Tracker’s Sin (17 page)

Determination took the fore. “I won’t get scared.”

“Everyone gets scared.”

“Not me.” She tucked the pistol into the folds of her skirt as he’d instructed, and squared her shoulders. “I can’t afford to get scared

anymore.” She looked up, catching him unaware. “Can I?”

He didn’t have a choice but to give her the truth. “No. Whatever you’re afraid of, you’ve got to face it down for Miguel’s sake.” He cocked

his head, listening. Miguel’s cries weren’t getting any weaker. The boy had his mother’s stubbornness. “And your own,” he added, getting to his feet.

“I don’t matter.”

No way was he letting that stand. “A lot of people have spent a lot of grueling hours in the saddle proving otherwise.”

Her chin came up. “They have, haven’t they?”

“Yes, so do what I tel you and stay alive.”

He held out his palm. When she didn’t immediately place hers in it, he crooked his fingers. He thought she muttered something about

“bossy” before giving him her hand. He pul ed her to her feet, steadying her a second while she found her balance. “The gun’s heavy, so don’t wear out

your arm pointing it into empty space. Remember that surprise is your best weapon.”

Miguel stopped crying. A creeping unease raised the hairs on the back of Tracker’s neck.

Shit.

“Stay here.”

“No.” Ari grabbed his arm. “He’s my son.”

“And I’m going to get him, but as mean of a son of a bitch as I am, I can’t do what needs to be done if I have to worry about you, too. You

interfere and Miguel wil die.”

Her face went white, but she let Tracker go. “Do you think there’s trouble?”

Anything was possible out here. “I’m about to find out.”

9

N
ot a bird sang for the five minutes it took Tracker to creep up on the campsite. Not a breeze stirred. Not a damn thing moved except himself, in a slow,

careful crawl across the ground. It was possible Shadow had come back. It was just as possible he hadn’t. Until he knew who or what had made Miguel

stop crying so abruptly, Tracker wasn’t taking any chances. Thirty feet from his goal, he ran out of cover. Kneeling careful y, he brought his rifle up. A man

squatted in front of the baby. Too close to the boy for a head shot, and so close a bul et might pass through, making a chest shot risky. Tracker lowered the

muzzle, aiming for the stranger’s knee.

“Move,” he whispered. He held off firing, as something about the man struck a chord. There was nothing distinctive about his clothing, but

the way he held his head…

“I think you misplaced something,
amigo.
”

Tracker lowered his gun. “What the hel are you doing here, Zacharias?”

“At the moment, quieting this little one so we don’t have that band of
Comancheros
north of here breathing down our necks any sooner

than we have to.” He looked over his shoulder at Tracker. “Who is the mother?”

“Ari.”

Zacharias whistled under his breath. “You found her?”

Tracker nodded. Before he was halfway to Zach, the man came to the obvious conclusion.

“And she had a baby?”

Zach wasn’t Isabel a’s personal bodyguard because he lacked discretion. “Cute kid. Looks Indian,” he added.

Tracker nodded again. He could final y see what Zach was doing. He was distracting Miguel with a silver cross strung on a rawhide thong.

“What’s his name?”

“Miguel.”

Zach twisted the string. Every time sunlight flashed off the bright metal cross, Miguel kicked his feet and waved his hands. “Actual y,” Zach

said, eyeing first Miguel and then Tracker, “he looks enough like you that he could pass for yours.”

“He is.”

That got him a look. “Now you can perform miracles? Because I’m guessing this boy was conceived while you and I were hunting the

Packard gang.”

“He’s mine by claim, not blood.”

“Went Indian on her, eh?”

That was one way of explaining that al -encompassing need to protect Ari that’d consumed him when the men had cornered her in that

sleazy bar. The other option would have been murder. He could easily have kil ed each and every one. And even Zach was fast getting on his nerves. “You

looking to get your ass kicked?”

“Not particularly, but you’ve always been a man who goes after what he wants, and if you decided you wanted Ari and an opportunity

came up…” He shrugged. “It stands to reason you’d take advantage of a God-given chance to have it al .”

Zacharias always did see too much.

“A white woman like her isn’t going to recognize an Indian marriage.” That didn’t mean she couldn’t be infatuated with him.

