The Apache’s eyes narrowed. “It shall be as you say.” Wolf had spent a lifetime moving across the rocky terrain without a sound, without leaving even so much as a stem of grass bent to show that he had passed. It was child’s play to sneak up on the white man who lay prone with his gun aimed down the canyon that led to the valley.
Wolf gave no warning, and the outlaw who had been recruited by Wat in Santa Fe for a few dollars in gold made no sound as he died with his throat slit from ear to ear.
Wolf waved to Jake, who quickly scrambled up the trail to join him.
There was no mercy in Jake’s eyes when he looked down at the dead outlaw. “I want Rankin. Leave him for me.”
“Which one is Rankin?” Wolf asked.
“He has long blond hair. The kind that makes a showy scalp. You can’t miss him.”
Anabeth glared at Rankin, who was knotting the rope that held both her and Claire tied to a wooden stake planted in front of the stone house. “Jake will kill you for this,” she said.
“I expect he’ll be comin’ after you, all right,” Rankin said. “But you see, Kid, we’ll be waitin’ for him.”
Anabeth exchanged a look with Claire, who was tied with her back to Anabeth on the other side of the stake. Both of them knew Rankin was right. Jake would be coming. And with the way Rankin had them tied to this post, there was no way Jake could save them without exposing himself to the outlaws concealed nearby.
“Now if you was to tell me where that gold is, Kid, maybe we could make us a deal,” Rankin said.
“I’ve told you I don’t know where it is!”
“Maybe a few hours in the hot sun will refresh your memory,” Wat said.
Anabeth looked up at a spring sun that felt a whole lot more like summertime. Already her mouth felt dry. She wasn’t so much worried for herself and Claire as for what effect such a deprivation might have on the children they carried inside them.
When Rankin left them and moved into the shade of the house Claire asked, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. But your face …”
“It’s nothing.”
By turning her head Anabeth got a good look at the huge purple and pink bruise on Claire’s cheek. “You shouldn’t have tried to fight them,” Anabeth said. “You should have just let them take me.”
“I couldn’t do that, Anabeth. All I could think was, what if it had been me they were after? You wouldn’t have stood there doing nothing.”
“I’m sorry I got you involved in this,” Anabeth said.
“I still can’t believe that Will Reardon is also an outlaw called Wat Rankin.”
“Rankin was the man who shot and killed Sam,” Anabeth said.
“Oh my God,” Claire said. “Dear God. Does Jake know?”
“He knows.”
“And Rankin wants you,” Claire deduced, “because you can lead him to Sam’s gold.”
“I swear to you, Claire, that I don’t know where it is. You have to believe me. If I knew, I’d have returned it long ago. Please don’t hate me, Claire. I’m so sorry about what happened to Sam.”
“I don’t blame you, Anabeth.”
“But I was there, Claire! I was on my knees beside Sam when he died. And his last words … He said he loved you, Claire. And that he was sorry about Jeff.”
“Oh, Anabeth. So much tragedy …”
Both women were quiet for a while, each caught up in her own memories. Finally Claire said, “How many men do you think Jake will bring with him?”
“Shug won’t stay behind. And surely he’ll bring along a couple of the hands.
“They won’t be able to do much with us being held hostage like this, will they?”
“Jake will figure something out.”
Jake swore vehemently when he saw the two women staked out in front of the stone house. “How are we supposed to get them out of there?”
“We will have to wait until darkness falls,” Wolf said.
“We can’t leave them in that hot sun all day!”
“It is a small price to pay for their safe rescue,” Wolf said.
Jake sighed heavily. “Anabeth is carrying my child.”
“I have seen an Apache woman go a long time without water and bear a healthy child. So it will be with Stalking Deer. You will see.”
“I hope you’re right,” Jake muttered.
“You are a fortunate man,” Wolf said. “I have tried to make a child with my woman, but it has not happened.”
Jake grinned. “Now there you’re wrong.”
“What?”
“Claire told us she’s going to have your child in the fall.”
“Why did she not tell me?”
“I gather there wasn’t time.”
But Wolf knew it was because she had planned to leave him. She had known he would never let her go if she told him she carried his seed. His dark eyes took on a dangerous look as they turned to search the valley. He would kill the men who had threatened his woman. Then he would take her home where she belonged. No one was going to stop him. Not her brother. Not even Little One herself.
“I’m going to take a look around,” Jake said, “to make sure Rankin didn’t plant some extra men here before he went after Anabeth.”
“I will look also,” Wolf said. “We will meet here when the sun sets to do what must be done.”
The instant the two men left the hill two small heads bobbed up.
“I do not know why I let you talk me into this,” White Eagle said.
“It was for her sake, and you know it,” He Makes Trouble replied. “We cannot let our mother be taken captive and do nothing to save her.”
“Wolf will make sure she comes safely away from this place.”
“He may need our help.”
White Eagle eyed the smaller boy askance. He knew better than to disobey, and yet he had allowed himself to be swayed by He Makes Trouble. Likely the boy would one day be a leader of the tribe, he talked so smoothly. But they were here now, and it was up to him to see that He Makes Trouble did not make things worse instead of better. It was always possible that the younger boy was right. If they remained hidden, there was the chance that they might be of some use later, when help was needed.
