Chase the Lightning

by Madeline Baker

  “What can I get for ya?” the bartender asked.

  “You got a back entrance to this place?”

  The bartender grunted. “Somebody lookin’ for ya?”

  “Could be,” Trey allowed.

  The bartender jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Back there.”

  “Thanks. And if anyone…”

  “I know the drill. If anyone asks, you were never here.”

  Grinning, Trey headed for the door.

  It opened onto a short side street. After glancing up and down, Trey turned left and took the long way back to the hotel.

  He entered the lobby cautiously. There was only one man there, an elderly gent reading a newspaper.

  Keeping his hand close to the butt of his Colt, Trey crossed the floor and climbed the stairs to the second floor. He knocked on Amanda’s door, glanced over his shoulder while he waited for her to answer it. Damn, he was as nervous as a whore at a prayer meeting.

  She opened the door just as he was about to knock again. “Hi, I got all the stuff you wanted…”

  He pushed past her, closed and locked the door behind him.

  She looked at him, one brow raised.

  Trey shrugged. “I think I’m being followed.”

  “I’m not surprised. Did you know there’s a wanted poster out with your name on it? A bank in Wickenburg is offering a thousand-dollar reward.”

  Trey whistled softly. “Old Hollinger must be scared shitless.”

  Amanda nodded. “His name was on the poster. I guess he put up the reward.”

  “Yeah. Damn.” He ran a hand over his jaw, then went to the window. Standing to one side, he peered down at the street.

  “Maybe we’d better leave?” Amanda suggested.

  “You’re reading my mind, sweetheart.” Moving away from the window, he began to pace the floor. “As soon as it’s full dark, I’ll be on my way. I think you’d better stay here.”

  “Not on your life!” she exclaimed. “You’re not going off and leaving me behind. No way!”

  “You’ll be safer here.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t know anybody else in this town. Hell, I don’t know anyone in this time. Besides, I want to go home! You and that horse got me here, and I’m counting on the two of you to get me back.”

  “There’s no time to worry about that now,” he said.

  He went to the window and looked out. She was right in what she said, but it just wasn't smart to take her with him into possible danger. He smiled wryly. Sometimes he just wasn’t smart. He ran a hand through his hair. Who was it down there on the street? Langley and his men? Or just some cowboy looking to make some fast money?

  Out of nervous habit, he pulled his Colt and checked his ammunition, then settled the gun in his holster. After a moment’s hesitation, he added another round to the chamber he usually kept empty. He might need every edge he could get. His every instinct for survival was screaming at him to get out of town. Fast.

  “All right,” he said. “Get your stuff together. We’re leaving.”

  She picked up the bundle holding her jeans and top. “This is all the stuff I have. Remember?” Unfastening the flap on one of the roomy saddlebags lying on the bed, she stuffed the clothing inside.

  Trey took a minute to examine the contents of both bags and then buckled them shut. “Good work,” he said. “We’ll fill the canteens at the first clean water we come to. You carry them. And don’t let them knock together!” He slung the saddlebags over his left shoulder. “Stay behind me,” he warned, “and keep quiet.”

  She nodded, then followed him out the door into the hallway. She frowned when he turned right, instead of left toward the stairs. “Where are we going?” she called softly.

  “Out the back way.”

  He stopped at the back door, opened it a few inches. The sun was down now, and dusk had settled in. He stood stock still, all his senses alert, then beckoned for her to follow.

  She tiptoed down the outside staircase behind him, his unease communicating itself to her. The whisper of her Nike's soles seemed loud; she wondered how he could move so silently in those clunky boots. She glanced nervously from side to side. Every shadow seemed fraught with menace. Who was out there that had spooked him so?

  Bypassing the main street, they made their way down an alley toward the livery. Trey rapped on the rear entrance.

  A moment later, a brawny man wearing overalls opened the door. “Whaddya want?” he asked gruffly.

  “I need to buy a horse.”

