The Blackbird

by Kristy McCaffrey

  “Nor do I. I believe I owe you a thank you for taking me to Blight’s cabin several weeks back.”

  Mariah gave her a cool assessment. When she squinted under her floppy hat, the wrinkles deepened on her sun-bronzed face. “Ain’t nothin’.”

  “Why did you help me?”

  “After you left us, I got to thinkin’ about the story you told. I decided you might be on to somethin’. Then Henry and I found you. I knew it was up to us to help you.”

  “I’m grateful. Has the curse been lifted?”

  Mariah’s eyes brightened. “I think so.” She smiled, shocking Tess with the gesture. “Would you like to sit a spell?” Turning back to Henry, where he sat by a cook fire, she yelled, “Henry, we got guests.”

  He frowned when he caught sight of Cocheta and Lenna.

  Tess dropped down from Gideon and, as a sign of good faith, holstered the pistol. “We’ll stay just a bit.”

  Cocheta and Lenna dismounted and tied off the horse on a tree limb, and Tess did the same. They all gathered around the fire.

  “We ain’t got no food prepared,” Mariah said. “Apologies.”

  “That’s fine. This is Cocheta and Lenna.”

  Mariah nodded, and Henry continued to scowl.

  “They’re harmless,” Tess added.

  Henry stuffed a wad of tobacco into his cheek. “Are you lookin’ for that Saul Miller too?”

  “Maybe,” Tess replied cautiously. “Have you seen him?”

  “Yep. Sent him to Hank’s camp.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “’Cause that’s what Hank and that fella of yours wanted me to do.”

  Tess considered the situation. “Can you tell me where the camp is?”

  He rattled off a description, but it made no sense to Tess. Finally, he grabbed a stick and scratched out directions in the dirt. Cocheta watched and nodded her understanding.

  They departed the Worthingtons, and with Cocheta in the lead and Lenna riding behind Tess, went in search of Hank’s home in the Dragoons.

  * * * *

  By late afternoon, Lenna told Tess that they were near the location they sought. They stopped at a trickling spring and watered the horses. They were all exhausted, so Tess suggested they hunker down. She crept away to scout the area, because she knew that’s what Hank or Cale would do. She moved quietly through a grove of cottonwoods, her hat shielding her face. Only the swish of her skirt around her boots could be heard.

  A twig snapped.

  She jerked around and caught sight of One Ear running toward her. Shocked that he’d followed, she bolted. The Colt strapped in the holster struck repeatedly against her hip, but she feared stopping long enough to remove it.

  Instinct pushed her to flee.

  Her injured leg didn’t fail, and she moved faster than she’d ever imagined, her hat flying from her head to dangle along her back. Lifting her skirt, Tess pumped her legs as she scrambled uphill, searching for a diversion or hiding place. As she honed in on a jumble of boulders, a man slammed her to the ground.

  She kicked and fought, struggling for the breath that had been knocked from her, when a hand clamped hard across her mouth.

  Saul Miller.

  He flipped her over, wrenching her arm toward her shoulder blade so hard she screamed. From his position, he began shooting at the pursuing Apache.

  Tess continued to struggle.

  “Goddammit! Stay still!”

  She rolled enough to knee him in the stomach, then scrambled to get away. He grabbed her skirt, then her leg and threw her against the dirt. Twisting to her back, she kicked into his face as hard as she could, the jolt telling her she hit something.

  Pushing backwards, she attempted to escape, her right hand frantically grasping at the leather noose keeping the Colt in the holster.

  Saul stood, blood running from his nose and fury in his eyes. As he raised his gun to her, Tess freed the Colt at last. Holding it with both hands, she thumbed the hammer.

  No hesitation.

  The discharge blasted her ears and jarred every bone in her body.

  Saul fell to the side, which didn’t make sense.

  She scrambled to stand, and One Ear ran toward her, angry and determined.

  Raising the revolver again, she cocked the hammer. “Don’t come any closer! I’ll kill you!”

  He clearly didn’t believe her.

  Stop!

  Deténgase, por favor!

