by Erin Johnson
Joe chuckled. “I tossed and turned most of the night too.” He glanced over his shoulder with a warm gaze. “Thinking of you.”
So she wasn’t the only one. “Me too,” Grace admitted, her memory of Joe’s heartbeat close to hers and his lips on hers still crowding her mind. She was so lost in thought, she didn’t realize Joe was still staring at her. Her face grew even hotter.
“So,” he said softly, “I spent the night with you in my dreams. Where did you spend yours?”
Grace cleared her throat. “Joe, we need to pay attention to the trail . . .”
Joe looked embarrassed. “You’re right. That’s what you do to me, Grace. You make me forget everything else,” he said with a smile.
She swallowed. No one had ever made her feel this special before, and in a way that’s what made Joe so dangerous. Being around him made her forget too — and if she stayed at the camp too long, she might give up her mission completely. Only the thought of avenging Abby, who never had a chance to grow up, kept her going. And young Emily, who would get that chance, as long as Grace kept her safe until she and Caroline got on that train. But what of the other young girls and their families whom the gang might kill? The only way to protect them was to see every member of the Guiltless Gang behind bars.
Bullet stopped abruptly, and she looked up to see that Joe had reined in Paint. “What is it?”
Joe pointed to some broken branches to the right. A narrow trail snaked through the trees at a steep angle. “Think they went that way?”
Tree branches drooped so low and tangled overhead, Sequoyah and Dahana would have had to get off and lead the horses.
Joe dismounted. “Why don’t you wait here a second? I’ll check out the trail to see if they left any clues.” He handed Grace Paint’s reins. “Be right back.”
Grace wanted to go with him, to use her own tracking skills, but it was probably best he went alone. Her mind was churning with so many conflicting feelings, she wasn’t sure she could concentrate. She smiled a little, remembering Joe’s response back in the saloon when she told him he was a distraction — his fingertips running up the back of her hand . . . She sighed, exasperated at herself. It seemed she couldn’t even keep her mind on simple tasks when he was around. She was sure she’d made the right choice when she rode away alone from the Ndeh village, but just thinking about it made Grace’s heart ache. The more time she spent around Joe, the harder it was to go on without him. Maybe what she had to do was focus on how she could stick to her task and keep him in her life. They’d just have to set up some limits, some ground rules, like they had discussed the night before . . .
Joe thrashed back up the hill toward her, breaking her thoughts. “I’m not sure, but it looks as if someone leading horses went this way recently.”
“Then let’s follow that trail.” Grace slid off Bullet and handed Paint’s reins to Joe. This time she took the lead. Looking for clues would keep her mind from straying to thoughts of Joe, and the trail was too narrow to walk beside each other, so Grace forced herself to forget his presence and watch for signs of Sequoyah and Dahana.
They walked for a good few hours on the windy, twisty, narrow trail, but the only clues they’d seen were some recent horse droppings, and they had no way to tell for certain if they were from Sequoyah’s and Dahana’s horses. Branches scratched Grace’s face, and the sun blazed hot, causing sweat to trickle down her neck despite the protection of her hat’s brim.
Joe stopped a moment to wipe his face. “We need water and so do the horses. Let’s take a break,” he said, motioning to a nearby rock.
Grace sank onto the rock beside him, but then wriggled away so they weren’t touching.
“Afraid of me?” Joe asked with a half-smile.
“We need to concentrate on finding Sequoyah,” Grace said firmly. If she let herself get drawn in, she’d find herself in Joe’s arms in no time.
He grinned more widely. “So you plan to stay a safe distance from me?” He paused. “It might be wise. Especially if you knew all the thoughts running through my head . . .”
Grace swallowed and shuffled even farther away. Joe chuckled.
“Relax. I won’t try to take advantage of you.” He sobered. “I’m as worried about finding Sequoyah and Dahana as you are. I can’t believe they’d run off like this. If they’ve eloped, there’s no hope her father will forgive her. They won’t be welcome with their people anymore.”
