Logan's Outlaw (21 page)
Authors: Elaine Levine
His body cooled. The breeze blew against the tears on his cheeks. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want her to be absent from their coupling. Ever. She was fragile. He couldn't criticize her. This was how she'd survived. Leaving herself, separating her mind from her body.
He took hold of her hips, keeping her absolutely still until she opened her eyes and looked at him. He wasn't entirely certain she saw him.
“Who am I?” he asked the shell of his wife. She tried to move her hips. His cock throbbed, buried to his balls in her hot sheath. He would not let her move. “Who am I, Sarah?”
“Logan.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Still holding her immobile, he pumped into her. “Again. Say it again.” He lifted her just slightly, enough that he could push into and out of her.
“Logan.”
He lurched into her. “I am your husband. The man who loves you above all else. Say it. Know it.”
Her chin trembled. “You are my husband. You love me.”
He would not let her move, even as his cock filled her, bumping against her womb, gently, tenderly, his eyes locked on hers. “I love your body. I love your soul. I love your mind. I love everything that you are. You are mine, Sarah Taggert, mine and no other's. I will not share you. I will honor you with my life, my body, my love. Do you hear my words? Do you understand what I am saying?”
She blinked, freeing the tears to wash down her cheeks and splash onto his chest. She nodded.
He wept as his body took hers. “Who am I?”
“Logan.”
“Who are you?”
“Sarah. I am Sarah Worthington Hawkins Yellow Moon Taggert.”
He smiled. He nodded. “You are everything to me. Everything. Say it.”
A sob broke free. “I am everything to you.”
“Everything,” he growled.
“I am everything to you.”
“Look at me.”
“I am.”
“Don't take your eyes away from me. I am making love to you. I worship your body. I pay homage with mine.” He thumbed her sensitive nub as he pushed the hard length of him into and out of her, his release so close to breaking free. But he would not take his pleasure before giving Sarah her release.
“Logan!” Sarah's body gripped his, moving in ever greater waves, squeezing around his shaft. She gasped, fighting the impending onslaught.
“Look at me, Sarah. See me. Love me. Let yourself go.” He thrust into her as she pushed down on top of him, grinding forward and back. He couldn't hold out much longer. “Let go. I'm begging you,” he said, his teeth clenched. “Now.” He lifted her hips, increasing her tempo, slamming into her.
Her eyes widened even as her body convulsed around his cock. He ground her hips forward, rubbing her clitoris against him. Her nails cut into him and released, like a cat's claws. His orgasm broke free, a wash of energy that drained every ounce of strength from him and poured it into her in hot, sluicing jets.
When their passion eased, they slumped back to the ground. She buried her face in his neck. And the sobs came. Cleansing her. Brutalizing him. His arms tightened around her. He moved his legs outside hers, cocooning her with his body, his warmth. His love.
Minutes later, he felt Sarah pull a long, ragged breath, bringing an end to her tears. She lifted herself off him, but sat in the space between his thighs. He sat up, watching her. He brushed a tear from her face.
“How will we get through this?”
He smiled, a slow, comforting lift of his lips. “You just said it. We will get through this. Together. One step at a time. One day at a time. One memory at a time. I will not leave you in the darkness. And if it takes you, I will find you.”
She stared at him, measuring his words. At last, she nodded. Swiping at the moisture on her cheeks, she buttoned her camisole. He stood up and helped her to her feet. She cupped his face, her thumbs brushing the lingering moisture from his cheeks. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed her ear to his chest. “I love you, Logan Taggert.”
He pulled her even tighter against himself. “That, darlin', is worth everything to me.”
They walked hand in hand back to the wagon. The eastern horizon was growing bright, casting enough light around the flat prairie that they could see the Indians crawling through their camp.
Chapter 13
The white canvas covering the wagon jumped and swayed as someone inside rustled through their things. A man stood by the horses, working at loosening them from the corral ties. Another prowled around the wagon. One man knelt on the front seat of the wagon, bent over the back of the bench.
Sarah sucked in a sharp breath, fear making her entire body rigid. Neither she nor Logan had any weapons. They were nearly naked and terribly outnumbered.
They would be killed.
She looked around, wildly searching for a place to hide. They were miles from a creek or river. There was nothing taller than the sweetgrass around them.
She pulled on Logan's hand. “We must run.”
He held firm, his eyes never leaving the men who moved through their camp. “They have seen us.”
Sarah glanced at their camp. The man on the front bench stood up to get a better look at them walking into certain death at the hands of Sioux warriors.
“Ghosts! Ghosts come!” the warrior shouted, pointing their way. He jumped from the wagon to the ground, hurrying to alert the others. There was much shouting and confusion. An argument broke out. Logan and Sarah continued to approach their camp, arriving with the dawn. Logan knew they presented a frightening spectacle, with their pale skin, white clothes, blond hairâthey would appear nearly colorless to the dark warriors. It was the only advantage they had.
“Do not falter. Do not stop.”
“Please, Logan. They will kill us.”
