Comanche passion, p.11
Comanche Passion, page 11
A knife sliced into the snake, pinning it to the ground.
Chapter Eight
Red Hawk jumped to the ground and finished the task, clubbing the snake and then slicing its head from its writhing body.
Instinct galvanized Savannah to action, and she ran toward the bay. Desperate to avoid Red Hawk’s anger, she grasped the saddle, stepping up to place her foot into a stirrup. He yanked her back. When she struggled wildly, his arms tightened around her waist.
“I should have known not to trust you,” he snarled, his breath warm on her temple as she fought him blindly. “And I should have been more careful.” He grasped her shoulders and held her tightly. “Where are the bottles of medicine?”
Gasping for breath, she glanced at the knapsack.
His gaze followed hers. “I’ll know better than to trust you again, Savannah Ravenwood.”
She glared at him, her heart still pounding over the scare from the snake. “I should thank you for killing that snake.”
He released her. “Fortunately you haven’t been spotted by any soldiers. I encountered some when I was trailing you. What were you going to do with the medicine? You’re going the wrong direction to get it to Tennessee.”
“I can find someone in Nacogdoches to take it back to Vicksburg. People go back and forth.”
“You might find someone and you might not. You know it’ll get to wounded men with me.”
“I swore I would do everything I could to see that Thomas got medicine. Let me go.”
“No. I can use your help, and you need my help with your sister. If I let you go, I promise you, I’ll keep the medications. Next time you’re on your own. Don’t wade in muddy creeks without a weapon.” He nodded, his gaze fixed on something behind her.
She looked at the creek and saw another snake swimming toward the bank, ripples flowing out behind it in a long vee. Shivering, she turned back, glancing at the dead snake he was picking up. She shuddered. “What are you doing?”
“We can eat supper now.”
“Snake? No, thank you!” She looked at the two horses standing nearby. “You have another horse.”
“Yes. And more provisions and a bonnet and dress for you.”
“A dress? You bought a dress for me?”
Her green eyes sparkled, and Red Hawk had to smile at her eagerness. He turned to get the dress out of a saddlebag. “I don’t know how well it will fit—”
“It’ll fit.” She took it from his hands and shook it out. “It’s beautiful! Thank you!” she cried, holding it up and smoothing it down over her waist. “Oh, thank you!” she exclaimed again and hugged him.
Instantly, his arm went around her waist. Her smile vanished as she looked up at him, and her cheeks flushed, her eyes darkening. She stepped away quickly, sounding subdued, but he always felt a swift, scalding tension when they touched or stood too close.
“Thank you for the present. I’m so glad to have something to change into.” She glanced around, looking at the creek and frowning. “I’ll wear it later,” she said. “I couldn’t bear to bathe and encounter another snake.”
“I’ll start skinning this one.”
With a shudder, she turned away as he began to cut the snake. In minutes he had a fire going and chunks of snake roasting over it. The aroma was tempting. She was starving, and the thought of anything cooked made her stomach rumble and her mouth water in anticipation.
When she took a bite of snake, she closed her eyes and tried to forget what she was eating. He had brought a long loaf of bread with him and the food tasted delicious.
“The town was held by Federals. They have descriptions of us and have had a telegram about us.”
“How did you learn all that?”
“I listen to people talking when I bought the other horse.”
“Weren’t you in danger?”
“They’re looking for a couple. There were a lot of men in town who probably are drifting through because of the war.”
“You must have spent all my gold.”
“Not quite, Savannah. I had some of my own to spend.”
She was frustrated that he had found her and, for once, she did not want to talk. After eating, they mounted up to ride, and he led the way. Twice during the day they had to hide because of soldiers passing them. The first group were Federals, the second Confederates. She wondered who held this part of Louisiana.
They halted at nightfall and ate. When they finished, he reached out to catch her wrist.
He held her firmly while he tied her wrist and then secured the other end of the rope to a nearby tree.
