Pearl

  Pearl gave the slightest nod of her head.

  Rollie lifted a knife to the gag, cutting it away. “I said, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.” Though her lips trembled, and her throat was clogged with fear, she managed to speak.

  “I think I prefer the sound of ‘yes, sir’ better.” He prodded her with his pistol.

  “Yes, sir.” She nearly choked on the words.

  “Good. That’s very good, teacher.” He cut the ropes at her wrists and ankles, and teasingly lifted her skirt to her knees. “Look at this, McCabe. Take a good look. I’m going to let you watch it all.”

  He straightened and ran a finger along the high, modest collar of her gown. “I always wondered what that pretty white skin would look like. You keep it covered up so much, it teases a man’s mind.”

  He saw the look of revulsion on her face and laughed. Without a word, he caught both sides of the gown and tore it to the waist, revealing an elegantly embroidered chemise beneath. “Now I’m about to uncover all those secrets you’ve been hidin’, teacher.”

  With her gown torn away, hanging only by the cuffs at her wrists, Pearl lowered her head and folded her hands over her breasts.

  Across the cave, Cal struggled, through layers of pain, to sit up. He had to get to her, to save her from this brute. The thought of her pain and humiliation was greater than any gunshot. As he eased himself up against the wall of the cave, the effort cost him dearly, and he closed his eyes a moment, fighting to remain conscious.

  “Untie those pretty ribbons!” Rollie bellowed.

  When Pearl hesitated, he turned and pointed the pistol at Cal. “I’ll give you to the count of three, teacher. And then I start shooting our hero again.”

  “Don’t shoot him again. I’ll do anything you want.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as Pearl lifted trembling hands to the ribbons of her chemise.

  “That’s better.” With a chuckle, Rollie turned back to watch.

  As soon as he turned away from Cal, a gunshot rang out, reverberating inside the cave. The smile died on Rollie’s lips as something hot and sharp pierced his back. For a moment, he seemed merely shocked. Then, as the pain of the bullet sank in, his mouth contorted in a snarl of rage.

  He turned. And saw the gun in Cal’s hand.

  “A good gunman always carries a spare in his boot,” Cal managed to say between clenched teeth. “And you were wrong about the gun hand. I learned to shoot with either hand when I was just a boy.” His voice took on a dangerous edge. “I had a good teacher, Rollie. He was a monster, just like you.”

  “Now you’ve done it, McCabe. I’m going to have to kill you.” Feeling sick to his stomach, Rollie closed his eyes for a moment against the pain, and leaned heavily against a rock. When he opened them, and lifted his own gun to take aim, he discovered that the corner of the cave where Cal had been lying was now empty.

  With a look of panic, Rollie staggered to the entrance of the cave.

  Outside, thunder rolled directly overhead, signaling the beginning of a ferocious storm. Rain began to fall on the mountain, making the rocks slippery.

  Seeing a trail of blood, Rollie lumbered into the night, determined not to be denied his chance at revenge.

  “Go ahead!” he shouted into the wind and rain. “Crawl away like a coward! But I’ll find you, McCabe. And when I do, I swear this time I’ll kill you.”

  Lightning flashed as Pearl ran, crying, to the mouth of the cave. In her hand was Cal’s discarded rifle. Though she didn’t know how to fire it, she clung fiercely to it.

  In that instant, Rollie caught sight of Cal, leaning heavily against a rock, struggling to pull himself into a standing position. An evil smile curled Rollie’s lips. He lifted his gun and took aim.

  “No! No!” With a strangled cry, Pearl ran at him, wielding the rifle like a club.

  He fired, but the shot went wild as he lifted his hands to stave off her attack. In that instant, a gunshot rang out, echoing and reechoing across the mountains.

  Pearl froze. Rollie stiffened, and his hands shot out, clutching wildly at her torn gown. Then, slowly, his hands opened. He tumbled backward, disappearing over the edge of the ravine. Without even waiting to see what had happened to him, Pearl raced to Cal’s side. Just as she reached him, he fell to the ground in a bloody heap, holding a hand to a fresh wound in his chest.

