by Candace Camp
Taking his hand, she followed him. The passageway was wider than it first appeared, but the utter blackness in front of her made her stomach dance. Brody stopped just inside the opening and reached down, to pull out a lantern from a niche in the rock. He lit it and held it up, casting an eerie flickering light over the pale rock walls around them.
“It’s a cave?” Amy looked around the rounded area. Shadowed entrances stretched off in three directions.
“Yeah, I found it years ago. There are a lot of different offshoots. If you don’t know where you’re going, you can get lost. Some of them are dangerous. But not this one. Just stay with me.”
“You stay inside here?” Amy’s voice quivered a little.
Brody smiled at her and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “No. Don’t worry. We don’t stay in the cave. It’s a passage. There’s an arroyo at the other end of one of the passages. It’s about as hidden as you can get. Come on, I’ll take you through, then I’ll come back and get the horses.”
“They come through, too?” she asked in surprise.
He nodded. “They get a little skittish, but ours have been through enough times, they manage it pretty well.”
Still holding her hand, Sam led her through the cave into a tunnel-like passageway. They walked for some distance. Once they skirted a pile of rocks, which Brody explained he had dug out long ago when he was first exploring the cave. “That was when I found out this tunnel went on to the outside. Sometime, if you want, I’ll take you into the main cavern. There’re three passages that go down from it. I’ve never gone down one of them. It’s a sheer drop-off. One of them goes down gradually enough that you can climb down it. And the third we went part way down on a rope. There are strange-looking rocks in the caverns below ground. There are pools of water, and columns that look wet, like melting ice. They hang from the roof or come up from the floor. Some of them are bigger around than my arm.”
“I’d like to see it,” Amy answered, “as long as you’re with me. Then I wouldn’t be frightened.”
They had been going at a more or less downward tilt most of the time they had been walking, but now they began to go up again. They crossed a narrow stream of icy water. Finally, ahead in the distance, Amy could see light. It became stronger as they drew nearer, so bright that it dazzled her eyes, accustomed now to the darkness. At last they went through a jagged crack in the rock and emerged in a very narrow valley.
Steep limestone cliffs rose on either side. Now, at midday it was flooded with light, but by late afternoon, much of the place would be in shadow. Mesquite, scraggly cedar, and slender post oaks provided shade, and cactus and low bushes dotted the floor and the walls of the arroyo. Two ramshackle huts stood against one rock wall, built of narrow, twisted mesquite branches lashed together. There was a circle of rocks in front of the huts, where it was obvious that fires had been built many times.
Brody glanced around as Amy did, looking at the valley with fresh eyes for the first time in years. He had grown accustomed to it long ago and valued it as a place of refuge. But now he saw it as Amy must, and he noticed how narrow it was, and how often it lay in shadow. For the first time, the close, high walls made him think of prison rather than protection.
The stream provided water, and they always had enough provisions stored to see them through several weeks. The horses could survive on the bushes and thin grass, and the huts provided shelter from the elements. But suddenly it seemed a meager existence. Brody had built a bed in one of the shacks, but its mattress was made of sacks stuffed with grasses and leaves, and they lay across a webbing of rope. In the dead of winter, the cold crept through the cracks in the shack’s walls so fiercely that they often spent the nights in the relative warmth of the caves. In the summer, it could be stifling.
Sam had never thought about its comfort or lack of it. It had just been a place to run to. A place where he couldn’t be found. The gang traveled much of the time, and they were often in San Antonio or Austin or some other town, spending their money, or doing another job. But obviously he couldn’t drag Amy with him from town to town like that, and he had expected that she would stay here at the hideout, waiting for him.
But now he saw that it was hardly a place for her to live. Even at the best of times, it was not the sort of home a lady like Amy was used to living in. There were no comforts, none of the little things that made life pleasant. Any sodbuster’s wife in her shanty lived a better existence than Amy would here.
Sam glanced at Amy. She smiled and slid her arm around him. As always, he responded to her touch, warming with love. “Shall we look around?” she asked. “I’d like to see all of it.”
