The Bluebird

by Kristy McCaffrey

  “Change of plans.” Jake dismounted.

  He came to Molly and helped her from Cinnamon. She leaned into him, craving his strength.

  “You look tuckered out,” Ivan said. “Did you ride all night?”

  “Just about.” Jake held Molly’s hand as he led her toward the cabin.

  She limped slightly, her ankle bothering her. She must have twisted it during the night when she’d all but fallen over the dead body.

  “Are you hurt?” Jake asked.

  She gave a shake of her head. “It’s nothing.”

  “Come on inside.” Ivan opened the door.

  The aroma of fried eggs and ham smelled heavenly. Molly smiled gratefully at Pearl standing near the stove as she hobbled to a chair, only then releasing Jake’s hand.

  “Ivan, I need to talk to you,” Jake said.

  Would he tell the older man about the body they’d found? An ominous feeling settled over her. She hoped Jake wouldn’t do something foolhardy.

  Once the men had stepped outside, Pearl pinned Molly with a concerned glare. “What happened?”

  Molly debated what to say, but her mind, waning from fatigue, couldn’t muster up a good excuse. “We found a dead body.”

  Shock crossed Pearl’s face. “Where?”

  “In a ravine about fifteen miles north. That’s why we left during the night.”

  Pearl wiped her hands on her apron. “You did the right thing.”

  “I’m afraid of what Jake might do now.”

  “You think he’ll go back?”

  Molly nodded.

  The door opened and Ivan stepped inside.

  Pearl leveled a gaze at him. “You aren’t going with him, are you?”

  Ivan silently agreed.

  “Why don’t we go back to Creede and get the Marshal?” Molly cut in.

  “There’s no time,” Ivan said, then looked at Pearl. “Get some supplies together. Jake is winnowing his down so all he needs is Fernando. Molly will stay here.”

  “But—”

  “Pearl,” he said, cutting Molly off, “you know about the safe place. You might consider the two of you going there. These men may get past us and end up down here. I want you both out of harm’s way.”

  Pearl remained silent.

  “Maybe you two should head down to Creede now,” he added.

  “You know I won’t do that,” Pearl replied.

  He sighed. “I know.”

  Molly limped to the door, and Ivan moved aside so she could go outside. Jake stood near Fernando, securing his gear, his hat shielding his face. Cinnamon and the mule were gone, already in the corral.

  She stepped off the porch. “Why are you going back?”

  He checked his rifle then slid it into the scabbard hanging from the saddle. “I’m curious.”

  “Why didn’t you check it out last night?”

  “I didn’t want you there.” He secured his saddlebag as Fernando ate oats from a bucket Jake had placed before the animal.

  “What if I told you not to go?”

  Jake finally settled his attention on her. He approached, moving with a confidence and subtle swagger that made her pulse race. Her thoughts veered, as they often did of late, to what it would be like to be with him, his naked body pressed against hers, his lips planting heated kisses upon her skin, his hands… She wasn’t sure if she should be upset that he hadn’t made love to her or glad that he’d showed restraint.

  As he stood before her, his eyes shone with amusement.

  “You think this is funny?” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the accusation—or panic—from her voice.

  “Are you worried about me?”

  “You worry about me. Isn’t that what partners do?”

  He stood very close now, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over her, blocking the world beyond. What if something happened to him? He’d certainly had near misses before. She held herself steady as a rush of desperation gripped her.

  Don’t go.

  She shoved the plea down before she spoke it aloud, aware that her extreme uneasiness over his welfare might, in the end, scare him away. Letting her gaze slide from his, lest she drown in his deep mahogany eyes, she took a fortifying breath, striving to get herself under control.

  She lifted her eyes, fixating on his collarbone. His shirt was open at the neck, revealing tanned skin and a bit of dark chest hair. She wanted to touch him.

  Blast it.

  Clasping her hand behind his neck, she pulled him to her and kissed him, hard and direct.

  His response was immediate. His arms wrapped around her, bringing her flush against his body as his lips sank onto hers. She responded to his hunger with her own, the kiss deepening and her inhibitions flying away on the breeze.