Grace ached inside for her friend. “Why would she do this? She knows the consequences.”
“People do strange things for love.”
Joe’s wistful tone touched Grace’s heart. She understood how love could make you lose all track of time, all sense of purpose, all connection with the outside world. It blocked everything but thoughts of the other person. But to sacrifice their whole future?
Grace sympathized with Sequoyah, though — marrying Tarak would turn her stomach too. She couldn’t forget the way he’d mocked her and Joe, and his rage when Joe taught her the Ndeh ways. The ugliness in his eyes, the cruel barbs and taunts he’d thrown at her? No, Sequoyah was right to avoid living with such a man.
Grace turned to Joe. “She turned Tarak down publicly. Why didn’t she tell Cheis then how she felt about Dahana? Her father is a fair man.”
She thought about how Cheis had forgiven her, Grace, for breaking a taboo when she’d killed that javelina and dragged it back to camp. Even now she cringed when she remembered the shock on everyone’s faces, and the horror in Joe’s eyes as he hurried her away to explain that to kill and eat certain animals was forbidden for the Ndeh; her triumph had quickly turned to shame. She’d wanted to run away and hide, but Cheis had understood her brave intentions. He presented her with the quiver and arrows she kept slung over her shoulders to this day. He’d made the gift into an offering of forgiveness and shown her through his deeds that it was better to forgive and love another. Surely he would be as generous with his own daughter?
“Joe?” Grace looked over to find him staring at her with a look that made her insides feel fluttery. “Cheis will forgive Sequoyah, won’t he? Remember the javelina? He forgave me after I’d done something forbidden.”
Joe looked grave. “This is different. You were an outsider and didn’t know their traditions. Sequoyah’s a chief’s daughter. Her actions will shame him. People will no longer look to him as a leader if he cannot control his own family.”
“That’s so sad,” Grace burst out. “What about Sequoyah? She loves Dahana. It seems so unfair. And how will they live if they’re cast out of the camp?”
“That’s what worries me most,” Joe replied. “With the soldiers on the lookout for renegades, two Ndeh alone will be an easy target. And if Sequoyah makes the foolish mistake of going into town again for supplies, she’ll be risking her life.”
“Do you really think it was her?” Grace had a hard time picturing Sequoyah doing anything that reckless.
“Where else would they get the supplies to elope?”
He was right. As much as she wanted to think of Sequoyah as sensible, running off to marry was impetuous and dangerous. Her fear for her friends grew, settling uneasily in her stomach.
Joe stood and dusted himself off. “We’d better get going. No telling how much of a head start they had, or even if this is the trail they followed.”
Grace jumped to her feet. “We can’t let them make a mistake that they can never undo.” She snatched Bullet’s reins and pressed on, ignoring the fierce midday sun.
When the trail moved steeply downhill again, Joe insisted on going first. Heavy sticks in hand to prevent falling and as a defense against snakes, they descended through the undergrowth, following tiny signs of broken branches, light hoofprints, and occasional horse manure. They emerged from the trees into a rocky area of boulders and sparse vegetation. High mounds of hoodoos rose on both sides — tall, thin spires of m
ulti-colored rock throwing tiny patches of shade across the path. Granite outcroppings blocked their view of the canyon below, but they could ride the horses again, side by side. They mounted and, watching for gravel slides and teetering boulders, picked their way along the ridge on a trail that wound up and down the steep inclines.
By now the sun was almost directly overhead. It scorched them, and sweat poured from Grace’s brow. When they reached a flat grassy area, she reined Bullet to a halt.
“We have to give the horses another quick rest,” she said. After dismounting, they watered the horses and Grace let Bullet nibble some grass. Around them upright spikes of blooming agave and creosote bushes heavy with yellow flowers dotted the landscape. Some of the agave stalks towered overhead, heavy with greenish-yellow flower clusters. If she had more time, she would have harvested some of these plants for Cheveyo, the Ndeh shaman. Before she’d left the camp on her mission, Cheveyo had been teaching her and Sequoyah to make herbal remedies. Maybe someday soon she and Sequoyah could come back and gather these — but first she and Joe had to find her. Joe set Paint free and flopped onto the hard ground between two gigantic boulders, and Grace slumped down beside him. She slid lower until the large mass of stone in front of her blocked the sun and shaded her face, fanning herself with her hat and glancing back up at the trail they’d traversed. By now the Ndeh would be busy with their usual daily tasks, and Sequoyah and Dahana’s absence would be obvious. She turned to Joe.
