Once a Hero

by Raine Cantrell

  She did not dare chance sending the horse up one of the banks. The rocks would injure Kee when she was desperate to save his life.

  She had to chance making a run deeper into the dry wash. But she needed more cover for both of them.

  With savage strength she yanked up the stakes and sent the horses flying ahead of them. Dust rose in a choking cloud as the horses ran from the smell of blood.

  The only sounds Isabel heard came from the soft thudding of the animals’ hooves, the pounding of her heart and her own panting breaths as she ran alongside Kee’s body.

  She could not see. Running harder she grabbed hold of the mustang’s mane with one hand and let him guide her. The wash narrowed. At any moment she expected to feel the slam of a bullet.

  Where were they hiding?

  Kee groaned. But there was no help for him. She kept on with her bold move to use the horses as cover and urged Outlaw to keep up with the others. She could no longer see over the top of the banks. The ground sloped and started twisting. There were more rocks. She stumbled over them and her thoughts flew to Kee and what he must be suffering.

  Brush snagged her shirt. And the dust cloud had dissipated. She jerked free and wiped the sweat dripping down her forehead and stinging her eyes.

  For a moment she did not understand why the horses had stopped. Then she realized they stood at the edge of a pool of water. The rocky banks were a good five feet over her head. She could not drag Kee free of this place. This, then, was where she would make a stand.

  But the night silence was now broken by the whisper of the wind and the small rustlings of prey and predator. Relief flooded her as she saw the horses dip their heads to drink, including Outlaw.

  Kee trusted the mustang’s instincts. She would, too.

  She fought her intense need to go to Kee. She had to make sure they were safe. One careless moment on her part could mean their lives.

  She was not going to let that happen.

  Despite the trembling of her legs, she crawled up the bank. Something slithered away at her approach, but she paid it no mind. She hunted something larger and far more deadly.

  Danger had heightened every sense. She held her breath, released it slowly, and searched with eyes that tried to probe every shadow.

  Nothing.

  Kee would go out there and make sure. But she was not Kee, and she would not leave him.

  Maybe she had lost them. Or perhaps they had pulled back to wait until morning. The horses had calmed, a few of the mares were feeding on the grasses.

  One last look, and then she hurried back to Kee.

  She used her boot knife to cut away her sleeve. Everything had been left behind. They had Kee’s rifle and his Colt. But the only bullets were looped in his gun belt.

  Anxious as she was, Isabel first reloaded the rifle before she ran her hands over Kee’s prone body and determined that the only wound he bled from was a graze on his scalp. Wetting her torn-off sleeve, she washed him carefully and thought with longing of their gear.

  She gently rolled him over and saw that Outlaw moved to stand over him, his muzzle dripping water on Kee’s face.

  Kee sputtered and coughed. The mustang lowered his head to nudge Kee’s shoulder.

  “Easy boy, easy,” Kee said in an almost normal voice.

  “Thank God,” she whispered, leaning over him.

  “Amen,” he whispered.

  Outlaw stamped his hoof and then blew on Kee.

  Isabel pushed the mustang’s nose out of her way. She fought the tears that burned her eyes. “I thought they had killed you.”

  “Me, too.” The words were slurred. He knew he’d lost blood, and that dull throb remained in his head. If he concentrated hard, he could move. At least his hand, and he needed to touch her. Needed that contact as much as he needed water.

  “Can you move at all, Kee?”

  “Try.”

  “There is water. Help me, and we can get you a drink. I washed off the wound. You bled so much, but I think it was just a bullet graze. I was so…” She bit back a sob as her voice broke. Kee needed a strong woman now, not one who gave way to the fears and terror that had governed her every breath.

  He managed to get up on one knee. Isabel went down beside him. She lifted one arm and put it over his shoulders.

  “Lean on me. Let me help you.”

