He reached the cabin near dark. There was a horse hobbled in front of it, an Ap. The half-breed felt the blood surge in his head. He became almost light-headed. The thrill was intense and sweet.
He dismounted and huddled beneath a granite overhang. The cabin door was outlined in firelight. He wished he could invade the cabin now, but he knew the cabin door would be bolted from inside. It was a white man's cabin and white men didn't sleep with the doors unbolted. Not if they liked their scalps.
The bolted door was no bother. He could wait. The door would open eventually, and in the meantime it wouldn't be a bitter-cold night. Already the snow was getting too soft to dig into and form a shelter.
He untied a bearskin rolled up behind him and wrapped it around his torso, his eyes seeking the outline of that door. A firelit rectangle. The passage to hell.
He waited.
"Are you warm?"
"Mmm." Christal snuggled deeper into Macaulay's shoulder. The fire crackled and hissed, releasing azure flames that licked at the hearth.
"Tell me about the dream."
She tensed. It was a luxury to lie by the fire in the arms of the man she loved, her body sated by lovemak-ing, her thoughts quiet and introspective. She was reluctant to see the moment end.
"It was a dream about my parents. A suitor came to call at my parents' house."
"Who was the suitor?"
"You," she answered, locking gazes with him.
His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "And because I came to call on your parents you woke screaming? I could see some fathers doing that, but not a daughter."
She almost laughed. "No, it wasn't because of that. They approved of you, in fact." She rolled over onto his chest. "I was glad."
He touched her hair, twisting it in his hand. A sensuous gold rope. "So what frightened you?"
Her eyes darkened. Her gaze lowered to the scar circling his neck. She touched it with her finger, surprised that he flinched. "You said they hanged you by mistake. You could have been killed. It was a miracle you survived."
"I had an angel on my shoulder that day, I guess."
She laid her head on his bare chest, reassured by the steady beat of his heart. "If they had killed you, I'd have never found you." She paused, swallowing the emotion that threatened to make her cry. "I dreamed I saw you hanged."
"Were you hoping to save me? Is that why you cried out? Were you too late?"
"Yes," she whispered desolately. "Too late for everything."
He held her, his strong hand running the length of her hair until he squeezed her bare buttock. "Christal, why can't you take me to your parents?"
She shut her eyes, unwilling to remember the details.
Not now, while they were so far from everything that might intrude. "They're dead. They died in a fire. I might have saved them, but I didn't get to them in time."
He was silent for a long moment, his hand still stroking her hair. Finally, as if to ease the tension, he whispered, "I love your hair, Christal. It always smells of roses."
"There was an old woman who sold roses on Washington Square. My father bought my mother one every day. Until he died." She released a long, heavy breath. It was difficult even to think of the happy times without the nightmares.
"It's guilt that hurts you, girl, isn't it?"
A tear ran down her cheek, then another and another.
"Tell me the rest."
"It's—terrible." She wept.
"I want to hear it."
"I'm afraid."
"Don't be. You and me in this cabin will change your mind."
"Change my mind, Macaulay." She lifted her tear-streaked face and he kissed her. For the moment, he asked no more questions and she offered no more confessions. They just lay by the fire, his hand petting her hair until, at last, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, in his arms, safe even from nightmares.
Chapter Twenty-three
"Where are you going?" Christal whispered as Cain rose naked from the bed and pulled on his jeans. It had to be the middle of the night, the day had come and gone, unnoticed in the darkness of the cabin.
"Something's botherin' the Ap." He spoke as if his thoughts were elsewhere, and his accent slipped into his words.
"Could it be wolves?"
"No . . ." Outside, the Ap gave a nervous nicker. Cain stared at the bolted door, worry creasing his brow. "Maybe a bear. Maybe it's hungry after the long sleep."
"Don't go." She held out her hand. "I saw a grizzly once take down a deer. The thing had it ripped apart before you could blink."
Cain strapped on his guns, his movements clean yet uneasy. "Bolt the door when I'm gone. If it's a bear, it'll smell the food and be in here .before I can stop it." He glanced over at the table where the saddlebags lay, still packed.
Christal slipped on her chemise. "Are you going to kill it?" she whispered as he shrugged into a flannel shirt and his fringed jacket.
"Maybe. Let me see what it is."
"Be careful. Please." The last word was like a prayer.
He took up his old Sharps repeater and unbolted the door. With the greatcoat wrapped around her, she ran to the threshold, surprised to see it was dawn again. The entire valley was awash in gray light.
The Ap had wandered near the lake. Even in the dimness she could see its ears pricked forward, its tail up in fear and excitement. It smelled something in the air. Something dangerous.
Cain turned to her, his eyes dark with warning. She closed the door as much as she could without totally blocking her view. If it was a bear, she'd see it charge the door long before it could get to it. In the meantime, Cain would have to endure her surveillance. She wasn't going to let him disappear without knowing what happened to him.
She watched while he stealthily made his way down the lake's embankment. The Ap seemed relieved by his appearance; the animal gave him no trouble at all when he grabbed its mane and led it toward the cabin.
