Carol Finch (9 page)

“Son of a bitch!” Fletch roared. “Savanna didn’t take off on her own. Someone used chloroform to kidnap her!”

Cantrell commenced swearing and cursing. His furious gaze landed squarely on Fletch again.

“You’re right. This is my fault.” Fletch’s speculative gaze swung to Solomon who had propped his bulky body
against a tree. If the man was involved in this abduction, he’d have a hell of a lot more to worry about than a tender foot. Fletch turned to face Cantrell. “I should’ve reconnoitered the area more thoroughly.”

“Damn right you should have!” he snarled.

Fletch cursed himself up one side and down the other. He hadn’t taken Savanna directly to the cabin, for fear of walking into a trap. But he’d outsmarted himself because the trap had been set
around
the house, not in it. Now Savanna was suffering for his careless mistake.

“You can compensate for your stupidity by bringing Savvy back safe and sound.” Robert glared murderously at him. “Otherwise it’s going to be your head and your reputation that suffers, young man! Do you understand me? I’ll use all the power and influence I have to make sure you lose your job if you don’t make things right!”

“Simmer down,” Bill soothed as he patted Robert’s rigid shoulder. “I just got through saying that you’ve been under a lot of strain lately. Come back in the house and let me fix you a drink while Fletch does what he does best.”

“And what’s that?” Robert snorted derisively. “Lose his fugitives?” He glowered at Fletch one last time for good measure then he stomped off.

Fletch blew out his breath and tried to rein in his own temper. He and Savanna’s father hadn’t gotten off to a good start. To be fair, Cantrell’s disposition had been soured by the events that had originally sent Savanna into hiding. He was worried sick about his daughter and this incident only caused his fears to escalate. Plus, Robert knew it was going to be difficult to track the kidnappers in the dark. If not for the recent rains it would have been damn near impossible to figure out what direction the riders were headed.

Hell’s fire, Fletch mused as he bounded on to Appy’s back. It seemed that all he’d done lately was try to catch up with that firebrand. That and keeping his hands off her, he amended. If that wasn’t bad enough, now he faced the difficult task of overtaking Savanna before her abductors abused her and strung her up for murder.

“And how do you suppose Bill Solomon fits into all this?” Fletch asked Appy while he followed the indentation of tracks. The uneasy thought that Bill might have arranged the kidnapping loomed large in his mind. “First things first. Find Savanna then deal with Bill Solomon. Like Grady Mills, Solomon might turn out to be a lawman gone bad.”

Fletch focused on the trail. Even if it took all night, he vowed to find Savanna before disaster struck. He had failed Elaina, but he’d be damned if he failed Savanna. One death on his conscious was enough.

Savanna inwardly groaned as she regained consciousness. Her head felt as if it was full of cobwebs and her mouth was as dry as Death Valley. It took her several moments to become aware that she was sprawled on a hard-wood floor in a dark room and that her two satchels were beside her. A vaguely familiar scent filled her nostrils, mingling with the smell of chloroform that still log-jammed her thought processes.

She frowned curiously when she felt the weight of cold steel in the palm of her hand. Clamping a tight grip on what she eventually realized was her pistol, Savanna pushed herself into a sitting position. She raked her tangled hair from her face and waited impatiently for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Something warm and damp penetrated her shirtsleeve. She caught the coppery scent of blood and
wondered if she had been shot and was just too oblivious to know it yet.

Alarmed, she rolled to her knees and waited a moment for the room to stop spinning. When she braced her free hand on the edge of the bed, preparing to climb to her feet, she realized there was a motionless body lying beside her.

Footfalls and muffled voices resounded in the distance. A wave of panic buffeted her. She had to get up and get moving! Her befuddled mind whirled, trying to make sense of the situation. Was she being set up as a suspect in another murder? By whom? She had no clue. All she’d heard was two unrecognizable voices in the darkness and noted the presence of another man. Then the sedative had kicked in and her assailants carted her away and planted her here.

