The Rogue (16 page)

An involuntary cry of anguish escaped Diana’s lips, her gaze flying to Holt, now standing to one side of her. Years of control kept his expression calm and impassive; his gray eyes revealed nothing of what was going on inside him.

“Guy—” he began in a level tone.

But Guy was already moving. The saddles and gear were only a step from him, and he moved toward
them. For a moment his intention wasn’t clear. Then he drew a rifle from its scabbard and pointed it at Holt, aiming it from his hip.

“I saw you rape her!” he accused in a sobbing cry. “I’m going to kill you!” Guy cocked the rifle. “Move away from her.”

Gasping, Diana looked at Holt. An intense pain, pure agony, flashed across his face. It held no fear of death, only the searing torment that the gun aimed at him was held by his son. The entire force of it seemed to be transmitted to Diana. But the glimpse was fleeting. Again, iron control masked Holt’s reaction.

“If you saw”—Holt took a step forward and to one side, away from her—“then you know it wasn’t rape.”

“You told me all those lies about her because you wanted her for yourself,” Guy accused, lifting the rifle to his shoulder. “You’ll never touch her again.”

“Guy, don’t!” Without being aware she had moved, Diana was between the two men. “My God, he’s your father!”

“What good are fathers?” he retorted bitterly.

Holt was pushing her aside, rejecting the shield of protection her body offered him. With slow, deliberate strides, he started toward Guy.

“Don’t come any closer,” Guy warned, the muzzle of the rifle wavering slightly.

Holt stopped when there was barely five feet between them. “At this distance, you can’t miss, Guy. So when you pull the trigger, be certain you won’t regret it.”

Diana ran to Guy, her legs shaking with every step, her heart pounding in terror. She grabbed at his arm. “If you care about me at all, don’t do this!” she pleaded.

His finger trembled on the trigger, but he didn’t look at her. Her widened gaze darted to Holt. The piercing metallic look in his eyes was impossible to hold, and Diana didn’t see how Guy could meet it. In another second, she would have reached for the rifle barrel, but
it wasn’t necessary, as Guy pointed the muzzle at the ground.

“If you go near her again, the next time I will kill you,” Guy warned.

It was over and Diana sank weakly to her knees, trembling. Holt turned and walked several yards away, eliminating the possibility of further confrontation. The polished wood of the rifle butt touched the ground near her. Her shaking fingers lifted a curtain of tangled black hair and tucked it behind her ear.

Guy’s hand rubbed across his forehead and roughly wiped the tears from his cheeks in a gesture that said he was waking from a nightmare. Reality had been much worse than a nightmare. Diana closed her eyes, trying to shut out the horrifying memory of it. She felt the tentative touch of Guy’s hand on her shoulder.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.” She nearly choked on a bubble of hysterical laughter. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

“Where’s Rube?” Holt’s voice cut into the quiet exchange.

“He’s still up there,” Guy answered curtly.

“Go relieve him.” It was an order.

Guy hesitated before announcing, “Diana is going with me.”

Holt’s gaze flicked over the pair of them. “Why tell me? She doesn’t need my permission.”

Guy’s mouth tightened as he glanced down at Diana. “Come on.” He extended a hand to help her to her feet.

Diana didn’t know what to do. Half of her wanted to stay with Holt. The other half knew she had to go with Guy or risk a whole new explosion. Her shattered nerves couldn’t withstand another such scene.

Placing her hand in Guy’s, Diana rose and walked with him. As he helped her up the steep slope, she forced herself not to look back at the solitary figure of Holt watching them leave.

It was a long, punishing climb on foot to where Rube waited. Her legs were aching and she was out of breath
by the time they reached him. The physical pain felt good, overwhelming the mental torment for a while.

“It’s about time you came back,” Rube grumbled. “I’d just about decided you was gonna leave me up here. I s’pose the food’s all dried up by now an’ ain’t fit to eat. What’d you mean by runnin’ off like that, anyways?” he demanded of Guy. “You took off out a here like a bull after a bee stung his privates.” His squinting eyes turned to Diana. “An’ what happened to you?”

She guessed her face was still white, her eyes not yet losing their anguished look. When his gaze touched the torn sleeve of her blouse, her hand moved to cover it.

“I tore it on a bush,” Diana lied.

