Once a Hero Page 4

  Outlaw kept tossing his head, a habit he had when someone other than Kee talked to him. Kee smiled. Whoever that fool was, he’d be working up a thirst trying to coax that horse near enough to grab hold of the reins.

  The mustang wasn’t having any. He suddenly shied away. And that’s when Kee caught a glimpse of a hand.

  He had had enough.

  “Just hold it right there.” His low voice carried and he made sure the man heard the cocking of the rifle.

  There was a rustle in the brush, and Kee put a bullet into the earth. “Stop there. You ain’t got a chance of leaving here without carrying away lead.”

  “Who the hell are you, mister?”

  “Never you mind who I am. That’s my horse you’re trying to grab.”

  “Figured him for a stray.”

  “If I hadn’t walked around out there I might buy your story.” Kee stood up, but kept to the protection of the tree trunk. He didn’t like the smell of this. Not one damn bit.

  “Show yourself,” Kee ordered. “And you should know I’ve had me a bellyful this morning. I’m not in a charitable mood.”

  The brush parted and Kee tracked the man’s moves with his rifle barrel. The hat was pulled low, hiding his face. The barrel chest and stocky body hit a note of recognition for Kee but he couldn’t quite place the man.

  He glanced up. “I know you. You’re Kee Kincaid.”

  “Unbuckle the gun belt and step away from it.”

  “Like hell I will. I ain’t done nothin’ to you. You got no call, Kincaid, to take my gun.”

  “I’ve got a Winchester aimed at your belly. That gives me the might and the right.”

  “You know me. Alf Dennis. Met you up in Denver. Played poker a time or two. Why, I recall that winning hand of yours. Took yourself a mighty big pot with four of the sweetest little ladies. Stood me to a round of drinks. Was working for McCutcheon. Hunting a—”

  “Shuck the gun.” Kee was getting that awful feeling of being set up. The man was talking too much, not too loud, just running on and on about that meeting in Denver.

  But saw he was finally unbuckling his gun belt.

  “Step away from it. No, not back, over to the side.” Kee had to keep his eyes on him, despite the hair prickling on the back of his neck. He moved in quickly, took up the belt and slung it over his shoulder.

  “Let’s go find your horse.” Kee motioned with the rifle for Alf to lead off. He remembered him now. Knew he’d been fired from McCutcheon’s for selling off feed and pocketing the money. Money that Kee unknowingly had won that night. There was some talk about a shooting, but nothing could be proved against Alf. What the man was doing out the backside of nowhere was a question that itched and needed scratching.

  If Kee had just left Denver and found Alf on his back trail, he would suspect the worst. Robbery of his horses and maybe a bullet in his back.

  But Denver had been months ago. And all his speculating wasn’t giving him the answers he needed.

  “Mighty lonely place to find you, Alf.”

  “Jus’ driftin’.”

  Kee thought back to the morning. He tried to recall if he had ever seen either of those two men with Alf. In a way, he’d feel better knowing they were together. A nagging sense of worry for Isabel made him step closer and prod Alf in the back.

  “Where’d you tie your horse? Up on Tonto Creek?”

  “Not far.”

  The very absence of fear warned Kee he was walking into a trap. But why? And who? He saw the small clearing up ahead, and the smell of coffee tantalized him since he never had any of his own.

  At the edge of the trees, Kee paused. Alf went right to the fire and helped himself to the coffee.

  A lone bay horse was staked out away from the fire on the other side. One bedroll tossed near a saddle. One cup that Alf was filling from his pot. For a man who just lost his handgun and had a rifle aimed at him, Alf’s grin smacked of satisfaction.

  Kee took another quick look around the clearing. Something wasn’t right.

  “Strikes me strange, Alf, that you had coffee brewing and found time to scout a far piece from your camp. You didn’t, I wouldn’t have known you were around.”

  “Could swear I heard somethin’. Almost sounded like a cry. Figured someone might be in trouble.” He sipped at his coffee and looked across to Kee. “Man travelin’ alone these days can’t be too careful. Know what I mean? Hey, want some coffee? Only got my cup, but there’s enough to share.”

