Teddy sent a fond, amused glance toward the edge of the lake, where Paul had finished shaving and was now pouring water over his face and hair to rinse away suds. The ensuing noise, and the violent head-shaking, reminded her of the hoopla a good mongrel dog will go through, drying off.
“He’s not a tenderfoot, Pa. You gonna tell him?”
“Not right now. Let him enjoy this trip as much as he can, without stirrin’ up trouble. We’ll see how things go.”
After several days on the trail, the Yancey party moved together like a well-oiled machine, all parts coordinated, least effort with best result. By 9:00 the fire had been deadened by a pan of cold water and covered by ashes, and any bits of leftover anythings were carefully buried.
Other than a small burnt circle on the bare ground, they left no sign of their presence. The Fergusons believed wholeheartedly in taking from the forest only what can be used, without waste, and, if possible, restoring any site to pre-human occupation. A belief shared for centuries by native peoples around the world.
Once mounted, Ezra cast a weather-wise glance at the lowering western sky, its blueness splotched over in places by dark cloud. “Might be gettin’ a storm later on,” he prophesized. “Best make some time t’day, find us some shelter b’fore rain hits.”
“You got any idea where we’re headed?” Paul asked whimsically. “Seems like we’ve just been toodlin’ along upward, without any real goal in mind.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.” Grinning, Ezra sucked at his pipe—fortunately, downwind—before replying. “What we been takin’ all along is one of the main trails up t’ Mount Whitney. Findin’ your man shouldn’t be hard once we get closer t’ the summit. You’d be surprised how easy it can be t’ track some people.”
“I hope ol’ Catamount don’t decide t’ greet us with guns blazin’,” said Paul, only half-facetiously.
“Hard tellin’, with him holed up so far from civilization.” No point in sugar-coating, in Ezra’s opinion; might as well speak the truth. “You two go on ahead, Paul; I gotta make a stop.”
To the novice, Mount Whitney, seen from the East Face, looks so intimidating as to be a nearly impossible climb. As the highest peak in what would later be the lower forty-eight states, Whitney, named by members of the California Geological Survey for Josiah Whitney, California’s State Geologist, rises more than 14,000 feet above sea level.
As sightly as were the blue-gray granite peaks, with their drifts of snow folded into every crevice, Paul sincerely and devoutly hoped that the trail to Catamount Clemens didn’t lead straight to the top.
Single-file, they wended their way upward along the rough stony path. Few deciduous trees grew at this level; mostly pine and fir. And rock. Lots and lots of big rocks, heaved up during the shifting of plates of some prior millennium and left in giant chunks to grow moss or glitter mica in the sunlight.
Strides were taken cautiously from there on, and at times Paul climbed down to lead his horses on foot, for safety’s sake. The view from up here was stupendous, looking across to sister mountains with their white caps of snow, in thinning air and cooler temperatures. Any trip-up, any misstep at this height would be equally stupendous, resulting in the crash of a body over the side and down for a very long distance.
When they stopped for a nooning, the altitude made its play, affecting everything from each breath that came not as easily to the lack of bread rising and the sluggishness of water boiling. Teddy, back in her familiar buckskins, apologized for the less than substantial meal.
“Whatever you fix is fine,” Paul assured her. “I feel like we’re gettin’ close t’ this feller, anyway.”
“Oh, yeah? How d’you figure?”
He gave her his usual warm, lopsided grin. “My newsman’s nose tells me.”
She returned it, with a crinkle of luminous gray eyes. “Everybody should have such a nose.”
Once again, armed with a plate of cold canned beans and some salt pork sliced thin, Ezra chose a boulder to perch upon. Almost, Paul decided, considering, as lookout.
“See anything interestin’ up there?”
“Naw.” Ezra was chewing busily away, in between sips of coffee. “Just the usual humdrum stuff.”
With their less-than-abundant dinner finished, Ezra keeping watch over his surroundings, and Paul sprawled half-asleep on the spread-out folds of his bedroll, Teddy began to gather up their plates and cutlery.
Paul reached out one hand to detain her. “Leave that stuff for a bit,” he suggested. “Sit down here with me, and talk.”
