There was more at stake than the stealing of his horses. Even more than his stung pride for them playing him like a newly arrived pilgrim.
There was the woman whose face would not leave his inner sight. If either one of them had laid a hand on her, he would skin him alive.
Kee found the last handholds needed to bring him over the top. The rock beneath him was nearly flat. A perfect place to scout the camp below.
But what caught Kee’s eye was movement on the opposite sloping bank. A large slab of rock protruded itself into the night sky. To one side was a bulky shadow that moved even as he watched. The moonlight picked up the gleam of a rifle barrel.
Alf was standing watch. Benton was a tall drink of water compared to the stocky man. It had to be him.
Where Alf stood his watch he could see everything below. That meant he would spot Kee if he moved down to their camp. Kee saw the fire had died to coals, he made out the form of one body but could not spot Isabel.
And something was spooking the horses.
Not an animal. The horses would be more restive and whinnying to get free if it was a mountain cat.
He spotted his own packs, two saddles nearby.
What he wanted to see and didn’t was any sign of where they had Isabel. Kee scooted back. He’d have to enter the wash farther up, well out of Alf’s sight.
Kee absorbed the brooding quiet of the night. He felt carefully for every rough-edged handhold as he made his way along the rocks. He ignored the chilled breeze that sprang up. He heard the small, restless sounds from Alf’s position.
Overhead a nighthawk dived and veered off before attacking its prey. Kee’s head came up like a wolf’s and his nostrils flared, scenting the air. Drawing his knife, he scanned the rock outcrops, every low-growing bush below that could offer a hiding place.
No scent came to him. Instinct hadn’t flared with alarm that someone else was out there. Yet the day had enough lessons of almost being trapped so he moved cautiously until he was satisfied Alf could not see him.
Kee saw that Alf was watching the nighthawk, too. And he huddled back against the thick slab of rock to ward off the chilling air. He blew on his hand, switched the rifle and repeated it. Kee imagined that all Alf could think about was hot coffee and his bedroll. He heard him muttering about Benton letting the fire die down. A small bit of gravel grated as it slid down into the wash. Alf came away from the sheltering slab and searched the darkness below.
While Alf peered over the edge to the camp below, Kee made his run across the wash about fifty feet away. He scrambled up a sandy slope, quick as a cat and just as quiet. He could come up on Alf’s blind side now.
The moccasins he wore instead of his boots allowed him to close the distance to the slab of rock without alerting Alf that he was near. What distracted Kee to look down at the camp at that moment, he couldn’t say, but look he did and a prayer sprang to mind that Alf was not seeing the same thing.
There was Isabel near the horses, rising out of dark. He wanted to warn her, and couldn’t. Any sign he tried, from throwing a pebble to any noise, would only alert Alf. And there was no promise that she would understand that he was there. Shooting was the one thing that Kee hoped to avoid.
Especially now, with Isabel between the sleeping man and Alf.
But the damn woman was messing his plan. Her moves were awkward. That much he could see. She was spooking the horses and it wouldn’t take much for Alf to hear, then look down.
Kee was not going to do this quietly, in his own way and time.
He drew his gun.
Chapter Six
The night exploded with sound.
Kee shot down into the fire. Isabel flipped off the blanket and waved it at the horses she had freed. Alf saw movement below, aimed his rifle and thanks to his cold hands missed his shot.
Kee scrambled around the slab and came up behind Alf. A swipe with his gun butt saw Alf go down, out cold.
“Run, Isabel,” Kee yelled when he spotted Benton take aim at her. Kee fired and Benton’s gun went flying.
“Hold it right where you are. I’ve got an itchy trigger finger and you’re the one who’s going to scratch it if you move.” Kee caught hold of Alf by the collar and half dragged him over to the edge. With a push of his foot, Kee sent his body rolling over.
He followed him down, refusing to look for Isabel for she’d only distract him. He was riled. Mean riled at the woman. The horses were scattered to hell and gone. Kee knew his temper, knew how to control it, but this woman had tested its limits.
Benton was moaning about his bleeding hand when Kee stopped across from him. He was in no mood to be charitable.
“Stop the bellyaching. I hit what I aimed for and you haven’t got more than a bullet graze across your knuckles. Get a piece of that picket rope and tie up your friend here. And do it fast. I’m a man whose patience is drier than this wash.”
“Kee!” Isabel called out. She started toward him, only the bark of his voice ordering her to stay put shocked her into doing just that.
With Kee’s gun trained on him, Benton made short work of tying Alf hand and foot. Kee stopped him from tying the man’s hands in front of his body. Even with his arms bound behind him, Kee wanted more rope run from ankles to wrists. Alf was not getting free until Kee had the answers he wanted.
Benton sat beside Alf, holding his hand up. “You gonna let her bandage this for me? Likely to bleed to death if I don’t get somethin’ on it.” He shot a look of pure venom at Kee.
“Use your bandanna. After I hog-tie you, we’re all going to have a talk.”
“Ain’t got nothin’ to say to you.”
“You’ll talk. I learned ways to blister your skin that you never heard about.”
