To Tame A Rebel (12 page)

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Authors: Georgina Gentry

BOOK: To Tame A Rebel
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She didn't answer but kept running, fell, scrambled to her feet, and ran on. Behind her she heard curses of protest and then the sound of running moccasins. She had to outrun him; she had to. The footsteps behind her sounded as swift and light as a deer. “Damn you, white girl, stop!”
She stumbled and kept running. It sounded as if he was gaining on her. She didn't stop or look back, even though she could hear his panting breath now. A big hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder, tearing her dress.
“I told you to stop!” He whirled her around, but she fought him. Better to freeze to death trying to get back to the settlement than be a Creek slave.
He grabbed her and they both went down; he came up on top. “Stop it, Twilight, you're half frozen!”
“Thanks to you!” she shrieked.
He caught her wrist and jerked her to her feet. “You're lucky I found you. You wouldn't make it through the night.”
“Better than be your captive!” She fought to keep the scalding tears back, but they came anyway.
“Stop it, woman,” he ordered, and turned to whistle to his horse. The big pinto came trotting toward them. “I've got matches and blankets. We'll make it through the night, then join the others in the morning.”
Morning.
That meant she had to spend the night alone with this big savage. He led her into the shelter of some brush, where he sat her on a rock and wrapped a blanket from his saddle around her. She wiped her eyes and watched him build a small fire.
“Can't get it too big,” he cautioned. “The rebels might see it.”
She huddled close to the small flame, shivering. “Have you got any food?”
He frowned at her. “As much trouble as you've caused me, I shouldn't give you anything.”
She wasn't going to sacrifice her dignity by begging. “All right.”
“Here.” He tossed her a canteen and a small packet wrapped in oiled paper. “Here's some jerky.”
She gulped the water, then unfolded the package and took a bite. It was salty and smoky-tasting. “This is good.”
He strode over to a small patch of snow, filled his coffeepot, put it on the fire. “I should have abandoned you. The others wanted me to. They said you'd die of exposure before you ever made it back to the settlement.”
“I reckon that was about right,” she admitted as she watched him work. “Why didn't you?”
“Oh, hell, I don't know,” he growled, not looking at her. The smell of boiling coffee drifted to her nostrils. He handed her a cup, and she wrapped her cold hands around it and sipped the strong, hot brew gratefully.
“Well, thank you for coming,” she whispered.
He frowned at her. “Let's get one thing straight. You're nothing but a hostage to me, and the minute you become too much of a burden, the others will insist we kill you, so from now on, don't create trouble.”
She looked into his dark, hard face. Was he bluffing?
They finished eating their meager food; then he led his horse behind some bushes out of the wind and unsaddled and hobbled it so it could graze on the dried grass.
“Now,” he said, confronting her, “we've each got a blanket and I throw the buffalo robe over both of us.”
Twilight hesitated. “We're—we're to share a bed?”
“You fear for your virtue?” he sneered. “How like a Southern belle to worry about that with everything else that's happening. Don't worry, Mrs. Dumont, I've got too much else on my mind right now to think about ripping your clothes off and ravishing you as you expect from a bloodthirsty savage.”
She looked away, feeling foolish. Maybe he found her so unattractive that he wouldn't have hungered for her under the best of circumstances. She took her blanket, wrapped up in it, and lay down by the fire. He brought the buffalo robe and the other blanket and lay down next to her. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to look into his face as he arranged the blankets and pulled the robe up over them both. She felt the heat of the big man filtering through the covers and instinctively moved a little closer. If he dropped off to sleep, maybe she could steal his horse and ride out.
Twilight waited a few minutes until his breathing became heavy and rhythmic. Then very slowly she slipped out from under the blanket and crept across the clearing to the horse. “Where the hell do you think you're going?” His voice thundered behind her, and he sat bolt upright.
“I—I was going to relieve myself,” she stammered.
“Then do so.” He glowered at her. “I should remind you, Mrs. Dumont, that sometimes a warrior's life depends on hearing the slightest sound. You're wasting your time trying to escape me. I trusted you to behave last time, but I won't make that mistake again. You try to escape again, and I'll truss you up like a hog and you'll spend a miserable night.”
She knew he was watching as she slipped out into the shadows and hiked up her skirts. Should she try taking off through the woods? The wind howled, and she shivered as she stood up. He was right; she had no chance of escape. With a sigh, she returned to the fire and crawled under the blanket.
“Go to sleep,” he ordered. “We leave at first light.”
She was so tired. She pulled the buffalo robe about her, grateful for the warmth. Her only chance was in staying with this warrior who knew how to survive in life-and-death situations.
His breathing told her he was already asleep. She was still cold. Without meaning to, she huddled closer to his big body. After all, he'd never know she was up against him. Finally warm, she, too, dropped off to sleep.
When she woke near dawn, she was asleep on the curve of his muscular arm, his other arm thrown across her protectively. Her first instinct was to jerk away, but she feared to wake him. Instead, she closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. He pulled her even closer to him which set her heart hammering in fear. Finally, he awakened, pulled away from her, and got up. She lay there with her eyes shut, listening to him making coffee. Then he nudged her with one moccasin. “Hey, white girl, let's move on.”
Was there any way to delay him, hoping the rebels might already be on their way?
She sat up and tried to comb her tangled hair with her fingers. “Uh, maybe you could shoot a rabbit or something,” she suggested, “so we'd have food.”
He scowled at her. “So the sound could bring a rebel patrol down on us? I think not. Here”—he thrust some jerky at her and a tin cup of coffee—“have a few bites while I saddle the horse.”
She grabbed the jerky and ate it greedily as the warmth of the coffee warmed her insides. “Aren't you having any?”
“I'm not hungry.” He picked up the saddle blanket and bridle and went to saddle the horse.
She looked at the small bit of jerky in her hand. There wasn't enough for two, she realized, and he had given it to her. For a split second, she felt touched at his unselfish generosity, then remembered. Unselfish? If she died, she wouldn't be much use as a hostage. “Are you going to let my brother ransom me?”
“Shut up and come on.” His tone was brusque. “I doubt Harvey has much except what he's stolen from the Indians, and he might not be willing to spend it to get you back.”
“I think Captain Wellsley would—”
“He probably would,” Yellow Jacket snapped. “Isn't that why you came? Your brother's hoping to get his hands on the rich captain's money if you marry him?”
She felt her face burn. “That's hardly any of your business.” She was ashamed to admit the same thought had crossed her own mind.
The big Creek kicked dirt over the fire and packed up the camp. Then he swung up easily onto the fine horse. “Here, give me your hand.”
She hesitated.
“Would you rather walk?”
At this, she hurried over to the pinto stallion and held up her hand. Yellow Jacket took it and lifted her easily to the saddle before him, then wrapped the buffalo robe around them both. She tried to stay stiff, but the warmth of his big body was so inviting on this cold morning. He put his arm around her, pulling her closer. She could feel the heat and the muscle of him, and his breath was warm against the top of her head. For a moment, she felt the electricity pass between them, and he cursed softly under his breath.
“Damn you for causing me so much turmoil.” He nudged the horse, and they started off at a walk.
“I'll not run away again,” she began.
He pulled her closer still, and she could feel the hard manhood of him through her clothing. “That's not what I mean, and you know it.”
Twilight was too disturbed to answer. The way his strong arm held her against him possessively told her what he had in mind.
 
