Carol Finch (10 page)

“Damn hard to convince a bunch of folks who oppose
your policies. They are eager to believe Savanna is a scorned woman who’s out for revenge,” Parmicho said. “The rest of the people don’t know what to believe, but they are getting caught up in the gossip and the turmoil.”

Robert swore under his breath. “Let me guess. Oliver Draper just happened to be in Tishomingo to stir things up. He’s spreading accusations and spearheading this manhunt, isn’t he?”

Parmicho nodded his head and his thick black braids rippled over his buffalo-size shoulders. “It just so happens that some of Oliver’s hired guns were the first to give chase. He also claims Willow was Roark’s fiancée.”

“Good Lord!” Cantrell howled. “When did that supposedly happen? That is pure nonsense, too.”

Parmicho shrugged. “Oliver made the announcement, so now everyone in town assumes that it’s fact.” He looked through the open door. “If you’re harboring your daughter, you are only making matters worse for your reputation and hers.”

“She isn’t here,” Robert insisted. “But feel free to search the place if it will make you feel better.”

“I just need to be able to say truthfully that I took a look around when I’m asked. And I
will
be asked. Count on it.”

Parmicho gave the parlor a cursory glance before spinning on his heels. “If you see Savanna, tell her it would be best if she turned herself in to me. She might have declined my marriage proposal, but we are still long-time friends and I can protect her if she is locked in jail. Otherwise she is fair game for Draper’s men and the reward is drawing lots of attention.”

He stared somberly at Robert. “You should know the price on Savvy’s head increased. Oliver sweetened the pot.”

“Holy hell!” he hooted.

Robert swore his heart had dropped to the soles of his boots. He swallowed hard as he stared after the tribal police chief who mounted his pinto and rode off into the night. He and Parmicho didn’t always see eye to eye when it came to Chickasaw policies. However, the police chief seemed sincere in his concern for Savanna, even if he had been hurt when Savanna declined his proposal. Surely, Parmicho wasn’t involved in this fiasco. He wasn’t the vindictive type who devised underhanded ways to oust him from office and repay Savanna for trouncing on his male pride… Was he? God, Robert hoped not. He needed Parmicho on his side and so did Savanna.

Frustrated by the calamities that continued to pile up around him, Robert glanced back at Bill who had propped himself against the doorjamb. “You sure that Ranger can be trusted not to turn in Savvy for the hefty reward?”

When Bill didn’t reply, Robert twisted sideways to stare directly at him. “Well?”

“I only know Fletcher Hawk by reputation,” Bill said. “He’s hell on outlaws. But I can’t vouch for him personally. Yet, I reckon Savanna is better off with Fletch than with us. I’m sure we’re being watched, so we can’t risk going near her now. That’s one reason I decided to ride into town. You know, put in an appearance in case anybody is watching this place.” Bill pivoted toward the parlor. “Plus, we’ve got too many years on us to be dodging posses. Better leave it to Fletch.”

“I hope Fletcher Hawk has enough intelligence and enough years of experience to keep Savvy safe. I’d like a written guarantee that he won’t betray her for the reward or take advantage of her. If he does, I’ll be the one on the war-path, looking for revenge,” Robert muttered vindictively.

Right there and then Cantrell made a promise to himself to punish Fletch if he laid an improper hand on Savanna. She had damn well better return in the same condition she left…or Fletcher Hawk would have hell to pay.

Robert usually considered himself a sensible, reasonable man—except when it came to the welfare of his daughter. She was his life, just as Willow had been Morningstar’s source of pride and her hope for a better future.

“God A’mighty,” he mumbled as he stared into the night. “How am I going to tell Morningstar of our loss?”

After Fletch scouted the cave for varmints, Savanna huddled in the corner and shivered from the chill that engulfed her inside and out. She had experienced so many overwhelming emotions during the course of the evening that she was mentally and physically exhausted.

First, she had been elated at the prospect of reuniting with her father. Then masked men had overpowered her and she’d found herself in the grip of fear and had fought desperately to escape her assailants. Although the chloroform had left her thoughts muddled and her body sluggish, she’d had to rally to escape the room where she and her belongings had been planted so she’d look guilty of a second murder.

