Desert Sunrise

by Raine Cantrell

“Hungry.” He resettled his hat and walked away, leaving Faith with her mouth half-open. She heard Pris call her but for a moment didn’t move, didn’t answer her. She could not shake the feeling that Delaney wasn’t talking about food.

  Delaney sat at Joey’s side. “You come through this in one piece, scout?”

  “Faith stayed with me,” he answered, as if that explained everything to Delaney.

  And in a way Delaney believed that it did. He glanced at the three Pima sitting across from him, looked over at Becket who stared at the ground, nervously rubbing his hands down his pant legs, and squeezed Joey’s shoulder. “I’m gonna help Keith, scout.” And as he worked, he couldn’t keep his mind from coming back to Joey’s statement about Faith. She was strong. He discounted her fainting when she heard that he had not found Pris, and thought instead of her reaction to the fierce-looking Pima. No vapors, no need for more than his simple reassurance that she had nothing to fear. Each day reaffirmed his belief that she would last in this land. But he had been a fool to tell her he was hungry. Faith had to know he wasn’t talking about food. Not when he heard Keith swearing as he sliced the last slab of dust-coated bacon.

  “Wash and dry it,” Delaney ordered, knowing all their food stores were likely in the same condition. He used his coffee, tightly wrapped against such an occurrence, and set the pot at the edge of the fire just as Faith and Pris rejoined them.

  “I’m afraid we have little food, but we will share what we have with you,” Faith said, looking directly at the Indians.

  It took courage for her to stand there and receive their measuring stares in return.

  “The woman is s-ké-g,” the oldest of the three said.

  Delaney smiled. He made his own leisurely perusal of Faith’s body. The dust was gone, brushed from her hair, and shaken from her gown, he guessed. Her skin had a golden tint, with only a bit of flushed color on her cheeks. His gaze snagged hers and held it for a second too long before he lowered it to her mouth. He wondered if she remembered his claiming every secret her mouth had for his own. His breath caught in his chest before he could release it. Her breasts rose and fell with the same shuddering breath. His body was strung tight recalling the feel and taste of her. Once more he lifted his gaze to meet hers. His smile became a reckless tantalizing grin.

  The sight snapped Faith into awareness that they were not alone, and she was infuriated when he kept looking at her. “What am I?” she demanded. “What did they say about me?”

  “Sure you want to know, duchess?”

  “Yes.” But she wasn’t. Not at all.

  “Beautiful,” he answered, his voice suddenly husky, his eyes glittering with a possessive look.

  There were grunts of agreement that Faith refused to acknowledge. She was flustered and didn’t know if she should trust Delaney’s translation. Pleating the side of her skirt in a nervous gesture, she thought to ask Delaney if it was true when he spoke.

  “Yeah. Not all white men’s words rest easy on the Indian tongue.”

  “Oh.” Faith smiled, unsure of what to say. No one had ever called her beautiful. Once again she found the Pima giving her measuring looks. And once more the oldest turned to Delaney, directing his question to him as she knelt to fry the bacon.

  “The girl child is yours and this woman?”

  “No,” Delaney answered quickly, this time turning from Faith’s look. He didn’t want to remember her pressing her hand over her belly. But the thought drew him, just as he knew he had to see her eyes. Faith foiled his intent. She kept her head bent, busying with laying strips of bacon in the pan.

  “The woman is yours?”

  Delaney shook his head. “The man is her father, and the two young males are the brothers of this woman.” He watched their eyes now and smiled, He knew what was coming. When the youngest of the Pima stared too long and hard at the rifle that Keith had carelessly left near the fire, Delaney leaned over and picked it up. “The woman isn’t mine, but the gun is.”

  Dissatisfied grunts met this, but Faith frowned to hear a warning in Delaney’s voice. She found that anger wormed its way inside her to hear him deny that she was his, only to chide herself. No promises. And last night hadn’t changed his feelings about her. She glanced over at her father, in vain, it appeared. He was still standing, staring at the ground. She wasn’t even sure if he was listening.

