Tracker’s Sin (12 page)

“Does she have her spirit?”

I’ve come to take you home.

Tracker nodded. “It’s a bit buried, but it’s there.”

“Word is she’s a widow.”

“That’s what they say.”

“You believe it?”

He remembered the innocence of her kiss. A woman who had been loved would have held some instinctive memory of that, wouldn’t

she?

“I don’t want to.”

“You know she’s not a virgin.”

With me gone, there was just her, and there were eleven of them.

“I know.” She’d known rape and betrayal. He couldn’t fix that, but he could make new memories for her. He could show her tenderness.

Tracker flicked the cigarette into the water. It hit with a faint hiss. “Now might be a good time to get on that horse and ride.”

“No.”

“Something about this setup stinks.”

“I noticed.”

It was al too convenient. Vincente was just too accepting. Josefina too possessive. Ari was too safe in a part of the country where she

shouldn’t be.

“What’s the plan?” Shadow asked.

Tracker cocked an eyebrow at his brother. “What makes you think I have one?”

“The fact that you’re sitting out here by yourself, tossing perfectly good smokes into the water. You only do that when you’re planning.”

Tracker grunted. “The wedding date has been set for next week.”

“Any idea why the stal ?”

“Nope.”

“Wonder if it has anything to do with the group of
Comancheros
raiding a couple hundred miles northeast of here.”

Shit.
“How close are they likely to be to the route we’l go?”

“Too damn close.”

They had limited options as to what route to take home. It was wide-open country between Eperanza and Hel ’s Eight, but there were only

so many places with potable water, only so many places one could cross rivers, canyons. Whatever route they chose, it was going to be brutal. “With a

baby along, we don’t have any choice but to take the shortest one.”

And the shortest route was likely what the
Comancheros
would be taking on their way back to Esperanza.

“Yeah, but I did discover a shortcut.”

“Where?”

Shadow squatted and pul ed his knife from his boot sheath. He sketched a rough map. “Here at Drunk Hole.”

Drunk Hole was a major stop on the trip, being the only reliable source of water within thirty miles. He tapped the blade to the right. “This

blind canyon here?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not actual y blind. We’l have to climb a bit, but there’s a narrow pass near the top.”

Tracker wasn’t surprised Shadow had found an alternate route. His brother was fanatical about not being committed to anything, even the

distance from point A to point B. Sometimes Tracker thought even his commitment to Hel ’s Eight chafed. “Can we make it with the baby?”

“It’l be rough.” Shadow stabbed his blade into the ground. “Is Ari as game as Desi?”

He’d carry her the whole damn way if he had to. “She’l make it.”

Shadow shook his head. “It’s going to be a hel of a trip.”

“She can’t stay here.”

“You sure?”

Tracker met Shadow’s gaze dead on. “You hear anything in town about a band of gringos raising hel ?”

“The only grumblings in town are about a certain Indian raising hel in the cantina.”

Tracker couldn’t find his smile. “Then I’m sure.”

“Shit.”

Tracker studied the map, ran timetables in his head. If the
Comancheros
were two hundred miles northeast, it would take them anywhere

from five to seven days to get to Esperanza. Drunk Hole was three days out for both of them. The only way to get past the
Comancheros
with the baby

and a woman was to get past Drunk Hole first. He touched the indentation left by the knife. “Can you get to Virgin’s Crossing and back by tomorrow night?

”

“Sure.”

“They stil have that telegraph line to San Antonio?”

“As long as no one’s taken down the lines. You want me to send a telegram to Hel s’ Eight?”

“Yes.”

“You know sending the telegram is going to alert everyone to where we are?”

He knew. “I don’t see where I have any choice. It’s going to be a race to get through Drunk Hole before the
Comancheros
get there. And

even if we do get through, there’s no guarantee they won’t pick up our trail. And if Vincente got in contact with Ari’s family, they could be waiting for us on

the other side, anyway.”

“Shit, they know she’s been found?”

“Yes.” Tracker stil had a lot of unanswered questions, but of this he was sure. Things were not as they appeared where Ari and her

“family” were concerned. And the men who hunted Ari would be desperate to keep her from getting to the Hel ’s Eight stronghold.

