Chapter 25
On the street, Mariah ran smack into the black-haired bouncer, Pete, who was waiting for her. Steadying her with his hands, he frowned down at the desperate look on her face. "Miss? Are you all right? What in tarnation is going on here? First you run out of The Exchange like your tail's on fire... now—"
She clutched his arms. "Pete, do you know where the Stinking Water Valley is?"
"'Course. Everybody knows. Can't come into the gulch from the north or west without passin' through it."
"Can you take me there?"
"Now? I don't think..." The pounding of hoofbeats coming up behind him drew his eyes away from her.
"Mariah!"
She whirled to see Wade Bender and Jesse Winslow tearing up the street, shouting to her. She ran out to meet them. "Wade!"
Vaulting off his horse, Wade grabbed her by the arms, looking as if he'd seen a ghost. "You're all right! Where have you been? Creed told us—"
"You saw him?" she cried. "Where is he?"
"Going after you... or... so he thought. Hell."
"You let him go?"
"He thought the bastard had you! We all did. He rode off before I could stop him. Something about having to go alone. But I couldn't let him. I ran into Jesse on my way here. Where were you, Mariah?"
"I—I was with Desiree Lupone."
Pete stepped into their circle. "Will someone tell me what's goin' on?"
"Does Seth know about this?" Jesse asked.
"He knows," she answered. "He won't help Creed."
"What?"
"Never mind. You won't change his mind," Mariah told him. "We're wasting time."
Jesse scowled and reined in his prancing appaloosa. "What do you mean, we? You're going to go to your room and stay put."
Her eyes flared. "No, I'm not. I'm coming with you."
"Not a chance," Wade told her, mounting his roan. "We can't be worrying about you when we're after a man like LaRousse."
Pete fingered the gun holstered at his hip. "You're goin' after Pierre LaRousse?"
"If we're not too late," he said. "Get her to her room."
"Jesse, please, wait—"
"We'll find him, Mariah. Now, go on."
Heart sinking, Mariah watched as Wade and Jesse galloped off down the street, Mahkwi running at their heels. Beside her, she felt Pete touch her arm.
"Miss?"
Desperate, her eyes settled on the row of horses tied up outside a nearby saloon and particularly on the white-stockinged chestnut. The butt of a rifle protruded from the scabbard beneath the saddle. They wouldn't leave her behind. She had to go and find Creed. She had to help him. None of this would have happened if it hadn't been for her. Crossing to the hitching rail, she threw the reins over the chestnut's head and slipped her foot in the stirrup.
"Miss!" came Pete's shocked whisper. He looked over his shoulder. "What in tarnation do you think you're doin'?"
"Taking a horse." She swung up on the mare, hitching her skirts up out of the way, leaving the white ruffles of her pantalets showing.
Pete let out an exasperated breath and grabbed the reins. "Holy Smokes! You can't do that. That's horse stealing."
"So shoot me," she said fiercely, yanking the reins around toward the street, "or join me. But whatever you do, get out of my way."
Pete jumped back as she kicked the horse's flanks and galloped off down the street after the others.
"Holy smokes," he muttered. Pacing back and forth in the middle of the road, he watched her disappear into the blackness. Then, with an uneasy look toward the saloon, he kicked at the dirt and grabbed a dun horse.
"What the hell are you doing, Loudin?" he muttered to himself as he mounted and kicked the stolen horse into a lope after the woman he'd been sent to watch.
* * *
Pulling Buck to a halt under a stand of cottonwoods lining the nearby creek, Creed leaned over his saddle horn. His breath came in short, painful gasps. Sulphurous fumes from the nearby springs only added to the nausea rising in his throat. He twisted his left hand in Buck's mane, pressing his other forearm against his throbbing rib.
Sweat trickled down his cheek and between his shoulder blades, soaking through his elkskin shirt to his capote. Peering into the darkness, he tried to guess LaRousse's position. He pictured Mariah, terrified and alone, waiting for him. If LaRousse had touched her...
Creed ruthlessly checked the feeling. Emotions had gotten him into this trouble in the first place. It was his fault she was here. His fault she'd become tangled in this whole mess. To get her out, he'd have to use his head, which at the moment, was anything but clear. Uncorking the top on his canteen, he took a long drink of water and surveyed the dark landscape ahead.
