Her Dearest Enemy (17 page)

“Jenny!” Her voice echoed off the walls. “Where
are you?”

A huge shape stirred in the darkness and she could
hear the sound of heavy breathing. Harriet’s heart
was in her throat by the time she realized it was only
a horse, most likely the one Harvey had ridden here.

Nerves screaming, she edged past the horse and
moved deeper into the tunnel. “Jenny!” she called
again. “Can you hear me?”

In the darkness she could hear the distant sound
of dripping water and the fluttering wings of a bat.
Then a thready whisper arose from the shadows.
“Harriet…thank heaven…”

Harriet moved toward the voice but could see
nothing at all. “Get me a lantern!” she shouted back
at Harvey. “Now!”

She had expected some resistance, but seconds
later she heard the sound of rummaging. Flickering
yellow light revealed rough, sagging timbers festooned
with cobwebs. Boxes of canned food and the
trash of years littered the floor.

“Git that baby here fast, Schoolmarm,” Harvey
growled, hanging the lantern on a nail. “I’ll be leavin’
soon to git a good start afore first light. And baby or
no baby, you’ll be goin’ with me.” He spat a stream
of tobacco on the ground and lumbered back toward
the mine’s entrance.

Jenny was lying on a filthy horse blanket. She
looked like a child’s doll abandoned in a rainstorm,
her dress torn and muddied and wet from her own
fluids. Her hair was a mass of tangles and her blue
eyes were wild with pain and terror.

Harriet dropped to her knees, set her bundle aside
and took the small, cold hands in her own. Jenny
began to cry softly, tears running down her mud-
smeared cheeks.

“Will and your father are outside, Jenny,” Harriet
said softly. “They’ll be here as soon as they can, but
first we need to get that baby here. How long have
you been in labor?”

“A…long time.” Speaking seemed almost too
great an effort for her. “The pains started on the way
here—on the horse. He wouldn’t stop…oh!” The
childlike fingers dug into Harriet’s flesh as another
pain seized her body. Her head rolled back and forth
on the blanket. The cords on her neck bulged with
strain as the pain built, crested and passed. “My
baby,” she whispered, “I can’t feel him moving anymore.
I’m afraid something’s happened.”

“I need to examine you,” Harriet said. “Dr. Tate
told me what to look for and what to do. We’re going
to get you through this, Jenny. Now, hold still.”

Raising Jenny’s sodden skirt, she probed gingerly
with her fingertips. What she felt confirmed her fears.

“You’re ready to give birth, but the baby’s in the
wrong position,” she said. “I’ve got to turn him. It’s
going to hurt, Jenny. You’ll need to be very brave.”

“I know,” Jenny whispered. “Just save my baby.”

Harriet rolled up her sleeves, trying not to think
about what she had to do. If she thought about it, she
would never have the courage to begin.

Jenny whimpered as another hard contraction took
her. Harriet stroked her face, her hands, waiting for
the pain to pass. The doctor had told her to work between
contractions. But with the pains coming almost
one on top of another, she would have to work swiftly.

“Hurry it up back there!” Harvey’s voice echoed
down the tunnel. “It’s time we was makin’ tracks,
teacher woman.”

Harriet’s heart shrank in her chest. What if he
tried to take her before the baby came? She felt the
weight of Brandon’s pistol against her leg and she
knew that, if need be, she would use it.

The contraction had ebbed. Harriet reached under
Jenny’s skirts, praying as she worked by touch, groping
for the spine, the tiny buttocks, the head. Jenny
ground her teeth, biting back screams of agony as the
baby shifted. Then, suddenly, it was done. The baby’s
head slipped naturally into the birth canal. Harriet
sank back onto her heels, her heart slamming, her
body soaked in sweat.

Harvey’s big boots came tramping down the tunnel.
A moment later he stepped into the light, leading
the horse. “Ain’t waitin’ for no fool baby!” he
growled. “Horse is packed and I’m ready to go!
You’re comin’ with me now, Schoolmarm!”

He took a step toward her. In one quick move Harriet
pulled the pistol out of her pocket and thumbed
back the hammer. “Take one more step and I’ll blow
your head off,” she said quietly. “Now, unbuckle your
gun belt, drop it on the ground and kick it over here.”

