Dragon Fire

by Linda Ladd

"It's got to be a neutral place. And I want proof that both of them are alive before I hand over your kid."

  "My, my, but you do drive a hard bargain, Kincaid."

  Stone waited in silence.

  "There's a town called Saltillo farther up in the mountains. There's a bridge across a deep river canyon just before you reach the outskirts. Be there at dawn, three days from now. I'll bring the women to the eastern side of the bridge, and you have my son on the western side. They'll cross at the same time."

  Clan made as if to rise, but Stone grabbed his forearm, his grip viselike. "If you've hurt her, I'll kill you—even, if it takes me the rest of my life."

  Clan jerked free. "I've heard that threat before, and it still doesn't scare me."

  Tight-lipped with impotent rage, Stone watched him move away. He wanted to follow, to use his fists to wipe the confident smile off Clan's face, but he couldn't, not yet. Sun-On-Wings was waiting with Carlos in the mountains, well hidden from Clan's men. It would take him a long time to get there, because he would have to travel a slow and circuitous route to make sure no one was following him. But at least the waiting was almost over. Three days from now, he would have Windsor back.

  He picked up the braid from the table and held the softly woven blond hair close to his face. The fragrance of jasmine lingered, and pain hit him with the force of a doubled fist. Grinding his teeth, he cursed Clan again, then turned and strode purposely for his horse.

  "They're coming now," Stone hissed in a low whisper from where he lay on his stomach near the edge of the cliff. Below him, morning mists were just rising off the surface of the narrow, twisting river to shroud the bridge where they would make the trade. He squinted and peered hard into the wafting grayness. "Damn this fog. I can't see well enough to recognize Windsor. We'll have to wait until it lifts some."

  "Nina not want Evil One to have little man," Sun-On-Wings said in a low voice from where he lay nearby. "Her say so."

  Stone twisted his head around and looked at him. Guilt burned a brand of shame on his conscience at the thought of sacrificing the innocent baby, but he couldn't let himself think about that. "We have to. Clan won't hurt him, but he'll kill Nina and Windsor if we don't give him the boy." Sun-On-Wings looked unconvinced. He had become very attached to Carlos. Stone glanced at the baby strapped inside the cradleboard, heard his soft coos, and felt sick. He hardened his heart and looked away. "We have to do it," he repeated, "as soon as the fog lifts."

  The sun gradually rose higher to become a ball of flame in the clear blue sky. The morning warmed, and birds trilled and flitted among the branches of the trees, as if nothing were wrong. Stone shielded his eyes with his hand, his gaze glued to the far end of the bridge, where he could detect five horses and a small, two-wheeled wagon with two figures sitting in it. "There they are." His voice grated harsher. "I can see them better now. He's got them in the donkey cart. Look for ambushers up in the rocks above them. I don't think he'd risk setting a trap, not with his son within firing range, but we mustn't underestimate him."

  "C'mon, let's go, before he changes his mind," Stone ordered a moment later as he got to his feet.

  Reluctantly, Sun-On-Wings slipped the cradleboard onto his back, mounted his horse, and followed Stone down the hill toward the meeting place. When Stone reached the narrow wooden bridge, he drew his gun and dismounted.

  "I want to see them," he shouted across to Clan. His voice echoed hollowly in the rising fog.

  Anger boiled through him as Clan jerked up Windsor's head to reveal her face, then did the same to Nina. He couldn't see them well, but he knew it was them.

  "Send them over!" Stone yelled, his voice quivering with rage.

  "Show me my kid first," came Clan's voice from the other side.

  Impatiently, Stone turned to Sun-On-Wings. The boy's face was stricken as he held up the cradleboard to show Clan the towheaded baby.

  "Tie him to the horse, and let him go on the count of five," Clan yelled back.

  "Go ahead, kid, do what he says," Stone ordered. When Sun-On-Wings continued to hesitate, he walked over and took the baby out of his arms. "I'm sorry, but he's got to go. We'll get him back, I swear. As soon as Windsor and Nina are safe, we'll go after him."