“Wel , neither would a possessive son of a bitch like you.” He chucked Miguel’s chin. “It’s not permanent enough.”

“She needs me.”

Zach pursed his lips and nodded. “So you have the advantage.”

“Yes.” If he wanted a woman who was only with him through fear.

“Are you going to utilize it?”

Tracker shook his head. “There’s no point. When her memory returns, the only thing looking at me wil do is send her screaming.”

“You
are
an ugly son of a bitch.”

“I can stil probably find the time to kick your ass.”

Zach chuckled. Miguel chuckled with him, happy with the attention.

“You think she wil scream because you look Indian?”

“Yeah.”

Chucking Miguel under the chin again, Zach sighed. “That’s going to be a problem, because this little one couldn’t look any more Indian.

Is she going to turn away from him, too?”

Tracker couldn’t imagine it, but Ari had been through hel and back, tortured in spirit, mind and body. She coped by not remembering, but

the violence of her episodes made him think those memories might be coming back. And once they did, Miguel would be a living, breathing reminder of

every cruelty she’d endured. It would take one hel of a forgiving heart to get past that. How could anyone ask the victim of rape and torture to rise above

it? How could anyone blame her if she didn’t?

“Speaking of the mother, where is she?”

Tracker swore. “Sitting in the draw with a gun ready to shoot whoever pokes their head over the top.”

Zach motioned him on. “Then by al means, you fetch. I’l stay here with Miguel.”

“Afraid of getting your pretty face mussed?”

“
Sí,
that is it. For my brains, I have no concerns.”

Tracker had forgotten how amusing Zach could be. It was easier to remember how deadly.

“Be sure to announce yourself, eh?”

He did more than announce himself. He made enough noise while approaching the draw to wake the dead. And when he got to the lip, for

good measure, he cal ed down. “Ari?”

She didn’t answer. His heart skipped a beat for the second time in ten minutes. Shit, he was getting too old for this. There were only so

many places a woman could hide. The white of her shirt gave her away. She’d tucked herself beneath a scraggly bush, behind some sagebrush, coiled up

like a rattler hiding from the sun. By squinting, he could see the gun barrel pointed at the draw. She was clearly ready to strike.

Half walking, half sliding down the washout, he asked, “Are you al right?”

“Yes.”

He’d feel more comfortable about that response if she didn’t have such a white-knuckled grip on that gun. “Want to hand me that before

someone gets hurt?”

“What? Oh?” She tossed the gun in the dirt in front of her. Tracker winced, imagining the sand in the barrel.

“Worried it might go off?”

“Yup.” And now he was worried it couldn’t. “Me, too.”

“Where’s Miguel?” With both hands she started tugging at the branches above her head.

“With a friend.” He picked up the gun and inspected it. “Problems?”

There didn’t seem to be any sand in the barrel.

“Nope.” Ari worked her way free of the web of branches she’d crawled beneath. She broke off several in succession, letting them dangle

from her hair. “Where did you find a friend in the middle of nowhere?”

Tracker held out his hand, palm up. “Sometimes, sweets, you find friends in the strangest places.”

When he did so, she placed hers in it. He drew her to her feet.

“Where’s Shadow?”

“He’l be along soon. He went to find water.”

“Who is this friend?”

“Zacharias is one of the Montoyas’ top men. When hel opens its gates, he’s the one who wanders in to stir up trouble.”

The twigs looked ridiculous hanging from her hair. Tracker’s fingers twitched to untangle the heavy mass. If they weren’t standing in the

middle of Comanchero country he’d have given in to the urge.

“Who are the Montoyas? Should I be impressed?”

“Sam MacGregor is Hel ’s Eight. He married Isabel a Montoya. The Montoya spread is quite big.” Tracker took a twig from her hand. A

couple strands of hair that were stuck on it wrapped around his finger. He did love that wild hair of hers. It said more than anything else that here was a

woman a man could cajole, but never tame. “And yeah, you should be impressed.”

Another stick was removed and placed in his hand. “Then I’m impressed.”

The next stick looked like it was going to take a while. “He’l go to hel and back for one of ours. Otherwise I wouldn’t have left him there.”

