Moon Racer (22 page)

And that was where Victorio would be heading.

Jonah watched the sun touch the eastern sky and
rolled to his feet. He allowed a small fire, since the
smoke would blend with the morning shadows. His
men had to have coffee to sustain them through the
hard ride that lay ahead.

As the cook handed out hardtack and coffee,
Jonah nodded for the bugler to sound boots and
saddles.

He mounted, and Sergeant MacDougall rode to
his side. "Troopers," Jonah said in a voice that
could be heard by all. "We have to make a sixtyfive-mile trek in less than twenty-four hours if we
are going to beat Victorio to Rattlesnake Springs.
We will be pushing hard you will eat in the saddle
and rest your horse only when necessary. Anyone
lagging behind is likely to find himself with an
Apache in his face-so keep up."

-The long blue line wound its way across the and
countryside. Punishing heat beat down on them, and
each trooper was aware that a fierce battle awaited
them at the end of this grueling ride.

Jonah thought of Abby and the note he had
shoved under her door. His hope was that she
would agree to marry him, even though he knew
she would refuse.

"Sergeant, let's pick up the pace," he said,
nudging his mount into a heavy gallop.

Abby was exercising Moon Racer in the paddock
when Patricia appeared at the fence to watch her.
The woman looked somewhat out of place in her
green-and-white-striped gown and the matching
sunshade that protected her complexion against the
Texas sun.

All Abby could think about was how difficult it
had been to make conversation at the supper table
the night before. She had to admit Patricia had tried
to draw her into the conversation several times, but
Abby had not been very responsive.

Her stilted replies had drawn a few disapproving
glances from her father. The kinder Patricia
became, the worse Abby felt.

Moon Racer flung his head back and snorted, pulling
on the reins. She patted his neck and smiled. "All right, big boy, if you want to run, you're going to
have to jump that fence first."

Witha laugh, she dug her heels into her horse's
flanks, and he easily sailed over the fence. The hot
wind touched her cheeks as they raced across the
meadow and up the hill. She allowed him to run
until he slowed to a gallop, and then she turned him
back toward the house.

When she reached the barn and dismounted,
Jonah's father had joined Patricia.

The general managed a smile. "That was impressive riding, Miss Hunter, very impressive indeed."

Abby nodded her thanks. "I need to rub him
down. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No," the general said, looking about him. "I'm
riding out with your father within the hour. I want
to see the workings of a successful horse ranch."

With an impatient frown he took his pocket watch
out and checked the time. Abby smiled to herself. She
could have told him that time had no meaning on the
Half-Moon Ranch. Everything was centered around
the care of the stock-when they were fed, when they
needed to be exercised and trained.

Jonah's father and Patricia walked beside Abby
as she led Moon Racer to the barn. Patricia
cautiously eyed the powerful stallion. "I wish I
could ride the way you do."

"You ride sidesaddle, don't you?" Of course,
Abby knew she did.

"Yes. But I don't even do that very well."

The general looked pensive for a moment. He
knew his son had bought Patricia a horse as a sur prise. It had been trained here on this ranch,
probably by Miss Hunter; although he couldn't see
her on anything but the western saddle she used.

"Miss Hunter could probably help you improve
your horsemanship, if you would ask her."

"No, General Tremain," Patricia said in the most
forceful voice Abby had heard her use. "I would
never presume to take Abby away from her duties."

He glared at his future daughter-in-law. "Those
who are too shy to ask are left out."

Abby saw the stricken look on Patricia's face,
and her heart softened a bit toward her. She was in a
land she didn't understand and was trying to adjust
to the change in her life. It couldn't be easy for her
to have to contend with a man as demanding as
Daniel Tremain.

"I have the time to help you," Abby said kindly.
"I would be glad to."

The woman's face brightened. "You wouldn't
mind?"

"No, I wouldn't mind."

Abby was beginning to like Patricia in spite of her
resolve to dislike her. And the more she liked her,
the more guilt she felt about what had happened
between herself and Jonah. She had never had a
friend her own age, and, until now, she had never
known the amusement of talking about frivolous
things that would never interest a man.

Patricia told her about her life in Philadelphia. She
had an older sister and a younger brother, and her
home was next door to the Tremain estate. She and Jonah were the same age, which made Abby
wonder why Patricia hadn't married before nowQuince had told her that Jonah was thirty.

She and Patricia were sitting on the front porch
sipping lemonade and trying to cool off in the earlyevening breeze. Patricia's question came out of
nowhere and took Abby completely by surprise.

"What do you think of Jonah?"

Abby stood and moved to the steps, leaning against
the post. "I have heard he is a fine officer, and that he
moved up fast in the ranks. Quince told me his
advancements had nothing to do with his father's
rank but more to do with Jonah's own abilities."

"Jonah isn't close to his father, not like I am to
mine-he never has been. He resisted going to
West Point as long as his mother was alive, but
when she died after a long illness, he left right
away." Patricia looked down at her clasped hands.
"I always knew I wanted to be Jonah's wife, but I
am not sure he felt the same-"

"Look, it's Quince!" Abby said, interrupting
Patricia's conversation. She found it too painful
when Patricia spoke about her relationship with
Jonah.

And there was always the growing guilt.