“Come with me,” White Eagle said. “Let us move closer so we can hear what is being said.”
“Do you remember the white words?” He Makes Trouble asked.
White Eagle frowned. “Most of them.”
“I do not understand how you could have a mother like Little One and be willing to give her up,” He Makes Trouble mused.
“I did not give her up,” White Eagle retorted. “I was stolen from her.”
“Did you not miss her?”
“In the beginning. I was only as old as you are now when Broken Foot brought me to the village. I was afraid. I cried for my mother. But she did not come to get me.”
“Why not?”
White Eagle tugged on his lower lip with his teeth. “I thought it was because she did not care. I got very angry with her and with my white father. I hated them for abandoning me.
“But Cries Aloud was a good mother. Soon I was too busy doing things—things I had never been allowed to do before—to think about my white parents.” He shrugged. “I forgot about them.”
“Little One never forgot about you.”
White Eagle frowned. “No. She remembered me for a long time.”
“Do you still hate her?” He Makes Trouble asked.
“No. I … There are memories of our times together that fill my heart with joy. I was only afraid she would try to take me away from Broken Foot and Cries Aloud. Now … I do not want her to be hurt.”
“Well, that is why we are here,” He Makes Trouble said. “With both of us to watch over her, surely she will come back home safe.”
The two boys inched their way down into the valley, using skills that were still new. So new, that they made mistakes. Which was how they found themselves facing the barrel of a shotgun w
ith a one-eyed white man holding the trigger.
“Hold it right there, you little Injun bastards!”
There was only an instant to react, but it was enough for White Eagle to shove He Makes Trouble aside. The blast of the shotgun roared in their ears, but only a few pellets found flesh.
The burly outlaw made the mistake of thinking that two Apache kids were all the danger he faced. He stood up to fire the second barrel, which was when Dog ripped the man’s throat out. The second blast went off into the ground as the outlaw crumpled to the ground, his scream caught in his ragged flesh.
Jake was there almost instantly to call off Dog. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t be bitten himself, but as soon as Jake spoke to the animal, Dog calmly sat down beside the dead outlaw and licked the blood from his jowls.
Wolf’s face was fierce to behold, but his hands were gentle as he reached out to run them over the two boys. “How bad is your wound?” he asked White Eagle.
“My shoulder hurts a little,” the child replied.
Wolf turned his savage look on He Makes Trouble, whose eyes were still wide with fright. Before Wolf could say anything, Jake joined the Apache.
The Ranger’s brow arched when he realized Wolf was nursemaiding two Indian boys. The oldest one couldn’t have been more than nine or ten. “What are they doing here?”
“We came to help our mother,” White Eagle said in English.
“Jeff?” The boy’s hair was darker than Jeff’s had been, but his green eyes—Sam’s eyes—remained steady on Jake. Then Jake recognized Sam’s nose and mouth and chin. “Is it really you?”
“I am called White Eagle,” the boy said.
Jake could see Jeffrey was about to faint from shock as a result of his wound. He turned to Wolf and said., “We’d better get them out of here. Rankin will be sending someone up here to see what happened.”
“Come, He Makes Trouble,” Wolf said.
White Eagle had risen and started to walk on his own when Jake scooped him off his feet.
“I can walk,” the boy protested.
“Just indulge your uncle Jake, boy. We have to move fast, and this way we won’t leave a trail of blood for them to follow.”
White Eagle couldn’t argue with that. In fact, he wasn’t feeling well enough to protest too much. He laid his head on his uncle’s shoulder and let his eyes drift closed.
The two men made their way with the two boys to the far end of the valley where the pond was located. Dog followed them at a distance.
At the pond they encountered yet another newly recruited outlaw. They hid in the bushes while they tried to decide the best way to approach him.
“We can’t afford to let him get off a shot,” Jake said. “We don’t want to alert Rankin that we’ve come to this end of the valley.”
“Leave this to me,” Wolf said.
This time it was Wolf who took a misstep. A stone rolled, alerting the outlaw.
“Who’s there? Speak, damn you, or I’ll shoot!”
Wolf was in plain sight, but he remained perfectly still. He saw the outlaw’s eyes pass him by, then come back and light on him. “Dirty Injun!”
Jake had been watching the drama play out in front of him, but he still held Jeffrey in his arms. It was He Makes Trouble who provided the distraction that saved Wolf’s life.
The boy stood and shouted, “Ahagake!” Then he put his thumbs in his ears and waggled his fingers at the white man. “Come and get me!” he yelled in Apache. “Your mother was a coyote bitch! Come and get me, you coyote pup!”
The outlaw was so startled that he made the mistake of shifting his gunsight off Wolf. The Indian’s arrow sang true, catching the outlaw in the heart. He dropped like a stone.
When Jake and the boys joined Wolf, He Makes Trouble kept his eyes aimed down. Once again he had disobeyed.
Wolf put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and said, “That was a warrior’s deed—to draw an enemy’s fire to save another. I am thankful for your courage, He Makes Trouble.”
“You are not angry with me?”
