Love's Dream Song (18 page)

She wanted to scream and rail and beat her fists against his face for the lies, the cheating, the unforgivable destruction. How could he do this? Didn’t he know how it would pain Real Tall Man and the clan?

She thrust her head against rough stone until it hurt the back of her scalp.
Calm down
. But closing her eyes could not shut out the sight.

Maybe Arlo had found this camp by accident. Maybe this wasn’t planned. An inner voice insisted there had to be an explanation. Or maybe it was wishful thinking.

She glanced around the rock and took another look at the campsite to see if Jess were there. If he’d found the camp, he could be hiding nearby.

Conversation interrupted her speculation. She ducked her head back behind the rock.

“Have you got the mules?” Arlo asked.

“They’re tied up at the end of this box canyon.” The short, wiry blonde gestured behind him.

“You’ll need ’em. Those packs are heavy.” She recognized Arlo’s voice.

The other man shifted and Autumn caught a glimpse of his face. She didn’t know him. She’d remember the jagged scar that ran from his cheek into his red hair. He wasn’t one of Arlo’s guides.

She’d find out soon enough when she’d captured them, but she wondered how she was going to pull it off. Sweat dampened her palms and trickled down her spine as she planned her attack. She could take both in a showdown, but the odds were against it.

Then she saw it, three feet from her—a rifle. They’d left it leaning on a small boulder. Maybe she could get it before they saw her. Then again, maybe it wasn’t loaded. She couldn’t tell, but she’d have to take that chance.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the action she wanted. It played in her mind until she felt it would happen. She took a deep breath and spun from the rock. Grabbed the rifle, and stood with her feet planted apart.

“Don’t move,” she shouted. “I’ve got you covered.” Arlo spun on his heel. The scar-faced man dropped to the ground. She started to move forward and assert her command. A small sound from behind warned her, but not soon enough. Suddenly a blinding pain shot through the back of her head. The black velvet she’d yearned for all night enfolded her.

.

CHAPTER 12

Jess looked up at the cliff behind him. From its height he’d spotted the camp fire earlier and seen the men moving around it. Ahead, the terrain was gutted by a large ravine. To get to the camp, he’d have to cross it.

Slowly he inched his way down the steep side, careful not to loosen rocks or make any other noise. Occasional comments reached him even though the men were out of sight.

What a stroke of luck to have found the camp. He’d smelled the smoke and had hoped it would lead to the gunman. He’d bet his ranch that one of these men was in fact the one who’d shot at them yesterday.

Arlo’s presence was a puzzle, though. He must have come across them much the same way Jess had. He wondered if Ross had, as Autumn claimed, been in the canyon yesterday. He’d soon find out.

Jess stepped across the sandy bottom of the ravine and started to climb up the other side. A new voice joined the men.

Autumn.

Jess quickened his pace while his mind reeled. She could have awakened and tried to follow him. Maybe she’d smelled the smoke, as he had. The only other possibility sent waves of dread through him. He did not want to contemplate she had planned the meeting.

Halfway across the ravine, the tone of the voices changed. Arlo shouted, his words spurred Jess onward.

“Don’t kill her. She’s innocent.”

A mean laugh drowned out Arlo’s words. “You think you can stop me?”

Several gunshots rang out and Jess dove for cover. He listened, but silence echoed in the canyon. Another shot zinged past. Quickly, he lifted his rifle and pumped lead into the air.

“Throw down your weapons. You’re surrounded,” he shouted, praying the ruse would work.

His answer was another volley of shots, this time aimed in his direction.

Jess scrambled down the ravine and ran several yards to a new location. From the direction of camp he could hear sounds of action.

He mounted the side of the steep ravine and ducked behind a large boulder, expecting more gunfire. None came. He crawled around the large stone in time to see two men riding their horses down the canyon. Behind them, attached to a lead, was Arlo’s mount. Jess swore when he saw the two bodies thrown across its back. They had to be Arlo and Autumn.

There was no further need to proceed with caution. Jess ran, pausing only long enough to aim his rifle. He knew the shots were useless—the men were already out of range, but it relieved a small measure of his frustration.

His last shot echoed as he watched the horses disappear. In the predawn light he could barely see the trail of dust, but the sight of it raised anger and dread. Where were they taking Autumn and Arlo? What would they do to them if they were still alive.

Thoughts of Maria’s body burned into his brain—the torture and mutilation. If they touched a hair on Autumn’s head, there would be hell to pay.

