Mittman, Stephanie (23 page)

"The
boy's so small," he said softly. "Even a little poison could probably
kill him. Course I sucked half his insides out. Still..."

On
the ground again beside Mary Grace, Sloan felt the boy's forehead. He took
solace in the cool absence of fever.

"He
doesn't seem to be in any pain," Mary Grace said. "Tell me that's
good."

"That's
good," he granted. It would be hard to tell how much venom had gotten into
Ben's bloodstream because the child was too young to talk. How could he know if
the boy's vision was getting blurry or his speech was slurred? No, the only
signs they'd recognize would be the ones signaling that death was
imminent—heavy perspiration, foaming at the mouth, and an inability to breathe.

"His
leg is very hot," Mary Grace said. Sloan reached over to feel it.

"Naw,"
he said, squeezing her hand. "You just got
icicles hangin' from your wrists
there, girl. Surprised he can stand having them hands of yours on his
thigh."

"Guess
he is like his dad," Mary Grace said in a subdued voice, pushing the
baby's dark hair off his forehead.

His
dad.
The
words echoed in his head. He loosened the tourniquet again and rose, stretching
out his back. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he said to the top of
her head and walked away into the darkness with his thoughts.

It
didn't take him long to say his prayers. Without much formal religious
training, he'd developed a pretty loose relationship with God. He'd been a good
boy growing up, going to church and obeying his folks. As a grown man he'd
strayed a bit from the path, enjoying too many women, too much booze, and a bit
of the wild life. And while it had always been in self-defense, there were four
men who were pushing daisies on his account. All of that was before the Tates
had entered his life. Then everything had changed.

In
the year he'd spent with the Havasupai, he'd found them to be a deeply
religious people, despite the fact that everyone thought Indians were heathens
at heart. And while he couldn't follow their ways, they'd allowed him to join
them in their Toholwa, where the men sweated together and chanted to their
gods. He'd used the opportunity to commune with his own God. He wasn't sure
quite whom to thank, but he knew that the fact that he was still riding a
horse, and once again riding a woman, was nothing short of a miracle.

And
now he had the boy. The doctor, a real one, white and schooled in the East, had
taken one look at his privates and told him it was a wonder he could still
enjoy a woman, but it would be a miracle if he could still father a child.
Seems there were lots of men that could do the deed without planting the seed.

So
maybe Ben was all there'd ever be. The boy was what was going to make it all up
to his parents for their gimpy son. Ben was going to soften the blow when Sloan
limped into the house and his mother saw her handsome son all full of scars and
his father saw his broncobuster busted up himself.

He
could just imagine his mama, her hair a mite grayer than when he left her that
fine day over a year ago to deliver some horses and spend some well-earned pay.
Wouldn't her eyes just sparkle to see a baby in the house! How she did love the
little ones. He'd been old enough to remember the twins dying, and she'd told
him often about the others.

"Now
you're my only one," she'd tell him. "So be extra careful for
me."

"Don't
go making the boy a sissy with all your careful talk," his father used to
say, and to get her crazy, he liked to suggest that young Sloan do something
especially dangerous. At first, the things Sloan tried were brave, like
breaking a feral horse and winding up eating gravel. Then he graduated to
reckless, fooling around with a man's wife or his daughter and seeing if he
could get away with it.

His
mama didn't like it, but it sure seemed to please his pa to have a lady-killer
in the family. He wondered how they'd feel about Mary Grace. Not that it
mattered. Once he and Ben were safe, she probably wouldn't want anything to do
with him anyway.

Hell,
she'd never have wanted anything to do with him in the first place if it hadn't
been for Ben. What a smile she had! When she and the boy both smiled, a man
needed a bigger Stetson to shade his eyes from all that brightness.

Well,
God, I ain't much. Maybe I never was. But them two sure are special, and I'm
willing to give my life to
keep 'em safe. So I'm putting it in Your hands.
I done what I know how for the boy. And I accept that it was You what sent the
woman. Ain't no other explanation I can see. But Lord, I hope it was for Ben's
sake that You sent her, not mine. You know I got things to take care of, and a
woman like her... well, I just ain't looking for a forever woman right now. You
want my life, You can take it. Hell, it ain't worth much. But them two... Lord,
them two are worth Your carin'. That's all I gotta say.

He
made his way silently back to the campfire. He could hear Mary Grace murmuring
to the baby, and he stopped to listen. He wasn't surprised that she too, was
saying her prayers. And while he knew he should wait until she was done and
give her some privacy, he stepped close enough to listen. Her voice was clear
in the night air and surprisingly steady, almost resigned.

"...
my fault. I know I should have learned from before that no good can ever come
from what I did, but still... why punish this child? I promised You and the
church when my baby was born that I would keep silent, and I kept that promise.
And how did You pay me back? But still, You brought me here, to this child. And
I thought maybe this was what it was all for. Then You tempted me again. And
again I failed Your test. But I swear, if you let this child live, I will
never..."

"Don't
make that promise, Sweet Mary. God don't want it, and I ain't gonna let you
keep it." He gestured toward the baby. "Is he feverish?"

She
shrugged. Her icy hands touched his own as if to gauge the temperature.
"No more so than you," she answered.

"Did
you tighten
that
band again after I left?" A slight nod was his answer. "I'll watch
him, if you got business to do," he said. She didn't respond.

"Are
you hungry, then? I got some supplies in my saddlebags." Again no
response.

"Have
you taken a vow of silence, along with the chastity one?" he demanded.
"I can't take the quiet, woman. It ain't like you."