She headed in the direction of the campsite. “Thank you.”

She was in a surprisingly agreeable mood. Fal ing into step beside her, he said, “Shadow told me what he said to you.”

She kept walking, not looking at him. “He did?”

“Yes, he did.”

“I’m surprised.”

“I may not agree with al what Shadow decides is important, but he’s my brother, and we don’t lie to each other.”

She skipped a step to keep up with Tracker’s longer stride. “He loves you very much.”

“That doesn’t make it al right.”

“It makes it understandable, though. No one wants a family member to take up with a crazy woman.”

“You’re not crazy, and the last time someone told me what to do, I was in knee pants.” Tracker shortened his stride. He could probably get

the stick out if he made a couple strategic cuts.

“Stop staring.”

He took her elbow and helped her up the hil side. “You have a stick in your hair.”

“Tel me something I don’t know.”

He could do that. “Your sister loves you, too.”

There was a break in her stride. “Does she?”

“Yes. She does. She’s had us scouring the country for a year for you without real y knowing if you were alive or dead.”

They were almost back at the campsite.

“I don’t remember her.”

“You wil eventual y.”

“Maybe.” She real y didn’t believe her memory would come back.

When they got back to the site, Zach had Miguel out of the cradleboard and was bouncing him on his knee. The baby was giggling and

drooling, clutching the cross in his hand. Zach stood as soon as he saw Ari.

“
Hola,
Mrs. Ochoa.”

Ari cut Tracker a glance. “You convinced him of that nonsense?”

“He’s gul ible.”

Zach laughed. “You are as beautiful as
tu hermana.
”

“You know…” She stumbled over the name. “Desi, then?”

Zach shrugged. “Not so wel as I know Sal y Mae, Señor Tucker’s wife. Or Isabel a MacGregor, La Montoya. She is a fighter, La Montoya.

Her I have been with since she was an
hija.
”

“Sal y Mae is a pacifist,” Tracker interjected.

Zach snorted. “Only until you fal sick. Then she is al orders, and if you try to get out of bed…” He rol ed his eyes. “Then she is mean as a

pinned badger.”

“So stay in bed.”

“By myself?” Zach shook his head and swung Miguel in his arms. “This is not done.”

Tracker had also forgotten how charming Zach could be. When Ari smiled, he took her arm and steered her away from Zach, toward a

smal rock, the only approximation of a chair there was. “Why don’t you sit here and see about getting Miguel some lunch.”

Zach passed him the baby, a knowing smile on his lips. He was too damn handsome for his own good. Bastard. “Thank you.”

“De nada.”

“Is Sal y Mae real y mean?” Ari asked, settling Miguel against her.

“Sal y Mae is as sweet as honey. Zach is just a lousy patient.”

Zach snorted. “A man can stay in bed only so long.”

Ari might buy that dismissal of concern, but Tracker knew the extent of Zach’s injuries. “Seems to me you should stil be in it.”

“When Shadow sent a message he was coming down here, I could not resist fol owing.”

“So basical y, no one fol ows your orders,” Ari observed to Tracker as she draped a blanket over her shoulder.

He took a position between Zach and her, blocking the other man’s view. “Apparently not.”

Zach rol ed his right shoulder. Tracker spotted the stiffness in the joint and the way Zach favored the right side of his body.

“Those ribs stil stove up?”

He shrugged. “Not so much I couldn’t come to help.”

“What made you think I needed help?”

Zach’s horse whickered a greeting to something in the dusk. A horse whinnied back. Ari held very stil and looked at Tracker. He

mouthed, “Shadow.” She relaxed, but not much.

Zach shrugged. “There was something about the way you left that told me, this one, she is the one. Shadow sensed the same.”

“Who’s talking about me?” Shadow entered the campsite, leading the string of horses.

“I am.”

“How the hel are you, Zach?” Shadow cast Tracker a glance. “That Buster of yours has to shake hands with everything that moves. Edible

or otherwise.”

Tracker took the reins and chuckled. “He does have a social side.” Tracker started unpacking the saddlebags.

Miguel fussed. Ari shifted him to the other breast. Tracker led the horse aside. Shadow and Zach fol owed.

“You spoil that animal,” Shadow said.