Now, she was one of the prettiest women he ever did see, and she was just standing out there waiting. Waiting for what, Madigan did not know.
Lewana stepped to the top of the wall without hesitating, then down to the inner circle where O’Neill stood waiting, waiting like a hungry cat for a mouse.
“Well, look who we got here. Couldn’t stand to be away from me any longer, huh?” he sneered.
“I have come to talk.”
“Talk? Talk! We can talk any time. What I got in mind for you won’t take any words. Yes, sir, no words at all,” he grinned, lust showing in his eyes. “Soon as the men get the tent up in the morning, you and me are gonna have us a little roll in the sack. among other things,” O’Neill said. He would have preferred to vent his lust within the hour, but with the ever present threat of attack, he’d just have to wait till morning.
Lewana was now visibly shaken and she didn’t care who saw it. She had walked right into his arms without a fight and she was terrified at the thought of him touching any part of her. She slowly let her hand slide back to a large fold in her flowing blue skirt, feeling for the small dagger concealed there. Unfortunately one of the men noticed her movements and pointed it out to O’Neill.
Suddenly O’Neill reached over and took the knife from its hiding place. “Gonna use that on me, are you? I ought to cut your throat with it, but I got other ideas for you!” he screamed, throwing the knife away in one swift motion.
“You better use it then!” she blurted in anger and fear. “I’ll die before I let you have me!”
She had hardly finished the words before O’Neill’s right hand clubbed her alongside her head, knocking her unconscious.
“You don’t have much to say about it,” he said over her still form. “Somebody get some rope and tie the bitch up. I don’t want her running off when I’m ready for her.”
This was better than O’Neill could have ever hoped for. Here at his feet was the Indians’ leader. Now he felt he had the key to the gold. With Lewana as his hostage, the people would surely lay down their arms and deliver the gold to him anywhere he wished.
What he hadn’t reckoned on was the resolve of the girl at his feet. She wasn’t chosen their leader for nothing. And she knew well the risk she was taking when she started out under the white flag.
When Mila showed up at the little cabin in the hidden canyon, she didn’t know what to expect. Lewana had told her what to say once she got the attention of the tall gunman. But one just didn’t walk up to a cabin unannounced. A man, or woman for that matter, could get shot. With her limited experience with the white man, Mila had only seen cruelty, except for this man whom she had come to speak with.
The problem was that he was not alone any longer, and for all she knew, he might be laying inside unconscious. If this were the case, how would the others act upon seeing her and the warriors standing in the open?
Her fears melted away when Madigan stepped out from the cabin door and raised his hand in the sign the Indians used for peace. Seeing this man once again reminded her of the time he saved her and Lewana from the outlaws. It seemed so long ago.
This man before her was tall, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. His gray eyes always seemed somewhat amused, except, she thought, when he was forced to kill. Then she remembered how they had suddenly gone cold and seemed to pierce right through her.
His hair was light brown, almost blond, and was cut short and well-trimmed compared to other cowboys she’d seen, certainly much shorter than most Indians wore their hair. His face was an honest face with strong, yet somehow gentle features. He was well muscled and there was a confidence about him she could not remember seeing in any other man. If anyone was able to help her people, it would be this man.
She was happy to see he moved with an ease and grace not often seen in big men. It also showed his wound was healing fast. The gun hung low on his hip did not escape her notice either.
After hearing Mila’s story and giving her and her two friends food and drink, LaRue, Shorty, and Madigan made quick plans to follow Mila back to the hidden valley.
Mila told them that they were the first white men to ever enter the valley by invitation, and Madigan wished it weren’t for the job at hand. She also said the leader of the outlaws was none other than Harry O’Neill.
At O’Neill’s name, Shorty suddenly remarked, “I should have killed that maggot back when I had the chance!” About now, they all wished he had. No one needed to tell them O’Neill was a violent and vicious man, one who’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted, even if it took killing every man, woman, and child in his way.
Seeing Mila again and remembering how Lewana affected him with her even greater beauty made Madigan’s task at hand more urgent. They all knew that O’Neill might kill the men and children at the drop of a hat, but the women would be another matter altogether.
O’Neill was a convicted rapist. Now given the freedom to do whatever he wanted, he would make it a living hell for any woman he wanted.
Madigan’s blood ran cold with the thought of Lewana falling prey to O’Neill’s evil desires.
Chapter 16
By the time they all saddled up, the sun was almost down, leaving growing shadows in its wake. In a strange sort of way, Madigan felt good about finally having a showdown with O’Neill, and he suspected LaRue and Shorty felt the same.
Each of them had their own reasons for wanting to be done with this troublesome rogue that had hurt so many, and as they rode out it was as if three knights in shining armor were going off to the Crusades. But there would be no glory in what they intended to do, only death.
As they rode, Madigan held his Winchester across his lap while the Sharps filled the rifle boot. He was glad to have replaced the lever bolt with a spare one LaRue had given him. Before leaving, he had made sure there was ample ammunition for both.
“You think you’ll need that?” LaRue asked, nodding toward the Sharps as he prodded his horse up alongside Madigan.
“Hope not, but I’ve always kind’ve like the gun, and we may need the range, from what Mila tells us. If O’Neill’s holed up at any distance, the Sharps might give us the edge we need.”
“See what you mean. But are you up to firing that thing? I shot one of them once, and it almost knocked me on my butt,” LaRue said, grinning at the experience he remembered.
It was a good question and one Madigan had asked himself several times since riding out. “I won’t know the answer to that until I’ve pulled the trigger,” he answered. “If we’re lucky, we won’t have to find out.” Still, Madigan wondered about it himself. His wound was healing fast, but it would be some time before he felt like his old self again.
As they rode along, Mila told them about the cave that was the entrance to the hidden valley. She also told the men of its dangers to the uninitiated. But as she explained later, they would not have to worry about the tunnel or its traps, for they would get into the valley as she and her comrades had come out.
Upon questioning her further, she explained, “We waited until Lewana had the attention of O’Neill and his men, then we slipped quickly up a narrow foot trail to the top of the rim. From there, we followed the trail across the top of the rim some five hundred yards to the outer edge where it dropped down the side of the rock face to a ledge a hundred feet above the outer floor.
“Lowering a rope ladder, which was kept there for such a purpose, we climbed down the rest of the way and walked to the cabin.”
Lewana had placed herself in grave peril to try to save her people. And at the thought of O’Neill touching her, a rage came up within Madigan that turned his blood cold. Then just as suddenly, he came to the realization that he was in love with Lewana! He had only met her twice, but it was enough.