The pinto had made it across the slide without a scratch. She was tempted to side with the parson in his constant grumbling about horses.
“What happened?” Her voice grated, her words were slurred. The fall was only dizzying, vague images distorted by terror and pain. How had she kept from plunging to the bottom of that cliff?
Gabe reached for her, touched her gently on the forehead, and pulled his hand back.
She saw blood.
“You fell.”
“Off the cliff?” Shannon thought of the wicked ledge they’d been on. “How… how am I still alive? How am I up here with you?”
“You didn’t fall to the bottom. You just fell off your horse, and before you went over, or just as you did, I lassoed you.”
“Around my tough belly again?” He’d saved her twice now. Him and his trusty rope. Tears burned in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. Being dehydrated no doubt helped.
Gabe smiled. “I got an arm this time.”
Following the line of his gaze, she saw that he was loosening a noose around her wrist. And then the pain came fully alive. Shannon’s vision twisted. “My arm. I—I think it’s broken.”
Gabe quit moving the rope. “It must have been too much. I yanked so hard.” His eyes, black with regret, suddenly turned calm and steady. She remembered he’d been in the cavalry. He was a strong man who’d faced trouble many times.
That steadiness helped her to stave off panic at the thought of a broken arm, so far from medical help.
Gabe looked across the talus slope. “Can you get back across here, Hozho? Her arm may be broken. You’ve done some doctoring, right?”
Shannon wasn’t sure how Gabe knew that. Then she thought of that trail. “No! They can’t come across that slide. They can’t!” Shannon gritted her teeth to turn, wave Hozho back, only to find the elderly woman already at her side.
“No need to fret, ah-tad. I’ll set the bone.” Hozho knelt beside Shannon on her left.
“S–set the bone? Doctors set bones.” Shannon had never had a broken bone, but she’d been to the doctor a few times. Her mother was related to one of the most respected doctors in St. Louis.
Gabe was on his knees on her right. Shannon saw the parson, his lips moving as if in prayer, his eyes solemn, standing behind Gabe.
“We think there is a way to lower ground ahead.” Hozho brushed Shannon’s hair back off her forehead. “Hosteen will take the horses and find grass for them, then come back.”
“We can’t cross that.”
“Shhh, ah-tad.”
“I don’t know why I brought you all here. Why did I think this was important?”
“Hold here.” Hozho spoke with little more than a grunt to Gabe. She rested steady hands on Shannon then pulled away and let Gabe’s hands replace hers.
“Hold where?” Shannon asked.
Gabe was suddenly all she could see. His face filled her vision, her world. She saw terrible regret in his eyes.
Hozho’s fingers moved expertly, straightening Shannon’s elbow.
White-hot pain arched Shannon’s body until her back came off the ground.
Before she could get up, run, scream, Gabe had her firmly back on the rocky ground. “I’m sorry, Shannon,” Gabe whispered. “It will hurt, but we have to keep you still.”
The traitor wasn’t going to help her escape from Hozho’s torture. Shannon’s jaw firmed, and she did her best to lie still when every impulse she possessed told her to flee.
When the elderly woman touched Shannon’s shoulder, the pain glowed like a fireplace poker. Pinned to the stone ground by Gabe, recoiling from it was beyond Shannon’s control.
“Don’t let her move.”
Gabe’s hands became iron bands. She didn’t fight him; it was too painful.
“Not broken,” Hozho said with grim satisfaction. “Her arm has been pulled out of the shoulder joint. We can fix.”
Hozho pushed Gabe back firmly then was in front of Shannon’s eyes. “It will hurt to push the joint back in place, but I’ve done this before. You will be fine. Much quicker to heal than a broken bone. But it will hurt terribly for just a few seconds.”
Since Shannon was hurting quite terribly right now, that didn’t worry her all that much. She looked into ancient eyes. Hozho seemed full of wisdom.
For the first time, Shannon realized that the elderly woman had been right to try and force Shannon to marry Gabe. She’d been right to insist that such a situation couldn’t be allowed to continue. But Shannon had thought she knew better and found a way out.
