Chapter Eleven
“We’ll continue to follow the Brazos,” Zach said later in the day. “We can lose any trackers that way. The going will be rough as hell, steep banks and rocky inclines, some places the pines are thick, but it’s our best bet for staying ahead of trouble.”
And he was right. The first day lived up to his promise. The going was rough, even the times he led them out of the water to ride through hills covered with pine trees so tall they appeared to touch the fluffy clouds in a bright blue sky. The only good thing, not much brush grew under pine trees, and so the horses had an easy go as long as they didn’t try to run them.
The next day they spent all morning moving through shallow water to keep from leaving tracks. The sun was high above when the sound of white water disturbed the silence.
Zach gauged the rocky incline. “We’ll have to get out of the river. I’ll go first.” He urged his mount upward.
Tyra followed. She was a good rider, and the strong Morgan would take the steep climb in stride.
Behind him, Josh shouted, his horse screamed, and Zach turned in time to see both slide backwards. The horse reared and Josh bounced off into the water, landing flat on his butt.
Zach dismounted and slithered and slid back down, rocks scraping his backside, to help his brother, who scampered forward on hands and knees. Out of control, Zach tumbled right on past Josh. He finally halted his forward motion by stiff-legging a large boulder, just short of falling headfirst into the rushing water.
Pain shot through his wounded leg and sparkles darted around in the edges of his vision. For a few seconds he saw and heard nothing. Then sounds and bright sunlight invaded his sight, and his head hammered in rhythm with his leg.
A horse screamed, Tyra shouted, and he struggled to see what was going on through a wavering dark curtain. She’d been riding between him and Josh. The Morgan must have spooked when Zach tumbled past. Damn animals hated when something flew by one side or the other. She came off her horse and grabbed the terrified animal’s bridle, settled him down even as he reared again, this time over Zach. He dodged, let out a long breath when hooves struck sparks from nearby rocks, sending some flying to strike him in the chest.
Not a way in hell could he get up. The leg felt like it had soon after he was shot. So he remained seated in the edge of the water, britches soaked, while Tyra and Josh took care of matters. Furious that he couldn’t get up but relieved that nothing appeared broken, he cursed under his breath, rubbed the painful wound, and waited for Tyra and Josh to return. His heart was no longer trying to leap from his chest, but he’d come damned close to buying it in those few minutes when everything went crazy. It seemed an eternity before they slid back down to rescue him. With one on either side, they dragged him to his feet, and all three scrambled to the upper bank.
At the top of the cut-away, they lowered him into the grass. A peaceful spot, the horses grazing, their teeth ripping away at their evening meal as if nothing at all had happened.
“Well, see, you picked a nice campsite for the night.”
“Yep, this looked better than all the others.” Nervous laughter all around, and Josh slapped Zach on the shoulder. “You okay, there, brother?”
“Other than feeling pretty foolish? Yeah. Reckon this damned leg will ever mend?”
Tyra dropped to her knees next to him. “Does it hurt too bad? I could rub it or something.”
He forced a grin. “I’ll take the ‘or something,’ if you don’t mind.”
Lightning-quick, she leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth, held on much longer than he expected, and he lost himself, kissing her back. Her eyes widened, and she pulled away, blushing furiously.
Josh laughed. “Well, now that I know what an ‘or something’ is, I might take one.”
“You’ll have to wait till she shoots you.” Zach tried to make light of her kiss, but fell short.
“Looks like it might just be worth it.” Josh studied Tyra much too long.
Zach cleared his throat and rubbed his leg a while, trying not to meet her steady gaze. He’d liked that a hell of a lot more than he meant to, and from the looks of her, she did too. Maybe he ought to be more careful reacting to her funning. If that’s what she was doing.
Like someone had cracked a whip, Josh came to his feet. “I’ll get the firewood.”
Tyra pointed at Zach. “You make the coffee. I’ll get you some water, and you stay off that leg. We can’t afford for you to get stove up.”
“I’ll bet there’re some fish in that hole up above the white water,” Josh said. “I’ll see if I can’t rig something to catch a few for supper. Used to be pretty good at it when I was a kid.”
