"You must hurt me some."

They walked into the bedroom. Like the kitchen, it was a mess--with the bed unmade and clothes strewn everywhere.

Anna stood before the bed.

"Now hit me."

Tess closed her eyes and bit her lip. Then she raised the iron skillet high and brought it crashing down on Anna's head. The woman fell without a sound.

Panicked Tess checked to see if she had a pulse and if l~er lungs still rose and fell with her breath. a.s.sured that the woman was alive, she Set to tying her wrists and ankles and gagging her with the scarves.

She was just finishing the task when the front door slammed open.

Chavez was back!

Tess ran to the rear door. She moved soundlessly and with tremendous speed, and yet it wasn't enough. The door stuck when she tugged upon it.

Chavez was behind her. He grappled her shoulders and spun her around, a rich growl thundering against his throat.

Tess stared into his ebony eyes. His fingers closed around her throat.

"You are dangerous! The gringos were right about you! You are trouble and you need to be taken care of, now?

He was strangling her. She could barely breathe. In desperate self-defense she brought her knee slamming as hard as she could against his groin. It was a powerful and direct hit, and Chavez screamed out his pain, staggering back.

Tess did not want to stay to see if his condition improved. She grabbed the door again. Gasping, nearly crying, she strained against it.

Then, it opened. She nearly fell against Chavez, it opened so suddenly.

She was about to bolt through it when she gasped. Her heart seemed to stop in her chest, her knees grew weak, her mind went blank of anything other than the man standing in the doorway.

It was Jamie. He had come.

Hands on hips, he stood there, staring. The breadth of his shoulders filled the doorway. He seemed to tower over her and Chavez, and indeed, the entire room. He stared at Tess and at Chavez, swiftly summing up the situation.

He was alive! He had come for her. She had not allowed herself to believe he could be dead, but still he was a dream standing before her, the hero come to sweep her away. She was so stunned to see him she could not move, she could not utter a word, she couldn't even cry out her thrill at seeing him standing there alive, warm blood pulling in his veins, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. She saw nothing but Jamie.

Chavez had not seemed to notice Jamie was there. Chavez was staring at Tess, and there was pure, cold murder in his coal-black eyes.

"Tess!" Jamie hissed to her.

"Move!"

She found motion at last as Chavez charged after her. She pitched herself toward Jamie. He caught her shoulders, and his smoke-gray eyes stared sternly into hers. "Go!" he commanded her.

"Go, get out of here, run! Do you hear me? Get the h.e.l.l out and run!"

Then he thrust her behind him and out the door, into the darkness of the night. Tess heard the sound of the impact as Chavez came thundering against Jamie.

She couldn't run. She paused and turned back. Chavez had pulled his knife.

The steel glistened in the pale moonglow of the night.

"Jamie!" she cried.

But Jamie had seen the knife. She expected him to draw his Colt, but when he didn't she realized he couldn't draw down the entire camp upon them with the sounds of bullets.

He, too, drew a knife.

"Go!" he thundered to Tess.

Still she hesitated, tears forming on her eyes. "Jamie" -- "Go! I'll deal with you later?"

His furious, high-handed tone finally sent her into motion. She had been kidnapped and abused, and now he was yelling at her.

Yelling at her. and facing Chavez with a knife. She bit her lip, then turned and ran. The trail stretched~ out in the darkness before her, narrow, twisting, rising higher and higher into the mountains. Gasping for breath, half choking, half sobbing, Tess continued to run. She stumbled into a huge rock, glowing white in the moonlight.

She caught hold of it, wincing against the pain in her feet, inhaling deeply and desperately. Then she started to run again, almost blind as the shrub grew thicker and rose higher, adding to the darkness of the night.

Staggering, she kept on running. She grabbed at shrubs, still running, heedless of discomfort or pain.

Then, in the darkness, she slammed against something with such impetus that she fell to the ground, barely catching herself to break the fall, sc.r.a.ping her palms with the rock and dirt beneath her hands. Stunned, she tossed the hair from her eyes and looked up, trying to discern what had happened.

