by Linda Ladd
"Hurry it up! Clan's riled anyways. The woman should've been here with the kid a long time ago."
The man's impatience was to their advantage, Windsor thought, feeling more secure when he frowned and motioned angrily for them to hurry.
"You are to wear these," he ordered, handing each of them a heavy knitted shawl. "Clan says to wrap up in these here rebozos so no one'll recognize you as Americans. The Nacionales have been breathin' down our necks since they been bustin' up the guerrilleros' strongholds."
Nina immediately draped the black rebozo over her head, and Windsor watched the way she wrapped the ends around her shoulders, then arranged her red shawl over her hair in the same fashion. She held the bamboo case horizontally in her arms as Parker led them down the narrow stairs, which led to the rear of the cantina.
A large, two-wheeled cart awaited them near the back door. An old man sat on the driver's seat, but a second guerrillero, a swarthy Mexican with long, dirty black hair, held up the back flap for Nina to step inside. As Parker preceded her into the wagon, Windsor glanced around, confident that Stone and Sun-On-Wings were somewhere nearby, their guns trained on both of Clan's men. She knew they would follow, but she was reluctant to step beneath the white canvas cover, where Stone could no longer see her.
Keeping alert, she ducked through the back and was surprised to find that two women were already seated inside with Parker. She sat beside one of them. They stared impassively at her. Both had the same brown face and dark eyes as Nina, but both were older, the flesh of their faces coarse and lined with many wrinkles, as if they had spent many years working outside under the grueling Mexican sun.
"Who are these women?" Windsor asked the Mexican guard, who had climbed in behind her and closed the flap. Having others around would complicate her plan for getting Nina out of the wagon and to safety before they reached Clan's secret hideout.
"They are putas," the man said, spreading his lips in an ugly smile that displayed his broken, yellow teeth, "Mis amigos are hungry for women, so we brought them whores."
Windsor realized then that the two women were camp followers, such as she had seen used by the Emperor's guards in Peking. Hung-pin had pointed the painted women out to her when they had journeyed through the city on their way to America.
The wagon lurched forward, then the wheels began to turn. Windsor held the bamboo case tightly on her lap. Across from her, Nina sat beside Parker, her face as pale and stiff as a corpse's. She kept wetting her lips, and Windsor became alarmed when she saw Parker frowning at the way Nina was wringing her hands.
"How far must we go?" she asked him in an effort to alleviate his suspicions and bring his attention back to her.
He only stared at her, his dark eyes filled with an expression that made her uncomfortable. She tried to identify the look. What was it? Amusement? Or was it satisfaction?
Warier now, she returned her regard to the two Mexican prostitutes. Their flat brown faces were completely expressionless. The inner instinct that served her so well began to send her a warning that all was not as it should be inside the cart.
"I don't feel well," she said, putting a hand to her head. "Please, you must stop and let me get some air."
No one answered. Parker and the three Mexicans stared at her. Obviously frightened by Windsor's discomfort, Nina stood as if to flee. The guerrillero grabbed her arm and jerked her back down beside him. Nina cried out in pain when he caught her by the hair. Windsor shot to her feet, still holding Jun-li's case.
"Leave her alone," she cried, but before she could free her hands, she sensed Parker move up behind her. Something heavy came down against the back of her head, and she heard a dull thunk. Then pain exploded, and she was plummeted headfirst into a deep black well.
Stone reined up, careful to keep himself concealed in the trees. Below him on the narrow rutted road that rose gradually into the mountains, the cart in which Windsor and Nina rode creaked slowly along. Despite the rugged trail, he'd had no trouble keeping abreast with them. He had ridden in a parallel line, higher in the foothills where his progress was hidden by vegetation and rocky outcroppings. Sun-On-Wings would be following a similar path on the other side of the road.
All morning they had been following the wagon, but he had seen neither Windsor nor Nina since they had entered the back of the cart in the rear yard of the cantina. Still, he wasn't particularly worried. There were only two guerrilleros. If they gave Windsor any problems, she would surely be able to subdue them. With her quickness and fighting skills, she could single-handedly best more men than that. She had proved herself more than once.
