Knight in a White Stetson (25 page)

“Henry,”
Calla screamed.

Calla clawed
at
Dupree, but the rage and adrenaline coursing through the little man made her no match for him. She turned onto her stomach, the grit and glass-sharp rocks of the canyon rim sliding up into her untucked shirt and scraping the skin from her navel to her chin. She reached desperately for something to hold on
to,
but her hands grasped only the rough, flat ground. Her fingers dug deep furrows in the coarse sand.

She felt the warm currents of air come up the legs of her jeans as her feet dangled over the edge of the canyon wall. Dupree was lying on his side now, kicking her over the wall into the canyon. He’d loosened his grip on her ankles, and his hands and feet pushed her relentlessly downward.

The wind that whipped
at
her blended its scream with hers.

Henry loomed suddenly in front of her. His strong hands grasped her wrists.

“Henry.”
She looked up at Henry. His face was a mask of concentration and resolve. She didn’t know if he’d even heard her.

“Hold on,” he commanded through gritted teeth.

Henry braced himself against the flat ground and drew her toward him, kicking viciously
at
Dupree as the crazed man continued his attack on Calla’s hold on the edge of the cliff. Dupree hadn’t appeared to notice someone was now pulling Calla away from him.

Calla screamed again, a long shriek that ended with a low moan that came from somewhere inside her chest.

Her body was being pulled apart. The strength of Dupree and Dupree’s desperation seemed to open her insides to the warm drafts of wind. But Henry held on tightly. He released one hand from her wrist and quickly tucked it behind her bruised shoulder. She screamed again.

“I’ve got you, Calla. Hold on.”

Calla’s lower body began
to
jerk spasmodically. She felt herself slipping into the canyon in tiny increments.

Maybe the air currents would hold her up. Maybe she could—

“Calla,” Henry shouted
at
her. “Don’t pass out. Open your eyes, Calla.”

She could do nothing else. She opened her eyes and stared into Henry’s face. It was twisted with primitive rage and fear, teeth bared, lips pulled taut. He was lashing violently at Dupree with one long leg.

Calla heard a hoarse male scream. Dupree’s scream. She spun her head toward the sound. If Henry kicked Dupree over the cliff, he would grab her and pull her down with him, Calla thought wildly.

“Henry,”
she screamed again.

“I have you. I have you,” Henry shouted
at
her. “Stop struggling Calla. It’s Lester.”

Lester.

Lester was holding the collar of Dupree’s shirt with one sinewy had, the top of Calla’s jeans with the other. He was leaned forward in a crouch, pounding one booted foot into the back of Dupree’s head.

“Stop kicking
at
her, you crazy son of a bitch,” Lester was shouting as he brought his boot heel mercilessly down again and again. “Stop kicking her, I say.”

Henry scooted his hips forward slightly, pulling until Calla’s upper body rested on his chest. He dug his heels into the ground and yanked her ruthlessly back from the abyss.

“Lie still. Don’t move,” Henry said. He held on tight, shaking violently, afraid she’d slip away from him somehow.

Dupree lay
at
Lester’s feet. His face was obscured by the blood that oozed from Calla’s scratch marks and the wound made by Lester’s boot heel.

“Calla.”

Henry turned his head and looked
at
the bloodied man
at
the edge of the cliff.

“Shut up, Dupree,” Henry warned menacingly. “Calla,” Dupree screamed. His eyes, closed until a moment ago, focused on her. They were wild. The horrible sound of his voice, inhuman, like the scream of the eagles in Tellum Canyon, shocked Calla back to her senses. She looked blankly
at
him.

“Calla.”

Lester toed Dupree roughly in the back. “That’s enough of that.”

But Dupree did not seem to realize there were other people on the cliff edge besides himself and Calla. His gaze burned into her.

“You almost killed me, Dupree,” she whispered.

“Because you wouldn’t give it up, you stupid bitch. One lousy hunk of land and you wouldn’t give it up.”

“Not that way, Dupree. Not to you.”

