River Song (41 page)

"Really?
Do you really think so?"

Tickled by her enthusiasm, he laughed,
then
pinched her cheek. "Yes, I think so. Now go, ready yourself for the trip. I'll be right back."

Color rose in her cheeks, obscuring her freckles. Eileen pursed her lips and fluttered her lashes as she turned, skirts flouncing, and made her way through the fallen tree limbs and rocks to her bedroll.

Still chuckling to himself, Sean marveled over how much a little hope had brightened her sky-blue eyes. He heaved the saddle onto Whiskey's back, more convinced than ever he'd made the correct decision by helping Eileen, then mounted and rode back towards the Triple F ranch.

He'd traveled less than a mile when he saw plumes of dust rising in the distance and heard the unmistakable sounds of horseshoes pounding against the hard dry earth.
Riders in a hurry.
A posse of some kind.

To protect Eileen and
himself
, Sean had to believe those riders were coming for him, and assume that Daniel must have discovered he had taken his daughter with him. If that were the case, he didn't have to wonder what to do next. But he didn't have much time in which to get it done.

Giving Whiskey's reins a
jerk,
he wheeled the mule around and made a dash back to the tree grove. "Eileen," he shouted as he slid from the animal's back. "We're out of time, mount up."

"Mount up?
Just me?"

"Listen and do as I say. There is no time for questions." Reaching for her bedroll, he hoisted it on Whiskey's back,
then
directed her to place her foot in the stirrup. "Riders are heading this way. They will most likely go right on by us, but just in case they get nosy and stop in to have a look, it is best you are not here with me."

"But why should I take the mule?"

"Do as I say."

The helpless orphaned calf expression that had originally convinced him to take her with him overshadowed her newfound enthusiasm. How could he explain the real danger without frightening her half out of her mind, or reducing her to the trembling mouse she'd been a few hours ago?

Moving to Whiskey's side, he rested his hand on her knee. "You have to trust me, Eileen. If these men are after me, and I'm not saying they are, they'll find me. If that happens, I want you safely out of the way. If I am alone, maybe I can talk my way out of it and convince them you've left home of your own accord."

"Oh," she said brightly. "I see now. What do you want me to do?"

Pausing, he took a deep breath and explained as quickly yet gently as possible. "Ride down this wash at least three or four miles. Pick out a good hiding place for both you and Whiskey,
then
wait there."

An idea occurred to him as he spoke, and he circled around behind the mule and began to gather several of the thickest tree limbs lying around. "Once you feel safe, just settle in for the day. I'll do the same somewhere else."

Sean took two of the longest limbs and tied them, one on each side, to the back of his saddle. As he worked, he continued his instructions. "When it gets dark—and I do mean dark, not twilight—start back up the wash. I'll meet you right here. Do you have it?"

"Yes," she nodded, curious about his project at the rear of the mule. "But I don't see why I should take Whiskey. I don't mind the walk. It would seem less suspicious if you have him with you."

"Eileen," he said, wondering if there
were an easy way
to explain, "if they are after me, if I can't convince them I've done no wrong, they will ... they'll want to take me in for questioning or something. I don't want to leave you out here alone without some form of transportation. If you should return here tonight and I am not to be found, Whiskey will take good care of you." As if to convince himself and the animal, he gave the mule an affectionate pat on the rump, then continued braiding the branches.

Eileen frowned and twisted the leather reins. It hadn't occurred to her that he might be captured, or that she might be left alone to fend for herself. If that happened, what would she do, where would she go? What would he expect of her?

Thinking of Sunflower's strength, of Sean's opinion of her, Eileen set her chin. "If they take you in, if I come back tonight and you're not here, I want you to know something. I won't be going back home. I'll go on ahead. By myself if I have to."

Sean glanced at her and nodded. He thought of warning her of the dangers she would face, of offering some advice, but then remembered his own words about finding her hidden strengths. She'd been resourceful enough to approach him for help. She would be all right if left to her own devices. She might not have any choice.

Sean smiled as he finished tying the smaller branches in a bundle. His grin spreading as he thought how much growing she'd already done in the last few hours, he attached the twigs crosswise to the longer limbs dragging the ground, and stood back to survey his work. "That ought to give you some privacy for awhile."

Eileen twisted around in the saddle and peered down to the ground. "What is that?"

"A broom of sorts.
As Whiskey goes down the wash, this little contraption ought to wipe his hoofprints off the sand. It will be that much harder for anyone to find you."

"Oh, how clever.
Will Whiskey mind dragging all that behind him?"

"
Naw
.
He's pulled a lot bigger plows than this on our farm in Yuma." Sean no longer had to turn his head to hear the riders. They were approaching rapidly. "You must go now. I'll see you tonight, right on this spot."

But she couldn't leave. Not yet. Not like this. "Sean," she ventured in a tiny voice. "Please, before I go, could we, would you kiss me goodbye?"