  Kee remained beneath the shelter of the trees. It still didn’t add up for him. An edgy feeling was taking hold. Trouble was coming faster than an old mossy horn that had been in the brush too long.

  “Hell, Kincaid, you got my gun. What more do you want?”

  “What he wants and what he’s getting ain’t the same.”

  Kee spun and ducked to his left. His fast move was all that saved him a blow to the head. He didn’t know the man, but his gun butt came down hard on Kee’s shoulder. His arm went numb and he dropped his rifle.

  A tuck and roll took Kee into the brush just as a bullet hit where he’d been standing. Kee fought the pain in his arm and drew his Colt. He fired at the unknown man, then turned to find Alf. He was gone.

  Kee was not waiting around to be shot. He backed away from the clearing, using every trick he had learned to move quietly.

  Not a breath of air stirred. He was not drawing their fire. Either they were waiting for a clean shot or they were already gone.

  He moved again, waited, and then circled back to where he had dropped his rifle.

  Gone. Kee spent a few minutes searching for a good boot print. He wanted to know that man if he came around again.

  He whistled for Outlaw, who came not from the water hole but the opposite direction. So someone had tried to grab the mustang again.

  The whole thing was a ploy to get him away from Isabel. And she had to be the reason. His mares were too well marked for a horse thief to chance stealing them.

  Where before he had used caution, now he raced the mustang to get to the stream.

  And found about what he expected.

  Isabel and the horses were long gone. But the churned earth had a story to tell and before he set off after them, he would read every bit of every sign.

  Chapter Five

  Isabel lost Kee’s mares and packhorse. Perhaps lost was not the right word. She knew where they were. Only she was not the one guarding them for Kee.

  He had been gone awhile when the feeling of being watched came over her. She remained in the saddle and kept looking around, gun ready for any threat.

  Minutes later she heard gunshots. Her first thought was to try to find Kee. The second to run.

  Torn again over what to do. Her grandmother had entrusted her with finding the mine that belonged by right to them. Kee risked his life to save hers.

  The restive movements of the horses added another layer to her fear.

  Her gaze was drawn to the brush across the stream. She could see a rider coming closer. Isabel recognized the horse as one from her camp. She knew the men that Kee had set afoot would get mounts from there. What surprised her was the rider. Clay Benton was one of the men from this morning. How could he have tracked them so quickly?

  And then she saw his face. He was every bit as surprised as she was. But Isabel had had a few moments to see and understand her danger.

  Isabel fired at him and missed. The horses shied, pulling at the rope attached to their halters. Her own horse half reared trying to get away. She fired another shot, knew she had missed. The next thing she knew the ground was coming up to meet her. The jar to her wrist sent the gun flying. The horses bolted.

  By the time her vision cleared, she found herself on her knees, crawling to the trees where Kee had disappeared. Every part of her ached. She heard the splashing from behind her, knew Benton was crossing the stream. She composed herself as much as possible.

  She had to get away. She grabbed the tree trunk and struggled
to her feet but everything around her was moving in circles. Benton wanted the map. She knew he had been sent after it.

  And she was just as determined that he would not get it.

  She pushed off, running blindly.

  The brush was thick, she tore her shirt free and felt the sting of a cut. Her mouth was cotton dry. There did not seem to be enough air for her. She heard the sounds of pursuit and forced herself to move faster.

  Small branches snagged her long hair. She broke the wood, turned and tried to find an easier path.

  There was noise up ahead. Thinking it was Kee she called out. Only her intended yell was more of a parched whisper.

  She ducked beneath a low-growing limb, glanced back to see how close Benton was, and slammed into a hard chest. Seconds before she lifted her head, she knew the thick barrel chest did not belong to Kee Kincaid.

  The stocky man, his breath foul in her face, had surprisingly powerful arms. He wrapped them around her so tight she could not move or breathe.

  Desperate to get away and save what she had, she kicked him.