And Arlo. After he had protested Autumn’s innocence, the men would know he suspected them. There was little chance they’d let the Indian live if, in fact, he wasn’t already dead.

Jess closed his eyes and willed his mind to a calm he was far from feeling, but needed if he was going to be of any help. Instinct urged him to run after the men, but they were on horseback. He must think this through.

With methods he’d learned from Daya, he visualized himself as strong and clever. In his mind he played the scene of capture and finally pictured Autumn, safe and secure in his arms. It didn’t occur to him to question the fact that he’d fallen into the ways of
Dineh
. He knew the method worked. He’d used it often in the army.

The danger Autumn and Arlo were in demanded he use every resource available. If his Apache teachings could save them, he’d use them.

At the campsite, he searched for clues to what had happened. A pool of blood dampened the hard-packed earth, forming a thick mud that was quickly drying in the morning heat.

Jess rubbed the moist earth between his fingers, sickened by the red stain it left. He wasn’t positive whose blood it was, but he could see it only in the imprint of one body—a man’s. Autumn had been spared. The gunmen might plan to use her as a hostage to guarantee their safety.

She wasn’t part of the ring. Relief filled him, but worry stifled the joy. He needed to find her first.

Jess kicked dirt on the campfire the men had left burning in their haste. His mind raced. The men had a definite advantage on horseback. It would take the whole day to get back to Coyote Springs and retrieve his mount, and he’d still have to wait until it was safe to traverse the flooded canyon.

Best to hike out of the canyon and head toward his ranch. He could call in a helicopter. A crew of ranch hands worked the northeast section. If lucky, he’d run into them.

In minutes he backtracked to last night’s campsite. Pangs of remorse hit when he spotted Autumn’s empty bedroll. If only she’d slept through this.

He gathered his gear and jammed it into his pack. It would be easier to travel light, but he didn’t know for sure how long he’d be out here. If he found tracks he could follow, he wouldn’t return to the ranch.

With his pack secured on his back, Jess hiked at a fast pace out of the canyon. The sun heated the red rocks. His steps automatic, his mind raced to figure out missing pieces to the puzzle. This latest event threw his theories to the wind.

Both men had been Anglos. Autumn was not involved, nor did it appear any of The People were in on it. If Arlo was still alive, he’d be happy to know both facts. Arlo hadn’t told his father that they believed Autumn was part of the operation. The suspicions about Autumn put a strain on their relationship with Real Tall Man.

The heavy drug traffic through the reservation had been of major concern to Arlo. He fought to keep his clan from dealing in drugs. The easy money and relative safety in handling the fly-ins from Mexico offered too much temptation.

If the Navajo weren’t involved, it would explain the activity at Coyote Springs. Without cooperation from the clan, it would be foolish for the drug smugglers to stage their activities on the reservation. Were they using the canyon on his property? The thought infuriated him. They would soon realize they’d made a poor choice.

With all the side canyons, avoiding the professor and his two students was feasible. The arrival of the crowd of scientists and reporters definitely crimped the smugglers’ activities. The explosion cleared out the area.

One thing bothered Jess. The explosion had occurred while everyone was at the kiva and out of danger. Too coincidental. Someone on the inside was leaking information. So if it wasn’t Autumn, who was it? Riker? Wayne Carson? He still hadn’t ruled out Connie Turner.

What were they doing at Coyote Springs? Surely the professor would figure something was wrong and try to find them. He groaned. It would be two or three days before any of that group would realize Jess was in trouble. By then he’d be out of the canyon, and more than likely, it would be too late for Autumn.

He crested the rim just as the sun slid below the skyline. The plateau stretched before him. If he continued hiking, he’d be at the ranch between midnight and dawn.

Jess lifted his pack off his back and set it on the rocky ground. Tired and hungry, he stopped long enough to fill his canteens at a natural spring. Apache warriors could run seventy miles in a day. They trained for speed and endurance. He took a deep breath, reminding himself again that he carried their blood.

Visions of Autumn haunted him. She’d been with the criminals for too many hours. Was she still alive? Were they hurting her? Jess clenched his fists.

Daya’s chant echoed. Slowly, he murmured the words. Negative thoughts disappeared. The words of the song strengthened his thinking. Courage and hope grew.

Closing his eyes he tried to focus on images of Autumn, safe and protected. When he opened them again, he found himself staring at Real Tall Man.

Quickly, he averted his gaze and greeted the older man in his native tongue. “
Yaá át ééh
. It is good.”

