Kid Calhoun (13 page)

“Guess you were right,” Jake admitted. “That bullet has to come out.” A wry smile twisted his lips before he continued, “Since either me or you has to do it, I vote for you.”

The Kid hesitated, then reached for the knife at his belt. “All right. I’ll do it.” He put his knife in the fire to burn it clean, then set it on a rock to let it cool.

Jake chose a stick from the pile near the fire. “Go ahead. I’m ready.” He put the wood between his teeth and bit down against the pain to come.

The muscles corded in Jake’s neck, and his hands fisted at his sides as the Kid began to probe with his knife. He hoped to hell the Kid knew what he was doing—that he wasn’t cutting tendon and sinew that Jake would need later to walk.

“I’m done,” the Kid said at last.

Jake looked into the outlaw’s deep blue eyes and saw that the Kid had survived the ordeal on pride and stubbornness alone. “Thanks,” Jake murmured.

The Kid rooted in Jake’s saddlebags for something he could use as a bandage. He wrapped the wound with one of Jake’s shirts, which he tore into strips for the purpose. Then he rose and began saddling his horse.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jake demanded.

“Out for some air.”

Jake drew his Colt, which had gotten almost too heavy to hold, and pointed it at the Kid.

“Hold it there,” he ordered. “You’re not going anywhere.”

The Kid turned and looked at him with steady eyes. His hand hovered over his Colt. “I don’t think you’ll shoot me. You owe me your life.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “Nevertheless, I’m taking you in.”

The Kid’s eyes looked troubled, and he gnawed on his lower lip, making him look even more like the kid he was. “I’m not who …” He seemed to change his mind about what he wanted to say. He thrust his chin out and said, “I give you my word I’ll be back.”

Jake’s lip curled. “The word of an outlaw?”

“Even an outlaw can have honor.”

“Not in my experience,” Jake said bluntly.

“You’re going to have to shoot me to keep me here,” the Kid said.

“Don’t think I won’t,” Jake warned.

The Kid apparently believed him, because he leaned against the wall of the cave and crossed his arms belligerently.

Beyond the fire, at the mouth of the cave, Dog suddenly appeared. He whined once, but didn’t come inside. Jake focused his attention on the animal to try
and stay awake. He called to the animal, urging him to come inside, to the warmth of the fire. But Dog stayed where he was.

Jake felt cold and wondered whether it really was chilly in the cave or if the feeling came from inside. Jake’s throat felt parched, and his leg ached. His eyes were already half-closed when he realized he had almost fallen asleep. He tightened his hold on the Colt in his hand and stared at the outlaw across the cave from him.

The next thing Jake knew, the Kid had tugged the gun free of his hand, leaving him unarmed. He was helpless now. At the mercy of his enemy. Gentle fingers tested the pulse at his throat. Lean strength lifted his head so he could drink.

Jake tried to hold onto consciousness. His life might very well depend upon it. The darkness slipped over him and sucked him down.

Anabeth let her eyes roam over the pale, chilled man. Her feelings for him confused and annoyed her. She had interrupted her trail of vengeance to help him. But she couldn’t for the life of her understand why she had done it.

At first she had trailed Jake because he was following Wat Rankin. She had seen the trap and realized she didn’t want him killed. It had been a spur of the moment decision to help him. And look what had happened. Now she either had to stay here with Jake until he got well enough to travel or figure out a way to get him back to Santa Fe.

It was the latter solution she had finally decided upon while she was waiting for Jake to lose consciousness. She would leave Jake Kearney on the back steps of Eulalie Schmidt’s boardinghouse where Anabeth Smith could discover him when she went to get kindling for the morning fire in the kitchen.

Anabeth admitted to herself with chagrin that she didn’t want to let Jake Kearney out of her sight until she was sure he was well. She knew full well it was a mistake to get involved with the Ranger, but the man fascinated her. However forbidding his countenance—and with those steely gray eyes and that scar turning down his mouth it could be awesome—she found herself attracted to him, compelled to know more about him.

