The Half-Breed's Woman Page 16

  “But, what about Brendan’s ankle?”

  Jax took a deep breath. Finally, he said, “Well, if it wasn’t broken when we started back, it was by the time we got there. The old man didn’t let that stop him, though. He tied us to the corral fence and used his bullwhip on us both.”

  “Dear God…” Callie had seen the scars on his back, but had never dreamed they’d been inflicted by his own father. She’d been curious, but too shy to ask how he had come by them. “He must have been crazy,” she said quietly. “How did you ever get away?”

  “As you might imagine,” Jax answered dryly, “that took away quite a bit of our bravado.” His eyes glittered coldly. “But it increased our desperation a hundred fold. As soon as Bren was well enough to travel, we tried it again.”

  “And?” Callie asked anxiously.

  Jax smiled at the worry in her tone for his old scars. “He caught us again. Beat us within an inch of our lives—then left us where we lay.”

  Callie laid her head on Jax’s broad back, between his shoulders as he continued.

  “Dolly Ames’s husband, Joe, found us, packed us back home with him. He and Dolly lost all four of their boys in the War. Brendan and I stayed with them for the next few years. Dolly and Joe never hesitated about taking on two half-wild hot-blooded Indian boys to finish raising. Guess that’s why we both became marshals; Joe was one of the best. He was a good man. He trained me. Before—Before he was killed.” Jax’s face was shuttered, and Callie knew he would say no more. She didn’t press him, sensing he’d already told her more than he had intended.

  In the distance behind them now, they could see the faint dusty cloud that rose up from the cavalry escort and the stagecoach wheels.

  “They’ll be turning back before long,” Jax murmured thoughtfully, and Callie knew he was thinking of the protection they’d soon be without.

  ****

  Jax didn’t like having to ask Captain Tolbert for a damn thing, but he had to admit he was still plenty worried. Twice, now, he’d seen movement where there shouldn’t have been any, a flash of sunlight gleaming off of metal where there should have been nothing. The stage would make Amarillo by nightfall, but somehow, Jax didn’t think the Apaches would wait much longer.

  They were only biding their time.

  He knew it as surely as he knew every inch of this dry, flat land. Captain Tolbert and his men paced themselves well behind the stagecoach to spare the passengers and drivers the dust they created. Now, Tolbert veered out of the formation and rode over to where Jax and Callie sat, a little way from the trail.

  “Something wrong, Marshal?” The captain was all business, even with a pair of bruised black eyes he could barely open.

  “Can’t you feel it, Captain?” Jax answered tersely.

  Tolbert nodded reluctantly. “Blue Feather, do you think?”

  “Not necessarily. And if not, that’s all the worse for us. The closer we come into Apache country, the greater the odds that it could be any one out there: Membrenos, Chiracahuas, Uncompaghres—or renegades.”

  Tolbert nodded grimly. “I see what you mean, Mr. McCall.” He sighed. “We’ll ride with you a while longer, then. I had intended to turn back at the river, but, we’ll accompany you into Conway. Perhaps it would be best to spend the night there, then start for Amarillo tomorrow.”

  The arrow whistled past Alan Tolbert’s cheek so close there was no mistaking the near kiss of death in the breath of air it left in its wake. He looked at Jax in momentary surprise, as if he wasn’t at all sure to believe what had just happened. Death had missed him by less than an inch.

  Jax wheeled his mount around and rode hard for where the others were, ahead of them, the captain close behind him. From the sides and in front of them, the air was suddenly split with war whoops and the thundering sound of horses as the Apaches appeared, seemingly from thin air.

  “Break formation and head for the river!” Jax yelled as Tolbert came alongside him. The captain nodded his understanding, calling out orders as he rode by his men. They immediately spread out as they rode in an all-out scramble for the cover of the cottonwoods on the river bend just ahead.

  Jax’s horse jumped over a fallen warrior, and went racing on to the river. Callie’s arms tightened around him.

  He glanced back quickly. There were no more than twenty. Not nearly as many as they’d thought at first. And they weren’t Blue Feather’s men; at least, not all of them were. Jax had not been surprised to see Crooked Elk in the war party. As their eyes had met across the distance, the Indian had given Jax a taunting grin, as if to remind him of that bloody day thirteen years ago.

