“I don’t have to catch your prisoners for you, nor hold them neither,” Middleton said shortly. “Do your own dirty work! You want him? Go catch him! But don’t expect any help from me. Everyone knows you’re as crazy as a loon and out to get your grubby hands on Adam’s bride. If it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t bother making up such ridiculous charges and farfetched tales about someone we’ve known and respected for more than twenty years.”
Wynkoop’s eyebrows went up at this. “You say Adam Savage has lived here all these years?”
“Yep, and the whole town knows he ain’t no Indian.”
“Suellen Haverick says differently, and so do I,” Jeffrey insisted furiously.
“Suellen Haverick is as crazy as you are,” Melissa put in.
“I’m going after them! I’m going to catch them and prove that you are wrong; and you, Major Wynkoop, are coming with me!” Jeffrey bellowed.
Dawn filtered like a grey mist through the trees as Wildcat and Panther wended their way deeper into the foothills. It was good to be in the mountains once more; good to breathe the pure, pine-scented air.
Mark slept peacefully in his cradleboard, suspended from the pommel of Tanya’s saddle, while Hunter rode before his father.
It had been a long ride, though they had traveled as swiftly as possible in the dark. Tanya swore Panther had the eyesight of his namesake as he brought them safely through the night, Kit loping happily alongside.
They made a short stop for a cold breakfast and to change into more suitable clothing, and were quickly on their way again. Now Tanya wore her beloved doeskin dress, headband and moccasins. The boys and Panther wore only breechcloths and moccasins. Tanya’s hair had at last reached a proper length for decent braids, and although Panther now looked more familiar in his headband and feathers, she missed his long, dark braids. If it weren’t for the fact that Jeffrey and his band were surely somewhere on the backtrail, she would have been completely content at that moment.
They traveled all day with barely a stop to water the horses, heading steadily into the mountains. Shortly after dark, they had to rest. The horses were ready to drop, Mark was wriggling in his restraining cradle- board, and Hunter was drooping wearily in Panther’s arms. Tanya, unused to such vigorous activity after many months in Pueblo, was a mass of aching muscles, especially those surrounding her weary posterior.
Panther laughed as he watched her slide awkwardly from Wheat’s back. “You’ll be stiff and sore tomorrow,” he predicted.
“I already am,” she answered with a grimace.
The night’s sleep seemed much too short, and long before dawn, they were on their way again. “Why are we headed into the mountains, husband?” Tanya asked, already reverting comfortably to the Cheyenne language. “Is the tribe not already following the buffalo on the plains?”
“Yes.” His dark eyes roved over her appreciatively, delighted that she was his Little Wildcat once again. “But we dare not lead those who follow to our village. When we have lost them in the mountains, we will turn our feet toward the plains.” The Cheyenne words flowed easily from his tongue, and Tanya rejoiced to hear them intoned in his deep, rich voice.
Tired as they were, Tanya hated having to camp the second evening. Some sixth sense told her that Jeffrey was closing in. She could practically feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. Panther must have sensed it too, for once again he ordered no fire be built for cooking. Had it been only Tanya and Panther, they could have easily outdistanced their pursuers, but with their sons along, traveling was slower. The pace was necessarily easier, and the numerous stops took precious time they could ill afford.
They were preparing to depart their camp on the third morning. Tanya was loading the last of their belongings behind her saddle when her ears suddenly picked up the sounds of fast-moving horses closing in.
Her frightened gaze swung swiftly to Panther.
His eyes were searching the rocky terrain, seeking shelter for his family. Pointing to a collection of huge boulders near the edge of their camp, he instructed, “There! That is the best spot.”
Before his words were finished, Tanya had Mark in her arms and her weapons collected, and was headed in the direction he had pointed out. Panther, too, made sure his weapons were at hand. Scooping Hunter off the ground, he slapped each horse on the rump, sending them trotting into the trees. Then he followed Tanya.
Shots rang out, ricocheting sharply off the rocks as Panther made a final leap for cover. He drew his pistol and fired, letting his enemies know he was as well armed as they and prepared to defend his family. At least they would be wary of approaching too closely too soon.
Jeffrey’s insanely triumphant laughter bounced up to them. “We have you trapped, Savage. Give up!”
Panther disdained to answer this taunt. He barely glanced at Tanya as she informed him in a tight whisper, “Major Wynkoop is with them.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw her nock an arrow into her bow. Peering around the edge of a boulder, he counted eight men, including Jeffrey and Wynkoop. They were all on the far side of the small clearing, concealing themselves behind rocks and trees.
“Send Tanya to me, and we’ll let you and your sons go free,” Jeffrey called out.
“Does he honestly think we’ll believe that?” Tanya muttered.
“I’ll kill her myself before I turn her over to you,” Panther shouted back in English.
He barely heard Jeffrey’s snort of disbelief and Wynkoop’s low warning. “If he truly is a Cheyenne, he will kill her first,” the major advised. “It is their way.”
“Come to me, Tanya,” Jeffrey shouted. “I’ll protect you.”
“Go to hell!” she yelled in reply.
Panther shot her a humorous look completely at odds with the gravity of the situation. She returned his look with a grin and a saucy wink.
Enraged and embarrassed that she would taunt him before his men, Jeffrey lost all control over his temper, and with it his better judgment. He galloped his gelding into the clearing, charging for the rocks where Tanya and Panther were hiding.
