Wild Splendor

“Slow down, Maverick,” Harold said, placing a firm hand on the man’s thick shoulder. “I’m as anxious to hear what happened as you are to tell it. Now start in again. Say it slow and easy like. Tell me who ambushed the stagecoach.”

Lieutenant Nelson, one of the soldiers who had been tied to the wagon wheel and who had been rescued by some soldiers who had just happened along and found the ambushed stagecoach, told everything—how it had happened from beginning to end.

Harold jerked his hand away and threw his hands into the air in a frenzy. “Sage?” he shouted. “I knew he was nothing but a savage. Damn him. Damn him to hell and back.”

“I’m not sure it can all be blamed on Sage,” Lieutenant Nelson, who was one of the soldiers sympathetic with the plight of the Navaho, said. “One of our soldiers shot first. Who’s to say why Sage was approaching the stagecoach? Perhaps it was just another attempt at peace talks with us.”

“Several men are wounded, aren’t they?” Harold shouted, leaning his face close to Lieutenant Nelson’s. “Others are wounded, aren’t they? That’s all I need to know about what the Navaho chief’s intentions were. We’re trying to find him and string him up to the tallest tree we can find. Let his people view him and see what it means to go against the United States cavalry.”

Nervously running his fingers through his thick head of red hair, the lieutenant’s eyes wavered as he broke the further news to Harold, the news that would really throw him into a frenzy. “Are you aware, sir, that your fiancée was on that stagecoach with the other women?” he said guardedly. He had heard through the grapevine before the departure of the stagecoach that Leonida was to be the only woman not to go and why.

“What . . . ?” Harold said, grabbing the corner of the desk to steady himself.

“Leonida apparently boarded the stagecoach just before it left,” Lieutenant Nelson said even more guardedly. “Sir, she’s among those that Sage and his warriors have taken captive.”

Harold slumped into his chair and held his head in his hands. “Lord, this gets worse by the minute,” he said somberly. “Leonida. My Leonida. She’s being held captive? That damn savage renegade. Wait until I get my hands on him. He won’t get away with this. He probably ambushed the stagecoach just to get Leonida.”

“But, sir, you act surprised that she’s gone,” Lieutenant Nelson said, raising an eyebrow. “Sir, she’s been gone for two days now. Didn’t you even know it?”

“I thought she was in her room, pouting,” Harold grumbled, his face reddening as he looked slowly up at the lieutenant. “I figured that she’d heard that the other women and children had left and . . . and was being stubborn about confronting me about it. I guess I was wrong.”

“I’d say so, sir,” Lieutenant Nelson said, grinning nervously down at the general.

Harold bolted from his chair. “Well, don’t just stand there,” he shouted. “Gather together as many men as you can and get out there searching for Sage and his captives. Don’t come back until you have some word as to their whereabouts.”

Kit Carson ambled into the office, his shoulders slouched. He sank into a chair. “It’s a waste of time to send anyone after Sage,” he said, his voice flat. “He’s had enough time to get into the mountains, too close to his stronghold now for anyone to find them. We’ve got to wait and see what his next move is.”

“But Leonida . . . ?” Harold whined. “She’s with them.”

Kit Carson nodded. “Yeah, I know,” he mumbled.

Harold turned on his heel, stomped to the window, and looked at the mountains in the distance. In the dusk they were streaked with opaque purple shadows. Leonida was in those shadows somewhere with Sage. The knowledge tore at his heart.

“Go after them, anyhow,” Harold blurted as he sent a determined glare Kit Carson’s way. “No matter how long it takes, find Sage.”

He paused, then hissed, “And damn it, let’s have no more pussyfooting around. Kill the bastard.”

Chapter 10

Why so pale and wan, fond lover?

Pr’y thee, why so pale?

—SIR JOHN SUCKLING

A gentle hand on her cheek awakened Leonida. She blinked her eyes open, realizing that she had slept the entire night through. It was early dawn, and soft gr

ays were buried in the cliffs. The walls of the canyon loomed soft with wells of coolness. The world seemed a secret place, one of peace.

Sage bent down low so Leonida could see him, and she quickly drew her blanket more snugly to her chin. Glancing around, she realized that she and Sage were the only ones awake. She could not help but fear what he might be wanting of her before the others awakened . . .

“Come,” Sage said, taking the blanket from her. “It is time to bathe. We will bathe together.”

Her face hot with blush, Leonida jerked the blanket away from him and covered herself with it again. “We most certainly will not,” she said in a harsh whisper.

Sage sighed heavily and stared at her, then in one motion swept her and her blanket into his arms and carried her away from the campsite, toward a shining stream a short distance away.

Leonida kicked and squirmed and pounded his chest with her fists. “Let me down,” she said, trying to keep her voice from awakening the others. “I absolutely refuse to take a bath with you. Why would you even expect me to?”