And if he had, why in God's name hadn't he told his father instead of her? What did Durban expect her to do against men like these?
She glanced back and saw that they'd come too far down the valley for her to escape the way she had come. She turned to what lay ahead and saw only a towering sweep of sandstone wall.
But as they approached the cabin on the rise, Ardith noticed what looked like a tall, shadowy pleat in the rock face off to her left. Hadn't Durban said there was a way in and out at both ends of the valley? Could that darker fold at the base of the cliff be what he'd been describing?
Ardith waited until they reached the cabin, waited until the man who'd had hold of Primrose's reins dismounted.
"Langley!" he shouted. "Langley, I got someone here you need to see."
As the second man swung out of the saddle, Ardith grabbed up the slack in Primrose's reins and pulled the pony's head around, turning him sharply toward the faint dark ripple in the rock. As if he knew what was at stake, the pony bolted away.
Behind her Ardith heard shouting and confusion. When she glanced back, more rustlers were spilling out of the cabin. She just prayed where she was headed was a way out of the valley.
"Be there!" she whispered, bending low over Primrose's neck as she drove him toward the towering rock wall. "Please, be there!"
She was less than a dozen yards away when a triangular opening appeared before her. Behind her gunfire erupted, and as she spurred Primrose into the tunnel, rock sheered away a foot above her head.
After the brightness, the passage was dim and elusive. It twisted to the left and turned sharply downhill. Pebbles clattered beneath her horse's hooves as they descended, but Primrose kept his feet under him.
She knew the moment when the men entered the passageway. She heard the clamor of pursuit roll up behind her.
Ardith pushed Primrose harder and prayed for daylight. The opening jogged again, and with a flare that all but blinded her, they burst into the sunlight.
On the flat beyond the rocks, Primrose picked up speed, but when she looked back three men were in hot pursuit. Gunshots kicked up dirt to her right and left. Ardith hung low on Primrose's neck and gave him his head.
When she looked again, one of her pursuers had peeled away toward the southeast, leaving only two of the rustlers to run her to ground.
Ardith might have urged Primrose to greater speed, but she knew he was giving her all he had.
The next time she glanced back one of the men's horses had pulled up lame, but the second was gaining on her.
Ardith was sobbing for breath and Primrose's sides were bellowing when the rustler overtook them. He grabbed Primrose's bridle and fought the horses to a stop. In the moment when the horses danced around each other snorting and pawing, Ardith kicked the rustler as hard as she could.
"You shouldn't have done that," he snarled, then balled his fist and hit her.
The blow exploded along Ardith's jaw, all but knocking her out of the saddle. Her head reeled and her ears buzzed. Lights flared and faded before her eyes, and she slumped against Primrose's neck.
Ardith didn't know how far they'd come or how close they were to the mouth of the canyon when she became aware of the bristle of horsehair beneath her cheek and grass swishing against Primrose's belly. All Ardith knew as her head began to clear was if she let him take her back to that valley, she'd die there.
Panic shrilled in her ears and her brain spun as she tried to think of a way to resist him. Then abruptly the hand piece of the Colt Baird had insisted she carry in her artist's bag came into focus mere inches from her nose.
Slipping a hand into the bag, she curled her fingers around the pistol's grip. The gun was heavy and cool in her palm and felt very much like courage.
Taking a breath, she sat up in the saddle and leveled the pistol at the rustler's back. "Drop those reins," she ordered.
The rustler glanced back and, for an instant, Ardith had the satisfaction of seeing his jaw flap wide. Then he turned and grabbed for the pistol.
He overpowered her in an instant, his grip grinding the fine bones of her hand together, prying at her fingers with his broad, rough thumb.
She fought him as best she could, rotating her wrist in his grip and forcing the barrel of the revolver up between their bodies. Then with every ounce of her strength, she jerked back to break his hold on her. As she did the gun went off.
