Sweet Prairie Passion (Savage Destiny) (33 page)

The man grinned and nodded. “You have a lot of confidence in your half-breed,” he sneered. “But he’s only one man. If you want to sit here and watch us torture him once we’ve caught him, that’s your choice, bitch.”

One of the men suddenly turned and ran for his horse, but Givens took aim and fired. The man’s body jerked forward, a bloody hole in his back. Then he sprawled to the ground. Givens waved his gun at the rest of them. “One more of you runs out on me, and that’s how he’ll die! Now there’s plenty of us and only
one
of him, and he’ll come down from that hill soon! So stay put and we’ll have us some fun right soon!”

The others settled down uneasily, watching the opposite hill like caged animals, and for the next few moments there was no sound but the wind. Then there was a horrible scream. Wolf Man’s eyes widened.

“Who was that?”

“Sounded like Cane to me,” another answered.

“Probably Zeke himself,” Givens shot back. “I expect Cane and Dorey got to him. I just wish they’d have left him for me.”

They watched the hillside a moment longer, and finally a horse began making its way through the sparse pine trees. Abbie’s eyes widened.

“That’s Zeke’s horse!” she spoke up, afraid now that perhaps Givens had been right. “That’s his Appaloosa!”

Givens smiled. “What did I tell you?”

The horse came into the clearing then, and his smile faded. The horse was dragging two bodies, and Givens
and the others rose from their positions, straining to look as the horse came closer.

“Jesus, it’s them!” one of the men spoke up in a thoroughly frightened voice. “They … they’re split open!

Abbie had to turn away before they got any closer. Their insides were hanging out, dragging along the ground with the bodies, and even she was horrified at the sight.

“God in heaven!” somebody yelled. “I’m gettin’ out of here!”

Just then there was a bloodcurdling scream, like nothing Abbie had ever heard before, and four shots were fired. Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Four men fell dead, one of them Wolf Man. One after another their bodies slumped to the ground before the others could gather their wits and take action. Then Zeke was there, charging down the hill behind them and diving into the bunch of them, catching them off guard. He fired twice more as Abbie ran to her own horse to get the Spencer that was still on it. Her captors had brought her horse along when they’d taken her, as well as Olin’s horse, horse theft being another one of their many “occupations.”

Zeke was swinging the butt of his rifle now, smashing it into two more men, his long hair flying and his screams and painted face putting fear into the others. When Abbie turned with her rifle, Givens got off a shot and Zeke flew backward. Abbie screamed in horror. Zeke hit the ground, but immediately had his handgun out and fired a shot back at Givens, who fell backward and lay still.

Up again Zeke whirled and rammed his elbow into
the gut of one of the renegades who’d dropped his gun and charged at Zeke with a knife. The blow from Zeke’s elbow made the man double over, and Zeke grabbed the man’s knife hand and pushed, plunging the knife into the man’s own body. The renegade made a horrible grunting sound and fell forward, and Zeke turned, blood pouring from his own side now. One of the men Zeke had hit with his rifle butt was getting up, so Abbie quickly cocked her Spencer and took aim. She fired, and to her own amazement, the man fell. Zeke whirled, staring at her in surprise. It was not until later, when she had time to think, that Abbie wondered what a sight she must have been at that moment, standing there naked, bleeding, filthy, and sunburned; her hair matted and her lips puffed, holding a smoking Spencer in her hands.

It was only about fifteen seconds after Zeke’s charge, yet all Givens men seemed to be down. When one of them started to get up again, Zeke pulled his own wicked blade from its sheath, and sliced it across the man’s throat before he could gather his senses. Blood gushed out and Abbie felt sick. Zeke staggered back, and there was not a Givens man left standing or even alive, except for Givens himself, who lay badly wounded from Zeke’s gunshot. Zeke turned and looked at Abbie again. His wound bled badly, and his breath came in short pants. His face still painted in black and yellow, he looked vicious and wicked.

“Find something … to put on,” he grunted to her. “Stay here.… I’ll … tend to you … soon.”

“Zeke, you’re hurt bad!” she cried out to him.

“Doesn’t matter. I have … something to do.”

