Beyond The Horizon (30 page)

Those Indians who were sober enough to defend themselves made a valiant effort to counter the attack, but the outcome was inevitable. Blade didn’t linger to see the Indians cut down by the patrol or Mad Wolf fall victim to Wade Vance’s bullet. He fought his way from tipi to tipi, looking for Shannon, thrusting himself inside one tipi after another, then out again when he didn’t find her, praying he’d get to her in time.

Shannon heard the commotion outside but was too occupied with fending off Bailey’s drunken attack to think about what it meant. Bailey had finally subdued her, throwing her to the ground and falling heavily atop her. Unfortunately, she hit her head when she fell and was knocked senseless. She had no idea that Bailey tied her hands together in front of her, raised her skirt to her waist and shoved his trousers down below his hips. Nor did she see or hear the man who slipped silently through the tent’s opening and tore Bailey off of her seconds before he thrust himself inside her.

“What! You!” Bailey gasped, eyeing the rifle pointed at him with misgiving. “What are you doing here?”

“The government is on to you, Bailey,” the man hissed. “I can’t let you be taken alive and spill your guts about me. I don’t trust you.”

“No, I swear—”

The man pulled the trigger. Bailey spun around, dead before he hit the ground. The killer then turned his sights on Shannon, who was just beginning to regain her senses. He was astute enough to realize that he couldn’t allow her to live and tell the authorities about him. Even though she didn’t know his identity, it would only be a matter of time before she figured it out. But before he could squeeze the trigger, Blade threw open the flap of the tipi. Bailey’s killer dove for the back of the tent, scooting beneath the buffalo hide and into the open just as Blade burst inside.

Adjusting his eyes to the dimness, Blade spied Clive Bailey sprawled on the ground. His trousers were shoved down past his hips and it took little imagination to realize what he had been doing. A large hole punctured Bailey’s chest, and he was apparently dead. Then Blade’s eyes fell on Shannon. Quickly he knelt beside her, his face a mask of agony as he flipped her skirt down over her legs. Shannon moaned, thick layers of cotton slowly peeling away from her fuzzy brain.

“Shannon! Little Firebird, please be all right.” He gathered her in his arms, rocking her back and forth as he crooned in her ear. “If Bailey wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him all over again.”

Shannon’s dream was so delicious, she resisted opening her eyes. Strong, tender arms held her—Blade’s arms. She smelled his special scent, inhaled his clean, woodsy aroma. She heard his voice—low, vibrant, tender, coaxing. Never had a dream seemed so real. When he brushed her lips with his, Shannon knew she wasn’t dreaming.

Her eyes fluttered open. “Blade? I—I thought I was dreaming. Is it really you?”

“It is me, Little Firebird.”

“How is it you always arrive in time? How did you know where to find me?”

“I met the search party on my way to the fort,” Blade explained. “Major Vance told me everything. We both suspected Bailey immediately. Fortunately I picked up his tracks and followed them here to Mad Wolfs camp.”

“Clive Bailey intended to sell me to Mad Wolf,” Shannon revealed.

“Why? What did you do to arouse his suspicion? I could have sworn he had no idea we were on to him.”

“Is everything all right in here?” Major Vance entered the tipi, paused a moment before Bailey’s body, then said, “Did you kill Bailey, Blade?”

“No,” Blade replied. “I wish to God I had been the one.

“Perhaps Shannon—”

“Bailey is dead?” Shannon said, shocked. She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture and only then did Blade realize she was bound.

“The bastard,” he ground out, making short work of the ropes. “Shannon couldn’t have shot Bailey, she was unconscious and bound when I arrived. But I’m almost positive there was someone else inside the tipi. He crawled out the back beneath the buffalo hide just as I burst inside.”

“Who was it?” Vance asked sharply.

“Damned if I know,” Blade shrugged, helping Shannon to her feet. He was more concerned about Shannon than he was with Clive Bailey. “Are you hurt, Shannon? Did they …”

“I’m fine, Blade,” Shannon assured him somewhat shakily. “Except for the lump on my head. Whoever killed Bailey arrived in time to—to stop him from hurting me. Do you have any idea who it could have been?”