  The soldiers splashed noisily into the river, taking cover among the stand of trees and undergrowth there. The stage rolled to an abrupt halt as Trey sawed on the reins, and MayBell hid her head under the protective curve of Sam’s arm, his other supporting the shotgun at the ready.

  Trey looped the reins around the brake and jumped down, rolling under the stagecoach, then crawling to the other side. Sam pulled MayBell down from the seat and opened the stage door, helping her inside.

  “Sam?” MayBell’s voice was anxious as she turned toward him.

  “Get on in, Miss MayBell. I’ll be all right. See ’bout your aunt.”

  Tildy Rienholdt sat inside the stage wailing like a lost child as Cara Manley tried to console her. Sam threw the door shut behind MayBell and joined Trey and Talmadge Manley on the ground.

  Jax and Callie still sat astride their mount, apart from the others. Jax could feel Callie trembling against him. He drew a steadying breath from where he sat, his attention riveted on the retreating Indians. They’d be back.

  He glanced at Tolbert. The captain’s jaw was tense, and he leaned forward in the saddle, as if he were listening, straining to see.

  There was no sound except for Tildy Rienholdt’s muffled sobs coming from inside the stagecoach. Callie slowly relaxed her grip around Jax’s waist and breathed a tremulous sigh.

  Jax turned to comfort her, catching a glimpse of stealthy movement peripherally. He wheeled the horse around so his own body would shield Callie. The sound of the flying shaft as it found its mark was unmistakable.

  The soft whine of the arrow ended abruptly. Instant fire burned through Jax’s shoulder. He stiffened and grimaced with a reflexive curse. It had gone in deep, and his whole body suddenly went numb as his nerve endings tried to cope with the intense pain. Still, he managed to take deadly aim at the retreating figure among the trees, and was rewarded by the angry cry of surprise and pain when the bullet struck.

  “Oh, my God, Jax—” Callie began.

  “Shh. I’m all right,” he gritted, riding over to where the Indian lay. Crooked Elk’s sightless eyes stared into heaven, angry even in death. Unfortunately, he wore Callie’s silver locket around his neck, which could only mean one thing. Blue Feather was dead, and with him went their hope of safe passage.

  ****

  “Shall I have one of the men pull that out for you, Marshal?” Tolbert’s voice came from behind the place where Jax and Callie sat. Sweat stood out on Jax’s brow, and Callie could hear the controlled effort he made at breathing evenly. She could feel the tension run through him as he sat stiffly in the saddle, reining in his self-control. But when he answered, his voice was calm.

  “No, Captain. There’s no time for that. I’ll just break it off and we’ll head on in to Conway, seein’ as how you didn’t have the foresight to bring along a doc.” He took a deep, steadying breath, but Callie was alarmed at the shudder of pain that rippled through him.

  The captain gave a faint smile. “Our doctor has to sleep sometime, Mr. McCall. You kept him pretty busy last night with me and my men.” He kneed his horse over to where Jax and Callie sat. As he approached, Callie saw that his arm dripped bright red. She started in the saddle, her eyes wide. Tolbert gave her a rueful glance. “I’d also put him to good use on this hole in my own arm. I don’t have much of a grip left, McCall.” He reached out a
nd grasped the shaft of the arrow with both hands. Jax’s dark, pain-filled gaze met his briefly. “This’ll be easier if I do it,” Tolbert said.

  Tolbert tried to hold the shaft as immobile as he possibly could, but the sudden movement of the shale arrowhead deep in Jax’s shoulder was agonizing. He winced and swore under his breath, and it took him a long moment to gain his self-control.

  Callie met the soldier’s eyes. “Thank you, Captain.”

  He nodded, then looked at Jax. “Godspeed, McCall. Safe journey.”

  “One more thing, Captain…if you please,” Jax muttered through gritted teeth.

  “What’s that?”

  “The necklace.” He nodded at the fallen warrior. “It belongs…to the lady. Would you mind?”

  The captain dismounted and bent, releasing the clasp of the chain that Crooked Elk wore around his neck. He straightened and held it up to Callie.

