The door cracked open and Chase stuck his head in. "Hi."
A smirk touched her lips. "It's on the counter."
His eyebrows fell. "It?"
"The liniment."
Opening the door fully, he eased into the room. His limp was more pronounced tonight and for once he wasn't trying to hide it. "Oh, yeah." He chuckled. "Liniment. Your last revenge."
"Hardly. Did you ever hear the phrase, 'The better part of valor is discretion'?"
"Henry IV?"
"You're not the only one who can quote Shakespeare. I'm sure old Henry would have agreed with me today. That was a foolish risk you took."
"Maybe so. But risk is part of life, isn't it?"
"Yes." It wasn't the mustang he was talking about and they both knew it. Libby tied a string around the sack of food and stacked it beside the others. At Chase's curious glance, she explained, "For the trail tomorrow."
He nodded, running a long finger along the pine table. He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Early tells me you're not coming along for the delivery."
She looked away. "No."
"You trust him to come back with your money?"
"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "Wouldn't you?"
"I suppose I would. He's a great old guy."
Libby smiled. "So... did you come for the liniment?"
Chase touched his shoulder without thinking. He was sore and stiff, but that wasn't why he'd come. His gaze traveled down to the locket—"his locket"—she wore around her neck. "Where's Tad?"
She swallowed, thrown off by his change of direction. "He's off catching crickets for Charlie."
"Good. Because I didn't come for the liniment. Unless, of course, you're offering to administer it yourself...."
A look that spoke of all the things they'd once done passed between them and they shared another smile. The heat between them was still a tangible thing. She felt it in the way his eyes devoured her; he, in the way her skin flushed and her knuckles whitened on the old sack of flour she was holding.
"I came to say goodbye, Libby."
She lifted the flour sack and turned away, clutching it to her. "Oh." She'd prepared herself for this. Yet now a pain centered in her chest and cut off her breath. She pressed a hand there, surprised by the power those simple words had over her.
"Where will you go, then?" she asked, her back still to him. "Omaha? The Union Pacific?" She heard him step closer.
"I suppose. I haven't had any better offers. And you? When's your wedding set for?"
"Four days. The second of August." Lamely, she added, "You're welcome to come."
He laughed humorlessly. "I think I'd as soon jump into a pit full of rattlers. Thanks just the same."
She turned and gave him a weak smile. "Nora told me Elliot asked her to marry him. They plan to be married in Santa Fe. You won't go?"
Chase shook his head. "He'll manage just fine without me. He and Nora are good together."
"You'll miss him." It wasn't a question. Simply a statement of fact.
Chase nodded silently. His fingers reached for the silver locket at her throat. "It looks good on you."
She drank in the sight of his eyes, his clear green eyes, caressing her face. Oh, how she would miss him! "Thank you for bringing it to me, Chase. I was wrong to say you shouldn't have come and I'm... I'm sorry for all the trouble it caused you."
"It brought me more good than bad." His gaze stole to her mouth. He wanted to kiss her, but knew it would be a mistake. He remembered with a sudden jolting ache why he'd kept his distance these last few weeks. "When do you plan on telling Tad about me?"
"I'm not sure. He's very fond of you. How do you tell a boy that his hero was really a Yankee who shot his father in the war? How do you tell him that without destroying him?"
From the doorway came a gasp and both turned to find Tad staring at them, horrified. The glass jar in his hands crashed to the floor and the crickets sprang free.
Libby's heart sank as she saw him. "Tad—oh, my God."
The boy blinked disbelievingly. "You k-killed my pa? You killed him?"
"Tad..." Chase appealed, his eyes stricken.
Tears sprang to Tad's eyes and his lower lip quivered. He shook his head and backed out the door. "You even knew! How could you, Ma?"
"Tad, wait." Chase started toward him.
"No!" he cried. "Liars! Leave me alone. I never want to see you again, you damn Yankee. I hate you. I hate you both!" He tore out into the dusk, letting the back door slam behind him.
Libby started after him, the color drained from her face, "Oh... oh, my God."
