The Master Fiddler Part 12

The trail forked. The one to the left wound around a hillock toward the mountains; the right one continued in the general direction Jacquie thought she should take. But when she started on to the latter, the buckskin balked.

Jacquie took a firmer grip on the reins and tugged. "Come on, feller," she coaxed, but he refused.

The instant she relaxed the pulling pressure, the horse shifted toward the other trail. Crooning to him softly, she tried to persuade him to change his mind without success.

Straightening his black forelock, she murmured, "Do you know something that I don't know?" She tried again to lead him along the right fork and again the buckskin refused.

Giving up, she started up the left fork and the horse willingly followed. The twisted, curving trail climbed up into the edges of the mountain. Rarely was Jacquie able to see beyond the next turn. She had no idea where she was going; she just hoped the horse did.

A large boulder forced the trail to bend around it, and on the other side, Jacquie stopped in surprise. Nestled in a pocket of the mountain slope was a sparkling pool of water, shaded on three sides by rising rock walls. The horse shouldered her forward.

Tracks of various animals were around the small pool. Tufts of green gra.s.s grew near its edges. Jacquie watched the buckskin drink deeply from the waters before she knelt to scoop a small handful to her mouth. It was cool and sweet and wonderfully refreshing.

When she had satisfied her thirst, she sat down by one of the walled sides, leaning against the rock face. The buckskin limped to the gra.s.s, his teeth tearing at the green growth. Now she at least had water.

The western sky was on fire. The slipping yellow orb of the sun was crimsoning the world with streaks of red and flame orange. Clouds purpled under its light while the desert land reflected its burning glow. Jacquie had witnessed this sunset spectacle before. The cool stillness of approaching night had already invaded the land. Darkness would steal in quietly when the sun dipped below the horizon.

To leave the mountain pool when night was creeping in would be foolish. Here she had water and the horse had food even if she didn't. She concentrated on the beauty of the The Master Fiddler sunset and tried not to think about the empty growling of her stomach.

She glanced at her wrist.w.a.tch, and knew that Choya was out looking for her. Possibly she had been missed as early as three hours ago. She wished he would find her, but there was little chance he would, at least not before nightfall. He would search the lane and road first. He wouldn't suspect that she had come in this direction.

Lavender hues dominated the sky. It was twilight. The evening star twinkled dimly. Jacquie shivered at the chill in the air and hugged her arms around her middle. It would be cold tonight and her thin blouse wouldn't offer much protection.

The buckskin lifted its head, its ears p.r.i.c.ked toward the trail. Jacquie looked and saw nothing, but she could hear movement. She tensed. This was probably the only watering hole for miles. Maybe it was a wild animal coming for a drink. The buckskin's sides heaved in a searching whinny.

His call was answered by the whicker of another horse, then Jacquie heard the creak of saddle leather. It had to be Choya. Hastily she scrambled to her feet, her heart thumping wildly against her ribs. Not more than five minutes ago she had been wishing he would find her. Now she was looking for somewhere to hide.

He rounded the boulder and heat stained her cheeks. The sorrel horse was halted and Choya sat silently in the saddle, his unwavering gaze locked on to hers, his tawny eyes piercing like a golden arrow. Then his gaze shifted to the buckskin.

"Don't say it," Jacquie muttered angrily when its sharpness was returned to her. "I know it's called horse stealing."

"Were you trying to commit suicide?" His voice rolled out low, like thunder. "No food, no water, and obviously no matches or you would have a fire."

She tossed her head back in a gesture of defiance. "I was trying to get away from you. I didn't plan on spending a night in the desert," she retorted. "How did you find me?"

Choya swung effortlessly from the saddle. "A horse leaves tracks. I followed them."

"You wouldn't have found me," Jacquie declared bitterly. "I would have been far away from here if Johnny hadn't gone lame."

Dropping the sorrel's reins to the ground, Choya walked to the buckskin and ran an exploring hand over the right front leg. Lifting r his hoof, he reached into his pocket and took out something that looked like a knife. There was a sc.r.a.ping sound, then he released the hoof and the buckskin stood squarely on all four feet.

"There was a stone in his shoe," he told Jacquie.

"That's all?" She stared at him in disbelief. "That's what made him limp? He isn't really hurt?"

"I imagine his foot is a little sore right now," Choya conceded. "Nothing worse than a slight bruise."

If only she had known what was wrong, she could have been miles away. Her ignorance aroused self-anger, followed swiftly by self-pity.

She stared at her captor, tall and dark as he walked toward her. The half-light of dusk threw his angular features in sharp relief, accenting their unrelenting hardness and the ruthless line of his mouth. He walked past her to the sorrel and pulled a rifle off the saddle scabbard.

Her turquoise eyes widened. "What are you doing?"

Choya c.o.c.ked the rifle and pointed it into the air. He fired two shots fairly close together paused and fired a third, then he returned his rifle to the scabbard, and glanced at Jacquie.

"I signaled Sam that I found you," he explained tersely.

"Can he hear that?" she frowned, wondering if he was closer to the house than she had thought.