  A sob was torn from her lips, and she dropped to her knees beside him.

  “Cal. Oh, sweet heaven, Cal. Please don’t die. Please. You mustn’t. I love you so. I...”

  He made no reply. The storm struck in all its fury, filling the night with a howling rage. Oblivious of the stinging rain drenching him, Cal lay as still as death.

  Pearl’s tears mingled with the rain as she struggled with what appeared to be an impossible task — getting the unconscious form of Cal out of the storm and into the shelter of the cave.

  Finally she tore the hide from the entrance. With great effort, she managed to roll Cal onto it. Using the ropes that had once bound her, she attached it to his horse’s stirrups. With murmured words of encouragement she urged the horse into a slow walk, dragging Cal’s lifeless form behind. Once they were safely inside the cave, she rolled Cal onto a pile of dry blankets.

  Despite the blankets, the shock of his injuries had him shivering violently.

  Gathering twigs and wood scattered around the inside of the cavern, she used the flame of the lantern to build a fire. Then she knelt beside Cal to probe his wounds.

  Using Rollie’s knife, she cut away Cal’s blood-soaked clothes. The bullet to his thigh, fired at point-blank range, had gone right through his flesh, leaving a gaping wound that was bleeding profusely. She tore her petticoats and made a tourniquet to stem the flow of blood. She whispered a word of thanks for Rollie’s ample supply of whiskey as she poured a liberal amount on the wound, then bound it securely.

  She turned her attention to his other wounds. He had taken a bullet to the chest and another to his shoulder. Both bullets were lodged somewhere deep in muscle and sinew, and the thought of removing them had her feeling faint.

  “Not now,” she told herself sternly. If ever she had needed courage, this was the time. Though she was sickened by the thought of the pain she was about to inflict, she must remember that it was necessary to begin the healing process. Cal had risked his life for her. The least she could do was swallow her fears and do all that was necessary to pull him through this terrible time. He would die from the loss of blood unless she saw to his needs immediately.

  She lifted Rollie’s knife and held the blade to the flame until the steel gleamed red-hot. Then she touched the blade to Cal’s flesh and began to probe.

  He moaned—a low, terrible sound that had her eyes going wide with fright. Biting down on her fear, she probed deeper. And felt the scrape of metal. With quick, nervous movements, she slipped the blade below the bullet and lifted. As soon as it was removed, she poured a stream of whiskey on the raw, bleeding flesh.

  Cal hissed in pain, and his left arm swung out convulsively, catching Pearl a bruising blow. With a little cry, she caught his arm before he could swing again, and held it by his side. Even now, despite the seriousness of his wounds, he displayed incredible strength, and she was forced to use all her energy to subdue him. Within moments, his arm went limp, and she realized that he was once again unconscious. Working feverishly, she managed to bind his chest, then repeated the process for the wound in his shoulder. Then she wrapped him in blankets.

  Though she was exhausted from her efforts, she found the strength to flee the cave. Dropping down beside a boulder, she retched until the fear and nausea abated. Then, drained, she lifted her face to the pouring rain, allowing the icy sting to revive her.

  Coward, she thought, berating herself. All her life it had been the same. She was a useless, gutless coward.

  She straightened and then, head bent against the storm, began gathering as much wood as she could find. It would be necessary to keep the fire go
ing all through the night. For she had felt Cal’s hands. They were as cold as ice.

  All the while she worked, one thought kept going through her mind. Somewhere out in this night could be a madman, determined to kill them both. For the truth was, though she had seen Rollie Ingram fall, she hadn’t seen him die. And until she had the chance to glimpse his dead body, she could not let down her guard.

  That was just one more fear she would have to deal with.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Wind howled across the mountaintop and swirled through the opening of the cavern, sending sparks from the fire dancing toward the roof of the cave.

  At once, Pearl’s head came up. She had been kneeling beside Cal for so long, she had actually begun to doze.

  His mere presence brought her comfort. Though she feared for his safety, and her own, she felt stronger just knowing Cal was with her.