“We will.” No doubt she would see more of it than she wanted as the days went by. She wouldn’t complain; he knew Amy. She would make the best of it, as she made the best of every bad situation, from sleeping outdoors to being kidnapped. But how could she be happy here for long?
He thought about leaving her here alone when he and his men went out to do a job. She could get sick, or a wild animal might come along. What if he got captured again, or shot, and couldn’t come back to her? What would she do, stranded here all by herself? But it would be even worse to take her with him. He hated the thought of exposing Amy to violence and crime.
Brody realized suddenly how impossible the situation was. Lost in his haze of pleasure, he had pushed away any thought of the future. He’d been living in a dream world. But coming to the hideout had thrust him rudely into reality.
He wished he and Amy were still back at the falls. He wished they were almost anywhere but here. He thought of the small strongbox of gold buried beneath one of the skinny post oak trees, and he wondered if he could take it and run far enough away that the law wouldn’t be after him. He wondered if it was possible for a man like him to start a new life. It didn’t seem likely. But, then, when he looked at Amy’s sweet face, it seemed as if anything might be possible.
Brody led their mounts through the cave and unsaddled them, turning them free to graze. Then he spent the afternoon with Amy, talking and teasing and aimlessly walking along the narrow stream. They gazed at each other and reached out to caress each other with the same kind of disbelieving wonder that they always felt. Sometimes the touches were sensual, but more often not. It was with awe and with love that they reached out, as though to reassure themselves that the sweetness they had found really existed.
Amy was delighted at the sight of the cabin’s real bed, however primitive it might be, and, laughing, she drew Sam down upon it to test its softness. They made love on the crackling mattress, smiling and laughing as much as they panted and writhed. It was often sweet and gentle like this for them, though at other times their lovemaking was like a fast-rising storm.
Brody tried to put the idea of leaving the valley out of his mind, telling himself that there was plenty of time to decide that later. But all afternoon the canyon seemed to grow more and more oppressive. And he thought more about what he would do if they left it. This had been his way of life for years; he didn’t know how else he would live. The gold would get them through for a while, maybe buy them a piece of land. But it wouldn’t last forever. He would need to build a home and a life for Amy. They might have children. The thought was astounding, overwhelming. It scared him, yet at the same time he ached inside to see it come true.
He knew horses. Perhaps he could do what Raul had done. T. J. Moore had taught him a lot about running cattle those few years when he hadn’t lived as an outlaw. Maybe he could make a living like other men. Maybe he could be a husband. A father.
Once he would have missed the danger and the excitement if he stopped robbing. But not any longer. Amy filled all the empty spaces of his life. He had no need for the things that had driven him in the past. The idea of running away with Amy lured him like a siren’s song.
Just after dark, Brody heard the sound of horses; hooves striking stone. He grabbed his rifle from where it stood propped against the
wall of the hut, and he drew Amy back into the brush, away from the fire, raising the rifle. A light glowed from the entrance to the cave, growing brighter and brighter until finally a man stepped out of the entrance, holding a lantern aloft.
Chapter Sixteen
“Purdon.” Brody lowered his gun and walked out to meet Purdon and the two men behind him. “I see you made it.”
“Yeah.” Purdon set down the lantern and began to unsaddle his horse.
“How was Austin?”
Purdon shrugged. “We found out about Dave Vance.”
It took Brody a moment to remember who Vance was. “Oh. What about him?”
“He got his blood money and lit out. That’s what old Blue Morris heard. Folks say he went south, somewhere around San Marcos.”
“Yeah?” When he had been captured, Sam had hungered for revenge on the man. Now he just felt indifferent.
“Yeah?” Purdon turned, a frown creasing his forehead. “Is that all you got to say?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“When we goin’ after him?”
Brody shrugged. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.”
“What you plannin’ to do to him?”
“I hadn’t thought about that, either.”
