Love Forevermore (26 page)

He almost passed by the cave, but a gust of wind brought the scent of smoke. He followed the smell of roasting meat to the entrance to a small cave that was very nearly invisible.

A thrill of exultation brought a smile to Mike Schofield’s face. His quarry was inside. He knew it as surely as he knew the sun would set in the west. It was a good feeling.

With a tight smile, Mike Schofield went back to his horse and headed for home.

Zuniga woke with a groan and tried to sit up. A soft hand settled on his chest and gently pushed him down.

“Lie still,” Loralee said. “You need to rest.”

He looked at her in surprise. “I thought you were a dream,” he murmured, covering her hand with his. “What are you doing here?”

“Short Bear brought me. How do you feel?”

“Better, now that you are here. But you cannot stay. It is not safe.”

“I’m not leaving,” Loralee said firmly, “so let’s not discuss it.”

“Where is the baby?”

“Sally has him.” Loralee picked up a bowl and offered him a spoonful of beef broth. “Eat,” she urged. “You’ve lost a lot of blood and you need to eat as much as you can.”

“I am not hungry.”

“I said eat!”

Zuniga smiled weakly, then obediently opened his mouth. The broth was good and its warmth spread through him, making him drowsy again.

He was almost asleep when Short Bear entered the cave.

Loralee smiled at the boy, but the smile quickly died away when she saw the expression on his face.

“What is it?” she asked anxiously. “What’s wrong?”

“Schofield knows you are here.”

Zuniga struggled to sit up, the pain in his back forgotten at the mention of his enemy’s name.

“Shad, lie still,” Loralee admonished.

“I am all right.” He sat up, his eyes intent upon his cousin’s face. “How does Schofield know where we are?”

“I don’t know, but he gave me a message to give to you.” Short Bear glanced at Loralee, then back at Zuniga. “Schofield says you are to meet him at Shadow Lake tomorrow at dawn. You are to come unarmed, and to bring Loralee with you.”

“And if I refuse?”

Short Bear looked at Loralee again, his eyes dark and sad. “Schofield has your son.”

Zuniga stood up, his face terrible to see. “What are you trying to say?”

“The two of you must go to Shadow Lake,” the boy repeated. “Schofield will be there, with the child.”

Loralee wanted to scream, to lash out and smash her fist into something, but she was too numb to move. Mike’s threat was all too clear. If they didn’t show up at the lake, he would do harm to her son. She could not believe he would be so cruel, yet they dared not take a chance. Not when their son’s life was at stake.

“Shad.” She looked at him, hoping he could think of something that would make everything turn out all right.

“We will do as he says,” Zuniga told Short Bear. “We have no other choice. Go tell him we will be there.”

“I will go with you,” Short Bear offered. “I will stay out of sight, in case you need help.”

“No. Thank you for your offer, but I can’t take any chances, not with Loralee and the baby there.”

“I found your stallion,” Short Bear remarked. “He’s tethered outside.”

Zuniga clasped his cousin’s forearm. “Thank you for your help. Go now.”

The two embraced briefly, and then Short Bear left the cave.

“He’s going to kill you,” Loralee said in a voice cold and flat. “You know that, don’t you?”

“He’ll try.”

“And if he succeeds? Shad, what will I do without you?”

“Do not weep for me, Loralee. Not now. I cannot bear your tears.”

He took her in his arms and held her close, so close she could scarcely breathe. She lifted her face and he began to kiss her, soft, gentle kisses that soon grew deeper and more intense. After tonight he might never see her again, never hold her again. But for now, she was his, totally his, completely his, and he made love to her as never before. Made love to’ her all through the night, now tenderly and sweetly, now violently, until, utterly spent, Loralee fell asleep in his arms.

But for Zuniga there was to be no sleep that night. He held Loralee close, his eyes never leaving her face. If he was to die tomorrow, so be it. He was not afraid to die, but he meant to take the memory of her face with him into the Afterworld. Once, he had laughed at the thought of death. Once, he would have welcomed it but no more. Life was suddenly precious to him, as precious as the woman in his arms, as precious as the child she had borne him.