Frantic to escape potential calamity, Savanna tucked the pistol into the waistband of her breeches, grabbed her satchels and groped her way across the sparsely furnished room. A hotel room, she guessed. She eased open the window and muttered a curse when she saw the ten-foot drop beneath her. She wished she could sprout wings and flit away before she was caught with a smoking gun in her hand—and a dead body on the floor.

The clatter of footsteps grew louder and Savanna’s heart thundered with panicky desperation. She slung her satchels over her shoulders and took the only route available. She swung her leg over the windowsill then hung on by her fingernails. She inhaled several cathartic breaths and tried to work up the nerve to make the long drop. She would be damn lucky if she didn’t break her leg and have to crawl away.

She nearly leaped out of her skin when someone clamped hold of her dangling legs. She opened her mouth to yelp, but that someone said, “Let go, Paleface. I’ve got you.”

She glanced down to see Fletch standing atop his horse. He had one hand braced on the clapboard wall of the hotel and the other one wrapped around her thighs. She pried her fingers loose from the windowsill and felt Fletch’s hand move steadily up her body, touching her very familiarly in his attempt to get a good grip on her. She used his sinewy body like a tree trunk to descend to safety.

She flung her arms around his neck, wrapped her legs around his lean hips and gave him a zealous kiss—right smack-dab on the lips. “I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life!”

“It’s nice to be appreciated.” His lips skimmed her cheek and she savored his comforting presence.

“How did you find me?” she murmured.

“I excelled at tracking and sneaking up on people during my Apache warrior training… I was a little worried about you.”

“I must confess that I was a little worried myself.”

She was still wrapped around his body like an Indian blanket when he sank down on the saddle. She clung to him, feeling safe and secure in his arms as he retrieved her horse, which apparently had been planted in the alley by her abductors. They rode quietly past the hotel, taking advantage of the darkness. Savanna looked up when light flared in the open window. Shouts erupted from the room she had vacated—and just in the nick of time, it seemed.

“What the hell happened up there?” Fletch asked, picking up speed and charging out of the alley like a launched rocket. His destination was the thicket of trees beside the road.

“You mean, before or after I awoke to find my smoking pistol in my hand and a dead body sprawled beside me?” she asked as the two horses plunged into the underbrush.

Fletch muttered several expletives then apologized for his foul language. “Who did you supposedly kill this time?”

“I’m not sure,” Savanna said before Fletch lifted her away with one arm then repositioned her behind him so he could zigzag through the trees to reach the creek. She hugged Fletch gratefully when it registered that he’d said
supposedly.
“Thank you for not believing that I ditched you at the cabin and went on a shooting spree.”

“You’re welcome, but your father is ranting and raving. He’s also
un
impressed with my ability to keep track of you. He didn’t stop chewing on me until I found the discarded chloroform cloth that indicated you’d been abducted.”

She went perfectly still behind him. “And you? Did you think the worst about me after I’d promised I would be waiting…and wasn’t there?”

She felt his broad chest expand before he released an audible sigh. “In my line of work trust doesn’t come easy, Savanna. It’s usually foolhardy and dangerous. I deal with too many habitual liars, murderers and thieves. Since their lives and freedom hang in the balance, they aren’t honest with me…unless I apply forceful pressure to get accurate facts.”

“Well, at least you’re straightforward about
not
trusting me,” she mumbled.

“Did you recognize the three men who kidnapped you?”

She would dearly love to be as adept at tracking at night as Fletch. Not only had he found her, but also he knew how many men were involved in the abduction. “I didn’t recognize the voices of the two men who spoke to me. They were wearing masks and they said I was going to pay for sticking my nose where it didn’t belong. The third man remained in the shadows and didn’t speak to anyone… Fletch?”

“Yeah?” he replied as he splashed through the water to cover their trail.

“I’m eternally indebted to you again,” she said gratefully. “I intend to repay you in whatever manner you request.”