Purdon stared at him without saying anything. Amy emerged from the brush and came to stand behind Brody, seeking the comfort of his presence. The other men made her uneasy; the very air seemed to change when they were around.
Purdon looked surprised. “She still with you?”
Brody stiffened a little. “Yeah. Why?”
“You never brought a woman to the hideout before.” Purdon turned his horse loose and came toward Brody. His face was hard and suspicious.
“I never wanted to before.” Brody’s flat expression made it plain that the matter wasn’t open to discussion.
For a moment Amy thought that Purdon was going to object to her presence, but then he turned away and squatted down beside the fire, pulling out a plug of tobacco and breaking off a chew. The other men turned their horses loose and sauntered over to join them. Brody sat down cross-legged on the ground, and Amy sat on a low rock behind him, as close as she could get. She was sorry that these men had returned. She wished it could continue to be only her and Sam.
Sam seemed to sense her discomfort, for he wrapped his hand around her ankle and squeezed lightly. He rested his back against her legs. Amy smiled and ran a light hand across his hair. She loved to touch him, and she did so almost unconsciously, combing her fingers through his hair and smoothing it down, delicately massaging his scalp. Sam relaxed against her, luxuriating in her touch. It was Amy’s nature to express her love in physical caresses, and that expression soothed and healed Sam in a way he’d never known.
Purdon watched them, and his mouth curled in contempt. “Damn. I never thought I’d see the day when Sam Brody’d be led around by his pecker.”
Amy’s fingers stilled, and she glanced down at Sam. Had she embarrassed him in front of his men? Sam’s eyes flew open, and they focused piercingly on Purdon. “What did you say?” His voice was low and soft, and it sent chills up Amy’s spine.
“You heard me.” Purdon crossed his arms in front of him, his expression defiant. “Used to be, no little split-tail coulda—”
Brody shot to his feet, his eyes blazing. “You keep your filthy mouth shut about her. Understand?”
The other men rose, too. Purdon faced Brody, his hands loose at his sides, and the other two men stepped back uncertainly, their eyes flickering from Purdon to Brody and back again.
“I got a right to say what I think,” Purdon said sullenly.
“You got no rights where Amy’s concerned.”
“You think so? And who’s goin’ to stop me? You ain’t man enough anymore. That little piece o’ fluff’s gelded you.”
“Yeah? You want to test that?” Brody’s voice was cool and hard as stone. “You want to go up against me? See if I’m still man enough to spill your guts on the ground?”
Purdon’s nostrils flared, and Amy saw fear flicker through his eyes, but he lifted his head. “Yeah. I would like to see that. ‘Cause I don’t think you can. She’s made you soft.”
“Amy, go inside.”
Her stomach was a ball of ice. “Sam, no…”
“Don’t argue. Just do what I tell you.” Brody didn’t look at her, and that scared her even more. His right hand went to the small of his back, where a flat leather holster was attached to his belt. He slipped the bowie knife from its sheath and brought it around in front of him. The firelight flickered on the metal, turning it red and gold.
Terror gripped Amy’s throat, squeezing the breath out of her. She could envision Sam lying dead on the ground, blood oozing from his wounds. She clenched her hands together and brought them to her mouth.
“Amy, go.”
She turned and ran, stumbling, to the hut. She threw herself into the far corner and curled up in a ball, facing the wooden wall, her arms crossed over head to block out all sound. He would die! He would die! Amy was frozen with terror.
But as she lay there, she realized that if Purdon did kill Sam, she would have done nothing to help him. She was too busy cowering in fear to try to save the man she loved. Amy forced herself to stand up and turn around. What was she to do? She tried to make her numb brain think. What would Victoria do in a situation like this? She would find a weapon with which to help Sam, that’s what.
Amy glanced around the dark hut. She could see almost nothing. What was in here? Sam’s rifle was outside. He had propped it up against a tree when he sat down at the fire. Then she remembered that Sam had unbuckled his gun belt and laid it on the table. She groped her way across the room and found the gun belt. Her hands shaking, she slid out one of the revolvers. Holding the weapon down by her side, hidden in the folds of her skirt, she walked outside.