“Sounds good to me.” Tyra grabbed the pot and went up the bank a ways to find easier access to water.
After building a fire, Josh stripped a long thin branch with his Barlow, then dug around in his saddlebags and came up with some catgut and a hook. Zach and Tyra egged him on while he chased after huge grasshoppers that flew up ahead of his running feet..
“Save some of them,” Zach said. “That way if you don’t get any fish we can always eat fried grasshoppers for supper.”
Josh went away with a fistful of the kicking insects. “Just wait, brother. You’ll see.”
The sight of his stocky brother moving as gracefully as a panther brought back his childhood like he’d been hit between the eyes. They’d fished together a lot, and while Josh came home with a full stringer, Zach daydreamed and let any nibbles he might get escape. Then he went off to fight the Yankees, and all that changed forever. After the war, he didn’t go home. Didn’t figure he’d ever see Josh again, till that wire from their mother. He sighed, turned back to stare into the fire.
The aroma of coffee hung in the windless evening when Josh returned with four white bass.
Delighted, Tyra danced around the fire. “You keep this up, we’re going to label you as the great hunter.”
Zach added his two cents’ worth. “Who’s the extra one for?”
Josh bowed. “Why, me, of course. To the fisherman goes the catch.”
On the fourth day of following the shoreline, in and out of shallow water to disguise their tracks, Zach led them high along a ridgeline and reined in. The hills lay behind them. Stretched below as far as the eye could see were valleys and ridges dotted with springs and streams that glistened in the sunlight. A river wound its way across the wide expanse, like a ribbon tying the pieces together.
“Purty, ain’t it?” He relaxed in the saddle. Enjoyed the view. Overhead, the sun beat down. Sweat trickled down his back and out from under his hat. He swept it off, removed his bandana, and wiped the moisture from his face.
“Sure is.” Josh did the same. “Hotter’n the hubs of hell, though.”
Tyra didn’t say anything, just stared out across the long sweep below. “We have to ride clear across all that, or is that New Mexico down there?”
Zach laughed. “Darlin’, that’s still Texas. It’s a long way to New Mexico yet, so you might as well relax and enjoy the trip.”
“My bum is sore.” She groaned, raised, and rubbed her bottom.
“Your bum? That must be a word you carried over here from England. Your bum. I thought you’d learned to speak western.” Josh shook his head.
“I’m too tired to worry about it. All I want is out of this saddle.”
“We’ll stop soon as we get to the bottom. Yonder.” He pointed, stood in the stirrups. “That’s Captain Marcy’s southern route. We can take that, be out of Texas maybe in a week, two if we slow down.” He grinned at Tyra. She gave him a tired smile. Though she looked worn out, her “sore bum” was the first he’d heard in the way of complaint.
Maybe he ought to stop pushing so hard. They had come a long way without seeing a marshal or a ranger. At first he’d hoped she’d quit after the first day, certainly the second, and turn around and go home. She hadn’t faltered once. Tough as a leather knot.
“Who was Ca
ptain Marcy?” She slumped in the saddle. Probably hoping they’d stay here a while.
Josh replied for Zach, seeing as how he was sitting there admiring Tyra, something he constantly derided himself for but couldn’t seem to stop. The woman mesmerized him, no two ways about it. Her soft voice, never strident or criticizing, her delicate features, a bit flushed from the wind and sun, the body language that said more than any words could. She was brave, tough, and feminine. What more could he want? Why the hell didn’t he just fall victim to her charms? Forget all the doubts? He knew the answer to that. Josh began a lesson on Marcy, and Zach turned from staring at Tyra. Good God, he wasn’t some besotted youngster.
“He blazed a trail from Fort Smith. Actually, the original trail looped north of here to Santa Fe. On his return, he hacked out a southern route. It was for the forty-niners, so they could go west and hunt for gold. Now it leads a different breed of gold seekers west. Those following the sun, some going as far as the ocean, where that old sun just falls in the water and drowns for the night.”
