Stormwalker

by Dallas Schulze

  "Sara. Let me go on ahead. There's no reason for you to see what might be there."

  She shook her head. "I've come this far. I'll go the rest of the way."

  He wanted to argue, wanted to insist that she stay behind, but he could read the determination that lay behind her terror. He released his hold on the reins and urged Dancer forward.

  If Sara had hoped that the crash might not look quite so bad close up, she was disappointed. The closer she got, the worse it looked. The snow was pristine white and undisturbed, a vivid contrast to the torn metal of the plane. They rode up to within a few yards of the plane and Cody urged the horses around the twisted tail. Cody found himself muttering ancient prayers that he'd half forgotten his grandfather teaching him. He knew from bitter experience just what they could find. Nature was efficient, but she was not always kind.

  It seemed as if his prayers were answered when they came to the other side of the plane. At least there were no bodies, no pathetically torn figures strewn in the snow.

  They both saw it at the same moment. A long, low mound in the earth, covered with rocks. Sara's breath exploded from her in a sob as the meaning of that mound sank in. A grave. That meant there had been a survivor. Two men. One dead. But which?

  She dropped the reins and swung her leg over the saddle, half falling off her horse. Her knees threatened to give way, but she ignored their trembling weakness as she stumbled over the rough ground.

  Cody cursed and swung off Dancer's back, letting the reins fall to the ground, knowing the stallion would stay where he'd been left. Sara had fallen to her knees beside the grave and was tearing at the rocks with almost maniacal strength. He called her name but she didn't hear him over the sound of her own sobbing. It wasn't until he grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at him that she seemed to even remember his existence.

  The wild look in her eyes terrified him. Looking at her was like looking into the face of a madwoman. She barely acknowledged his presence before she tried to pull away and return to her clawing attack on the rocks.

  "Sara!" He made his voice sharp, trying to penetrate the wall of hysteria that he could feel building between them.

  "I have to know. I have to know who it is. Don't you understand? I have to know!"

  Emotion lent her slender body strength, and Cody found himself fighting her every step of the way as he dragged her to her feet and forced her away from the grave. She struggled frantically, aware of him only as a barrier to her goal.

  "Sara!" He shook her roughly until her eyes snapped into focus and the hysteria receded to lurk at the edges of her gaze.

  "I have to know, Cody." The words ended on a sob, and he drew her to him, pressing her face to the cold leather of his jacket for a moment.

  "I know you do, honey. I know. But let me do it." She didn't protest as he led her over to a rock that sat in the shadow of the plane and sat her down. "Let me doit."

  He brushed his thumb across her cheeks before turning away. He began to move the rocks from the top of the grave with methodical care, stacking them next to the dirt mound. When Sara's gloved hands reached forward to take a stone from his hands, he raised his head to study her face for a long moment before releasing the granite. Fear still screamed in her eyes, but her face was tight with control.

  The two of them worked at uncovering the grave without a word. The clouds continued to hover on the shoulders of the mountains, threatening them with snow that didn't quite fall. The wind that blew across the plateau was bitterly cold, whipping the heat from their bodies.

  When the last stone had been removed and the dirt-covered mound lay open in front of them, Cody stood up, dusting the dirt from his hands. Sara stared down at the grave as if trying to penetrate the final covering, terrified of what she might see. But she didn't resist when Cody wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and pulled her away. She stumbled on the uneven ground, her eyes blind.

  "You stay here while I finish the job." She didn't argue as he went to one of the packhorses and unlashed a pack, searching its contents for the small shovel he'd brought.

  She sat on the ground because her legs didn't want to hold her anymore. She was vaguely aware of Cody's moving away and then of the sound of the shovel digging into the dirt. She wanted to shut out the sound of that digging. She wanted to shut out everything. Dog came over and sat down beside her, and the look in his yellow eyes seemed to offer sympathy. With a muffled sob, she threw her arms around his sturdy shoulders and buried her face in the thick fur at his neck. He stood firm, letting her draw what comfort she could from the solid warmth of his body.

