Mary

by Raine Cantrell

  He sensed more Apache before he saw them. They rode out of the brush single file. Two boys, another warrior. A small band of hunters, he hoped.

  His breathing was shallow. He waited, as still as the rock he lay upon. He was careful not to look directly at the Apaches, for fear he might draw their notice.

  When Rafe was sure they would keep moving and not camp in the canyon below, he crawled backward off the slab of rock. He ran in a crouch to where he had left Rebel.

  The sound of a shot bounced off the canyon’s walls. Thick brush and trees distorted the noise. As much as it pained him, he had to wait again. He couldn’t see the place where he had left Mary and Beth. The trail leading down to them twisted by two sharp turns and cut them off from his view.

  If Mary had shot at a rattler, it was the devil’s own timing, with the Apache this close.

  Rolling explosions of repeated firing filled the air. Unless Mary or Beth had disturbed a nest of snakes, they were in even deeper trouble.

  If he heard the shots, the Apache had, too.

  Rafe grabbed Rebel’s reins and flung himself into the saddle. He couldn’t wait to see if the Apache were already climbing to the canyon’s rim above him.

  Right now, the Apache were a secondary danger to be faced.

  He swore that he had to keep his horse to a walk down the trail. He reminded himself that the shots had been rapid repeating fire. And the silence. He had to remember how still it was. Mary wasn’t fighting off an attack.

  He stopped thinking about the one reason why she wouldn’t be able to fight.

  The silence sent his hand to free his rifle from the scabbard. He guided Rebel with his knees as he slipped the thong from his holstered gun.

  He discovered that fear had new, deeper levels on which to attack a man.

  Rafe rounded the last turn. The pack animals and Owl stood where they were tied. None of the horses shied at his cautious approach. He saw the canteen in the middle of the trail. His gaze picked out Beth’s basket beneath the pine.

  Fear had a throat-choking taste all its own. He saw no evidence on a second searching sweep that there had been a struggle. But he couldn’t call out.

  He nudged Rebel closer to Mary’s horse and leaned over to flip open her saddlebag. The gun was gone. The box of .44 shells lay where he had placed them.

  Rafe slid from Rebel’s back with rifle in hand. He walked to the place where Beth’s basket lay. The thick carpet of dried pine needles showed no footprints, but it had been disturbed. Muffy was in the basket. Beth, going off without her doll?

  He saw the kitten was missing. If she’d taken off the way she had this morning and Beth had chased after her, Mary would have quickly followed.

  He was driven forward into the shadowed stand of trees by an inner voice. He had to find the path they had taken.

  Or been forced to walk.

  He had no doubt in his mind that he would find them together. Everything he had learned about Mary told him she would protect Beth with her life.

  If she was alive. Chest-burning gall darkened the bitter taste in his mouth.

  He was so intent on searching ahead that he stumbled. Rafe looked down and stared at the handgun he had given Mary. Here the brown carpet of needles had been churned until the earth lay exposed. He hunkered down to touch one spot.

  The gouge in the earth was freshly made. Air, if not the weak sunlight filtering through the branches, would have dried the spot if it was more than an hour or two old.

  Every instinct pushed him into a headlong rush to discover what lay ahead. What had happened to them? He had to fight down his own mind’s demands, one by one.

  If he had ever in his life needed to move with extreme caution, the time was now.

  He couldn’t slow the racing of his heart. A small boot had slid down and ripped the earth. He stepped to the side, his ears straining to catch the slightest sound as he continued up the gradual slope.

  At the edge of the small clearing, Rafe was forced to stop.

  Death carried a troubled smell of its own. He read the signs of what happened there. If Mary had done the shooting, where was she? Why had she abandoned her gun?

  He searched the rocks above. Buzzards were already circling overhead. He prayed it was only the dead animals that drew them here. He started forward, then stopped.

  Those buzzards hadn’t come down yet. There was no sign of torn flesh. At his approach, one or two would have perched on the rocks to guard their carrion.

  Something else kept them away. The same something that prevented Mary or his daughter from coming forth.

