Wild Is My Heart (42 page)

“You cowardly swine! Despicable jackass! Why not let me go?” Sam appealed. “I won’t tell a soul what happened. I … I’m expecting a child. Colt’s child.”

It was the wrong thing to say. “Whore! If you really married the varmint you’ll soon be a widow. And I reckon the savages will rid you of your bastard soon enough.”

Tossing her a venomous glance, Vern turned on his heel and stormed away.

Colt hurried back to the hotel, anxious to tell Sam all that had transpired. Particularly the arrangements he’d made for their wedding. No one was going to call his son a bastard, so the ceremony had to take place as soon as possible. Besides, Sam belonged to him. He loved her. Christ, how he loved her! Though it was later than he had anticipated, Colt reckoned there was still plenty of time left to shop for their wedding clothes.

To Colt’s consternation Sam was not in the room. All that remained was a tubful of cold water. Why hadn’t she rested as he suggested? he wondered. Where had she gone off to?

Colt spent an anxious hour stomping about the room waiting for Sam to appear, still not overly worried, assuming she had become bored and gone out for a walk. But when another hour passed, Colt became convinced that something had happened to Sam, and cold fear motivated him into action. He rushed from the room to question the desk clerk and learned that Sam had left earlier in the afternoon and had not returned. He snorted in disgust, for he knew that much without asking. What the clerk failed to mention, for at the time it seemed unnoteworthy, was the fact that Mr. Vern Logan, a guest of the hotel, had inquired about Sam.

Starting at one end of the street, Colt made inquiries at each store until he reached the mercantile, where the store clerk recalled waiting on Sam earlier in the day. Encouraged yet strangely disheartened, Colt continued down the street, taking only a few steps before something in the alley next to the mercantile caught his eye. It was a bundle neatly wrapped and tied, and Colt snatched it up from where it lay on the dirty ground. Breaking the string, he carefully inspected the contents. The dress and slippers looked like things Sam would buy.

Unwilling to trust his own intuition, Colt retraced his steps to the mercantile, where the clerk identified the items as those purchased by Sam. In a daze Colt left the store, a terrible dread gnawing at his innards. He returned to the alley and carefully read the signs. What he found only added to his distress.

There were strong indications of a struggle, and tracks that suggested someone had been dragged through the alley. Following the prints, Colt found where a horse had been tethered, and surmised that whoever had been in the alley rode the animal away. The signs were all there. Someone had taken Sam away—but who? And why?

Colt was of a mind to get his horse and follow the tracks until he realized it was growing dark. As much as he hated to admit it, nothing could be accomplished until daylight. Clutching the package containing Sam’s new clothes to his chest, Colt stumbled back to the hotel, numb and in more pain than he had ever experienced in his life, and he’d experienced plenty.

“Oh, Mr. Colter,” the desk clerk greeted as Colt walked past the desk. “I’ve a message for you.” He waved an envelope in the air. Colt froze.

“Yes, sir, a boy delivered it just minutes ago.”

Snatching it from the clerk’s hands, Colt merely nodded his thanks, then continued to his room, staring at the missive as if it were the snake in the garden of Eden.

The room was just as Colt left it, except the tub of water had been removed. He tore open the envelope, drawing out the single sheet of paper with shaking hands. His heart pounded, his body grew taut as a bow string as he read the brief note. At the end, he read it again, then cursed violendy.

“I’ll kill him!” Colt thundered. “If he’s hurt Sam I’ll kill the bastard.”

Several long minutes passed before Colt realized someone was banging on the door. Jim’s insistent voice brought him to his senses, and reluctantly he answered the summons. To Colt’s chagrin both Jim and Captain Ford stood before him.

“What in the hell happened to you, Colt?” Jim asked worriedly. “Where’s Sam? When you failed to show up at the church, we hightailed it over here. You were so eager about your weddin’ we grew concerned when seven o’clock came and went with no sign of the bride and groom. Where’s Sam?” he repeated.

