Wyoming Wildfire (56 page)

Sibyl opened her eyes. Dimly she could make out the light of a fire burning in an open health. Her head still ached fiercely, but her suffering became unbearable when she tried to sit up. Thousands of tiny needles of pain exploded behind her eyes and she lay back with a stifled moan. She had no idea where she was or how she had gotten there; she was vaguely aware that someone else was in the cabin with her, but since the person seemed to be no threat, she forgot about it. Unable to just lie there, she started to raise herself into a sitting position; the pain was excruciating, but she forced herself to keep on trying. The squeaking of her bed attracted the attention of the other person.

“It’s about time you woke up. I started to think I’d hit you too hard.”

“Jesse?” she asked, baffled. “Where am I? What are you doing here?”

“You’re bait,” he answered with brutal frankness.

“Bait?” she echoed at a loss.

“To draw your precious Burch.”

Immediately Sibyl’s senses became acute. “Draw Burch where? What for? If you want something, why can’t you just tell him?”

“Don’t be a fool,” he said curtly. “No man walks willingly to his death.”

“Death! You mean to kill him?”

“You’re damned right. He’s escaped for the last time.”

“But what for? What could he possibly have done to make you want to shoot him?”

“Kill
him!” Jesse shouted in her face. “I’m going to put a whole clip into his thieving heart.”

I’ve got to think, Sibyl told herself. None of this is making sense. “But why did you bring me here? Where are we, anyway?”

“We’re in a cabin way back in the hills. I thought I was the only one who knew about it, but Burch found it and the cattle I hid. Hell know to come here looking for me.”

Sibyl was even more confused. “What cattle? What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been rustling steers out from under his big nose all summer,” Jesse disclosed proudly, laughing at his own cleverness. “Neither he nor any of those thick-headed fools that work for him had any idea who was doing it.”

“Why?”

“To make Burch look bad, especially since I was going to be the one to find them.”

“You actually
stole
cows from the Elkhorn?” Sibyl asked in disbelief.

“They’re mine!” he roared.

Sibyl’s sense of ownership reared its head, robust and combative. “No they’re not,” she said, sitting up so quickly an agonizing pain shot through her temples. “They’re mine, and I don’t allow anybody to steal from me.”

“I’m not stealing from anybody.”

“I suppose you can explain that.”

“I’m going to marry you, and together we can get rid of that interfering, cussing bastard. He tricked my father into leaving half the ranch to him.”

“What are you talking about? You know I’ll never marry you.”

“Wesley Cameron was
my
father, and the Elkhorn should belong to me, not some scum from Kansas City without a drop of Cameron blood.”

Sibyl felt like she was losing her grasp on reality. “I don’t understand,” she said faintly. “Uncle Wesley had no children.”

“None whose mother was good enough for him to marry,” he said bitterly. “A plain, honest girl was not fit for a fancy Virginian, even though she followed him across three territories while she left her own son to be raised by her sister, a vindictive harpy always breathing hellfire and preaching how I was damned to burn because I was a bastard.”

“Rachel,” Sibyl said with sudden enlightenment. “Is she your mother?”

“Damn her soul!” cursed Jesse bitterly, looking pitifully vulnerable now that his secret was exposed. He jerked a pot from the fire and ladled some stew into a plate. “Eat this. It’s all you’re going to get today.”

“I’d rather starve,” Sibyl said, revolted.

“Suit yourself.”

“I’ll cook my own dinner.”

“There isn’t time. Burch can’t be far behind us, and I’ve got to be at the mouth of the canyon before he gets there. You’ve got to be tied up before I go, so eat now if you’re going to eat at all.”

Sibyl looked at the lumpy mess on the plate and her stomach heaved. “You might as well go ahead and tie me up now. I couldn’t touch a mouthful.”

“You’re gonna get mighty hungry,” Jesse warned as he forced to her lie down and began to wind a rope around Sibyl and the bed.