It had been downright reckless to reveal herself to the Texas Ranger as Kid Calhoun. He believed her to be a thief and a murderer.
He thought she was a man
.

Anabeth had no intention of correcting his mistake. Especially since Kid Calhoun was about to disappear again. Nor was she about to allow her inexplicable feelings for Jake Kearney to distract her from exacting vengeance for her uncle’s death.

She thought back over the events of the past evening. She had wanted to make Grier suffer the way Booth had suffered. The outlaw had cheated her by choosing death instead of life as a cripple. But Grier’s death was only the beginning. Her vengeance would not be complete until all the members of Booth’s gang—especially Wat Rankin—had paid for their treachery.

Just before dawn she would take Jake Kearney into Santa Fe. Then Kid Calhoun would disappear again while sweet, submissive Anabeth Smith continued plotting the downfall of the Calhoun Gang.

Anabeth was dozing when she heard a stone turn at the mouth of the cave. She was fully awake in an instant, her gun in hand. What she saw in the firelight had her smiling in welcome relief. “Wolf! What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“Who could not see the light from your fire, Stalking Deer?”

Stung by Wolf’s censure, Anabeth stopped her movement toward the Apache. “I needed the light to—”

“Why are you here? I did not think to see you again.”

Anabeth heard the longing in Wolf’s voice. And the anger. Their parting had not been an easy one. Wolf had not yet forgotten or forgiven their argument. He had a right to ask why she had not left for Colorado as she had vowed she would.

Her explanation was equally painful. “Booth is dead. He was murdered—by his own gang! I couldn’t go to Colorado—”

Wolf stiffened as he suddenly became aware of the figure lying in the shadows. “Who is there?”

Anabeth laid a hand on Wolf’s forearm. It was taut as a bowstring. “His name is Jake Kearney. I’ve been
trying to tell you—I needed the light to watch over him. He was ambushed and wounded by Booth’s gang. I removed a bullet from his leg, but he’s lost a lot of blood.”

Anabeth left Wolf to kneel beside Jake. She put her hand to his throat, seeking a pulse. The beat was faint.

Wolf searched the face that was precious to him, surprised by the concern he saw there for the stranger. A sharp, uncomfortable feeling rose in his breast.

Jealousy
.

He told himself his feelings were unfounded. Nevertheless, within him rose the urge to kill the white man. Wolf did not crush it, but he did not act on it, either. The death of Stalking Deer’s uncle changed everything. Now there was no need for her to go away. Now she could stay with him.

Then and there he made a vow to himself that he would have Stalking Deer for his wife. She would learn to love him. He was certain of it. As for the white man, he could be killed if he became a threat to Wolf’s plans.

Anabeth’s eyes begged for understanding from Wolf. When her silent plea did nothing to move him she explained, “I had to help him. I couldn’t let him die.”

Wolf’s lips flattened, but otherwise his face revealed nothing of what he felt at this further proof of Stalking Deer’s attachment to the other man.

The sound of voices dragged Jake back to consciousness. When he saw an Apache at the mouth of the cave he grabbed for his gun—only it wasn’t there. Though his mind knew what he must do to save himself, his body refused to help him. When he tried to move his hands, they lay there like lumps of clay. He
turned his head and discovered the Kid kneeling beside him.

“Apache!” The warning Jake shouted in his head came out in a whisper.

“Lie still.”

Jake gritted his teeth at the fire in his leg when he tried to move. “Dammit! Get my gun!”

Anabeth laid the weight of her body across Jake’s chest to keep him still. Weak as he was, it was still a struggle to subdue him. “Be still,” she urged. “It’s all right. He’s a friend.”

The Kid’s reassurance echoed in Jake’s ears as he succumbed once again to the blackness that wrapped itself around him.

“He’s fainted,” Anabeth said. She was more worried than she cared to admit. “The fever’s getting worse.”