“Everyone must know Sequoyah’s gone. Some people may think Dahana went out hunting alone but most will guess the truth.”
“They will,” Joe said. “Dahana prefers to hunt with groups. They’d think it odd that he went out alone.”
“We’re probably too late to save their reputations . . .”
Joe nodded. “I thought we’d have caught up with them by now, but if they left soon after you fell asleep we may not find them at all. They could be hours ahead of us.”
“We don’t even know for sure they came this way,” Grace said dejectedly, sipping her water slowly and then stashing the pouch in her saddlebag. She stretched her aching muscles. Traveling this rough terrain was hard on them and on the horses, but if they had any chance of catching Sequoyah they needed to keep moving. “I hope we’re not following someone else’s tracks.”
“Most likely it’s them. No one else would take such a circuitous route when they could travel the normal path down the trail. If we just knew where they were headed, we could cut hours from this trip.”
When Joe whistled for Paint, Bullet pricked up his ears, trotting after his fellow horse and standing patiently while Grace remounted. She patted her palomino’s neck. “You’ve been so good, Bullet. I know this isn’t easy.”
“And so have you.” Joe smiled innocently at Grace. “This is rough terrain, but you’ve managed to keep up.”
“Oh, you . . . you . . .” Grace shook a fist at Joe playfully. “I grew up on horseback, I’ll have you know.”
Joe thrust out his lower lip as if his feelings were hurt. “I was hoping you’d mention again what a wonderful teacher you had. You know, the one who taught you to track like this?”
Grace wrinkled her nose. “Oh, him.” She waved her hand airily. “I only pretended to need help so I could spend time with him.”
“Oh, really? You found me that irresistible?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“What would you say?”
Good question. Originally, all she’d wanted was training so she could get revenge on her family’s killers, but she had to admit spending time alone with Joe had soon become equally compelling.
He turned mock-sad eyes at her. “If it’s taking you this long, maybe I don’t want to hear the answer . . .”
Grace moved Bullet close enough to Paint that she could teasingly swat Joe’s arm. “You know how I feel about you.”
“But it never hurts to hear it.” Joe’s gaze turned from teasing to soft and serious. “And you know how I feel about you.”
Grace’s heart thumped so hard she was sure Joe could hear it over the horse’s hooves. She clucked to Bullet and pulled ahead to break eye contact. At first, all those months ago, she admired him from afar but convinced herself that the tingling his touch evoked was only because she wasn’t used to being around men. But now those feelings had grown into an overwhelming desire that threatened to engulf her.
By mid-afternoon the skies had grown cloudy. Lightning flashed across the sky, and booms followed soon after, and they knew heat lightning could soon turn into a sudden deluge. Afternoon thunderstorms were common this time of year, and water often gushed down the mountains, overflowing the arroyos. If that happened now, the water would wash out the trail they were following. Grace’s heart sank.
Joe cast a wary glance overhead. “We need to find shelter.” He pointed to a ledge below with a rocky outcropping above it. “Head for that overhang,” he said, riding past Grace. “I’ll look for a safe place for us to wait out the storm.”
Grace struggled to control Bullet, who shied at each crash of thunder. She urged him after Paint. A short while later, Joe waved to her from under the outcropping.
“Over here! There’s a small cave we can both fit inside.”
