My Desperado (25 page)

The men suddenly stared at her in blank, utter silence.

"He is," she whispered, then swallowed hard and dredged up her courage. "We were attacked by outlaws, heathens. They shot poor..." She shifted her gaze nervously and remained still, leaning back against a strange man's chest, and praying for an improvement in her lying ability. "Reverend Swenson. Shot him in the head, and he fell. They stole what little money we had... and his bible."

The old man's mouth had fallen slightly open Katherine noticed, and she blinked, wondering what to make of that fact.

"It's all true."

"Why didn't they shoot you?” asked the Indian evenly.

"I got away." She nodded woodenly. "Fast horse. I tied her near the bottom of the hill."

"And your...partner. He's a preacher, you say?" questioned one of the men that held her.

If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn there was amusement in his tone. She thought fast, planning to assure him again that it was the truth, but the man called Blackfeather spoke first.

"Shut up, Finch, and keep the kid out of trouble. Saws, clear a spot in the wagon. Jimmy, spread a bedroll by the fire for the reverend here, then fetch Kat's horse." Men scurried to obey orders as Blackfeather eased Ryland from the saddle.

"How do I keep him out of trouble?" asked the one man who still held Katherine.

"Feed him," said Blackfeather, and taking Travis in his arms, he hurried him toward the blaze.

"Him?" murmured Finch, raising his brows and smiling directly into Katherine's face. "All right. I'll feed 'im."

Sometime later Katherine sat with her knees pulled to her chest and her head spinning. She'd eaten something warm and filling without taking time to identify it. "Is he going to live?" Her voice cracked with the question.

"I'm no physician. How long ago did it happen?" asked Blackfeather.

Katherine shook her head. Fatigue lay on her like a smothering blanket. "Maybe five days. Six." A lifetime ago. "Is he going to live?"

"How long has he been unconscious?"

She shrugged weakly and, shivering, reached out to touch Ryland's hand. Something wet dripped from her cheek onto the blanket that covered him. "He's been in and out," she whispered. She sniffed, not wiping away her tears, and tightening her jaw to draw her shoulders slightly straighten "But even then he was out of his head."

"It's a marvel you got him here," said the young man they called Finch.

"Marvel! Hell, it's a goddamn miracle," countered Saws in his lispy voice, but Blackfeather merely lifted his gaze to stare at Katherine as if examining something about her that others couldn't see.

"You'll stay with him tonight," he ordered, finally lowering his eyes. "There's room for you both in the chuck wagon."

Chapter 24

The wind rose with the coming of the day, shaking the wagon and urging forth ghostly, creaking noises. Katherine lay in silence, watching the heaving movement of the canvas overhead. It was gray and weathered, and stretched over its arched wooden frame like hide over the ribs of a gaunt steer.

Perhaps she should have tried to escape from the camp during the night she thought foggily. If she were heroic, she supposed she would have somehow managed to get Travis safely to Latigo's ranch by now. But she was not heroic. She was tired and scared, and although there was no way of knowing if Blackfeather was friendly or deadly, she found she had no more strength to try to survive alone.

"Where are we?"

Travis's voice was low and his face very pale when Katherine rolled to her side to stare at him.

"You're awake." They lay very close together, and seeing him conscious reminded her how empty her life would be without him.

Their eyes met in the dim light of dawn, but Katherine could not tell which Travis Ryland he thought he was—the small boy who displayed his gentle soul in his eyes or the man who denied having a soul at all.

"How is he?" asked Blackfeather from the end of the wagon.

Sleep deprivation and uncertainty made Katherine jerk nervously at the sound of the man's voice. "He's awake."

The tall Indian pulled himself lithely onto the metal-bound wooden tailgate, carrying a bowl and easing himself carefully up to Travis's head. "Are you planning to survive?" he asked quietly. "Or should we arrange funeral proceedings?"

Travis lifted his gaze, scowling into Blackfeather's face. "Would it matter to you one way or the other?"

For just a moment Katherine thought she saw the glimmer of a smile reflected in Cody's black eyes, but it disappeared like the fleeting shadow of a hawk in flight. "Kat would be distraught," he said.