She had sagged in relief when Fletch arrived on the scene to rescue her from certain disaster. But then she had plunged into the darkest depths of despair when it dawned on her that it had been Willow’s body sprawled lifelessly beside her. Outrage had bombarded her when she realized that she’d been set up as Willow’s killer. Not to mention the anxiety of having another lynch mob breathing down her neck.

Savanna swore she’d been serving a sentence in hell for
the past few weeks. She kept descending from one fiery pit to another, facing more torture at every turn. What unforgivable sin had she committed to deserve this kind of torment?

“Here, you should eat something.”

Savanna lifted her chin from her up-drawn knees to stare disinterestedly at the trail rations Fletch offered her. “Not hungry.” She surged to her feet, too restless to sit still. “I’m going down to the spring.”

“If you’re planning to perform the cleansing and mourning rituals the Chickasaw taught you, it won’t be enough,” he said.

“But it’s a start.”

“I’m going with you to make sure you stay safe.”

Savanna pivoted at the cave exit to block his path. She felt the impulsive need to fling herself into his brawny arms again, but she’d cried all over his shirt already. She couldn’t let herself depend on him because it would be too hard to back away when the time came for him to leave.

“The deal is off,” she declared abruptly. “I was selfish to drag you into this mess. I’ll tell you where to find Grady Mills and you can get on with your personal crusade.”

She watched Fletch snap to attention. She could practically feel anticipation radiating from him. “I’ve waited a helluva long time to find out where Grady roosted after he flew the coop in Texas.”

She had no doubt about that, now that he had confided the incident in Colorado to her. In fact, she felt guilty for withholding the information from him so long, even if she’d felt desperate for a backup plan. “These days Grady Mills calls himself George Miller,” she confided. “He works at a stagecoach station called Rock Ridge. It sits on the northern boundary of Draper Ranch. At least, that’s
where he was two months ago when Willow and I stopped there on our way back from the girls’ academy.”

Fletch stood motionless for so long that Savanna thrust her arm toward the opening, indicating that he should be on his way. “Go hunt him down. I can take care of myself.”

“I know.”

“Plus, I can dodge posses like nobody’s business. I’ve been trained to survive in the wilderness,” she added as convincingly as she knew how.

“I know that, too.”

“Then get out of here,” she snapped.

Savanna didn’t want to be left alone to wallow in grief, but she was afraid Fletch would come to harm if he associated with her much longer. Plus, she understood the strong attachment Elaina had developed for Fletch, because she had deep feelings for him, too. She couldn’t bear to have his demise on her conscience. The memory of Willow was more than enough to break her heart several times over.

When Fletch continued to stare at her, Savanna lurched around and left. She didn’t want a long goodbye and she was so near tears that she was afraid she’d lose her composure—again. Fletch had seen her reduce herself to blubbering tears one too many times already.

Muffling a sniff, Savanna hauled in a bracing breath and circled the stand of cottonwood trees to reach the warm mineral springs, which were a favorite retreat for Morningstar. According to legend, the most powerful Indian gods came here to cleanse and revive themselves after being tested by the evil spirits lurking in Devil’s Gulch.

And so, this oasis in the remote reaches of the mountains had become sacred ground to a tribe of people who had been uprooted from their comfortable homes in Mis
sissippi that were patterned after white plantation owners’. They had been forced to give up their property and to endure the hellish ordeal known as the Trail of Tears. Some of them had survived to make a new start in this territory that whites claimed would be theirs as long as grass grew and rivers flowed.

Savanna knew white society would break that promise. They had broken dozens of treaties and bargains they’d made with the Indian tribes since they’d invaded this vast domain and coveted it as their own. Already there were hordes of squatters nesting on tribal lands and legislation had been introduced in Congress that would open land in the heart of Indian Territory for white settlement. Which was why men like her father needed to defend the rights of the tribes.

Her thoughts trailed off when she approached the refreshing springs. Savanna peeled off her clothes, leaving her boyish garments strung out behind her as she walked along the path. She sank into the hollowed-out limestone basin and sighed contentedly as the warm mineral water swirled around her. There were numerous springs tucked in and around the outcroppings of rock, but this was the closest and she was anxious for the reprieve.

