Dance With A Gunfighter (25 page)

Trembling, her hands lifted to his face. "Jess,"
she cried, her voice ragged.

He knew he should stop this, but her kisses pulled him
like the earth did a shooting star. His blood pounded and the feverish heat of
his brow intensified. She was refreshment, her lips cool sweetness. Everything
he could ever want...ever hope for. Like a dying man his mouth captured hers
once more. The kiss arced between them, shuddering in its intensity.

He needed her now, more than he'd ever needed anyone or
anything in his life. His hands trailed along her spine to her hips, molding
her against him as his tongue thrust between her lips, dancing with hers,
caressing the inside of her mouth.

Somehow, he found himself lying beside her on the blanket,
her cool hands stroking his brow, his world reeling. Where she touched, he felt
cool and free of pain.

But even as he looked at her, the earth seemed to shift
uneasily beneath them. He felt the fire that consumed him, from Gabe, from
illness. "Rest now. You’re so weary, Jess," she whispered.
"You’ve got to rest."

Exhaustion overtook him, and his eyes shut even as his
body cried out his feelings for this girl...this woman.

Chapter 19

The next morning McLowry felt strong enough to ride again.
Much as they had both loved the tiny canyon they’d found, it could just as
easily become a sepulcher if Tanner found them there. They rode deeper into the
mountain range, traveling through a narrow, barren wash. Watermarks on the
rocks over their heads told them the power of a flash flood through this
peaceful spot. They followed the wash for a while, but by noon, they turned
north and began an ascent once more.

Purple hued peaks loomed high above them, and they trudged
onward. As the afternoon approached, the day grew hotter, and once again, Gabe
saw the unnatural fatigue wear on McLowry, the pale color leave his skin to be
replaced by a gray pallor. Anxiously, she watched his every move, and looked
for his slightest change of expression.

Late that afternoon, McLowry found a treeless ledge that
jutted out over the valley offering an expansive view of the entire area
through which they’d ridden.

"Let’s stop here," he said. "We’ll be able
to see if we’re being followed. We’ll know who’s there and the direction
they’re traveling in."

Gabe dismounted and tied her horse beside McLowry’s in a
tree and shrub-filled area far back from the ledge where they wouldn’t be seen.
The slowness of his movements as he dismounted, the way he lowered himself to
sit on the ground, told Gabe he was in terrible pain.

She helped him removed his shirt so she could put a clean
cloth on his back. The angry welts were inflamed now. An infection had
developed. Her heart sank, and she tried to hide how scared she was for him.
Somehow, she had to get him to a doctor quickly. But even Dry Springs, which
they could circle around and perhaps reach in three or four days, seemed much
too far.

Jess was forced to rest before having the strength to
crouch low and make his way to the ledge overlooking the small mountain valley.
Gabe followed. At the ledge, they dropped to the ground, lying flat.

Only a lone buzzard circling in the distance broke the
complete stillness.

As much as Jess said he wanted to use the ledge to watch
for Tanner’s men and learn how many, if any, were following and how near they
were, Gabe saw that he was failing. His face was flushed and his eyes
unnaturally bright.

He lay on his stomach, his head on his arms for a moment,
breathing slow and deep, as if trying to find his strength. She lay on the
ground beside him, her heart breaking.

As he lifted his head and scanned the landscape, she
reached her hand out and touched his cheek. It was frighteningly warm.

"I’m be all right, Gabe. Don’t worry."

She laced his fingers in hers. "I do worry about
you."

"I know." He kissed her fingertips.
"Someday you’ll have a man you won’t never have to worry about." He
lay his head down once again on his arms, using them as a pillow. His eyelids
flickered shut and in a little while he was asleep. She couldn’t let him die,
but the hopelessness was overwhelming as she looked out at the lonely desert
around her. Even if Tanner’s men weren’t hunting them, she didn’t know how they
would find help in time.

She watched over the valley as McLowry slept. She would
protect him, save him--and make Tanner pay for Jess’s agony as well as her own.
Her heart filled as she looked at him, as she remembered last night in his
arms, and she thought for the hundredth time that day, how much she loved him.

