Bed of Roses (44 page)

Two buck-toothed terrors stood guard over him, taking great delight in poking him with their stick swords. “Take that, you trespasser!” one growled, and jabbed at Sterling’s shoulder.

“Dammit, you little monster!” Sterling tried to swing away from the stick and cursed the fact he’d left his knife in his saddlebag. If he had it, he could cut himself down and escape these midget desperadoes. And whistling for Gus was useless. The horse wouldn’t respond until the terrors were gone.

“Don’t you cuss at my brother!” One of the boys lunged, the point of his stick leaving a red welt across Sterling’s midriff. He then ran to him and, twisting Sterling’s head, proceeded to whirl him around.

Spinning as fast as he was, Sterling was unable to grab his small torturer. “I’m going to do more than cuss at him when I get down!” he bellowed, still twirling in the air. “I’m going to—”

“Snug!” a woman yelled. “Stop that at once!” When the boy reluctantly obeyed, she ran to Sterling and stopped his spiraling. “What are you doing in my werewolf trap? “

“Werewolf—” Sterling frowned. Was the woman daft? Swiftly, he decided it would be best to humor her. She could be dangerous. “It appears I’m hanging from it. And now that we’ve established that and the fact that I’m not a...
werewolf
,
will you please get me down?”

Chimera took a few steps away and examined him for a moment. He certainly wasn’t what she’d expected, but dumb or not, he was all she had. “That depends,” she said, her hands planted on her hips. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Sterling realized his fate was completely in her hands and bit back his ire at her baffling question. Sarcasm rose in anger’s place. “I suppose I came here for the express purpose of being able to experience the delight of hanging upside down from a tree. One hasn’t lived until one has known what it feels like to have one’s head about to explode with every drop of one’s blood, one’s leg completely numb, and one’s flesh stabbed at by your three devils.”

So he didn’t know why he was here, she mused. He was
supposed
to know. “They aren’t really my devils. Well, they are, but they aren’t. You see, nine years ago—”

“Ma’am,” Sterling broke in, his head truly throbbing now, “I’m sure the story of these junior criminals and who they belong to is an interesting one, but I think I’d enjoy hearing it more if I were on my feet instead of hanging in thin air.”

She lifted her ragged crimson skirt, reached down to her boot, and withdrew a sharp knife. When Sterling saw the glittering blade, he tried to swallow, but suspended upside down like he was, he couldn’t manage to get his throat to work. He could only hope she would slide the dagger through the rope and not across his neck.

Dammit, why had he stopped here? he fumed. First Martha, then the posse, then the Apache woman and her baby, and now a lunatic who believed in werewolves. All in the space of a day!

“Chimera, look!” shouted Snag. “A baby!”

Chimera cast the knife aside and hurried to the infant, scooping her up from the bed of soft leaves Sterling had made when he’d stopped to stretch his stiff limbs. “Oh, what a darling little thing!” she exclaimed, and smoothed the baby’s pitch-black hair.

“That’s
my
baby!” Sterling hollered from his tree branch. “I mean...well, she’s not really
mine
.”

Chimera looked up from the baby and smiled at him. “It looks like we both have children who aren’t really ours.”

Her warm, bright smile arrested his attention. Despite his irritation and pulsating head, he studied her more intently. He’d never seen a woman with hair as long as hers. Cascading in waves that looked like smooth, black liquid, it poured almost to her knees. And whiskey...her slightly slanted eyes were the hue of good whiskey and just as intoxicating.

“Intoxicating?” He mouthed the word and tore his gaze from her. In the absurd predicament he was in, what the hell was he doing, letting himself get carried away by this bit of female fluff?
Tucson.
He had to remember Tucson and his vow not to let anything or anyone delay his trip. “Put my baby down and release me from this trap!”

“Chimera don’t take orders from you!” Snug shouted, and gave Sterling’s chest another long scratch with the stick. “And you ain’t in no position to give none nohow!”