Savanna vowed to sit here until she shriveled up like a prune—maybe longer. She’d been tested so many times in so many different ways the past few weeks that she needed time to recuperate. Despite her bold bravado, she swore she was about to come unhinged and she wanted to be alone when that happened.

Just as Morningstar and Willow had instructed her, Savanna cupped her hands and filled them with the restorative mineral water. Then she uplifted her arms in an offering to
the gods who had been tested by fire before they ascended the spirit path to take their rightful place in the heavens. She chanted softly, asking for the strength to overcome adversity, praying she could overcome the hardships, as the Indian deities had done. Then she asked for the divine guidance of the white man’s God because she knew she needed all the help she could get to triumph over her difficulties. And now that Fletch had returned to his primary mission and she was alone in the wilderness, she had to…

“Any luck with all those chants and prayers?” Fletch asked as he appeared from the shadows of the trees.

Savanna recoiled, startled by his arrival. “Why are you still here?”

He didn’t want to answer that question. He didn’t want to examine the reasons too closely, for fear that he wouldn’t like what he found. Even though Savanna had told him what he wanted to know—and practically shoved him away—he couldn’t make himself leave her out here alone. Not while she was in such emotional turmoil. She looked like she didn’t have a friend left in the world. And damn it, tough and callous as he’d had to become to function and survive in his profession, he didn’t have the heart to turn his back on her.

Not even to hunt down Grady Mills.

Fletch had spent the past five years of his life trying to overtake that ruthless, double-crossing son of a bitch. He’d had to choose between finding Grady now and walking away from a woman whose life had crumbled down around her like a rockslide.

Plus, he had to stand here, staring at her moonlit body that was surrounded by the drifting mist of the warm springs. It was like staring at the whimsical fantasy that was never far from his mind.

There was just enough feminine flesh exposed on her swanlike neck, bare shoulders and the rise of her full breasts to make his mouth water and his body throb with hungry desire. Wanting her had become as natural as breathing and seeing her in such a tempting setting wasn’t helping to shore up his self-control.

“I’m still here because you need me,” he answered belatedly, his voice a little too husky to sound casual.

“Need you? Ha!” she smirked.

She was all haughty pride and bravado—for his benefit, he knew. She was trying to put up a bold front, but she wasn’t fooling him one bit.

“I ran circles around you before, remember? I’m as good at hide-and-seek as you are at sneaking up on people.”

He gave his windblown head a rueful shake. “Not for that, Savanna. We both know you need a shoulder to cry on.”

Her chin tilted in that now-familiar manner, but Fletch noted that her lower lip trembled, despite her best efforts. She wasn’t the emotional fortress she wanted him to think she was.

“I already cried on your shoulder until I soaked your shirt. I’m finished with that because it’s unproductive,” she told him. “I’m counting on the healing powers of the springs to revive me.”

Fletch planted himself on a chair-size boulder and crossed his arms over his chest. “How’s it working for you so far, Miss Rock of Gibraltar?”

“Fine. I’m feeling a thousand times better.” She flashed him a false smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Liar.”

She stared up at him and he could see desperation seeping into her brittle expression. It nearly killed him to know this
vibrant, spirited woman was hurting so deeply. He knew exactly how she felt because he’d been where she was now.

With a deflated sigh, her shoulders sagged and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “What will it take to make this torment go away, Fletch?”

“Time. Diversion. Preoccupation.”

Fletch peeled off his shirt and heel-and-toed out of his boots. He never took his eyes off Savanna as he reached for the buttons on the placket of his breeches. He watched her gaze roam over his bare chest then stall on his hands when they lingered on the waistband. If she objected to him joining her in the pool, he would sit down.

It would probably kill him, but he’d do it anyway. He’d wanted her for days on end and he had fought valiantly for restraint. He could do it again—if he had to.

He didn’t care if she viewed him as no more than her consolation for the month of hell she’d endured. But he wanted to hold her in his arms, wanted to comfort her and distract her from her frustrated torment. Seeing her suffer made him suffer, too. He wanted to help her forget, if only for the night, that the sky had fallen on her and she didn’t know which way to turn to make her world right again.