Liz Ireland (24 page)

Will crept closer. There was little to use for cover on the barren hillside—just a few scrubby-looking bushes that wouldn’t hide a squirrel, much less a man. Every step he took made him feel more exposed. Yet if he didn’t get
closer he would never be able to get a bead on Night Bird. If he crept too close, however, any one of the Mexicans could turn and shoot him down. Then they might take revenge on their two prisoners.

He eased himself down beside a bush, wondering whether the darkness would camouflage him. He would have given all he owned at that moment to hear the sounds of approaching hoofbeats, but he knew the timing would be too providential. He lifted his gun and sighted down the renegade, but he could tell immediately that the distance was too far. If only he had his own rifle—the one Night Bird had stolen…Just a little bit closer.

As he crawled out from behind the bush, he heard Night Bird yell something below, and then to his horror, he saw the Indian cock the hammer on the rifle. The next moments were a blur. Mary Ann screamed and looked away, and Will lifted his gun, knowing any shot he got off would probably be wasted. Night Bird drew the gun close to Oren Tyler’s temple.

Time had just run out.

“Don’t shoot!”

Will hadn’t expected the words to come out, and once they echoed down the hillside, he began to wonder whether they had really issued from his own mouth. And yet, all eyes suddenly turned to him. Three Mexicans sprang to their feet immediately; one ran toward him. Will knew after a few yards he could have killed the man, but was fairly certain he would be captured or killed in the process. He wasn’t in the mood to die just yet.

Taking a gamble, he lowered his gun to his side and began to amble down the hill, trying to look casual even though his heart was beating like a jackrabbit’s. It was best to appear as though he were interrupting a picnic, not a killing.

One of the Mexicans approached him, his rifle pointing directly at Will’s chest. Will slapped the barrel away. He might be walking into a nest of thieves, but that didn’t mean he was going to pretend to respect them. The other bandits looked back at their leader—for permission to kill him, no doubt—but Night Bird merely smirked. Will nodded coolly at his would-be assassins and strolled into the circle assembled around the fire.

Mary Ann gasped. “Will!” she cried, looking up at him with mournful eyes. “Oh, Will, you shouldn’t have come after me!”

Something in her voice startled him and made him feel an unexpected tug of fear for her. Maybe it was the sincerity in her tone, and the regret. He looked down at Tyler lying on the ground and immediately understood. The man had been caught in some gunplay, but he hadn’t been as lucky as Will had been in his wound.

“He’s pretty bad off.”

Will could see that. One whole side of the gambler’s face looked bloodied, especially around the eye. “How are you, Tyler?”

The man let out a groan, holding a hand over his wounded eye. “Not so good. Mary Ann was right, you shouldn’t have come here, Brockett.”

At the sight of the once cocky gambler brought so low, Will felt a rage building inside him, one he feared might get the best of all of them if he vented so much as a tiny portion of it. He forced a casual shrug. “Just thought I’d pay a social call.”

The renegade wasn’t amused. “Where are your friends?”

Will wasn’t about to answer that.

“Where is the old man, and the boy-girl?”

“The old man is dead,” Will told him. “The young lady is in San Antonio.”

Night Bird shook his head. “I could have used such a one as she.” He pointed to an empty bottle of bourbon on the ground. The gold label looked unfamiliar, and expensive, so Will guessed it was probably from Oren Tyler’s private stock. “My men capture men, money and whiskey. Now they are useless.”

Will inspected the Mexicans’ appearances more closely, and felt anguish shoot through him. Two of them were bleary-eyed with drink. Paulie had been right; he and she probably could have attacked the encampment. This was also why Night Bird had been sitting out the night with his captives, and had been pacing anxiously. He was waiting for his men to sober up.

The Indian’s lips curled up into a lopsided smile. “Yes, you could have, senñor,” he said, as if reading Will’s mind. “But now you are my prisoner.”

Before Will could gather his wits, the Mexican standing behind him kicked the rifle out of his hand, and Night Bird tied his hands. The two drunker bandits held their guns on him. Not another word was spoken as they trussed Will up just like Mary Ann, but after they were done, Night Bird inspected his handiwork approvingly.

“You will not get away this time.”

Will tensed; every length of rope that bit into his arms seemed to sap away a little of his hope. The next time Paulie suggested a harebrained plan like charging a campful of bandits, he would take her more seriously.

