Kiss Of The Night Wind

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Kiss Of The Night Wind Page 36

by Taylor, Janelle


  “Don’t worry; I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

  T.J. fumed as he tried to eat the chilled dinner in his highly agitated state. He didn’t like not knowing what and whom he was up against. He was worried about his love’s safety. How could he calmly eat dinner when she was out there somewhere alone, facing no telling what? He had to find her quickly. Yet, all he could do was head for the area in which Darby Stover was supposedly working and hope to get a line on her. If it was another gang as she believed, he’d be no closer to her there than he was here tonight. Damnation, you frustrating vixen! If this case gets any more dangerous or complicated, I might have to expose my identity and rank to solve it without you getting harmed.

  It was nearing dusk Thursday afternoon when Carrie Sue reached the salt basin. It had been a grueling two day journey. She had eaten, slept, and rested very little along the way. Rocky ramparts seemed to leap skyward in the distance to present a harsh, but majestic, view. The Guadalupe Mountains were starkly barren when approached, but they concealed many hidden meadows, forests, canyons, and streams. A variety of life filled the interior, ranging from desert to canyon woodland to highland forest varieties: yuccas, cacti, rattlesnakes, scorpions, the poisonous desert scorpion, agaves, walking-stick chollas, sotol, coyotes, mule deer, mountain lions, pines, firs, maple, ash, walnut, aspen, chokecherry, elk, racoons, wild turkeys, and sometimes black bears. It was a primitive area whose trails into the highcountry were rough and steep, whose inner canyons rimmed shady glens and cool creeks. The precipitous cliffs and surrounding desert belied the beauty and tranquility of the inland, except when late summer thunderstorms violently attacked here.

  El Capitan peak loomed before her and over the sparse settlement of Pine Springs. She skirted the tiny settlement of Salt Flats, knowing that a lone rider at that distance wouldn’t attract much attention or interest, and her sex couldn’t be detected that far away.

  The sun-bleached salt flats looked pearly gray this late in the afternoon. They seemed to stretch for miles on either side and before her. It was a dry terrain, one of value to many people. Yet, she found no trouble crossing that trouble-torn region. She weaved through the Patterson Hills and passed the sentinel peak. She slipped by the Pine Springs area and The Pinery, where a Butterfield stop had been situated since ’58. The exhausted redhead halted at Manzanita Springs for her horse to rest and drink.

  She had ridden a little over a hundred miles and had about ten to fifteen to go, if Darby was camped in McKittrick Canyon as Curly James had told her. The freshwater springs were cool and inviting. She removed her boots and dangled her feet beneath the surface. She splashed her face and arms and took long drinks.

  The sun’s heat was gone. The temperature was in the comfortable seventies. She was glad it wasn’t spring, as high winds with forceful gusts often lashed unmercifully at this area.

  She knew this area was frequently the base for the Mescalero Apaches, but she wasn’t afraid. Those Indians knew who she was. They liked and respected Darby Stover and allowed him to camp here whenever he desired, as her brother was truthful with the Apaches and always brought them many gifts of friendship and gratitude. It helped that one of Darby’s men—Kale Rushton—was part Apache and was admired by the Mescalero tribe for his harassment of the whites.

  The Apaches made their camps to the far western side of the mountains, so they rarely saw the Indians when camped here. Usually Darby and Kale Rushton went to visit them when they reached this area to let the Apaches know they were at their campsite in the canyon. Since most whites feared the Apaches, Darby’s gang didn’t have to worry about being located in this secluded and peaceful region.

  Knowing now that T.J. Rogue had been raised by Apaches, she wished she had met them and learned their language. She wondered if the Mescalero tribe in these mountains was the one who had captured and raised his brother. She hadn’t been able to speak that question in fear of giving away a vital clue about her destination.