“Things just keep getting better and better.”

“Told you to go.”

Shadow chuckled. “Where would be the fun in that?”

It was their motto. Their thumb-their-noses-at-death, Ochoas-against-the-world battle cry. It didn’t resonate as deeply tonight. The sense

of destiny and doom increased.

Tracker forced a smile. “None at al .”

“How are you going to get Ari to agree to leave here?”

“I’m not giving her a choice.”

Shadow looked askance at him. “We’re going to need her cooperation.”

“We’re not going to get it.”

Shadow pushed himself to his feet. “There’s no way in hel a kidnapping wil work.”

“We’re going to have to make it work, because there’s no way in hel I’m tel ing a woman that I don’t think she was ever married, that the

people she loves like family are holding her for sale. That the rosy past that was created for her is al a myth. That in reality, her real-life family was kil ed.

That she spent a year with
Comancheros
being raped and abused, enduring things that no woman should ever have to—”

Shadow cut him off. “Enough.”

Yeah. It was enough.

Shadow bent, pul ed his knife from the dirt and flipped it into the air once. Twice. “So, we’re going to steal her?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Are you worried that kidnapping her is going to bring back memories?” Shadow flipped the knife a third time.

Hel yes, he worried about that. Tracker reached and caught the knife midflip. “I don’t see that we have any option.”

Shadow took the knife back. “She’s going to hate you, brother.”

“I know.” He just hoped to hel he could keep her hating him long enough for them to get to Hel ’s Eight. Her memory would come back. It

had to. But when it did, he wanted her safe and with her sister. It helped to have family around when your world fel apart. Desi would know how to help Ari.

Desi knew about betrayal.

“There’s a chance we’re seeing demons where there are none,” Shadow offered.

Tracker hadn’t survived this long by ignoring his instincts, and his instincts were screaming. “That’s not a chance I’m wil ing to take. Even

if we leave tomorrow night and ride hard, chances of beating the
Comancheros
to Drunk Hole are slim to none.”

“We’ve faced worse.”

“Yes. But this time we can’t afford to lose.”

“Send the telegram.”

Shadow slipped his knife into its boot sheath with a smal snap. “Then we won’t lose.”

The ranch was quiet, the house dark. Ari’s window was open to the warm night. They were going to have to have a talk about safety.

Easing up to the windowsil , Tracker paused. It was going to be too easy. He pressed his back against the wal and listened for any sound

coming from her room. He heard nothing. Which meant nothing. Anyone could be in there. Anyone could be waiting. An owl hooted near the corner of the

house—Shadow asking if the coast was clear. He didn’t have time to waste on scouting. He palmed his knife. It felt cool in his hand, familiar.

The horses were ready and waiting. The cradleboard Tracker had fashioned to carry the baby was tied to Buster’s saddle. What supplies

he could find were packed. Al he needed to do was grab Ari and Miguel and ride like hel . So why was he standing outside the window doing nothing?

He didn’t like the answer when it came to him. He didn’t hold any il usions that, when this was over, he was going to be the one Ari smiled

on. But he was determined that she would be able to smile, period.

He slid his leg over the windowsil . The leather of his pants made a soft whisper of sound. Just inside the window he paused. It only took a

second to assess the room. Ari lay on her side on the white sheets, the thick braid of her hair draped across the pil ow behind her. Miguel slept beside

her, pil ows on either side of him keeping him put. Neither stirred as Tracker crossed the wood floor. He stopped beside the bed, making sure his faint

shadow didn’t fal over Ari. She looked so innocent, so untouched by life, it was hard to believe she’d survived what she had.

He picked up Miguel first. The boy was heavier than he looked and felt surprisingly sturdy. As Tracker tucked him against his chest, he

didn’t make a sound, just rol ed his head onto Tracker’s shoulder and, with total trust, went back to sleep. Tracker cupped his hand around the boy’s head.