  Jake tore his mouth from hers. His hot breath against her cheek sent shivers of pleasure through her. “You’re really determined, aren’t you?”

  “What do you mean?” She rubbed her nose across the stubble on his cheeks, enjoying the sensation and the intimacy.

  “To drive me mad.”

  She smiled, pleased down to her toes that he found her so compelling.

  The door opened behind them, and Jake released his grip on her.

  Ivan cleared his throat. “Not sure now is the time, you two.”

  Reluctantly, Molly stepped back, embarrassed that Ivan had seen them. Jake grabbed her hand, keeping her close.

  “You gotta take it when you can get it,” Jake said.

  “True,” Ivan replied. “Pearl, come here, woman.”

  Pearl’s voice drifted from inside. “Oh, no you don’t.”

  Ivan entered the cabin and shut the door.

  “You’ve got the Colt,” Jake said, his possessive gaze warming her. “Keep it close. Stay inside and don’t let anyone in. We won’t be long, maybe a day. If we don’t return by then, take Pearl back to Creede. And don’t stay with Lannigan.”

  Molly frowned. “So many instructions. Are you always this bossy?”

  “Only with you.” He leaned down and kissed her softly. His hand slid down her spine, and he indulged a pat on her backside, eliciting a muffled response from her.

  “Be careful,” she breathed against his mouth.

  He broke their contact and adjusted his hat, a gleam in his eyes. “I’ve been in worse situations.”

  “Just because you’re called The Jackal doesn’t mean you can rest on your laurels.”

  He grinned. “Maybe you can rest on them?”

  She gave him a playful shove.

  He climbed atop Fernando. “Come on, Ivan,” he yelled.

  Ivan’s horse stood saddled and ready beside Jake. The old man exited the cabin, plopping his hat atop his head. He nodded to Molly as he passed by. “Don’t hesitate to shoot any scalawags.” He mounted his horse.

  “Just don’t shoot us.” Jake gave her one last look, his gaze dark and compelling, then turned Fernando and headed back up the trail the two of them had so recently descended.

  Ivan shook his head. “I ain’t no scalawag, but I can’t speak for The Jackal.”

  And then they were gone.

  Pearl came onto the porch. Molly wrapped her arms across her mid-section, hugging herself. In silence they watched the two men disappear into the wilderness.

  * * *

  “Watch your step,” Pearl said over her shoulder, dusk rapidly approaching.

  Molly followed the woman down a pathway that led them a quarter mile from her and Ivan’s cabin. A gust of wind slammed into the pine trees above, and Molly braced against it, then resumed the slow and steady climb. She winced as a twinge of pain shot through her ankle.

  Agitated sounds from the animals drifted to them from the shed, along with relentless barking from Grom, who was locked in the cabin. None of them were happy with the impending storm. Neither was Molly. Hopefully Jake and Ivan had found a place to hunker down.

  Pearl insisted they retreat to a hideout. Molly agreed, but now she wondered if this was such
a good idea as they trudged farther away from the cabin.

  Pearl carried a knapsack filled with food along with an old rifle. Molly had her Colt and several blankets in hand.

  The trail became steeper, and Molly focused on keeping up with the surprisingly agile older woman. As they neared a precipice, a rope hung down with loops fashioned for feet. Pearl shouldered the rifle and ascended like a monkey, then leaned over and motioned for Molly to hand her the blankets, which she did. Molly grasped the makeshift ladder and awkwardly struggled to pull herself up, her arms straining. At last she crawled onto the ledge, trying to catch her breath, and lay on her stomach.

  “Almost there,” Pearl said.

  Molly stood and froze, staring into the mouth of a dark tunnel. Pearl waved at her to enter. Molly’s chest squeezed, her heart doubled its beating, and the urge to run consumed her.

  “This is your safe place?” she uttered past the tightness in her throat. It was a mining tunnel, shored up with hole-filled timber, which hardly seemed safe to her.

  Pearl came back out. “What’s wrong?”

  The wind blew more strongly now, the storm lashing around them.

