Captive (34 page)

James didn’t allow the feelings in his heart to be betrayed in his features. God! The anguish and frustration within him seemed to eat at his insides, gnawing away. He could claim that she was his, but she was not. She was a white woman, in a white man’s world. He could not claim her while she remained with Michael Warren.

“I’m asking you not to harm her.”

Otter suddenly drew a knife from a sheath at his ankle and threw it so that the point lodged into the crudely hewn logs at their feet.

“Fight me, Running Bear. Fight for her. Decide her fate.”

“Fight you? I do not seek your death—”

“Nor I yours. I wish to see you fight as I have fought, for what you love. What you covet. Life.”

Before James could respond, Otter had plunged downward for the knife again. James leapt back, aware that the warrior meant to draw blood tonight, even if he wasn’t seeking a fight to the death.

Otter charged him again. James caught the wrist that held the blade, but Otter’s impetus caught him hard as the Mikasukee plunged into him. They both went down hard upon the platform, then rolled to the earth, caught in a deadly battle of strength.

Otter rolled atop James, fighting to draw his knife high and aim it downward. James could nearly feel the tip of the blade piercing his throat. His fingers tightened on Otter’s wrist. He willed a greater strength into his arms and body, and managed to toss the smaller man from him. Otter landed on the earth about three feet away. James leapt to his feet. Otter was up as well. They circled each other. James let Otter attack again. This time he allowed himself to fall easily with the impetus,
then he forced the roll as well. Otter tried to lunge with the knife, but James was prepared. He twisted his torso, then slammed down on Otter’s arm, causing the knife to fly. He wedged an arm close on his opponent’s throat, cutting off his breath, threatening to break his neck.

Staring up at him with hatred, Otter went still.

“Finish it. Kill me.”

James shook his head slowly. “I didn’t come to seek your death!” he said, exasperated. “Concede to me the white woman should you take her.”

Otter was silent for a moment. James realized then that he could hear the quiet sounds of breathing, a slight motion of feet against the earth.

He looked up. Many of Otter’s people had come to circle them. They would not interfere in the fight. They watched, they waited.

Otter was aware that they had come as well. James eased his hold, and Otter spoke woodenly.

“I do not seek to attack the fort. I will wage war against the men who leave it, against the men who seek out me and my people to exterminate us!”

“And the woman?”

“If I take her, you must come for her. And take her from me. I have told you, when you speak, men listen. We admire your strength—we seek it more for our cause.”

James stood uneasily. Otter leapt up before him. “I travel toward my home in the south hammock in the morning. I will not attack the fort. Warren’s daughter is only in danger if she leaves it. I will try not to forget that she is yours.”

“I want your word, your promise.” Otter nodded.

James stood still in the moonlight for a moment, watching Otter. The Mikasukee suddenly sliced his palm, offering it to James. James took the knife and sliced his own as well, then gripped it hard to Otter’s.

He could still feel the blood when he turned away. Hot, sticky. He could remember Teela’s face as she had
studied her own hands that last time he had seen her. So much blood, she had said. So much blood …

And so much more would be shed.

He had battled Wildcat and Otter now. Fought his own people. He had become deadly enemies with Michael Warren.

And still …

There was so little he could do to protect her.

“Running Bear!”

He had left Otter’s shelter behind and stood in a copse in the moonlight. He could hear the slight stirring of the night wind and the gentle movement of the stream that rambled not far from where the council lean-tos and shelters had been erected. He turned.

Brown Rabbit, an old Mikasukee warrior with negro blood, had called him back.

“Otter means his word to you. He admires you, and is sorry that you do not fight with us with greater will and strength. He says that you could kill twenty men each battle, and rid us of many soldiers.”

“I cannot fight as he wishes me to,” James said simply.

“I know that. Many men know it. Otter cannot respect it, though I believe he intends to keep his word. But he means death to the whites. If this woman is yours, you must see that she does not leave the fort. And if she leaves it, you must come for her. Many things happen in the heat of battle. Many things that men may not intend.”

“Thank you, Brown Rabbit.”

