Chimera reveled in the tender strength of his arms. She pressed herself against his hard, bare chest and, as its warmth penetrated her, she wondered again what lay beneath it, what lay hidden in his heart. “Oh, Sterling.” She sighed again.
“What is it, estrellita?” he urged her absently, his voice hoarse and heavy with the passion their embrace had unleashed. “What are you thinking?”
She trembled with pleasure at the sound his voice. “Well, at first I was wondering about your heart. But now I’m thinking of your freckle again. You know, the fact that you won’t show me that freckle indicates just how far you’re willing to take your privacy. I mean, a man who can’t bear to reveal a dot on his thigh—”
He pulled abruptly away from her. “Aha! You see?” he charged, his desire changing into instant fury. “You did it! I knew you would, and you only scoffed at me. You took a freckle, and you made it seem the logical opening for a discussion concerning...”
“Concerning what, Sterling?” she asked when his voice faded into silence. Golly darn it, was he accusing her of something again? “You’re the one who asked me to tell you what I was thinking! You—”
“Be quiet.” His head snapped toward the cabin. What was that noise? he wondered, apprehension raising the fine hairs of the back of his neck.
“What’s that noise?” Chimera asked abruptly. “Sterling! Sweat heaven, it sounds like an earthquake!”
She was speeding toward the cabin before he could answer her. He caught up with her, passed her, and stopped suddenly at the sight before his eyes.
Cattle, what looked to be about twenty head, were stampeding through Chimera’s garden, three mounted men urging them on with gunfire and whips. Sterling’s first thought was to fire his own pistols, but Dios mio, where the hell were the children?
“Sterling!” Snag screamed, and raced out from behind the barricade of freshly cut logs. “They got Snig! He was throwin’ rocks at ’em, and that son of a bitch with a white stripe in his hair grabbed him and rode away with him!”
Sterling felt a deep and deadly fury sweep through him as Snag’s words rose above the din of running cattle. He whirled, sped toward Gus, and leapt upon him. The horse wore only a lead line, but Sterling knew this would not be a hindrance. The steed would understand what was asked of him.
Gus responded immediately to the pressure of Sterling’s knees, and galloped out of the yard. Sterling let him lead the way, knowing Gus would follow the departing cattle and mounted riders.
Gus’s hooves tore into the soft earth. He caught up with the herd, and soon had passed many of the stampeding cattle. Sterling’s hands were free. His powerful thighs keeping him firmly upon Gus’s back, he snatched both his Colts from their holsters and prepared to murder the man who had Snig.
But he could not find his target. He saw the man with the white streak in his hair, but the ruffian did not have the boy, and worry for Snig coagulated in his throat. He felt choked with it until the sudden sight of the youngster’s purple pants nearly strangled him with horror.
Snig was hanging onto the horns of a steer! Sterling felt a wave of terror for the struggling boy. The steer was racing between several other head of cattle, and Snig’s little feet were dangling sideways, dangerously close to the steer’s pounding hooves. If the boy lost his grip...if he fell, Sterling raged, he’d be trampled.
With a tug on the lead line, Sterling urged Gus toward the steer who carried Snig, An explosion of gunfire rose above the thunderous sound of dozens of hooves, but Sterling, his eyes riveted upon Snig, didn’t care who was shooting or who the man was shooting at. His only thoughts were for the screaming boy who seemed to be letting go of the steer’s horns.
“Snig, hang on!” he yelled, his shout eaten up by the cacophony. “Don’t let go! I’m coming!”
Willard watched as Sterling kneed the gray horse into a gallop so fast, man and rider were a blur. Never had he seen a man ride like that, and never had he seen a horse respond so instinctively to his mater’s commands. The horse wore no bridle, no saddle. It read its rider’s mind. There was no other explanation Willard could think of.
But his superb horsemanship would not save him, Willard seethed. The marksman who protected the crazy witch had killed Joe, Willard’s longtime friend, and for that, the man would die. That in mind, Willard jerked his horse toward the steer that carried the boy.
