Heartstrings by Rebecca Paisley

Author:Rebecca Paisley [Paisley, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, General, HISTORICAL WESTERN ROMANCE
ISBN: 9780440216506
Publisher: Dell
Published: 1994-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Roman reacted instantly and retrieved his rifle from the sling on Secret’s saddle. In the next moment he fitted the weapon to his shoulder, narrowed his eyes, and sighted along the rifle barrel.

Theodosia watched him point the gun at John the Baptist. “Roman! Dear God, what are you doing?” Pulling herself to her knees, she tried to grab his shoulder.

She caught thin air and toppled out of the wagon.

Deaf to her horrified screams, Roman curled his finger around the trigger and fired just as the lance left the warrior’s hand.

Frightened into speechlessness by the sharp crack of gunfire, Theodosia raised her head from the ground and watched something long and slender fly out of the oak forest. She couldn’t determine what it was but knew only that it sped directly toward John the Baptist.

Before she could scream again, the sailing object came apart in the air, splintering into two pieces that fell harmlessly to the ground.

Roman lowered his rifle, and keeping his gaze directed straight at the warrior, he assisted Theodosia back into the wagon bed. “Why’d you throw yourself out of the buckboard?”

“I did not throw myself out, Roman. I fell out while trying to keep you from shooting John the Baptist. You—”

“I spent a whole damned hour following bits of sand to find him for you! Why would I have gone through all that and then killed him?” God, would he ever get used to her complete lack of common sense?

She nodded and swept her hair out of her eyes. “Yes. Yes, of course you’re right. You wouldn’t have shot John the Baptist, but I—I panicked, Roman. I wasn’t rationalizing. It all happened so quickly, and I couldn’t understand what you—” She looked into his eyes. “What was that thing you shot?”

Roman watched the Indian vanish into the woods, but the man’s disappearance in no way settled his apprehension. The warrior was without a mount, which was highly unusual for a Comanche brave. And from what Roman had been able to see, the warrior’s lance had been his sole weapon.

With no horse or arms, the warrior would surely attempt to get those necessities somehow.

Dammit! Roman raged. This morning he’d battled a pack of wolves, and he suspected that he would soon be forced to fight a Comanche warrior. “Roman?”

“I shot a Comanche lance. The warrior was going to kill John the Baptist, probably out of fear. I doubt seriously that he’d ever seen an African parrot before today, and Indians are—well, they’re suspicious of things they don’t recognize.”

“A Comanche warrior?” Theodosia scanned the entire area but saw no sign of the Indian. “How did you see him? Where—”

“Sunlight hit the metal tip of his lance. When I saw the flash, I saw the warrior.”

“You—Roman, you shot the lance,” she whispered as if in prayer.

“Would you rather I’d shot the warrior?”

“What? No. No, of course I wouldn’t have wanted you to shoot the warrior. But you—”

“I aimed for the lance because I knew the warrior was just about to throw it.

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