Indigo Sky (23 page)

Leila’s gall rose. “Oh, damn.” She reined her horse, retched, and wiped her mouth, grimacing. “I must be coming down with something.”

“Maybe ye’re pregnant.”

She gaped at him and laughed. “Oh, amusing. I’m sure I’ll make history if I am.”

He held up his hand. “I hear something.” He dismounted and put his ear to the ground. After a few seconds, he leapt up and remounted. “It could be Espinosa.”

“It could also be the Indians.”

He gave her a scathing look. “There’s a difference. Indians don’t shoe their horses. Get back and hide between those boulders. The riders are coming toward us.”

Men’s voices drifted faintly through the undergrowth. Leila froze.

“Don’t ya ever listen?” he hissed. He grabbed her horse’s halter and dragged them both between a crevice, putting a finger on his lips.

Within half an hour, five horsemen appeared. Tom shoved her down, pressing her flat on the horse’s withers as he pulled the rifle from his scabbard.

Chapter 31

Perspiration ran down Leila’s face, and the acrid smell of horse sweat filled her nostrils. The glimpse she caught of the desperados’ faces chilled her. Her heart pounded in her chest as the drum of hooves and the metallic rattle of spurs and tack resonated through the bush then grew faint.

Eventually, birdcalls and the rustle of a breeze sighing through the trees was all that remained.

“We must follow them,” Tom whispered.

“We?”

“Yes, we.”

Leila straightened slowly and shuddered. “What use will I be?”

Tom scowled. “I need backup. Ye’ll never find yer way out of the mountains if they get me first.”

She mopped sweat from her face. “What do you expect me to do as
backup
?”

“Watch my back, of course.” He pulled a revolver from his bag and thrust it into her hand.

Holding the trigger guard with two fingers, she gaped at him. “I don’t know how to use this thing.”

He moved out of their hiding place. “Point and pull the damn trigger.”

“Maybe I should practice first.”

He cocked one eyebrow. “Good idea, that should flush ‘em out and see us killed.” He tapped his horse. “Come, an’ keep quiet.”

She trotted her horse behind Tom and looked up into the tree canopy. The sun filtered through new green leaves, and the grass emitted a sweet aroma as it was crushed beneath hooves. “It’s a nice day. Good day as any to die, I suppose.”

“Quit carpin’ about everythin.’”

“Oh, I’m not carping. I’m just commenting that I’m glad to have a pleasant day to be killed.” She pulled out a piece of jerky and chewed it. “I’m heartily sick of dry food.”

“Like I said, quit carpin.’”

She clapped a hand to her mouth then leaned over and vomited. “I can’t keep anything down. Maybe the jerky is rotten or something.” She wiped her mouth and drank water from a leather flagon.

“Ye’re pregnant.”

Leila slid a glance at him. “As I said before, then I’ll make history.”

He chuckled. “Cut the pretense. I know ye’re a woman.”

“What?”

“Ya heard me.”

Her shoulders sagged. “How did you know?”

“I could smell ya.”

She wrinkled her nose and stared at him. “I stink?”

“Ya smell like a woman.”

“Oh.” Heat crept into her cheeks.

He looked at her, his yellow eyes sparkling. “Ya forget I’m a trapper and rely on my senses. Also, ye haven’t had yer flux in the six weeks we’ve been on the trail.”

Now her cheeks burned. “That should have made you think I was a boy. And why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I didn’t trust the soldiers to keep their dicks in their trousers if they knew ya were a woman.”

Leila hung her head. “I’m sorry I deceived you.”

“I wouldn’t have taken ya if I’d known at the outset. Now keep yer mouth shut. If Espinosa and his boys hear us, we’re dead.”

“Where are they headed?”

“Probably Mexico.”

“Well, I don’t need to bind myself anymore, thank God.”

He scowled her to silence.

Leila pouted, fell back, and pulled up her shirt, unwinding the bindings. She sighed with relief. She had begun to ache more than normal.

Leila gazed up at massive, snowcapped mountains and breathtaking surroundings. They had only stopped briefly to rest and eat in two weeks of trailing the Espinosa gang. “What exactly are we waiting for?”

“The right moment to take ‘em all at once. But ya need to keep quiet.”

“Where are we? These mountains are huge, but that peak there towers over the rest,” she whispered.