  “Keith, open a fresh sack of flour,” she ordered. “Maybe there’s one the dust didn’t get into.” She ignored his scowl as he moved off and wished she had gone herself. Faith was uncomfortable with the way the three Indians watched her every move.

  Pris spoke from where she stood behind her. “I don’t know what to call you. You didn’t tell me your names.”

  “Pris! That’s rude,” Faith admonished, only to find herself on the receiving end of a cutting gesture from the older Indian. She was not mistaken about his move; she had used the same one toward the children.

  “Come, little one. The women of the robes give to us the names of white men.” He waited until Pris stood in front of him and, pointing to his chest, said, “I am called Joseph.”

  Holding out her small hand, Pris smiled. “Thank you for keeping me safe, Joseph.”

  “They have named me Henry,” the Indian on his right said.

  Pris repeated her thanks to him. Faith watched as her sister moved to the last one, who said his name was Eli. She started as Pris shyly pecked his cheek and then ran to hide behind Faith’s skirt. She realized that Henry and Eli couldn’t be much older than Keith.

  Her brother returned with the flour. “It’s the best I could find.”

  Taking the bowl, she warned Keith not to let the bacon burn, seeing for herself the hunger the Indians’ faces revealed, wishing the soldiers had not taken food supplies.

  Delaney rose from his place, holding onto the rifle. “I’ll get some jerky.”

  Faith could only stare at his retreating back. It was not the first time that he seemed to know what she was thinking and act before she said a word. Keith dished up the crisp bacon, and she set the dough in the grease to bake. When Delaney came back, Faith asked him to get the two tins of peaches she had been saving. His smile was warm, and she treasured it as he did what she asked.

  Every crumb disappeared. Faith scoured her pans with sand once supper was finished and listened to the murmur of Delaney’s voice while he spoke their language to the Pima. She resented the way her father had begrudged them every mouthful of food and wished they had not noticed. How could he behave this way toward them after they had returned Pris to them unharmed? She could only guess that he kept silent because of the warning looks Delaney directed at him.

  Both Pris and Joey were sleepy, and Keith offered to put them to bed, leaving Faith to wonder if she should leave the fire. Glancing up to find that the one called Joseph still watched her, she made her decision. She rose, still holding her pan.

  “The woman is s-kawk.”

  Delaney didn’t even look at Faith. He sipped from his cup, then carefully set it down, away from his body. “Yeah. She is strong.”

  “S-doa?” Joseph demanded.

  “Healthy?” Delaney asked and, when the Indian nodded, answered with a shrug. “Guess so.”

  “Must you talk about me as if I were stone?” Faith snapped at Delaney, incensed by his grin.

  He was tempted to tell her how far from being stone she was, stopping himself at the last moment. Ignoring her was his only choice.

  “The father made no iagta,” Henry stated.

  That forced Delaney to sit up and look at Robert. “Becket, they want you to make them an offering in thanks for your youngest daughter.”

  “That why they’re paying all this attention to my Faith? These sav—” He stopped and glared across the fire at the Indians. “They can’t be thinking of having Faith?”

  Delaney cooled his anger and spared a blessing for whatever wisdom Robert had that stopped him from calling the Pi
ma savages. With a smooth coordinated rush he came to his feet and walked over to Robert.

  “You’ve got to offer them some token worthy of your child’s life.”

  “No.”

  “Becket, you—”

  “I won’t offer them a damn thing. I won’t deal with them. You talked me into letting that Apache travel with us. Don’t think I was fooled for a minute. I know he’s the one that stole those army mules. Now you think you’re gonna bully me into giving something else away?”

  Delaney forced his hands to remain at his sides. He wanted to shake the old man. “Did you tell Krome about Seanilzay?”

  Robert couldn’t meet his eyes. “No.”

  “And what is this something else?” Delaney demanded, his voice low and grating.

  Becket looked up at his face. His hate glared out from his eyes. “You’ve taken my pride. You’ve got my boy, Keith, looking up to you for everything. And my girl…” Once more Robert stopped himself from saying what he wanted. He wasn’t going to confront Delaney about Faith. Not with her listening to every word. He was afraid that she would side with Delaney again, and he would lose her. Spitting to the side, he turned to walk away, surprised when Delaney’s hand gripped his arm and stopped him.