  Carrie Sue reached the eastern entrance to McKittrick Canyon and headed along the winding trail. She followed the perennial spring-fed stream whose banks were edged by grey oak, velvet ash, bigtooth maple, willows, and lacy ferns. In the rapidly fading light, she admired the beauty of prickly pear cacti, alligator junipers, and the sparkling water. She inhaled the mingled scents which surrounded her, noticing the pines and madrones most of all. She saw a mule deer browsing at the edge of the woods, and other creatures scampering home for the coming night. She noted the rapid and stealthful movement of a coyote, a misunderstood animal who was no threat to man. She experienced the solitude of this vast wonderland, but wished it weren’t getting dark so quickly.

  She knew her way blindfolded, but accidents did occur on shadowy paths, and the moon was nearing its crescent stage of little light. She made certain her rifle was cocked for use, just in case a mountain lion challenged her or a spooked elk charged. She knew that Darby always posted a guard at the entrance to the canyon, but no one had called out to her or presented himself. The weary redhead hoped that wasn’t a bad sign. She had about two to three miles to ride to reach the rough cabin, located at a spot on the stream where the canyon split north and south, making two escape routes over the ridges if ever needed. Yes, Darby Stover was too clever to box himself into a trap!

  Carrie Sue tossed back her hat and loosened her hair to let the fiery mane glow in the receding light to reveal her identity. Still, no one joined her. Darby had trained and ordered his men to be careful, but only a stranger wouldn’t recognize her as the Texas Flame, his sister. Even so, her hair should alert an unknown guard to her identity.

  She halted and listened as she looked around, but heard and saw nothing but movements of nocturnal animals, insects, birds, and other creatures. She sensed no piercing eyes or threatening presence. She wondered if Curly had lied or if her brother had left this area and was—

  Carrie Sue mentally scolded herself for thinking such ridiculous thoughts for even a moment. Darby Stover was a natural-born leader of men, too bad they were outlaws. She knew why the regular gang followed him, trusted him, would die for him. Darby had the kind of personality which made people like him and want to be around him. He was clever, fearlessly brave, coolheaded, and highly skilled with physical and mental prowess. He always had a crafty backup plan. He never got caught. He was never reckless and impulsive. He was a smart planner. He wasn’t arrogant or cocky. And he had a smile which could melt the coldest woman’s heart, a smile which made his eyes glow on a tanned face with white teeth and handsome features, a dazzling and boyish smile which relaxed, charmed, and disarmed even men. He always robbed companies, not people. He always tried never to harm innocent bystanders. For those two reasons, he hadn’t been feared like a common criminal, and many had considered him an admirable rebel, until the last few years.

  At least Darby Stover had been that way. Over the past months before their separation, she had watched him changing, watched him accepting his life and reputation as an outlaw, watched him decide to become the best and most well-known bandit leader in history. Life had made it too hard for him to stay on the right side of the law, so he’d quit trying. What happened to him at the Laredo ranch had changed him, made him believe he could never escape his trap, so why delude and punish himself? The posses never gave him time to halt long enough to go straight, unless he vanished from sight as when he came here. But the moment he was seen anywhere, the maddening and exhausting chase was on again. It was like a grim challenge he had to meet.

  When her brother and his men were younger, their bloods had been boiling for excitement and adventures, for conquests and riches. After a taste of money and suspense, none of them had wanted to work hard for a meager salary from sunup to sunset and be too fatigued to care if life was passing them by. Those early days of battling Quade Harding had been fun and profitable for them, but their first killing had turned the tide, had provoked more than the Hardings after them.

  Carrie Sue sighed heavily. Mayb
e T.J. was partially right. Maybe she did have a rosy, inaccurate view of her brother. Maybe he had become hardened and chilled by his lifestyle. Maybe it was too late for him to change, again, to change back to that happy-go-lucky boy who had taken on a powerful enemy with the hope of obtaining justice. Those admissions hurt. Yet, at last, she had to face the truth.

  She had given Darby the benefit of the doubt. She had loved him and followed him into great perils. She had ruined her life doing so. Maybe she had refused to look at him and their lives with an unbiased mind. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to believe what they both had become. Maybe she inwardly resented the gang because Darby wouldn’t be in this mess without them, still in this existence without them. She would give anything if the only charges against them had to do with the Hardings, charges a good lawyer might be able to argue successfully.