“Not to me?” He laughed grimly. “You’ve ruined me, Calla. Killed me, like you killed your brother.”

“Shut up, Dupree,” Henry shouted.

“Killed me.”

He was smiling. Calla felt a chill in the pit of her stomach. She straightened in Henry’s arms.

“Don’t do it, Dick.”

Dupree looked
at
her and smiled. “Why not? You should be used to watching people die. That’s three, now, Calla McFadden. Benny, Judy and me.” And before anyone but Calla realized what he intended
to
do, Dick Dupree Tolled off the edge of Tellum Canyon
to
the welcoming willows of Joe’s Crick two hundred feet below.

“No,” Lester shouted, flinging himself flat on his belly in a futile attempt
to
grab
at
the man. But Dupree was gone, and the eagles and hawks came screaming out of their nests as he passed them.

Henry scooped Calla up and walked from the edge of the cliff without a glance backward. In the distance, Calla heard a mighty wind.

This time it didn’t come from the canyon. It came from the sky above. She closed her eyes and let the wind wash over her.

Chapter 20

«
^
»

P
ete was
at
Saint Luke’s Hospital in downtown Boise when the military orderlies wheeled Calla through the emergency room doors. Henry was not surprised to see him.

Pete jogged along next to the gurney, peering into Calla’s wan face.

“My God. Who the hell did this to her? Is she unconscious?”

“Asleep, they said on the chopper. She’s had a rough day. Hello, Pete. Thanks for the helicopter.”

Pete whistled. “A hello
and
a thank-you. Geez, Doc, you must have had some kind of epiphany out there.”

A nurse with a gigantic chest and a harassed attitude stepped in front of them, stopping them in their tracks. She wrested the gurney from the orderlies and gave Henry and Pete sharp stares.

“That’s far enough, gentlemen. We got the call you’d be coming. We’ll take it from here.”

Henry started to protest as he saw Calla being carted away, but Pete put a halting palm on his chest.

“They’ll take care of her,” he said. “You’ll just be in the way.” He smiled lasciviously. “Did you see the mammaries on that nurse? I’d like to bury my face in those for a day or two.” Henry stared after the gurney as it disappeared into an examining room. “I should be with her. She might need me.”

Pete stopped a passing nurse. “Honey, if that girl that just came in wakes up, you let us know ASAP, will you? Her boyfriend here is a nervous little thing.”

The nurse puffed up like a sage hen. “I’m not your honey, buster.”

Pete winked
at
her. “Your loss. But you’ll let us know, won’t you?”

She glared at him. “I guess.”

“Thanks, baby.” Pete grinned foolishly. “I’ll buy you dinner later, huh?”

“Yeah. I’ll invite my husband and my five kids along, too.” She flounced off toward Calla’s room. Pete shivered.

“Five kids? Yikes. Imagine what it costs
to
feed them all. Come on, Doc. Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”

Henry allowed himself to he led across the entrance
to
the small waiting room. A pot of old coffee and a pile of papercups sat on a table in the corner. Pete poured two cups and handed one to Henry.

“Sit down, for crying out loud. You look like hell.”

“Thanks.” Henry took a swig of coffee. It burned all the way down. He watched a middle-aged male doctor enter Calla’s examining room.

“No, I mean it. You look like hell. What the hell happened out there?”

“Some small-town lunatic named Dick Dupree tried to toss Calla off a cliff.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Do you think that’s something I’d kid about, Pete?” He took another drink from his cup and leaned against the open doorway, his eyes on the closed curtain of the examining room where they were keeping Calla.

Was she still asleep? What was taking them so long?

“You killed the guy, I presume?”

“Didn’t have to. He did it himself.”

“That’s lucky.”

“Not for Calla. She watched the whole thing.”

“Too bad.” Pete paused. “But she’s tough. She’ll get over it.”

“Probably.” Henry tightened a fist around his cup. “I may not, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was dangling off a two-hundred-foot sheer rock cliff, Pete. And that maniac was kicking her over. I watched her dig holes in the dirt with her fingers, trying to keep alive until I got to her.” Henry shook his head bitterly. “I almost didn’t. Every time I think about it, I want to puke.”

