Ring felt cold. His response was merely a curt nod.
Blaze felt distinctly uneasy. This was harder than she had thought, and Ring wasn’t helping. She loosened her reins and let Lonesome walk on. Her gaze focused on a small homestead in the near distance, but she didn’t really see it.
“I was … thinking,” she continued unsteadily. “Wondering, really, if you … I mean … if you and I might be heading in kind of … well … the same direction.”
Ring’s heart normally didn’t skip many beats. He had to swallow to try to regain his composure.
“Well, you know I … I like to take my horses to Westport and sell ’em to the folks headed west. So, I guess I’m headed to Missouri. You haven’t told me much about where you’re goin’, except north.”
It was true. And it troubled her. Blaze’s brow wrinkled into furrows.
“Truth is,” she admitted, “I’m not exactly sure where I’m headed. Except north.”
Ring decided to take a big risk. If she was thinking what he hoped … prayed … she was thinking, he wanted to be able to help her in any way he could.
“Are you sure the person, or people, you’re looking for aren’t around these parts any longer?”
Blaze looked at Ring sharply. Her hands tightened on the reins, and Lonesome stopped.
“What do you know about who I’m looking for?” she asked tensely. A scowl hovered on her brow.
With effort, Ring remained perfectly calm. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was just a guess, Blaze.”
She tried not to let it, but the pain welled up in her. She looked away from Ring, toward the small house in the distance.
Ring cursed himself silently. He had spoiled the moment. He hoped he hadn’t ruined his entire future as well.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized quietly. “I sure didn’t mean to stir up any bad feelings. That’s the last thing I’d want to have happen between us … bad feelings.”
Blaze bit her lip to try to focus on a different pain. She tried to recall the warmth she had felt earlier, the wonder of the emotion she had thought she had felt for Ring. But there was now only a bleak chill in her breast, and she felt terrible. She had seen clearly in Ring’s eyes, in his expression, how he would have responded to her suggestion they travel together.
“I don’t … I don’t have any bad feelings toward you, Ring,” Blaze forced herself to say at last. “There’s just something I … I have to do.”
“You don’t have to do it alone, Blaze,” Ring heard himself saying.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Please let the feelings come back, Blaze prayed. Whatever they were, please let them come back.
But her heart remained hard, filled only with the dreadful purpose that had consumed her life. And she knew, without doubt, that what she felt for Ring was simply the ease and comfort of friendship, a talisman against the dark of night, a barrier to loneliness. She touched her horse’s neck once again. Blaze sighed.
She had wanted to love him. He was a good man. But he wasn’t the right man.
“Ring, I … I have to say something. I …”
He held up a restraining hand. She thought it was because he didn’t want to hear what she had to say, but in the next moment she heard what had caught his attention. And saw the dust cloud swirl about the little house.
“Looks like there might be trouble,” Ring said needlessly. “Maybe you’d better ride back and let me …”
She was gone before he could finish his sentence, responding just as he had feared she would. He put his heels to his bay mare with the hope of merely catching up with her.
Lonesome was a sturdy animal, trail wise and patient. And fast. Blaze was grateful for his fleetness of foot when another scream, a woman’s scream, tore straight into her heart. She leaned a little lower over her horse’s neck.
The house was small, built as it was of rare and precious lumber. The back of the structure was shaded by a generous paloverde, and beyond the tree were half a dozen acres that appeared to have been recently put to the plow. A man in a farmer’s simple garb sat astride a shaggy, solidly built horse and futilely brandished a rifle at a small band of mounted braves. He had placed himself between the Indians and a woman and child who huddled against the side of the house. Laughing and whooping, the mounted men reached around the farmer to jab their guns at his hapless family.
Something hard and horrible rose up in Blaze. There was a strange, metallic taste in her mouth. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. Her teeth were clenched so hard a tic jumped in her jaw, and her hands clutched so tightly on the reins her fingernails dug into her flesh. She heard shouting, but was unable to recognize words. She rode down on the braves as hard and fast as she was able.
