Journey to Yesterday (25 page)

Alejandro took hold of the saddle horn. She saw him take a
deep breath, and then, jaw clenched, he put one foot in the stirrup and pulled
himself into the saddle. She shrieked as Dawson grabbed her around the middle
and lifted her up behind Alejandro.

She leaned forward, resting her cheek against Alejandro’s
back, and tried not to think about what might be waiting for them in Bodie.

It was slow going, what with Alejandro and Shaye riding
double. With the sun beating down on her, Shaye felt as if she might turn into
a puddle and slide over the horse’s rump. Sweat ran down her back and pooled
between her breasts. She wished she had a hat, wished she was wearing her
shorts and a tee shirt instead of a long-sleeved shirtwaist, a heavy skirt and
petticoats.

From time to time, she overheard bits and pieces of
conversation between Dawson and Norland, who couldn’t agree on how to split the
five hundred dollar reward. Dawson felt he was entitled to an extra cut, since
he was the one who had told Norland that Alejandro was at the hideout. Norland
felt he was entitled to a bigger share because he was the one who had told
Dawson about the reward in the first place.

She tightened her hold on Alejandro’s waist. She could
almost feel Fate bearing down on them, had a terrible premonition that there
was nothing she could do to keep Alejandro from hanging, just as she had been
able to do nothing to prevent Daisy’s death. Despair settled on her shoulders.
They would be back in Bodie all too soon. Alejandro would be tried and found
guilty. Norland had said she was wanted, too. She doubted they would hang her
for breaking Alejandro out of jail. There was, however, the very real
possibility that they might hang her for horse stealing.

They had been riding about three hours when Dawson drew rein
beside Bodie Creek. Dismounting, he tossed his horse’s reins to Norland. “I
need to piss, and the horses need a rest.”

So saying, he walked downstream until he was out of sight
behind some scrub brush.

Shaye slid off the back of the horse. Alejandro dismounted
slowly, grimacing as the movement tugged on his wound.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Sure, darlin’, no worries.”

“I hate it when you say that, cause I know it means just the
opposite.”

He grinned at her. “Not much of a honeymoon, is it?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Shaye, I’m fine. A little sore, that’s all.”

She moved into the circle of his arms. With his hands bound,
he couldn’t hold her, but she held onto him, finding reassurance in his
nearness. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips across hers, a kiss that was
no less potent for being butterfly soft and gentle. She looked up and saw
everything she had ever dreamed of, wished for, yearned for, in the depth of
his eyes.

Lost in the moment, she was only dimly aware of Dawson
leading the horses down to the creek, or Norland hovering behind them, one hand
resting on his gun butt.

“I love you,” she murmured.

Alejandro nodded. “I know, darlin’.”

Dawson swaggered up, leading the horses. “If you two love
birds want a drink, you’d best get it now.” Shaye put her arm around Alejandro’s
waist and they walked down to the creek. The water was clear and cold.
Alejandro braced himself on his forearms and buried his face in the water.
Shaye drank from her cupped hands. Rising, she took Alejandro’s arm and helped
him to his feet.

A short time later, they were riding again.

They were about an hour away from Bodie when Norland’s horse
pulled up lame.

Dawson swore as he reined his horse to a halt. “You two, get
down.”

With a weary sigh, Alejandro climbed out of the saddle.
Shaye slid over the animal’s rump, then moved to stand beside him. He had to
get her away from here, but how?

Dawson dismounted and walked over to Norland. “How bad is
it?”

“Stone bruise.”

Dawson swore again.

“Let’s rest him for an hour,” Norland suggested. “Maybe it’s
not as bad as it looks.”

“Maybe,” Dawson muttered.

Alejandro lowered himself slowly to the ground, his back
against a rock. The pain in his side ached like the fires of hell, aggravated
by every movement he made. And riding was only making it worse. Shaye sat down
beside him, her shoulder brushing his. He kept his expression carefully blank
under her anxious scrutiny.

Dawson and Norland hunkered down on their heels a short
distance away.

Alejandro leaned toward her, pretending to kiss her cheek.
“Shaye,” he said quietly, “I don’t want you going back to Bodie.”

“What?”

“Shh.” He nuzzled her cheek. “You heard Norland. There’s
paper on you, too. You need to get away from here.”

“I’m not leaving you!”