He woke her the hour before dawn.

It was time to go.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The sun rose over the valley, painting the pale gray sky canvas with graceful plumes of pink and lavender and gold. Sunlight danced on the quiet blue lake and transformed the dew into thousands of tiny, many-faceted diamonds.

Loralee was unaware of the spectacular sunrise as she drew Lady to a halt, nor was she aware of the chill in the air. Her eyes filled with unspeakable horror as she gazed at Mike. He held her son in the crook of his left arm; in his right hand he held a gun—a gun that was pressed against her child’s forehead.

She glanced at Zuniga beside her. He was sitting tall and proud astride the big dun stallion, his handsome face void of all expression. Only the slight twitch of a muscle in his jaw betrayed his anger.

Mike looked at Loralee and felt a twinge of remorse for what he was about to do. And then he looked at Zuniga, proud, arrogant, the cause of all his unhappiness, and new resolve surged through him.

“Get down,” Mike ordered tersely. “Both of you.”

Wordlessly, Zuniga swung down from the back of his horse, dropped the stallion’s reins to the ground, then walked around and helped Loralee dismount.

Mike Schofield grimaced as Zuniga’s hands closed around Loralee’s trim waist and lifted her from the back of her horse. He did not miss the way her hands rested lovingly on Zuniga’s shoulders for just an instant, or the little caress she gave his cheek before they turned to face him.

“Here.” Mike tossed a length of rope at Loralee’s feet. “Tie his hands behind his back.”

“Mike—”

“Do as I say!”

Loralee’s hands were trembling visibly as she picked up the rope and tied Shad’s hands behind his back.

Zuniga offered no resistance as Loralee bound his hands. His whole attention was focused on Mike Schofield and the gun that still rested against the baby’s head.

Mike nodded as Loralee tied the last knot. “Move away from him.”

Loralee stepped to the side, and Mike checked the knots she had tied. Satisfied, he holstered his revolver, then drove his fist into Zuniga’s back.

Shad grunted as Mike’s fist smacked into his wound breaking the thin scab so that a trickle of blood oozed down his side.

Grabbing Zuniga by the shoulder, Mike forced the Indian around so that they were standing face to face, less than a foot apart.

“So,” Mike said. “We’re all here at last. The unfaithful wife. The lover. The bastard child. And the fool.” He laughed humorlessly. “And I was a fool, wasn’t I, Loralee? A fool to think I could make you love me.”

“Mike, I never lied to you about how I felt.”

“Oh, I know that. I knew you were in love with Zuniga. I knew it, but I kept hoping I could make you love me instead. I tried, Loralee. God knows I tried.” He stared down at the child squirming in his arm. “Do you have any idea what been like, knowing that the men are talking about me behind my back, calling me an idiot for loving a woman who would sleep with a damned Indian? That’s the worst of it, you know. I do love you, but it doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters now.”

Fear’s cold, clammy hand coiled around Loralee’s insides. She did not like the note of despair in Mike’s voice, or the ominous expression that lurked in the back of his eyes, an expression that boded ill for someone, but who? Herself? Zuniga? Her son, perhaps? Each possibility filled her with greater trepidation.

“Mike, we can try again. I’ll do whatever you want, I swear it.” She would promise him anything if it would spare the lives of the two people she loved most in all the world. She would promise Mike anything, and gladly do what he asked, if he would only put that gun away.

Schofield shook his head sadly. “No. It’s too late for that now.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to give you your freedom,” Mike said, but his words did nothing to ease the fear growing in Loralee’s heart. She glanced at Zuniga. He was standing quietly, his whole body tense, his fathomless black eyes riveted on Mike’s face.

Loralee licked her lips nervously, afraid to move, afraid to speak, for fear of what was to come.

Mike smiled at her. It was a decidedly cruel, spiteful smile. “Of course,” he mused aloud, “freedom has always come at a high price.”

“A price?” Loralee asked, puzzled. “What do you want—money?”