  With swift precision, an arrow hit him in the chest, and he flew backwards.

  Reeling, Tess ducked and took cover beside the rocky escarpment. Her hands shook, but she steadied herself and pointed the gun, scanning to where the shooter might be. A glance at Saul showed an arrow protruding from his neck.

  I didn’t shoot him.

  In the distance, the howl of a woman could be heard.

  Cocheta.

  The sound increased in volume, and to Tess’s horror, the old woman was moving up the same path as One Ear.

  No. Go back.

  But she was now visible, and continued lumbering forward.

  Tess burst from her hiding place, pointing the Colt at the invisible arrow-shooter as she sped to meet Cocheta before the woman was taken out.

  “Carrera, Cocheta, carrera!”

  Cocheta yelled in Apache. Tess halted and, with both hands on the Colt, focused it toward the man—or men— behind the arrows. She held her ground, determined to fight.

  The Apache woman came to her at last, breathing heavily. Tess kept her eyes forward. Cocheta pressed at Tess’s arms, trying to push them down, shaking her head. “Dah. Dah.”

  Tess rebelled. “Stop!” But Cocheta was persistent.

  They both caught the movement at the same time, and watched as a shirtless Apache atop horseback approached, holding a bow and arrow. Tess didn’t recognize him, but took a step back as soon as she saw the ruthless expression on his face.

  Cocheta’s stout body halted her retreat, and the old woman said softly, “Jackrabbit.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Cale sat across from Lange as Hank kept watch on the clearing that had previously been Hank’s camp. They’d managed to use the Worthingtons to direct the men here, but so far Saul had eluded them. And Walt hadn’t been much help. He seemed glad to be away from Miller and offered to help get him. Cale wasn’t sure if he trusted him or not.

  The business with Tess had put him in a foul mood all the way around.

  The sound of distant gunfire set them all on alert.

  “Gimme back my guns,” Walt demanded.

  “No,” Cale replied.

  Hank cocked his head, and Cale nodded, grabbing his rifle. They both took off on foot. Lange was tied up. That would keep him out of trouble and out of their hair. And if not, then Cale had little sympathy for his outcome.

  Another lone gunshot.

  They moved silently through the trees, and Hank veered to the left as Cale headed straight in. Coming from behind, he saw an Apache on horseback, and although the warrior faced away from him, he knew it was Jackrabbit.

  As soon as he caught sight of Cocheta, Tess beside her with a gun pointed at the Apache, he raised the rifle and aimed it directly between the man’s shoulder blades.

  “Da’áízhi!” Cale yelled.

  Jackrabbit stilled.

  A shot rang out and the Apache spun from his horse. The horse bolted, and Jackrabbit landed on the ground.

  Tess and Cocheta screamed, and Cale searched for the shooter because it sure as hell wasn’t him. Was it Hank?

  Cocheta ran to where Jackrabbit lay, and Cale went, too, keeping his rifle at the ready, scanning into the woods.

  “Get outta here!” he yelled at both of them. “Go to the left. Take cover.” He stood in front of them, protecting their position, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough if all hell broke loose. The two of them began dragging Jackrabbit toward safety, and immediately shots blew dirt into their face .

  Cale fired twice in quick
succession.

  Shit.

  “Leave him! Go! Now!”

  The women ran, and from the corner of his eye, he saw them take refuge near another body, who, near as he could tell, was Saul.

  Cale held his position before Jackrabbit’s body, debating his course of action. He didn’t know if the warrior was dead, and if he didn’t clear out, he’d likely be hit at any moment.

  Who was shooting?

  And where was Hank?

  Finally, Hank showed himself, hands up, pushed forward by a man Cale recognized as part of Sid Haverly’s posse. Soon, three more men materialized from the perimeter, along with Haverly himself. All held pistols or shotguns aimed at Cale.

  “You’ll just move away now,” Sid said. “That Apache is ours.”

  Cale didn’t lower his weapon. “I think you already got him.”

  “We need to be sure.”

  “Wait!” Tess.

  Unease rippled through Cale, and he fought the urge to turn and order her back.

