Elizabeth Lowell

by Elizabeth Lowell

When Lucifer stumbled, Ty dragged the horse’s head back up with a powerful yank on the hackamore reins, restoring the stallion’s balance. Surrounded by flying grit and rolling, bouncing pebbles, horse and rider hurtled down the dangerous slope.

  Zebra and Janna followed before the dust had time to settle. As had the stallion, Zebra sat on her hocks and skidded down the steepest parts, sending dirt and small stones flying in every direction. Janna’s braids, already frayed by the wind, came completely unraveled. Her hair rippled and swayed with every movement of the mustang, lifting like a satin pennant behind her.

  When Lucifer gained the surer footing on the lower part of the trail, Ty risked a single backward look. He saw Zebra hock-deep in a boiling cloud of dirt and pebbles, and Janna’s hair flying behind. The mustang spun sharply sideways, barely avoiding a stone outcropping. Janna’s body moved with the mare as though she were as much a part of the mustang as mane or tail or hooves.

  Lucifer galloped on down the sloping trail, taking the most difficult parts with the surefootedness of a horse accustomed to running flat out over rough country. Ty did nothing to slow the stallion’s pace, for each second of delay meant one second nearer to death for the unsuspecting soldiers in the first column. As soon as the trail became more level, Ty pointed Lucifer in the general direction of the advancing column, shifted his weight forward over the horse’s powerful shoulders and urged him to a faster gallop.

  When Zebra came down off the last stretch of the eastern trail, she was more than a hundred yards behind Lucifer. But Janna knew the country far better than Ty. She guided Zebra on a course that avoided the roughest gullies and rocky rises. Slowly the mare began to overtake Lucifer, until finally they were running side by side, noses outstretched, tails streaming in the wind. Their riders bent low, urging the mustangs on.

  Rifle fire came like a staccato punctuation to the rhythmic thunder of galloping hooves. A lone rifle slug whined past Ty’s head. He grabbed a quick look to the right and saw that the Indians apparently had abandoned the idea of leading the soldiers into a trap. Instead, the renegades had turned aside to run down the great black stallion and the spirit woman whose hair was like a shadow of fire.

  Even Cascabel had joined the chase. Dust boiled up from the ambush site as warriors whipped their mounts to a gallop and began racing to cut off Janna and Ty from the soldiers.

  Ignoring the wind raking over his eyes, Ty turned forward to stare between Lucifer’s black ears, trying to gauge his distance from the column of soldiers. Much slower to respond than the renegades, the cavalry was only now beginning to change direction, pursuing their renegade quarry along the new course.

  It took him only a few moments to see that the soldiers were moving too slowly and were too far away to help Janna and himself, whose descent from the plateau had been so swift that they were much closer to Cascabel than to the soldiers they had wanted to warn of the coming ambush.

  Even worse, the renegades who had waited in ambush were riding fresh horses, while Zebra and Lucifer had already been running hard for miles even before the hair-raising race down the eastern trail. Now the mustangs were running flat out over the rugged land, leaping ditches and small gullies, whipping through brush, urged on by their riders and by the whine of bullets.

  Ty knew that even Lucifer’s great heart and strength couldn’t tip the balance. The soldiers were simply too far away, the renegades were too close, and even spirit horses couldn’t outrun bullets. Yet all that was needed was two minutes, perhaps even just one. With one minute’s edge, Janna’s fleet mustang might be able to reach the soldiers’ protection.

  Just one minute.

  Ty unslung his rifle and snapped off a few shots, knowing it was futile. Lucifer was running too hard and the country was too rough for Ty to be accurate. He hauled on the hackamore, trying to slow the stallion’s headlong pace so that he could put himself between the renegades and Janna. Gradually Zebra began pulling away, but not quickly enough to suit Ty. He tried a few more shots, but each time he turned to fire he had to release the hackamore’s knotted reins, which meant that Lucifer immediately leaped back into full stride.

  Dammit, horse, I don’t want to have to throw you to make you stop. At this speed you’d probably break your neck and I sure as hell wouldn’t do much better. But we’re dead meat for certain if the renegades get us.

  And I’ll be damned in hell before I let them get Janna.