But as he neared Sterling, his eyes widened in astonishment, his awe so great he could not force his finger to squeeze the trigger. Never in his life had he seen any rider do what the man was doing.
Sterling approached the steer that carried Snig and was somewhat relieved that the animal seemed intent on remaining with the herd. As long as it did so, it wouldn’t try and buck Snig off: and Snig’s slight weight didn’t seem to be bothering the animal, either. Reassured, Sterling reached for Snig.
But the steer shied and ran further into the herd, three other steers forcing Gus to move over. There was no possible way for Sterling to reach Snig; the boy was several steers away, the one that carried him moving farther into the middle of the stampeding herd. Sterling thought about killing the steers that separated him from Snig, but was afraid the falling bodies would cause Snig’s steer to panic and throw the boy.
Instantly, Sterling knew what he had to do. El paso de la muerte! he screamed inwardly, the words reverberating through his mind, drowning out all other sound. The pass of death! Years had passed since the last time he’d done it. Could he do it successfully now? But he had to! It was the only way to reach Snig. If he didn’t try—if he didn’t succeed—the boy would fall and die.
Gus’s long mane his only means of keeping his balance, he brought both legs up and placed his feet directly behind Gus’s withers, directly in front of where he sat. Gripping Gus’s mane fiercely, he slowly, very carefully, began to stand, and never in his entire life had he ever been so grateful that his mount had such a smooth gait. His legs straightened, his fists tightened further around Gus’s mane. He rode standing, bent over at the waist, his knees bending with the flow of Gus’s rhythmic gallop. He allowed himself one short moment to find still more balance and cast a quick, sideways glance at the steer who was racing beside him. Balance! he shouted to himself. One fast smooth pass!
His finger unfurled from around Gus’s mane, and his right foot left Gus’s back as he stepped toward the steer beside him. For a split second he rode both his horse and the steer, one foot on each of the animals, before he brought his left leg over to join his right and grabbed the steer’s horns. Bent over, his hands curled around the beast’s horns, he rode thus for a few moments before his muscles tensed with the strength he would need for the next pass. El paso de la muerte! he thought again, his body responding instantly to his mind’s commands.
His right foot made contact with the next steer in line, and he rode both animals for a moment before bringing his other leg over. The animal bucked and then lost its footing, but Sterling kept a firm grasp on its horns and managed to stay standing.
Now there was only one steer separating him from the one who carried Snig. One more change to make. One more perilous pass. He prepared himself and wondered fleetingly if this was to be the one that would bring him death.
Willard rode nearby, watching in stunned awe. The man was mad, passing from steer to steer like he was doing! But mad or not, he’d already been on two steers and was now preparing to mount a third. Soon, he would reach the boy. But how would he get the kid? Willard wondered. Surely there was no way possible for him to rescue the boy, himself, and manage an escape for both of them.
That in mind, Willard felt no need to shoot. The ‘breed would undoubtedly fall while trying to save the boy, and they would both be trampled. A bullet would end the man’s life quickly, mercifully. But being trampled beneath heavily pounding hooves...the dark-skinned man who’d killed Joe would suffer horribly before he finally died. Willard smiled at the thought of how pleased Sprague would be at the news. Watching and waiting
, he was certain his prediction would come to pass within seconds.
Dust made it nearly impossible for Sterling to see, and it clogged his throat too, but he knew even a slight cough would throw him off balance and he’d never make the final pass he needed to reach Snig. Through sheer willpower, he ignored the urge to clear his throat and, his eyes narrowed and stinging, he made the third and final pass.
Once on the steer, he sat and reached forward, his hand slicing through the space between the steer’s horns. But he couldn’t manage to grasp the small, whitened fingers that were curled around the ends of those horns. When the steer began trying to throw Snig by tossing its huge head, he felt blind panic. “Pull yourself up, Snig!” he bellowed, the tremendous noise nearly deafening him. “You can do it, son! Pull! Pull and then try and slide closer to my hand!”
Snig felt himself slipping. He’d hung on for what seemed like forever, and his fingers were numb with strain. He could barely feel the round horns he clutched. Vaguely, he heard Sterling’s commands, but his tired body, his immature muscles refused to cooperate.
