by Erin Johnson
Her eyes widened with worry. “He’s my horse.”
“Grace, just go.” Joe’s voice was filled with anguish. “I’ve spent years in these mountains. I can get Bullet to safety much faster than you can.” He took her by the shoulders and pushed her toward the opening.
Grace struggled to free herself from his grip.
“You don’t have to do everything alone. Please,” Joe begged. “Let me do this for you.” He whirled her around and kissed her briefly on the lips. “Just trust me.”
They crouched beside the tree as another flash lit up the sky. The boom shook Grace’s chest and almost knocked her from her feet.
“Now, Grace. I promise to get Bullet through this.”
Much as she hated to admit it, Joe was right. She couldn’t put Bullet in more danger because of her inexperience with this terrain. She ducked low and crept through the broken branches. Her hat tumbled off to hang by its wind string around her neck. Twigs poked at her eyes, gouging her cheek, snagging hair from her braid. When she emerged on the other side, she stayed in a crouch and ran toward the ledge where Paint stood. Heart thumping, she ducked into the cave and sat near the entrance watching for Joe. If anything happened to him, she’d never forgive herself.
The cave was too low to see past the fallen tree and rockslide. She drew up her knees, wrapped her arms around them, and stared off toward the hill, willing Joe and Bullet to appear. Finally, she saw a moving speck in the distance — high up, above the fallen rocks. She followed the movement but couldn’t tell for sure if it was them. The spot picked its way across the rough terrain, at times stopping, then starting again. When they drew close enough for her to make out that it was a man and a horse, she chanted “be safe” with each step they took, and she cringed at every lightning strike. Bullet seemed to be cooperating. Joe had learned the Ndeh way of gentling horses, and even when the flashes of light made Bullet threaten to bolt — and Grace’s heart rise in her throat — he managed to keep hold of the horse. When they finally made it to the ledge, Grace wanted to jump up and hug Joe tightly, but even after all the danger, she remembered her intention to keep her hands to herself. Joe settled Bullet and then ducked into the cave, and she smiled at him.
“Thank you for taking care of him. I’m so glad you both made it safely.”
Joe gave her a tender glance. “And I’m glad you’re safe. Thank you for trusting me.”
Grace only nodded, her heart too full of gratitude to express it in words.
As the storm’s fury increased, the lightning moved uphill. Dark clouds followed, unleashing torrents of rain.
“Oh, no.” Joe sucked in a breath. “That rain water will come crashing down through the arroyos soon. I hope Sequoyah and Dahana are all right.”
Grace had been so worried about the weather, she’d forgotten her friend. “They know to take shelter. Even I learned that in the short time I was with the Ndeh.”
“I’m more concerned about whether they’re in a place where they can be protected. If they’re out of the mountains and in the desert . . .”
She swallowed. “Let’s hope they found somewhere safe.”
Joe nodded. A short while later, with a loud roar, water gushed down the mountain, cutting through the well-worn channel of an arroyo. The winding slash deep in the mountainside turned from tan, baked, and cracking ground to a tumbling, swirling black fury, sweeping away everything in its path.
CHAPTER 18
Joe slid closer to Grace and put his arm around her. In spite of herself, she laid her head on his shoulder — after everything that had happened, she welcomed his comfort. Together they watched the storm until it died out. As quickly as it had begun, the rain stopped, but water still cascaded past like white-water rapids overflowing the riverbanks.
As soon as the lightning had stopped, Joe scooted from the cave and stood looking down. “We’re not far from level ground, but the water will have washed away all traces of their tracks. I have no idea how we’ll find them from here.”
“Maybe we should think about where they might be heading. Would they go into town?”
Joe studied the mountains above them, then traced their path with his finger. “We started there, followed that ridgeline, wound back along that mountain trail, then switched directions and moved down toward the canyon.”
Their route resembled the snaky curves of a sidewinder’s body. Grace gestured behind them toward town. “So they’re not headed to Bisbee or Tombstone. What’s the nearest town in that direction?”