“Combat fever. It’ll pass.”

“I screwed up, Pete. She could have died.”

“But she didn’t.” Pete gave him a boisterous clap on the back. “That’s the important thing, isn’t it?”

“Don’t try to cheer me up. Calla’s not going to punish me for this, so I’m going to have to do it on my own. I expect you to help me.”

“Suit yourself. You suck.”

Henry almost smiled. “Thanks.”

The doctor left Calla’s room. A nurse parted the curtain and crooked a finger
at
Henry. He handed his coffee cup
to
Pete. “Wait here. I want to talk to you about something later.”

“I live to serve you.”

Henry strode down the hall and yanked open the curtain. Calla was prone on an examining table, but her eyes were bright again and she was smiling
at
him.

Someone had cleaned the abrasions on her face and arms, and, he presumed, the rest of her. She was draped in a loose, white hospital gown and covered lightly with a thin, cotton sheet. One swollen ankle was elevated but as yet unwrapped, and a nurse was expertly bandaging her right shoulder. Another nurse, a man, was hooking a saline bag onto an intravenous drip system that was stuck into the crook of Calla’s arm.

“Hey,” she said.

Henry nearly collapsed with relief. She looked almost like Calla again. She wasn’t the gray-faced trauma victim she’d been in the helicopter. He gripped the side of her narrow little bed to keep himself from sliding
to
his knees.

“Hey,” he managed
to
reply.

“Are you okay? You look terrible.”

Henry smiled. “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

“Did you call home?” Calla asked.

“No. I sent Lester home in my pickup. He’ll let them know what happened. I’ll call them in a bit.”

“Good idea.” She frowned, and Henry saw that the effort made her wince. “It’s late, isn’t it? They’ll want to go
to
bed.”

“I don’t think anybody is going to be doing much sleeping tonight, Calla.”

“You are. You look exhausted.”

“I’m fine, Calla.”

Calla looked
at
him skeptically, but decided not to pursue the argument. “Damn that Lester.” She smiled wearily. “He was kind of a hero today, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he was.”

“He’ll never let me live it down, you know.”

Henry smiled again. “You’ll probably even have to give him a pay raise.”

“A raise? Not likely.”

The male nurse shot a syringe filled with clear liquid into the intravenous tube. Henry watched carefully.

“What is that?” he asked suspiciously.

“For the pain.”

After a moment, Calla closed her eyes. “Mmm. That’s lovely.”

Henry refocused on her. “How do you feel?”

“Boneless. Skinless. I feel like a boneless, skinless chicken breast.”

Henry stroked her dust-matted hair back from her forehead. He didn’t know whether
to
laugh or cry.

“Henry, that was a joke,” Calla said gently, her eyes still closed. “What’s the matter with you? Everything is all right now. We’re safe.”

He swallowed the sickening swelling in his throat. “No thanks to me. God, Calla, I’m so sorry.”

Calla opened her eyes and searched his face. “No thanks to you? Henry, I would be
at
the bottom of Tellum Canyon right now if it weren’t for you.”

Henry pulled himself together with an effort. He waited a moment as the last of the nurses filed from the room. “We’ll discuss it later. Right now, I want
to
know what the doctor said about your ankle and your shoulder.”

“No, Henry. I want to talk about it now. You
saved
me, Henry. You saved my life. You came to my rescue, just like I knew you would.” She tried to scoot forward into a sitting position, but the effort made her wince and she fell back on the thin pillow. “I’m so sorry about stupid Clark. I knew the minute I saw him I couldn’t go through with it. I’m sorry I hurt you, Henry. I’m sorry I scared you. I hurt me, too. Leaving you standing in the driveway … I thought it might actually kill me.”

She gripped his hand with her swollen fingers, kissed it. Henry noticed that two of her fingernails had been ripped from their bases. Nausea came
to
him in a wave.

