Brand 3 Page 7

  “Have I done any good? Now I’m this close I don’t believe I can do anything. From what I can see all those things I heard seem to be true.”

  “I wish I could tell you they weren’t.”

  Elizabeth climbed to her feet. “No more games, Brand. We might not be in this mess if I’d been honest from the start. I’m sorry I ran out on you. But . . . I just got scared. I wanted to do it on my own. Instead I walked right into Jude’s hands. And you had to pull me out of trouble again — just like you did back in Gallego. I have to thank you again.”

  “I was bound to meet up with Jude again sooner or later.”

  “If we do find Lobo — I mean Matthew — will you at least give me the chance to talk with him?”

  Brand had to accept Elizabeth’s courage. Despite everything that had happened she wasn’t giving up. And he had to admit she had earned the right to at least give her way a try.

  “All right. But only on my say so. If he won’t talk and comes out shooting, you stay back if I tell you. Maybe I don’t have your faith in human nature. I don’t take anyone on trust. My job is to deal with the situation whichever way it goes. I’ll take Lobo alive if I can. But I’m not risking my life — or yours — just for a whim. One wrong move and I’ll kill him.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Hard as it is to accept, I agree, Mr. Brand.”

  “It’s Jason.”

  Her eyes smiled for a brief moment. “My friends call me Liz.”

  Brand studied the sky. “Going to be dark soon. We need somewhere to rest up. This is no place to be wandering round at night. And it gets damn cold too.”

  He passed her the rifle, slipping the Colt into his hand.

  “Stay here. Keep your eyes open. You see anything move, you shoot. Don’t play games. You lose it up here you lose it for good.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, handling the rifle with the ease of someone who knew how to use it.

  Brand moved along the rock face. There was something about it that had caught his interest. He wasn’t certain what it was at first, and as he checked out the rock he began to wonder if he had been mistaken. It looked like a hundred other rock faces, eroded by thousands of years of harsh weather. And then he saw it. A narrow slit in the rock. At first glance it looked like any of the other splits in the face. When he looked closer he saw that this one cut deeper into the rock. The line of the split was at such an acute angle that it could easily be missed. Standing to the side he saw that the crack angled far into the rock face. A jolt of excitement coursed through him. Brand crouched and inspected the ground at the base of the split. There were faint scuff marks in the rock under the dust. Brushing away the dirt he saw that the rock had been worn smooth. Someone was using the place regularly. Lobo? Was this the entrance to the renegade’s hideout? The hidden refuge that had remained undiscovered for so long? Brand straightened up and eased into the opening. It was wide enough to allow a horse through. He walked in a few yards and saw the passage opened up. Ahead it curved off to the right. Brand returned to the entrance and stepped out.

  Elizabeth was a few yards away, searching for him with frightened eyes. She gasped when he suddenly reappeared.

  “Where did you go?” Brand showed her the opening. “It’s just how my father described it,” she admitted, explaining what her father had told her, “Are we going in?”

  “At least we’ll have shelter.” “Matthew may be in there.” “I thought about that too.” They moved into the passage, Brand in the lead. The rock walls reared up on either side, towering high over their heads. The faces were smooth and unbroken. The passage ran on in a series of right and left bends, but always pushing deeper into the bulk of the rock. It cut its way for a quarter of a mile, then suddenly opened out in a wide, oval basin. It was surrounded on all sides by the sheer walls of the mountain. At its widest point it was easily a couple of miles across. Water glinted in the sunlight. It came from a fissure high in one wall, spilling into a deep, wide pool. Small streams meandered across the basin, spidering out from the pool. Because of the water the basin floor was a patchwork of greenery. Stands of pine rose in the shadow of the rock walls and grass carpeted large areas of the basin floor.

  “It is exactly how father described it,” Elizabeth said again. “Even the waterfall and the pool. It has to be Matthew’s place.”

  “Ideal for what he needs. Well hidden. Little chance of visitors. Water. Grass. Timber. Probably game too. And an easy place to defend.”

  They crossed the basin. The silence was almost soothing. The place caught the warmth of the setting sun.