“There is nowhere to hide. I cannot leave you here. They would steal you away or just cut you down. Stay with me. When we get to the wagon, I will angle you closer to it. Get under it and stay put. Trust me, honey. I've been in worse situations and lived to tell.”
Two of the braves jumped on their horses and rode away. That left three. Three were odds he could take.
“Oh, God. Oh, God, Logan. That's Swift Elk,” Sarah gasped. Had Logan not been holding her hand so firmly, she would have bolted. “He will kill us. He is ruthless and crazy.”
She looked up at Logan and saw him smile. “He is welcome to try. I would enjoy the challenge.”
The two other warriors flanked Swift Elk as she and Logan walked into camp. Sarah stepped behind Logan, terrified to face the men who had subjected her to months of abuse. Memories of those days swamped her mind. She'd been beaten for every infraction, for not appearing to enjoy being raped by several men each night, for not rising early enough to begin chores with the women, for not knowing their language, for seeking food. For running when it all became too much.
She recognized each of the men before them, had known them in the most intimate ways. Even with her eyes shut, she could hear their laughter as they forced their way into her body, making it a sport for the others to see.
“Swift Elk. I was not expecting a visit from you,” Logan broke the silence, speaking in Sioux. “I sent Cloud Walker to you with a dozen of my best horses. Were they acceptable as a bride price?”
“Yes. I have not come for the woman.”
“Why then?”
“To kill the whites who drive this wagon. If it is yours, then you will die this day.”
Logan nodded. He glanced at the sky, which promised to be a brilliant, cloudless blue once the sun rose. “It is a good day to die. I have heard many stories of your exploits. You are known among your people as a brave and courageous warrior.”
“I am.”
“A warrior who follows the path of truth.”
“You would use words against me, Shadow Wolf,” Swift Elk answered, his eyes narrowing.
“I have bought my wife's freedom. If you kill her or dishonor her, all that you are, all that you have been is a lie.”
“I told you I have accepted the bride price.”
Logan nodded. “You have said that you come to kill me. I will meet your challenge. But if I lose, my wife is to be given her clothes, supplies, a weapon, and a horse so that she may survive the journey to my people. She is not to be touched by you or your men. Do you accept these terms?”
Swift Elk's men looked at him. He nodded.
“Then let her prepare herself before we begin. Sarah, saddle a horse. Dress. Pack the supplies you need. Go to my father's house.”
“I am not leaving you.”
Logan did not look away from the men. “You will do as I say.”
“Loganâ”
“Now, Sarah,” Logan ordered, his voice implacable.
She went to the corral line and retrieved the pony Cloud Walker had given her. Logan was pleased with her compliance. He had a plan, but he needed her to do everything he asked as he asked it, without hesitation.
“While my wife prepares to leave, I would ask you to have a meal with me. I am not your enemy, Swift Elk.”
“All whites are my enemies.” He dismissed that argument with an angry wave of his hand. “Your kind washes over this land, killing my people, poisoning my waters, killing our buffalo. You are a disease. You must be ended.”
Logan nodded. “I do not disagree about the damage we have caused, but we can't be ended. There are too many of us and too few of you. You can kill me, but ten more will come, and ten more for each of them.”
“I can make you bleed. I can cut out your hearts and turn you away from our lands.”
“If you use our women and children to wound us, you harm yourselves. It makes our men angrier than ever.”
“We do to your women what your men do to our women. None of us have forgotten what happened at Sand Creek. You tell us to make peace, yet you kill our men, make prostitutes of our women, take our horses and weapons. There is no honor in your people. Your men do not fight to protect your women and families. They fight to make a road to the yellow rocks in our northern rivers. You are soulless demons and must be destroyed.”
“I am a man, not a demon, a friend to your people. I love my wife as you love yours. I will fight to protect what is mine even as I have fought to protect your people.”
Swift Elk grunted. “I am hungry. You will feed us.” He folded his legs and sat by the cold campfire. His two companions did the same. Logan went to the end of the wagon and took down the table. He drew out a sack of coffee beans, some sugar, and mixings for biscuits, keeping an eye on Swift Elk and his men, an ear trained on Sarah as she saddled her horse, and all the rest of his senses focused on the wide prairie behind his back.
His pistol was in the crevice between the mattress and the table board. The Indians who had climbed through the wagon hadn't found it before running off. It was at just an angle that the men seated on the ground could not see it.
Stalling for time, he'd put some flour into a bowl, then dug through the drawers and cabinets for a few ingredients, using the distraction as a cover for withdrawing a couple of knives from the cutlery drawer. The wagon made a small motion. Someone was still inside it. Sarah returned with her mount.
“Tie him to the wheel,” Logan directed in English, his focus apparently on his task. “Be ready to get under the wagon,” he said, under his breath. “Stay close to this side. There are more inside the wagon. Make an argument with me. Now.”
“I'm not leaving you.” Sarah spoke in a loud voice, waving her hands as if angry. “I will do the cooking. Look at the mess you're making!” She palmed a knife, keeping her hand where it could not be seen by the three men seated around the cold campfire.
The horse's whicker was the only warning they had. One moment, Sarah was standing next to him, the next she was being pulled back away from the table, a tawny arm about her middle, a hatchet raised over her.