Joe shrugged. “I normally head toward Tombstone. I’ve never explored much in this direction, but the train heads out this way.”
“There’s sure to be a large town somewhere along here if we follow the railroad tracks.”
They picked their way carefully down through the rocky ground, avoiding the rushing water. When they got to flat ground, they searched the horizon in both directions. The road back to town appeared deserted, but in the distance, heading in the opposite direction, two riders walked their horses beside the railway tracks.
Grace squinted, but the figures were blurry. In spite of that, her spirits rose finally. “Joe, look! That must be them. Hurry!”
Joe took off at a gallop and she raced after him. As she drew closer, he urged Paint faster. Her braid streaming behind her, hat bouncing on her back, Grace passed him, letting the wind carry away all her sorrows as they flew along. She leaned into the sheer joy of riding and became one with Bullet.
They were almost upon the other couple when the woman turned. It was Sequoyah! Grace rushed toward her, calling her friend’s name. Sequoyah’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and then a troubled look crossed her face. She and Dahana stopped and turned, and Grace and Joe slowed, panting from exertion but smiling in relief. She had won that riding competition, and she let Joe know it by whooping and shaking a fist over her head.
He pretended to frown, but when their gazes met his face grew tender, and he smiled indulgently. “I let you win,” he said in a teasing voice.
Grace acted indignant. “You did not. I beat you, fair and square.”
“You never play fair, Grace Milton.” A deeper meaning lay behind those words, and he cocked his head to one side and studied her intently.
A movement from Sequoyah drew their attention. She sat astride her horse, arms crossed, an annoyed frown on her face. “What you doing here?”
“We came to take you back home.” She hoped Sequoyah would cooperate, especially after all they’d been through to find them. “Before you do something you regret.”
“Please. Don’t be foolish,” Joe begged.
“Love is not foolish.” Sequoyah motioned toward both of them, but her gaze was fixed on Grace. “You know this. You love him.” She rounded on Joe. “And you. You do this” — she mimicked a hangdog expression and downcast eyes — “when Grace go away.”
Joe looked sheepish. “I missed her, that’s true. And we both understand that you want to be together, but —”
“But it is not wise,” Grace finished. “Why not tell your father of your love? Ask if he will let you be together?”
Sequoyah’s jaw hardened and she shook her head. “He not understand. He want me to marry Tarak.” Her eyes burned with fury. “I not want that.”
“I can understand why,” Grace said quickly, but Joe gave her a warning frown.
“We belong together.” Sequoyah gestured to her own heart and then to Dahana’s.
Dahana broke in and spoke sharply and rapidly in their own language. His words flew out of his mouth so quickly that Grace could understand only a few of them. She frowned in concentration, but gave up as his voice rose and he gestured, throwing his arms out wide. Joe interrupted and spoke in slow, measured tones. The unfamiliar words sounded soothing, conciliatory.
Dahana’s angry posture relaxed a bit but the stubborn tilt of his chin rem
ained.
Joe held out a pleading hand and Grace recognized the words “please,” “father,” “love,” and “help,” but she could follow no more of the conversation. She assumed that Joe was offering to help them, and a softness came over Sequoyah’s face as he continued his plea. She looked at Dahana with a question in her eyes.
Grace waited until Joe was done speaking, then she added a plea of her own, hoping it reinforced what Joe had said. “Please come back with us. We’ll talk to your father, get him to see that you and Dahana love each other and should be together.”
Joe’s gentle smile told her she had said the right thing. Dahana’s rapid-fire response was a cross between anger and fear, and Grace wished she knew what they were saying so she could support Joe’s appeal.
She said the only thing she could. “Please?” She held out a hand to Sequoyah. The hand of friendship, understanding, and acceptance.
Sequoyah stared at the outstretched hand, then at Grace’s face and nodded ever so slightly. She turned to Dahana and said a couple more soft words, and his back stiffened. He turned away for a moment, but after Sequoyah added a few gentle words, he addressed Joe. His face was tight and his words pinged like bullets. Then Dahana turned his horse away from them a short distance, and Sequoyah followed. They bent their heads together and spoke rapidly, punctuated with many hand gestures.