The moon had arisen, casting a pale light over the scene. Jim and Grimes stood off to one side, watching Purdon and Brody fight, evidently awaiting the outcome rather than taking sides. Beside the campfire, the two antagonists circled one another, their arms out in front of them, the blades of their knives glittering in the firelight. Sweat dampened their shirts and hair and glistened on their faces. One of Sam’s sleeves dangled from his arm, ripped from wrist to shoulder, and there was a red slash across his left arm.
Amy swallowed. He’d been cut. Her fingers clenched on the butt of the gun, and for the first time in her life, she knew the desire to raise a gun and blast away at someone. At that moment she hated Purdon so fiercely that she could taste it.
But then she saw that if Sam had been hurt, he had hurt Purdon worse. Red stained Purdon’s shirt and oozed from a cut on his cheek. Sam moved with a deadly grace, feinting, jabbing, retreating. Purdon was slower and clumsier, and he knew it. Amy saw the desperation on his face as he realized the mistake he’d made in challenging Brody. Sam moved in, faster than Amy could see, and danced back, leaving another slash of red across Purdon’s chest. Amy sensed that Sam was goading him, as one might tease a bull until it was so enraged that it charged. He moved in and out, slicing each time, until Purdon lost control and lunged at him, throwing his all into one thrust. Sam stepped into it, dodging with his head and shoulders as his hand plunged toward Purdon’s chest.
There was a sickening thud as his blade shoved into the other man’s flesh. Purdon stopped, his hands flying open and his eyes widening in surprise. Brody stepped back, pulling out his long knife. Blood stained the blade and handle and splattered his hand. Red flooded Purdon’s shirt. His hand came up to the wound, and he wavered, his mouth opening as if he would speak. He fell heavily to his knees, then pitched forward onto his face.
Sam stepped back, breathing hard. He bent over and wiped his knife clean on a clump of grass. He straightened. “Take him and get out.” He spoke to the other two members of his gang. “Tonight. Don’t come back. Clear?”
&nbs
p; For a moment the other men simply stared. Sam took a step toward them, and they nodded frantically and hurried forward to lift the body and carry it away. Sam watched without expression as they saddled their horses and loaded Purdon’s lifeless frame onto his horse. Then they picked up the lantern they had used earlier and disappeared into the black mouth of the cave. Sam turned away, starting toward the hut. He stopped abruptly when he saw Amy standing motionless in front of the shack, watching him.
She’d seen it. She had seen him kill a man.
“Amy…” He went to her, stretching out his hands to comfort her. He saw the wicked glitter of the knife blade in the moonlight and realized that he still held it. He realized, too, that there was blood on his hand. He stopped and hastily sheathed the knife. He tried to wipe the blood from his skin, but it was no good. She’d seen it. She must be horrified. Would she hate him now?
Amy sank slowly to the ground and sat back on her heels. Sam squatted down in front of her. “Honey, why’d you come out? I didn’t mean for you to see that.”
“He’s dead.” Her face was pale, and she looked sick. She shuddered. “Oh, Sam.”
“I’m sorry.” He felt helpless. He didn’t know what to say. “He challenged me. It was him or me.”
She nodded. “I know. He was a wicked man. But, oh, Sam, it was horrible. All that blood. I’ve never seen a man die before.” Her lips trembled. “Please, you won’t do it anymore, will you? Can’t we go somewhere and—and not have men like him around?”
“Yes. We will. I promise. Tomorrow we’ll ride out of here and never come back. We’ll go someplace safe—Mexico, maybe. I’m not a wanted man in Mexico. I have some money, and we’ll start a little ranch, live like normal people.”
Amy looked up at him and smiled, her heart in her eyes. “Thank you. You’re such a good man.”
He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her fiercely. “No, I’m not. I’m not good at all. But I promise I’ll take care of you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. We’ll stay away from men like Purdon and anything else that could hurt you. I swear to you.”