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Sam rode the horse through the dense forest, fighting to keep protruding branches from slapping against him. The animal beneath him seemed oblivious to the scraping and clawing of the late autumn branches. Without doubt the harsh landscape was as familiar to the animal as was breathing and eating.
The logging camp had only been able to sacrifice the one horse. Sam would have preferred two, but would take what he could get.
The smell of something cooking reached his nostrils. Or rather the smell of a bonfire. But even that didn’t seem right. It had a funny smell to it. Reminded him of a time when he burned out a group of outlaws from a shack they were holding up in.
In a flash, Sam’s chest dropped to his stomach.
“Hyah!” He kicked the animal hard and tore through the forest, mindless of the branches slicing across his face.
The burning smell grew heavier as he neared the village and panic grew like a huge lump in Sam’s chest. Along with another feeling he wasn’t sure he was ready yet to recognize.
He broke through the clearing where the village sat in the middle of the bush and pulled his horse to a stop in utter horror. The church was on fire.
Giving the animal a harsh kick he sped toward the building at a thundering pace. As he reached the building, he didn’t even wait for the animal to stop as he jumped off its back and flew up the stairs and into the burning building. Heedless of the fiery flames, he threw an arm over his mouth and ducked his head before running inside. He headed straight for the pew where he had left Ivy.
For this one time, he hoped she had indeed escaped and was nowhere near the church. Reaching the empty pew, he released a sigh of relief at the unoccupied cuffs sitting on the floor. Snatching them up, he turned and ran back outside. There was no sign of life. Not a sole was around. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out her name.
Nothing.
He ran over to the shop and came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the shopkeeper lying in a pool of his own blood. Hell, his instincts had been right. Questions rolled through his head, but he brushed them aside. He needed to find Ivy.
Running back outside, he called her name again. There were a few more buildings further down, so he headed in that direction. Nothing. They sat empty. That feeling he had not wanted to recognize earlier, screamed at him now, demanding to be acknowledged. A huge lump grew in his throat.
Where the hell was she?
His thoughts immediately went to the Indians. He didn’t doubt they had something to do with this. Proof was the burning of the church. A symbol of their renouncement of the white man’s way. Refusal to be forced into their beliefs. Indians had a bad reputation. Born from their past behaviors. But most were a congenial lot. At least the on
es he ever came across. But they were, after all, only human. Pushed too far, they would eventually push back. Particularly if deprived of the necessities of life. At one time, Indians had hunted for their own food. But with the settlement of the white man and the opportunity for trade, Indians became more dependent on store-bought food. Hunting was relegated to killing animals for pelts instead of food.
A loud screeching sound from the church drew his attention. The steeple’s timber crumbled and came crashing down upon itself to the earth below. Though to Sam’s ears, it sounded like a female’s high-pitched cry. He frowned and headed back toward the church.
He watched the fire burn angrily from one of its windows, the flames mimicking that of a woman’s arms reaching out and begging for mercy. Not sure what made him, but he headed back inside. A large burning post lay across his path. It leaned at an unusual angle, pointing toward the altar. Flames had entirely consumed a huge cross high above the pulpit.
Sam pushed the post aside and advanced forward, coughing as he went. Covering his mouth with his arm, he dropped his face to protect it from the heat of the fire. That was when his eyes fell upon the trap door. He ran towards it and ripped it open. Peering down into the darkness, he could not make out anything. The smoke was growing too thick and he knew he should really get the hell out of there, but he found his legs taking him down the small flight of stairs.
The smoke and flames had not yet penetrated the heavy trap door. He was able to breathe better in the damp cellar. He blinked hard, trying to adjust to the dim lighting.
“Ivy?”
Nothing. Then the smallest noise behind him. He turned just as something came hurtling toward him. His instinct was to leap out of the way, but wasn’t fast enough. It hit him square in the chest.
Something soft and womanly.
Copper curls tickled under his chin as she pressed her body against him, clinging desperately. A surge of utter relief flooded Sam. His arms came up and fastened on her body. So relieved to feel her in his arms. Alive.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, but when she looked up, there were tear stains down her cheeks. Sweat covered the rest of her face from the inferno just above their heads. Even if the flames had never reached her, she would have surely been cooked alive if Sam had not found her.
His throat closed at this last thought, causing him to near choke out his next words. “How’s your foot?”
“F-fine.”
She lied, he could tell. Grimacing, he pulled his coat off and dropped it over her head. Then he swung her up into his arms and headed back out of the cellar. When the hell would she ever begin to tell him the truth?
Chapter 10