“Now, I can sleep without wondering whether I’ll wake to find you gone, along with the horses and the medications. This way I won’t have to worry about a knife in my heart.”
She glared at him, but exhaustion had overtaken her. She hadn’t really slept since she was on board the General Thibodeaux.
“We shall both sleep for a time,” he said. He unrolled another blanket and spread it near her, then stretched out upon it. He placed his gun belt and pistol beside him, away from her, and pulled off his boots.
Moonlight spilled over them and he watched her untie the ribbon that held her hair. Fiery tresses cascaded over her shoulders. He rolled on his side to watch her, propping his head on his hand. She was only a few feet away. When she stretched out, she turned to look at him. Her eyes were wide, impossible to fathom in the dark shadows. He fought an impulse and lost, reaching out to pick up a lock of her hair.
“To take you as a wife, this Confederate lieutenant must be very strong-willed.”
“Thomas? He’s quiet and gentle—”
Red Hawk gave a disbelieving chuckle. “Then you will terrify him, Savannah. Will you tell him you shot a man who opposed you?”
“Yes, and I don’t terrify Thomas. We are friends and have always been friends. We like the same things, the same music, the same books. We’re of the same world.”
“While I am an uncivilized savage and deserve to be shot.”
“I didn’t accuse you of that.”
“Oh, yes, you have,” he said. “You have beautiful hair, Savannah.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. He saw her eyes were closed, and studied her, suspecting she was asleep.
“Savannah?” he asked and received no answer. He reached out to stroke her cheek, feeling her smooth skin. When she didn’t move, he guessed that she was in the deep sleep of exhaustion. He had been surprised she could go as long as she had. He had caught snatches of sleep in the saddle. Each time he had dozed, she had been talking. When he awakened, she had been still talking.
Her lashes were thick, feathery shadows on cheeks silky smooth. Longing engulfed him to move the few feet between them and pull her into his arms. How many times today had he had to fight that impulse? Now she rode on another horse, no longer pressed close against him.
She was a beautiful woman with spunk and grit. He had been careless beyond measure today. She had followed him, and he hadn’t noticed. He had underestimated her, thinking she would docilely wait while he rode into town. He should have known better.
She was easy to track. She had crushed plants as she moved through the brush; threads from her dress had caught on sharp twigs.
He envied Lieutenant Thomas Sievert. He was getting not only a beautiful, desirable, passionate woman, but a woman who was also brave and intelligent. This was no spoiled southern belle who expected the men around her to care for her and protect her. He had known such women, but Savannah was not one of them.
And even when he had found her today, she had still tried to escape, flinging herself at the horse. He sighed, remembering the snake and his own fear for her safety. When she stopped at the creek, he had been following her over an hour.
He had almost yelled to her when she waded into the muddy water to warn her that snakes were likely to be there. As she waded out, he had spotted the rattler and hadn’t needed to hear the warning rattle to know her danger.
She still wore her blue poplin, but it was unbuttoned into a deep vee and now was pushed open, showing the beginning of the curve of her breasts.
He ached to reach out and push away the poplin and slide his hands over her full breasts.
Her breathing was even and deep. He let his hand drift over her shoulder lightly, then trailed his hand down her side to the narrow indentation of her waist. Red Hawk could remember exactly how slender she was when he had wrapped both his hands around her tiny waist.
He let his hand move slowly, lightly over her hip. She didn’t shift or change in any manner. Her deep sleep made him bold and he continued his exploration, letting his hand trail down her leg. He was aroused, his body hot and aching. He rolled away and stood. Snakes be damned. He had to cool down.
He moved upstream and stripped, making noise to scare away any snakes and splashing into the creek. In minutes he waded out, letting the night breezes dry his skin, still aroused, still wanting her.
He had been befuddled with her, thinking about her all the earlier ride into Bellefontaine, the small town on the banks of the winding Grayson River.