Chase stopped her. "Let me go. Please."
"Oh, Chase, he said..." She dropped her face in to her hands. "I have to go to him."
"This should come from me." He took her by both arms and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "It'll be all right. You'll see. He's just upset and confused. I think I know where to find him."
Libby nodded numbly. She didn't know what she'd say to Tad anyway. How could she explain to an eight-year-old boy what she didn't even understand herself?
"Don't worry," Chase told her, and he disappeared out the door.
Libby watched him go and wondered if her life would ever be the same once he was gone. It was pointless to speculate; for she knew he had changed it unalterably.
* * *
The sun was a vermilion ball of fire in the western sky, casting a scarlet wash over the craggy mountains to the east. Chase ran up the stream behind Libby's barn, now little more than a creek in the dry summer heat. His pounding heart kept time with his thoughts. He cursed the timing of this whole mess. Selfishly, he'd wanted to leave Tad with good memories of him. Now, gauging the boy's reaction, there seemed little chance of that.
He stopped at a squatty, young cottonwood whose low fork made it an ideal climbing tree. Patch sat patiently beneath it, thumping his black-and white-tipped tail at Chase's approach. Taking a deep breath, Chase tipped his head back and peered up between the branches. "Tad?"
Silence.
"Tad? I know you're up there. Can we talk for a minute?"
Silence again.
"I know you're upset. But I just want to—"
"Go away!" Tad hollered. "This is my tree."
"I know. I just want to talk to you, son."
"I ain't your son. I'm my pa's son. And you... you k-killed him."
Chase hung his head for a moment, considering how to approach this. "I'm coming up if you won't come down."
"No!"
Chase fit his foot in the fork of the tree and pulled himself up. "We're friends. At least, we were. That's why you told me about this place, remember? Just trust me for another minute and let me explain what you heard."
A marble, one of Tad's precious marbles, rocketed down between the branches and caught Chase squarely on the top of his head. "Ow!"
"I don't want to talk." Tad launched another missile, this one missing by inches.
"Well, you're going to, even if you empty your marble bag in the process. Look," Chase said, spreading his hands in a gesture of uncertainty, "I know you're angry, but you hurt your ma, Tad. Hurt her bad with what you said. She doesn't deserve that."
"She lied to me."
"I lied to you. Not your ma. She didn't find out until a little while ago. But she wanted to pick the time to tell you—"
"That you was a low-down murderin'..." Thwack! Another marble crashed into Chase's shoulder.
"Now, cut that out! I didn't kill your pa!"
"You did, too! Ma said—"
"She said I shot him and that was true. You don't know how I regret hurting you, Tad. I never wanted you to hear about it this way." He eased himself up a few more branches until he was only a few feet below the boy. "Just... just listen to me for a minute, okay? Give me a chance to explain this to you."
When Tad remained silent, Chase told him the story of how he'd met his father in Virginia's Wilderness. About how they'd fallen together, about t
he locket and even how he'd held his father at the end. He'd never shared that part of the story with anyone but El. Why he did now, he wasn't sure. But he suddenly knew it would serve no purpose to omit it.
Confusion darkened Tad's fair features. "But... you wuz enemies."
Chase shook his head. "We were just two men fighting for different ideas, Tad. Those ideas put us at opposite ends of two rifles, yes, but that didn't make us hate each other. We never even knew which side fired the shell that killed your pa. It was a mixed-up battle, and there weren't any sides by the end. Only men trying to survive it any way they could.
"I know this is hard for you to take in," he went on, "but I never came here to hurt you or your ma. I just wanted to settle up with a piece of my past, and I was hoping I could make things a little easier for you and your ma."
Tad was silent, mulling it over.
"I know you loved your pa. And you can hate me if it makes you feel better. But you're all your ma's got and she loves you something fierce. I expect you to apologize to her for the things you said."
A mourning dove cooed in a nearby aspen, punctuating Tad's silence. A fat tear splashed on Chase's knee.
