Witch Dance (28 page)

In his single-minded pursuit of ensuring the family dynasty, was he robbing Deborah of love? Feeling like a thief, he waited for her answer.

“Eagle.” She sounded rushed and breathless. “I’m so glad you called . I was going to call you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Deborah, slow down. What’s wrong?”

“It’s Kate.”

Was it possible to die of fear and still be standing upright, talking into the telephone?

“What about her, Deborah?”

“She hasn’t been here all day.”

“Maybe she’s on a house call. Is her car there?”

“It’s still in the garage.”

“What about her horse?”

“I don’t know. Mahli’s so old, I didn’t think about checking. I’ll do that now.”

“There’s no need for you to get out in this weather when I’m only a few minutes away. I’ll be right—”

“Eagle!” Deborah’s scream raised hairs on the back of his neck. “It’s Mahli . . .”

“Kate? What about Kate?”

“The saddle is empty.”

 o0o

This was the part of his job Martin hated most, searching for the victim. Standing in Kate’s stable, he inspected the saddle once more. The girth had been cut; there was no doubt about it. Martin ground out his cigarette and pulled up the collar of his rain slicker. The weather was a bitch. Tracking Kate Malone would be next to impossible. And the chances of finding her were even worse.

“How long did you say she’s been missing?”

Deborah Lightfoot looked as if she might faint. That’s all he needed, a swooning woman.

“I came in at six this morning, and she wasn’t here.”

“Shit.”

Deborah glanced out at the sleet, coming down in thick sheets now, rattling hard against the stable’s tin roof. They were both thinking the same thing: If Kate Malone was out there somewhere, injured, how would she survive the weather?

“You have to find her,” Deborah said.

“How long ago did you say Eagle left?”

“About an hour ago. Do you think he can find her?”

“If anybody can, it’s Eagle Mingo. Let’s just pray he’s not too late.”

 o0o

Hidden by trees, the avenger stood atop the hill above Kate’s clinic and peered through the heavy sleet. There was no mistaking the black stallion or its rider.

Eagle. The man of legend.

With the power of the Great Spirit hovering like wings over his shoulders.

With the valor of his namesake and the heart of a dove.

With the mark of the mighty warrior bird on his thigh.

The avenger flung himself facedown on the ground, stretching his arms to embrace Mother Earth. In the prostrate position he sought a vision. He waited for the thundering approach of the white buffalo and for the magic circle of life and light.

He waited and waited. But nothing came except the pounding of horse’s hooves as Eagle set out in search of Kate Malone.

Streaked with mud and shivering, the avenger left his watch above the clinic.

 o0o

All hopes of finding Kate’s trail had vanished. Heavy sleet obscured his vision as Eagle sat on his horse and tried to decide which direction to go. When he’d left Kate’s stable, he’d been able to follow her trail for a short while. The ground near the clinic was protected by trees, and although the hoofprints were faint, they were still clear enough for him to know that she had headed west.

West lay the bluffs that had been scarlet with Indian paintbrush all summer, and the Blue River, swollen and threatening to overflow its banks. West lay the Arbuckle Mountains, their peaks hidden under a blanket of snow.

He’d come as far as the river, and now he had a choice to make. If he followed the course of the river, he would come to several small ranches, all of them owned by people who had at one time or another been Kate’s patients. If he veered instead toward the mountains, he would come to the treacherous trail leading to the remote Kent cabin. Because of the weather, the trail would be even more dangerous.

Restless, his stallion pawed the ground, waiting for Eagle to make a decision. He dismounted and searched for clues, any tiny shred of evidence that would help him locate Kate. He found nothing, just as he’d known he would.

Nothing could help him now except his instincts— and perhaps divine intervention. Eagle lifted his head toward the heavy gray sky. It would be dark soon. High in the mountains, a wolf howled.

Eagle raised his fists to the sky.

“Loak-Ishtohoollo-Aba,” he cried. But the Great Spirit wouldn’t be moved by false piety. He hid His face from Eagle and would not be found.

