As Anna began to rouse, the dream began to ebb
. Still, within those last few fleeting moments, she longed to walk again beside that stream, even though, since the coming of Quinn Ryan, the lonely canyon bottom had at last been touched by spring.
Anna’s eyes slid open, and for just a moment the light fooled her into thinking day had dawned
. Instead, the three-quarter moon’s illumination had flooded the shallow cave where she and Quinn lay sleeping. Still tired from a long day in the saddle, she wiped away the tears left over from her dream. Then she pulled her bedroll closer to Quinn’s and spooned her body against his before sinking back to sleep.
* * *
Ned nudged Hop with his foot. “You hear them horses? They sound restless.”
Hop mumbled something inaudible in reply.
Ned kicked harder. “You oughta go check on ‘em.” He didn’t like the thought of climbing down to where they’d tied the animals.
Instead of waking, Hop just curled away from him and snored.
“God damn it! Can’t count on you boys for a thing.” He’d forgotten for a moment that Hop was his last man.
He heard another nicker and the stamp of hooves
. The horses didn’t sound alarmed, but something had disturbed them.
Ned moved cautiously to the cave’s opening
. Though the moon had dipped low, its bluish light yet illuminated the craggy bowl of canyon bottom. But clumps of brush and shadow hid the horses. He wished like hell that he could see them. He hadn’t killed two men just to have some thieving Indians steal them or some hungry predator run them off.
After pulling on his boots, Ned buckled on his gun holster and checked his Navy Colt to be certain each chamber held a bullet
. Last of all, he tucked his sheathed knife into his belt. With or without Hop’s assistance, he intended to make whatever was down there pay the price for his interrupted sleep.
* * *
“My only love sprung from my only hate . . .”
Anna barely recognized her own voice as it talked her out of sleep.
“Whaaa?” Quinn, lying nearby on the cave floor, stirred, but barely, before drifting off again.
She leaned forward to brush her lips across his stubbled cheek.
“It’s all right,” she whispered softly. And it was, for Shakespeare’s line was followed by more words. Lyrics slid out of the darkness, a thousand luminous snatches, each one caught and woven on a loom of melody.
Her mind brimmed with her lost music
. She could again sing, if she but chose to, any song she wished. Each one in English and to its final verse. And all the joy rushed back to her, that first pure joy of singing, not of being heard.
But the only notes that filled the night were those of the nocturnal insects and a solitary howl not far away
. Anna’s songs slashed along the crimson ribbon of her scar, filling her with emotions too raw to give voice. Not only ecstasy, but deep grief, for she felt utterly certain that with the restoration of her music, there had come an awful void.
No longer could she hear her daughter’s weak cries, no matter how she strained her memory
. Though she still recalled that moonlit walk beside the autumn stream, she could not
place
herself there, to feel the bare weight of the cooling body, to see the rounded outline of her baby’s pallid cheek.
For better or for worse, Rosalinda’s time was done here
. And Anna felt just as bereft as if she’d lost her child again.
Too bereft for tears
. She moved to the cave’s entrance and sat inside an oval of silvery light cast by the setting moon. Miserable, she barely noticed that the sky was growing lighter to the east.
As if he sensed her mood, Notion rose from the corner he’d been warming and stretched stiffly
. He joined her and then lay with his broad head on her knee.
As she rubbed the loose skin behind his neck, something large stirred on the hill below her
. She heard the horses mutter nervously.
The dog’s ears perked in the direction of the noises.
Thinking of the howl she’d heard before, Anna whispered, “What do you think, Notion? Coyotes?”
At the mention of coyotes, Notion growled and bounded down the hill
. Anna decided she should go and check as well.
She glanced toward Quinn and decided there was no need to disturb him
. She and Notion had chased a lot of coyotes in their endless, futile quest to save her chickens. Besides, she reasoned, she’d take Max Wilson’s revolver with her. It would more than likely take just one shot to run off the hairy villains.
Then she could return to Quinn and devise a more pleasant method to end his night’s rest.
* * *
Before Anna, Quinn had never proposed marriage to a woman
. As his mind replayed the way he’d bungled this attempt, he decided his inexperience definitely showed. Or maybe that wasn’t the problem. He imagined men with better timing only had to suffer through it once.
And it was a form of suffering, wondering if she’d ever have him
. Wondering how he’d go back to living on his own if she did not. Would he ever be able to move past Anna? Would he someday find another woman to fill the empty years?
He turned restlessly, knowing even in his sleep that he wanted no one else
. Knowing that somehow he had to make Anna see . . .
He sat up
. To hell with sleeping, if he had to worry in his dreams. He had to talk to Anna, to convince her that even if he had to stay with her in this canyon, no one else would ever do for him.