"Sound, especially a rifle shot, carries a long way in this country." He moved to the leather pouches tied behind the saddle.

Her chin trembled. "I suppose you're going to make me go back with you," she said stiffly.

Unfastening one side of the pouch, Choya glanced at the facing golden light of the western horizon. "Not now. The trail is too difficult to follow in the dark."

"Do you mean we have to stay here all night?" Jacquie breathed with alarm.

"That's exactly what I mean." He removed a packet of sandwiches from the saddle bag and tossed it to her. "You might as well eat while I start a fire."

His grimness as he began gathering sticks from the surrounding brush bordered on a kind of anger that Jacquie found difficult to fathom. It increased the apprehension flowing through her veins. Each pa.s.sing minute added The Master Fiddler to the electrically charged tension that tightened around her.

Despite her hunger, she could only eat one sandwich. She set the rest aside for Choya. A small camp fire was crackling as night drew its curtain over the sunset.

With the fire started, he unsaddled the buckskin, laying the saddle and blanket near Jacquie. Taking the lariat from his saddle horn, he strung a picket line for both horses, then unsaddled his own.

His continued silence was unnerving. Mockery and threats she could have combated, but this building tension sc.r.a.ped at her frayed nerves. When he set his saddle on the ground near hers, her control snapped.

"Let me go, Choya." Her voice trembled hoa.r.s.ely in a demanding plea. "You can't really want to keep me prisoner anymore. What's the use of it?"

His jaw tightened forbiddingly, but he didn't look at her. The saddlebags were draped over his shoulder. He swung them down and opened one flap, towering above her, a dark silhouette against the camp fire. He removed a small square object and held it out to her.

"This is yours," he said gruffly.

Fighting tears of frustration that he had failed again to even reply to her demand, Jacquie rose to her feet. Impatiently she took the object he held out to her. Her lips parted to forcefully repeat the demand, but nothing came out as the familiar shape of the object claimed her attention.

She gazed at it in disbelief. "It's m-my wallet!" she breathed.

"Yes," was the low response.

Hurriedly she opened it. Nothing was missing. It was intact. "My money it's all here." She raised her head, trying to see his face in the flickering firelight. "Where did you get it?" Then a chilling thought struck her. "You had it all the time, didn't you?" she accused.

"No!" Choya snapped, and breathed in deeply, almost angrily. "I didn't," he added in a voice leashed in anger.

Something in his tone made Jacquie doubt his answer. "Then where did it come from?" she challenged. "How did you get it?"

"From Robbie."

"Robbie?" she echoed the boy's name in shock. "How did he get it?"

"The day you spilled your purse on the sidewalk, he stuck the wallet inside his shirt," he explained grimly. "He didn't want you to leave, remember?" Jacquie remembered very well. "He decided if he took your wallet you wouldn't have any money to buy gasoline for your car."

"Let alone pay the repairs," she added with a short laugh that was bitter with irony. "And Robbie's had it all this time!"

"He's been keeping it in his secret hiding place in the barn."

She raked a weary hand through the side of her long hair, flipping it back to stream moon gold over her shoulders. "No wonder he didn't want to show me where his hiding place was," she murmured. Tears shimmered jewel bright in her eyes. "What made him decide to give it to you?"

"When I came back to the ranch this afternoon and discovered you were gone, Robbie was half-crazy with fear that you were hurt or lost. It never occurred to him that you'd run away," Choya stated. "In his childlike logic, he decided that if he gave back the wallet, I would find you safe and sound, otherwise something terrible would happen to you."

Acid tears burned down her cheeks. All of this happened to her because a little boy hadn't wanted her to leave him. His innocent taking of her wallet had precipitated the entire chain of events that had brought her to the ranch and finally to this mountain pool with Choya.

Dipping her chin, she closed her eyes briefly against the rush of pain.

Then she raised her head to gaze into his shadowed face.

"I have the money. Now will you let me go?" she demanded in a choked voice.

"You have every right to be angry," Choya began in harsh quietness.

"I'm not crying because I'm angry," Jacquie corrected, hiccoughing back a sob. "I'm crying because... just... because!"

The words brought a fresh flood of tears down her cheeks. Her shoulders shuddered with involuntary, silent sobs. Choya stood in front of her.

"Yes, I do know." The savageness in his tone was not directed at her.

He took a hesitant step forward. His hands closed lightly over her shoulders to draw her against him. Jacquie tried weakly to push him away, but racking sobs made her efforts puny. He gathered her close to his chest, rocking her gently in his arms.

Her cries were m.u.f.fled by his shirt. Indifferently she was aware of the comforting hand stroking her silken hair. Strangely she realized r that she was deriving solace from the embrace of the man who had hurt her. She clung to the man whose eyes were the color of a mountain cat's, feeling like a lost lamb being welcomed back to the fold.

His dark head bent near hers, and gently he kissed her tear-drenched lashes and wet cheeks. When his mouth found hers, it carried the salty taste of her own tears.

His kiss breathed warmth and strength into her. Under its reviving spell, life flowed back into her limbs. Her clinging hands wrapped themselves around his neck. But he disentangled them. Strong arms lowered her to the ground and a blanket was thrown over her.