  Sara didn't cry. The fear had gone too deep for tears. She couldn't even offer up prayers. All she could do was listen to the sound of Cody's shovel and try not to think about what he might uncover. It seemed as if days went by before she heard his soft footfall and knew that he stood next to her. She felt his hand on her head and she stopped breathing, afraid to look up, afraid to move.

  "It's not Cullen."

  The words echoed strangely in her ears. It wasn't Cullen. Cullen had survived the crash. Her shoulders began to shake and then Cody's arms were around her and she was held close to his strength.

  "It's so awful." The words were muffled against his shoulder. He said nothing, brushing his hand over the softness of her hair, absorbing the force of her sobs. "I didn't want it to be Cullen. I couldn't stand to think that it might be Cullen. It's like I wished Bill dead."

  "Hush. That's not true." His fingers tangled in her hair, drawing her face back, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You didn't wish anyone dead. What happened here happened weeks ago and it had nothing to do with you. You wouldn't be human if you didn't hope that it wasn't Cullen in that grave."

  She nodded uncertainly. With his eyes staring into hers so intently, it was impossible to do anything but agree with him. "What happened to Bill? Can you tell?"

  Cody shook his head. "He can't have lived long after the plane crash. It looks like his injuries were pretty massive. I doubt if he even regained consciousness."

  Her eyes skimmed past him to the grave site, and she blinked back tears. Bill Taylor had been a friend of Evan's, and though Sara had never known him well, he'd been a part of her life almost as long as she could remember.

  "He was a good man."

  "Then remember him that way. I'm going to cover the grave again. There's nothing we can do for him now." He glanced up at the cloudy sky. "Look, it's about time for lunch. Don't tell me you can't eat. This isn't the end of the trail for us. You've got to keep up your strength."

  Sara swallowed her protest and nodded. He was right. Cullen had survived the crash, but he wasn't here now. They still had to find him. While Cody covered the grave again, Sara heated soup over a small fire, trying not to think about what he was doing.

  They ate the soup in silence. There didn't really seem to be anything to say. After the meal, Sara was so emotionally drained that she could only sit next to the fire and stare at the flames. She had been battered back and forth between hope and despair so many times that she no longer knew which emotion dominated.

  Cody was worried about her silence, but he left her alone, letting her cope with what had happened in her own way. He climbed into the wrecked plane, hoping to find some sign of what might have happened, but the tangle of wires and dials told him nothing. With a shrug, he jumped out of the cockpit. Machinery had always defeated him. If it had four legs, chances were he could figure out what to do with it, but engines and electronics meant less than nothing.

  Sara still sat beside the fire, Dog's huge bulk settled next to her, and after a moment's hesitation, Cody struck off away from the plane. Cullen Grant had obviously survived the crash, and just as obviously had left the wreck. Maybe he'd decided to try and make his way out on foot. Sara said that the boy knew survival. He should have left some indication of direction for any rescuers who might show up.

  Cody had exchanged his moccasins for boots, which dealt with the snowfall
more comfortably, and their hard soles crunched on the powdery snow. His eyes skimmed the ground for some clue, but unless the boy had taken off only a day or two before, the snow would cover any tracks he might have made. And something told him it had been more than a couple of days since Cullen abandoned the wreckage.

  He quartered back and forth across the plateau. When he found it the surge of relief was so tremendous he almost shouted out loud. Even under the snow the shape was clear, and when he bent down to brush the snow away, the stone arrow stood out sharply. He turned to study the direction in which the arrow pointed and then glanced back up at the sky. There was a storm building. It might hold off for several days, or it might break in a matter of hours, but whenever it hit it was going to dump a lot of snow in the high country.

  If Cullen was still alive, they had to get to him as quickly as possible and hightail it down out of the Rockies. If Cullen was still alive. A lot could happen to a man alone in the wilderness. A lot depended on his skill and sheer stupid luck. How badly had he been hurt in the crash? What did he have by way of supplies?