  Ty’s shoulders bunched as he prepared to yank hard on one side of the hackamore, pulling Lucifer’s head to the side, which would unbalance him and force him to fall.

  Before he could jerk the rein, he heard rifle fire from ahead. He looked over Lucifer’s ears and saw that a group of four horsemen had broken away from the column of soldiers. The men were firing steadily and with remarkable precision, for they had the platform of real stirrups and their horses had been trained for war. The repeating rifles the four men used made them as formidable as forty renegades armed only with single-shot weapons. The horses the four men rode were big, dark, and ran like unleashed hell, leaving the cavalry behind as though the soldiers’ mounts were nailed to the ground.

  For the second time that day, Ty’s chilling battle cry lifted above the thunder of rifles and hooves, but this was a cry of triumph rather than defiance. Those were MacKenzie horses and they were ridden by MacKenzie men and Blue Wolf.

  Janna blinked wind tears from her eyes and saw the four horses running toward her, saw the smoke from rifles, and knew that had caused Ty’s triumphant cry. The speed of the four horses had tipped the balance. They were going to reach Ty and Janna before Cascabel did.

  “We’re going to make it, Zebra. We’re going to make it!”

  Janna’s shout of joy turned to a scream as Zebra went down, somersaulting wildly, sending her rider hurtling to the ground.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Before Janna hit the ground Ty was hauling back and to the right on the reins, forcing Lucifer into a hard turn. Despite the speed of Ty’s reflexes, the stallion was galloping so fast that momentum alone swept them far past the place where Janna had fallen. Long before the stallion completed the turn, Zebra staggered to her feet to stand alone and trembling, favoring her left foreleg. Rifle fire erupted around her. She lunged to the side, seeking the cover of nearby piñons.

  Ty saw the mare’s three-legged motion and knew that she would be no help to Janna. A few yards from the mustang, Janna was struggling to her hands and knees, obviously dazed and disoriented by the force of her fall. A half mile beyond her, Cascabel and his renegades were bearing down in a cloud of dust and triumphant yells, certain that their prey was finally within their reach.

  Measuring the distances involved, Ty quickly realized that Lucifer wasn’t running fast enough to get Janna to safety before the Indians came within range. The stallion was straining, running with every bit of strength in his big body, but he was carrying more than three hundred pounds on his back.

  Ty’s knife flashed, severing the leather band that held the saddlebags full of gold on Lucifer’s lathered body. The heavy pouches dropped away just as the mustang leaped a small gully. The gold vanished without a sign into the crease in the earth. Freed of the dead weight, Lucifer quickened his gallop.

  “Janna!” Ty shouted. “Janna! Over here!”

  Barely conscious, she turned toward the voice of the man she loved. She pushed hair from her eyes, forced herself to stand, and saw Lucifer bearing down on her at a dead run. Ty was bent low over the horse’s neck, giving the stallion all the help a rider could and at the same time calling for Lucifer’s last ounce of speed.

  Rifle slugs whined overhead and kicked up dirt around Janna. She noticed them only at a distance, as if through the wrong end of a spyglass, for she was concentrating on the wild stallion thundering down on her with Ty clinging like a cat to his black back.

  A hundred yards behind Ty, four riders raced over the land like the horsemen of the Apocalypse, sowing destruction and death to any renegade
within range of their rifles. The barrage of bullets slowed the charging Indians, who were unused to coming up against the rapid-fire rifles.

  At the last possible instant, Ty twisted his right hand tightly into Lucifer’s flying black mane and held his other hand out to Janna. He knew that he had to grab her and not let go—the momentum of the racing stallion would lift her quickly from the ground, allowing Ty to lever her up onto the horse’s back.

  “Get ready!” he shouted, hoping Janna could hear him.

  His voice stitched between the war cries of the Indians behind Janna, the erratic thunder of rifles, and the drumroll of galloping hooves. She gathered herself and waited while Lucifer bore down on her like a runaway train. Despite the danger of being trampled, she didn’t flinch or move aside, for she knew that her only hope of life lay in the man who was even now bending low over the stallion’s driving body, holding his hand out to her.

