Desert Sunrise

by Raine Cantrell

  By the time he paid for it and turned around, the murmur of voices had dropped, then lifted, as men looked away from his sweeping gaze and went back to their card games.

  Delaney headed for the lone table in the far corner, the only empty one set deep in the shadows cast by the lanterns hanging overhead from the tent poles. He had no desire to draw attention to himself. There was serious thinking to be done.

  No matter how he tried to direct his thoughts, possessing the journal to clear his father’s name and killing Brodie were all he could think about. And Faith.

  The whiskey was raw belly-wash, made and bottled the same day, but he downed his first glass quickly, trying to block the image of Faith from his mind. She wouldn’t leave him. He couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that he was somehow defiling her and her bright hope of love with all the filth that trapped him from the past.

  When the bottle was half-empty, Delaney admitted to himself that the power Faith wielded was stronger than his will. He would reclaim the journal by whatever means he had to use and be rid of Brodie, for that was a debt of honor he could not forget, but he swore that Brodie would not die an easy death.

  He had set himself a hard road to ride, the only one he could. His decision made, he rose and started to walk out.

  “You leavin’ the bottle, mister?” a man called out.

  “Paid for, take it,” Delaney answered without turning, only to be stopped as he neared the open flap of the tent.

  “Sit in for a game?”

  Delaney glanced at the pale long-fingered hands fanning a deck of cards across the wood tabletop. He sized the man up as a tinhorn and shook his head. “You can’t match the stakes I’m playing for.”

  “Name it. I’ve had a good night,” he answered, indicating the pile of poke bags that would lure some fool into losing his hard-earned silver.

  Before he could stop him, Delaney’s hand covered the spread of cards. The gambler swallowed when he realized how intently this stranger was staring at the backs of his deck. A quick look around showed that whatever this man had in mind, no one would see, for his back blocked the table from view. His fears were realized when four cards were pulled from those spread on the table.

  One by one Delaney flipped over the cards. “Aces and eights.”

  The gambler started to sweat. The cards, a pair of aces and a pair of eights, were the dead man’s hand since Jack McCall shot Wild Bill Hickok through the back of the head during a poker game three years ago.

  “Listen up, stranger, I’ve given you no call—”

  “No. You haven’t. I’m just showing you what stakes I’m playing for, mister.”

  He didn’t watch the man leave, but the tinhorn quickly gathered his cards and winnings. He’d call it a night. But he couldn’t help looking at the deck, wondering how in the hell the man had spotted his markings. They were the best; he’d paid John Bull, the best of the knaves, a small fortune for them.

  Harper Poe could not leave without knowing who the man was that spotted his marked cards. He asked the barkeep first if the stranger had been a “king,” the best of the best, gamblers like Dick Clark, Doc Holliday, and Luke Short. No one knew. No one cared. Poe did. He lit out for Globe that very night.

  Delaney rode in the opposite direction, camping near a dry wash, waiting for morning.

  Brodie would be warned by Ross, Delaney figured, but that couldn’t be helped. He wasn’t going to wait any longer.

  And he knew he would have to face Elise again. But she no longer had the power to hurt him. No one but Faith had that.

  Before the last morning star had faded from the sky, Delaney was awakened by Seanilzay.

  They talked of what happened with the major as coffee brewed. Seanilzay set aside a small bit of the cooling ash, and they drank their coffee in silence.

  “In the days when I first knew I had the Power, I was afraid to use it. In your mind the path is set that you must take, Del-a-ney. You think you know your enemy.”

  Delaney lowered the cup from his lips and stared at the Apache. Tension began to tighten his body, and he knew what he would be asked to do.

  Seanilzay nodded. “Yes. You know.” He scooped up a bit of the cooled ash and held it out to Delaney in the palm of his hand.

  There was only so far a man could run before he had to stop and face what he ran from, and what he was. Delaney set the cup aside and with one finger made a cross of ashes on his left hand. Holding it up to the morning star, he waited for the sign of where his enemy was. Such a simple act, he thought, gazing upward, praying silently to have his need answered.

