Emily nodded. "Yes, that's certainly true. I don't feel good about sneaking away, but perhaps you're right."
"We aren't sneaking! But I'm not going to run the risk of Jake getting his hands on you again. True, he hasn't done you any real harm yet, but now he'll be really angry."
Emily shivered. Remembering the gambler's black stare gave her the creeps. He looked as if no soul lived behind his eyes-they were as flat and cold as a lump of hard coal. And having seen how brutally he had beaten Mary Ann, she knew she didn't want to be on the receiving end of one of his rages. She might be spunky, but she was not a fool.
'Yes, I-well, yes, I wouldn't want that either. But can your horse manage such a distance with both of us?"
"I'll walk part of the time. With luck, we may catch the stage or a freight wagon going over the Mule Mountains to Bisbee. Then one or both of us can ride part of the way. Here, you slide up into the saddle and I'll walk until we get down off this hill."
Emily scrambled awkwardly over the cantle and settled herself into the saddle. Her legs were much too short to reach the stirrups, which were set for Zach's long-legged height, but the smooth leather was easier on her bottom that the horse's spine and rolling muscles.
Zach started off down the hill, dodging among the cactus, ocotillo and creosote bushes with the horse tagging at his heels.
Emily simply held on and let the animal choose his path. Her experience with horses would make a very short tale indeed. She looked around at the rugged landscape, starkly painted by the rising sun.
Though harsh and barren, the mountains had their own kind of beauty. The morning air smelled fresh and clean, scented with mesquite blossoms and the wild desert flowers that lingered at the end of spring. Birds trilled in the bushes and a ground squirrel scolded them with his whistling cry. Overhead, a hawk rode the updrafts, swinging in wide arcs, higher and higher.
Watching the hawk, she didn't see the ocotillo in time. One branch caught her hand, the sharp thorns scoring furrows across the base of her fingers. She stifled a cry as she raised the injured hand to suck the blood away and sooth the wound with her tongue. The desert was unforgiving of any carelessness or lack of caution. She would do well not to forget that.
When they reached the bottom of the hill, Zach mounted again, this time behind her. He let her guide the horse around the bases of a couple of other hills and then along the bottom of another wash that ran in a southeasterly direction.
The sun beat down on them now, climbing steadily higher in the sky. The cool of early morning long gone, birds and even lizards hunted sheltering shade. Emily wished she had a hat, even the sunbonnet she'd left behind at Jake's shanty. She raised one hand to shade her eyes, squinting against the glare where the sun reflected off endless white rocks and sand.
Zach took off his hat and set it on her head. Though the hat was too big, if she bunched some of her hair up underneath the band, she could keep it in place. "Thank you," she said, forcing the words out through parched lips. "I'll let you have it back in a little while, but the shade is wonderful!"
Near noon, not far from the foothills of the Mule Mountains, they came to the track that led from Tombstone to Bisbee. Zach dropped to the ground again, and walked along beside the bay, who moved now with a hanging head and slow steps.
Emily handed him back the hat. "Here, you wear it for a while. You're beginning to get sunburned." When the bay stumbled, she checked him and scrambled down.
Zach looked at the horse and shook his head. "He needs water," he said. "I heard there's a spring in this canyon, about a mile up. It's off the road, but I think we'd do well to stop there a few minutes."
Emily agreed. She tagged along behind Zach now, feeling the heat of the dusty ground even through her shoes. Although they probably took no more than an hour to reach the spring, she had begun to wonder if she could last the distance before they got there.
Even though she felt as if she couldn't draw enough air through her nose, she didn't dare try to breath through her mouth. Her tongue felt thick and stiff, her lips chapped and cracked, and a dry, dirty taste lingered in her parched mouth and throat. She tore a ruffle off her petticoat to make a crude shade around her face, but she knew she was still going to have a nasty sunburn. Her arms itched and stung, the skin now nearly scarlet and dust-dry. To make the endless walk bearable, she kept setting goals a short distance away, telling herself she could at least make this rock or that bush before she collapsed.