Rage glittered in Harvey’s eyes, but he did as he
was told. She ought to shoot him, Harriet thought.
That would end the danger to them all. For the space
of a heartbeat her finger tightened on the trigger. But
even then, she knew she could not take a human life.
Harvey Keetch was not a monster, just a grieving,
desperate and foolish man.

“Get out of here, Harvey,” she said. “You’ve got
the money. Take it and go before I change my mind
about killing you.”

He hesitated and Harriet could almost see the
wheels turning in his mind. Without a hostage, he
would be arrested or shot as soon as he left the sheltering
tunnel. Better to take stay and gamble on the
chance that this woman lacked the stomach to carry
out her threat.

“Harriet—” The feeble cry came from Jenny. She
was gasping frantically, grunting with effort as she
bore down. “The baby! It’s coming now!”

Harriet glanced toward the helpless girl. In that
second the standoff was lost. With surprising quickness,
Harvey sprang at her, seized her wrist and
twisted Brandon’s gun from her hand.

“Now, Schoolmarm,” he growled, pointing the
weapon at her. “I’m goin’ now and you’re comin’
with me. Else I’ll blow a hole through that purty
head of yours.”

She willed herself not to look at him. “I’ll be no
good to you dead, Harvey,” she said. “Now leave me
alone. I need to deliver this baby.”

“Women can have babies by theirselves. My ma
done it.”

Harriet ignored him. Her hands groped beneath
Jenny’s muddy skirts. “Almost there,” she murmured.
“When the next pain comes, push, Jenny. Push for all
you’re worth.”

The contraction came as she spoke. Jenny arched
her exhausted body, screaming with effort as, with
the last of her strength, she pushed her infant out into
the world.

There was an awful tick of silence, then a tiny
gasp and a miraculous, mewling cry as the baby
filled and emptied its lungs, breathing, kicking,
squirming. Alive. Harriet cradled the tiny creature
between her knees while she tied and cut the cord.
Her emotions were raw and sharp, like a fresh cut.
Tears of relief flowed down her face. “You’re a
mother, Jenny,” she said as she wrapped the child in
the flannel blanket. “You have a beautiful, perfect little
boy.”

“Let me hold him.” Pale but radiant, Jenny held
out her arms and gathered her son close, kissing his
puckered rosebud face and brushing back his wet
blond curls. “Oh, Harriet, I could never have given
him away!” she whispered.

“I know you couldn’t. And I think your father
knows it, too.” Harriet leaned closer. “What you heard
back there at the house, that’s never mattered to him.
He loves you, Jenny. He wanted me to tell you that.”

“Thank you,” Jenny said, her eyes welling with
tears. “And thank you for my baby, Harriet. Now I
need Will. And he needs to see his boy.”

“He’ll be here,” Harriet said. “As soon as—”

Her words ended in a gasp as Harvey jammed the
pistol’s cold muzzle against her throat. “No more
stalling, Schoolmarm,” he hissed, twisting her arm
behind her back. “The little brat’s here. You done
your job. We’re gettin’ out now.”

Harriet willed herself not to show fear. After all,
she had put him off before. “I’m not finished,” she
protested. “I need to tend to Jenny or she’ll bleed—”

“You’re finished.” He jerked her to her feet, pulling
her backward, toward the horse. “But just to show
you my heart’s in the right place, teacher lady, I’m
givin’ you a choice.”

“A choice?” She gurgled the words as the pistol
pressed into her neck.

“That’s right,” he rasped. “There’s a new card in
the deck now, and here’s how it plays. Either you
come with me and behave yourself nice and proper,
or I leave you here and take the baby.”

T
he three men waiting at the mouth of the mine
could not hear the words spoken in the tunnel. But
Jenny’s scream and the baby’s cry were sharp enough
to echo off the earthen walls and reach their ears.

Will was first to react. He charged for the entrance
and would have plunged headlong into the tunnel if
Matt and Brandon hadn’t caught his arms and held
him back.

“Let me go!” he gasped, struggling forward. “Jenny
needs me!”

