the Shadow Riders (1982) (16 page)

"Kate," Dal said.

"Kate? Are you crazy?"

"No, sir. Kate, with the end of a stick. I showed her how. Don't you remember what we learned from that character named Dugan? To thrust with a stick, not strike?"

Mac stared at the body. "Dal, take some advice from your big brother. If you marry that girl, be nice to her. You hear me?"

Chapter
Sixteen.

Night was coming, and Kate was alone. The big horse she was riding was fractious and difficult. She was tired and wanted to rest. Twice she had riders pass within a few yards of her, but now they seemed to be riding back toward the beach. From a word or two she had overheard she was sure the ship she had glimpsed was now at anchor.

If so, Ashford would be meeting with them, but what did he now have to offer? Perhaps there was money in one of the wagons; she did not know. She knew of none in her wagon, but she had heard of secret compartments in the floors of such wagons.

Now she wanted, desperately, to rest. She was hungry, but it was sleep she needed most. But where? How? There must be two dozen men roaming through the woods aside from the Travens. From time to time she heard outbursts of firing.

Suppose she rode to Connery's ranch? To do so meant she must ride across open range for some distance, and in clear view of anybody who was watching. The big horse she rode was tired and could not stand a long run.

She had seen nothing of the girls, although a glimpse of the wagons indicated no movement, not even guards, hence nothing to guard. They had been taken away or had escaped.

Martin Connery had offered to let her stay, but she had chosen to return to help the girls. They had needed her, but now they were gone. Where, she did not know.

There was a small chain of lakes that ran parallel to Mission River. So for there had been no movement or action there, and if she could find her way she might find a place where she could simply lie down, if only for a few minutes.

She had checked the rifle and pistol she had acquired along with the horse. Both were loaded, both ready for use. Yet she had only the ammunition they carried, no more.

Stopping by a small stream she let the big horse drink, and lying down, she drank from the stream near her horse, holding the reins.

It was a quiet place. She looked around a small clearing, then went back to the edge of the trees, leading the horse.

There was a place there under the trees, a mossy green place. There was a rope on the horse, and she picketed him on the grass, tying the rope to the tree near her. Putting the rifle on some leaves at her side, she slid the pistol back under the leaves but where it could be quickly reached. Only then did she lie down. Almost at once, she was asleep.

Darkness gathered in the forest, and stillness was its companion. Small animals began to prowl, and in the trees birds ruffled their feathers. An owl questioned the darkness, then flew past on silent wings, a ghostly predator sweeping through the trees. A red wolf, seeking prey, smelled the sleeping girl, the horse, the sweaty leather of the saddle, and shied away, interested but wary. A snake crawled by within a few feet, but the horse snorted and stomped his feet, and the snake moved away, headed toward the nearby lake and the frogs it heard.

Bats swirled and dived and fluttered in the starlit darkness above the stunted forest. The sleeping girl turned on her side, and the rider heard the movement and drew up to listen. He heard the horse cropping grass, then slowly and carefully dismounted. The leather creaked as he swung down, and for a moment he stood very still, afraid the sound had awakened her. After a moment he tied his horse to a tree.

Tip-toeing to make no sound he went near her, looked down at her for a moment, then crossed to a nearby tree and sat down where he could watch her. He took off his wide sombrero and laid it, crown down, on the grass. After a moment he took off his boots and placed them carefully alongside his hat. Then he drew a pistol and laid it in his lap.

The girl turned restlessly in her sleep, and his hand went to the pistol, but she relaxed into deeper sleep.

In the deep stillness of the night a great flock of the whooping cranes swept in to a landing on the lake, settling like a white cloud upon the dark water. For a long moment the lake and the forest were silent, then slowly the night sounds renewed their strength. In the last hour before dawn frail streamers of mist floated in from the sea, huddling among the trees like so many ghosts called to picnic upon the damp grass. The man with the pistol returned it to his holster and shaking out his boots, drew them carefully on. Then he tip-toed to his horse and returned with a coffee-pot. He dipped water from the stream where a spring bubbled beneath the surface, and gathering dry wood from underneath old logs or breaking tiny twigs from the trunks of trees, he put together a small fire.

A thin tendril of fire lifted its questioning smoke, and the man selected a larger bit of dry wood from near a lady-slipper. The man looked at it. "You are the tricky one," he whispered. "You are the deadly one."

He walked back to his fire and added wood to boil the water. "Beautiful," he whispered, "and deadly." He glanced at the sleeping girl. "She is the same, I think."

When the water was boiling he added coffee and went back to sit by his tree.

Kate Connery opened her eyes to a gray sky above a canopy of leaves. Streamers of light touched the wraiths of fog, and they shuddered like virgins approached by lechers and disappeared. The sunlight remained. The girl lay still, not quite awake, not quite free from dreaming, only slightly aware of the coffee smell.

She sat up abruptly, and the man smiled and doffed his hat. "Buenos dias, senorita. I am Fraconi."

"I remember you."

Her rifle was still beside her. To place the situation in proper perspective, she drew her pistol from under the leaves and placed it in her lap.

He smiled. "Coffee will soon be ready. The bacon, I regret, must be grilled over the fire. It will lose something, yet when one is hungry ...?"

"I will enjoy it."

He got to his feet in one swift, graceful movement. "There ..." he pointed, "is a sheltered place where this stream enters the lake. If you wish to bathe or wash your face and hands, it is yours." He smiled again. "I regret the amenities are less than I would wish."

"You work for Captain Connery?"

