Chapter Twenty-Four
The brutal crack of rifle fire at the northwest end of Raven Creek's meadow jerked Janna and Ty awake in a heart-pounding instant.
Neither one moved.
No more sounds came. After a few minutes Ty eased away from Janna, grabbed his carbine and crawled to a vantage point where he could look out across the meadow. There was nothing in sight. A moment later he sensed Janna coming up behind him. He turned and shook his head. She retreated as silently as she had come. So did he.
Without talking, they withdrew to the place where they had slept. Ty reached for his backpack at the same instant that Janna reached for the cloth she had used to bind her breasts. Although she and Ty had been forced by the cold to put on their clothes in the hours before dawn, he hadn't allowed her to wrap up in the cloth again. Instead, he had curled spoon fashion along her back, slid his hands up beneath her loose shirt and caressed her gently until they both fell asleep.
As soon as Janna's fingers closed on the binding, she realized that she wasn't going to be allowed to use it this morning, either. Ty snatched the cloth from her fingers, rolled it tightly and jammed it into his backpack. Then he pulled her to her feet.
"I'd kiss you," he said very Softly, looking hungrily at her mouth, "but if I did, I'd undress you and lie between your legs again. That wouldn't be a very smart thing to do right now."
Janna's mind agreed, but her body swayed hungrily toward Ty. He let go of her as though he had grabbed something too hot to hold. Saying nothing, Janna turned and began threading through the forest, circling toward the northeast corner of the meadow. After a few minutes she looked at Ty and gestured toward the meadow. He nodded. Together they walked, then crawled and finally wiggled snake fashion toward the edge of the meadow.
In the clear yellow light of morning, the signs were unmistakable-a group of unshod horses had grazed the meadow within the past few days. The presence of small hoofprints and diminutive manure piles told Ty and Janna that the horses were wild, for hunting or raiding parties didn't use mares whose foals were unweaned. Overlaid on the random tracks of grazing animals were those of a shod horse walking across the meadow and into the dense pine forest beyond. It was those prints that had attracted the Indian hunting party the previous night.
"Troon," Janna whispered, looking at the prints.
"How can you tell?"
"See how worn the shoe is on the left front hoof? Troon's too cheap to get his horse shod regularly."
"Wasn't bothering to hide his trail, was he?" Ty muttered.
"He was probably drunk."
"Then he's probably dead. Was it Lucifer's bunch he was following?"
"I can't tell from the tracks around here. I'd have to go to the center and check the muddy spots along Raven Creek. Besides, Lucifer never mixes with his herd when the mares graze. If this is his bunch, his tracks will be off to the side somewhere."
Both Janna and Ty looked out over the empty, inviting meadow that Troon had crossed sometime yesterday. The ground beneath their bodies was still slightly damp with dew, but they were in no hurry to stand up and expose themselves to any watchers who might have been posted by the meadow. Raven Creek's watershed had become all but overrun by Cascabel and his growing band of renegades.
Ty's hard green eyes searched the boundary between forest and meadow, seeking any sign that Indians were about. Birds called and flew naturally, landed in low branches or on the meadow itself. No bird flew up with a startled outcry, indicating that danger lay hidden somewhere around Raven Creek's meadow itself.
Janna watched the area as carefully as Ty. She saw nothing that should disturb her, yet she was reluctant to cross the meadow in pursuit of either Lucifer's tracks or those of Joe Troon. She looked at Ty and gestured toward the meadow in silent question. He shook his head in a slow negative. She didn't disagree. Together they eased backward deeper into the small trees and sun-hungry bushes that ringed the meadow. When both of them were within the cover of the forest once more, Ty gestured for Janna to choose the best route around to the opposite side of the meadow.
Moving quickly and quietly, Janna set off into the forest. Within the fragrant, hushed cover beneath the trees, the going became easier. The tall pines screened out much of the sunlight, making it impossible for plants to thrive on the forest floor. Even so, fallen trees and branches forced Janna to make many small detours. Every few minutes she stopped and stood motionless, watching and listening to the forest with the consummate grace and stillness of a wild deer.
Ty never became impatient with Janna's detours or her seemingly random stops. Watching her blend with the land was a pleasure for him. Though he took second to few people in his ability to track or to hunt, Ty knew that here on Black Plateau, Janna was at home in a way that only a wild animal could equal.
It's a good thing she didn't get up here before I found her, Ty thought as he watched Janna merge with the shadows beneath the trees. I never would have caught her.
Part of Ty wondered if that wouldn't have been better for both of them, but even as the question occurred to him he denied it. The thought of never having known such intense, consuming pleasure was unbearable to him. Memories of the night before licked like scented fire over his body. For an instant he savored the sensuous rush of images, tasted again in memory Janna's mouth and breasts, felt again the tightness of her body as she accepted him into her satin heat. Then he put memories aside with a skill he had learned during the war, dividing his mind into compartments like a dresser; and like a man dressing, he had learned to open only the drawer that contained what he needed at the moment.
Making no sound, Janna walked forward once more, a gray-eyed shadow among shadows. With an unconscious movement Ty shifted his carbine into carrying position again, holding his right hand around the stock in such a way that it would take only an instant to pull the trigger and keeping the muzzle pointed so that an accidental firing wouldn't hit anyone in front of him. The buttoned pocket of his wool shirt bulged with a box of bullets. Similar boxes made his backpack heavier than its size would have indicated.
He didn't notice the extra weight, much less complain of it. There had been too many times in the past when he would have sold his soul for extra ammunition. He felt the same way about the beef jerky that he was chewing on at the moment-it might have been tougher than leather, unsalted and stone dry, but it was food arid he had been hungry too many times in the past to be fussy about what he ate now.
The wind breathed softly over Janna and Ty, bringing with it the smell of pine resin and sun. Off in the distance a raven jeered at something concealed within pine boughs. Janna and Ty froze as one. The raven's harsh cries rang in the silence, then faded as the bird flew farther away. Both of them remained motionless, wondering if it had been another bird or a man that had disturbed the crow.
The breeze sighed over Janna's face, stirring wisps of auburn hair. The delicate brushing movement reminded her of Ty's gentleness when he had first taken her into his arms to calm her after her encounter with the snake. An odd frisson of sensation raced through Janna's body from her breasts to her thighs as she remembered what had followed the first soft kisses.
And on the heels of hot memories came the icy knowledge that Ty was hers for only a short time, just long enough to find and tame Lucifer. Then Ty would go in search of the silken lady he was determined to have. A yearning to be that lady twisted through Janna with such painful intensity that she couldn't breathe.
Don't be a fool, she told herself harshly. I know all about silk purses and sows' ears.A man like Ty does, too. He was raised in a grand house with servants and tutors and people to tell him how to speak and eat and dress and write a fine hand. I had my father and a wagon seat and a trunk full of old books. I can read and write… and that's all. If I ever wore a dress, I've forgotten what it feels like. The only shoes I remember having are the moccasins I make for myself. The only perfume I know is what I make from crushed flowers. The only salves I have are for healing, not for making me beautiful. The only thing my hands are good for is surviving, not for playing grand songs on a piano.