"Decide, Helen. I trust you. But decide now."
She heard it then too, the pounding of horses' hooves.
"Take your canteen. And your bedroll."
Odessa hurried to do as instructed. Her fingers felt stiff and sore, and she felt as though she moved underwater. She could hear a man's shout. They were close, just a minute away!
There. The pack slid loose and she threw it over her shoulder. Helen was reaching for her rifle, leaving the camera-crushed when the horse came back and over-tied to the saddle. "Come on!" she cried, slapping her horse and sending it running ahead. She moved back to Odessa and pushed her toward the trees. "Get down behind those bushes!"
She whacked the mare's flanks and the horse went running after her own, then she practically dived across the bush and had barely turned when the three men came flying by, tucked and kicking their horses in mad pursuit. Thankfully, Odessa and Helen's horses were already around the corner, leaving only a teasing cloud of dust upon the road.
"Come," Helen said, lifting her by the arm. "It won't be long until they realize we escaped."
She rose and followed her friend down the hillside. Helen was apparently not yet attempting to hide their path, since one rock after another came loose in their mad descent. In minutes they had made their way down the rocky hill, sliding most of the way down, and reentered the forest below. The dust filled Odessas lungs, and she labored to breathe. Helen leaned her against a tree and looked upward. "Easy, sister. Take it easy for a minute and let your mind remember how it is supposed to direct your lungs."
Odessa glanced back up the slope, eyebrows knit together.
"Let me be the lookout," Helen said. "You catch your breath. We're lost if you give in to an attack now."
Odessa nodded and closed her eyes, concentrating on breathing ... in ... and out. She imagined she was on a hill overlooking Bryce's ranch, with him beside her, a hundred head of horses running in a glorious herd beneath them, toward the mountains, a sun setting between the peaks ...
"Good enough," Helen muttered. She grabbed Odessas face, forcing her to concentrate upon her. "Be strong. We can't rest again until we put a couple of miles between that road and us. Do you understand me? We can't rest again."
Odessa nodded.
"All right. Now I'm going to step carefully, and I want you to try and match my pace. You're still lighter than a cougar just out of a winter's den, so make that work for you. If they find our trail, with luck they'll think we're a lone man, not the two women they seek. Got it?"
Odessa nodded again, still conserving every ounce of oxygen in her lungs.
"You might as well head out. Leave now, and you might make the noon train."
"What?" Bryce asked, leaning against his shovel.
"You've got the sickness," Tabito said, digging in again.
"What?" Bryce asked him. "I've just spent months at the sanatorium." He pounded his chest twice. "Never better."
"Not here," said Tabito, waving over his chest, over the lungs. "Here," he said, hand over his heart. His black eyes searched Bryce's. "Who is she? You've been thinking of her ever since you got back. You've been worthless." He waved down the row of fence posts. "You do one. I do ten. Is it the girl you paint?"
"She's ..." Bryce began. But he couldn't finish. How did one describe Odessa St. Clair? And do her justice? Every word seemed to fail his efforts. So instead, he had painted her, painted her as a woman, not a ship atop a sea. He painted her in profile, on a hill from far away, resting in the bottom of a rowboat, a fishing rod across her lap. "Yes, she is who I have been painting."
Tabito grunted. "She is strong, that one. A warrior."
Bryce smiled. "Any woman who faces consumption and beats it back is a warrior. But yes, that one is strong."
"Then she is your true companion. She belongs by your side. Go and get her."
"It is not that simple."
"Yes, it is." He stepped forward and turned Bryce in the direction of the cabin, the stables. "Go and speak to her father. Tell her you have many horses, good land. And that you have need of her."
Bryce laughed and shook his head. "Again, it is not that simple."
Tabito stared at him for a long moment. "You laugh at me-"
Bryce let out a breath of exasperation. "Tabito, no. I-"
"Is not love simple?" He poked him in the chest. "It is you people who think too much over it." He gestured back to the twelve canvases beside them. Then he turned and tapped him on the chest again. "You are a man of many horses. She is a woman who belongs by your side. Go and get her."
