A Mating of Hawks

by Jeanne Williams

  “You know how to urge a person on,” Tracy laughed. She quickened her pace. He helped her down the rock ledge and they started along the wash.

  Shea stopped abruptly. “The pickup’s gone!”

  Tracy stared in disbelief. Sure enough, there was the place they’d spent the night, just opposite that reddish butte. The pickup had been parked just under this overhanging tree. It was nowhere to be seen. Fear washed over her shock. She caught Shea’s arm.

  “What do you think?”

  He shook his head. Examining tire tracks, his frown deepened. “If someone stranded on foot had walked up here and figured how to unlock the truck and start it with the wiring, I’d have some hope that they’d drive to where they could send someone back for us, even if they stole the truck and kept going. But another vehicle’s been in here. Whoever swiped ours didn’t need it.”

  “They might send help even if they’re thieves,” Tracy suggested. Once he’d made her sit down on a half-burned log, Shea’s dazed expression hardened to one of anger.

  “I doubt that, my dear, if they’d take the pickup when they didn’t need it, and even keep our water. Amelia Tanks happen to be close to us, but chances are they didn’t know that—and it’s damned lucky I do!”

  “You—you mean they left us to die?” Tracy asked in horror.

  “If they’d left water, I might have marked it down to boyish high spirits. But anyone who’d do that—” He shook his head. “They won’t send help.”

  “Maybe they’ll be caught,” Tracy suggested hopefully.

  “Why? The car permit’s in the glove compartment in case they want to cross the border.”

  They were both silent a moment. “My darned ankle!” Tracy groaned.

  Shea sat down and put his arm around her. “It could be a lot worse. We’re close to water.”

  “But—”

  “Honey, the best thing is for me to leave you at Emilia. I’ll fill the canteens and get to the highway. Someone’ll stop to give me a lift and I’ll get them to drive back here.”

  Tracy clamped her teeth down on a wail that she was afraid to stay alone, but Shea guessed her feelings. “We could both stay at the tanks,” he said. “Geronimo’ll come looking for us if we’re not back in two weeks, or someone else might possibly happen along. But our food supply is exactly a couple of handfuls of trail mix and a chunk of halvah.” He managed a chuckle. “The tunas and mesquite beans Socorro lived on won’t be ripe for a couple of months and I’d hate to see us live on what I could catch in snares or stun with rocks. I’d better walk out while I’ve got the energy.”

  He was right, of course. By the time her ankle was strong enough for her to go with him, they’d be weak from hunger. Or if they just waited, it could take Geronimo and a search party weeks to cover their whole intended pilgrimage.

  It still lacked a couple of hours till sunset. “You’ll wait till morning, won’t you?” Tracy asked.

  Shea held her close. “Honey, I’d better start as soon as we get you to Emilia. If I can get to the abandoned ranch tonight, then I should make it to the highway tomorrow. With luck, I’ll be back for you by tomorrow night.”

  Walking at night would certainly be less exhausting than making that long trek completely in the day. The only way she could help her love was to go along with what he said and not add to his worries.

  “We’ll get our desert survival merit badges for this,” she said, rising, controlling a wince as weight came down on the abused ankle. “Where’s the tank?”

  Staying below the mal pais, crossing several small washes, they at last came to an arroyo that deepened as they followed it. In places, the earth had eroded to polished rock, and the course was littered with boulders. Though the going was fairly flat, it was rock and uneven. Tracy was grateful for the walking stick Shea had made for her from a dried yucca stalk.

  The first stone basin was empty. The next harbored drying scum. Tracy’s heart sank. Without water, their case would be much worse, though Shea should still be able to walk out. Clumps of brush and stunted trees concealed the next tank till they were almost above it. At the sight of the water, Tracy gave a soft cry of gratitude.

  Since the last rain, it had sustained birds and animals from miles around. Dove feathers floated on it and dead insects were mired in scum at the edges, but it was still life. It looked wonderful.

  There was a little water left in one of the canteens. They shared this as if it were wine, then Shea filled up the bottles. Through the semitransparent plastic, the water showed pale green.