“I haven’t a clue.”

“If one of my men is responsible for Bailey’s death, I’ll find out soon enough,” Vance said. “The fighting is over and things are well in hand. A few of the renegades survived, and I’m taking them back to the fort. I’ve already set men to digging graves.”

“Mad Wolf?” Blade asked, his voice tense.

“Dead,” Vance replied. “Killed him myself. Bring Shannon out when she is ready.” He turned to leave.

Suddenly Shannon thought of something. “Major, wait! There is something you and Blade should know.”

“You don’t have to talk about it now, Shannon,” Vance said gently. No one could ever doubt Shannon’s courage.

“I have to tell you now,” Shannon insisted, quietly determined. Both men regarded her with keen attention. “Clive Bailey had a partner.”

“We know,” Vance smiled indulgently. “That big Swede who was killed by Mad Wolf.”

“No, someone else.”

Now she really had both men’s undivided attention. “My God, Shannon, who?” This from Blade who appeared stunned by her disclosure.

“I never saw his face,” Shannon told him, “nor did I recognize his voice. He disguised it. But believe me, there is another man. I wouldn’t be in this predicament if I hadn’t learned of it by accident.”

“Tell me about it,” Vance said earnestly.

Taking a deep breath, Shannon told them everything, exactly as she remembered it.

“Damnation, that man could be with us now, a part of the patrol. It certainly would explain Bailey’s mysterious death,” Vance surmised. “The man probably thought Bailey would talk in order to save his own skin and made short work of him.”

“Jesus, he could have killed Shannon!” Blade exploded. Raw fear contorted his features.

“Sir, the men have buried the dead and await your orders.”

Lieutenant Goodman stuck his head through the tent flap, spied Shannon, and came the rest of the way inside. “Is Miss Branigan all right?”

Blade’s dark eyes blazed with hatred when he saw Lieutenant Goodman. If not for that bloodthirsty Indian-hater, his sweet mother would still be alive and his grandfather in good health. But wisely he realized this was not the best time to confront the slimy bastard. As sure as he breathed, Blade knew that one day Goodman would pay for his evil deeds.

“Miss Branigan is fine, Lieutenant. We’re almost ready to leave. There is another body to bury.” He motioned to Clive Bailey. “See to it.”

Goodman looked with distaste at Bailey’s stiffening body. “He got exactly what he deserved.” Then grasping him by the heels he dragged him from the tipi. Major Vance followed him out.

“Can you ride, Little Firebird?” Blade asked, concern coloring his words. Shannon looked shaken and pale and on the verge of collapse.

“Do we have to leave tonight, Blade? I’m exhausted.”

“I’m fairly certain Wade will make camp tonight before returning to the fort tomorrow. The men have been riding hard all day. Wait here while I find out his plans.”

A short time later Blade returned. “Wade ordered the patrol to camp a mile or two down the trail. I told him you were too exhausted to travel and that we’d stay in Mad Wolf’s lodge tonight. We’ll catch up with the patrol in the morning.”

“What will the men think, you and me alone here?”

“We won’t be alone,” Blade smiled. “Wade put Goodman in charge of the patrol and told the men he will remain behind to protect you. No one need ever know we will be sharing the tipi.”

“But won’t Major Vance think—”

“Wade knows how I feel about you, but if you’d feel more comfortable alone …”

“No, I want you with me tonight!” Shannon cried. She never wanted to be without Blade again. “I love you, I don’t care what anyone thinks. I need you, Blade, don’t leave me alone.”

“Never again, love. I’ll always be with you.”

Chapter Sixteen

A
fter a hastily prepared meal, Shannon sat beside the
campfire with Blade and Major Vance discussing Clive Bailey and speculating on the identity of his partner. Vance revealed that none of the men in the patrol had admitted to entering the tipi and killing Bailey, a clear indication that Bailey’s unknown partner was running scared and had killed Bailey in order to silence him.