Looking through the cave’s mouth, he saw that the sinking moon was dimming in the lightening predawn sky
. His heart thudded painfully as he realized Anna was no longer with him. She had left during the night. Left him without even a goodbye. His hands searched the still-dark corners so swiftly that his fingers stubbed against cold stone. But he felt no more than he saw, except —
He breathed again when he realized her blanket remained here, as well as her canteen and saddle pack
. Little as she had now, she would never leave those necessities.
But then where had she gone
? Even if she’d simply left to check the horses or attend the needs of nature, she should have let him know. Predators roamed this canyon, perhaps human ones as well. Although they’d seen no signs along the rocky trail, it was possible that Hamby and his boys remained nearby.
At least she’d taken Notion
. He did a quick search and determined she had Max’s gun as well. Instead of going after her and maybe getting shot, he’d sit here and wait for a few moments, and she would come right back.
Except the moments stacked up on each other like a deck of playing cards
. And none of them brought Anna back where he could hold her safe and close.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ned damned near jumped out of his skin when loud barking erupted. He leapt atop a rock and jerked his head, all the time expecting the blond bitch’s cur to finish tearing him to shreds.
Something streaked past, swift and silvery
. Then another one appeared. Coyotes, he realized. But he scarcely had time to feel relief before the huge gold dog, too, raced by him.
He drew his gun, but too late
. Though he peered intently, the animals seemed to disappear in the poor light. Within seconds, the dog’s deep-throated barks, too, faded.
Ned’s heart felt like it would explode inside his chest, and for half a minute, he crouched atop the rock in an attempt to slow his breathing
.
And then he saw the woman trotting in the same direction that her dog had run.
“Notion?” she called, but not too loudly, as if she feared that someone else might hear.
She was so intent on the fading barks that she never saw him slide behind her, never heard him until he leapt and brought her down
. She slammed into the ground beneath his weight. Slammed so hard she did not scream.
“You shoulda left here, you stupid slut
. Shoulda left and never come on back,” Ned hissed. But she did not respond, and her body’s utter limpness convinced him he had somehow knocked her unconscious, maybe even broke her neck and killed her.
“God damn it!” he swore
. He didn’t want her dead, at least not yet. Now she couldn’t scream or fight him, couldn’t do a thing to make him hard.
“Bitch!” Yanking back her head, he screamed frustration in her ear, wanting her so badly, yet unable to perform
.
At least he had his knife
. Drawing it, he slashed at her forehead — just before he heard an outraged shout.
* * *
Quinn couldn’t wait another moment. He started downhill from the cave just as somewhere nearby, Notion’s loud barks broke the predawn stillness.
As Quinn raced toward the sound, he realized they were quickly fading, as if the dog was chasing something fast
. His heart pounding, Quinn prayed the animal was only trailing a jackrabbit. He wanted so desperately to believe it that he imagined himself shouting at the mongrel for scaring him half out of his mind. Reaching further, he imagined Anna laughing at his panic.
Then he reached the narrow clearing, and those hopes were snuffed out like a candle flame at bedtime
. He stopped dead still, his mind unable to conceive that what he saw was anything but nightmare. Ned Hamby, knee planted atop Anna’s back, holding up her hair and — God help him – it was real – Hamby was scalping her dead body!
His pain and shock exploded in a single exclamation.
“NO!”
* * *
Pain brought Anna back, the bright pain that arced across her forehead. Ignoring the weight pressed against her spine, she reached to touch it, and she gasped at the streaming wetness and the flap of skin and hair. Her eyes rolled in her skull at the realization she’d been scalped — or near enough to cost her life.
Nausea choked her
. If she didn’t bleed to death, she would die of infection unless help came for her — and soon.
Stupid, to think she would have time to bleed out
. The knee pressed against her back meant that whoever had done this was still there. She froze in horror, expecting the knife to finish hacking at her scalp at any moment, then expecting whatever death her attacker had in store.
“Hold it right there, Mister!” Someone — not the man on her back — shouted
. He sounded young but mean.
“Get off her!”
She instantly recognized Quinn Ryan’s voice, enraged and terrified at once.
The man atop her laughed
. “Don’t make no nevermind to me. She’s dead already. Just the way you’re gonna be. Now throw your gun down ‘fore Hop blows your damned head off.”
Reina del cielo
, it was Hamby! How in God’s name had he caught her unawares? Once again, his voice rendered her helpless. She couldn’t fight against him if she tried, especially not with her strength spurting out her forehead.
“God damn,” the young man — apparently Hop — swore
. “Didn’t I kill you once already?”
“You’re going to wish you had,” Quinn growled.
She wished that she could see him. One last glimpse of his face was all she asked.
The weight lifted from her back; Hamby rose and took a few steps forward
. Dimly, she could see him put away his knife and draw his gun.
“You’re in a hell of a spot to be threatening anybody,” Ned told Quinn
. “Now toss the goddamned gun before Hop and I both plug you.”
Apparently, Quinn did not comply.
“Now, you stubborn bastard!” Hamby screamed.
