Trinity tossed her into the saddle with his usual ease, but Victoria’s mind was too full of Trinity’s faith in her to think of anything else. She wasn’t a weak woman. They both knew that. Trinity had no guarantee his trust was warranted. There was no need for him to give her a rifle.
But he had.
Victoria had forgotten how hot the desert could be. For two days they had been traveling through the parched land of southeastern Arizona. The area had had none of the spring rain which made the grazing on her uncle’s ranch so abundant. Not even the rivers carried much water, and the washes were dry. Ridges of jagged rock rose from the desert floor at irregular intervals. Occasional cottonwood, sycamore, ash, willow, walnut and cherry grew on the lower slopes or in thickets in the canyons, but more often the mountains were treeless as they met a desert floor sprinkled with acacias, yuccas, creosote bushes, mesquite, and cactus of every shape and description. Various grasses had sprouted and grown earlier in the season, but little remained now except brown stems and dry seedpods.
Trinity had hardly spoken a word since they left the coolness of the hills behind. One word, Apaches, hovered in the silence between them. Twice they had come upon the trail of unshod ponies. There had been no additional prints; no moccasin prints of women, barefoot prints of children, tracks of dogs, or scrapes of travois. This was not a tribal migration. It was a band of men, most likely braves and warriors, anxious to wipe out the white men who were stealing their land.
The first evening after seeing the tracks Trinity had ridden to Red’s camp, told him about the Indians, and encouraged him to turn back. Red refused. The second evening he had invited Red to camp with them.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll shoot you when your back’s turned?”
Trinity looked him square in the eyes. “No. You may be impulsive, but you’re not stupid. You know damned well “If there are Apache out there, you can’t get out of here without me. What they’d do to you is bad enough, but what they’d do to Victoria is unthinkable.’’
“How do you know I wouldn’t get out?”
“You don’t know anything about fighting Apache. They’ll kill you the first day.”
“And they wouldn’t kill you?” the boy replied, his pride injured.
They haven’t so far, but I don’t mean to give them the chance. And I don’t want you leaving them a trail they can follow with their eyes closed.”
Trinity’s brutal observations angered Red, but he joined their campfire that evening. They stayed away from the obvious routes, traveling on rock when they could, in soft sand when they couldn’t, but it was impossible to cover their tracks completely.
Late in the morning of the third day, Trinity stopped to look at their back trail. After studying the horizon for longer than usual, he asked Red, “How much ammunition do you have?”
“Close to fifty rounds. Why?”
“I’d say there’s a dozen Indians on our trail. We’re going to need every bullet. Let’s head for those hills. If they catch us in the open, we’ll be sitting ducks.”
They headed off at a fast trot.
Victoria spurred her horse alongside Trinity’s buckskin. “How do you know Indians are following us?” she asked.
“By the dust cloud.”
Victoria didn’t see any dust. “But how do you know how many there are?”
“By the amount of dust.”
“Are they really going to attack us?”
“The Apache doesn’t like anybody, least of all white men. He knows only one way to stop them. “That’s to kill as many of us as possible.”
“Isn’t there some other way we can go?” Red asked. “This isn’t all Apache territory.”
“Not all Indians are as ready to fight as the Apache, but they’re losing land, too. They’re only too happy to let the Apache know where to find the white men.”
They didn’t stop for lunch.
“I can see it now,” Victoria said in midafternoon, barely able to make out the dust in the pristine air.
“That’s because they’re traveling faster. They know we’re trying to make the mountains. They want to catch us before we do. They may even try to cut us off. Let’s ride.”
They kicked their horses into a canter, Trinity leading the way, Victoria in the middle, and Red close behind. Their horses were bigger than the Indian ponies and, being grain-fed, stronger. Still the dust cloud seemed to come inexorably closer. Trinity dropped back until he was next to Victoria.
“They’re riding hard. I’m going to cut off to the right. Maybe it’ll confuse them and give us a few minutes more. You and Red keep to the trail. No matter what you hear or see, don’t stop until you reach the hills. Head for that nest of boulders, the ones that seem to be standing on end. I’ll be right behind you.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t have time to explain,” Trinity called back. “Just do as I say.”
With that he swung off to the left. For a time Victoria was able to keep him in sight, but he finally dropped into a wash and out of sight. She and Red were left by themselves in the desert with a dozen Indians chasing them.
Chapter Sixteen
Victoria realized now how much she depended on Trinity, how safe she felt when he was with her. She knew Red wouldn’t leave her, that he would give his life to protect her, but he was just a kid, probably more scared than she was. He probably had no idea what to do.
The fleeting realization that she was armed and alone with Red, that if the Indians followed Trinity there was nothing to stop her from abandoning him and going back to Mountain Valley, flashed through her mind. She rejected the thought while it was still barely formed. She couldn’t leave Trinity any more than he could leave her.
A bullet whizzed overhead. Startled, Victoria looked behind her. Trinity’s ruse hadn’t worked. At least a half dozen Indians followed them at a hard gallop.
They’re still behind us,” she called out to Red as she brought her crop down across her horse’s rump.
