Ana Leigh

by The Mackenzies

  “There’s a stream nearby. Once I get some water, I’ll be okay. Let’s get going.”

  “Not before I change those dressings on your wounds.”

  “You can do that at the stream.”

  Her heart ached for him when he struggled to his feet. For several seconds he leaned against his horse, then bent down and labored to swing the saddle off the ground. She hurried over to give him a helping hand.

  When they were ready to leave, Rose reached into her pocket and offered him a handful of nuts. “At least eat these. You can do that while you’re riding.”

  After riding in a downpour, sleeping on the cold ground in wet clothing, no medicine to treat two bullet wounds, and blood loss followed by another day of no rest, it was a miracle that only the entry wound on his shoulder had become infected. But the infection looked bad.

  Rose wanted to build a fire so she could try to draw out the infection with hot compresses, but Zach refused. She didn’t know what to do. He had to have immediate medical attention, yet going on was just weakening him more.

  By midday his eyes looked glazed, and he was slumped forward in the saddle. She wasn’t even certain if he knew where he was going.

  Near dusk, when they finally stopped to rest the horses, he was so weak that he fell to his knees when he tried to climb back into the saddle.

  Rose had had enough.

  Looking around for shelter, she chose a clump of ponderosa pines that would give them the most concealment. A granite wall behind it would protect their backs, so she’d only have three sides to worry about. Zach offered a weak argument when she led him over to it and made him lie down. Ignoring his protests, she unsaddled the horses, and by the time she hefted the heavy saddles and saddlebags into a pile next to him, Zach’s eyes were closed and perspiration dotted his brow. She dug her soiled bodice out of Tait’s saddlebags, wet it in the stream, then folded it into a square and put it across his forehead.

  Despite the danger, she had to build a fire to get hot compresses on the infected wound. It was still light enough so that the glow of the fire wouldn’t be seen, yet dark enough that the smoke wouldn’t be observed from a distance.

  She wasted several matches trying to ignite the wood, which wouldn’t stay burning. Desperately, she looked around for something small to get the fire started. Her glance fell on Tait’s saddlebags—which were full of the greenbacks he’d stolen from Stephen.

  Hurriedly, she dug out a handful and put a match to them. They immediately flared to flames, and she carefully added small pieces of wood, then the thicker ones. In a short time she was able to put a cup of water on the fire to heat.

  Since she could only boil one cup at a time the process was slow, but she managed to change the hot compress four times before she extinguished the fire. By that time her hands were stinging painfully from wringing out the hot strips of cloth.

  After putting clean bandages on Zach’s wounds, Rose bathed his face with cool water, hoping it eased some of his discomfort. Then she went to the stream and rinsed her aching hands in the water. It felt so good that she did the same to her face and neck. But all the cool water in the world couldn’t rinse away her fear.

  The fever was consuming him, and he’d begun tossing in delirium. The cool water was doing little to reduce it. What if he never opened his eyes . . . if he died? She tried to shake the thought off—refused to consider it. He would get well again. She wouldn’t let him die.

  Returning to Zach’s side, she replaced the cool rag on his brow, and he opened his eyes—his beautiful sapphire eyes that had fascinated her the first time she’d looked into them.

  “That feels so good, Rosie,” he said.

  Rose smiled tenderly, and gently stroked his cheek. “I wish there was more I could do for you.”

  “I could use a drink of water.”

  She helped him to raise his head and shoulders, then brought the cup to his lips. He drank it down thirstily, then lay back.

  “Rose, there’s something else you can do.”

  “Anything, Zach.”

  “I want you to get out of here now. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not leaving without you.”

  “Honey, I’m slowing you up. You know what they’ll do to you if they catch up with us. Just stay on this road and you’ll come to the town of Comanche Wells. You can get help there. The sheriff’s an honest man.”

  “Zach, I am not leaving you, so save your strength. Like it or not, MacKenzie, you’re stuck with me.”

