Then, behind her, Tamsin heard a roaring rumble as the mountain groaned and shifted. Boulders crashed, and a wave of loose gravel and pumpkin-sized rocks bounced around them. Unable to see, Tamsin clenched her eyes shut and clung to the horse’s mane as she felt the horse leap over an obstacle, stumble, and slide.
Before she could catch her breath, the mare’s hind legs buckled, and Tamsin lost her footing in her right stirrup and felt the saddle pull away from under her. Desperately, she tried to hold on to the Appaloosa’s mane, then screamed as she lost her grip and fell.
Chapter 14
Ash clenched his teeth against the pain as he whipped the bay stallion harder while the mountainside slid away beneath the horse’s feet. The roar of falling rocks drowned the thunder of Dancer’s hooves as they pounded down the ever-narrowing trail that wound around the edge of the cliff.
In the first minutes after he’d swung up into the saddle, Ash had been certain that Tamsin was right. Not only wasn’t he strong enough to control the stud, but Dancer was going to kill both of them to prove it. When they’d nearly toppled off the edge, Ash had felt his hair turn gray. But once Tamsin started down the mountain, the stallion seemed to forget the man on his back. He was bound and determined to follow the other horses.
The stud hadn’t made that decision a moment too soon. Either Dancer’s craziness or Tamsin’s stampede had started a rock slide. The mountain sheep path they’d followed over the peak had vanished in the blink of an eye, wiped clean as though it had never existed, leaving them all running for their lives.
Between the falling debris and the animals ahead of him kicking up dust, Ash found it impossible to see anything farther than the stallion’s head. There was nothing to do but trust Dancer’s instincts and urge him forward even faster.
The big horse didn’t fail him. Leaping rocks with the agility of a wild mustang, Dancer came down off the peak as though the hounds of hell were hot on his tail.
Ash spat dirt and breathed a sigh of relief as the shelf wound around a corner and widened. Sheltered by an overhanging ledge, the air was clear enough to give him a hazy view of the downhill trail. He tried to rein in Dancer, but the horse had the bit in his teeth and his temper up.
Then, without warning, a yawning crevice opened in front of them. Ash tried to gauge the width of the gap, but it was too late to stop. Instead, he leaned forward and dug his heels into the stallion. Dancer tensed his muscles and leapt, flying over the missing section of rock and landing securely on the far side.
The bay gained on Tamsin and the other horses with each stride. Spraying dirt and gravel, he tore past the sweat-streaked chestnut on the left, forcing the mule close to the inner wall. Ahead, Ash saw Tamsin’s Appaloosa mare stumble and nearly go down, and his heart skipped a beat. He knew that if she fell, the other four animals would be unable to stop. All five would go down in a tangle of hooves and thrashing bodies, crushing her beneath them.
Then, as he watched, Tamsin lost her balance and fought to stay in the saddle. The Nez Percé horse struggled up, her stride broken, but still moving fast. Shiloh skidded behind her. With only one foot in the stirrup, Tamsin held on for long agonizing seconds while Ash cursed the stud and whipped him faster.
At the last possible instant Dancer drew neck and neck with the Appaloosa mare. Ash leaned out of the saddle and plucked Tamsin from midair. He winced and crushed her against him as the big bay took the lead and continued his wild downhill gallop.
A hundred yards ahead, the steep track spilled into a tiny alpine meadow. Ash reined in the stallion to a canter and pulled hard on his left rein. Circling tighter and tighter, the horse slowed to a trot and finally halted.
Tamsin, her face milk-white beneath the dust, trembled from head to foot and clung to Ash as though she would never let him go. “Shhh, shhh,” he soothed. “I’ve got you.”
Pain gnawed at his side and made him light-headed as he dropped Tamsin onto her feet. He drew in a jagged breath and sat perfectly still for the space of a dozen heartbeats.
“What is it?” she demanded. “What’s wrong?”
“This savin’ your butt has become a habit,” he managed. Bracing himself, he swung down out of the saddle.
His legs felt like wet clay, and his head was pounding. He clamped a hand against his side and walked toward a fallen tree. It was only a few yards away, but the distance seemed daunting.