  Don’t let me be too late. This silent plea was buried under a landslide of towering rage that threatened his control.

  At all costs, he dared not take any rash action or make any damning move.

  And his wait ended.

  “Step out in the open where I can see you, McCade!”

  Balen! Rafe swept the area again, but found no sign of the man. He didn’t move.

  Balen, hidden behind boulders that skirted the canyon’s rim, prodded Mary’s prone form with his boot. “Get up. Tell him to show himself. Tell him why he’d better do it, too.”

  Mary shuddered. There was no choice. She poured every ounce of loathing she could into the gaze that targeted Balen’s ice-blue eyes. It was the second time she had looked directly at him. The first had been when she begged him and his snorting laugh rang in her ears. From that moment, through the endless minutes he forced her to wait for Rafe to come, Beth’s terrified eyes had been all she could stare at.

  Mary wasn’t bound. Balen had no need to tie her or to gag her to gain obedience and silence.

  He held a knife at Beth’s throat.

  “Move! Tell him to do as I say!” he growled, then yanked Beth’s head back by her braid.

  Mary pushed herself to stand. The child’s whimper made her forget the pain in her wrenched knee. When she jumped aside to avoid Balen, his blow had sent her slamming against a tree. And never had she felt so helpless as now.

  She glanced at the rifle Balen had left propped against the boulder that hid them from Rafe’s sight. It was too far for her to attempt a grab for the weapon. And she had no right to risk Beth’s life by a move that had less chance to succeed than reasoning with this low-life killer.

  But if she did what he wanted, Balen would kill Rafe.

  Those piercing-cold eyes of his didn’t offer a snipped thread’s worth of hope that he would let Beth or her live to tell about it.

  “You gonna let this kid die?”

  Mary shook her head, daring now to try and buy an extra moment, just a minute or two. She was that desperate to gain Rafe and herself a measure of time. Something would come to her. She couldn’t allow Balen to kill them.

  “Then tell him!”

  She motioned to her mouth, then tried to lick her lips. It was no lie. At this moment, her mouth and throat were as dry as desert sand. Dear God, how far can I safely push him?

  “Ain’t no cat that’s got your tongue. I made sure of that.”

  His snorting laugh made Mary break out in a cold sweat.

  The long, wide blade of his filthy knife was obscene against Beth’s whitened skin. The child didn’t cry. She hadn’t cried from the second Mary saw her held captive and realized that the real danger had lain in wait behind them.

  She wasn’t a woman of violence, but murder was in her heart when Balen wrapped his free arm around Beth’s chest.

  “If you kill her, you’ll never see Rafe McCade until he puts a bullet between your eyes.”

  “There’s you.”

  “Me? I’m nothing but a hired woman to care for his daughter.”

  She could see that he didn’t want to believe her.

  Balen peered through the notch in the rocks. “I got your kid, McCade! Throw out your gun where I can see it. Then you come out.”

  His kid. But not his woman. Mary had somehow removed herself from being played against him. Or had Balen already kille
d her?

  “One gun, Balen. Then you let Beth go. When I see her free, you’ll get the second.”

  “We ain’t making no deals, McCade. You do what I say or I’ll kill the two of them now.”

  Then Mary was still alive. He had to keep her that way.

  “Beth!” Rafe yelled. “Did he hurt you?”

  “You’d better let her answer him, Balen,” Mary warned in a voice that quivered. He stood holding Beth at an angle to her. His gaze was pinned on the notch that allowed him to see into the clearing.

  Mary inched closer. Every breath she drew was laden with fear that she would see Beth die.

  “Balen, you didn’t hear him swear revenge on whoever paid those renegades to attack him and the army detail.”

  “Shut up!”

  “If it’s money you want, Rafe has plenty. He’d pay you more to let us go—”

  “Shut the hell up, or you’ll get a bullet now!”

  He threw her a hasty glance that reinforced the snarled threat. Mary froze. But she saw that he was sweating. She barely swallowed past the lump in her throat. Her legs trembled. She didn’t think they would support her for another minute.

  But if she could keep him talking, distract him somehow, Rafe might have a chance to work his way around.