Shielding his eyes from the sun's glare, he peered ahead at the narrow wooden bridge suspended over a steep-sided canyon about twenty yards in front of them. Immediately, however, his attention was drawn back to the wagon as the old man brought the horse to a stop. The Mexican guerrillero climbed from the back, then helped Windsor and Nina to the ground. Stone couldn't see them clearly. Both were still wrapped in the long shawls they had worn when they had left the cantina. Windsor no longer carried her bamboo case, but Nina had a bundle in her arms. Stone tensed, praying that Jun-li would make no betraying noise.
Stone watched the guerrillero point toward a path that ran alongside the high rocky bluff that overlooked the swift-flowing river cascading over a series of rapids far below. Windsor began to walk quickly in that direction with Nina behind her. Their guerrilleroguard followed them, and the cart rolled onward, leaving them behind and rattling over the rough planks of the bridge.
Grimacing, Stone urged his horse back the way he had come. Damn Clan, he thought. He should have known he would be especially cautious. He was just glad Sun-On-Wings was already on the other side of the road. Even if Stone should lose sight of the women for a while, the Indian youth would be able to keep close enough to help them if something happened.
To his relief, however, the guerrillero did not herd them into the thick woods, where it would be hard for Stone to follow. He kept the two women walking away from the bridge and parallel to the river at the top of the cliff. What the devil was Clan up to? Was there a hidden cave somewhere nearby? Or perhaps a different cart to take them along a different road?
Growing more concerned, Stone urged his horse across the road and into the opposite tree cover. He caught up to the women within minutes, then stayed out of sight as he followed them. A quarter of an hour later, he jerked back on the reins when he saw Sun-On-Wings suddenly burst from the tree cover just in front of the guerrillero. When the outlaw went for his gun, Sun-On-Wings raised his rifle and shot him in the chest.
As Windsor and Nina began to run in opposite directions, Stone spurred his horse down the hill and through the trees toward Windsor. Frowning, not understanding what had gone wrong, he tried to cut off her panicked flight. Moments later, he caught her, reining up and leaping to the ground before the horse had stopped prancing.
"Windsor! Wait, it's me!" he yelled, but she didn't turn until he managed to catch her skirt and drag her to her knees. He went down beside her, but she still struggled to escape as he turned her over. He froze, staring down into the face of a stranger. His face lost all color as he realized what had happened. He lunged to his feet as Sun-On-Wings dragged the other Mexican woman, kicking and cursing, toward him. Oh, God, Clan had tricked them, Stone thought in horror, bile rising in his gullet to burn like acid. Clan had Windsor and Nina.
Mindless with panic, he leapt upon his horse and spurred it into a gallop back toward the bridge. He rode hard, only half aware that Sun-On-Wings was racing after him. He had to catch up to the wagon. He had to get to Windsor. He had to stop the inconceivable from happening. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he rounded a curve that brought the bridge into sight. On the opposite side, he could see the cart.
Hope surged, and he kicked his horse into a merciless gait, but a moment later, the morning quiet was obliterated by an ear-shattering blast. Stone's horse shied and pranced backward as the bridge
went up in a cloud of smoke and flying debris. Splinters of wood shot high into the air and rained in a steady stream into the rushing river below.
Fighting to control the spooked mare, Stone forced the animal on, but his eyes were riveted on the far bank in absolute terror. Oh, God, now he saw Clan. The bastard was leaning into the back of the cart and roughly jerking Windsor out. She lay lifeless in his arms, and Clan turned and lifted her up so that Stone could see her better.
"Look what I've got, Kincaid," came his faraway shout of triumph.
"You bastard! If you hurt her, I'll kill you!" Stone yelled, his voice strident with rage.
Clan's laugh echoed out over the canyon. "There's a cantina in the plaza in Durango. If you still want her after I've had my fill of her, meet me there in a week."
"Wait, Clan!" Stone shouted desperately as Sun-On-Wings rode up in a thunder of hooves. "I've got your son! We can work a trade! Right now, goddammit!"
Clan hesitated, then slung Windsor's limp body over his saddle. He swung up behind, her and, holding her in place with one hand, called across the canyon to Stone.
"I'm calling the shots now, Kincaid. Bring the boy to Durango a week from now, and don't try any more tricks if you want me to keep her alive!"
