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“Evelyn,” he shouted, wanting her to know that he was coming for her. An arrow whirred through the air, narrowly missing his chest. Alex twisted to the left, raised his gun, and fired in the direction the arrow had come from. With a small sense of satisfaction, his target fell to the ground. Instantly, he bolted forward again to renew his pursuit. A loud war cry and the pounding of horse’s hooves behind him alerted him to another attack.
Alex spun around, his knife raised. He tossed his useless pistol to the ground, and yanked a tomahawk from his belt. A warrior on horseback charged at him. The Indian held his war club above his head with the obvious intent to strike him down. Rather than avoid the charge, Alex stood his ground. The Indian swung his arm back, and Alex lunged forward at the same time, blocking the warrior’s blow. His forward momentum pulled the Indian off of his horse’s back, and he landed with a loud thud in the dirt as his animal kept running.
Alex ran toward his opponent, and kicked the weapon from his hand. The Blackfoot pulled his knife and sprang to his feet. Alex leapt back, and widened his stance. He waited for the warrior to make the next move. Leaning forward, he gripped the knife in one hand, the tomahawk in the other. He cursed under his breath. He was losing precious time while the savage who carried Evie off was getting away.
His opponent bared his teeth, and lunged. Alex held his stance. Moments before the Indian reached him, a shot rang through the air and the warrior fell forward, and dropped to the ground. He didn’t move to get up. Blood ran freely from a bullet hole in his back. Alex’s head shot up to see Jasper grinning broadly. He tipped his fingers to his fur cap and raised his rifle.
Alex spun around. The warrior who carried Evie away was nowhere to be seen.
“We run ‘em off, Walker,” Jasper shouted. “They’s all hightailin’ it outta here like a buncha squaws. Damn Blackfoot.”
Alex raced toward camp. “Where the hell’s my rifle?” he shouted, his eyes darting frantically around camp.
Laurent rushed to him, tossing his rifle at him. “It is freshly loaded, mon amie, but I do not believe we will need it. Jasper and I killed four of them, and there were six more who thought it best to retreat.”
“They took Evelyn,” Alex called loudly. Blinding rage consumed him. He had to get her back. He would get her back. The warrior who had hit her was as good as dead.
“Mon dieu!” Laurent exclaimed.
No sooner had the Frenchman exclaimed his words, when a war cry resonated across the meadow. A lone Indian on his horse far across the creek raised his war lance high in the air. Alex recognized the man who took Evie, but something else looked familiar about him, even though his face was painted black with a broad white stripe below his eyes. Where the hell had the bastard taken her?
“You steal my horses, Shadow Walker, I take your woman,” the warrior hollered in his native tongue. He yanked on the reins and pulled his horse’s neck around, kicking it into a gallop, whooping loudly as he raced away.
Comprehension dawned on Alex as to why this warrior looked so familiar. He was the Blackfoot whose horses he took the night he stole back his own animals.
“Goddammit,” Alex cursed. The rider was too far away to shoot at. Without a second thought, he ran for where his horses stood tethered and hobbled. With one swift motion, he cut through the leather thongs that bound his saddle horse’s front legs together, and untied the bridle from the picket line. He swung up onto his mount’s bare back.
“Where are you going?” Laurent shouted, running at him, his eyes wide.
Alex circled his excited mount. The animal’s muscles bunched up underneath him while it pranced in place, as if sensing Alex’s urgency.
“To get my wife back,” Alex retorted between clenched teeth.
“Don’t be a fool. Wait for us to come with you,” Laurent implored frantically. “It is suicide to give chase by yourself.”
“They’ll kill her, and you know it. I don’t have time to waste.” Alex glared at Laurent, who had no response. He eased up on the reins and kneed his horse in the sides. The gelding sprang forward. Alex raced his mount toward the creek, and the animal plunged through the water, sending up jets of cold spray. He gave his horse its head and leaned low over its neck, racing in the direction the warrior had taken. His heart pounded fiercely in tune with his horse’s hoof beats. Visions of the terrified look in Evie’s eyes as the warrior slung her over his shoulder spurred him on.
The setting sun cast a golden glow in the western horizon, the last of the light disappearing quickly behind the mountains. It would be completely dark soon. Alex pressed his thighs against his gelding’s sides, urging the horse to go faster. If he lost the trail in the impending darkness, he’d never get Evie back alive. Clenching his jaw as the cool evening air whipped around his face, Alex was well aware of the fate a white captive encountered among the Blackfoot. No man had ever escaped with his life. The Blackfoot enjoyed toying with and slowly torturing their captives. What would they do to a white woman?
