Sabrina's Man (29 page)

The sun lit the tips of the eastern mountains, touching the ragged rim of the hills. Then livid red balls began to break out, spilling over the spires and peaks and rough-cut summits of the mountains far to Waco's left. He looked quickly as light flashed a thousand sharp splinters against the sky, creating a fan-shaped aurora against the upper blue. He had watched the mountains since he had left Fort Smith an hour earlier, and now hot silence covered the summit as he stared. He heard only the staccato beat of a woodpecker pattering rocking waves of noise out in the distance.

Suddenly, as if he had received a clearly spoken warning, a sense of danger overtook him. He had had this sense before, and it had saved him more than once. He drew his horse in sharply and took shelter behind a large outcropping of rocks. Dismounting, he tied his horse to a small sapling and crept back. Inching his way on his belly, he worked his way up to the top of the outcropping of rocks. He lay flat, his outline invisible to any onlookers, appearing only as a darker part of the stone. There was enough light to see, and now he heard what he thought he had heard more than once that morning, a sound of hoofbeats coming from the same direction he had traveled.

Lying as motionless as the rock beneath him, every nerve in Waco was tingling with a familiar sensation, one he had always felt at the approach of danger. More than once since he had left Fort Smith he had sensed that someone was following, but never until now had he heard the sound of pursuit.

The hoofbeats of a single horse sounded along the trail that wound directly beneath the rock. With extreme caution, Waco moved into a crouch, his legs gathered beneath him, his boots gripping the rough surface. He could have used his gun, but he was wary of the sound of gunshots carried to other ears.

Suddenly a horse appeared with a single rider. Waco tensed his muscles. The animal slowed to a trot. Waco's nostrils flared as he tried to judge the distance. The rider would pass within five feet of him. He could easily ambush the stranger without having to arouse any unwanted attention.

When the shadowy figure appeared directly in front of him, he released himself in a powerful spring, the muscles of his legs thrusting him forcefully, his arms outstretched. Knocking the rider from the saddle, the two of them hit the ground. The horse reared and neighed shrilly, and from underneath Waco heard a muffled grunt. He pinned the rider down, and his hand went down the side of the coat looking for a weapon.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Why are you following me?” Even as he spoke, he caught the faint wisp of delicate scent. He whirled the rider around and knocked the low-brimmed hat back, then stood in shock. “Sabrina!”

Sabrina was gasping desperately for breath. “You didn't have to do this.”

Hot anger coursed through Waco, and a chill of fear gripped him over what might have happened. “You crazy, fool woman!” he shouted. “I almost shot you!” Clutching the lapels of the jacket she wore, he pulled her to her feet and bellowed, “What are you doing out here? Don't you know you could get killed? Assuming I didn't shoot you first, there are Indians and outlaws around here.”

Sabrina was finally able to draw a deep breath. “I was following you.”

In disgust Waco muttered, “Fool woman! You could have gotten killed.” He looked up at the sky in disgust and then asked, “Are you hurt?”

“No, just the breath knocked out of me. I know you are furious with me, but I had to come. I had to. You're going into danger, and I didn't like—I mean, I didn't think it would work.”

“Does your dad know you're here?”

“Yes, I left him a letter telling him what we're going to do.”

“What
we're
going to do?” Waco jerked to a stop. “We're not going to do anything.
You're
going back to Fort Smith.”

“Wait a minute. Please, Waco,” she begged. “Just let me tell you my idea. Just give me a minute, please.”

“Oh, for crying—” Waco blew an exasperated breath. “Well, let me go catch your horse. He's probably halfway to the next territory by now.”

He turned and scrambled up the steep rock outcropping, went to his horse, and swung into the saddle. It was an easy job to catch her mount, for the little bay had not gone far before she stopped. Waco found her dawdling around nibbling at some scrub brush. On the next rise he could see the form of a rider, and he recognized Gray Wolf 's familiar mount. Grabbing the reins, he went back to Sabrina. “Well, let's go riding. Gray Wolf 's up ahead.”

