The Gambler (32 page)

"Charm," he breathed, slowing to a walk but still moving closer.

"Don't come any nearer. I won't be your pawn. I'm not Chantilly. You don't care about me!"

"Well, I care about
someone
," he said. "Someone who looks a hell of a lot like you."

"Stay back!" She felt as if her world was caving in around her, bringing reality to shattered ruins. "Stay back or you'll regret it!" she added and yanked the butter knife from her pocket.

"Good God, Charm!" Raven scoffed. "What the devil—" he began, but his words ended on a grunt of pain, and then he fell, crumpling to the ground like a limp rag doll.

In the darkness, Charm could hear Raven's second gasp of pain. But she wasn't about to be duped again. "God damn it, Raven!" she yelled. "It's not going to work this time."

He didn't answer, but lay still upon the ground.

"Quit it. I hate it when you do this." Silence answered her. "I'm leaving. Do you hear me? I'm leaving." She stomped off a few steps before turning back. "Raven?"

Although she saw the movement in the grass near his leg, it took her a moment to realize it was a rattlesnake. In another instant she had reached Raven's mount and drawn forth the gun he kept there. Without hesitation she aimed, fired, and fired again. Raven's body jerked in unison with that of the dying snake's. In a heartbeat, she was beside him.

"Am I dead?" he asked, looking up. "Did you shoot me?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, the smoking gun held aloft.

"Is that a 'no'?"

"Yes."

"Yes, you shot me, or yes, it's a no?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Raven, shut up!" she demanded fretfully and all but tossed the gun aside.

"Charm?" His voice sounded weak. Worry seared her mind. "Will you call me Joseph?"

"What?"

"Maybe I've been Raven too long. No one ever calls me Joseph, except Clancy, damn his hide. And he tried to get me hanged."

Charm's throat felt tight. "I tried to get you hanged too," she reminded him hoarsely. Despite all her practical good sense she felt tears well in her eyes. People often died from rattlesnake bites, and she wasn't certain how many times he'd been struck.

"That's true," he said, gazing up at the night sky with solemn thoughtfulness. "What is it about me that makes my friends try to kill me?"

Charm wiped her nose on the back of her hand. "I can think of a half dozen things. Do you want to hear them now?"

"No," he sighed and let his eyes fall closed. "I'm rather tired right now."

"Raven!" Her voice was panicked.

He forced his eyes open. "Didn't you promise to call me Joseph?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, call it a dying man's last request."

Her hands gripped his embroidered vest in a hard clasp. "You die, I'll never forgive you, Raven Scott."

"Joseph," he corrected through clenched teeth. "Joseph Neil. My father's surname was Neil. Mother's was Scott. Took hers instead. Pathetic attempt at revenge." His eyes fell closed.

"Joseph!" she cried.

"Ahh, that sounds much better than when Clancy, damn his hide, says it." He paused, drawing a slow breath and opening his eyes. "I'm sorry I lied about my arm, Lucky

Charm. Wanted to reach River Bluffs before your aunt's wedding. Paid extra to get you there for the festivities. Didn't care how you felt about it." He exhaled a heavy breath. "Bastards run in my family. But hell, might as well tell it all now. Truth is, I didn't have the strength to let you go. I thought you'd be too afraid of me if I were hale. Let you think I was disabled. You can hate me if you like."

"I do hate you," she said on a sob. "Don't die."

His eyes fell closed again.

"Raven!"

He became immediately alert and found her face with his gaze. "You know, if you decided to suck out the poison, you'd get to cut me."

"What?"

"You'd get to cut my leg. Two places. Might be your last chance."

"But..." Charm shot a frantic glance toward his wound. "All I have is the butter knife I stole at dinner."

He winced dramatically. "Better than a stick. Still, sounds rather... tedious. There's a knife in my saddlebag."

She was gone in an instant and back even faster, but his eyes were closed again. "Raven?"

"You have the worst memory known to mankind," he scolded softly. "Can't even remember the name of the man who loves you."

"Loves... me?" she breathed.

He didn't respond.

"Loves me?" The words were barely forced from her lips. "Are you talking out of your head?"

"Yeah, I think so. Damn, this hurts like hell. I thought rattlers were supposed to be fair fighters. Give a warning before they struck."