Found a way to avoid marrying the nicest man she’d ever met. A man who’d lassoed her twice to save her life.
“Thank you, Hozho.”
“You may not thank me in a few minutes when I’m hurting you. But it has to be done, ah-tad.”
“What is that?” Shannon needed to focus on something besides her arm. “Ah-tad.”
“It means girl.” Hozho took Shannon’s wrist and lifted slowly, steadily.
Every movement caused Shannon’s shoulder more pain. “No, wait. I’m not ready.”
“Look at me, Shannon.”Gabe’s warm voice drew her attention. In that awful heat of the canyon, her arm suffering until she could imagine the torments of the devil, his voice might save her life just as his lariat had.
A deep moan that might have been the wind sweeping between the colonnades and canyons and river, or might have come from her, was the only response.
Then came a brutal attack. Hozho jerked on Shannon’s arm. A dull snap near her left ear, and Shannon’s shoulder went from blazing with pain to merely hurting like mad.
A scream cut through the canyon. That scream, Shannon’s own, echoed back to her over and over, as if the pain had a life of its own and would forever be a part of this majestic, terrible gouge sliced into the belly of the earth.
Call the canyon grand, because it was, certainly. But call it a killer, too.
Shannon opened her eyes to see mercy and guilt on Gabe’s face. Then the world narrowed until she looked through a tunnel, only Gabe’s face, only his eyes, only darkness. The pain in her shoulder followed her into unconsciousness.
It was irrational.
He recognized that. So he controlled it. But Gabe really needed to punch somebody.
Watching Shannon scream and faint from pain while he held her down made him fighting mad.
He looked up at Hozho. No, probably not an elderly woman.
He looked down at Shannon. Well, that was just stupid.
He heard the parson praying quietly over Gabe’s shoulder while he wrestled with his horse. Not right to hit a man of God. Not right at all.
Hosteen was long gone with three of the horses. Not that Hosteen had done a thing wrong.
Gabe had a strange impulse to punch himself in the face. He was the only one left, and he really needed to punch somebody.
In the time it took to rule out the potential victims, he gained control of his furious need to pound his fists into someone’s face.
Then he looked back at Shannon. Her cheek was bleeding, scraped against the rocks as she fell. There were bits of sand embedded there. Her skin was burned red by the sun. Little blisters on her lips told the story of how much that was going to hurt later. Her shoulder was probably going to help distract her from the sunburn. Her hair was snarled, and it looked like it was half full of gravel.
Yep, looking for a city of gold had been a little slice of genius.
Blaming Shannon suited him, but he’d come along, hadn’t he? Not that she’d given him much choice, but honestly, he’d wanted to come down here.
It’s a beautiful place.
Gabe could clearly remember thinking it and saying it.
Let’s go on down.
Yep, he’d been willing, eager even.
I would love to climb down there if Shannon can show us the way.
He’d said those very words out loud. He was an idiot, and he went back to wanting to punch himself.
“We
will put a sling on her arm now, before she wakes up.” Hozho brought Gabe’s thoughts back to practical things.
“I have the horses picketed.” Hosteen called from the far side of the talus slide. “I found a trail down to get water. Not far. Do you need me over there?”
“Yes, see to the horse,” Hozho said to her husband as she eyed Shannon’s arm. “I need more time to see to Miss Shannon. We will finish with her and come after you on foot. Help the parson cross that slope.”
“Parson,” Hozho continued being in charge.
Gabe was busy mentally battering himself.
The parson was all tied up with prayers and his wretched horsemanship skills. Someone needed to give some orders. “Yes?” The parson pulled his attention away from his skittish horse.
Gabe could see clear as day that the parson was making his mustang nervous. The little animal seemed like a well-trained critter whenever the parson was not around.
“Get the horses to water.”