  Isabel had the brief satisfaction of her pointed-toe boot connecting with his shin. His howl of pain made her try for another one.

  The sharp yank on her hair caught her off balance. She attempted to twist away, but Benton held her fast.

  “Come along real quiet an’ you don’t get hurt, missy. There’s someone waitin’ to see you.” Benton pulled on her hair just as the other man let her go.

  Isabel fell to her knees.

  “Took you long enough to get in place, Alf. Thought for sure I was gonna lose her. There’d be hell to pay if she got away again.”

  Isabel felt the cold press of Benton’s gun barrel against her temple. Isabel, too frightened to pray, could not even draw a breath.

  The anger she felt from Benton made a small knot form in her stomach. Would he kill her, and then search for the map? He had to know it was not with her things left behind at her camp.

  When he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, the relief was so great that she did not fight him.

  She had gotten away from them once.

  She could do it again. She had to.

  The image of Kee Kincaid’s face formed in her mind. She saw the smile that curved his masculine mouth, the light of devilry in his eyes; she felt the warmth of his touch and clung to her own heated response to the almost kiss they had.

  She was not alone. As sure as the sun set on this night, Kee would come after them. Isabel was a realist. He might not come after them for her. But he would for his horses.

  If he was unhurt.

  She had to bite her lip to keep from demanding to know what they had done to him.

  They rode hard for most of the day through lands more desolate than those she had seen. The heat robbed her of strength. They were generous to themselves and the horses with the water. She had one mouthful to their three. She turned aside the bitter thoughts of whose orders those must have been.

  The lack of water stole from her the chance for a few moments of privacy. Not even these men who sold their guns for money would deny her that.

  But they rode through the day and she had no chance to escape. The shadows lengthened as the sun started its descent and they finally made camp. Anger served to help warm her, for even near the fire, the desert night cold made itself felt. She should not complain. The blanket Alf threw over her concealed her working on the ropes that bound her feet. Every now and then she dipped her head and used her teeth on the rope that held her wrists. She had to thank whatever providence made them tie her hands in front.

  Benton was pouring himself another cup of coffee. He and Alf sat opposite from her. She was alone with the two of them, and that had her worried. Where was the man that had been with Benton this morning?

  Muley Cotton. A name she would not forget. He was her guide and he’d betrayed her.

  Her horse, the last of the palominos her family had bred, was not here, nor was her packhorse. She strained to hear the men’s whispered talk, needing to know if they were waiting for someone, or intended to ride on come daybreak. The Lord was not in a granting mood to answer her plea.

  Or perhaps He was in His own way and time.

  A few minutes later, Alf stood up and stretched, then took up his rifle. “I’ll stand first watch. Wake you in two hours. Best you keep an eye on that one,” he said, pointing with the rifle to where Isabel leaned against a boulder. “I don’t wanna be chasin’ after her in the dark.”

  “She’s not goin’ anywhere. Stop all your worryin’. Gonna git you into an early grave, Alf. A few weeks an’ you an’ me’ll be rich enough to set San Francisco on its ear. Gonna buy me a fancy saloon, an’ get me the prettiest little gal—”

  “Clay, jus’ you remember that we’ve got to find the mine first. An’ when we do, them nuggets ain’t gonna be lyin’ around awaitin’ for you to pick them up. The way I see it, we’re gonna do all the work. Come time to divvy up, I ain’t so sure we’ll see a fair share. An’ don’t you be countin’ Kincaid out. You know him. He ain’t gonna let you get away with takin’ his horses or his woman.”

  “She ain’t his woman. Go on an’ keep watch. You jawin’ that old woman talk is gratin’ on a man’s body. We’s gonna be rich. Rich, I tell ya. Ain’t no one gonna pull no double cross.”

  “Jus’ you remember, Clay, rich is mighty fine so long as I ain’t dead.”

  “Fool talk,” Benton muttered once Alf moved off.

  Isabel seized her chance to sow doubt, and if she was lucky, a little fear. “You do not believe the stories that all the men who have tried to find the mine have died?”