Grace turned questioning eyes to Joe. “What were you saying?”
“I think I convinced them to come back. At least, Sequoyah wants to return. Dahana is reluctant. He’s more afraid of the punishment that awaits her — he doesn’t want to see her rejected by her family and by the whole band. What you said helped. I know Sequoyah trusts you.”
“So they’re discussing it?”
Joe nodded. “I think she’ll prevail. A man will do anything the woman he loves asks.”
“Oh, really,” Grace said, a glint in her eye, but genuine hope in her heart. “He’d even agree that she should chase down the Guiltless Gang?”
The look of admiration in Joe’s eyes changed to reluctance. “He wouldn’t want to see her in danger — ever — but . . .”
He didn’t get to finish the sentence because Dahana wheeled his horse and headed back toward them, his face set in a stony expression.
Sequoyah followed more slowly, teary-eyed. She gave Grace a tremulous smile. “We go back. I tell Dahana you help. He not want to but . . .”
What Joe said was true. Sequoyah looked relieved, but it was tempered by fear.
“Grace, you tell my father to let us marry? He listen to you.”
Grace’s stomach twisted. What if she couldn’t convince Cheis? Who was she to interfere in a family relationship? She didn’t even know the Ndeh customs. She looked to Joe for reassurance and his beaming smile gave her confidence. If he thought she could do it, she would. Somehow she had to find a way to make Cheis see that Sequoyah and Dahana belonged together.
They turned all their horses and set off for the village. Grace and Sequoyah took the lead, but they’d gone only a few steps when a loud roar sounded overhead.
“Watch out!” Joe screamed.
Grace wheeled Bullet in the nick of time, but Sequoyah wasn’t so lucky. Storm water plunged suddenly down the mountain, raging straight toward them.
CHAPTER 19
The force of the water knocked Sequoyah’s horse off balance, and before the pinto could regain his footing, Sequoyah tumbled into the water. The current dragged her along, tossing her as she flailed her arms and tried to stay afloat. Farther upstream the pinto swam for shore.
Grace had no time to think. Acting on instinct, she galloped past the spot where Sequoyah was floundering. She had to make it downstream to rescue her. Eyes on her friend, she failed to see the obstacle in their path. She pitched forward as Bullet launched into the air, grasping desperately onto his mane and only just managing to hang on as the horse leaped over it. Below them, a huge lumpy mound of sand covered the ground. Something glittered at the edge but Grace had no time to identify it. She checked to make sure no more obstacles blocked their path, then turned her attention back to the struggling Sequoyah.
Racing a good distance downstream, Grace dismounted and tied a rope quickly around Bullet’s saddle horn. After securing it to her waist, she waded into the fiercely swirling waters, her heart pounding desperately. The churning current almost swept her off her feet.
Behind her, Joe shouted, “Grace, don’t! You’ll get washed away.”
He and Dahana galloped toward her but she kept her eyes on Sequoyah’s bobbing head. A sudden rush of water knocked her off her feet, and she fought to get her footing, clinging to the rope as it burned her palms, storm water filling her mouth. She finally clawed her way to the surface, moving determinedly out toward Sequoyah, panic rising each time her friend’s head disappeared under the water. When Sequoyah tumbled near enough, Grace lunged.
“Hold on to the rope,” she shouted as she dragged Sequoyah toward her.
The current pummeled them, driving them farther downstream, and water smacked their faces, but Grace clutched at Sequoyah’s arm firmly. They struggled to the surface, fighting the current that tried to tear them apart, but she managed to place the rope in Sequoyah’s hands. Once she had a firm hold, Grace called out to Bullet. By then, Joe and Dahana had dismounted, and Joe eased the horse back in slow increments, towing them toward dry land.
When they reached dry ground, the two of them lay panting and gasping for breath. Grace felt her arms begin to shake with the struggle to keep hold of the rope, and her clothes were heavy with water.
