Kendrick moved quickly to follow up, yanking the over-turned chair out of his way so he could close in and finish his man. But the fight was far from knocked out of the Mexican. With amazing speed and resilience he uncoiled from the floor and came lunging back in retaliation. In his hand there glittered the fanglike blade of a long dagger. Kendrick was barely able to twist to one side in time to keep the weapon from slicing open his guts. Desperately, he clamped the wrist of the dagger hand in his right fist, then gripped the upper arm in his left. Calling on his superior size and strength, he leveraged the arm into a pivot point, whipping the man full around and driving him face first into the wall. The impact was great enough to rattle plaster dust from the ceiling and jar at least one picture off the wall on the opposite side of the room.
But still the Mexican wasn't out of it. Jerking his arm free as he rebounded off the wall, he slashed the dagger in a backhand motion that sliced Kendrick's left shirtsleeve and drew a thread-thin line of blood from elbow to thumb. The backhand sweep left the man wide open, however, and Kendrick took advantage of that with another roundhouse right to the jaw. The Mexican buckled at the knees and went down limply.
When Kendrick closed to finish him this time, it was with his own knife drawn, the ten-inch Bowie blade flashing lethally in the sunlight that danced through the curtained window. Kicking the dagger clear, he crouched over the Mexican with Bowie upraised.
"No!" Veronica cried, pushing to her feet. "Don't kill him."
Kendrick's head snapped around and the feral expression on his face was one like she had never seen before. "Why the hell not?" he demanded. "He damn sure was ready to kill me. He came close enough to draw blood, and that's a line I allow no man to cross."
"But you were able to stop him. That's the point. Now there doesn't have to be killing here."
"Don't be so sure about that," Kendrick growled. "Besides, judging by the wound on his neck, appears you didn't figure it that only way a few minutes ago, yourself."
"I didn't think I had a choice then. Now you've got him knocked senseless, he's no longer a threat. Don't you see? He ... the people who sent him ... it's all a point of honor with them. Eventually they may give it up. But if you kill him, they'll never quit. They'll hound me no matter where I go, no matter how long it takes. And that's not to mention having to answer in some way to the Las Cruces authorities."
Kendrick looked uncertain. Damn this woman and the indecisiveness she brought out in him!
"Please," Veronica said. "Is everything ready for us to leave town?"
"The horses are out front. Ludek is handcuffed to a post in the side alley."
"Let's go, then! This man will be in no condition to follow for hours. He'll be no danger to us by that time."
Kendrick glared down at the unconscious Mexican. The tip of his Bowie was an inch from the man's Adam's apple. After several tense clock ticks, he expelled a ragged breath and rocked back resignedly on his heels. Even though he knew his words fell unheard, he muttered, "You're a lucky man, amigo. That's how close it came."
Chapter 9: Diversions
They rode west out of Las Cruces.
When a cavalry blockade stopped them at the edge of town to ask their destination, Kendrick explained they were taking the westerly roundabout route through Lordsburg to Socorro. The walrus-mustached old sergeant who did the questioning eyed them sternly and made sure they understood the seriousness of the Indian trouble to the north. Then he went on to warn that there were outlying cavalry patrols to intercept anyone wandering too far off course and if they should be caught under those circumstances they could be subject to fines and possible incarceration. Ludek got a big laugh out of that last part.
Although they traveled at a leisurely pace, the town seemed to fall quickly behind them. The day was hot, the country rolling and rocky.
With the arrival of midday, Kendrick swerved into a shallow, green-fringed valley and found at its heart a narrow twist of creek shaded by gnarled cottonwoods.
"We'll camp here," he announced, "and wait for nightfall."
Kendrick and Veronica dismounted. Ludek, with his hands cuffed behind him, had to wait for Kendrick to assist him down. Once his feet were on the ground, he turned with a suspicious scowl. "What's this 'wait for nightfall' business?" he wanted to know.