The Stinking Water Valley was a sprawling bottom land that bordered the gentle swell of the Ruby Mountains. With numerous smaller hot springs dotted through it, he knew the main springs were another half-mile up the valley in a ravine of rocks and gnarled pine.
Above him, the half-dome of stars winked mockingly and the full moon painted the land under the trees in long shadows. Steam rose eerily off the surface of the water as it fingered into the cold night air. The only sound that broke the silence was the quiet gurgling.
Pierre LaRousse was a madman, but he wasn't a fool. The spot he'd chosen to meet was well protected from surprise assault. Nearly impenetrable. The advantage was LaRousse's. He was waiting somewhere ahead, with the darkness and fog to hide him. There was only one approach. The direct one.
There was only a slim chance he'd get Mariah or himself out of this alive, he thought futilely, but he had to try. He was, after all, the one the bastard wanted. Tonight, it would end. At last.
He nudged Buck forward, pressing deeper and deeper into the nightmarish fog shrouding the river. The cool breeze swam through the mist like a capricious child, opening brief rifts of moonlit clarity, only to close around behind him again like a trap door. The sound of Buck's hoofbeats echoed like thunder in the silence.
He slid his revolver out of his holster and eased the trigger back. Cradling it in his left hand, he dropped it to his side, blinking back the sweat trickling down his brow.
Just ahead, the fog swirled away. Standing in his path, he saw Pierre LaRousse, looking like Satan incarnate, feet planted, rifle primed and pointed at Creed's chest. The eagle feather tied in his long, loose hair fluttered silver in the moonlight, flicking the streaks of black warpaint slashed across his cheeks. His eyes shone brightly with an unnatural light.
Buck snorted and half-reared at the sight. Creed pulled him to a stop.
"So... you 'ave come, Devereaux." LaRousse's voice held a sinister rasp. "I knew you would."
Creed's hand tightened around the gun. "Where is she?"
LaRousse smiled. "Put down your gun."
Creed smiled and instead, raised the tip of his gun toward LaRousse. "We are both men with nothing to lose tonight, Pierre. Send her out to me and let her go. Then, you can do what you want with me."
Pierre sauntered a step closer. "Ah, 'ow noble of you. Just like your father. But you see, your father was a fool. And so are you, mon ami sans dussein." His laugh reminded Creed of the yip of a coyote.
The tip of Creed's pistol wavered. Suddenly, he knew. She wasn't here. Le bon Dieu, she wasn't even here! It had all been an elaborate bluff to—
A rope sailed over his head from behind and cinched around his chest and shoulders before his dulled reflexes could react, yanking him painfully sideways. He cursed, scrambling for a hold on the saddle, but felt himself falling... heard the gun in his hand retort and the bullet pull wild, pinging off the rocks somewhere in the darkness.
The ground came up to meet him with a breath-stealing thud that sent agony crashing through him. Blackness swooped in on him, like the ebony wing of a bird of prey, snuffing out sight and sound and pain. She was safe, came his last fleeting thought. At least she was safe.
* * *
They rode in silence, four abreast, with
Mahkwi at their heels. Only the soft plodding of the horses' trotting hooves against the spring-softened ground disturbed the unearthly quiet of the Stinking Water Valley.
Wade and Jesse had given her a thorough tongue-lashing and then agreed to let her come—when they realized, first, that there was no time to turn back and second, that she might actually prove useful in holding the horses for them when the time came.
She didn't argue. Nor did she promise to stay behind when they found him. If they found him.
Squeezing back the thought, she inhaled deeply of the fetid, sulphurous air and fought the panic rising in her throat. They would find him. They had to.
Crossing a stream, they moved closer to the thick tendrils of fog encasing the edge of the valley. She glanced at her companions, each lost in his own thoughts; Wade, whose jaw hadn't stopped working once, fidgeted with the gun at his hip; Jesse, whose brooding mien lent him a particularly dangerous air; and Pete, who stared unblinkingly ahead, no doubt wondering what he had let himself in for.
The fog thickened as they went, making the going more treacherous. Strangely, not a night bird or insect broke the uneasy silence. Only the moonlight, it seemed, dared intrude on this unholy place.
