Western Winds

by Raine Cantrell

  “The men are gettin’ anxious to go after them.”

  “Well, do. You don’t need me to lead you like—”

  “Ain’t got a call to yell, Rafe. I’m jus’ tryin’—”

  “Try doing it, Luke, not talking. I pay your damn wages, don’t I?”

  They stared at each other until Luke backed down under Rafe’s fierce gaze. Without another word he walked away and began firing orders.

  Rafe regretted his harshness but couldn’t think about it now. “Finish up, Matt.”

  “You remember me telling you that I ran into a friend in Sonora when I picked up the mail? Well, he was trailing a mean son of a bitch that killed two clerks in a bank robbery in El Paso. Caught him, too, but he runs into Curt there. He did some checking for me and found out that our lawyer has three accounts in that bank, and he handles them for himself, Evan, and Bo James.”

  “Overheard talk down in San Antonio last week while you were gone, Rafe, that Blaine has a spread the other side of the Rio. It’s a friendly place if you’re runnin’.”

  “Why the hell did you wait—”

  “Hold on, Rafe,” Matt said, grabbing his arm. “You weren’t around. I suspect that horses for the army ain’t the only thing that Evan’s bringing across the border. I’d bet my boots that he’s selling guns to the Comanche and that Curt’s the one that staked him.”

  The pieces tumbled into place, and Rafe glanced at both of them. “Find the bastards. We’ll be right behind you.”

  Rafe damned himself for not taking Curt seriously as a threat. It was past time for him to worry about it now. He gained no satisfaction in knowing that he had been right in thinking that someone from the Reina was working with the rustlers. What he didn’t understand was why Bo had been shot. Unless it was to simply throw off suspicion. And he couldn’t deny that the man loved Lacey like she was his own. But Rafe couldn’t ignore what Matt told him. He had to find Lacey and tell her. She had a right to decide how to handle this information. He glanced around and saw that Hank and Matt were mounted and heading down the treacherous slope.

  “Be careful, you two!” he called out, but neither man acknowledged his shout as a sudden rising wind carried his voice away. He looked up at a stormy sky. The men were long gone, and he rode out after them, cursing the first splatters of rain. He was filled with a sudden urgency to hold Lacey, and he willed her to be back at the house waiting for him.

  Nothing, not even the questions that Matt and Hank raised, could shake the sight of her from his mind. He dug his heels into the grulla’s sides, demanding the heart of him in his need to be with Lacey. Blinding sheets of water soaked him as the full fury of the storm broke.

  Rafe found himself struggling against an onslaught of bone-weary tiredness even as he struggled against believing that the very fates conspired to keep him from reaching Lacey.

  Lacey had sized up her situation and knew she could not escape on her own. The small outcrop of rocks they had sought shelter in minutes before did little to protect her from the driving rain. She huddled beneath the blanket Curt had flung at her while the three of them sat off to one side whispering among themselves.

  She did not want to believe that Bo had been in league with them all this time. From the heated remarks they had exchanged as they rode, she gathered that Bo was the one who had approached Curt with the idea of stealing Reina cattle.

  But why? The question tormented her. She wanted a chance to ask him, but her hope was dashed when, despite the blinding downpour, they rose and gathered their gear. Bo walked over to her, silent as he offered her his canteen. Lacey took a long drink of the colorless liquid that burned her throat raw, but she was grateful for its spreading warmth.

  “We’re moving on,” he said.

  “Bo, how could—”

  “Get away from her, Bo,” Curt warned. “I told you not to give her a chance to work on you. Lacey’s smart. Too smart for her own good. You want to find yourself swinging at the end of a rope? And you know her, Bo. She’ll be the one to slap the horse out from under you. Don’t make me tell you again.”

  Bo walked away, and Curt hauled Lacey to her feet. She ached in every muscle as she followed him. Uncertain as to where they were, Lacey would not chance running. She intercepted the looks Curt exchanged with Bo and Evan. It seemed they both acceded to his right to her. She would, whatever was to come, have only herself to depend upon. Pulling the blanket around her, soaked as it was, she offered no resistance when Curt lifted her up onto his horse, mounted, and settled himself snuggly behind her.

