ChasetheLightning (30 page)

Trey gained his feet, the acrid odor of gunsmoke filling his
nostrils as he stared at the three men he had killed.

He punched the spent cartridges from his Colt, reloaded,
then went to check on the mare. She was lying on her side. Blood pumped from
the wound in her neck and even as he watched, she made one last effort to rise,
and then lay still.

He regretted the death of the beautiful mare more than the
three men.

Where was Amanda?

He peered into the distance. Relámpago had done his job once
more, carrying her away from danger. At least she was safe. Holstering his
Colt, he considered the three bodies. The least he could do was bury them
before she

returned.

Only one of the gunmen’s mounts had stayed close by, its
reins trailing. He caught up the reins of the gray gelding, speaking to it
quietly, adjusted the stirrups for his long legs, then loosened the rope coiled
on the horn and dallied a loop over the hindquarters of the dead mare.

He dragged the carcass a mile out into the desert to spare
Amanda the sight of what the desert scavengers would do to it. Then he rode
back to the house, got a spade, and found a spot far from the house to bury the
bodies.

He cursed J. S. Hollinger as he worked. He’d just been
kidding himself. As long as there was a bounty on his head, he’d never be able
to settle down, never be able to make a home for Amanda and the baby.

Pausing, he wiped the sweat from his brow. Where the devil
was she? How far had ‘Pago run?

He used the rope to drag the three bodies to the crude
gravesite, filled it in, and covered it with rocks to discourage coyotes. Then
he tracked down the other two horses. They hadn’t run far.

He stripped the rigging from the other two horses and turned
them out in the corral. Taking up the reins of the gray, he swung into the
saddle and went in search of Amanda.

He had no trouble following the stallion’s tracks. The trail
was clear and easy to read until it simply disappeared. He sat there for a long
time, staring at the place where the stallion’s tracks ended. He had put her on
Relámpago, knowing the horse would carry her to safety. He hadn’t figured on
the stallion carrying her back to her own time.

Knowing it was useless, he urged his mount forward. No mist
rose up to meet him. The world didn’t spin out of focus, there was no buzzing
in his ears, and he knew that even if he rode forever, he would never find her.

* * * * *

Amanda woke feeling disoriented. Where was she? She reached
for Trey, but he wasn’t there, and then it all came back to her. She was home
again.

Rising, she went into the living room. How long had she been
gone? Did the days pass the same in the past as in the present? The blinking
light of her answering machine caught her eye. She had twenty-seven messages.

Sitting on the arm of the sofa, she hit play.

The first one was from Rob. “Mandy, if you’re home, please
call me.”

After several more from Rob, there was a message from her
mother. “Amanda, sweetheart, please call us. We’re so worried.”

Most of the remaining messages were also from Rob and her
mother. There were half a dozen from her father, three from Earl Hennessy, the
first wondering why she hadn’t shown up for work, the second asking if she was
coming to work, the third saying they had found someone else. There was a
message from her dentist’s office informing her she had missed her annual
checkup, three were wrong numbers. The last two were from telephone solicitors.
How long had she been gone? She realized she didn’t remember the exact date of
that shootout in the front yard…

The shootout. There had been no traces of it when she rode
in.

She turned on the TV and turned to the all news channel. The
sheer familiarity of the images on the screen brought tears to her eyes. The
announcers rattled on about one disaster after another—nothing new there—but
the date displayed on the screen told her that she had been gone several
months. Months!

Just like in the past.

With a sigh, she picked up the phone and called her mother,
wondering how she would explain what had happened, wondering who on earth would
believe it. She considered making something up, but she’d never been a good
liar, especially where her mother was concerned. Florence Burkett could spot a
lie in a heartbeat. As Amanda had expected, her mother was dubious. Finally,
weary of trying to convince her, Amanda said goodbye and hung up thinking that,
in this case, she should have tried a lie first.

