Part 12 (1/2)

The trail forked. The one to the left wound around a hillock toward the mountains; the right one continued in the general direction Jacquie thought she should take. But when she started on to the latter, the buckskin balked.

Jacquie took a firmer grip on the reins and tugged. ”Come on, feller,” she coaxed, but he refused.

The instant she relaxed the pulling pressure, the horse s.h.i.+fted toward the other trail. Crooning to him softly, she tried to persuade him to change his mind without success.

Straightening his black forelock, she murmured, ”Do you know something that I don't know?” She tried again to lead him along the right fork and again the buckskin refused.

Giving up, she started up the left fork and the horse willingly followed. The twisted, curving trail climbed up into the edges of the mountain. Rarely was Jacquie able to see beyond the next turn. She had no idea where she was going; she just hoped the horse did.

A large boulder forced the trail to bend around it, and on the other side, Jacquie stopped in surprise. Nestled in a pocket of the mountain slope was a sparkling pool of water, shaded on three sides by rising rock walls. The horse shouldered her forward.

Tracks of various animals were around the small pool. Tufts of green gra.s.s grew near its edges. Jacquie watched the buckskin drink deeply from the waters before she knelt to scoop a small handful to her mouth. It was cool and sweet and wonderfully refres.h.i.+ng.

When she had satisfied her thirst, she sat down by one of the walled sides, leaning against the rock face. The buckskin limped to the gra.s.s, his teeth tearing at the green growth. Now she at least had water.

The western sky was on fire. The slipping yellow orb of the sun was crimsoning the world with streaks of red and flame orange. Clouds purpled under its light while the desert land reflected its burning glow. Jacquie had witnessed this sunset spectacle before. The cool stillness of approaching night had already invaded the land. Darkness would steal in quietly when the sun dipped below the horizon.

To leave the mountain pool when night was creeping in would be foolish. Here she had water and the horse had food even if she didn't. She concentrated on the beauty of the The Master Fiddler sunset and tried not to think about the empty growling of her stomach.

She glanced at her wrist.w.a.tch, and knew that Choya was out looking for her. Possibly she had been missed as early as three hours ago. She wished he would find her, but there was little chance he would, at least not before nightfall. He would search the lane and road first. He wouldn't suspect that she had come in this direction.

Lavender hues dominated the sky. It was twilight. The evening star twinkled dimly. Jacquie s.h.i.+vered at the chill in the air and hugged her arms around her middle. It would be cold tonight and her thin blouse wouldn't offer much protection.

The buckskin lifted its head, its ears p.r.i.c.ked toward the trail. Jacquie looked and saw nothing, but she could hear movement. She tensed. This was probably the only watering hole for miles. Maybe it was a wild animal coming for a drink. The buckskin's sides heaved in a searching whinny.

His call was answered by the whicker of another horse, then Jacquie heard the creak of saddle leather. It had to be Choya. Hastily she scrambled to her feet, her heart thumping wildly against her ribs. Not more than five minutes ago she had been wis.h.i.+ng he would find her. Now she was looking for somewhere to hide.

He rounded the boulder and heat stained her cheeks. The sorrel horse was halted and Choya sat silently in the saddle, his unwavering gaze locked on to hers, his tawny eyes piercing like a golden arrow. Then his gaze s.h.i.+fted to the buckskin.

”Don't say it,” Jacquie muttered angrily when its sharpness was returned to her. ”I know it's called horse stealing.”

”Were you trying to commit suicide?” His voice rolled out low, like thunder. ”No food, no water, and obviously no matches or you would have a fire.”

She tossed her head back in a gesture of defiance. ”I was trying to get away from you. I didn't plan on spending a night in the desert,” she retorted. ”How did you find me?”

Choya swung effortlessly from the saddle. ”A horse leaves tracks. I followed them.”

”You wouldn't have found me,” Jacquie declared bitterly. ”I would have been far away from here if Johnny hadn't gone lame.”