  “Look to the north, Del-a-ney. See where your enemy hides.”

  And Delaney looked to the north to where a flash of lightning appeared in the sky. “I have done as you asked. The way north is where Brodie’s ranch is, no surprise, just confirmation of my enemy.”

  “Brodie alone is not your enemy, Del-a-ney. The woman is more deadly than the sting of the scorpion. The days you were gone from here, I watched as you asked that all was well with the family of Woman with Eyes of Sky. They had no need of me. I followed Ross. He rode north to see the woman of Brodie. This Elise is faithless. She has no honor for her husband.”

  “Elise and Ross—lovers?”

  “She, too, is your enemy. It is she who has the journal.”

  “So that’s how Ross got hold of a page. I thought he was involved with Brodie’s hunt for gold. It made sense to think the major was greedy and wanted the Apache gone from these lands so they could claim them.”

  “Yes. Yes,” Seanilzay repeated, nodding. “Now you begin to see. This Elise wants Ross to kill Brodie. Only this did I hear.”

  “And the journal? She still has it?”

  “Ross wanted her to burn it. I do not believe she would do this. When you asked me why I did not speak of all this, I could not tell you. I was not ready to see the end of my days. Elise cursed me and said that I would die if I told what I knew.”

  “What are you saying, Seanilzay? Elise couldn’t hurt you.”

  “She was there the day your mother went from us. She stole the book before Brodie came. I was there to bring venison to your mother and saw Elise run from the cabin. It was easy to follow her. When I saw that she held your father’s book, I asked why she stole from your home. She said that Brodie would come there for the book. She took it to keep it safe for you. I said I would bring this journal to you, and she refused. Elise said I would be named the thief. She was going to tell the pindahs that I stole from your home.”

  “Elise knew that Brodie was going to kill my mother?” Delaney shuddered. His mother had loved Elise, and no matter how Elise betrayed him, he didn’t want to believe she did nothing to prevent his mother’s death.

  “I do not know if Elise knew what Brodie planned.”

  “Why did you wait until now to tell me all this?”

  “You loved this woman. You claimed her as your own before Brodie came. All knew of this. Your father and mother were not of our blood, but we cared for them as one of us. We saw the boy grow to a man who followed the peace of our ways even as he learned those of a warrior. Your heart was as true as any Apache.”

  Seanilzay met the piercing intensity of Delaney’s gaze and with a saddened voice continued. “What peace would I bring to one such as you if I spoke these words when your grief was new and wild? You would have sought your enemies’ deaths then as you must do now, this is true. But the Power you hold would have died and been no more. All that makes you the man that you are would not have come to pass. The loss, ah, Del-a-ney, the loss would have been great to all. Fear for my own life, worthless as it has become, held me silent as well. On this woman Elise’s word the pindahs would have killed me if she told her lies.”

  Delaney knew this was the truth. Elise had only to hint that Seanilzay was near the cabin the day his mother died, and they would have hunted and killed him. Elise. Lies. And a deeper betrayal. A tense silence re
mained between them until Delaney could stop remembering, could still the raging grief inside him.

  When he rose to saddle Mirage, Seanilzay asked, “Will you let me come with you?”

  “No. I go alone.”

  “We should sing to make you strong before you face your enemies, Del-a-ney.”

  “You sing for me, my friend, there is no time left, for this has waited too long.”

  Seanilzay watched him ride away. He, too, rode off, but toward the southwest, where he could send smoke safely. He would not let Delaney ride alone against his enemies. The Netdahee would come.

  His Power would will it so.

  Brodie’s ranch lay out in open country, but the small adobe house that Delaney remembered was now a sprawling mass of buildings. Cottonwoods grew close to offer shade to the Spanish tile roofs, and a low wall surrounded the house, with a wooden gate the only entrance. From the high vantage point that Delaney had, he looked down into the empty courtyard. The squeak of the windlass came from somewhere behind the house, telling him that someone was drawing water from the well.

