the LEGEND of She-Cat

Chapter Fifteen

The sun was a hot brand across his shoulders as he rode, each mile seeming longer than the last. Constantly his thoughts wandered along his backtrail, She-Cat's face looming in his mind. It'd been a long, long while since he'd felt needed by anyone. It made a man feel downright complete, to have a woman looking at him the way she had. Scratching his jaw, Conner shook his head with a wry smile.

"Just goes to show," he told the gelding seriously. "You can't ever know the mind of a woman. Goin' from spittin' and fightin' to warm and soft, all without ever really saying a word."

He made dry camp that night in a low gully, chewing on jerky while gazing up at the stars. Not rightly certain how far Wildwood was, he didn't reckon to get there for another day or two, even traveling fast. Still, it never hurt a man to be aware. He slept lightly, attuned to the steel dust. Nothing woke him 'til sunrise, and he hit the saddle without coffee, slightly cranky and hungry. All he had was jerky and some pounded root that had been stone baked to resemble a sort of bread, and water. Edible, but that was about it.

He figured about noon he was hungry enough to eat an entire steer and drink two gallons of coffee all to himself. By night, cresting a low-slung hill into a wide, shallow valley, he upped that to half a herd and a small lake full. Not that he was starving, but the slim fare he had was not satisfying. It reminded Duncan that She-Cat wasn't any better off than he was, so he'd best be about his business quick.

Camping beneath the blanket of stars was a thing he never grew tired of. It made a man feel almighty small and unimportant, seeing that the world was so much bigger and wider than him. His sharp eyes found and tracked a few falling stars, wondering if She-Cat was still awake to see them. Duncan frowned a little.

Wohitika Olowan. A firecracker, for sure and certain, more cat than woman most times. Would she wait? Alone with a horse, water, he might head back to an abandoned camp, She-Cat long gone back to her people. A natural concern, but deep inside himself Duncan didn't really believe it.

She'd made too much of a fuss about him not coming back to think of running. With that stubborn streak, he was likely to find her sitting exactly where he'd left her, scowling. The thought made him smile, and Conner slid his hat low over his eyes.

"Ain't no woman like that one," he muttered, falling asleep.

Morning found him in the saddle, just starting along the slope of a hill when he saw a group of unshod pony tracks. Shucking the Winchester from its boot, his eyes followed the fresh trail. They passed by very recently, and Duncan counted himself darn lucky they had not found him, for it was less than a mile from where he'd camped. Starting warily on, it was not an hour later when the faint bark of gunfire reached him. Reining in, he looked toward the noise, his finger sliding around the trigger of the rifle.

Long moments passed with nothing else happening, so warily he started on. Some time later he found where the Indians had heard the sound, and turned that way, moving swiftly. Studying them from the saddle, Duncan looked that way, shaking his head.

"Shootin' off that gun was a fool's notion," he muttered. "Now them Indians know just where you are."

Several hours later he found the body.

The carcass of a beautiful dapple gray was laid out on the ground, one foreleg snapped at a wretched angle. Poor horse had stepped into a gopher hole, and that had been the end. There was no way to mend such a break, at least not way out here, and the rider had done the kindest thing he could and killed the beast. Unfortunately, life has a way of being ruthless, and that act of pity had spelled out the rider's own end.

Tracks were everywhere. The Indian party had swooped down on the man and taken him by surprise, which was why Duncan had heard no more gunfire. Shot with a long arrow through the lung, the man had gone down but hadn't died. That had come with a gaping hole through the chest as he'd rolled over to face his killers. Stripped naked, scalped, and partially mutilated, it was a grisly sight.