They were going to shoot him down, Anna realized
. They were going to kill him while she bled to death. Already, the edges of her vision were growing gray and hazy. Unconsciousness pulled at her like the moon tugging the tides.
Why couldn’t I tell him I would marry him
? Why couldn’t I move on?
She’d been so intent on living in the past, on holding on to Rosalinda’s memory, that she hadn’t been able to look forward to a future with her lover at her side
. Yet tonight, that last remnant of her daughter had gone home. Or maybe the old woman had been right. Rosalinda had never really been here. Perhaps, instead, Quinn Ryan had healed what Señora Valdez called her “sickness of the spirit.”
Why had it taken her so long to listen to what the curing woman told her
? Why had she waited until the moment of her death? Both of their deaths.
She shifted slightly, and her hip ground into something hard and painful
. It was the revolver she had taken with her from the cave! Incredibly, Hamby hadn’t found it.
She heard a thunk, Quinn throwing down his pistol.
“Now on your knees!” screamed Hamby.
Could she force herself to use the gun beneath her hip
? Her arms felt heavy as lead, and she recalled her failure with the rifle. But this time, Quinn’s life hung in the balance, not just her own. If she was going to die, she’d do it giving him a chance.
By focusing on Quinn’s need, she managed to drag out the pistol
. But when she raised it, she could see nothing for the blood that poured into her eyes.
God help her, she was as likely to shoot Quinn as to save him
! And even if she didn’t, Hop, the second man, stood somewhere out of sight. When she opened fire, would he kill Quinn? In an attempt to clear her vision, she used her left wrist to try to wipe away the blood.
The pain exploding through her forehead was so severe that her hand unconsciously clenched, the index finger squeezing off a shot
. And then all hell broke loose.
Gunfire seemed to erupt from everywhere at once
. She was half-surprised to realize she was still shooting, shooting at every blast she heard.
She lost consciousness before she could determine what, if anything, she’d hit.
* * *
As Quinn dropped, he felt the wind of a bullet pass by his neck
. Almost in the same instant, he heard the boy behind him scream in agony.
Quinn slammed hard onto his sore shoulder and rolled toward the spot where he’d tossed his gun moments before
. As he reached for it, he saw Hamby drop his aim, and he knew the gunman’s second shot would not miss him.
But that bullet never came
. Out of the corner of his eye, Quinn saw the muzzle flash from Anna’s revolver. A fraction of an instant later, the sound of the gunshot exploded — as did Ned Hamby’s left temple.
The bullet passed completely through the outlaw’s skull
. As he swayed on his feet for one final moment, his right temple erupted in a waterfall of gore.
Leaping to his feet, Quinn forgot everything but Anna
. He raced toward her, his heart sinking at the sight. Her head had flopped to one side. With the first ruddy light of dawn, her face, which had appeared masked in obsidian, now looked wet and scarlet. If he didn’t help her quickly, she would bleed to death.
Dropping to his knees, he reached down to touch her.
Behind him, he heard a gun’s click and a familiar voice. “Leave her be, and get up.”
Cameron
.
But what in God’s name would he be doing here? Slowly, Quinn turned toward the judge.
“She’ll die if we don’t help her.”
The bastard shrugged, though his pistol pointed steadily at Quinn’s heart.
“She’s a criminal, a horse thief,” Cameron told him
. “Don’t you remember? We hang them when we can.”
“She’s not the thief here, Cameron
. We both know it.”
The judge’s thick mustache twitched, and his eyes brightened
. “Perhaps not. Perhaps she’s instead an unfortunate young woman, scalped by Navajo squatters. Her death could convince the army to clean them out of this canyon for me so my mine will be safe.”
“You know the Navajo are innocent
. Hamby did this.”
Cameron shook his head
. His smile seemed to radiate cold, as if his teeth were chunks of ice. “Your services will no longer be required, Quinn. I’ve found a more tractable sheriff. A whore and a bottle will be more effective than my threats against you ever were —”
“It took you this long to figure that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?” Quinn asked
. Anything to keep Cameron talking. Maybe then he’d have a chance to think of something, anything to get himself and Anna out of this alive.
The noise of a gunshot made both Quinn and Cameron duck for cover
. Hop, apparently not dead of his injury, had fired on them both.
“Help me, you sorry bastards!” the boy screamed, his plea nearly incoherent
. “Quit your jawin’ and come help! It hurts — so bad!”
He fired again, as if to force the issue.
Cameron, distracted for the moment, recovered just in time to see Quinn grab the gun from Anna’s hand.
The judge would have shot first, except a bullet from Hop’s gun at that moment struck his lower left leg
. His shout of pain and fury was cut short when Quinn shot him through the chest.
There was a sound of gurgling, and the judge spent his last breath
. Hop, too, grew silent, as if he’d passed out or even died.
Shaking, Quinn crawled toward Anna
. In the area around them, three men lay dead or dying, but as far as he was concerned, justice had been served. But what justice would there be — and what life for him remained now — if the woman that he loved were now dead too?