My Heart Stood Still (Sisters Of Mercy Flats 2) (20 page)

The sound of approaching hoofbeats startled Anne-Marie.
Stay calm. You’re perfectly safe
, she thought. No one, not even those outlaws, would dare desecrate a grave. She couldn’t be certain who the
riders were; perhaps Bold Eagle had left a couple of warriors to check on their needs until Creed freed their bonds. The chief had been most agreeable once the escape plan was underway. Bold Eagle would surely look after them until they were well away from danger.

Slowing his horse, Butch shaded his eyes with his hand and studied the tall platforms. There were too many to count, some very old and weather-worn. His gaze focused on the three new structures. Wind kicked up dust, swirling around the high stands.

“Rodrigo? Is the wind making the platforms shake like that?”

“I don’t know.” His
compadre
glanced toward the narrow path leading away from the burial ground. “I don’t like this one bit, Butch. We got no right to be messin’ with the dead.”

“We got no choice. Do you want your share of the gold?”

“Sure I do, but this is insane—Cortes is
loco
.”

“Keep your voice down. He’ll hear you.”

Butch started when something dropped to the ground. The noise ricocheted like a shotgun blast in the eerie silence.

Every tooth in Butch’s head startled to rattle. “I’ll never see my sweet Prudy again. My babies won’t ever have their papa bounce ’em on his knee or tell ’em bedtime stories.” The prediction came out in a parched whisper. He focused on the platform directly above him, and then froze in place. “Rodrigo?”

The platform began to rock as though the spirits were peeling their way through the thick bindings.

“Sí?”
Rodrigo’s answer was a mere squeak now.

“Gold or no gold, I ain’t gonna tangle with one of those heathen spirits for anyone—Cortes included. I’m headed home!” Wheeling his horse, Butch whipped the animal’s flank and beat it out of the burial ground.

Glancing at the wavering platforms, Rodrigo did the same.

“See anything?” Cortes asked when Rodrigo’s horse thundered to a stop in front of him.

“Nothing, didn’t see a thing—just some weapons dangling off them spooky-lookin’ platforms. Butch cut out on us. Said he was heading home.”

“Coward!” Cortes snatched off his hat and flung it on the ground. “No sign of the
carro
?”

Rodrigo looked him straight in the eye. “I looked everywhere. No buckboard, just dead Injuns.”

Cortes centered on the deserted campsite. “Well, now, you just ride back up there and help yourself to those weapons. No sense in letting good arms go to waste.”

“You talkin’ about them spears and stuff tied on those platforms?”

“
Sí
. Cortes can sell them, or put them to use.”

“You go yourself. I ain’t cuttin’ out on you, but I ain’t going back in there.”

Cortes glanced up. “What do you mean, ‘You go yourself ’? ” He thumped his chest authoritatively. “Cortes gives the orders.”

“I ain’t going back up there.”

Cortes stomped his foot. “Cortes gives the orders!”

Reining his horse, Rodrigo gave the boss an unsympathetic look. “If you want those weapons, you go get ’em.”

When the three riders rode past the burial platforms, Rodrigo crossed himself.

“Uno momento.”
Cortes swerved his horse and urged it up the incline to the entrance of the burial ground.

Ollie groaned under his breath. “He’s gonna make us go after those weapons.”

“I ain’t going near those platforms,” Rodrigo vowed. He spat on the ground. “A team of wild boars couldn’t drag me back in there. If the boss wants those spears, he can get ’em himself.”

“You! Men! Get up here!”

Anne-Marie slowly became aware of riders approaching. Or was it only one rider? She couldn’t be certain. She willed her heart to remain in her chest.
It’s only the braves or warriors coming to check on us. Lie still.
Her dry mouth cried for water. The canteens were tied on the outside. There was no way to drink until her binds were freed. She made her mind oblivious to the suffocating blackness. Only a thin shaft of air penetrated the casing. It had to be dark now. It had to be—she’d been in this shell for days, weeks? She swallowed back the urge to scream. What if the plan failed? What if Bold Eagle’s warriors rode away and Creed was unable to free his binds? Abigail and Amelia would never know what happened to her—not ever. Nor the mission sisters…

She silently began to recite the Lord’s Prayer.
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name…

“See, such fine weapons, men. They make Cortes very happy.” Something was being cut loose from her platform.

“I wouldn’t touch those if I were you!” A second man’s voice drifted to Anne-Marie. “Those Injuns will come back and relieve you of your scalp.”

The outlaws were back, stealing from the dead. Was there no limit to their audacity? Closing her eyes, she set her jaw and began to squirm. It was a risky move, but suddenly the thought of freedom appealed more than the thought of dying in this horrible place. She would be in the outlaws’ hands, but that was a thought for another hour. What had she been thinking? The plan was too risky. She would free Creed and Quincy, and they would give the desperados what they wanted: the gold. No amount of it was worth their lives. Better to admit defeat than to die a suffocating death on these poles.

Scoffing at his friends’ taunts, Cortes continued sawing. “See, rifles, and knives with long shiny blades, and—”

He glanced up to see one of the bundles shaking. His eyes grew wider as the body started to jerk back and forth, looking for all the world like it was trying to free itself from the platform.

“See,” his voice trailed off lamely, “such nice knives… ” He fell silent when a wailing moan came from the bundle.

Spurring his horse, Cortes kicked the animal into a fast gallop. The trophies broke loose from his hands when he tried to avoid hitting Ollie’s horse.

“Out of my way!” Both animal and rider plunged down a steep incline.

“What’s wrong with him?” Ollie shouted when he rejoined Rodrigo, who was waiting below.

“Who knows,” the outlaw grumbled. “I told you to stay down here with me.”

The sound of men’s shouts, horses veering, and beating hoofs pounding the ground in the opposite direction met Anne-Marie in the midst of her escape attempt. Fighting and clawing, she tried to break the binds. “Drat—these straps are so tight… ” She wiggled, feeling the platform sway with her efforts.

Still trying to free herself, Anne-Marie heard a familiar voice below her.

“Anne-Marie, it’s Creed. Are you all right?”

“Get me out of here!”

“Hold on, I’m going to cut you loose now. Who were the riders?”

“Those crazy outlaws. Hurry, Creed. I can barely breathe.”

She felt the ropes give way, and moments later her pallet was
slowly lowered to the ground. The bindings were cut away, and she shivered at the sudden chill she felt when her sweat-drenched body was exposed to the cool night air.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Creed whispered.

“I’m fine. What about you? And Quincy?” She tried to wring feeling back into her hands when she noticed blood seeping through his britches. The wound had broken open again. “Your leg—it looks awful.”

He busied himself cutting away the last of the ties. “It feels awful too.”

“The moment we can, we’re going to see a doctor and have that taken care of properly. I’m sorry,” she added. She hadn’t thought about the effect her crazy plan would have on his injury, but the plan seemed to have worked. With a quick look around, she saw no sign of the outlaws. “Do you think they’ve gone?”