  Sun-On-Wings stepped back as Stone strapped the cradleboard securely to the saddle horn. Carlos began to cry and hold out his arms to Sun-On-Wings, and Stone's throat closed up. He clamped his teeth together and slapped the horse's flank. In the distance, they could hear the donkey cart rattling over the bridge. The riderless horse carrying Carlos passed the wagon near the middle, then clopped slowly onward to the opposite side. As soon as the old Mexican driver brought the wagon close enough, Stone ran to meet it. He rounded the end of the cart and froze in absolute horror.

  "Clan, you bastard! Goddamn you to hell! Goddamn you!" he cried, his voice so shrill with anger and anguish that his strident curses reverberated far down the river, his words sending Clan into the fires of damnation over and over again.

  21

  With Stone's agonized shout still ringing against the canyon walls, Clan and his men galloped away toward Saltillo. A sob constricted Stone's lungs as he looked down at Windsor, her face so battered and bruised he hardly recognized her. She was naked except for a red rebozo wrapped around her. As he gathered her limp body into his arms, his heart filled so full of grief that he wanted to die. He lifted her until his face pressed against her cheek.

  "Windsor? Oh, God, Windsor—"

  "Please, don't hurt me anymore," she mumbled through cracked lips. Agony pressed down on Stone's soul until he felt he could not breathe. He fought to control his shattered emotions as Sun-On-Wings came running up beside them. He looked at Windsor, and his face crumpled with horror.

  Stone buried his face in her cropped hair, unable to speak. >From where she lay on the floor of the cart, Nina groaned, and Stone watched Sun-On-Wings turn her over. His stomach revolted when he saw the bloody shawl covering the young girl's back. Clan had brutally beaten Windsor, but he had used his whip to cut up poor Nina.

  Infuriated, Stone turned his eyes on the peasant driving the cart. The old man looked terrified, and he held up his arms as if to fend off Stone's wrath.

  "No, senor, no. I had nothing to do with this work of el diablo! I only drove my cart to market this morning, and the gringo paid me ten pesos to drive two sick women in my cart!"

  Stone had no reason to disbelieve him. His dress and speech indicated he was a campesino. He did not have the hard, callous appearance of the men who followed Clan. "We need help, comprende? El doctor, and a place to stay. We can pay you, muchos pesos."

  "Only doctor is far away in Durango," the man answered, obviously eager to help, "but there is a healer near here. He lives in the mountain with his niñas. He will care for the poor senoritas."

  "Which way is it? We've got to hurry!"

  Stone looked down at the cart and found he couldn't bear to lay Windsor back onto the bloodstained boards. Instead, he mounted his horse and let Sun-On-Wings hand her gently into his arms. He held her carefully, but she moaned in agony each time he shifted her. All the while they rode toward the healer, he cursed Clan over and over, swearing to send him to the very depths of hell.

  Although they traveled for only an hour before the low white hacienda came into view, to Stone it seemed that hours and hours had passed. They had to force their horses to ascend an impossibly steep slope to reach the house, and Stone's patience was stretched past its limit by his inability to spur his horse into a gallop. Sun-On-Wings had taken Nina upon his horse when the path became too rocky for the cart, and now his fringed rawhide shirt was covered with her blood. Nina was going to die, Stone thought helplessly. No one could lose so much blood and recover.

  As they approached the well-tended, rambling adobe structure, an old hound began to bark and run alongside the horses. The howling brought three girls dressed in colorful cotton skirts and loose white blouses running out onto the front veranda. They were all
young, with long braids of black hair. As Stone reined to a halt, the youngest one ran away, yelling for her papa.

  "Please, can you help us? Por favor?" Stone asked, trying to remember Spanish as he slid carefully off the saddle with Windsor cradled in his arms. "Do you understand English?"

  "Sí, senor. What has happened to the senora?"

  "She's been beaten. The other girl's been whipped."

  The girls gasped and exchanged frightened glances.

  "Who did these terrible things?" said a deep voice, and Stone turned to find a gray-haired man rounding the side of the house. He was probably sixty or more, his brown face deeply wrinkled from age and exposure to the sun.

  "A man named Emerson Clan. Muy malo. He and his guerrilleros have been running guns to Saltillo."

  The old man nodded. "The rebels were strong in the mountains for a time, until they were crushed at the mission of San Miguel. Now the Nacionales patrol the roads between Saltillo and Monterrey." His gaze found Windsor, and his voice became urgent. "Quick, you must bring her into the house. I am Gilberto Gomez. My niñas will help you."