“Shaye, darlin’, listen to me.”

“No! You listen to me. I’m not leaving.”

He drew in a deep breath, admiring her loyalty, her
stubbornness. She was a fighter, she was, no doubt about it. He swore softly.
He couldn’t abide the thought of her being locked up because of him. Dammit!
What was he going to do? And then it came to him, the one argument she might
accept.

“Darlin’, if we’re both locked up, neither one of us has a
chance.”

Her eyes widened. “I never thought of that.”

He winked at her. “That’s why I’m the boss.” He laughed when
she stuck her tongue out at him. “All right, now, listen, darlin’. This is what
we’ll do…”

Shaye didn’t like the idea one bit, but Alejandro was right.
If they were both locked up, he was as good as dead. At his signal, she stood
up and walked toward the creek where the horses were grazing on a patch of
short grass.

“Hey, where you going, girl?” Dawson called.

Shaye paused and looked over her shoulder. “I need to take a
leak,” she said, being purposefully vulgar in the hope that it would somehow
keep him from suspecting her true motive.

“Well, make it quick.”

With a nod, she hurried toward a patch of brush and ducked
behind it. A moment later, she heard Dawson’s voice.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I need to stretch my legs,” Alejandro replied.

“You just stay where you are.”

She peered through the brush. Alejandro had moved a few feet
away from where they had been sitting. Dawson and Norland were both standing
now, facing him. Dawson’s hand rested on his gun butt.

“Maybe we can make a deal,” Alejandro said.

“What kind of deal?” Dawson asked, and Shaye could hear the
sneer in his voice.

“I’ve got some money in the bank,” Alejandro said. “If you
let us go, I’ll double the reward.”

“Go to hell.”

“Wait a minute,” Norland said. “Let’s hear him out.”

Alejandro glanced past Norland. Meeting Shaye’s gaze, he
nodded slightly.

Taking a deep breath, she tiptoed out from behind the
bushes. Using the lame horse for cover, she caught up the reins to the other
two horses. Pulling herself into the saddle of the nearest one, she reined the
horse around, slammed her heels into its sides, and took off running
downstream.

She heard Dawson shout, “What the hell!” followed by the
sound of a gunshot. Was it her imagination, or had she felt the heat of the
bullet streak past her cheek?

She didn’t dare to look back. Bending low over the horse’s
neck, she rode as if all the demons of hell were barking at her heels.

Her horse was breathing hard and covered with sweat when she
finally felt safe enough to stop. Leaning forward, she patted her horse’s
sweaty neck, then wiped her hand off on her skirt. Well, part one had gone as
planned. Now all she had to do was get back to Bodie, wait for Alejandro to
show up, and bust him out of jail.

Again.

Alejandro glanced out the coach window, though there was
little to see but desert and sage and a brassy blue sky. Dawson and Norland had
both been as mad as hell when Shaye took off with the horses. He grinned
inwardly. The three of them had spent the night walking, with Dawson and
Norland cussing a blue streak the whole way. It had been sheer luck that they’d
been able to flag down a stage this morning, otherwise they would still be
walking. He figured they would be in Bodie in another hour or so.

Alejandro glanced from Dawson to Norland. He had offered
them two thousand dollars each to let him go. Norland had jumped on the offer
like a frog after a fly. Alejandro had little faith that they’d actually let
him go, but there was always a chance, and it was the only chance he had.

They were the last three to climb down from the coach.
Dawson jammed his hat on Alejandro’s head. “Keep your head down,” he said
brusquely. “We’ll go straight to the bank and get the money. Then you’re on
your own.”

Alejandro nodded. No one paid them any mind as they made
their way down Main Street, which seemed even more crowded than he remembered.
He wondered if Shaye had made it back to town, and, if so, where she was now.

They stopped outside the Bodie Bank. “We’re gonna have to
untie his hands,” Norland said.

Dawson nodded. Drawing his gun, he moved behind Alejandro.
“Don’t try anything stupid. Just get the money. One wrong word, and I’ll shoot
you where you stand. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go.”

Alejandro opened the door and stepped into the bank. It was
late in the day. There were only three men in the place. He went to the end of
the line, acutely aware of Dawson and Norland standing directly behind him. He
knew the chances that they would keep their end of the deal were probably a
thousand to one, but at the moment, they were his best hope.

