Authors: Joan Johnston
The Mier prisoners silently ran for their lives, hell-bent on reaching the horses Creed and Long Quiet had brought. When one of the sick ones faltered, Long Quiet hefted him over his shoulder and kept moving. Luke did the same with another man, and Chester—huge, irascible Chester—did the same with a third.
Creed was waiting for them and assisted those who needed help in getting mounted. It seemed they would escape undetected when Sammy’s bare foot slipped completely through the stirrup as he tried to mount. His startled horse bolted, dragging a yowling Sammy through the rocks and cactus after him.
Sammy’s howls would have awakened the dead. They certainly roused the Mexican cavalry to action. While Long Quiet went after Sammy, Creed quickly distributed the Colt repeating revolvers he’d brought along, and the group of men the Mexican cavalry might moments before have broached like a stand of sagebrush, quickly became an impenetrable mass of spiny cactus.
“Bet that’s Old Guts hisself out there,” Chester shouted. “What say we get ’im, boys?”
Men who’d suffered cruelty and brutality for too long turned on their captors like avenging angels in the darkness.
“Here’s for the Republic!” one shouted.
“Black beans, hah!” another cried.
“Texas! Texas!” a third chanted, firing several shots into the dark.
As several of the Mexicans shrieked and fell from their horses under the onslaught of the Texans’ gunfire, their leader panicked. Somehow, the unarmed prisoners he’d been chasing had gotten hold of revolvers. He hadn’t forgotten the lessons of Mier. Put a gun in the hand of one of these Texas devils and he quickly sent a host of Mexican souls to heaven.
“Los Diablos Tejanos!”
he screamed.
“Retírense! Retírense!”
He urged them to retreat, yanking on the reins of his confused horse and spurring the animal away from the awesome firepower that had opened up on them. All around him men screamed in pain as the Texan guns spit bullets at them.
“Retírense!”
he cried again, using his saber to whip at the milling horses clustered in his path.
The Texans chased the Mexicans for nearly a mile, their bloodlust high, their need for revenge overwhelming. It was Luke Summers who finally called a halt to the carnage.
“Hold up there, Chester! Hey, Sammy, hold on. How about turning around and heading for home. Let’s get out of this godforsaken land,” he cried. “Let’s go home to Texas!”
Soon his cry was picked up by laughing Texans with tears streaming from their eyes. In voices hoarse with emotion, they shouted, “Home to Texas! Home to Texas!”
Luke was giddy with freedom, wide awake, his blood pumping in the aftermath of battle, and totally exhausted at the same time by the effort he’d exerted with a body withered by so many months of near starvation. “Who knows the way home?” he asked, his teeth glistening white in the light of the rising moon.
“Follow me,” Long Quiet said.
The tired prisoners were more than happy to give over control of their destiny to someone in authority. It was a long, grueling night, and Long Quiet listened with half an ear to Luke’s nearly constant tirade against the Texas government, which had abandoned the prisoners of Mier to their fate.
When the sun rose on the ragtag men who’d escaped, Long Quiet saw why Luke was so angry. The eight men who’d tunneled under the walls of Castle San Carlos were emaciated, their bodies barely covered by the pitiful rags that had once been clothing. Some bore scars from beatings. All had bare feet. If the changes Long Quiet saw in Luke were indicative, these men had lived through a year of hell.
Luke Summers had aged. The brooding eyes that had so enticed the ladies of San Antonio now reflected a burning fury as well as a bleak bitterness. The well-developed back, the whip-lashed shoulders, and the muscular thighs all bore witness to the heavy work he’d done, but the flesh had dwindled to a shadow of what had been there before. His hair had grown to shoulder length and was tangled and dirty. There was little left of the charming young Ranger who’d drawn women to his bed like a Texas marsh drew mallards.
Luke was still asking Creed pointed questions days later, when they crossed the Rio Grande.
“Is Sam Houston planning to do something to free the rest of those men in Perote?” he demanded.
“I’ve already explained what’s holding him back, Luke,” Creed answered placatingly.
“About a half dozen times,” Chester muttered under his breath.
Luke shot the man a quelling glance, and Creed continued, “Sam Houston doesn’t want to take a chance of antagonizing the Mexican government. The last thing he needs is a war with Mexico while he’s trying to negotiate annexation with the United States.”
“Well, I don’t like it,” Luke retorted. “There ought to be some way to free the Mier prisoners without a full-scale war. What the hell happened to diplomacy?”
“I’m afraid there are too few Texas diplomats, and the ones we have are busy talking to United States congressmen and senators,” Creed answered. He pulled his horse to a stop and turned to face the men who followed behind him. “This is it,” he said. “You’re on Texas soil now—at least what Texas claims is Texas soil,” he amended with a grin. “The horses and guns are yours to keep, with my compliments. I wish you luck and hope you find your families well.”
Creed soberly shook hands with the men he and Long Quiet had brought out of Mexico. They left in groups of two or three as they headed back to the stores, the small farms, and the lonely, hardworking wives they’d left behind nearly a year before.
“I’ll be leaving you here, too,” Luke said.
“Where are you planning to go?” Creed asked.
“Guess I’ll head back to San Antonio and see what Captain Hays has in mind for a long-absent Ranger,” Luke said. His brow furrowed in thought. “Maybe he’s got some sway with the Texas government. I sure as hell want to find somebody who does and give them a piece of my mind.”
“Why not talk with Hays and then come home with me?” Creed said. “I have a new daughter who’s going to be christened Jesse Elizabeth Creed as soon as I get to Three Oaks. Cricket asked me to invite you to come to this shindig, and I’m extending my own invitation as well.”