  Between one heartbeat and the next she was yanked from the ground and hurtled onto Lucifer’s back just behind Ty. Automatically she scrambled for position, thrusting her arms around his waist and hanging on with all her strength while Ty hauled the mustang into a plunging, sliding turn that would take them away from the renegades.

  As the stallion straightened out again, Ty let out another chilling battle cry. Lucifer flattened his ears and his hooves dug out great clots of earth as he gave his riders the last bit of strength in his big body, running at a furious speed despite the additional weight he was carrying.

  Ty’s battle cry came back to him doubled and redoubled as the four horsemen bore down on him. They split evenly around the lathered, hard-running stallion. Each man fired steadily, making full use of the tactical superiority their repeating rifles gave. They were close enough now for accuracy, even from the back of a running horse. The relentless rain of bullets broke the first ranks of the charging renegades, slowing those who were immediately behind and confusing those who were on the sides.

  A shout from the biggest MacKenzie sent all four horses into a tight turn. Soon they were galloping hard in Lucifer’s wake, snapped at by sporadic rifle bullets from the disorganized melee of renegades.

  There were only a few warriors who gave chase, for Cascabel had spotted the larger column of soldiers, which had been galloping hard to catch the smaller group since the first burst of rifle fire had come. Cascabel was far too shrewd to fight the Army on its own terms. An ambush was one thing. A pitched battle was another. The renegade leader turned his horse and began shouting orders. In a short time the Indians had reversed direction and were retreating at a dead run, preserving their arms and ammunition for a better battleground.

  The first group of soldiers swept by Ty and then the MacKenzie brothers. Neither group broke pace. Not until the brothers were within sight of the larger Army column did they overtake Lucifer.

  Knowing that it was finally safe, Ty slowed the stallion to a walk, stroked the mustang’s lathered neck and praised him over and over. The biggest of the MacKenzie brothers reined in alongside.

  “That’s one hell of a horse you’re riding. Am I to presume he’s the fabled Lucifer?”

  Ty’s flashing grin was all the answer that was needed.

  “Then that must be your famous silken lady riding postilion,” the man said dryly.

  Janna flinched and looked away from the tall rider’s odd, golden-green eyes. She knew instantly that this man must be Ty’s brother, for surely no two men could look so alike and be unrelated. Tall, powerful, dark haired—on first glance he was Ty’s twin. A second glance showed the differences; a hardness of feature, a sardonic curl to the mouth, eyes that summarized what they saw with relentless pragmatism.

  “Janna Wayland, meet Logan MacKenzie, my older brother,” Ty said.

  Her arms tightened around Ty’s waist. She didn’t speak or turn her face from its hiding place just below his shoulder blades.

  “Sugar? You’re all right, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice muffled. “Can we go back for Zebra?”

  Logan’s black eyebrows lifted at the husky, tantalizing, feminine voice issuing from such a disheveled creature.

  “No. Cascabel won’t keep running. He’ll split his forces and double back to pick off scouts, stragglers or anything else he can get in his sights before the sun sets.”

  “But—”

  “No,” he said roughly, interrupting. Then, more gently, “I’m sorry, sugar. It’s just too dangerous for you. Zebra will be all right. Mustangs are tough. They have to be. She was limping off to cover before you even got to your hands and knees.”

  “Zebra?” Logan asked mildly. “Were you keeping a zoo?”

  When Janna didn’t answer, Ty said, “Zebra is a mustang. Janna talked her into becoming a friend.”

  Logan gave Ty a slanting green glance. “‘Talked’ her into it?”

  “That’s right, big brother. Talked. No ropes. No saddle. Not even a bridle or stirrups. Just those soothing hands and that sweet, husky voice promising all kinds of things…and then delivering each and every one of them.”

  Logan’s eyes narrowed at the seething mixture of emotions he heard in Ty’s voice—affection, anger, bafflement, passion.

  “Seems she caught herself more than a zebra mustang that way,” Logan muttered.

  If Ty heard, he ignored it.

  A renewed clash of rifle fire came from behind. The second column of soldiers had just come within range of the fleeing renegades. A bugle’s wild song rose above the sound of shots.