Why don’t you ever
think
before you open your mouth? she berated herself. Why didn’t you stall? You might even have been able to talk him into leaving you untied!

“No sense in you trying to scream or get away. There’s nobody within twenty miles of this place, and there’s nothing between here and the Elkhorn but ice and snow. Besides, you don’t know the way back.”

Sibyl recognized the truth of this statement and, at the same time, realized that she had to warn Burch before he walked into Jesse’s ambush. She had nothing to gain by antagonizing Jesse or putting him on his guard, so she lay quietly.

“When will you come back?”

“Already sorry you turned down the food?”

“No, I don’t like being left alone.” That was true, but he didn’t have to know she wasn’t afraid of him.

“I’ll return when I’ll gotten rid of that cocky bastard.” It took him a little while to check his rifle and fill his canteen, but within fifteen minutes he was gone.

Through a small window Sibyl could see the sun beginning to set. I’ll wait until it’s dark, she thought. Even with the cover of the trees he’d probably see me in the daylight.

Time moved with painful slowness. Sibyl didn’t move because she couldn’t be sure Jesse wouldn’t come back to check on her. He had not tied her hands or feet; she didn’t know if it was because they were so far from help, if it was of no consequence if she got away, or if he was testing her and would tie her more securely if she attempted to escape. It didn’t matter; either way, she had to escape.

At last she could wait no longer. The ropes held at first, but once she worked them down her body they fell off rather easily. To be considered such a weak and ineffectual foe infuriated her; he would soon lean his mistake. However, she had to find something to eat if she expected to ride for help; she had had no food in twenty-four hours and was feeling a little dizzy. She found some stale bread and canned fruit, but nothing more. In the end she was forced to taste the stew; it wasn’t so bad if she didn’t look at it. She ate about half a plate, but then her stomach rebelled and she threw the rest into the fire.

Sibyl searched the cabin thoroughly, but Jesse hadn’t been so contemptuous of her as to leave any weapons or ammunition behind, or even a jacket. Jesse had also taken the oilskin; the only piece of clothing Sibyl had was her nightgown. It was impossible to consider riding for twenty miles on a freezing night without something to keep her warm; she’d the of pneumonia. There was nothing but a blanket, so Sibyl wrapped it tightly around her shoulders.

The icy ground was torturous to her bare feet, but the chinook winds had cleared great patches in the snow, and if she was careful to walk only on the soft dirt, it was bearable.

But by the time she had saddled Hospitality, her feet were numb, and she was forced to search the cabin again until she found two pairs of socks and a riding crop. She put both pairs of socks on, tucked the crop under her arm, and led Hospitality to the edge of the thin timber that lined the sides of the canyon. The sky was filled with heavy clouds that obscured the moon; maybe she could slip by Jesse in the inky blackness of the pine shadows.

Leading her horse, Sibyl slowly worked her way down the canyon, painstakingly trying to avoid any sound that would warn Jesse of her approach. Her eyes stared into the night, trying to see Jesse or his horse, needing to know where he was hiding but fearful of finding him. Every step of Hospitality’s hooves was a potential warning signal, but she had to risk it. She couldn’t possibly go for help on foot; her only hope of reaching the Elkhorn was that her horse would instinctively know the way home.

The stream below was rising fast. Its musical rushing around rocks and cascading over falls soothed Sibyl’s raw nerves; it also masked the sounds of their movement, but would it be enough? She had almost reached the mouth of the canyon, so maybe she would get through. Then, just as she thought success was within her grasp, a huge shape loomed up out of the dark, causing Sibyl to cry out involuntarily.

“I wondered how long you would wait before you tried to warn your lover,” Jesse rasped. Sibyl’s smothered shriek only amused him. Recovering quickly, she clambered into the saddle and drove Hospitality forward with cruel lashes across the withers, but Jesse was at the horse’s head in seconds and the animal was helplessly caught between opposing wills. Sibyl struck at Jesse in fury, and her crop opened his cheek almost to the bone. With a roar of pain, he pulled her from the saddle and knocked her to the ground.

