When The Heart Beckons (37 page)

She couldn’t see him, but that didn’t mean
he wasn’t there. She couldn’t see anything but a blur of gray rain
and black night and hot-gold lightning which flashed briefly,
setting the mountain peaks aglow.

Terror tore at her more painfully than the
rocks and branches that clawed her face and hands and gown.
He
could be right behind you. He could grab you at any moment
, a
frantic voice inside her shouted.

These fears kept her going, despite her
fatigue and her blindness and the elements that battled at her as
she tried to slip away like a lost wild creature into the
night.

Suddenly, the trail dipped with unexpected
sharpness, her foot slipped on wet rock, she tumbled forward ...
and down ... and down ...

Air rushed past her, cold and bitter as
death, and her hands grabbed for rocks and touched nothingness. Her
mouth opened to scream but no sound came out as she fell and fell
and fell....

* * *

Rain slashed at Cobb’s nose and cheeks and
eyes as he glared up and down the muddy scrub trail outside the
cave. He was in a black drunken rage, cursing the fury of the night
and the woman who had disappeared like a witch into the storm. A
string of oaths poured from him—he wanted to shoot something,
anything, and he pulled his gun and fired furiously at the waving
trees and the sky. Damn her to hell. His singed hair and the burn
he’d gotten on his temple and shoulder before he’d put out the
flames were vivid reminders of her. She’d left her mark on him, and
he would leave his on her. Oh, yes, he surely would.

In the morning. The moment the storm broke
he’d be after her. She wouldn’t get far, Cobb concluded with
satisfaction as he holstered his gun and stamped back inside the
cave. He pushed his dripping red hair from his eyes.
Let her
get good and soaked. Let her freeze all night. Then she’ll
collapse. She’ll be too weak and tired and hungry to move, and then
I’ll get her. Damn her pretty eyes, get her good.

He stomped back to the campfire, peeled off
his wet clothes, and donned dry ones from his pack. Then he settled
down with his saddle blanket and his whiskey to wait for his
revenge.

A
nnabel came to
slowly, with the hazy dizziness of someone who’s been thrown from a
horse and doesn’t quite remember when or how. The rain slamming
against her cheeks and temples struck her like tiny pellets, and
her bones were icy cold against the hard wet ground.

She tried to move, tried to lift her head,
and felt an aching pain along her side. Thunder crashed in her
ears.

She peered around, dazed, trying to make out
where she was, where she could hide, what had happened.

Through a mist of confusion she realized she
was on a ledge, a ledge jutting out from a rocky path, and saw that
she must have fallen onto an outcrop of rock right beneath the
trail she’d been on before.

So I didn’t fall down a chasm, just down
to the ledge beneath
. And by some miracle, she wasn’t dead, or
even hurt, at least not badly.

But she felt dazed with cold and fear and
she was tired. So dreadfully tired.
Move
, she thought
dully,
keep moving. He’ll find you if you stay here
.

But she didn’t know where to go, and her
limbs wouldn’t obey her frantic commands.

“Help me,” she whispered into the night, her
words drowned out by the tearing fury of the wind. “Someone ...
help me.”

With supreme will, she began to crawl,
inching forward, turning her head from side to side as the rain
poured down. She was shivering uncontrollably from head to toe and
knew only that she had to find shelter or she would freeze to
death, or drown.

Or Red Cobb would find her and that would be
worse than death.

She crawled on.

Suddenly, she thought she saw something, a
glimmer against the blur of black rocks. A woman.

“
Mama ?
”

Somehow she found the strength to stagger to
her feet, her eyes fixed dazedly on that lovely silver vision that
seemed to shimmer between the raindrops. “Mama, will you help
me?”

The slim figure twinkled and twirled just
ahead. Then it vanished.

“Mama!”

She half ran toward where she’d seen it, and
suddenly, she saw a low opening. A cave, another cave! This one she
had to stoop to enter, and as she did so she wondered for a
fleeting moment if some wild creature might be inside, also seeking
shelter from the storm. But Mama wouldn’t lead her to danger. Mama
had shown her the way.