Brown Rabbit nodded and turned hastily to return to his own band.

James stood in the moonlight. He cast back his head and stared up at the stars.

He had gone to the fort. He had climbed the oaks outside the clearing where the walls had been raised, and he had silently stared down into the yard, into the very heart of the military fortress.

He had seen her.

And his heart had been pummeled and his blood had
seemed to run both hot and cold. And he had been seared with both anger and fear, but in the end he had seen what Wildcat had. The Indians could not attack the fort. No matter how many warriors they gathered, the fort was too strong. They would not sacrifice themselves for a futile attack. Jarrett would have known how strong the fort was, how well protected, before he would have allowed Teela to go, no matter what arguments Michael Warren had used.

If she stayed within the fort, she was safe.

And if she did not …

His fingers knotted at his sides. What was she to him? he taunted himself. A white woman he had urged to marry a soldier friend. A sweet, lush body in the night, easy pain and tempest. She could be nothing more.

She was more. He could not claim her or command her, but she was his. In his blood. In his soul. He could not rid himself of her, of wanting her. Of longing to hear her voice again, see the flash in her eyes, listen to her words, soft or angry, warm or rebellious.

“Damn you, why did you ever have to come here?” he whispered to the moon.

Then he cast his head back still farther, his fingers knotted into his fists, and he let out a cry of anger and anguish to the moon.

It echoed around him.

And he moved in the darkness again, aware that he barely dared even sleep in the days that were to come.

G
eneral Jesup, now in command of all forces in Florida, was a lean, tall, straight man. Teela had heard that he could be shifty, that he wasn’t always to be trusted, but there were few men high in the military who didn’t receive some kind of lambasting from their men. Teela didn’t think that he looked untrustworthy. He had level, keenly intelligent eyes. And as she danced with him, she felt sorry for him.

“Were it up to me,” he said, sweeping her very properly but just a bit stiffly around the room, “it would all be over now.” He wasn’t really looking at her as he spoke; he was brooding, and seemed sad despite the festivities of Robert’s party. “We have fought a hard campaign here. When Governor Call held the reins of command before me, he fought a hard campaign as well. But when I fought in January, I came to see what they cannot see in Washington. I came to see that we could trek endlessly through brush and swamp and hammocks. No matter how hard we try, parties of warriors slip away. I came close to Osceola once, so close I nearly had that wretched war hawk in my grasp! But he slipped away. The prisoners taken in his pursuit informed us that he escaped our reach with just a few warriors. He’ll come back again with a hundred. It is always the same. We catch our enemies, but always our enemies slip away once again.”

“Why don’t they just let the Seminoles alone, then, in the south?”

Jesup sighed, deeply troubled. “Would God that we
could! My frustration here has been so great that I pleaded to be relieved of duty. Then gossip hounds and political enemies cast such comments upon my abilities that I can no longer accept the relief I have so craved until I feel I have proven my competence. Good God! I would most gladly leave them to the wretched swamps. But it is the opinion of the United States government, especially that of Secretary of War Poinsett and apparently that of President Martin Van Buren, that we must not back down, that we cannot surrender our position, or we will but extend every fight we face across the whole of the country. I am but a servant of our government and therefore obey orders. I have suggested on more than one occasion that we just leave the Seminoles to the south of the peninsula.” He was silent for a moment. “My orders leave me so little choice. The Seminoles must go, the Seminoles won’t go; I am left to exterminate men I frequently admire. I tell you I am weary of this hellhole where the soldiers sicken constantly, where my regular army officers squabble incessantly with the militia commanders, and where disease plagues us all most pathetically. I am afraid to let the populace know just how many of our soldiers are ill, for they would be terrified to sleep at night. I tell you, it is a wretched, wretched war. Some men, of course, do thrive on it.” He paused. ”Your father is proving to be an admirable officer, never falling to sickness in the heat, following every trail relentlessly until he has hunted down his prey!”