“Thank you . . .” Sequoyah gasped out. “Oh, thank you. Oh, Grace. You . . . are . . . like . . . Lozen,” she managed to splutter, then she rolled onto her side and retched out more rainwater.
“Lozen,” Dahana said with a nod, squatting beside Sequoyah and patting her back.
Grace turned to Joe. “Who’s Lozen?”
His eyes shone with admiration. “She’s a great Ndeh heroine. When the Ndeh were fleeing the cavalry, they reached the banks of the Rio Grande. The men turned to fight, but Lozen wanted to protect the women and children — they had to get to the other side of the river, where they would be safe, but the river raged so hard, they were afraid. Rifle held aloft, she plunged into the waters. Her horse swam across, and when they saw she could do it, the others followed. Once she had gotten everyone to safety, she rushed back across the river to join the warriors.”
Grace smiled. “She sounds like a remarkable woman.” She could understand Lozen’s drive to protect those she loved.
Still choking, Sequoyah pushed herself up on one elbow, struggling to sit up. “We go now.”
Dahana helped her to her feet and onto her horse. He tried to insist on her riding with him, but Sequoyah refused.
“Hang on. I need to check something before we go,” Grace called over her shoulder. She headed toward the mound Bullet had jumped. It seemed so odd and out of place in the flat landscape, she had to see what it was that had sent her flying. Beneath a small group of mesquite trees, she found it. Storm waters had dislodged the handle of a shovel. The scrap of heavy canvas covering it flapped in the swirling torrent, and she lifted the edge of the soggy material. Layers of sand and dirt had been piled over the fabric to hide whatever was beneath. Using all her strength, she tugged it back to find more tools, logs, old railway ties, and several cylinders with string dangling from one end. Grace had just picked up one to examine it when Joe came over.
“Don’t touch that!” His voice rang out, sharp and alarmed.
Grace dropped it and turned. “Why?”
“It’s dynamite.”
Although she’d heard of miners using dynamite, she’d never seen any. Why would a miner bury supplies way out here, miles from the mountains? She looked up at Joe about to ask that very question when her gaze lit on the railway tracks. Almost b
reathless, she asked, “Is it for a train robbery?”
Joe squatted beside her. “Hmm . . . logs to block the tracks, dynamite to break open the safe carrying the gold. Could be.”
Grace’s heartbeat quickened. “Well, what should we do with it?”
Dahana and Sequoyah came over quickly. Sequoyah was shivering and her teeth were chattering. Grace couldn’t ask her friends to wait. Quickly, she re-covered the spot and made a mental note of where the stash was located so she could come back later. Was this connected to the Andersens asking about train tickets? If this stash belonged to the Andersen twins, they could be preparing to stage a holdup . . .
* * *
Dripping wet and bedraggled, the four of them began the trek up the mountain, this time on a well-used trail that was a direct route instead of the circuitous path they’d taken down. Without traversing the many ridges and backtracking, they reached the Ndeh camp within a couple of hours.
Cheis strode toward them, his features contorted in rage. He ignored his daughter and spoke to Joe, his words laced with anger. Again, Grace struggled to understand. Joe dismounted, crossed his arms, and shook his head. At his firm response and unyielding stance, surprise crossed Cheis’s face. Then his jaw tightened and he spat out a few words.
“What’s he saying?” Grace hissed, but Joe motioned her to silence.
Beside her, Sequoyah hung her head. “He say I shame my family.” The sorrow in her eyes made Grace’s heart ache for her.
She leaned over and whispered, “Does he understand you love Dahana?”
“Joe not say that. He listen. My father say Tarak is a good man. Good hunter.” With each word, hope leaked from Sequoyah’s face and her tone reflected her discouragement. Tears sprang to her eyes as Cheis turned and started to march away.
“Wait,” Grace cried. She had no idea what had been said, but she couldn’t watch Sequoyah’s dreams slip away or see her be alienated from her family. With no idea of proper protocol, she slid from Bullet’s back and ran after Cheis. “Please, let me talk to you.”
