As Twiggs helped Overbury ease his arm into the brace, Theodora nodded. “I’ll be right back, Julius,” she called over her shoulder, following the Georgian’s footsteps through the snow.
Fletcher led her away from the camp and through a heavy stand of western junipers. “That was very clever of y’, Miz Gordon,” he said with admiration, “shootin’ that antelope like y’ did. It was fortunate y’ had your gun handy.”
She smiled warmly at his praise. Her lucky shot had been just that—lucky. She didn’t fool herself that she’d become an expert with the rifle. She realized with a start that this time she’d forgotten to bring it along. The gory task of stitching up the corporal’s lacerated flesh had been more unsettling than she’d admitted. But since she’d soon be with Blade, she really didn’t need her weapon. And the chance of her shooting another pronghorn was slim, indeed. Besides, Fletcher had his own carbine resting securely across his arm.
They halted at the crest of a ledge to admire the view. A snowy slope dropped from their feet in a gradual slide of about two hundred yards. Then the precipice fell straight down, one mile to the valley below.
“It’s truly beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked him. She inhaled the clear, wintry air. Although they’d been in the mountains for weeks, she was still awestruck at the wild, untouched magnificence of the terrain.
Unexpectedly, Fletcher caught her elbow and turned her to face him. “How would you know what was beautiful?” he snarled, his handsome face distorted with contempt. “Your taste seems t’ run t’ dirty half-breeds.”
She gazed blankly into his silvery blue eyes, stunned by his words. In her confusion she said the first thing that came to mind. “Where’s Blade?”
“Oh, he’ll be along in a little while.” Fletcher’s tone was mocking and sarcastic. “I made no attempt t’ cover our tracks. Once he realizes you’re missin’, he won’t have any trouble findin’ us.”
An icy chill ran down Theodora’s neck. In a split second she knew why Blade was always guarding her. Why he’d ordered Peter and Julius to watch over her when he wasn’t near. Why he insisted she carry her own rifle everywhere she went. But even if he’d warned her that someone was trying to harm her, she’d never have suspected the mild-mannered Southern gentleman in their midst, who’d always treated her with such formal courtesy. It didn’t make any sense. There was no reason for him to want to hurt her. But the contemptuous look in his eyes told her he planned to do just that.
“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” she asked him in disbelief. She swallowed convulsively. Her legs wobbled, and she fought to remain standing.
“Not right away,” he assured her, his pale eyes glinting with hatred. “First, we’re goin’ t’ wait for the breed. Then you and I are goin’ t’ have a little fun while he watches.”
Bile rose in her throat at the thought of what he planned. “You’ll never do it while he’s alive, Fletcher.”
“Oh, he’ll do just as I say when he sees my gun pointed right at your blond head.” He grinned evilly. “Why do y’ think I brought this rope?”
For the first time she noticed the length of cord he carried slung over his shoulder.
“You’ve tried to kill me before, haven’t you?” she asked in bewilderment.
He jerked her up against him. “Y’ never guessed, did y’? Why do y’ think y’ slid off your horse and nearly drowned in the Big Blue River?”
Frantically, Theodora struggled to pull free of him, but he held her imprisoned in his grip.
He laughed wildly at her futile struggle. “How do y’ think that rattler got on your bedroll at Laramie? Did y’ really believe it just happened to crawl int’ your tent?” With a sudden move he bent and slashed his mouth against hers.
She bit his lip, and he jerked away. His fine features were twisted with loathing. Bit by bit she began to ease away from him. He wiped the blood from his mouth with one hand, lifted his rifle with the other, and pointed it straight at her face.
“Don’t move, y’ little whore. You’re not goin’ anywhere. I’ve been waitin’ a long time for this,” he sneered. “I’m goin’ t’ enjoy every minute of it.”
He took a step toward her, and Theodora moved back to the edge of the embankment.
“Y’ know, Theodora,” he said in a confidential tone, as though sharing a secret with a close friend, “I was truly relieved each time my attempts t’ kill y’ failed. When I tried t’ poison both of you Gordons, and only your brother died, I was glad you hadn’t drunk that coffee laced with arsenic. I kept hopin’ there was some way I could avoid your death, at least until after I took y’. Y’ do remember how often I tried to talk y’ into turnin’ back, don’t y’?”
