The Temptress (22 page)

“But what about you? I can't go off and leave you.”

“After the way you were kissing Dysan, what do you care about me?”

“Dysan?” she asked, bewildered. “I was trying to get a knife from the box. I had to divert him. Tynan, are you jealous?”

“Definitely not. Now, are you going to get out there or are you going to waste time and maybe get us all killed?”

She nodded at him, but she didn't like it. She hoped he wasn't going to do something that would get him caught again. She didn't think Dysan would be so easy to overpower the second time.

“Good girl,” he said and started to turn away, but then abruptly turned back and pulled her into his arms. His kiss was hard and quick, so quick, in fact, he only undid three buttons, but it was a kiss filled with feeling. He released her as abruptly as he'd taken her. “I'll be all right,” he said over his shoulder. “You just get yourself out of here when you hear the gunshots.”

It seemed to Chris that it was the longest few minutes of her life while she waited for Tynan to begin firing. She crouched below the window and peeped out to see the tall, gaudily painted peddler's wagon surrounded by men with rifles over their shoulders. On top of the wagon was Pilar, dressed in odd, voluminous trousers of pale blue silk and a tiny top of matching silk. It was apparent that the costume hadn't been made for someone of Pilar's dimensions because the fabric strained everywhere, threatening to split apart at any moment. Chris guessed that that was half of the men's fascination with her—the hope that the garment would give way while they were watching.

While Chris was watching Pilar undulate, there suddenly came the sound of gunfire from the back of the house and the guards' reaction was instantaneous. They all took off running toward the sound.

Chris lost no time climbing out the window and running across the lawn to open the back of the wagon and climb inside. She heard Pilar yell down to Asher, on the wagon's seat, “She's in,” then the wagon started off at a breakneck speed.

Chris grabbed the side of the wagon and tried to hold her balance. The wagon was full of merchandise, from bolts of cloth to pots and pans to farm tools, nearly all of it fastened down so it couldn't fly about when the wagon moved.

The back door of the wagon flew open just as Chris regained her balance. As she reached forward to close it, she saw that they were traveling away from Dysan's big house.

“No!” she gasped, but there was no one in the back of the wagon to hear her.

If she was to get Asher to turn around, she had to do something and do it fast. Fighting the rocking of the wagon, she began to climb over the boxes that were stacked toward the front, grabbing a small handled axe off the wall as she moved.

It took three swings before the axe went through the front partition and came out uncomfortably close to Asher's right ear.

He turned to look at her in disbelief as she used her feet to kick the rest of the way through the thin wood. “You have to go back,” she yelled at Asher. “You can't leave Tynan back there.”

Pilar hung down from the top. “She's right,” she shouted over the sound of the horses. “We have to get Tynan out.”

“Then I'll go back but you two women stay here,” Asher said even as he was halting the horses.

“No!” the women screamed at him in unison.

Asher didn't say another word as he flicked the whip over the horses and headed back toward Dysan's house.

Chris held on for her life while Asher drove the wagon back over the ground they'd just covered. Their only hope of rescuing Tynan was that Dysan hadn't been discovered yet and his men didn't know that the peddler's wagon was involved in the escape.

Above her head, she could hear Pilar singing and making noise to attract attention.

“Cover this hole,” Asher yelled as he whipped the horses harder.

With unsteady feet, falling several times, Chris managed to hang a piece of cloth over the hole she'd made in the front of the wagon. Just as she'd caught the edges of the cloth on a piece of splintered wood, Asher called, “I see him and he's running toward us. Oh Lord. Get down! Both of you women get down,” he yelled as the first shots rang out.

Chris, with her heart pounding, flattened herself on the floor of the wagon—or as close to the floor as she could get with all the merchandise scattered about. Overhead, she heard Pilar hit the roof very hard, almost as if she'd fallen. Immediately the gunfire increased to a torrent.

Inching forward on her belly, she pushed one of the wagon doors open. Tynan was running down the road with men and dogs on his heels, the men firing their rifles as they ran. The bullets were hitting the back of the wagon at a regular rate, some of them whizzing inches over Chris's head.

She moved closer to the door and stretched her hand out toward Tynan. “Come on,” she yelled. “Come on.”

Ty yelled something back to her but the blood was pounding so hard in her ears that she didn't understand what he was saying.

“You'll never get out of jail,” she screamed at him.

It was then that one of the bullets hit Ty in the leg. He faltered and she thought he was going to fall but he kept on coming.

Chris made a dive through the merchandise, one box that was sliding across the space hit her hard in the side, but she continued until she reached the front and stuck her head out to Asher and bellowed for him to slow down, that Tynan had been shot and couldn't run.