Once they had exhausted the subject, Vance tactfully excused himself and disappeared into another tipi a short distance away. Blade took Shannon’s hand and led her inside Mad Wolf’s lodge. Earlier he had built a fire to keep them warm and laid down a thick mat of buffalo robes for their bed.

Inside the tipi, firelight eased the dark shadows, dispelling the gloom and distasteful memories. With Blade beside her, the tipi seemed almost cozy now, its welcoming warmth and Blade’s presence suffusing her with a rosy glow. Shannon knew Blade was going to make love to her tonight, and God knew she wanted it, yet an unexpected shyness brought a rosy flush to her cheeks.

“Little Firebird, you look exhausted. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. I should leave you to your rest.”

Her porcelain paleness, the violet circles around her eyes, and her fragile beauty caused Blade to have second thoughts about his plans for the night. He cursed himself for being a selfish bastard and thinking only of personal gratification at a time when Shannon needed his loving the least. Whenever he was near Shannon he could think of nothing but how much he loved her, how desperately he wanted and needed her. It had been so long—too damn long.

Suddenly Shannon found her tongue. “No, don’t leave, I can’t bear to be alone tonight! I want you, Blade, I want you to make love to me.”

“Oh my sweet, sweet love. I want to make love to you, more than anything in the world. If you’re sure …”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

With shaking hands she reached out and pushed the jacket from his shoulders. It was all the invitation Blade needed as he pulled her into his arms. His kiss was slow and gentle, his mouth softly yielding yet demanding as his tongue slipped between her parted lips and his hands slid along her spine to cup her buttocks. He kissed her and kissed her again, covered her face with kisses, her throat, the hollow between her breasts. Through the fabric of their clothing his hard, probing strength pressed against her as his mouth continued to search hers with desperate urgency.

“Help me,” Blade groaned as his strong hands fumbled with the buttons on Shannon’s bodice. “I want you naked beneath me, responding to my touch. Your passion drives me wild.”

In response to his plea, Shannon began tearing at her clothes, as eager for their mating as Blade. When her last garment fell away, they attacked Blade’s clothes with furious haste until he was as gloriously naked as Shannon. Dark, powerful chest; corded ribs; strong, muscular arms; long, sturdy legs—she had nearly forgotten what a magnificent specimen of virile masculinity Blade was. Her appreciative gaze was riveted to that splendid symbol of sexuality springing from the black thatch between his legs. Unconsciously Shannon licked her lips, overwhelmed by the living, breathing statue of flesh and blood perfection standing before her and the glorious ecstasy he was capable of giving her.

Blade flushed with pleasure, happy to know he pleased Shannon so well. He certainly was well satisfied with her. She was a vision of beauty and perfection, wonderfully proportioned and masterfully painted in hues of ivory and rose.

Shannon’s expressive blue eyes devouring his body caused Blade to swell with pride. He felt invincible, embued with an enormous need to give Shannon more rapture than she’d ever known before. Almost reverently, he touched her right breast with one hand, toying with her tautening nipple while his other hand slid down her flat belly to cup the rich chestnut vee between her legs.

“Blade,” Shannon gasped. She was stunned by the heat exploding through her body at his intimate touch. Clinging to him, she began to tremble.

“I know, Little Firebird, I feel the same things you’re feeling.”

When his long, skilled finger invaded her wet warmth, Shannon’s legs buckled and Blade swept her into his arms, sitting down on the mat and placing her on his lap. He kissed her breasts until they were pink and tingling; sucked and licked her nipples till they grew pebble hard and achingly distended. Immersed in erotic pleasure, his skilled hands worked magic on her heated flesh, arousing her, thrilling her.

“Ride me, love,” Blade whispered, stretching out on his back, putting his hands to her waist and lifting her astride him.

He urged her up to a kneeling position, then slowly, carefully, brought her back down on his straining erection. Shannon’s body quivered with pleasure as she gripped his ribs, pushed down hard and settled herself on his engorged flesh, taking all of him inside her.

“Damn, you feel good,” Blade moaned in sublime rapture. “So warm—so tight!”