At his shocking disclosure Theodora’s breath caught in her throat. She teetered on the rim of the snowy bank. Her vision blurred, and she fought off the darkness that nearly swallowed her. “You killed Tom?” she cried. She willed herself not to faint. Dry, painful sobs choked her, turning her voice into a high-pitched keen. “You murdered my brother?”
“Don’t be afraid,” he soothed in an attempt to hush her cries. He glanced cautiously down the slope and then moved slowly toward her.
In panic, Theodora looked back over her shoulder, debating the extent of her slide toward the sheer drop-off should she lose her balance.
“Y’ don’t want t’ do that,” he coaxed as he crept nearer. “Y’ might misjudge your slide and go right over the edge. A mile down is a long way t’ fall. Wait for your Indian lover t’ come and rescue y’.”
“You lied about Blade all along, didn’t you?” she asked, frenziedly stalling for time.
Fletcher stopped and grinned with fiendish delight, the tawny mustache spreading above his straight, even teeth. “Y’ believed it all, didn’t y’?” He shook his head with consummate pride. “Shit, Theodora, y’ were easy t’ fool.”
She eased her feet along the rocky ledge, hoping for some means to distract him. “Was … was he really in trouble at West Point over a woman?”
The complacent smirk on Fletcher’s face was terrifying. “Oh, indeed, he was. I bribed a harlot to sneak into his room and blame him when she was caught. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Blade was doin’ research with a professor all that evenin’, my plan would’ve worked, too. But the slut never confessed who’d helped her get int’ his room. She met with an unfortunate accident before they could question her.”
“Why do you hate him so much?”
“Because he’s nothin’ but a filthy breed.” he snarled, and took a step closer. “I’ve been passed over time and again, while he’s been given commendations and promotions. He’s wealthy, did you know that? And I’m dirt stinkin’ poor. That story about my rich family was nothin’ but a lie. All my life I’ve wanted t’ make somethin’ of myself. And every time I had a chance, that sneakin’, lyin’ Indian beat me out.” He shook his head, and the wild look in his pale eyes betrayed the depth of his thirst for vengeance. “But not anymore.”
The glittering reflection of sunlight bouncing off metal dazzled their eyes, and they both turned. Blade was standing in the clearing in front of them, his carbine in his hands. He had come up silently through the timber while they were arguing. “Thank God,” Theodora whispered, her knees nearly buckling under her.
In a sudden movement Fletcher grabbed her, and they tottered on the rim of the embankment. Holding her fast, he turned to face the man racing across the meadow toward them. With one hand entwined in her hair, Fletcher held the rifle beneath Theodora’s jaw.
Blade skidded to a halt in the snow only yards away. “That’s right, Roberts. I’ve got her. Come on and see if y’ can take her away from me.”
Blade’s voice was icy calm. “Let her go, Fletcher. This is between you and me.”
“Not on your life, you dirty scum. Now throw your gun in that snowbank over there. Your knife, too.”
“Shoot him, Blade!” Theodora screamed. “He poisoned Tom. He’ll kill us both anyway
.”
“Go ahead, Roberts. Shoot,” Fletcher taunted. “But I promise y’, I’ll pull this trigger before I go down. And y’ can spend the rest of your life wondering what y’ could have done different t’ save your woman.”
His face carved in granite and completely devoid of expression, Blade pitched his weapon into the snow. Slowly, he unsheathed his knife and tossed it beside the carbine. He spread his hands in a gesture of placation. “All right, Fletcher, just take it easy.”
Fletcher swung his rifle, aiming it directly at Blade’s broad chest. As he moved, Theodora reached up and shoved the barrel aside.
In that instant Blade lunged for the Georgian. The three of them crashed over the embankment. Slipping, sliding, rolling, they careened down the slope toward the edge of the precipice in a tangle of arms and legs and snow.