There was but one thought in her mind. Save them.
Ring’s fear was all for Blaze. Hotheaded little fool, he silently railed. What had gotten into her? Didn’t she know better than to charge into the midst of a band of riled-up renegade Indians? He lashed the end of his reins across his mare’s flanks, then reached down for the ever-present rifle in its sheath. It was never a good idea to bring out a weapon in a situation like this, but it didn’t look like Blaze’s attack was going to leave him any choice. She was going for it wholeheartedly.
With a kind of horrified fascination, Ring watched Blaze ride, full tilt, into the center of the group. The swiftness and headlong nature of her charge seemed to take them by surprise and, as she rode through the middle of them, they drew back, scattering as they wheeled their horses out of the way. Seconds later, Ring had reached the house, rifle leveled at first one, then another of the braves.
“Don’t anybody move,” he said tightly. Then wondered what in the hell he was going to do next. The brave nearest him, Apache by his dress, openly sneered. “Or what, white man?”
Ring swung his rifle toward the man who had spoken. What a damn, stupid mess to get into, he thought. What a damn, stupid way to die. His next thought was that he had never seen a human being move so fast.
Blaze had ridden out, Ring knew, without her guns. He considered her, therefore, weaponless. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Like the lightning he had named her for, she struck out in three directions all at once, a pure force of stunning energy.
The rider closest to her, on the right, surrendered his rifle without a fuss. She was simply too quick, and he was totally unprepared. She snatched it, and in the same, sweeping motion, brought the weapon around to her left and caught another rider with a sharp blow on his right shoulder. At the same moment she kicked out her left leg, catching the brave’s horse in the ribs. The horse bolted and his rider, unbalanced by the blow, tumbled to the ground. He hit the hard dirt with a grunt, and his rifle spun away from him. Ring jumped from his horse and grabbed it.
In the space of seconds, two of the four braves had been disarmed. Ring realized he and Blaze now held three weapons to their two. In spite of himself, he grinned. It acted like a signal to the farmer, who leapt from his horse, grabbed his wife and daughter, and shoved them through the front door of the little house. The two Indians who remained armed were galvanized.
“Shit,” Ring breathed as he watched the man with a four-fingered hand raise his rifle to his shoulder and aim at Blaze. His finger tightened on his trigger. “Shoot her and you’re a dead man,” he hissed.
“And I will be the one who will kill you.”
All eyes swiveled toward the man who ridden up, totally unnoticed, and spoken. Ring heard Blaze draw in her breath.
“Put down your weapons. All of you.” The man’s voice was deep. Commanding. Ring noted that the braves obeyed at once. To Ring’s amazement, so did Blaze. Slowly, reluctantly, he lowered his weapon as well.
“What has happened here?” the man asked. His horse danced sideways, and he controlled the mare with no visible effort. “You.” He indicated the farmer. “Speak to me.”
The farmer glanced around him warily. He removed his straw hat and turned it nervously in h
is fingers.
“We … we would have given them food,” he replied at length, haltingly. “They only needed to ask. They … they didn’t have to try to steal it, or … or torment my wife and daughter.”
The man who questioned the farmer was tall, his skin browned by the sun, his waist-length hair blue-black. His beaded shirt and leggings were distinctly Apache. But his eyes were blue. Sky blue and piercing. They narrowed as his brow furrowed.
“Chinalgo,” he said to the four-fingered man. “Go. Take these women with you.” He indicated the three other braves. “I will deal with them later.”
For long moments the only sound was of hoofbeats. The four Apache braves disappeared in a trailing cloud of dust. The tall man turned his searing gaze on Blaze.
“You have courage. And cunning. These people owe you their thanks.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The farmer nodded vigorously, still twisting his hat. His wife and daughter peered through the partially open door behind him. “Thank you. Thank you very much. Both of you.”
Ring felt an unfamiliar heat rise to his face. He nodded briefly, aware that the tall man barely glanced at him.
