Canyon Song (29 page)

“Where is Mrs. Cameron?” he asked the two Mexicans sternly.

Elena stopped screaming and blinked at him, as if only now noticing he’d come into the room. Then she renewed her pleas, more loudly, only this time she addressed him instead of the old man.

“I did not do this thing!”  Elena’s voice, raw from shrieking, hissed in places, making her difficult to understand
. “Manuel and Tío Viejo make a terrible mistake! It was
her
, Señor, the little bitch you bring here to destroy our happiness! Anyone could see how much she hated that old woman! Please!” 

Thankfully, after that her words became inaudible, save for a few screamed snatches now and then
. Seeing Elena’s state, he didn’t credit her accusation one bit. Lucy was as arrogant a schemer to ever come his way, but she was not a murderess.

He spoke to the old man
. “Where is my wife? Tell me!”

It felt disconcerting, waiting for the old Mexican to answer
. Whenever Cameron’s gaze leapt to Elena, Ward saw her jaw still working and her eyes gleaming bright with madness. Her thick, black hair, which he’d caressed so many times, cascaded wildly to her waist. She resembled more a witch than the woman who had for two years given him such exquisite bed-sport.

The old man might be blind, but his expression brimmed with a depth of understanding
. At last, he turned his clouded gaze toward Cameron. Gesturing toward Elena, he said sternly, “She never would have come to this if you had not humiliated her with this
Americana
. She has been always far too proud for her own good.”

“Goddamn it!” Cameron roared
. “I’ve asked you twice, where’s Lucy? Tell me now, before I throw you in the hoosegow!”

“Where she is I cannot say, but when I thought to find this poor broken child’s mother, I found my mule gone
. Perhaps your new bride seeks help. Or perhaps she merely runs. Perhaps, even, from you.”

“Old man, I have been appointed by the President of these United States to stand in judgment
! Do not presume to judge my marriage or my soul!”

The impertinent old son of a bitch dared laugh at him, at
him
, a man who had ordered men hung, whether or not they deserved it.

“As you wish, Señor,” the Mexican said calmly
. “I now leave your judgment to
Dios
, who judges all of us, even your
compadre
,
el Presidente Señor
Arthur.”

Furious, Cameron stormed toward the front door
. He bumped into Manuel, who’d just come in from tying up the horses.

“Take care of this mess,” he said, gesturing toward the dining room
. “Have the undertaker put the old woman in the cheapest box he can build — nobody here knows her. And for God’s sake, keep Elena locked up until I can get back.”

He turned to Hadley
. “Coming with me, Roy?”

The rancher nodded firmly
. One thing Cameron appreciated about Hadley, he remembered who’d settled that water rights problem he’d been having with some dirt poor sheep farmers. Cameron could have set both Hadley and his hired gun swinging for the way they’d shot up those stupid mutton punchers. Now he’d do whatever was needed to help Cameron find Lucy and bring her back here, where she belonged.

Whether or not his young wife wanted to return.

*     *     *

Hamby was surprised at first that Hop didn’t complain,  considering the blood still dripping down his trouser leg
. His jaw, finely fuzzed with adolescent whiskers, remained set, though pain clouded his bulging gray eyes.

Then he realized that Hop must be playing possum
. He no doubt remembered what had happened to old Pete when he whined, and he’d learned his lesson well.

Maybe too well
. Hop kept riding with that bleeding, he was gonna fall out of that saddle, leaving Ned completely on his own. The idea was not without appeal. For months — years, in fact, Ned had cursed the brawling, swearing, thieving murderers he rode with. Leading them was like holding a grizzly on a leash. No matter how many steaks you fed it, it was as likely to turn on you as do your bidding.

But despite both bickering and betrayal, the men had formed a sort of pack, efficient as hell when it came time to do their deadly work
. Thinking of the killing that would still be needful, Hamby decided he could afford to be a little generous when it came to the boy’s punctured leg. Besides, sitting on this horse was pulling something awful at Ned’s stitches. He felt like his innards were trying to bust out of his chewed-up body, like a tattered pillow whose feathers were popping through the seams.

“Maybe we should hole up in the caves a spell, give that leg a yours a chance to mend,” Ned suggested, as if his stitches didn’t feel about to explode
. The cabin would have been a damn sight more comfortable, but he wasn’t sorry Hop had set the fire. Those caves had always worked on his nerves, but his worst misgivings were nothing compared to the way he’d felt this morning in that clearing by the cabin.

He thought back to the nightmare image of his mama
. This time, he could hear the deep coughs racking her frail body, could see the bloody foam that soaked into her sad gray handkerchief. And not long after he’d seen Mama, Hop had gotten stuck with a broken cross — off of a grave.

Ned shuddered
. No, he wasn’t sorry they had burned the place. He wouldn’t spend another night down there for all the judge’s gold.

*     *     *

“Can I talk to you in private?” Max asked.

Quinn glanced back toward his deputy and noticed how he shifted in the saddle, the way he always did when something was bothering him
. About half the time, it meant he wanted to see if Quinn brought whiskey.

With the slightest lift of the reins, he slowed Titania
. Anna said, “Notion and I will ride up ahead a bit.”

“Don’t get too far away,” Quinn said
. After her bay horse topped a hillock, he said to Max. “Sorry, but I didn’t bring a flask this time.”

Max shook his head
. “It’s not that. It’s — on that last rise, I happened to look behind us. I saw riders, following.”

“You think Carl Stark and One-Arm Ramsey decided they weren’t too busy to join us?”  Stark and Ramsey always offered handshakes (though Ramsey’s was left-handed) and drinks to their success, but as folks around here put it, both were about as useful as tits on a boar hog.