Should he risk it? Could he? If he were to touch her now, he might lose his reason, his control, and jump on Whiskey's back with her and make a run for it. But that would be foolish, and irresponsible. It wouldn't stop the inevitable, either.

Sean looked up into her eager eyes and blurted out, “Lean down quickly."

When she bent over, he met her halfway, sliding his hands along her arms up to her sweet face. Her skin was soft and velvety as butterfly wings. The texture, the response it drew from deep inside, shook him and made him wonder if he'd ever have the chance to touch her again.
Foolish thoughts.
Dangerous thoughts.

Gruffly, with less tenderness than he'd intended, Sean crushed his mouth against hers for a brief moment, then pummeled Whiskey's rump with his hat.

"Go on. Get out of here," he screamed after the fleeing mule.

Sean heard her gasp and watched for several seconds, making sure Eileen could keep her seat on the galloping animal. Then he hardened his heart and let his Quechan instincts for survival take over. He spun around in the sand and raced for cover.

Cole raised one arm in the air signaling the group of men behind him to hold up. He examined the well-traveled road, but was unable to pick out a clear set of tracks belonging to the mule or Dust Bucket.

Leaning back in his saddle, he took off his hat and fanned himself. Had he chosen the right direction in which to lead his men? Fresh tracks led away from the ranch in both northerly and south-westerly directions. Cole had decided to take the latter, leaving Nathan to head the group going north. Taking the trail leading towards Yuma seemed like the logical choice at the time. Now he wasn't so sure.

He nudged Sage and headed to the apex of the fork in the road. Tracks he was fairly certain belonged to the mule led toward the tree grove. But where were Dust Bucket's prints. Was this some kind of an elaborate trap?

"Hey, Cole."

A voice behind him, low and dark, barely above a whisper, caught his attention. "What is it, Tom?"

"There's someone or something on the bluff above the wash over yonder."

Cole followed Tom's gaze and narrowed his eyes.
"Where?
I don't see anything."

"He's gone now, but I swear I seen a man's head just above that split rock on the left."

Then another voice.
"Ain't but one way to find out
fer
sure."
This was followed by a volley of rifle fire.

"Dammit, I didn't give any orders to shoot. Hold your fire." Cole glared at Stormy, making sure he and the others knew he meant business,
then
he looked back at the bluff. A few small rocks tumbled down the side of the hill, but other than that the desert seemed unusually quiet.

Sliding his Colt from its leather holster, Cole whispered, "I'm going on up to have a look around. You men stay here. If I need any help, I'll signal you by firing two quick shots. Got it?"

He glanced at the men, satisfied they would follow his directions, then dropped into a crouch and began to make his way across the wash. Using the narrow fissures from recent spring floods as toe holds, Cole began his ascent. He'd climbed halfway up the side of the hill when the order came.

"Don't come any closer."

The voice drifted above him, followed by the click of a rifle hammer. "Sean? Don't shoot—it's me, Cole."

"Stay where you are."

"I'm not budging. Show yourself and we'll talk. I know you must be running scared, but maybe we can work something out. Show
yourself
," he repeated, hoping to find a way to avoid a confrontation. "Let's talk about it."

Sean flattened himself against the boulder and inhaled. Wondering if he'd just tasted his last breath of freedom, of life, he squeezed his eyes shut. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. What chance did he have on foot? How far would he get before Cole or one of his men cut him down? And why was Fremont part of the search party?

Working to keep his voice steady, he asked, "What's your interest in this Cole? Does Sunny know you're tracking me down?"

"Let me come up there, Sean. Put the gun down."

"No. Stay back and answer my questions."

"All right, take it easy." Cole scanned the hillside looking for a way to approach him undetected, but Sean had chosen his vantage point well. "I shouldn't have to explain family to you of all people, and no, I didn't tell Sunny I was going after you. I figured she'd have enough of a shock when she woke up and found both of us gone. Now, come on down. We’ll talk."

Sean inhaled again and wiped the sweat from his brow. Did he really have a choice? He could never outlast the group below if they chose to wait for evening and surround him. Cole might be offering him a way out or at least a way to stay alive. If any of the rancher's feelings for Sunflower ran beyond lust, and apparently they did or she wouldn't have stayed on at the ranch, he might even be able to convince Cole to let him go.

Taking a gamble, Sean inched his way to the edge of the boulder and took a quick glance around the corner. Fremont sat in the open, apparently alone. "We'll talk, but first throw your gun on the ledge."

Sliding a reluctant finger across the steel barrel of his pistol, Cole
squinted
one eye towards the crest of the hill. Sunny had called her brother "crazy Callahan" the day he'd met him. How much of that description was true?
Crazy in what sense?

In spite of his misgivings, Cole tossed his gun as directed,
then
finished the climb. He approached the boulder, hands high in the air, and Sean appeared, waving him into the clearing.

"Move over behind the boulder."

Cole sidestepped,
then
inclined his head towards the rifle. "You won't
be needing
that."

Indicating a spot, Sean said, "Sit. Then I will think about putting my gun to rest."