“And even though … even after I was such an idiot, the whole time I was out there with Dupree, I knew you would come. I knew that no matter where he took me and no matter what he did to me, you would find me. I
knew
it.
I have never had as much faith in anything or anyone in my life, Henry. And I was right. You found me and you saved me.”

“Calla,” Henry said very quietly, “what am I going to do with you?”

“You’ll think of something.”

She closed her eyes then, and sighed one of those breathy little sighs he loved. He kept brushing back her hair, content to watch over her as she slept.

But she wasn’t asleep. Eyes still closed, she took his hand. “Henry? He was wrong, wasn’t he? Dupree? I don’t have
to
pay anymore for Benny’s and my mother’s deaths. Do I? Because I want
to
be happy again.” Henry felt his heart rend into tiny pieces. He wondered if it would ever come back together. “I want you. I don’t want the ranch more than I want you. It’s been a long time, Henry, but I do think I can be happy again.”

“You’ll be happy, Calla. I swear.”

She smiled sleepily.

“I believe you.” Henry saw she was starting to drift on drugs and exhaustion. She yawned. “Do you think we could have a baby? I would like to have a baby.”

Henry kissed her. “We’ll have twenty babies, Calla.”

“Twenty?” Calla closed her eyes again. “We could never afford twenty babies.”

There was a rustling of curtains. Henry turned, expecting
to
see a doctor.

“May I come in?” Pete stood, grinning like a Cheshire cat,
at
the entrance to the tiny examining room. His upper body was almost completely obscured by an enormous bouquet of flowers.

“Hi, Pete.” Calla grinned groggily. “I’m afraid I’m not naked. You might want
to
come back later when I’m undressed again.”

“I’ve come bearing gifts.” He handed Henry the flowers without a glance in his direction. “Take these.” He went
to
Calla’s bed and clasped her hand in his with great emotion. “How are you, darling? I’ve been frantic.”

“I’m fine, Pete.”

“You’re hurting her hand, you schmuck,” Henry growled from behind the flowers.

Pete smoothed the sore hand back onto the white sheet. “I was overcome.”

“Come off it, Pete.”

“You stay out of this, Mitch. This is between Calla and myself, right, Calla?
You
didn’t even bother to bring her any flowers.”

“Where did you get this ridiculous bouquet, anyway?” Henry grumbled. “It fills up the whole damn room.”

“Ever hear of a hospital gift shop?” Pete shook his head sadly
at
Calla. “What do you see in him?”

Calla looked up, met Henry’s brown eyes. “Must be something.”

“Well, I’ll step aside then, darling.”

“As if you had a choice,” Henry muttered, his eyes never leaving Calla’s. “Come on, Pete. Let her sleep.” He leaned over Calla’s bed, pressed a kiss to her battered forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He pulled Pete into the hall, shoving the flowers
at
a passing nurse. Without preamble, he said, “I want out, Pete.”

“You are out. Relatively speaking.”

“I mean really out. I’m giving Frank the formula research diskettes and the information I’ve kept on him. In exchange, I want him to forget I exist, and I want him to make sure the CIA and anybody else who might be nosing around forgets it, too.”

Pete narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re jerking me.”

“No, I’m not. I can’t go on like this. I’m not like you, Pete. I can’t live this half life anymore. I want kids, a home. I want a life.”

“And you want Calla.”

“Calla
is
all that for me, Pete.”

“And you’re willing
to
give up the formula for her?”

“I found out today I’m willing
to
give up my life for her.”

“What about your famous moral dilemma? Frank’s going
to
give the formula to the Pentagon faster than you can blink. Worse, if he figures out he can’t live on a lieutenant colonel’s pension, he may keep it until he retires and then sell it to the highest bidder. There’s no telling what will happen to it, then.”

“I’m giving Frank my personal research disks, not mixing up a batch for him, Pete. There is ten years’ worth of trial and error encoded into those disks. It’ll take him years just to find someone who can break the code, much less calculate which of the formulas actually works. Frank won’t be just retired by then, he’ll be dead.”