  She leaned forward, and under the concealing folds of the blanket worked harder on the rope securing her ankles. With only Clay Benton to watch her, this could be her best and only opportunity to get away.

  “There’s always talk,” he answered in a surly voice, and then in a whisper, “You know what’s good for you, you’ll hand over that map to me. Sort of a private deal. Before the boss comes. Leastways I won’t kill you.”

  “But you will stand by and watch someone do it?”

  “Ain’t said nothin’ ’bout standin’ around an’ watchin’.”

  “Ah, I understand. If you do not see this thing happen, then you will sleep easy at night.”

  “You shut up now. Man’s got to get some sleep.” He tossed out the last of the coffee, set his cup aside and rolled himself in his blanket.

  Isabel glanced over to the picket line where Kee’s horses were tied along with the others. Benton had been pleased to have both his old smelly boots back along with his gun.

  If there was any mercy for her, he would have left the other holstered gun hooked over the saddle. In the dark she could barely make out the packs from Kee’s horse and the extra saddle.

  She desperately wanted to look down and see why the knots were proving to be so stubborn to her fingers. The moonlight didn’t penetrate deeply into the dry wash they had chosen as a camp. She knew fear kept her gaze pinned on where Benton moved restlessly. Just when she thought he was asleep, she would hear him muttering.

  The minutes passed with agonizing slowness before he was finally still.

  Alf had tied a series of triple knots, but her renewed effort soon had her ankles untied.

  Isabel heaved a sigh. She held on to the blanket with her hands, leaning against the boulder at her back and got to her feet.

  Benton snored. The fire died down a little so she stood in shadow.

  Ideally she would grab both a gun and the horses. Time was against her. Alf could be coming back at any moment. Keeping well back, she inched her way around to the other side, speaking softly to the horses so they would not shy and give her away.

  She managed to find the packs and saddle. There was no holstered gun. Her search was too hurried. She could not even find a knife.

  Anger would serve no purpose. Frustration even less. She had to think, and act.

  Fear had nev
er left her, and now reared up when she thought to linger. Her breathing sounded loud to her ears, her heart pounding as she neared the horses. She needed her blanket for warmth, but it hampered her attempt to untie the picket rope. Every few seconds she looked over her shoulder at the still-sleeping Benton.

  Hurry! Hurry!

  The one word, the only thought in her mind.

  She nearly gasped aloud when the last knot gave way. The lack of food and water, and her effort exhausted her. She hurried along the line, thankful the reins were in easy slipknots. All but Kee’s mares. Their lead rope had been looped and tied.

  A scream of frustration welled in her throat. She would never get them free, and yet she could not leave them behind. Without horses Benton and Alf would have trouble following her.

  Isabel heard a faint noise and dropped to the ground. She yanked the blanket over her head. She curved her body tight, hoping that if someone looked she would appear no more than a dark shadow.

  If the horses stopped their restless movements.

  If one of them stopped nosing the blanket.

  If she could stop shaking so her teeth would not chatter.

  The noise was closer and a little louder.

  She broke out in a cold sweat of panic. What if Alf had come back early? Or had the two hours passed?

  Her mouth and throat were desert dry. She tried to stop imagining what was out there, tried to stop thinking about being caught. The blanket’s inky smothering protection only added to her fear.

  Kee had watched the bull’s horns of the new moon rise slowly over the harsh mountainside to give enough light for him to pick out small features of the land immediately surrounding him. The dry wash on the other side was his goal.

  He had an easy time finding their trail. For one thing, they had done little to conceal it, the other was Outlaw’s fondness for those mares. He wasn’t about to let them ride off without him.

  Kee left the mustang ground-tied below while he climbed the rock face siding the deep wash. The smell of a fire grew stronger as he neared the top. He was sure he had caught up with Alf Dennis and his partner. Just as he had been sure when trailing them that there were only three riders, Isabel being the third. It nagged him that the other man from this morning had gone missing. Unless these polecats had a falling-out and killed him.