  “Come back tomorrow.”

  “I need it tonight, Abe. And a saddle and bridle, too.”

  The man regarded Trey for a moment, then nodded. “Come on in.” He stood away from the door so they could enter the barn. “I got a pretty little gelding for sale. He’s ten years old. Sound as a dollar. I’ll let you have him for, oh, say, sixty dollars. Throw in the tack for another fifty.”

  Trey narrowed his eyes. “Must be a good horse. And a mighty fine saddle.”

  The other man spat a stream of tobacco juice. “Them’s my night-time prices, Trey.”

  “Done,” Trey said. “Saddle the gelding for me, will ya?”

  “Sure. As soon as you pay for it.”

  “You've made your sale,” Trey said flatly. “Saddle the horse.”

  Abe lowered his gaze. “Sure, sure.”

  Trey pulled his winnings out of his pocket, counted out a hundred and ten dollars while the man went to get the horse.

  When Abe led the bay gelding out of its stall, Trey exchanged the money for the reins, and turned them over to Amanda. She noticed the horse had one white sock, and a narrow blaze from its forehead to its nose. So now she had a horse, just as she been thinking about—but hardly the way she had planned! She rubbed its muzzle distractedly.

  “I'll get ‘Pago,” Trey said. He found his gear in the tack room. He saddled and bridled the stallion, secured the saddlebags behind the cantle, quickly and efficiently.

  “Mount up, Miss,” Abe said. “I’ll adjust them stirrups for you.”

  Amanda draped the canteens over the saddle horn, then put her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself into the saddle, no easy task in a skirt and petticoat. She would have liked to change into her jeans and shirt, but Trey had been in such a hurry, she hadn’t suggested it. Leaning forward, she patted the gelding’s neck. “Does he have a name?”

  Abe shrugged as he deftly adjusted the stirrups for her. “If he does, he never told me.” He handed her the reins. “Them’s mighty funny-looking riding shoes,” he said. “Be careful you don’t let your foot slip through the stirrup.”

  Trey swung into the saddle. “You ready?”

  “I guess so.”

  “You do know how to ride, don’t you?”

  “I’ve ridden.” She didn’t tell him it had been years ago.

  “Good.”

  Trey pulled twenty dollars out of his pocket and handed it to Abe.

  “What’s that for?” the livery man asked, looking surprised.

  “If anyone asks, we were never here.”

  Abe nodded. “Right.”

  “This is serious business, Abe,” Trey said. “Anyone picks up our trail tonight, I won’t take it kindly.”

  Abe pocketed the money. “Don't worry.” He led the way to the big double doors, and slid one back just enough for the two of them to leave single-file. Before he rode through, Trey looked back at Amanda.

  “Stay close,” he said. “If there’s any shooting, you take off running, you hear? Don’t wait for me. Don’t look back. Just ride like hell. I’ll catch up when I can.”

  She nodded, her heart pounding as she followed him out into the deepening night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Amanda braced her Nikes carefully in the stirrups and stood in the saddle, stretching her cramped legs and arching her back, rotating her shoulders. Didn’t Trey ever get tired? They had been riding for what seemed like forever. It was eerie, moving through the darkness, with
only the muffled sound of hoofbeats and the occasional chirp of a cricket to break the quiet of the night. Back home, she had never noticed just how dark dark really was. The cloud cover made it darker. Even she could smell the rain Trey had told her was coming.

  Trey rode ahead of her. He was nervous and on edge, and because of that, so was she. She saw danger lurking in every passing shadow, hiding behind every shrub that rose up out of the darkness. Every time her horse twitched its ears, her hand tightened on the reins, and soon her nervousness had transmitted itself to her horse.

  She kept her gaze fixed on the stallion. Relámpago was easy to follow. His coat shimmered like new-fallen snow even beneath the cloud cover. A ghost horse, she mused, that was what the stallion looked like. A ghost horse with a very special gift? Perhaps the ability to get her home again?

