"You were pretty lucky to have survived while crossing this country alone," Longarm said to Lucy one afternoon as they passed through a red rock canyon and struck out across an open, sage-choked plateau. "If the Indians had spotted you, it would have been all over."
"Just as it will be now if they spot us," Lucy reminded him. "But yes, I was fortunate. I saw very few men, and when I did, they were always at a distance. I'm sure they thought that I was another man."
"If they were far enough away, that could happen," Longarm said.
A few days later they rode through a petrified forest and admired the fascinating stone shapes made from ancient trees.
"Do you have any idea how this could have happened?" Longarm asked.
"As a matter of fact, I do," she told him. "I once read that this country was very heavily forested and then suddenly flooded with water. I guess the minerals in the water caused the wood to harden and fossilize. Anyway, that's the prevailing theory."
"My gosh," Longarm exclaimed with mock surprise, "they really did teach you something in that Eastern college."
She laughed. "I learned a great deal, including how to snare a rich Eastern husband."
"Then why didn't you?"
"I didn't like the East," she told him. "It was freezing in the winter and humid in the summer. And bugs. why, I never saw so many in my entire life!"
"Out here," Longarm said, "we've got poisonous scorpions, tarantula spiders, and rattlesnakes. They are far worse than any bugs."
"Maybe," she said grudgingly, "but there are plenty of poisonous snakes back East too. What I missed most about the West, though, was the vast panoramas. Back East, the forests are so thick that you can never see a distant horizon. I always felt hemmed in by those endless forests."
"I remember them," Longarm said, recalling his youth. "I remember the fireflies we had in the summer and the big warm rivers. My parents took me all the way across Virginia to the ocean when I was just a small boy. I recall the taste of salt upon my tongue and how warm the waters were. I told myself then that I'd live beside that ocean one day."
"But you didn't."
"No," he said, "and I've never really missed it. I've become a part of the West. It's in my blood and, like you, I admire the size and openness of it."
Longarm would have said more but, just then, he spotted a thin line of dust trailing off on the horizon. "Hold up," he said, reining in his horse and dismounting.
"What is it?" Lucy asked.
"Riders up ahead," Longarm said. "See their dust trail? It means that there are at least a half dozen or so."
Lucy dismounted, and her face reflected her sudden anxiety. "Apache?"
"I don't know," Longarm said, "but in this country you had better make that assumption."
"What are we going to do?"
Longarm scanned the horizon and saw a good place to take cover. "We'll walk our horses over to that big pile of boulders and hide there," he said, leading his horse quickly forward. "As long as they don't cross our tracks, they'll never know we were hereabouts."
Lucy followed Longarm, and since the pile of boulders was only about a quarter mile away, they had no trouble reaching it before they could be seen by the mounted horsemen.
"Hang onto my horse," Longarm ordered as he began to climb up into the rocks for a better view.
The rocks towered at least twenty feet over the rolling sage, and they afforded Longarm a fine panorama. He stretched out on the top of a boulder and shaded his eyes, watching the rooster tail of dust thicken as the body of horsemen drew nearer.
"What do you see!" Lucy called up to him.
"Just a minute. There!"
"There what?"
"Apache," Longarm said, pressing even closer to the boulder. "About twenty of them moving fast at an oblique angle to us."
"Will they cross our tracks?"
"I don't think so. Not unless they change direction."
"Thank God!" Lucy exclaimed, sitting down on a small rock and holding the horses. "I've heard horror stories about what the Apache do to their prisoners."
Longarm had actually seen the results of Apache torture. It was something that burned into a man's mind so that he would never forget.
"Are they raiding?" Lucy asked as she climbed up to join him.
Longarm turned on her. "Get back down and watch the horses!"
"But I tied them up!"
"And what if they caught the scent of those Indian ponies and took a notion to investigate? Can you imagine what kind of a mess we'd be in?"
Lucy, her feelings obviously stung by Longarm's sharp retort, hurried back down to the horses. Then minutes later, when the Apache were disappearing on the far horizon, Longarm climbed back down to join her.
"You didn't have to be so angry," Lucy said, pouting.
"Yes, I did. If these horses would have gotten loose, they might well have run into view of those Indians. And if that had happened... well, I don't think I need to tell you what kind of a fix we'd be in right now."
"No," Lucy said, "you don't."
Longarm loosened his cinch and checked to make sure both horses were tied securely. "It's getting late," he said. "We'll rest a couple of hours and travel by night. I got an uneasy feeling about those Indians."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that they were in a mighty big hurry. And when Indians hurry, that means they are either running from trouble they've caused, or going to raid. One or the other."
Lucy actually shivered despite the warm, high desert air. She untied her bedroll and spread it out on a rock, then lay down on it and said, "I'm going to take a nap. Wake me when it's time to go."
"Sure," he told her.
Longarm climbed back up on the top of the rocks and spent another hour watching the horizon. Just as the sun was starting to set and the sky was aflame, he saw another dust cloud and stiffened. Squinting into the dying sun, Longarm stared until his eyes watered and he was sure that the second body of riders were United States cavalrymen. He knew that because one of the riders had a brass bugle and it glinted like burnished copper in the dying sun.
Longarm jammed a cheroot into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully for a few minutes before he climbed down to the woman and the horses.
"Wake up, Lucy. It's time to ride."
She had been sleeping so soundly that she started when he touched her arm.
"Easy," he said. "We've got to make tracks, Lucy. There's no water here and the horses are thirsty."
"All right," she said, yawning and coming to her feet.
Longarm tightened their cinches and helped Lucy onto her roan mare. The mare was clearly suffering for water, and Longarm's gelding wasn't doing a whole lot better.
"There's a little mining settlement about ten miles ahead," Longarm drawled. "It's called Rimrock and we can get food, water, and a room there for the night."
"I can hardly wait," Lucy said.
It was well past midnight when they finally dragged into Rimrock, and even the flattering glow of moonlight could not hide the devastation left by the marauding Apache.
"Hold up there!" an army private called, raising his weapon. "Who goes there!"
"U.S. deputy Marshal Custis Long out of Denver, Longarm responded to the shadowy figure guarding the pillaged town and the army camp.
"Your badge, sir?"
Longarm dismounted and dragged out his badge, saying, "Who's in charge here, Private?"
"Sergeant Wilder, sir!"
"Why don't you take Mrs. Ortega and me to the sergeant."
"Yes, sir!" But the private did not move. He was too busy staring at Lucy. "Who's she?"
"My prisoner."
"Your prisoner?"
"That's right. Now, why don't you lower your voice before we wake up everyone in camp and then take me to Sergeant Wilder."