Obvious surprise, and an upflung glance toward her father. In every instance that she could remember, he had played the role of fierce, over-protective parent concerning any contact with the opposite sex. Strangely enough, the strict rules once set for her had been easing, little by little, over the past few days. Was their client’s non-threatening, easy-going attitude winning Ezra over?
“I’ll finish this first, get everything ready to pack away,” she decided. “Then we can visit for a bit, if you like.”
“Yeah. I like.”
He slanted a smile her way, so sunny and so full of charm that she couldn’t prevent a tiny frisson of excitement skittering through her veins. Gulping down a lump in her throat, she nodded and slipped away to the small stream cascading over rocks and pebbles, downhill on its path to the sea.
“I’m not gettin’ any younger,” announced Ezra out of the blue.
Startled, Paul pulled himself upright to meet the old man’s eyes straight on. “Last I knew, none of us was,” he agreed warily.
“I’d miss her.”
“Teddy? Well, sure—if she was goin’ somewhere. You sendin’ her on a world tour, or somethin’?”
“I ain’t gonna be around forever.”
“Who’d wanna be?”
“She oughta have a life of her own. Not one tied down with me, runnin’ around God knows where, doin’ God knows what. Her maw sure wouldn’t be happy with me.”
“Because of what?” Paul was genuinely bewildered.
Ezra harrumphed a bit, like an old bullfrog. “Haulin’ the girl about, over trails and such, livin’ such a rough life. She’s almost twenty, and ain’t had hardly no experience with men a’tall. Time she was married and settled down.” And he beetled his brows at Paul, tellingly.
Straightening, Paul climbed slowly to his feet. “Not sure I wanna follow your meanin’, my friend.” His tone was quiet, level, but intense.
“Sure you do. You got somethin’ else goin’ on you ain’t mentioned? B’cause the two of you get along like a house afire. What else does anybody need?”
“Well, maybe just a few other things,” Paul began to splutter. “Prob’ly you haven’t considered whether love oughta enter the picture. But for me, personally, I prefer—”
“Pa,” came Teddy’s voice just then, behind them. A thin, quavery voice entirely unlike her usual throaty tones. “Pa. I think you—”
“She wants you to put up your gun, old man.”
Out of the shadows, into the sun-dappled clearing, moved someone stocky and squarely built, with his weapon drawn and held tight to Teddy’s side.
“Raintree!” rasped Ezra, sliding to the ground, as if by standing he would be better prepared for whatever must be dealt with.
The newcomer smiled. Neither pleasant nor particularly unpleasant, it involved a mere stretching of facial muscles and a slight baring of tobacco-stained teeth. “Glad we could meet up at last. Figured you knew I’d been trackin’ you, right along.”
“We knew.” Ezra’s revolver hung holstered and untouched at his belt. As long as his daughter’s life might be forfeit, he wasn’t about to make any untoward motion.
Paul shot his guide an incredulous look. “Trackin’ us? And you didn’t let me in on it? Who is this, anyway?
A further stretching of the smile, this time with a mixture of amusement and sarcasm. “Vincent Raintree, at your service, Mr. Yancey. I’m a bounty hunter, and I’m
on my way t’ collect that old fossil Catamount Clemens.”
“Bounty hunter!”
With the barrel of his weapon, Raintree nudged his captive closer until they reached the campfire. “Siddown there, Missy,” he ordered her. “Ferguson, your six-shooter, if you please. Yancey—you armed?”
“Not at the moment,” said Paul bitterly, between his teeth. “Woulda been—if I’d known.” He threw the guide a look of disgust.
Plopping down onto a sizable log, leaning forward with one arm across his knee, the intruder kept his handgun at the ready, aimed to cover the three travelers he had surprised in their own camp.
“Gettin’ old,” muttered Ezra, standing defenseless and vulnerable. “Lost my edge twice on this trip. Don’t reckon I can do this no more.”
Beside him, Paul was incredulous. “Can’t b’lieve you kept this t’ yourself. Didja think I had no right t’ be in on it?”
“Hey, don’t take this out on him,” blithely Raintree interrupted the beginning tirade. “I move soft and sure, like a panther. B’sides, if you’re such a greenhorn in these woods that you can’t tell when somethin’ is goin’ on, then maybe you need you a wet nurse.”
Over Teddy’s head, across the fire, Paul scowled at him. “Howdja happen to start huntin’ down Catamount just at this particular time?”