Long Quiet noticed that Luke’s whole body tensed and his gaze became shuttered at the mention of Cricket. Creed had told Long Quiet that from the instant they’d met, there had been some kind of unspoken communication between Luke and Cricket and he knew they’d eventually become close friends. But what if Luke turned his charm on Bay? Would she be equally susceptible to whatever it was that made Luke so popular with the ladies?
Long Quiet’s musing was interrupted when Luke smiled a heart-stopping grin and said “Sure, Creed. I’d love to come to your daughter’s christening.”
“Let’s get moving, then,” Creed said. “We’ve got some miles to cover yet.”
“I’ll ride with you for a while,” Long Quiet said.
Creed frowned. “What do you mean, for a while? I thought you were coming to the christening too. Cricket’s expecting you. Now that you’ve brought Bay home—”
“You found Bay?” Luke interrupted. “How is she? Is she all right? Where was she?”
“Whoa!” Creed said with a laugh. “Long Quiet found her in a
Quohadi
Comanche village and took her home. She’s just fine.”
Luke’s interest in Bay sent chills down Long Quiet’s spine. He eyed the other man suspiciously. “Why are you so interested in Bay?”
“Why, because she’s Cricket’s sister,” Luke said. “Cricket’s told me a lot about Bay. I feel as though I know her, even though I’ve never met her.”
Long Quiet pulled his pony to a stop, barring Luke’s path. “Leave her alone.”
“What did you say?” Luke’s eyes lit with challenge.
“I said leave her alone.”
“What right do you have to be telling me how to act with Bay Stewart?” Luke demanded.
The truth was, now that he’d released his claim on Bay, Long Quiet had no rights at all. But the thought of Luke Summers—or any man—touching Bay Stewart tied his gut in knots. “I care a lot for Bay,” Long Quiet said carefully. “I’d hate to see her get hurt.”
“Don’t worry,” Luke replied. “The last person I’d want to hurt is one of Rip Stewart’s daughters.”
In the days when it had looked like he’d die in Mexico, Luke had wished he’d confided his secret to someone—the truth about his relationship to Sloan and Bay and Cricket. It was true he and Cricket had become good friends, but even she didn’t know they had the same father. No one did, not even Rip himself. Luke would never do anything to hurt Bay. She was his half-sister. At the same time, Long Quiet’s interest in Bay seemed to Luke to be more than merely the concern of the man who’d found Bay among the Comanches.
“You spent a long time looking for Bay,” Luke said. “What was it like to finally find her?”
“Why does it matter to you, Luke?” Long Quiet asked, his eyes meeting those of the younger man.
“I wondered if maybe I should be protecting Bay from you.”
Long Quiet felt the fury rising inside him and knew it came from the frustration of having to keep his relationship with Bay a secret. It could only hurt her for the truth to come out. But he could tell the other man enough to make his feelings for Bay plain, and to make it plain what he’d do if the other man hurt Bay.
So he said, “I would have been proud to make Bay Stewart my wife. I’ve wanted her since the first time I saw her, when she was in school in Boston. But in those days I planned to return to
Comanchería
. I knew Bay wouldn’t be happy there, so I said nothing to her. Then she was stolen by Tall Bear. If I’d found her in those first days after her capture, I would have made her my wife and kept her with me in
Comanchería
. But it didn’t happen.
“When I found her at last, I . . . I planned to marry her, to take her to the village of my grandfather and raise Comanche sons.”
Creed pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Would Bay have agreed to that?”
Long Quiet smiled bitterly. “I wouldn’t have given her a choice. But she would have been happy,” he added. “None of that could happen, because she was accused by the Comanches of being a sorceress. I was damn lucky to get her out of
Comanchería
alive.”
“So,” Creed mused. “You love her. But she can’t live in
Comanchería
. . . and you won’t live in Texas.”
Hearing the situation stated like that made it seem simpler than Long Quiet believed it was. “You know my feelings about living in Texas,” he said in a voice that was steel gloved in velvet. “Am I supposed to reject everything I believe in for the sake of a woman?”
“I don’t know,” Creed said.
“Sounds to me like you just don’t love Bay enough to want to be with her,” Luke said. “Otherwise, where the two of you live wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.”
“Nobody asked you what you think,” Long Quiet retorted.
Luke cocked his head and eyed Long Quiet. Maybe a little jealousy would nudge him into changing his mind. In his opinion, Long Quiet would make a fine brother-in-law. “If you don’t want her, I’ll take her.”
“You lay one hand on her and I’ll—” Long Quiet clamped his jaws tight over the rest of his threat, chagrined that he’d allowed the young man to goad him into speaking.
Luke grinned. “Guess you might have feelings for her after all. But all the feelings in the world aren’t going to do you any good if you’re in
Comanchería
and she’s in Texas. If I know Rip Stewart, he’ll find some wealthy planter and marry her off. Sounds to me like you’re going to have to make a choice. You can live in
Comanchería
alone or you can live in Texas with Bay.”
Creed joined the conversation, plainly on Luke’s side. “You’ve been Walker Coburn before. Was it so terrible to be a white man?”
“You’re suggesting I play a role for the rest of my life?” Long Quiet demanded.
“It isn’t really a role, is it? It’s part of who you are. You’re half white—”
“And half Comanche! I’m not sure I can stand to live like a white man—staying in one place, living in a wooden house, raising the food I eat, bound by manners I have no use for, being friends with people who hate the people I love and have lived with my whole life. Do you realize what you’re asking of me?”
“The choice is yours,” Creed said. “Nobody can make you do anything. You can go back to
Comanchería
—”
“And lose Bay!” Long Quiet’s agonized cry reflected the extent of the mental torture that afflicted him.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” Creed soothed. “Come to the christening. Try out being Walker Coburn for a couple of days and see how it feels. Bay will probably enjoy seeing you again, won’t she?”