  Home—the very word made her ache with longing. She wondered where Trey was headed, where he considered a safe haven. Her apprehension grew with each passing mile. It seemed they were getting farther from that spot in the desert where they had arrived in this time period. Was there some sort of key, some kind of time portal or gate, there? She had never been a fan of science fiction, considering it all too improbable to enjoy. But if there was a place, one particular spot that was somehow the link between his time and hers, then they needed to go there.

  But what if the link wasn’t a place at all? What if the link was the stallion?

  She frowned thoughtfully, remembering how Relámpago had mysteriously arrived in her corral, with no hoof prints leading in from the desert. He had arrived in her front yard with his injured rider the same way. Out of the blue, so to speak, with no tracks to indicate from which direction he had come. Though she hadn't discussed it with Trey, she was pretty sure he hadn’t been sitting in one spot between the stallion’s visits. So perhaps the horse could take her home from just about anywhere.

  If so, she was going to stay close to that white rump if it killed her!

  With thoughts of returning home filling her mind, she was caught off guard when her horse stumbled. She grabbed the pommel, and jammed her feet hard into the stirrups. The non-skid soles of her athletic shoes gripped securely.

  “Easy,” she murmured, leaning forward to pat the gelding’s neck. Clucking to the horse, she rode up beside Trey. “I want to go back home,” she said. “Now.”

  “Are you crazy? We’re busy right now, just trying to stay alive.”

  “I understand that, and I want to get out of this crazy time of yours just as fast as I can. I want to go home, and I need Relámpago to take me.”

  “So you figured that out, did you?” He patted the stallion’s arched neck. “He’s the key to it all. I can’t say as I understand it, but it’s the only answer that makes any sense.”

  “I see that now. Can’t you make him do it?”

  “Sweetheart, I didn’t even know he could do it. My grandfather always said ‘Pago would carry me out of danger, and he has, on more than one occasions, but never anything like that before. It was…” He shook his head.

  “Unbelievable,” she supplied.

  “Yeah. Even though he’s done it twice now, I can’t credit my own senses anymore.”

  “I want to go home!” she said, her voice raising.

  He shushed her. “Voices really carry on this still air,” he said quietly. “There’s a man back there who’s looking to collect a reward on my hide. Maybe a lot of men. Have you forgotten that?”

  “I'm sorry— I…I’m not used to this.”

  “I hope you never do get used to it, sweetheart.”

  She brightened. “But…but Relámpago took you away from the posse before, right? And brought you to me?”

  “He did that,” Trey admitted. “And he brought us back here to get us away from those hard cases looking for your boyfriend. What if those three had friends, or more relatives? What if they’re camped out at your place, waiting for us? Somehow I don't think ’Pago will take us back there if they are.”

  She wanted to argue with him, assert that those men would be long gone. But how could she? There was no way to know for sure. She might not be happy here, but for now she appeared to be stuck, unless…

  “What if we get chased again?” she said. “Would he take us back then?”

  “The only way to find that out is to let whoever’s after me catch us,” Trey said. “You willing to risk it? I’m not! Langley might shoot straighter this time. And you might find yourself in the way of a bullet.”

  There wasn't anything she could say to that. They rode silently for a while before she asked him where they were going.

  “Diablo Springs.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Not far from Tucson.”

  “What’s in Diablo Springs?”

  “Not much, but it’s a good place to hole up for awhile.”

  “Is it very far?”

  “Three, four days from here.”

  Four days on horseback. She closed her eyes, thinking of her Jag parked in the garage. If it was still there. If those creeps hadn't stolen it or driven it off a cliff out of spite. She opened her eyes as a new thought came to her. Four days on the trail, and probably not a rest stop the whole way. “Where are we going to spend the night?”

  “This is as good a place as any,” he said, and reined the stallion to a halt.

  “Here?” She glanced around.

  “Yep.” Trey dismounted and dropped the stud’s reins.