  “We don’t have any iodine or purification tablets,” Shea said. “But there aren’t any cattle running in here and it looks pretty clean, considering.” He opened his daypack. “You get to try out this handy-dandy moon blanket. Here are matches if you want a fire tonight to cheer you up. There’s a flashlight and a first-aid kit. I’ll leave you the food.”

  “You won’t!” Tracy thrust the bag of trail mix at him and opened the halvah. “You eat up right now, before you start! You’ll need energy for that walk.”

  “This water’s full of nutrients,” he laughed, slipping canteens into his pack.

  “Shea Scott!” she threatened. “You eat this or I’ll feed it to the beasts of the air and the birds of the field!”

  “Aren’t you a little mixed-up?” he teased.

  “Eat, you stubborn redhead!”

  “Who’s stubborn?”

  She made as if to scatter the nuts and dried fruit in her hand. He caught it. “All right! Let’s gobble up our supplies. But you save the halvah for tomorrow. I’ll be getting something to eat before you will.”

  “I should hope so, after a hike like that!” She broke the sesame-honey confection in half and made him take his. “Since I’m not as big as you, I’m still getting more than my share.”

  She made him keep the first-aid kit and flashlight, too. “I’m not going anywhere,” she argued. “And there’s not much way for me to get hurt.”

  Her heart shrank when he rose to go. She wanted to catch hold of him and beg him to stay. Instead, she got up and kissed him good-bye. “Be careful, darling.”

  “You, too, honey. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

  It was hard to withdraw from the comforting strength of his arms. Forcing herself away, Tracy produced the best smile she could. “Don’t stop off at some bar and figure you can stroll in any time you’re ready,” she warned.

  He kissed her again and left her.

  It was a sort of self-torture, but Tracy couldn’t keep herself from climbing out of the arroyo to watch him out of sight. After his light-blue shirt had apparently vanished for good in the direction of the red butte where they’d camped, she sat down on a boulder and let herself cry.

  Of course, Shea was going to come back. Everything would be fine. This would make an exciting adventure to tell their children. But for now it was twilight, Shea was gone, and never mind facts, she felt abandoned in this ferocious country and she was scared.

  It didn’t help a lot to call herself names and remember that seventeen-year-old Socorro had been alone in this region with no hope of rescue, but it did brace her enough to make a prayer for Shea and to turn a practical eye to her own arrangements.

  There was fine silt around the tank. Wrapped in the emergency blanket, she could burrow into that and be reasonably warm. She had no food to cook, but a fire would keep the night at bay.

  There were no predators bigger than a coyote and she told herself that rattlers could detect body heat with pits located between their nostrils and eyes. It was handy for locating prey but it also warned when the snake was close to something too big for easy swallowing. As for scorpions—

  The heck with it! Tracy thought. I’m not half as scared of real things as of just the darkness, being out here alone. But I can make a fire.

  Wary of stinging things and snakes, she collected anything that would burn and scrambled down the rocks to the tank. She scooped out a fire hole, selected a place f
or her blanket and hobbled around the arroyo gathering fallen limbs and decaying stumps washed out by wind and downpours.

  She had plenty of dry grass and small twigs to start the fire. It flared at the first match. She added larger sticks, and when those were blazing, edged in a fair-sized stump. It looked solid enough to hold fire through the night, be a reassuring glow in the loneliness.

  Settling back on the folded blanket, she enjoyed the light and warmth. The sense of having done something to improve her situation made her feel less helpless and consequently less afraid.

  She thought of Shea. He’d walk for hours yet. The road wasn’t much, but it skirted a line of hills and it didn’t seem likely he’d lose the way. Her stupid ankle! If only she were walking beside him! The sound of a far-off motor, which almost had to be an airplane, made her feel even more isolated.

  It swept over Tracy in a rush, the malevolence of people who could leave others in this desert without water. What if someone just as evil came along and found her here?

  Shivering, she realized that the fire that cheered her might be a beacon for prowlers like that blond thug who’d kidnapped her. Much as she hated to, she’d better deaden the flames. Easier to handle imaginary terrors than real ones.

