Willow threw a quick glance over her shoulder. The pursuers were falling off the pace. One of the horses had given up entirely. They had been faster than the stallion over the first mile, had held their own for a second mile, but they had lacked the Arabian’s stamina for the long, grinding miles after that.
Relief washed over Willow in a wave that was almost dizzying. She turned back and leaned lower along the stallion’s straining neck. Her voice praised him, telling him how he was running the other horses right into the ground. Ishmael’s ears flickered back and forth, listening to his rider’s words. Though the Arabian was breathing hard, his stride was still even. He hadn’t come to the end of his strength yet, but he would soon. She could only hope that the other horses would be far behind by the time Ishmael could run no more.
As the fourth mile whipped by, a volley of shots came from behind Willow. She looked over her shoulder. All but one of the horses had given up. It had the long, racy look of a Thoroughbred. If it were indeed a racehorse, it wasn’t used to races that went on for miles. It, too, was falling off the pace, but slowly.
And it took the gully like the Irish hunter it was.
Talking over the thunder of Ishmael’s hooves, Willow asked for more of the stallion’s strength. His ears flicked and his neck stretched out a bit more. Willow flattened out with him, crying from more than the wind. She knew she was running her horse far too hard, too fast, too long. She also knew that she had no choice but to ask Ishmael for his last ounce of strength.
By the time the fifth mile went by, the stallion’s breath was sawing in and out of his mouth and lather covered much of his red body, but his stride was still hard and rhythmic. Fearful of what she would see, Willow waited as long as she could before she wiped her eyes on her forearm and looked over her shoulder.
The other horse was falling away rapidly, no longer able to run.
Willow wept with relief and pulled Ishmael back to a slower gallop, easing the strain on his heart and lungs. The long meadow swept past on either side, then bent around a tongue of stone thrusting down from the mountain. No one followed her into the sweeping curve. She pulled lightly on the reins again, slowing Ishmael even more.
And then she pulled back so hard that the stallion reared up and slid on his hocks.
In the first clear light of day, five horsemen were spread across the meadow in front of Willow, closing in on her at a run. Turning around and running from them was futile. Even if Ishmael could take another long race, it would only carry them back to the enemies he had just outrun. Escape to either side wasn’t possible, for the meadow was being pinched between the high, steep walls as the stream descended, eating through the mountain.
Willow did the only thing she could. She yanked out the shotgun and urged Ishmael into a hard gallop once more. Hair streaming out behind her like a golden flag, she raced the stallion toward the men who were dosing in on her.
CALEB saw the flattened grass where Willow’s bedroll had been, counted horses in the gray light, and felt adrenaline rush through his veins.
She couldn’t have run off. We’d have heard her.
Just as he turned away, he saw the pale flash of paper tied to a bush. He stripped off the note, read it, and felt as though he had been dropped in ice-water.
Willow had gone alone into the night rather than face a dawn that held Caleb Black.
«Find her?» Reno asked as he watched Caleb stalk toward him.
«She took Ishmael and rode out last night,» Caleb said flatly.
«We’d have heard her,» Reno said immediately. «She must be hiding in the trees.»
«Her stud’s gone and so is she. She wrapped her horse’s hooves in cloth,» Caleb said. He knelt, wrapped up his bedroll, and tied it behind the saddle he had used as a pillow.
«She left a note dividing up her mares.»
«But why?» Reno asked.
«She loves those mares like a mother loves her kids, but she hates me more. She’d ride through Hell itself to get away from me.»
«Willy’s not a fool,» Reno said. «Where does she think she’s going? She doesn’t know these mountains.»
«She took my shotgun and my journal.» As Caleb talked, he pulled two boxes of ammunition from a saddlebag and shoved them into the pockets of hisshearling coat. «Getting lost will be the least of her problems.»
«Slater,» Reno said, shocked. «She knows he’s out there somewhere. My God. What the hell did you do to Willow last night?»
«I wasagentleman,» Caleb said savagely. «She told me she wanted to sleep alone. I let her. But don’t worry, Reno. I’ll never be that stupid again.»