He scowled. “Natives call the peak
Heey-otoyoo
—long mountain. Now shut yer mouth, gal.”

She ground her teeth and glared at him. She confined herself to studying the magnificent terrain.

Tom held up his hand and dismounted. “We stop here until dusk,” he said softly. “They’re camped up ahead near the springs.” He pointed at a spiral of smoke rising above the trees.

Leila nodded and slid off her horse. Every bone and muscle in her body ached. “I read in
Harper’s
that there was a gold rush here. Perhaps that’s a mining camp and not the Espinosa gang.”

“There isn’t that much gold to be had, and I avoid areas where folk are pannin’ for gold. It’s Espinosa all right.” Throwing a fur on the ground, he lay down, settling into a depression between rocks. “Get some shuteye.” He pulled his hat over his eyes and fell asleep.

As always, Rork was on Leila’s mind. She stared at the snowcapped peak.
He’d love to paint the peaks
. She put the revolver down and pressed her hands to her belly.
Am I really pregnant? That didn’t occur to me. Is it possible to fall pregnant after making love once?
The thought of having a baby alone and out of wedlock seemed a grim future. Tears squeezed up, and she swiped them irritably.
I might not even live beyond today
. Stroking her tummy, she fell into a deep sleep.

Tom shook Leila and pressed a callused hand over her mouth.

She woke with a start and pulled his hand off. “W-what?”

“Time to go,” he said quietly. “We’re walking to their camp. Horses make too much noise.”

She rose and winced as a sharp pain shot through her abdomen.
If I don’t die, I still could lose the baby
.

Bending, he picked up the revolver he’d given her. “Keep it in yer belt at all times. It ain’t a purse.” He shoved it into her hand. “If ya need to shoot, drop to one knee first so that yer a smaller target.”

Nodding, she stumbled after him. The pungent scent of pine trees permeated the air and lifted her spirits. The smell of a fire filled her nostrils.

They were close to the killers.

Tom held up his hand, cautioning her to tread lightly. He moved slowly into denser undergrowth, barely making a sound.

Creeping after Tom with the revolver in her hand and her pulse racing, Leila tried to ignore the gnats flying around her face.

The sun sagged and seemed to rest on the mountains, casting a yellow and pink hue on the granite.

Gnats flew into Leila’s mouth and crawled up her nostrils. She gagged, flapping a hand to get rid of them, earning a yellow-eyed glare from Tom. Clamping her lips, she tolerated the irritating little insects and the sweat running into her eyes.

Tom hissed and held up one gnarled hand.

Leila marveled at his ability to silently negotiate the dense undergrowth. She cocked her head and listened.
What on earth did he hear?

He motioned for her to stop and pulled a second rifle from a sling on his back.

She held still, her heart slamming till she thought another rib might crack. Her blood soared in her ears. The revolver slipped in her soaked palm, but she clutched it tighter against her chest . . . and listened.

Tom moved through the bush, stepping forward one moccasin-clad foot at a time, using a rolling motion as he set each foot down.

Leila heard the hum of voices
. I can’t let him go alone
. Gathering her courage, she followed Tom’s example, with less success.

He turned and glared at her.

She stopped.

Emitting a war cry, Tom charged from the undergrowth.

Men cried out, and shots exploded.

Leila hesitated and ran to where he’d disappeared from sight.
I have to help him.
She entered a clearing and dropped to one knee, holding the revolver in trembling hands. Her senses shut down.

Tom looked over his shoulder, and a rare grin split his face, his even teeth gleaming in the dwindling light. “Ah, the cavalry has arrived.”

She shook uncontrollably, staring at four bodies sprawled around a fire. One man lay face down in the flames. Her gall rose at the stench of burning flesh. “Shouldn’t you pull him from the fire?”

“He cain’t feel much, that’s for sure.” Tom walked to the burning man and pulled out a huge hunting knife. He lifted the man up by his hair and brought the blade down, severing his head.

“Oh, my God!” Leila vomited until all that remained was bile burning her gullet.

Methodically, Tom administered the same treatment to the other three then emptied one of their bags and dumped the bloody heads into it. “Right, let’s get to Fort Garland before these rot.”

She sank to the ground, her eyes wide. “Th-that was horrible,” she whispered. “Why?”