“Me? I can’t make these beasts behave. I can’t figure out why no one comes up with a better way to get around than on horseback. I lived in Michigan for a while near my brother’s family. Had a bicycle.” The parson shook his head. “I loved that bicycle, but you can’t ride a bicycle around in the desert. God called me out here loud and clear, but still, the horse situation is—”
“You ride, Parson.” Hosteen was across the slide. “I’ll lead the horses. We’ll get across fine.”
“I’ll walk.” The parson might be a man with plenty of faith in God, but he put little faith in his horse. Gabe knew of no verse in the Good Book that said he had to.
Parson Ford grabbed his reins while Hosteen took Gabe’s horse, and the two men left, crossing the ugly stretch of trail without incident. In fact, as Gabe watched them cross, even that nasty slide looked solid. How had Shannon’s horse managed to knock a stone loose?
“Help me, Gabe. Before she wakes up.” Hozho pulled him back to the task at hand. She took a shawl off her own shoulders and fashioned it into a sling. “Hold her arm against her body.”
Positioning the arm, Hozho made short work of getting it tied down. She finished just as Shannon’s eyes flickered open.
Relieved, Gabe leaned forward. “We’ve got your arm set. It’s not broken.”
Licking her blistered lips, Shannon said, “Hurts.”
“Your shoulder was wrenched from the socket.” He wasn’t sure how much she’d realized from before. “Putting it back in hurt, but it should heal much more quickly than a break.”
Gabe looked at Hozho. “Did you keep a canteen? She needs water.”
Hozho had more common sense than Gabe. He’d let the parson and Hosteen lead the horses away without keeping any water. Hozho had hers at hand.
Gabe slid one hand behind Shannon’s neck and eased her forward, holding his breath, knowing every movement caused more pain.
She clenched her jaw to hold back any sounds.
He hated it. At the same time he was grateful she was being brave. He raised the water to her lips.
She took a quick sip and pushed with her one working hand. “That’s plenty.”
“Drink all you want.” Gabe raised the canteen again. “Hosteen found a place to camp just ahead. There’s plenty of water, so we don’t need to ration it.”
Shannon’s hand trembled as she grabbed at the canteen again and gulped the water.
“No, not so fast. You’ll get the collywobbles.” Gabe pulled the canteen away.
A flicker of a smile twitched at the corners of Shannon’s poor blistered lips. She nodded. “Help—help me up. I think I’m ready to go now.”
“You look ready to pass out.” Gabe took a second to coil up his lasso and hang it from his belt. Considering that he’d saved Shannon’s life twice now with the thing, he decided he’d just wear it like a part of his clothes from now on. He gathered her gently in his arms and rose to his feet, bearing her weight as if it were nothing. Cradling her against his chest, he was vigilant in his care of her arm and still knew he hurt her.
“I can walk.”
Nodding, Gabe said to Hozho. “Lead out.”
Shannon didn’t protest being carried. Gabe suspected she intended to, but she just hadn’t gathered the strength yet.
Gabe followed, careful to set each foot exactly where Hozho had set hers. They’d crossed so many of these slides he’d gotten in the habit of thinking they were solid. They mostly were. He reached the other side without mishap and looked down to see Shannon had closed her eyes. “We’re across.”
She blinked her eyes open and gave him a wan smile. “Thanks.”
Her left arm was the one injured. He held her so her right side pressed against his chest. Her right arm slid around his neck, and as he shifted his grip on her a bit, for just a second or two… or ten, her face was raised so close to his that he could hardly avoid a kiss.
So he didn’t. Avoid it. “I’d better watch where I’m walking.”
“You can put me down.” Her fingers tangled in the hair that brushed the collar of his shirt in back. Like she was combing snarls out of it for him. Helpful little thing.
“Just let me carry you for a few more minutes. Shannon?” He kissed her again, and she really wasn’t all that close to him. He had to stretch. No problem. “I think… maybe… you’re not going to marry Bucky Shaw.”
Their eyes met.
Held.
Held.
This time she kissed him. “I think maybe you’re ri—”
“Down here!” The parson drew their attention.