As sunlight brushed the highest peak, Caleb’s whistle shredded the dawn silence. Two dark horses trotted toward him. He grabbed a bridle, saddle, and saddlebags and headed for Trey as Reno turned and ran back to his own camp. He reappeared a moment later with a bridle in one hand and a saddle thrown over his shoulder.
A short time later, Caleb and Reno emerged from the thicket that protected the entrance to the little valley. Reno didn’t bother to tie the branches together behind them. He simply vaulted into the saddle and began looking for signs. Caleb was ahead of him. He made a sharp gesture, then turned and trotted downstream, making no effort to hide his tracks in the water.
Reno didn’t object. Concealing the location of his valley was the least of their problems at the moment. Finding Willow before Slater did was all that mattered. Their best hope was that Willow had been traveling by moonlight and trying to be quiet. Caleb and Reno were traveling in better light and didn’t give a damn who knew about it. They should overtake her quickly.
Suddenly Caleb reined in and held up his hand in a signal for silence. Both men stood in the stirrups, turning their heads slowly, trying to decide if they really had heard rifle shots, and if so, from which direction.
The sound of a ragged volley came from down below, followed by the boom of a double-barrelledshotgun.
Ruthlessly Caleb spurred Trey, sending the big horse hurtling down the trail at a breakneck pace. Reno was right on his heels. Both men had their rifles out and little hope of getting anywhere in time to use them. The shots had come from downhill and miles away. By the time Caleb and Reno got there, nothing would be left but tracks and spent shells.
WolfeLonetree was waiting for them just where the big meadow began. His horse blocked the tracks made by Ishmael while Willow had looked over the grass for the signs of man.
«Slater’s bunch has the girl and the red stud about five miles down the trail,» he said to Caleb and Reno. «She’s not hurt and not likely to be hurt for a bit. Slater is trying to get her to tell where you are, but if we come charging up, he’ll cut her throat just to spite you. You know his reputation.»
«Yes,» Caleb said in a dipped voice. «I know it. Can you get us close to where he’s holding Willow?»
Wolfe nodded and reined his horse into the meadow. The mare was an odd blue-gray with black mane and tail, a color found in mustangs that were throwbacks to their Spanish ancestors. Three abreast, the horses cantered across the grassland on a long diagonal that finally brought them to a fringe of forest. Once there, they reined in to a walk, resting the horses for whatever might come. Without making a fuss about it, Wolfe made certain his horse was between Reno and Caleb. Speculatively, Wolfe’s indigo eyes went from one man to the other, trying to figure out if Caleb knew who Willow’s husband really was.
After a moment, Wolfe said dryly to Reno, «You must be Matthew Moran.»
«Most people call him Reno,» Caleb said, but his eyes never stopped searching the land ahead.
Wolfe smiled slightly and relaxed. «I always have. Didn’t know you were married, Reno.»
«Willy is my sister,» Reno said. «She’s going to be Caleb’s wife.»
Deep blue eyes went from Caleb to Reno and back to Caleb again. «Wife,» Wolfe repeated softly.
Caleb nodded.
«Well, if ever a woman could put a bridle on you, that blond warrio
r I saw this morning would be the one.»
«You saw her?» Caleb demanded.
«See that bald knob up there?» Wolfe asked, pointing.
Across the grass and about a thousand feet higher up, there was a stony knob.
«I see it,» he said curtly.
«I was sitting up there with my binoculars, keeping an eye on Slater’s bunch,» Wolfe said. «The girl was a few hundred yards out in the meadow when she saw Jed Slater and some of his men break cover behind her. She didn’t waste time wringing her hands. She sent that red stud of hers into a dead run. Slater was on that big racehorse of his.»
Unhappily, Reno shook his head and said something beneath his breath.
«Then she never had a chance,» Caleb said aloud.
«That’s what Slater thought, too,» Wolfe said. «He let that big horse run. A mile later he had cut Willow’s lead to a hundred yards. Two miles later he was working hard to stay even. Three miles later he was losing ground. He tried shooting, but it was too late.»
«I’ll kill him,» Caleb said.