“Where are you, Mama?” she asked as she
crept inside and then the ceiling rose overhead and she stood and
saw that the cave was half the size of the other cave, but it was
dry and empty and sheltered and she stumbled in and sank down to
the ground, clutching her arms around her shivering body. She felt
a gossamer touch upon her cheek and suddenly the cold was gone. She
was warm, and peaceful. She closed her eyes, and felt herself
sinking, sinking away into cottony blackness that was as soft and
warm as a haystack.

“Mama, don’t go ...”

* * *

Cade had been riding through the storm for
hours. Fear whipped at him with every long stride of his horse.
He’d been fighting all night, fighting a sense of horrible
hopelessness and cold fear for Annabel which was far more painful
than anything inflicted by the elements. But as night crashed on
toward morning, he knew deep in his heart that he would never find
her, not until this damned rain let up and the darkness ebbed, and
by then, he knew, it could well be too late.

He bent his head against the silver torrent
which ran off his slicker in flowing rivulets. He had to keep
going.

He’d gone looking for her after shooting
Lowry, but when he’d found only her reticule in that upstairs
bedroom he’d known what must have happened. Tracks leading away
from the Lowry hacienda had headed east. But all the tracks that
could be seen at all by torchlight had quickly been obliterated by
the start of the storm. And so had the torch.

All he had to go on was Conchita’s advice.
She knew of two places where Cobb might have taken Annabel with a
storm brewing—both of them had numerous caves, both were less than
an hour’s ride east of Lowry’s place. Brett had veered off toward
the other canyon; he had chosen this one. But as he forced Dickens
up yet another twisting trail, slippery and treacherous with slimy
mud and rain, Cade’s heart weighed heavy.

He should have seen this coming and
protected Annabel. Cobb had obviously caught on to her trick and
had come back for revenge.
How could I have been so stupid not
to have seen her danger? Why in hell did I leave her
alone?

He gritted his teeth and forced back his
fear. Impossible as it seemed, he would find her. He wouldn’t quit
until he had.
And Cobb ... well
, Cade thought with grim,
deadly calm,
I’ll take care of Cobb.

But an hour later, he shook the water out of
his eyes and squinted around the looming, rain-swept mountains in
despair. He’d found two caves, neither of them occupied. There were
probably dozens more here in these rocks, tucked into unseen
crevices, hidden beneath overhangs that jutted out over the
dizzying canyon below. But his horse was bone weary and cold, and
Cobb could have Annabel hidden anywhere, anywhere ... or he might
have headed toward the other canyon after all ...

Then he saw it. It ... her ... he couldn’t
be sure. A shimmering figure—female—glistened against the rocks
just above. He blinked, shaded his eyes, and looked up into the
rain. There it was again, for only a moment, glowing like a falling
star, and then it vanished.

It seemed to have beckoned to him.

He blinked, saw nothing, and swore.
Why
the hell not
, he muttered then, and turned Dickens onto the
path which led in that direction. It was worth a try. At this
point, anything was worth a try.

For some reason as he bore down on the place
where he thought he’d seen someone, he thought of Annabel’s lost
brooch, the one her mother had promised to her on her wedding day,
the one Savannah Brannigan had claimed would protect her from harm.
Maybe if she’d had that brooch, Cobb wouldn’t have gotten his
filthy hands on her. Maybe she’d be safe right this minute instead
of trapped with the gunslinger in the midst of a New Mexico
thunderstorm.

He reached the ledge and glanced all around
and down at the ground. Suddenly, beneath the swirling rain and mud
he saw something and bent to retrieve it. Hope pounded through him.
He clenched the object tightly in his fist.

Annabel’s amber earbob. Lying here, covered
with mud.

Quickly he perused both directions, and saw
at once from the shape of the rocks that there must be a cave ...
right there.

He tethered Dickens beneath a small overhang
and approached the opening of the cave with his gun drawn.
If
Cobb has hurt her, I’ll break every bone in his body before I shoot
him
, he vowed, a grim whiteness about his mouth. He stooped
and crept into the cave. Silence. Dead silence. He waited a moment,
listening, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. But as the
irregular outlines of the rocks and cave roof began to take shape,
and the pitch black dissolved into murky gray, he saw a figure
lying on the cave floor.