  “I can’t go in there.”

  Pearl came to her, worry pinching her face. “It’s secure. Ivan and I found it not long after we got here. There’s no viable ore, but the tunnels are reinforced, and Ivan has done some work on it.”

  “I’ll just stay out here.”

  “In this storm?”

  “Why can’t we remain in the cabin? I’m sure it would be fine there.”

  Pearl’s shoulders sagged. “I said as much to Ivan, but he insisted we come here. I’ll go in and make sure it’s clear.”

  Pearl disappeared. Molly sank to the rocky escarpment and brought her knees to her chest, making herself into a tight ball as if she were once again a child trying to hide. Tendrils of hair whipped against her face as she rocked back and forth, attempting to ignore the swell of panic building in her body. A rumble of thunder rolled across the now-darkened sky, heavy gray clouds threatening to unleash onto the land at any moment.

  She jerked at a bolt of lightning.

  I can’t stay out here.

  She gritted her teeth and stood again, retrieved the blankets, clutched them to her chest, and gripped the Colt in her right hand. She’d managed to avoid places like this during the years after the well incident and had begun to believe that she was cured of her fright, but after the incident in Pedro’s tunnel, it was glaringly obvious that she wasn’t. If she’d never come to Creede, she could possibly have lived the remainder of her life without ever feeling this terror again.

  But then I wouldn’t have met Jake.

  She forced herself to move toward the entrance.

  Another bolt of lightning split the sky. She shrieked and jumped.

  Closing her eyes, she entered the tunnel, battling every ounce of strength in her muscles that wanted to turn and run far, far away.

  Once inside, the rush of the storm subsided. She gasped for breath and opened her eyes. The flicker of a light was visible beyond. Taking very small steps, Molly moved toward it. She glanced back to the entrance. They wouldn’t need to go far into the tunnel to get out of the worst of the squall. She hoped Pearl would agree with her.

  The tempest beyond was in full force now, it’s fury present at the tunnel entrance with debris flying past in violent gusts.

  Calm down. Deep breaths.

  A sudden upwelling of frustration consumed her. Fed up with herself and this damn fear, she threw her shoulders back and continued deeper into the inky depths, ignoring a wave of queasiness. She sought to focus amid her scattered thoughts, as unmoored as the bushes and branches being yanked from the surroundings by the storm.

  A scuffle echoed from deeper in the tunnel, accompanied by a whimper that sounded like Pearl.

  Alarm filled Molly.

  She moved forward, her only thought to help Pearl. The woman could have fallen, could be hurt…

  As she rounded the turn, she stopped, startled. There was a man in the dim light with a long, unkempt beard and a wild look in his eyes standing over Pearl who lay unmoving, face up, at his feet.

  He pointed his pistol at Molly. “Drop it,” he instructed.

  Molly hesitated.

  “Go on, now,” he added.

  Bending down, she released the Colt to the ground.

  She didn’t recognize him, but he had the look of many of the men in Creede who prospected—rumpled clothing that smelled of long-term use and a wary gaze filled with just a dose of madness.

  Standing once again, Molly asked, her voice tight, “Who are you?”

  “That don’t matter. You two don’t belong here.”

  “Neither do you.” She glanced down at Pearl. “Did you hurt her?”

  “Not on purpose.” He waved his gun a bit. “Sit down.”

  Molly squatted and rested her backside on the uneven, rock-strewn floor. She organized her skirt and petticoat over her bent knees and smoothed her sweaty palms along the material. She searched for any sign of life in Pearl. Was she breathing?

  Pearl’s chest rose and fell slightly.

  Molly released a sigh of relief.

  Pearl was alive, for now. It gave her hope. She turned her attention to the man pointing a gun at her. “Are you a prospector? Because I think the Krupin’s have this claim, so that would make you a thief.”

  “Just because they say they have the claim don’t mean they do.”

  Molly tried a new tactic. “You should let us go.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Let me take her out of here, and then you can leave.” Her nerves were stretched mighty thin.

  Pearl moved. The man stepped away from her, his weapon still fixed on the both of them.