  Brand noticed tracks now. Hoof prints. Here and there the outline of soft-soled moccasins.

  This had to be Lobo’s hideout. The sanctuary of the half-breed. The wolf’s lair.

  They followed the tracks across the basin., nearing the pool. And found Lobo’s cave.

  The entrance was the height of a man. Close by was a small lean-to and a split-pole corral. Two sturdy ponies moved restlessly around the fenced area. Just in front of the cave entrance was a shallow fire-pit; Brand felt the black ashes and found they were cold.

  “If he’s back he isn’t eating,’ he observed dryly.

  Elizabeth was staring around her, anxiety showing clearly on her face.

  “No telling how badly Jude hurt him. Could be he’s still out there somewhere. Maybe too weak to make it back until he’s rested. If he is alive he’ll show up eventually. And if he does he’ll know we’re here.”

  He went into the cave to look around. It was roomy inside. Against one wall were blankets. Close by was a pile of clothing. At the rear of the cave he found a food store. There were stacked tins of food. Bottles of liquor. Hanging from poles were sacks of beans, flour, strips of dried meat. He found coffee beans too. There were weapons as well on a rawhide-bound rack. Brand counted more than a dozen rifles. As many handguns. There were leather bandoliers with filled loops. Boxes of ammunition stolen from the Army. Kegs of powder and strips of lead; there were bullet moulds and even a set of brass scales for measuring out the powder.

  Apart from cooking and eating utensils there was nothing else. Nothing that suggested personal belongings, or that offered any kind of comfort against the crude surroundings. The cave was nothing more than a shelter. A place to eat and sleep and replenish supplies. A place to store the instruments of violence that ruled the life of the man called Lobo.

  Elizabeth took a look inside, coming out quickly, her face pale.

  “It’s a terrible place, Jason. It doesn’t even look as if a human lives in it. It’s just like an animal’s den.” She turned to Brand, her eyes bleak. “There isn’t even a picture. Or a book. My God, Jason, what has he become?”

  Brand didn’t answer. There wasn’t much he could say. Elizabeth had answered her own question. There was no point hurting her by saying it to her face. The brother she had known as Matthew Henty was no more. The renegade Lobo had taken his place. Driven by hate, with a desire to maim and to kill. With the basic instinct of some primeval beast Lobo needed to destroy. He only lived to bring death to any human who crossed his path.

  The years of injustice and prejudice had pushed him beyond the limits — too far for any kind of return to normality.

  Elizabeth’s desire to help her brother seemed more of a lost cause now. Brand wished he could ease her out of the hurt that was bound to come. But she was committed, and hurt or no, she would try to get through to Matthew Henty.

  Brand had never felt more helpless. He could see the hurt coming. Could imagine what it would do to her. And he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.

  Chapter Twelve

  The fire Brand had made cast warm splashes of orange light into the cave entrance. He had food and coffee hung over the flames. Beyond the cave entrance the basin lay in deep shadow. Overhead the velvet sweep of the night sky was studded with stars. There was only a pale moon. With the darkness had come a swift mountain chill, and Brand had been surprised when Elizabeth had taken a
blanket, saying she was going to the pool to bathe. And she had. He could hear her splashing in the water, thinking that only a woman would do such a thing, chancing a dip in ice cold water. The diversion would probably help her to temporarily forget her problems.

  Lifting the coffee pot off the flames Brand poured himself a mug full. He wondered if Lobo was out in the darkness somewhere. Maybe watching and waiting. He might still be out on one of the cold mountain slopes, hurt and sick. Or dead. Somehow the final option didn’t ring true. Brand figured he wasn’t about to get so lucky. He thought about Jude, too. Where was the man?

  He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. He would know soon enough when something happened. There was no point in him sitting and worrying over the pair all night. He was too hungry and tired. Not that he didn’t need to stay alert. That was something he did without conscious thought. It was bred into him — a natural phenomenon akin to breathing. He would remain concerned over Lobo and Jude, but it wouldn’t prevent him from getting the food and rest he needed.