Max’s grin looked forced. “You’ve always been a dreamer, Quinn.”

Taking his cue from Max’s expression, Quinn grew more somber
. “How many, do you think?” Max shook his head. “I’m not sure. Four, five, maybe more. Couldn’t tell for certain, and couldn’t recognize anybody that far away.”

“Damn,” Quinn said
. “It’s getting close to time to make camp, and we can’t risk anybody sneaking up on us after dark. Could you at least tell whether they were Indians?”

Last he’d heard, Geronimo and his Apache raiders were somewhere in Mexico, but keeping track of anybody in the vast, mostly unpopulated territory was guesswork at best.

“Looked like white men from their tack and clothing.”  Max squirmed in his seat once more.

Quinn suppressed the temptation to ask whether he’d been visiting those infested harlots again lately
.

He wondered if Hamby could possibly have rejoined with other members of his gang and ridden here so quickly
. He wished that he could rule out the idea.

“Maybe we’d better find them before they find us,” Quinn suggested
.

“Outnumbered the way we are, I don’t think we oughta march right in.”

Quinn nodded. “I agree. Let’s go ahead and make camp like always, just in case they’re watching.”

“Then you can slip back and check them out,” Max finished quickly
.

Quinn couldn’t help noticing how Max, as usual, suggested hanging back to let Quinn do the checking so he could stay at camp
. He’d probably pester Anna about what she was going to make for dinner. Suppressing a grin, Quinn imagined several variations on how she might respond to Max’s “instruction”. On the whole, Max might be safer eyeballing desperados.

“Let’s catch up with Miranda, then, and find a likely camp,” Quinn said.

When they reunited, Quinn spoke quietly to Anna about the plan.

“I don’t want you to go alone,” she protested
. “If it’s really Hamby and his boys —”

“— One man can go back without being spotted
. Two would make an easier target, especially if someone’s already watching us.”

“Ask Max to go this time,” she pleaded
. “You’re still wounded, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I hate to cast aspersions on my deputy, but he’d make more noise than a Bowery wake — and believe me, that’s saying something.”

“I don’t like it,” Anna said. “What if I borrowed Max’s gun and came with you?”

Quinn held up an index finger
. “Only one of us, and if you’ll remember, I’ve been doing this a long time. It’s probably just a group of cowboys heading to their
rancho
. But just in case we need to leave in a hurry, don’t unpack anything we can’t afford to leave behind.”

Within a half an hour, they stopped at a site scarred with the black ash of a previous campfire, the same bald hillock where he and Anna had stayed before
. All three dismounted, and Anna retrieved a sack of fine, dry bark and other tinder she’d collected along the way. She began preparing it to start their evening fire.

Trying to appear casual, Quinn scanned the horizon
. Already, a stain of salmon to their west presaged a magnificent sunset. Something large and tan moved, something nearly as large as their horses.

“Look at that,” he pointed out the huge animal for Anna
. It was browsing on the leaves of a stunted live oak, partially hidden among the shrub-like trees that marked the chaparral.

“An elk.”  She sounded awed
. “She’s beautiful.”

The elk lifted its head, and Quinn thought of a few men he knew who hunted the animals in autumn, when the bulls had massive racks of antlers
. When one hunter got lucky, half the town shared in the bounty.

“Jesus, look at all that fresh meat.”  Max started to pull his rifle from its scabbard.

“No!” Anna argued. “We can’t use that much. Besides, she’s near to calving. Can’t you see?”

Max looked about to argue, but Quinn interrupted.

“You forgetting about those fellas behind us?” he asked. “We don’t want to make anybody nervous shooting.”

The elk’s ears twitched in their direction, and it bounded off with a flash of white tail.

Notion, finally catching sight of the fleeing animal, barked and rushed after it.

Quinn smiled at Anna
. “If he comes back dragging that thing by a hoof, you and Max cook me up a nice steak while I’m gone.”

Ignoring the jest, Anna hugged him
. “Be careful, Ryan — Quinn.”

Quinn nodded, not missing her use of his first name.

“I’ll be back as quick as I can. Try to act like you’re preparing to stay the night, but be ready to move fast — just in case,” he warned.

She nodded, then cast one last, worried look at him before going back to start the evening fire.

He stopped behind Max, who’d lifted a stirrup to make some adjustment to his saddle.

Lowering his voice, Quinn said
. “You hear shots, don’t come after me. Just get her out of here. You understand me?”

Max peered over his shoulder
. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

Something in his voice skirted disbelief
. Quinn realized Max and Anna hadn’t exactly hit it off, but for the first time, he wondered if this was something more than his deputy’s jealousy.

“I love her,” Quinn said simply
. Later, he’d have a serious talk with Max, try to settle down his feelings. But now wasn’t the time.

Dismissing this concern, Quinn turned to leave
. Notion, returning from his chase, tried to follow.

“Could you tie him up someplace?” he called to Anna
. “He might bark if he sees strangers, and I don’t want to get caught unawares.”

Anna found a rope, and tied the dog to the base of a sturdy piñon tree.

Quinn kissed her cheek and once more reassured her that he would be back soon. Then he started downhill, threading his way between thick clumps of evergreens that might well conceal the unknown men who traveled in their wake.

*     *     *

Anna stared at Max’s back for some time before asking, “You didn’t really see any riders, did you?”

Max turned slowly
. “What makes you say that?”

“You were about to shoot before, and now you’re loosening the cinch on your horse’s saddle
. Those are not the actions of a man concerned about the possibility of pursuit.”