  “You don’t understand. I’ve got no time to explain it all. But you’ve got to offer them something. I can’t. She is not my child. If Pris was, I wouldn’t own anything more precious to me than her life.”

  Pulling his arm free and rubbing it, Robert refused to answer him.

  “Would you risk all our lives over some trinket?” Delaney demanded. “What kind of a man are you, Becket? I warned you once before—”

  “You want me to give them something, Carmichael? All right. I’ll get something they won’t forget.”

  Delaney turned, speaking rapidly to the Pima as his long strides took him to stand in front of Joseph. The older Indian rose, as did Eli behind him. Their voices angry.

  Faith watched but glanced back to see what her father would bring them. It was her cry that alerted Delaney. He fell silent and looked over his shoulder.

  “You stupid fool,” he whispered.

  Becket stood with his rifle pointed at the Indians. “You tell them to leave. I fed them, Carmichael. That’s payment enough.”

  Turning slowly, Delaney shielded Joseph with his own body. “This is the wrong move, Becket. We’re on their lands.” But even as he spoke softly, Becket cocked the rifle.

  “It’s mine to make. I’m tired of taking orders from you when I figure you’re wrong, Carmichael. Time’s come for you to earn your keep. I want them away from here.”

  Faith moved closer to Delaney and added her pleas to his. Her father’s accusing look made her step back.

  Becket glared first at Delaney and then at his daughter. The sight of the two of them standing together, blocking his view of Joseph and Eli, infuriated him. Henry chose that moment to come to his feet in a rush. The move appeared threatening to Becket and he acted.

  Two shots erupted from the rifle, thudding into the young Indian’s body. For a moment they all watched as he staggered back and then fell.

  From the wagon came Pris’s scream and Joey’s cry. Faith tried to run only to have her arm grabbed by Eli.

  With a lethal quickness Delaney leapt for Becket, ripping the rifle from his hands. Hooking his foot behind Becket’s leg, Delaney delivered a blow to his gut with the rifle stock that sent Becket sprawling. He saw Keith, armed as well, and ordered him back, all the while working the lever, ejecting the shells until the rifle was empty. Cursing, he threw it off into the dark.

  “Do you know what you’ve done?” he grated from between clenched teeth. It was as stupid a question as Becket’s move, and Delaney knew it.

  “Henry’s dead!” Faith cried out from behind him.

  Closing his eyes, Delaney swore to himself. When he opened them, Becket was clutching his belly, trying to stand. He had no chance to utter a word; Faith’s cry was abruptly cut off, and he spun around. Joseph held a knife to her throat. Eli had already gathered their horses.

  “Damn you, Carmichael, do something!” Becket yelled. “Keith,” he demanded, “use that rifle. Stop them!”

  “Use it and your sister’s dead,” Delaney warned. “Get back to the children and keep them quiet,” he ordered in a soft, chilling voice without turning around. He hoped that what Becket accused him of doing with Keith was true. That the boy would obey him and not his father. He forced himself to meet Faith’s terrified gaze and willed her to accept his silent entreaty for her not to struggle. Delaney knew that blade at her throat was honed finer then a razor.

  Eli used sharp, guttural commands to still the plunging tugs the horses made on their rope halters and quiet their frantic neighs as they scented Henry’s blood. He managed to lift Henry’s body over the back of one horse and with a smooth leap mounted another. Joseph backed to the third horse, dragging Faith with him.

  “You can’t let them take her!” Becket screamed in fury.

  “Move and I’ll kill you, Becket,” Delaney promised, filled with an impotent rage. He didn’t dare do what Becket wanted. He would cost Faith her life. And for a heart-stopping moment he thought it was all over as Joseph tried to mount and not lose his hold on Faith. Delaney measured the distance and knew he could never reach her in time.

  “Go quietly, duchess,” he whispered. “I’m right behind you.”

