“I am not worried about myself, Kee. It is for you that I fear.”
He turned her around. “Look at me.” And he waited until that dazed look left her eyes. “If you want me to find another place to camp, I will.”
“Kee, you cannot ignore her. She is a very real threat.”
“Honey, I’m no damn hero. I intend to be very careful if I run into that cousin of yours again. I also intend to take care of you, Isabel. All right?”
She nodded; there was not anything else to do. He knew the danger as well as she did. And if it came to making a choice between saving Kee’s life or the gold that Clarai wanted…no, it would never come to that. Isabel rubbed her arms when he went back to the horses and cast a fearful look at the wooden carving.
It was a death omen. And she could not ignore it.
Kee found a narrow stream to refill the canteens and let the horses drink. He couldn’t see any smoke and hoped that Isabel wasn’t still brooding about that damn owl. He should have explained to her that he took every sign and warning seriously, but right then he didn’t think she needed to have her fear increased.
He staked out the horses in a dry wash that held a few puddles from the recent rain. There were some wild oats and grasses for them to feed. When he hiked his way back to rejoin Isabel he was surprised to see that the fire she built could be covered with his hat.
Bacon sizzled in the pan, and she poured out coffee before he sat down beside her.
He took the cup with a grateful murmur and sipped the hot brew. “I swear I’m going to have a thick steak and potatoes when we get back to civilization. And cake. Drizzled with honey.”
“Sí, empañadas and capirotada,” she said, then grinned.
“So you’ve got a sweet tooth, too? My Sofia still makes the best bread pudding to be found in the territory. It’s a favorite of my uncle Ty’s. His wife tried to match Sofia’s but no one can. And no can watch her, either. She has some secret ingredient she adds when no one is looking. Even her husband, Santo, can’t tell.”
“Are they part of your family, Kee?”
“They came with Grandmother Macaria when she left Mexico to marry Justin Kincaid. They must be in their seventies now, but that old man still puts the fear of him and God in us. It’s a combination of love and respect that we have for Santo and his wife. She still rules the house with her wooden spoon. I felt it a few times on my backside when I tried to steal cookies before supper.”
She laughed, as she was sure he meant for her to do, then turned with a wistful sigh. “I would have liked to have known you then, Kee.”
“No, you wouldn’t. I was a smart-mouthed kid, who delighted in pulling little girls’ braids and sticking them into inkwells if I could get away with it.”
“What happened to that mischievous little boy?”
“He started growing up, Isabel. He learned that little girls smelled sweeter than his friends, and he found better use for long braids. But all this was before we headed west. And afterward, well, I guess I had to grow up so fast in the weeks after my folks were killed that I lost that boy trying to survive.”
“No. I do not believe that, Kee. I do not think you really believe it, either. You have laughter in your voice and eyes when you speak, so the memories you kept are good ones. That is all that matters, that you remember those good memories of happier times.”
And she was going to make this brief interlude with him one of her good memories, when everything but easy talk and laughter were forgotten, a memory she could recall and savor when Kee was no longer part of her life.
They ate as they talked of their childhood. When done, she scoured out the pan with loose sand, and he buried their fire, then swept the area beneath the trees with a pine branch to wipe out their tracks. Keeping to the rocks, they made their way to where Kee had left the horses.
Isabel found a dry spot where thick layers of sand would make a softer bed. She spread out his bedroll and after a moment’s hesitation, she opened the other blanket next to it. She rocked back on her boot heels just as Kee approached, carrying his rifle. She noticed he wore a tanned hide jacket, and knew from her search of his pack that it was soft as butter and just as supple.
“I’ll be up there, keeping watch.”
She followed his gesture to the rocks above. “You need to sleep, Kee. You cannot keep watch all night.”
“I’ve done it before, night riding a herd, and you’re the one who does all the work tomorrow.”
“No. I will share keeping watch with you. Two hours? Is that all right?”