The spring in Banning Creek made an oasis amidst the red rocks and scraggly desert foliage. A sparkling stream ran a short distance before vanishing into the ground, and along the watercourse, a grove of cottonwood trees grew, casting a welcome shade on the grassy margins.
Emily, Zach and Rusty stumbled into this shade, headed for the cool water at its center. When Rusty reached the steam, the horse dropped his head and drank until Zach tugged him away. Even Emily realized the horse should not drink too much at once after being so hot.
She sank to her knees on the bank and eagerly slurped up handfuls of water. Cold and sweet, the water tasted better than any frosted drink she'd ever enjoyed. After she drank her fill, she splashed water over her parched face and arms, finally soaking her makeshift kerchief and letting the cool water drip down around her head.
Zach also drank, bathed his face, and even filled his hat with water, slapping it over his head and letting the liquid stream down his face, neck and shoulders. Once they had all drunk their fill, Zach unsaddled the bay and staked him where he could graze on some of the lush grass. Emily flopped down under one of the trees and closed her eyes. She barely noticed when Zach sprawled down beside her.
~*~
Zach dozed for a while, savoring the cool shade after the morning's long, hot journey. Although he rested, he remained alert to any unusual sound or motion in the vicinity. He felt an urgency to reach Bisbee and find Emily a safe place to stay, but he recognized they must rest a while if they were going to survive crossing over the mountains.
He glanced at Emily curled on her side in the grass. Her face and arms glowed with sunburn. They had to hurt, but she hadn't made a squeak of complaint.
He'd make her the heroine in his next dispatches to the paper. What a game little trooper she'd turned out to be! No woman of his acquaintance would have endured the last twenty-four hours as she had, staying calm and never voicing a word of protest at her tribulations.
His doze was gradually deepening, until the distant jingle of harness and the tramp of heavy hooves penetrated his awareness. A freight wagon! The spring was about a quarter mile from the road, but if they hurried, perhaps they could hitch a ride with the freighter. He jumped up to saddle the bay again, only calling Emily when he was ready to go.
She stumbled to her feet, blinking in confusion. "Huh? What?"
"I hear a freighter coming. If we hurry, we can catch a ride to Bisbee," he explained.
She stood, rubbing gritty eyes and looking like a waifish refugee from Hades. He caught her up in his arms and lifted her onto the bay. He saw she grabbed the saddle horn before he started off, trotting and pulling the horse to the same pace. If their luck held, he'd reach the road before the freighter passed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
They approached the dirt track just as two massive wagons, each drawn by a team of twelve big black mules, rounded the curve to start up the canyon. The lead driver checked his team as Zach stepped into the road.
"We need a ride to Bisbee," Zach explained. "My horse is worn out and I don't think the lady can walk much farther."
The grizzled man spat a stream of tobacco juice as he looked them over, squinting through a tangle of rusty beard and hair that would do justice to a bear.
"Reckon I can fit you'ns in," he said finally. "Hitch yore hoss on behind and climb up."
Zach helped Emily onto the bench seat beside the freighter, tied Rusty to the tailgate of the wagon, and then joined them. "I sure do thank you," he said as he scrambled up. "Here's a lit
tle something for your pains." He pulled a two and a half dollar gold coin out of his pocket and offered it to the driver.
The man studied the coin a moment before extending a ham-sized paw. "Much obliged, Mister. Tain't necessary, but I 'preciate it, all the same."
"Just as we appreciate the ride," Zach replied. "And if you head back to Tombstone in a day or two, I'd also appreciate it if you kind of forget you saw anyone answering to our description."
The freighter cocked his head to the side, studying them with surprisingly bright blue eyes. He grinned suddenly, revealing a mouth full of large, tobacco stained teeth. In spite of his villainous appearance, he somehow projected sincere friendliness.
"I kin do that, young feller, I kin sure enough do that. Somethin' tells me you and this young lady are runnin' for a reason but not due to anything you done wrong."
He turned his attention to Emily. "You're wearin' a Mexican dress, but you ain't no senorita."
She shook her head. "No, I got this from a friend. I came from back east and I didn't have any appropriate clothes with me."