She gasped yet made no noise, and her heart began to thunder with renewed terror.

He stood before her, naked except for a breech clout his arms crossed over his chest. He was as tall as Jamie, as broad, and very, very dark.

His hair was ebony and it streamed straight down his back. He was nearly copper in color, and his features were very strong and hard.

He reached down, grasped her wrists and drew her to her feet.

Instinctively she tried to pull away from him. His grip upon her tightened.

He smiled very slowly, and though she struggled, he held her tightly.

"Let me go," Tess said.

"Jamie--er, Lieutenant Slater is right behind me, and he'll shoot you."

She was losing her mind. She was trying to explain things in English to an Apache savage.

"So you are the blond woman who costs so dearly," he responded in perfect English.

"You have escaped the Comancheros. You will not escape me."

She shook her head wildly.

"No! You do not understand me! Let me go.

I've a friend. He's fight behind me. He's killing that Comanchero and he's going to kill you. He"--" Shut up, Sun-Colored Woman."

"My name is Tess. Or Miss. Stuart. It's" -- "Sun-Colored Woman. That is to be your name. I am Nalte, and it will be so."

"Nalte!" she breathed. She had escaped the Comanchere to run into the arms of the very Apache who had ordered her as if she was dry goods for a mercantile store! "You--you speak English," she said.

"Yes. Now you will come."

"No! Please, listen" -- He wasn't going to listen. He grasped her wrists and drew her over his shoulders. She slammed her fists furiously against him.

"Let me go, you savage! Let me go fight now! You can't just buy a blond woman! Please ..."

But he wasn't listening to her. He was moving flcetly up the hail. He didn't seem to be running, but the trail was disappearing beneath his feet, and they were moving higher and higher into the mountains. He was ignoring her pleas.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" she cried in furious panic.

"Savage! Horrid, horrid savage!"

That brought him to a halt. He lifted her and slammed her down upon her knees. She tried to rise, and he pressed her down with such fury that she w~nt still. He towered over her.

"Savage? You, a white woman, would call me savage? No one knows the meaning of brutality so well as your own kind. Let me tell you, Sun-Colored Woman, what the whi~ man, the white soldier has done to us, to my people." The moon rose high, shimmering down upon him with sudden clarity. Nalte, his bronze shoulders slick and heavily muscled, walked around her.

"In 1862 your General James Carleton sent a dispatch unit through Apache Pa.s.s. Cochise and Mangas Coloradas lay in wait. There was a fierc~ battle, and Mar~gas Coloradas was seized from his horse. He was taken to Janos, but his followers told the doctors that he must be cured or their town would be destroyed. So he survived.

"Mangas Coloradas survived so that he could come a year later, under a flag of truee, to parlay with the soldiers and miners for peaee. He was seized.

Your general ordered that he have Mangas Coloradas the next morning, alive or dead. So do you know what your civilized white people did to him?

They heated their bayonets in the fire, and they burned his legs, and when he protested, they shot him for trying to escape. It was not enough. They cut off his head, and they boiled it in a large pot. Do you understand? They boiled his head. But now you would sit there, and you would tell me that I am savage?"

She wasn't sitting, she was kneeling, in exactly the position in which he had pressed her. She was trembling, shaking like a leaf blown in winter, and she was praying that Jamie would arrive and rescue her.

But of course, she didn't know if Jamie was alive or dead. He had faced Chavez in a knife fight, and she couldn't know the outcome. And now she was facing an articulate Apache who seemed to have reason to want vengeance.

"You speak English exceptionally well," she said dryly. He did not appreciate her sense of humor. He wrenched her to her feet and pulled her against him. "You will find no mercy with me," he a.s.sured her.

"Do not beg." "I--I never beg," she said, but the words came out in a whisper. She wasn't certain if they were defiant or merely pathetic. It didn't matter. He pushed her forward, then tossed her over his shoulder again.

"No!" she protested wildly. She hit his back, but he did not notice her frantic effort. She braced against him and screamed, loudly.

desperately.

Jamie. Dear G.o.d, where was he now?

