Dance With A Gunfighter (24 page)

Gabe helped McLowry mount, then they quietly walked the
saddled horses along the hillside path. The tunnel opening was just ahead when
they heard Cramer bellowing about the horses being set free.

Above Cramer and Lomax’s voices, Melissa called out. They
saw her running toward them, waving her arms. "Jess. Wait for me! Don’t
leave me here! Please, Jess!"

Gabe urged her horse into a canter, but McLowry stopped.

"Jess, ignore her!" Gabe cried.

He faced the camp, listening to Melissa’s cries.

"No, Jess!" Gabe cried. "We’ve got to
hurry!"

"Damned whore!" Cramer shouted, his rifle aimed
point blank at her back. The rifle blast reverberated through the canyon. All
was quiet for a moment, then they heard another shot, and Cramer fell.

Gabe peered down at the camp. Lomax stood behind Cramer’s
body. He tossed aside his gun and ran to Melissa. Kneeling, he pulled her body
into his arms, his head bowed.

McLowry’s eyes met Gabe’s, then he followed her into the
shelter of the black tunnel.

An eternity seemed to pass before she saw distant
starlight. She urged her horse faster, knowing that safety and freedom could
only be found far from this boxed canyon. They stopped at the far entrance to
the tunnel. They wanted to descend the mountain there, but it was craggy and
pocked with cliffs. It would be necessary to follow the trail. Gabe remembered,
though, that three of Cramer’s men had gone to rob a neighbor of meat, and
hadn’t yet returned. And sometime, soon, Will Tanner was supposed to arrive.

Anyone approaching would be coming up that mountain trail.
They couldn’t chance meeting any of those desperados, not with McLowry hurt so
badly. And when Tanner and his men found the carnage at the camp, they’d surely
come after them. She knew they couldn’t confront or outrun Tanner or the
others. They had only one chance--to outsmart him.

Chapter 18

Gabe led McLowry up the mountain.

The scarred, rugged bulk bore no trail that they could
find. As the massive red walls, crisscrossed with ledges, crevices and
pinnacles, grew higher and wilder, Gabe dismounted and pulled, pushed or
smacked the horses' rumps to force them up the steep slope, with only the moon
and night stars to guide her.

It was all McLowry could do to stay in the saddle. Gabe
could see the little strength he had failing rapidly. Avoiding the sandstone
walls with their unstable, crumbling crags, they began traveling crossways on
the mountain instead of going any higher. To hide, they had to make their way
deep into the range with its myriad canyons and valleys.

The moon had descended and darkness was all around when
they stopped at a shallow indentation on the hillside. McLowry took one look at
the flat area and all the strength he'd called upon to escape Cramer
evaporated. He leaned forward, hugging the horse’s neck, knowing only that he
couldn’t allow himself to fall or it would be all over.

Dizziness, fatigue and the wracking pain of his back
drained him. His gaze found Gabe pulling the reins, stopping only to catch her
breath. He didn’t know where she found the strength, especially after all she’d
faced that day. As he watched her, he was filled with admiration, with pride,
and with more feelings than a gunfighter had the right to when looking at a
fine, honorable woman. She’d endured in the face of Cramer and his men. To
rescue him, she was prepared to take on a man with her bare hands. His heart
had nearly stopped when he saw her there with Dawes, and saw her fingers close
around the knife.

As her hand soothingly patted her horse's neck she glanced
at McLowry. Their eyes held, wordlessly expressing all they felt. She shouldn't
be doing this alone, he thought. He had to find strength...had to help...but
instead his eyelids closed. The last thing he remembered was the strong but
gentle touch of her hands as she helped him from the saddle.

o0o

Pale morning light peeked through the sharp crevices of
the mountain. Gabe gave a start when she opened her eyes and got her first look
at the heavy, precariously balanced rock they'd slept under. The enormous
boulder looked as if a strong wind could have sent it tumbling down on top of
them. Despite reminding herself that these pinnacles sat piled that way for
centuries, she hurried to get moving again. She didn’t remember stopping here, only
remembered being so mind-numbingly exhausted she could no longer pull the
horses into the darkness. She must have helped McLowry from the saddle. He lay
face down, sound asleep.