  His gaze was drawn toward the two-story tower that stood cornered to the house. The wide arches were open on four sides and revealed that no one manned it. Brodie must be very secure, he thought. A few workers tended the fields where water from several streams ran into irrigation ditches. Delaney could barely make out the scattered herd of cattle far off in the distance.

  Leaving Mirage tethered, he made his way down to the wall, keeping low until he reached the side where the trees were the thickest. Climbing the nearest one, he smiled to see a pair of narrow paned doors open. He waited, listening and watching, before he came down on the other side of the wall and made it inside.

  The doors leading out of the room and into the house were closed. Delaney once again listened before he eased one open. Archways graced the wide hall, and Delaney saw the main sala was across from him. The massive furniture of another showed him the dining room. Farther down the hall were closed doors, bedrooms, he assumed. He glanced into the room behind him and realized from the delicate line of the chairs and settee that he had come into the house through Elise’s sitting room.

  Would she keep the journal here? A low-voiced argument came from down the hall, forcing him to step back inside and close the door. From the Mexican dialect he heard something about the fiesta being planned for later this week.

  He set about searching the room, without any hope of finding the journal this easily, and he wasn’t disappointed not to discover it. A child’s cry and a scolding voice sent him back to the door. It was Elise’s voice he heard demanding that someone called Nita come take the boy.

  Every sense warned him that she stood beyond that closed door. He heard the patter of bare feet, the soft, liquid soothing of a young girl’s voice, the whining tone of the boy. Elise’s son. He could have been their own. Standing slightly to the side of the door, he stared at the brass handle, almost willing it to turn.

  He smiled to hear her call out that she was not to be disturbed.

  And watched the door open.

  He knew she didn’t see him standing off to the side as she swept into the room, slamming the door closed. He watched her head for the side table where a decanter and glass rested on a tray. After pouring a drink, she tossed it down as neatly as any man, then refilled the glass for another.

  He hadn’t given much thought to what he would do when he saw her again. So her name whispering from his lips was as much of a shock to him as it was to her.

  Elise spun around and didn’t move. He watched her eyes widen, and he moved to lock the door, pocketing the key before he came toward her. There was fear in the doe-brown color of her eyes.

  “No greeting, Elise? Aren’t you glad to see me? Surely you’re at least shocked? Surprised? Or maybe you were warned I was coming?”

  “I … I can’t believe you’re back, Del.”

  Soft. Sultry. Her voice washed over him, bringing with it unwanted memories. He didn’t even want to look at her. Angel’s face. Angel’s body. Host to a whore. Delaney almost smiled to see the darting, trapped-animal look of her eyes. Her breathing, which changed to a rapid pant, drew his gaze down until he took his fill of that body of hers. Such a lush, exciting body that had always been able to make him forget that beyond sex they had nothing.

  Elise had used her body to get whatever she wanted. Facing her again, Delaney suddenly realized that he had been aware of her cunning and female tricks but had kept silent for the sake of his own pride.

  “Del?” She moistened her lips with the tip of her kittenlike tongue and took a step back.

  “Afraid, Elise? Why? Did you think I’d come back to kill you?”

  “No. No, of course not. Why would you kill me? I’ve done nothing,” she declared. “It was—” She paused and with a pleading gesture reached out to him, tears trembling on the sweeping tips of her lashes, which were the color of newly minted gold. “I’ve prayed and prayed that you would come back to me, Del. I’ve needed you so much.”

  “Tired of Brodie already? Can’t understand that, Elise. He’s given you more than I ever could. Even a son. The boy is Adam’s, isn’t he?” he asked in a soft, drawled voice.

  Her eyes flashed him a furious look before she bowed her head, one finger dabbing her eyes. “I will forgive you for saying that to me. I know how much I hurt you, Del, but you loved me. I know you did. I really do understand why you’re behaving this way, so cold and distant.” When he didn’t respond, she looked at him. “I thought you came back because you heard that Adam keeps me a prisoner in this house. I want to leave here, Del. Please, please say you’ll help me.”

