Vengeance Road (18 page)

I follow his gaze back the way we came, and see a lone rider in the distance. “One of Rose's men?”

Jesse pulls out his binoculars and takes a look. “Def- initely not. I think it's a girl.” He passes 'em over, and I squint through the eyepiece.

“Aw, hell,” I says. It's the Apache. She's riding a stout pony and wearing the same smocklike dress she had on at the Tiger, only now it's bunched up 'bout her waist and she's got trousers on beneath it. Her hair's parted into two long braids, and they hang over her shoulders looking like suspenders from this distance. Her pony is a sad-looking thing—saddleless, with a shabby rope bridle—and I wonder how he even made the journey so far. He looks 'bout ready to collapse.

“Friend of yers?” Jesse says.

“No.”

“That's right. You ain't the type to have friends.”

I glare. “I helped her outta the Tiger,” I says. “I'll take care of it.”

I kick Silver into a gallop and ride out to meet the girl. I come up on her fast, but she don't seem startled or concerned. She folds her arms in her lap and just waits for me to pull Silver to a halt.

“Morning,” she says simple. I notice her palms are wrapped in cloth, protecting the skin that burned last night.

“Yer following us,” I says back.

“I am traveling the same path. It just happens you are before me. I could ride with you instead of behind,” she offers.

“With me? We ain't looking for a caboose.”

She cocks her head at me, then says, as if it's already decided, “I will ride with you.”

“You will not,” I snap. “Go back to the Tiger.”

“I'm never going back to that saloon. I used to have family and purpose and hope. White Eyes came and took it. They marched my people to camps like a herd, commanded my life like they were my god. You helped me in town, so I figure you might be fair to ride with; that when I turn off the path and head home, you won't shoot me in the back.”

“You don't know nothing 'bout me,” I says. “I's shot plenty of men.”

“And women?”

I frown.

“You head for the mountains,” she says, regarding the growing Superstitions. “It is sacred land, not to be tampered with. Angry land. A guide might be useful.”

I never even wanted the Coltons round, and yet here I am seriously considering the girl's offer. As though I actually need another flea on my hide. I's got the journal. We know where we're heading. But what if she really do know the area well? What if we run into her kind in the canyons or get lost or can't find water? She'd be good for that, or so it seems. I can't figure why else Fort Whipple keeps scouts hired on otherwise. And I know Prescott's armed division ain't the only one working with 'em.
Use the enemy to fight the enemy,
Pa always said. Makes me wonder who's crazier, the Indians who desert their own kind or the ones fighting an endless supply of uniforms.

I return my attention to the Apache. “You know the mountains well?”

She nods. “My people move when it suits us. When White Eyes came, the men had gone west to what you call Fort McDowell, along the Verde, to retaliate against a recent raid. Us women and children stayed behind only to be rounded up by the very men ours went to fight. The lucky ones got away, the rest walked to a prison White Eyes called a reserve. I was fortunate to escape the march but was picked up and taken to that saloon to work.” Her eyes drift toward the mountains. “I will go back to our stronghold. If what remains of my tribe has not reassembled, I will search for signs of their movement, and I will follow.”

“And yer willing to serve as my guide 'long the way?”

She nods again, then asks, “What do you seek in the mountains?”

“Justice.”

“The mountains are sacred. If you wish to pray to Ussen, there is no better place.”

“Ussen?” I says.

“The creator of life.”

“Right.” Heaven forbid she just call him God.

“And what do you seek justice for?” she asks.

“You always this nosey?”

“If I'm to help you find what you seek, it is only fair that I know your story.”

“A bunch of men hanged my pa,” I says, feeling something harden in my gut. I grab my Colt and sight a cactus several paces to my right, then stuff the gun back into my belt. Draw and sight again. Put it back.

“Sounds like revenge. A personal raid in response to theirs.”

“Revenge, justice, raid. It don't matter what you call it. I'm only doing what I need to do to set things right.”

“How will you find them?” she asks.

“They're after a gold mine mapped out in my father's journal, so that's where I'm headed.”

“Gold? The yellow iron?”

“Yeah.”

She frowns, looking cross. “It is one thing to pick up gold scattered on the ground and another to dig in Mother Earth's body for it. To do so will bring Ussen's wrath and awaken the Mountain Spirits. They will stomp and stampede, causing the ground to heave and destroying everything near.”

“A quake?” I says. “You think all mining'll cause earthquakes?”

“The Mountain Spirits serve Ussen,” she says, her voice as serious as ever. “They will bring ruin upon those who dig for gold. I cannot help you. Not if gold is what you seek.”

“It ain't,” I snap. “Haven't you been listening? I don't care 'bout the gold. I'm just trying to find the mine 'cus I know that's where the Rose Riders'll head. Now, you said it ain't an offense to pick up gold already lying in plain sight, so surely it ain't a crime to visit a mine that already exists. It ain't like I wanna dig round in it.”

“And them?” She jerks her head toward Jesse and Will. “What do they seek?”

“They're family friends,” I says. “They're helping me track the gang.” And it's the truth. I ain't lied. I's just left out the bits she don't want to hear. I feel a twinge of guilt and push it aside. I saved her damn life, and a scout could save us precious time in the mountains. She owes me this. I'll just have to warn the Coltons not to mention their goals or the full nature of our deal round her.

The girl lifts her chin high, like she's trying to gauge the sincerity of my words. I reckon it might be an intimidating gaze if she weren't on that sad pony. It's so small, and I'm sitting far taller on Silver.

Finally, she says, “If you promise you will not dig in Mother Earth, I will help you.”

“I promise. I only want justice.”

“Revenge,” she corrects.

“Yeah, that.”