Benton shut up. These were the lands of the Apache, and although most of them had been forced on the reservations, he knew plenty of white men who either saw firsthand what they could do or had learned their ways. Kincaid was young, but that didn’t mean some old Indian hadn’t shown him a trick or two. Being cooked over a slow fire wasn’t the way he planned to die.
“Roll over on your belly.” Kee had to cock his gun before Benton did just that. He made short work of tying him like Alf.
All this time Isabel had stared at Kee. His hard, cold voice threatening Benton had shocked her. She took another long look at Kee. There was nothing of the gentle man who almost seduced a kiss from her. He looked hard, and cold, and very dangerous.
Kee poked at the coals, adding a few small sticks and when they flared up, threw on some wood. He took the coffeepot that had been warming on the edge of the coals and drank from the pot. Anger only carried a man so far. Tension helped, but now he felt exhaustion seeping through his body.
And he still had to deal with the woman.
Kee noted to himself that he called her by her name when fear for her ran high. Now, to distance himself, he refused to use her name.
He could not stop the doubts creeping in. The tracks back at the stream told him she had run and a man had waited. No, he had to fight them off for now. He had to remember she was trying to free the horses when he showed up. But there was a nag that troubled him about her.
He turned slowly and found her watching him. She was as safe as his presence could make her. He was surprised to see her looking at him as if he were a total stranger, and one she was not sure she wanted anything to do with.
With a rough shake of his head he fought off tiredness and these fanciful thoughts.
“Did they hurt you?” Kee meant the words to be soft and lulling to show his concern. Instead, he heard for himself the harsh command that smoked with the violence of his temper.
Isabel, mouth still dry, started toward him. She held out her still-tied wrists. “Please, could you—”
Kee set the battered enamel coffeepot down with exaggerated care. As he drew his knife, he saw Benton’s eyes widen as firelight flashed against the blade. In the softest, but coldest voice Kee condemned them.
“You gully-raking bastards. Hanging’s too good for you. Men would horsewhip you for touching her. I could skin you alive for this.”
In contrast to Kee’s continued swearing, his touch was gentle as he examined the rope burns that marred her skin. A cold fire of rage burned in his eyes.
“Stay here near the fire. I’ve got some salve in my pack.”
Kee was back in a few minutes and first washed, then spread a thick salve over her wrists. He cut up the linen napkin hemmed with the fine stitches she had admired. He cut off her protest.
Isabel rested her hand on his arm when he started to move away. Both their gazes lit on her hand. She felt the sinewy strength of arm beneath her fingertips. And the sudden warmth. She fought off the answering response that shivered through her.
“There are no words to thank you, Kee. But I will repay—”
“Don’t say another word. I’m not asking to be paid. Not in any way.”
The last acted like a slap. Isabel never meant that she was offering herself but the sharpness in his voice and the cold glare in his eyes confirmed his thought. She realized that she still held his arm and snatched her hand away as if it burned.
From an inner core she found the strength to hold back the tears that threatened. The innocent interlude by the stream had to be buried. This was not the same man.
She shoved aside her tangled hair and lifted her chin. “I am very sorry about the loss of your horses. I did not want Benton and Alf to follow me so I set the horses free.”
She wondered if he heard her. Kee moved around the campsite, gathering guns and rifles which he piled near his packs.
The feeling that he blamed her, despite what he had said to these men, came and took root inside her. She was not sure what to do or say to him. Being so uncertain was not a role she enjoyed.
Kee’s whistle cut through her thoughts. Within minutes there came the clatter of rocks falling, and then his horse trotted into the wash.
All this time Benton had listened and watched. When Kee loaded his packs on the mustang—who did not take kindly to being used for a pack animal—Benton started whining.
“You ain’t gonna leave us here. You can’t do it. We’re helpless hog-tied like this.”
Kee offered his canteen to Isabel. “You carry this and one rifle. Think you can manage?”
“I will manage.” And she glared a silent message with all her womanly pride that she would manage through hell if necessary.
Kee took their canteens and hooked them over his saddle. He eyed the extra saddle and knew if he tried loading that on Outlaw, he’d have a fight on his hands. Grabbing the pommel with one hand, and taking up his own rifle with the other, he started toward the sandy slope as the easiest way out of the wash.
“You can’t leave us!” Benton yelled over Alf’s awakening groans.
“Watch me,” Kee answered.
“You’re a cold-blooded bastard, Kincaid.”
“Use one of the sharp rocks to cut yourself loose and be damn thankful I don’t just shoot you and be done with it. You cut my trail, better turn and run. That’s all the warning I’m giving you.”
“We’ll die here.”
“No.” Isabel stared at Benton. “You will not die. Your partner will find you.”
Kee stared a hole in her back. A few moments later she faced him. Too much had happened with little time to think things through. His doubts that she had told him the truth came rushing back. And now he put them into words. “This whole setup struck me as strange from the beginning. Now, it sounds like you know more than you told me. And I don’t mean about these men working together.”
She did not need to see the mistrust in his eyes. She heard it in his voice. She had no choice. She told him the truth.
“His partner’s name is Muley Cotton. He was the other man this morning.”
“And…” Kee prompted, reading reluctance in every line of her slim body.