The trail they were on kept crawling and twisting along the edge of the canyon as it had all day, but another trail beaten by years of deer, wild mustang—who knew what else was down in this canyon—led down to a green stretch. The horses were already grazing.
Shannon’s eyes landed on that green, and she twisted in Gabe’s arms to study it. “This is the place.”
Gabe didn’t think there was a city of gold around here, and they’d been talking about who she wasn’t going to marry, which might lead a man to consider that she had someone else in mind, and there was a parson and two witnesses right there, so, “The place for what?”
Shannon pointed to a gap were the river twisted away and a massive stone wall blocked them from approaching it. There was a gap in that stone wall. “The place my father marked on his map. The place we’ll find Cibola.”
Yes, she could point to it, but it was across a vast sweep of rugged land. “It’s a long way, Shannon.”
“Let’s go right now.”
“We can. It looks close, but I’ll bet it’ll be days of riding. You’ve got to take it easy and let your arm heal.”
“No, I can ride.” Shannon used her right arm and Gabe’s neck to pull herself more upright. With her left hand, she reached for Gabe’s shirt for balance and gasped in pain. The color leeched from her face.
“Lay still!” He stopped walking, afraid to take even one more step when she was in such agony.
Her eyelids dropped shut, though there was still such tension in her that he knew she hadn’t fainted. Pain etched lines into her face. She didn’t move, just eased the air in and out between clenched teeth with a quiet hiss, as if hanging on until it eased.
At last her eyes flickered open. “We’re going to have to wait awhile. You’re right.”
“Can I walk? Will that hurt too badly? We can get you a drink, settle you on your bedroll.”
“I—I think it will be okay if I keep my arm still.”
Gabe’s jaw was so tight he thought he might break off a few teeth. Carefully, he took a step, then another. She bore it well, and he walked, as gently as possible, down the trail to the grassy meadow where Hozho was building a fire.
The parson had a bedroll out. Hosteen was walking away with a rifle.
“He saw signs of game.” Hozho looked at them through a curling column of wood smoke. “He’s hoping to get fresh meat for supper.”
“Lay he
r down over here, Gabe.” The parson stepped back, serious, calm, wise. Gabe was surrounded by calm, serious, wise people. He included himself in that number. Honestly, all of them but Shannon.
Oh, she was serious enough… unless he counted that she was looking for a fairy tale. But she was dead serious about it. Calm enough when she wasn’t crying or slavering over that stupid map or fainting or escaping death by the skin of her teeth.
Wise? Not even close.
That wasn’t to say she wasn’t smart enough. The woman could probably add and subtract and even multiply like nobody’s business. She poured over her pa’s strange notes constantly so she could clearly read. And her pa was a professor. Gabe was sure the woman was plenty book smart.
But Gabe’s pa had occasionally used the phrase “educated idiot,”and Gabe had to give serious consideration to the possibility that he might be holding one in his arms right now.
He was, in fact, planning to marry one without delay. Because no matter how much credit he gave her for her obvious intelligence, he couldn’t credit her with being wise.
So why were they all following the orders of the headstrong miss who shouldn’t have been out here to begin with?
Gabe hated it that the truth might come down simply to the word gold. Though they all denied it, it might be that they were all out here because of a sinful hunger for earthly treasure. If so, then not a one of them was wise or serious or calm.
And that meant they were on a quest that God wouldn’t honor. And God might start dishonoring them right back. Maybe He’d start telling them they were in the wrong by letting one of them fall off a horse…
“Set her down over here, Gabe.” The parson was on his knees spreading Shannon’s bedroll behind a massive pile of rock that would shade her from the broiling heat of the day.
Hosteen was picketing the horses on grass. Their muzzles still dripped with the water they’d so clearly relished. Hozho was busy digging in her pack.
As Gabe knelt with Shannon still in his arms, he realized how completely he didn’t want to let her go… and knew he was gone.
He kept his attention riveted on her to notice if a move on his part caused her a single jarring moment. He gently settled her on the blanket.
Deep Trouble Page 19