  “I heard Rafe McCade promise death, Balen. I saw it in his eyes. If you don’t let Beth talk to him, he’ll kill you. She’s only a little girl. For heaven’s sake, let her go.”

  Mary sought Beth’s gaze and attempted to put all the courage and strength she had left into a look that offered hope. She wiped her damp palms against her thighs and tried once more.

  “People in Hillsboro know Rafe fought you. They heard him warn you. Someone will hunt you down for murder, Balen.”

  “I’m coming up there, Balen!” Rafe shouted. “You can’t let me talk to Beth. You haven’t got her. And you sure as hell can’t disguise your voice. But I promised that next time I’d have a bullet marked with your name, Balen.”

  “Throw out your guns, McCade. I’ll show you what I got. I’ll show you who’s gonna die.”

  Mary watched in horror as Balen’s arm slipped from Beth’s chest to reach between their bodies for his gun. But he still had the knife!

  “Rafe! Don’t trust him. He’s got a knife—”

  Balen swung his gun hand at her, and the staggering blow caught her shoulder. Her knee gave way.

  “The gun, McCade!”

  Metal clunked against stone.

  “That’s one, Balen.”

  Balen backed away from the notch and took Beth with him. Mary couldn’t move. Her hand closed over the rough edges of a rock. Her gaze didn’t waver from Balen’s barrel-chested body. For all that she watched, it came as a shock to see him fling Beth away from him.

  Mary lunged forward and grabbed hold of Beth. The surge of relief that God had answered her prayers was so great that she couldn’t utter a sound. She tightened her arms around the child’s icy body.

  She looked up in mute appeal toward Balen. He had clambered up the rocks.

  Her prayers weren’t answered. Mercy was unknown to the man motioning with his gun for them to move.

  “Get out there,” Balen ordered. “I told McCade he’s gonna see who’ll die.”

  “When I move, Beth,” she mouthed against the child’s ear, “crawl around the boulder.”

  “Move!”

  Mary lurched to her feet. She pushed Beth ahead of her. She felt as if lead weights dragged every step she forced herself to take. She prodded Beth in front of her. She staggered and threw one arm out, her hand grabbing for purchase against the heated rock. But she had managed to get between Balen and Beth.

  “Now!” she cried out to the child.

  Balen fired. Rock fragments shattered above her head.

  Rafe, with his heart pounding as if it would rip free of his chest, returned fire the moment he saw the battered edge of Balen’s hat in the rocks above him.

  Beth crouched in the shadow of the huge boulder.

  Rafe could see her, eyes enormous in her pale face. It ripped him apart not to run to her. He had to believe that she was safe for the moment. But where the hell was Mary? Balen’s first shot hadn’t been aimed at him. Was she wounded?

  A killing rage broke every civilized bond that had held him. He worked the repeating rifle’s lever to pepper shots across the top edge of the rocks, where he’d seen Balen. Over the steady whine of his bullets, he yelled for Mary to answer him.

  There was no response.

  Balen had less than two feet of cover. He lay prone, counting off McCade’s shots and saving his own. He replaced the bullet he had fired. And he suddenly realized he had left his rifle below.

  The woman was crawling toward the rifle. He’d be pinned in a cross fire!

  He whipped off two quick shots toward McCade. Another spray of bullets pinned him in place.

  Then a strange, tense silence.

  It was what Balen had been waiting for.

  McCade had to reload. The woman’s hand was inches from the rifle stock.

  Balen rose to make a crouching run to the top of the boulder. He had all of them now.

  Balen fired off three shots across the clearing into the trees to keep McCade away. Then he lowered his arm and brought the woman into his gunsight. He laughed. She struggled to raise the rifle to her shoulder.

  His finger gently squeezed the trigger as he bent over.

  Mary stared death in the face.

  Two simultaneous shots split the silence.

  Mary was too numb to understand. Balen’s bullet kicked up dirt at her feet. She glanced helplessly at the rifle she held. She had not fired.