Far ahead, the high pitched whine of a gunshot stopped them short. A single shot—followed by a deathly silence.
"Creed!" Mariah breathed, surging forward.
Jesse reached for her reins. "Mariah, don't."
"But—"
"Get off your horse," he said, pulling his rifle from its scabbard. "Now."
She complied shakily and the others followed suit. All had agreed on their paths and now, silent, carried out the plan. Handing her their reins quietly, Pete and Wade started off at a soundless run, veering to the east.
"Stay here," Jesse, reiterated, and disappeared with the wolf into the fog-shrouded darkness to her right.
For a full two minutes, she stood where she was told, trying to imagine what had happened... Creed bushwhacked, lying wounded... or dead. Her heartbeat pounded through her like thunder.
The crack of a twig nearby made her whirl around. She searched the darkness, but the fog obscured everything. One of the horses nickered and she clamped a hand over its nose to quiet it, then held her breath.
Someone was out there.
Tugging the heavy rifle out of the scabbard of the stolen horse, she wrestled with the cocking lever until it clicked. She wouldn't wait here like a frightened mouse until it was over.
Moving away from the horses, she went in the direction she'd seen Jesse go. In the distance, she could hear the faint sound of voices. Pulse quickening, she moved stealthily across the sprouting spring grass.
She saw the flash of movement beside her too late. Steely arms grabbed her, ripping the rifle from her hands. She could only gasp before a smooth hand covered her mouth.
"Well, well... what have we got heah?" asked the man in a heavy southern drawl. "I reckon we've got us an interloper."
She struggled against him to no avail, trying to scream against his hand.
"Y'all by your lonesome, sugar? Won't Pierre be pleased..."
* * *
Water. Warm, smelly, choking him.
Creed came awake sputtering. He tried to bat away the stream of water being poured on him, but something held his hands.
"Tres bon...'ee lives."
LaRousse. Ah, yes. It was all coming back. Creed opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. There were two others, outlaw types, throwing a rope over the dead hulk of a tree beside the hot spring.
Pierre hauled him up by his arms and the pain returned with a vengeance. "You must be awake for what I 'ave planned, Devereaux."
Creed's breath came heavily. The bastard meant to hang him. Again. He blinked, fighting back the surge of fear. He had nothing to be afraid of, he reminded himself, except for that first shock of pain. He'd done it before. He was ready. Steering him over to Buck, they forced him up into the saddle. He could have fought them, but he didn't. What was the point?
His ribs burned, but his hands, cinched in front of him, had mercifully lost all feeling. He noticed a third man, standing beside the tree looking grim. Downing was his name. He didn't seem to be enjoying this as much as the others.
The one LaRousse called Snake slipped the noose around Creed's neck. He gritted his teeth as the knot was tightened at the back, instead of the side. So, he thought, it would be slow.
"Deed you enjoy murdering Étienne, bounty," LaRousse snarled, "as much as I weel enjoy killing you?"
"At least as much," he answered. "My only regret is that I won't take you with me, you bastard."
That coyote yip again. The sound tore through Creed's aching head like a dull knife.
"Hey, looky what we got here, Pierre," Snake said, pointing into the wispy darkness.
Creed's heart sank when he saw her, struggling like a snared rabbit in the arms of the card sharp he'd clobbered in the saloon, Erastus Field. He wrenched against the rope, but felt the noose tighten around his neck.
"Creed—" Her golden eyes were desperate, regretful.
"H'llo Devereaux," Field drawled. "I couldn't miss this opportunity to see ya'll paid back for nearly breakin' my jaw last week. Y' see, cards is only one of my talents, as Pierre was quick to discover."
Ignoring Field, Creed turned his haunted gaze on her. "Mariah, dammit! What are you doing here?"
"I... I found the note. I followed you. I had to."
Meeting his gaze, she tried to tell him not to give up. He closed his eyes and swore.
"Was she alone, Field?" LaRousse demanded.
"Ah didn't see anyone else."
"Where ees 'er 'orse?"
"Back in the fog, I suspect. She was on foot when I caught her creepin' in with her gun." He uncocked the weapon and threw it to the ground.