 
Harvey was in a foul mood as he pulled the wagon up in front of the store and got down. Now why was the Closed sign up? Didn't Twilight know he wanted every penny he could wring out of the Indians and soldiers? He took out his keys and unlocked the door, went inside. The place smelled of dust and mixed spices, but it was neat and orderly since Twilight had taken over. “Twilight? I'm back with fresh supplies. Twilight?”
Quickly he strode through the building, calling her name. She wasn't there. He went out the back door to the stable and began to curse. The horse and buggy were missing. “Where in the hell would she go driving in lousy weather like this?”
Out front he heard hoofbeats and he smiled. So she was back. He'd give her a piece of his mind for closing the store. After all, she was beholden to him for taking her in. “Twilight?”
But when he rounded the corner, what greeted him was the captain leading a patrol down the muddy street. The men looked weary, and the horses were blowing. The patrol reined in before the store. “Ah, Captain Wellsley, been on patrol, I see.”
The officer nodded and turned to give orders to his weary men. “Patrol dismissed. Head for the stables, men. I'll be there in a minute.”
The other men rode away, and the captain dismounted. “Looks like, from your wagon, you just got in, too.” He smiled. “I thought I might clean up and maybe come to call on Mrs. Dumont—”
“So you haven't seen her, either?”
Wellsley pushed his hat back on his light hair. “What do you mean, ‘either'? Are you telling me Mrs. Dumont is missing?”
“Maybe she's just gone for a drive,” Harvey said, trying to think of a reasonable explanation.
“In this weather?” the captain asked. “How long's she been gone?”
Harvey scratched his bald spot. “To tell you the truth, I don't know. Let's ask around the settlement.”
The captain chewed his lip. “A lady doesn't go off unescorted. Maybe she's visiting someone around here.”
“She doesn't know anyone,” Harvey said. He was growing more and more annoyed with his stepsister.
The officer looked really worried. “I'll get people searching.” With that, he rode away. He had been so attracted to the fragile, timid beauty, and felt very protective of her. Or maybe it was guilt, he thought with a twinge. He knew a secret that he was certain neither she nor her questionable brother knew: Twilight Dumont's husband had been a coward and a traitor. To spare her feelings, Franklin was sure she'd been told Pierre Dumont had died a hero. In fact, he had been shot for desertion. Captain Franklin Wellsley had been in charge of the firing squad.
 
 
Harvey began his own search. In less than an hour, he had talked to people around the settlement and found out no one had seen her in several days. In fact, the major's wife thought she had gone with Harvey to the railyard to pick up supplies. In the meantime, Harvey had discovered supplies missing. He cursed under his breath. “What the hell could she be up to?”
The captain rode up just then. “No one's seen her. You don't suppose the Indians might have taken her?” His youthful face looked horrified at the thought.
Harvey tried to appear more sympathetic and worried than angry. “A lot of supplies are missing, and Twilight is very softhearted. I'll wager she took some of that stuff out to those damned Injun brats she was so worried about.”
“A soft heart is a good thing in a lady,” the captain suggested, “but she's too naive to realize how dangerous that can be.”
The captain was obviously very worried. Harvey smiled to himself. Maybe he still had a chance of marrying his stepsister into this rich family. “Yes, even now she might be waiting for you to come riding to her rescue.”
The younger man hesitated, but only for a moment. “Maybe I need to take some soldiers and go out to the Creek camp to look around.”
“I'll ride along. You think I need to bring a gun?”
“By all means. You never know just what tricks those sneaky savages are liable to pull.”

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