by Moonwitch
"He's not worth it. "
You're not going to kill me in cold blood, Trevor had said. That would be murder. And you're not a murderer.
Sighing loudly, she pulled away from him reluctantly, framed his face with her hands, and kissed him deeply, yearningly. He responded as best he could with his injured arm, and when they separated, asked if she needed any help.
"No, " she said. "He doesn't have a gun, and he doesn't know these woods and . . . hell, Doug, he doesn't have a chance. Do you understand?"
"I'll tell you something, love," he said softly. "If you hadn't said you were going out there, I would have been awfully disappointed. "
Once she had seen Doug and Elizabeth back o n the road to Four Aces, she and Wind circled the house twice, examining the snow closely until she was able to sort out the tracks of Trevor's men and her own. Finally, one set angled back to the northwest, with evidence every few yards of stumbling and falling. He did not have a horse, and she did not think it would take her long to catch up with him.
And what then? she asked herself as she gave Wind his head and entered the black tunnel of the trees; you wouldn't have been able to do anything to Trevor if he had stopped where he was and not come after you. What are you going to do about the man who's haunted you half your life?
She had no answer.
She could only keep Wind from moving too rapidly so she would be able to listen to the night world through which she traveled, a brilliant white specter adorned in silver.
An hour later she began to marvel. She'd had no idea that a man so possessed by fear and insanity could travel so far in what seemed like so short a time. And it was exceedingly ironic. For years since she had left the village of Daghaven on the Hudson River, she had felt as though she had been pursued by demons; now the roles were reversed, and the demon himself was now haunted.
Far above her the clouds shredded for the last time. The moon and its attendants appeared as though they were carved from ice and set on still, black water. But they would not melt, she knew; they would float there forever, waiting for the sun to hide them before returning to guide her.
She sighed, not bothering to try to hide herself. Maitland in his madness would know that she would pursue him as far as it took her. He would know, and being from towns and cities where he had stalked his nightmares, he would not understand how to hide himself. His tracks were plain. And after the third hour of steady, relentless climbing, she suddenly knew where she would find him.
He was standing quietly, as though expecting her. His back was to the vast panorama of the valley, where the stars above were mirrored by the winking house lights below. He was trying desperately not to succumb to the numbing cold, but he was unable to stifle the tremors that held him captive.
Amanda felt no pity, no sympathy. As surely as there was evil in the world, this man in front of her was a personification of it. Whether he died here or at the end of a hangman's noose made no difference at all to her. Just like Trevor, the man could live no longer.
Unlike Eagleton, however, he cowered, scuttling around the windswept bare rock like a creature that had no name save that which sorcerers gave him. And finally, when he realized that he would not be able to get around her, he stopped and tried to take several deep breaths. The effort obviously caused him agony.
"You're going to kill me, " he said then.
Amanda merely watched him.
"I know it. You're going to kill me. But," he said with one hand upraised, ''I'm not going to let you! I hope you can hear me, Amanda. I'm not going to let you. I'm going to get out of here and I'm going to come back. You'll never be able to sleep again. Never. " He grinned, and snakelike, his tongue licked at his lips. "You'll spend the rest of your life waiting for me, Amanda. The rest of your life!"
Wind dug at the rock with one hoof.
"Trevor is dead," she told him.
Maitland shook his head. "No, he's not. I pay him too much. He's going to be back, too, Amanda. You wait and see. He's going to be back, too. "
She listened to his ranting for a few minutes more, then lifted a hand to silence him. He jumped back as though she had struck him, slipped, and flailed his arms wildly. Amanda held her breath, but he dropped to his knees and crawled several paces toward her.
"Ryan, " she said then. "You finally had him working for you, didn't you."
"He likes money as much as the next man," he chuckled and put his hands in his pockets. He was still shivering, but some of his confidence seemed to have returned. "A lot of people like money, you know. It opens lots of doors when you don't care where you get it. "
"Carla, " she said. "Eagleton. How many others?"
He shrugged. Now he seemed cocky. "A few. A few. 11ley do lots of things, you know. They bum places down, they stab people, they shoot people . . . they do all kinds of things. "
"Simon, " she said, suddenly unable to listen to his prattling any longer, "they're waiting for us. Are you going to come with me quietly, like a man, or am I going to have to carry you down like a sack of grain. "
He laughed, slowly at first then built it t o a howling that lifted toward the moon. "What? You?" He sobered abruptly. "I'll see you dead first. "
It happened so rapidly, she did not know how she could have let herself be caught. One moment he was standing near the edge of the cliff, the next his left hand was raised and in it was a stunted branch he used for a club. It swept through the dark air and caught· her on the thigh, and in trying to shy away from it, she slipped off Wind's back to the rocky ground on the other side. Instantly Maitland had clubbed Wind out of the way and was beating her, aiming for her head. She shrieked and rolled away, came up to kneeling, and, when he charged again, launched herself headfirst into his stomach. The air whooshed from his lungs and he fell backward, the club falling from his hands. She did not give him an opportunity to regain his breath but threw herself on top of him, hoping to take his head between her hands and beat it against the rock until he was senseless. He moved too quickly, however, and thudded a fist at her temple before her fingers could close around him.