The hills seemed to recede before her almost as fast as her horse galloped toward them. She kept looking over her shoulder. She could hear the Apache war cry; more bullets whizzed overhead. Would they make it to the hills before the Apache caught up? She bent low over her horse, trying to conserve his strength, encouraging him to keep going. Her life could depend upon his speed.
She thought she could hear gunfire off to the left where Trinity had gone. She desperately wanted to join him, but that would allow the Indians to trap them between their two groups.
She drove her horse up the mountain. Red was right behind her.
Another burst of gunfire. Having stronger horses, they pulled ahead. She was tempted to drop down behind the rocks along the trail, but she knew she had to get into a concealed position behind the rocks. She had to provide a covering fire for Trinity when he came into view.
Heedless of his exhaustion, Victoria drove her horse up the trail at a breakneck pace. They were only a few hundred yards away. They could almost make it on foot.
Another burst of gunfire prompted her to use her spurs. Just a few more minutes. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Red drop the reins and slump forward in his saddle. He was hit!
Slowing down, Victoria reached over and took hold of the reins. She looked back. There were six Indians. She could see them clearly now. They were about five hundred yards behind; far enough away to allow them to reach cover as long as Red could stay in the saddle. He had been badly wounded, but she thought he would be all right If they could get him to a doctor soon.
She wouldn’t allow herself to think of any other possibility.
Red slumped over his horse’s neck, his body swaying from one side to the other. Victoria prayed he could hold on for just a little longer.
After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the rocks. Victoria slid from her horse. She ground-hitched Red’s horse, wrenched her rifle from its holder, and rushed to a position atop a flat boulder. A half dozen q
uick shots prevented the Indians from coming up the mountain after her.
As the Indians scrambled for cover, Victoria turned her attention to Red. Unhooking his feet from the stirrups, she pulled him from the saddle. Both of them went to the ground. He nearly crushed her under his weight when he fell. Fortunately he was skinny. She tore open his shirt to reach the wound. The bullet had entered his back but hadn’t come out the front. It was still inside. Maybe that would help slow the bleeding and keep him alive, until they could find a doctor.
She hurried back to her rifle. She didn’t see any Indians or their horses, but she fired at the rocks where they had disappeared. She wanted them to know she was still were.
Victoria turned back to Red. He had passed out. She had to look after him, but she also had to watch the Indians. She couldn’t do both from where he lay. Taking hold of his feet, she pulled him over next to the rock. Now she only had to look up to see the Indians or look down to check on Red.
The wound started to bleed heavily. She had to stop it. She had to find something she could use to make a bandage, but Trinity had taken the packhorse with him. She had nothing but the clothes on her back.
Without hesitation, Victoria took off her shirt and removed her camisole top. She ripped it to pieces. She made a pad from one of the pieces and put it over the wound. She needed something to hold it tight, but were wasn’t enough material to make a bandage that would go around his chest.
Donning her shirt again, she looked up in time to see an Indian run from one rock to another. She snatched up her rifle and fired at him. She waited a few precious seconds. No one moved. But just as she looked back to Red, she saw another Indian start from behind a rock. A quick shot kicked up dust only inches from his feet, and the Indian dived back behind the rock. Maybe that would make them more careful. But they were getting closer. She couldn’t afford to look away.
Blood had turned Red’s pad bright crimson. She had to do something or he would bleed to death, but she couldn’t ignore the Indians either. They would be up the mountain in minutes.
Keeping her eye on the rocks below, she folded a second piece of her camisole into a pad. She exchanged it for the blood-soaked pad. Then seizing a stone about five inches in diameter, Victoria placed it directly on the wound.
Turning back to the rock, Victoria picked up her rifle and aimed it at the rock the first Indian had disappeared behind. She only had to wait a few seconds. She saw his head appear as he started to make a dash to a clump of mesquite about ten yards closer. Victoria put a bullet into the ground in front of him.
The Indian dived back behind his rock.
Now they knew she was watching. They would be more careful. She glanced at Red. The bandage was still white. The weight of the rock had stopped the bleeding.
Now If Trinity would just come.
Trinity burst into view from a nearby wash as though he’d popped up out of the ground. Five Indians followed no more than a couple hundred yards behind.
Victoria raised her rifle to lay down covering fire, but Trinity was between her and the Indians. She considered herself a good shot. It was one of the things she’d occupied herself with during her years of enforced captivity, but she didn’t trust herself to shoot that close to Trinity.
She shot wide, but the unexpected gunfire caused the Indians to pull up. Trinity used the chance to reduce the odds. Shooting from the saddle, he sent one Indian to the ground.
“Red’s hurt,” Victoria said when Trinity threw himself down on the ground next to her. She didn’t take her eyes off the ground below. The Indians occupied two positions now.
“How bad?”
“I don’t know, but he’s bleeding a lot. He needs a doctor.”
Trinity checked the wound.
“He’ll be all right once we get the bullet out. Do you know how?”
“No.”
They both looked down the mountainside to where the Indians had disappeared.