Ripping out a grass stem, he put it in his mouth and chewed. “I ain’t gonna lug their bodies to Fort Garland, and I need proof that they’re dead.”

Rising on jelly-like legs, she pressed one hand to her stomach that threatened to rebel again. “Of course, how foolish of me. Heads are really all we need. What a wonderful idea—carting heads about.” She stepped back as he passed to avoid touching the bag. Blood dripped from it, leaving a trail. “This is so revolting—so savage.” She squeezed her eyes, shuddered, and walked after him.

“Not half as savage as what they did to thirty Anglos and God knows how many other poor souls.” He glanced at her. “Ya did good.”

“Thank you. That’s a rare compliment.”

“Would ya like to bathe in the springs?”

“I would love to bathe.”

“Let’s get back to our horses, and I’ll take ya.” He picked up the pace.

Spirits buoyed, she ran after him. “I’ve heard of springs around here. Apparently the waters have healing properties.”

“They do.” Tom hooked the bag on his saddle and swung up. “Must’ve stuck in yer craw not bein’ able to bathe when you were supposed to be a boy.”

Leila mounted her horse and rode at Tom’s side. “You have no idea.”

An hour later, a full moon washed over a basin valley. Tom led her through the forest to a ring of boulders enclosing a bubbling spring.

“The springs are sacred to the Ute Indians. They say the bubbles bursting up from the water are the breath of the Great Spirit. They make offerings every year of beads and such to thank their god for their health and ask him to ensure their hunt is successful.” He dismounted. “Get yer clothes off an’ bathe.”

“I am not stripping in front of you.”

“I’m not askin’ ya to. I’ll turn my back.”

“No. You must leave.”

He shrugged. “Fine. You can deal with a grizzly if it comes callin.’”

“B-bears?” Her eyes skidded back and forth across the bushes. “Th-there are really bears here?”

“And cougars aplenty.”

“S-stay, but keep your back turned.”

“Ya ain’t my taste, gal, so relax.” He sank to the grass and sat cross-legged, the rifle on his knees and his back to her.

Clothes discarded, Leila stepped into the effervescent pool and submerged herself. She surfaced and floated on her back, sighing with pleasure. She gazed up at the magnificent Pike’s Peak and surrounding forest washed in soft moonlight. “This is like a piece of heaven. Was it only used by the Utes?”

“No, the Cheyenne and other Plains tribes also make offerings here. Anyone can enjoy the gift of these waters without fear of conflict.”

“Clearly the bears and cougars don’t feel the same way.”

Tom chuckled. “They were here first.” He rose. “Best ya get yer ass out. We must make camp.”

“Why can’t we just camp here?”

“Get yer ass out there, gal.” He moved toward the horses.

“Fine.” Climbing out, she hesitated. No towel. She shrugged, brushed off the water, and put on her clothes, wishing she could wash them. All the outfits she’d packed were filthy. “When we get to Fort Garland, is there a town nearby with a hotel?”

“Ya decent or not?”

“I’m dressed, but my clothes are disgusting.”

“Stop gripin.’” Tom mounted and hurried Leila.

She ran to her horse and raced to his side. “God, you’re so evil-tempered.”

“I don’t pander to a fussy woman’s needs. Get a move on. It’s a long way to Fort Garland.”

“I can hardly be called fussy. Hell, I’ve obeyed your every command.” She swung into the saddle and followed him.

Leila stared at Fort Garland, an unimposing gray building surrounded by flat, treeless terrain and ringed by distant mountains. “This is it?” She wiped sweat from her face onto her sleeves. Once more bound at Tom’s behest, she twitched under the discomfort of the tight wraps.

“Sure, this is it. What did ya expect? Soldiers live rough, sweetheart.”

“Where will we sleep tonight?”

“Where we’ve slept every night for weeks. On the damn ground.” He dismounted and walked on bowlegs to a water pump over a horse trough. Pumping vigorously for a minute, he took off his hat and held his head under the steady stream of water. He shook himself like a dog.

Leila slid off her mount wearily and went to the pump, grabbing the handle and throwing her weight on it. Nothing.

Tom chortled. “Ye’re too light in the breeches.” He took the handle and pumped it.

Leila put her head under the jet of water and gasped. It was icy, but refreshing. She longed to wallow in a tub of hot, scented water.

Tom took the bloody bag off his saddle. “C’mon, let’s collect the ransom.”