, for she knew Chandos would have something to say about such stupidity, she hurried up the hill.

Romero followed her up the hill and stood near her, giving her no privacy at all. There was no question of removing her wet underthings to don the dry ones she had laid out, so
she simply put on the dry dress over them. The dress quickly became wet.

“You will catch cold,
bella
,” Romero noted as she stepped out from behind the bush.

Since that was his fault, she snapped, “I don't have much choice, do I?”

“
Sí
, you always have a choice.”

The very idea! Thinking she would strip naked with him right there. “No. I don't,” Courtney insisted emphatically.

He shrugged. “Very well. Come.”

He didn't try to take her arm again, but extended his arm toward the camp, indicating that she should lead the way. She quickly gathered up her things and did, and a few moments later they entered the small clearing where she had set up camp.

The other three men were sitting by her campfire, eating her beans and bread and drinking her coffee. Courtney was outraged, but she was also all the more frightened by what this meant.

“That didn't take long.” The black-haired giant chuckled. “Didn't I tell you, Johnny Red, 'bout his quick draw?”

The insult went right over Courtney's head, but the Mexican hissed, “
¡Imbécil!
She is a lady.”

“When I shit pink, she's a lady,” the giant said, sneering. “Bring her on over and set her down right here.”

Courtney blushed scarlet, seeing him pat his crotch. She turned wide, imploring eyes on the Mexican, but he shrugged.

“It is up to you,
bella
.”

“No!”

Romero shrugged his narrow shoulders again, but this time it was for the giant's benefit. “You see, Hanchett? She does not want to know you better.”

“I don't give a friggin' damn what she wants, Romero!” Hanchett snarled, getting to his feet.

The Mexican took a step forward, putting himself in front of Courtney as he turned to Dare. “Should you not tell your
amigo
the woman is all you have to bring Chandos out into the open? Chandos has his horse, so he does not need to return to camp—except for her. For myself, if my woman was used, however unwillingly, I would not want her back. I would simply ride on.”

Courtney was appalled by his callousness. What kind of a man…? She watched Dare for his answer, as he was obviously in charge.

“Romero's right, Hanchett,” Dare said finally, and Courtney let out a sigh that was, unfortunately, premature. “Wait until I have the bastard and know what the hell his game is.”

“You—you know Chandos?” Courtney whispered in an aside to the Mexican.

“No.”

“But they do?”

“No,” he said again and explained, “Chandos looked for Dare, then did not stay around to find him. Dare does not like this.”

“You mean, you've been following us?”

“
Sí
,” he answered. “We were more than a day behind you, with little hope of catching up so soon, but he surprised us by traveling slowly.”

Courtney knew it was her fault Chandos had
not made better time, her fault these men had caught up with him.

She ventured softly, “After he comes and your friend has his answers, what then?”

Romero's dark eyes didn't even flicker. “Dare will kill him.”

“But why?” Courtney gasped.

“Dare is angry to waste this time tracking him. The way he searched for Dare in Newton was a challenge that cannot be ignored. But we had ridden to Abilene and did not return until the day after your man left town.”

“He's not my man. He's taking me to Texas, that's all. I hardly even know him, but—”

He waved aside her explanation. “The reason you ride with him does not matter,
bella
.”

“
But
,” she continued emphatically. “How can you calmly tell me your friend is going to kill him? You don't kill a man for the silly reason you just gave me.”

“Dare does.”

“And you won't stop him?”

“It is nothing to me. But if you worry for yourself, don't. You will not be left alone here. We return to Kansas, and you will ride with us.”

“That doesn't make me feel any better, sir!”

“It should,
bella
. The alternative is for you to die, too.” Courtney lost her color, and then he shocked her even more. “You have time to consider whether you will fight. But think well, for they will have you either way. And what matters one man or four?”

“
Four?
You, too?”

“You are
bella
and I am a man,” he said simply.

Courtney shook her head, disbelieving. “But you—you prevented Hanchett from—from—”

“He is
estúpido
, that one. He would have you now and distract us all, giving Chandos the advantage.”

“He has the advantage now,” she pointed out deliberately, hoping to shake his confidence. “You four are circled in light, while he has the darkness to conceal him.”

“
Sí
, but we have you.”

Her moment of bravado fled.

Her mind raced toward some way to help Chandos. An idea seized her and she said, “I've been such a nuisance to Chandos that I'm sure he'd just as soon be rid of me. So you really are wasting your time here.”

“Nice try, missy, but I ain't buying,” Dare overheard and replied.

Courtney stared at the fire. It probably was true. Chandos would surely sense danger here. Why should he walk in and face these men just because she was there? The odds would be four against one. Would he risk his life for her?

She didn't want Chandos to die. But, Lord, she didn't want to be raped, either.

“We heard he's a half-breed. That right?”

It took Courtney a moment to realize Hanchett was speaking to her. It took a moment longer to grasp his question. They really didn't know anything about Chandos, did they? Neither did she, but they didn't know that.

She gave the scraggly bearded giant a level look and said unemotionally, “If you mean is he half Indian, no, he isn't. He's actually three quarters Comanche. Is there a name for that?”

Courtney was amazed that she had managed
to unsettle the big man with her lie. He looked away from her, out into the surrounding darkness. One of their horses stepped on a twig just then and he started.

“You got some nerve, lady, beddin' down with a half-breed.” Johnny Red was trying to get back at her with the slur and it worked.

Courtney's eyes flashed. “I'm only going to say this once more! Chandos is not my—my—lover! He's a ruthless savage. But when I saw him kill Jim Ward, a vicious outlaw, well, I knew he was exactly the man I needed to escort me to Texas.”

“Shit! Old Jim's dead?” Hanchett demanded.

Courtney sighed. She wasn't surprised that they knew the outlaw Ward. They were outlaws themselves.

“Yes. Chandos killed him,” she replied. “He's a bounty hunter. Could that be why he was inquiring after you?” she asked Dare.