Moonlight and Magic

by Rebecca Paisley

  “Where the hell is the bastard?” one man yelled desperately as a riderless Gus raced past. “Dammit, where’s he shooting from?”

  “Find him!” Everett commanded, and yanked Chimera back to her feet. “The woods! Look in the trees!”

  Several men raced into the forest, their guns pointing the way. Others spread out in the yard, looking cautiously behind each thing they encountered. The three who held the triplets tied the boys to the fence, and joined their companions in searching for the elusive gunslinger. Everett remained where he was, Chimera’s body his shield.

  Gus galloped to the back of the blazing cabin before responding to his master’s orders to slow down. Sterling, hanging from the right side of the saddle, hauled himself up and quickly reloaded his Colts before dropping himself down to the horse’s left side. Supported by one leg through the stirrup strap and one arm looped through the same strap, he knew he was completely hidden. Never had he been so glad for the tricks the visiting charro had taught him. He nudged Gus, and prepared for another run through the yard.

  “Here comes his horse again!” one man yelled, watching as Gus thundered closer.

  Another man turned to see the gray steed. “But where the hell’s the rider? Where—”

  A second blast of gunfire silenced the man. Everett stared in horror as his man slid to the ground, his chest crimson. A scream behind him made him turn. Two more men staggered and fell.

  The gray stallion galloped past. “The horse,” Everett whispered disbelievingly. “The horse. The horse, fools! He’s hanging on the other side of the damn horse!”

  Sterling urged Gus into the woods and pulled himself back into the saddle. He couldn’t use his horse as a shield again, for Everett had discovered the deception. He reloaded quickly and had barely gotten his feet into the stirrups when he sent the horse flying out of the forest again. With only his knees keeping him upon Gus’s back, he held his Colts steady, aimed, and fired. Two more men fell.

  But he was in full view now, and he faced more than a dozen armed men. Everett had Chimera, and the triplets, he saw, were tied to the fence. He couldn’t find Archibald anywhere. The possibility that the boy had already been killed was fuel to his already mindless fury. He killed another man and aimed for still another.

  Bullets tore past him from all directions, but he kept Gus moving. The horse cantered in circles, galloped ahead, reared, and pranced quickly backward, his ever-changing actions and pace making his master a difficult target to hit. Sterling, his narrowed gaze hunting his targets rapidly, never saw how many men he hit. When he emptied his Colts, he spun Gus toward the woods, where he could reload. As he left the yard, fire exploded in his left temple.

  He tightened his knees around Gus, and fought to stay mounted. His surroundings began to float eerily around him, and he knew that the bullet had hurt him badly. Fighting to stay conscious, he reloaded, but could barely see the chambers of his guns.

  He shook his head, took several deep breaths, and sent Gus flying out of the woods again. Four men waited for him in the clearing. He raised his Colts, but he could barely feel the triggers beneath his fingers. His vision was so blurred, he could hardly see the men before him, and they seemed to move so sluggishly. He felt himself slumping toward Gus’s neck. He heard Chimera scream from a hundred miles away. He saw the triplets struggling with their bonds. But why were they struggling so slowly? Why was everything, each sight, each sound, so leaden and distant? He saw one of his Colts fall from his hand.

  The ground. He watched it come nearer to him. He knew he was slipping from the saddle, but felt no sensation of movement. He felt the jolt to his body when he landed on the hard dirt but could not seem to join his mind with the feeling. He lay on his stomach, his right hand and his remaining Colt pushing into his chest.

  He heard someone ask if he was dead. His head pounded. His surroundings were getting darker. His eyes closed for a moment. He heard footsteps inside the earth beneath his ear and knew men were approaching him. He understood the danger, but could not feel fear, could not find the instinct to shield himself from the nearing peril. Could not make his body react to his mind’s warnings.

  “Sterling.”

  “Chimera,” he whispered. He opened his eyes, but he couldn’t see her.

  “Sterling, get up! Sweet heaven, get up!”

  “Sweet heaven,” he repeated, and realized a group of men were standing around him. He could see their dust-covered boots, feel the coolness of their shadows upon his back.