  “I love you, Rosie.” He tried to reach for her hand, but could barely raise his off the ground. She grasped it and brought it to her lips.

  “I love you, too, Zach.”

  “We wasted so much time trying to fool ourselves.”

  “I know we did, my love.” She hugged his hand against her cheek. “We have the rest of our lives to make up for the mistakes of the past.” Her words seemed to hang in the air as a grim reminder of the existing crisis.

  Finally, he spoke. “Just in case I don’t make it, I want you to go to my folks. Tell them what happened. They’ll take care of you.”

  Her heart was aching so badly she could barely choke words past the sob in her throat. “You can tell them yourself, because we’re going to get out of here. Please, Zach, don’t give up now,” she pleaded. “Don’t do this to us. We’ve just found each other. I won’t let you give up. If you love me, you’ll keep fighting, because if you die . . .” The anguish gnawing at her heart became unbearable. “. . . I have no reason to go on, either. You’re my life, Zach.”

  “I’m sorry about everything, honey. There’s so much I want to say to you: what you mean to me, the things I love about you. I wish I’d been more honest with you from the start.

  “It’s not too late, Zach. From now on, there’ll be no more secrets between us.”

  “Yeah, no more secrets.” His voice began to trail off. “Promise me, Rose. Go to my folks. Calico, Texas.”

  She recognized the name of the town at once. “Zach, my friend Emily lives in Calico. Are you related to Josh MacKenzie?” But her question fell on deaf ears: his eyes were closed and he appeared not to be breathing.

  She felt a panic like she’d never known before. Pressing her ear to his chest, she heard a faint heartbeat. With a mixture of relief and despair she stayed there, sobbing.

  When she was physically spent she went back to the stream, rinsed the tears off her cheeks, then refilled the cup. She had no sense of time as she continued to change the cool compress on his forehead, but sometime later, he began to shiver. His whole body shook with the tremors. She covered him with the poncho, but his shivering did not cease and he opened his eyes.

  “Cold. I’m so cold,” he mumbled, before slipping back into his fevered sleep.

  There were no matches to build another fire. Removing all her clothing, she next stripped Zach of his, then gathered him into her arms and covered them with the poncho.

  Hugging him tightly to her warmth, she rocked him gently throughout the night—his Colt nearby at her fingertips.

  No man or beast would do further harm to this man she loved.

  Chapter 25

  Rose glanced skyward. The morning had begun with a gray, overcast sky. She dared not delay their departure any longer.

  She saddled the horses and as much as she hated disturbing Zach, she woke him, dressed him, and gave him a cup of water. His condition didn’t appear to have improved; he was still feverish and incoherent—but he had survived the night. For that, she was grateful. But he was too weak to control a horse. They’d have to ride double.

  After a struggle that left her exhausted, Rose finally managed to get him astride her horse, then tied the reins of his horse to her saddle. Climbing up behind Zach, she curled her arms around him and pulled his body against her. It almost knocked her off, but she managed to grasp the reins, and nudged the horse forward. Tait’s sorrel followed behind.

  The going was
slow, but she managed to keep Zach and herself in the saddle. She feared it was just a matter of time before the Tait gang caught up with them.

  When she stopped at a stream to rest the horses, Rose managed to get another cup of water down Zach. Then, desolate and tired, she sank down beside him. Throughout the morning he had slipped in and out of consciousness. But even when he was conscious, he was too consumed by fever to know what was going on around him.

  Wearily, she got to her feet and walked over to the outer rim of the trail. For the last several miles the plateau had narrowed into a winding trail descending toward the valley below. Once they reached that valley, they’d be easy targets for their pursuers.

  Glancing upward, her heart leaped to her throat as she caught a glimpse of riders on the trail above them. The gang was closing in on them and probably would overtake them within a half hour.

  What could she do? She looked around in desperation, and spied the iron thread of railroad tracks snaking along the canyon floor below. The slope down was steep, but offered enough growth to conceal them from a casual glance of any passerby. If they could make it to the bottom unseen, she might be lucky enough to flag down a train.