Zach grinned at his brother. He always had something poetical to say, no matter what they were talking about.
“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of the gold rush. And that’s the trail?” She pointed.
Zach took up the explanation. “Been used by a lot of folks since then. The famous John Butterfield used that route when he carried the overland mail from Missouri to California in twenty-four days.”
He unlooped the canteen off his saddle horn, opened it, and passed it over to Tyra. Josh drank too, and then they urged their mounts down the steep decline into the valley. In the past long days they had left Cuero and Josh’s troubles far behind.
Not so his own, though. They rode with him, for despite his vow to treat Tyra like a sister, he was more and more attracted to her. She was younger than Josh, and his brother was five years his junior. Young as she was, though, she was still like no woman he’d ever known. He no longer questioned bringing her along. But she had such a romantic notion of life in the West. Still, he could not even think of sending her back to James Lee. Besides, she wouldn’t go. Set in her ways, she’d ride off alone and get in no telling what kind of trouble. Best to keep her with them. He needed to protect her, much like he would protect Josh. They were a family, and she was their little sister.
Yeah, fool, just keep telling yourself that. Don’t saddle her with your worthless life. He could only hope she would grow up some more and find a man more her own age and more settled. Till then, he’d keep an eagle eye on her. Deny the feelings that had stirred awake when he’d taken her in his arms in the river that night. Just thinking about it made his britches tighten. Damn, here he was paying more attention to her than what was going on around them. They had to find a town where he could buy some time with a dove. Cure these purely outlandish desires.
They rode down all day, the horses picking their way carefully. It was almost dark when the terrain began to level out. A valley opened up ahead, surrounded by ridges and a mix of trees. When night fell, it caught Zach still looking for a good place to make camp. They were tired, dirty, hungry, and sleepy, but mostly they feared being approached by a Texas Ranger or a U.S. Marshal. Though Judge Parker’s marshals usually stuck to eastern Texas and Indian Territory, they sometimes trailed outlaws this far west. A lot of outlawing went on out here, and it was worse in New Mexico. Always some yahoo starting something and getting a bunch of people killed.
Time to make a decision and settle for the night. He rode off the trail into some tall pines alongside a stream he could hear but not see. Above, the sky shone silver, tinged with pink, and stars turned on here and there. Underfoot, the ground went dark.
He reined up and slid from the saddle. “As good a place as any. Gather some wood if you could, Josh. I’ll start us a fire and get some water for coffee.” He was still having trouble stumbling around in the rocky terrain. That fall had set him back a ways
Josh’s footsteps crunched through last year’s dead leaves and weed growth, carrying him out of sight in the deep shadows.
“I’ll get the water.” Tyra appeared beside him, took the pot, and disappeared as well.
Should have stopped earlier. Always looking for a better place. He scolded himself and began gathering leaves, pine needles, and small brush to start the fire. By the time his sulphur match touched off the dry gatherings, both Josh and Tyra were back. She offered to make the coffee, so the men went to unsaddle the horses and find a grassy spot to hobble them.
When they returned Tyra had built up the fire, ground some coffee into the simmering pot, and sat herself down a tad away from the heat of the fire. The rich aroma of boiling coffee joined the wood smoke to tickle their senses. Zach collapsed with a huge sigh and rubbed his aching leg. He could hardly hold his eyes open.
Far off to the northwest, thunder rumbled and jags of lightning touched down. The smell of rain drifted in on small gusts of cool wind. After the day’s heat, it was welcome.
“It’s a long way off. Don’t think it’ll get here before morning.” Josh poured three cups of coffee and passed one to Zach, but when he offered Tyra hers, she was curled up fast asleep in a pile of pine needles.
In his dreams Zach walked the battlefield, smelling the blood and black powder, hearing the cries of his fellow soldiers, bellowing their names. He struggled to identify a massive roaring and leapt awake, for a moment still on that killing field, confusing the noise with the firing of cannon. Dawn was breaking, touching the horses with a shimmer of gold. Back under the trees it was still dark. What in the hell was that noise?