He knew he wasn’t going to get by without arguing, so nodded and walked away. But if one night’s sleep was all he could give her, she was getting it whether she wanted it or not.
“Two hours, Kee,” she called out softly. She did not know if he heard her, or if he would wake her. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and sat on the bedroll, leaning back against the earth bank of the wash. She would not sleep, but only rest. It was time he started treating her as an equal, and not a woman who needed his coddling.
But the night without sleep and the long ride and emotional turmoil took their tolls and her eyes closed. Sleep claimed her just as the brilliance of the stars laid claim to the night sky like hundreds of lanterns suddenly lit into light.
Kee barely glanced upward at the display. Tired as he was, he had no mind to sleep. His breathing was soft and easy as he began to check on the sounds around him. Night-prowling animals like the kangaroo rat or the night lizards or the black-tailed jackrabbit that was feeding down below. Every place he camped, the sounds were different, from the rubbing of dead branches when the wind blew, or the grasses rustling as the breeze cooled the night.
If his own senses weren’t always alert, he had his mustang. Outlaw would warn him if he heard something strange. He glanced back and down the wash to where Isabel was. He knew he shouldn’t let his thoughts stray to her. But she was there, in his mind and…he stopped himself.
If there was a move made by Clarai, it would be tonight or right after Isabel found the opening to the mine. He had to stay alert.
But even the best intentions can be overcome by the loss of blood, and exhaustion. Kee fought to stay awake. He shifted positions, putting more of his body into the open, exposing it to the cold desert night.
He wished for coffee. He could swear that the scent of it and tobacco were teasing his nostrils.
Then the night exploded.
Outlaw snorted, then whinnied.
Kee caught a flash of light where there shouldn’t have been anything. He rolled and sighted his rifle, but a report went racketing through the night just before another hit him a wicked blow on his skull and he felt blood trickling to the sand.
Chapter Twenty-One
He knew he should move. Every instinct screamed at him to do it. But Kee couldn’t move. He was fully awake, yet not one limb responded to his mind’s command.
He heard someone scrambling up and close to him. He lay there, helpless and alert, unable to get one finger to move.
Eyes open, he stared at the starlight gleaming along the barrel of a rifle. His rifle, and thankfully it wasn’t aimed at him.
Then he saw and heard Isabel.
“Clarai! I know you are out there. You know that I am a better shot than you. If you do not leave now, I will fire and I will not miss.”
“Isabel! Cousin mine. Listen to me. He is a liar and a thief. We have come to rescue you.”
Fury bubbled in Isabel’s blood. She was sure that Kee was dead. And to stand there and hear lies about him snapped whatever control she had. She laid a careful and measured field of fire around them, warning everyone off, keeping Clarai and her men away.
A broken cry split the air, following swiftly by falling rocks. Someone had been hit or killed. She did not care which, they had to pay for what they had done to Kee.
“We’ll wait, Isabel. Find the gold. And when you do, we’ll be there to take it from you. You’re alone now
. All alone.”
Isabel shivered as a loud war cry broke the night. She was afraid but held her ground. She prayed that they would retreat. She had to get to Kee. Maybe there was a chance.
Kee was very much alive. He could hear them, and he could see, but he was paralyzed. He knew if Isabel hadn’t arrived when she did, he would be dead. But the idea that he could have all his senses but touch, and call himself alive, sent a stream of terror through him. The thought that he could never touch Isabel again, or feel himself become a part of her, and she of him, never to ride the wild trails he loved flashed in his mind. Better the shot should have killed him.
He must have passed out, for he came to with the hot wetness of her tears falling on his lips. He tried to speak and tried again, only to hear a weak sound pass his lips. He attempted to move, begging his body to act to the strength of his mind’s demand, but only a spasm shot through his body and nothing responded.
He made another sound, desperate to attract her attention, but she was sobbing so loudly that she couldn’t hear him. He knew if they had pulled off, it was only for a while. They would be back and hunting her. He had to get both of them out of here. But how? A scream of pure rage welled in his throat and went no farther. He must not let Clarai or Benton or anyone else know that he was alive.