Fletch was having trouble focusing on eluding the brigade of men carrying flaming torches. The posse was hot on their heels. Despite the serious trouble she was in, and despite the fact that he’d become an accessory to an alleged murder—and would likely be discredited and dismissed from his duties for it—his deprived body was listing all sorts of ways for Savanna to repay him.

Most of those ways involved her body—
naked—
beneath him. Or her body—
naked
—on top of him. Or beside him—
naked.

Fletch gritted his teeth and battled the arousing sensations and inappropriate thoughts that bombarded his mind and body. If he knew what was good for him he’d put Savanna on her own horse the moment they ditched the lynch mob. Then he could concentrate on whoever had falsely accused Savanna of murder and raised a small army to bring her to justice quickly. No doubt, the objective was to ensure the mob’s emotions were running high when they apprehended her.

“You do know what would’ve happened if I hadn’t found you when I did, don’t you?” he said over his shoulder, hoping to drive home the point that she needed to stick close to be safe.

He felt her nod against his back, felt her clamp her arms more securely around him while Appy gathered himself to lunge up the embankment.

“Believe me, I’m unnervingly aware that I’d be on the short end of a long rope,” she murmured against the side of
his neck, sending another stream of tantalizing sensations sizzling through his overly sensitized body. “I’m lucky I woke up when I did. I just wish I knew who I supposedly killed and how he fits into this ongoing nightmare.”

An uneasy feeling flitted through Fletch. Given the motive the vigilantes had suggested earlier in the week about Savanna going on a jealous rampage, he hated to ask, but he needed to know. “Are you sure it was a
he?
”

“I don’t know, but… Oh, my God!”

She yelped so loudly that she nearly burst his eardrum. “Turn around. Go back, Fletch! We have to go back!”

“What? Are you crazy?” He elbowed her out of the way when she reached around him to take control of the reins. “If we turn around it will be suicide for you and a dishonorable discharge for me.”

“I have to go back!” Her voice vibrated with panic. Her body writhed in attempt to crouch on the saddle and spring on to the trailing horse.

Fletch swore mightily when the idiotic woman tried to launch herself off his steed at full gallop. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” he yelled as he reached behind him to clamp a firm grip on her.

To his disbelief, Savanna crumpled against him. She burst into sobs that tore his heart wide open—as nothing else had in a very long time.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He hooked his arm around her waist and deposited her in front of him so that she was facing him in the saddle.

Her thighs were draped suggestively over his, intensifying his awareness of her—to the extreme. He was so wrapped up in those big, shiny tears streaming down her cheeks that he couldn’t think past her, couldn’t see past her.

“Savanna?” He combed his fingers through her tousled auburn hair then brushed away her tears with the pad of his thumb. “What’s wrong, darlin’? I’ll fix it for you, I swear I will.”

“You can’t,” she blubbered, decomposing in front of his very eyes. “No one can. I just figured out why there was a familiar scent in the room. I know whose body was lying on the floor beside me…whose bloodstains are on my shirt and my hands.”

The horror in her voice, the fierce hold she kept on him put him on red alert. He looked into her face and knew his worst fear was about to be confirmed. “Oh, hell…” he muttered.

“It was Willow,” she whimpered brokenly. “Oh, God, Fletch, what vile monster wants everyone to think I killed my dearest friend!”

O
liver Draper halted at the head of the steps and stared into the uplifted faces of the men and women who had gathered in the hotel lobby. “The woman who killed my son has struck again,” he announced. “This time she killed my son’s fiancée.”

The lobby buzzed with dozens of conversations at once. Oliver held up both hands, demanding silence. “Savanna Cantrell was seen entering the hotel by way of the back steps. She disappeared after several witnesses heard a gunshot. My men are giving chase, but we need volunteers to form another posse.” He glanced around the lobby. “Who can I count on to bring this madwoman to justice? She deserves to hang after her killing spree. We would demand the same kind of justice for a
man
who murdered twice, wouldn’t we?”