  With a scream of challenge Joseph threw Faith facedown over his horse and swung up behind her. The horse’s dark hide gleamed as his front hooves rose, pawing the air only to come down and pound the earth. Delaney didn’t wait for them to leave. He ran for Mirage.

  Chapter 15

  The darkness swallowed Delaney’s quarry. Sand muffled the unshod hooves of the Indians’ horses. They were riding southwest toward valleys and mountains he barely remembered. The moon hid behind a dense blanket of clouds, limiting his vision. He gave Mirage free rein without slackening her stride, allowing the mare to pick her own way as they began to leave the desert behind.

  Delaney swore when Mirage’s hoof hit a hidden stone. To his ears the sound was far too loud as he once more guided her around the base of a rising stretch of mountains.

  He judged the lapse of time and knew that Faith’s arms and legs would be numb, her body aching from the position she was in. He whispered to Mirage, urging her to hurry, fear worming its way inside him that he would not find her.

  Faith drew a deep breath and tried to push herself off the horse when Joseph pulled up. Despite the feeling in her arms and hands that a thousand needles were piercing them, she slid down, swearing when her legs collapsed beneath her. The fierce grip Joseph took on the back of her gown tore the cloth as he hauled her back over the horse, pinning her with a broad hand splayed across her waist.

  Faith shivered. “Let me go,” she pleaded, chilled to the bone from the coldness of the night. “You know he’s coming after you.” She tried to move, feeling every ache and bruise, swinging her arms wildly to rid herself of the numbness. A rippling tension passed from horse to man. She lifted her head and heard the sound again. A hoof struck stone. Delaney was close! With a sob she struggled, trying to wiggle backward, desperate to delay them.

  She barely heard their soft murmurs. Eli rode off, and suddenly she was moving again, climbing this time. Bushes scratched her hands, and her hair tangled only to be torn free as Joseph pressed his horse for speed.

  A coyote howled in the distance. Faith couldn’t lift her head to see and knew fear was racking her body. Her scalp was on fire, and she tried to shut out the pain and think only of Delaney riding after them.

  A rush of cold air forced her eyes open. Her lips formed a scream that never came. They were stopped at the edge of a trail, and she was looking down at a sheer drop that had no bottom.

  The horse shied, and Joseph whispered. Holding her breath, Faith watched the first tentative step the horse made. Agai
n Joseph murmured something, and Faith sensed the animal’s fear along with her own. The sweat and heat of the horse’s hide soaked the front of her gown, but the warmth was welcome. Another few steps and her breaths were shallow, for she couldn’t tear her eyes from the hooves that touched the rock ledge, knowing their lives hung in the balance.

  It all became too much. She didn’t want to see the abyss below. She didn’t want to watch for the misstep that could plunge them over the edge. Very gently she rested her cheek against the trembling muscles of the horse’s side, closed her eyes, and let the pounding thud of her heart fill her ears.

  Time ceased to be. Faith couldn’t summon the strength to pray.

  The faint smell of pines roused her. The horse snorted and picked up its pace. Faith thought they were on level ground, but the darkness made sight impossible. The pine scent grew stronger, the dense foliage thicker, and another faint sound came to her ears, like water rushing over rock. She lost track of the twists and turns the horse made under Joseph’s guidance. She tried to shake off the stupor that held her tightly in its grip. Hoping to distract Joseph, she pleaded with him to let her go, gathering her strength to make another attempt at escape.

  She swore at herself for not realizing that the Indian was no longer holding her. Faith knew it would not be easy. Her moves had to be quick, and she repeated them to herself, until she was sure she could manage. The best chance she had was to slide, roll away, and hide.

  If Delaney was following close behind, it would gain him time. If Joseph stopped to look for her. She refused to allow the thought of failure to enter her mind.

  The horse started up a small incline, and Faith buried her pain. With a heave she came backward off the horse, falling before she could tuck her body tight. There was an agony exploding inside her body. She managed one full body roll before she tried to crawl. Faith had no reserves of strength. She lay sprawled, unable to catch her breath.

  Joseph’s foot nudged her side. Faith clawed the earth. Her eyes filled with tears when he grabbed hold of her hair and lifted her head.