"Been a change in plans," Kendrick answered as he began to unsaddle and strip down the horses. "Leastways the plans as far as everybody but me and Miss Fairburn were concerned."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Don't worry, Jory-boy, I'm still going to get you to Socorro. Thing is, I'm going to get you there quicker and by a bit more direct route than the Army or anybody else who might be interested is expecting us to take."
"The only direct route is north. Where the Apaches are. You ain't loco enough to be thinking on taking that risk, are you? And what about the cavalry patrols?"
"Way I got in mind, don't figure on running into the redskins or the blue-bellies, either one."
"Well just what the hell have you got in mind?" Ludek looked worried. "Since you're dragging my butt along without any say-so, I at least got the right to know that much."
Kendrick swung a saddle to the ground and moved to the next horse. Squatting to tug at the cinch strap, he said, "From here on out, we'll be doing our riding at night."
"Only reason to ride at night is if you're on the dodge or traveling through desert."
"Uh-huh. We'll be doing both. Come dark, I aim to double back east, undercut Las Cruces, re-cross the Rio Grande, and make for the desert that lays beyond."
"The White Sands Desert—the Jornada del Muerto?"
"That's what some call it, yeah. We'll follow the edge of the desert north. The Army won't be patrolling that far east and we shouldn't have to worry about Apaches there either—they're doing their raiding in the river valley and likely doing their hiding out in the mountains."
"You know what Jornada del Muerto means?"
"Spanish for 'Journey of the Dead', if I recollect right."
"You recollect just fine. Journey of the Dead—means nothing living makes it through that piece of hell on earth. What kind of crazy-ass notion makes you think you can drag us in there and back out alive?"
"If you listened, I didn't say I figured on crossing the Jornada. Said we were going to follow the edge of it north—use it as a buffer between us and those who might mean us harm."
"You mean Darrel Brade and the Circle G wranglers?"
"Them. Whoever. Hoping there ain't nobody who'll reckon on us trying the way I got in mind."
"I'd say that's a pretty damn safe hope. Nobody would reckon on it because it's so damn crazy you'd have to be some kind of lunatic to come up with it."
Kendrick grinned. "You saying you think it's a good plan, then?"
Ludek was red-faced. "I'm saying I think you're crazier than scorpion on a skillet. You tackle the Jornada, you got no call to feel good about outfoxing your enemies—the Jornada will be all the enemy you need. You're talking three, maybe four days in Hell, no matter how you cut it. You'll get us all baked to death. If you're going to stay to the desert, stay away from where there might be Indians or Army or Brade and Grodine's men, just what the hell do you figure to do for water?"
Kendrick swung a second saddle to the ground and paused to sleeve sweat from his brow. "Along the near side of the Jornada, a mile or so in, there runs a ridge of lava peaks and low, broken buttes. Runs almost continuous, like a twisty, ragged spine sticking up out of all that white gypsum sand. This early in the summer, the low-lying crevices and hollows in those rocks will still be holding water from the winter rains. We'll use the shade and cover of that ridge to hole up by day, we'll use the water from it to keep on by night."
"I never heard of no such ridge."
"Yeah, and I expect there's a few other things in this world you ain't heard of. Don't mean they ain't there."
Veronica had moved up to take the unsaddled horses to the creek. "Don't
let them drink too much," Kendrick instructed her. "Then we'll rub them down some and let them graze their fill of this good grass. Poor devils will have mighty slim pickings for quite a spell after this."
Ludek said, "Only the buzzards out there on the Jornada will have good pickings, if you have your say." He turned plaintively to Veronica. "Lady, you seem like you've got a brain in your head and you might even have some influence over this crazy fool. You're not his prisoner, you don't have to go whereever he drags you. Can't you see this plan of his is plain suicide?"
"I see nothing of the sort," Veronica replied. "I need to get to Socorro as quickly as possible. At the cost of enduring some desert hardships, I have faith Kendrick can help me accomplish that."
"Then you're as crazy as he is!"