  Following the deaths of innocent victims in March and April, she had suspected the truth and desperately fled it. Now, she was riding back into the hopeless situation she had escaped. The redhead was too tired to deceive herself. She loved Darby and wanted to see him. She prayed she could talk some sense into him, but she doubted it. No matter what happened, she had to get far away as soon as possible. She should have done so long ago, after leaving the Harding Ranch.

  She would reach the campsite soon, but she realized Darby wasn’t here because no guard had been posted at the entrance. She hoped no one else was using the crude cabin tonight. She would rest, then decide how to locate him safely. How she wished T.J. was here to help, comfort, and understand—

  Someone leaped on her horse behind her and banded her chest tightly with his arms, preventing her from drawing her weapons or battling him. In his right hand he held a shiny blade near her face. Her heart pounded in alarm as she suddenly wondered if Curly had someone waiting for her, and she berated herself for being so careless.

  He said in Spanish, “Hola, chica. Que me cuenta?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The man reined in her horse, dismounted agilely, and assisted her to the ground. She angrily pounded his hard, bare chest and scolded, “Damn you, Kale Rushton! You scared ten years off my life!” She wasn’t amused by his joke and, even though she was not a young girl anymore, he continued to call her chica as he had since seventeen.

  Kale chuckled and looked her over in the waning light. “What’s wrong with you tonight, chica? I’ve been trailing you since you entered the canyon. You’re guard’s much too low, mi belleza. I might have been a hungry leon and gobbled you up in two bites.”

  Carrie Sue relaxed and grinned. “I’m exhausted, that’s what’s wrong,” she replied, softening her tone. “I’ve been on the trail for two days with hardly any rest. I’d about decided you all weren’t here.”

  “How did you know?” the half-Apache asked, his black eyes alert.

  “Curly James told me. He came to Tucson and got himself killed there in a showdown. We’ve got trouble, Kale, but we can discuss it in the morning. I need some sleep badly before I collapse.”

  The twenty-seven-year-old man with flowing black hair past his shoulders smiled and nodded. Kale Rushton was half Spanish and half Apache, and was an appealing male of good looks and a virile body. His hips were clad in snug jeans and his ever present red sash was secured around his head. Kale was only four inches taller than her five-seven height, but he was solidly built. He had been with Darby since the Quade Harding affair. She liked Kale because she always felt she could trust him. “It’s good to see you, amigo.”

  “Lo mismo digo,” he murmured, saying “the same to you.”

  “Is Darby all right?” she asked worriedly.

  “Si, only restless to be on the trail again. Why are you here, chica? What happened to drive you from Tucson?” he asked, perceptive.

  “I was exposed and had to flee for my life.”

  “You came all this way alone?” he queried, his gaze widening.

  “Let’s talk about it later,” she coaxed, yawning and flexing.

  Kale suggested, “Why don’t you bed down where I stand guard? If you enter camp this late, it will disturb everyone and you won’t get any rest for hours. I’ll be on guard until dawn.”

  “That’s a good idea, amigo. Let’s go before I hit the ground.”

  They mounted double-back and returned to a grassy area near the entrance. Kale unpacked her bedroll and spread it out for her. As he unsaddled her horse and tended the sorrel, Carrie Sue drank cool water from the stream. She stretched out on the bedroll and closed her eyes.

  When Kale took his place nearby, she lifted her head and looked at him, asking, “How long have you been camped here?”

  “For weeks, why?” he questioned, sensing there was an important meaning to her query.

  “I thought so. See you at dawn, Kale,” she said and went to sleep.

  Kale Rushton withdrew his knife and stone. He began sharpening the already incisive blade, a habit when he was in deep thought. The half-Apache observed the redhaired beauty for a long time, deciding something terrible had driven her from her new life, something which would affect all of them. Patience was one of his best traits, so he could wait until morning to discover that reason. If danger was close, she would have aroused the others.

  Kale removed the fiery red sash from across his forehead. He grasped his long black hair and bound the flowing mane at the nape with it. His Apache hairstyle was his badge of honor, his pride in and acknowledgement of that part of his heritage, a sign of his rebel spirit.