Katherine bit her lip and winced, but Travis only shook his head very slowly, as if it would be too painful to show his bewilderment in any other way.

"Your partner here. Kat...Gilbert, wasn't it?"

She nodded, her eyes not leaving Cody's, but he did not seem to notice her nervousness as he continued to study Travis's face.

"How does your head feel?"

"It hurts."

"Anything else hurt?"

"Everything else hurts," Travis said quietly.

"Good." Cody nodded, not explaining his reaction, and handed Katherine the bowl he still held. "Make him eat this slowly. Keep him quiet. Keep him still." Straightening as much as the wagon's low roof would allow, he turned to leave.

"Mr. Blackfeather," Katherine called before she could guess what she intended to say.

He turned back, his expression unreadable beneath the canvas.

"Why are you doing this?" she murmured.

His gaze flitted to Travis for a moment. "The truth is, Kat,"—he turned his attention back to her—"I've never seen anyone tie a man to a horse and take him through the Rocky Mountain Range before." His eyes showed that unreadable, almost amused, expression again, though it did not touch his lips. "I'm wondering if he was worth the trouble."

He was gone in a moment, leaving Katherine to stare at the wooden box that held salted jerky.

Travis ate the broth without complaint or commotion, not seeming to feel the ravenous hunger that had plagued her. His eyes rarely left hers, as if he could not recall her name, but remembered something of her face.

“Tell me a story," he said finally, his tone very soft.

Katherine settled him gently back against a rolled blanket and smiled, not allowing herself to consider the fact that his mind might never heal. Only thinking what a beautiful child he must have been, beautiful and brave and very charming.

Rain pattered against the canvas top, but inside their little haven the two were warm and dry, for the wind came from the east and did not blow through the circular openings at the front or back of the wagon.

Katherine's bold knight, Sir Valemeer, came again, wielding his sword for right and justice, and his beloved Lady Catrina.

Travis fell asleep as Kat wove her tale, but long after his eyes closed and his breath became shallow, she watched him.

The wagon was pulled by two mules, Stupid and Dunce, if Katherine understood the cook's ravings correctly. Old Sawdust drove the conveyance they rode in, even though most of his huge supply of sundry culinary necessities was now packed, rather precariously, on a trio of horses tied to the end of the tailgate.

They moved just slightly faster than a slug over a sunny rock. But Katherine found no need to complain, since the men headed north as directly as possible, and kept the two of them fed and well hidden.

At noon she took her meal with the crew. There were five men in all, the small, blond-haired Finch being the youngest and weathered Saws, the oldest.

In between there was Jimmy, who rarely spoke but played a harmonica in a way that made Kat want to cry; Elky, whose legs were comically bowed; and, of course, Cody Blackfeather.

Following supper, Travis fell asleep only minutes after Kat began her continuing story, and so she crept silently from the wagon. The night was very dark, for clouds still covered the moon. Jimmy sat with his back to a fat log and his face to the fire, while Cody cleaned his saddle not far away.

Filling a bowl, Saws handed it to Kat in silence. She murmured her thanks and moved to the fire, where she tasted a few bites and cleared her throat. "I was wondering if, by chance, any of you might have heard of a man named Latigo."

For three heartbeats no one answered.

"Yeah." It was the venerable old cook who finally spoke. "Yeah, I heard of him."

That news seemed almost too good to be true, but Kat knew she must be careful, for perhaps there was a price on Travis's head. She could not afford to give these men a clue to his identity by allowing them to somehow connect Latigo's name to Travis Ryland.

"Was Latigo's soul in particular need of saving?" ventured Saws in his lispy tone.

Katherine scowled. "I beg your pardon?"

"The good reverend. I was wonderin' if he'd heard Latigo's soul needed saving."

"Oh!" Katherine remembered her lies with a start and silently reprimanded herself for not keeping her fabrications more firmly planted in her head. "No." She took several bites to allay their suspicions. "I just heard he had a ranch somewhere in this vicinity."

"What does vicin'ty mean?" questioned Saws, tipping his battered bowler hat back to scratch his head.