  It was agonizing how slow the moments were until they made headway and reached the edge of the water. There, Kee sprawled on his belly, drinking until his terrible thirst was quenched. His vision blurred. He pushed himself forward and rolled his head back and forth in the water. Isabel was pulling on his arm, calling to him, but the coolness soothed the throb in his head. He just didn’t care what it did to the wound.

  He gave in to her urging and reared back as she yanked his arm. He turned onto his back and lay there panting.

  “Feel…like a mule kicked…me to hell…and gone.”

  “Stop talking. Save your strength, Kee.” She threw an anxious glance around, knowing they could not stay there. His clothes were muddy and wet. He needed a fire and food.

  “You? All…right?”

  “Never mind me. I shot one of them. Wounded or dead, I…it does not matter.” She shrugged and saw that he had closed his eyes.

  “Kee, we cannot stay here. I do not know where they are. But this is too open.”

  “Take horses. Get our gear.”

  “I will not leave you alone.”

  “No choice. Helpless to move much. Up to you.”

  While he struggled to speak, he was tensing and then relaxing his whole body, the numb feeling slowly receding. Whatever had paralyzed him seemed to be passing, and he once more thanked God for it.

  He lifted his arm, increasing the throb in his head. But it seemed to satisfy Isabel that he would be all right.

  “Can you use your gun, Kee?”

  “Help me to sit up.”

  She half pulled, half shoved him over to the rocks where he could rest.

  “You go. Now.”

  He saw her snatch up the rifle, heard her, and then the night’s natural quiet seeped into him. He worked the thong off his Colt and slid it out of the holster. He kept watching the horses, but they showed no sign of alarm. He laid the gun on his lap and wiped his hands dry on his shirt. He kneaded the muscles first on one arm, then the other. His head still ached, but the throbbing was almost gone.

  He heard the rattle of trickling gravel and snatched up the gun, afraid to have it out of his hand. He threw quick looks to the top of the banks, and then back to where Isabel had disappeared. He hated her being out there alone. But then he remembered her steady and measured fire, and heard her telling him that she had either killed or wounded one of them.

  He caught himself as his eyes closed and shook his head. Images of Isabel swam in and out. She would be all right.

  She had to be.

  He felt on edge. He didn’t like the quiet. He didn’t hear or see a sign of Isabel. His gaze went to the horses. They appeared calm enough, but something was nagging at him.

  His mouth was dry again, his throat parched for the water within easy reach. Yet he made no move.

  He searched the rocky bank across from him. His hair was prickling on the back of his neck.

  Kee wasn’t sure if he really heard something above him, or if he sensed it. But he saw Outlaw’s head come up. The mustang’s nostrils flared wide and he was looking at Kee.

  Buried in shadow, the move Kee made to tilt his head back and look up wasn’t seen. But Kee could and did see the glint of a rifle barrel edging out over the rocks.

  Whoever was up there was looking for him.

  Or lying in wait for Isabel to come back.

  Kee’s hand clenched around the gun. He couldn’t see who was up there, and he couldn’t shoot unless he moved. And he knew that right now, he couldn’t move quietly even though his life and Isabel’s depended upon it.

  If he gave himself away by the slightest noise, the other ma
n had the first shot. All he could do was sit there and wait.

  But he couldn’t let Isabel walk into a trap.

  Whoever waited above had a clear shot at her long before Kee saw her. He wouldn’t be given a chance to warn her away.

  She would be brave despite her fear, and in a hurry to get back to him.

  Or maybe she wasn’t coming back. Maybe one or more of those bushwhackers had waited for her. Someone like the mysterious Vasa that he hadn’t yet seen. Or maybe—He stopped, suddenly sick of his speculations that stacked all the odds against them.

  Whatever hand he’d been dealt, he’d play out the cards as they fell.

  Outlaw stretched his head toward him, then his head went up, ears pricked, nostrils flaring. The horse didn’t like the scent wafting his way.

  Kee didn’t put it past that crazy horse to charge right by him and up the bank. He was desperate enough to wish he could communicate that very act to the mustang.