"Don't you ever get tired of listening to yourself belly-ache?" Kendrick said as he completed stripping the last horse. "We're traveling along the Jornada, and that's final. Now, we need to finish tending to these animals and then get ourselves all the rest we can. You're right about one thing --- from here on out, it's damn sure going to be no picnic."
"Suicide is what it's going to be, I tell you."
"Shut up. I don't want to hear any more of that."
Veronica led the horses off toward the water.
Kendrick gestured to the cottonwoods and said to Ludek, "Pick yourself a comfortable-looking spot and I'll leg-iron you to one of those roots."
Ludek clearly wanted to say something more, but held it in check.
Heaving an exasperated sigh, he turned to do as bid.
"One other thing," Kendrick said.
Ludek stopped and looked back.
"You got in mind trying any kind of escape and it involves doing me in," Kendrick told him, "you better make it quick. Once we're in the Jornada, I'm going to be about your only chance to make it out alive --- at least as far as Socorro. You'll have the desert all around you, the Apaches to one side, Brade and the rest of Grodine's men behind. You're going to need me."
"Like hell I will."
"You figure otherwise, you're dumber than I take you for. Best do some serious thinking on it."
* * * * *
They spent the balance of the day in that sweet spot.
The horses grazed freely and were even moved at one point to do some coltish frolicking. The people relaxed and dozed in the blessed shade. All partook frequently of the creek's cool waters. "The thing we need to do here is saturate ourselves," Kendrick said. "Soon enough, the desert will be trying to boil us dry. The fuller we make our body tanks at the start, the longer we'll be able to last out there if we have to."
In the middle of the afternoon, Kendrick and Veronica fixed a meal of processed beef, beans, and biscuits. Kendrick insisted they also each down a can of stewed tomatoes he had purposefully brought along, explaining there was something in the preparation that helped the body retain moisture.
After the meal and the clean-up were done, Veronica did some insisting of her own, forcing Kendrick to let her clean and dress the wound to his arm, which was really little more than a long, deep scratch. At the spot on the creek's edge where she steered him to do her nursing, a spot intentionally chosen to be out from under the nose of Ludek, who was indulging in an after-meal nap anyway, Veronica hoped for a tender moment between the two of them. But when she'd finished bandaging the bounty hunter’s arm and her hands tried to linger on him, Kendrick took those hands in his own and gazed soberly into her eyes, saying, "What happened last night was a fine and special thing. When we make it to Socorro, we'll have to see if we want it to continue into anything more. Lord knows I ain't much of a long-term catch for any woman, or no fancy-talking lover boy, neither. But no matter any of that, in the meantime—right now, and tomorrow and the day after, and all the way on till we make it through the Jornada—I can't be thinking about things like taking you in my arms, no matter how bad I might be aching to. I’ve got to stay hard and sharp. Focused on making sure we survive, or none of the rest is going to have a chance. Do you understand?"
"I understand," Veronica replied in a strained voice, spots of color appearing high on her cheeks. "I understand perfectly damn well!"
She flounced away, back to the camp, leaving him standing there with the feel of her touch still on his body and the hurt look on her face branded to his conscience.
From where he lay, not actually asleep, Jory Ludek watched his companions from under the brim of the hat tipped down over his face. Something was going on there, between the two of them. They were out of earshot and when he saw they appeared to be arguing over something, just before the girl stormed off, he thought for a moment that maybe his warning about the madness of tempting the Jornada del Muerto might have done some good with her. But no, from the expression of seething humiliation he saw on her face when she got closer, it was something more personal. He'd sensed a part of it earlier in the day, on the trail. Some-thing different about the way they looked and acted toward one another. He'd entertained thoughts that maybe they had struck sparks back at that hotel in Las Cruces—while he was bedded down with straw fleas and cockroaches in a lousy jail cell. It was hard to picture old Hardnosed Kendrick on the make for a girl, even a looker like Veronica Fairburn; but nevertheless that was the feeling Ludek had gotten all morning, that the two of them had developed an itch for each other even though he never did see a sure enough sign to convince him completely. When they’d moseyed off to the creek, supposedly to fix Kendrick's injured arm—and nobody was saying how he got that, either—Ludek watched with covert interest. When he'd just about decided that, yeah, she was touching him a little too long and a little more intimately than was necessary to do her nursing, they got into their disagreement and Veronica ended up going off in a huff and Ludek was still unclear on exactly how things stood with her and Kendrick. One thing was certain, though; there was now a strain in their relationship—whatever it was—that hadn't been there before. Knowing even that much was something that might prove beneficial, something that might give him an edge he could use against his captor. When the time was right. The thought that he was going to need the big bounty hunter, now there was a laugh. All he needed was half a chance to make a break for it. And if getting that half chance meant killing Kendrick and/or the girl when the time came ... well, that would be just too damn bad.