"Tad—"
"She's a traitor to my pa for likin' you!" he blurted out, turning away from Chase.
"You liked me... once," he pointed out gently.
"N-not anymore." The words were choked out in a mixture of grief and anger.
Chase hadn't expected this to hurt so much. But it did. He kept his voice even and steeled his heart. "Okay. If that's the way you want it. But I'm not going to let you off the hook with your ma. If she did anything wrong, it was to try to protect you from being hurt. You go tell her you love her, 'cause I know you do. It means everything to her."
Tad shifted on the branch, his feet dangling below him.
"I'm leaving tomorrow morning with the others," Chase told him. "So, I... I guess this is goodbye."
With his mouth set in a firm, unyielding line, Tad refused to look at Chase.
"I'll miss you, Tadpole. You take good care of your ma for me, you hear?" Without another word, Chase climbed down out of the tree. A last, telling marble hit the ground beside him.
On the way back to Libby, he tightened his jaw with resolve and resigned himself to the truth. She met him outside the door, a dishtowel twisted between her hands. "Did you find him?"
"He's not far. Patch is with him. He's thinking things over, but he'll come around to you."
Libby searched his eyes. "And... what about you?"
Chase was careful to keep the emotion from his face, but he couldn't keep a note of bitterness from his voice. "You were right about that part, too, sweetheart. He's mad and hurt. He has a right to be. I can't say I blame him. Disillusionment is a hard pill to swallow for an eight-year-old."
She'd had second and third thoughts about how right she was about any of this. But she could see in his eyes that he had, too. "I'm sorry." That was all she could say.
He raked his fingers through his hair. "Yeah. Listen, I'm going to go before he comes back and sees me with you again." He let his eyes roam over her one last time, memorizing her every nuance. "Goodbye, Libby."
"Chase... I won't forget you."
If she hadn't touched him, if he'd kept his distance, he would have made a clean escape. It was no more than a light brush of her fingertips against his, but it cost him his last ounce of control. He took her hand roughly and pulled her up against him. He heard her small gasp of surprise and ignored it. "Ah, hell. Wisdom be damned."
His mouth descended on hers with a fierceness that was so like him. Libby's lips opened to his and her head tipped back to meet him fully. He kissed her with utter completeness, washing her mouth with his taste, filling her with the memory of him. The kiss was as brief as it was consuming, over before she was ready for it to be.
He set her away from him almost harshly and, without a word, walked out the door.
Chapter 22
It took two days of riding to get to Las Vegas. They chose the old Santa Fe Trail route over the more direct, but riskier, mountain pass. Early, Elliot, Chase and Will drove the remuda hard, stopping only for darkness the first night. New Mexico Territory was a haven for criminals and outlaws on the run. A string of fine horses the likes of these would be easy prey for any rustler and would bring a hefty price. So, even with guards posted, they slept with one eye open and a finger on the trigger of a gun.
Las Vegas was a dusty, ramshackle little pueblo on the banks of the Gallinas River, with more cantinas per square foot than most self-respecting Western towns cared to boast of. There was no law outside of the alcalde and few honest men were within its limits. It was said that when a man couldn't go anyplace else, he went to Las Vegas. Dangerous-looking hombres prowled the streets, armed to the teeth. Despite the early hour, the noisy cantinas were in full swing, brawls occasionally spilling out onto the dusty streets.
Though rumor had it the town was being considered as a possible railhead for a branch of the Central Pacific Railroad, the prospect had done little to tame this small Gomorrah in the desert. This town was no place for a woman. Libby's decision to stay behind had been the right one, Chase decided.
The army detail met them, as promised, at the small plaza in the center of town. A young lieutenant named Gallagher relieved them of the horses in exchange for a bank draft for fifteen hundred dollars, twenty-five dollars a head—the army's price for ridable horseflesh. With the transactions out of the way, Early and Will Tuerney were anxious to be safely on their way back to The Double Bar H while there was still daylight to travel by.