His hair was straight and soft, sticking out in absurd tufts. There was nothing about the child to make him smile, but even now he felt the urge. A wave of

protectiveness took Tracker by surprise. Someone so smal , facing so much, would need guardians in his life. Strong men to guide him. It couldn’t be him,

but Hel ’s Eight would stand for the boy. Would keep him safe until he was old enough to claim his inheritance and extract vengeance on those who hunted

his family.

A cal came from the window. Shadow was waiting. Tracker passed Miguel to his brother. The baby went with only a slight whimper of

protest. The plan was that Shadow would strap the boy into the cradleboard and have him ready to go by the time Tracker got Ari out to the horses.

Tracker had a feeling that strapping a six-month-old infant into a cradleboard he wasn’t used to being in was not going to be that simple. Stil , he’d rather

be doing that than this. He crossed back to the bed, tugging four strips of material out of his pocket. One he bal ed up in his left hand.

Leaning over the bed, he placed his hand on Ari’s mouth. She came awake, her scream breaking against his palm. The memories

weren’t as buried as he’d hoped.

“Hush, it’s just me.”

Ari stopped clawing at his hand. Tracker took advantage of her confusion and slipped the gag into her mouth. When she grabbed at his

hands, he slid the second strip across her mouth and rapidly tied it behind her head. She screamed behind the gag. The sound was muffled, but stil

audible. He glanced toward the door. Vincente and Josefina were older. Hopeful y their hearing wasn’t great.

“Be quiet.”

She was anything but. Her foot caught him on the inside of the knee. He twisted to block the next kick. Her knee grazed his bal s. The pain

wasn’t severe, but bad enough to convince him to stop playing around. He grabbed her shoulders and flipped her onto her stomach. The mattress dipped

and the supporting ropes creaked as he straddled her hips, using his weight to keep her in place. She reached back, fingers curved like claws. She was

a fighter. Not that it would do her any good. He caught her hand and pressed it into the smal of her back. It didn’t take any effort at al to snag her other

wrist and repeat the process. Her screams were muffled by the pil ow as he tied her wrists together. For al her spirit, she didn’t have much muscle. The

Comancheros
would have had no trouble forcing her to their wil . Sliding down her thighs, Tracker used his knees to keep her legs together. While she

flopped about like a landed fish, he tied her ankles.

He turned her over. Her eyes screamed betrayal. He didn’t flinch. “We’ve got to move and we’ve got to move now.”

She shook her head, desperately trying to see where Miguel had been lying. Tracker cupped her head in his hands and turned her face to

his. “He’s already at the horses.”

She shook her head again, struggling against the bonds, bucking on the bed. The ropes under the mattress creaked. The last thing he

needed was Vincente in here. Tracker put his hand to her throat. “If you don’t keep quiet I’l be forced to quiet you.”

Angry, reckless, her eyes dared him to.

If she were a man, he’d simply knock her out. But she was a woman and he didn’t hit women. She didn’t need to know that, however.

Sometimes perception was stronger than fact. “Do I make you?”

She slowly settled back against the mattress, but her muscles were tense. In a heartbeat she’d be fighting again.

“Do you want me to leave you behind?”

That got through. Her eyes narrowed with hate. He touched his fingers to her cheek.

“Hold on to that thought.”

Leaving her on the bed, he went through drawers, grabbing a couple pairs of pantaloons, a dress and petticoats. He tossed them on the

bed. A shawl hung on a nail by the door. Her shoes rested beneath. Sweeping them up, he brought them to the bed and dropped them on the pile. A

pil owcase worked as a bag. He tossed it out the window before going back to the bed to pick up Ari.

He slid his hands under her body. She wouldn’t meet his gaze. He could feel the moisture of her tears against his arm. He wanted to tel

her he was sorry. He wanted to tel her the truth. He didn’t. The truth would hurt too much.

The sound of a pistol cocking broke the silence.

Shit.
Tracker released Ari and straightened. He slowly turned.

Vincente stood just inside the door, dressed in a nightshirt, a pistol pointed at Tracker’s midsection.

“I have been waiting for you,” the old man whispered.

Not the words you wanted to hear from a seventy-year-old with arthritic fingers currently crooked around the trigger of a gun pointed at