My Desperado (24 page)

Hunger woke her sometime around midday. Ryland still slept, so she slipped quietly away, first checking on the horses, and then gathering dry, clean wood for a fire. She made biscuits and coffee, and did not tell Travis this would be their last meal, for he looked weaker and more disoriented.

Worry finally drove Katherine on, for even mindless travel seemed better than doing nothing.

Darkness came again. From behind, Katherine heard Ryland moan and pulled Moondancer to a halt.

"Travis?" She touched his arm gently, noticing how he braced his bound hands against the pommel of the saddle. "Are you all right?"

He didn't answer at first, but spoke finally. "My head."

She found a sheltered spot and removed Soldier's tack, for there would be no hope of making a speedy getaway regardless of whether the horse was saddled or not.

From his place atop his bedroll, Travis moaned again, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead.

Katherine knelt by his side. He lowered his arms, looking lost and dreadfully pained. "I hurt."

He still thought he was a child, and Katherine felt a sob rise in her throat. Dealing with the pain of the grown man was difficult, but coping with the agony of the child seemed beyond her endurance. And yet she knew the boy would allow her to help, to touch him, to soothe, unlike die man.

"What can I do?" she asked, moving closer.

He took her hand in his and placed it carefully to his brow. “Tell me a story, Rachel," he pleaded.

Sometime later he lay with his head upon her lap, his eyes closed and his expression peaceful. From somewhere in her imagination Katherine had conjured a story of a handsome knight and a maiden in distress, weaving a lively tale until she knew he slept.

The following days were filled with gnawing hunger and torturous worry. They rode endlessly, stopping only when Travis could no longer bear the ache in his head. Then Katherine would find a hidden spot. The stories she told Ryland to ease his pain became as important to her as to him, for they were a way to escape the terror of their hopeless future. For a short time she could forget her problems and be in a world where she would live happily ever after. Where the tall, handsome knight would love her in return. And during that time, in the hushed darkness, she could touch her knight, could smooth the hair back from his forehead, and know he would not draw away.

It was nearly dawn when Travis's scream woke Katherine.

"Leave her!" He was kneeling with his fists flailing the earth and tears streaming unchecked down his face. "Leave her be!"

“Travis!" She scrambled to his side, catching his hands in her own. "It's all right! They're gone."

"Katherine." He breathed her name like a prayer. His fingers trembled as they touched her cheek, and his expression was hopelessly confused. "I thought they took you."

"No." She shook her head, feeling her throat constrict with the force of her emotions. He knew who she was now. "I'm safe."

"And..." He wrinkled his brow and touched his fingers to the place where the bullet had dug a furrow across his skull. "Rachel?"

Katherine bit her lip. "You've been sick, Travis. We have to get you to Latigo's ranch. Do you remember where it is?"

For a moment she thought he would answer, but finally he shook his head. "I don't remember no Latigo, Rachel."

All Katherine's hope crumbled, and she closed her eyes in defeat.

"I'm sorry, Rach," Travis whispered.

Katherine opened her eyes with a sob. "Don't be sorry." She pulled him gently into her arms, feeling the tears slip down her cheeks and letting them fall onto his neck. "I love you, Travis," she murmured hoarsely.

His arms tightened slowly around her, cradling her with careful strength against his chest. "I love you, too, Katherine," he whispered.

She saw a doe and fawn the next day, but dared not chance a shot at them, for she would surely miss and only succeed in alerting any pursuers to their whereabouts:

They rode on. Travis was unconscious most of the time, but Katherine was sure he was starving, as was she. Another day and night passed. They rarely stopped now, for hunger kept her awake despite her fatigue.

Cresting a ridge, Katherine stopped Moondancer to look about. There was nothing to encourage her. Not a building. Not a fence. Only mile after mile of rugged tree-covered mountains.

Travis moaned, and Katherine tightened her grip on Dancer's rope. She would not give up, for she loved him, and in his foggy state he had said he loved her in return.

Her hand dropped slowly to the revolver she still wore on her hip. She had no choice. If she wanted to survive, if she wanted Travis to survive, they needed to eat.