“Kee, querido…oh, beloved, I swear on your soul and mine that I will make them pay with their lives for this.”
Kee croaked. He licked her tears from his lips and managed her name.
She reared back as if she were the one shot.
“Merciful God! You are alive!”
Not quite, he thought, but I’m trying to get there.
“Kee, speak to me. Tell me where you are hurt.”
If he had been able to speak, he couldn’t. She was smothering him in kisses, her hands moving frantically over his body trying to find a wound.
“Get…” The word took an unbearable effort. He had to make her understand that they had to get out of here.
“I will not leave you, dearest one. I will not. Do not ask that of me. Only talk to me. Tell me where you are hurt.”
He wanted to shake her, just grab hold and shake the daylights out of her, or hold her so close that fear could be halved.
The good Lord took pity, for her sobs quieted, and she realized how still his body was. For a moment terror held her in its grip. She knew he was alive. But he was not moving. He was not talking.
“Kee, I need to get you down below. Can you help me? If I…” She stopped herself, and slipped one arm under his shoulders, but Kee was a big man, and her strength was not enough to lift him.
“Horse…get.” He nearly sobbed aloud in frustration and then she was gone.
Sweat glistened on his face, he could feel it break out all over his body as he attempted to move. More of those knifelike spasms shot through him. But he realized that his head moved. Just a little, but it gave him hope.
He beat back the panic that threatened him. For a man who made his living as he did, using his skill and his strength, this was the most terrifying feeling.
The dull throbbing in his head grew painful in its intensity. Still Kee attempted another move. He curled his fingers into the earth and tugged. Then again. They responded, but left him weak as an hour old calf. Maybe he wasn’t hurt badly, maybe he was stunned. He tried to remember how he fell, tried to recall the placement of the rocks. Maybe it wasn’t a bullet that laid him low, but that he had hit his head.
He was grasping at straws and knew it, but just as he couldn’t seem to stop himself from pushing his body to move, he couldn’t stop the thoughts from coming and going until he felt sick to his stomach.
He prayed. Something he hadn’t done in too long a time. But he prayed and begged for mercy. Not only for himself, but that he could be strong enough to protect Isabel. They would kill her once she found the gold.
He didn’t want to live in a world without her.
It was a stunning moment to realize that tears were scalding his cheeks. His tears. For that endless moment he ceased fighting, almost stopped breathing, but he did not stop praying, for his fingers curled over the edge of a rock and its very ragged sharpness pierced his palm.
He blinked his eyes and a groan torn from deep inside his chest escaped his lips as he tugged and pulled on that rock. Forcing his body, forcing his mind to concentrate on that pain, feeling it grow to bladelike keenness, he moved his body.
He moved! Hot tears blinded him. Tears of humble thanks.
Maybe he wasn’t crazy. Maybe this—whatever it was—was only temporary.
Excited by that small move, his heartbeat thundered in his ears. He managed to wrap his fingers around that rock. He knew there was no real strength in it, but he wasn’t giving up. Babies crawled before they walked. And that is what he felt like, a baby trying to crawl. He bit through his bottom lip, tasted the hot salt of his own blood and fed on the rage that was building inside him. Those bastards weren’t going to win. He’d made the one careless move that put him on his belly, but they’d made a deadly mistake not to kill him.
Sweat dripped and stung his eyes, but he kept on. He used the fingers of his other hand to push his body and was rewarded by coming to the rocks. He only had to focus on the image of Isabel, alone and at their mercy, to find the strength to pull harder. The dull throbbing in his head grew to a roar but he gritted his teeth and managed to draw his other arm around. With both hands on the rock he tugged until he swayed on one knee. He threw back his head, panting and weak, blood running down the side of his face. A guttural moan escaped him.
Helpless. She depended on him and he was useless to her.
