In the dark before the dawn, when man's vitality is at its lowest ebb, death came for Evan. Unconscious and never knowing of the raging battle, he fought death to a standstill. With the dawn, the blackness in Evan's mind lifted and one by one, his senses flicked back to life.
His breath made a raspy sound in his throat, yet never had the air tasted more sweetly. He thought he might even be breathing a little with his damaged lung. Maybe, just maybe, the lung had pulled free from its unnatural adherence to the ribs. He felt himself drawing back from death and the gulf widening between living and dying.
He opened his eyes and found he still lay on the leaves beneath the oak tree. Light came in through netting stretched over an arch of limbs above him. That would be John's work.
He lifted a hand that felt immensely heavy and pushed the netting aside. The sunlight was at a low angle, and that told him he had lain under the tree all night. Not far away, John slept on a blanket with his head covered by netting. John came awake and sat up at the sound of Evan's movement. A big smile swept over John's face.
"By God, Captain, you made it," John said happily. He had always thought the captain was the kind of man who would fight to the last heartbeat.
"Would seem so. I can breathe better now than I could yesterday."
"Damn glad to hear that. I felt bad about running the wheel into that hole."
"Forget that. You might have done me a favor. Hand me a canteen. I'm awfully thirsty. I've lost a lot of blood and must have water to rebuild it."
"Do you want something to eat?" John asked. The captain looked like a skeleton man.
"Maybe later. What do you say to us resting here for a few hours?"
"Whatever you want, Captain—I mean Evan." John picked up a canteen and handed it to Evan. "We're both crippled up but we're alive. We'll get to El Paso when we get there."
* * *
Ben and Black Moon lay on the bluff and spied on the Comanche village of seventy tipis strung along a creek below them. Black Moon had led them to this location for this was the village of Black Moon's wife, the woman he had slain. Ben thought the man had returned to this particular place to take revenge upon the people for the unfaithfulness of his wife.
Through his spyglass, Ben surveyed the Comanche encampment. Downstream a quarter mile or so, half-grown boys watched over a herd of at least three hundred horses. Upstream from the village, in the flat ground between the creek and the foot of the bluff, was a thick stand of trees. In the afternoon of the sweltering July day, most of the people were lazing about and talking in the shade of several trees growing among the tipis. Five boys were laughing and playing in the creek. He saw no lookouts to call warning of an attack by enemies.
"Men coming from the north," Black Moon said.
Ben put his spyglass on the men. Six horsemen with twice as many packhorses were approaching the village.
"Hunters," Ben said. "They've got buffalo quarters hung on the pack animals."
The hunters crossed the creek and came into the center of the village. The women quickly gathered to share in the meat. Ben heard an argument begin between two women, apparently about the equality of the division. One of the men called out sharply and the women fell silent. In a surprisingly short time, the meat had been divided and carried away.
"The women will go for wood now to cook," Black Moon said. He nodded in the direction of the woods. "We can catch two of them there."
Ben looked at the Comanche and saw his eyes had the menacing look of an animal of prey. Did his eyes have the same expression?
"All right, let's go," Ben said.
They took up their rifles and crawled back from the lip of the bluff. Out of sight of the people below, they went parallel to the creek until opposite the woods. Finding a gully that would hide them when they crouched low, they descended to the woods and hid in a dense brush thicket.
"We take only the prettiest," Black Moon said. Ben nodded. He felt deep misgivings about what they planned. Could he really do it? Had he misled Black Moon, and now at the last minute must he back away from doing the deed?
"One comes, but she is ugly," Black Moon said. A squat, broad-faced woman was walking toward them, now and again stooping to pick up a dead limb that had fallen from the trees. She veered off around the thicket where the men hid, and was soon out of sight. A woman and two little girls of six or seven came into view. The woman was scolding the girls, telling them to stop chattering and gather wood. Other women, often with children, wandered past. Then the woods became empty.
None of the women were acceptable, and Ben was relieved. The decision of whether or not he would steal a girl didn't have to be made.
"Our luck has changed," Black Moon whispered in a pleased voice.
Two young women dressed in buckskin skirts and bright red blouses had come into view and were walking slowly toward the men. Both were very pretty and hardly more than girls. They were talking and laughing, and occasionally picking up a piece of wood as they ambled closer. They were much more interested in their conversation than in wood gathering.
Comanches did little trading with the whites, so Ben judged the red blouses meant the boyfriends or husbands of the women had been on a raiding party, either south to Mexico or north to one of the American settlements. The women who had owned the garments before, were they now dead?