  His musing ended. He saw the spill of moonlight on the earth in front of him. All night, only bright stars had shone while a thin cloud cover floated over the moon. Now, he could see the tips of his boots. With bated breath, he inched them back into the deeper shadow that hid him.

  One chance. That’s all he had. He had known it all along. He had told Isabel another half truth. He had patience for her, and for working with horses, but none at all when it came to waiting to die.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  He had surprise and would use it. They all had to know that he was wounded. Someone would have been smart enough to check and find his blood.

  But none knew if it was a serious wound.

  Kee leaned to the side and tilted his head back. He saw the full extension of the rifle barrel above him.

  Now or never. The gamble was his life.

  Kee thought his bullet home. He would have one good shot. He inhaled, then exhaled slowly, his finger gently squeezing the trigger.

  He rolled out into the open. He couldn’t make out who was the man up there, but there was a frozen moment of time when Kee knew the man questioned what he saw.

  And that moment was all Kee needed to fire his shot, for a bullet hit the earth at his side, and it was the last shot the man would fire. The rifle clattered down the rocks and lay there as the man fell forward, sprawled facedown.

  Kee held his gun on the still figure, ready for another shot if needed. The fingers of his free hand worked feverishly to poke the empty shell from the gun’s chamber and replace it.

  He listened, every sense alert, but he heard nothing.

  Biting back a groan, he managed to sit up, realizing that he moved a little more easily. His body could respond to his needs. He worked his way back to the deeper shadows and used the rocks to pull himself high enough to reach the rifle. Isabel had taken his, and he’d felt the empty loops on his gunbelt. Every weapon counted. He knew he didn’t have the strength to climb higher and see who it was he shot. He wouldn’t mind having the extra gun belt, either. He forced himself to make one lunge, but the man was too far above him for him to make a solid grab at his arm.

  He climbed back down slowly, telling himself to be satisfied that he had cut the odds by one. On solid footing he swayed, leaning back quickly against the rock for support.

  They all had to hear those two shots, but no one came, no one called out.

  Isabel had to have heard them, too.

  There was still no sign of her.

  His head ached and his hand went to his skull. He probed gently beneath the cloth Isabel had tied around his head. There was a long furrow over his ear that had cut his scalp, but it wasn’t bleeding.

  And he had no time to rest. He had to find Isabel.

  He flipped the rifle, holding the still-warm barrel in his hand and used the stock to support his weight as he hobbled out of the shadows.

  Outlaw swung his head toward the milling mares, and then trotted after Kee.

  Seeing the animal beside him, Kee grabbed the horse’s mane. He wished he could ride; he swayed like a drunken cowhand after a payday binge. But to ride meant he would be more visible to anyone who watched. He was getting damn tired of being used for someone’s target. He needed to go hunting on his own.

  And find Isabel before that.

  Good common horse sense kept telling him to get her and pull out. They could come back for the gold, but not if they were dead. And that crazy, poison-mean cousin of hers seemed to want that more than the gold.

  The good, the dangerous and the desperate all flocked at a hint of gold. It never stayed secret. And people were always ready to kill to possess it.

  And he’d made a vow to Isabel that she would have her gold and her life or he’d die trying.

  He caught the faint smell of smoke as he worked his way through the narrow, twisting path of the dry wash. He pulled up, his hand tight on the mustang’s neck to keep him quiet.

  If he didn’t have to take every step with caution he could scramble up the rocky bank and scout ahead.

  The way the wash formed, he had to go on blind.

  He felt that his muscles had loosened up from that paralyzing shock, but his head still throbbed with a dull ache that wouldn’t quit.

  To tease him, a slight breeze blew the scents of coffee brewing and bacon frying. His supplies. And he couldn’t believe that Isabel was cooking for him.

  In seconds he realized that it was still quiet, but the night had a different feel to it. He thought he heard something, not a clear sound, but something was moving out there where he couldn’t see.