The sun sank lower in the sky and all was quiet. Her
eyelids kept closing and she’d jerk herself awake as best she could.

A movement on the far side of the valley caught her
attention.

She stared, shock and fear making it impossible for her to
move. Red and Slim were almost in the middle of the same valley she and McLowry
had crossed less than two hours earlier. She must have fallen asleep without
even realizing it. They were here...so close...searching for her and McLowry.

She touched his wrist and immediately, he awoke. She
pointed toward the valley.

He followed her line of vision. "Did you see any
others?" he whispered.

"No."

"We’d better assume they’re nearby, and that if they
hear gunfire, they’ll come running. We’re going to have to stop these two, then
run for it."

Gabe shuddered, knowing that to run after killing Red and
Slim would use up McLowry’s remaining strength--if he had enough to run at all.

Red and Slim reached the thin ribbon of water in the
center of the valley and stopped to refresh themselves and their horses.

A high-pitched war whoop shattered the silence. Five
Apache warriors, armed and on horseback, bore down on the two men. Red fired a
shot, but before he got the second one off, he was hit.

Slim leaped onto his horse, but it hadn’t gone five steps
before he, too, was shot and fell to the ground.

The warriors were upon the men in an instant. One grabbed
Red’s flame-colored hair and his knife sliced across Red’s forehead before
McLowry clamped his hand over Gabe’s eyes.

Her body quaked. The five Indians descending on the two
men brought back memories of Tanner and his men on her father’s ranch.

McLowry moved closer to her, holding her head against his
chest, trying to stop the fearful trembling that came over her.

"We’re all right up here for now, Gabe, but if the
Apaches are bold enough to attack in the open like that, there must be a lot
more nearby," he said. "We’ve got to get away. It might be safer to
take our chances with whoever’s left of Tanner’s band, and try to make it back
to Dry Springs, than to go any deeper into Apache territory."

Thank God, Gabe thought. "We can make it, Jess. I
know we can."

He gave her a quick, hard kiss. "I’m going to watch
those warriors. We need to know which way they’re headed. I want you to go to
the horses. Keep them quiet and walk them back into those rocks as far as you
can. When the Apaches leave, I’ll join you. It’ll be night soon, and when it’s
dark, we’re going to cross back through the valley to the other side of the
mountain range."

She nodded.

"Go on now."

She kissed his face, his flushed color giving her heart a
pang, then crawled backwards from the ledge until she was out of sight enough
to crouch over and run to the horses. She had almost reached them when she
skidded to a halt.

An Apache stood beside the horses, his rifle pointed at
her heart. Behind him, rifles poised, three others watched.

Chapter 20

Gabe stared into the cold, black eyes of the Indian who
stood in front of the others. She’d never seen anything so frightening. Even
being bound and brought to face Cramer hadn’t caused the pure, stark terror she
felt now.

The Apache had long, heavy black hair held by a brow band
of red and black twisted rags. He wore a long, brown shirt, bound with a
low-slung belt, tan, baggy trousers, and a loincloth that reached nearly to his
knees. He wasn’t much taller than Gabe, but his shoulders were broad, his chest
powerful. From a nearly square face, his eyes flashed at her with a hatred that
thickened the air she breathed.

He stepped toward her. On shaking legs, she stepped back.
He took another step.

Talk,
she told herself,
buy time.
She
extended her hands, palms up, toward him. "Don’t shoot, please."

His eyes mocked her.

"We don’t want to fight you." Her words poured
out and she could only hope he understood. "Those men--the two who were
killed--were our enemies. Your...your friends killed them. You helped us. Thank
you."

A flicker of surprise crossed the Apache’s face for an
instant, but then it hardened once more. Gabe tried to stand her ground, but
her legs began to shake. As his grip tightened on his gun, all rational thought
left her. "No!" she screamed and turned to run to McLowry.

McLowry had heard the voices and crept to the area where
Gabe confronted the Apaches. Behind a boulder, his Peacemaker ready, he’d
watched helplessly. With four rifles pointed at Gabe, there was nothing he
could safely do to rescue her.

As soon as she turned to run, the Apache, smirking, lifted
his rifle and peered into the sight.