  “Thank you, Captain,” she said quietly. “I’m grateful.”

  Tolbert nodded, then returned his swollen gaze to Jax, who slumped in the saddle. “I’ll send a contingent with you Marshal, to ensure that you get to Conway safely.”

  “No.” Jax shook his head, meeting the captain’s look. “Head back to the fort, Captain. You’ve got some wounded that need seen to. It’s only another ten miles into town. I believe I’ll…be able to stay in the saddle that long.” He looked away.

  “Marshal—” There was real concern in Tolbert’s voice. “You’re losing a lot of blood. The wound is still running freely, and I’m afraid I can’t manage a tourniquet.”

  Jax raised his head slowly.

  “Something else, McCall? What?”

  “It needs to bleed. Don’t need…a tourniquet, Captain. There—There was something on that arrow—some kind of poison.” He looked back down at the lifeless corpse. “Crooked Elk and I…have a past history. That arrow—was meant for me.”

  Jax guided the horse forward into a walk, toward a shallow place a few feet down the river. “Better…get moving, Captain.” Jax’s voice was strained. “Blue Feather’s dead. There are…no more guarantees.”

  Chapter 19

  When Callie and Jax reached Conway, Jax headed straight for The Pavilion, one of the better hotels at the far end of Main Street. He rode around to the back, then slid out of the saddle. He stood for a moment, leaning against the horse, carefully holding his left shoulder with the broken shaft of the arrow away from any contact.

  Callie was afraid to move. She sat still, waiting for him to regain his composure and stand back, to allow her some room to dismount. He looked up at her, catching her worried frown.

  “Hold on a…minute, Callie,” he muttered. He wrapped the reins around the hitching post and stepped aside, leaning heavily against the wooden railing as Callie climbed down from the horse and came to stand beside him, uncertainly.

  “Señor Jax!”

  Callie turned quickly, to see a young Mexican boy standing a few feet away from them, a wide, white smile splitting his dark face.

  He hurried to where Jax stood, the smile evaporating. “Madre Maria,” the boy breathed, seeing the broken stem of the arrow jutting from Jax’s shoulder. “So much blood…all over.”

  “Carlos,” Jax murmured. “Take—Take my horse and put him at Johnson’s Livery. Take good care, then bring my…saddlebags back here. Tell…Miss Olivia I said—said I need you…then, you—you come on up.”

  “Sí, Señor Jax.” The boy nodded vigorously. “I will return soon.”

  Jax reached for Callie. She moved close to him, heedless of the blood. Jax needed her for support. He needed her. She carefully moved into his one-armed embrace, and they slowly made their way inside the back of the hotel.

  A short blonde woman stood watching from a few feet inside the kitchen, her sour look lightening as recognition transformed her features with a surprisingly pretty smile.

  “Jaxson McCall—” she began, then hurried to where Callie and Jax stood. She looked him over in a quick, appraising glance. “Oh, you are hurt bad, aren’t you, Jax? Let me—”

  “Livvy, no one can know—I’m here.” His voice was harsh with urgency. “Just—don’t—say anything. To anyone.”

  “Yeah, okay. Sure, hon. We’ve been through this a time or two before, ain’t we? Marshalin’ business an’ all.” She moved to the key board on the wall, selecting one of the remaining keys and handing it to Callie. “I’ll send up some water and towels here in a bit, love.”

  Jax nodded. “Let Carlos come up when he gets here, Liv. He’s…got my saddlebags.”

  “Sure.” Her brows drew together in concern. “Can you all make it up the stairs?”

  Jax didn’t look at her. “We’ll make it.”

  The poison and the steadily rising fever were forces to be reckoned with. Climbing the stairs was an ordeal in itself, for both of them. Callie feared they’d tumble backward with each halting step. Jax was unsteady on his feet, stopping twice on the stairway. Callie was alarmed also at the heavy blood loss, and the toll it was taking on his body. He struggled to grip the banister, his right arm draped heavily around her shoulders. Callie could hear Livvy in the kitchen calling out orders for towels and boiled water, and she wondered just what she would be expected to do with the items once they were brought up. She knew nothing of healing. If she had, perhaps she could have saved her mother.