“If you want to see your lover so much, I’ll let you wait for him.”

Sibyl stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“With me,” he laughed viciously. “You can see him
die.
”

He jerked Sibyl to her feet so abruptly she nearly lost the blanket. The first drops of rain began to fall, but Jesse didn’t notice. “I’m going to tie you to this tree where you’ll have a nice view, but in case you have any idea of warning him, I’m going to gag you.” This time Jesse did not take any chances. He bound Sibyl hand and foot to a slim pine, tying the gag so tightly she could hardly breathe.

The rain began to fall much harder, and she was thankful he had tied her in the blanket. It didn’t offer much protection and none to her nearly frozen feet, but it was better than nothing.

Burch, she pleaded silently, please don’t follow me. Please be so far away you don’t know I’m gone. All through the long night she prayed that Burch would not come, but deep within her she knew he would and that his life might depend upon her staying awake. But when he finally did come, she could give him no warning.

Chapter 38

Steam rose from Silver Birch’s heated flanks. An icy rain had fallen throughout the night and turned the landscape into a sodden sea of mud. It was almost as though Nature wanted to make up for the yearlong drought in one night. Half an hour before dawn, the rain came down in torrents, pelting Burch mercilessly and soaking through his leather mackintosh; then it slacked off abruptly to a light drizzle. The streams, rising quickly, were already overflowing their banks, threatening to flood any low area. Burch urged his tired mount on. He had at least one more creek to cross and he wanted to reach it before it became impassable.

All during the endless night, Burch had tried not to think of what Jesse might do to Sibyl. Jesse had to be mad; the hate that had been planted and nurtured by his aunt must have escalated out of control when his father left the ranch to Burch. It was improbable that Jesse would harm Sibyl, but in his condition Burch couldn’t be sure.

Burch gave his horse a breather when he reached the creek that flowed out of Boulder Canyon; it was already spilling out of its banks and over the low bushes growing along the edge. In the gray dawn, Burch could see the swirling eddies around hidden rocks and the debris, torn loose from the hills above, swirling through the water, each a potentially lethal weapon to anyone crossing the stream.

He was many miles from the Elkhorn, too far to know every foot of this stream. He cast back in his mind to the time two months earlier when he had followed it in the swirling blizzard, but there was nothing in his memory to help him. Then the winds had blurred his vision, and the deep snow had obliterated any sign of the almost-dry streambed. Burch dismounted and walked slowly up the stream, scrutinizing both banks. Soon he found what he was looking for, the worn depression that told of a cattle crossing. The streambed would be free of treacherous holes and boulders unless they had washed down during the night.

Burch remounted and urged his tired horse forward. Silver Birch pranced nervously before the swollen stream; he snorted and shook his head, but under Burch’s patient urging, he gingerly entered the swirling torrent. The water that overflowed the banks was shallow and relatively calm, but in the center of the thirty feet of rushing water, Burch could see the major thrust of the rampaging stream. It was impossible to tell how deep it was, but he dared not wait any longer. Even in the short while he spent looking for the crossing, the water had risen to cover several clumps of gorse.

Under his urging, Silver Birch entered the center of the stream and Burch felt him stagger as the force of the current hit him broadside. Burch held his horse up while he gathered his feet solidly under him and once again urged him forward. The water rose until it was halfway up Silver Birch’s chest; it shoved the huge horse about like a helpless toy. Burch dared not hurry him for fear that some dislodged rock would cause him to stumble and both of them would be at the mercy of the increasingly violent current.

A sharp crack caused Silver Birch to plunge forward in fright; a double cottonwood tree had split in half. For a moment the doomed tree remained attached to its twin; then with a violent wrench that caused the still-standing tree to shudder, the remaining roots were ripped from the ground and the whole tree hurled into the maw of the angry stream. It was headed straight for Burch.