The concussion battered her, made her eardrums pulse. The smell of the powder singed up her nose. Then rustler's weight came full against her, and they toppled out of the saddle.
Ardith sprawled flat on her back with what must be two hundred pounds of rustler on top of her. His weight squashed her ribs and grated against her hipbones. Fighting for breath, she dug in her heels and slowly crab-crawled backward. Then, with a grunt of effort, she rolled the man off her and scrambled to her feet.
As he flopped over onto his back, she saw red spreading across his shirtfront and went sick inside.
Dear God, she'd shot him.
Her knees and brain simultaneously turned to mush. Tears poured down her cheeks, stinging as they reached the broken skin and swelling along her jaw. Only when she lifted her hand to wipe the tears away did she realize she was still clutching the pistol.
Seeing the gun in her hand prompted her to bend and relieve the man of his own weapon. She jammed a pistol into the pockets on either side of her riding skirt and bent above him.
Was he dead? she wondered. Had she killed a man?
Just then he moaned and stirred.
Instinctively she jumped back then, after a moment's consideration, pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve to try to stanch the flow of blood. As she bent above him, he grabbed for her.
"You aren't going to die, are you?" she asked as she backed away.
He fought his way up to his elbow and sneered at her. "Ain't no woman made who can kill Titus Marshall."
"No, but a woman can certainly leave him here without his mount."
As he struggled to right himself, Ardith gathered up Primrose's reins and mounted. Then with a whoop and a smack of her quirt, she sent the rustler's horse sprinting toward the mountains.
Though she knew she ought to ride for home, she spurred her pony southeast. That was where the herd would be, making its meandering way toward Cheyenne. Where she'd find Baird and Buck, who'd know how to deal with rustlers.
Considering how far she'd come and how slowly the herd would be moving, she figured she'd catch up with them just about dark.
* * *
Buck Johnson leaned back against the side of the chuck wagon and gestured with his mug of coffee. "Looks like a rider headed this way."
Baird shaded his eyes and peered off to the north. The horseman was coming at a dead run, his mount stumbling with exhaustion. Apprehension tuned up inside him.
They'd just gotten the herd settled for the night, and after hours in the saddle Baird had been looking forward to eating a hot meal, stretching out the kinks, and snatching a few hours' sleep. Whatever this was, it was bound to interfere with that.
Squinting a little harder, he made out that the rider was hatless and tall, narrow through the shoulders—and wearing a skirt that flapped behind her as she rode.
"Dear God! It's Ardith!" He ran toward the edge of the campsite, so that both he and Buck were waiting when she pulled her foam-flecked pony to a stop. He caught her in his arms when she tumbled out of the saddle.
"Ardith!" Baird cried. "For God's sake, what happened? Where are you hurt?"
"I'm all right," she gasped.
She didn't look all right. She was bruised and battered, and there was blood on the front of her shirtwaist. He swept her up in his arms, but he was shaking so hard he could hardly carry her.
"Look after Primrose," she called to Buck.
"I got him."
Baird set Ardith down by the fire, his hands trembling as they moved over her. By the winking firelight he could see that a dark bruise ran from her t
emple to her jaw. Her eye was ringed with purple, and her lip was swollen to twice its normal size.
"Your poor face," he murmured, grazing his hand over her cheek. "And where the hell is all this blood coming from?"
She caught his hand in hers. "I'm all right, Baird. The blood's not mine."
An even more horrible fear shot through him. "Are the children—"
"The children are fine." She clasped his hand more tightly in her own. "They're fine. They're back at the ranch."
He dragged her close, needing the feel of her against him. His strong, solid Ardith seemed so fragile all at once.
"I'm fine, Baird. Fine."
His panic ebbed a little when Jubal arrived with his chest of medicines. He made his own assessments and began preparing a compress for Ardith's face.
Durban appeared out of the deepening dusk. "Aunt Ardith? What are you doing here?"
The boy's features sagged with shock when he got a better look at her.