“All right,” Sabrina said meekly. She swung up into the saddle.

Waco relentlessly searched the horizon. “I hope Gray Wolf doesn't shoot us. Now what's all this about?”

Eagerly Sabrina began to speak. “I thought of a way that would be better. You were going in blind without any plan at all, and I don't think it would have worked, Waco. You could have been found out. They could watch you every second. You know they're suspicious.”

“Well, what's your plan, Miss Sabrina Warren?” He was still angry at her and couldn't keep it from his voice.

“All right. I thought about this a lot.” She took a long, deep breath and then spoke rapidly. “You take me into the outlaws' camp. You tell LeBeau that I'm the daughter of the manager of the Western Express Company over at Durango. I was in New Orleans when LeBeau came to our house, and he won't know who I am. We never met. Anyway, they ship gold coins usually by train.”

“How do you know that?”

“Some of the men were talking at the hotel. That's what made me think of it.”

Waco thought then said, “What's next?”

“You tell them that you kidnapped me and you're going to make my father give you the number of the train and when it's due to leave with a big shipment of gold, a million and a half dollars or something like that.”

Despite himself, Waco smiled. “Well, that ought to be enough to get Trey's attention. So how does this work?”

“We'll locate some place out here in the desert and plant a sealed bottle there. Your story will be that my father's going to send us a message about the train.”

“And what then?”

“You tell him that you've got this big shipment of gold located, but you don't have a gang to hold the train up. Trey's got the gang; you know when the gold will be shipped. You see?”

“What will Marianne say when she sees you? Won't she accidentally reveal who you are just because she is excited to see her sister?”

“I think if you tell everyone who I am before she has a chance to speak that it will work. She catches on to things pretty quickly.”

Waco couldn't help himself and muttered, “She didn't with LeBeau.”

“She was blinded by his loving attention.”

Waco had an active imagination. He rode along without speaking, the clopping of the horses' hooves on the dusty ground the only sound. The dust rose in the air, and Waco could sense the spicy aroma of sagebrush and the thousand other indefinable scents of the desert that he had grown to love. His mind toyed with what Sabrina had told him, and at length he said reluctantly, “Well, it might work. It has possibilities anyhow. Look, there's Gray Wolf. I guess I'd better ask him not to shoot us.” He called out, “Gray Wolf, come in here.”

“Will you try it, Waco?”

Waco was of a divided mind. It did sound like a good plan, but it would put Sabrina into danger, and the last thing in the world he needed was for her to get hurt or even killed. He said, “I'll think on it as we go. If I decide it won't work, I'll have Gray Wolf take you back.”

“You can't do that,” Sabrina said, and suddenly there was that streak of stubbornness that Waco had noted many times. “I'm going to help with this, and you've got to let me do it.”

Waco suddenly grinned. “I probably will. Tell me, woman, was there ever a time when you didn't get your own way?”

“Yes.” Sabrina smiled brilliantly. “I think it was when I was six years old. Let's go. I'm anxious to get started.”

A
storm seemed to hover over the land late in the afternoon. The air was filled with streaked lightning and long, booming drums of sound. The sky itself was gloomy and dark, and the wind made a howling noise to accompany it.

This kind of storm Sabrina had never seen before. She lived in a city where the buildings made barriers to cut down on the wind, and she was always indoors when the storms that they did have came. Now the thunder clapped loud and sharply because there was nothing to serve as a barrier, and the sound reverberated endlessly, rolling off into the distance. The thought came to her that this must be something like battle, cannon shots, suddenly deafening and shattering then clattering on, dying by slow degrees. The sound left her stunned, and her ears were dull. The shock seemed to rock the earth.

Lightning suddenly reached down from out of the dark clouds and seemed to fork and branch and grab the ground. The lightning flashes burned and leaped upward, crackling and vivid, dangerous it seemed to her. It almost seared the eyes, and she wanted to cover her ears when the thunder boomed and the white streaks blinded and burned.