“And he was hired to be my guide. Only he betrayed me. Muley and Benton stole my horse and pack mule. But they did not get what they had come for.”
“The map,” Kee concluded. He glanced over to see Benton’s face lit by firelight. There was avid greed in his eyes at the mention of the map. Gold fever and treasure made damn fools of men. Looking back at Isabel’s rigid stance, Kee amended his thoughts to include women, too.
“So finish it, Isabel,” Kee prompted once more.
She threw him a puzzled look. “You know the rest. You were there. You saw what they were trying to do to me. What they intended doing if you had not stopped them.”
“I figure there’s more to this story. A lot more. Like the truth of why you came here alone with only one guide and no trusted vaquero to guard you. Why did Muley and Benton attack you? Where did this Muley disappear to? You sounded sure that he’s expected. So you see, Doña—” and Kee deliberately used the Spanish title alone “—some things just don’t add up for me. There is more.”
He was not asking her, and Isabel did not make the mistake of thinking he was. This tall, dark man with the courage of a mountain lion, and the deadly force of lightning, demanded the truth from her. And one thing more. He demanded her trust.
She nodded, but more to herself. She tossed her head back and motioned for him to go.
“Once we are away from here I will tell you all of it.”
Kee held her gaze a few moments longer. “Fair enough.” He started out of the draw, hauling the extra saddle, Isabel behind him with the mustang trailing them.
Earlier, while daylight had lasted, Kee had taken his bearings from the peak of the nearly six-thousand-foot Iron Mountain. To the north lay an old Indian trail that some claimed was used by the Salados, long before the Apache used it to raid the Pimas. The land was rugged, forbidding at times, and held scant water. But it was a land that held a fascination for him, too. Nowhere else did the mountains hold such color, nor test a man to his limits.
But Kee was not heading north. He struck out for the south where he knew there was shelter and water.
Using his own rough judgment of time passing, he stopped every hour or so with the excuse of checking on his horse and to scout around. Without her knowing it, he checked on Isabel’s condition. Her steps were dragging, but she didn’t complain. His admiration for her grew.
He knew he pushed her, and himself as well. But he wouldn’t stop until he had a good defensible place to camp. Those men would be out for his scalp and a little blood-letting. Twice now he’d stolen their prize away.
A faint light showed at the edge of the mountains. Daybreak wasn’t far off. Kee figured they had about another hour to walk. He went back down to where she waited.
“You are worried.” Isabel shivered in the still, cold air. She had nearly emptied Kee’s canteen as they plodded on for hours. She was beyond weariness, and knew if they stopped much longer, she would not be able to go on.
“We have about another hour’s walk. There’s a spring up ahead and some old cliff dwellings. You should be safe there and able to rest up most of the day.”
“I will be safe there? You will leave me?” She hated that he heard the panic in her voice, but she had so little strength left that she could not control her fear.
“I’m not abandoning you, Isabel. I need to find my horses, and with them, a spare for you to ride.”
“They will be looking for the horses, too.”
“I know. That’s why I want you out of the way. I can move faster and easier if I don’t have to worry about where you are.”
She shook her head as he started to walk. There was no point in arguing with him. He was not about to listen. And she still had to shake off exhaustion to think clearly. How much should she tell him?
All, a little voice of reason warned. But the gold…she argued with herself. No man could be trusted with so much gold at stake. He did not know that the very direction he headed was where she wanted to go. More lies…
There was a thought to stagger the stronge
st woman. He had done everything to earn her trust. What more did she want?
He walked ahead without faltering, and she knew the heavy weight of the saddle he had been carrying for hours.
She had told herself that Kee would come, if not for her then for his horses. But he had not gone after his precious mares. He had stayed with her, was still with her and would be until she was safe.
Had she ever known such a man?
Her grandfather was one, the only one she could name.
If only she had met Kee before she had set out on her own. With such a man beside her she could have ridden straight to the old mine. She would have offered him a share, not had to pay him for his help.
Was it too late? How deep did his pockets go? Those horses cost more money than a cowhand could make. Where, then, did he get them? The thought that Kee had stolen the horses crossed her mind. She quickly chased it. The man had a depth of character unlike the other men she had known.
Isabel, lost in her thoughts, stumbled into Kee’s back. She followed his gaze upward and gasped. “Do you truly believe to go up there?”
“I told you the old cliff dwellings are the safest place around here to rest throughout the day. It’s a climb, I admit, but we can make it. Just give me a minute or two. I could swear there’s a game trail nearby.”
The mustang, his head hanging, did not shy away when Isabel leaned against the saddle. After a minute she roused herself. Using her hat she poured out the last of the water for the horse. Kee had said there was water nearby, and while she normally would have waited until she saw the water for herself, she had given him her trust.
Kee suddenly appeared beside her. She felt his hand cupping the back of her neck, his long fingers gently easing the tension that gathered there.
“I’ll take you up first, get a fire started and then bring up the packs.”
“Yes.” She turned only to find him still there, far too close. She wanted nothing so much as to rest against him, just for a little while. Just time enough to pretend that she did not have to be the strong one.
Once a Hero Page 5