  Scooping up a double handful of sand, she was about to toss it in the fire when a voice said behind her, “Don’t do that.”

  Spinning as she knelt, Tracy stared up at Judd. The fire cast a towering shadow behind him. Her first wild hope that he was a rescuer died at the triumph on his broad handsome face. His eyes glinted yellow in the light as he took her wrists and drew her up.

  Trapped in those cruel hands, Tracy felt like dead weight, a heavy molten image stripped of spirit. It took the pitiless searing of his lips on hers to shock her into resistance. Trying to writhe away, she brought her heel down on his instep as hard as she could. He swore and swept her off her feet. “It’s time you learned to behave, baby doll. I’m going to teach you right damn now!”

  Tearing at her clothes, he sank down with her on the blanket. Panic flared blindingly in her. She tried to escape. Time and place dissolved in terror, she was back in the thick Houston night while a man battered at her; only this one was not impotent. She screamed in pain and outrage.

  There was no one to hear.

  XXIII

  She roused from the near stupor into which she had retreated, as he carried her up the side of the arroyo and across the scrub-grown plain to where his RV was parked in a shallow wash. Dully, she realized it must have been the motor she’d heard. As Judd opened the back and dumped her on the thickly carpeted floor, she scrambled to a sitting position.

  “You stole the pickup!” she accused.

  “Sure did,” he answered jauntily. “Wish I could have seen my baby brother’s face when he saw it was gone.”

  Fresh dread gripped her. “Is he all right? You haven’t—”

  “He’s just fine, though doubtless a bit footsore. No use interrupting such a nice healthful hike.” Judd chuckled. “We’ll all sleep tonight, sweetheart. Time enough tomorrow to head Shea off at the pass.”

  Terror blocked her throat like jagged ice. She had to swallow and clench her hands tight before she could speak. “Shea—what do you mean to do about him?”

  In the darkness she shrank as Judd’s hand slid over her breasts. “Don’t you wonder what I’m going to do with you?” he asked softly.

  Suffocated with fear, she fought to keep her voice steady. “I suppose you’ll have to kill me. But Shea—you could let him go. Let him walk out. He’d never have to know what happened to me.”

  Judd laughed.

  Tracy caught his hands. “Please! Your father loved you both. For his sake, don’t hurt Shea.”

  “My father didn’t sire that crazy bastard,” Judd growled. “He’s got no claim on the land he’s ruining and I’m not letting him ruin me! Some of his bones may be found sometime, but what Mexican cop’s going to care about a gringo who probably got shot in some drug ripoff?”

  The nightmare shame and hurt of Judd’s brutalization had crushed Tracy’s will to live, but at the threat to Shea a cold determination strengthened her. If Judd didn’t kill her at once, she’d find some way to destroy or disable him.

  One hand lightly on her throat but spread in a way that suggested strangling, Judd’s voice dropped to a whisper. “How about you, cousin?”

  “How about me?”

  “If you’re nice to me, I can let you live. I’d even marry you when the sad news of your widowhood came out.”

  “You must be out of your mind!” That wasn’t smart. She should have played along till she had her chance.

  The hand tightened ever so slightly, but even with her own and Shea’s life in the balance, she couldn’t bring herself to make such a promise. Judd’s amused tone was edged with admiration. “You’ve got guts, cousin, for all your sweet look. That must be why you’re the only woman who’s ever mattered to me.”

  He gave a soft reminiscent laugh. “I thought Cele might be a winner, but once I got her she turned weepy and all full of guilt over Shea. I was damned glad when she took off. And Vashti—hell! She’s hotter than a cheap pistol but she got the notion she owned me. Would you believe the stupid female thought I’d marry her after Dad died?”

  Dazed, Tracy shook her head. “Your brother’s and father’s wives—”

  “They weren’t worth the hassle.” His voice sank to a husky murmur. “But you are. Did you really think I’d kill you?”

  Involuntary relief washed through her followed by bewilderment. “You mean to kill Shea. You can’t think I’d keep quiet about that!”