Looking at material in the general store, he asked about a dressmaker. The shop owner told him about a woman who sold dresses she acquired from others. Red Hawk had bought a green cotton with pink roses in the material. It was not new, and it had belonged to someone else, but he suspected Savannah would be glad to have a change from the blue dress. He’d found a bonnet for her and stood in the general store, listening to men around him talk. He went to a saloon to join in a card game, winning enough to make up for his purchases in town.
The Federals occupied the town and were making gains in Louisiana, Missouri, and farther west. Little Rock had fallen to them the year before. Red Hawk could see the end coming for the South, and he wanted out of the war.
In Bellefontaine, a few men looked at him with curiosity in their eyes, but most paid him no heed. He kept his hat on, suspecting his haircut would draw a lot of attention, since it was the first haircut Savannah had ever given a man. He thought about her standing between his legs, so close to him he could have leaned forward two more inches and buried his face in her full breasts.
He groaned. It was driving him beyond sanity to travel with her, and he would have been better off to let her go and keep part of the medicine. He swept his fingers through his short hair. It was already drying. He wouldn’t have let her go alone. She wasn’t safe, and it was fortunate she hadn’t met with more mishaps than the rattler, although that could have been a disastrous one.
He had a suspicion she would have managed even the rattlesnake had he not been around.
He strode back to the blanket, knowing he should be as exhausted as Savannah. Yet every time he looked at her, all possibility of sleep fled, replaced by erotic images that taunted him and pulled him closer to a brink that would be disastrous for both of them.
He stretched out, looking up at the branches overhead, twinkling stars showing when limbs moved in the wind. He could catch a glimpse of the sky beyond. He tried to think about Matthew, about going back to the Comanche, about Caleb, about anything except the woman lying so near.
He slept, stirring only when the first graying of day came. He thought of Savannah immediately and turned on his side. His breath caught, desire flashing white hot in him. She lay dishevelled, her hair across her cheek and over her shoulders and arm and breasts. She was turned on her side facing him, and her skirts were pulled high.
White drawers should have come to her knees, but were pushed a few inches above them. Her legs and feet were bare.
He rolled to his feet and strode away to the creek again to try to wash and cool and forget her. When he returned, he called to wake her, instead of yielding to the impulse to haul her into his arms.
Barely listening to her morning chatter, he unfastened her wrist. She gathered her things and disappeared upstream. When she returned, she looked refreshed, and she wore the dress he had bought for her in Bellefontaine. She strode into view and he forgot everything else, staring at her. The green cotton was far lighter material than the poplin and clung to her, outlining clearly the curve of her hip and the length of her long legs.
The top was cut low, revealing the gentle rise of her breasts. Short puffed sleeves bared her long arms. She had braided her hair and looped and pinned it on her head. The blue poplin was folded in her hands.
She smiled. “I do thank you for this dress. It’s much cooler. It’s a nice fit for a dress that was not made for me. A little loose in the waist.”
She turned in a circle so he could see, then smiled at him again.
“It’s a very nice fit, Savannah,” he said in a husky voice. Something flickered in the depths of her green eyes and her cheeks flushed.
She stood as immobile as he, staring up at him, wide-eyed and solemn. He felt as if those green pools were pulling him down into places he shouldn’t go.
She’s pledged to another, he reminded himself. He turned abruptly and moved to the bay to mount up.
While they traveled, days were a constant watch for soldiers from either side. Nights were a torment for Red Hawk, who felt his control pushed to the limit.
Days later, when they reached Mansfield, they found the wounded had been moved farther south.
It was another night before they approached tents and the campsite for the injured men. Red Hawk braced himself for what he might find when he got there.
The tall blond doctor, Williamson, came striding toward him. His filthy coat, once white, now blood-drenched and stained, hung loosely from his thin shoulders and gaunt frame. “Quent, thank goodness!”