But suddenly there was a disturbance. Branches waved and snapped above an embankment of half-melted snow. Christal held her breath, the scream swallowed by sheer will. Cain didn't move. The Ap danced around, terrified by whatever lay in the brush to their left.
Against her better judgment Christal ran out of the cabin, nearer to Cain. She was thirty yards away when she skidded to a halt, her fear freezing her as much as the snow froze her bare feet.
It was a grizzly. The animal appeared at the top of the embankment, grinding through the brush with all the finesse and serenity of an earthquake. It was thin, its heavy gold-tipped coat hung loose on its frame, its claws were unbelievably long, proof it hadn't killed in weeks, not since snow had blinded the valley and frozen it into a wasteland.
The Ap released a high-pitched whinny, and Cain threw his arms around the horse's face and forced its head down into his chest. If it couldn't see, it wouldn't be as frightened.
"Cain. Cain." She whispered the words. She was surprised he heard her.
"I told you to stay in the goddamned cabin." His words were even and showed no fear.
The grizzly stopped on the embankment and looked straight at Cain.
"Shall I make a diversion, Cain?" she asked in a low, trembling voice.
"No, goddammit." The Ap threw its head. It took all of Cain's strength to hold it down.
"Should I—" Her words choked in her throat.
The bear rose up on its hind legs to a height of more than eight feet. Up on two feet, it looked unnervingly human. Below, Cain struggled with the Ap, clearly taking great pains not to lock stares with the bear.
"Go back to the cabin, Christal." His words were calm and gentle. "Don't look into his eyes, don't make any loud noises. It'll irritate him."
Christal thought he'd gone mad. "Shoot him!" she rasped in a harsh whisper.
"Back yourself up, girl, and get into that cabin. Do it!" He held down the Ap's head and looked at her.
She glanced at the towering bear and swallowed another scream. "He's going to attack. I can't leav
e you. . . ."
"He smelling me, that's all. If he were going to attack, you'd know it. He'd be snarling and angry like a dog. Now he just wants to know what we are, so go back to the goddamned cabin. I need you to do that."
She backed up slowly, her bare feet slipping in the snow and ice. Suddenly she could see the bear was indeed trying to discern Cain's scent. Its nose was up, its huge front paws limp and useless in the air. The Ap gave a weary nicker. Cain tried to muffle it in his chest.
She was in the doorway when the bear finally dropped to all fours. Its eyes were too small for her to read any of its thoughts, but its face was screwed up into an expression of extreme repugnance, as if it had detected a dark, alien stench. But then, the bear turned away. It slid down the other side of the embankment. She, Cain, and the Ap stayed perfectly quiet while they watched it lope up the incline to Warrior Peak.
Christal grabbed the doorway, weak from relief. Cain still stood frozen by the lake until die bear was far enough away that the Ap wouldn't irritate it. She almost laughed with relief when she heard another of the horse's weak nickers.
Then the sky fell on her. At least she thought it was the sky. Something heavy dropped from the roof of the cabin, covering her body with a heavy, muscular weight. Her breath knocked clean from her chest, she lay on the floor of the cabin, gasping for another lungful. And staring at the large shadow of the half-breed.
He drew a gun, kicked her into the cabin, and bolted the door. She scrambled to a corner, leaving Cain's greatcoat in the middle of the floor.
"Why—why are you here?" she panted, every breath giving her pain and renewed terror. "What do you want?"
"Another dance."
He laughed, and the sound sent stabs of fear through her heart.
His shadow fell on her. She huddled into a ball. Doomed, she knew what he was going to say before he said it.
"A man in St. Louis told me to find you. He paid me gold." He knelt and touched her hair as if he'd waited for a long time to do it.
"My uncle." Her words were hardly a whimper. Terror choked her.
"I don't know who he is to you, but he paid me to kill you. So I'll kill you."
"It's you who'll be killed," she said, somehow summoning the courage. She couldn't let this man kill her and destroy whatever happiness she would have with Cain. "The man outside will kill you if you hurt me. I've seen him kill before. He won't let you live."
"He did not kill the bear."
The half-breed's expression, or lack of expression, froze her. The bear had more humanity than he did. She could see the man had no thoughts other than his goal, however perverse that goal might be.
"The—the bear went away," she stammered. "If you leave here and leave me unharmed, Cain will let you go too." She stared at him, desperate to find some compassion in his eyes.
"I waited all night for the cabin door to open. When I saw the bear, I was glad. I'm not afraid of the bear. I'm not afraid of him." He nodded toward the door.
Huddled in the corner, she looked up at him. She'd forgotten how tall he was. How muscular. He was like the grizzly in every respect, but there was malice in his eyes, whereas the grizzly knew none.
"The bear went away. You must go too. Save yourself," she whispered, her heart hammering against her chest.
"Christal! Open the door! Why have you locked it?" Cain called angrily from outside.
"Help—" Her answer was muffled by the half-breed's filthy palm. He stared down at her a long time, his eyes captured for some reason by her hair.
"Goddammit, open the door, Christal!"
