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Julio Kordes turned on his heel and stalked away as the bargaining came to an end. I had been bought, it appeared, for a new Henry rifle and several rounds of ammunition.
Seventeen
At the time it happened, I understood very little of what was actually going on. I guessed, but was certain only when I saw the rifle change hands. Lucas Cord looked at me, and it was hard to read what was in his mind. The strange, greenish flickers in his eyes seemed intensified in the leaping firelight.
Strangely, he spoke to me in Spanish, his tone curt. “Ven aqui.”
I supposed, clenching my jaws against my growing anger, that he wanted to make sure everyone knew I was now his property. Just as if I was a slave—a piece of merchandise to be bought and sold!
I hesitated, feeling Jewel clutch at me despairingly.
“What about her? She’s a white woman. You’re not going t
o leave her to them?”
“You forgotten I’m one of them too?” There was a cruel, note underlying his words. He took one step forward and, seizing the length of rope attached to my bound wrists, yanked me forward so that I stumbled against him.
I had no choice but to go with him, even though I could hear Jewel begin to sob hysterically behind me.
“You can’t just leave her! Don’t you have any decent feelings at all?” I even forced myself to plead. “Please!”
“She ain’t none of my business.”
He was taking such long, angry strides that I found myself panting as I tried to keep up with him.
I tried to pull back and found myself stumbling again. “You have to do something for her! Even if you don’t care for the fact that she’s a white woman, she is a woman! What will happen to her?”
“Now you listen here, and listen good, because I ain’t goin’ to say this again!” He stopped so suddenly that I fell against him and felt his arm go unwillingly around my waist. He was angry for some reason, the husky voice I remembered deliberately controlled.
“You listen…” he said again, and I had the impression he spoke between his teeth. “This ain’t the SD and you ain’t the lady boss. So don’t go givin’ me any more orders. You know what’s good for you, you’ll take mine, and no back talk either. Where in hell do you think you are?” He was so angry that he actually shook me. “Back someplace where all you have to do is tell ’em you’re Todd Shannon’s woman an’ they start bowing?”
“When Todd finds out where I am he’ll have every single Apache in this territory smoked out of hiding!” I was now as angry as he was, but my anger only seemed to provide him with a bitter amusement.
“An’ how would Shannon, or anyone else, know where you are? My friends don’t leave tracks like white men would. For all he’d know you might be dead already, an’ buried where nobody would ever find you. Or sold down in Mexico, where a pretty white woman could fetch as much as fifty pesos.”
The significance of his last words made the color drain from my face. Was that why the Indians had troubled to bring us all this way with them? Was that what that other man had meant when he talked of having more than silver to trade for?
A horrifying thought struck me, making me stumble forward in silence when Lucas Cord, his face set, began tugging me along with him again. He was a comanchero. Why had he taken the trouble to buy me?
We were going away from the firelight, toward the trees and an even worse thought had entered my mind. Instinctively I attempted to pull away from him, and my sudden movement took him by surprise. He had been holding onto my arm, and as I twisted away from him I heard my sleeve tear. I turned to run and tripped over a root instead. I felt myself fall and could do nothing to save myself.
It was the culmination of everything that had happened to me since that long-ago morning when I had so lightheartedly left my home, determined to go riding alone. I lay there, feeling the aching in every bone in my body, and for the first time in my life that I could remember I gave way to tears.
Once I had started, I could not stop. I felt rather than saw him bend over me, his hand rough on my shoulder.
I could not move. I felt that I would never move again.
“For God’s sake, what in hell’s the matter with you now?” His voice was impatient, even angry. “Come on!” Catching me by the upper arms he hauled me unfeelingly to my feet, and immediately, feeling the stabbing pain that shot up from my ankle, I gave a cry of sheer frustration.
He swore—softly, crudely. I felt myself picked up in his arms and carried along, helpless to prevent it.
He had erected a rough shelter of brush and hides, a little more than a lean-to with some blankets spread under it. Apparently, Lucas Cord and his comanchero friend had been sharing the scarcely adequate space, and using their saddles for pillows.
I found myself set down to lie across the blankets, none too gently.
“If you hadn’t pulled such a damn fool trick,” he muttered, hunkering down on his heels by me. “How far did you expect to get, anyhow?”
With a swiftly impersonal movement he pushed the hem of my gown upward, and began to loosen the moccasin on my left foot.
