of Jeremy."
Jerking her to her feet, he half dragged, half carried her
back to where Jeremy was now anxiously waiting with three horses.
Roughly throwing her up onto one of the animals, Micajah tied her feet
to the stirrups. He grabbed the reins of her horse and, keeping a firm
grip on them, mounted his own animal.
Savanna remembered little of that terrible ride through the
junglelike growth of the swamps. Her shoulders ached incessantly from
the pain caused by her arms being tied behind her back, and she was
constantly buffeted by vines and low-growing branches as they galloped
madly through the wilderness.
They rode for hours, and with every passing mile Savanna's
spirits sank lower and lower. She'd never get out of this alive! The
knowledge that she was at Micajah's mercy made her flesh crawl, and she
was almost certain that death would be preferable to succumbing to his
advances.
But when they did finally stop, miles and hours away from
Campo de Verde, to her relief Micajah had other things on his mind than
taking his pleasure. He dumped her near a half-rotted bald cypress at
the edge of a sluggish bayou and proceeded to shackle one ankle to the
stump with some old slave irons he kept in his saddlebags. Ignoring her
after that, he and Jeremy swiftly made camp.
It was only after all the most immediate chores had been done
and a fire was flickering merrily in the darkness, a pot of cornmeal
bubbling in the center of the fire, that Micajah seemed to recall her
presence. A menacing knife blade in his hand, he walked over to her and
Savanna stared grimly at him, determined not to betray how furious—and
frightened—she felt.
Braced for the worst, she was stunned when Micajah grinned and
with one quick slash cut the gag and the ropes that bound her arms. He
did it quickly and danced out of her range just as soon as he had
finished.
The iron shackle around her slender ankle kept her effectively
chained to the cypress stump, but after spitting out the gag and
shrugging off the ropes, Savanna felt a tiny glimmer of hope—she could
at least fight to protect herself now, even if he won in the end. Her
hands stung as the blood rushed back to them and she almost groaned
with relief when she was finally able to let her arms hang naturally by
her sides.
Warily she eyed Micajah and her astonishment only increased
when he carefully handed her a tin plate of hot cornmeal and dried
beef. Suddenly too hungry to plumb his motives, she took the plate and
hastily devoured the food.
Her confidence stirring, Savanna finally set down her empty
plate and said tightly, "Don't you think it's time you told me what
this is all about?"
Jeremy and Micajah were sitting nearer the small fire, and
after stuffing some food into his mouth, Micajah stared thoughtfully at
her. "Like I told you earlier," he finally said, "it's about your
father."
Her puzzlement clear, she asked blankly, "What about my
father? He's dead! Dead for ten years or more—everybody knows that!"
"Yeah," Micajah drawled, "but what you and everybody else
don't know is that Jeremy here was at his side when he died. Had a very
interesting conversation with yore daddy just before he died, did
Jeremy."
Baffled, tired, scared and more than a little impatient,
Savanna retorted sharply, "So? Good for Jeremy! But what the hell does
it have to do with me?"
"Well, I know you'll have a hard time believing it, but yore
daddy was real worried about you just before he died. Seems he'd been
searching for an Aztec treasure all those years—wanted that treasure
mighty bad to set you and yore mama up real fine. Wanted you and yore
mama to have everything you could wish for—money, fancy clothes,
servants, a mansion—everything." Warming to his tale, Micajah went on
almost dreamily. "That's why he wasn't never around for you when you
was young—he was searching for this treasure for you and yore mama.
Told Jeremy he was gonna marry yore mama once he found that treasure.
Said he didn't
Jerking her to her feet, he half dragged, half carried her
back to where Jeremy was now anxiously waiting with three horses.
Roughly throwing her up onto one of the animals, Micajah tied her feet
to the stirrups. He grabbed the reins of her horse and, keeping a firm
grip on them, mounted his own animal.
Savanna remembered little of that terrible ride through the
junglelike growth of the swamps. Her shoulders ached incessantly from
the pain caused by her arms being tied behind her back, and she was
constantly buffeted by vines and low-growing branches as they galloped
madly through the wilderness.
They rode for hours, and with every passing mile Savanna's
spirits sank lower and lower. She'd never get out of this alive! The
knowledge that she was at Micajah's mercy made her flesh crawl, and she
was almost certain that death would be preferable to succumbing to his
advances.
But when they did finally stop, miles and hours away from
Campo de Verde, to her relief Micajah had other things on his mind than
taking his pleasure. He dumped her near a half-rotted bald cypress at
the edge of a sluggish bayou and proceeded to shackle one ankle to the
stump with some old slave irons he kept in his saddlebags. Ignoring her
after that, he and Jeremy swiftly made camp.
It was only after all the most immediate chores had been done
and a fire was flickering merrily in the darkness, a pot of cornmeal
bubbling in the center of the fire, that Micajah seemed to recall her
presence. A menacing knife blade in his hand, he walked over to her and
Savanna stared grimly at him, determined not to betray how furious—and
frightened—she felt.
Braced for the worst, she was stunned when Micajah grinned and
with one quick slash cut the gag and the ropes that bound her arms. He
did it quickly and danced out of her range just as soon as he had
finished.
The iron shackle around her slender ankle kept her effectively
chained to the cypress stump, but after spitting out the gag and
shrugging off the ropes, Savanna felt a tiny glimmer of hope—she could
at least fight to protect herself now, even if he won in the end. Her
hands stung as the blood rushed back to them and she almost groaned
with relief when she was finally able to let her arms hang naturally by
her sides.
Warily she eyed Micajah and her astonishment only increased
when he carefully handed her a tin plate of hot cornmeal and dried
beef. Suddenly too hungry to plumb his motives, she took the plate and
hastily devoured the food.
Her confidence stirring, Savanna finally set down her empty
plate and said tightly, "Don't you think it's time you told me what
this is all about?"
Jeremy and Micajah were sitting nearer the small fire, and
after stuffing some food into his mouth, Micajah stared thoughtfully at
her. "Like I told you earlier," he finally said, "it's about your
father."
Her puzzlement clear, she asked blankly, "What about my
father? He's dead! Dead for ten years or more—everybody knows that!"
"Yeah," Micajah drawled, "but what you and everybody else
don't know is that Jeremy here was at his side when he died. Had a very
interesting conversation with yore daddy just before he died, did
Jeremy."
Baffled, tired, scared and more than a little impatient,
Savanna retorted sharply, "So? Good for Jeremy! But what the hell does
it have to do with me?"
"Well, I know you'll have a hard time believing it, but yore
daddy was real worried about you just before he died. Seems he'd been
searching for an Aztec treasure all those years—wanted that treasure
mighty bad to set you and yore mama up real fine. Wanted you and yore
mama to have everything you could wish for—money, fancy clothes,
servants, a mansion—everything." Warming to his tale, Micajah went on
almost dreamily. "That's why he wasn't never around for you when you
was young—he was searching for this treasure for you and yore mama.
Told Jeremy he was gonna marry yore mama once he found that treasure.
Said he didn't
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