Navajo's Woman

by Beverly Barton

  The sensation of danger inside her intensified until she felt as if she were unraveling from within. Of its own volition her hand reached for the door handle. She couldn't stay here another minute. Disregarding Joe's in­structions, Andi opened the SUV door, clasped the rifle to her chest and jumped down onto the ground.

  A shot rang out loud and clear in the distance, the sound carrying for miles in the desert. Who had fired the shot? Andi's nerves zinged like live wires. Joe? J.T.? Or a mur­derer out for another victim?

  Chapter 8

  Acting purely on instinct, Andi ran toward the mine, rifle in hand. As she drew nearer, she saw Joe and J.T., each backed up flat against either side of the mine entrance. Both appeared unharmed. She breathed a sigh of relief. What was going on? Had they cornered someone inside the mine? Oh, God, what if it was Russ and Eddie? Did Russ have a weapon? Had he fired the shot?

  Joe must have heard her approaching because he turned abruptly, his rifle pointing in her direction, and moved his lips in what she suspected was a silent curse. Before she knew what was happening, he rushed toward her, grabbed her arm and dragged her behind the nearest protective barrier, a rusted-out piece of equipment that had been left to the elements when the mine was abandoned. A couple of rifle shots whizzed over their heads, striking the de­caying metal, bursting off razor-sharp chips. He tightened his grip on her arm. She winced.

  "What the hell are you doing here?" He glared at her, both anger and concern evident in his expression. "Didn't I tell you to stay in the Expedition?"

  “I heard a rifle shot. I thought maybe—''

  "It's not the boys," he said. "We got a glimpse of the guy when we first approached the mine entrance. It looked like he was getting ready to leave, and we surprised him."

  "Do you think it's the man who's been hunting Russ and Eddie?"

  "Maybe."

  "Does that mean you think—"

  "No, it doesn't mean he's killed the boys," Joe reas­sured her. "It's possible Eddie and Russ didn't even come here."

  "Then why—"

  "We don't have time to hash all of this out right now. I want you to stay here, keep down and do not move. Do you think, just this once, you can do as you're told?"

  "Yes." She looked into his eyes, and for a split second an inexplicable understanding passed between them. “Where are you going?''

  "We can't wait around until that guy runs out of am­munition," Joe said. "That could take days. If there's any possibility that he has Eddie and Russ in there with him, then we have to make a move soon."

  "I thought you said the boys might not even be here."

  "They may not be, but if they are. . ."

  "I know. I'll stay right here and I won't move until you tell me to," she promised.

  Joe nodded, then eased out from behind the barrier. When he glanced back at Andi, she whispered, “Be care­ful."

  From her hiding place, she could see very little, unless she raised her head. But she had vowed that she wouldn't move from the spot. With a tenacious hold, she gripped her rifle and prayed. Moments passed slowly. She could almost hear the ticking of every second inside her head. Or maybe it was just her erratic heartbeat. A myriad of concerns flickered through her mind, each mini-scenario worse than the previous one. What if J.T. was killed and Joanna was left a widow with four children? What if Russ and Eddie were already dead? What if Joe lost his life in an attempt to save the boys?

  A sudden barrage of gunfire alerted her to a battle going on several yards away. While she sat there in comparative safety, J.T. and Joe were putting their lives on the line. When more gunshots rang out in the stillness of the hot New Mexico desert, Andi's mind waged its own war. Should she stay put as Joe had instructed, or should she join their fight?

  She stayed where she was, all her instincts telling her she should be helping, not sitting back waiting for the outcome. What is happening? Maybe they need me. The blood rushed through her body, pounding her heart. The thunderous beat of her pulse deafened her to every sound except the continuing gunfire.

  Enough! She couldn't stay put a minute longer. But she wouldn't just rush out and chance getting herself shot. She must be careful and think before she acted.

  The minute Andi exposed herself, placing herself in danger, a rush of adrenaline flooded her system. She rolled, then crawled across the parched desert floor until she found cover behind the edge of the mountain wall. Lifting her rifle, preparing to use it, she surveyed the area around the mouth of the old mine. Where were Joe and J.T.? Had they gone inside the mine to hunt down the shooter? Andi's nerves screamed. Her heartbeat acceler­ated alarmingly.