  He heard Elizabeth coming back to the cave. It was, he realized the sound of her bare feet he had picked up, and not the noise of her boots. She approached the fire. She carried her clothes in a bundle and had the blanket wrapped around her. Dropping the bundle she sat down by the fire. Brand poured her a mug of coffee and she took it gratefully,

  “Was that water cold!” she exclaimed. Her eyes were enormous in the dancing firelight and Brand could see water droplets in her dark hair. She lowered the mug. “I feel better though.”

  “How’s the shoulder?”

  She twisted her upper body round, allowing the blanket to slip from her shoulders. Brand leaned forward to inspect the wound. It was slight. No more than a thin gouge, and it had already sealed itself off. “Stings a little is all,” she said. When she turned back to the fire Brand couldn’t fail to glimpse the upper curves of her smooth white breasts before she pulled the blanket close again. She caught his eye and held it, her cheeks coloring gently before she looked away with a quick: “Jason. I’m hungry. Can we eat?”

  He spooned out hot beans. He had found dried peppers among Lobo’s food store. Adding them to the beans, along with some flour, he had seasoned and thickened the mixture. He watched her eat.

  “I never knew beans could taste so good,” she said.

  “Hell, you must be hungry then. You want some more?”

  “Well, maybe not that good,” she admitted, her tone gently teasing.

  Brand smiled and Elizabeth laughed softly. Even so they emptied the pot of beans and drank all the coffee between them.

  More than once Brand found himself watching her. Observing her movements. He was held by her captivating beauty, and felt the demanding urge he had experienced before. Only this time it was stronger. When she moved the firelight rippled in her dark hair and stroked the smooth flesh of her face, the curve of a bare shoulder where the blanket had slipped. She would return his gaze, and when their eyes met she stared at him with an uncompromising boldness that only increased his desire for her.

  A little later he walked to the pool and stripped off his shirt. He removed the bandage she had bound around his body after the gunfight in Gallego and washed the wound. It had closed nicely, though it was still tender around the edges. Washing the dust from his face and body he allowed the chill water to ease the bruises and grazes he had picked up. When he returned to the fire Elizabeth had gone. He laid down the rifle he’d taken with him and sat staring into the flames.

  He heard a soft sound coming from the cave entrance, and when he turned he could see her. He retrieved the rifle and went to the entrance, following her inside. She was a pale shadow, but he sensed her closeness and could feel her warmth.

  “Here,” she called out of the shadows; her tone was soft, but he sensed the urgency in her voice.

  Propping the rifle against the cave wall he turned to where she stood. As he reached her she moved and a shaft of moonlight caught the pale nakedness of her smooth body. In the moment before she pressed herself to him, he caught a glimpse of softly rounded breasts and the curve of hips and long, firm thighs. Her mouth touched his, warm and soft, demanding. He held her against him, aware of his growing need for her. His strong hands moved restlessly over her supple form, touching, caressing, and Elizabeth sighed gently as she responded. She slid her hands down his body to tug at the buckle of his heavy gunbelt.

  “Damn thing!” he heard her murmur before it slipped free and they eased down onto the blankets she had spread across the cave floor.

  After that there was little time for talk. They were both caught up in the frantic heat of the moment, each searching for their individual need. The all too brief moment that would allow them to forget the thoughts and fears haunting them ...

  It was Elizabeth who returned them to reality some time later, lying against him under the warming blankets.

  “Jason, will he come back?”

  “He’ll come.”

  The lovely body trembled against his. “I’m getting scared now,” she admitted.

  Brand drew her closer. Her flesh was silken and warm. He turned her face to his and kissed her. She held him, gripping him tightly, pushing herself hard against him.

  “It never lasts does it?” she said.

  He realized she was voicing his own thoughts. In his life he found little room for permanent relationships. His existence made life an uncertain thing, something that could end swiftly. He lived in a world of casual violence, snatching his comfort and pleasure wherever and whenever he could — just as he was doing now — and somehow Elizabeth had become aware of that state of mind.

  “Just who do you work for, Jason?” she asked.

