A Heart So Wild

I always fall in love with every hero I create, and hate to leave them behind when I'm finished writing a book. So the idea of sequels are very appealing to meâI get to resurrect my favorite characters, and find out what kind of happily ever after they've been living since I last wrote about them.

My latest novel,
All I Need Is You
, is the story of Casey Straton, the independent, strong-willed daughter of my hero in
A Heart So Wild
. Casey is a female mirror image of Chandos, my dangerous, self-contained gunslinger, as untamable as the Wild West he lives in. Both proud, strong, and driven, it's easy to see they are father and daughter.

I hope that as you read
A Heart So Wild
, you can see exactly why Chandos has a hold on a little portion of my heart. He is my most stubborn hero, devoting all of himself for four long years to a quest for justice. If any of my heroes ever needed the love and tenderness of a good woman, it's Chandos. And with Courtney Harte, he finds it. She's always been a symbol of innocence and purity in his life, but now he's about to discover that she's also a woman of a passion and determination to match his own.

Chapter 1

Kansas, 1868

E
LROY Brower slammed down his mug of beer in annoyance. The commotion across the saloon was distracting him from the luscious blonde sitting on his lap, and it was seldom Elroy got his hands on as tempting a creature as Big Sal. It was damned frustrating to keep getting interrupted.

Big Sal wiggled her hefty buttocks against Elroy's crotch, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. Her words, quite explicit, got the results she'd expected. She could feel his tool swelling.

“Whyn't you come on upstairs, honey, where we can be alone?” Big Sal suggested, voice purring.

Elroy grinned, visions of the hours ahead exciting him. He intended to keep Big Sal all to himself tonight. The whore he sometimes visited in Rockley, the town nearest his farmstead, was old and skinny. Big Sal on the other hand, was a real handful. Elroy had already offered up a little prayer of thanks for having found her on this trip to Wichita.

The rancher's voice, raised in anger, caught Elroy's attention once more. He couldn't help but listen, not after what he'd seen just two days ago.

The rancher told everyone who would listen that his name was Bill Chapman. He'd come into the saloon a short time earlier and ordered drinks for one and all, which wasn't as generous as it sounded because there were only seven people there, and two of them were the saloon girls. Chapman had a ranch a little ways north and was looking for men who were as fed up as he was with the Indians who were terrorizing the area. What had caught Elroy's attention was the word “Indians.”

Elroy had had no Indian trouble himself, not yet anyways. But he'd only come to Kansas two years ago. His small homestead was vulnerable, and he knew itâdamn vulnerable. It was a mile from his nearest neighbor, and two miles from the town of Rockley. And there was only Elroy himself and young Peter, a hired man who helped with the harvest. Elroy's wife had died six months after they arrived in Kansas.

Elroy didn't like feeling vulnerable, not at all. A huge man, six feet four and barrellike, he was used to his size getting him through life without problems, except for the ones he started himself. No one wanted a taste of Elroy's meaty fists. At thirty-two, he was in excellent condition.

Now, though, Elroy found himself worried about the savages who roamed the plains, intent on driving out the decent, God-fearing folk who'd come to settle there.

They had no sense of fair play, those savages,
no respect for even odds. Oh, the stories Elroy had heard were enough to give even him the quivers. And to think he had been warned he was settling damn close to what was designated Indian Territoryâthat huge area of barrenness between Kansas and Texas. His farm was, in fact, just thirty-five miles from the Kansas border. But it was good land, damn it, right between the Arkansas and Walnut rivers. What with the war over, Elroy had thought the army would keep the Indians confined to the lands allotted them.

Not so. The soldiers couldn't be everywhere. And the Indians had declared their own war on the settlers as soon as the Civil War broke out. The Civil War was over, but the Indians' war was just getting hot. They were more determined than ever not to give up the land they thought of as theirs.

Fear made Elroy listen carefully to Bill Chapman that night, despite his longing to retire upstairs with Big Sal.

Just two days ago, before he and Peter had come to Wichita, Elroy spotted a small band of Indians crossing the west corner of his land. It was the first group of hostiles he had ever seen, for there was no comparing this band of warriors with the tame Indians he'd seen on his travels West.

This particular group numbered eight, well armed and buckskinned, and they'd been moving south. Elroy was concerned enough to follow them, from a distance, of course, and he trailed them to their camp on the fork of the Arkansas and Ninnescah rivers. Ten tepees were erected along the east bank of the Arkan
sas, and at least another dozen savages, women and children included, had set up home there.

It was enough to turn Elroy's blood cold, knowing this band of either Kiowa or Comanche were camped only a few hours hard ride from his home. He warned his neighbors of the Indians camped so close by, knowing the news would throw them into a panic.

When he arrived in Wichita, Elroy told his tale around town. He'd scared some people, and now Bill Chapman was stirring up interest among the regulars in the saloon. Three men declared they'd ride with Chapman and the six cowhands he'd brought with him. One of the regulars said he knew of two drifters in town who might be inclined to kill a few Injuns, and he left the saloon to go in search of them, see if they were game.

With three enthusiastic volunteers in hand and the chance of two more, Bill Chapman turned his blue eyes on Elroy, who had been listening quietly all this time.

“And what about you, friend?” the tall, narrow-framed rancher demanded. “Are you with us?”

Elroy pushed Big Sal off his lap but kept hold of her arm as he approached Chapman. “Shouldn't you be letting the army chase after Indians?” he asked cautiously.

The rancher laughed derisively. “So the army can slap their hands and escort them back to Indian Territory? That don't see justice done. The only way to insure a thieving Indian don't steal from you again is to kill him so he can't. This bunch of Kiowas slaughtered more'n fifteen of my herd and made off with a dozen
prime horses just last week. They've cut into my pocket too many times over these last years. It's the last raid I'm standing for.” He eyed Elroy keenly. “You with us?”

Cold dread edged down Elroy's spine. Fifteen head of cattle slaughtered! He had his only two oxen with him, but his other livestock on the farm could have been stolen or butchered in just the one day he'd been away. Without his livestock, he was wiped out. If those Kiowas paid him a visit, he was through.

Elroy fixed his hazel eyes firmly on Bill Chapman. “I saw eight warriors two days ago. I followed them. They've got a camp set up by a fork in the Arkansas River, about thirteen miles from my farm. That's about twenty-seven from here if you follow the river.”

“Gawddamn, whyn't you say so!” Chapman cried. He looked thoughtful. “They might be the ones we're after. Yeah, they could've made it that far this soon. Them bastards can travel farther faster than any critter I know of. Were they Kiowas?”

Elroy shrugged. “They all look the same to me. But those braves weren't trailing any horses,” he admitted. “There was a herd of horses at their camp, though. About forty.”

“You gonna show me and my cowhands where they're camped?” asked Chapman.

Elroy frowned. “I got oxen with me to carry a plow back to my farm. I don't have a horse. I'd only slow you down.”

“I'll rent you a horse,” Chapman offered.

“But my plowâ”

“I'll pay to store it while we're gone. You can come back for it, can't you?”

“When are you leaving?”

“First thing in the mornin'. If we ride like hell and if they've stayed put, we can reach their camp by mid-afternoon.”

Elroy looked at Big Sal and grinned a huge grin. As long as Chapman wasn't fixing to leave now, Elroy wasn't giving up his night with Big Sal, nossir. But tomorrowâ¦

“Count me in,” he told the rancher. “And my hired hand, too.”

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