She could hear Cain's fury now. And the edge in his voice that said he was worried.
"Do not speak." The half-breed put a finger to his lips.
She watched the half-breed while he stared entranced by her hair. It was the end of the line. Her uncle had caught her and won. The half-breed would kill her, and as soon as Cain came through the door, the half-breed would kill him too.
"Don't do this," she whispered, her eyes imploring him for mercy.
The half-breed smiled. He had crooked yellow bottom teeth. "What choice do I have? You think he'll let me take you away?"
Helplessly, she thought of all the times Cain had protected her. Even when she thought he was an outlaw, he'd always protected her. He didn't deserve to die for her now. For all that he'd done, she owed him a life. If her end had come, then so be it, she would instead fight for his.
She grabbed for the pistol, suddenly leaping to her feet, fighting like a wildcat. Shock crossed the half-breed's face. He lost his grip on the gun. She pointed it at him, but he hit her and she fell against the wall, stunned. He grabbed the gun. Dominant once more, he stared down at her while she lay panting in the corner, defeated.
Then she realized Cain had stopped shouting. It was artificially quiet. Ominous.
The half-breed took her wrist and dragged her to her feet. He ran his dirty fingers through her hair. His rancid smell burned through her nostrils. Her gaze searched every corner of the cabin for a weapon, but there was nothing.
"I'm going to take your hair with me."
The idea shot icy fear through her. "A hank of hair is not much company." She forced the panic from her voice. "Wouldn't—wouldn't you like the whole—the entire woman to come with you? Why, I—I can cook for you—" She groped for something more to entice him. "I —I can even keep you warm at night. You see—I've run with outlaws before. Why—I could run with you."
He looked down at her. She wasn't sure but she thought she finally saw the mortal flash of emotion in his terrible dark eyes.
"You lie to me. You know you won't stay with me and give me comfort. You'll run the first chance. Then I'll have nothing."
Bewilderment set in. She hadn't expected his reaction. "No, no ... I would stay. I would owe you for my lover's life."
"When we leave this cabin your lover will try to kill me. Then I will kill him. I won't spare his life."
She closed her eyes, weak with terror. "Unbolt the door. Let me talk to him. I'll tell him I want to go with you. That I met you at Faulty's."
He stared at her for a long moment, then he placed the pistol to her head. "Open the door."
She slid back the bolt, her heart near to bursting.
The half-breed walked her out, the barrel of the pistol resting at her temple, a hair's breadth from firing.
"I'm taking her with me!" the half-breed called out to the wilderness.
They turned full circle. Cain was nowhere to be found. The silence was chilling.
He poked her in the head with the pistol. "Call him."
"Cain!" she yelled. The half-breed poked her again. Her eyes teared from the pain in her temple.
"Let her go!"
The voice came from a ledge in the rock high above them. She looked up and saw Cain, his rifle trained on the half-breed.
"Tell him," the half-breed prompted.
"I'm going with him, Cain." Tears streamed down her cheeks and this time she wasn't sure it had anything to do with the bruising pain of the pistol barrel. "I have to. He's come to get me."
"Let her go or I'll shoot you dead," Cain growled to the half-breed.
The half-breed laughed. He pulled her to him, jamming his forearm underneath her chin and putting her in a headlock. "You shoot me, you shoot her too."
"My aim's not that bad. Let her go."
He poked her temple again with the iron shaft of the pistol. She visibly winced.
Then a shot rang out.
The half-breed's arms fell away from her like a puppet's. She spun around and watched him fall back in the snow. There was no blood. Just a small black hole in his forehead where the bullet had entered.
Cain loped down from the granite face of the mountain.
Sick and frightened, still unable to accept what the half-breed's presence meant, she silently watched as Cain leaned down toward the body.
"He's an Indian, isn't he?" she asked.
Cain turned grim. "T
he moccasins are Cherokee, but he's not Cherokee."
"How do you know?"
"Because I know this man. He's a bounty hunter. Every lawman in the territory knows him."
She froze. The truth would have to be out now. And in the worst set of circumstances.
Aching to stop him, she watched Cain begin to remove a piece of paper that stuck out from the half-breed's vest. It had one small drop of blood on it, old and dark. Someone else's.
"Don't look at the paper." She couldn't hide the fear in her voice. Desperately she tried to think of the way to explain.
"You know what the paper says?"
She nodded, unable to look at him.
He gazed at the body. "So he was coming here for you." It was not a question.
"My—my uncle sent him. He told me." In despair, she turned away from him. The end of the line had come.
Cain slowly withdrew the paper from the half-breed's dirty vest. As he read it, his face turned hard and pale, as if he was battling some internal war.
There was not much more she could tell him. He knew everything now, except the part about Didier, and that she would have to convince him of, but with no other evidence than her character and her pleas, she didn't know if she could.
"Is this true?" His words were harsh, choked. He smoothed the wanted poster with his hand.
She looked at it, damned by the sketch of her face and the outline of the rose-shaped scar, damned by the vicious crimes of which it accused her.
"Is this true? That you were in an asylum for three years?"
Fair Is the Rose Page 27