Her next call was to her father. She was relieved when he
wasn’t home. Next, she called Earl Hennessy. She apologized for her absence,
told him something unexpected had come up and she was sorry for not calling him
sooner. She assured him she understood why he had given the job to someone else
and then, taking a deep breath, she made the call she dreaded most.

Rob picked up the phone on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hi Rob, it’s me.”

“Amanda! Where are you? Are you all right? I’ve been going
crazy here, wondering where you were.”

“I’m home, I’m fine…”

“Don’t move! I’ll be right there,” he said, and hung up the
phone.

Amanda stared at the receiver in her hand. She really wasn’t
ready to talk about this with anyone face to face, but when she hit redial, she
got his answering machine.

With a sigh, she put the receiver down.

He was there in record time. Watching him hurry up the
stairs, she figured he must have run every red light and broken every speed law
to get there so fast.

He burst into the house and swept her into his arms.
“Amanda! I’ve been worried sick. Are you all right? Where the hell have you
been? Why didn’t you call?”

He hugged her so tight she could scarcely breathe. “Rob…”

“Oh, sorry.” He loosened his hold, but didn’t let her go.
“Amanda.” He gazed down at her, and then he kissed her.

When she didn’t respond, his arms fell away and he took a
step backward, his eyes narrowed. “What is it? What’s wrong? I know we didn’t
part on the best of terms when I was here last, but…you’re not still upset
about that, are you? No,” he said, answering his own question. “You’ve never
been one to stay mad. It’s Long Walker, isn’t it? Is that where you’ve been?
With him?”

She nodded. “Yes, but not the way you think.” She blew out a
sigh. “You might as well sit down.”

He looked at her a moment, then dropped into the nearest
chair.

Amanda sat on the sofa, wondering where to begin. “I know
you have a lot of questions…”

“Damn right.” He frowned. “What are you doing in that
getup?”

She glanced down at her dress. Her wedding dress. She’d had
so much on her mind, she hadn’t thought to change. Or maybe she just hadn’t
wanted to change.

“Well?” Rob asked impatiently.

“I don’t suppose you believe in time travel.”

He lifted one brow. “Time travel?”

She nodded. “Trey came here from the past.”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s true. Relámpago brought him.”

“Who?”

“The stallion, remember?”

“Sure. Whatever happened to the horse?”

“He’s outside….isn’t he?”

Rob shook his head. “Go on. The horse brought him here. From
the past.”

“Yes. You remember his gun? The one you thought was a
well-preserved original? It was original—and almost new. Like this dress.”

“He brought a dress with him?”

“No. Somehow Trey came here from the past. We went riding
one day, and when we got back here, Bolander’s brothers and a cousin were
waiting for us. They were looking for you. Trey shot one…”

“Cletus. He’s dead.” Rob swore softly. “County investigators
matched his blood to some found in the yard here. But there wasn’t enough
evidence to make a case against the others, not officially. I went after the
other two. They told me some cock and bull story about chasing a couple of
riders on a horse that disappeared. At first, I thought maybe they’d kidnapped
you, killed you, but Nate and Arnie both swore they’d never touched you. They
even took lie detector tests. The cops were all over this place.”

He gestured at a smear of black powder by a light switch.
“Fingerprinting, the whole nine yards. They finally decided that if you’d left,
you’d left of your own free will. So, where were you all this time?”

“Relámpago carried us into the past.”

Rob stared at her, disbelief etched on his features.

“It’s true! I don’t expect you to believe it. I don’t expect
anyone to believe it. But it’s true.”

“I don’t know whether I believe you or not,” he said, “but
those cartridge boxes he left behind didn’t come from this century. And neither
did those bank notes. The sheriff’s office says they’re worth a fortune today.
Collectibles.” His mouth twisted. “So, where’s the cowboy?”

“Back in his own time.”

Rob shook his head. “Incredible. So, you’ve been to the
past, and now you’re back. Where does that leave us?”

“The sheriff’s office took his money?” she asked, ignoring his
question.

“It was his?”

“Trey had it when he got here. In his saddlebags. He…he’d
robbed a bank.”