The distant storm, the flat lands and creeks that held little water…only one thing it could be.
“Get the horses! Grab what you can!” he shouted. “It’s a flash flood, headed right for us.” He fumbled around trying to save what he could. Blankets on the ground, saddlebags, the canteens. He couldn’t get it all.
Tyra, where was she? By then the roaring was so loud he couldn’t hear his own voice yelling her name. He scrambled to where she’d bedded down, but she was gone. Good, okay, she was safe.
Josh came running with the horses, and the two men hightailed it to higher ground with saddles and all the camp gear they could carry. Standing on a ridge on the other side he stared in awe at the oncoming wall of water. Would the ridge be high enough? Tyra. Where was she? Not here.
“I’m going back,” he said. “I have to find her. You stay here with the horses and our stuff.”
“Be careful. That wild water is almost here.” By then the noise was thunderous, the crack of trees breaking, the rumble of boulders tossed about like toys. No matter how loud he shouted her name, she wouldn’t hear, but he kept it up anyway. Searching, staring into the shadowy tree line. There she was, coming up out of the creek, naked as a jaybird. What the hell? Panic seized his thumping heart.
The water bore down on her in a wave five or more feet high, moving like a locomotive, ready to eat them up. She must have spotted it about the same time she saw him. As if frozen in place she hesitated, then started for him. She didn’t make it. The wall hit her full force, sucked her under. Dear God. Zach leaped into the swirling angry torrent.
Everything beneath the surface was black, filled with debris, nearly blinding him. Twisting limbs flew by, rocks big as his head shot along like cannon. He’d never find her, be lucky if he survived. She was lost to him forever. What a fool he’d been not to tell her he loved her. Something inside him cracked. Had to be his heart breaking.
Frantic, he thrashed about, surfacing, then going under, coming back up, choking, taking a deep breath, pulled under again. The main rush of water moved past at last, slamming him into rocks and floating trees, heaving him up in the whirlpools that formed between the ridges. Something bobbed up and down on the far side of the temporary lake. It was Tyra, the rising sun gleaming in her red hair. Being thrown from a horse mid-river when he was a kid had taught him how to swim, after a fashion. He could thrash the water and move forward.
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“Hang on, I’m coming.” His open mouth gathered water, and he choked painfully. Could she make it? Did she even know how to swim? Making headway, he lost her momentarily. There she was, red hair like a flag. It took forever to reach her, and just as he did she went under, one hand reaching for the sky. He grabbed those fingers and pulled her to the surface. Locked both arms around her, and they both sank.
He clung to her frantically. Would die before he’d turn her loose. No matter what, they were together. Either lost here in the twisting devastation, or somehow making their way out holding on to each other. If they got out of this, he would never let her go again.
Kicking hard and stroking with one arm, he brought them back from the murky depths to the surface. Water movement formed a small lake on the backside of the wall, and his feet finally touched ground. With Tyra under one arm, he waded out of the shallows and dropped to his knees, then onto his stomach, still holding her.
She choked and gasped for air, spat out a mouthful of water, then clutched him around the neck.
“You okay? Zach, you okay?” She patted his cheeks and began to cry.
He choked up a mouthful of water, held her so tight she grunted. Buried his face in her wet hair, smelled her skin, felt her warmth and tears that warmed his cold cheeks.
“Tyra, I almost lost you. God, I was scared you were gone. I couldn’t find you anywhere.” He took another breath. “Why are you naked?”
“I don’t know. Can’t remember. Oh, yeah, I was taking a bath. I woke up—couldn’t sleep—felt so dirty, so I—”
His laughter interrupted her. “You were taking a bath? Taking a bath?” Again laughing, but he couldn’t stop. Then he did so he could look her over. Awed, he ran his hands over her battered but beautiful body. Started kissing every inch of her, beginning under her chin and moving down. His lips tasted the swell of her breasts, the nipples hard like pearls. Cold. He warmed them in his mouth and she cried out softly, nuzzled closer, and sucked on his earlobe. He moved on, tongue licking her smooth wet flesh.
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