This Savage Heart by Patricia Hagan Page A

going to be mine, and—”
    An indignant gasp caused them to spring apart just as Elisa Thatcher stepped from the shadows. “This is disgusting! I come here to talk to you, Captain Arnhardt, about the mess I’m in with my nigra running out on me, and I find what I’ve suspected all along—you’re letting this…this whore keep you from doing your job!”
    Julie struggled against her own fury, grateful when Derek took over. He said, “Elisa, what I do is none of your business, and you would be wise to watch that nasty mouth. Now what the hell do you want?”
    Shaken, she stammered, “My…my nigra, M-Micah, ran away.”
    “I heard,” Derek replied.
    “You’d best find me a driver, then, Captain,” she ordered.
    “I’ll do what I can. Later. If you will excuse yourself now, you’re interrupting.”
    “Oh, I can see that”—she laughed shrilly—“but I’m afraid you’re going to have to bridle your animal lust for the moment and treat one of my animals, which seems to have taken ill.”
    Derek took a deep breath and smiled at Julie apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I’d better check on it. The poor oxen aren’t as fortunate as Micah. They can’t run away from her.”
    “Very funny!” Elisa snapped. “You can be sure my husband is going to hear how you’ve conducted yourself, Captain. You might find yourself out of a job.”
    He touched his fingertips to Julie’s chin and mouthed, “I’ll find you later,” then turned away resolutely.
    Julie watched them disappear, sorrowful because the tender moment was spoiled. What, oh, what had Derek been about to tell her? Wanting to be alone with her thoughts, she began walking among the cactus and scrubs…unaware that she was being stealthily followed.

Chapter Eight
    Julie inhaled the crisp, sweet air, gathering her wool cape tighter about her, stepping cautiously among the tiny rocks and rivulets of sand. She had always loved nighttime, exhilarating in the secret mystery of its beauties, never fearing its shadows. Peaceful, so peaceful. Here was the black, velvet shroud to hide her worries. The dancing stars seemed to say, when there is mirth, how can there also be gloom? Standing very still, her gaze became transfixed upon one star, brighter than the rest. Was that the way life was? She wondered, one soul brighter than the others? Some souls who merely provided a backdrop for the chosen one? It was times like this when her infinitesimally tiny existence seemed a sacrilege even to contemplate. Her soul was probably no more nor less significant to God than the faintest glimmer of the tiniest star in His heavens.
    There, melting into the night, becoming part of it, she was able to give herself to the thought that provoked her: What had Derek been about to say when Elisa interrupted? In what way had he come to terms with himself? She shivered, not with cold but with anticipation. Perhaps, she thought suddenly, her own position had not been stated clearly enough. Maybe he thought she was bent on marriage. Not true! There had to be time for proper courtship, time to decide whether they wanted to spend a lifetime together. Meanwhile, she would not be relegated to the status of mistress. What kind of marriage would they have later, after she’d been his mistress? It would taint their love forever.
    She heard footsteps and whirled about, expectant, happy, then realized it wasn’t Derek. A scream began, changing to an angry gasp as she made out the scarred face of Arlo Vance. “Why are you following me?” she demanded furiously. “You frightened me, creeping up on me like that.”
    “Afraid of Indians?” His voice was arrogant. “No need to be when you’re with me, Julie. The Indians are my friends.”
    “I’m surprised you have any friends,” she said impetuously.
    “Now, that’s no way for you to talk to me, honey, not when I want us to be friends. Good friends.”
    “I don’t wish to speak with you, Mr. Vance, and ifyou don’t leave me this