Wolf reached across Anabeth’s shoulder and caught her chin, turning her to face him. “Come away from here. You have done all you can.”

“I can’t leave him alone,” she protested. “I have to get him back to Santa Fe.”

“What is this man to you?”

Too quickly Anabeth replied, “Nothing!” She knew as she spoke that it was less than the truth. But how could she explain to Wolf what she didn’t understand herself? “He needs my help.” Her eyes searched Wolf’s for some sign that he understood. “Would you leave one of your own kind who was in trouble?”

“An Apache would not want another to stand a death watch over him,” Wolf countered.

“He’s not going to die!” Anabeth broke away and stalked the length of the cave. “And I’m not leaving.” She turned to face Wolf, her arms crossed in determination. “You’re free to go.”

Wolf considered taking her away by force. Pride kept him from admitting that such a thing was needful.
He did not have to lay his heart before her to be trampled. Especially now that she was not leaving right away for Colorado, he would have time to woo her properly. He turned to depart but stopped when Anabeth called to him.

“Wait! Won’t you stay and talk with me?”

“What is there to say?”

“I …” She wanted to share with him everything that had happened since she had seen him last. How she was seeking vengeance for Booth’s death. How she had adopted the disguise of a woman in Santa Fe. Most of all, she wanted to ask him about the strange feelings she had for Jake Kearney.

She met his dark-eyed gaze and found no encouragement to share her thoughts and feelings. It was as though Wolf had thrown up a stone wall between them. The openness they had enjoyed since they were children was gone as though it had never existed. Before her stood not her beloved friend, but a threatening stranger. A stranger who wanted her in a way she could not handle.

Before Anabeth could find words to breach the unfamiliar chasm between them, Wolf was gone. She suddenly realized how cold it was in the cave. She built up the fire until it crackled and roared, filling up the ominous silence.

While Jake slept, Anabeth cut some pine saplings and used a blanket and rope to rig a travois. An hour or so before dawn she shook the Ranger awake.

“You have to help me. You’re too big for me to tote by myself.”

Anabeth coaxed, and Jake responded by moving where she directed him. Once she had him tied down on the travois she headed for Santa Fe. She had to get to town before first light. She didn’t want to be seen by anybody who might ask for explanations she would be hard-pressed to make. And she had to get
back inside the boardinghouse before Anabeth Smith’s absence was discovered.

On the trip back to town Anabeth became conscious of something shadowing their movements. She feared reprisals from the gang, but the shadow turned out to be animal, rather than human. It was a dog. A huge, shaggy black dog that followed them, never getting too close, or too far behind. Anabeth found the presence of the dog strangely comforting. As long as he was around she knew that no one else followed her. When she reached the outskirts of Santa Fe, she noticed he was gone.

Jake was still unconscious when they arrived at the back door to Frau Schmidt’s boardinghouse, so Anabeth simply cut the travois free from his saddle and left it lying there. She took the two horses to the livery and walked back through the alleys to the boardinghouse. It was just breaking dawn as she slipped in the back door and into her room.

Anabeth yanked her shirt, trousers, and boots off, then stripped off her long johns and stuffed everything in the bottom drawer of the chest. She pulled on a clean chemise and drawers, a shirtwaist and a calico skirt, then donned a voluminous apron to cover it all.

She sat down to roll on stockings and slipped her feet into a pair of high-button shoes Sierra had loaned to her. There wasn’t time to do anything with her hair except pin up her braids and cover them with a large white kerchief tied at her nape.

She was halfway out the door to her room when she realized she had forgotten her spectacles. Anabeth quickly retrieved them, but left them perched at the far end of her nose so she would be able to see what she was doing. She skidded to a halt when she reached the kitchen and discovered that Frau Schmidt was there before her.

“Sorry I’m late. I’ll get some kindling,” Anabeth said, hurrying to the back door. She was so out of breath that it was easy to sound breathless and excited when she opened the door and “discovered” Jake lying there.