Dropping the sorrel's reins to the ground, Choya walked to the buckskin and ran an exploring hand over the right front leg. Lifting r his hoof, he reached into his pocket and took out something that looked like a knife. There was a sc.r.a.ping sound, then he released the hoof and the buckskin stood squarely on all four feet.

”There was a stone in his shoe,” he told Jacquie.

”That's all?” She stared at him in disbelief. ”That's what made him limp? He isn't really hurt?”

”I imagine his foot is a little sore right now,” Choya conceded. ”Nothing worse than a slight bruise.”

If only she had known what was wrong, she could have been miles away. Her ignorance aroused self-anger, followed swiftly by self-pity.

She stared at her captor, tall and dark as he walked toward her. The half-light of dusk threw his angular features in sharp relief, accenting their unrelenting hardness and the ruthless line of his mouth. He walked past her to the sorrel and pulled a rifle off the saddle scabbard.

Her turquoise eyes widened. ”What are you doing?”

Choya c.o.c.ked the rifle and pointed it into the air. He fired two shots fairly close together paused and fired a third, then he returned his rifle to the scabbard, and glanced at Jacquie.

”I signaled Sam that I found you,” he explained tersely.

”Can he hear that?” she frowned, wondering if he was closer to the house than she had thought.

”Sound, especially a rifle shot, carries a long way in this country.” He moved to the leather pouches tied behind the saddle.

Her chin trembled. ”I suppose you're going to make me go back with you,” she said stiffly.

Unfastening one side of the pouch, Choya glanced at the facing golden light of the western horizon. ”Not now. The trail is too difficult to follow in the dark.”

”Do you mean we have to stay here all night?” Jacquie breathed with alarm.

”That's exactly what I mean.” He removed a packet of sandwiches from the saddle bag and tossed it to her. ”You might as well eat while I start a fire.”

His grimness as he began gathering sticks from the surrounding brush bordered on a kind of anger that Jacquie found difficult to fathom. It increased the apprehension flowing through her veins. Each pa.s.sing minute added The Master Fiddler to the electrically charged tension that tightened around her.

Despite her hunger, she could only eat one sandwich. She set the rest aside for Choya. A small camp fire was crackling as night drew its curtain over the sunset.

With the fire started, he unsaddled the buckskin, laying the saddle and blanket near Jacquie. Taking the lariat from his saddle horn, he strung a picket line for both horses, then unsaddled his own.

His continued silence was unnerving. Mockery and threats she could have combated, but this building tension sc.r.a.ped at her frayed nerves. When he set his saddle on the ground near hers, her control snapped.

”Let me go, Choya.” Her voice trembled hoa.r.s.ely in a demanding plea. ”You can't really want to keep me prisoner anymore. What's the use of it?”

His jaw tightened forbiddingly, but he didn't look at her. The saddlebags were draped over his shoulder. He swung them down and opened one flap, towering above her, a dark silhouette against the camp fire. He removed a small square object and held it out to her.

”This is yours,” he said gruffly.

Fighting tears of frustration that he had failed again to even reply to her demand, Jacquie rose to her feet. Impatiently she took the object he held out to her. Her lips parted to forcefully repeat the demand, but nothing came out as the familiar shape of the object claimed her attention.

She gazed at it in disbelief. ”It's m-my wallet!” she breathed.

”Yes,” was the low response.

Hurriedly she opened it. Nothing was missing. It was intact. ”My money it's all here.” She raised her head, trying to see his face in the flickering firelight. ”Where did you get it?” Then a chilling thought struck her. ”You had it all the time, didn't you?” she accused.

”No!” Choya snapped, and breathed in deeply, almost angrily. ”I didn't,” he added in a voice leashed in anger.

Something in his tone made Jacquie doubt his answer. ”Then where did it come from?” she challenged. ”How did you get it?”

”From Robbie.”

”Robbie?” she echoed the boy's name in shock. ”How did he get it?”