“Nice guy. But he could be delusional, you know.” He ran a
hand through his hair. “Hell, maybe you are, too. The money doesn’t prove
anything.”

She stared at him. Trey would have believed her, she
thought, no matter what. “All right,” she said, “Don’t believe me, I don’t
care. But where do you think all that old money came from?”

“I don’t know.” Rising, he began to pace the floor.

She stood there, watching him, wondering how she could make
him believe, wondering what difference it made. Nothing mattered now that Trey
was gone, nothing but the child beneath her heart.

Rob came to an abrupt halt. “You didn’t answer me before.
Where does all this leave us?” He reached into his pocket, then held out his
hand. “Wherever you went, you left this behind. I guess that’s my answer.”

She stared at the diamond ring in his palm, remembering the
day she had taken it off, the day she had known she could never marry him. “Rob…I’m
pregnant.”

His hand snapped shut around the ring, tightened into a
white-knuckled fist. “I guess I don’t have to ask who the father is. I know for
damn sure it isn’t me.”

“I’m sorry, Rob. I don’t know what to say. I didn’t mean to
fall in love with him, it just happened. We…got married.”

“Yeah. Well, I hate to tell you this, but your cowboy bank
robber is long dead. Over a hundred years dead, if what you say is true.”

The words stabbed her to the heart. Tears welled in her
eyes, slid down her cheeks. She made no move to wipe them away.

He shook his head, his eyes as cold as blue ice. “I hope
you’ll be happy with your decision. Goodbye, Amanda.”

Tears ran down her cheeks as she watched him walk out of her
house, and out of her life. But the tears weren’t for Rob. They were for
herself, and the child that Trey would never see.

Rob’s Expedition had barely cleared the driveway before she
rushed to the corral, hoping against hope he had been wrong. But Relámpago was
gone and with him her only hope of returning to the past, and Trey.

She looked outside first thing every morning, hoping to see
the stallion in the corral, and every morning her hope that he would return to
her grew fainter.

She moved through the next few days like a sleepwalker, her
thoughts more in the past than the present as she relived every day, every
minute, she had spent with Trey, from the first day she had seen him slumped
over Relámpago’s neck to the last time, when he had been fighting for his life.

She found out that her father had been paying the utilities.
Over his protests, she wrote out a check and mailed it to him. Needing to keep
busy, she methodically cleaned the house, obliterating the dust of disuse and
the last traces of fingerprint powder. She washed all the silverware, and every
dish, glass, pot and pan in the kitchen. She washed the windows, the curtains
in the kitchen and the bathrooms.

Every night, she fell into bed, exhausted, only to lie
awake, thinking of Trey, wondering, always wondering, what his fate had been.
She prayed he had lived a good long life, that he had found a place where he
could live in peace. As much as it hurt to think of him with another woman, she
hoped he had found someone to love, someone to love him as much as she had.

As for herself, she knew she would never love again. Her
only solace, her only reason for living, was the child.

Trey Long Walker’s child, growing in love beneath her heart.

The baby’s kicking woke Amanda from a sound sleep. She
placed her hand over her belly, smiling sleepily as a tiny foot moved under her
palm. It had to be a boy, she thought, a boy with Trey’s dark eyes and black
hair. A boy with Trey’s roguish grin. She was going to have to go to the doctor
soon, make arrangements for a hospital, buy a crib. Notify her parents…she
would wait for that. Her father hadn’t been any more impressed with her story
than her mother had. He had even suggested she consider professional help. He
had offered to come and stay with her until she regained her senses, but she
had turned him down, causing a strain between them. Her mother had also offered
to come and stay for a few days, but Amanda had asked her to wait a few weeks.
Her mother had been hurt, but not angry. Amanda was sorry for that, but she
needed some time alone, time to adjust. Time to grieve.

Rising, she took a shower and dressed. Grabbing her keys,
she left the house. The Jag, covered with a layer of dust, was where she had
left it. Putting the top down, she backed out of the garage.