Dancer raised his head and emitted a shrill trumpet as the other horses trotted into the high grass. The stallion was breathing hard, and his sides were streaked with sweat. Yellow foam dripped from his mouth and nose, but his obvious exhaustion didn’t keep him from herding the mule and the mares and nipping at Shiloh’s hindquarters.
Tamsin was suddenly at Ash’s side, slipping an arm around his shoulder. “You’re hurt! Oh, my God, you’re bleeding!”
Ash exhaled slowly and sank onto the log. “It’s nothing, a graze.”
She pulled his hand away and her eyes widened with alarm. She snatched back his vest and saw the widening circle of red around the hole in his shirt. “What is it? Did a rock … Oh, Lord, that’s a bullet hole. You’ve been shot.”
“What are you worried about?” he said. “Your horses are fine. Not a broken leg among any of them.” Or you, he thought.
She ignored him, tugging at his clothing. “You’re losing blood.”
“Ow.” He groaned, pulling away from her. “Damn, woman, you’ll kill me trying to see—”
“Back there,” she interrupted. “When you shot that Indian … I didn’t know you were hit.” She slipped his vest off his right shoulder. “The bullet came out the back.”
“Damn good thing it did,” he muttered. “If it was still in there, I wouldn’t have made it off that mountain, not riding him.” He nodded toward Dancer.
“But you’ve been bleeding all night.” She laid a hand on his temple. “Your face is hot. You’re running a fever.”
Ash shook his head. “No. I told you, it’s not deep. The bullet plowed a furrow along my rib, maybe cracked one from the way it feels. But it only bled an hour or two.” He uttered a exclamation of black humor. “Until a few minutes ago.”
“Well, it’s bleeding now. We’ve got to find water, wash it. You need a doctor.”
“Right.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you see any in the vicinity, ma’am?”
She shook her head. “You were hurt, badly, yet you saved me. Twice. I … Why did you risk your life for me? If you believe I’m a murderer, why not let the Indians have me?”
Seeing her falling from the saddle, in danger of being trampled to death had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. Maybe it was the fever that was affecting his thinking, but he felt oddly touched by her sympathy over his wound. He’d thought he’d rescued her to use her to catch Cannon, but he didn’t want to tell her that. Maybe it wasn’t even true. But if it wasn’t … then why had he?
“I thought about letting them have you,” he said.
“Comforting,” she replied. She glanced anxiously back toward the boulder-strewn trail. “The Cheyenne?”
“A goat won’t make it over that path for the next hundred years,” he answered gruffly. Her nearness made him want to put an arm around her and lean his head on her breast. He was tired. He wanted to sleep, and he wanted these crazy feelings about Tamsin to go away. “If they want us, they’ve got to go around the mountain and find another pass. And that will take half a day, at least.”
The chestnut mare nudged Tamsin with her nose, and she ignored the horse as she tore a strip from her petticoat to tie around his waist. “I told you my horses were tough,” Tamsin said as she bound his wound.
Ash gritted his teeth. “You tell me a lot of things.”
She stepped back and rubbed her hands on her skirt. “That’s all I can do for you without water.”
“It’s good. Thanks.”
“It’s not good. You need hot food, medicine and soap, a bed.”
He wished she wasn’t so da
mned concerned about him. He had to keep reminding himself that she was Cannon’s woman, that he couldn’t trust her.
“I know of a trader who has a cabin near here,” he said. “Six hours that way.” He pointed. “Maybe less.”
“Six hours? You can’t ride in your condition.”
Ash shrugged. “Got a better plan?”
It was a long six hours. Sweat soaked Ash’s shirt and vest, and his hair clung to back of his neck. The pain in his side had become a steady throbbing ache, and the sun made his eyes squint.
Still, he stayed in the saddle and kept his wits about him, which was what mattered. And he didn’t miss the nearly invisible trail that led through a zigzag ravine with steep walls into a tiny box canyon.
A split-rail fence blocked the mouth of the quarter-acre paddock. Tamsin let the horses in, then slid the logs across to keep them from escaping.