“She doesn’t need you getting shot,” Matt growled.
“Our friend Harvey will pump you full of lead if you
go blundering in there now.”

“But how can we just stand out here?” Will’s hair
had fallen into his eyes. He looked young and frightened.
“Jenny could be in trouble! The baby could be
in trouble! They could even be dying!”

“Harriet’s with her.” Brandon did his best to sound
reassuring, though his own nerves were like shards
of splintered glass. “She’ll know what to do.”

Will sagged in defeat, breathing hard. “I’m all
right,” he mumbled. “Let me go.”

Releasing him, they sank into the uneasy silence
of helpless men. Small, ordinary night sounds—the
scurry of a pack rat, the cry of a nighthawk, clawed
at their senses. The horses, which Will had brought
along when he’d come down from the ridge, stirred
and snorted in the shadows.

Brandon thought of Harriet with her capable
hands, her keen mind and her courageous heart. At
a time like this, there was no one he would rather
have at Jenny’s side. But with a crazed criminal holding
them hostage, anything could happen. Before the
night was out, he could lose the people he loved, and
the words he longed to say to them would remain unspoken
forever.

“Sheriff!” Harvey’s voice bellowed from the depths
of the mine. “I’ve got the schoolmarm and I’m comin’
out. Give me plenty of room and nobody’ll get hurt.”

“We hear you, Harvey!” Matt shouted. “Let Miss
Smith go and we’ll give you all the room you want.”

“No deal, Sheriff!” Harvey’s voice came from
nearer the entrance now. “Teacher here’s my insurance
policy. Anybody comes after me and she won’t
look so purty when they find her.”

Something large moved in the darkness and they
heard the nicker of a horse. “What about Jenny and
the baby?” Matt shouted. “Are they all right?”

Harvey snorted, leaving the question unanswered.
“Soon as I’m on my way, they’re all yours. Now git
back, we’re comin’ out.”

A shower of earth cascaded to the floor as the
horse moved forward. The tunnel was too low for a
rider to sit upright. Harvey and his hostage would
have to duck against the horse’s neck to keep from
hitting the timbers that supported the ceiling. It
would be all too easy to trigger a cave-in that would
bury Jenny and the baby.

“Careful,” Brandon warned the others as they
moved clear. “Don’t spook him.”

“I don’t plan to,” Matt muttered, but Brandon noticed
that his right hand was resting on the butt of his
holstered revolver. Will stood poised to dash into the
tunnel as soon as the way was clear.

“
Ha!
” Harvey shouted as the horse exploded out
of the opening. He was leaning low in the saddle with
Harriet crushed in front of him. His pistol was cocked
and aimed at her head. Her eyes met Brandon’s
through the fading darkness.

“Jenny’s fine!” she shouted, risking her life to let
him know. “It’s a boy! Go to her!”

The horse shot out onto the tailings, then wheeled
abruptly and plunged up the slope toward the trees.
Will sprinted into the tunnel shouting Jenny’s name.
Matt vaulted onto his big chestnut gelding.

“No!” Brandon caught the bridle before the sheriff
could kick the horse to a gallop. “Stay here and
help with Jenny. I’ll go after them.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed. “Have you forgotten which
one of us is sheriff here? This is my job. Let me do it.”

“Listen to me.” Brandon gripped the bridle harder.
“You’re the law. Harvey won’t let you get near him,
and he’ll use Harriet to keep you away. But I’m the
one he really wants. He blames me for everything
that’s happened, and he’ll be out there waiting to
even the score. I need to go after him alone. It’s our
one best chance of getting her back.”

Matt hesitated; then, seeing the sense of the argument,
he drew his pistol and offered the grip to Brandon.
“You’ll need this,” he said. “And take my horse.
It’s the fastest one we’ve got. Be careful, and good
luck to you.”

Seconds later Brandon, armed and mounted, was
guiding the cat-footed gelding up the slope along the
path Harvey had taken. He was walking a tightrope,
he knew. Move too slowly and he could lose the trail.
Move too fast and he could spook Harvey into harming
Harriet. For now, he could only follow along and
hope to understand the game Harvey was playing.