  Once more they rode on.

  Lacey’s fingers worked at the edge of the blanket. She hated the feel of his hand pressing her stomach. He laughed when she tensed. But Lacey smiled, too. It wasn’t an idle threat she had made when she swore she would kill him. And it wasn’t just for taking her but for the betrayal of her trust.

  Rafe would come after her. She had to cling to that thought and conserve her strength for when she would need it. But she was so cold.

  “Damn it, Maggie, think! They had to say something about where they were headed.”

  Maggie once again shook her head in denial at Rafe. She was frightened by the wild look in his eyes. Her hands tremored as she wrapped a bandage around Fletcher’s head. She was afraid of what would happen to Lacey. She tried to draw strength from the merciless gaze that was in Rafe’s eyes as once again she realized how much he was his father’s son.

  But even as Maggie thought this, there was not a man present in the warmth of the kitchen that could meet Rafe’s despairing glance as he looked at each man in turn. His muscles were knotted tautly beneath the dark brown shirt, and he stood clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides. They couldn’t know he cursed and damned himself for letting Lacey ride off without him.

  “Rain’s almost stopped, Rafe,” Luke said softly. “I’d like to ride after them with you.”

  Rafe directed a level gaze at him. “Ever done any cold-blooded killing?”

  Indrawn breaths, then silence greeted Rafe’s question. He knew he broke their code to ask it. A man’s past was his own, unless he wanted it otherwise. For a long moment they gazed at one another.

  “I’ve done what I’ve had to do,” Luke finally answered.

  Rafe nodded, satisfied. “Cal, are you sure you saw only three horses ride out?”

  “Yep. Weren’t close enough to see who. After I hauled Fletcher inside, I went out with the lantern just before the rain come and saw one was carryin’ double.”

  “It’s Darcy, Blaine, and Bo that have Lacey,” Rafe stated. “Blewett, you take the men and pick up the trail that Matt followed. Rain or not, he’ll have left you sign. See if any of you spot Scanlon and his bunch. They’ll have holed up but should be riding soon.” Rafe watched as they milled about, drinking down the last of the whiskey-laced coffee that had warmed them. “I want every man here to understand one last thing before we ride out. No quarter.” His voice reflected the leashed fury in his eyes. One by one they nodded, and Rafe turned to Maggie. “I’ll bring her home. I swear it.”

  Blewett watched as they parted to let Rafe pass between them with Luke following at his heels. He remembered the stories they had exchanged about Rafe selling his gun to whoever had the price, some half-wild rumors that he was as good with his knife as his gun. Rafe’s temper had burned more than one man for misusing a good piece of horseflesh or for disregarding an order. Blewett knew he wasn’t alone in thinking that he was glad Rafe wasn’t riding after him this night.

  Outside, Rafe watched as the men made sure that their rifles were secure but free enough to be pulled from the leather when needed. As the last of them rode off, he turned to Luke.

  “You sure? There’s no turning back.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Let’s ride.”

  Ride. Lacey was de
sperate to have an end to it. Dawn had ebbed its way across the night sky, and Lacey paid close attention to the changing terrain they were riding through. Flat land gave way to sandy cropped hills dotted with twisted, gnarled piñon pines. She judged their direction north, and north meant Permanent Camp. For a moment she wondered if Curt and Evan were crazy enough to go there, but a nagging voice reminded her what lay beyond … Indian territory.

  The sight of a red-tailed hawk soaring above them made her envy its freedom. Indian territory would kill any chance she had of escaping. They had all been silent. She thought again of how easily they had fooled her and glanced at Evan riding alongside. There was nothing soft or boyish about his arrogant profile. The implacable stare he offered told her he would not help her. Bo, then, she decided. But she had to get him alone. Her body still felt the chill of the rain, and she trembled.

  Sharp, jagged peaks rose in front of them. Lacey thought they were the Bradys. She could see shadows, dark and menacing in the rock crevices, as the sun strengthened. They rode on, bold and careless, almost as if they had nothing to fear.