He walked over to Givens and grasped the man by
the neck of his shirt, dragging him off into some bushes. Too wounded to fight back, yet alive enough to know what Zeke intended to do with him, Givens started crying and begging for Zeke to let him go. He struggled some, but Zeke punched him once, then dragged him the rest of the way into the bushes. Abbie went to her horse and took out her spare dress, trying to ignore the awful screams she heard coming from Givens. But it was impossible. She shuddered, yet when she pictured LeeAnn’s beaten and bloated body and the hole in her forehead, his screams weren’t so disturbing.

She started to put on her clean underwear, then decided not to soil it until she could wash. She was filthy, and she smelled of her own vomit. She put all her clean clothes back into her carpetbag and took a blanket from her horse, wrapping it around her shoulders.

Shame began to envelop her now, shame and humiliation, because of what Givens and his men had done to her: at the thought of their looking upon her nakedness, at the horrible memory of their hands touching her, and worse than any of it, at knowing Zeke had seen her as he had. How different this was from the night he’d taken her so gently in the darkness!

She closed her eyes and wept quietly as Givens’ screams grew worse. She held her stomach and sat down to wait, covering her ears, thinking what a strange and mysterious man Cheyenne Zeke was—a man of compassion, gentleness … and ruthless savagery. There had been at least twelve Givens men, if not more. She never did get a proper count. Now there were none.

The screaming finally ended. Cheyenne Zeke had
finished the job with his knife, and now the whole canyon was suddenly quiet. Only a soft, whining wind moaned through it. She could hear birds singing somewhere, and she realized it was the first time she’d noticed birds singing since she’d been brought there.

Suddenly the canyon seemed eerie to her because of the wind moaning and whistling, and the dead bodies sprawled grotesquely about. Now that everything was over, the wind sounded mournful and lonely, just as Abbie felt. The horror of her losses and of the day’s events overwhelmed her, and she broke down into heaving sobs that only made her body ache more. She held her head, hardly able to breathe because of her violent weeping.

Then she felt a presence beside her, and she knew it was Zeke. Kneeling in front of her and putting his arms around her, he said her name softly. She buried her face in his neck and cried, while he stroked her hair.

“I’d have … taken my life,” he said hoarsely, “if I’d found you as we found LeeAnn.” He held her tightly in his strong, sure arms, letting her cry. She was lost in her pain and sorrow until, finally, he whispered to her.

“You … have to … help me, Abigail.… I’m bleeding.”

Her heart pounded with fear and shame as she pulled away. The blanket she’d had around her was now stained with his blood, and his pants were soaked with it as it ran from the wound in his side.

“Oh, God, Zeke!” she gasped, wiping at her nose and eyes. “I’m so sorry! I should be helping you!”

She heard thunder then, as black clouds rolled over
the canyon, and she felt a sprinkle of rain on her face.

“A cave …” he told her, looking ready to pass out. “Up … there.” He pointed to the side of the hill where he’d hidden when he shot the arrows. “We’d … be dry. I think I can ride … that far. Come.”

He stood up, leaning on her for support, and managed to get to his horse. He took out his knife again, cutting loose the two bodies still tied to his horse. He groaned as he moved himself up onto the Appaloosa’s back. Abbie got LeeAnn’s horse, as well as her own and Olin’s and leading the other two horses by the reins, she climbed up onto her own mount. Determined not to lose her own animal or LeeAnn’s, her seemingly cold, but practical, side showed itself. This was a rugged land, and one’s animals could mean survival. She rode up to Zeke.

“What about all their animals?” she asked Zeke.

“Leave them. They’ll wander off,” he replied, nudging his horse into motion. “Indians will… take them … take the supplies and weapons. They can … have them. And the buzzards … can have the bodies!” He slumped forward slightly as he hissed the words, and Abbie prayed he’d be able to stay on the horse until they got to the cave. It seemed to take forever to get the horses up the rocky and treacherous hill, and when they reached the cave entrance, Zeke was hunched over even further. Rain burst from the dark clouds just as they arrived, drenching everything below, including Zeke and Abbie.

Abbie hurriedly led the horses inside. Then Zeke half fell off his horse, as Abbie helped ease him to the floor. She quickly spread out a blanket laying it out on a spot that was mostly dirt so it would be soft, and she
managed to help Zeke crawl over to it.