Her stomach rumbled with hunger. She made a quick search
of the saddlebags for food. On the desert, where edible plants were scarce, a
man would be a fool not to have food stashed in his saddlebag and a filled
canteen of water with him at all times. Cramer's men might be uncouth outlaws,
but they weren't fools when it came to survival. Sure enough, there was a small
amount of jerky, dried beans, and ancient looking dried biscuits in each bag.

When she turned to face McLowry, two biscuits in her hand,
she saw he had awakened.

"We have to return to Dry Springs," she said,
handing him one. "Doc Shannon needs to treat your back." If it didn't
get proper treatment soon, she feared infection would develop.

"It’s too dangerous," he said, his voice raspy.
"That’s the first spot Tanner will go to look for us. We’ve got to get
over these mountains."

They traveled throughout the day and the next night,
stopping only to eat and sleep briefly. The flush on McLowry's cheeks, and the
weariness that he struggled against, worried Gabe constantly. They had to find a
town, a doctor, but as they traveled through the mountain range, she didn't
know which way to turn to lead McLowry to safety.

On the afternoon of the third day, they found a deer trail
that also showed signs of coyote and mountain lions. Abruptly, the trail
dropped away into a small canyon with a stone floor and curved, sheltering
walls. At the back of the canyon a thin waterfall trickled through a crevice in
the cliff. The water had sculpted a deep, rocky pool with a single, stunted
cottonwood on one side of it.

Rocky, gravel-filled and barren though the little canyon
was, it had water...beautiful, fresh, running water. The air smelled fresher
and cleaner, and the soft splash of water into the pond was music. Gabe felt as
if she'd ridden into a corner of paradise.

They headed straight for the pool. Immediately the horses
bent their long necks to drink. Gabe helped McLowry from the saddle, then he,
too, lay down by the pool. Gabe ran water over her face and neck, and McLowry
did the same. Even with the cooling water, though, he couldn't stop the fiery
heat of his brow. He'd never been sick for long before--a few days, and he'd be
fine. This time, though, he couldn't shake the fatigue and pain. He swore he'd
kill or be killed before he'd ever again let a man do to him what Cramer had
done.

Gabe didn't take her eyes from him, sick with worry over
his pale complexion and the bluish-gray skin beneath his eyes. "Let's camp
here," she suggested.

"There's still a good three or four hours of
daylight."

She couldn't let him grow more tired. "It's so pretty
here. Please, Jess?"

He sat on the ground, his strength gone. The yellow canyon
walls towered above him. This little spot felt sheltered and secluded, and the
nearness of the water eased his spirit. "You win."

"Good!" From her saddlebag, Gabe lifted the
fruit they'd gathered from a patch of prickly pear cactus that morning.

In moments she’d sliced through the fruit’s outer skin to
the soft, seed-filled orange pulp inside. It wasn’t quite ripe yet, but it was
food, and chewable, and moist...and not old, dried beef jerky.

As soon as they finished eating, Gabe said, "I'll be
right back." She climbed toward the entrance to the canyon.

"Hold on. Where are you going?" McLowry called.

"I want to find something. It won't take me
long," She soon disappeared over the crest of the canyon wall.

McLowry pulled off his boots and dipped his feet into the
water. He half expected it hear them sizzle like a hot frying pan dropped in a
washbasin. The water continued to beckon. He retrieved the small piece of soap
that he'd found in a saddlebag and stripped, except for Gabe's
petticoat-bandage, which had stuck to the suppurating gashes on his back. In
the pond, much of his fatigue washed away along with the dust and grime of
Cramer's camp. He dipped his head and washed his hair, then sank down, sitting
on the bottom of the shallow pond much as if it were a bathtub. Water reached
his neck, covering his back, letting the bandage slowly fall away, and cooling
and easing the fiery pain.

He was out of the rocky pool, his trousers back on, when
he heard Gabe crashing back through the brush and gravel. He looked up to see
her running and leaping down the path toward him.

"I found it!" she cried, holding a strange
looking plant in her hands.

"Found what?"