Paralyzed with helpless, hopeless horror, Stone watched Nina struggle with one of the guerrilleros before she, too, was subdued and hoisted onto his horse. As the band of outlaws rode away in a cloud of dust, Stone wasted no more time. In a reckless, desperate pursuit, he plunged his horse headlong down the steep cliff toward the raging river far below.
Nearly twenty-four hours later, Sun-On-Wings guided his horse blindly through the darkness, unable to see the trail. He was so tired he could barely grasp the reins, but he dared not stop or he would be left behind. Arrow-Parts-Hair was like a man possessed. He didn't say anything, didn't stop for anything, but rode on and on, endlessly, with the inhuman stamina of the spirit warriors who galloped on the night wind. Now that the moon had gone down, the rocky terrain was nearly impossible to navigate, yet Arrow-Parts-Hair continued without pause, dismounting and leading his horse on foot over the loose shale and slippery rocks.
All day and all night, they had been riding as hard as they could. It had taken a long time to ford the river—they'd had to go downstream several miles before they found a place they could cross; then they'd picked their way up the other side of the towering canyon wall. Both their horses had become lathered and exhausted long ago, and still Arrow-Parts-Hair pressed on. Strapped to the cradleboard upon Sun-On-Wings' back, Carlos cried pitifully from hunger and fatigue, but Arrow-Parts-Hair did not stop, did not hear when Sun-On-Wings called out to him.
Clan and his men had left the road and ridden up steep and dangerous mountain paths. Sun-On-Wings was one of the best trackers of his village, yet he could no longer see traces of the guerrilleros' flight. He was not sure if they were still following the Evil One's trail or not. As much as he wanted to find Yellow-Haired-Warrior-Woman and Nina, he had to stop soon. He had to rest, or just stretch his legs a bit. The pace they had set was too grueling. Even the horses could not go on much longer without collapsing. He had to make Arrow-Parts-Hair listen.
In front of him, his white friend had hunkered down in the darkness to examine the path, but how could he see, without the light of the moon to show him the way? Arrow-Parts-Hair was not thinking straight. He thought only of getting the two women back. He did not realize they must stop until they could find the trail again.
"Too dark now," he said, pulling his horse up beside Arrow-Parts-Hair. "Wait for Grandfather Sun to show us way."
Without answering, Arrow-Parts-Hair rose and pulled his horse forward by the reins, the hooves ringing loudly on the rocks. Sun-On-Wings hurried to catch up with him.
"Arrow-Parts-Hair tired. Ponies need rest," he insisted, reaching for the horse's reins.
Before Sun-On-Wings could halt the animal, Arrow-Parts-Hair turned furiously on him, grabbing the front of his shirt and jerking him up close. His words came out harshly, bitterly, through clenched teeth.
"Leave me the hell alone, goddammit! Do what you want, but I'm not stopping until I find her."
Sun-On-Wings staggered backward a few steps as Arrow-Parts-Hair thrust him away; then he watched as the big white man swung onto his horse and rode on. Sun-On-Wings stood still, feeling guilty for wanting to stop, feeling as if he were betraying his friends, but he was so tired. He could barely stand up. He had to stop for a little while, just long enough to rest his horse and feed Carlos; then he would ride hard to catch up with Arrow-Parts-Hair.
Carlos whimpered, and Sun-On-Wings sank to his knees and slipped the cradleboard off his back. He unlaced the bindings, lifted the child out, and held him against his shoulder.
"Shh, little man," he whispered, using the language of the Little Ones.
The infant quieted at once, soothed by the Indian's soft voice. Sun-On-Wings looked down into the tiny face and felt the most terrible sorrow constrict his heart. The white child's mother was in the hands of his evil father. His blood ran cold when he remembered the terror in her eyes the first time Nina had seen Sun-On-Wings in the garden of the big house in San Francisco, when she thought Clan had sent him to get her. He swallowed hard, frightened to think what was happening to Nina and Yellow-Haired-Warrior-Woman. He wished he were as strong and determined as Arrow-Parts-Hair so he could ride on without food or drink or rest.