Inside the cave, there was a trickle of a waterfall that ran down the rocky side into a little trench, then disappeared someplace beneath the earth. She sighed with relief that there would be water in which to bathe Zeke’s wounds and her own body, as well as water for the horses. Her own horse immediately walked up to the little stream and drank from it.

Zeke groaned, and Abbie ran outside to collect as much wood as possible before it got thoroughly soaked by the rain. She ran back inside and piled the wood near Zeke. Hoping the draft in the cave would draw out the smoke from the fire rather than fill their hiding place and choke them out of it, she dug some flint from her saddle bag and lit the kindling, blowing on it until the flames took hold. She was relieved when the smoke wafted upward, then headed into deeper parts of the cave to places unknown.

“Abbie!” Zeke said in a near whisper. She bent down close to him, suddenly frightened by his ugly wound and the dying look on his face.

“Don’t you go and die on me!” she whimpered desperately. “I love you, Zeke! I love you! Don’t you die!”

“You … have to take the bullet out,” he moaned. “Or… I
will
die.”

Her heart felt as though it had stopped beating. “I can’t!” she said, appalled. “I’ve never done such a thing, Zeke! I’d kill you for sure!”

“I’ll … die anyway … if you don’t get it out, Abbie girl,” he groaned. “You can … do it.”

“No!”

“Got no … choice. You want to sit there … and
watch me die? Just … cut me open enough … so you can reach inside … find the lead. You … have to do it, Abbie.”

“Oh, God, I can’t do that to you! I can’t!”

“I can … take it. Just … get me some … whiskey … in my parfleche. Please … Abigail. Please … take it out!”

She knew he was right. If there were another way to help him, she’d do it. But the fact remained there was a bullet in him that had to come out or he’d die. The thought of putting a knife to his skin and reaching inside him was horrifying. She’d been through so much already she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to do it. But their eyes held and she nodded. She had to be strong now more than ever—or she’d lose Zeke.

“I’ll try,” she whispered.

“You’re … a good girl, Abbie.”

She went to his horse, her whole body aching and screaming for food and water and rest, her nerves making her shake with fear. She wondered what she would she do if he did die? She had no idea where she was or how she’d ever get back to the train. Maybe she’d just end her life with his. She reached into his parfleche, took out the flask of whiskey, and, walking back, handed it to him.

“There’s more … in Olin’s saddle bags,” he told her. “Get … a big bottle. You’ll … need it.” He took a drink of his own whiskey. “Get something … to bandage me … and some leather … to hold between my teeth while you’re cutting me.”

She shuddered at the thought, but did everything he told her. She took her own clean slip from her bag and tore it into strips for bandages; then she took Zeke’s
knife from his belt. She felt strange holding the knife, knowing what he must have done to Rube Givens with it. But now it was wiped clean. She walked over and cut off a piece of leather that hung from her horse’s cinch, the big blade sliding smoothly and easily through the thick leather. When she walked back over to Zeke, his own flask of whiskey lay next to him, already empty.

“Pour whiskey … on the wound,” he said, “and on your hands. Hold … the blade of the knife … over the fire to clean it.”

Feeling numb, she removed his belt and weapons as carefully as possible and laid them aside. Then she pushed his bloodied buckskins down to his hip bones and moved his leather vest aside. Having exposed his wound fully, she poured whiskey into it. His whole body jerked, but he did not cry out. She balanced the knife on stones so that the blade end was in the flames; then she poured more whiskey over her own hands. She held out the piece of leather she had cut for him to bite on, and their eyes held for a moment. He actually managed to smile for her. When he opened his mouth, she put the leather into it. He clamped his teeth down tightly on the piece of cinch, and with his fists, he grasped the sides of the blanket on which he lay.

As she took the knife from the flames, she hesitated a moment, telling him with her eyes that she was sorry. She said a silent prayer, then started cutting. Although she wanted to scream and cry and throw up, somehow she stayed calm, even though Zeke bit harder into the leather and his fists turned white where they gripped the blanket. He let out a terrible moan, and little beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

Abbie decided that if she managed to do a proper job of getting out the bullet, then she would have experienced just about everything that could happen to a girl her age. She didn’t feel like a little girl anymore. She’d grown up fast, starting from the first time she’d set eyes on Cheyenne Zeke back in Independence, Missouri.