Night Bird put his rifle aside. “Before you came here I was going to put the rich man out of his misery.” He nodded toward Tyler. “Also repay him for getting my men drunk.”

“Is it his fault they stole his whiskey and drank it all?” Will asked.

Night Bird shook his head. “Not all. There is still this.” He held up an unopened bottle for Will’s inspection. “Now T have decided a better way to kill the man would be with his own medicine.”

He threw the bottle to one of his men, barking out orders in guttural Comanche. Will was startled. He hadn’t heard the renegade use his own tongue before—just Spanish or English. He didn’t know why, but the strange language sounded ominous.

The Mexican understood the command, took the bottle, and walked away from the camp and the overturned wagon.

Mary Ann let out a whimper and focused her luminous blue eyes on Will. “Oh, Will…This is all my fault.” She gestured with her head to the wagon, Will, and Tyler. “If it weren’t for me, none of this would have happened.”

Before he could respond, Oren Tyler lifted his head. “Don’t blame yourself, Mary Ann. I guess it’s my fault a little, too.”

“Oh, Oren…” Tears streamed down her face. “I’m so sorry. If there was only something I could do for you. I love you so much!”

The gambler sent her a lopsided smile. “I guess I can see that now, sweetheart.” He swallowed, then continued in a humbled, emotion-choked voice. “I want you to know, Mary Ann, that I love you, too. And if we ever get out of this, and if you would still want a blind man, I’d be honored if you’d be my wife.”

For a moment, it looked like Mary Ann might faint. “Oh, Oren! I’d be proud to be your wife.”

Will stared at the couple, dumbfounded. This was a fine time to be making fancy promises! Most likely they would all be dead before long. Why the hell couldn’t the man
have declared his undying love this morning and saved them all the inconvenience of being captured by bandits?

Then he remembered.
He
hadn’t told Paulie he loved her when he’d had the golden opportunity, either, and now he might not see her again. That thought sent a cold chill through him.

Night Bird, standing at the edge of their little circle, laughed. At the unexpected sound, Will looked up and discovered that the man’s mirth was all aimed at him. “You are a fool, señor. Twice you have chased
la bonita,
and the woman does not love you.” He laughed again. “I am glad you will die knowing you are a fool.”

Will would have agreed that he was a fool, but not for the reason Night Bird believed.

“What’s that man doing?” Mary Ann asked fearfully, gesturing to the man who had taken the bourbon bottle from Night Bird. He was now walking in a semicircle around the camp, pouring out the contents of the large bottle on the dry grassy ground.

A cold shard of dread knifed through Will, who understood immediately. Night Bird was going to burn them all. The whiskey would ignite the grass in back of them, and the light breeze would slowly fan the flames toward them. They would be unable to get away in time. The fire would creep up on them, and they would be able to move no faster than caterpillars to escape it.

He didn’t want to say anything that would alarm the others, though they would soon find out the renegade’s plan. As if in answer to Mary Ann’s question, Night Bird picked up a length of wood and held it over the fire, making a torch that would ignite the fire that would kill them.

Will tried to breathe steadily, to think clearly. He looked away from Mary Ann, away from the campfire. And then he saw it—a figure not too far away, darting behind a bush.
His heartbeat began to speed up. Was it Paulie? He didn’t hear the hoofbeats of a posse approaching, and he didn’t see any other movements, either. Paulie alone probably couldn’t rescue them. He had to pray that she had brought reinforcements—and be thankful that, if it was her out there in the darkness, he might at least have been given an opportunity to say goodbye to her the right way.

He looked at Night Bird and smiled. “You’re wrong about one thing, Night Bird.”

As he pulled his torch away from the fire, the Indian raised a brow.

“I’m not in love with Mary Ann, and never have been. It’s the other woman I love. Paulie Johnson.”

The renegade looked incredulous. “The boy-girl?”

Will nodded. “I guess I always have, since I met her.” Night Bird looked less impressed with this news than Mary Ann, whose blue eyes rounded in surprise at this tidbit of gossip. “And if I ever get out of this, I intend to marry Paulie straight away.”

“But you will not get away,” Night Bird said.

“We’ll see,” Will replied as the Indian touched his torch to the ground. Within seconds, the ground circling the back of them was ablaze. Mary Ann screamed in surprise.