“Gone,” Colt said, his voice thin and reedy, his emotions drawn taut.

“Gone?” Jim echoed, stunned. “What happened?”

Abrupdy Colt recalled the words in the note left by Vern Logan. He warned Colt to tell no one if he wanted to see Sam alive, and that included his fellow Rangers. Sam would live only if Colt followed directions. He was to go to Twin Butte, a local landmark south of San Antonio named for its tall spires, alone, at noon, unarmed and prepared to exchange himself for Sam.

Colt agonized over the terse words. It had been hand delivered by a messenger boy, and Colt neither doubted its authenticity nor discounted its threat. He was given no choice but to follow directions. He would gladly lay down his own life to save Sam’s. He had only his cunning to rely upon, and his friends must not know the torment he was going through. At the moment Logan was calling the shots, and it was vital that neither Jim nor Captain Ford guess at what was going on.

“The weddin’ is off,” Colt growled, hoping to convince Jim. “Sam left.”

“Hogwash!” Jim said, dismissing the notion. “That doesn’t sound like Sam. Somethin’ is wrong. What is it?”

“If you or your lady are in trouble, Colt,” Captain Ford injected, “the Rangers will rally behind you. You can speak freely. You have my word it will go no further than this room.”

“Much obliged, Cap’n, but I can handle it,” Colt replied stubbornly.

“What is this all about, Colt?” Jim’s brow puckered in concern. “Is Sam in some kind of danger?”

“Jim, we’ve been friends a long time, please trust me. Don’t ask questions I’m not at liberty to answer. When the time is right, you’ll both know everythin’.”

“I’m convinced, Colt,” Captain Ford said. “Be careful.” He turned to leave. “Are you coming, Jim?”

“Give me a minute, Cap’n. I’ll meet you in the lobby.” Captain Ford left, quietly closing the door behind him.

“I want to help, Colt,” Jim beseeched, undaunted by Colt’s obstinance. “I think you know how I feel about Sam. If she’s in danger, I want to know.”

“I appreciate your concern, Jim, but there’s nothin’ I can tell you. You’ll have to trust me in this.”

Jim’s lips thinned as he stuthed Colt from beneath narrowed lids. He knew that something was terribly wrong but was powerless to help unless Colt confided in him. Then suddenly an alarm went off in Jim’s brain. “It’s Vern Logan, isn’t it? Jesus, Colt, Logan has Sam!”

“No, Jim,” Colt said tightly. Jim was too astute for his own good. “You’re way off track.”

Jim found himself being rudely edged toward the door, and before he knew it stood in the hallway staring at the closed panel. Momentarily stumped by Colt’s stubbornness, he left, determined to find some way to help two people he cared about.

Sleep was impossible. Colt spent the endless night pacing and planning. Vern Logan had to be insane, he reasoned. A sentence in his note made it abundantly clear that Vern blamed Sam for the loss of his inheritance, and him, Colt, for bringing about his downfall. Logan wanted revenge, and Colt seriously doubted that Logan meant to let Sam go despite his offer for an exchange. There wasn’t an ounce of honor in the man’s black soul.

The longer he thought about it, the more convinced Colt became that Logan meant to kill both him and Sam. With this in mind he formulated a plan that had a slim chance of working. Colt hoped to beat Logan at his own game.

Sam writhed in pain, wondering if Vern meant to leave her alone in this godforsaken hole all night trussed up like a Christmas goose. Just when she gave up all hope of leaving this place alive, Vern returned. He spared her little more than a contemptuous glance.

“Vern, please untie me, I’m in agony.”

“I don’t trust you, Samantha.”

“I promise I won’t try to escape.”

Vern seemed to consider her words, then made up his mind and untied the ropes binding her wrists and ankles. If Sam thought she’d been in pain before, it was nothing compared to the excruciating agony she suffered now as the blood rushed to her limbs. Tears streamed from her eyes and the power of speech left her as incoherent sounds gurgled in her throat. With a notable lack of compassion, Vern turned away to prepare a makeshift meal for them. Evidently he had shopped for supplies. As he set about opening various tins of food, he chattered on as if he and Sam were the best of friends. His lively mood sent Sam’s spirits plummeting.