Then she went back to the rear of the wagon to put her hand out to Ty. Asher couldn't slow down much or Dysan's men would catch them.

Tynan reached the wagon and Chris's hand just as the dogs reached Ty's heels. She helped to pull him into the wagon as Ty yelled to Asher to get the hell out of there. Ty had to shake one dog off his ankle even as the wagon bounded forward, leaving Dysan's men standing where they were.

Immediately, Chris started examining the gunshot wound on Ty's right thigh.

“Do you know if Prescott has horses ready?” he shouted to her over the noise of the wagon.

“I don't know anything. Ty, you're bleeding a lot.”

“There's a place we can go. How is Pilar? Is she still on top?”

“Yes and I haven't heard a sound from her since the first shot.”

Tynan frowned. “Have you got something to tie around this to stop the bleeding? It'll take us a good four hours to get where we can rest.”

“Yes, of course I can, but, Ty, you need a doctor.”

“About three of Dysan's men need an undertaker. Why did you come back? Why didn't you get out of here while you could?”

“We came back to save your ungrateful hide,” she said as she tore off a long strip of her petticoat and began to bind his leg.

She'd barely finished tying his wound when Asher brought them to a halt that nearly sent Chris and Ty flying out the back door. Within seconds, Ash was at the back door.

“I have horses waiting. Pilar said there was an old man you knew who had a camp near here and you could lead us to him.”

“How is she?” Ty asked.

Asher climbed to the top of the wagon and after a long, long moment of suspense, yelled down that she had been shot.

Ty, his wounded leg stiff in front of him, maneuvered himself out of the wagon. “How bad?” he asked quietly as he stood on the ground.

“She's alive but she's bleeding a great deal.”

Chris was already climbing the little ladder that was attached to the side of the wagon and making her way up to Pilar. She gasped when she saw the woman. Pilar looked to be laying in a pool of blood, and her face was completely white.

“Ty,” Chris called down, “she's wounded in her shoulder and she's unconscious. Her heartbeat is strong but she's weak. Can you help us get her down?”

“Yes,” he said impatiently.

Chris worked as quickly as she could, wadding cloth against the wound and trying to tie it, but the location made a tourniquet impossible. The thud Chris heard on the roof must have been Pilar falling after she'd been shot. The guards had taken aim at the easiest target: the woman on the top of the wagon.

“We'll get her down to Ty,” Chris said to Asher when she had Pilar taken care of as best she could. “Help him all you can as he's wounded too,” she whispered.

Ty caught Pilar and held her then began walking with her to the waiting horses, the blood seeping from his leg, his forehead covered with sweat.

“Give her to me,” Asher said, taking Pilar in his arms. “You lead.”

Tynan merely nodded as he handed Pilar's inert body to Asher and started toward the horses. “There's some rough terrain ahead of us, but I don't think they'll be able to follow us. I don't want any heroics, you understand, Chris? If I tell you to go on ahead, I expect you to do it, you understand?”

“I can follow sensible orders. Shall we ride before Dysan's men find us standing here?”

Asher mounted, then Ty put Pilar in the saddle before him, so that he was holding her in place. “You think you can hold her?” Ty asked and there was a sadness in his voice that Chris was sure came from not being able to take care of her himself.

Within seconds, both she and Ty were mounted and they started to ride.

He was right when he'd said that it would be a difficult trip. They went straight up for a while, then across a boggy area that sucked at the horses' feet, then across several of Washington's cold, swift streams. For about a mile, they walked the horses through the water, hiding their trail from their pursuers.

Chris kept looking back at Pilar, whose eyes were still closed as Asher held onto her. She looked even paler.

“Watch where you're going,” Tynan said in a tight-lipped way that told how much he was worried.

Once, they heard the dogs on a ridge above them and they moved their horses into the shelter of trees near a sharp rapids in the water. Chris's horse slipped but Tynan caught the reins and pulled her back to safety.

When the men and dogs were gone, they rode down the stream into the forest, going the opposite direction of their hunters.

It was nearly dark when Tynan stopped his horse and stiffly dismounted. “Wait here for me. He won't want any visitors.”

“Who won't?” Chris asked but Tynan had already slipped into the trees and didn't answer her.

“The old man.” It was a ragged whisper from Pilar. “Could I have some water?”

Quickly, Chris dismounted and removed her canteen from the back of the horse. Asher held it to Pilar's lips while Chris examined Pilar's wound. The bleeding had stopped, but she didn't look as if she had much strength left.

Chris's head came up as she heard the blast of a shotgun from somewhere close.

Pilar leaned back against Asher. “It's the old man,” she said. “It's the man that found Tynan when he was born.”

“The miner?” Chris asked.