"Go and get her? And bring her here? To the house I share with you?" He laughed, looking around the tiny cabin. They each had a room, if one counted the blanket as a wall.
"Sell some horses. Finish your uncle's house. It is half done."
Bryce stared at him for a long time.
"My friend, a woman like this," Tabito went on. "She passes through your life like a dream. If you do not wake, catch her, she will disappear with the morning sun."
Bryce thought on that for a moment longer. All at once, he wanted to see Odessa, desperately wanted to reach out, touch her. Hold her. Be with her. What if something had happened to her? What if she had weakened in these last weeks, her consumption worse? He looked to the mountains, as the sheriff had done, as if they held the answers. He forced himself to ask the next questions, so heavy on his heart since the sheriff had ridden away. What if Sam and the DeChants had been murdered?
Worse yet, what if he had left her, and in the meantime, something awful had transpired? Had he left her when Odessa needed him most?
"Lunch is here," Moira said, nudging open the shop door. "I bet you're famished."
Dominic turned from the bookshelves and smiled at her. "Stomachs been rumbling for hours. What did you bring?"
"Some leftover roast beef and fresh bread from the bakery. And this ..." She reached into her bag and pulled out a perfect orange.
Nic pretended to suffer an attack and fell back. "An orange! I haven't seen one of those in months!"
"They say we'll have produce shipments all summer. Had to pay a pretty penny for this one."
"More like two or three."
"Never mind. We'll split it," she said, handing him a knife.
"I saw Odessa today. She and Helen stopped by on their way out of town."
"Where were they going?"
"A ride up to Divide. They'll be gone overnight."
"They're miracle workers, over there at the sanatorium." Moira leaned against the counter, cutting the orange in half. "Perhaps our family curse has ended. Perhaps we've found the cure."
Something she said reminded him of the sheriff. "Now if we could only cure ourselves of Sheriff Bannock's attentions."
She looked up at him and flashed him a grin, then waggled her light brows. "I found a way, Nic, a way out of our conundrum."
"And what is that?" He folded his arms across his chest.
"I've accepted an invitation."
"What sort of invitation?"
"An old suitor wishes to come calling."
"An old suitor? From Philadelphia?"
"Well of course, from Philadelphia, silly. Where else would I have found one?" She moved past him and the counter, heading to the pitcher of water and glasses.
"Who? Who is it?"
"James Clarion Jr."
Nic's breath caught. James Clarion. He had been the most wealthy of Moira's potential suitors back home, but Father had thought it too soon for her to marry, regardless of the beau's stature.
Moira took a sip of water and raised demure eyes toward her brother. But the sea-foam green orbs were sparkling with delight. Nic swallowed hard, his mind racing. What would the sheriff do when he found out? "I thought Father didn't want you accepting his company any longer. Accepting any suitor, Moira."
"I wrote to Papa, and he wrote back, saying he agreed. That if James cared enough to come all the way out to Colorado to see me, that it `said something about the man."' S
he moved toward Nic and straightened his jacket, smoothing the shoulders, then moved on to his necktie. "Don't you see, Nic? Who will be the happiest about my new beau when he finds out?"
Dominic cast about, trying to see where she was going. Finally, he shook his head.
"Who wants nothing more than the world to know about Colorado Springs? For the influential to flock here, invest here, stay here?"
"General Palmer."
"And as a railroad man with an eye toward expansion, who is in need of coal and iron?"
"General Palmer."
"And who holds our dear sheriff in the palm of his hand?"
"General Palmer."
"Exactly," she said, patting his chest. She grinned. "I can hardly wait for the moment when Reid finds out. When he knows I've found my way out from beneath his long fingers."
"Careful, Sissy. We've been down this road of hope before."
"Oh, I know it. I'm not completely the fool." She paced back and forth, nervous excitement rattling along her shoulders and back.
"How will you tell him?"