  Stone strode rapidly in his wake, allowing one of the children to hold the door for him while Sun-On-Wings carried Nina inside. Gilberto led them through a low-ceilinged front room with an adobe fireplace, past a long dining table covered with a red-and-blue blanket, then through an arched opening and down a short hall that led to a small bedroom.

  "Put her on the bed, then go help with the other girl. Margarita will help me with this one."

  "No. I want to stay with her."

  Gilberto glanced at him as he finished rolling up his sleeves. "Is she your senora?"

  Stone hesitated. "We're not married, but I—"

  "Then you must go. We will look after her, and I will come for you. My examination will not take long."

  Stone frowned, unwilling to leave, suddenly gripped by an unreasonable fear that he mustn't let her out of his sight or she'd be in great danger again. He looked back at where Windsor lay on the bed as the girl named Margarita took his arm and led him out of the chamber. Sun-On-Wings was similarly dismissed from where he had lowered Nina upon a bed across the room from Windsor.

  "Yellow-Haired-Warrior-Woman not die," Sun-On-Wings said firmly, once they both stood in the narrow hallway. He clasped Stone's wrist in the sign of friendship.

  Stone nodded, not at all sure Sun-On-Wings' optimism could be believed. "Nina's in pretty bad shape."

  "Her very bad. Lose much blood."

  "Papa says you are to drink pulque. He said it will help to calm your fears." The smallest of Gilberto's daughters stood beside them, holding a tray set with two metal mugs and a brown bottle. The child looked to be around six years old.

  "Gracias," Stone muttered, gratefully taking the bottle and one of the glasses. He stared at the closed door of Windsor's room. He could hear the low murmur of Gilberto's voice, then that of one of the girls answering him.

  Not prepared to retreat far, he lowered himself into a squatting position beside the door. Sun-On-Wings took the other mug and did the same. Stone poured them both a portion of the liquor, then tossed down his drink with one swift motion. The wine was sweet and potent. Sun-On-Wings drank from his mug with more discretion.

  Stone leaned his head against the wall and shut his eyes. His mind was so full of fear, he felt numb, as if he were only a shadow of himself, a dead man who still drew breath. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. Stone began to pace. He stopped in his tracks when Gilberto finally opened the door.

  Stone looked at him without saying anything.

  Gilberto's dark eyes were somber. "The man who did such a thing could only be the seed of el diablo." He sighed, searching Stone's face for answers. "They have both suffered terrible injuries. The one called Nina is much worse, for her flesh has been cut until little of her back is left to mend."

  Sun-On-Wings made a strangled sound, and Stone felt a caustic taste in the back of his mouth. "What about Windsor?" he managed to say.

  "Only Dios and his angels know such things," the healer answered, placing a comforting palm upon Stone's shoulder. "Someone has abused her badly. The many marks upon her body tell me that he used his fists, or perhaps the handle of his whip. One of her arms is broken just above the wrist, and several of her ribs are cracked." He hesitated, sorrowfully shaking his grizzled head. His eyes avoided Stone's anguished ones. "Her body will heal, but she was used in worse ways, I fear."

  Stone's face went white. He clenched his fists, wanting to smash them into Emerson Clan's face and body, to pummel him as brutally as he had Windsor.

  "I am sorry for you, my hijo," Gilberto said softly. "It is a hard thing for a man to hear, I know. But she will recover in time, at least from the injuries to her body. You must remember to be very gentle with her when she awakens. She was used vilely by a man who is no better than an animal. She will not forget it soon." He sighed, glancing at Sun-On-Wings. "As for the other girl, I am sending my Margarita to the village for the priest. I am afraid she will not last much longer, though I will continue to try to stop the bleeding."

  After Gilberto had reentered the sickroom, Sun-On-Wings and Stone stood silently across from each other, their expressions stricken. Stone rubbed his hands over his face, desperately wishing he would wake up and find he had been having one of his bad dreams about Clan. But none of his nightmares had approached the terror of this reality.

  "I'm going to sit with Windsor," he mumbled, turning away. He entered the room. Gilberto and his daughters were working on Nina. Windsor lay on her back in the bed beside the door. She was restless, moaning and muttering indistinguishable words. A straight-backed wooden chair stood at the foot of her bed, and Stone dragged it close beside her.