“Everythin’ went quite well, Samantha,” he confided. “I paid an urchin to deliver my message to the hotel, and by now your lover knows you are in my hands. By noon tomorrow he’ll be dead. Wild animals will carry off his body and no one will ever know what happened to him. Or to you.”

“This … this will solve nothing, Vern,” Sam croaked, finding her voice with difficulty.

“Maybe not,” Vern admitted, “but I’ll feel a helluva lot better for it.” He noted her wary look and laughed. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“I… no, no, of course not!” Sam refuted, not wishing to rile him.

“Don’t lie, Samantha. Nothin’ will stop me from gunnin’ down that blasted Texas Ranger.”

“What did your note say?”

“I told him to be at Twin Butte at precisely noon tomorrow if he wants to see you alive. His life in exchange for yours.”

“You’re nothing but a stinking polecat with a yellow stripe running down your back,” Sam blasted. “You’re too cowardly to meet Colt like a man.”

“You always did have a smart mouth, Samantha. Too bad you never saw fit to accept my proposal. I would have enjoyed taming you into a proper wife. We could have ruled Daddy’s empire together.”

Sam bit back a scathing retort. Obviously she was getting nowhere with Vern. He was beyond reasoning with, utterly ruthless in his desire to kill Colt and punish her for both imagined and real offenses. Instead, she said, “I… need some privacy.” Her bladder was near to bursting and her discomfort acute.

Vern eyed her sharply, then waved vaguely toward the rear of the cave.

“I… I can’t. I want to go outside.”

“No! It’s here or not at all.” Calmly he returned to his preparations. “Don’t worry, I told you before I no longer have the slightest interest in you as a woman. You sicken me. I’m surprised Colter wanted you after the Indians finished with you. No doubt he’s not as fastidious as I.”

Sam saw no reason to explain about Black Bear and her Indian ancestry. Instead she rose unsteadily to her feet and stumbled to the far reaches of the cave. Her legs felt like rubber, but the circulation was returning. Vern paid her little heed as she found a private niche in the solid stone walls. Evidently Vern had inspected this place thoroughly and knew there was no possibility of escape. Disheartened, she returned to her place near the entrance.

Silently Vern handed Sam a plate and cup of water. She ignored the food but drank thirstily, draining the cup and asking for more. Setting her plate aside, she asked, “What now?”

“We sleep. Then we wait for Colter to show up. I don’t trust him. I’m willin’ to bet he’ll try somethin’, and I’ll be waitin’.”

Colt reached Twin Butte an hour after leaving San Antonio. The rugged area was well known to him and he immediately recognized the twin spires rising in the air like a sentinel against a clear blue sky. There was a nip in the air, and Colt hoped that Logan had provided Sam with a blanket to ward off the chill. He hadn’t.

Colt reined in some distance from the butte, tethered his horse to a tree, and traveled the rest of the way on foot. He reached the appointed place well before noon, selected a concealed boulder, and crouched down to wait—and watch.

Carefully Colt scanned the surrounding hills, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Somewhere up there Sam was the prisoner of a madman. But not for long, Colt reflected—not if he could help it.

Nothing /moved. It was as if Colt were the only person left on earth in the pristine stillness. The dun-colored hills looked newly created by God, so fresh, so silent, so peaceful in the early hours of morning.

An hour elapsed, then two, and still Colt waited. He estimated the time at about nine a.m. He grew anxious. What if Logan lied to him and Sam was already dead? Then he saw it. Halfway up a craggy mesa Colt spied a lone figure emerge from what looked to be a tall, narrow opening between two rocks. It was Vern Logan. He walked to the edge of a narrow ledge and carefully scanned the ground below. Colt remained well hidden behind the boulder, his sights fixed on the place from which Logan had emerged, committing it to memory. Then Logan turned and disappeared back into the slim opening.