Sterling watched in horror as the little fingers slipped, and he inhaled a great gulp of dust as one of Snig’s hands disappeared completely. The boy was now holding on with only one arm, and Sterling knew if he didn’t somehow find a way to reach him, the youngster would be killed in the next second.
He threw himself forward, the entire length of his torso stretched out upon the steer’s thick neck, his powerful legs wrapped around it for balance. Grabbing the one small wrist he could still see, he pulled with a strength he knew in his soul he’d never before been forced to summon.
“Don’t move!” he thundered, his throat raw with dust and fear for the boy. He knew if Snig straggled, the sharp horns of the steer would impale him. One wrong move, one imperfect pull, and Snig would be stabbed instead of trampled.
Sweat poured from Sterling’s brow, stinging his eyes further. His body strained with the exertion needed both to stay upon the wildly racing steer and pull Snig from the side of the steer to the animal’s face. Inch by inch, slowly, carefully, he tugged the arm he held, not stopping until Snig’s upper torso lay over the top of the animal’s head, until the steer’s horns provided a firm enclosure around the small hips.
“You’ve got more to hang onto, Snig!” he screamed. “Wrap your arms around its neck and don’t let go! The steer will stay with all his friends and won’t try to throw you, so just hang on!”
Dios mio, how was he going to get the steer out of the herd? he wondered desperately. He’d never be able to perform another paso de la muerte with Snig in his arms. Dammit, he needed wings!
The thought no sooner swept through his mind when he saw Pegasus. His narrowed eyes widened with disbelief when he saw Chimera riding the camel out of the woods. Then he saw one of Sprague’s henchmen directly behind her, reaching for his rifle!
Willard, surprised at Chimera’s unexpected appearance, panicked. The woman riding toward him, her hair flowing like a black banner behind her, looked every inch the witch. Even now, Willard thought anxiously, she was casting a spell. He could see her lips moving. Her eyes were mere slits in her face. He saw his man, Davis, following her, and struggled to give the command for Davis to shoot her. But full-fledged terror gripped him instead, his hysteria causing him to drop the reins. Just then Willard’s horse saw Pegasus also, and reared in fright. His horse bolted. Willard, hard-pressed to stay mounted, fought for control, didn’t find it, and disappeared with his horse into the thick forest.
Chimera, unaware of the man racing behind her, turned Pegasus toward the stampede. At the sight of the huge, unfamiliar beast, some of the steers broke away from the herd, scattering in various directions, causing confusion among the remaining head of cattle. When she saw what she had done, Chimera urged Pegasus even closer to the herd. Again, cattle scattered.
Sterling, his legs still wrapped around his steer’s neck, his hand still gripping Snig’s tightly, watched as Sprague’s thug gained on Pegasus. His legs tightened further around the steer’s neck as he slid his other hand down to his gun belt and snatched out his pistol.
He aimed for Chimera’s pursuer, but the steer’s rocking, unbalanced gallop made it impossible to shoot straight. With each swaying, jolting move the steer made, Sterling lost sight of his target and could find no way to brace and steady his aim. And there was no way in hell he’d take a wild shot and accidentally hit Chimera.
He looked over his shoulder and saw Gus galloping beside the herd. But whistling for his stallion wouldn’t do any good. Though a few steers had fallen behind, there was still one separating man and horse. Sterling realized another pass was the only way to reach Gus.
“Snig, you’re safe as long as you keep a firm grip around the back of the steer’s head! You weigh so little, he probably doesn’t even know you’re on him, so don’t twist, don’t struggle, just hang on, and I’ll get you off as soon as I can!”
Again, he prepared to perform the dangerous paso de la muerte. He stood and, stretching out his left leg toward the animal beside him, he reached for its horns and then brought his right leg over. His breath was coming in ragged heaves, but he managed to gulp in enough air to whistle for Gus.
The horse appeared instantly beside the steer. Sterling leapt upon his steed and felt Gus’s familiar smoothly balanced gait beneath him. It didn’t matter how fast the horse was galloping, his speed presented no obstacle to Sterling’s arm.
