Jeremiah came over and tossed a blanket around her shoulders and shoved

a pack beneath her head for a pillow.

"Don't think about going nowhere," he warned her. David obviously didn't

think the warning was enough. He stood and walked to the piles by the

packhorse and came back with a good length of rope. She tried to inch

away from him, but he tied one end of the rope around her ankle.

Pinching her cheek, he spoke directly into her face.

"If you move, I'll feel it. If you run, I'll make you pay for it." He

walked away with the other end of the rope in his hand.

It didn't really matter. If she had been threatened by evexy demon in

hell, she couldn't have run that night. She was too weary. Tears stung

her eyes.

When she closed them, she saw Jamie again, fighting, then falling. And

she heard his whisper.

I think I'm falling in love with you. It hurt to close her eyes; it hurt

to open them. She prayed for sleep against the nightmare images. She

tried to tell herself that he was still alive. But he would have come

for her if he was alive. He would have come.

And if he was not alive, well, then, she didn't want to live, either.

Jamie was alive, if only just barely.

Jori found him around midnight, when the moon was full and high. The

wagon had come home without Jamie or Tess, but very late. Jon had to try

and track them from town in the darkness, and even when he had found

signs that the wagon had stopped and the two of them had walked toward

the river, it still took him time to find Jamie's still, crumpled body.

He drew off his buckskin jacket and wrapped it around his friend. He

touched the wound at Jamie's temple where the blood had dried. Carefully

moving his fingers over the skull, he decided that it was not cracked or

crushed. He took his kerchief to the river and soaked it and brought it

back to Jamie, cleansing the bloo~way. Jamie's body was icy cold.

He needed warmth, and quickly.

Jon rose carefully and lifted his friend's body into his arms. He called

to his pinto and the animal obediently trotted over to him. Bracing

Jamie's weight with his hand upon the pommel, he managed to somehow

swing up with Jamie in his arms. Then he made a clucking sound and the

animal took off at a smooth lope.

At the ranch, Dolly, Hank and Jane were waiting with anxious concern.

When Jori burst in with Jamie's half naked body, Jane gasped and turned

white.

"Don't you dare faint on me, young lady!" Dolly ordered her.

"Bring him right to the sofa, Jori. Jane, you run upstairs and get

blankets, lots of them. And you, Hank, I'm going to need a sewing kit

for that wound.

Some water and ~ome alcohol to clean him up, and maybe a little for the

lieutenant to sip. My, that's a mean and nasty bash!" Hank was on his

way out. Jane was still staring in horror. "Move!" Dolly commanded her.

In a moment the young woman was back with blankets. Jon draped them

around Jamie and rubbed his feet. Hank ~turned with water and a sewing

kit, and Dolly began to clean the wound. A long gash ran into the left

side of Jamie's temple.

"It's amazing he's still breathing!" Dolly murmured. "He's Missouri

tough," Jon told her.

"He'll make it, you'll see."

"I intend to do my best to see that he does," Dolly assured Jon. She

looked at him anxiously.

"What about Tess.9" Jon shook his head.

"I don't know. I had' to get him back here before he died. I'm going

back out to see what I can find." He liftext his hat to Dolly and left.

At the door he paused and looked back.

"Now, don't you let him die."

"I'm just going to sew him up. And I'm going to pray." Jon hurried out.

But when he returned to the river, he discovered that whoever had

attacked Jamie and Tess had made an escape through the water. He would

need daylight to track them. There was nothing he could do that night.

But maybe there was. It was late, but saloons had a tendency to cater to

the late crowd. Maybe he could find out more from casual conversation

over a poker game than he could from a broken branch.

He turned the pinto toward town.

Jamie's d~s were occasionally dark and occasionally erotic, but always

fevered.

He fought giants with buffalo headdresses. Then the battle would fade

away, the powder would dissipate, the roar of the guns would cease. He

wasn't fighting Yankees anymore, he tried to tell himself in his dream

world. He was a Yankee, dressed in blue. He was a specialist in Indian

affairs, a linguist. And he knew Indians. He hadn't needed Jon Red

Feather to tell him that the Apache didn't like scalping. It was a

contaminating thing to them, and it had to be done with 191 careful

ritual. He should have known from the very beginning that the woman

hadn't lied.

The woman. Tess. And the Yankees were gone, and the Indians were gone,

and he was lying by still, cool waters, and she was walking toward him.

Her hair was like the sun, falling in soft, delicate tendrils over her

breasts and down her back, and her smile was at once wistful and

innocent and full of the most alluring promise. She knelt beside him and

her fingers touched him, raking gently over his naked flesh. He couldn't

take his eyes from her. Her eyes were so giving, velvet and deep, deep

blue, and startling in their honesty. He had thought that she would run,

but she had not. And now, no matter whether he woke or slept, she was

with him, the sun- ray webs of honey-gold hair spinning around him and

wrapping him in the sweetest splendor.

Her breath was soft against him. She leaned over him, and her breasts

brushed against his chest, and he groaned aloud and waited. He wanted to

pull her beneath him. He wanted to see her eyes widen and darken to

mauve with the startling strength of passion. He wanted to feel her arms

wrap around him.

But the smoke was coming again. The powder. And people were shouting;

they were at war again. The war was over, but the fighting hadn't ended.