  “No one listens to a crazy woman.”

  “What?”

  He caressed her shoulder, testing her flesh with the balls of his fingers as if she were a ripening fruit. “When my younger brother and his bride don’t return from their honeymoon, naturally I go looking for them. I find my brother, killed by who knows who, and finally track down his wife who’s half-dead of dehydration. Of course, the poor girl has delusions about what happened. Of course, she says wild things. And I’m thought to be a wonderfully kind man to take care of her at home rather than put her in an institution.”

  It could work.

  Stunned disbelief gave way to icy conviction that he could bring it off. He was her nearest living relative. No one would question him except—Mary would! And Geronimo might not swallow that story. As that hope flowered, Judd trampled it.

  “With you deranged, I’m sure to be named to handle Shea’s affairs. I’ll fire those Apache friends of yours while you’re locked up for treatment at a private hospital I know of. When I bring you home, the amount of freedom you have depends on you.” His voice deepened. “If you ever got back your sanity, I could marry you.”

  She didn’t answer. There was the sure consolation that he couldn’t, for long, keep her alive. If escape proved absolutely hopeless, she believed she’d rather be dead than doomed to be his plunder. But the important thing now was to keep him from killing Shea.

  She shuddered as Judd climbed up beside her. This time, through all he did, she absented herself from her body and held the image of Shea in her mind, repeating his name like a silent prayer. She had to endure. She had to find a way to save him.

  Judd had tied her feet and hands. Everything came back in a rush as she stirred against her bonds in the gray dawning. Along with that consciousness, a strange dream faded, one so real that she would have sworn a beautiful dark-haired young woman in a torn old-fashioned dress had been smoothing her hair and talking to her.

  I was ravished and lost in this desert, the girl had said in a gentle voice. But I lived, and found my love. So will you, Teresita.

  The infinitely tender smile lingered, a comforting presence in the back of Tracy’s mind as, tensing, she felt Judd stir. He embraced her, tossing back the blankets to watch and touch her body, but to her great relief, he glanced at his watch and sat up, hauling on his clothes.

&
nbsp; “Time to meet Pardo.”

  “Pardo?”

  He had come to the wedding. She knew he was a sort of friend of Shea’s and felt a slight rise of hope.

  “Yeah. He’s stashing the pickup after keeping an eye on Shea to be sure some unexpected woodcutter or wandering archaeologist doesn’t happen along to give him a lift.”

  “What if one does?”

  Judd shrugged. “Pardo has orders to shoot if it looks like Shea might be crawling out of it.”

  Tracy’s brief that Pardo might help them faded. He must have come on the expedition knowing its aim. He was a man who killed for money. There would be money in this kill.

  Judd untied Tracy so she could dress. He let her go into the bushes, tied her hands again before he boiled water for instant coffee and peeled an orange for her. Tracy awkwardly ate it and a breakfast roll. She’d need her strength today.

  “Why didn’t you just kill Shea last night?” she asked.

  Pouring them both more coffee, Judd grinned. “Wouldn’t be much sport in that.”

  “Sport!”

  “Sure.” Judd’s eyes glittered. “This is going to be the most exciting hunt I ever had. I’ve never stalked a man before.”

  “He doesn’t have a gun!”

  “That’s his problem. When we catch up with him, I’ll explain the ground rules and give him a head start.” Judd patted her hand. “I’ll leave you with Pardo and the RV. Cheer up, doll. Maybe Shea’ll kill me with a rock.”

  “You’ll never let him get that close.”

  “Not if I know it. But that’s what makes it interesting.”

  “To make it really interesting, why don’t you give him a gun?”

  “It’s more poetic this way. Man as pure quarry with only his brain for help.”

  “It’s not your brain that’ll kill Shea. It’s your gun.”

  He laughed. “Well, that’s what happens when people think they don’t need a weapon.” Making her get into the RV, he tied her ankles securely. “Just so you won’t kick.” His hand lingered along her thigh. He lowered his head and nipped her through her trousers, letting his warm breath heat her flesh. “What is it about you, cousin? I already want you again. But it’ll have to wait.”