"His property is not far from the ranch we work for." Cody lifted his attention from his saddle. "We'll be passing near there."

"Yeah. Real close," Saws agreed, "if we can push these fat old hogs that far."

Katherine could only assume he referred to the cattle they were driving. She'd seen the animals earlier in the day, and noticed even with her inexperienced eye, that they did not look like the scrawny long-horned type of bovine she had seen driven through Silver Ridge.

"Herefords! Bah!" Saws spat disgustedly. "Don't see what L—"

"We should reach Latigo's ranch in less than two weeks' time," interrupted Cody smoothly. "Do you know him?"

"No!" Katherine flushed now, realizing she had used a bit too much emphasis on her denial. "No." She ducked her head to eat again. "I was simply curious."

Katherine figured there were perhaps fifty horses in the herd that followed the white-faced red cattle. From her place in the wagon near Travis she recognized Moondancer and Soldier. They stayed apart from the rest of the herd. The stallion's artificial color had been mostly washed off by the rain, but he and Dancer had seemingly found a soft place to roll, for they were covered with a reddish mud that made it difficult to distinguish them. Or was it possible one of the men had intentionally disguised the horses?

"What are you looking at?" Travis asked.

She smiled down at him, grateful that he spent more and more time conscious now, and intentionally smoothing the worry from her expression. "The horses."

"Do I have a horse, Kat?"

He had taken to calling her Kat, and rarely referred to her as Rachel now, except at times when the dreams would haunt him. Still, he did not know who she was, and seemed to be building his life solely from the things she told him.

"Yes." She smoothed the hair back from his forehead, taking some comfort in the fact that this new Travis would not disallow her touch. "You have a horse. An enormous, beautiful stallion."

"Like Sir Valemeer's?"

"Yes, rather like that, but not black." For a moment the realization that Travis could not sort fantasy from reality plagued her, but she pushed the worry aside, forcing herself to believe he would someday be well. "He's what they call a buckskin, I believe. Tan, with black legs and..."

Travis reached out, taking her hand in his callused palm to pull it gently to his chest and distract her attention.

Katherine could not help but remember the times they had shared themselves completely, the times when she had felt his sensual power swell and overcome her senses. She swallowed hard, lifting her gaze to his innocent expression.

"And what, Kat?"

"And..." She pulled her thoughts from the past. "Black points on his ears."

"Did you get him for me?"

Dear God! Did he think she was his mother? The thought made her blush, for her recollections of him were far from maternal. "No. You had him when I met you. You were riding him."

"Really?" He lifted his brows at her.

She nodded and looked through the back opening in the canvas again, feeling as if she were merely weaving another tale for his amusement. "You were sitting so straight and tall, and I thought you very handsome."

She hadn't meant to say that exactly, but the idea of him thinking of her as his mother disturbed her.

"Where was I going?"

Katherine licked her lips. What could she tell Travis Ryland of himself? That he was a bounty hunter? That there was a band of ruthless outlaws out to kill him? That there very possibly was a price on his head because he had, by his own admission, killed more men than she could name? What could she say?

"Where was I going, Kat?" he repeated softly.

"To church," she answered.

"What?"

"Yes." She nodded, building on the lie she had told the other men. "You're a minister who travels from town to town."

"A minister?" He scowled.

She nodded vigorously.

"I thought maybe I'd be a cowboy, like Cody. Or a... an outlaw."

"Outlaw?" She breathed the word then shook her head again. "What would make you think that?"

"Nothing. Just thought maybe—"

"Well, you're not. You're a very good man. Winning the West with the... the reins in your left hand and the Good Book in your right." She raised her own hand, then cleared her throat and let it drop slowly to her lap.

“The Good Book?" he questioned.

"The Bible."

He nodded silently. "Where is my Bible?"

"They took it," she said quickly.

"They?"

"The...bad guys."

"Why?"

"I don't know." She shrugged, feeling very foolish suddenly and fiddling with his blanket with her free hand. "How would I know?"

"And they shot me?"

"Yes." She bit her lip.

"Did they..." He drew her hand to his mouth to gently kiss her fingers. "Did they try to harm you?"