  “Can I please look at her?” Molly pleaded.

  He hesitated then relented with a nod.

  From the corner of her eye, Molly located the Colt lying on the ground where she’d put it. Could she grab it and shoot before he did? Not likely.

  She crawled over to Pearl and gently touched the woman’s face. Pearl’s eyelids fluttered, a welt beginning to form on her forehead.

  “Pearl, are you all right?”

  The woman opened her eyes and stared at the man watching them.

  “Can you sit?” Molly asked.

  Pearl nodded and Molly aided her.

  “Nine Toes Bishop, what on earth are you doing here?” Pearl admonished.

  He circled until he could see them head on.

  Pearl touched the welt on her forehead and grimaced. “Are you in trouble, or are you just convinced there’s gold in here?”

  “Is there?” he asked, his tone almost accusatory.

  “Have you looked around?” Pearl’s face pinched with disgust. “This claim turned out to be a dead end. Are you another fool searching for the Bluebird?”

  “And what do you know of it?”

  “This claim surely isn’t it.” Pearl gestured to Molly to release her.

  “What about somewhere else?” he asked.

  “My husband has been searching for well over two years and has never found nothing of such riches as the Bluebird is purported to be. I’m sorry to disappoint you. I must ask that you leave here though. This is my claim.”

  “Not if you ain’t worked it in the last year, and I’m thinkin’ you haven’t, so you got no grounds to kick me out.”

  “Then let us leave and you can stay,” Pearl said.

  Unease snaked down Molly’s spine. What if it hadn’t been Marcus and Jim who had killed the man she had found last night? What if this man was the real culprit?

  “Are you here alone?” Molly asked.

  “I came with Pedro, but he done disappeared.”

  Molly frowned. “Do you mean Pedro Elizondo?”

  The man watched her, distrust in his gaze. “Yep.”

  Was Pedro the dead man she’d found? She genuinely hoped not. While she hadn’t known the man for
long, she certainly never wished for him to be murdered and buried haphazardly in the wilderness.

  Mister Bishop grunted and pressed a hand to his side then stood straight again.

  Molly caught a glimpse of red on the fabric of his ivory shirt. “Are you hurt?”

  Without warning, he sank to his knees and keeled over. For a long moment, neither she nor Pearl moved.

  “Has he gone to meet his Maker?” Pearl finally asked.

  Molly guardedly approached and poked at him. When he remained unresponsive, she carefully removed the weapon from his fingers then felt for a pulse. “He’s alive.”

  She nudged him to his back. Blood seeped through his clothing near his left hip. She tugged the fabric away.

  “Was he shot?” Pearl asked.

  “Looks that way. What should we do?”

  Pearl cursed under her breath. “I guess we can’t leave him here. And if we stay overnight, he might die if we don’t clean his wound.”

  “But what if he’s the one who killed Pedro?”

  Pearl’s eyes locked with Molly’s. “You think that man you found is Pedro?”

  “It could be. Maybe Pedro shot Mister Bishop during an argument.”

  Pushing away from the wall, Pearl came to Nine Toes’s inert form. “Well, hell,” she muttered. “Pack his weapon away. We’ll have to drag him out of here ourselves.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jake brought Fernando to a halt in a copse of pine trees, grateful to find some relief from the storm.

  Ivan pulled his horse beside Jake’s. “We best stay here and wait this out. No sense being struck by lightning.”

  “Agreed.” Rivulets of water rained down from the brim of Jake’s hat. He dismounted and searched for the most covered area he could find, giving a shake to his rain slicker to stop it from clinging to his clothes.

  Ivan grabbed food from his saddlebags, and the two hunkered down, using a tree trunk as a bench.

  “What do you think Pedro was doing to get himself killed?” Jake asked.

  Ivan chewed on a piece of dried meat. “I’d bet there were at least a half dozen men who had a dispute with him. I can’t say I’m surprised it didn’t end well. You reap what you sow.” Ivan puffed his chest then sighed. “He was determined to find the Bluebird, but then, who among us isn’t.”