Mariah flicked a glance into the darkness nearby, but she could see nothing. Jesse, Wade, where are you? "Please," she begged LaRousse. "Don't do this."
Casting his own look into the shadows, LaRousse cocked his pistol. "'Ow does eet feel to know I will 'ave your woman while your neck stretches, Devereaux?"
If looks were lethal, she thought, LaRousse would have been lying in ribbons on the ground. "So help me God, LaRousse, if you hurt her, I'll come back and drag you to hell with me!"
The half-breed laughed demonically. "Let's get on weeth it. I weel enjoy cutting out your 'eart, Devereaux."
Creed looked down at Mariah, his eyes filled with a thousand regrets. He swallowed hard, and the rope around his throat moved. "Je t'aime," he whispered. "Je t'aime, ma petite."
Tears sprang to her eyes and tightened her throat. "And I love you."
"A touching scene," Pierre said, and gave Quincy the signal to send Buck off. "Au revoir, Devereaux."
"No-ooo!" Mariah screamed at the same moment an explosion severed the rope tying Creed to the tree. Then everything seemed to happen at once. A quick succession of gunshots tore through the air from two directions. LaRousse and his men ducked for cover. When Creed's horse bucked in fear at the sound of the gunfire, she darted for the reins.
"Mariah, get down!" Creed shouted.
She watched in horror as the man beside Buck raised his pistol at Creed's back. In the next second, the other man jerked backward. Crimson exploded from his chest—arms spread, he fell backward into the dirt.
Mariah could just make out LaRousse's dark form beside a rock fifteen feet away, and the flash of his gun as he returned fire to Pete, Jesse and Wade. She saw Field lifted off his feet by a gunshot that came from behind her. He staggered forward in the moonlight, then dropped like a stone to the ground. Another one of LaRousse's men tore off on horseback in the dark with a pounding of hoofbeats.
The other man, Snake, headed for the horses, too, but Mahkwi tackled him at a growling run. The man threw his arm up to protect his face, but the wolf latched on viciously, tearing the fabric of his sleeve.
She held tightly to the reins, trying to calm Buck.
"Pardieu," Creed shouted, clutching the saddle horn of the panicked horse, "get the hell out of here, Mariah!"
"I'm not leaving!"
Mariah gave a cry of relief as Jesse emerged from the blackness at a ducking run and snatched the reins from Mariah's hands. "Dammit, I told you to stay put!"
"I—" Another volley of gunfire cut off her words. Jesse reached up to help drag Creed to safety. Creed threw his leg over the back of his saddle, and shouted, "Forget me, get her out of here, Jesse."
But it was too late.
Mariah gave a strangled cry as LaRousse lunged for her out of the darkness. Before she could react, his steely arms were around her and he was dragging her backward through the stench of gunsmoke and fog, the barrel of his gun pressed against her temple.
"I'll kill 'er," LaRousse shouted above the din.
The firing stopped abruptly, the sudden silence deafening. Mariah forgot to breathe. Eyes wide, her gaze was frozen on Creed.
"Move where I can see you!" Pierre screamed, "and drop your guns." There was a frantic note in his voice.
One by one, they did as he asked. At Jesse's command, Mahkwi released the bloody arm of Snake, who scuttled backward weakly. Mahkwi stalked, growling, toward LaRousse and Mariah.
"Call ze devil-wolf off, or she dies now," he warned.
"Mahkwi!" Jesse shouted. "Come."
The wolf snarled and laid her ears flat, then returned to Jesse's side. All the while, LaRousse dragged Mariah backward toward his horse, tied to a stunted pine twenty feet away. Terror clawed at her as she clutched the arm that both choked her and crushed her breast painfully. His body was rock-hard against hers, and damp with sweat.
Creed stepped forward, his hands still bound in front of him. "You coward, LaRousse!" he shouted, tearing the noose from his neck and hurling it aside. "This is between you and me. Leave her out of this."
LaRousse backed up, her body pulled flush up against his. "I'm not ze fool you are, Devereaux. I warn you. Do not come near." Mariah stumbled backward in awkward unison with him. The scent of death filled her nostrils. Her eyes locked with Creed's.
Renegade Bride Page 33