Perhaps it did not matter. Perhaps there was no help for either of them anymore.

That brought him to a halt. He lifted her and slammed her down upon her knees. She tried to rise, and he pressed her down with such fury that she went still. He towered over her.

"Savage? You, a white woman, would call me savage? No one knows the meaning of brutality so well as your own kind. Let me tell you, Sun-Colored Woman, what the white man, the white soldier has done to us, to my people." The moon rose high, shimmering down upon him with sudden clarity. Nalte, his bronze shoulders slick and heavily muscled, walked around her.

"In 1862 your General James Carleton sent a dispatch unit through Apache Pa.s.s. Cochise and Mangas Coloradas lay in wait. There was a fierce battle, and Mangas Coloradas was seized from his horse. He was taken to Janos, but his followers told the doctors that he must be cured or their town would be destroyed. So he survived.

"Mangas Coloradas survived so that he could come a year later, under a flag of truce, to parlay with the soldiers and miners for peace. He was seized.

Your general ordered that he have Mangas Coloradas the next morning, alive or dead. So do you know what your civilized white people did to him?

They heated their bayonets in the fire, and they burned his legs, and when he protested, they shot him for trying to escape. It was not enough. They cut off his head, and they boiled it in a large pot. Do you understand? They boiled his head. But now you would sit there, and you would tell me that I am savage?"

She wasn't sitting, she was kneeling, in exactly the position in which he had pressed her. She was trembling, shaking like a leaf blown in winter, and she was praying that Jamie would arrive and rescue her.

But of course, she didn't know if Jamie was alive or dead. He had faced Chavez in a knife fight, and she couldn't know the outcome. And now she was facing an articulate Apache who seemed to have reason to want vengeance.

"You speak English exceptionally well," she said dryly. He did not appreciate her sense of humor. He wrenched her to her feet and pulled her against him. "You will find no mercy with me," he a.s.sured her.

"Do not beg."

"I--I never beg," she said, but the words came out in a whisper. She wasn't certain if they were defiant or merely pathetic. It didn't matter. He pushed her forward, then tossed her over his shoulder again.

"No!" she protested wildly. She hit his back, but he did not notice her frantic effort. She braced against him and screamed, loudly.

desperately.

Jamie. Dear G.o.d, where was he now?

Perhaps it did not matter. Perhaps there was no help for either of them anymore.

Chapter Eleven.

Nalte moved through the darkness so swiftly that Tess had little idea of how far they traveled. She felt as if they twisted and turned rdentlessly, but slowly she realized that they were moving downhill. She tried at first to reason with him, but he ignored her, and it was painful to t~ to talk when she was held so 'tightly against him. She was exhausted, and the words she hzd said to Chavez were true at the very least. She wanted to be free from Nalte, but she did not feel the same loathing for the man that she had felt for Chavez. And now she knew Jamie was alive. Or at least he had been alive. lie had gone to battle Chavez, but now she had hope, if not ling else.

Hope. Could he come for her against Nalte? Could he slip out in The darkness and come furtively against the Apache? S~ didn't know what to think anymore. She hadn't thought that Nalte would speak English, but he did so, very well.

He halted suddenly, letting out the cry of a night bird, and was answered in kind. He started to walk again and they descended a final cliff to a clearing where tepees rose magically againft the night sky, and where camp fires burned with soft gl~s, where only the movement of shadows could be seen.

Nalte set her down and let out the soft sound. of a bird cry once again.

From the shadows a man emerged. He was dressed as Nalte was, in a breech clout He wore high buckskin boots and numerous tight beaded necklaces, and carried what appeared to be a U. S. Army revolver. He began to speak with Nalte very quickly, and Nalte replied. Then the man turned and disappeared into the shadows. The Apache camp was sleeping, Tess thought.

"Come," Nalte told her, catching her arm and leading her across the camp.

She saw more shadows. The camp might sleep, but men were on guard.

She started to shiver, realizing that now she had no defenses. She had enjoyed a certain safety with Jeremiah and David, so much so that she could even be sorry that Jeremiah had been killed so coldly. But now.