  Suddenly, there was silence. No more gunfire. Creeping along the edge of the mountainside, she made her way carefully toward the dark opening that led into the mine. Should she call out to Joe? If she cried out, would she warn the shooter of her presence? But if she went inside without making Joe and J.T. aware that she was coming in, they might shoot her by mistake.

  She eased closer and closer to the entrance, then stepped inside, into the gloomy, dank cavern. She could see nothing ahead of her. Pitch black. But within minutes, when she edged her way farther inside and her vision refocused in the semidarkness, she saw the backs of two men, both on their knees, huddled over something. Or someone. Her heart caught in her throat. Then she realized that the two men were Joe and J.T.

  "Joe?" she called softly.

  Joe and J.T. looked over their shoulders. Joe groaned.

  "Why don't you wait outside for us," J.T. said.

  "Did you capture him?" she asked. "Do you have the man who was shooting at you?"

  "Yes," Joe replied. "Now get the hell out of here."

  Andi halted, angered and hurt by Joe's brutal command. Ignoring his orders, she headed straight toward them. The wounded man lay stretched out on the ground. The sight of his bloody shirt, which had been ripped open to expose his gaping wound, turned her stomach. She glanced away quickly, trying her best to keep the nausea from over­whelming her.

  “Where are Russ and Eddie?'' Joe asked the wounded man.

  Andi forced herself to look down, over J.T.'s shoulder, at the shadowy figure of the shooter. She could tell he was young, no more than thirty. Lean. And even in the dimness of the mine, his eyes appeared a sky blue against the darkness of his skin.

  "Why would I tell you anything?" the man asked, wheezing slightly. Suddenly he coughed up blood and spit it out of his mouth onto the ground beside him. When he lifted his hand, he didn't seem to have the strength to wipe his bloodstained lips and cheek. His hand fell limply to his side.

  "You'll talk to us, tell us what we want to know, be­cause your life is in our hands," Joe said.

  The man gazed up at Joe and smiled. A weak smile, yet somehow sinister all the same. "If I tell you what happened to the two boys, then you'll get me to a doctor. Is that the way it works?"

  "Yeah. You cooperate, and we'll do what we can to help you," Joe hovered closer to the man, less than a foot separating their faces. "But if you choose to keep your mouth shut, we could just leave you here to die a slow death."

  Andi almost gasped, but caught herself. Joe was using a threat to get information. He didn't really mean what he'd said. He wouldn't leave this man here to die, would he?

  "They got away. Both of them," the man said. "Got clean away. Again." He coughed up more blood. "Al­most had them."

  "How did they get away?" Andi said. "You had a gun."

  The man's gaze settled on Andi, and she realized he might be able to see the fear in her eyes. She glanced away from his face and down to his bloody stomach.

  "Answer her!" Joe demanded.

  "Damn rotten timbers in there—" he rolled his eyes back "—gave way and crashed in on me." Cough. Cough. "They hit me across the shoulders and knocked me to the ground. By the time I dug my way out—" Cough. Spit. Cough. "—the boys were gone. I was heading out after them when you showed up."

  "I guess you know that you aren't going anywhere
," J.T. said. "Except maybe to jail."

  "I'm not going to jail," the man said. Cough. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. "But you're right. I'm not going anywhere. I'm dying, aren't I."

  "Probably," J.T. said.

  The man looked straight up into the darkness. “Hell of a place to die."

  Andi tried to look away, tried to shut out the sight, but some sick fascination kept her fixated on the badly wounded man.

  “Who sent you after Eddie and Russ?'' J.T. asked.

  "Somebody you don't want to mess with." Cough. Wheeze. Cough.

  "How about giving us a name?" Joe clamped his hand down on the man's shoulder.

  "Now, why would I do that?"

  “Ease your conscience, maybe,'' J.T. suggested.

  The man laughed, then quickly broke out in a cold sweat and began coughing again. When the coughing sub­sided, he took one deep, final breath and went limp. His bright blue eyes were wide open.

  Joe checked his pulse. "He's dead."

  "Damn!" J.T. shot to his feet. "He could have given us a name."