Pressing Moondancer down the slope, Katherine refused to think of what she would do next. She would just do it! Because she must.

Finding a quiet place where aspen grew and a sparkling stream tumbled along, Katherine slipped from the mare's back, allowing her to drink and graze.

"I'm sorry, Dancer," she whispered, and slowly pulling the revolver from its holster, she aimed at the mare's head.

For just a moment Katherine closed her eyes, trying to steady her hands and quiet the ache in her heart. The mare had done nothing to deserve death. Indeed, she had done much to earn her a long life on green pastures, but Soldier could carry two riders, and Travis would not live much longer without nourishment.

Carefully, and with shaking hands, Katherine eased back the hammer. But before she could shoot, a strange noise drifted up to her. Katherine opened her eyes, canting her head slightly and listening. It came again.

"Dear God!" She said the words in a whisper, then held her breath and listened again.

Nothing. She waited, closing her eyes to concentrate on the noises around her.

It seemed like hours before she heard the sound again, but she was certain now. It was the deep-throated bellow of cattle.

Katherine hurried through the mountains, pressing the horses hard toward the east. She'd set a landmark for herself, but it was dark now, and she could see little, so she listened, straining to hear every sound.

But the bellowing didn't come again. Was she still traveling east? Katherine was no longer certain. Perhaps it had not been a cow at all. Perhaps it was a creature of the wild calling for its mate. Perhaps she had imagined the sound. And perhaps; even if there were cattle nearby, she would miss them in the darkness.

A sob sounded from her throat and she realized with some surprise that she was crying.

She swiped at the tears. Had she put them both through endless torture only for them to die now?

What was that? Katherine's thoughts bumbled to a halt. It sounded like a horse. She'd found them.

But who had she found?

Delias! The name slammed into her consciousness. Maybe the outlaws were very near, near enough to hear their horses. Katherine licked her lips, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

A whinny sounded from somewhere up ahead. She held her breath and waited.

Nothing happened but the passing of time.

Drawing a deep breath, she pressed her mare forward again, up a rocky incline and then down, only to climb again.

For a while she thought the fire was a star, misplaced in the endless wilderness about her. But her mind cleared finally, and she realized with numbing suddenness that she was looking down at a campground.

Murmuring a few words to Travis, Katherine left him atop Soldier, bound in the saddle, as she quickly tied the stallion to a stout pine.

Her hands shook as she pulled herself onto Moondancer's back. The descent was sharp and rocky, but hunger and desperation made her choose the most direct course possible, so that they slid and bounced down the mountainside, coming to a halt where the trees thinned at the edge of the valley.

Slipping from the mare's back, she peered through the branches toward the camp. The fire there made the night seem blacker and more desolate. Three men lounged around the lively flame, and the smell of coffee and bacon wafted toward her.

Katherine swallowed hard, feeling a sharp ache in her throat and mouth as the aromas tortured her. But she would not think of that yet.

Could one of these men be Delias? she wondered, straining her eyes to see better. One man was old, with white hair and a lengthy beard. She could see little of the other two, for they sat with their backs to her. But on the far side of the old men was a wagon of some kind.

She bit her bottom lip, swallowing again and trying not to think of the food that wagon might hold. Surely this couldn't be Dellas's gang, she decided, for a wagon would slow them down. Wouldn't it?

But what if it were Delias? What would she do then? March back up the hill to inform Travis they wouldn't be eating for a few more days. It was very likely he didn't have that much time left unless he had some nourishment.

Though her fingers felt stiff, Katherine's body shook as she tied Dancer to a tree. There was nothing she could do now but obtain food in whatever way possible. And since she had no way of knowing who these men were, she would have to assume they were unfriendly and take every precaution.

The revolver seemed heavy as she pulled it from its holster. The pines through which she stole were huge, allowing little undergrowth, leaving her to feel exposed even in the moonless night.

Voices drifted from the camp now. The old man brayed a sharp cord of laughter, startling Katherine with the sound. She stopped abruptly, breathing hard and trying to conjure up some shred of courage.

But in the end it was the smell of bacon that drew her irresistibly toward the fire. She clung to the last tree for sometime, until she could wait no longer, and then, cocking the revolver, she walked into camp.