It was a lovely day for a drive. The sky was a bright blue,
the air warm and clear. She drove toward Canyon Creek, then veered off on a
dirt road, hoping she was going the right way.

When the surrounding countryside started to look vaguely
familiar, she pulled off the road and began to walk.

Trey was beside her every step of the way.

There wasn’t much left of the shack save for two walls and
part of the roof.

The barn was still standing, warped and weathered by time.
The corral was gone.

“Trey.” She whispered his name. “Trey, Trey, what happened
to you?”

Had he been killed by those bounty hunters? Or had Relámpago
returned in time to carry him to safety?

“Stupid horse,” she muttered. “Where are you when I need
you?”

Trey. Had he survived the fight? Fallen in love again? Married
someone else? Or spent the rest of his life on the run?

As much as she wanted him to have lived a long and happy
life, the thought of him being with another woman was like a dagger in her
heart.

She ran her fingers over her wedding ring, remembering the
words he had spoken on their wedding day. Closing her eyes, she heard his voice
in the back of her mind:
I love you. Now and forever. Only you.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Now and forever. Only you…”

The barest hint of a breeze stirred, ruffling the leaves of
a nearby Palo Verde, moving through her hair like a lover’s caress.

She heard a faint sound, like distant thunder, or the
pounding hoofbeats of a horse. She glanced around. The sky was still clear.
There was no one else in sight.

The breeze picked up, creating a dust devil near the front
of the adobe’s remains. It reminded her of her time with the Apaches, of their
belief that evil spirits lived in the whirlwind.

From the west, gauzy fingers of pale gray mist rose from the
ground, blurring her vision, obscuring the sun.

The hoofbeats grew louder. She could feel the vibration
beneath her feet.

She whispered his name, not daring to believe even as hope
sang in her heart. “Trey.”

She saw him through the mist, riding hard, knew he was being
pursued. She saw a vague image of half a dozen men riding behind him. There was
a flash of fire, the sharp bark of a rifle.

She cried out as he jerked in the saddle, screamed in pain
and denial as he fell forward across Relámpago’s withers, and then the stallion
was racing toward her out of the swirling gray mist.

Relámpago slowed to a walk, halted with a toss of his head.

Trey looked up. She heard him whisper her name as their
gazes met, and then he toppled sideways from the saddle to lie still at her
feet.

She stood there for a moment, unable to move, afraid to
move. What if he was… She couldn’t form the word in her mind.

On legs that felt like lead, she moved toward him. “Trey…”
She knelt at his side, her gaze running over him, her stomach clenching in
horror when she saw the blood dripping down the side of his head. “No. Oh, no…”

Relámpago whinnied softly. Coming up behind her, he gave her
a shove.

With a startled cry, she fell forward, across Trey’s chest,
her eyes widening, her heart soaring when he grunted.

Scrambling to her hands and knees, she looked down into his
eyes.

“You’re alive!” she exclaimed. “Oh, Trey!” She reached for
him, her hands moving over chest and shoulders, feeling solid flesh. “You’re
here! You’re really here.” She drew back, her brow furrowed. “Your head…all
that blood.”

He lifted one hand to his temple. “Bullet grazed me. Gonna
have a hell of a headache, I reckon. Nothing but trouble since you’ve been
gone,” he muttered.

“Oh, Trey…”

“I’ve been on the run since you disappeared.” He grunted
softly, his lips twitching in a wry grin. “Only good news I had was hearing
that old man Hollinger got gunned down in a holdup.”

“Well, I’m still glad you didn’t kill him,” she said
absently. With a hand that trembled, she removed his kerchief and wiped away the
blood, revealing a shallow furrow along his hairline.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” She held up her hand.
“How many fingers do you see?”

“Three.” His gaze moved over her. “Stop worrying about me.
Are you all right?” He placed his hand over her belly. “How’s my son?”

“We’re both fine. Now that you’re here.”

He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her down until
she was resting on his chest. “I missed you.”

“I missed you.” Cupping his face in her hands, she kissed
him exuberantly. “Come on, cowboy, let’s go home.”