Harriet’s life, he knew, could depend on that
understanding.

The sky had begun to pale above the eastern hills,
showing a faint gleam like pewter emerging from be
neath layers of tarnish. The dawn brought streaks of
silvery gray, delicately brushed with hues of opal
and carnelian that faded to palest blue as the first rays
of sunlight stole above the horizon.

Along the trail, dark patches of shadow materialized
into rocks and trees and bushes. From far down
the slope, a quail greeted the morning with a cry that
sounded like
lay-low, lay-low
.

Harriet blinked, squinting as a ray of sunlight
struck her eyes. The trail had been winding steeply
upward for what seemed like hours. Now, in the distance,
she could see a massive, honeycombed outcrop
of rocky ledges running above a deep canyon
where a creek gushed along the bottom like a thread
of liquid silver. Was this where the trail—and her
life—would end?

The horse was spent. Its roan coat was lathered
and its sides heaved with the effort of carrying two
riders up the steep trail.

“You’ll kill this animal if you don’t rest him,”
Harriet said.

“He’ll git his chance to rest soon enough.” Harvey’s
unshaven chin brushed her ear. His breath
smelled of rotten meat and stale tobacco. “What’s
the matter, teacher lady? Gettin’ anxious to start the
fun? Ain’t never had me no poke at a schoolmarm
afore.”

“You’re a fool!” Harriet said, masking the horror
she felt. “Let me go and you could travel twice as
fast. You could be in Mexico in a few weeks, with
enough money to set you up for life.”

Harvey spat off the edge of the trail. “That’s just
what I mean to do. But not till after I git what I want.”

“Why risk staying here?” Harriet persisted. “If
you’re caught, you’ll go to prison for life. But nobody’s
going to chase you all the way to Mexico,
Harvey. The bank robbery failed, and Jenny’s safe.
The only real harm you did was to your own brother,
and that was nothing but a sorry accident—”

“Shut the hell up, woman!” Harvey stormed, jabbing
her shoulder with the pistol he held. “You think
I’m so stupid that I don’t know all that? I ain’t leavin’
till I git me that banker’s ears and balls to nail on the
wall of my Mexican hacienda, right over the fireplace
where I can see ’em every day. As for you, teacher
lady, I didn’t just bring you along for fun. I brought
you along for bait!”

Harriet’s empty stomach clenched as his plan hit
home. Harvey had made no effort to cover his tracks.
If Brandon was on their trail, Harvey could wait for
a good place to ambush him, then kill her and dump
their bodies where they’d never be found.

“That’s how much you know!” she said carelessly.
“Brandon Calhoun wouldn’t cross the street for me,
let alone risk his life.”

Harvey chortled. “I seen that kiss he gave you
afore you came into the mine. Strikes me he’d come
a long way for another kiss like that ’un.”

“Brandon’s daughter just had a baby and he’ll
want to stay with her. If anybody comes after us, it’ll
be the sheriff.”

“Then tough luck for him. And tough luck for
you. When I git to Mexico, it won’t matter how many
bodies I left hid in this canyon.”

His words sent a somber chill through her body.
She had cooperated with the bumbling Harvey in the
hope that he would let her go. But she should have
guessed the truth. He planned to kill her, along with
anyone who came after her. He was desperate, with
nothing to lose. And now, Harriet reminded herself,
so was she.

The trail leveled out as they neared the top of the
ledges. From her position in front of Harvey, Harriet
could look over the edge and trace the meandering
deer trail they’d followed upward from the creek bed.
Clumps of aspen and scrubby piñon pine screened
much of the path, but briefly, through the trees, she
detected a flicker of movement.

Harriet squinted into the morning sunlight, not
daring to shade her eyes. Maybe it had been an
animal she’d seen—a deer or even an elk. But when
she saw it again, passing through another open
spot, she realized it was a man on horseback, traveling
fast.

As the horse rounded the next curve, she recognized
Matt’s big chestnut. But even from a distance
she could see that the rider wasn’t the rangy young
sheriff. The solid shoulders, dark brown coat and
gray Stetson could only belong to Brandon.