Ash watched as she unsaddled the animals. A gush of water cascaded down the sheer cliff to pool in a natural rock basin. Eagerly, the animals crossed the grassy area to drink.
“They may be overheated,” Tamsin said. “Maybe I shouldn’t let them—”
“Leave them,” Ash replied. “We’ve a climb ahead of us, and you don’t want to do it in the dark.”
“Are you up to it?”
He didn’t bother to answer. As thirsty as he was, he knew the source of the water was a spring beside the cabin. He was afraid that if he sat down, he wouldn’t get up again. Taking the rifle from Shiloh’s saddle scabbard, he led the way to a crack in the rock face hidden by several pine trees.
“Follow me,” he ordered Tamsin. “Put your hands and feet where I put mine, and don’t look down.”
“I’m not afraid of heights,” she said.
But I am, he thought. Even with a clear head, the thought of climbing Jacob’s Ladder had made his stomach lurch. There were no wooden rungs, only tiny ledges chiseled in the rock.
Tamsin looked up at the narrow passageway. “I don’t think this is such a good idea. Why don’t you stay here by the pool and I’ll—”
Ash started up. “Jacob’s wife goes up this with a baby on her back.” He didn’t bother to tell her that Jacob’s woman was a Hopi Indian, who’d scrambled up and down cliffs since she’d been old enough to walk.
Halfway up, with his knuckles bleeding, his fingers numb, and his head giddy, he almost wished he’d done as Tamsin suggested. Only the thought of a real bed and Jacob’s real coffee made him keep going—that and having to admit to Tamsin that he’d been wrong.
When they reached the top, Ash saw at once that Jacob Stein wasn’t at home. The corral on the far side of the cabin was empty, the door was shut and barred from the outside, and no smoke came from the chimney.
The cabin, surrounded by trees, sat in the fold of a mountain. Ash didn’t suppose that more than a hand’s count of men knew it existed. Even the Utes didn’t come here. The peak above was usually shrouded in clouds, and the Indians thought that it was the realm of malicious spirits.
“No one’s here,” Tamsin said as she pulled herself over the edge.
Ash took a deep breath, circled the spring, and went to the door. He pulled back the bar and pushed open the door. The inside was shadowy but neat. Foodstuffs hung from the ceiling rafters, and blankets and trade goods were stacked along the back wall.
He ducked his head, braced himself against the door frame, and counted the steps to the raised shelf-bed. Pushing back the blankets, Ash laid his rifle against the wall and stretched out on the clean mattress. His eyes closed the instant his head hit the pillow.
Vaguely, Ash was aware of drinking from a cup and, later, sipping something hot and delicious. But mostly, he knew only relief that he wasn’t moving and that he could sleep.
When he woke the following morning, Tamsin was dripping lye soap and warm water over his wound.
Ash’s oath echoed off the rafters. “Ouch! Damn it, woman! Are you trying to murder me in my bed?”
“Hush, don’t be a baby,” she admonished. “I’ve got to keep this clean. I washed it last night, and you never made a peep.”
He swore again and sat up. “I can get on my feet. I’m not an invalid,” he said testily. “You’ll ruin Yoki’s mattress, and then we’ll both catch hell.”
“Who?”
“Yoki. Jacob’s wife. She’s a Hopi Indian and the reason this cabin is as neat as a pin. Jacob was never this clean when he was a bachelor.”
Noting that the rifle still lay where he’d placed it, Ash got up and made his way unsteadily to the table. He settled into a chair and removed what was left of his shirt. “There, do your worst,” he grumbled. “Is there anything to eat around here?”
His nose told him that there was. He smelled beans and biscuits, and something else that might be stew.
“I’ve been giving you willow tea all night. I found a tin of bark and sweetened it. I think your fever’s nearly gone.”
“I’m hungry.”
He heard a clatter of plates as she went to the fireplace. Glancing down at his side, he saw that the place around the wound was red but not putrid. “I told you there was nothing to this. A bullet can go clear through you. An arrowhead, now, that’s different. Take an arrow and chances are you’ll need to burn out the—”
“I don’t want to hear about it,” she said as she put a bowl of soup in front of him. “That’s onion, barley, and dried something. Venison, I think. Eat it. It will give you strength.”
