Sagebrush Bride (48 page)

He didn’t have long.

Again, he blinked and shook his head, staggering
to his knees. He knew better than to panic. Panic would lay them all six feet
under. But his strength was fading quickly. He turned abruptly, his back
slamming against the boulder as he fell backward, his hair and clothing soaked
with sweat. Without a word, he lifted his Colt up out of his belt and began to
lever bullets into the firing chamber.

“Cutter?”

Seeing his eyes close briefly, Elizabeth startled.
Crying out, she slid Katie off her lap and threw herself at him.

“Cutter!”

Immediately,
Elizabeth began searching for a wound, tears pricking at her eyes, threatening
to obscure her vision. With the last of his strength, Cutter thrust her hand
away and continued loading, but she returned stubbornly, probing him, holding
back her sobs as she searched him.

Sweat
trickled from Cutter’s brow as he passed the loaded weapon to Elizabeth.

“Where?”
Elizabeth demanded, desperation taking over. She could sense him fading, and
still had no notion what it was that was wrong. “I don’t see where you were
shot!” She was losing hold of her control. Dear God, Cutter couldn’t die. He
couldn’t leave her! She loved him. “Cutter,” she moaned.

“Lizbeth,
gal... we’re in a tight... ”he told her, wavering on the brink of
unconsciousness. Shadows flitted before his eyes as he handed her the loaded
Colt, butt-first. He swallowed nothing. His mouth was dry as death. “Need your
help,” he told her hoarsely.

Elizabeth
shook her head, shoving the gun away, denying him. She was terrified that if
she touched the gun, he would slip away. Desperately she continued to probe his
body for the mysterious wound, confounded that she couldn’t find it.

Cutter
looked at her blankly, his eyes narrowed and glassy. “Elizabeth,” he said
firmly. “Take the confounded gun... point it at the bad guys... and shoot.” he
thrust it at her weakly. “Take it,” he entreated softly, blinking as his eyes
crossed.

Fighting
her hysteria, Elizabeth snatched the odious gun from his hands, fully intending
to lay it aside while she continued to search him, but the moment she did,
Cutter’s eyes closed, and he slumped to one side.

“No!”
she cried, clutching his shoulders in desperation. “Oh, no—Cutter, no!”

Lead
shattered into the boulder, flinging shards of stone. One chip hit Katie in the
arm. At once Katie began to shriek, scurrying closer to Elizabeth. Elizabeth
shoved her down to lie beside Cutter, her instinct for survival taking over.
Saying a short prayer for all their souls, she rose to her trembling knees. The
gun wavered in her hands as she peered over the boulder, only to face panic
once more.

Oh,
God! She could see nothing! Nothing at all! She shook her head, denying the
position she was in, and turned, sinking down despondently against the cold
stone. But it was no use. Denial would accomplish nothing.

“Dear
God, have mercy on our souls,” she said with a catch, and resolutely came back
to her knees, fully expecting to look death in the face.

She
couldn’t see anything beyond the swaying grass—not even the boulder she
and Katie and Cutter had used for shelter earlier. Everything, everything,
beyond her field of vision was a hazy predawn blur of gray and rose. Another
bullet whistled past, just missing Elizabeth.

At
her feet, Cutter groaned, startling her.

“Just
a scratch,” he said deliriously, his teeth setting against the pain.

Elizabeth
felt torn, wanting to go to him, and knowing she couldn’t possibly. She peered
over the boulder again. Another bullet whizzed by, missing her, though barely,
and she squeezed one of her own off accidentally. Her hands quivering, she
muttered a curse she’d learned from Cutter and glanced back over the boulder,
pointing her gun shakily, but not firing.

She
couldn’t see anything to shoot at and didn’t dare waste bullets. Oh, God... she
couldn’t kill what she couldn’t see! And she couldn’t see anything!

Not
true! she told herself. You can see all you need to! Don’t panic. “Do not
panic,” she told herself firmly.

Biting
her lower lip almost painfully, she held her breath, and waited. For the
longest moment, there was nothing. Nothing at all. The sound of gunfire stopped
abruptly, and only the sound of the breeze stirred through the grass.

With
every second of silence, her fear mounted.

And
then suddenly she tensed, seeing a face... oh, God, a face... a bearded face!
Magnus was on his belly, coming like a snake through the grass!

He
was grinning—knowing that she was incapable of staving him off alone. But
he was wrong. She could do it! Keeping her hand as steady as she was able, she
tried with all her might to focus, squinting as he came closer, waiting for the
right moment.

Closer.

“Aunt
Lizabeth!” Katie squealed in fright.

“Stay
down, Katie!” Elizabeth squeezed the trigger, but it merely clicked, the
chamber empty. Cutter had missed one. How many bullets had he loaded? She
couldn’t remember.

“Cutter?”
she whimpered.

Magnus’
grin widened. Emboldened, he came to his knees, rising swiftly to his feet to
rush at her.

Panic
threatened to set in. Some part of Elizabeth wanted only to toss down the gun
in her hand and throw herself at Magnus’ mercy, knowing there was no way
possible for her to fire and hit her intended target... even if there were
bullets... but there had to be! She’d watched Cutter load it!

There
had to be!

And
she had to try. Magnus would kill them all without hesitation. That had been
his intent all along, she reminded herself bitterly. Bolstering her courage,
she straightened, steadied the gun in her hand, and focused hard on Magnus’
beard.