Her
quiet resolve was unnerving. He'd never seen her so emotionless. It was like
she'd just stopped pumping at the well. Nothing was coming forth. For a woman
like her it didn't seem healthy. Oh, some women were made for holding it
together, and he'd been proud to see Sweet Mary in a crisis. She'd been all the
help he could ask for. But it was over and time for her to cry. And she wasn't
crying. She was just sitting there dry-eyed, and he didn't even have to guess
at what she was thinking.

"This
was all my fault," she said. "All of it."

"How
do you figure that?"

"Look,
Sloan," she said with a big sigh as if he couldn't possibly understand and
it was taking enormous patience to explain. "A woman ought to know better.
Especially a woman like me. If I hadn't let you make love to me yesterday, none
of this would ever have happened."

"What
you really want to say is if I hadn'ta had my head buried between your thighs,
I mighta heard the snake and killed it 'fore it got to Ben. And it seems if
you're looking to place blame, it was my beard what sought out yours."

"That's
disgusting!" Her voice shook slightly. A good sign. He pressed on.

"Didn't
think that when I was down between your legs doing it to you, did you? I didn't
hear you yelling stop. But then with your thighs squeezing my ears..."

Her
arm shot out and caught him on the shin. It hurt like hell, but he didn't care
because he could hear the
tears in her voice when she yelled at him. Tears she needed to cry.

"Stop
it!" She choked, coughed a little, and cried harder.

"That's
it now, Mary girl," he said softly, lowering himself to take her in his
arms. "You cry it out. Nothing left to do until the mornin'. You have
yourself a good one."

Even
while she cried in his arms, she kept one eye always on the baby, propped
nearly upright against her. He slept no differently than he had any other night
since Sloan had abducted him. The boy was really something to be proud of,
making do, putting up with the rough life, smiling through it all with that
grin of his. What a man he'd make someday if he could just weather this storm.

"My
mama sure is gonna like having you around, little fella," Sloan said to
the sleeping child. "And Pa won't mind the idea of a Little Ben none,
neither."

Mary
Grace had nearly been asleep in Sloan's arms, her weight heavy against his
body. Now she stiffened and pulled away from him. After checking the baby's leg
and putting her cold hands across the bite again, she turned to Sloan, trying
to make out his features in the dark.

"Then
you're still bringing him back to your parents?"

"Hey,
I'm not gonna do that till after the Tates are all sleepin' under the grass.
But then, what else did you expect, Mary Grace? I can't raise no baby by
myself, can I? My folks'll be good to him, and I can get back to my life."
Don't ask me for forever, Sweet Mary. I can't promise it. Look what I've done
so far. I ain't a man you can count on. Don't love me, Mary Grace. I ain't
worth it.

"How
can you think of leaving him? After all of this,
could you just go on with your
life as though he'd never been a part of it?"
As if I'd never been part
of it?
She was shouting at him, and he really didn't want to, but he
shouted back.

"Ain't
it just what you did?" He hated what he was doing to her. It was low down.
It was rotten. And it was the only way he could think of to make sure she would
never fall in love with him. "Didn't you just leave your son and go on
with your life? Ain't you doin' that now? Only I'd be giving Ben to my own
folks, not strangers. Leastwise he'll know he's got a daddy."

He
reached beyond her and ruffled the boy's hair. His head was hot, hotter than it
should have been sleeping in the cool air.

"Get
the blanket off him, Mary," he said brusquely. "And get them damn
cold hands all over his body. I'll get the water."

Mary
Grace peeled the blanket back and touched her hands to Ben's forehead. It was
damp from sweat. She leaned over him, her face inches from the top of his head,
and blew gently on his burning body, all the while touching him with her hands
to help cool him down.

Sloan
blocked out everything but taking care of his son. Whatever argument he had
with Mary Grace could be settled later. There might not be any argument if they
couldn't get Ben's fever down.

He
hurried back with the canteen and slumped down beside Mary Grace and Ben,
wetting the baby's lips with his fingers. In his sleep, Ben's mouth closed
around one of Sloan's fingers and sucked on it.

"I
ain't gonna let him die, Sweet Mary. Don't you worry."

Mary
Grace was looking beyond him, eyes wide with fear, when Sloan looked up at her.
He reached for his gun, but it was too late.

The
rifle butt was pressed against his temple, and he tried to gauge from Mary
Grace's face what he was up against. Now was a heck of a time for her to have
to become a good poker player.

"Real
easy, Westin," the man said.

The
voice was familiar. Sloan rolled over slowly, his hands in plain sight and saw
Daniel Jackson holding his own rifle on him. "Been a long time,
Jackson," Sloan replied. "Thought we'd worked out our little
differences."

"Still
thinking I don't know shit," Jackson said, nudging Sloan onto his back so
the two could get a good look at each other. "Still wrong. Heard you was
dead."

"That
what you got in mind?"

"Harlin
Tate bragged to hell and back you was dead, Westin. And weren't a man around
didn't breathe a little easier knowin' his wife was safe with you doin' your
broncobustin' on Satan's own mares. No one but the Tates know you're alive.
Wouldn't be no law to answer to if I did you in right here and now." He
looked Mary Grace up and down, and Sloan felt her tense beside him.

"What
makes you think the Tates know I'm alive?" he asked, trying to sound
casual.

"Ran
into your friends yesterday," Jackson said, gesturing with his head to one
of the two men behind him, whose arm was bandaged against his side.
"Wanted some fresh horses. We took exception to giving 'em ours. They had
a lot to say about you. And Mason Tate's got some bug up his ass about some
woman." His eyes raked Mary Grace, and one side of his mouth smiled.

Sloan
searched the darkness for a sign of a third horse, but saw only two. That made
two things to worry about. And that didn't include a baby with a snakebite and
a beautiful woman. He had to at least save them. "So where are the
Tates?" he asked. "How come they ain't caught up to us yet?"