Early was giving Libby away at her wedding. Though Chase knew he wasn't happy about it, he'd agreed to do it for Libby's sake. Elliot's reasons for returning were different, though equally compelling. The three cut their thirsts at a local establishment, then headed out onto the street again.
"Go with Early and Will," Chase advised when Elliot seemed reluctant to leave with the others. "Safety in numbers."
"Yeah, I know," El answered. "I hate to just leave you here like this, though. I pictured us going through this together, like we have everything else."
"I'm happy for you, El. Nora's a fine woman. She'll be good for you. But I think you can manage this one without me."
El ran a finger and thumb over his neatly trimmed mustache, then offered Chase his hand. "I'll miss you, you crazy bastard."
Chase chuckled over the lump in his throat, took El's hand and pulled him into an embrace. Then, slapping his back, Chase stepped away from him.
"I'm sorry things didn't work out with Libby."
Chase shrugged as they walked toward El's horse. "Yeah, well, I guess it wasn't meant to be. I'm headed for that job with Grenville. I'll be out of this dust-hole by tomorrow,"
"If you ever need anything... anything at all—"
"I know." Chase smiled and watched El mount.
"Keep yer nose clean, an' yer eyes open, compadre," Early said with an easy grin and touched the brim of his hat to Chase.
"'Bye, Early," Chase answered. "It's been a real education knowing you."
"Why thank'ee... I think." With a bawdy laugh, Early spurred his horse forward. Will touched the brim of his hat and followed.
"Keep in touch, brother," El called, not wanting to say the words that made their parting seem so permanent.
Chase waved back silently, then watched until the three men disappeared at the edge of town. A swelling feeling of emptiness overtook him and he turned away.
He gave a moment's thought to wallowing in self-pity and disgarded the idea just as quickly. Stopping a young Mexican boy on the street, he gave him two bits for directions to a stable, a hotel and a meal. And maybe, if he could make the hotel clerk understand him, a hot bath.
* * *
"Ay! Guapo... tu quieres una mujer esta noche, eh?"
The sultry, honeyed voice pulled Chase from his reverie and stopped the shot-glass full of tequila halfway to his mouth. The bro
wn-skinned woman gave the ruffles at the bottom of her colorful skirt an enticing shake in time to the music coming from the far corner of the cantina. She then ran her slender fingers down his neck. Chase didn't understand her words, but that invitation was clear. Slowly, he set his glass of tequila down on the table and let his gaze trail over her.
She was prettier than most, though not as young as some, with black eyes and a thicket of raven hair that tumbled over her shoulders like a storm cloud. Her low-riding cotton blouse dipped enticingly over her ample breasts and she thrust these out haughtily to be sure he could see her most compelling attribute. A teasing smile curved her mouth, which was colored bright red with lip stain.
"You speak English?" he asked, wondering what had possessed him to ask.
"Enough," she answered slyly, sliding one finger down his open shirt. "You want to talk, guapo? I know better things."
He had enough tequila in him for the offer to seem enticing, yet not enough to believe he could truly be interested in her. He slugged down the shot he had in his hand. Gritting his teeth until the burning stopped, he refilled his glass. "Drink?"
"Por que no?" Without further encouragement, she settled herself on his lap and poured the fiery drink down her throat. Tossing her head back, she then breathed deeply, wriggling her bottom intimately against him. "Ay! Que bueno mescal! No?"
"It does the job."
She lifted the bottle to inspect it. "Un gusano," she noted, pointing to the whitish worm at the bottom of the bottle. "Is good luck, no?"
Chase hadn't noticed the worm, but somehow wasn't surprised to see it in a place like this. The smoky cantina was full, men stacked along the rickety bar, laughing and swapping stories. Others, seated at the round tables nearby, were playing poker and monte. He had gotten there early and had this corner table to himself. No one, before this woman, had dared ask him to share it.
"What's your name?" he asked, taking in the cloying musky scent of her.
"You need a name, gringo?" She laughed. "You have a favorite? That is my name."
"You don't look anything like her," he muttered, tipping the bottle against the glass once more.
Chase the Fire Page 28