“Then I will help, at least until I locate my people. But if we come to the mine and the men you seek are already violating the earth, I will turn away and not help further.” She tips her flat-brimmed hat down to shield her eyes from the sun and says again, “It is sacred land, not to be tampered with.”

“Yeah, yeah, let's get to it. We're wasting time.”

“I am Liluye,” the girl says. “I won't work like a nameless mule.”

“Fine,” I says.

“Li-luw-yee,” she says, emphasizing every last beat when I don't address her proper. “Or Hawk Singing if Liluye is too much on your tongue.”

“That's two names,” I says. I glance over my shoulder. Jesse and Will are starting to look restless. “Look, I ain't got time for dallying. You coming with me or not?”

She sits a bit taller in her saddle. “What is your name?”

“Kate,” I says. “Kate Thompson.”

“Thank you, Kate, for what you did for me at the Tiger.”

“It were nothing, Lil. Now let's ride.” I turn Silver round and trot off toward the Coltons.

“My name is not Lil,” I hear her say to her pony, “but it's a start.” Hoofbeats follow, staying close.

Guess I got myself a scout.

“She's Apache,” Jesse says
when we join back up. He's squinting again, only it ain't his normal squint. Everything 'bout his face has gone narrow. His lips are thin and pinched. Even his brow seems somehow tighter. “She ain't riding with us.”

“She's gonna help us out in the mountains,” I says.

“She ain't riding with us!” He bats a hand at Lil like she's dust he can banish back the way we came. “Get outta here,” he snarls at her. “You ain't welcome.”

“Jesse!” His face snaps to mine and his features are caught somewhere between hate and fear. I remember the story Will told me 'bout their mother, and understand. “Look, I'm sorry 'bout what happened to yer ma, Jesse, I am, but it was years ago,” I says. “And it weren't Lil who did it.”

“It was her people,” he barks back.

“But not
her.
”

“I don't care. I won't have no blasted Apache riding with us. Not over my dead body!”

“Oh, in tarnation!” I snap. “Will's right. You preach 'bout letting the past be, 'bout moving on and not letting yer demons eat you whole, but yer holding on to the past more than any of us here—harping on things happened well over a decade ago! You spout all this shiny advice and can't even figure how to follow it yerself!”

He bites his bottom lip and glares at Lil. She's just sitting there atop her pony, gazing up at the sky like she ain't got a care in the world.

“You don't gotta be her best friend, you just—”

“We'll
never
be friends,” Jesse snarls.

“Ugh, you make me livid!” I snap. “You just gotta
ride
with her, I was trying to say. You and me and Will and her. That's all. Don't talk to her. Don't even look at her if you can't bear it. But she knows the mountains, and I ain't turning my back on that sorta resource 'cus yer too damn proud, or maybe yellow-bellied”—he glares at that—“to set aside yer prejudices a few days.”

“Oh, and you like Apache?” he says. “Yer fond of Indians now?”

“I like people who make my life easier.”

Jesse folds his arms over his chest. “I thought that's what me and Will were doing. We help you with Rose, you help us get the—”

“I know what the deal is,” I says, cutting him off before his words send Lil running.

Jesse gnaws on his bottom lip a moment. “Still don't see why we gotta make things more complicated by adding a fourth to the group.”

“Safety in numbers. Ain't that what you's said before?”

“Well, I'll be,” he responds. “Guess you ain't deaf after all.”

“You got a shine for everything, don't you Jesse?”

He eyes me, frowning. “Not everything.” Then clicks his tongue and nudges Rebel east. I sit there on Silver a moment, watching him ride off 'longside Will as Mutt streaks ahead like a bullet.

“He likes you,” Liluye says.

“What?” I says, turning toward her. “No he don't.”

“Tarak used to always speak to me in riddles. It was only after he died in a raid and his sister confessed that he wanted to marry me that I understood.”

“Yeah, well, Jesse ain't Apache, so that riddle logic don't apply.”

“He listened to you,” she insists. “He gave up his fight.”

'Cus he wants the gold more than he wants to split ways. Staying ain't got nothing to do with me or what I said 'bout his bias 'gainst Apache. I'd bet good money on it. We're using each other, me and the Coltons. Ain't nothing more to it than that.

I remind myself to tell 'em to stay hushed 'bout the gold as soon as possible, then flick Silver's reins.

“Come on, Lil. We're falling behind.”

“Liluye,” she says.

I ride on and she follows.

We make good time 'long the river. The land is mostly flat and we don't got to pause to check our course—the Salt's guiding us just fine. But by late afternoon, all that's changing.

Everything's getting greener, but not in the way Prescott's mountains do. There ain't any pines to be seen here, just ancient saguaro cactuses that tower like they think they're trees, breaking up the horizon. Between 'em, shrubs and brambles crop up in abundance, surrounded by prickly pear and woody cholla. The vegetation slows us plenty, and I know it's only the start of it. Ahead, the terrain's getting angrier. Boulders and rocks lift outta the earth; heaving hills and miniature plateaus stand proud. If this is just the foothills, I ain't sure the horses are gonna be able to take us far. Definitely not into the thickest parts of the mountains. We'll be forced to travel in the shallows of the Salt soon, taking the path it carves through the wilderness.

Beyond Silver's perky ears, I watch Jesse riding. He keeps whistling for Mutt even though the dog ain't wandered outta the river once, and his hips rock side to side with Rebel's movements, a standard horseback sway. My cheeks go hot. Feeling flighty and skittish, I reach for my six-shooter and start practicing draws. I pretend each cactus I sight is Waylan Rose, imagine shooting him over and over again. I won't miss next time. I'm gonna hit his heart, not his damn shoulder. Soon I'm feeling much more like myself—sturdy and tight and focused. I stuff the pistol back in its holster and keep my gaze on the destination 'stead of Jesse's back.