  He thought of drawing his knife, that was quiet, too, but he didn’t want to lose the rifle.

  There was a faint whisper. Something rubbing and working a few stones loose to fall on the ground.

  Kee moved to the side, once more using the deeper shadows for cover.

  He waited there in the darkness, every inhaled breath bringing the stronger smell of a campfire and cooking. He killed one, Isabel thought another was dead. That left Clarai and one other…no, no, he kept forgetting this man Vasa that Isabel swore was with them.

  His leg muscles grew shaky, but he didn’t dare move around.

  Then he saw a shadow where none had been, and heard the soft footfall. Every muscle in his body tensed.

  Down that narrow trail came his packhorse and Kee reacted with a quick move to grab the horse’s nose.

  “Easy boy, easy now,” he murmured. He felt the quiver that ran through the animal, and it matched the shudder that passed through his body.

  Isabel had taken this horse with her and the one she’d been riding. Someone had turned him loose.

  Someone waiting for him.

  The one thing no one could figure is what he’d do. They might expect him to ride off and leave Isabel to them. He knew there was trouble, killing trouble up ahead. He could figure what the men would do. But that Clarai…he just didn’t know if she’d go for him or hurt Isabel.

  He took stock of what he had. Guns, knives and horses. And no one else but himself to depend on.

  There was barely room for him to lead the packhorse past Outlaw. He had to depend on the mustang. He hated tight places as much as Kee did.

  Securing the rifle under his left arm, Kee drew out his belt knife. He ran his hand over the mustang’s back.

  “Forgive me, boy. But you’ll be saving lives.”

  He didn’t have the strength to slap the horse’s rump hard enough to get him running. He used the blade to make a small cut, but its sudden sharpness piercing the hide was enough. Outlaw reared and his hooves thundered down before he bolted. The other horses ran with him.

  And Kee hurried to follow them. They were his cover, and his distraction.

  He heard it in moments, the commotion of horses and shouts and then a single shot that made his heart stop and start. He hoped it was a warning shot to turn the horses as he loped forward, keeping to the side of the wash. He could make out men’s voices, and a woman’s cry. He wanted the mustang to take the ho
rses out of the wash, even if it meant that he was on foot.

  He had the rifle up and cocked and took Benton by surprise.

  The horses were gone. He heard them still running.

  “You make mighty free with a man’s possessions when he ain’t around,” Benton said.

  “Kee, leave us.”

  He didn’t spare a glance toward Isabel. Nor did he understand her saying that to him. He kept the rifle on Benton, didn’t see a sign of Muley Cotton or Alf Dennis.

  But Clarai was there, lit by the firelight and he never blinked but he wanted to rub his eyes since he wasn’t sure that his vision was clear. She was Isabel’s near spitting image. Same height, same slender build, same raven-black hair. Isabel sat beside her. He didn’t see any ropes holding her there.

  He couldn’t drag his eyes away from her cousin. There was a difference in the features: where Isabel’s were finely drawn, Clarai’s appeared coarse. And the eyes, that’s where a man could really tell them apart. Clarai’s were as black as her soul. He’d faced eyes like that before, usually over gunsights.

  “Come away from the fire, Isabel.”

  “No, Kee. My cousin and I have talked. We are going to share the gold.”

  Benton stuffed his mouth with bacon, and paid Kee no mind. But then Kee got that hair-prickling sensation that he was being watched.

  “Tell this Vasa to come on down. Time we met.”

  Kee knew he was in no condition or position to dictate terms to any of them. If Benton and Clarai tried rushing him together, he’d have a hard time shooting one and keeping the other off his back. But he held his ground, trying to silently communicate with Isabel who had not made one move to leave her place.

  She just watched him with those blue eyes filled with more secrets and shadows than he could fathom.

  He didn’t understand. Had everything she told him, everything they had shared been nothing but lies? But why? That made no sense at all, no matter how quickly he ordered his reeling mind to make sense of this.