  “We’re in Indian territory, Curt. Are you looking to get us killed?”

  “Frightened, Lacey?”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? If it was a choice between you and—”

  “It would be me that you’d choose, Lacey. Have you ever seen what Comanche do to white captives, especially the women? Not only the warriors but their women. You remember what Captain Chase told you?”

  “Do you think I believed him? He’s fresh from a desk job back East where he sat out the war. The Comanche would have taken scalps if they were raiding. That only happened once.”

  “Maybe they were ordered not to.”

  “Ordered?” Lacey repeated, horror dawning. “You were a part of those killings?” His soft laughter was enough of an answer. Now she was desperate to hide her fear of him. How could she have ever thought she knew him?

  “And don’t worry about what will happen to you, Lacey,” he whispered with his lips against her neck. “I told you, you’re mine.”

  Lacey didn’t move or speak as she swallowed bile. She directed her gaze on Evan as he pulled ahead, his relaxed posture suddenly rigid. They slowed the horses under the serrated peaks. She watched and followed suit as he carefully swept his gaze over the rock walls.

  “No safe sign?” Bo asked.

  Evan didn’t answer, but he did ride out ahead as they kept their horses to a walk.

  Lacey, her gaze intent, noticed the slight ease of his seat. Whatever Evan had been looking for, he had found it as he led them to a narrow gorge. She noticed the trail was tortuous and rocky, like an age-old Indian path. The deep cleft with walls that rose so high they almost shut out the sunlight was gloomy and silent. Despair once again filled her. Rafe would never be able to follow them. There was no mud here, and Evan led them over rocky ground so they couldn’t leave tracks. Once again she pulled free a bit of her blanket.

  The thin threads weren’t much and Rafe might never see them, but it was all she had to leave for sign of her passing. She lost track of the miles they covered, pushing deeper and deeper into the rocky bowels of the mountains. They had briefly stopped once to eat jerky and finish the last of the water. Just remembering that made her work her mouth, hoping for a bit of moisture, for she felt hot. Their slow, upward climb allowed the sun to beat down unmercifully on her bare head.

  The raucous cry of a piñon jay bird drew her gaze up. The walls were filled with the stunted growth of junipers, their contorted forms clothing the walls with rich, dark foliage. Evan drew rein and cupped his hands over his mouth to repeat the sound. Lacey barely stifled her scream when a tawny-skinned warrior appeared above them. He held his war club in one hand, a rifle in the other, both raised high as a signal to Evan.

  “There’ll be no escaping, Lacey,” Curt warned as they moved forward.

  She tried not to dwell on his pronouncement as the scrub brush became thicker before small fires became visible. Lacey heard voices as they neared the edge of the camp. She fought the urge to lower her eyes as they rode to the center of the tipis. Women sat before their cooking fires, silent and watching, but the men began to gather around them. Lacey found her eyes drawn to the man who stepped forward. Only his lined face betrayed his age, for his bare chest rippled with muscles. She was flustered at the sight of several young boys, no more than seven or eight years old, naked as the day they were born.

  Evan began to speak in a thick guttural voice to the old man she assumed was their chief. But as she felt their eyes upon her, she straightened and pushed the tangle of her hair from her face.

  “Don’t think Walks Like Cat will offer for you, Lacey. The only thing he wants is guns.”

  She didn’t bother to answer Curt but kept her attention on Evan. His voice was raised, and the one Curt called Walks Like Cat was gesturing, his black eyes fierce. She wished she knew more of these Indians, who were sometimes called the Snake People. All she could recall were tales of their revenge against soldiers and towns whenever they demanded white captives be returned. She knew they considered white captives as wealth. The tale of an ill-fated meeting with Lone Wolf and a leader of the Texas Rangers came from her memory with startling clarity. The chief had agreed to return the captives he held and offered one white woman. Colonel Karnes, the Ranger, felt tricked and insulted and slaughtered every Indian in the meeting room in San Antonio, then went outside and shot warriors and their women alike as they ran for their ponies.