"It will be a severe disappointment," she said, pulling sorrow into her features. "Such hope dashed! Love, just at the edge of our fingertips! But it simply cannot be helped. It is out of my hands. You see, Papa has arranged it all. And I, being the dutiful daughter-"
Dominic let out a rush of air, laughing.
"The dutiful daughter," Moira repeated over his chortling, pretending to frown, "must abide by his wishes. There is no way 'round it. Given the choice between a town sheriff, successful or not, and the heir apparent to such a vast fortune, any man would make the same choice for his daughter. Even Reid himself. And if he doesn't, the general shall aid him in seeing what is best. He'll be thrilled to welcome young Clarion to town and delight in the fact that he courts a local merchant's sister." She grinned. "We are free, Nic. Free. Reid cannot touch us."
Nic sighed and shook his head at her. "But what of love? Do you love this young Clarion? I'd always heard he was a bit ... stiff."
"James? I suppose some might consider him stiff." She laughed lightly and leaned forward. "He will arrive to court me. But I doubt I'll have him. Don't you see? He is merely a means to an end."
Nic's breath caught and he stared hard at her. "Moira, you are playing an ever more dangerous game."
"Such is a woman's lot in life," she said airily. "We do what we can with our humble resources."
Chapter
19
If they hadn't been fleeing, Odessa thought she would like to make her way slowly through these woods of aspen and pine. After hours of walking in silence behind her friend, it felt as if their assailants were far behind indeed, and her heart resumed a normal beat. She wondered at her breathing, the steady rhythm of it, the absence of clogging phlegm. She inhaled deeply, the scent of fresh river water and thunderstorm-dampened forest loam rich upon the wind; she relished the fact that she could breathe in and out, and that the scents did not cause her to collapse, gasping for breath. So far she had come! Had this happened a few months ago, she would already be dead.
"Did you know any of them?" she dared to ask Helen when they paused for a drink from their canteens. She sank onto a boulder by the stream, and her friend did the same.
Helen studied her. "No. You?"
"No. Do you think they were highwaymen, merely intent on robbing us?"
"Most of the highwaymen I've heard about surprise their victims, not try and kill them from afar. Those boys didn't want to be seen."
"No, I don't suppose they did."
"Are you going to tell me now?"
Odessa stared at her.
"Odessa, what is it you wanted me to hide?"
"Some sort of treasure map," Odessa said, giving up. "Sam O'Toole was a sheep rancher who was in the next room at the sanatorium, next door to me before he died. Bryce's neighbor and friend. He left his land to Bryce and this poem to me, the clues in verse." From there, she went on to tell Helen every detail she could remember.
"Odessa, how do you know all this? All the details about the claims, the sanatorium?"
"Because I went to the administrator's office and looked through her files and books."
Helen whistled lowly. "That was a dangerous decision, Odessa. If there is a murderer about, you are waving a red flag before the bull."
"I know it."
"Did anyone see you? Did anyone see you enter the administrator's office?"
It was Odessas turn to look to the sky. "Not in the office. But they suspected me."
"Who?"
"The nurse and attendant."
"The night Sam was murdered ... did you see anyone near his room?"
"No. I saw no one but Sam."
"But someone else ... they might be afraid you saw them leave?"
Odessa paused. "I suppose so."
"They know you're either onto them or have something they want. Maybe they've gone hunting in his absence but can't find the entrance themselves. So they wonder if you hold something that will."
"You really think so?"
"It's logical, isn't it?"
"We have to warn Bryce," Helen said. "If these boys are after us, it won't be long until they go after the only man who stands between them and whatever treasure is waiting on Sam's land."
Odessas heart pounded, almost painfully.
Helen stopped and lifted her nose, sniffing the air like a wild animal. She raised a hand of caution. "Hear that?" she whispered.
It was utterly silent. Odessa shook her head and frowned at Helen.
"Exactly," Helen whispered, getting to her feet. "Come. If you're right, my young friend, these men have more reasons than one to find you. And few reasons to keep you alive if they get Sam's poem. We have to get back to town before they catch us."
"You know the way, right?"
"Oh, I know the way. The only trouble is I don't think we can get there before nightfall."