  “A prisoner, Elise? I didn’t see any armed guards outside. No one tried to stop me from coming into the house.” With a sweeping look that barely hid his disgust, Delaney took in the finery of her gown, the glitter of the gems on her ears, the pearls that graced the combs holding back the silky sheen of golden blond hair, and he suffered the memory of knowing what lay beneath was rotten.

  He couldn’t stand being in the same room with her another moment. She was a whore in the ugliest sense.

  “Del, you can’t forget. I won’t let you!” she cried out softly, running to him. She clasped his head with both hands and ground her mouth to his in a counterfeit act of passion.

  There was no gentleness in the way Delaney pulled her hands away and shoved her aside.

  “Bastard!” she hissed, her eyes glittering with hate, the mask finally ripped away. But she was truly afraid of him now. There was no mercy to be found in the eyes that once looked on her with desire. “Don’t hurt me, Del. I beg that of you.”

  “I’d have to touch you to hurt you, Elise. Even I haven’t the stomach to do that.” Delaney could barely stop himself from wiping the taste of her from his mouth.

  Fear seeped out of her as she realized that he meant what he said. He was not going to hurt her. “One scream from me and you’re dead,” she stated, tilting her head to the side.

  “One sound from your mouth, and I’ll slit your lying throat.”

  “But you just said—”

  “I can use a knife without having to touch you, Elise. All I want is the journal and to know why you stole it.” He saw her stiffen and wondered if being confronted with the fact that he didn’t want her, didn’t intend to punish her, had thrown off her natural cunning. He smiled, but there was no warmth in him. “From the first time I saw you, Elise, I left myself wide open for you to use me. Lust is a weapon that you use well. You used it on me, Adam, and now Ross, but I don’t care.”

  “You know about Ross?”

  “That really frightens you, doesn’t it? I know about Ross, about Adam killing my parents, but it’s you,” he said, stalking closer to her until she was forced against the wall with nowhere to turn, “that I came back for.” It would be so easy to kill her. He could smell the cloying scent of her body melding with fear that he would do just that. A f
ew seconds, that would be all he needed. The fragile bones in her neck were no match for the strength of his hands. Elise would break as easily as a slender reed.

  He raised his hands and stared down at them, looking up in the next instant to snag her gaze. “Yes,” he whispered, “I’m thinking about it.”

  “Don’t hurt me, please, Del. I’ll tell you. I swear I didn’t know what Adam planned to do that day. He wanted the journal so he couldn’t be implicated. I overheard him talking with his men. One of them had a friend who was in Yuma with your father. He’s the one who told Brodie about the journal. Your mother didn’t even know about it. I only went there to save it from Adam. I knew you would want it, but you never came to me.”

  “So you stole the book for me and threatened to blame Seanilzay?” Without touching her, Delaney leaned forward and pressed his hands against the wall on either side of her head. “No more lies, Elise,” he warned in an icy tone.

  Her body sagged against the wall. “All right. I took the journal to keep Adam from leaving me as he threatened. As long as I had it, Adam was helpless. He knew that I would make sure you would get the journal if anything happened to me and that he’d be the one brought up on charges of fixing the scales and selling sick cattle to the Indian agent.”

  “And Brodie had my father killed in prison?”

  “Yes.”

  “He set fire to the cabin and left my mother to burn to death?”

  “Yes,” she answered, her voice a bare thread of sound.

  “Where is the journal, Elise?”

  She looked up at his face, hoping to find a sign that he had softened, but there was nothing in his eyes, not even hate.

  “I buried the journal beneath the peach tree on your land.”

  Delaney spun around, stepping away from her, and heard the soft rustle of her skirt as she moved back to the table. He wanted a drink to wash away the bile from his mouth, but he couldn’t touch a thing that she owned.