Wolfe slanted the other man a sideways look. «Wouldn’t surprise me. God knows he’s earned it.»
«Is that when Slater caught Willy?» Reno asked. «Did she pull up when he started shooting?»
Wolfe shook his head. «Hell, no. She kept that red horse at a dead run every foot of the way, shots or no shots. They jumped a hidden gully that had to be every bit of twenty feet across. The stud nearly went down on the other side, but she hauled him back onto his feet and had him collected and running again in nothing flat. And they just kept on running. Never seen anything like it.»
«What?» Reno asked.
«That red stud,» Wolfe said simply. «Your sister ran him flat out for more than five miles. She never raised a whip, never beat him with her heels, never did one damn thing but stick to his neck like a burr. Slater’s big horse is game, but he just didn’t have the heart of that little red stud.»
«Then how did Slater catch her?» Caleb demanded.
«He didn’t. He had split his bunch to look for sign. Half of them were in front of her. She came around a curve in the meadow and there theywere.»Wolf looked at Caleb suddenly. «Are you sure you want to marry her?»
«Dead sure.»
«Damn. I’ve got to tell you, Cal, if it were anyone but you, I’d make a run at her myself.»
Caleb threw Wolfe a narrow look. «Forget it.»
Wolfe’s smile flashed against his dark features. «Don’t blame you a bit. That’s one hell of a girl. She saw the men in front of her and pulled her horse right back onto his hocks. By the time he got four hooves on the ground again, she had seen her best chance and she took it.» Wolfe shook his head, remembering. «She aimed that red stud for the biggest gap in the horsemen, yanked out her shotgun, and headed for the men at a dead run.»
Reno looked shocked. «Willow did that?»
Wolfe nodded, then glanced at Caleb. «You don’t look surprised.»
«I’m not. When theComancheros jumped us, my horse went down. Willow turned around and came back for me and damn the rifle fire.»
«I can see how that would put a man in a marrying frame of mind,» Wolfe said, smiling. «Just watching her take on Slater’s bunch gave me a few ideas in that direction. Those London ladies I met were as lovely as dawn, and would have lasted just about as long out here.»
«Willow did fine as soon as I got her some decent clothes,» Caleb said.
«Thought I recognized those buckskins,» Wolfe said. «It took Slater’s men a minute to figure out it was a girl riding up. Once they did, they sort of settled back, expecting it to end without a fuss. By the time they got their rifles out she was on top of them. They fired a couple of rounds to turn her, she fired back, and one of the men grabbed her right out of the saddle when the stud ran by.»
Caleb’s hand tightened on the rifle stock. «Did he hurt her?»
«Not as much as she hurt him,» Wolfe said, satisfaction in every syllable. «Hemightas well have grabbed a wildcat. By the time I got down off that rock and up to the men, Willow was hog-tied on the ground and the man who had caught her didn’t have enough skin left on his face to be worth shaving.»
Wolfe didn’t mention that Willow looked a little worse for wear, too, her pale cheeks showing the clear imprints of a man’s hand.
«Then Slater came up and started asking questions about you,» Wolfe continued, glancing at Caleb. «Willow said she didn’t know where you were, that she was lost.»
«Did Slater believe her?» Reno asked.
Unhappily, Wolfe took off his hat, ran his fingers through hair as thick and black as night, and snapped his hat back into place. «No. He found a book of some kind she was carrying. Seems there was a map and a lot of notes in it.»
«My journal,» Caleb said. «She took it.»
Wolfe’s eyes narrowed, but he asked no questions despite his curiosity. «Slater told her to point out where she had been. She looked him right in the eye and told him she couldn’t read. He threw the journal in her face and told her she had until the horses were cooled out to learn.»
«How much time do we have left?» Reno asked.
Silently Wolfe scanned the countryside and the angle of the sun. «Maybe another hour. Those horses were lathered from their fetlocks to their ears. That’s why I took a chance and came looking for you. If I hadn’t found you in five more minutes, I was going back.»
Caleb’s mouth flattened. He knew what Wolfe wasn’t saying — Jed Slater was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted in the most efficient manner possible. His reputation for applied cruelty had been earned during a particularly cruel war.
