Susan Evans McCloud - First Love, Last Love

The watching man snapped his telescope back into the case at his side. The man and woman below became indistinct figures again, placed as they were at the base of the sandstone cliff, their horses tethered to clumps of sagebrush, the red tongue of their fire a brash challenge that cut through the color less skin of the desert like the slash of a knife.

He shook his head. The supplies the man planned to load on his horses weretoo much for the beasts to bear. He should have a pack horse, and even then discardhalf of the less necessary items. But that right now was of only secondaryimportance. The main difficulty the two confronted, unknown to them, was thegroup of dark-skinned hunters that rode the cliff top, and had followed their solitary tracksfor several hours to this spot which was a haven for Indian travelers, a commonstopping place for the wandering tribes who had regularly passed through herefor years. They would not be impressed by the clever pale face who hadhidden his goods here, nor pleased by his assumptive use of the place inthe sloppy, disrespectful manner of the white man. They would only bide theirtime a little longer. The woman was asleep, the shadows deepened. The man wouldbe easy prey. Just before the night fell to cover them with its cloak, thehunters would strike, then slip off into the dark and leave their victims dead,where no eye could see.

Jesse knew this. He knew the time was short. But he also knew that the redmen up on the cliff were a group of hunters, drawn to this act of violence byits ease, by the temptation of white scalps to hang from their saddles. Theydid not yet know of his existence, and they might not be anxious to face twodetermined guns. That would be quite different from sneaking up on one unarmed,unsuspecting foe.

Jesse left the trail and walked his horse, hugging the cliff side, hoping the shadows might swallow hispassing. He drew near to the camp. Amanda was lost in a mound of blankets. Let her sleep! he whispered to himself. He left his horse and crept low to the ground across the brief, naked yards of exposure from where the line ofcliff broke to the spot where Elliott's horses were tethered.

Elliott heard him and turned with a grunt of surprise. Jesse put a handout, cautioning him to silence, then motioned him forward. Elliott came, though his brow was a dark line of startleddispleasure. Jesse stood behind the horses, using their bodies as partialcover. He began to speak, but Elliott buried his words with his own.

"How in the devil did you find us?" His black scowl deepened. "You're alone." He glanced around, then at Jesse, hoping to guess at confirmation. "That isn't wise." He took a step or two back with a jaunty air. "If you've come for Amanda, youcan turn straight around this very minute and ride back home, because"

"You fool. First things first. You're in danger. There are Indians up on that ledgefour warriors. They've been following you for some time now"

"As you have been. How clever! That's a good ruse. Do you mean tofrighten me?"

"Yes, I do. Otherwise I'd have had you trussed and gagged behind thatclump of cactus and be well on my way back to the valley with Amanda by now."

Elliott growled. "I hardly think so!"

Jesse drew breath. It seemed like a petty thing they were doing, thisbristling over their prowess as men, over which had power to win, to take this woman. Yet it was as much a matter of life and death to them as the danger that waited out there. And bothof them knew it.

"We've this little matter to take care of first." Jesse inclined his head,indicating the heights above. "They don't expect trouble, retaliation ofany kind. If we meet them together, I think even two to fourour chances are good."

Elliott's eyes had narrowed to thoughtful slits and like black lights theydarted. "I don't see anything," he confessed. "Are you sure they're there?"

Jesse grunted. "I've kept close behind them for well on an hour. Ican't tell if they're Ute: they may be Apache. But they're only a group of hunters, not a war party. A man and woman alone,unsuspectingthat's what they've been thinking. If they meetour two guns instead"

Elliott's face grew greedy.

"I've a plan or two toconsider," Jesse continued. "Either should work well. The way Ifigure"

"How close are they?" Elliott barked, interrupting. "How close are they right now?"

"It's hard to tell." Jesse was growing a little impatient. "I don't think they've moved intofiring range yet. We should be safe for a while"

"We should be." Elliott turned full to face Jesse. His pistolwas in his hand. He pulled back the hammer. It clicked once, then clickedagain. He was ready to fire.

"You're premature," Jesse warned. "Put your weapon down. The first thing"

He stopped cold. Elliott's arm had moved to point the barrel directly at Jesse's head.

"First things first, you said. Iagree." His grin was narrow and twisted. Jesse watched him, ignoring therushing sound in hisears and the cold numbness that seeped through his fingers and legs. He's going to kill me, he thought, and the man read it.

"That's right. You've made it most simple, my friend. I can shoot you and no one will know the difference. I'll tell Amanda you died defending her." He cocked his head. "A hero's death, won't that please you?"

He chuckled under his breath and thought of the fate that kept smiling on him with her favor. Jesse squinted his eyes and said a prayer, and watched Elliott's finger as it moved to squeeze the trigger.

The arrow sang with a hiss like the rush of wings. The man pitchedforward, his eyes open in wide amazement. Jesse hit the ground before the deadmanrolling over, drawing his gun from his side, aiming as he shot. The red mantook the bullet in his shoulder, but another ripped into his stomach. He sankto the ground, crying out to his brothers in his death. Jesse shot into the moving shadows again and again, then chewed with his fingers at the knots on the horses' reins, working long seconds before they loosened and gave. He shot once more over his shoulder, then, leading thehorses, ran in a low crouch toward the camp, where the sleeping figure hadrisen like a spectre, her blanket trailing behind her like a dark veil.

Jesse hurried toward her. "Amanda!" he called out. She did not hear. She had heard nothingbefore the shots, the staccato volley of death sounds that echoed inside her head.

She was awake but still confused when she heardthe warrior cry a warning in notes of agonized music that struck her likelittle blows. She sat up with her blankets. Indians!Where is Elliott? What should I do? She felt in her pocket, herfingers comforted by the feeling of the cool polished orb, then pushing deeperand touching the little teardrop stone. Her fingers rubbed itabsently while she stood, pulling her blankets around her, peering anxiouslyinto the dark. The small blue stone, so smooth against her skin!

With a cry she remembered and drew it out, her fingers now trembling,clumsy. What had he said, the black man on that far away morning when themountain men came to Fort Laramie? What had hesaid when he gave her the little blue stone? She closed her eyes, but thedarkness shot through with red lines frightened them open. His nameshe musttell them his name! But what was it? She used to repeat it at night beforegoing to sleep. She searched her memory feverishly. Is-ko something. Is ko-chu Is-ko-chu what?

She started to shout it, holding the blue stone above her head for the redmen to see. "Is-ko-chu-re, the mighty chief, the mighty warrior,Is-ko-chu-re," she called to the wind, "is our friend. He does notwish you to harm us." She choked on her shouting, coughing her voice intosilence. She whirled around, wanting desperately to see Elliott coming towardhersomething flesh and blood to dispel the images in her head.