“I got medicine,” Red Hawk said, dismounting and shaking the physician’s hand. “This is Miss Ravenwood, who was instrumental in helping me get all this. Savannah, this is Doctor Abraham Williamson.”
“How do you do,” Savannah said, in a manner as gracious as if she had been meeting a guest at a drawing room tea.
Red Hawk unfastened the heavy saddlebags and handed them over. “Caleb?”
“You two are tough hombres. Go see for yourself.” The physician pointed to a tent. Red Hawk was gone, and Savannah turned to trail behind him.
He reached the tent and saw Caleb on a chair outside. For a moment he held his breath as his gaze raked over his brother. When Red Hawk saw his brother still had two legs, he exhaled in relief and started running.
Caleb saw him coming and picked up crutches, trying to stand.
Savannah watched Red Hawk spring to a man who struggled to stand. The man’s crutches fell as the two men hugged each other. The man with crutches was shorter and thinner than Red Hawk, but he had the same dark skin, the same dark eyes, the same slightly crooked nose, the same arrogant look, as if the world would do what he wanted. His long braid fell over his shoulder and hung halfway to his waist.
The two men moved apart and Red Hawk bent swiftly to pick up the crutches and hand them to his brother.
Embarrassment made her uncomfortable. A single woman shouldn’t be traveling across country unchaperoned with a man, and she wondered if every man would decide she was a soiled dove picked up along the way.
“Savannah, meet my brother, Lieutenant Caleb Red Hawk. Caleb, this is Miss Ravenwood, who managed to whisk bottles of morphine and laudanum and other medicines away from the Bluebellies.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Caleb said politely, grinning at her with fine white teeth that made him irresistible. She had to smile in return. “I can’t tell you how much I thank you and how much every man here thanks you. Never did the South have anyone to smuggle medicine who looks half as pretty as you do.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. I have to admit, I had other purposes in mind for it, but I know it will go to good use here.”
Caleb looked back and forth between the two and curiosity lit his brown eyes. “Get chairs, Quent, and come sit down. Or are the two of you hungry? Get some food and come back here.”
“You’re better,” Red Hawk said, studying his brother.
“I began to mend. It wasn’t my time to go. Doc can’t explain it, but I’ve been using our grandmother’s old remedy as a poultice. Thank the saints I didn’t lose my leg. I wouldn’t let him take it and he expected gangrene to set in. Instead”—he waved his hand—“here I am.”
“Thank heavens. We’ll get something to eat and come back.”
Savannah went with Red Hawk, meeting soldiers, names swirling in her mind. They ate a meal that wasn’t much better fare than Red Hawk had provided while they were crossing Louisiana. They had potatoes, cold biscuits, cold beef. Afterward, she sat in the night listening to the two brothers talk, Red Hawk’s voice a deep rumble.
“I’m going to San Antonio, Caleb. I’m leaving and going to get Matthew.”
“Don’t blame you. If Celia had asked me and I’d said I would, I’d go now to get him. The Ashmans have had him almost a year now. That’s too long.”
“I plan to change that soon.”
The longer the two men talked, Savannah knew Caleb grew more curious about her. His glances became more numerous and lingering. Finally a tent was offered to her. With relief she excused herself and left them.
That night she stretched on a cot and, for the first time since she had left the General Thibodeaux, she was alone.
In minutes she was asleep.
She woke to someone shaking her. “Savannah, wake up.”
She opened her eyes to look at Red Hawk, who was bent close over her, speaking softly.
“Federals are headed this way. The men received word to break camp and retreat south. I’ll go with them to help move the badly wounded, and then we’ll turn west for Texas.”
She sat up. “I’ll be ready right away.”
“There’s a creek behind the camp. I’ll accompany you and see that you’re undisturbed by any of these soldiers, but you’ll have to hurry.”
She rose and they left, moving swiftly. As she walked through the camp, men were dark shadows outlined against a graying sky while they readied for travel. At the creek, Red Hawk turned back toward camp.