  She shivered in her thin gown and hurried across the cave to cover the entrance with the hide. She was reluctant to shield their fire from view, since she had hoped to use it as a signal to anyone who might be searching for them. But the cold wind gave her no choice. Besides, she reasoned, the storm had probably forced everyone to seek shelter. If the marshal and the wranglers were nearby, they couldn’t see anything through the drenching downpour. They would have to wait until the storm passed.

  She added another log to the fire and began rummaging through Cal’s saddlebags. It was plain that a cowboy carried with him everything necessary for survival along the trail. There was a packet of dried meat, matches and a flint for fire, as well as a hunting knife. In his bedroll was a change of clothes, along with a skillet and pot and some small pouches containing tobacco, bullets and a mixture of coffee and chicory.

  Next she went through the supplies that Rollie Ingram had brought. It was obvious that he’d planned on a prolonged siege. There were half-filled sacks of flour and sugar, as well as a generous supply of whiskey, matches and tobacco.

  She quickly pulled on Cal’s spare shirt and pants, leaving her wet, blood-soaked gown in a heap. Sitting cross-legged beside the fire, she tied up her damp hair and nibbled some hardtack, her first food since her capture.

  Cal moaned in his sleep. At once, she knelt beside him. Touching a hand to his face, she felt a jolt of alarm. Sweet heaven. He was as cold as ice. She began to massage his hands, his arms, his shoulders. The physical act of touching him, of caring for his needs, brought her a measure of comfort. But, though she rubbed his flesh until she ached from exhaustion, his skin was still cold to the touch.

  She pulled the covers over him and watched the uneven rise and fall of his chest as she listened to his labored breathing.

  Tears stung her eyes as she thought about the pain he’d been forced to endure. How could any human inflict such pain on another? What deep well of courage did Cal possess, that he could withstand such torture? And all for her sake. That thought brought no solace, only guilt.

  A shudder rippled through him. And then another. Shock. She felt a moment of panic, then took firm control of her emotions. This was no time to be frightened. This courageous man had risked his life for her. She could do no less.

  She lifted the blankets and climbed in beside him, determined to warm him with her own body. Drawing her arms around his shoulders, she cradled his head against her breast and murmured words meant to assure herself as much as Cal.

  “Hold on. Please hold on, Cal. Don’t leave me now. We’ve come so far together. Just hold on a little longer. In the morning, when the storm has passed, the wranglers will be here to take us home. Home. Think of it. Oh, Cal, hold on. Just a little longer. Please.”

  Those words became a litany, as the storm continued to savage the countryside. Inside the cave, another sort of storm raged. But through it all, Pearl continued to hold tightly to the man in her arms. And pleaded with heaven to bring them safely through the night.

  Pearl awoke to a strange, muted silence. Though the wind still gusted occasionally, sending a sound like the spray of sand against the outer wall of the cave, the thunder and lightning seemed to have dissipated. The wind had stopped howling, and the rain, as well. But there were no familiar morning sounds. No birds chirping. No light footfalls of deer, no pounding of mustangs’ hooves racing along the trail.

  Though the embers of the fire still glowed, the temperature in the cave had dropped considerably. She sat up, shoving her hair from her eyes. In the chill of the morning, she could see her breath.

  Slipping from the covers, she tossed another log on the fire. Then she strode to the mouth of the cave and pushed aside the covering. She blinked in surprise. Snow was falling so hard it was impossible to see beyond a few feet. To her dismay, the ground was already covered with a fresh snowfall. In places, the mounds had drifted to the height of a boulder.

  Snow? In April?

  She brought a hand to her mouth to cover her gasp of alarm. Hadn’t Carmelita warned her that springtime in Texas was like nowhere else? At some other time, the sight of all that pristine whiteness would have taken her breath away. But now, her only thought was of Cal. How would she ever be able to get him to safety now? Worse, how could any of the wranglers get through this blizzard to continue the search for them?

  Trapped.

