And why had she been such a fool as to run away?
First she had to see him, talk to him. Jack was no fool. She was sure he had been furious when he’d found her gone, even more so when he’d read her note. And surely hurt as well. He had to know by now that this had been a trap. Did he think her a part of it—after she had run away, after that horrid note, how could he not?
He’ll understand when I explain, she thought frantically.
She would seduce Bradley for Jack’s release, if she thought for a minute that would work. But she didn’t think so. On the other hand, once Bradley realized Jack would never speak, he might accept her charms for his release. And if that didn’t work, she could always seduce the guard at the stockade and break Jack out!
Both plans frightened her.
One thing was certain, she could not, would not, leave tomorrow.
She couldn’t sleep. Christina, sensing her mother’s distress, was also restless, crying intermittently. Candice sought comfort in her child even as she comforted her. The night was endless, but she did finally fall asleep when the sky was turning from black to a husky gray.
When she awoke to Christina’s insistent crying, the sun was already high. Candice quickly fed and changed her, then washed up at the basin, wanting to look her best for her interview with the major. She would begin her seduction now if she had to. She left Christina in the cradleboard on the bed, stepped outside, and started across the parade ground to the adjutant’s office. She instantly froze in her tracks.
“Jack!”
He was staked out in the middle of the yard, Indian style, naked. She understood. It was torture. The temperature could reach 110 in the desert in the middle of the summer. She was running to him. His face was unrecognizable. Swollen, bloody. One eye was swollen shut. His nose was broken, his lips split. She cried out, dropping to her knees beside him. The bandage on his shoulder was bloodstained, seeping. His torso was marred with bruises.
“Oh, Jack, what have they done?” she cried.
He looked at her out of one eye. It was hard, and cold. “You left me,” he said, his words slurred because his lips were split and swollen. “You traitorous bitch.” He made a great effort to make sure she understood what he said.
“I won’t let them hurt you anymore,” she promised. “Jack, I didn’t mean for this to happen! You have to believe me!”
“Did you … lead me here?” Anger blazed in his eyes—and desperation.
“No, I swear it, no! Jack, you have to believe me!”
“Get up, Missus Kincaid, you can’t talk to him,” a man said pityingly behind her.
“No!” she screamed, looking up at Corporal Tarnower. “Get me some water. And rags. Untie him, instantly!”
“Please, ma’am, please get up. You shouldn’t have to see this.” He dragged her to her feet.
She wrenched away. “You’ll kill him! You can’t be so cruel! You can’t!”
“We have orders,” Tarnower said, leading her away.
She looked back, crying. He wasn’t looking at her. He was staring out of one eye straight ahead. “Jack,” she moaned. “Jack, I’m sorry.”
He didn’t turn his head or even give a sign he heard her—or believed her.
Candice ran to the major’s office, shrugging free of the young corporal. She burst in without knocking. He was startled, bent over paperwork, but not surprised. He raised two brows. “I take it you wish a word with me?”
“Do you intend to kill him?”
“I intend to hang him—after he tells us everything.”
“He will die before he tells you anything,” Candice screamed. “Don’t you understand?”
“He will break,” Bradley said confidently.
“No, he is Apache!”
“He is half white.”
“But he was raised by the Apaches! Raised to tolerate pain, endure pain! You will hurt him, yes, maim him, but he will die before ever crying out, much less speaking! Please! Don’t do this!”