“Whatever he calls himself. Mostly he sells whatever comes his way.”

“Like six-year-old little boys,” Chris said with disgust as she recapped the canteen.

Pilar didn't answer as she continued leaning against Asher, while Ash gave Chris a look that told her they needed to rest soon.

Tynan came back, moving silently through the trees, appearing almost as if from nowhere. “We have a place for a couple of days but no more,” he said as he watched Chris remount and looked at Pilar with concern. He stayed back and let Asher go first, then started out beside Chris. “He's not like other people,” he said to her, his eyes on the narrow trail ahead of them. “Don't turn your back on him and don't trust him. Don't tell him who your father is and don't think there's anything good about him. And don't ask him questions.”

“You really hate him, don't you?” she whispered.

“Yeah, I really hate him,” Ty said as he moved his horse forward to lead them up the steep hillside to the miner's cabin.

It was a nasty little building, filthy beyond belief, clinging to the side of a rock wall that fell down into a ravine below. Chris thought that the rock probably wanted to rid itself of something so dirty. There were half rotted carcasses around the doorway and the flies were so thick that they were like a black, moving curtain. Nearby were piles of animal skins and a pot of rancid meat. A scrawny dog that Chris had at first thought was dead was tied to the front wall.

“We'll leave Pilar out here while we clean this place up,” Ty said as he yanked away the rope that held the starving dog in place. The poor animal limped to a pot of water with scum on it and began to lap greedily.

Ty helped Pilar off the horse while Chris stood and stared at the place, brushing away flies, trying to cover her nose at the smell.

“I ain't givin' no charity,” came a voice from behind her. “You pay for what you take. I never asked for you to come here. What'd you let that dog loose for? He'll eat ever'thin' in sight.”

Chris turned to see a gnarled little man with black, rotten teeth, his face twisted into an agony of misery as he saw that Tynan had begun to throw the rotten meat carcasses into the canyon below.

The old man ran toward Ty. “What are you doin'?” he whined. “That's my
food.
You're tryin' to kill me, just like you done your own mother. You wanta starve me.”

Tynan ignored the old man's hands clutching at his arm and looked over his shoulder at Chris who was staring dumbfoundedly. “See to Pilar,” he commanded, “and, Prescott, see if you can shoot us some fresh game. Chris, take that pot and scrub it out with sand and go up that hill to the stream and get some fresh water.”

“Take, that's all you ever do. Took a woman's life before you took your first breath. Now you want to take what's mine.”

Tynan took a tool that had once been a shovel and began to use it to remove a half foot of debris from in front of the cabin, throwing it into the crevasse far below. At one animal carcass, he stopped to examine it, then tossed it to the dog that was cowering a few feet away, its breath coming quickly against its ribs.

The old miner made a lunge toward the dog to grab the meat from the starving animal, and the dog, reverting to instinct, began to fight for its life. As Chris watched, the old man took an ancient pistol from inside the layers of filthy clothes he wore and shot the dog in the leg. The animal began to whimper.

With a look of triumph, the old man took the half-rotten meat from the dog, put it under his arm, and started back toward the shack.

Tynan, with unhurried steps, walked to the old man, took the meat from him and went back to the dog. “Chris,” he said as he examined the dog, “can you look at this? I don't think it's bad. He never could shoot.”

It took Chris a moment to react and move from Pilar's side. With eyes wide, she went to where Ty kneeled by the dog.

“Put a bandage on its leg and, here.” He handed her his gun. “If he bothers the dog again, shoot him. It won't be any great loss to the world.”

Chris watched, with her mouth open, as Ty gave the dog the meat and the wounded animal began to eat.

Ty put his hand under her chin and shut her mouth. “With this many flies around here, you can't afford to be astonished. Fix the dog then go get us some water. And then there's the cabin to be cleaned. You think this place is bad, wait till you step inside.”

“Does he have a name?” she asked, nodding toward the old man.

“Not any that he ever gave anybody. Of course, I never tried paying him for it.”

“You mean, you've been around him since you were born and you don't know his name?”

“That's right.”

“You came after my gold, didn't you?” the old man wailed. “You want everything I have.”

“All I want is shelter in a place that's hard to find,” Ty said as he went back to cleaning the area. “I sure as hell don't want anything else from you.”

Chris saw that the dog was indeed only grazed then she went to get the water bucket. It was slippery with slime. “Ty, your leg,” she said, looking back at him. The tourniquet was gone and there was dried blood about the wound but now, with this new activity, it was beginning to bleed again.

“I can't stop now,” he said. “Go get the water.”

As Chris took the bucket and started up the hill, the old man stopped in front of her. The foul smell that rose from him took her breath away. “He don't have a mother. He killed her.”