"He keeps to the old ways. His women do not buy cotton for their

dresses, and his scouts do not wear cotton shirts. He moves about in a

breech clout as do his braves in summer, in winter he warms himself with

hides and furs.

He is also intelligent, astute and very dangerous--an Apache to the

core."

Hank had come in.

"You need the cavalry," he said. Jamie shook his head.

"No, Hank. No. If I do that, they might ?dll her. If I don't catch up

with them before they hand her over to Nalte, I'll have to speak with

him personally and convince him to give her back. I_t's our only

chance." Listen Hank, yon Heusen is going to think that he has both Tess

and me out of the picture. If anyone comes around, act as if you haven't

seen either of us. That lawyer will let out the information about the

will, and that will stall yon Heusen for a little while."

He paused, then strode over to the big desk, sat and drew out a piece of

paper. He wrote on it quickly.

"Now Hank, you make sure that this telegraph gets out today, you

understand?

It's real important."

"Yes, Lieutenant Slater, I understand."

"Good. Jon will be back soon, and if I've any luck at all, I'll bring

Tess home to you again." He paused.

"If not, Hank, you hold tight. Help will come. Von Heusen isn't going to

win this one." He stood again, gritting his teeth.

I'll be damned in hell a thousand times over before I let yon Heusen win

this one!" He strode around the desk again in his bare feet.

"Hank, I need a pair of boots that will fit me."

"Sure thing, Lieutenant.

I'll find you something." Jamie nodded.

"Jon--I need new guns."

In silence, Jon left to fulfill the request. They'd come with plenty of

guns, and he would know what Jamie wanted and what he needed.

Twenty minutes later the guns were assembled and Jon and Jamie were

ready to ride out. Dolly had made some coffee, and Jamie drank some

quickly, wincing as the hot liquid filled him. He felt a twitch at his

temple and felt the stitches there for the first time.

"You sewed me up, Dolly?"

"As pretty as a young girl's ball gown, Jamie."

"Thanks."

They moved outside. Jamie and Jon mounted with the others looking on.

"You bring Tess home now, you hear?" Hank said. "Please, please, bring

her home!" Jane added, her large doe eyes wide and damp.

Jamie smiled at Jane.

"I'll bring her home. I promise, Jane. I'll bring her home, or I'll die

trying."

He tugged on the reins, and he and Jon turned their mounts and started

off.

The sun was rising already. It was falling in orange and gold splotches

across the dry earth. Beyond them, it shimmered upon the mesas.

He'd been out a long time, Jamie reckoned. And von Heusen's men had

already had Tess for a long time.

His muscles clenched tight, his jaw locked, he damned himself again and

again for what had happened. He should have been more careful. They

never should have had the opportunity to sneak up on him. Hell, if he'd

been that careless during the war, he'd have been dead half a dozen

times over.

He'd always been so damned good: he could hear a twig drop in a forest,

he could hear the rustle of trees when it wasn't just the wind, he could

hear bare footsteps against the dry ~rth. But when it had mattered, he

had failed.

He'd failed Tess. He'd forgotten everything, staring into her

violet-hued eyes, feeling her against him, hearing the whisper of her

voice, the tremor of her words. He'd just had to prove something.

She'd been so aloof, and he'd been so angry, and he hadn't known why.

Because she'd tried to draw away, and he hadn't been about to tolerate

it.

No, he hadn't been about to let it happen.

He had just wanted her, and he hadn't wanted her to escape him.

He was falling in love with her.

So what? he mocked himself. He hadn't wanted to do so. He hadn't

suggested that she marry him--he'd just wanted to touch her. To sleep

with her. To feel her beneath him, her breath coming in a desperate

rush, her hips and thighs moving, her eyes, those eyes, so wide and

still, sultry upon his. But he hadn't been able to let her walk away

from him. He just hadn't been able to give her time.

And so she was gone.

He felt his jaw lock anew. She had infuriated him. No matter how he

touched her, she could hold herself aloof.

And his anger and determination had brought them both down.

Damn!

He didn't know that he had cast back his head and cried the word aloud

with anguish until he saw that Jori was watching him. Until he saw the

pity on his friend's bold features.

"It's too late for recriminations, my friend," Jon said quietly.

"Yeah. Too late."

"If you want her back, you'd better forget your feelings. You can't make

any more mistakes." "I won't," Jamie said.

"You should let me go alone."

"A half-breed Blackfoot? The Apache won't like you any better then

they're going to like me."

"Nalte isn't going to be fond of either of us." "I can deal with Nalte,"

Jamie said. He spun'ed his horse forward, calling to Jon to follow him.

He would deal with Nalte. One way or another, he would get Tess back.

One way or another.

Comancberos.

They lined the dry, dusty hilltop that overlooked the desert, seeming to

go on forever, covering the horizon. A hundred of them, at least.

Her hands tied before her, Tess sat in her buckskins in front of

Jeremiah on his big horse. She didn't know how long or how far they had

ridden that day, but they had finally come to this desert that stretched

to the mountains-- a beautiful area, with myriad colors, a barren,

forbidding area where the vultures sat upon the branches of the few

scrawny trees, where cactus eked out an existence, where most life was

lived in the cool that settled over the golden landscape by night. Soon,

the terrain would change again, as they entered the mountains.

