“Yep.” I stood there waiting as he turned the gelding toward me.
“I guess you got my note?”
“I did.”
He looked around. “You’re alone?”
I cocked my head. “Pretty much.”
He nodded and even in the distance, I could see him gnawing on his lip. “Devon hurt her.”
“I know.” I circled around in the direction he’d taken to get to the statue. “And I owe you an awfully big favor for getting help.”
He laid the reins to one side as the horse turned toward the trail. “I didn’t kill him.”
I waited. “I know that, too.”
The horse shifted his weight, so I stopped. He watched me for a moment and then asked, “How is she?”
“Improving.” I started to take another step and then thought better of it. “Her eyes are open, and she’s responding.”
He nodded and shifted the reins. “That’s good news.” I waited as he watched me. “I guess this all seems kind of weird to you, huh?”
I figured, why lie? “A little.” I gambled on another step and, in three more, I could block his retreat to the path, at least as well as a man afoot can block a man on horseback.
He cleared his throat. “I’m more at home here in the park than in the city.”
“I was hoping that would be the case.”
He shifted his weight on the gelding as it planted a hoof in anticipation, the circled eye still on me. If William White Eyes didn’t know what I was doing, the horse did. “I don’t know how much you know about me.”
“Quite a bit, actually.”
He nodded and looked down at his hands. “Cady told you?”
“No, I’ve made a case study of you lately.”
He nodded some more. “I wasn’t sure what I should do next, but I thought you might have some ideas.”
“Well, the cops want you, but they don’t want to kill you.” I took another step. “It seems to me you’ve got an awful lot of information they need.”
“Toy Diaz’s account numbers.”
“Yep.” I took the final step, William watching as I stood at the trail. He turned the bay toward the stone stairs and retainer wall where I could look him in the eye. “I’m not sure if Mr. Diaz is around, but I wouldn’t be surprised. We need to get you out of here.”
“I’m the safest I could be, here.”
“No, you’re not.” I looked around, acutely aware that we were not out of the proverbial woods. “I think they’ve been all over this park looking for you. I think the sooner we join my friends at the bottom of the hill the better.” I stepped back to block him from taking the trail behind us and gestured to the path below. I stepped around the bay and looked up at him. “I’ll go first; just in case.” I cleared the . 45 from the poncho and looked ahead, where I hoped, if there was trouble, was the direction from which it would come.
We zigged the first part and had just begun our zag when I thought I saw movement at the next curve. I stopped and studied the shadows of the trees in the black of the rain-soaked ravine, raised my arm, and stopped the horse on the rounded stones of the trail. “Whoa…” The bay halted and let out with a sigh that pressed hot breath on the exposed back of my neck.
I had just about convinced myself that it was nothing when I thought I heard a sound like something moving. It was not discernable, just a sound that sounded different from the rest. I waited and then motioned for William to stay put.
I eased down the path with the big Colt pointed in the direction of the movement and sound. Henry wouldn’t have left his position at the base of the hill, and the police were all stationed at the vehicle entrances of Wissahickon Park.
I slipped a little on one of the larger rocks and caught myself before I landed on my ass or shot myself in the foot. I waited and then carefully approached what still looked like a tree. It was a tree.
I shrugged and turned back, walking with the. 45 to my side. There was no reason for me to climb the hill again, so I motioned for William to come down. He nudged the horse in response, and we were lucky he did, because that’s when the first series of shots ripped through the woods like the tearing of the muscles in your chest.
The muzzle flash came from the trees above. Toy Diaz must have followed us. He made the mistake most civilians make with an automatic weapon-his shots were high and climbed-and, once again, if William White Eyes didn’t know what to do, the bay did; it ran like hell and straight toward me.
I threw myself to the right and landed against one of the retainer walls as the bay passed me, with William unhurt and holding on to the horse’s mane and riding low against his withers. Another volley from the automatic dotted an unconnected blaze after him, kicking rock shards and sparks as it went. I rolled up on one shoulder and fired four rounds into the darkness behind us. There were no answering shots.
Nothing.
I stood and listened and hoped that William and his horse had arrived at the bottom where Henry could corral them. I kept the. 45 pointed up the hill and hustled into the type of situation I despised.
I ran up the path to the spot where I thought the shooter must have been. There were shell casings scattered across the trail and a muddy slick where someone had slipped and fallen. There was a dark liquid on the rocks. I smeared it with my hand and held it to my nose: blood.
I looked up and down, still seeing nothing. I was at the end of a turn and I couldn’t see to the next segment of the trail through the foliage, but I knew it was there. Taking the direct route was a calculated risk, but the only hope I had was to cut the distance to William White Eyes before Diaz cut that same distance. I thundered over the hill and threw my arms up to block at least some of the branches from blinding me as I went, half-running, half- falling with all my momentum. I was top-heavy and could feel the weight of my upper body and arms pulling me forward so I flipped the safety back on the Colt before I toppled onto the path below.
I struggled to my side, lifted up on one arm, and watched as a dark figure turned the corner ahead of me and disappeared. I could hear the clatter of horse’s hooves on the trail below; I was still a distant third.
I heaved myself up and stumbled forward in another straight-line attempt at interception, feeling as if I’d run the gauntlet of tribal initiation. I finally gave up on protecting my face and pummeled my way forward like some refrigerator catapulting its way down the hillside after being thrown from above. I raised my head but couldn’t see anything.
The sounds of the chase were still below me. The cutback was not as lengthy this time, and I was able to arrive at the ditch alongside the main trail as Henry charged from the rock-walled path to the left; he was on one of the paints and was holding the reins of the bigger of the two horses for me.
“Where are they?!”
“They did not come this way.” He wheeled his horse toward the bridge farther down the hill. Mine balked and crow-hopped toward Henry as I holstered the. 45 and attempted to get a hand on the horn, but the Bear held the leather straps steady as I mounted.
In the best of situations, I am only a competent horseman and, after being beaten half to death by every tree in eastern Pennsylvania, I was lucky I even knew which way to face. Henry was already gone, and I felt the lurch of gathered horse muscles as the big mare shot from under me and surged toward the arch of the stone bridge. I grasped my hands around the leads and bounced forward, almost coming unseated at the first strike of her gallop. She was very fast, and she seemed to know where we were going. I assumed she would follow Henry, and the only thing I needed to do was remain neutral and allow her to take us where we needed to go.
Hi-yo, Creampuff.
The trail split in two directions on the other side of the bridge; the Bear had reined in his mount and was standing in the stirrups; he looked west and then east as my paint slid to a stop alongside him. I settled my rear into the seat and tucked my heels down for a better ride. “Well, hell…”
He actually smiled as he turned his paint to the left, and they blew down the incline to the east, easy in the saddle and melding together in a rhythm of man and horse. Creampuff started to follow him, but I wrapped the reins and veered her to the right. I broke west and thundered down the ramp to Forbidden Drive as the rain continued to pummel me. The big paint’s gallop was steady and, after I got centered, I could see further down the
