Midnight Star (Star Quartet 2)

She smiled at Cricket and slowly rose to her feet. “Thank you, Cricket,” she said, and held out her hands.

Cricket grunted and bent over to tie the leather about Chauncey’s wrists. Chauncey brought her fists down on Cricket’s temple. The woman gave a small surprised cry and slumped forward to her hands and knees.

“I’m sorry,” Chauncey whispered, picked up a small rock, and hit her on the back of her head. Cricket fell in a heap, unconscious.

Chauncey heard a shout of laughter and whirled about to see Tamba standing quite near, a rifle in her hands.

“You kill,” she said. “Good. Now you leave.”

Chauncey stood frozen to the spot. “I didn’t kill her!”

“No matter. You leave. I no get blame.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll leave.” Chauncey darted back to the camp, skirted the perimeter, and eased up to Dolores. At least her mare still wore her bridle. Saddle be damned! She swung up onto the mare’s back, clutching at her thick mane. She realized suddenly that the only means of escape was through the center of the small camp.

She drew a deep breath and dug her bare heels into Dolores’ side. The mare snorted and dashed forward. Chauncey kept her eyes forward, toward the narrow trail through the trees on the other side. She heard a woman shout. Suddenly she heard Cricket yelling at the top of her lungs. She whipped around and saw Tamba aiming a rifle at her. She threw herself forward on Dolores’ neck, but she was too late. She felt a searing pain in her shoulder and it slammed her into her mare’s neck. My God, she thought vaguely, that damned bitch shot me!

She heard a scream, and twisted her head back toward the camp. Cricket threw herself at Tamba as the rifle discharged again. The shot went wide, over Chauncey’s head.

She fell forward on Dolores’ neck, hanging on. Oddly enough, she felt no pain now, only a numbing coldness.

What now, Miss Brilliance? she asked herself.

Back toward Marysville, back toward the river.

Chauncey clung frantically to Dolores’ mane, letting her mare pick her own trail. The forest was thinning out, and she realized that Chatca would follow her.

She straightened and looked over her shoulder. Nothing. No one. She blinked. Her blouse was soaked with blood. She could feel it snaking down over her left breast. She pulled Dolores to a halt and ripped off a strip from her skirt. She made it into a pad and pressed it against the wound. Why doesn’t it hurt more? she wondered vaguely.

She click-clicked Dolores forward. She had to keep going. She knew she couldn’t hide her trail from Chatca. She didn’t know how to, and she was afraid that if she dismounted from her mare’s back, she wouldn’t have the strength to climb back on.

The river! Chatca couldn’t follow her if she kept in the water, could he? She guided Dolores into the shallows.

The sky darkened, and the air grew colder.

The hours passed and she forced herself to think about the mining camp she would ride into at any minute.

Suddenly the skies opened and rain poured down, cold rain, so thick she could scarcely see in front of her. No trail for Chatca to follow now, she thought, even if he’s a fish!

She was soaked and shivering in a matter of moments. The frigid piercing rain brought out the pain in her shoulder, and she gritted her teeth. Dolores whinnied and shook her head.

Chauncey guided her out of the water to the riverbank. The overhanging tree branches afforded little protection from the lashing rain. Just a little farther, Chauncey said over and over.

Miners worked on the river. Where the devil were they?

Where was the woman who had exchanged the clothing for Chauncey’s boots?

She felt light-headed and closed her eyes. Raindrops splashed against her eyelids. She pressed her cheek against her mare’s neck. She thought of a warm fire, a thick blanket. She saw Delaney’s beloved face, filled with tenderness. Then she saw nothing.

26

It was the oddest feeling, and she didn’t understand it. Surely she couldn’t be moving! Chauncey forced herself to open her eyes. She was still astride Dolores’ broad back, her arms wrapped around the mare’s neck. She tried to pull herself upright, and gasped at the burning shaft of pain that tore through her shoulder. Dolores stopped suddenly in the midst of the tangled undergrowth, and Chauncey gritted her teeth against the jolting movement. “Please, Dolores, we must keep going. We must!” Her voice sounded rusty and hoarse with disuse. She realized that she could scarcely see. No, she wasn’t fainting again. It was growing dark. It was no longer raining, but the air felt heavy, pregnant with more moisture. She moaned softly. She knew with certainty that she would never survive if she had to spend the night alone in the forest. She drew on her remaining strength and forced herself upright. She threw back her head and ye

lled, “Delaney!”

She heard birds chirping and some wings flapping. No human sounds.

“Delaney, where are you!”