"Put down your guns." Her voice sounded strange, as if coming from another source, but the three men by the fire turned immediately toward her, proof that the words had indeed come from her mouth. They stared, not moving, hands held stiffly away from their hips.

"I said put them aside."

She watched them do so, but was surprised that they obeyed. "Good. Now I want to know two things. Who are you? Where're you headed? And is there anyone here with some medical knowledge?"

For just a moment there was silence.

"I ain't no scholar, mister. But it seems to me that's three things," said a small man to the left of the fire.

"I don't give a damn!" Katherine spat, and feeling the revolver shake, she grasped it with both hands.

"Listen. We're peaceable folks," said the old man. "Why don't you just sit a spell, and we'll dish you up some vittles."

At the thought of food Katherine's throat ached again, almost choking her with her painful need. "Who are you?" she rasped, moving the revolver from one man to the next in a nervous motion.

"Take it easy now, boy," soothed the old man.

"We ride with Cody Blackfeather," said one of the others. "No need to—"

"Who's that?" she asked, pointing the gun at the man who spoke.

"Who? Blackfeather?"

"Yes."

"It's me."

He came from out of nowhere, and suddenly the gun was grabbed with ease from Katherine's hands by a dark man named Blackfeather.

Katherine stumbled backward a step.

"Who are you?” He asked the question quietly. His face was impassive. His hair long and black as a raven's wing, with sharp, strong features that could only be Indian.

"Me?" She backed away again, feeling sick for having failed Travis.

"It seems that's who we were talking about."

"I'm Kath..." She stumbled on her answer for a moment, realizing with abrupt panic that she would be a fool to give her real name. "Kat! I'm Kat...Gilbert."

He gave not the least impression that he might believe her, but remained silent, watching.

"He was sayin' something about a medic," said one of the men, approaching rapidly. "You hurt, boy?"

She shook her head, not daring to mention Travis until she knew more about them.

"Then he must have him a friend who is," reasoned the old man, hurrying up at a stiff gait. "Delias is—"

"Hey! Horse coming!" warned someone.

But Katherine could make little sense of the words, for she thought with sudden panic that they were Dallas's men! Dear God! She backed away, hoping they wouldn't notice. Hoping she could slip away while they went to meet the newcomer.

"Blackfeather, look at this. It's some poor bugger tied to a horse."

"Is he dead?"

"Can't tell."

"No." Katherine only breathed the word, finding she had no strength to move. How had Soldier broken free? But there was no time to wonder, for already they were reaching for Travis.

"No!" she screamed, and throwing herself at the nearest gun, grabbed it and pointed. "Back away! All of you!"

Every man remained immobile.

"We ain't planning to slow-roast him over the fire, mister."

"Back away, I say!" she threatened, trying to cover them all with her shaking weapon.

"Let us get him down. Take a look. Maybe we can help."

"No!" Even to her own ears she sounded hysterical. "I know you're Dellas's men. I know what you're like."

"Calm down now," ordered the Indian softly.

"I'll shoot!" She swung the gun toward him. "I swear I will!"

"Let's just..." His hand whipped out a second time. And again, with the speed of summer lightning, the revolver disappeared from her hand. "Talk!" he said, and thumping her hard against the chest, he pushed her to the ground.

She hit the earth with a jolt, and before she could recover, two men were holding her down. "No!" she screamed. "Don't hurt him! It was my fault! All mine! I stole the money and wanted Delias dead. He had nothing to do with it."

"What the devil's he talking about?" one of them asked.

"How the hell would I know?" muttered another.

"Damn! Blackfeather. Come quick!" called the old man.

He did so, leaving Katherine and hurrying up to Soldier. "Get him down." His voice was hard as flint. "Here. Use my knife."

"Please." She quit struggling and remained as she was, half-reclining against someone's chest. "Please don't hurt him," she begged. "He's a good man." She thought fast. Perhaps these weren't Dellas's men after all, and maybe, if they did not know what could be gained by turning Travis in, they could be persuaded to help. "He's a man of God, traveling from town to town, ministering to the poor miserable sinners of the West."