  Cody shook his head and headed back to the plane. He'd have to take a page out of Sara's book and just believe that the boy was alive.

  ❧

  They traveled until almost dark, leaving the wreckage of the plane and Bill's grave behind. Sara was silent, and looking into her face, Cody decided that she was suffering from mild shock. He didn't think it had even sunk in yet that Cullen had been alive when he walked away from the crash.

  She ate whatever he put in her hands without protest, but she didn't seem to be aware of it, any more than she was aware of anything else that was going on. He set the tent up and gently urged her inside, and she obeyed without argument. He made sure that the animals were secure for the night before he crawled into the low tent.

  Sara sat just where he'd left her. She hadn't even unzipped her jacket. Without a word, he began to undress her, his fingers sure and efficient. It was only after he'd stripped off his own clothes and eased them both beneath the top sleeping bag that she seemed to become aware of anything.

  "Cody?"

  "It's all right. Just go to sleep."

  She turned in his arms, her fingers running lightly over his chest. He felt a stir of desire, which he firmly suppressed. He felt more than a stir, however, when her fingers slid down his body to gently close around him.

  "Sara." Her name came out on a groan and he reached for her hand, intent on drawing her away, but her fingers tightened, starting a soft motion that drew a gasp from him. His hand abandoned her wrist and slid up her back, his fingers sinking into the tangle of her hair. He drew her head back, trying to read her expression in the darkness. All he could see was the glimmer of her eyes and the quick motion of her tongue as she licked her lips.

  "Make love to me, Cody. Please? Please, make love to me."

  His chest ached at the need in her voice. He wished that he could read her expression. He wished that the blood wasn't pounding so loudly in his temples. It made it difficult to think of anything but the slender length of her against him, beneath him.

  Their lovemaking was both tender and passionate, a slow burning flame that exploded in a shower of embers, leaving them both satiated. It was an affirmation of their own lives in the face of the death they'd found. And afterward, Sara cried herself to sleep against his shoulder.

  Cody held her, running his hand over her trembling back, soothing her as he would a frightened, exhausted animal. The tears were a safety valve. Nature's way of releasing tension. When she at last lay quiet against him, he continued to hold her, staring into the darkness as if he could see beyond the tent's walls to the future.

  His emotions were so tangled around this woman. Such a tiny frame to hold so much power. He shut his eyes, refusing to examine his feelings more closely. He wasn't at all sure he was ready for what he might find.

  ❧

  The three days that followed were surely the longest Sara had ever known. Every day, they started at dawn and rode until darkness hid the trail. She wavered between a giddy feeling of euphoria—Cullen had made it through the crash—and a feeling that this was all some surreal nightmare, and at any moment she would wake up to find none of it had happened. When she felt that way, she had only to look at Cody to know that it was real.

  In her more aware moments, she was appreciative of Cody's unending support, the subtle ways in which he tried to reassure her. When she resented stopping for meals, he stayed calm and reasonable, never telling her that she was behaving like an idiot.

  Cody's appreciation of Sara's strength rose with each passing day. If it was a strain for him, he knew it was ten times the strain for her. He could feel her tension as if it were his own.

  Cullen had left plenty of signs of his passing, and Cody's respect for the boy rose. It was clear that he knew what he was doing. His camps were well planned and carefully arranged. When they at last came upon his footprints in the snow, Sara was ecstatic. It meant that they were not far behind him. And on horseback they could travel at a much faster pace than he could ever hope to make.

  Cody was pleased with the footprints also, but they added new worries as well as held out new hope. The pattern was not even. The boy was all but dragging one leg, and once or twice, Cody found signs that Cullen had fallen and that it had been quite a struggle for him to get up again. And overlaying the footprints was the broad, clear track of a coyote.

  Dog bristled angrily as he sniffed the coyote's track, and Cody laid his hand on the big dog's neck. "It's probably just a coincidence, boy. Coyotes generally won't mess with a man." Dog growled low in his throat, indicating his opinion of this theory as clearly as if he could speak, and Cody almost smiled as he rose to his feet.