A messenger arrived, asking Moira and Dominic to join the general for a small supper soiree at the Glen that evening. After conferring with Nic, Moira sent back her reply with the servant, gratefully accepting.
For all her brave talk, Moira dreaded seeing Reid Bannock, feared how he might react to her news. Every time the shop door opened that afternoon, she glanced up, expecting the sheriffs large form to fill the frame. But it was Mrs. Byrd, and then Mrs. Crandell, and then a schoolmarm from Monument, and then Mr. Jewett. "Now, why hasn't Reid come around lately?" she mused to herself.
Nic overheard her. "Maybe he's taken my advice and is giving you some room to miss him. Or he's lost his feelings for you."
"That would be lovely. What do you really think is going on?"
Dominic shrugged and placed his pen back in the inkwell and rose. "I have no idea."
Moira swallowed hard. "Do you think he'll be at the Glen? Tonight?"
"Good chance of it," he allowed. "But then he could show up anywhere." He reached out and stroked her arm in concerned, brotherly fashion. "Are you prepared for that? Do you know what you will say to him?"
Moira glanced up at him and shook her head a little. "Not quite."
Dominic crossed his arms and stared at her. "We both know that the sheriff is a powerful man. He doesn't care to be trifled with. And this news ... Moira, it will enrage him." He looked up to the windows, staring out toward the street, thinking. "We need to arrive a bit early. Seek out the general. Get his blessing upon your courtship with Clarion. With his protection, Bannock won't dare touch you again."
Moira smiled. "If I'm not mistaken, Brother, you're using your brain as well as your brawn today."
"Yes, well ... don't spread it around," Dominic said, blushing a bit at the jawline. "Go now and fish out one of the new gowns that Father sent. How did you manage to wheedle it out of him?"
"It wasn't only for me, Dominic. There was a new suit for you and a dress for Odessa."
Dominic smiled. "Look at us. I'm suddenly using my brain and you're acting almost ... thoughtful.
"
They were halfway down the mountain, according to Helen. But the Peak's long shadow had cloaked their progress for some time now, and dusk was fading fast. "Keep moving," Helen said urgently, searching the woods behind Odessa. "We can't stop."
"But we won't make it before dark."
"We can get closer anyway. We might make the Thompson ranch. They'd keep us for the night, given the circumstances." She turned and again pushed through the thick, low-hanging branches of two trees, holding one aside for Odessa. As Odessa came through, Helen's eyes widened and she pulled her closer. A shot came singing through the tree branches, the sound like pebbles entering water.
They'd been found.
"Run, Odessa. Follow me!" Helen said lowly, and took off, strong and nimble as a mountain goat among the rocks and trees.
They were making their way through a copse of aspen when Odessa dared to glance back.
She paused.
A man was but twenty paces behind, his rifle pointed at her head. "Stay where you are."
Odessa turned and ran, moving left and then right as more bullets passed perilously near. Helen was right. If they got to her, they'd merely kill her after taking Sam's note.
"Can you swim?" Helen called over her shoulder.
"What?"
"Can you swim?"
"Yes, but-"
Helen suddenly stopped beside the river, arms casting about as if to help her balance. Odessa came close to running into her. The men, two now within sight, were just exiting the aspen grove. In confusion, she glanced at Helen and then back to their pursuers, slowing down now, relief and pleasure sliding across their faces when they realized the women had stopped.
"It's a jump, but we can make it. Saw an Indian do it once."
"What?"
Helen gestured downward and for the first time, Odessa saw what was down the cliff. A pool. Terribly small, and thirty feet down. "No, I-"
"Keep your feet below you," Helen said, pulling her to stand directly beside her. "Whatever you do, hit feet first."
"Turn around," yelled a man, horribly close. Maybe ten paces behind them. "I've never shot a man in the back. Don't want to do any less for a woman." Odessa could almost feel the gun in his hands, wondered briefly what it would feel like for a bullet to pierce her back. She wondered if it would hurt. If there would be much pain.
Breathe: A Novel of Colorado Page 19