Oliver inwardly smiled when a half dozen arms shot into the air and dozens of people nodded in agreement. Parmicho, the Chickasaw police chief, stood at the back of the crowd, giving him a narrow-eyed squint. Since the law officer had refused to mount a posse, claiming he needed
more evidence that indicated Savanna was involved, Oliver had taken matters into his own hands. Parmicho was stalling by insisting that he wanted to interrogate witnesses first and consult the attending physician. But Oliver wanted a large posse on the move immediately.

“I’m increasing the reward for Savanna Cantrell’s capture,” Oliver declared as he descended the steps. “There will be a bonus if you manage to bring her back tonight for her well-deserved hanging.”

Parmicho’s dark eyes narrowed as Oliver approached him. “There are procedures to follow in this investigation. You are not the law here, Draper.”

“Perhaps not, but it’s obvious to me that you’re dragging your feet and giving Savanna a head start. I’m all too aware that you’ve been sweet on her for years.”

“You made it a point to keep abreast of what’s going on in Tishomingo, but you aren’t privy to my thoughts and my sentiments, Draper. I will handle this investigation by tribal law, not by the whims of vigilante mobs.”

Oliver snorted in disgust. “Savanna killed my son and his fiancée and I want justice.”

“Fiancée? That’s news to me. I find that an interesting development.”

“Fine, while you find that tidbit interesting I’m going to call in a U.S. marshal to oversee this case. Savanna isn’t going to get off scot-free just because her daddy is the Chickasaw agent.” He raked Parmicho up and down. “You lust after the little witch and her father thinks he’s God’s brother, the almighty spokesman for the Chickasaw. I know you don’t agree with all Rob Cantrell’s policies yourself and there’s an opposing faction of traditionalists who want him ousted. Here’s your chance to send him packing.”

“You tend to your business and don’t interfere with my job.” Parmicho shouldered past Oliver then strode up the steps to consult with the physician examining Willow’s body.

Oliver smiled wryly as he watched the tribal police chief disappear around the corner. Parmicho wasn’t going to stand in his way. Oliver had made prior arrangements and Savanna Cantrell had tried to disrupt them. He had done his best to turn public opinion against her at every opportunity. Now she would pay dearly for getting in Oliver’s way.

Once outside, Oliver watched several local citizens grab torches. When they rode off, following his hired gunmen who were already hot on Savanna’s trail, Oliver strode into the dark alley where his associate was waiting.

“You were supposed to handle this situation better than this.” A disgruntled scowl puckered Oliver’s features when his colleague tugged him into the shadows. “Savanna wasn’t supposed to escape. I’m paying you too damn much money for you to botch this up.”

“I’ll make sure she is taken care of.”

“That’s what you said last time. She’s still on the loose,” Oliver snapped, then glanced around to make sure he hadn’t been seen or heard. “I have several other people in place to make sure Savanna will be silenced permanently for interfering in my plans. If you fail me again, remember that you can be replaced.”

“So can you, Draper. Don’t threaten me unless you want to become a supposed victim of Savanna’s ongoing killing spree.”

Oliver swallowed a foul curse as he watched his associate retreat deeper into the shadows of the alley. Although he preferred to conduct his business privately, so that he was the only one who knew exactly what was going on at
all times, it might become necessary to keep Desmond Sharp, his personal bodyguard, within shouting distance while dealing with this particular associate. He had the uneasy feeling that he had hired the wrong man for this assignment. Now Oliver was hesitant to dismiss him, for fear of unpleasant consequences.

The man had become more of a threat than an asset. He would have to go, Oliver mused as he hiked off to fetch his horse.

Fletch clenched his teeth and veered north, setting a swift pace that kept him ahead of the two posses. Behind him, Savanna cried softly and hung on as if he were her lifeline in a stormy sea. He understood the kind of torment she endured, understood her overwhelming grief. Five years ago, he’d been so full of helpless rage and frustration that he’d nearly exploded from the inside out.