  Amanda stared at him as he walked toward her. “Here?” she asked again.

  He lifted her from the back of the gelding. “You wanted to come.”

  Reaching under the horse’s belly, he loosened the cinch and lifted the saddle. Holding it up with one hand, he rubbed the horse’s back, back and forth, with the saddle blanket, then smoothed the blanket back into place and resettled the saddle without tightening the girth.

  “Not a good idea to off-saddle, in case we have to leave here quick,” he explained as he performed the same chores on the stallion.

  He tied the gelding’s reins to a low-growing bush, close enough to the ground so the horse could crop the grass. He left the stallion free.

  “What about Relámpago?” Amanda asked. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll wander off?”

  Trey shook his head.

  She looked around. “Where are we going to sleep?”

  “Right here.”

  Amanda watched as he kicked the hardpan loose in several places with his boot heels, then took his big knife and hacked off several hands full of branches from the surrounding brush.

  “You can use your bundle for a pillow,” he said.

  “What about you?”

  She could barely see his grin in the darkness. “I got me these fancy new saddlebags. Not as soft as your bundle, but I’ve had lots worse for a pillow. Best turn in. We’ll be moving out at sunrise.”

  She couldn’t believe he meant to sleep out here, in the back end of beyond. But he did. Sitting down on one side of the springy brush pile, he tipped his hat over his eyes and rested his head on the saddlebags.

  Amanda realized he’d prepared only one brush pile, and it wasn’t nearly as wide as her queen size bed back home. She lowered herself carefully on the other side, as far away from him as she could get. The brush tickled her through the gingham, and released pungent odors. There was no way she could sleep like this. She wanted to wash the dust out of her hair. She wanted to brush her teeth. She wanted to go home.

  With a sigh of despair, she lay down, her head pillowed on her bundled jeans and shirt and stretched out on the crackling brush. Carefully, she tucked her feet under her skirt, and steadfastly tried not to think of creepy crawly things that might call the desert home.

  It was going to be a long night.

  She dreamed of horses running wild across a vast sunlit prairie, of a tall man with copper-hued skin and long black hair astride a white stallion. At first, she thought the man was Trey, but as he rode closer, she realized it wasn�
�t Trey, though the resemblance was striking. The man wore only a breechclout and moccasins. Two eagle feathers were tied in his waist-length black hair; jagged streaks of black paint adorned both cheeks.

  He rode toward her at a gallop, his black eyes fierce, the lance in his hand held high overhead. Too frightened to move, she stood there while he thundered toward her. A shrill cry rose on the warrior’s lips as he closed the distance between them. He was going to run her down…

  She woke with a start, her heart pounding.

  Relámpago grazed nearby. The stallion lifted its head and whinnied softly.

  With some effort, she managed to gain her feet. Every muscle in her body seemed to be complaining. Her teeth felt furry.

  She went to stand beside the horse. “I dreamed about you last night,” she said, stroking the stallion’s neck. “Did you know that?”

  The stallion tossed its head.

  “How about me?” Trey asked, coming up silently behind her. “Did you dream about me, too?”

  “No.”

  “Damn the luck,” he muttered with a wry grin. “Here.” He offered her a cup of coffee.

  She sipped the hot, bitter brew. When she was finished, she dug her hairbrush out of a saddlebag and brushed out her hair, then pinned it back, out of her face.

  By the time she felt halfway presentable, Trey had put out the fire, scattered the ashes, and packed up the coffee pot and cup. “It’s time we were moving on.”

  “I’m hungry. I ache in places I didn't even know I had, and I’m starving.”

  “There’s a town a few miles ahead. We’ll get some grub there.”

  “Why didn’t we go there last night? We could have gotten a room somewhere.”

  He didn’t bother to answer her, just busied himself tightening the cinches. She stared at him in exasperation. Impossible man, she thought, making her sleep on the ground when there was a town ahead. As she watched, he broke up the brush bedding, scattering it among the undergrowth.