She ran to his side. "It’s the root of a young mescal
plant. My pa once said he’d heard Indians use these plants for all kinds of
things, including juice from the roots to help heal flesh wounds." She
showed him the thick root. Placing a blanket on the ground, she had McLowry lie
down on it. With his knife, she sliced the root in half, then wet more of her
petticoat cloth and rubbed it hard against the root, trying to get as much of
the liquid on it as possible. She placed the cloth on his back.

He shuddered, then relaxed. "It stings a bit--I guess
that means it’s doing some good," he murmured.

"I hope so." She bent forward and lightly kissed
his back, near the torn flesh, careful not to hurt him. Then she kissed another
spot, and another, and another.

"That feels even better, Gabe."

She grew still after a while, kneeling there beside him.
His breathing deepened and his eyelids flickered shut.

She stood.

"Are you going to bathe?" he asked.

"I thought you were asleep."

"And miss this?" He gave her one of those
lop-sided smiles she hadn’t seen in such a long time.

Heat rushed to her cheeks at his unexpected remark.
"I don’t want you to pay the slightest bit of attention to me in that
water!"

"Who, me?" His voice was filled with mock
innocence.

She never dreamed how much some simple little joking could
lift her spirits. She sat at his side. "A couple days rest here, with this
medicine--"

"No."

She looked at the high walls surrounding them, then brought
her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. "It feels so
safe here."

He sat up as well, his legs crossed in front of him.
"That's the problem. If anyone else stumbled across it, they'd look for us
here right away."

Her head bowed, her lips pursed in a firm line much like a
child fighting not to show tears or disappointment.

He glanced upward again. Could they chance resting here an
entire day? Two nights in one place? If Tanner's men were nearby, they'd be
captured again, if not dead, by sundown. But they were exhausted, in body as
well as spirit and the thought of leaving was hard. Too hard. It was like a
dice game and he was rolling. He could only hope lady luck was on his side at
least one more day.

"We'll make camp here tonight," he said.
"Then see how we feel in the morning."

She smiled, and a stab of desire slashed across his gut.
He’d thought he was in too much pain for such feelings. He lifted his eyes to
the canyon top. "Go take your bath, Gabe. Sundown comes early with these
rock walls blocking out the light."

McLowry sat on the ground with his back to her, his
imagination running overtime at the splashing sounds she made. In vivid detail
he remembered the sight of her after she was pushed into that water trough in
Tombstone. And there she wore a heavy shirt...now she wore only some flimsy
little cotton things.

The swishing sound coming from the pond told him she was
walking out of the water. As a boy he remembered looking at an art book his
father owned, with a picture called the "Birth of Venus." God, the
things he'd learned about women's bodies in the name of art.

"Are you decent yet?" he asked after a while.

"I've got my dress back on."

He grinned, then turned, but his smile disappeared quickly
and his senses reeled. Without the camisole, waist cinch, pantaloons and
petticoats, the dress clung softly against her damp body, outlining its soft
and feminine curves, light swells and dark crevices. Desire coiled through him.

His eyes followed the sway of her hips as she walked over to
lift her undergarments from the rock and spread them over some branches of the
cottonwood to dry. As she lifted her arms, the dress billowed, but when she
lowered them again, it clung once more to her breasts, legs and belly. He
dropped his gaze, cursing himself for wanting her.

"I can wash your clothes, too," she said.

Suddenly, she stood in front of him. He glanced up, unable
to mask the longing in his eyes.

The heat from his gaze roared through her like a
firestorm. She dropped to her knees and touched his cheek. The sharp intake of
his breath made her heart hammer.

He grabbed her wrist, needing to stop her. He couldn't let
her touch him, not now, not while he was so captivated by her, and much too
vulnerable to protect her, even from himself. His eyes consumed every detail of
her face, the beautiful, saucy, gamin face he...cared about...more than his own
life.

Trust, love, and anticipation were written in her eyes. He
couldn't fight them. The already harsh grip on her wrist tightened. A tremble
rippled through her at his touch. He rose to his knees, too, still holding her
wrist. She swayed nearer and slowly, his head lowered, his lips lightly brushed
hers once, then again and again, before he pulled her hard against him and
crushed her mouth to his.