"Your aunt says she's fine," Baird hastened to reassure him.
Durban dropped to his knees beside her. "What—what happened?"
"I rode out this morning looking for something to paint, a pretty little valley someone told me about."
Baird noticed how intently she seemed focused on his son.
"Did—did you find it?"
"Oh, yes. The valley was lovely—except that the valley was filled to the brim with our missing cattle."
"What?" Baird broke in. "Are you sure they were our cattle?"
Somehow he had never been able to convince himself that the Sugar Creek cattle were being stolen. If the herd was dwindling, it had to be because of something he'd done—or failed to do.
"I didn't check every brand," she said, holding his gaze. "But Randy was there."
"Randy!" Durban cried.
"Who had Randy?" Buck demanded, joining them.
"The passel of rustlers I discovered this afternoon."
Baird tightened his arm around her. Dear God! What had Ardith ridden into?
"Were—were there really men in that valley?" Durban asked her.
"Yes," Ardith confirmed. "A crew of them. I didn't see how many."
"Hot damn!" Buck exclaimed. "I knew there were rustlers! We just couldn't have lost so many cows."
Ardith eased the compress Jubal had prepared against her cheek and told them what happened.
As she spoke, Baird felt shivers rattle through her and sensed how she was fighting to hold herself together. The more he heard the more he wanted to gather her up in his arms and hold her close so she'd know she was safe. So he'd know she was safe.
He wanted to find the men who'd hurt her and pound them into dust.
"I don't think they expected me to resist," she went on. "They weren't prepared when I turned Primrose and ran."
"Did they follow you?" Buck wanted to know.
More men had begun to gather at the fire, but Ardith seemed to be speaking only to Durban. "I knew I couldn't outrun them the length of the valley, so I took a chance on finding a way out down near the cabin."
"And did you?" the boy wanted to know.
Then Buck spoke up. "Is that how you got away?"
"There was a passage through the rock face at the head of the canyon that led out onto the flat. The men chased me, shot at me." Baird felt Ardith shiver. "One by one they fell away—except that last man. He kept coming, and I knew I couldn't let him take me back to that valley..."
Baird's stomach pitched. If that man had taken Ardith she wouldn't ever have come home, and he'd never have known what happened to her.
Jeff Mason leaned closer. "So what did you do?"
"I shot him."
"You shot him!" Buck crowed.
The cowboys nudged each other, mumbling their approval.
"Did you really?" Durban sounded awestruck.
Baird hoped for a moment she'd blown the bastard to Kingdom Come, and then he saw her eyes. They were wide and wet and filled with remorse. He, of all people, should have understood what shooting that man had cost her.
"I didn't want to hurt him," she whispered so that only he could hear. "I just didn't have a choice."
"I know you didn't, love." He gathered her closer. "Rest easy now. You're safe with me."
She nuzzled against him, and it pleased him to know he could give her a few moments solace.
Finally, she gave him a shaky smile. "He cussed me when I ran off his horse."
"Well, girl," Buck chuckled, "if that fellow was able to cuss at you, I doubt you did him any permanent damage."
Ardith nodded, and Baird could see she was better now, more sure of herself, stronger.
"Do you think, Miss Ardith," Buck asked gently, "that you could find your way back to that valley?"
Baird knew what Buck was thinking. He meant to go after the rustlers and recover the cattle.
"It's up in the foothills," Ardith said. "Out near the Double T."
"That's right where we lost Randy's trail!" Durban cried.
"I don't want Ardith going anywhere except back to the ranch," Baird put in.
But Buck went on, already making plans. "It'd be best to hit the rustlers at first light. If they have a chance to clear out of there, we'll never get them."
"I don't think..." Baird began.
But before he could object, Ardith spoke up. "Then let me show you the passage into the canyon."
* * *
Baird heard the crush of someone moving toward them through the tall grass and grabbed his pistol.