He seemed not to hear her. “Yes, a high price. Sometimes blood must be shed, but if it’s for a worthy cause, you count the cost as blood well spent.”

“Mike, I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you? Then I’ll spell it out for you. You can’t buy your freedom with anything as mundane as money. Instead, you must choose.” Mike grinned wickedly. “It isn’t fair for me to be left with nothing while you have everything, so you must choose, wife of mine.”

“Choose?” Loralee frowned. “Choose what?”

“It is for you to choose who will live and who will die,” Mike explained triumphantly, “the little bastard, or the big one.

For a moment, Loralee could only stare at him, unable to believe her ears. Was this the man she had once thought of as her friend, the same man who had always been so kind and thoughtful, so fair and compassionate? Surely he could not be serious! How could he expect her to make such a dreadful choice?

“Well?” Mike drawled, obviously enjoying his moment of victory. “Who will it be?”

Loralee turned tormented eyes toward Zuniga. “Shad,” she wailed miserably. “What should I do?”

“You know what to do,” Zuniga answered, his eyes never leaving Mike Schofield’s face. “Do it.”

“What will happen to Shad if I choose that my son shall live?” Loralee demanded, suddenly angry.

“I’ll kill him,” Mike replied coldly. “A little piece at a time.”

“And if I choose Shad?”

“The little bastard dies in his place.”

“You’d kill an innocent child,” Loralee exclaimed, unable to believe her ears, unable to believe that anyone could be so cruel, so heartless.

Mike glanced at the child cradled in the crook of his arm, and felt nothing. All he saw was a tiny version of the man who had ruined his life. “I could kill this one with pleasure,” he assured her.

Loralee gazed lovingly at her son. He was whimpering softly, upset by the strange arm that held him, and by the tension he sensed in the air. And then she looked over at Shad, who had not moved so much as a muscle in the last few minutes. How could she choose between them when she loved them both with all her heart?

“Shad.”

He heard the sorrow in her voice, and his eyes filled with love as he returned her gaze. “Take care of my son, Loralee,” he said quietly. “Don’t ever let him be ashamed of what he is. Who he is.”

Loralee nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. Tears blurred her eyes as she stepped forward and took her son from Mike. With a sob, she pressed the child to her breast, her lips gently brushing the top of his head as he snuggled against her.

Summoning all the composure she could manage, Loralee walked over to Zuniga, stood on tiptoe, and gave him a last heartfelt kiss goodbye.

“I love you,” she murmured brokenly. “I’ll always love you.”

Zuniga nodded, his dark eyes expressing the feelings he could not put into words.

Loralee was walking toward her horse when Mike’s voice reached out to her. “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

“Home,” she answered succinctly. “To pack.”

“Not until it’s over.”

Loralee glanced over her shoulder. “I can’t stay, Mike. Please don’t make me.”

“You’ll stay until it’s over,” Mike said relentlessly.

“Let her go, Schofield.”

Mike glared at Zuniga. “You keep out of this,” he warned.

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” Shad challenged. “You can only kill me once, white man, no matter how long it takes.”

“Please, Mike,” Loralee begged. “Don’t make me stay.”

Schofield raked his hands through his hair. He had planned everything so carefully, right down to the last detail, but now that his hour of vengeance had arrived, he was finding it difficult to pursue. He had wanted to hurt Loralee as he had been hurt when he realized he had lost her for good, but he could not bear to see the agony in her eyes as she begged him to let her go.

“All right, all right,” he relented. “Get out of here.”

Loralee sent a last look at Zuniga; then, clutching her son close to her breast, she ran for her horse. She did not look back.

Zuniga stared at Schofield, his heart pounding as he waited for the lieutenant to fire the first shot. He clenched his fists, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands so hard that he drew blood. He was not afraid to die, he was not afraid of the pain, only that he might not be strong enough, brave enough, to die as a warrior should. He recalled the stories he had heard in his youth, stories of Apache warriors who had been tortured to death, but who had died with courage and honor. The blood of those warriors flowed in his veins, and he lifted his head a little higher, determined not to bring shame to his ancestors, to prove that he was as much a warrior as any Apache who had ever lived.