The men in front of him moved up one. Alejandro glanced over
his shoulder.

“Don’t even think about it,” Dawson warned.

Alejandro muttered a vile oath. “No,” he said, his gaze on
the man just entering the bank. “I won’t.”

Dawson looked over his shoulder, and drew his gun.
“Afternoon, Sheriff,” he said. “Look what I caught.”

* * * * *

She had ridden for several hours, fervently praying that she
was going in the right direction. Nothing looked familiar, and yet everything
looked familiar, since one clump of gray-green sagebrush looked pretty much
like any other.

Fear snaked through her as the sun began to go down. She had
no food, no water, no blankets, no weapon. All things considered, jail was
looking better all the time.

“Rio,” she murmured, “this was not a good idea.”

Not knowing what else to do, she gave the horse its head,
hoping the animal had a better sense of direction than she did. How had the
pioneers managed to cross the whole United States when she couldn’t go a few
miles without getting completely turned around? If she had been in charge, no
telling where the pioneers would have ended up!

Hours later, she saw a faint light burning in the distance.
With a heavy heart, she stared at the squat square building. Impossible as it
seemed, she was back at the hideout.

She dismounted at the stable. Leading the horses inside, she
found two empty stalls. Removing the saddle, blanket, and bridle from first one
and then the other, she forked the horses some hay, made sure both stall doors
were latched, then left the stable.

She stood outside a minute, gazing into the darkness,
wondering what to do next. She never got lost in the city. Of course, there
were signs on every street back home, and a handy Thomas Guide when entering
unfamiliar territory. Out here, there was nothing. Even if there were signs,
what would they say? Turn left at the big rock? Go south for three miles and
turn right at the cottonwood tree?

With a sigh, she headed for the saloon. Maybe she could find
someone who would take her to Bodie. Then again, maybe not. How could she trust
any of the men who frequented this place? They were all outlaws and ruffians,
no better than Dawson and Norland.

The first person Shaye saw when she opened the door was Jack
Calder. He smiled as he came around the bar to greet her.

“Damnation, girl, I was wondering where you went.” He
glanced past her. “Where’s Rio?”

The question, and the concern in Calder’s face, was her
undoing. Feeling like a fool, she burst into tears.

Calder muttered an oath as he placed a beefy arm around her
shoulders and led her out of the saloon and around the back to his cabin. He
lit a light, then sat her down in the room’s only chair. “All right, what’s
going on?”

Sniffling, she told him what had happened. “And now they’re
taking him back to Bodie, and I’ve got to get there to save him before it’s too
late.”

Calder shook his head. “Rio wouldn’t kill no woman.” He
looked at Shaye and grinned. “He might love ‘em to death, but he wouldn’t put
no gun to their head.”

“I have to get to Bodie right away.”

“Sure, sure. Settle down now.” He pulled a dingy kerchief
from his back pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “Cryin’ never solved nothing. Just
let me think a minute.”

Hours of riding and worrying had taken their toll and she
sat back in the chair, suddenly exhausted.

“You look all done in,” Calder said sympathetically. “We
can’t do nothin’ tonight. You get some sleep, and I’ll go see what I can do
about getting you back to Bodie.”

“Thank you, Jack.”

He dismissed her thanks with a wave of his hand. “Use my
bed. And don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”

She woke to the sound of someone knocking on the door. For a
moment, she didn’t remember where she was, and then it came back to her. She
had spent the night in Calder’s cabin.

“Shaye, you awake?”

“Yes, Jack,” she said, sitting up, “come in.”

“Brought you some breakfast,” Calder said, grinning. “French
toast.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Calder handed her a tray, then sat down in the chair. “Least
I can do for Rio’s wife. Man saved my life. I talked to Hoffman last night.
He’s willin’ to take you to Bodie.” He held up a hand at her look of
apprehension. “He’s a good man, Hoffman is. You can trust him. I’d take you
myself, but I can’t leave the saloon. I know what you’re thinkin’,” he said
with a broad smile. “Why can’t Hoffman look after the place? Well, here’s the
truth of the matter. He ain’t the kind of man who would hurt a woman, but he’ll
rob ya blind iffen he sees the chance.”

Shaye nodded. “Thank you.”

“How’s that Frenchy toast? I been getting lots of practice
makin’ it.”

“It’s perfect.”