She grunted and fell to one side, her right hand still holding the front of his jacket.
He lashed out at her with a foot, catching the thigh he had struck earlier, and she bit her lips to keep from crying out at the agonizing lights that flashed across her vision. He kicked again and tried to climb on top of her, but she managed to sink a fist into his stomach, pushing him away until they were facing each other, kneeling.
"Bitch," he spat, saliva clinging to the corners of his mouth. "I know what you've claimed to be all these years, but I know the truth! I know what you are! I know!"
His arm shot out, and she vised his wrist in her hand, kicking herself forward and lifting his arm until he was bending backward. He beat the side of her face with his free hand unmercifully, clawed at her breasts, her cheeks, until she could hold him no longer and fell over. Her fingers opened.
He leaped to his feet and scrambled for the club. Without thinking about where she was, she threw herself again at his legs, knocking them from under him just as his left hand closed around the dead gray branch.
His heel caught her chest painfully, and she curled into a ball to relieve the shooting fire that banded around to her spine.
He rose and stood over her.
"I know what you are, you know," he said, his voice strangely calm.
Time, she thought. She had to have time!
"Simon," she gasped, rolling into a sitting position and looking up at him. "Simon, if you want to go . . . go! I can't fight you. I can't stop you."
He shook his head, now more than ever looking just like a skull.
"Simon--"
"It's too late," he told her. The club thumped into his right palm. "I gave you your chance before. You had plenty of time to let me go before. But not now." He paused and frowned. "She's dead, you know. "
Amanda was puzzled, but she had to keep him talking until her strength returned. "
Dead? Who?"
''That girl . "
"Elizabeth?"
He nodded and smiled. "Elizabeth. Dead. Your husband is dead, your lover is dead, and now your daughter is dead. " He laughed softly and shivered violently. "All dead, Amanda. And I did it. I killed them all. And you . . . you could have lived, you know. I would have let you if you wanted. "
"Simon," she said, keeping her voice low so h e would have to strain to hear her. "Simon, you have the club--"
He stared at it as if he had not seen it before.
"--and you have me, down here. There's no reason why you should kill me now. I . . . I don't have anything left. All of them are gone, you told me yourself. Why don't you let me live with that? Wouldn't that--"
"No," he said sadly.
"Why? Why not?"
"Because I know what you are, Amanda."
She refused to believe it was going to end here. But her legs were like stumps of dead wood, and her arms were aching from the pounding the rock and Maitland had given them. She could barely breathe, and as each moment passed, she was finding it more and more difficult to focus on anything, much less her captor.
"Maybe I will," he said suddenly.
Oh God, she thought with her eyes tightly closed; there was no question now that he had completely lost his mind.
"Maybe I will let you live. And then I'll come back to haunt you. What do you think, Amanda? Do you think it would frighten you if I came back to haunt you? Day after day, never knowing where I would show up next. Over by that tree, from under that rock. " He grinned madly at her. "In your bed, Amanda. Can you imagine waking up one morning and finding me in your bed?"
As much as she tried to hide it, she could not stop herself from shuddering at the image he had just confronted her with, the idea of her opening her eyes in the morning and seeing--
"Bitch!" he said loudly. "Do you think I'd fall for a stupid trick like that?"
There was nothing more for her to do. Summoning all the strength she had left, she lurched to her feet, her hands outstretched to meet his charge. They collided, and she screamed, not in pain but in rage. She screamed and grappled furiously with him.
And for a moment she almost had him. For a moment she felt triumph swell her muscles and fill her lungs. But the moment ended.
His left hand broke free of her grasp, and the club glanced off the side of her skull. She staggered back, reeling, then slipped on the bare rock and slid toward the edge of the cliff. Her hands grabbed frantically for crevices in the stone; her fingers tore their nails though she felt none of the pain. She shook her head wildly and was about to scream again when suddenly, without warning, she held.
And when she looked up, pleading and almost weeping, she saw Maitland over her. And she knew that she had him-all she had to do was keep him there for one minute. A single minute. That's all she needed. To prop up her right leg fur a hold, then grab for his ankle. He would fall to one side, over her . . . it did not matter. Once down, he would not stop falling.
One minute.
"Please," she whispered as he raised the club to kill her.