Logan went for his pistol just as the man who'd been hiding in the wagon did the same. Logan stabbed the hand, twisting the knife left and right, pinning the warrior to the mattress frame while he grabbed the pistol.
In a flash, there was no room to fightâthe three from across the camp leapt over or ran around the table, screaming war cries that sounded as if the Earth had opened up and released all of hell's demons.
Before they closed in on him, Logan shot a glance toward Sarah. She stabbed blindly into the abdomen of the man holding her. Once. Twice. He screamed at her and shoved her to the ground. Logan whipped his knife at the Sioux, slicing right into his jugular. He fell on top of Sarah in a bloody wash.
Two men grabbed Logan and tried to draw him away from the table. He kicked sideways and down at the knee of one of them, then spun with the other, trying to keep him from the knives. A strange whining sound cut the air. The man he fought grunted, arched his back, and looked at Logan with a shocked expression.
Logan slipped beneath the table. He kicked out the folding table's one supporting leg, letting the wood collapse, offering Sarah a small amount of cover. He shoved his pistol at her and ordered her to shoot the incoming ridersâthe two warriors who had ridden away when he and Sarah were walking to the camp. As he rolled out from the opposite side of the wagon, two warriors jumped on top of him. One slashed down with his war club, embedding it in the ground, missing Logan's head by a hairbreadth. The other wrapped his hands around Logan's neck and began squeezing.
Logan thumbed the warrior's eye sockets, digging hard until he pulled back. He kicked out at the second man, sweeping his legs out from under him, elbowing his throat as he fell. He rolled over him, grappling for his war club.
For each man he put down, another got up, until it seemed he fought a hundred men, not half a dozen. Logan's hands and body were slick with blood. Gunfire erupted from beneath the wagon. Sarah's pony screamed and bucked. She fired again. Logan shot a glance at Sarah, saw her struggling beneath a dark warrior, pushing at his chin, bucking against him. The man was trying to drag her out from beneath the wagon.
Logan's ribs were being crushed in the deadly hold of an Indian who stood behind him. Logan slammed his head back, connecting with bone. The man staggered back, his arms flying wide. Logan snatched his hatchet from him and crashed it into the man's skull. One of the other warriors, whose knee was broken, drew his arm back to throw his hatchet, but Logan was quicker. He threw the hatchet he held and struck the man dead center in his chest.
The warrior struggling with Sarah now had her most of the way out from under the wagon. Logan grabbed his shoulders. His fingers slipped, fatigue weakening his grip. The man turned around.
Swift Elk.
Logan threaded his fingers together and swung his doubled fist at the man who had destroyed Sarah's life. Following him to the ground, Logan grabbed his hair and banged his head against the hard dirt. Over and over.
Swift Elk.
Logan threaded his fingers together and swung his doubled fist at the man who had destroyed Sarah's life. Following him to the ground, Logan grabbed his hair and banged his head against the hard dirt. Over and over.
“Stop. Logan. Stop.” A hand touched his arm. He shrugged free of it. Swift Elk wasn't fighting him anymore.
“Leave him. It's over.”
Sarah's words echoed in Logan's battle-hazed mind, made all the louder because of the silence surrounding them, when only moments before there had been gunshots, shouting warriors, screaming horses. Still gripping fistfuls of Swift Elk's hair, Logan ceased trying to bash his head in. He glanced around the campground, littered now with bodies. He drew a ragged breath.
“Finish it,” Swift Elk ordered, glaring at Logan.
“No. Don't, Logan. These men have wives, children, elders in Swift Elk's village. They need to know what happened here. His people will make him answer for what his actions have wrought. Leave him alive to take their dead home.”
“Kill me,” the grizzled warrior demanded.
Logan shook his head and pulled back.
“I will come after Yellow Moon.”
“No, you won't.”
“My people will.”
“I am not an enemy of your people.”
“You are now.” A breath left his chest on a slow hiss. “We both are.” His black gaze was steady, almost gleeful now. “Her first husband still lives. I took ten horses in payment for the raid I made last year.”
Logan heard Sarah's gasp. Rage, swift and terrible, blackened Logan's mind. This devil was intent on seeking to harm Sarah any way possible. He pressed a knee to Swift Elk's shoulder and took hold of his head, intending to snap his neck. Sarah grabbed his wrist in a flash of movement.
“No. It is not possible. Eugene would never have put the two of us in such danger. He was greedy, yes, but he wasn't bloodthirsty.”
Swift Elk looked at her. “He lives still.”
“He died in that raid. Our neighbors buried him,” Sarah argued.
“Your husband killed my brother in that raid. For that, I scalped him. It was my brother you buried, not your husband.”
“He isn't alive!” Sarah grabbed his arm and shook him.
Swift Elk laughed. “How do you think we knew where you were today?”
Sarah released him as if his skin burned her. She clasped her hands to her ears, blocking out the sound of his terrible laughter. Logan cursed, silencing him with a hard punch to his temple. Sarah stared at him blankly, her features frozen in a look of horror.
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