Eagle mounted his impatient stallion and began to follow the meandering path of the river. Suddenly he veered his mount and changed course toward the distant mountains. They rose silently out of the mists of sleet and shadow, calling to him in urgent voices disguised as the howling of the wolf.

He pushed his mount as hard as he dared, mindful of the slick rocks and the sheer three-hundred-foot drop on his right. Darkness covered the mountains, and the urgent howling of the wolf sounded closer.

Around a treacherous curve the stallion’s foot dislodged a rock that started a slide. The horse reared, screaming, while Eagle fought for control. In the ravine, the falling rocks echoed like thunder.

Flattened against the stallion’s back, Eagle used the ancient tongue of his people to bring the horse under control; then he dismounted and led his stallion around the rock slide.

His foot touched something soft, something that didn’t belong on the mountain. Eagle knelt down and picked it up. Kate’s medical bag. Groping in the dark, he found her scattered supplies and her gun . . . and the rock covered with blood. Chance had led him there, and a miracle had protected the evidence. An overhanging shelf of rock had kept it safe and dry during the storm.

“Kate,” he called, on his knees, searching for her, his hands covered with blood. “
Kate
!”

Her name echoed back to him from the mountains. And then, out of the darkness, came another sound, a bone-chilling sound that froze Eagle’s soul—the frenzied cry of wild animals smelling fresh blood.

Eagle pulled his rifle from its scabbard and followed the howling of wolves.

Chapter 32

She crouched in the shallow cave, watching the glowing yellow eyes. The wolves stared back at her. Their demonic howls pierced through the gray fog of pain and hunger that threatened to overcome her, and the stench of their hot breaths filled her rocky shelter.

Kate ran her hands over the floor of the cave, searching for the only weapon she had, the scalpel that had fallen out of her medical bag. Her hands closed around the steel, and she forced herself to an upright position. She hadn’t survived a fall from her horse and a day in freezing rains only to be eaten by wolves.

“Just try to come and get me, you bastards.”

The yellow eyes grew bigger. Six of them. The wolves were closing in.

Her hands were so cold, she could hardly feel her fingers, and she wondered if anybody would ever find her bones.

“Stop it, Kate Malone. You’re going to survive.”

A wave of dizziness caught her, and for a moment the yellow eyes faded. She bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. If she blacked out now, she was as good as dead. She’d heard that the dying have moments of epiphany, though how anybody could know that was beyond her, since the dead couldn’t talk. Instead of thinking about lofty moments such as the summer when she discovered love or the winter when she knew she would be a doctor, she pictured a lobster dinner with all the trimmings. Which all proved the theory of epiphany was hogwash, for if the howls of the wolves were indication, she was about to die.

“Get out of here, you mangy mutts,” she yelled, though the sound that came out was more whimper than shout.

She hated that most of all: that she wouldn’t die with her boots on and her gun blazing. With her cold hands gripped around the scalpel, she watched the wolves.

A shot rang out. Then another and another.

Was she hallucinating? Had she thought up so many rescue fantasies that she’d crossed permanently into fantasy land?

“
Aiya
!” The savage shout came out of the darkness— and the thundering of hooves. Eagle Mingo leapt from his stallion, and the wolves scattered, yelping.

“Kate!” he called.

“In here.”

He knelt down and pulled her from the cave. His arms were strong and warm, and the good solid feel of him made her want to curl up and stay for the next few centuries.

“What took you so long?” she asked.

“Are you hurt?” He ran his hands over her face and neck, and even in her foggy condition she cursed the fates that he was only checking for injuries.

“I’m wet and hungry and mad as hell about falling off my horse, but other than a lump on my head, I’m in perfect condition.”

“You didn’t fall off your horse, Kate. Someone cut the girth.”

“Where’s my gun? I’ll shoot the bastard.”

Even cold and hurt and hungry, Kate could make him laugh. He held her close, absorbing her chill into his bones, and the laughter released the tension that had been building in him from the moment he’d learned she was missing.

How would he live without her? She made survival a grace rather than a necessity. Once in a lifetime the fates matched two people who were luminous together, whose love brightened even the darkest moments of their lives.