“I did not say that,” Wolf said with a sardonic smile. “You could as easily have been killed. I would have been sorry for that.”
He Makes Trouble beamed up at Wolf. “I will remember your words, Father. And try to do better.”
Wolf felt a thickness in his throat. It was pride in the boy. And love for him. And the hope that he would always be worthy of the boy’s adulation.
The sun was leaving the sky, which meant it was time for the two men to make their way back to the stone house. Jake had rigged a sling to keep Jeffrey’s shoulder immobile. The gunshot pellets still had to be removed, out that could be done later. For now, the bleeding had stopped.
“I want you to watch over White Eagle,” Wolf instructed He Makes Trouble. “You will stay here. In this you will not disobey me.”
“Do not worry, Father. I will do as I am told.”
Jake left Dog to guard the two boys while he and Wolf headed down the valley to rescue the women they loved.
* * *
Wat Rankin was furious. “How the hell did they manage to get into the valley without Fredericks seeing them?” he ranted. He had heard the shotgun blast and sent the Mexican to investigate.
“I do not know, señor,” Solano said. “But the one-eyed man is dead. I checked the entrance to the valley, and that man, he is dead also.”
“What about Pritzel? Is he all right?” Wat asked.
“I did not go to the pond, señor. I thought I would come here first.”
Wat’s eyes narrowed. The Mexican was right. If that Ranger had been in the valley most of the afternoon there was a good chance Pritzel was dead, too. There was no sense getting Solano killed by sending him into some trap.
“You’ll stay here with me,” Wat said. He looked around the stone house that he had thought a veritable fortress the first time he had seen it. In light of what he knew about the Ranger, he was beginning to think it could be more of a deathtrap.
Only he had his ace in the hole. The two women tied up outside were his ticket to freedom if anything went wrong. He planned to use them to find out where the gold was hidden. He had already ransacked the house searching for it, and he had searched the cave behind the house as well. But he had found nothing.
Night was falling. In the dark the Ranger would surely try to sneak up on him. Unless he could somehow make sure it was lighter outside than inside.
Wat turned to Solano and said, “I want you to gather up all the firewood you can find. I want to make a bonfire so big it’ll light up this whole end of the valley.”
“Sí, señor.”
Wat Rankin had done things the easy way all his life. It had seemed easier to find the gold that had already been stolen than to rob another stage. It had seemed easier to kill Sam Chandler and take his wife than to find a wife of his own. Now it appeared the stakes were a lot higher than he had thought. There was a chance—a slight one—that he might not make it out of this valley alive.
Maybe he should have stayed an “honest” rancher. At the time, his plan had seemed so simple and so certain to succeed. Now it appeared he had lost not only the gold, but his chance to have Claire and Window Rock as well.
He looked at the two women tied up in front of the house. He might as well enjoy them while he had the chance. He took a knife from his belt and headed outside to cut them free.
Solano went about collecting wood and building the bonfire just as he had been told. When he had the fire burning brightly, he slipped away. That Rankin, he was loco. The deaths of the outlaws who had joined them weighed heavily on the Mexican. He did not like the odds of his leaving the valley alive.
Solano decided to improve them by leaving now. He would be waiting for whoever came out of the valley. And he would help himself to the gold if it had been found. He would survive where others had died. The Mexican did not worry about his betrayal of Wat Rankin. An outlaw learned to think of himself first, last, and always.
>
Solano was quiet as he made his escape. Silent as he had learned to be over the years as a wanted man. Silent as daybreak.
There was another, even more silent, who shadowed him.
23
Anabeth’s chin sagged onto her chest. Her tongue felt thick and dry. She was suffering desperately from thirst. “Why hasn’t Jake come to rescue us?”
Claire had no saliva to swallow with. “He’s probably waiting for it to get dark.”
“It is dark.”
“Not quite. There’s still some pink showing on the rim of the valley.”
A fire flared up in front of the stone house.
“Now what?” Anabeth asked.
“I’m afraid we’re going to find out soon enough.”
Wat had his gun out of the holster when he came to untie the women. “Don’t make any sudden moves. Take it slow and easy, and I won’t have to shoot.”
Wat hadn’t counted on how much the lack of water or freedom of movement would affect the two women. When he released the ropes, Anabeth sank to the ground. Claire knelt beside her.
“Get up!” Wat ordered. “Both of you!”
Claire snapped back, “She can’t get up, you fool! Can’t you see she’s exhausted. She needs water.”
“There’s water inside,” Rankin said. “You get her on her feet, or I’ll drag her by the hair. Take your choice.”
Claire could see that he meant it. She put Anabeth’s arm around her shoulder and struggled to her feet. She half-carried the younger woman into the house and sat her down at a chair by the kitchen table.
“Where’s the water?” Claire demanded.
Rankin gestured with his gun toward a barrel of water inside the door. “You can get her a dipper from there.”
Anabeth guzzled the water greedily, feeling stronger as her body absorbed the life-giving liquid.
“What are you going to do with us now?” Anabeth rasped.
Rankin looked at her burgeoning belly and wondered what it would be like to do it with a woman who had one in the basket. Would he feel the child when he thrust inside her?
Kid Calhoun Page 32