* * * * *
At dusk, they saddled up and rode out of the shallow valley, then back the way they had come. Before breaking camp, Kendrick took extra measure to make certain all canteens and the spare water bag he'd purchased in Las Cruces were full to their brims.
They paralleled their earlier trail about half a mile to the south, looping well below the town. Shortly before midnight, they crossed the Rio Grande. The moon shone on the smooth black water as clear and perfect-shaped as a mirror image before the horses' hooves splashed it into a million bits. Observing this, Veronica felt a sharp pang of foreboding, as if they really had shattered the surface of a giant mirror and would now have to endure the consequences of gigantic bad luck.
The land started to change as they distanced themselves from the river. The clumps of mesquite gave way to bristle brush and cactus, the arroyos and rocky spires gave way to graveled gullies and scattered boulders, then eventually flat, baked dirt and sand.
Their first sight of the full desert came as they reached the crown of a long, gradual incline. On the other side, the white sand dunes rolled like an ocean of milk under the starlit sky. They reined their horses and gazed out at the awesome spectacle.
"It's breathtaking," Veronica murmured.
"Life-taking, is more like it," Kendrick countered. "Don't be fooled by its beauty, the way it looks now, all cool and inviting. There are more ways to die out there than the stars you can count in the sky tonight. In a few hours, all that silver-white beauty will be the floor of a blazing furnace and the very air you breathe will feel like it's scalding your throat."
"Then why the hell are you taking us there?" Ludek said.
"Because it's our way to Socorro. You can survive the desert, as long as you know and respect it for what it is."
Ludek regarded the eerily silent dunes with narrowed eyes. His mouth pulled into a grim line. "What it is," he muttered, "is the place where our bones will probably rest."
Chapter 10: Jornado Del Muerto
"Good God Almighty! I never knew what hot really was before."
Jory Ludek propped himself on one elbow on the bedroll blanket he'd spread over the hard lava rock, uncapped his canvas-wrapped canteen, raised it and sucked noisily from its spout. His upstretched neck shone with sweat. The perspiration-soaked dark whiskers along his jaw line gave the appearance of axle grease having been smeared there.
Stretched out only a few yards away, Kendrick said, "Your body is still adjusting. This first day will be the worst. Tomorrow it won't seem quite as bad."
"It couldn’t possibly seem any worse," Veronica said. She sat nearby on her own blanket, in something of an unladylike sprawl. The wide collar of her Indian blouse had slipped off one shiny shoulder. Her long hair was pinned up off the back of her neck, but wet, loose tendrils of it trailed down here and there.
"Don't kid yourself," Kendrick replied. "Out there, in the dunes, it's at least twice as bad. Out there the heat will addle a good man's brains in a matter of hours, turn his blood into a thick black syrup that his heart will barely be able to pump through his veins."
"You sure know how to paint a rosy picture," Veronica said sullenly. She reached to uncap her own canteen.
They had found the lava ridge, exactly as Kendrick had predicted. They'd crossed to its far side and begun to follow its snaking path north. By first light, also as the bounty hunter had predicted, he'd been able to locate a ledge in the rocks with an oval depression, a catch basin, holding a generous pool of water. They'd stopped there, situating themselves under a jagged overhang, above the blistering sands and shielded from the full force of the merciless sun, to wait out the day.
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