“I want some of that bread. With molasses. Yoki always has molasses around. She has a sweet tooth.”
She returned with two lopsided biscuits and a crock of molasses. “I saw a trail going down this side. Why did you bring me up that cliff yesterday?”
“A two-day ride to get here.” He sniffed. “Coffee? Is that coffee brewing?”
“I’m a prisoner,” she said. “I’m not your mother. Where does it say a prisoner is supposed to wait on a bounty hunter?”
“I need coffee, Tamsin.”
“Say please.”
“Please, damn it.” She flashed him a smile as she poured a steaming cup. Her fingers brushed his as she handed it to him. He drank without waiting for the strong coffee to cool. It burned his tongue, but he could feel the energy seeping through to the marrow of his bones.
“Thank you,” he said, covering her hand with his own. “Why didn’t you run?”
She pulled away, went to the hearth, and returned with a bowl of soup and a biscuit for herself. “I didn’t want to climb down that cliff alone.”
“Not even to check your horses?” He didn’t believe it for a moment. Hell, he wouldn’t put it past her to tie blankets together and lower herself down to the pasture.
“The animals are fine. I laid on my belly and looked over the side.”
“I was dead to the world,” he said. “You could have taken the livestock and been miles away by the time I woke.”
“You’re hurt. I couldn’t leave you alone and helpless.” She crumbled her biscuit, pushing away the burned pieces. “Your friend Jacob picked this spot well. You can see forever up here.”
Ash took another sip of coffee. His side hurt like hell and his head still ached, but he knew he was on the mend.
“Where is he?”
“Jacob? Off trading, I suppose. He might have gone to Denver to buy more goods, or they might be visiting Yoki’s folks.”
“I hope he doesn’t mind our staying here, eating his food, and—”
Ash shook his head. “He won’t. Jacob figures he owes me a favor. I’ll pay for what we use, but we’re more than welcome to his hospitality.” He looked at Tamsin without being obvious. She’d bathed and washed her hair. Her shirt was a bright yellow, and her skirt seemed hastily fashioned from a length of canvas.
“Do I look awful?”
“What?” He smiled at her. “No, why should you look awful?”
“My clothes were filthy. I had to wear something while I waited for my own things to dry.” She
shook her head. “I tried to stitch up my blouse, but that’s beyond repair. This …” She spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness.
“Nothin’ wrong with what you’re wearing. Take what you need. I’ll see that Jacob doesn’t lose out.” The shirt gaped open at her throat. He could see just enough of the rise of her breasts to make him think about what was hidden. Her skin, where the sun hadn’t kissed it, was fair and slightly freckled. He took another gulp of coffee and tried to keep his gaze on his plate.
A pool of sunlight spilled in through the open doorway and laid a pattern on the scrubbed pine floor. It was peaceful here, Ash thought. Sitting here at the table, having breakfast with an attractive woman, without worrying if someone was about to put a bullet in his back.
But thinking like that could get him killed. Tamsin MacGreggor was a puzzle, and every time he thought he had her figured out, she surprised him.
Why hadn’t she left him when she had the chance? Why hadn’t she killed him? Was she using him to get her out of these mountains the way he intended to use her? And what if she was telling the truth about everything? What if Cannon wasn’t anyone special to her? And suppose she was innocent of Sam Steele’s killing?
“How long will we stay here?” she asked, breaking into his reverie.
“A few days,” he replied, finishing the last drops and holding the cup up for a refill. “Long enough to get my strength back. Until the storms pass.”
“What storms?”
“Coming down out of the north. Can’t you smell it? Cold and rain, maybe hail. The last blast before summer.”
“Ridiculous. It’s a sunny day. There isn’t a cloud in the sky.”
Chapter 15
By evening of that day, rain beat against the shingles and poured through the cracks in the cabin chinking. Gushes of water streamed off the roof and pounded on the shuttered window.
Ash sat close to the crackling fire while Tamsin knelt beside him and applied ointment to the wound along his side. They had already eaten, grilled rabbit that Ash had killed with a slingshot, corn bread that she had baked, and wild greens.
Judith E French Page 14