“There is trouble. I came.” He gestured toward four horses waiting patiently behind him.

Peace settled over Jess. He did not need to question how Real Tall Man knew of trouble. Psychologists could claim mental telepathy. The
hataali
would credit the spirits with a vision. At this point, it didn’t matter to Jess. The man was here and he had horses.

Jess explained to Real Tall Man what had happened. As he spoke he reached for his pack, ready to mount one of the horses and head for the ranch.

“Where are you going?” Real Tall Man asked.

His low tone clued Jess in to what was coming, but Jess ignored it. “I’ve got to find Autumn and Arlo. I’m going to call the sheriff and have him get some choppers out here.”

“There is no need for that. I can find them.”

Jess tamped the impatience that flared. The old ways had their virtues, but now was not the time to indulge in them—not with helicopters within calling distance, and especially not with lives at stake. He untied the lead of one of the horses from Real Tall Man’s saddle.

“We will have a stargazing ceremony, you and I. Then we will know where to find her,” Real Tall Man said.

Clamping his jaw to keep from saying something he’d regret, Jess hoisted his pack on the back of the horse. It didn’t take long to secure it behind the saddle, but it was enough time for Autumn’s grandfather to speak.

“You once believed in the way of The People. Trust me now. If you want your woman, you will pray.”

Pray. He wanted to scoff. All of his and Daya’s prayers hadn’t saved his father. No. He would use them to keep his mind clear and strong, but he wouldn’t trust Autumn’s welfare to them.

“What harm can come? Even if you return to the ranch now, the pilots can’t search until morning. Stay with me and I will ask the spirits to help us.”

For a moment, Jess wavered. One of the
hataali’s
specialties was finding missing persons. Two summers ago, tourists visiting Grand Canyon National Park had lost their son. A search party of a hundred men had scoured the area for hours. Finally Real Tall Man had been consulted. The child had been found before nightfall.

Jess sighed. Who was he to say that finding the boy had been coincidence? Real Tall Man’s way could work. He might see Autumn and Arlo in a vision. Besides, the medicine man was right about one thing: a helicopter search couldn’t start until morning.

Real Tall Man continued. “I will bargain with you. Stay the night. We will make a picture in the sand and chant the Vision Song. At dawn you can ride to where the spirits tell us. I will return to your place and call the sheriff.”

The deal tempted Jess. The most he would lose would be the two hours it would take to get to the ranch.

“I don’t know if they’re even still alive,” Jess muttered, more to himself than his companion.

“They live. I would know if they had passed from the world.”

Jess hated to ask the question, but couldn’t keep from doing so. “Is Autumn being tortured?”

Real Tall Man closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Jess held his, waiting for the answer, yet not wanting to hear it.

“I don’t feel pain. She’s surrounded by blackness.”

“Unconscious?”

“That is what I think.”

“But not dead.”

“Definitely not dead.”

Logic told him to ignore the older man, but his heart filled with hope and promise. He had to believe she was all right.

Jess lowered his head on the saddle and let the weariness take control. Daya’s words echoed in his head.
Sing the Vision Song. Stay true to your heart.

Again, logic demanded he mount the pinto and head for home. Yet he’d seen the power of the dream song to clear confusion from the mind. That alone would help him in his search. For several minutes more, he wavered. The two worlds warred inside his head. He barely heard Real Tall Man speak.

“Sit down and rest. I will get my things and we will begin.”

The procedure would take most of the night. Again Jess balked, but Real Tall Man went to collect his special bag of arrowheads, cornmeal, and quartz from his saddlebags as if Jess had already agreed. Against his judgment, Jess did as the
hataali
asked.

* * *

Throbbing pain came in waves to the back of Autumn’s head. Afraid to move, she remained still as she tried to think. What had happened? Where was she?

Memories of the camp fire slowly focused. Two men—yes, there had been two of them. But something—no, someone—had knocked her out. A third man must have been waiting for her. Suspicion set and jelled. It couldn’t have been Jess. She refused to believe that.

Between flashes of agony, images began to form. Emotional pain meshed with the physical, only this ache didn’t recede.
Jess
. He couldn’t have been the one who had knocked her out. But then, where
had
he been?

“No,” she moaned as she closed her eyes.

The sound echoed with chilling hollowness. Autumn’s eyes flew open. It was dark. She held her breath and listened, but there was only silence. Her senses focused on the ground below—cold rock.