"I want the one on the right," Black Moon said.
Ben said nothing. He wondered why Black Moon had chosen that particular girl since she was the least pretty of the two.
He focused totally on the girl on the left. She moved with easy grace, the skirt swinging and caressing her legs. The mounds of her young breasts pressed against the red blouse that was cinched in with a leather belt. Her hair was as black as a slice of midnight. The perfect oval face was constantly animated in a delightful way by her thoughts and reactions to the words of the other girl. Now that Ben saw the prize that was within his grasp, his reluctance to steal a woman evaporated. He would certainly do it, gladly do it. A woman was glorious in her beauty; however, her beauty was a very great danger to her.
"Don't let them make a sound," Black Moon said.
Ben knew Black Moon was ready to act, and so he quickly looked around for anyone who might see them. The woods were empty within the area he could see.
"Ready?" Black Moon said.
"Let's do it."
Black Moon leapt from the thicket. He crossed the few paces separating him from the girls with a burst of speed that left Ben in the rear.
Ben increased his speed and rushed upon his girl. Her eyes widened in surprise. In an instant her expression was one of pure terror. Her mouth opened to scream. Before the scream could come, Ben sprang upon her and bore her to the ground. The jarring impact upon the earth tore the breath from the girl in a hissing burst of air.
Ben dropped his rifle, clamped his hand over the girl's mouth, and straddled her. Swiftly he gagged her with his bandana and tied her arms and legs with lengths of rawhide. He swung the girl's slender body across his shoulder, her head on his back, and held her there by the legs. He scooped up his rifle from the ground and left that hazardous place at a run.
As swift as Ben was, Black Moon was equally swift. They ran through the woods carrying their trophies. The girl kicked, and squirmed, and pounded Ben on the back with her bound hands. He hardly felt the blows as he bent all his strength on the race, and on hoping the kidnapping had not been seen and pursuit begun too soon.
Ben broke from the woods and entered the gully leading to the top of the bluff. He was now ahead of Black Moon. He charged up the steep grade with the girl. He reached the top of the bluff with his breath a hoarse saw in his throat. He ran on with the girl bouncing on his shoulder.
He heard Black Moon's thudding footfalls close behind, and a strange feeling came over him. It was grand to do something dangerous with a man who was equally strong and daring, and almost as ugly.
In a stand of low-growing, barely waist-high, shinnery oak, the only hiding place the men hid been able to find on the flat plain, he lowered the girl to the ground. She immediately scooted away from him on her rump, her black eyes full of fear and horror.
"I know I'm not a handsome knight carrying you off," Ben said in English and with a sardonic smile. "And my horse isn't white. But I'm not going to do anything to you that you wouldn't naturally do."
The girl cringed back even more at his words, and her white teeth chewed at the bandana wedged between her teeth. He saw the revulsion in her eyes and felt her hatred. Ben knew that even if she had understood his English, the reaction to him would have been the same.
He stepped to his two horses, which lay on their sides in the shinnery oak. He and Black Moon had thrown their horses to the ground to hide them from view of any enemy on the flat plain. The animals' legs had been tied to prevent them from standing. Now he jerked the tie ropes loose and brought the horses to their feet.
He untied the girl and lifted her astride. He tied her hands to the pommel of the saddle.
"Don't fall off or you'll get dragged," he told her in Spanish. By her expression, he knew she understood.
Ben swung up on Brutus. He looked at Black Moon and saw him mounting, his girl already astride the horse Ben had lent him to carry away what he captured.
The girl spoke to Black Moon in a scornful way. He snapped back, and an angry conversation began between the two. Ben didn't understand the rapid Comanche. It seemed odd the man would be arguing with the girl.
"What's wrong?" Ben called out, interrupting the heated debate.
"Nothing of importance," Black Moon replied.
Shrill shouts from the village below came to the men. Both men fell silent and turned toward the sound to listen.
"They'll be after us in a few minutes," Ben said.
He looked west at the chain of towering black thunderheads on the horizon. He and Black Moon had observed the storm building as they arrived, and had decided to use the rain to hide their tracks. He estimated the distance to the edge of the storm to be eight or nine miles. He wished it was shorter.
"Best we get riding," Ben said.
"They can't catch us for our mustangs are fresh," Black Moon said.
"Something can always go wrong," Ben said.
He kicked Brutus into a run. The girl's mount followed behind on a tow rope.
Black Moon and his captive took station on Ben's right.