“Ya gotta be almighty careful out here. Ya can get some bad scratches from some of these bushes.” Rube shook his head in warning. “Infection sets in an’ then you’re in a bad fix.”

“I wasn’t scratched.”

“You’re mighty goddamned lucky, then. The way it tore your sleeve, it coulda—”

“Don’t you think you’d better get down to camp?” Guy interrupted.

“First you go tearin’ off without so much as a ’bye, ya leave, an’ then you’re hustlin’ me to go. But I can take a hint. I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll go.” Rube moved off, still grumbling under his breath.

In a few minutes, his wizened figure was out of sight and Diana sat down in the shade of the juniper tree near the canyon’s rim. She didn’t glance at Guy when he joined her. Seconds ticked away in silence, each one louder than the last.

“I hate him,” Guy muttered in a savage release of emotion. “If you hadn’t been there, I would have killed him.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Diana rose in agitation, hugging her arms about her knotted stomach. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Then Guy was on his feet. “Why did you let him do it?” There was the pain of bewilderment in his voice.

“It just happened, that’s all.” She kept her back to him, fighting the twinges of guilt. “I can’t explain how or why.”

His arms circled around her waist to draw her close. “Oh, God, I love you so much, Diana.” His mouth moved against her hair as he spoke. “All I want is to cherish and protect you. You need never to feel insecure as long as I’m around, Diana. I promise.” Her hands had closed around his wrists, intending to escape his embrace, but his curious statement caught her by surprise and she hesitated. “I know what it’s like to be lonely and to need somebody—anybody—to show that they care. But I care, Diana. I’ve always cared. You never have to turn to anybody else but me.

His mouth moved lower to nuzzle her neck, but her senses were indifferent to his caress. There was no more hesitation as Diana unwrapped his arms from around her waist and stepped away, rejecting his embrace and his rationalization for her behavior.

“What’s wrong?” Guy frowned.

“Everything. Don’t you see?” she demanded impatiently. “I can’t go from your father’s arms straight into yours.” She turned away, confused, irritated, and miserable. “I’m going back to camp.”

“You can’t go back down there with him!” he protested.

“Oh, God.” Her laughing sigh was bitter. “After what happened between you and Holt, you don’t honestly think he still wants me. He’d probably rather see me dead. You needn’t worry, Guy. Nothing is going to happen. Besides, Rube is down there now.”

Her descent to the arroyo camp was a slow one. At the crunch of her boots in the gravel bank, Holt turned to face her, a light flashing in his eyes. Her heart leaped at the involuntary movement he made toward her, but he stopped himself, his features hardening as he pivoted away. Diana’s heart plummeted to her toes. It was what she had expected, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept.

“I thought you was gonna stay up there with Guy.” Rube scraped the last bit of hash from his plate. “If I’d o’ known you was comin’ down, I’d o’ walked with you, but you didn’t say a word about comin’ back.”

“It was too hot up there.”

“I coulda told ya that, but ya didn’t ask. Nobody asks me nothin’ . . , nor tells me nothin’, neither,” he complained. “Not that I care. Don’t make no goddamned never mind to me.”

If it wasn’t for Rube, there wouldn’t have been any conversation around the campfire that night, a fact that didn’t escape his notice.

“The air around here is so goddamned thick a body could cut it with a knife,” he observed. “Ain’t no one ’cept me strung ten words together all at once. Course, it never occurred to any of you to let me in on what’s goin’ on. Nah, there ain’t no need in tellin’ Rube nothin’. Just keep it ’twixt yourselves.” Diana caught the quelling look Holt sent him. “I know, I know,” Rube acknowledged it. “Why don’t I just shut up? It ain’t none of my business.”

By mid-afternoon of the following day, the stallion had still not brought the mares to the canyon’s waterhole. The last of their canteens of water was empty. The decision Holt had postponed had to be made now, and Guy reminded him of it.

“We’re out of water. What are we going to do?” he challenged. “Our horses haven’t had any since this morning.”

“We’ll wait until five. If the stallion hasn’t brought the mares in by then, we’ll go to the waterhole.”

They waited. Five o’clock came and went with no sign of the white stallion and his mares. Diana sensed Holt’s reluctance to enter the canyon, but the overriding concern was their own need for water.

“Saddle up,” he said when he saw Rube’s signal that there was no movement in the canyon. “We’ll take the horses in and let them drink their fill.”