  "At least, we know that Russ and Eddie got away," Andi said.

  "That's the only bit of good news we got." J.T. ran his hand through his short, black hair. "But we'd better look around, just to be sure. I wouldn't take that bastard's word for anything."

  Andi gasped. "Do you think he lied and that he might have killed—"

  "He could have tied them up in here but not had a chance to kill them before we showed up."

  Joe rose slowly. "Then let's bring out the flashlights and have a look around."

  Andi heard a hint of something in Joe's voice. Con­cern? Anger? Or was it pain? Something wasn't right with him. She couldn't pinpoint the exact emotion.

  Within a few minutes, they had found the still warm ashes from a fire, as well as empty cola cans, candy wrap­pers and a couple of apple cores. But no sign of the boys.

  "They've been here, all right. Or, at least, someone has." J.T. kicked the embers and sent the ashes flying into the air.

  "Colas and candy and apples," Joe said. "Those are the items that were missing from the Gilberts' kitchen— the exact food that Clara probably gave Eddie and Russ this morning."

  "Well, I guess it's safe to assume Eddie and Russ were here and that they did get away," J.T. said.

  “We need to get in touch with Bill Cummings and let him know what's happened here." Joe leaned against the rock wall beside him. He held his left arm across his stom­ach while he clutched the rifle in his right hand. "The police should be able to ID the guy we shot. And once we know his identity, it will be easier to figure out who he was working for."

  "What about Russ and Eddie?" Andi wondered how in the world they were going to figure out where the boys had gone. Would Joe and J.T. be able to track them, since they were undoubtedly traveling on horseback? Or would whatever clues they might have left be blown away in the wind by now?

  "We might as well head out." J.T. motioned to his cousin. “He—'' J.T. inclined his head toward the corpse "—isn't going anywhere. I'll call Bill and let him know what's happened, and if he doesn't need you and Andi to hang around, you two can see if you can pick up the boys' trail."

  "Depending on where the boys are headed, we might need horses," Joe said. "If we do, we'll make a stop by Ed and Kate's."

  When the three of them emerged from the dungeon-like mine, Andi noticed that Joe moved slowly and kept his arm hugged to his left side, resting it from elbow to fin­gertips across his stomach. And he held back, keeping some distance between himself and her.

  J.T. climbed down the ladder leading from the mine to the desert floor, then motioned for Andi to follow.

  "Toss me your rifle," he said. "It'll be easier for you to climb down."

  She tossed the rifle, which he caught and then laid at his feet, along with his own weapon. When she reached level ground, she looked up to where Joe was backing down the ladder. That's when she noticed a bright red stain seeping through his shirt between his armpit and his waist. She stifled a gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. Joe was injured. Why hadn't he mentioned it to them?

  When Joe stepped off the last rung of the ladder, Andi ran over to him, then reached out and grabbed his left arm. He winced. Their gazes met and held for just a mo­ment, then he looked away, but not before she saw the pain in his eyes.

  "You're hurt," .she said.

  "It's nothing." He kept his voice low, speaking barely above a strained whisper.

  "What happened?"

  "Nothing." He glanced over at J.T., who was picking up Andi's rifle. "I'll be okay. Don't say anything to J.T."

  Andi persisted, determined that Joe not dismiss his in­jury as insignificant. "Were you shot?"

  "Damn it, Andi, I said I'm okay." He deliberately kept his gaze riveted on the far horizon as he turned and walked away from her.

  "Joe!" She hurried after him.

  He acted as if he didn't hear her and just kept walking toward their parked vehicles. The faster she walked, the more he increased his speed to keep a distance between them. She paused and waved to J.T., who was following several yards behind her. Just as she opened her mouth to tell J.T. that Joe had been wounded, a sudden, powerful sensation hit her and she knew Joe was in trouble.

  She cried out for J.T. just as Joe slumped to the ground, clutching his left side. She broke into a run, rushing to Joe. J.T. caught up with her, as she sank down on her knees and laid her hand on Joe's shoulder. Huddled there on the ground, his body clenched tightly as if he were struggling to remain conscious, Joe looked at Andi. He ground his teeth. Andi tried to lift his arm, but stopped immediately when he groaned deep in his throat. When she clasped his hand in hers, she felt a warm wet sticki­ness. She gently flipped his hand over and saw that it was covered with blood.