"Did you say you love me?" she murmured.

"Aren't they supposed to give a warning?"

"What?" She shook her head.

"The rattler," he babbled. "Supposed to fight fair."

"Maybe it was a male," she reasoned. "Did you say you love me?"

"What do you mean maybe it was a male?"

"What did you say... you know... earlier?"

"I said it hurts like hell."

"Before that," she demanded, gripping his vest again as she leaned closer. "What'd you say?"

"Charm..." His face, she noticed, was very pale. "I'm not feeling so..."—he shivered—"good."

She scowled, loosening her hold on his vest. "Are you all right?"

"That would depend on your..."—he shivered again and for a moment she thought he might retch—"... definition of all right."

Charm clenched her fist, panicked and guilty at her own delay. "What do I do?"

"Remove my pants," he said through his teeth, the pain obvious on his tense features. "Unless you'd faint at the sight of my overwhelming... good looks."

She tightened her fists, suddenly wanting nothing more than to run away. "I've already admired your..." She glanced nervously downward. Where exactly had he been bitten? Was it really possible to suck out the poison? And what if the whole process caused him to pass out? How would she get him on his horse?

"Admired my what?" he asked, squeezing his eyes closed.

"Your good looks."

"Listen, Charming, you've admired a hell of a lot more than that."

She had no time to blush. "Where were you bitten, Raven?"

He didn't answer and his breathing sounded ragged.

"Raven!" she called frantically.

"Charm!" he said with a start. "It's in my pocket."

"What? What is?"

"Your Bible. In my vest pocket. If I don't make it, take it with you. Go to St. Louis. River Bluffs."

"What are you talking about? Of course you're going to make it."

"Promise me you'll go there, Charm. Find Eloise Medina. Show her the Bible. Tell her your story. She loved your mother. She'll love you."

"We'll go together," Charm said hoarsely. The panic was bitter and new, not for herself now, but for this man whom she had fought so long.

"Promise me," he grunted. "Or I won't let you cut open the bites."

"I promise."

"Thatta girl." He paused as if gathering strength. "Do you really care about me, or do you just want to see me bleed?"

"Damn it, Raven!" she said with a sob. “Tell me what to do."

He arched his back suddenly, and his body stiffened as he sucked a gasp through his teeth. His hands gripped the sparse grass beneath him, and his chin thrust upward until finally the spasm passed and he relaxed marginally. "Two spots, I think. Cut crosses in the wounds. Suck out the poison." He shook his head weakly. "Not a job for a lady, Charm. We could just wait for Clancy, damn his hide. He'll come, you know. 'Course, I'd prefer the company of the snake," he added, but she was already slicing his pants from the bottom up. Even by the uncertain light of the moon she could see the edema. Grasping his right boot she pulled and pried, finally yanking it free from his rapidly swelling foot.

"Where do I cut?"

He didn't answer. Charm scrambled forward to shake him. "Raven! I can't find the wounds. Where do I cut? Raven!" Her voice was a sob. "Don't die. Not now. You said you love me, didn't you? Didn't you?"

There was no answer. Her mind reeled and her hands trembled, but there was no time for weakness or delay. She needed light, immediately.

At the bottom of the hill, she'd seen a few scrubby bushes growing. She scurried down the incline now. There was very little wood to be found, but she gathered what she could into her arms and speedily returned to Raven's side. Dried grasses were easier to procure, and she found matches in a saddlebag.

It took her several minutes of fanning and prayer to produce even a tiny flame. She hovered frantically over it, feeding it carefully until she was out of chafe, but still the smallest branch refused to ignite. "Save me, oh God," she chanted desperately, and then, seeing Raven's pant leg spread wide, suddenly gripped the thing in her hands and tore it away. In a moment, it was in small pieces and was being consumed by the starved little blaze that crackled so near her patient. Now the first branch caught fire. Finally, she was able to direct her attention to his swollen leg.

There were two wounds, boasting four holes each. It took almost more courage than Charm had to cut them open. But she did so, slicing a cross into their centers before lowering her mouth to the oozing lacerations.

She didn't know whether the venom had remained near the surface or if it was dangerous if ingested, but she had little time to consider these things, for the blood was flowing quickly now. Perhaps it would wash the poison from the wound, she reasoned; she watched fretfully as his life blood drained into the sandy soil beneath them.