It was the Indians. It wasn't the Indians. That was it. They could dress

up all they chose, but they were not Indians. They had Tess. he couldn't

remember. yes! They had Tess, they had ridden away with her. By God!

What they would do with her! He awoke and jerked up. A staggering pain

seized his temple, and he cried out hoarsely, grabbing his head. The

pain slowly subsided to a dull thudding, and he opened his Jori was

sitting in front of him, watching him. Jamie groaned again.

"what the hell happened? Where's Tess?"

"Von Heusen's pseudo-Comancbe," Jon said calmly, still studying him;

Alarmed, beginning to remember much more clearly everything that had

happened, Jamie sat up. He saw that his legs were bare, that he had only

been covered with blankets, and he saw that Dolly and Jane and Hank were

hovering anxiously behind Jon. He gritted his teeth against the new pain

that had come with his movement, frowning.

"Tess?"

"She was gone."

"Gone! And you didn't go for her"

"Wait a minute, my friend," Jori warned him.

"You were supposed to have been dead--that's the way they left you.

You would have been dead, if I hadn't brought you here. I couldn't trail

them in the dark"--" You can trail anyone!" Jamie savagely reminded him.

" Not when they ran the river, not without some light," Jon said'.

"But I did find out where they're taking her."

"Where?"

Jamie exploded. The sound of the word seemed to reverberate in his

skull, and he grabbed it in an effort to ease the savagepain.

"They're taking her to the Comancheros. And the Comancheros are taking

her to a renegade Apache chief down in Mexico named Nalte."

Jamie grabbed a blanket and staggered to his feet. Dolly cried out

softly then scolded him, "Jamie Slater. What do you think you're doing?

You can't go anywhere" -- Jon had risen, too.

"Sit down, Jamie. rll go."

"No! It's my fault they took her. I'm going after her."

"You're in no condition" -- "I'm in damn fine condition!" Jamie roared.

The sound of his own voice ravaged his temple. He shook his head.

"I

need my pants. And if you don't want to be offend&t, Jane and Dolly, I

need you two ladies to disappear. Now!"

"Jamie Slater" -- Dolly began. But he was already rising.

"Jamie" -- She turned around, pinkening. Jane let out a little gasp and

went tearing up the stairs.

"Want to wait until I've got some clothes for you?" Jon asked dryly.

"I'll throw something down the stairs," Dolly said. She let out an

indignant little snort.

"Although what good you think you're going to do that girl when you can

barely hold your head up, I don't know." "I'll be with him," Jon said.

Dolly was heading up the stairs.

"I'll go saddle up your horse," Hank told Jamie, heading out.

Jamie nodded his thanks, then confronted Jon.

"You can't come with me. I need you here."

"You can't ride alone. You're in no shape to do so."

"Then I'll let you come as far as the border. Maybe we'll catch up with

them before that. If not, you'll have to turn back.

Jon, once I go after Tess, you'll be the only one who can stand against

yon Heusen here. You've got to do it." He shuddered and sat on the sofa.

"Comancheros! She could already be dead! And after yon Heusen's men" --

He broke off, white, panicked.

"I'll kill him," he swore.

"I'll kill yon Heusen with my bare hands, and every other man who came

near her.

Jesus, Jon, it was my own damned fault"--" This was going on long before

you came into it, Jamie. They meant to kill her on that wagon train. And

it's not as bad as you think. Von Heusen's men won't touch her, and the

Comancheros won't touch her, because Nalte wants his golden blond for

himself, so I learned at the saloon."

" At the saloon?"

"There's a whore there named Rosy who knows yon Heusen well--personally,

that is. Every once in a while yon Heusen sends for her, and she goes

out to his ranch. Last time she was there, he was sending out messages

and making plans. This Nalte has always wanted a blond woman for a

bride. You know the Apache. They usually only take one wife, unless they

consider themselves well able to afford more than one. Nalte does very

well. He has an Indian bride, but he wants a white woman, too. A blond

white woman. And his requirements go a little further. He wants an

innocent white woman."

Jamie stared at Jori blankly, then his face began to pale again.

Jon frowned, then slowly sucked in his breath.

"She isn't an innocent white woman any more, is that it?"

"Jamie Slater, here are your pants!" Dolly cried, dropping a pair of

trousers down the staircase. Jamie wrapped the blanket around his waist

and went to retrieve them. His hands were shaking as he stumbled into

his pants.

Dolly tossed down a shirt, and he shrugged it on also. "Jamie?" Jon

said.

Jamie paused, looking at his friend.

"Maybe they won't know. I doubt it's something that Tess is going to

rush around telling them," Jori suggested.

"First, yon Heusen's men are going to have to be damned afraid of him

not to hurt her," Jamie said.

"Then the Comancheros. Who the hell ever trusted a Comanchero?" He

strode to the sofa and stared at Jori.

"I've got to catch up with them before they get to this Nalte. Or I'll

have to try to talk to Nalte himself."

"Yes, you'll very definitely have to talk to him," Jon said gravely.

"And carefully, Jamie. Nalte will not be easy to deal with. He's watched

wars and treaties go by for years, and he is a law entirely unto

himself. He eschews everything white--except for the white men's guns,

horses and women.

He moved his people into the mountains when the white men took over the

plains, rather than have to deal with them.