  “Hope whoever is leading those soldiers knows his business,” Ty said. “Cascabel had an ambush laid that would have wiped out the first column before reinforcements could arrive.”

  “So that’s why the two of you came down like your heels were on fire. Case heard something and put the glass on the cliff. He knew right away it was you.”

  “Surprised Blue didn’t spot me first. He’s got eyes that would put an eagle to shame.”

  “Blue was talking with the lieutenant at the time, trying to convince the damned fool that we might be galloping into an ambush.”

  “And?”

  “Blue was told that when the lieutenant wanted a breed’s advice, he’d ask for it.”

  Ty shook his head in silent disgust. “Well, at least he’ll keep Cascabel busy long enough for Janna to get clear. Cascabel made some strong vows on the subject of her hair.”

  Logan looked from his brother to the auburn-haired girl who had refused to face the MacKenzies after that first brief look. He remembered the flash of pain he had seen in her face before she turned away. He reined back slightly, leaned over, and slid his hand beneath her chin. Gently, firmly, he turned her face toward himself.

  “Easy, little one,” Logan said soothingly. “No one’s going to hurt you. I just want to be sure you’re all right. That was one hell of a header you took.”

  Reluctantly Janna turned toward Ty’s older brother. Long, surprisingly gentle fingers touched the bruised spot on her cheek and the abrasion along her jaw.

  “Feeling dizzy?” he asked.

  “I’m all right. No double vision. No nausea. I didn’t land hard enough to get a concussion.”

  “She knows what she’s talking about,” Ty said. “Her daddy was a doctor.”

  Black eyebrows rose again, then Logan smiled, softening the harshness of his face. “You’ll do, Janna Wayland. You’ll do just fine.” He turned toward the other three riders. “Listen up, boys. This lady is Janna Wayland. Janna, the big one is Blue Wolf.”

  “Big one?” she asked, looking at the men surrounding her. “Are you implying that one of you is small?”

  One of the riders tipped back his head and laughed, reminding her of Ty.

  “The laughing hyena is Duncan,” Logan said. “The dark-eyed, mean-looking one on the chestnut horse is Blue Wolf.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Janna Wayland,” Blue Wolf said in educated tones, and his smile refuted the very idea of “mean.” He tipped his hat t
o her and went back to scanning the countryside for danger.

  “The quiet one is Case. He’s the baby of the family.”

  Case nodded slightly to Janna. A single look at his pale green eyes told her that Case might have been the youngest in years but not in harsh experience. There was a darkness in him that transcended words. A wave of overwhelming sadness and compassion rose in her as she looked at Ty’s youngest brother.

  “Hello, Case,” she said softly, as though she were talking to an untamed mustang.

  Ty heard the emotion in Janna’s words, smiled rather grimly to himself and said in a voice too low to carry to Case, “Save your sweetness for something that appreciates it, sugar. Except for blood family, Case has all the feelings of a stone cliff.”

  “Why?”

  “The war.”

  “You went to war, too.”

  Logan looked over at Janna. “All the MacKenzie men fought,” he said. “Case is the only one who won’t talk about it. Not one word. Ever. Not even with Duncan, who fought at his side most of the time. Duncan doesn’t talk much, either, but it’s different somehow. He still laughs. Case doesn’t.” Logan shook his head. “Damned shame, too. Case used to have the most wonderful laugh. People would hear him and stop and stare and then smile, and pretty soon they’d be laughing, too. No one could resist Case. He had a smile like a fallen angel.”

  The clear regret on Logan’s face changed Janna’s opinion of him once more. Despite his hard exterior, Logan was a man who cared deeply for his family. Rather wistfully, she wondered what it would have been like to grow up with that kind of warmth surrounding her. Her father had loved her, but in a rather distracted way, never really stopping to discover his daughter’s needs and yearnings, always pursuing his own dreams and never asking about hers.

  “What a sad smile,” Logan said. “Is your family back there?”

  “Where?”

  “In Cascabel’s territory.”

  “Not unless you could call Mad Jack family,” she said. “Besides, he ran off rather than hang around and be dragged to the fort. He knew how angry we would be about the gold.”