Landing in a drift, Theodora crawled to her hands and knees and watched the two men in horror. Just in front of her lay Fletcher’s carbine. She snatched it up, jerked off one mitten with her teeth, and aimed.
The two men were locked together. They rolled over and over on the snowy ground, only inches from the sheer drop off. Fletcher had managed to pull his knife from his belt, and Blade gripped the Southerner’s wrist in a clamp of steel. He applied a relentless pressure, and the weapon slipped from Fletcher’s numbed fingers. On top of Fletcher, Blade released his hold on the other man’s wrists and reached for his throat, but the lieutenant countered the move, his thumbs seeking Blade’s eyes.
Slowly the men rose to their knees, and then to their feet, each straining to improve his hold. Suddenly Blade kicked out with his leg and knocked his opponent off balance. Fletcher wobbled like a drunk. With the chopping edge of his hand, Blade struck him a blow across the windpipe that rocked him, and Fletcher fell backward into the snow. Dazed, he shook his head.
Crouching over his enemy, Blade reached down to pull him up for another blow. Fletcher slammed a rock against Blade’s temple, and he pitched forward. Fletcher rolled out from under him. Lifting a boulder over his head, he positioned himself to smash it down on Blade’s head.
From her snowdrift Theodora pointed the rifle at Fletcher’s back. In her mind, she could hear Blade’s words. You don’t have the skill to merely wound or disarm a man. So aim for the trunk of the body, not an arm or a leg. And aim to kill.
This time she kept her eyes open when she pulled the trigger. But her shot was wild, and the bullet only grazed his hand, merely startling him. He dropped the rock, forgotten at his feet, then turned, leaving an unconscious Blade facedown in the snow, and walked slowly toward her.
Horrified, Theodora rose. Fighting the panic that enveloped her, she turned the weapon end over end in her hands. The pale blue eyes bored into her, a glint of triumph in their silvery depths. As he came near, she swung the carbine at him with all her might. He caught the rifle butt and jerked it from her hands. With a foul obscenity he flung it away and shoved her into the snow.
She fought like a wildcat. Screaming, kicking, clawing, punching, she refused to be taken easily. The sound of his horrible, high-pitched laughter brought sobs to her aching throat.
Suddenly he was lifted off her.
Silhouetted against the blue sky, Blade held Fletcher over his head and walked toward the precipice. Without a pause he reached the edge and threw the Georgian over the cliff. Fletcher’s screams of terror echoed back and forth across the valley as he fell to the floor, far below.
Theodora crawled to her knees, gasping for breath, her lungs demanding oxygen in the thin air. Blade hurried to her and knelt in the snow, searching her face.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she wheezed in answer to his unspoken question. She took his bearded cheeks in her cold, trembling hands, and her voice cracked as she spoke. “I tried to shoot him. I kept my eyes open, and I still missed.”
He enfolded her, rocking her back and forth in his powerful arms. He chuckled softly in her ear, and she leaned back in wonder to search his rugged features.
“What?” she said. “What is it?”
He smiled tenderly. Cupping her chin in his strong fingers, he gently brushed her tears away with his thumbs. “I was just thinking, vehona. You’ve earned yourself another eagle’s feather. For a little Quaker bluestocking whose only knowledge of life came from books, that’s not half bad.”
* * *
That evening they feasted on roasted antelope and acorns, while everyone once again heard the story of Fletcher’s treachery and deceit. At sunrise, without having discovered any easy passage over the rocks, the party prepared for the descent.
“We can drop down from here, Blade,” Zeke said. “This is about as smooth and gradual a drop as I can find.”
“Gather up every rope in the party, Lieutenant Haintzelman,” Blade ordered. “And check them carefully.”
He looked at the men gathered around him. Bearded and gaunt, their long hair hanging around their shoulders, their buckskins in shreds, their vision impaired from the constant glare of the sunlight against the glistening snow; they waited for orders. Since Wesley Fletcher’s attempt to turn the party back, not one man had turned craven.
“All right,” Blade said. “Who wants to go down first?”