His every muscle aching with weariness, he tied his horse to a branch and lay the baby on the ground. Carlos crawled around until Sun-On-Wings retrieved a piece of bread from his fringed rawhide bag. Carlos took it and gnawed on it while Sun-On-Wings lay back on the ground. He should go on, he thought. He should be there if Arrow-Parts-Hair needed him. He would get back on his horse after just a short rest, he decided as he put his blanket around the baby and held him tightly against his chest. He would close his eyes for just a moment, and then he would ride as hard as he could after Arrow-Parts-Hair.
When he awoke next, it was nearly dawn. Appalled that he had slept, he quickly secured Carlos in the cradleboard and struck out again, feeling revived after his short nap. He rode as quickly as he could, tracking Arrow-Parts-Hair's horse. The narrow winding trails led through the rough mountain terrain, and it took most of the day before he crested a slope and saw a horse grazing in the meadow below. Arrow-Parts-Hair was slumped forward in his saddle. He didn't move as Sun-On-Wings rode up alongside, and Sun-On-Wings realized his friend had ridden himself to exhaustion.
Dismounting, Sun-On-Wings carefully dragged the bigger man from the mare, and still Arrow-Parts-Hair did not awaken from his dead sleep. Sun-On-Wings covered him with a blanket and sat down nearby, trying not to think about Yellow-Haired-Warrior-Woman being with the man named Clan. She was so wise and strong, surely she could find a way for Nina and her to escape. She would use her magic and wonderful fighting skills to gain her freedom.
For a while, he sat guard while his friend lay like a dead man. Carlos played with sticks and pebbles, until Arrow-Parts-Hair suddenly lurched upright with a terrible cry of despair, his face drawn and ashen.
"We've got to go on," he muttered thickly, climbing to his feet and grabbing the reins. He swung back into the saddle without another word. Sun-On-Wings fetched Carlos and galloped after him as hard as he could.
Somewhere far away, Windsor heard someone scream. She struggled to make her mind work but found she could not think clearly. Her arms hurt, as if someone were pulling on them, and her head throbbed mercilessly, causing her thoughts to jumble all around in her head like disjointed pieces of a puzzle. She heard a loud crack, and another horrific yell pierced the fuzzy clouds inside her mind. It's a woman, she realized groggily, slowly becoming aware that she was swaying back and forth.
Again she heard frightening sounds—the deep rumble of a masculine voice, a sharp crack, a shrill cry. She tried to concentrate. She must still be on the ship, the Trinidad, but they had disembarked at Mazatlán, had
n't they? Where was Stone? And Nina and Sun-On-Wings? What had happened to make her so confused?
"Stone Kincaid?" she mumbled incoherently, then listened as the screaming began again.
Windsor forced open her eyes, but the room around her was wavery and indistinct, as if she were swimming under the sea. Groaning, she struggled to alleviate the aching of her arms, then realized in a burst of lucidity, that she was hanging by her hands from a ceiling beam. She remembered the plan to capture Emerson Clan; remembered riding in the cart with Parker, the guerrillero, and the putas. Fear ran rampant in her blood, and she began to squirm against the ropes, causing herself to swing back and forth. Blinking hard, she wet parched lips, endeavoring to clear her vision. When she was able to focus on the scene in front of her, she wished she couldn't see.
They were in a barn. Nina hung across from her, strung up by her hands in the same way Windsor was. Windsor couldn't see her face, but her eyes became riveted on the girl's back. Her gown had been torn to the waist, revealing the awful scars of her previous beatings, but now there were new streaks of split muscle and streams of blood that ran down her spine in rivulets and spread dark crimson stains over the back of her white skirt. There was only one man, and he stood with his back to Windsor.
"You should never have betrayed me to Kincaid, Nina, my love. You really hurt my feelings," he said, each word uttered as smooth as oil and deceptively gentle. "Lucky for me, wasn't it, that we happened to be watching the waterfront for a new shipment of arms, and I saw you with Kincaid before you left the ship. Otherwise, his little trap might have succeeded."
"Oh, Dios, por favor, don't hit me with the whip again." Nina groaned, her voice ravaged by pain. "I can't bear any more, I can't."
"You should have thought of the consequences of your disloyalty before, my dear. Then we wouldn't have to go through all of this."