  Lacey shook with a chill as she met the proud black eyes of Walks Like Cat. She would find no mercy here. In revenge for the killing of their people, the Comanche had gathered seven hundred warriors and rode on the town of Linnville. Those who did not manage to escape when the warning came found no quarter given when the Indians attacked.

  Yet she had to remember that Sy had given cattle to roving bands when their hunting was poor and salt to help preserve their meats. They had helped themselves to horses on occasion, for they valued the ownership of horses and were masters of riding, but the Reina had been free of destructive trouble.

  Bo dismounted at a signal from Evan, and Curt did the same. When he roughly pulled her down, Bo came to them, but Curt shoved him away.

  “That’s the last time I’ll warn you, old man. Stay the hell away from her, or I’ll tell Evan to turn you over to them.”

  “Curt, for God’s sake, Bo didn’t—” Curt’s brutal yank on her hair silenced her. She stumbled against him.

  “You don’t want anything to happen to the old man, do you, Lacey?”

  She could barely shake her head.

  “Then you understand I’m the one to be obeyed?”

  Lacey nodded, refusing to speak. He would hear the fear in her voice, and she couldn’t give this … this stranger another weapon to use against her. Weak from lack of food and water, Lacey felt nausea churn in her stomach. She met the staring eyes of men, women, and children alike, black eyes that held no emotion. Curt grabbed her arm, still holding her hair, and began to lead her away. Evan walked alongside them.

  “Well? What happened?” Curt asked him.

  “He’s angry, so hurry up.”

  “Where are you taking me?” Lacey struggled to stop, something inside her demanding that she resist being meek.

  Curt smiled coldly and spoke softly, but he cut through any remaining hope she harbored.

  “You’re no longer the boss lady of the Reina. Whatever I decide, whatever I want, is all you know. What’s more, you will obey me willingly. Here I own you.”

  Lacey involuntarily trembled to hear the gripping conviction in his voice, to see a wild madness in his eyes.

  “Seems to me, Curt,” Evan taunted, “you’re doing more to convince yourself than Lacey.”

  “Shut the hell up! I know Lacey and you don’t. She s
till harbors the thought that Rafe or her men will follow us here. This time I will kill the man that tries to take her from me.”

  Evan backed away, hands held wide from his body. “Take it easy. I’m not looking to get myself killed. Not even for Lacey.”

  Minutes later at the edge of the camp, Curt showed her through the hide opening of a tipi. “I won’t bother to tie you. We both know there is no place for you to run. Be smart and don’t test me, Lacey. I won’t be responsible for what happens to you outside.” He stared at her for long moments before he smiled. “Later I’ll come to claim what’s mine.”

  She gagged in reaction and watched the hide covering flap behind him as he left. Thankful that she was alone, Lacey sank down to the hard-packed earth floor. The tipi was bare, and she shivered. Muffled sounds like the yipping cries of coyotes reached her. She was too exhausted to care who made them and huddled her body to stop the sudden chills.

  Lacey dozed and had no idea how much time had passed when Bo stealthily entered the tipi, throwing glances over his shoulder.

  Forcing herself to sit up, Lacey wasn’t surprised when he refused to meet her direct gaze. She took the small bowl he handed her and using her fingers began to eat. Whatever it was, the taste was savory, and Lacey knew she needed her strength. Bo sat across from her, but whenever she snagged his gaze, he looked away. Finished, she wiped her mouth on her torn sleeve. “I don’t suppose you could get me some water. Will Curt allow that?”

  “Don’t matter if he would. They’s parlayin’, so you don’t have to worry that he’s comin’ back soon.”

  When he returned, he had a blanket and kindling for a fire. Lacey wrapped the blanket around herself and watched him build the fire in the center pit. As she sipped from the battered canteen, the chills beset her once more.

  Bo hunkered at her side, ignoring her jerky move away from his callused hand as he touched her face. “You got fever.”

  Lacey raised glazed eyes up to him. She saw him turn away and managed to whisper, “Please, Bo, don’t leave me alone.” His body wavered in the firelight, but her teeth were chattering with a will of their own, and she had to clamp her lips tight to still them. Racking chills shook her body. She never remembered feeling like this. Cold, then so hot.