“Snug, that’s enough!” Chimera placed the baby back in the brush, retrieved her knife, and walked toward Sterling. She looked up at his rope-bound ankle. “I can’t reach your foot. You’ll have to cut yourself down. And be quick about it. As Virgil wrote, ‘Time is flying, never to return.’ Actually I prefer the Greek poets to the Romans, but I do read other works, you know.”

Sterling frowned at both her balderdash and her patronizing manner. “No, I didn’t know that, but how gracious you are to enlighten me. Now let me ask you this—just what the hell does Virgil have to do with—”

“Virgil also said,” she interrupted, raising her eyes to the sky, “‘We are not all capable of all things.’ So if you should prove that you are definitely who I’m almost positively sure you are and then have difficulty with one of your heroic duties, I’ll help you with it. You’ve no need to worry,
I
’ll be right beside you.”

“Heroic...” Sterling’s frustration and confusion rose steadily. “What—”

“Ah, Virgil.” She sighed. “He was—”

“Listen, lady, I don’t give a fraction of a damn what Virgil said about time or capabilities. I don’t care what kind of nonsense you read, and I’ve no interest whatsoever about whether the authors are from Rome, Greece, or the moon! All I’m interested in at this moment is that knife you’re holding. Now are you going to give it to me or not?”

She saw the fury in his upside-down silver eyes. “‘Anger is a short madness,’” she said stiffly. “Horace, another Roman poet, said that. And
I
’m not sure
I
should trust a crazy man with a knife.”

He rolled his eyes. “You call me crazy? If you can’t cut
me
down, how did you think you would cut down a
werewolf?
”

“You know, I never gave it much thought until now. I guess I’ll have to re-set the trap on a lower branch. Either that or bring a ladder when I catch one. ‘The glorious gifts of the gods are not to be cast aside.’”

“‘The glorious gifts of the gods are not to be cast aside,’” he repeated. Where had he read that line? Despite his predicament, he searched his memory, some part of him determined to prove to her that he was not as ignorant as she apparently thought him to be. “Homer wrote that,” he said suddenly. “It’s from the
Iliad.
”

“
You’ve read it?”

“Do you think you’re the only person in the world who can read? But what does the
Iliad
have to do with this too-high trap and the werewolf? Perhaps you think Zeus might hurt the ladder down to you?”

“I don’t believe in Zeus. But even if I did, I’ve never heard anything as ridiculous as him tossing down a ladder. I quoted the line because it happened to pop into my mind. I say what I think.”

“Whether it makes sense or not.”

Irritation swept through her. “Now see here—”

“No,
you
see here! I’ve been hanging upside down for almost an hour now, and I’ve no intention of discussing your sanity, your religious beliefs, or any other kind of absurdity with you. Give me that knife and step away!”

She sighed deeply but obeyed. Sterling snatched the knife, then looked at the ground beneath him. If the crazy woman had cut him down, he’d have been able to break his fall by twisting his lower torso toward the ground before he hit it, enabling himself to land on his feet. But since he had to cut himself down, he wasn’t going to have time to do that and would land flat on his back. The knowledge didn’t thrill him.

He swung himself upward, grabbed the rope wrapped around his foot, cut through the bond, and braced himself for the fall. As he’d known he would, he fell with a dull thud, flat on his back. The air rushed from his lungs, and it was many moments before he caught his breath again. When he opened his eyes he expected to see Chimera above him. But he was lying there alone, she and the children having gone to play with the baby. Groaning, he tried to stand but fell back to the earth, clutching at the sharp pain in his side.

“Dammit!”

His curse brought the triplets, whom she’d called Snig, Snag, and Snug, immediately. “Cursin’ ain’t nice, you damn trespasser,” Snig chastised him, and brandished the stick sword.

“Well, neither is torturing a helpless man!” Sterling snapped.

“Are you hurt?” Chimera asked, strolling to him, the baby in her arms. “Can’t you get up?” She saw his silver eyes darken, lighten, and then darken and lighten again. It seemed to her they were made of pepper and salt.

“Well, of course I can get up,” he assured her, flashing a sardonic smirk. “It’s just that lying here on the ground, dirt grinding into the wounds your three monsters gave me and relishing the pain I feel from the rib I just cracked, is such a pleasant pastime, I thought I’d enjoy it a little longer.”