Why didn't it stop bleeding? Had she cut too deeply? Or had the venom perhaps, somehow affected his body's ability to clot the wound? Whatever the answer, she could wait no longer. Tearing a strip of cotton from her petticoat, she wrapped it snugly just below his knee. Still the blood came. She bit her lip and prayed frantically, then tearing off another square of cotton, pressed it firmly to the wounds.

It seemed like hours before the bleeding subsided. Raven's face looked pale and drawn, but his breathing sounded fairly normal and when she pressed her ear to his chest, his heart seemed steady and strong beneath the hard mass of protective muscle. Charm stayed as she was, resting her ear against his pectoral and absorbing strength from that sound until she felt him tremble. She wrapped him in blankets and fed the fire. Soon it was bright and hot, but still Raven shivered. Charm stretched out against his side, sharing her body heat and praying for help.

There was no way of knowing how much time went by before a rustle of sound caught her attention. She sat up quickly, holding her breath. "Clancy?" No one answered. Her gaze darted through the darkness, seeing nothing unusual. "Who's there?"

The silence was suddenly terrifying. Anyone might have found them, what with the gunshots and fire. What had she done with Raven's gun? Her neck felt wooden as she turned to search, but it was nowhere to be seen in the failing light of the fire. Only the knife was in sight. She gripped it quickly in her right hand, feeling a small bit of courage galvanized by the feel of its cool handle against her palm.

Another whisper of sound alerted her. She remained as she was, kneeling beside Raven, her knuckles white against her feeble weapon.

They seemed to appear from nowhere. Two Indians, with hair as dark as the night that surrounded them, and faces unlike anything Charm had ever seen. Fierce and arrogant, as if chiseled from the very stone of the earth. They stared at her unblinking, watching with silent scorn.

Charm's fist ached with her tight grip. Her heart thudded painfully in her constricted chest.

One man spoke, his voice low and incomprehensible as he lifted a hand toward her with a grimace of a mocking smile.

"Stay back." She forced the words steadily past lips frozen with fear. Her right hand rose slowly, bearing the knife higher as her chin lifted in unison. "You touch him, I'll kill you. I swear I will."

They watched her in silence again, their expressions unreadable, and then one jolted toward her.

She rose to a crouch, snarling her feeble retaliation. But the Indian stopped some six feet away, and throwing back his head, laughed aloud. Behind him the other man joined in his mirth. "Little Cougar Mouse," he said roughly. "Stay with your mate."

The closest man turned, laughing again. And suddenly, like a chilling wind, they were gone, faded into the darkness.

Charm's breath came in great gasps. She felt suddenly dizzy and her stomach roiled. The knife slipped from her hand and she slouched to the ground. The whinny of a horse seemed dim and inconsequential. They were leaving, she thought vaguely, but suddenly the reality of the situation came home with a painful jolt. They were leaving with
her
horses.

"No!" she cried, scrambling to her feet. She couldn't get Raven to a doctor without a horse. "No!" Dropping to her knees, she scrambled frantically around in search of the revolver.

She felt it before she saw it and yanked it from beneath the blanket. In a moment, she was running. "Leave them," she screamed, but already Raven's gelding was fading into the darkness, galloping away behind the first spotted pony. Charm turned frantically toward Angel, whose reins were held in the other Indian's hand.

"Leave him." Her tone was hoarse and shaky. "Or I'll shoot." Her arms felt strangely stiff as she raised the gun. "I swear I will."

Silence filled the spot, and then the Indian laughed. Light as the wind, he leaped to his own pony's back, dragging Angel along behind him.

"No!" Charm screamed, but the Indian kept riding, forcing Angel away. She aimed without taking a breath. The trigger squeezed beneath her finger. The gun exploded. There was a yelp of surprise from the thief as his fingers were burned by the passing bullet. The reins were severed. The Indian pony reared, but Angel, free and loyal, whirled about with agile grace to thunder back to camp.

Silence again, except for thudding hooves against prairie grass, but in a moment the Indian had regained control of his mount, and sat in silence, as if testing her mettle. "Cougar Mouse deserves warrior in her teepee."