  “He ain’t dead, boss,” one man said. “But it looks like he took a bullet to the side of his head. Want us to finish him off?”

  “What do you say, little lady?” Everett asked, and wrapped his arm tightly around her neck. “Want us to finish him off quick or maybe shoot him in the belly and let him die slow?”

  Chimera stared in horror at Sterling’s prone body. His head was bleeding. She had no idea how bad his injury was and wondered if it was his life’s blood she saw. Was he dying before her very eyes?

  He’d been willing to die to save her and the children. She choked on the sobs that wracked her body.

  Sterling...dead. No! she raged. No! She had to make him fight! “Sterling! ‘Reject your sense of injury and the injury itself disappears’! Sterling! ‘However broken down the spirit’s shrine, the spirit is there all the same’! Sterling, listen! ‘Nothing is impossible to a willing heart’!”

  Everett laughed. “He’s lost all his spirit, girl,” he told her, grabbing her hair and yanking her head up. “Now open wide those big brown eyes of yours and watch your hero die. Watch. Go ahead, boys. Finish him. Put a bullet through his...uh, willing heart!”

  Sterling felt a boot on his side. It pushed at him, rolling him over. Nothing is impossible to a willing heart. The words seemed to clear his groggy mind. His finger tightened around the trigger of the gun he still had left. His back met the ground. He raised his revolver and fired. One man screamed and fell backward. Sterling saw the others lift their guns. Someone kicked his Colt from his hand. He waited to feel bullets batter into him.

  But he felt the ground shake instead. He heard the thunder of arriving horses, heard loud and eerie cries. He heard a swishing noise, like something cutting air, then heard moans.

  The men standing above him crumpled to the ground. He saw arrows in their backs. Protruding from their throats, Jutting from their chests. From their bellies.

  With every fiber of the strength he could find, he rolled to his hands and knees and raised his head.

  He saw the Chiricahua Apache warriors, Cochise leading them on. He watched Everett’s men empty their guns, but the stream of Apache arrows seemed endless. He breathed a deep sigh of relief when he saw one warrior untie the triplets and hurry them into the safety-of the barn.

  If you truly need an army, you shall receive one, he recalled Chimera telling him once, long ago. Somehow, from somewhere, your army will come, and probably when you need it most. The memory gave him the strength to reach for his Colt and stand.

  But it was fury that flooded through him when he saw Everett trying to drag Chimera to the back of the burning cabin. The bastard was using Chimera as a shield, and Sterling knew the Apache dared not try to aim at the man who held her so closely.

  “Sterling!” she screeched.

  The utter rage he felt at her agonized scream sent still more strength flowing back into his weakened body. He staggered onward. He swayed and felt blood gush from the gash to his head. The world moved dizzily before him, but he kept moving, weaving forward. He saw Everett stop, turn around, and raise his gun. He aimed his own pistol, but before he could pull the trigger, he saw a white horse come flying out from nowhere. “Archibald, no!” he shouted at the boy atop the mare.

  Archibald paid no heed to Sterling’s command. He threw himself from Medusa’s back and landed directly on top of Everett. With all the power his small, mangled body held, he fought. Chimera joined him, but even with the two of them upon him, Everet
t managed to rise and spin toward the direction in which he’d last seen Sterling.

  When he turned, his eyed widened. Sterling stood directly before him, daring him. Everett stared back and tried to find the will to fire, but he was mesmerized by Sterling’s eyes. He looked deeply into them. He felt he was drowning in their perilous depths. He could not take his gaze from them.

  They were silver. The most silver things he’d ever seen.

  He gasped and began to shake. His gun shook violently in his hand. He tried to pull the trigger.

  Sterling shot first.

  Everett felt a horrible burning in his chest and knew he would die. He stared into the silver eyes of the man who’d killed him. You will die lost in silver. You will die lost in silver. “The curse,” he moaned, and clasped his hand over the hole in his chest. “Gypsy...” Blood gurgled from his mouth. He fell to his knees, and slumped to the ground.

  “Sterling,” Chimera whispered, and crawled to where he stood.

  He held out his hand to her, but when she took it, he could not find the strength to help her up. “Chimera, I...”