They were already in the land of the Apache. And Tess was realizing how

little she knew of this feared tribe. She knew they were fierce, and

that they did not go to reservations. She had read that President Grant

had initiated a "peace policy" toward the Apache this year, but that

meant one thing in Washington, quite another here. Apache. it took an

Apache to track an Apache, so they said. Once Cochise had been a captive

of the American Army, but the trap had infuriated him. He had drawn his

knife, slit apart the tent--and disappeared. An entire cavalry company

had 199 been unable to find him.

She shivered. Perhaps more so than any other Indian on the Western

frontier, the Apache could strike terror into the hearts of the people.

But nothing could be more fearsome than the Comancheros who faced her

now, staring down at their small group of three from the hillside and

the horizon.

Tremors tore at her heart. She had ridden with Jeremiah and David for a

day and a night and through much of this day as well, and she had done

her very best with Jeremiah.

She had looked for eve~ possible opportunity to escape, but David had

taken great care never to give her a chance. She was never alone. Even

when she relieved herself, he was not more than a few steps away, and

his promises of what he would do if she even tried to move made her

weigh her circumstances very carefully. As long as she was with them,

she was safe. Jeremiah wasn't going to let David touch her, and David

was frightened enough of von Heusen to listen to Jeremiah.

Hour by hour she had dreamed. Jamie had to come for her. If he was

alive, he would have to come for her. HIS sense of honor would let him

do no less.

But he had to come while she was still with David and Jeremiah. The odds

would have been pretty even then, he could have ridden in with the sun

and carried her away into the sunset. But he had not come, and although

she could not allow herself to believe that he had been killed, she knew

the odds were no longer even. Not even Jamie Slater could come riding

into a throng of a hundred Comancheros, guns blazing, and carry her

away. She was indeed here, and. The Comanchcros were all staring down at

her. Suddenly, wild screams and shrieks filled the air, and the army of

Comancheros came galloping toward them. The cries made her heart

flutter, and as they came nearer and nearer, Tess felt an even greater

terror growing within her. She began to see their faces, and they were

frightening. Most were Mexicans, dark, with long, scruffy beards and

heavy, dipping mustaches. They wore hats and shirts and trousers and

boots; many wore blankets over their shoulders.

All were heavily armed, some with shell cases crisscrossed over their

chests.

They would not run out of bullets in a fight. There were Indians, too.

Renegades of many tribes, Tess thought, Apache, Comanche, Navaho, some

in the Mexican regalia of their comrades, others in more traditional

buckskin, at least two of them in simple breech routs riding nearly

naked in the wind, hooting their triumph and their catcalls, racing

around and around the three of them again and again.

They meant to terrify her! Tess thought angrily. Well, supposedly she

wasn't in danger yet, even if she was so frightened that she wasn't sure

if she could talk or move. David had been a nightmare, but this was far

worse.

Any dreams she had entertained of rescue fell crashing down into a

horrible pit of despair. She had never felt more vulnerable in her life.

She swore, though, that she would not cower before these men who were so

determined to unnerve her. They wanted to see tears, she thought. Panic

and hysteria. She was close to giving them all that they desired, but

she locked her jaw against its trembling and raised her chin. And as the

Comancheros raced by her one by one, she kept her eyes levelly upon

them, and she ignored the dirt that rose to choke her, bringing tears to

her eyes. She sat very still, and she waited.

The horsemen rushed by, then doubled back, bringing their horses to a

halt behind her. Jeremiah and David swung around to face them. Tess

didn't know whether to find pleasure or new anxiety in the fact that her

captors seemed as unnerved as she by the rugged Comancheros. The

Comancheros were all lined up again, and silent once more. The leader

emerged, edging his horse forward. He was frightening indeed, with

coal-dark hair and coal-dark eyes and a dark olive complexion. He had a

great, drooping, handlebar mustache, and though he grew no beard, the

rest of his face was not clean shaven. A western hat sat atop his head,

the brim pulled low. His chest was crisscrossed with ammunition, and a

long, lean cigarillo fell in a slash from the corner of his mouth.

He paused before them and reached into his pocket, then struck a match

against his boot to light his cigarillo. He stared at Tess, a smile

forming on his features. "So, amigos, the goods are delivered, eh?" He

smiled, staring at Tess. She returned his gaze. His smile deepened. "She

stares at me hard.~Maybe she will be just what Nalte desires. Untie her

hands."

"Chavez, she is dangerous," Jeremiah warned him. "Dangerous? One little

blond girl is dangerous when there are a hundred men around her? I told

you--untie her hands. Send her to me."

Tess felt the movement as Jeremiah reached for his knife. She heard the

rasping sound as he severed the ties that bound her hands together.

Instinctively she brought her hands before her, massaging her wrists

where the rope had burned them.

"Come down here, nirut," Chavez ordered.

She was ready to defy him; Jeremiah was not. He dismounted quickly from

the horse and reached for Tess. He set her hastily on the ground, then

moved away from her as if she were a rattler.