His legs felt like wet clay, and his head was pounding. He clamped a hand against his side and walked toward a fallen tree. It was only a few yards away, but the distance seemed daunting.
Dancer raised his head and emitted a shrill trumpet as the other horses trotted into the high grass. The stallion was breathing hard, and his sides were streaked with sweat. Yellow foam dripped from his mouth and nose, but his obvious exhaustion didn't keep him from herding the mule and the mares and nipping at Shiloh's hindquarters.
Tamsin was suddenly at Ash's side, slipping an arm around his shoulder. 'You're hurt! Oh, my God, you're bleeding!'
Ash exhaled slowly and sank onto the log. 'It's nothing, a graze.'
She pulled his hand away and her eyes widened with alarm. She snatched back his vest and saw the widening circle of red around the hole in his shirt. 'What is it? Did a rock… Oh, Lord, that's a bullet hole. You've been shot.'
'What are you worried about?' he said. 'Your horses are fine. Not a broken leg among any of them.' Or you, he thought.
She ignored him, tugging at his clothing. 'You're losing blood.'
'Ow.' He groaned, pulling away from her. 'Damn, woman, you'll kill me trying to see-'
'Back there,' she interrupted. 'When you shot that Indian… I didn't know you were hit.' She slipped his vest off his right shoulder. 'The bullet came out the back.'
'Damn good thing it did,' he muttered. 'If it was still in there, I wouldn't have made it off that mountain, not riding him.' He nodded toward Dancer.
'But you've been bleeding all night.' She laid a hand on his temple. 'Your face is hot. You're running a fever.'
Ash shook his head. 'No. I told you, it's not deep. The bullet plowed a furrow along my rib, maybe cracked one from the way it feels. But it only bled an hour or two.' He uttered a exclamation of black humor. 'Until a few minutes ago.'
'Well, it's bleeding now. We've got to find water, wash it. You need a doctor.'
'Right.' His eyes narrowed. 'Do you see any in the vicinity, ma'am?'
She shook her head. 'You were hurt, badly, yet you saved me. Twice. I… Why did you risk your life for me? If you believe I'm a murderer, why not let the Indians have me?'
Seeing her falling from the saddle, in danger of being trampled to death had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. Maybe it was the fever that was affecting his thinking, but he felt oddly touched by her sympathy over his wound. He'd thought he'd rescued her to use her to catch Cannon, but he didn't want to tell her that. Maybe it wasn't even true. But if it wasn't… then why had he?
'I thought about letting them have you,' he said.
'Comforting,' she replied. She glanced anxiously back toward the boulder-strewn trail. 'The Cheyenne?'
'A goat won't make it over that path for the next hundred years,' he answered gruffly. Her nearness made him want to put an arm around her and lean his head on her breast. He was tired. He wanted to sleep, and he wanted these crazy feelings about Tamsin to go away. 'If they want us, they've got to go around the mountain and find another pass. And that will take half a day, at least.'
The chestnut mare nudged Tamsin with her nose, and she ignored the horse as she tore a strip from her petticoat to tie around his waist. 'I told you my horses were tough,' Tamsin said as she bound his wound.
Ash gritted his teeth. 'You tell me a lot of things.'
She stepped back and rubbed her hands on her skirt. 'That's all I can do for you without water.'
'It's good. Thanks.'
'It's not good. You need hot food, medicine and soap, abed.'
He wished she wasn't so damned concerned about him. He had to keep reminding himself that she was Cannon's woman, that he couldn't trust her.
'I know of a trader who has a cabin near here,' he said. 'Six hours that way.' He pointed. 'Maybe less.'
'Six hours? You can't ride in your condition.'
Ash shrugged. 'Got a better plan?'
It was a long six hours. Sweat soaked Ash's shirt and vest, and his hair clung to back of his neck. The pain in his side had become a steady throbbing ache, and the sun made his eyes squint.
Still, he stayed in the saddle and kept his wits about him, which was what mattered. And he didn't miss the nearly invisible trail that led through a zigzag ravine with steep walls into a tiny box canyon.
A split-rail fence blocked the mouth of the quarter-acre paddock. Tamsin let the horses in, then slid the logs across to keep them from escaping.
Ash watched as she unsaddled the animals. A gush of water cascaded down the sheer cliff to pool in a natural rock basin. Eagerly, the animals crossed the grassy area to drink.
'They may be overheated,' Tamsin said. 'Maybe I shouldn't let them -'
'Leave them,' Ash replied. 'We've a climb ahead of us, and you don't want to do it in the dark.'
'Are you up to it?'
He didn't bother to answer. As thirsty as he was, he knew the source of the water was a spring beside the cabin. He was afraid that if he sat down, he wouldn't get up again. Taking the rifle from Shiloh's saddle scabbard, he led the way to a crack in the rock face hidden by several pine trees.
'Follow me,' he ordered Tamsin. 'Put your hands and feet where I put mine, and don't look down.'
'I'm not afraid of heights,' she said.
But I am, he thought. Even with a clear head, the thought of climbing Jacob's Ladder had made his stomach lurch. There were no wooden rungs, only tiny ledges chiseled in the rock.
Tamsin looked up at the narrow passageway. 'I don't think this is such a good idea. Why don't you stay here by the pool and I'll-'
Ash started up. 'Jacob's wife goes up this with a baby on her back.' He didn't bother to tell her that Jacob's woman was a Hopi Indian, who'd scrambled up and down cliffs since she'd been old enough to walk.
Halfway up, with his knuckles bleeding, his fingers numb, and his head giddy, he almost wished he'd done as Tamsin suggested. Only the thought of a real bed and Jacob's real coffee made him keep going-that and having to admit to Tamsin that he'd been wrong.
When they reached the top, Ash saw at once that Jacob Stein wasn't at home. The corral on the far side of the cabin was empty, the door was shut and barred from the outside, and no smoke came from the chimney.
The cabin, surrounded by trees, sat in the fold of a mountain. Ash didn't suppose that more than a hand's count of men knew it existed. Even the Utes didn't come here. The peak above was usually shrouded in clouds, and the Indians thought that it was the realm of malicious spirits.
'No one's here,' Tamsin said as she pulled herself over the edge.
Ash took a deep breath, circled the spring, and went to the door. He pulled back the bar and pushed open the door. The inside was shadowy but neat. Foodstuffs hung from the ceiling rafters, and blankets and trade goods were stacked along the back wall.
He ducked his head, braced himself against the door frame, and counted the steps to the raised shelf-bed. Pushing back the blankets, Ash laid his rifle against the wall and stretched out on the clean mattress. His eyes closed the instant his head hit the pillow.
Vaguely, Ash was aware of drinking from a cup and, later, sipping something hot and delicious. But mostly, he knew only relief that he wasn't moving and that he could sleep.
When he woke the following morning, Tamsin was dripping lye soap and warm water over his wound.
Ash's oath echoed off the rafters. 'Ouch! Damn it, woman! Are you trying to murder me in my bed?'
'Hush, don't be a baby,' she admonished. 'I've got to keep this clean. I washed it last night, and you never made a peep.'
He swore again and sat up. 'I can get on my feet. I'm not an invalid,' he said testily. 'You'll ruin Yoki's mattress, and then we'll both catch hell.'
'Who?'
'Yoki. Jacob's wife. She's a Hopi Indian and the reason this cabin is as neat as a pin. Jacob was never this clean when he was a bachelor.'
Noting that the rifle still lay where he'd placed it, Ash got up and made his way unsteadily to the table. He