  He heard her move behind him. He needed to drop the rifle and get the Colts loose. It was the only hope of taking out as many of them as he could.

  “Your nephew, Douglas, is safe,” she said.

  “Now, how would you know that?” Sid asked.

  “I’ve seen him.”

  From her voice, Cale positioned her on his left, at about seventy degrees.

  “Jackrabbit isn’t guilty,” she continued. “He was the one who returned him. Douglas is at Vern Blight’s cabin, just north of here. He’s waiting for you.”

  Sid narrowed his gaze. “That’s a damn fine story, but I got no reason to believe you’re tellin’ the truth.” He shrugged. “And besides, that one holdin’ the rifle was responsible for the death of several of my men. As I see it, the lot of you is accountable for many wrongdoings, not the least of which is fraternizing with the Apache. They’re scum and vermin, and if you’re gonna take up with ’em, then you have to accept the consequences of those actions.”

  Cale flicked a glance at Hank. As bad as some of the manhunts had been in the past, this one ranked at the top. If only Tess wasn’t here...

  Cale couldn’t place the first shot. He ducked, dropping the rifle with his right hand, and in one fluid motion drew the left iron. He shot one man and twisted toward Tess’s last location. A cacophony of gunfire erupted. Reaching her, he shielded her and drew the right Colt, laying down fire as he pushed her backwards toward cover. As soon as he was out of shots, he slammed into her and pushed her to the safety of a rock wall where Cocheta cowered.

  He spun the chamber of his left gun, swiftly ejected the spent casings then reloaded. Tess raised her own weapon and fired four shots. He yanked her back, took her gun and handed the third and empty pistol to her. “Reload.” He returned fire, but they were pinned down, and his line of sight was compromised.

  He continued to shove the spent revolvers to Tess for her to reload. Anything to keep her from shooting. His blood ran cold as a vision of her with a bullet in the head filled his mind. He needed to do something before he ran out of ammo.

  “Get back and stay down!” He made no effort to soften the demand, all but barking the order at her and Cocheta. For a moment, he looked Tess in the eye. He knew she must be frightened, but she stared back at him with clear-eyed resolution. She wasn’t backing down.

  He swung away and left them.

  * * * *

  “Cale!”

  Tess reached for him but it was too late . He disappeared, the ping of gunshots ricocheting, and the acrid smell of gunpowder filling the air.

  She still held her Colt, or one of the three she’d been rotating to Cale. The supply of ammo had gone with him, but this one was fully loaded.

  She had six shots.

  Squaring her shoulders, she gripped the gun with both hands and cocked the hammer.

  Uno, dos, tres...

  She ran to a tree trunk, stopped and shot, huddling when return fire splintered the wood. She grunted and thumbed the hammer again. She might not have good aim, but she could at least provide a distraction for Cale, maybe giving him enough time.

  Blood dripped onto her hand.

  Am I hit?

  She didn’t recall getting shot.

  The sudden silence brought her up short. Glancing past the tree trunk, she wondered if it was safe. Her heart raced. She raised the Colt and stepped around the tree. Across the clearing, she saw Haverly raise a gun to her.

  Determined to pull the trigger on her own pistol, she frowned when her fingers wouldn’t perform the task. The Colt slipped from her hands, and she fell to her knees. The last thing she remembered was Hank killing Sid Haverly.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Tess opened her eyes and saw Cale, the raw concern in his gaze slicing her open anew.

  Does he really care so much?

  “I was shot, wasn’t I?”

  “It’s not bad,” Lenna said, also sitting beside her. “Just grazed your upper arm.”

  “Is Hank...?”

  “He’s fine,” Cale answered. “Bipin and some of Mohan’s band came to our aid.”

  Tess sat up, forced to wait until a wave of dizziness passed. “Cocheta?”

  Lenna pointed, and in the waning daylight, Tess saw the elderly woman kneeling beside Jackrabbit’s body.

  “Is he dead?”

  “No,” Lenna replied. “He lives.”

  “Cale, you should help him.” Tess turned to him. He’d moved back from her, and only now did she notice that his shirt was removed, revealing a bloody makeshift bandage around his powerful torso. “Are you all right?”