With deadly accuracy, he picked off the man following Chimera. His eyes sweeping the scene, he aimed for a second man, but the ruffian began to flee before Sterling could get a shot at him. In his panic to escape, the man became unseated and look a headlong dive into the stampeding cattle. One long, horrible scream erupted before the thunder of pounding hooves silenced it.
Sterling felt not one twinge of sympathy for the man. He aimed his gun at the steer that separated him from the one carrying Snig. He killed the steer instantly and tightened his knees around Gus as the horse swerved to avoid stumbling over the dead animal. Other cattle, confused and frightened, broke away, and when Gus was galloping side by side with the steer upon which Snig was hanging, Sterling bent and reached out for the terrified boy.
“Let go with one hand!” he demanded furiously when Snig made no move to cooperate with his own rescue. “Dammit, Snig, reach for my hand, and I’ll pull you to me!”
In response, Snig buried his red, tearstained face into the steer’s thick neck, his little arms still firmly wound around it. Sterling realized the boy was too afraid to let go and knew he would have to force him to release his hold on the steer. He bent to the side, the sheer strength in his thighs the only thing keeping him upon Gus’s back, and reached for the waistband of Snig’s pants. With all the power he possessed, he slid the boy out of the enclosure the steer’s horns made around Snig’s small body. When only Snig’s calves remained upon the steer’s head, Sterling jerked viciously, and for one horrifying second, Snig hung suspended in thin air before Sterling pulled him onto Gus.
Snig clung to Sterling’s chest and wrapped his trembling arms around his savior. His sobs tore at Sterling’s heart, but he ignored them until he caught sight of Chimera and Pegasus. Both girl and camel were fine, he was relieved to see. Even now, Pegasus was lumbering toward Gus. Sterling urged his mount well away from the herd of cattle and then slowed him into a gentle trot.
“Snig, are you all right?” he asked gently, and halted Gus. “Do you hurt anywhere?”
“N-no,” Snig wept.
“Snig!” Chimera screeched. She slapped Pegasus’s shoulder with a slim stick. The camel lowered himself to the ground, his legs folding beneath him. Chimera slid off and ran to pull Snig from Sterling’s arms. “Snig, oh, .Snig!” she cried, her tears running freely down her face and into Snig’s carrot-red hair. “Snig—”
Sterling dismounted, “I think he’s fine, Chimera,” he tried to reassure her. Chimera only wept into the boy’s hair, holding him so closely,
so tenderly that Sterling was stuck dumb by the sight. A profound silence seemed to settle over the entire landscape, muffling every other sound but Chimera’s loving voice. It echoed in his ears like a heartbeat, and he couldn’t stop himself from staring at her and the child so secure in her embrace. A great need rose within him. He couldn’t understand what it was he wanted at that moment or why he wanted it; he only knew he wanted it with every fiber of his being. He shook his head to clear it. “I suspect he’s more afraid than hurt. Am I right, Snig?”
The boy sobbed for a few more moments and then broke away from Chimera’s embrace. He rubbed his eyes with his fists and then began to cry again.
“Snig, how did you end up on the steer?” Sterling asked.
“The man—he d-dropped me, and...and I fell on the c-cow! I—I almost f-fell off!”
“But you didn’t fall off,” Sterling reminded him. “You weren’t hurt at all, right?”
Snig could only answer with another burst of tears.
“Well, the least you could do is thank me for saving your life,” Sterling teased, relieved the boy could stand with no apparent pain. “I risked my own to save yours, you know.”
Snig looked up at Sterling and for one moment, Sterling believed the boy was going to hug him. But in the next instant, Snig was running toward his two brothers, who had just appeared at the top of the hill. “Some gratitude!” Sterling called after him, and watched as the boys raced back toward the cabin together.
“How—where did you learn to do what you did?” Chimera asked incredulously as she wiped away her tears. “When I saw you step from steer to steer—I had just caught up with the herd. You stood on Gus’s back and stepped over into thin air! You—”
Moonlight and Magic Page 15