  He couldn’t help smiling, even though she couldn’t see.

  “People,” he said, thinking of McCord and Whitehead and Kito. And all the others at the ranch outside Washington. It was the first time he had thought about them since he had talked with Alex Mundy back in Rawdon. He tried to imagine what they were doing right now. He was not aware of the events that were taking place that would eventually plunge him into his next assignment shortly after his return to Washington.

  Beside him Elizabeth drifted into sleep. Brand lay for a time, listening to the night sounds. A wind had risen, pushing in from the north. It sighed through the trees growing in the basin. Whispered its way through the grass. A gust buffeted the rock face above the cave entrance, causing the fire to flare briefly. A half-burned stick toppled, sending bright sparks leaping skywards. They were caught by the wind and whipped away into the darkness. They shone for a few seconds then swiftly died and vanished.

  Brand reached out and drew his Colt revolver close. He lay back, feeling Elizabeth stir in her sleep as he settled against her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brand woke as always. Quietly, his senses quickly adjusting to his surroundings. He lay for a moment, realizing he was alone under the blankets. Then he smelled coffee. Sitting upright his right hand automatically closed over the butt of the Colt, lifting it. Pale light flooded the cave and beyond the entrance he could see the dawn sky.

  Now he could see Elizabeth, kneeling by the fire. The Winchester was propped against a rock close by her hand.

  He rolled out of the blankets, reaching for his clothing. He dressed quickly, strapping on his gunbelt as he went outside, stamping his feet down into his boots.

  Elizabeth glanced round, dark hair sliding away from her face as she looked up at him. “Coffee’s almost ready.”

  He nodded, stepping by her, his eyes searching the spread of the basin. Nothing seemed out of place. He checked the corral. The pair of ponies looked at ease. They moved leisurely around the enclosure; if anything unusual was brewing the ponies would sense it first; they were highly-strung, sensitive creatures and were easily upset. Satisfied for the moment Brand returned to the fire where Elizabeth handed him a mug of coffee.

  “I didn’t want to disturb you,” she said. “You were sleeping so we
ll.”

  Brand might have told her why he had slept well, but he sensed she already knew seeing the way her cheeks flushed. She averted her gaze.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” she said, almost sadly. “I almost wish Matthew wouldn’t come. If he does it will all end in violence.”

  She looked over at him, seeing him in a different light now. Even seated, drinking coffee, his entire being was taut, prepared for any trouble that might come his way. She noted the way the holstered Colt lay against his thigh, as much a part of him as a hand or an eye. A faint shiver ran through her. He was different this morning. His mouth set in a hard line, his eyes holding a distant, almost hostile expression that frightened her.

  “How long will you wait for him?” she asked.

  He stared at her as if the question was foolish. When he spoke it was with the tone of a teacher instructing a child in the most basic of solutions to a problem.

  “Until he comes,” he said tonelessly.

  Neither of them wanted food. Brand finished his coffee, then crossed to the corral. He stepped inside and spent some time with the ponies. Elizabeth longed to go to him, but she knew he was not in the mood for company. She wandered into the cave. The blankets they had shared lay crumpled and twisted on the ground, and she recalled the moment he had come to her in the darkness. In a rush she remembered the desire she had experienced. The long felt need, and the almost desperate way they had satisfied those longings. Unsettled by the images in her mind Elizabeth turned and hurried out of the cave. As she stepped outside she felt the heat of the rising sun strike her.

  “Stay where you are!”

  Brand’s voice reached her with near physical force. Sharp and commanding. He was only yards from her, the Winchester in his hands. He was looking out across the basin. Elizabeth followed his gaze and a shock ran through her. Two figures were approaching, heading in the direction of the cave, one behind the other.

  The leading figure was Preacher Jude. Barely recognizable. His clothing was ripped and filthy. Dark dried blood streaked the bruised, lacerated flesh of his face. The left side resembled a hunk of raw meat. Even a part of his beard had been ripped away. Yet even now his eyes stared out from his ravaged face, the fanatical gleam undiminished.