"Don’t try it!" McLowry stepped out from the boulder,
holding his gun at the brave.

The Apache glanced at his friends, then back. The
expression on the Indian’s face told McLowry he was a dead man. If they started
shooting, he might take out one or two, but it’d be a miracle for him to make
it to safety. At best, he could hold them long enough for Gabe to get away.

"Get out of here, Gabe. Now!"

But her footsteps had stopped. It was too late. One of the
Apaches shifted his rifle barrel to a spot to McLowry’s left. It was aimed at
Gabe. She didn’t dare move.

The leader of the group pointed at McLowry’s gun, then the
ground. McLowry could fight them, and it’d be a quick death for him and Gabe.
Or, he could drop his gun, and they might still die after a slow, painful
torture. Or, somehow, survive. If it were just his life in the balance, he’d
fight now. But could he do that to Gabe? Could he deprive her of a chance to
escape and live?

He dropped the gun.

The Apache gestured toward the horses.

McLowry turned to Gabe and she ran to his side. He put his
arms around her in a tight, bone-crushing hug, knowing full well it might be
the last time he’d ever hold her. They glanced at each other, then walked to
their horses and mounted. Unless they could find some way to escape, riding
away from this spot would be a temporary reprieve, at best. McLowry expected
that his life would be over soon, but his veins ran cold over what they might
do to Gabe.

The Apaches got on their ponies. The leader waited until
all were quiet before he spoke. "I am Nahtuyah of the Chiricahua Apache.
Black Cloud is our chief."

McLowry had heard of Black Cloud. He was blood brother to
the hated Victorio, the leader of a murderous renegade band. What little hope
McLowry had, now dimmed.

He glanced at Gabe. She looked numb with fear.

They rode deeper into the rugged granite mountains. The
landscape softened, and along with harsh and spindly scrub and cactus, they
began to see chaparral, even an occasional shrub oak. After about an hour, the
five braves who had killed Slim and Red joined them, Red’s scalp prominently
dangling from one brave’s belt. A couple of hours after that, the band reached
a small Apache camp.

Sullen-faced men and women stood silently in front of
wickiups, rounded brush or canvas-covered buildings constructed on a base of
thin tree limbs. There were no more than forty adults in the settlement, and
half were women.

The braves rode tall and proud, eager to show off their
fresh scalps and their prisoners. It was a good sign for the small band.

The warriors led McLowry and Gabe straight to a thatched
wickiup larger than the others. They were made to dismount as Nahtuyah went
inside.

Gabe watched as women slowly circled them, inch by inch
coming closer. She backed up against McLowry, feeling ever more closed in. Even
though he gripped her arm, she couldn’t stop the quaking of her body.

A brave approached, reached out for her and pulled her
away from McLowry. Another took her arm and dragged her away toward a small
canvas-covered wickiup. She could have screamed and fought, but she knew it
would do no good. Instead, she held her head high and walked proudly. One brave
lifted the blanket that covered the entrance to the wickiup and the one who
held her tossed her into it, to land sprawling on the ground. She calmly rose
to her knees, knowing there wasn’t room to stand, then sat back on her heels.
She slapped the dust from her hands, and squared her shoulders.

A brave stepped into the wickiup behind her, folded his
arms and sat in front of the opening, staring at her. They were alone. He wore
a blue bandanna twisted like a turban, his black hair hanging down his back.
His shirt was gray cloth, but only a breechcloth covered his legs. He looked
more like a rock blocking her path than a person.

Gabe scooted against the hide walls of the wickiup, as far
from him as she could get.

She glanced at the opening, expecting McLowry to enter,
but he didn’t. They’d been separated, and now she was alone.

The wickiup was empty except for a bed of straw with a
blanket on top of it. In the very center was a fire pit. The canvas cover
directly above it was open to release smoke.

During the ride here, McLowry had told her to say little
and never act afraid. He vowed he would get them out of this. She clung to his
words like a talisman.
I’ll do what he said,
she whispered over and
over,
and he’ll lead us to safety.
She was determined to show no fear,
but when she faced the fearsome warrior before her, she realized how hard that
would be.