An instinctive cry of alarm died in her throat. To
shout a warning to Brandon would betray his presence.
Oh, why hadn’t he stayed at the mine with
Jenny? He was riding into a trap, only half-aware of
the danger. She had told herself that she had nothing
to lose. But now that Brandon was here, all that
had changed. He had loved her enough to come
after her. She would not let him pay for that love
with his death.

How could she warn him? Even if he chanced to
look up, Brandon would be unlikely to see her with
Harvey. Like him, they were screened from view by
rocks and brush. She would have to find another way.

The idea came to her as she caught sight of a
twisted gray stick lying across the trail. Thinking
fast, she jabbed the horse’s sensitive belly with the
pointed toe of her boot. The animal flinched and
snorted nervously.

“Rattler! Look out!” She jabbed the horse again,
harder this time. The horse reared, throwing her back
against Harvey and causing him to lose his grip on
the pistol. By the time he’d recovered the weapon,
Harriet had tumbled to the ground, clambered to her
feet and was headed down the trail at a run.

“Stop, you bitch!” He fired a warning shot above
her head. Harriet kept on running. Her legs were
rubbery from hours of sitting on the horse and she
knew she wouldn’t get far before Harvey caught her
again. But her idea had succeeded beyond her
wildest hopes.

As she rounded the first bend in the trail, she heard
the sound of hoofbeats behind her. Seconds later
Harvey reined up and leaped out of the saddle, brandishing
the stick she’d declared to be a rattlesnake.

“You stupid female!” Catching her by the hair, he
brought the stick down hard across her back. “Here’s
your gol-damned snake! I ought to break every bone
in your body with it. But I want to keep you purty
for a while. Never could git it up for an ugly woman.”

With Harvey still pounding on her back, Harriet
swung toward the riderless horse. She would never
make it into the saddle with the solid grip Harvey had
on her hair. But there was one thing she might be
able to do.

With all her remaining strength she brought the
flat of her hand down on the horse’s rump. The startled
roan jumped, squealed and bolted down the trail,
carrying the food and water, the blankets and Harvey’s
rifle, which had been slung from the saddle in
a leather scabbard.

Flinging Harriet to the ground, Harvey plunged
after the fleeing roan. He ran a few steps. Then, seeing
the chase was hopeless, he drew his pistol and
swung back toward Harriet. The murderous expression
in his eyes told her she had pushed him too far.
Not only had she cost him his horse and supplies, but
the loss of the rifle would prevent him from getting
a long-distance shot at Brandon.

“You damned hellcat,” he snarled, “I could shoot
you here and now, right between those big brown
eyes. But I got plans for you when we git to where
we’re goin’. Move it, you banker’s whore!” He
jabbed her ribs with his pistol.

“I’m sore from riding,” Harriet complained, dragging
her feet as slowly as she dared, giving Brandon
more time to catch up with them.

“You’ll be sore from somethin’ else when I’m
through with you,” he said with a sneer. “We’re
gonna put on a show for that boyfriend of yours afore
I kill him.” He jabbed her again with the pistol. “Oh,
I know the bastard’s somewhere close by. Elsewise,
why’d you be actin’ so contrary? But I’ll git him.
You’ll see.”

He fished a plug of tobacco out of his pocket and
bit off a chaw. “When I’m out in the woods and I
want to catch me a coyote, all I have to do is hole up
somewhere and make a squeal like a wounded rabbit
hurtin’ real bad. Purty soon that old coyote pops
his head up to look, and that’s when I git him.
Huntin’ a man ain’t much different,’ specially when
I got me such a nice tender rabbit to make the squeal.”

Snaking his free hand around her, he squeezed her
breast hard. Harriet bit back a yelp of pain. She
would never give Harvey the satisfaction of hearing
her scream, she vowed. Not even if he killed her.

* * *

Brandon spurred the big chestnut up the slope,
keeping to the cover of aspen and maple thickets and
avoiding the open game trails where he might be
seen from above. He had heard the gunshot and Harvey’s
raging shouts. He had even managed to catch
the loose roan and tether it in a patch of grassy shade.
Harvey’s rifle, loaded and ready, lay behind the saddle,
within easy reach.