  She felt her heart plummet, and with it, the hopes that had sustained her throughout the long night. There would be no rescue. At least until the storm ended and the snow melted. If they were to survive, it would have to be up to her.

  She swallowed back her fear. Courage, she told herself. This time, she would have only herself to depend upon. And she would be up to the task, she vowed. For Cal had already given enough. She would do all in her power to see that he wasn’t required to give his life, as well.

  During the day, the temperature continued to drop. The wind picked up, sending occasional gusts of snow spraying against the outer walls of the cave. Though Pearl pressed a wet cloth to Cal’s lips and begged him to drink, he gave no response. He remained unconscious. And the chills that had gripped him earlier seemed even more pronounced.

  Pearl was forced to don Cal’s boots and duster in order to search the snowdrifts for fallen logs. It was imperative that she keep the fire going day and night.

  Once the cave was warm and snug, and she had set aside a supply of logs, she added his duster to the pile of blankets that covered Cal’s body. Then, desperate to warm him, she settled in beside him and drew him once more into her arms.

  Day and night blurred together as she held him close and struggled to hold her fears at bay.

  Pearl stirred. She had been dreaming of a fire. A raging forest fire that was engulfing everything in its path. With her eyes closed, she could feel the heat of the fire. Suddenly her lids snapped open. She touched a hand to Cal’s forehead. She gave a gasp of alarm. He was burning with fever. His skin was as hot as a flame.

  She slipped from the covers and tore a strip from her discarded petticoat. Dipping it into the snow, she began to bathe his fevered flesh.

  As she worked, her lips moved in a silent prayer. “Please, Cal,” she whispered, “You’ve been so strong. Don’t give up now. Fight this. Live, Cal. Please fight to live.”

  She pressed the cold cloth over his face, his neck and chest, the corded muscles of his arms and shoulders. As she did, she examined his wounds, changing the dressings and liberally washing them with whiskey to see that they didn’t fester.

  That done, she lay down beside him once more and wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging to him as if to life itself, and willing him to heal.

  When Pearl awoke again, it appeared to be late afternoon. A glimpse outside confirmed her worst fears. It was still snowing. In places, the drifts were taller than a horse.

  She paced back and forth, wondering how long they could survive in this place. If Cal was well and strong, she realized, there would be no need to worry. But their survival depended entirely on her. And with each new surprise, she felt more and more inadequate.

  A
fter tossing another log on the fire, she knelt beside Cal and began to sponge his fevered body. But as she began to remove the dressings that covered his chest, his hands closed over her wrists. She glanced at his eyes. They were still closed. But a low moan of protest issued from his lips, and he held her in a death grip as he muttered unintelligible words of torment.

  She struggled, but that only caused him to tighten his grasp. With an oath, he dragged her against his chest.

  “Cal.” She struggled to keep the fear from her voice. “Please, Cal, you’re hurting me.”

  At the sound of her voice, his struggles ceased. At once, his fingers loosened their grip. She pulled free and staggered to her feet, drawing deep drafts of air into her lungs. Even in his state of unconsciousness, he was strong enough to snap her bones as though they were twigs. But he had heard her. Though he remained locked inside his mind, he had responded, no matter how feebly.

  She rubbed the feeling back into her bruised wrists, then knelt and began once more to change Cal’s dressings. But this time she was prepared to do battle if necessary.

  As she worked, she crooned to him in a low voice, hoping to wake him from the deep sleep that held him in its grip. But, though she whispered words meant to reassure him, he remained in that other world. Fighting demons that only he could see.

  Cal lay very still, trying to clear his jumbled thoughts. He could recall Rollie Ingram’s voice as he’d shouted into the storm-filled night, and the sight of Rollie pointing his pistol.

  And then another vision intruded. Pearl, completely oblivious of her own safety, attacking Rollie with an upraised rifle. Little fool. He clenched his teeth together so hard they ached. Hadn’t she known Rollie couldn’t miss at such close range? He began to sweat as he remembered squeezing off a frantic shot, the sound echoing across the hills. Dear God. Had he been in time? Or had Rollie succeeded in taking her life?