“Is he your … mate?” the man asked Blaze abruptly. “No.”
“Tell me your name.”
“Blaze,” she replied without hesitation. Ring thought he saw the tinge of a smile touch the corners of her mouth. “And yours?”
The tall man was silent for the span of several seconds. Ring noticed something happen at the corners of his mouth as well.
“My people have named me Baa hilzaa n’ii idi’dii.”
Blaze’s smile blossomed full. “Bringer of Thunder,” she said confidently.
The tall man showed very white and even teeth. “You know my people’s language.”
“Not by choice.” Blaze’s smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “But by necessity. Many of my people had to learn to beg for their lives in the language of their enemy.”
The tall man’s smile lessened, but did not depart. He nodded slowly. His horse shook its head and snorted.
“You are a worthy adversary. Blaze,” he said, as if testing the word. “In many different ways.”
The two eyed each other for another impossibly long minute. Ring could almost feel, physically, the tension between them. He wanted to get back on his horse but was, unaccountably, afraid to move. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something was happening. Instinct warned him to keep perfectly still.
“On behalf of my people, I apologize,” the tall man said at last to the farmer. “Like many young men, even white men, they forget their manners from time to time.” He returned his hard, bright stare to Blaze. “I apologize to you as well. Blaze. And to your companion.” He reined his horse around, obviously preparing to ride away.
“Wait.”
The tall man turned in his saddle. “You told me your name,” Blaze said in a curious tone of voice. “But you didn’t tell me what they call you.” The brilliant smile reappeared. His horse trotted in place, eager to go, while the tall man held him in check. “As I said, you are cunning.” He laughed, the sound like a short bark. His horse reared, standing briefly on two legs. “Bane,” he called out as his mount’s front feet touched the ground again. He gave the animal its head, and the horse burst into a ground-devouring run.
“Bane,” Ring repeated with a shake of his head. “Bane of the white man, I suppose he means.”
Blaze ignored him. She tossed the captured rifle to the farmer. “You’d better keep this,” she said. “You never know when you might need it.” Without another word, she turned and rode away.
Ring caught up with her quickly. He felt strange, as if he’d just awoken from a dream. “We were damn lucky,” he commented at length. “That episode could’ve ended pretty badly. Fortunately, that … Bane … turned out to be an honorable man.”
“He’s a dangerous man.”
Ring looked over at Blaze sharply. “What?”
“He’s a dangerous man,” Blaze repeated. Her expression seemed distant, focused on something very far away. “Something is burning inside of him, consuming him.”
Ring was totally perplexed. “How … how could you know that?”
Blaze reined her horse to a stop and looked Ring straight in the eye. “Because I recognize it,” she said, so softly he barely heard. And then she was gone, galloping away from him as rapidly as the tall man had taken flight.
Ring started to follow, but let his mare fall out of the lope almost at once. With slowly dawning realization, and heavy heart, he knew that Blaze had done more than just ride away from him.
She had ridden out of his life.
CHAPTER TEN
FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS, BLAZE MOVED AS IF WITHIN the confines of a dream. The incident with the farmer and his family had an air of unreality about it. Trying to catch and hold on to the memory was like attempting to cling to the fringe of a cloud. First there had been shock and rage for the family’s plight, then the frenzy of action. She had done things she had not ever dreamed she could do. And then the tall man had come. The tall man with the light eyes.
Blaze’s dreamlike haziness intensified. Bane, he had called himself. Bane to the white man. Bringer of Thunder to the Apache. But who was he, truly? Where had he come from? And to whose people did he really belong? He led Apaches, yet had protected the whites. Staring straight ahead, lost in her thoughts, Blaze tripped over a rock partially hidden in the dusty street. She returned abruptly to the present and looked about her.
She had almost reached the livery. She wondered if Ring would have time for her today. Probably not, she thought. He was busy putting the final touches on the horses he had trained over the winter. They would leave any day now. And she had told Ring she would leave with them, ride along with them. At least until she picked up the trail she sought. Blaze sighed heavily.