And that’s how Isabel found him, braced on one knee, head hanging and so still she feared that this time he was dead.
She could not utter a sound. Not screams of rage for what they had done to him. Not sobs of despair to see his strength cut out from under him.
But there was nothing wrong with her strength and Kee needed her now.
Outlaw snorted when he smelled blood and she turned to soothe the horse, knowing how much he was needed to help Kee. Inside she was shaking, but all that was visible was the fine tremor in her hands as she reached out to touch Kee.
“Horse,” he grunted.
“Right here.”
“Close.”
She withdrew to grab the reins, and brought the mustang closer to him. It was a test of will to hold the horse and murmur soft words to steady him as she watched Kee’s struggle to move.
He tried to catch the stirrup and missed. She shifted so she could hold it out to him. Then, realizing the mustang would stand, she left him ground-tied and went to help Kee. She slipped her arm around his hips to aid his attempt to stand. It did not work. She took his hand and placed the stirrup into it. With him holding on, and her using both her arms around his waist, he managed to stand.
But the mustang sidestepped and Kee almost went down to his knees. Only Isabel’s firm grip and sheer determination kept him erect.
“Kee, you must hold on. Do you understand? I need to get the rifle, Kee. I cannot trust them to stay away.” Twice more she repeated this as she inched herself away from him to grab the reloaded rifle from its leather scabbard. She breathed a little easier with the weapon in hand.
Back at Kee’s side she slipped her arm around his waist while he held on to the horse. It was awkward moving off, for Kee’s feet were dragging. But every step forward was a celebration to her, for it moved them out of danger.
But she knew they were leaving a trail, and she could not leave him to use any of the tricks he had shown her to cover it. She had to get him someplace safe and care for his wound. His clothing was soaked with sweat; she felt it seep into her own. Sound suddenly penetrated her thoughts.
As she spun around and brought the rifle to her shoulder, she saw Kee grab hold of the saddle with his other hand.
But there was no time for Kee. The looming silhouette of a man was on the top of the wash and sh
e could not wait, could not think. She fired. And fired again.
A bullet spat in the earth near the mustang’s feet and he trotted off, dragging Kee with him.
Kee heard Isabel return fire, but they were shooting at him. Two more shots came close and Outlaw shied, but Kee hung on as the horse headed down the wash to where he had been staked. There, Kee’s strength failed him and he fell into the soft sand.
Isabel knew she had missed. The man was shooting at Kee. Rage, white-hot rage fed her. She found cover, and waited until she had something to shoot at. She had a general idea of where the man had taken cover. He had to shoot upward, and she down. The advantage was hers and she made the most of it. Each time he tried to aim his shot, she fired. But her concentration was not total. She was torn with wanting to follow Kee and care for him. She prayed he had not been hit again.
And she had more to worry about.
Where were the others?
She believed she had wounded or killed one. One man had her pinned down while Kee was below and helpless.
Where, then, was Clarai and the other man?
Circling around.
It had to be.
They would come at Kee first in the dry wash, and then up here for her.
Firmly convinced that she was right, she fired a wild volley in the shooter’s direction. Dropping down, she crawled backward until she was well below the rocks and could turn safely to make a run toward Kee.
The horses were milling about, shying and pulling at the stakes, snorting when they got too close to him and smelled blood.
She dropped to her knees beside him. The sweat and fine trembling of his body told her he was still alive. But she had to move him. They were too exposed here.
And the shooting had stopped. That sudden and very ominous silence chilled her blood. She could see them in her mind’s eye, wary, circling round, rifles aimed at the two of them.
But only if they were here.
There was no time to go back to get his bedroll. She had to use his saddle rope. Not daring to let go of the rifle, she used the stock and her shoulder to lift him a little. She was drenched by the time she managed to get the loop around his chest. And she prayed very hard that he stayed passed out as she slapped the mustang’s rump to get him started down the wash.
Once a Hero Page 19