Every muscle in his body went rigid as Mike Schofield drew his service revolver and eased back the hammer. The snick of the gun being cocked echoed like thunder in Zuniga’s ears.

“I’ve waited for this for a long time,” Mike mused aloud. “Every time I thought about you and Loralee together, I vowed to kill you for it.”

“So do it and get it over with,” Zuniga rasped.

“All in good time,” Mike retorted, and squeezed the trigger.

The bullet struck Zuniga high in his left shoulder, the impact almost knocking him off his feet. He grimaced as hot, burning pain lanced through his shoulder and down the length of his arm. Blood trickled from the wound, warm and wet, as his eyes bored into Schofield’s.

Mike frowned. He had expected to feel exhilaration at his enemy’s defeat, a sense of victory, or at least a sense of satisfaction. Instead, he felt only self-disgust at what he had done, and for what he yet planned to do. He stared at the blood dripping onto the ground at Zuniga’s feet. It was very red, he mused absently, very red indeed.

“Do your worst,
Yudastcin
!” Zuniga rasped through clenched teeth. “She will never be yours.”

The truth of Zuniga’s words hit Schofield hard, and he cocked his weapon a second time, wanting to strike out at the man who had taken away the only woman he had ever loved…

Loralee had gone about a quarter of a mile when the first gunshot rang out, clear and loud in the stillness of the hills.

“I’m going to kill him,” Mike had said. “A little piece at a time.” The words echoed and re-echoed in her ears.

The sound of the second shot seemed to rip through her own flesh, and she doubled over as though in physical pain as her mind conjured up grotesque images of Shad’s body being riddled with bullets until, in the end, he lay in a pool of his own blood, slowly dying.

She urged her horse into a gallop. The noise of the hoofbeats pounding over the hard ground combined with the harsh rasp of her sobs to smother every other sound.

At home, she turned Lady loose in the corral, then went into the house to feed young Shad. That done, she bathed him and changed his diaper and dressed him in a clean gown. Hugging him to her breast, she held him until he fell asleep in her arms.

After putting him down for his nap, she took a quick bath and changed into a freshly laundered dress. She had performed the routine tasks like a sleepwalker; her heart was dead within her. She had to pack, she thought dully, had to be gone before Mike came home. She could never face him again, but somehow she lacked the energy to begin. Instead, she stretched out on the bed and tried to sleep, but sleep would not come and she paced the floor, her steps listless, her heart heavy, numb with grief. Time and again, she went into the nursery to gaze down at her son.

His son.

She had condemned Shad to death. She had chosen their child and now Shad was dead. But what else could she have done? She could not let Mike kill her child, Shad’s child.

She wept quietly, unable to stop the flood of tears as morbid thoughts crept into her mind, images of Shad’s body lying out in the open, prey to vultures and coyotes; visions of Shad lying in an ever-widening pool of crimson, barely alive, helpless, slowly bleeding to death while Mike stood by, laughing fiendishly.

“All my fault,” she moaned softly. “All my fault.”

Mike stepped from the saddle, his face drawn. At last, it was over. He had hated Shad Zuniga intensely, and now, with his revenge taken, he felt drained, empty. Ashamed. How could he have behaved in such a barbaric fashion? He had known from the day of his marriage that Loralee loved the Indian. He had been wrong to try to keep them apart. But that was all over now. Over and done.

Removing his hat, he ran a hand through his hair, hoping Loralee had not yet packed up and left.

Entering the house, Mike stopped just inside the door. Loralee was standing in the middle of the parlor, staring blankly into space.

Mike swore under his breath, stunned by Loralee’s appearance. Never in his whole life had he seen anyone who looked so desperately unhappy, so completely lost and forlorn. Her eyes, always so bright and alive, seemed empty of life. Her face was pale and haggard; there were dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes, making her look as though she had not slept for days. Even her lovely golden hair seemed tarnished and dull.