Everything was different now. Painfully different. Blaze suspected Ring knew why she had asked him to ride out into the desert with her. She was sure he knew exactly what she had been on the verge of revealing to him. She most certainly knew the sadness he felt since that day. Most troubling of all, however, was her inability to understand just what had happened to her. She had started the day wondering if she might be falling in love with Ring Crossman. She had ended it knowing he was not, and would never be, the man for her. What had changed so dramatically? And why did she become so irritatingly restless each time she thought about it?
Fleeing from it yet again, Blaze closed the distance to the livery and rounded the side of the barn. The corrals were busy, as she had envisioned. Sandy caught sight of her and waved.
“Hey, Blaze.”
Blaze smiled at him. He walked with only a slight limp, a fact for which she was profoundly grateful. As was Sandy, and his puppy-like devotion was often disconcerting.
“You want me t’saddle up Lonesome, Miss Blaze?”
“Thanks, Sandy. I’ll get him.” She walked past the first corral, where the activity was taking place, to a smaller paddock where they kept their personal riding stock. Ring nodded at Blaze as she passed.
“Sorry, but I’m a little tied up today. No pun intended,” he added, and hefted the rope he had coiled over his arm.
He smiled, but it was a sad smile, Blaze thought. “Do you need me to help?”
He shook his head. “As long as you intend to fry up that steak you promised me this mornin’, you take your horse and enjoy yourself for awhile.”
Blaze felt a little guilty, riding out while the others worked. But she did her share feeding them twice a day, which freed Rowdy up to help. Besides, their roles would be reversed on the trail, with Rowdy cooking and her tailing horses. And she felt like a ride today. A ride alone, just her and Lonesome.
The big, spotted horse regarded her patiently. Nary an ear twitched when she threw her saddle on his back and cinched him up tightly. He held his head low, as if aiding her, when she slipped on his bridle. Blaze led him out of the corral and mounted.<
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Sandy waved as she passed. Ring’s gaze followed her solemnly. Rowdy ignored her entirely. She kicked Lonesome into a jog when they rounded the corner of the barn.
Many of the people in the street looked at her strangely. She had become used to it. There were not many women who rode about in men’s clothing. Fewer still with waist-length black hair creased by lightning. Self-consciously, Blaze raised a hand to her temple.
She couldn’t feel it, and seldom thought about it. Only an occasional mirror brought her up short. Did Bane remember it? Did he remember her?
The mere idea caused her to squirm in her saddle. An instant later it made her angry.
What was she doing thinking about the leader of a ragtag band of renegade Apaches anyway? She was never even going to see him again.
Unconsciously, Blaze put her heels to her horse’s sides and he broke into a lope. They galloped away from the town, keeping to the road until the shadow of Squaw Peak fell across their way. Blaze reined to a walk and looked up at the small mountain.
She and Ring had once ridden up the narrow trail that wound near to the top. The view of the dry, sundrenched valley below had been breathtaking. She considered riding up there again. It might be her last look, for a very long time, at the southern deserts that had so long been her home.
Lonesome was trail wise and sure-footed. He picked his way slowly up the narrow, rocky path. Lizards sunning on slate-colored rocks scurried for cover. Tufts of hardy grass poked from crevices, and once, faintly, Blaze heard the warning trill of a rattler. A hawk soared high overhead.
The sun was warm on her back and neck and, although the steep, winding path grew more narrow, Blaze had every confidence in her horse. She relaxed into her saddle, wrists crossed over the pommel, shoulders slightly slumped. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she glanced at the desert beauty all around her with a certain serenity. In the distant recesses of her mind, she retained the knowledge that these might be her last peaceful moments. There was a long, hard road ahead, and a bloody one. Her journey would not be over until vengeance was fulfilled.
Blaze of Lightning Roar of Thunder Page 7