The muleteer raised one bushy eyebrow at that but didn't question her further. Zach noticed Emily was a bit in awe of the burly man. She edged a little closer to Zach, watching the driver warily. In spite of Emily's doubts, instinct told Zach the man would never harm her under any circumstance. Like Mustang Pete, the freighter was one of those sterling western characters with a heart of gold for all his rough manners. The raw material for wonderful stories, could Zach only survive long enough to pen them.
Dusk had fallen by the time they rolled into Bisbee, clattering down Tombstone Canyon, where the stone-cobbled road followed the canyon floor, an expedient frequently used in the tip-tilted copper camp. The road plunged swiftly down the canyon, making the muleteer set his brake to keep the laden wagon from pushing the mules right out of the way. The powerful animals seemed to squat, their haunches bunching with the stress as they held steady against the load.
Having recovered some of her energy and curiosity on the slow journey over the mountains, Emily gazed around her in awe. She'd never seen a town quite like Bisbee. Houses and cabins, each set in its own ledge or niche carved out of the steep slopes, marched away toward the hilltops.
No two seemed to be on a level or faced the same way. Zigzagging flights of wooden stairs led from one house to the next, apparently serving in lieu of streets. She could not envy the residents who lived in the highest dwellings. What a chore to climb home every night! But those on the lower levels were probably subject to falling debris, should anyone throw something out above. Altogether, Bisbee was an amazing place.
To the south, on a larger level area, a pipe stack thrust out of a big tin building, belching a plume of smoke. Fortunately, the evening wind, moving down canyon, carried the odoriferous cloud away from them. A clatter and hum indicated machinery at work inside the structure, but Emily had no idea what it might be.
They'd finally reached a level spot, much to her relief. She'd begun to doubt there were any such places in this town. She pointed at the building. "What in the world is that?"
"That be the smelter, missy," the muleteer explained as he checked his team to allow them to climb down. "They melt down the ore from the mines, getting out all the copper, gold and silver too. Cheaper to ship just the good stuff out o' here than all the dross. I'll be hauling a load of ingots out to the railroad when I leave town tomorrow."
"Thank you for the ride," Zach said, after they were down and he'd retrieved Rusty. "If there's ever a favor I can do for you, don't hesitate to ask."
"'S all right, lad. Glad to be of service. Watch yourself, now, Bisbee's as wild a town as Tombstone any day."
The man clucked to the mules and started off, leaving Emily, Zach and Rusty standing at the foot of Brewery Gulch. The major saloon and red light district of the camp, where the evening's action was just beginning to get started, Brewery Gulch was known in mining camps all over America.
Though the evening was young, sounds of raucous music, laughter and shouts already seemed to billow out in waves from the jumbled rows of ram-shackled buildings. Men in coarse, grubby clothing crowded the winding lane between them, and a few women, mostly clad in tawdry finery, moved with and among the miners.
As Emily and Zach watched, a man staggered out of the nearest swinging doors, clutching his mid section. He stumbled into the gutter and fell, spilling his insides from a gaping slash across his abdomen. Emily gasped, horrified by the sight. "We've got to help," she cried.
"There's nothing we can do for him." Zach caught her arm and quickly steered her back toward Tombstone Road and the more respectable establishments along its lower stretches. "Getting involved would only put us in still more danger. I doubt if even a doctor can patch him up now. He's a goner."
Reluctantly, Emily allowed herself to be led away. She really did not want to see any more violence. And she'd thought Tombstone was bad! After they moved a few yards back up Tombstone Road, Zach hesitated. Releasing his hold on her arm, he seemed to study the area.
Emily glanced down at her dirty, rumpled garments and sighed. "I look a fright," she said. "But I'm starved-we haven't really eaten since noon yesterday." She sighed again. "I'd almost hesitate to go into a decent place, though. They'd probably throw me out! What are we going to do now?"
Zach reached in his pocket to collect the few coins there. Spreading them in his palm to count, he did a quick mental calculation. Enough-maybe-barely. Belatedly, he remembered to answer Emily's question.