  But Balen was falling. Toward her. His gun went off again. Harmlessly hitting rock. She saw it then, what her mind had refused to acknowledge. The small black hole centered between his eyes.

  “Mary!”

  Rafe, screaming her name. Rafe, somewhere behind the clearing. She shook her head. Balen faced her. He was going to kill her. Rafe couldn’t have…It wasn’t Rafe’s shot that killed him!

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mary knew she couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. But it wasn’t the barn that she spun around to fire at. On the rim above her was the tall, thin silhouette of a man. Rage shook her. His shot had killed Balen, but he had to be the second man. Rafe was still in danger.

  “Call her off, McCade! I don’t want to shoot her!”

  Rafe had raced across the clearing when he saw Balen turn after firing at him. He had scooped up the gun he had thrown out and was flattened against the boulder where Beth crouched. Two simultaneous shots. He could not see Mary. He surmised that she had shot Balen. Shell Lundy’s shout brought ice to chill his blood.

  Rafe couldn’t fire at him. Mary suddenly stood in the clear, a perfect target. But his repeated calls to her went unanswered.

  Mary wasn’t thinking. She was shooting at a dancing silhouette that dodged bullets with an ease that taunted her. She could not hold and sight the rifle against her bruised shoulder to aim high at his body, but she could and did hit the rocks.

  A rolling roar of shouting came to her. She resisted hearing the voices. All her concentration went to the enemy above. The burning weight of the barrel and the press of the stock were nearly impossible for her to hold any longer.

  One more shot, she begged. God, give me the strength for it. She prayed for help to break a commandment. These two men and their violence had reduced her to a shaking mass of hatred.

  She fired. The bullet ricocheted off rock, making a sound that reverberated through the air.

  Above her, Shell dodged to his right and felt the burn of a bullet crease shoot up his leg.

  When Mary started shooting, Rafe ran toward her. He realized Shell hadn’t returned her fire. He ripped the rifle from Mary’s hands and flung it away. He caught her against him, risking a bullet in his back, and carried her back to the shelter behind the boulder.

  Holding her tig
ht, he whispered over and over that she was safe.

  Mary, shivering uncontrollably, clung to him. She couldn’t respond to the sound of his husky voice, now hoarse with need, begging her to talk to him. The heat of his body slowly lessened the trembling cold of hers, but she couldn’t look at him. She saw horror in her mind’s eye.

  Rafe’s whispers penetrated her numbed state. He called her brave and daring, he begged forgiveness. She mouthed Beth’s name. She had to know Beth had survived, or it was all for nothing.

  “She’s here and safe, thanks to you.” The frantic look in her eyes shocked him. He lowered her down to the ground. He hated to leave her and Beth, but there was Shell to deal with.

  “Hold tight to Mary, love.” Rafe stepped around them, keeping close to the boulder. He still held his gun, and he wasn’t about to give himself to Shell as a target.

  “Just you and me, Shell,” he called out. Rafe searched the uneven rim. Shell had disappeared at Mary’s last shot. He wasn’t sure if she had wounded him.

  “You hear me, Shell? You let Mary and my daughter go, free and unharmed.”

  Again Rafe waited. Shell wasn’t going to give up this easily. Not when he had the advantage.

  “McCade!”

  “I’m here. And waiting.”

  “Balen and me…weren’t together.”

  Rafe thought he detected a note of pain in Shell’s voice. He couldn’t forget that the man had saved Mary’s life. And perhaps Beth’s, too.

  “You hurt, Shell?”

  “That’s one hell of a woman, McCade. I saved her damn life and she shot me.”

  Rafe glanced down at Mary and Beth. He had seen eyes like theirs in the faces of young soldiers surviving their first battle. He had to get them away and fast.

  “I’ll owe you for that, Shell.” Rafe waited until the echo of his shout died. “Spotted a small party of Apache in the next canyon. All that shooting is sure to bring them. You won’t get away easily.”

  “Worry for yourself, McCade. From where I’m sitting, I can see your horses.” There was a long pause, then Shell said, “I can’t make a move against you now. But I’ll be coming for you, McCade. An’ it’ll be just you and me.”