He figured that having Elaina give her life to spare his was as emotionally devastating as being accused of shooting your best friend in cold blood. Fletch could imagine the speculations flying around town, in light of Roark Draper’s recent death. Since Savanna was supposedly the woman scorned in the love triangle, someone was passing information that she had killed Roark then finally tracked down Willow to satisfy her need for revenge.

Damn, whoever had concocted the scenario to explain the two deaths had done a bang-up job.

But why? Fletch asked himself, puzzled. Who had something to gain from disposing of Roark and Willow? And Savanna eventually? Was that where this master plan was headed? How did the deaths and the murder charges against Savanna tie together?

Fletch wanted to grill Savanna with questions so he could sort out the facts and get a handle on this complex case, but she was too overwrought to think past her grief and torment.

He urged Appy up a steep incline in the foothills of the Arbuckles. “Savanna, I’ve never been in this region before. Take a good look around and tell me where we are. Where can we hide to elude the posse?”

She muffled a sniff then raised her head from his shoulder to look around, but she never let go of him—a fact that he was more than aware of. “Mineral Springs and the string of secluded caves are off to the right,” she murmured hoarsely. “We’ll dismount when we reach the ravine. If we leave false tracks that indicate that we’re heading northwest then we can circle back to the east without being followed.”

Fletch dismounted in the gulley. He set her on her feet then tied the satchels she’d draped over her shoulders behind the saddle on the trailing horse. He glanced southward to note that only three men, carrying torches, were following them. Most of the posse had turned back to town. He wondered who the three relentless riders were. The same men who had abducted and sedated Savanna then planted her in the hotel room to take the blame for the murder? Were they mercenaries hired to dispose of Roark and Willow and to discredit Savanna’s name? Hired by whom?

When she clutched his hand, as if desperate for moral support, Fletch tossed aside his speculative thoughts. He followed her along the ledge of the rock-strewn ravine, then used leafy branches of underbrush like a broom to brush away their footprints.

“Devil’s Gulch,” she pointed out.

He stared over the rugged, moon-dappled landscape
that was filled with pointed spires that looked like spikes of a torture chamber. “Yep, I reckon that’s what one of the inner rings of hell looks like.”

“Ironic that I should end up here,” she said dismally.

“Everything will be okay.” He tried to console her—and felt terribly inadequate in his attempt to make her feel better.

He was lousy at offering compassion because he’d had very little practice. He was usually the enforcer who arrived to right the wrongs, not the gentle soul who comforted terrorized victims and bereaved families.

“Nothing will ever be okay again,” she said despondently. “My friend never hurt anyone. She was serene, sweet and kind and…nothing like me. Not fiery-tempered or outspoken or…” Her voice broke and the grip on his hand tightened like a vise, as if she were holding on to him for dear life.

“You’re not so bad, Paleface,” he said, hoping to raise her sunken spirits. It didn’t work worth a damn, he was sorry to say.

Savanna halted then faced him. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “You said I was a troublemaker.” She wiped at the tears dribbling down her cheeks. “But I only want answers. I wish I could turn back the hands of time and exchange places with Willow, because it should’ve been
my
time to die, not
hers.
”

He knew how she felt because he’d thought the same thing when Elaina died.

His breath gushed out when Savanna flung her arms around his neck and buried her head against his chest. She cried the way he’d wanted to cry when Elaina perished and he was left to deal with guilt, regret and vindictive fury.

He held Savanna close while she bawled her head off.
Then she sniffled and dragged in a shuddering breath. A few minutes later, she stepped back to square her shoulders and tilt her chin to a determined angle. He marveled at her courageous resolve and her resilience.

Fletch linked his fingers with hers as they circled the rock rim that overlooked the unforgiving terrain of Devil’s Gulch. Then she led him to higher elevations where more comforting Indian spirits prevailed—he hoped.

