“You must not go.”
“Got to… they know I’m close by.” Again she was silent and he did not understand her silence. He walked to the horse and picked up the bridle so suddenly that the horse shied violently. He waited until the horse quieted, then saddled up.
The mere act of swinging the saddle to the animal’s back took his wind and caught at his wounded side. He leaned against the horse to catch his breath. Bleakly he stared across the saddle into the night. If he got out of this alive he would be pulling more than his proper share of luck.
“You cannot go up.”
“The slide?”
“It is best but there will be much noise.” He tightened the cinch. She had accepted his going then. Glad to be rid of him, most likely. Yet he felt a curious reluctance to go. He remembered the feel of her body, tense and fighting for that moment she was in his arms. The memory brought blood rushing to his head and he turned suddenly and reached for her in the night.
She started to step back but his arms were around her. She fought fiercely, with almost tigerish wickedness yet he held her and drew her close. Suddenly then, she relaxed but it was no submission. She remained still in his arms but there was no response, none whatever. When he released her she made no effort to move away.
“I think you are animal.”
Her voice was low, without emotion. He took her in his arms again, kissing her gently this time, kissing her lips and cheeks, her neck and shoulders. She did not respond but neither did she move away. He released her again and stepped back, his breath slow-drawn. And then for a time neither of them spoke. She made no attempt to leave but neither did she invite any further advances.
He felt strangely lost, helpless. He wanted to reach her, to get beneath the surface. Yet there was nothing from her, simply nothing at all.
“You go home,” he said. “I’m leaving tonight.”
She stooped and picked up the package she had dropped. “Here is food.” She seemed to hesitate an instant, then turned away.
“Maria Christina?”
She stopped but did not turn around.
“I’m coming back.”
She seemed not to have heard him. “Ride up the canyon. Take the first wide canyon to the left. Cross the mesa top to the next canyon, then cross that canyon and the second mesa. You will see a red rock like a steeple and there will be a dead cottonwood at its base. Behind the steeple rock there is a place to hide, and there is a way to escape into the desert when the time is right.”
“Join me there.”
She seemed to shrug. “For why I join you? You think I am gringo? I am Mexican.”
“You come, Maria Cristina. I want you.”
“You are a fool.”
He walked up behind her and she half-turned her head toward him. He could see her face in the vague starlight and the dark pools of her eyes.
“I’m coming back. I owe you more than I can pay.”
“Tor nada?”
“If you do not come to the steeple rock, I shall come back for you.”
“You be keel.”
“So … but I’ll come back.”
He started to take her in his arms but she stepped back, her eyes flashing. “What you think? That I am some common woman to come when you call? Some woman you take when you want? I am not. You think I come here because I need a man? I need no man. I come because you die here … and my father die on those rocks down there. You take me for cheap woman. You go.”
He waited quietly until she was through and then he said, “I’m coming back for you, Maria Cristina.”
“You are a fool.”
“Know more about horses than women,” he admitted. “And you’re all mustang.”
A coyote voiced a shrill rumor to the sky and listened to his own echo. Waited, then tried again. The lone star hung on the canyon’s rim like a lost lantern.
“Man once said there were in a man’s life certain ultimate things and just one ultimate woman. You’re that woman for me.”
“No.”
He took her gently by the shoulders and kissed her lightly. “You just ain’t halter-broke, that’s all. I’ll be back.”
She walked away from him then, without turning, and he heard her start down the slide. If they heard her coming and were waiting, then he knew what he would do. He would go down shooting … and he would go fast.
Trace Jordan waited until he was sure Maria Cristina had cleared the narrow part of the canyon and was in the meadow near the corral. Then he led the horse to the lip of the slide.
The horse might break a leg or be otherwise injured but it was a chance he had to take. He was through here and he knew they would stay close until he starved or somebody lost their nerve and talked.
He knew how small was his chance. There was not one possibility in a million of getting down that slide unheard. And there were two men up the canyon who would be waiting for him.
He was in no shape for a hard ride. But men in just as bad shape had come through. And there was no other solution. He checked all his gear. His bed was rolled, his canteen filled. The food packet was shoved into a saddlebag. He was wearing both guns now and the rifle was in the boot.
He was stalling … he knew he was stalling. The thought of tackling that steep slide in the darkness made his mouth dry and his stomach hollow. He gathered up the reins, then stood listening.
There was no sound … were they down there in the darkness now, waiting for him? Had they captured Maria Cristina?
Lantz shook Ben Hindeman’s shoulder. The fire was low and nobody else stirred. It was very late and the coyote had suddenly stopped his howling. “Ben … wake up.”
Hindeman’s eyes opened and he was instantly awake. He turned his head a little, listening. He heard no sound but the old tracker was bent over him. “What is it, Jake?”
“We got him, Ben. We got him right where we want him.”
Hindeman sat up and began drawing on his boots. His mouth was tasting frightful and his head felt heavy. His eyes told him what time it was after a glance at the stars. He felt sticky and unpleasant but it was time this was finished off. It had taken too much time already.
“The girl’s been gettin’ to him. Shelf up on the rock wall, must be quite a bit of space up there because he’s got his horse up there with him. Hell be comin’ down tonight, I think.”
“How’d you figure that?”
“Hunch.”
Lantz sat back, thinking about that. “More’n a hunch,” he said. “Girl packed him a big bait of grub. Long time up there, I don’t know how she gets there or where the place is, exactly, but I know where he’ll show.”
Hindeman got up, stamping into his boots. Then he spoke sharply and heads lifted. At his orders they began quickly to dress. There was some low grumbling, none of it serious. Just the automatic grumbling of tired men awakened from a quiet sleep. Yet all were glad to be called. They wanted it to be over with. The hunt had begun in a burst of passion. With most of them that was gone now and the hunt continued out of duty and their natural reluctance to admit themselves defeated.
“The two men up the canyon,” Lantz said. “I woke them up. If he comes that way, they’ll take him. There’s two men down canyon below the Mexicans’ place. He’s in the bottle and we’ve got the thing stoppered.”
Jack Sutton pulled on his boots and stood up. He was unshaved and his jaws itched under the stubble. He felt unbathed and dirty and he was a man who liked to be clean.
So the girl had known after all? How many times had she been up there with him?
“That — !” The words broke from him, emptying some of the rankling bitterness within him.
Lantz did not look around and Ben Hindeman merely picked up his saddle and started toward the picketed horses. The other men were belting on guns or picking up their rifles and walking into the night.
They moved out in a tight bunch, then divided. Jack Sutton went along with Ben Hindeman. Once the rest of them were gone, he’d take care of that girl. As for Jordan … Sutton felt a tightness in his throat … an ugly feeling.
Trace Jordan held up a moment longer on the edge of the slide. He felt the red horse put out a tentative hoof, then draw back. “Come on, Jed.” He stepped into the leather as he spoke and felt the horse lurch forward, rocks sliding under his feet.