Holding Kate now, Eagle felt the glow that leapt from her heart to his, and he wept silently, without tears. He could hold her only long enough to keep her warm, and then he had to let go.

“We’ll never make it down the mountain tonight in this weather,” he said.

“I know. I couldn’t even make it down in the daylight.”

“My hunting cabin is not far. Can you ride, Kate?”

“Anything is better than slipping and sliding around over these rocks, lost as a goose.”

With Kate sitting in front of him, Eagle guided his stallion into the woods. Once in that familiar and less-treacherous territory, they moved swiftly, arriving at the cabin shortly after midnight.

He wanted to carry Kate inside, but she would have none of it.

“I’m not an invalid. Put me down.”

“As you wish.” He set her gently on her feet, but he did hang on to her elbow. “I don’t want you to fall again,” he said when she started to protest.

The cabin was spartan without being shabby. Furnished with the barest necessities, it might have been something from another century except for the electricity and running water. It had been unused for several years, and most of the light bulbs were burned out. The dim glow illuminated cobwebs on the ceiling and gave the dust covers on the furniture the ethereal look of ghosts.

Eagle took a woven blanket from the closet and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“That feels wonderful,” she said, and for a moment he thought she was talking about his hands. She shivered as he stared down at her bruised and battered face.

Rage filled him that he no longer had the right to comfort her and warm her and love her—rage and a certain hopelessness.

“I look that bad, huh?” Kate said.

With his hands lingering on her shoulders, Eagle knew he was in trouble. He’d let his feelings show. Making his face a careful mask, he gathered an armful of dry logs from the bin and knelt beside the fireplace.

“There’s a bath down the hall and dry clothes in the closet. I’ll spread your blanket by the fire to keep you warm.”

He felt her damp coat brush against his thigh, and looked up to see her watching him. Both of them were remembering other ways they’d kept warm.

“If you need anything during the night, all you have to do is call out. I’ll be down the hall,” he said.

“I won’t need anything.”

Even if she did, she wouldn’t ask. He could see that in her eyes. He stoked the fire, ignoring the way her nearness sensitized his skin.

“In the morning I’ll take you down the mountain.”

“I could get down under my own power if I had my horse. Damn that Mahli for leaving me. Poor old soul. I guess she gave me up for dead.” Kate stripped off her wet coat and flung it across a chair. “Whoever is after me should understand it’s going to take more than a lump on the head to do me in.”

Even after she left the room, he still felt as if she were standing beside him. He picked up the poker and viciously stoked the fire.

The man who had tried to kill her would pay.

 o0o

Hal lay spread-eagle upon the bed while Melissa rubbed oil over his skin, and the peyote made him bright and invincible.

“Your body is beautiful,” she said, then bent over him with her hair touching his abdomen.

It didn’t matter that she was more than twice his age or that she called him Clayton in the throes of passion. She knew exactly what she wanted and had the money to buy it. Besides that, she was sophisticated, influential, and a damned good lay.

Her mouth was soft and slick, and he felt the hot, tight coiling that signaled an explosive climax. But he knew how to hold back.

Suddenly she lifted her head and knelt over him like a great, sleek cat.

“Will you love me forever?” Even with her hair tangled in her eyes and her makeup smeared, she was still a striking woman.

“Baby, I’d be a fool not to.”

Her eyes glittered as she raked her long red fingernails down his chest, scoring his skin deep enough to leave a trail of blood. The pain brought him such pleasure that he threw back his head and howled like a wolf.

“Say it.” She sank her teeth into his male nipple. Jagged edges of pleasure ripped through him. “Say you love only me and that you’ll never look at another woman as long as you live.”

“I love only you, wild woman with three names, and I’ll never look at another woman as long as I live.”

He’d said the words only to placate her, but as she straddled him and took them both howling and screaming toward the darkest ends of the earth, he thought it might be so.

Visions swirled through his brain, and in them she was the white buffalo woman, and he was riding her toward the sun, riding until they fell into its blazing center and became flame.