  She opened her arms, receiving him as he tumbled into them.

  “Is—is he dead?” Archibald sobbed, pulling himself to Chimera.

  “No,” she said firmly, and choked back her own tears. “Go get Cochise. Antonio. Anyone. Run, Archibald. Run as fast as you can.”

  When the boy was gone, Chimera pulled Sterling’s face closely to her breast. One of her tears splashed upon his cheek, and she watched it mingle with his blood. “Sterling,” she whispered, “you can’t die. You’ve just come back to me. You can’t leave me again. Please live. Find the will to live.”

  She pushed her palm flat against the deep gash at his temple. Blood seeped from between her fingers. “Remember Leonardo da Vinci,” she said, her voice shaky. “He wrote: ‘Obstacles cannot crush me. Every obstacle yields to stern resolve.’”

  Her fingers were wet and sticky with his blood now. “Your wounds won’t crush you, Sterling!” she yelled, panic beginning its rise within her. “Resolve to live! Sterling, do you hear me? Sterling! Dammit, Sterling!”

  He opened one eye. “I’ve—I’ve never heard you curse. What happened to sweet heaven?” He tried to swallow. Speaking seemed an almost impossible thing.

  She squealed with joy. “Sterling! Oh—”

  “You could get taken to the woodshed for cursing, Chimera.”

  She smiled. “You’re here,” she murmured. “You just can’t know how hard it’s been to keep hoping. But you’re here now, Sterling.”

  Her image began to blur. He knew he would soon lose consciousness. “Here,” he whispered.

  “Sterling, will you stay? Sterling, say you love me and that you’ve really come home!”

  The three words he’d never been able to tell her sang sweetly through his spinning mind. “Chimera, I...”

  She saw his eyes close and knew such horror it seemed a tangible thing, grabbing and choking her. “Sterling, no! Dear God, don’t let him die! Sterling—”

  “Ojos de Plata!” Cochise yelled. Carefully, he examined the injury at Sterling’s temple, sighed deeply, and sat back on his haunches. “The bullet only grazed him,” he told Chimera. “It will heal quickly.”

  “He’ll live?” Chimera asked, hope spreading through her.

  “Yes. He loses consciousness because of the blow to his head. But he is stubborn. A more stubborn man I have not met. It is my belief he will be up before tomorrow’s moon appears. Dee-o-det will come soon. I have sent for him. He will bring medicine. Silver Eyes,” the chief said to Sterling, “you were one man against many, and yet you faced them alone. It is as I said to you once before. You are either very brave, or you are stupid.”

  “Cochise,” Sterling whispered, but could hear no evidence of the sound he was trying to make. “Antonio. Cicatrizado.”

  The chief watched Sterling’s lips. “Your brother is gone.”

  Dead? The question Sterling needed to ask would not come to his lips. Dead?

  Cochise smiled reassuringly. “No, Ojos de Plata. He is not dead. After the attack, we heard a man screaming in the forest. We went to see who it was. There was a man hanging from a rope in a tree. He was upside down, and from his head hung a streak of white hair. Cicatrizado was filled with great anger at the sight of this man and asked to be alone with him.”

  Sterling closed his eyes. A loud and horrible scream hit his ears before a deathly silence overcame it.

  The last thing he understood before unconsciousness finally claimed him was that Willard was dead.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Sterling awaiting her in her bedroom of the old cabin, it was all Chimera could do to stay in the yard and wave good-bye to Cochise, Antonio, Dee-o-det, and the other warriors. She hadn’t seen Sterling since he’d lost consciousness yesterday afternoon. Dee-o-det had expressly forbidden her presence. It was almost night now, and she shook with the need to see him and know he was as fit as Dee-o-det proclaimed him to he. But the Apaches had done her a great service, and the very least she could do was bid them all farewell.

  The second she could no longer see them, she snapped out orders for the boys to stay in the yard until she called for them, and scurried into the dark cabin. She thought about lighting some candles, but couldn’t stand the idea of wasting the time to do it. With only the pale silver moonlight to guide her steps, she raced to her old bedroom and saw the door was closed. Stopping a moment to catch her breath and try to control her pounding heart, she reached for the doorknob.