  She was too inexperienced to control a horse on such a steep descent, and Zach was too weak and incoherent to do so, either. They’d have to climb down. With precious moments ticking swiftly away, she dug into the saddlebags and jammed the few remaining strips of cloth into her skirt pocket.

  Now she needed something to tie her and Zach together. She cut a long strip off the reins of her horse with Zach’s bowie knife, and tied one end around his waist and the other end around her own. Her hand trembled as she picked up his Colt. It was heavy and cumbersome, but she might need it. She stuffed it into her pocket.

  With time running out, she untethered the horses. Leaving them meant giving up the only means of transportation she had. Drawing a deep breath, she slapped each of them on the flank as hard as she could and the two horses galloped down the trail.

  There was no turning back now.

  “Zach, can you hear me?”

  “Rose?” he mumbled.

  “Listen to me, darling—you have to try and walk. I’ll help you. Do you understand?”

  He nodded. “Walk.”

  “Yes. It’s going to be difficult and steep.” She put his arm around her neck. “Please, Zach, try to hang on to me,” she pleaded. Then, with her arm around his waist as added support, they started down the steep declivity.

  Under normal circumstances it would have been an arduous task for anyone, and Zach’s weight made the descent even more perilous.

  She had to carefully gauge each step so they didn’t slip on loose gravel or a rock.

  Then Zach stumbled, throwing her off balance. She wrapped her free arm around a tree to keep them from pitching forward and rolling down the slope.

  After about fifty feet she halted, and they slumped to the ground. She gasped much needed air into her lungs. She had already exhausted her strength, and they weren’t even a quarter of the way down. This had been a mistake. Why had she ever believed she could get them down this hellish slope? She should have taken her chances and stayed on the trail, tried to find a place to hide. Or why hadn’t she tried to fight them off? She’d have had Zach’s Colt and a box of shells. This climb was sure to kill him. If she made it to the bottom and he didn’t, what purpose would life have for her without him?

  Zach squeezed her hand. Startled, she glanced at him. Had she imagined it? If she was on the verge of giving up, what was he feeling? And how had he ever rallied the strength to go through with this insane idea of hers?

  He squeezed her hand again, and she knew she hadn’t imagined it. Was he actually coherent enough to offer her encouragement?

  Well, if he was willing to go on, so was she. Rose leaned over to him and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Zach.” She stood up and helped him to his feet.

  After another hundred feet she halted to rest behind a clump of mesquite that clung to the side of the slope as tenuously as she and Zach did.

  Rose’s breath thumped in her ears like the pounding of a drum. As soon as it slowed enough to move again, she checked Zach.

  He was lying on his back. His face and shirt were soaked with perspiration, and the rasp of his breathing nearly sounded like a death rattle. Rose buried her face in her hands—she was torturing him to death.

  “Zach, we’re halfway down now. Hold on, darling. Just hold on.”

  She shifted closer and put her arm across him protectively. Too exhausted to move, she lay still with her cheek against the ground, her tears blending with the dust.

  As the clatter of hooves thundered past on the trail above, Rose raised her head and glanced upward.

  Then she slumped back down. It was a minor victory, but were they any better off? And what if the gang found their horses and backtracked to find them? She reluctantly tried to rouse Zach.

  “Zach, we have to go.” When he didn’t respond, she leaned over him. “Zach . . .”

  He was barely conscious. All she could hope for was that he could get to his feet.

  Sheer willpower kept her moving, reaching for anything to cling to, shifting from tree to boulder, sapling to mesquite clump. Her vision blurred, her lungs ached, the ground seemed to spin underfoot, and she grew fainter and fainter.

  With less than a hundred feet to the base of the slope, Zach stumbled and fell, dragging her to the ground with him. She slid past him on her stomach, gravel and jagged rocks lacerating her skin. The weight of his body halted the slide and the reins that bound them together became so taut if felt as if she was being cut in half. Groping to free herself, she finally succeeded in releasing the rein. Gasping for air, she crawled to Zach.