“Yes, my stepfather is excellent at such maneuvers,” Teela agreed. She could see Michael Warren across the floor, in conversation with Tyler Argosy and Dr. Brandeis. He watched her while she talked. For once in his life it seemed that he was pleased with her. Jesup’s recommendations could bring about a promotion for him, and Teela knew that Jesup, whatever his personal dismay at the war he fought, was glad of the men who were winning the battles.

Eliminating the problems.

Jesup was looking at her gravely. “It is my understanding, Miss Warren, that you have befriended the hostiles.”

Teela arched a brow at him, speaking carefully. “I don’t know any of the ‘hostiles,’ sir.”

“Your father has claimed that you were kidnapped by the half-breed, James McKenzie, that the man is dangerous, that his type will continue the war forever, threatening innocent women and children.”

“I wasn’t kidnapped by anyone, General. I met James McKenzie at a party finer than this one at his brother’s house.”

The general sniffed, on the verge of rudeness. He seemed a very bitter man that night.

“In my experience, I have met so many men who have not seen their brothers in years, and care not if they ever do so again! Then I come here, and Jarrett, a man who knows this frontier of Florida better than any other man, will not fight and seek out the deep-hammock hideouts of these wretches because he shares his father’s blood with one of them. Then there is James himself! Articulate, well educated, fully versed in the white way of life, a man with that life opened to him, and he joins with the savages instead!”

“It has been my understanding that James has very frequently served both sides well—”

“As I’ve said, he’s articulate and highly intelligent. He has the rare power to move men with both his example and his words, and a manner of reasoning that puts us all to shame.” He sighed deeply. “I’m afraid I have become nearly as great a burden to many of those civilians I fight to keep alive as I am to the savages!”

“Surely, sir, you are greatly appreciated.”

Jesup shrugged. “I think not, Miss Warren. But it is kind of you to pretend that it is so. Especially since it seems I am in charge of an effort you deplore.”

“I’m not at all sure what I think anymore,” Teela told him. “It is war and bloodshed that I deplore.”

“Your stepfather rides out again tomorrow with a detachment
to follow a trail deep into the swamp. Both your father and young Harrington will be gone. You should perhaps leave this wretched territory. Go on home, be safe.”

Teela arched a brow. It seemed that everyone wanted her to go home. If Jesup was suggesting she do so, perhaps Michael Warren would be bound to let her do so.

Her heart was pounding hard. She didn’t think that she wanted to go home. James was out there somewhere.

“General, you are kind, and I thank you for your consideration for my health and welfare. But I don’t think I should leave without having a chance to speak with John again.”

She swept her lashes low over her cheeks, somewhat ashamed of the lie, even if she had John Harrington’s blessing and encouragement to lie.

“Ah, young love!” the general said, smiling with a faraway look to his eyes. Then he winked at her. “I quite understand. What a commendable wife you will make for such a promising soldier as your Mr. Harrington! I still say, my dear, if you’ve need of anything at all while your men are fighting so bravely on the line, you mustn’t hesitate to ask.”

“General, I will not,” Teela promised.

Even as she spoke, there was a sudden commotion at the door to the hall on the ground floor, where they danced. The musicians stopped playing.

A soldier who had been on guard duty was the first to break through into the room. He was young, freckle-faced, with tawny hair. His flesh was very pale; his freckles stood out upon it. He was followed by two men who held a muddied and bloodied companion between them. Teela screamed, stunned, horrified to see that the blood that streaked his face had come from a small spot on the crown of his head where a patch of hair had been lifted.

“Sir, General Jesup, sir!” the man being held cried out. “Captain Dixon, fourth volunteers, reporting.” Then his military protocol was lost, and he openly wept. “We’d traced down Otter, sir. Oh, yes, we’d traced down
Otter. There were ten of us, and we thought we could surround his camp and surprise him and bring him in. We were so certain. But that damned Otter, sir, he wasn’t in front of us at all. He was behind us. And he came around us just as we came into his village. For the love of God, sir, I crawled back here. They took me for dead, sir, lifted my hair, and by some miracle I did not cry out. But my men, my brave young boys, my beautiful boys. They’re gone, sir. All gone.”