Raintree laughed, a jerky sound like the braying of a mule, and pushed back his battered hat.
“Either you’re a fool, or you’re the dumbest tenderfoot in shoe leather. If you recall, you made no bones about tellin’ your plans to a certain young lady at that store, way back in Virginia City.”
Norah Slydell! Paul’s jaw dropped, and he almost groaned aloud. He had shared more information than he should have, during that brief, mild fliration—especially his quarry’s name. But he hadn’t noticed anyone lurking around to eavesdrop. Obviously, he’d missed that minor detail, too. And, in missing it, put all their lives at risk. He’d been so proud of his own camping skills. Raintree had it right: he was a tenderfoot.
“And then, this’n—” Raintree’s boot inched forward to jab the thigh of Teddy’s buckskins,
“—figured t’ be a boy. Till I caught me a nice little feel where it counts, and found out different.”
Instantly, out came the hiss of sucked-in breath between Ezra’s teeth, and a “You dared put your filthy hands on—” with a lurch forward.
The Army model Colt raised and steadied. “Careful, there, old man. You’re damn right I dare. Reckon I got all the fire power, now, don’t I? Whassamatter, you can’t afford t’ hire yourself a real helper in this guide business?”
This time the hiss belonged to Teddy. In the very second that she might have flung herself upon him, however, her gaze met Paul’s, and he gave her a little shake of the head. No. Not now. Wait. Play his game. Let him think he’s won. In wordless communication as deep and as poignant as that with her father.
“Nope. Didn’t think you had an answer for that. All right, Missy, how about you find me some rope? We got us some tyin’ up t’ do.”
Raintree stood back and watched while Teddy reluctantly fetched a couple sections of heavy cord from her pack. Then, under orders enforced by his Colt, she wrapped the cables around and around the wrists of both her father and her client, behind their backs, then securely fastened each.
If she had hoped to leave either loose enough so as to be easily dislodged, those hopes were dashed. Once finished, the bounty hunter checked the strength of her work, nodded, and pushed his captives onto the ground. Not roughly. But not gently, either.
“Now.” Satisfied that his plans would not be disrupted, he motioned her back to the fire. “I’m almighty hungry. So I’d appreciate it kindly if you’d put t’gether some vittles for me.”
“I’m afraid there isn’t much,” she coldly informed him. “You know it’s harder cookin’ up here, and we didn’t take as much time—”
“Whatever you got is bound t’ be better’n what I could fix. Just heat up somethin’, and put on a pot of coffee.” Then, as if to emphasize the control he had usurped, he suddenly settled one big hand flat over her breast for another gratifying feel.
Even as she gasped and tried to pull free, Paul let out a growl, deep in his throat, and pushed upright to his knees.
Glancing sideways at the sound, Raintree chuckled. “Well, looky here—big brave protector of womankind, eh? It musta slipped your mind just who’s free, Mr. Yancey, and who’s not.” He had shoved himself hard up against Teddy, holding her fast, letting her appreciate all that was going on inside his own pants. The Colt was still clenched unwavering in his right hand, leaving his left hand free to wander across her bosom at his leisure, squeezing and fondling whatever he could grab.
Horrified but helpless, Paul saw the girl’s eyes close for an instant, and her mouth tighten into an unforgiving line. Then, surprisingly, all the starch went out of her, and she slumped back against her captor, allowing him full sway.
“If you want anything to eat,” she said in deliberately husky tones, “you’ll have to let me go for now. Later, if you want, we can go off and—well, you know.”
“Oh, ho,” guffawed the man with the gun. “Maybe there’s more’n I figured under them buckskins, after all. Don’t matter much, anyway—right now, jist havin’ any female would be enough for me. I’m about as horny as a he-bear, fresh outa hibernation. All right, you get that meal a-goin’.”
“Touch her again, you pissant piece of garbage,” gritted out Ezra, “and I’ll—I’ll—”
A sneer from Raintree, as Teddy carefully moved away toward their food supplies. “You’ll what, old man? Ain’t much you can do, now, is there? Seems t’ me you’re just about helpless. You’ll be lucky, later on, if I don’t make you watch while we go at it.”