  He was pale and barely breathing now. And there was a spreading stain bleeding through his pants on his thigh. His wound had broken open.

  Rose laid her head on his chest. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I tried, Zach. I tried so hard, but I don’t know what to do anymore. Don’t leave me now. We’ve just found each other.”

  Tears streaked her cheeks as she grasped his hand. And for the first time in her life, she spoke in prayer.

  “Dear Lord, I don’t know if there’s a proper prayer to ask for Your help. I’ve always believed I made my own luck and didn’t need anybody’s help—not even Yours. I guess there’s no reason why You should listen to me now, except that even though I’ve never gone to church, I’ve always held You in my heart.”

  She swiped at the tears on her cheeks, then continued.

  “I’ve broken your commandments, Lord, and I don’t know the words of the scripture. So I guess I have no right now to ask You for anything. What have I ever given You?”

  She lowered her head in shame. “But please, Dear Lord, don’t blame Zach. He’s a good man, though he tries to act otherwise. If I know this in my heart, then surely You do, too. A traveling preacher said that You are the Almighty and know everything . . . that You have power over everyone. Zach was trying to help me, Lord. It’s my fault he was shot. So take me, if you must, but I beg You to find mercy in your heart and spare Zach. I love him so much. Please don’t let him die.”

  She lifted her head heavenward, and her voice broke into pleading sobs. “Please, Dear Lord, please don’t let him die.”

  Engulfed with despair, she laid her head on Zach’s chest and wept uncontrollably.

  A sob caught in her throat, choking the flow of sound. She slowly lifted her head. Had she imagined she heard a whistle? Holding her breath, she listened intently. The shrill blast of a train whistle pierced the still valley. She hadn’t been mistaken. A wave of hope surged through her.

  “Zach, can you hear it? Can you hear it, darling? It’s a train, Zach! It’s a train! Oh, thank You, God. Thank You!”

  She rose to her feet, her tears of despair changing to tears of renewed faith as she rushed downhill toward the track. She stumbled and fell, rolled several feet, then picked herself b
ack up and ran again. Aches, scrapes, misery, despair were all forgotten. Nothing mattered except reaching that railroad track before the train passed. Stumbling and staggering, tripping and falling, she reached the track as the engine drew nearer.

  But would they see her? She had to attract their attention, and pulled off her bodice, waving it as she stumbled to the middle of the track.

  The penetrating screech of metal grinding against metal grated in her ears. Then her lungs seemed to stop functioning, darkness flooded her senses, and she pitched forward.

  “Why did we stop?” Beth Carrington stepped off the observation platform of their private car and joined her sister.

  Cynthia Kincaid raised a hand to shield her eyes against the sun as she gazed down the line. “I don’t know. It looks like there must have been something lying across the tracks. Here comes Dick now,” she said as a young man hurried up to them. “What’s going on down there, Dick?”

  “Tim and Charlie said a lady collapsed on the track, Miz Kincaid,” the brakeman said. “She looks to be in pretty bad shape.”

  “Oh, my goodness!” Beth exclaimed. “Thia, let’s go down and see if we can be of any help.”

  The two women hurried past the dozen freight cars to the front of the train, where the engineer and fireman were knelt over a young woman lying on the ground.

  “How is she, Tim?” Cynthia asked the engineer.

  He shrugged. “She came around for a minute. Said there’s a guy up on the slope who’s wounded and needs help.”

  “Maybe it’s a trick,” Cynthia suggested. “Train robbers.”

  “Why would anyone rob this train?” Charlie asked. “We’re not carrying any passengers, just railroad supplies.”

  “Look at her, Miz Kincaid,” Tim said. “She’s in pretty bad shape.”

  Dick shook his head. “I’d think if it was a holdup, they’d have hit us by now.”

  Beth nodded in agreement. “We better see if we can help the young man she’s talking about.”