She clung to the pommel of her saddle, and slowly the storm seemed to move on. The wind was still there, sounding like the tearing of soft silk, and then without warning rain fell fiercely in slanting lines of light. Glancing over at Waco, she saw that he sat upright in the saddle, appearing to ignore the rainstorm. The fat rain came down on both of them. She noticed it was soaking his clothing, and her own clothing was sodden and uncomfortable.

Waco walked the horses at a medium pace, but now the afternoon was so dark it could have been night. The sky was thick and furred like a blanket. To her the air seemed heavy just to breathe, and there was still the sharp, metallic taste of the storm. For the next half hour the rain did not slacken, and the wind continued to blow, sending before it, high in the sky, vast swollen cloud rollers that slashed earthward in crusted, gravel-core sheets and then in ropey gouts and then in whirling balls of wind.

“Are we ever going to stop, Waco?”

She saw Waco turn to her. He wore a wide-brimmed Stetson with the top creased and filling up with water then running down over the brim. “We're not far from where I told Gray Wolf to meet us.” He gave her a slight grin. “You ready to stop and rest?”

“Who could rest in rain like this?”

“It'll stop pretty soon. Look. The clouds there, they're about blown away.”

His words came true. Within half an hour the air cleared, and it smelled clean and pure, unlike the dusty smell she was accustomed to in the rolling plains of Oklahoma. She was wearing a lightweight divided skirt that had soaked through, and the rain had now run down into the tops of her boots so that she was miserably uncomfortable.

She was glad when he finally lifted his arm and said, “There's where we're going, right over there.”

Sabrina lifted her gaze to follow his gesture and saw, no less than a mile away, a rising cone-shaped hill. The hills of Oklahoma were rough and irregular, but this one seemed to be shaped by human hands. “That's a funny-looking hill.”

“Yes, everybody travels this way uses it for a landmark. Come along. We'll try to get some dry wood to light a fire and dry ourselves out.”

They rode at a slow pace, the horses' hooves making splashes in the puddles left by the driving rain.

Waco looked around and said, “You know, this'll be pretty in a couple of days. Rain like that always brings out the wildflowers. You wouldn't know this place. The prettiest time of the year, I do think.”

The rain had stopped completely, and finally they reached the foot of the cone-shaped hill. It was much larger than it seemed in the distance, and there were lower hills around the base of it.

“We've got to get dried out,” Waco said. “We'll freeze to death. You got any dry clothes?”

“Yes.”

“First we'll fix a fire. I'll rig something to dry these wet ones out. The blankets are pretty well soaked, too.”

For the next hour they gathered firewood, such as could be located. Waco found an old tree, broke it open with his knife, and dug out the inside. “This is called punk. It burns real good. You see if you can find some small branches. Shake 'em out until they're as dry as we can get 'em. I'll look for something larger.”

That was the way they built the fire. She found a double handful of small branches that seemed to be fairly dry, and he came back with several larger chunks. He laid the punk on the ground, surrounded it with the branches she had, then took a box of matches out of his saddlebag, struck one of them, and held it to the punk. The yellow tongues of fire leaped up immediately. He carefully added wood, and finally they had a large fire going. Taking his knife, he trimmed off two of the saplings that were close to the fire and tied a piece of string to each of them. “There. We'll tie the blankets on these and get them dry. It's gonna be cool tonight.”

After they had hung the blankets up, he dug into his saddlebag and pulled out two cans of beans and then reached into her saddlebag and got a large chunk of bacon. Taking out his knife, he sliced it into thick portions, put the frying pan on the fire, and let it all begin to simmer.

The odor of the cooked food hit Sabrina almost like a blow. She had not known real hunger, but they'd had only a small breakfast and nothing for lunch. She watched eagerly as the bacon sizzled and the beans began to smoke.

He stirred them occasionally with his knife, adding a little water from his canteen. Finally he said, “Okay, let's eat.”

“I'm starved.”

“Pretty hungry myself. Here.” He dumped half of the beans in a tin plate, added some of the crisp slices of bacon, then handed her the plate and a fork. He fixed his own, and Sabrina did not wait but began eating at once.