  They made their way haltingly to the end of the long hallway. Callie tried to support Jax as she set her valise on the floor. He leaned against the doorjamb for a moment as she put the key in the lock. She swung the door open and helped Jax over to the bed, then picked up her valise and shut the door, locking it behind her.

  Jax was already sprawled across the bed, boots and all, when she turned back to him. He was breathing hard, trying to maintain his self-control. He pressed his lips together tightly and closed his eyes. Blood had dried along the six-inch remnant of the arrow shaft in his shoulder, soaking into the wood. Like a red river, it saturated his shirt and coat, running downward to be absorbed in the waistband of his Levis.

  Callie bit her lip. She was the cause of this. She’d nearly been the cause of Jax’s death twice now; once in Fort Smith when they’d been shot at through the hotel window and now, this. Not to mention the cracked ribs he’d gotten from Wolf Blocker. And, although he’d told Captain Tolbert the arrow was meant for him, she knew better. He’d wheeled the horse and spun, blocking her, shielding her completely as the arrow took him in the shoulder. Crooked Elk had aimed for her neck.

  She shivered. Her stepfather really meant to have her killed. She looked at Jax again, her expression softening as she remembered… everything. The way he’d laughed at her in the Fort Smith hotel room; how his eyes smoldered in anger—and in passion; his handsome features rising up above her, as he came into her—

  The half-breed’s woman. No. The half-breed’s wife. Mrs. Jaxson McCall.

  Callie shook her head sadly. She could never truly be Jax’s wife. Dunstan Treadwell wouldn’t allow it. And she couldn’t stay here. To do so would be signing Jaxson’s death warrant.

  Her thoughts swung to Wolf Blocker and his bunch. Four men in Blocker’s gang, Jaxson had said, but it could be more. And even if Jax defeated them, she was not naïve enough to believe that her stepfather would give up. He certainly hadn’t ever given up before. He’d wooed her mother quite convincingly and oh, so arduously.

  Jaxson would never be safe as long as she was with him. He would try to protect her, she knew, no matter the cost to himself. Even should death be the price. And it surely would, if his care was left to her. She didn’t know how to tend a wound as serious as this one.

  They’d never spoken of their future, and now it looked as if there wouldn’t be one for them. Even when Callie had offered him the ruby jewelry, he hadn’t talked about what they might do, how they might share their lives together. He’d never told her—she swallowed hard—told her he’d loved her. The thing she yearned to hear from him more than any other thin
g he could ever say.

  Even though he possessed everything she had to give, her love-starved heart, her virgin’s body, her thirsting soul—he’d never indicated that she meant more to him than a very good friend.

  Except for that one moment last night, when he’d asked her to marry him.

  Her breath caught at the memory.

  “Laugh with me, love with me, have babies with me—”

  And she, like a fool, had believed he meant it. Because, she realized, she’d wanted to believe it.

  But, he’d done it because he’d had no choice. She knew that now. Captain Tolbert had told him they’d be married or she would stay there at the fort—a prisoner still, but with a different captor. Jaxson McCall hadn’t wanted that. He was being well-paid to bring her back to Washington, and he’d grown used to her warming his bed at night.

  No matter what, she had to face the fact that she was in love with Jax. It really didn’t even matter, now, what his intentions were toward her, she thought. She couldn’t endanger him any longer. And she couldn’t return to Washington with him, either. That left only one choice, a choice she could hardly bring herself to consider.

  She had to leave him.

  Her heart clenched painfully in her chest. There really was no other option. She had to get out of his life to protect him. And, to protect herself. Not just her heart, but her very life.

  It scared her to think of being without him. He had become important to her in so many ways, and she realized, with a jolt, that she had come to depend on him for everything…including her own basic need for security. It had felt so good to tell him who she really was—not Sarah Smith, as she’d pretended all those weary days she’d traveled westward from Washington, but Callie Buchanan.

  Callie Buchanan, who had defied her stepfather; who, in fact, had tried to murder him, and run. Callie Buchanan, who had managed, through her own ingenuity and common sense, to travel to Fort Smith, even though she’d never been outside of Washington before during the course of her sheltered life. And now, Callie Buchanan, whose stepfather’s bid for power and money must cost her her life.