He smiled again, a very different smile. "We are associated. Occasionally he has things for me to do. I do them. Otherwise, I am indolent. I live upon his bounty, on his ranch. I have fine horses to ride, enough to eat, occasionally a bottle of wine. Such a life is very simple, senorita. I prefer it so."

"He is near?"

"He is on the ranch, I believe. With Captain Connery one is never sure. He shares his decisions with no one. He might be there, he might be here. He sent me to find the Travens. Instead I have found you, which is better."

Kate went into the trees and looked back. Fraconi was at the fire, his back to her. She bathed a little, splashing water on her face and shoulders. Then she put on her blouse and returned to the fire.

"Eat," he suggested. "There may be much riding."

She accepted the cup he offered and took bacon from the pronged stick hanging above the fire. She had not realized she was so hungry.

"You are an interesting woman," he said.

She looked at him coolly, not sure what was in his mind. "Each in his own way may be interesting," she said.

"You would kill a man, I think."

"If it were necessary. One does what one must. One survives," she added.

"Back there," he waved a hand at the woods, "I found a dead man. His throat was badly torn. I think he choked on his own blood."

She felt a little sick, and said nothing. "One dead man," he added, "but two hats. One floating on the water."

"Everybody," she said, "should learn to swim."

He cut strips from a slab of bacon and hung more on the prongs.

"I am no longer hungry," she said.

"Eat!" he commanded. "We have much riding, and we do not know when we will eat again. Drink much coffee ... it will help."

He walked away from the fire to listen. When he came back he said, "They are moving again, gathering on the beach, I think."

"But you cannot see them?"

"Of course not. They are far away. Nevertheless, I think that is what they do, and I think the Travens look for you.

"Last night I tell myself this. I look for the Travens. They look for you. So if I wait with you, they will find you, and I shall find them. So, it is simple, is it not?

"Besides," he added, smiling, "it saves much riding, much looking, much trouble. I am, as I have said, indolent."

She looked at him over her coffee-cup. "I do not think you are indolent. I also think you are a gentleman."

For the first time he looked slightly embarrassed. "I am complimented."

He sat silent for a few minutes, and then he said, "It is good of you to say so, but in all honesty I must confess I am something of a rascal, and Captain Connery knows it well."

"And yet he has you working for him?"

He looked up, some pride in his words. "He trusts me, senorita."

"You are not Spanish?"

"Italian, but I grew to manhood in Spain and in the Canary Islands."

He saddled the horses and led them to water. Kate waited, listening for some sound from the forest or the beach. It was such a relatively small area, and yet with so many enemies about neither those who looked for her nor she herself dared attract attention, for fear it would be the attention of the wrong people.

She had for what seemed a long time lived only from hour to hour, even minute to minute, so that she longed for home - her own kitchen, her own yard, her own people. And Dal was out there, perhaps wounded and dying.

Fraconi lingered. "I would take you to Captain Connery despite the fact that he sent me for the Travens, but we should go after dark when we can cross the open plains without being seen. Those salt grass meadows offer no cover except here and there a low spot."

"I want to find the Travens. I believe we should look because if we do not they will continue to look for me, risking their lives all the while." They rode out, toward the beach. The wagons remained where they were, but there were neither horses nor oxen near them, and the beach itself was white and empty. Drawn up on the beach were three boats, but there was not a man in sight, not any movement.

Puzzled, Kate stood in her stirrups ... nothing. Fraconi looked equally puzzled. "Three boats? Each, I think, will carry twenty men, although I doubt they carried so many. Yet how many? And where are they?"

There was a stilling behind them. Fraconi turned like a cat ... too late.

There were a dozen men there, seamen by the look of them. All had guns. The man in command was a surly-looking ruffian. "Lift no hand if you wish to live," he said, "and get down from those horses!"

Kate slapped her heels into her mount and as the horse leaped forward she dropped to the for side of him, Indian-fashion. The horse leaped into a run and was plunging for the sand-hills when a shot rang out, then another.

She felt the horse shudder as he took the bullet, but as he started to fall, she sprang free. She had not grown up on a ranch for nothing.

She sprang free, tumbled upon the sand, and got up and started to run.

Then they were all around her, and two men grabbed her arms, jerking her roughly around.

"Do her no harm," the officer said, "that was most expressly mentioned. She's worth a thousand in gold if she's unharmed."

He glanced at her appraisingly. "I'd give two thousand, myself!"

He glanced around suddenly. "Damn it all! Where's the other one?"

Fraconi was gone.

He swore bitterly. "Did none of you see him?"

"It was her we were sent to get, sir," a seaman said. "When she tried to get away, we tried to stop her."

The officer shrugged. "Very well, forget him. He was of no importance, anyway. Take her now. She goes aboard ship."

Then he lifted his hand. "Hold up! We must let Captain Hammond know, and Colonel Ashford as well. Jamie," he said to the boy with them, "run off for the Captain now. Do you be telling them we've captured our prize. We will wait here."

The boy ran off, and there was silence. The officer glanced at the men. "You may smoke," he said, "but be watchful. She's a tricky lass."

"And a niece to Captain Martin Connery," she said.

There was an absolute silence, then the officer said, "What was that you said, ma'am?"

"I said I was a niece to Captain Connery, whose ship the Golden Vanity lies in Mission Bay, if you will but look."

She'd heard it said that seamen knew of each other as landsmen often do and that reputations travel far. It had been said that seamen, wherever they might be, knew of Martin Connery and his ship.

"Mr. Masters, sir?" He was a tall young man with blond hair. "We didn't reckon on this, sir."

"And neither did I," Masters said irritably. He glanced at Kate again. "Ma'am? You are niece to Captain Connery, of the Vanity?"