Wolfe looked at Caleb’s harsh expression and knew what the other man was thinking. Hesitating, knowing he shouldn’t, Wolfe nonetheless found himself asking the question that had eaten at him since the first moment he had realized who Slater’s men were pursuing.
«How did you get separated from Willow?» Wolfe asked.
Caleb said nothing.
Reno swore and admitted, «She wrapped her stud’s feet in cloth and sneaked out of the valley.»
There was silence while Wolfe thought about what Reno had said.
«She got past both of you,» Wolfe said finally.
«Yes.»
«Be damned.» He sighed. «Any idea why she took off?»
Reno didn’t wait for Caleb to speak. «Willow thinks Caleb seduced her to get even for me seducing Caleb’s sister.»
«Bloody hell,» Wolfe said, shocked into using a kind of English he had sworn to forget. «Why did —»
«The horses have rested enough,» Caleb interrupted. «Let’s ride.»
Without waiting to see if the other men would follow, Caleb touched spurs to his horse, sending it forward at a fast canter. A minute later, Wolfe passed him, taking the lead. Nothing more was said until Wolfesignalled for a halt.
«We have to leave the horses here,» Wolfe said.
While Reno tied the horses out of sight, Caleb pulled off his boots and switched to moccasins. Wolfe started up the steep shoulder of a ridge that poked out into the grassland. When all three men were belly down just below the crest, they took off their hats and crawled up the last few feet.
Slater’s camp was at the bottom of the slope, a thousand feet away. There was little cover on the slope itself, for it was too steep and too rocky for anything to survive except bits of grass and scattered, very stunted trees. The only other approach to the camp was up a grassy meadow where ten hobbled horses were grazing and five horses were being slowly walked while lather dried after their long, exhausting run.
Ishmael was one of the horses. Though they had been walked for half an hour already, it would be at least another half hour before they were cool enough to be turned out with the other horses. Then Slater would come back and begin questioning Willow.
Before that happened, Willow had to be gone.
Taking care that no sunlight flashed off the spyglass, Caleb searched until he found Wi
llow. She was off to one side of the camp, tied hand and foot among the supplies. Her arms were pulled awkwardly behind her back. A rope went from her wrists, around a waist-high stump, and from there to her ankles.
Ten feet behind her, a man lay propped against a saddle, cutting his fingernails with a pocket knife. His face looked like he had tangled with a wildcat.
Willow straightened. The movement caught Caleb’s eye. For a moment, the hair on her cheeks slid aside, revealing the livid marks of a man’s hand. A stillness came over Caleb for the space of one breath, two, three. He took a long look at the guard. Only then did Caleb resume quartering the area around Slater’s camp, marking out the positions of other men, of available cover, of possible ambush sites.
While Caleb used the spyglass, Wolfe talked in a low voice that carried no farther than the men who were stretched out on either side of him. «If Slater follows his wartime practice, there will be a man guarding Willow and another guard about thirty yards out from camp where you’d least expect it. At the first sign of trouble, both guards will shoot Willow.»
«I saw a man in the rocks off to the right,» Caleb said softly. «I’ll take care of him on the way in.» He collapsed the spyglass and handed it to Reno. «Same for the man close to her, the one with the scratched face. I’ll take particularly good care of him.»
Reno scanned the slope and the approaches to the camp while Caleb took off his heavy coat and made certain his six-gun was secured in the holster.
«You can’t get close to them without being spotted,» Reno said finally, lowering the spyglass. «And if you shoot them, Willow will be the next to die. We’ll have to wait until dark.»
«Slater isn’t a patient man,» Caleb said. «I’m not going to sit here and watch him ask questions and then cut her to ribbons with his steel-tipped quirt when she doesn’t answer. That’s what he did in Mexico when a woman wouldn’t tell him where her husband was.»
Wolfe’s powerful hand damped around Reno’s arm, holding him down when he would have surged upright. «Easy, Reno. Cal likes it even less than you do, but he’s right. If anyone can get Willow out of that camp alive, he can.»
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