  But her hand was shaking so badly, she couldn’t make her fingers turn the knob. Her entire body trembled with excitement. Sterling. Her Sterling was home. He was in the room waiting for her. She could barely breathe, so great was her anticipation.

  “Are you going to stand outside my door all night, Chimera, or are you going to come in?”

  His sudden question startled her so badly, she shrieked. She heard him laugh his deep and wonderful laugh. By holding her right hand with her left she was able to control its shaking enough to turn the door knob. Slowly, too slowly, the door swung open.

  Her heart skipped several beats. The room was illuminated by the light of several candles. Sterling was standing by the bed Antonio had knocked together for him. He was dressed, there seemed to be color in his face, and his eyes were alert. She drank in the sight of him, barely able to control her yearning to throw herself into his arms. “Sterling—”

  “Chimera, please tell me that Apache witch doctor is gone. Tell me he really left and that it wasn’t some wonderful dream when he told me good-bye.”

  “Sterling—” She longed to ask him the questions swarming in her mind. Had he returned because he loved her? Would he stay? “I—Yes. He’s gone. But is that any way to speak of the man who saved your life?”

  “He didn’t have to stay all night last night and all day today saving it,” Sterling muttered. “Besides, I wasn’t in danger of losing it anyway. It’s only a scratch on my head.”

  “Oh, Sterling, it is not.”

  He grinned. “Is too.”

  “Sterling—”

  “I kept asking to see you, Chimera, but that rattle-shaking, sing-song shaman kept me drugged and asleep for what feels like half my life. I finally gave up trying to count how many hours I was shut up in this room with him and all his obnoxious medicines, drums, fistfuls of pollen, and off-key singing. And every time he let me stay awake for a while and I told him I wanted a few minutes of privacy with you, he got this shocked look on his face and told me I wasn’t well enough to do that! I tried to make him understand I only wanted to talk to you, but he accused me of lying and said that love-making was only for people who were strong enough to take the torture. Torture! He must be married to a woman who has teeth in her—”

  “Sterling!”

  He chuckled. “Chimera, I’m only teasing. I thanked him properly. But you know how Apaches are. He wanted no gratitude.”

  Sh
e nodded and looked at the floor. She could barely find her next breath. “I—Sterling...you can’t know how much I’ve missed you,” she squeaked. “I—I tried to keep my faith, but...”

  Sterling’s chest ached with the profound need to have her in his arms, now, tomorrow, forever. “Chimera, come here. Come closer to me, enchantress.”

  She closed the door and slowly crossed to him. A tremor coursed through her when he put his hand to her cheek. How she’d missed his touch! “Sterling...I can hardly believe you’re really here.”

  “I had to come back, Chimera,” he told her softly.

  She waited to hear him tell her he loved her, that he would stay and never leave her again. “Why?” she prompted quietly. “Why did you have to come back?” Tell me. Sterling. Tell me you love me. Tell me the words I’ve waited so long to hear.

  “Why?” he asked, and grinned down at her. “Well, someone has to clear away that pile of dead branches out in the yard. I promised I’d do it, and I try never to break my promises.”

  She tried to smile, but failed.

  Sterling put his arms around her. He felt a tremendous shake tumble through her and understood she was holding back a torrent of pent-up emotion. “Chimera,” he whispered tenderly, “remember what old Rip said about finding sweetness in tears? Let it out, estrellita. Give it all to me. And as you held me so many times, let me now hold you.” He drew her closer to him.

  “Sterling, it was so awful!” she sobbed into his shirt, the months of frustration and sorrow finally spilling from inside her. “Each week, day, each hour without you seemed to go on and on and on! I hoped—Some days I hoped, other days I knew you’d never be back. I couldn’t make myself clear away the branches. Some part of me...I kept thinking that maybe, just maybe you’d come back to do the chore. My faith wavered. See-sawed until I was dizzy with it! I tried to call you home. I called—I waited—And then Everett! He came, demanding the treasure, threatening to kill us, and then you rode into the yard, and—”