  He stared down at her face. The dirt and blood had been washed away, but the bruises remained, dark blue and swollen into puffy mounds. A cry of desolation rose in his throat, and he struggled to stifle his despair.

  His heart aching, he lifted her right hand to his lips. Her other arm was bound to a makeshift wooden splint with strips of bright red cloth. More bruises covered her bare shoulder and upper arm, as if strong fingers had held her in a brutal grip. Stone was suddenly so filled with rage, he wasn't sure he could control it. He wanted to yell, to beat his head against the wall, to kill someone with his bare hands.

  Windsor moved fitfully, weakly trying to pull her arm away from him. Stone let go, then leaned closer, tenderly brushing dirty strands of hair from her forehead. He gritted his teeth. Clan had sheared off her hair at random, leaving hunks of it long while other parts were cut nearly to the scalp. Stone shut his eyes. He cursed himself, deeply, bitterly, for allowing this to happen.

  He groaned, the sounds becoming muffled when he dropped his forehead onto the mattress beside her. He ought to pray, he thought. He ought to beg God to help her get well. But he couldn't. He couldn't do anything but sit and watch her suffer and know he had caused it to happen. He was responsible for all her pain. A sob caught in his throat, a cry of guilt that plunged like a sword into his soul and embedded itself so deeply there that he knew he would never be the same again.

  Three days after they had arrived at the hacienda, Nina lay very close to death. Sun-On-Wings knew that soon she would follow the path of the spirits to the shadow world where the footsteps traveled in only one direction. He had seen many die, both from battle wounds and from disease. But Nina was not a woman fighter like Yellow-Haired-Warrior-Woman, nor did she suffer from sickness. She should not have to die so young, lying on her stomach, her lifeblood leaking from her back.

  Wincing, he remembered how her back had looked when he had lifted the sheet a moment before so the old medicine man could apply his salve. Very little of her skin was left there. The Evil One had felt no mercy for the mother of his child.

  The thought of Carlos caused an emptiness in the pit of Sun-On-Wings' stomach. He had to get the baby back for Nina. The longer he waited to pursue Emerson Clan, the farther away the bad men
would take Nina's boy. Sun-On-Wings would have to follow alone, because ever since they had brought the women to the healer, Arrow-Parts-Hair had been like a man grieving. He would not leave Yellow-Haired-Warrior-Woman's side. He would not sleep. He would not eat. He sat motionlessly, waiting for her to awaken, saying nothing, doing nothing, just staring at her.

  "Carlos, Carlos," Nina was mumbling, and Sun-On-Wings leaned closer to listen to her words, though he knew she called only for her son.

  "Sun-On-Wings here. Nina not alone."

  "Sun-On-Wings?" Nina's cheek lay against the pillow, her eyes glassy with pain and disorientation. "Where's Carlos? Where's my baby?"

  Sun-On-Wings did not answer. He could not bring himself to tell her that he had broken his promise to her. He could not bear to speak of his dishonor.

  Nina raised her head slightly, desperately attempting to focus her gaze on his face. "Take care of Carlos, por favor, por favor…" She lapsed into a few weak words of Spanish that Sun-On-Wings could not understand. He clasped her hand when she reached out to him.

  "Sun-On-Wings take care of Carlos. Sun-On-Wings not break promise," he whispered close to her ear, embarrassed when his voice caught and hot tears welled up in his eyes. Nina should not have to die. Nina was his friend.

  "Gracias, mi amigo, gracias…"

  Sun-On-Wings swallowed over the big lump that had risen in his throat, then stood back as the black-robed shaman of the white man's world entered the room and went to Nina's bed. The old medicine man named Gilberto put his hand on Sun-On-Wings' arm.

  "Come, the padre is here at last. He will prepare her to enter the gates of heaven."

  Sun-On-Wings nodded, though he didn't understand all the low murmuring and hand signs the priest was doing over Nina's tortured body. The chanting reminded him of Yellow-Haired-Warrior-Woman. But she would not die. Arrow-Parts-Hair would not let her. Sun-On-Wings was glad for that, but his heart could not soar on the wind like the eagle as long as Nina suffered or Carlos remained in the hands of his evil father. Sun-On-Wings knew what he must do. No one could stop him.