And when it was over, it was done in a handful of images that burned against the black sky—
Hooves striking blue sparks against the bare rock.
Maitland raised his arm as he turned slowly around.
A horse's scream . . . a man's wild screaming . . . white mane . . . white moon . . . bared white teeth . . .
THIRTY-FIVE
They paid no attention at all to the snow falling around them. The house was jammed with what Amanda felt sure were more than two hundred drinking, singing people. They were helping Bess, Alex, Hope, and Dawn string popcorn across the huge fir she and Douglas had brought from the forest. A glass shattered. Someone shrieked in drunken laughter. The house shook with the thunder of dozens of dancing feet.
The only moment of quiet had come when Doc Manley, his face flushed and grinning, had raised his glass in a toast to the coming Christmas season.
But they paid no attention.
They walked away from the house, their arms about each other's waist, and they cocked their heads toward each other as though they were listening. And they were-to sounds that no one else could hear, to words that did not need the taint of speaking. They were enveloped, and they were enclosing, and until they were ready, they were silent.
It was two days after Bess had been rescued that Bert and Harley had taken several men out to look for Maitland's body. No one was surprised when it was never found, and from that day on there would never be a hunter in that part of the country. Whatever had happened to the man after Wind had kicked him over, nothing human would ever see him again.
That same day Kurtz and a delegation of businessmen from Coreville had ridden out to offer Doug his old job back. At first he was reluctant to take it, the memory of past treatment still clear in his eyes. But Amanda had talked him into it, telling him that pride was something that never put bread on the table. And when he accepted, he said it was under one condition only-that he be the one to run the auction that would give Harley and Olivia back their home.
"What?" Kurtz had said. "How do you know they'll have enough money?"
"They will," Doug told him. "They will, won't they?"
After sputtering for several moments, the mayor had nodded.
The following day were the funerals. While coming up to the Circle B ranch as Amanda had instructed, Doug had come upon the bodies of Bob Booth and Kit. They had, as Bert had suggested, been discovered, and their bodies had been hastily buried in a snowdrift where, if Doug's horse had not stumbled over them, they would have remained until spring. There was no discussion about where their graves would be. The plots were prepared in the family cemetery in the grove south of the main house. She was, Amanda said, the only family they had.
After the funerals, and a quiet wake held inside, Mitchell rode into town and arrested AI Ryan for conspiracy and embezzlement, closed down Sophie's for more violations than he knew existed-saying wryly to Cole Anders that Eagleton wasn't the only one who could read the law books-and made it quite clear by his simple appearance that he was back . . . and that he intended to keep it that way.
And while Coreville was being put on notice, Amanda had talked to Sam.
"You didn't come after me," she said.
He looked down at her and, for one of the rare times since she'd known him, put his great hand on her shoulder. "You did not need me. "
"I'll always need you, Sam . "
"I will not be here always, little witch. "
Suddenly worried, she saw clearly how old he was and how his frame was beginning to bend with his age. "Sam, is there something wrong? Is there something you're not telling me?"
She could not believe it.
He smiled. "This," he said, "is not a good day to die."
They reached the gate, leaned against the fence, and looked back at the house. The celebration was partly in honor of Alex's announcement that he and Hope were expecting their second child, partly a release of the tensions that had gripped them all for the past several months. She did not care how much damage was done, only the lives that had been lost could not be replaced.
"Sheriff, " she said then, "how much more time are we going to waste?"
"About what?" he asked, his voice feigning innocence.
She poked at his arm, leaned her cheek to his shoulder.
"Are you sure?" he said when she said nothing more. "I have a temper, you know?"
"Tell me something new, " she laughed.
They fell silent until she could stand it no longer. She turned to face him, her hands locked at the back of his waist, her face tilted toward him.
"Are you still thinking about you and me?"
"All the time," he said and kissed her lightly.
"No, I mean about you being the sheriff and me being the rich old widow lady."
He searched her face for a long and silent moment. "Yes," he said at last. "I would be a liar,
Amanda, if I didn't admit it. "
"You want to support me yourself, buy all my clothes, feed me, house me, and you can't do that on a sheriffs wages. "
He nodded.
"Damn it, Douglas Mitchell!"
"But," he said, suddenly grinning, "I believe someone around here once said something about pride. And if you can swallow yours, then I suppose I can choke down mine. "
"What do you mean, if I can swallow mine?''
"Amanda, if you and I are going to be married . . . well, I know you. You're going to want to support me, right? Just like me . . . and you. Well, I won't let you do it. I have my work, and you have yours. We'll share. " He waited. "Besides, I won't be sheriff forever. Sooner or later I'm going to want to make something more of myself than just a tin badge. And there was always something fascinating about ranching, you know that?"