With
a hopeless cry, she squeezed the trigger again. Adrenaline sped through her as
the gun discharged. Again she fired. And then again. And then again.

And
then she blinked, disbelieving her eyes. Before her, as though in slow motion,
Magnus wavered a moment, then fell to his knees in the grass, clutching his
ribs... an arrow piercing his heart. Blood gurgled from his mouth.

Oh,
God... an arrow!

Elizabeth
stared at it for a dumbfounded moment. She watched as he dropped the gleaming
silver gun to the grass and then collapsed atop it. Shocked, she turned to see
that Katie had buried her face into Cutter’s side.

And
then she looked up... and saw another face approaching, a face with eyes as
black as Cutter’s. But it was familiar and she didn’t scream, despite her
moment of fear. She swallowed, realizing that it was the very same Indian who
had come upon her and Cutter in their sleep. The same one who had spoken to
Cutter. Who’d thanked her for the sage she hadn’t purposely placed on his
brother Black Wolf’s grave. She shook her head, as though disbelieving what she
saw. The Indian came forward and bent over Magnus’ body, placing a hand before
his nose and then at his throat.

“Enaa'e.”

Elizabeth
shook her head frantically, not understanding.

“
E
naa'e
!” He pointed at
Sulzberger and made a quick slicing motion with his hand. “
Enaa'e
!”

“D-Dead?”
she stammered. “Dead?”

The
Indian seemed to understand her, and he suddenly pointed away from them, in the
direction Sulzberger had come from. “
E-e
tdhtahe
!”

“C-Colyer?”
she asked, pointing timidly in the same direction. “D-Dead, too?” She tried to
recall what Cutter had said about death in the Cheyenne tribe. “
Seyan
?” she blurted. She pointed in the
same direction the Indian had, once more, hope spiraling in her breast.
“Colyer...
seyan
?”

The
Indian’s brows collided, though he appeared amused, not angry. He shook his
head and pointed again. Then, turning, he held out his hand. Two of his fingers
ran across his palm. “
Ee'tóhtah
e
,” he repeated.

Elizabeth
shook her head, still not understanding.

Suddenly
his arms flew wide, and his fingers curled, claw-like. He shouted the word again
and lunged at them. Katie screamed, hurling herself into Elizabeth’s back, her
arms flying about Elizabeth’s neck.

Elizabeth
didn’t dare move.

“
Ee'tóhtahe
!”
the Indian said again, pointing at Katie. He mimicked Katie’s fear, running in
a circle with his hands high in the air. His mouth was agape with a scream that
never materialized.

The
image was so comical that if Elizabeth hadn’t been so dazed, she might have
actually laughed. As it was, he stopped suddenly, and she flinched at the
suddenness of his movement as he again pointed in the direction Sulzberger had
come. Just to be certain she understood, he turned his palm up once more and
ran his fingers across it. “
Ee'tóhtahe
!” he repeated.

“Afraid,”
Elizabeth whispered with a nod. Her heart pounded fiercely, yet she knew
instinctively that he’d meant neither of them any harm. Colyer had run away
afraid, she surmised. She made the same running motion with her fingers, and
nodded again at the Indian. “Colyer ran away afraid,” she concluded, and then
she began to pry Katie’s arms from around her neck. She brought Katie around to
embrace her. “He won’t hurt you,” Elizabeth assured, knowing in her heart that
it was the truth. “He means to help us.”

The
Indian nodded and smiled, as though he’d again understood. He looked down
suddenly and kicked Sulzberger’s body violently. Elizabeth winced, but
Sulzberger didn’t stir.

Satisfied
that the Indian had come in peace, Elizabeth wasted no more time in returning
her attention to Cutter. With Katie still clutching at her, she turned and
began to examine him under the Indian’s watchful gaze. Quickly she began to
unbutton his shirt, removing his arms from his sleeves. He was much too heavy
to remove it completely, so she left it for him to lie upon.

As
Elizabeth probed Cutter’s arms, she was vaguely aware that the Indian was
dragging Sulzberger away from them. When he was gone finally, Katie eased her
grip, though she didn’t release Elizabeth completely. Her little fist clutched
at Elizabeth’s skirt.

Katie’s
whisper was shaky. “I-Is he a Indian, A-Aunt Lizabeth?”

Elizabeth
nibbled her lower lip as she met Katie’s frightened gaze. “Yes,” she replied.

“Is
h-he a good Indian?”

Elizabeth
couldn’t tear her gaze away. There was so much of her own emotions mirrored in
Katie’s eyes. “Yes, he is,” she answered with more certainty than she felt.
Swallowing, she returned her attention to Cutter.

“Is
Uncle Cutter gonna go to heaven, too, Aunt Lizabeth?”

Elizabeth
was startled by the innocent question; her eyes flew to Katie’s. Tears stung her
own eyes, but she held them back, containing them with anger. “I don’t know,”
she replied honestly, her voice breaking. She averted her eyes to Cutter’s
chest, laying her hand upon it. She bit into her lower lip to keep from crying
out loud. His breath was shallow, too shallow, and his flesh was raging with
fever. Fear lodged in her throat as she turned him slightly, peering underneath
his back.

Nothing.

His
color is good, she told herself. As long as he was still feverish, he was
fighting. But how could he be feverish if he’d only just been shot? She shook
her head. It wasn’t possible. And then she recalled the shots that had killed
O’Neill. Had Cutter been hit then, too—all those hours ago—and said
nothing of it? It still didn’t make sense.