Robert Cantrell stood on the stoop, staring into the darkness, listening to the lone rider approach his cabin. His concern for his daughter’s safety intensified when he realized it wasn’t Fletcher Hawk sitting astride the muscular Appaloosa. Instead it was Parmicho, chief of the Chickasaw Nation police, who rode up on his paint pony.

“What’s wrong?” Robert asked anxiously.

Parmicho swung from the saddle. His angular features were set in a grim expression that did nothing to settle Robert’s jittery nerves.

“Someone claims to have sighted Savanna in town this evening,” Parmicho reported as he strode forward.

“And?” Cantrell demanded impatiently.

“And several witnesses claim they saw her sneak up the back steps to the hotel,” Parmicho stated.

“And?” he prompted again.

“A shot was fired and the men went to investigate.”

Robert swallowed hard and he stopped breathing momentarily. If Savanna had been injured—or worse—he wasn’t sure he could cope with the bleak news. He’d worried himself sick while she dodged posses, vigilantes and bounty hunters the past three weeks.

Parmicho shifted uneasily from one moccasined foot to
the other. “We found Willow dead in the room where Savanna escaped through the window.”

Cantrell staggered back until he slammed into the exterior wall. He braced himself, feeling as if he’d been gut-punched. Then he sat on the wooden bench before he fell down.

“Oh, God,
no…
” he wheezed. “I had hoped she’d gone into hiding like Savvy until the furor died down and the truth came out.”

“One of the witnesses looked out the window to see Savanna ride off with a man on an Appaloosa. Do you have any idea who he is?”

The question didn’t register for a moment because Robert was in a state of shock. The ache in the pit of his belly became a grinding knot of grief and fury. His mind reeled, trying to figure out how he was going to convey the grim news to Morningstar without breaking her heart, as his was breaking now. She had lost her grandparents on the Trail of Tears. Her husband and son had died from cholera fifteen years earlier. Her daughter was the last of her blood kin.

“Rob? Are you all right?” Bill Solomon asked as he trotted his horse up beside the police chief’s pinto.

“No.” He dragged in a shuddering breath and blinked back the tears in his eyes. “Deputy U.S. Marshal Bill Solomon, this is Parmicho,” Rob introduced shakily.

“Call me Mick,” he said to the new arrival.

“He’s the chief of Chickasaw police,” Robert told Bill, who had ridden into town after Fletch had left to search for the men who abducted Savanna. “Someone is passing the rumor that Savvy killed her best friend and then lit out again for parts unknown. Did you hear the wild story while you were in town?”

Bill nodded then eased from his horse. “Yeah, ’fraid so.”

“True or not, gossip has it that this is phase two of Savanna’s jealous rampage,” Parmicho reported. “First it was Roark because he turned his affection to someone else. Now it appears that she located Willow and struck her down for her part in the betrayal.”

“Ah, hell, Mick, you don’t believe that ridiculous nonsense, do you?” Cantrell questioned.

The Chickasaw police chief sighed heavily. “I am only repeating the story that’s circulating around town. I have to remain impartial because my duty is to investigate the incident. But I will tell you that the doctor thinks Willow had been starved, dehydrated and abused. Although the pieces of this puzzle aren’t quite right, I can’t pass information on the gossip mill without the possibility of setting off another incident as a cover-up. I need to bring Savanna in for questioning. A posse—”

“A
lynch mob,
you mean,” Robert interrupted bitterly.

“—is searching for your daughter and her accomplice,” Parmicho went on. “You don’t happen to know where they might be hiding, do you?”

“Somewhere as far away from so-called civilization as they can get, I suspect,” Robert replied. “I wonder if this fiasco has been orchestrated to discredit me and to ruin Savanna’s name. The opposing factions of the tribe who want to adhere to tradition rather than integrate with the whites would like to have me replaced by someone who agrees with their outdated thinking. All the better if they can make Savanna look bad and accuse me of aiding her escape.” He stared grimly at Parmicho. “My daughter might be headstrong and spirited, but she would never harm Willow. You should know that.”