  He had met Darby Stover during a saloon brawl in Brownwood, shortly after Darby’s parent’s deaths and a week before his new friend went on the vengeance trail against his enemies the Hardings. Kale remembered those days clearly. The twenty-one-year-old Darby had been suffering badly over his parent’s deaths and the loss of his property, and the law’s refusal to punish those responsible. Darby had needed a friend, a helper, a confidant, a comforter. As for Carrie Sue, the young beauty had no place to live and no money for support, and jobs were few for seventeen year olds with her looks. Besides, Darby hadn’t wanted his sister to slave for strangers, and Kale had agreed.

  Even at twenty, Kale had done plenty of gunslinging, horse thieving, and cattle rustling. Because of his looks and mixed blood, he had endured lots of trouble, hatred, taunting, and challenges—incidents which had made him into a tough and self-reliant gunman who enjoyed getting the best of his physical and mental attackers. Men who gave him trouble or ridicule found their properties burned or stolen, but no one had ever been able to pin one of those deeds on him.

  Kale had been the one to suggest revenge on the Hardings, telling Darby he should do similar things to Harding as punishment. He was the one who had taught Darby many Apache tricks, trained the youth in how to pull off crimes and get away with them. He owed Darby Stover his life and loyalty, as Darby had saved his life during that saloon brawl when a man was going to shoot him in the back. He and Darby had taken an instant liking to each other and become fast friends.

  Kale had worked with Walt Vinson, Tyler Parnell, and John “Griff” Griffin many times in the past. He was the one who had introduced Darby to them and suggested they form a gang to harass Quade Harding. Knowing they needed another couple of men, they had observed prospects in saloons, gunslingers and drifters passing through town. They had met Kadry Sams in a saloon following a showdown with a famed gunslinger. They had picked up Dillon Holmes while visiting Miss Sally’s brothel in San Angelo, after witnessing a fight between Dillon and another customer who favored the same “soiled dove.”

  Kale knew he preferred following Darby, helping with the plans and suggestions, and teaching his friend all he knew, but he didn’t care about being the leader. Too, the half-Apache realized that Darby Stover was a natural-born leader. He liked and respected his friend, and nothing Darby did turned Kale against him. He also liked being a member of the famous Stover Gang.

  Kale knew he was the most loyal outlaw in the band. Except for Kadry and Dillon, the other me
n weren’t as smart and skilled as Darby and Kale and they just naturally followed along behind a superior leader and expert warrior. Kale knew that Kadry Sams would like to be a leader, but he would never go against Darby Stover, nor would the rest of the gang back him. But if anything happened to Darby, Kadry would be the one to take control of the gang.

  Kale Rushton liked Kadry, but he realized the light-haired bandit with impenetrable sky blue eyes was more conniving, cold- blooded, and harder than any of the others. Kadry was also more daring than Kale and Darby, almost to the point of being recklessly brave.

  Over the years, Darby had let other outlaws or gunmen join their gang for certain jobs, but never for any length of time. It was obvious to the seven men who composed the Stover Gang that they had a special rapport, trusted each other, and liked each other.

  Kale loved this life. It was exciting, stimulating, challenging. They were always seeking a bigger haul, taking on a more dangerous target, getting away quicker and cleaner, outsmarting the law and their targets, and moving from place to place. Kale knew he was part of the reason why Darby and the gang had done so well and why Darby had remained in the outlaw business so long. He was aware that Kadry was a little jealous of his tight bond with Darby, but not to the point of leaving the gang or going against Darby. Sure they had had occasional squabbles, but nothing serious. Disagreements sometimes arose under the conditions in which they were forced to survive and work. Sometimes they got edgy and nervous during lengthy pursuits or during long periods of laying low. But mostly they lived in close and tight rapport like a family of brothers with Darby as the father.

  The only thing Kale Rushton didn’t like was Darby bringing his younger sister into this dangerous and difficult existence. Kale trusted Carrie Sue, and had confidence in her skills, but he didn’t believe a woman like her should endure this kind of life. He also didn’t like Kadry Sams pursuing her hotly. His only quarrel with Darby was that his friend didn’t see that such a relationship couldn’t work; yet Darby wouldn’t discourage it.

 

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