  "Why didn't you just tell us that you were wounded?" Andi slid her hand beneath his arm. "Where were you hit?"

  "Who the hell do you think you are, a superhero?" J.T. bent on one knee, lifted Joe's right arm, eased it around his neck and then placed his arm around Joe's waist. "You're going to have to help me get you on your feet."

  Joe nodded, then cooperated with his cousin, groaning quietly as he came to his feet. "What can I do?" Andi asked.

  "Open the door of your Expedition," J.T. said. "We need to get him to the clinic in Castle Springs as quick as we can, and, if necessary, they can arrange for a med-flight from Albuquerque."

  "You're making too big a deal out of this," Joe told them. "It's not that bad. I'm sure the bullet didn't hit anything vital—just one of my lower ribs."

  Andi scowled at him as she opened the Expedition's front passenger door. "Not serious? You're bleeding like a stuck hog and you are in so much pain you nearly passed out. Stop being such a jackass and let us take care of you."

  "I do love your Southernisms." Joe's momentary smile turned into a grimace when J.T. hoisted him up into the passenger seat.

  "Oh, shut up!" Andi hopped in on the other side of the car and slid behind the steering wheel. "You're going to do exactly what I tell you to do. Do I make myself clear?"

  "As always, you've made yourself crystal clear."

  J.T. stock his head into the SUV on Joe's side. "Follow me out of here and into Castle Springs. Once we get Joe to the clinic, I'll contact Bill Cummings."

  Andi nodded. Joe opened his mouth to speak. She glared at him, her expression warning him not to say a word. He leaned back, relaxed against the headrest and closed his eyes. Andi started the engine, shifted gears, put the SUV in motion and followed J.T. She stole a quick glance at Joe. Sweat beads covered his forehead.

  "Don't you dare die on me, Joe Ornelas!"

  * * *

  "I want to leave. Now!" With a pained expression on his face, Joe sat up in his hospital bed. "The bullet's out. I'm conscious. And we're wasting precious time."

  Andi laid her hand in the middle of his chest and pressed gently. "Lie back down and stop being such a. . .a. . ." S
he struggled for the right word, then smiled when she recalled the Navajo word for jackass. "Stop being such a tkele-cho-g. You're not going anywhere until Dr. Harvey says you can."

  "Where's J.T.? He'll get me out of here."

  "He's at home with his wife, where he should be."

  Joe hated being incapacitated, hated having someone else in control of his life. When he'd awoken about fifteen minutes ago, the first thing he'd seen was a half-asleep Andi sitting at his bedside. What was she doing here? he'd wondered. Then, when he discovered that an entire twenty-four hours had passed since he'd gone into sur­gery, he had started demanding answers to some impor­tant questions, but Andi had put him off, cautioning him to take it easy.

  After a nurse that Andi had summoned came in and checked his vital signs, he had decided that what he needed was to get the hell out of this place. He hated clinics and hospitals, and avoided them at all costs. Only bad memories resided inside the Castle Springs Clinic. Here was where, when he was six, his mother had died in childbirth, along with his infant brother. And five years later, the family had brought his father here to die, after the cancer that had reduced him to mere skin and bone finally conquered him.

  "What's happened since I've been out of it for the past twenty-four hours?''

  "Cooperate with me, and I'll tell you everything I know."

  "I'll lay back if you'll find the button that raises the head of this damn hospital bed."

  Andi hit the button, raised the head of the bed and then hovered over Joe, who granted and then lay back in a half lying, half sitting position. Andi grabbed his pillow, which had fallen to the side, fluffed it and lifted his head so she could replace the pillow.

  "How's that?" she asked.

  "Fine. Now tell me what's going on. Any word on Eddie and Russ?"

  "J.T. sent a couple of his ranch hands, both good at tracking, out after the boys, but all they found were the horses."

  "They set the horses free and headed in a different direction on foot," Joe surmised. "They couldn't get far on foot, so that means they had to be looking for alter­native transportation. They probably stole another truck or car."