Annabel
. He rushed to her and knelt
down, feeling for a pulse. Her skin was ice cold, clammy and wet,
and she was spattered with mud and bruises, but she was alive.
Thank God, he whispered as he lifted her and cradled her in his
arms. He pressed his mouth to the chilled pale skin of her cheek,
and something inside him trembled with unspeakable pain. What had
happened to her? Had she escaped Cobb or had he hurt her and left
her here to die?

“Annabel. Sweetheart, what did he do to
you?”

She stirred in his arms, the slightest of
tremors shivering through the length of her body. Cade held her
close, trying to warm her with his own body. “It’s over now. You’re
safe.”

“Cade?”

Fierce joy swept through him at the single
word, and when she opened her eyes a moment later, the relief that
surged through him washed away every other thought.

“Don’t try to talk.”

“I’m cold, Cade. So cold ...”

“Yes, sweetheart, I know. Wait just a moment
and I’ll get you a blanket.”

“Don’t leave me!”

She clutched at him with feeble fingers.

“Only for a minute. Hold on, Annabel, don’t
slip away from me.”

The next hours were a blur to him, a series
of frantic activities as he tried to get her warm and dry. He
stripped off her wet clothes and wrapped her in both of his saddle
blankets. He made a fire and held her in his arms before its opal
glow, and later, when she slept, limp and warm and trusting in his
arms, he looked at her with an awed tenderness that sliced more
painfully than an ax through his gut. He settled her as comfortably
as he could on the floor of the cave while he brought Dickens
inside and rubbed him down.

When Annabel awoke just before dawn, the
rain was letting up to a steady crystal drizzle from a sky of dark
pewter. Deep within the snug depths of the cave he held a tin cup
filled with coffee to her lips while she sipped at the steaming
rich brew.

And something in his heart turned over,
lifted, and soared with gladness as she at last smiled at him and
her gray-green eyes took on something of their familiar
sparkle.

“I could have used that slicker last night,”
were her first words as she glanced past him at the slicker he’d
tossed down in the corner of the cave. “Remind me never to wear
silk in a thunderstorm again.”

“I’ll remind you never to get mixed up with
a snake-eyed varmint like Red Cobb again,”

Her eyes darkened to emerald. A shadow
passed across her face. “He’s still out there,” she whispered,
suddenly paler. “He said ... oh, Cade, you can’t imagine what he
said.”

“Yes, I can,” he told her grimly. “But you
tell me anyway.”

Afterward, he held her against him, his arms
tight around her delicate frame, and thought of the pleasure he
would get from ending Red Cobb’s worthless life. Sometimes he felt
regret when he was forced to kill a man; sometimes, he felt
nothing; but this time he would feel pure satisfaction.

Cobb had threatened Brett and had done far
worse to Annabel, and he would pay in the only way animals like him
understood.

“Tell me what happened with Lowry,” she
urged, her head on his warm chest, for he had stripped off his
shirt and lay beside her clad only in his trousers. His boots,
shirt, and gun belt were heaped in a pile beside the dying fire.
Her slender fingers curled against the crisp black hair of his
chest as she peeked up at him. “Is he dead?”

“Yep.”

“Is everyone all right?”

Cade’s arms tightened protectively around
her. “Everyone is fine. You’d have been proud of Brett. He faced
Hank Ellis in a showdown and he did just fine.”

He told her how they’d thwarted Lowry’s plan
by getting rid of the three cowhands who were supposed to shoot him
in the back, and of how, after he had killed Lowry in a fair
gunfight for everyone to see, the other ranchers and townspeople
had been hard put to conceal their delight that their host, who had
probably stolen from all of them, was dead.

“Folks were rushing up to Conchita and
Adelaide and shaking their hands. As for Lowry’s men, they
scattered pretty quick. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about
them anymore—that outfit is all broken up.”

They lay there together for a while,
watching the fire, listening to the sounds of the diminishing
storm, which sounded pleasantly distant from deep within the rock
walls of the cave. But tired as she was, Annabel couldn’t
sleep.