Calder slapped his hands on his thighs. “Well, then. You
finish eatin’ and I’ll go tell Hoffman to get hisself ready. I reckon you’ll want
to leave right away?”

“Yes.”

So it was that, an hour later, Shaye found herself riding
away from the outlaw hideout with Jim Hoffman. She had collected her gear from
the cabin she had shared with Alejandro. Her backpack and valise were tied
behind her saddle. Calder had generously supplied them with food and drink.

She looked over at Jim Hoffman. He was best described as
average, she thought. Average height, average looks, with an infectious Billy
Crystal grin.

They rode in silence for a time, and then Hoffman started
talking, first about the weather, which was, he said, “damn hot, even for
July”. He then went on to reminisce about the last winter he had spent in
Bodie. “A rough one,” he said, “so cold, they threw the horses out of the barn
and rented out the stalls. Yep,” he said, “I’m hightailing it outta here before
the snows come.”

Shaye nodded. She was trying to think of something to say,
but no reply was needed. Hoffman was a talker, and he rambled on for hours,
telling her about his childhood in Tennessee, his growing up years in Texas.

“Met my wife there,” he said. “She was purty as a black-eyed
Susan, and sweeter than molasses. I sure do miss that gal.”

“What happened?”

Hoffman shook his head. “She was a good woman. Too good for
me. She wanted me to settle down, take up clerkin’ in her father’s store. I
tried. I really did. But stealing was so much easier than workin’. Second time
I got caught, she left me. I ain’t blamin’ her, mind you. She was a
church-going, God-fearing woman. I just couldn’t be what she wanted.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t fret yourself on my account. Nobody’s fault but
my own that I lost her.”

He fell silent after that, leaving Shaye to her own
thoughts, all of which were centered around Alejandro, and a sudden,
overpowering fear that she would arrive too late.

* * * * *

Alejandro paced the floor, his long, angry strides carrying
him quickly from one end of the cell to the other. Damn. Damn, damn, damn! Of
all the rotten luck. Conner had been only too happy to pay Dawson and Norland
the reward money. The lawman had grinned like a man who had just hit pay dirt
when he locked the cell door, and he was still grinning the next day when he
escorted his prisoner to court.

The trial had been over practically before it started.
Alejandro’s lawyer was no match for Pat Reddy. There were only a few witnesses,
but in the hands of Mr. Reddy, their evidence was damning. The clerk at the
hotel had testified that he remembered seeing Alejandro and Daisy leave
together on the night in question. When asked, he stated he had been called
away from the desk for about an hour and hadn’t been there when Alejandro
returned to the hotel. Several miners testified that they had seen Alejandro
going into Daisy’s house.

But the most damning piece of evidence, aside from the fact
that his derringer had been found near Daisy’s body, had been Dade McCrory’s
testimony. McCrory had sworn that he had been passing Daisy’s house that night,
that he had overheard Daisy arguing with Rio, that he had heard a gunshot, and
then seen Rio hurry out of the house.

The jury had deliberated for less than twenty minutes, and
he had been found guilty of murder and sentenced to hang. And because he had
escaped jail the last time he had been arrested, the judge had decreed that his
sentence be carried out the following morning at ten by the clock.

He had no hope now, except Shaye, and little hope there
unless she could bust him out of jail tonight.

Going to the window, he gazed out into the darkness. Where
was she? Had she made it back to Bodie? And what were the odds that she’d be
able to bust him out a second time? He had no doubt at all that she would try,
but he had a feeling, deep down in his gut, that his string of luck had played
out.

His thoughts turned to Daisy. Shaye had told him Daisy had
been killed on the ninth of August, but Daisy had died more than a month
earlier. It looked like Shaye had been wrong about the date of his hanging,
too.

He swore softly, his hands gripping the bars. Somehow, her
presence in the past had altered certain events. She had told him he had been
hanged on the twelfth of August, but that, too, was about to change.

Damn. He lifted a hand to his neck, imagining the weight of
a rope there, the rough feel of it, the thick knot behind his ear, the terror
as he waited for the hangman to spring the trap, his body dropping through the
hole. What would his last thought be as he plummeted toward eternity?

Shaye.

He shared her name with the night. “Shaye.” An urgent
whisper. A heartfelt prayer. A wealth of regret that he would never see her
again. “Shaye…”