She dusted sand from her arms and face. "You are a monster."
He either didn't hear her or chose to ignore her, his attention focused on the way they had come.
"Did you hear me?" she asked, wanting to pound her fists against his chest. "I said you are a monster. You wanted the others dead because of the way they treated you. For all I know, those Indians might be from your tribe, and you might have put them up to attacking the Adobe Springs station."
She cringed when he reached for her. But he merely grabbed her hand and pulled her along. "We must leave."
She drew back, reluctant to be led still farther away from potential help. "What will the Indians do to them?"
"They will all be killed," he said with no emotion in his voice. "And if they find you, they will do far worse than that."
"Are they your tribe members? Can't you stop them?"
"They are Apache," he informed her, pulling her forward so swiftly that she was forced to run to keep up with him.
"Apache! Dear God, we must do something!"
"We cannot help them." His powerful grip pulled her along with such a force that she almost lost her footing. She had no choice but to go where he led.
The Indian set a punishing pace for what seemed like hours, and Makinna, tired and gasping for breath, was sure she could not take another step. Her soft leather slippers had filled with sand that cut into her skin with each step. But the Indian urged her forward mercilessly.
Finally Makinna could not move another inch. She fell to her knees. "Leave me here," she said between gasps of breath. "I can't go any farther."
He yanked her up and turned her to face the direction from which they'd come. "The Apache has a keen eye. If the sun comes up before they have finished at the station, they will discover our tracks leading into the desert, and they will follow. Look for yourself what they are capable of."
In the distance she saw crimson flames leap toward the sky. The station buildings were all on fire. She felt sick and clamped a hand over her mouth. "What did they do to-"
"Do not ask," he broke in. "You would not like the answer."
"You are just like those savages, heartless and unfeeling. Why would they kill people they don't even know?"
He pulled her forward. "We must reach the lava hills before daylight."
She kept glancing back until Adobe Springs was no more than a dim red glow against the darkened sky. Tormented by the thought that everyone was dead, she gradually realized that if the Indian hadn't spirited her away, she would be dead, too. She should feel grateful to him, but she still didn't know his intentions for her, and that fear still tightened her throat.
But her fear that the Apache were pursuing them even now gave her the strength to keep moving.
Over and over she forced one aching foot in front of the other, repeating silently to herself, This, too, shall pass. The desert was a huge wasteland that seemed to go on forever. When would this night end, and what would happen to her when it did?
She was overcome with relief when they finally reached the lava hills. But the ground was hard and uneven, and the jagged lava rocks cut into the flimsy soles of her shoes. When they reached the top, the Indian released her arm, and she collapsed, exhausted. She lowered her head, gasping for every breath she could drag into her lungs. The hot wind seemed to scorch her throat and felt like a blast of fire against her skin.
Tears blurred her vision as she watched the Indian, standing in a narrow patch of moonlight, turn to stare back the way they'd come.
"Do you know where we are?" she asked weakly between gulps of air.
"Yes."
"Are we going to die out here?"
He returned to loom over her, silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, it was a grim whisper. "Do you want the truth?"
"Yes."
He knelt down beside her, and she pulled back, frightened. "We have little chance of coming out of the desert alive, unless you listen to me and do everything I tell you to.
Makinna sat up straight, wondering if he might ravish her now that he had turned his attention to her. As exhausted as she was, she wished they hadn't stopped. She had felt safer while they had been moving.
"No," she protested. "I certainly will not do everything you ask of me. You can't expect me to-to submit to you. Never!"
An agitated breath hissed through his teeth. "You seen to prize yourself very highly, Mrs. Hillyard. I can assure you that, as a female, you hold no interest for me. In truth, you are an encumbrance I can ill afford. While I have no desire to touch you, if you fall behind, I will leave you to die."
She was glad for the darkness so he would not see her blushing in shame. She had assumed the worst of him when she should have been thanking him for saving her life. But why had he not warned the others about the Apache attack? She abruptly remembered him listening attentively to the animal howls when she'd taken him a plate of food. "You knew that those animal calls earlier this evening were Apache, didn't you?"