At the same time, a cry went up not far from their camp. Paulie stood and waved her arms, sending fear shooting through Will. Was she crazy? But her gesture was followed by the distant squeak of saddle leather and men spurring their horses. Hoofbeats thundered closer and closer. The world around became a frenzy of movement and firelight. Gunfire sounded, and nearby, one of the Mexicans dropped to the ground. Will looked quickly around, and saw Night Bird disappearing into the night just as a small army of men crested the hill and swooped down upon the campsite.

Paulie ran with all her might, tears streaming down her face.
He’d said he loved her—right there in front of everybody!
Drawing a knife, she ran right into the middle of the group, the first person to reach them. Thirty men were behind her, she knew, half of them firing guns, and others on horseback flying past her at a gallop after Night Bird and the other two men.

She skidded to a stop next to Will and fell to her knees. He smiled up at her. “What took you so long?”

She could have whacked him over the head, but she was just too damn happy to see him all in one piece. Besides, she had a knife in her hands.

“Quick, untie me,” he said, and she cut frantically at his bonds, slicing through them faster than she would have ever thought possible without taking a foot or hand off, too. Nerves and the growing heat around them brought beads of sweat to her brow, which poured down her face, mingling with her tears.

When she cut through the last cord, Will jumped to his feet, grabbed up his rifle from near the wagon and dashed toward the horse of the man who had been killed. Paulie ran after him. “Where are you going?”

“After Night Bird,” he said, swinging up on the saddle.

Paulie grabbed his leg before he could spur the animal. “Wait, Will—let the others go.”

“The others aren’t as mad as I am,” he answered. “Help Mary Ann and Tyler—he’s hurt bad.”

And then he was gone, riding like lightning into the darkness, disappearing from her once again. She dashed back to the two by the fire, who were being helped out by a few of the men she had brought from town. She knelt by Mary Ann, and cut through the ropes binding her hands as another man worked on her feet. All the while, Mary Ann told them about their capture, and how the Indian planned
to burn them alive. Two men were beating the fire with blankets, trying to put it out. Their efforts kicked up hot sand that Paulie and the others turned away from.

“How did Will get caught?” Paulie asked Mary Ann.

She nodded toward Oren Tyler, who was lying nearby. “Night Bird was about to kill Oren, when Will came out of hiding—I guess to distract him. Will saved Oren’s life.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Paulie looked at the gambler’s bloodied face and shivered. He had to be in quite a bit of pain, but he didn’t look like he would die.

She cut the last strand of rope from her hands. “I’ve got to go after him.”

Mary Ann looked alarmed. “After Will?”

She nodded, scoping out the area. She eyed one of the horses of the men taking care of Tyler. “I’ll be right back—I hope,” she said.

She made a dash for a little sorrel gelding and jumped on before its rightful owner could discover her commandeering his mount. She spurred the animal and galloped like thunder into the night. Where could Will have gone?

Somewhere in the darkness lurked Night Bird. Like the winged creatures he was named after, Paulie knew the man had the power to swoop down on her out of nowhere. She only hoped that he wouldn’t want to bother with killing or hostage taking when he had a herd of bloodthirsty Texans on his trail.

She heard a gunshot and without stopping veered her horse in that direction. Her heart was pumping like mad. Night Bird had had a gun, she knew. Had
he
fired the shot? One of the other men? Or was it Will…

Please, God, don’t let Will be hurt!

Knifelike dread pierced through her, and she galloped so fast that she nearly passed them by. She sawed on the sorrel’s
reins and screeched to a halt, throwing up clumps of dirt as she stopped next to Will.

He was standing over Night Bird, whose painted pony lay dead on the ground nearby. Will had shot it out from underneath him, and now Night Bird was immobilized by a broken leg.

Paulie got off her horse, and fired another shot in the air so the others would know where they were. Will didn’t take his eyes or his gunsights off their captive.

Captive. It seemed odd to use that word in reference to a man who had held most of South Texas captive to fear for months and months. Now, on the ground, bent over his twisted leg, beaten, he looked smaller and much less formidable. She almost couldn’t believe she’d been so afraid of him before. Then she remembered the evil he had done, and that he had almost killed Will. She felt more sympathy for his horse.