“Do you think they’re gone?” Victoria asked, scanning the apparently empty desert.
“No. They’re out there,” Trinity said. “But you won’t see them again until they try to kill you. You might not even see them then.”
“What happened to their horses?”
“One of them took the horses into the wash. We have to make sure they don’t get ours.”
“What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to wait. The game’s in their hands now.”
The afternoon passed with agonizing slowness. Trinity fired occasionally, as much to let the Indians know he was still there as anything else, but they seemed to have lost interest.
“I’ve already hit three,” Trinity explained as they ate a dinner of jerky washed down with water. There was no wood for a fire. And no coffee. “They don’t want to lose any more men, so they’ll try to outwait us. They know there’s no water up here. We might last several days, but the horses won’t. They expect us to make a break. When we do, they’ll be waiting.”
Trinity didn’t talk like a man who was desperate or afraid. He stated the cold facts and considered the options. He wasn’t giving up.
“What do you have in mind?”
Trinity smiled, a silent acknowledgement that she had come to know him well.
“I’m going to get behind them. Sometime before dawn I’ll move in. I want you to lay down as much fire from here as you can. Shoot from more than one position. We’ve got to make them think they’re being attacked on two sides by a larger force. It might panic them into running away. It’ll take the several hours to get into position, so why don’t you get some sleep?”
“I couldn’t sleep knowing you’re out there.”
Victoria hadn’t meant to say that. She didn’t want anyone, especially Trinity, to know the confused state of her feelings, but this didn’t seem like a time for dissembling. He could die. She might never see him again. She didn’t want her last words with him to be some meaningless lie.
“One of my aunts once told me a woman has two jobs in life. To help and wait. Tonight I get to do both.”
“That seems like an awfully harsh thing to say to a young girl.”
“I’d been acting frivolously. She didn’t approve of frivolity.”
“I’ve never known you to be frivolous.”
“I’m not the girl I was at fourteen.”
Trinity doubted she had ever had a chance to be a girl, to be frivolous, to worry about clothes, flirt with boys, to spend whole weeks pondering such weighty decisions as who would take her to the dance and what dress to wear. Instead she’d been running a household, taking care of a dying father, married as a teen, and driven into hiding. She had never known the little freedoms and innocent joys of being young, of being protected and cared for.
“I’m sure you’ll get the chance again. Soon.”
“I hope so, but first you’ve got to scare the pants off those Indians. How long will it take you to get into position?”
“No more than a couple of hours, but I’ve got a few surprises to set up that will take me most of the night. I intend to attack just before dawn.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Watch. Be ready the moment the first beams of sunlight streak the sky.”
Trinity spent the thirty minutes going through his saddlebags, his bedding, and every bag on the packhorse in search of ammunition. He took all he found.
“Is there enough left?” she asked.
“Red has plenty. Remember, just before dawn. Now get some sleep. It’ll be a long night.”
But Victoria couldn’t sleep. Not with eight or nine savages out there waiting to kill her. Not with Red bleeding to death at her side. Not with Trinity out there risking his life to save hers. It was strange. She had wished him dead, threatened to kill him, had done everything she could to hurt him, but now his life was infinitely precious. Now all the dungs he had done for her seemed so much more important than anything he had done against her.
And it wasn’t
just because she needed him to stay alive. She thought of him in a completely different way. He was her companion, her ally, her friend. She might be facing death, but she wasn’t facing it alone.
She had faced the possibility before, but she’d never been surrounded by it, and there was nothing imaginary or phantasmagoric about this night. It was real. When compared to death by torture and degradation, hanging seemed almost a boon.
Yet this Indian attack was just another in a chain of crises which had happened to her during her short life. As odd as it seemed, it wasn’t as momentous as Trinity’s arrival.
His arrival had caused her to reevaluate everything she’d believed for most of her life. It caused her to reject the protection her uncle had provided and the rationale he’d given her for it.
It resulted in her falling in love with a wandering cowboy, so much in love she couldn’t completely turn away from him even when she thought he was a bounty hunter. Now that he had willingly risked his life for her, she had fallen even more deeply under his spell.
She didn’t comprehend why this was love. She’d never felt anything so wild, so untameable. She wanted to be with him all the time, to follow him for the rest of her life. She knew she would risk her safety and the respect of those she loved to remain at his side. It was irrational. She had never felt like this about Jeb.
She had to be losing her mind.
Even when she thought she hated him, when she thought him cruel and unfeeling, she hadn’t had a single thought that didn’t include him. Most of them had him at the center.
Still she could have continued to hold him at a distance If he hadn’t told her about Queenie. It would have been hard since his physical presence was so overpowering, but after Queenie, she saw him as a man who suffered a pain he didn’t know how to escape. All her resistance seemed to wither away. By the time he finished that story, she felt so sorry for him she could have cried.
Victoria leaned her forehead against the rock, letting it cool her fevered brain. She had had the same argument with herself day after day. Now there seemed to be only one possible resolution. As incredible as it seemed, she had fallen in love with Trinity Smith the minute she set eyes on him. And nothing he had done since seemed able to change that.
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