He had reached the edge of the lower boulders, and Panther’s finger was tightening on the trigger, when Jeffrey’s horse suddenly shied. Its ears laid back, and its eyes rolling white with fright, the gelding reared up on its hind legs. Totally unprepared for this, Jeffrey made a mad grab for the pommel and missed. His feet failed to find the stirrups they’d slipped from. With a strangled cry, he tumbled to the ground.
Tanya could hear the snap of bone from where she sat. Peeking between the boulders, she saw the twisted angle of one leg, firmly wedged in the rocks. Her mouth flew open in surprise as she heard almost simultaneously the angry hiss and ominous rattling of several rattlesnakes. Jeffrey’s horse had bolted with good reason, and in the process had thrown him into a nest of rattlers!
Jeffrey’s screams of fright and agony had nothing to do with his broken leg. Between shrieks of pain came pleas for help. “Help me! Help me! Oh, God! Someone get them off me!”
For anyone else, Tanya would have felt pity, but the thought pounding in her brain as she watched Jeffrey flail at the writhing snakes was that it was a fitting ending for him. He had the slithering disposition of a viper, and for months she had endured his particular brand of venom, one almost equal to that of the snakes. It seemed poetic justice that he would enter the portals of Hell with the lethal poison of the rattlesnakes mingling with his own tainted blood.
Within seconds, Jeffrey had succumbed to unconsciousness. Even as Major Wynkoop, next highest in rank, stepped into the open, a white flag of truce tied to a stick, it was too late to save him.
“Let us help him!” he called as he came forward.
“He is beyond help, but you are welcome to his body,” Panther answered.
Several others came forward when it was clear that Panther did not intend to shoot. One young cavalryman, obviously newly arrived from the East, took one look and promptly vomited. In order to retrieve Jeffrey’s body, it was necessary to first eliminate the snakes. A volley of shots rang out, reverberating off the hills and echoing back to double the deafening din.
As they carried the body away, Panther positioned himself atop a large boulder, boldly displaying himself. Tanya climbed up to stand beside him. Together they stood, proudly facing the enemy.
The soldiers stood staring at them, wondering at the arrogant warrior and his defiant tawny-haired wife with the strange golden eyes. Major Wynkoop broke the silence. “We’ll leave you in peace, to go on your way,” he said calmly, meeting Panther’s gaze squarely.
Panther nodded wordlessly, and the major went on, “We will return to town and bear witness to the fact that Lieutenant Young was out of his mind and that you were in no way responsible for his death. I personally will testify that I have seen the man, Adam Savage, and that he cannot be A-Panther-Stalks.”
“But, Major,” one young soldier interrupted, “how can you say that when the man stands before you dressed as an Indian?”
Wynkoop’s searing gaze lanced through the speaker. “I have met A-Panther-Stalks,” he stated loudly. “I have sat in his tipi and eaten of his food. I have seen his wife and she has dark hair. I have held his son, and he is not white. Even if this man were A-Panther-Stalks, no charges have been filed, and we have no authority to arrest him. Lieutenant Young had no valid reason for chasing him, other than his insane lust for another man’s wife. He acted solely on the accusations of a vindictive woman, who obviously lied to cause another woman pain. I have it on good faith from the sheriff and Judge Kerr that Adam Savage is a respected citizen of Pueblo who has lived there all his life. Do we accept the word of one scorned woman and a demented man over that of an entire town?”
“No, but …”the soldier began again.
Wynkoop interjected angrily, pointing to Adam and Tanya, “It is not a crime to dress in buckskin, damn it! Neither is it a crime to prefer life as an Indian! I say this is
not
A-Panther-Stalks, and I am the one who should know! Now, I repeat, we will leave this family to go their way in peace.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do I hear any objections?” Wynkoop pressed.
The men exchanged glances among themselves. “No, sir!” they all answered.
Then one soldier ventured a further opinion. “We all know Lieutenant Young was crazy. We all saw how he hounded the young lady here. Some of us were even in his troop last February when he chased after her when she tried to go back to the Indians, and he tried to — er — attack her person.” He glanced shame-faced at Tanya. “I’m real sorry, ma’am, for all the trouble he put you through, and for being any part of it. All of us,” his gesture included his fellow soldiers, “were just following orders.” The others nodded in agreement.
Tanya accepted the apology. As she went to round up their horses, Wynkoop and Panther had a private word together.
“Why do you say I cannot be A-Panther-Stalks?” Panther asked in Cheyenne.
Wynkoop chuckled, his eyes twinkling merrily. “Why, everyone who’s met him knows that A-Panther-Stalks has long black braids. I can’t honestly say I’d recognize him without them.”
Panther returned Wynkoop’s grin and offered his hand. “Farewell, friend.”
“Farewell.”
The soldiers rode off, taking Jeffrey’s body with them, and Panther and Tanya mounted their horses with their sons.
Tanya, her face aglow with love, her golden eyes glistening with joyous tears, held her husband’s dark gaze. “Let us go home, Panther, my husband,” she said softly.
“Yes.” His own dark features mirrored the emotion of hers, his heart speaking more clearly than his words. “Let us go home, to where the Wildcat runs free and A Panther Stalks the land.”