the LEGEND of She-Cat

Chapter Twelve

Unable to believe he was refusing to take what others had so eagerly stripped of me, I was about to question him when the gelding's head came up suddenly, his ears perked. Abruptly alert, my eyes swept in the direction he looked and then widened. A form rose from the earth a hundred feet away. Stiffening I jerked back with a cry– Itza-chu! It all seemed to happen in an instant.

Warned by my reaction, the white rider turned and caught sight of the Inde brave. In a seamless motion I was pushed away from and behind him, his other hand reaching for the small thunder stick at his waist. Too late. Itza-chu's arrow was already loosened from his bow. I found myself lunging forward, coming between death and its intended victim.

Fire stabbed through me as the shaft buried itself deep, my muscles locking. Lurching forward, stiff with agony, a strangled groan shuddered from my lips. Knees giving way, I sagged against the strong body of the white man, seeing the shocked, uncomprehending look on his face just before everything went black.

~~~

When she stiffened and tore away from him, tension crackled through his body like lightning. Suddenly Duncan knew whatever had been trailing them had finally shown itself. Angry at himself for letting down his guard, his muscles spurred into action. Whipping She-Cat up and behind him in one fluid movement, he turned, pushing her free.

Surprise jolted through him. Apache! He recognized the features and dress of the fierce warrior. His hand slapped for the pistol tucked in his belt at the same time a sharp twang sent an arrow his way. Something grabbed the back of his shirt, tugging him backward as a soft body threw herself between the speeding arrow and his chest.

Hit hard, she staggered against him, expressive brown eyes full of agony. Gripping his arms, a strangled moan bubbled from her lips. Brown eyes were wild in pain and fear before they rolled back and she collapsed against him.  Easing her to the ground, shocked at her sacrifice, Duncan took in the sight of the thick shaft protruded from her back, a large crimson stain spreading against her dress. Disbelief turned to fury, and he met the enraged eyes of the Apache brave as he lightly stepping over the body that lay between them.

Rage surged through him in waves as they circled one another, recognition blooming. How could it be possible the same warrior that had been among his tormentors was facing him now? Why? A quick glance went to the limp body of the woman, and he knew. The brave was after her.

Black orbs flicked to the limp form of She-cat now and then, as if to gauge if she were alive. When the warrior notched another arrow, Duncan's pistol leaped into his hand, pointing unerringly at the Apache. He itched to pull the trigger, but it was an unfair advantage, and he was no murderer. Cunning glinted in the brave's eyes, and he slowly lowered his bow, letting it fall into the dust. Instead, he pulled out a large hunting knife, twirling it between his fingers, challenging Conner to a close-quarters fight.

His own knife was among his gear, but he didn't figure the Mescalero would let him get to it. He clearly recalled the merciless pain this man had inflicted when he'd been tied and helpless. Those memories were branded into his mind.

"¿Hablas español, ojos blancos?" (Do you speak Spanish, white eyes?) The brave spoke suddenly, a taunting look on his face. Surprised, Duncan nodded, recalling Spanish was a common second language among some of the southern tribes.

"Entonces escucha esto. Soy Itza-chu, de los In'de. Sostendré tu corazón en mis manos, sintiendo el último latido mientras mueres gritando." (Then hear this. I am Itza-chu, of the In'de (people). I will hold your heart in my hands, feeling the last beat as you die screaming.)

"Cantas en voz alta, Itza-chu." Duncan retorted smoothly, deliberately sliding his pistol back into place. "Pero todo lo que escucho es el lamento de un coyote." (You crow loudly, Itza-chu, but all I hear is the wail of a coyote.)