"What do we do? I need to take care of Rusty first, and then we'll find a place to eat. I think I've got enough money to stable Rusty, feed us, and get a room for the night."
Emily sniffed. "You shouldn't have given that two and half dollar piece to the freighter. Fifty cents would have been a handsome reward."
Zach detected a trace of waspishness in her tone. That was unlike Emily, but he supposed she was entitled, after all they'd been through. "I know," he agreed. "I didn't realize what coin I had until I'd offered, and then I couldn't very well take it back."
"I wondered about that." She shrugged, a habit apparently acquired from Angelina, for she gave the gesture the exact Mexican twist. "Oh well, we'll manage. Look, isn't that a stable across the street?"
It was indeed. Zach tugged at Rusty's reins. The horse was still tired although he'd only had to carry himself across the mountains. He also favored one forefoot a bit. Zach frowned in concern. He'd better have a farrier check the gelding's shoes before he headed back to Tombstone.
A stall and feed for the bay came at a reasonable price. A quarter lighter, they left the stable to stroll up Tombstone Canyon, looking for a likely place to dine. Most of the eateries appeared either to be making a pretense at elegance or else were nothing more than dirty looking dives.
Zach fumed, knowing too well how limited his funds were. Was everyone in Bisbee either a tin-stomached miner or an investor with more money than sense? Finally they came to Castle Rock Cafe, small and unpretentious looking, but brightly lit and relatively clean. Perhaps food there would not be overpriced.
Zach held the door for Emily, stopping when the apron-wrapped proprietor rushed across to meet them.
"This is a respectable place; ladies are present." The man's tone echoed his disdainful expression. "No fancy women allowed."
Emily stopped dead, shock painting her face. "But I'm not..." Color suffused her cheeks and her eyes darkened to near violet at the insult.
Zach interceded at once. "I'll thank you to treat my wife with due respect, sir. I admit her attire is a trifle unusual but her luggage was lost in a stage robbery and her traveling dress suffered from rough handling also. When a kindly Mexican lady offered what clothing she could spare, my wife was obliged to accept and was grateful to have it."
Zach glanced at Emily, trying to signal a warning with his eyes. Her mouth opened and shut twice, but she had the good sense not to challenge his fabrication. Perhaps she realized
the tale was necessary if they wanted to get fed.
The restaurant owner's eyebrows shot up as he looked askance at them both. "Very well," he said, after a long pause. "This way." He led them to a table at the rear of the room, in a corner, as if to keep them from public view.
Taking Zach's arm, Emily let him lead her there and seat her, clearly trying to display her best company manners. When he dared to look at her, he saw impish humor dancing in her eyes.
"You rascal," she whispered. "Very inventive! Where did you ever come up with a tale like that? Do you suppose we're creating a scandal?"
Zach was spared the need to reply when a weary looking woman in a dress little cleaner or in better repair than Emily's shuffled over to take their order. The menu was limited, but they were in no position to be choosy. Beef stew with a biscuit and coffee was within Zach's dubious budget. He ordered the same for both of them. Fortunately, the portions were large. They ate every bit that appeared on their plates.
After he paid for the meal, Zach asked the proprietor about lodging. "Would you know of a decent place where we could get a room?"
Mellowed by the fact they'd paid for their food and had behaved in a relatively genteel manner, the man gave the question a moment's thought. "You might try Widow Woodbine's three doors up. She runs a rooming house catering to miners, but she don't tolerate any rowdiness. Tell her I sent you-Jack Dugan."
"Thank you, Mr. Dugan." Zach replied, pocketing the few cents of change he received. "We'll likely be back for breakfast in the morning." If I can find a way to replenish my spending money, he added to himself.
By now darkness had fallen. Even along Tombstone Canyon, miners and other folk crowded the narrow street, jostling and shouting as they went. Some were clearly drunk and others, though probably sober, were little quieter. Emily clung tightly to Zach's arm, looking around wide-eyed at the disorderly crowd. He knew she'd seldom gone out at night in Tombstone, and was thus unaccustomed to the rowdy atmosphere.
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