Although many men raised their hands and called out in the affirmative, it was Calvin Belknap’s tenor voice that carried above the rest. “Let me, Captain. I’m one of the lightest men here. It’ll be that much easier for them to guide me down.” Blade looked at the wiry New Yorker, who’d started the journey as an immature kid and, somewhere on the trail, had become a man. “You’re on, Belknap.”
His sunburned face protected by a scarf, Peter arrived with a group of dragoons carrying ropes. “Here they are, sir. Every bit of rope we could find.”
Chardonnais and Conyers tied a harness around Calvin and the other end of the rope to a pine tree and started to ease him over the side. When only his head was still visible above the rock ledge, he grinned at them.
“Anyone want to bet I won’t make it?” he quipped.
“Faith, man,” O’Fallon exclaimed. “And who’d be betting against you? ’Tis every man here that’s wishing you luck, for he may be the next one down.”
Inch by inch, they lowered Belknap over. O’Fallon, as one of the strongest, stood at the edge of the cliff face and guided the rope through his huge hands.
The group of men at the top slowly let out the rope, listening with held breaths to the sergeant’s instructions. At last they felt a slack on the rope.
“Bless us and save us, he’s reached the ledge,” O’Fallon called out as he peered over the rocky edge. “He’s signaling to pull up the rope.”
A cheer of wild exultation went up.
One by one, the men went for the dizzying ride down the face of the mountain. Hours passed while the few remaining horses and baggage were laboriously lowered over the rocks. At last it was Theodora’s turn.
Blade methodically checked every inch of the rope before he tied it around his waist. He walked to the edge of the precipice. “Come on, princess,” he called with a smile of encouragement. “You’re going down with me.”
He tied her to him around their waists, then lifted her in his arms. “Put your hands around my neck. That’s it,” he told her. His voice was calm and soothing. “All you have to do is hang on to me and keep your eyes on my face. You’ve done that before,” he whispered in her ear.
Theodora was startled at the double meaning of his words. Surely, no one but her husband would bring up lovemaking at a time like this. As they were lowered off the cliff and out into space, her feet dangling in midair, she clung to him with the tenacity of a frightened kitten. With his muscular arms around her, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “There’s one thing I’ve never told you,” she said hoarsely.
“What’s that?”
“I’ve always had a fear of falling.”
“Don’t be frightened, vehoka. We’re just going for a little ride.”
Terrified, she p
ressed her face into his shoulder. She envisioned herself hurtling through an empty void to smash on the jagged rocks below.
Suddenly they jerked to a stop and dangled like two spiders on a single web. She moaned in horror. “There’s something else I want to tell you, in case.”
“What’s that?”
“I think I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you,” she blurted out. “It’s just that you made me so dam mad most of the time, I couldn’t admit it, even to myself.”
The rope jerked once more, and slowly they started to move again.
She heard laughter in his deep voice. “If I’d known what it’d take to get you to confess that, after all those weeks, I’d have tied you to me and thrown us over a cliff on a rope long before now.”
Carefully, bit by bit, she pulled her head back and looked into his black eyes. She’d been right. He was laughing. “That’s one thing I’ve learned about you, Blade. If I give you so much as an inch, you take a mile.”
He squeezed her even tighter. “I don’t want much, nazheem. Just all of you for the rest of my life.”
At last she felt the solid ground beneath her feet. The ordeal was over, and her husband had given her something else to think about besides her fear of falling. “From now on, if you want any more intimate confessions from me, nahyam,” she told him with a rueful smile, “I’d like you to try something a little less frightening.”
Michael O’Fallon was the last man down. Hand over hand, he lowered himself on the rope, until he stood safely beside them on the rocky ledge.
“Sure and I don’t think that’s much fun,” he told them, and his calm remark brought a roar of laughter from the ecstatic group.
Ledge by ledge, they continued their downward drop. The scouting party set out ahead to search for game. The going was steep and hard, but the main body continued until the light was almost gone. The hunters returned after dark with two large black-tailed deer and a black bear, and Twiggs cooked up a feast. That night they sat around the campfires in the snow and told all the tales they’d ever heard of California.
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