  “Just another scar.” His blue eyes watched her. “I’ve got plenty of those. Now that I know you’re well, I’ll go check on him.” He stood and left.

  “Why does he look at you with so much longing and so much sadness?” Lenna asked.

  “Because I was afraid,” Tess said quietly.

  “But he said you were very brave during the attack.”

  Tears burned Tess’s eyes. “But I’m not brave in love.”

  “With the Apache, it takes a long time to become comfortable with a mate, even after marriage. What you feel is normal. Coyote is a scoundrel, but Mountain Lion is not.”

  Tennyson came to mind again.

  Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die.

  “What would you do, Lenna?”

  “If I fancied a man the way you do Change of Heart, I would accept his overtures. Do you have a cross-cousin?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “A child of your father’s sister or your mother’s brother.”

  “No. I have none of those.”

  “That is too bad. In situations of awkwardness before and during marriage, a cross-cousin can come and share your bed with your husband. That way, you don’t have to touch him or look at him.”

  Tess frowned. “That’s not the problem. But thank you for the advice.”

  Tess considered sharing a bed with Cale and another woman. She didn’t like it.

  She would have to tell him the truth. Maybe then he would understand.

  More likely he would set her free.

  Love is the only gold.

  * * * *

  Within night’s embrace, Tess went in search of Cale. She learned this was Hank’s camp, his home while searching for gold, a treasure he’d supposedly located. She knew Hank wouldn’t leave when this was all done, and her clinging desire to find him slipped away like water in a creek. Her life was her own. It was time to embrace it.

  Men from Mohan’s band gathered around a fire. Cocheta and Lenna tended to Jackrabbit. Hank organized his scattered belongings. Walt Lange was also present, and although he’d been restrained earlier, he was now free. A somber atmosphere settled into the slightly chilly air.

  Vengeance and retribution had been put to rest.

  The dead would be dealt with in the morning.

  Saul Miller’s evil was gone from the earth at last.
Tess didn’t feel sorry for it. But he was just one of many demons who walked within the cloak of humanity. One Ear, Sid Haverly—would it never end?

  No.

  Even Hank, walking the line between good and evil, struggled to stay on the path.

  And then there was Cale. During the attack, he’d been something altogether different than what she’d known. Ruthless, cunning, relentless. She realized now how careful he’d been with her, to shield her from this side of him.

  The urge to soothe those sharp edges pulsed within her, but there was no denying she had her own brittle boundaries. Could Cale tolerate the uncertainties that she faced?

  She found him, deep in the shadows, propped against the remnants of a tree trunk likely struck down by lightning. Eyes closed, one knee bent, and still shirtless, he appeared remote and coiled, like a predator ready to strike.

  Suddenly nervous, Tess wondered why she’d never noticed this side of him. It was a testament to the man he was that he’d always been nothing but kind with her.

  The moments stretched as she waited and watched, both hesitant to intrude and mesmerized by him. The disfigurement from the puma attack didn’t lessen his beauty but rather enhanced the man, and she wondered if her own injury could be seen in the same light.

  He opened his eyes and immediately locked them on her.

  “Can I speak with you?” she asked, her voice foreign to her, deeper and wiser.

  He nodded.

  She settled near him. He didn’t reach for her, and she didn’t make an overture either. She brought knees to her chest and tucked the stained and dusty checkered skirt around her legs. The gunshot wound she’d sustained stung a bit, but she ignored the pressure from her torn blouse as it stretched across the bandage Lenna had fashioned.

  “After Saul attacked me,” she said, “I was understandably fearful. It took a long time—several weeks—to recover from the pain, to accept that I might never walk right again, to have a face that didn’t bulge with bruises and bloodied scabs. It seemed, after many months, that I was healed. I believed myself to be well. Then Esteban appeared. He helped Tom make deliveries to Fort Lowell. It was obvious he liked me. I honestly didn’t feel anything one way or another. But then, one afternoon, we were alone, and he tried to kiss me. That was the first time the terror filled me.”