After almost twenty-one hours of riding, Jonah and
his troops had reached Rattlesnake Springs, where
they joined a small company of cavalry men.

Jonah realized at once that the terrain would be
difficult to defend, since it was located between the
Sierra Diablo and the Delaware Mountains. His eyes swept the craggy land there were just too many
places a man could hide.

The troopers took up their positions to fortify the
area and settled in to watch for Victorio.

They didn't have long to wait.

The first Apache appeared on the nearby hillside,
soon to be joined by another, and still another. They
struck with a force that staggered the weary
soldiers. But the cavalry men maintained their
positions and held them off.

Since Jonah's troop had traveled fast, they had
lightened their loads by carrying the minimal
amount of ammunition and supplies they were
now getting dangerously low on both, and each
man watched for reinforcements and the supply
wagons that were supposed to catch up with them.

The Apache were proving to be worthy
adversaries. Victorio attacked their position again
and again, but each time they managed to rebuff
him.

Jonah didn't know how much time had passed
since the battle had begun. He was exhausted and
every move was an effort but his men were
fighting back with everything they had, and he
stood with them, urging them on.

Sweat stung his eyes and burning thirst parched
his throat, but there was no time to satisfy that thirst
or even to wipe the sweat away. He heard a bullet
whiz past his face and kick up dirt beside him. When
he turned in the direction the shot had come from, he
spotted a lone Indian on a ridge to his left. But it was
already too late for him to defend himself. The Apache was ready to fire again, and Jonah's pistol
and rifle were both out of bullets.

When the impact hit him, Jonah staggered
backward. Darkness was closing in on him, and he
fell to his knees, then slid forward into blackness.

Sergeant MacDougall took up a position to stand
near his fallen commander, his Springfield firing in
rapid succession. With cold assessment, he glanced
down and saw the blood seeping through Jonah's
uniform. The wound appeared to be near his heart.
It didn't look good.

Jonah didn't know when the battle ended, or that
Victorio retreated back into Mexico, never again to
cross the border into Texas.

Abby was training one of the mustangs to a saddle
when she saw a uniformed rider heading toward the
house. Her heart stopped, and she slid off the horse
and tossed the reins to Curly. Without a word she
hurried forward just as the man dismounted.

"Ma'am," he said, removing his cap and tucking
it under his arm. "I am Sergeant MacDougall, and I
have a message for you, if you're Miss Hunter."

In her anxiety, she placed her hand on his arm to
steady herself. "I have heard of you, Sergeant. What
is your message?"

He had certainly heard about this little gal-she
would be Quince's sister. "Ma'am, the major was
wounded, and he-"

There was a gasp behind Abby as Patricia came
down the steps. "Tell me quickly, is he alive?" the
bride-to-be asked.

"Go on, Sergeant," Abby said, her whole body
trembling from dread. "Tell her."

"Begging your pardon, ma'am, the major's a
stubborn man. He let the doctors bandage his
shoulder when we got to the fort, but he wouldn't let
them do anything else. He said to tell you he was
coming to you." He settled his gaze on Miss Hunter,
confused about which woman should have been
given the message. "That's what he told me to say."

Abby spoke up quickly. "Thank you, Sergeant,
for delivering the message to Miss Van Dere. But
please tell us what his condition is."

"Well, ma'am, like I said, it's a shoulder wound.
The bullet's still in him 'cause he wouldn't let the
army doctor dig for it."

Abby's mind was racing ahead. "How long
before he gets here?" she asked.

"He can't be more than an hour behind me. The
doctors told him he shouldn't ride in his condition,
but he's a contrary man." He looked from one
woman to the next, his gaze finally falling on Miss
Van Dere. "He is mighty partial to seeing you as
soon as he can-don't seem like a bullet could stop
him-it just slowed him down a bit."

"How is he making the journey?" Abby wanted
to know.

"He's staying in the saddle, and it's got to hurt
him like hell-" He cleared his throat. "It's got to
hurt him real bad, Miss Hunter. There were times
on the ride I wished that he would lose
consciousness so he wouldn't feel the pain. He just
won't stop till he gets here."

Patricia gasped and covered her mouth. "I cannot
stand the thought of him being hurt."

Abby sprang immediately into action. "Sergeant,
you will find a man in the barn his name is
Navidad-ask him to ride for Quince as quickly as
possible." She ran up the steps to the house. "I'll
have Frances gather everything we'll need to
remove the bullet. I'll make the room ready."

Patricia looked at the tall sergeant as he led his
horse toward the barn. She wished she had been
able to think clearly and react as quickly as Abby
had.

"Sergeant," she called, stopping him in his tracks.

"Ma'am?"

"For whom did Jonah intend his message?"

He saw trouble here, and he quickly sidestepped
it. "I can't really recall his exact words, ma'am. But
since you're Miss Van Dere, it was probably for
you-you are his intended bride."

He walked away, still thinking the message had
been meant for Quince's sister.

Abby had called on all her strength to step aside and
not rush to Jonah when he rode up slumped in the
saddle. She remained at the front door, digging her
nails into the palms of her hands while Patricia
rushed to him. She watched Sergeant MacDougall
direct the other troopers to lift Jonah off his horse
and carry him into the house.