On horseback, the climb to the canyon rim seemed shorter. Rube saw Guy leading his saddled horse and smiled widely.

“I figured you was gonna leave me perched up here like some goddamned bird. I was gonna hitch a ride if ya did,” he declared. “If I gotta be sittin’, I’d rather be astraddle a horse. ’Sides, it’s bound to be cooler down there, rather than these skillet-hot rocks up here.”

“Get on your horse, Rube,” Holt said with thinly disguised impatience.

Muttering to himself, Rube took the reins from Guy and swung his bowed legs into the saddle. With Holt leading the way to the canyon floor, Diana was last, leading the haltered pack horse minus its pace.

The lengthening shadows made the canyon seem much cooler than the higher plateau of the mountain. At the waterhole, Holt and Guy refilled the canteens, adding purifying tablets to the containers as a precaution, while Rube and Diana held the horses. When their drinking water had been gathered, the horses were led forward to drink.

Diana splashed water on her hands and face, the tepid water cool to her skin. “Be nice to take a bath,” she murmured to no one in particular.

But Rube was quick to take up a chance at conversation. “When you’re chasin’ wild horses, ya shouldn’t bathe. Ya ain’t even s’posed to change clothes. Confuses the smell. I read about one fella that did that, never bathed nor changed clothes. He’d follow a herd ’til they’d get so used to his smell, they wouldn’t even run when he came around. He herded ’em right into a pen without them even knowin’ they was bein’ caught. Nope, ya shouldn’t bathe when you’re chasin’ wild horses.”

“I’m sure you are in favor of that, Rube,” Holt commented dryly.

“Now what are you insinuating’? I bathe just as regular as the next fella,” was the indignant retort. “Ain’t nobody ever accused me o’ bein’ dirty.”

Unkempt, perhaps, Diana thought, glancing at the stubble of beard growth on his weathered face, but not unclean. But she, nor either of the other two, had the desire to tease him as they would have a few days ago.

With a sigh, she straightened and gazed toward the canyon mouth. It was pure chance that prompted her to look in that direction. Her muscles froze as she saw an alabaster statue standing several hundred yards away.

“Look,” Diana whispered.

The others turned, similarly freezing in their tracks. The white stallion saw their shapes and lifted his nose to the air, testing it for their scent. He advanced a few feet, floating over the ground in that peculiar rocking gait of his, his long tail streaming behind him, his mane rippling like white silk in a gentle breeze. Suspicious, the stallion stopped again, becoming as motionless as an exquisite living sculpture.

Diana was conscious of nothing but the sight of him, the sense of awe and enchantment. The stallion was as wild and free as the soaring eagle, with equal pride and nobility. Excitement thundered through her veins.

The wind carried the stallion’s scent to their horses. This time Diana was prepared when her gelding turned to view the strange horse, her hand closing over his nose to silence him. But the shifting movements of the horses turning to stare curiously at the stallion seemed to be all the confirmation he needed of danger.

His snorting neigh was undoubtedly an order for the mares behind him to retreat. Wheeling on his hind legs, the stallion struck out for the mouth of the canyon. Diana would have stood there watching the beautifully fluid picture, but Holt was already springing into his saddle.

“Come on. We’ll never get closer than this,” he ordered.

His horse was bounding after the fleeing band before the others were in their saddles. With the burden of the pack horse, Diana was destined to eat their dust as they galloped in pursuit. Their horses were fresh but water-logged, and it slowed them down.

They kept in sight of the band. The buckskin mare raced in the lead with the white stallion crowding the rear of the other mares, not letting them slow their headlong flight. His pacing stride made him appear to glide over the ground, effortlessly and tirelessly.

The shadows lengthened as the sun dipped lower. At times, Diana lost sight of the mares, but always the
gleaming white of the stallion guided them like a beacon light. No matter how hard they pushed their horses, they couldn’t seem to close the gap between them and the fleeing herd.

The buckskin mare seemed to know every hill and hollow intimately. Swerving sharply, she ducked into the narrow opening of an arroyo and the stallion drove the stolen mares after her. Rube and Holt were the first to enter the opening, followed by Guy. Diana was much farther behind. She heard the squealing cry of horses and shouts from the men. Before she could urge her horse through the opening, Guy and his horse were coming out.