Buck Johnson loomed out of the dark. "I took care of the guard," he reported, speaking softly in deference to the woman curled up asleep with her head in Baird's lap. "It's almost light. We'll be needing Ardith to show us how to get into that canyon."
Baird nodded, slid the Colt back into his holster and paused for a moment to stroke Ardith's unbound hair. He hated that she was here with them, hated that going after the rustlers might put her in danger. But at least they'd managed to leave Durban behind.
The boy had been determined to come, and neither he nor Buck had been able to talk sense into him. Finally Ardith had taken him aside, and whatever she'd said had convinced him, because when they'd ridden out last evening, Durban hadn't tried to follow.
As Buck moved off, Baird squeezed Ardith's shoulder, waking her as gently as he could. "It's time," he whispered.
She nodded and sat up. He could tell by the stutter in her breathing exactly when she realized where they were.
"It's going to be fine," he reassured her.
"Is it?"
His own fear trickled through him like melting ice. Seeing her ride into camp battered and frightened had taken years off his life. He couldn't bear that she was risking herself again for a few damn cows.
"All you have to do is show us how to get into the valley," he murmured and pulled her against him. "You don't need to go in there with us."
She clung to him in the swaying solitude of the high grass as if he were something solid in a world adrift. He wanted to be that for her, wanted to offer her that kind of security, so he pressed his cheek against her hair and held her a few moments longer.
By the time they joined the others and mounted their horses, the sky was lightening. They poked along the toes of the bluff, past deep-veined fissures and weathered outcroppings, through a field of scattered boulders. Then Ardith gestured to a deep shadowy crease in the hillside, and the passage that led into the valley.
Baird recognized the spot. They'd ridden past it when they'd been searching for Randy.
Buck gave the orders. "I'll head in first," he said, nodding at Jeff, Bear, Lem, and a young puncher named Wilcox. "Mr. Northcross will follow me, and Bear will bring up the rear. We'll move in slow and quiet, and hope they haven't posted a second guard. This is bound to be dangerous, so watch yourselves."
Baird caught Ardith's arm as they formed up. "You are staying out here, aren't you?"
"I didn't promise that," was all she said.
He hadn't stopped to think about what he was doing here. He hadn't shot a gun since he'd killed the deer the day he arrived. He hadn't been able to shoot to save Ardith from the mountain lion. How in God's name was he going to turn his rifle on these men, no matter what they'd done?
Yet he needed to be here. These rustlers had stolen his cattle. They had tried to undermine his ranch. They'd hurt Ardith. This was his fight.
And if Buck and Bear and the others were willing to risk their lives to bring these men to justice, he couldn't back down.
As they eased through the switchback chute between the rocks, sweat trickled down his ribs. The pounding of his heart seemed to echo off the walls of the twisting passage. Then, through the thin, gray twilight Baird saw the valley open up ahead of them.
Buck paused and gestured them across a narrow strip of meadow and into the trees off to the right. They seeped like wraiths through the wispy fog that blanketed the meadow. It was only as they were tethering their horses that Baird realized Ardith was still with them. In that moment, he'd have sold his soul to have her anyplace else.
He caught her arm and pulled close. "Have you got your gun?"
She was whey-faced and breathing hard, but her hand was steady when she held up her pistol.
"Don't try anything heroic, all right?" he warned her.
She gave him a sudden, shaky grin. "Or you, either."
Not likely, Baird thought.
They worked their way up the canyon until they were crouched in a fall of timber opposite the cabin.
"Do you think they're in there?" Baird whispered.
"Smoke's coming up the stove pipe," Buck observed. "And there are ponies in the corral."
Baird could hear those horses whickering. It wouldn't be long before the rustlers heard them, too, and came out to investigate.
"This is how we're going to do this," Buck whispered, drawing everyone together. "I'll take Lem and Bear and Jeff and sneak around back of that cabin. There's a privy out there, so I'm betting there's a back door, too.
Color of the Wind Page 32