“Don’t mind him,” advised the girl over her shoulder. “Pa doesn’t want you doin’ anything to me, because he’s been plannin’ to sell me to the owner of the cathouse, back in Carson City. He’ll get a better price if I haven’t been touched.”
“Teddy!” her father, taken in, ground out in anguish. Until Paul’s boot unobtrusively, but significantly, nudged his.
“Well, it’s true, ain’t it?” She whirled on him, spitting like the catamount they were seeking. “You just wanted to get this last trek out of me, and then you’re done. How much did she offer you, Pa? Huh? Enough to make it all worthwhile?”
Paul cleared his throat. “Not the cathouse, Teddy. When I heard about the deal, I offered a higher price. So you’re comin’ t’ me.”
Heavy iron skillet in hand, she stared at him. “You? Huh. You don’t mind gettin’ damaged goods, after he—” a sideways tilt of the head, “—finishes with me?”
“Why, girl, I’d jist be teachin’ you the ways t’ please a man,” put in Raintree, clearly enjoying this drama being played out for his benefit. “You’d come all fulla experience, for the next one. Don’t make no never mind t’ me who you’re with from there on.”
Nose in the air, Teddy stepped back a foot or two. “Sure don’t want it to be with a man who can’t find his way around the woods. Neophyte!” she brought that word out and used it proudly. “It’s thanks to him we’re in this mess. I’d rather take my chances at Miss Minnie’s Bordello.”
“Not if I have anything t’ say about it,” Paul snarled.
“Ha! You got nothin’ to say about anything, Mr. Blueblood Yancey. Howsomever, I got no bone t’ pick with either of you two fellers—jist wanna get my job done and collect my bounty.”
“And that’s it?”
“Sure ’nuff. Then I’ll be on my way, and leave all of you alone. Although…” Raintree paused, his scorching gaze moving up and down over the girl’s body, outlined by close-fitting buckskin pants and thin white cotton shirt. “Dependin’ on how things go, Missy, I may jist take you along with me for a spell. May’s well finish this jaunt in style.”
“I already staked her old man to a down payment,” protested the neo
phyte. “That oughta give me some rights. The girl is mine.”
Raintree flashed his yellowing teeth in an unsympathetic, winner-take-all grin. “You’ll have t’ take up that issue with Ferguson, there. C’mon over here, gal, and let’s get friendly. With all this jawin’, I find I’m gettin’ hungry for somethin’ other than jist fillin’ my belly. Gotta empty my balls, first.”
Crudity upon crudity. Smiling as if she were in complete agreement, Teddy sidled closer, moving slightly behind the bounty hunter to drape one arm down over his shoulder. With a cooing sound, she let her hand toy with the fringe attached to his coat.
With her other hand, she swung the skillet.
Distracted by the lushness of the cleavage deliberately thrust right under his nose, Raintree never even saw the blow coming. The intransigent iron connected smartly with the back of his head. His eyelids fluttered, his eyes rolled up, and he slid slowly sideways to the ground.
In the space of a heartbeat, Teddy flung aside the pan, raced for her butcher knife, and began slashing at the bonds holding her father hostage.
“Damn, girl,” Ezra babbled with relief. “What a game you had goin’. Purty, brave, talented, and smart as all get out, b’sides. Can’t b’lieve you done so well.”
“Even if you were plottin’ to sell me,” she grinned, laying her head briefly against his grizzled chest in an unaccustomed caress.
While Ezra hastened off to their packs, in search of more heavy cord to bind up their unconscious would-be captor, Teddy began carefully sawing away at Paul’s restraints. Now it was her turn to babble. “I didn’t mean what I said, a minute ago. You know I didn’t mean all that. I was stallin’ for time, tryin’ to figure out what I should do, how I could help, and he—”
“Teddy.”
Paul was standing to face her, rubbing at the lesions left behind on his wrists. Then, without another word, he pulled her tight into his embrace, cradled her for a minute, and lowered his head. One instant, and a flash of lightning shot across the heavens just as his mouth covered hers. More lightning, and a boom of thunder. He drew her in, nuzzling and nursing and feeling, as if he couldn’t get enough. As if breath would run out and pulses bleed dry before he would grant release.
A Western Romance: Paul Yancey: Taking the High Road (Book 8) (Taking The High Road Series) Page 8