“You don’t have to be so snippy,” Chimera retorted. “If you hadn’t been stupid enough to walk into the snare—”

“How the hell was I supposed to know these peaceful woods were booby-trapped? But you’re right. I should have known better. Everyone knows the Arizona Territory is the werewolf capital of the world. I should have realized there would be snares set out all around for them. Why, even as we speak, there are probably at least ten of the bloodthirsty beasts watching us. Come a full moon, they’ll be sneaking out of their dens and—”

“Make fun if you want!” Chimera yelled down at him, then held the baby closer when the infant began to cry.

“Now look what you did!” Sterling charged. “You’ve made her cry! Give me my baby!” He held out his arms.

“I wasn’t aware men could have babies,” Chimera replied smoothly. “Or are you of a breed that can?”

“Give her to me,” Sterling said warningly.

“When was the last time she ate?”

“Ate?”

“You haven’t given her anything to eat?”

Sterling frowned. “Eat?”

“Eat! You know—that thing you do when you put food in your mouth, swallow it, and are therefore enabled to live?”

“Well,” Sterling began sheepishly, “we’ve been riding for about four hours, and—”

“You haven’t fed her in four hours?” Chimera demanded, aghast.

“Well what the hell could I give her? Beans and hardtack? I’m not in the habit of carrying fresh milk around in my canteen!”

“Some hero you are!” she shouted down at him. “The spirits must have pulled you out of their bag of rejects!”

“Hero? What are you talking—”

“You’re the hero. At least I’m almost sure you are. And you’ve much to do. So—”

“I’m not doing a damn thing for—”

“‘Not snow, no, nor rain, nor heat, nor night keeps them from accomplishing their appointed courses with all speed,’” she broke in, and nodded smugly. “Herodotus, the Greek historian, wrote that, and he might have been thinking about heroes. You would do well to heed his advice since his knowledge, I’m sure, surpasses yours. Now, if you have a horse, find him, get on him, and follow me, mister. But stay on the path or you might squash the gnomes.”

“Gnomes?” Sterling repeated in a whisper as he watched her disappear down the trail through the woods. The woman was mad, and she had his baby! He struggled with his pain until he was on his feet. “Where are you taking her? You come back here, lady!” He stumbled a few steps forward but was stopped by three stick swords. The triplets came at him from all sides, continuing their torture for a good ten minutes before they finally scampered away and left their tired, furious victim alone.

Sterling stood there in the clearing, holding his side for a long time before the pain in it subsided enough for him to find the breath to whistle for Gus, who appeared instantly. Sterling mounted none too easily and tried to decide what to do.

The knowledge that the crazy woman could care for the baby better than he could filtered into his mind. The triplets looked well cared for. And the woman herself, with her glossy black hair, glowing cheeks, and bright brown eyes, was the epitome of health. There was really no reason for him to retrieve the Apache infant. She was better off with...What had those freckled fiends called her?

Chimera.
He grinned absently. Chimera was the name of a fire-breathing female monster, if he remembered Father Tom’s mythology lessons correctly. What a fitting name, he thought, his smile advancing to a chuckle—a chuckle that died away when it suddenly dawned on him she was the only woman he’d ever met who hadn’t thrown herself at him.

He hadn’t seemed to impress her at all. Why, she’d barely looked at him, and then she’d actually insulted him, the raving lunatic! The realization unnerved him. What was it about him she didn’t like? Was he losing his touch?

“She’s obviously a madwoman,” he muttered to Gus, and shifted uneasily in the saddle. “Spouting off about all that Virgil and Herodotus stuff while letting me dangle from a tree. Mad, Gus. She’s mad. I’m going to Tucson, lady!” he shouted at the path she’d taken. “So why the hell should I give a damn what your opinion of me is?”

The answer to his question came immediately. It both infuriated and worried him. He hadn’t believed there was a woman alive who was immune to his magic, and it was this fact that had given him such confidence concerning the woman he sought in Tucson. But if Chimera could resist him, wasn’t it also possible another rejection awaited him in the town that lay just on the other side of these mountains?