Bullet twitched with another explosion of thunder, his body tensed, and he grew skittish. Grace headed Bullet anxiously toward the spot where Joe was waiting, but a sudden flash was followed by a boom so close she jumped. Another flash lit the trail right in front of her, and she cried out in surprise as up above them, a huge oak split in two. Half of it crashed down in front of her, blocking her path, and Bullet neighed and shied away, dancing backward. To her horror, the falling tree set off an avalanche. Boulders tumbled down the hill, gravel rained down around her. Bullet reared and twisted out of the way as a boulder plunged toward them.
“Grace!”
Joe’s scream came to her over the rising winds and the rumbles of thunder. Again and again he called her name, but he couldn’t see anything past the tree. Grace’s throat had closed in fear — when she tried to reply, her answer was so raspy it was lost in the wind. She was shaking so hard she could hardly hold the reins. If Bullet hadn’t been so wary, they both would have been crushed.
She tamped down her nerves and struggled to answer Joe’s frantic cries. “I’m fine,” she yelled, but her words were drowned in a blast of thunder that echoed through the nearby canyon. The tree blocked the only access to the ledge where Joe had taken shelter. The pile of boulders cut off her descent down the mountain. She and Bullet were trapped.
And overhead, a rock teetered precariously.
CHAPTER 17
A jolt of lightning lit the nearby sky, and thunder shook the ground under Grace’s feet. The rock overhead wobbled dangerously. Keeping an eye on it, she eased Bullet backward slowly and up the trail out of harm’s way, but the lightning presented an even graver threat.
Pa had taught her to stay low during the rare lightning storms in the desert and to seek shelter immediately. Talking calmly to Bullet, Grace slid off the horse’s back. She could crouch, but Bullet needed to be protected. Frantically, she searched for refuge. Trees and boulders were too hazardous, but staying in the open was even more dangerous. If only she could get to Joe.
She stood, pressing against Bullet’s quivering side and stroking his neck, talking soothingly to him. She kept a tight grip on the reins, hoping to keep him from bolting. Joe’s cries had become desperate, but they sounded closer. If only she could see past the tree and rocks, she could signal to him that they were safe.
“Joe,” she screamed, “we’re fine. Stay safe.”
Lightning crackled so close that the hairs on the back of Grace’s neck lifted. Her face and palms tingled, and Bullet trembled. The thunderclap that followed deafened her. When she could hear again, a sound of thrashing in the nearby fallen tree made her heart race. Had
an animal been trapped? By the sound of it, it was huge. Grace shivered and stepped back. Mountain lions ranged through this area. They usually hunted at night, although they often could be spotted at dusk or dawn. But if the falling tree or boulders had disturbed one’s den . . .
Bullet tossed his head and widened his nostrils. He’d saved her from a bear attack once, but almost lost his life in the process. She couldn’t let that happen again. Grace whipped out her gun.
Keeping her eye trained on the movement of the lower branches, she aimed. Tawny color rippled in the greenery, edging closer. Its movements were too uneven, too frantic for her to get a clear shot. She hated to kill it, but she didn’t trust an enraged mountain lion or any wild animal not to pounce, especially if its home had been destroyed. With a loud crack, the branches broke and something shot into the clearing. Grace’s scream died in her throat as the blur turned into Joe, his hair tousled, his face scratched and bleeding. Hands shaking, she lowered the gun. She’d almost shot him. Tremors coursed through her at the thought, and she could barely slide the gun back in its holster.
“Grace!” Joe shouted. He raced toward her, caught her in his arms, and whirled her around. “You’re safe. You’re safe.” He stepped back to look at her. “I thought the tree crushed you. I thought you were —” His voice was as shaky as her body. “When I didn’t hear you answer . . .” He shuddered.
Lightning flashed directly overhead. Joe tackled her, throwing his body over hers. When the thunder echoed from the sky, he jumped to his feet and held out his hand. “We have to get to safety.” He dragged her toward the tree. “You can crawl through the opening I made.”
“I can’t leave Bullet.”
“Grace, it’s you I care about.” Joe glanced around. “I don’t see any way to get him through.”
“I won’t go without him,” she said, stubbornly planting her feet.
Joe motioned toward the tree. “Fine, you head toward Paint. I’ll stay with Bullet.”