  He stared at the footprints fading into the distance. Behind him, Sara sat on her horse with barely concealed impatience. They were so close now. Any delay was all but unbearable. He ignored her for the moment, turning his attention up to the sky. The storm had held off so far, but that good luck couldn't last long.

  He stepped into the stirrup and swung back up onto Dancer's back before meeting Sara's impatient look. Today her eyes reflected the bright blue of her coat, like shallow pools on a hot summer day. He wanted to lose himself in the depths of them.

  "How far?" Sara's question snapped him out of his preoccupation and he shrugged.

  "I can't say exactly, but we're pretty close."

  "Will we catch up with him tonight?"

  "I don't know."

  "But it's possible?"

  "It's possible."

  "I don't want to stop for lunch. We can eat some jerky while we ride. I want to see Cullen." Her words started out as a firm demand and ended as almost a plea.

  Cody hesitated for a moment, his eyes going from her to the heavy clouds and down to the trail. Those coyote prints bothered him. There was something very deliberate about their placement. He nodded. A sense of urgency was tugging at him and he didn't think it was rubbing off from Sara.

  "Okay. I won't risk traveling after dark, but we can keep up until then."

  A quick word sent Dog ranging ahead of them, his nose sniffing out signs that human senses would miss. The ground was too slippery for the horses to safely do anything faster than a quick walk, and the pace seemed unbearably slow to both Sara and Cody.

  At noon they stopped just long enough to dig some jerky out of their packs and give each horse a few handsful of oats. Dog returned, but he hovered on the outskirts of the group, as if impatient with the delay.

  By late afternoon it was clear that the tracks they were following were very fresh. It was also clear that darkness was coming on faster than they were gaining on their quarry. Despite his own sense of urgency, Cody was not going to risk taking a fall by traveling after dark. When he could just barely see his hand in front of his face, he drew Darker to a halt. He could feel Sara's resistance to the move, but Satin stopped next to the stallion.

  "We can't risk traveling wit
hout light." His voice was kind, but there was no arguing with it.

  Sara stared ahead before dragging her eyes back to him. He didn't have to be able to see her expression to read her disappointment. "Couldn't we—"

  "Sara, we're not going to do Cullen any good if we get ourselves killed by walking over a cliff in the dark. We'll start again first thing in—" He broke off, his head spinning around. A frisson went up his spine, and it was followed a moment later by a wailing howl that brought the hackles up on both their necks.

  "That's Dog." He nudged Dancer to a walk. "He's either in trouble or..."

  "Or—" Sara urged Satin after the other horse "—or what?"

  "Or he's found Cullen."

  ❧

  The Survivor

  The coyote had grown tired of waiting. Cullen could read it in his eyes, in the way he'd grown ever more bold. Cullen's fingers tightened on the grip of the .45 he'd brought with him. Across the fire, he could see the coyote, just a shadow among the darker shadows of the night, too vague to fire at.

  Cullen wished he'd brought one of the rifles, but when he'd left the crash, it had seemed as if a rifle would be an unnecessary weight and he'd opted to take only the pistol. With the rifle, he could have put an end to this cat-and-mouse game days ago. But now it was almost as if the coyote knew just how close he could get without risking an air-conditioned hide. He seemed to know that his adversary couldn't get a clear sight of him in the almost-dark night.

  Cullen rested the pistol on his good leg, wishing that he could get to his feet. He'd feel better on his feet, but his leg had barely held out long enough for him to gather firewood. There was no way he could stand up all night. He closed his eyes for an instant and then forced them open again. Tonight, he didn't dare sleep.

  He rummaged through his pack, coming up with a package of granola bars. They were rather the worse for wear, but he ate one with all the relish he might have shown a sirloin steak at another time and place. He'd only been able to catch one other rabbit since his first success at hunting, and his supplies were getting more than a bit thin.