"Go to sleep," Choya ordered.

The buckskin stamped the ground restlessly, as Jacquie watched him walk to the opposite side of the camp fire. She had paid the master fiddler. She had given him her heart.

Her lashes fluttered. Something was wrong. There was no soft mattress beneath her. No pillow cushioned her head. There was only hard, uncomfortable ground beneath her and the chill of early-morning air around her. The memory of her futile attempt to flee from the ranch put the strange surroundings in perspective.

Jacquie opened her eyes, propping herself up on one elbow to search for Choya. She found him almost instantly over by the horses. Her frightened expression softened with love, then her muscles protested stiffly as she forced herself to her feet.

The buckskin was saddled and Choya was tightening the cinch on his sorrel. At her movement, he flicked a brief glance in her direction. The touch of his gaze was like a splash of cold water and she froze. The metallic gold eyes had as much warmth in them as the ashes of the dead camp fire. She shuddered uncontrollably.

"Good morning." His indifferent greeting pierced her heart.

"Good morning," Jacquie returned stiffly.

With the reins of both horses in his hand, he walked toward her. The boldly masculine features were drawn in an aloof expression.

He handed her the buckskin's reins.

"It's a long ride back," he stated briskly. "We'd better get started."

"Yes," she agreed tightly, and mounted quickly before he saw the agonizing pain in her eyes.

As she pointed her horse toward the narrow trail, Choya called her name. She halted the buckskin and waited, her shoulders rigidly squared. He reined his sorrel even with her mount.

"Here." In his sun-browned hand was the metal ring with her car keys. "You'll want to leave when we get back to the ranch."

"Yes." In a stronger voice, she repeated the agreement. "Yes, I will."

She shoved the keys in the pocket of her tan slacks and kicked the buckskin's flanks, moving him out ahead of Choya.

Not another word was exchanged during the entire ride. The crushing silence ripped at her heart until it was in shreds by the time they reached the ranch yard. Her chin was quivering traitorously as she dismounted beside the corral. Unable to risk a glance at Choya, she dropped the reins and started for the house, leaving him to take care of the horses.

Robbie was racing across the yard toward her, using his crutches to catapult himself forward at a reckless pace. A grin of unbounded welcome was splitting his face from ear to ear. Sam Barnett was hobbling after him with his cane.

Paralyzed, Jacquie waited for Robbie to reach her. Her head pounded with dread, knowing how short-lived his happiness would be for her return. Choya's long strides were carrying him toward her.

"Jacquie! Jacquie! You're back!" Robbie cried in delight. When he would have hurled himself at her, Choya intercepted him, swinging him off his feet and straddling him on one hip. The boy readily transferred his affectionate greeting from Jacquie to his father. "You found her and brought her back, Dad! I knew you would! I just knew it!"

"Why aren't you in school?" Choya cast a sideways, frowning glance at Sam.

"I was waiting for Jacquie," Robbie beamed at her.

Sam shuffled forward, leaning heavily on his cane. "He refused to go until he'd seen Jacquie for himself. He was darned near makin' himself sick over it. There wasn't much else I could do but let him see she was all right," he said, giving the explanation that Choya had so silently demanded.

"I was afraid something would happen, and Jacquie and you wouldn't come back," Robbie added his fervent explanation to his grandfather's. His expression became suddenly The Master Fiddler apologetic. "I'm sorry about your billfold, Jacquie. I wasn't going to keep it, I was going to give it back to you. I only took it because I wanted you to stay."

"I know," she sighed, glancing helplessly at Choya's grim expression.

"Go up to the house, Jacquie," he ordered. His arm tightened around his son's waist. "I'll handle this." Jacquie opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She closed it, briefly meeting Sam's puzzled glance, and darted for the house. From her room, she could hear Robbie's protests at the news of her imminent departure, followed by his crying sobs. If only Robbie had been in school, she could have avoided this scene.

Without regard to neatness or order, she jammed her clothes and belongings into the suitcases. Inside, her heart was crying as tearfully as Robbie was. From her wallet, she took out enough money to cover the car repairs and the hotel bill. She slipped it under the alarm clock on her nightstand. When the last suitcase was filled, Choya appeared in the doorway of her room.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Jacquie nodded, pa.s.sing a hand across her face as if making certain no tears were on her cheeks. Choya picked up the two largest suitcases and juggled a third, leaving her to carry two small bags.

As she walked out of the room, she didn't pause for a last look. Whatever she might have left was left, and she didn't need a last glance to be able to remember the room and this ranch in the nights and months ahead.

When they walked outdoors, Robbie was huddled in a shadowy corner beneath the overhang. Jacquie looked at his bowed head with deep compa.s.sion and shared hurt. While Choya stowed her luggage in the back of her car, Sam limped forward. "I was just beginning to get used to having you around," he smiled wryly, and held out his hand. "Maybe if you hung around for a while, you might have learned how to cook."

Jacquie returned the smile weakly. "Thanks for everything, Sam."

The elderly man nodded his rusty gray head and stepped back. He glanced back toward the house where Robbie was hunched in his ball of misery.