The long, sloping outwash plain glittered with rills and shallow streams as Black Plateau shed water from the recent storm. A branch of that network of shifting, gleaming temporary streams led to her hidden canyon. She hoped that there would be enough water iij that temporary stream to hide her tracks, but not so much that it would be dangerous to go through the narrow slot that led to the concealed valley. She hoped, but she had no way of knowing until she got there. Everything depended on how much rain had fallen on this side of Black Plateau.
Until now Janna had made little effort to conceal her trail, hoping that the violent, intermittent showers would wash out enough of her tracks to confuse any pursuer. But now she was within four miles of her hidden valley. She could take no chance that a wandering renegade would come across her tracks and follow them to the tiny slot carved by time and water into the side of Black Plateau.
Resolutely Janna turned toward the nearest shallow wash and began wading. Zebra watched, then calmly paced alongside-beyond the reach of water. Janna waded farther out. Zebra kept walking along the edge of the runoff stream. Finally Janna waded back toward the horse.
"Ty?"
There was no answer.
For an instant Janna's heart stopped. She ran up and saw Ty slumped over Zebra's neck, his hands twisted into her mane. He seemed to be asleep.
"Ty?" she asked, pressing against his arm. "Zebra has to walk in the water."
Slowly he straightened. She looked up at him anxiously. As she watched, he began to slump again. Obviously he wouldn't be able to guide the mustang. Nor could Janna lead her; she had never put a rope on Zebra, so the mare wouldn't have the least idea how to respond.
"I hope you don't mind riding double," Janna said to Zebra. "Stand quiet, girl. It will be a big load for you, but it's the only way I'll be able to hide your tracks."
Janna grabbed the horse's long mane in her left hand and tried to swing around Ty and up onto the mare's back. It was an awkward mount that was saved from disaster only when Ty wrapped his arm around Janna and heaved her into place. The groan that ripped through him at the effort told her more than she wanted to know about the condition of his ribs.
Zebra sidestepped, almost unseating both riders. Janna spoke reassuringly and sat very still, letting the mare become accustomed to the added weight. When Zebra settled down, Janna nudged her lightly with her heels. The horse moved awkwardly for a few minutes, then settled back into her normal rhythmic walk. Ty slumped forward once more, keeping his seat by instinct, experience and sheer determination.
"Hang on, Ty. We're almost there."
It was a lie, but it was more helpful than the truth, which was that they had a lot of hard going left-and no assurance at all that the slot wouldn't be choked with floodwaters when they finally arrived.
Chapter Six
Ty awoke with the sun shining right onto his face and the familiar sound of a horse cropping grass nearby. As he turned to check on Blackbird, pain brought back all the memories-his horse's death and his own capture, Cascabel and the gauntlet, pain and running endlessly, and the gray-eyed waif who had patched up his wounds. Vaguely Ty remembered getting on a zebra dun and riding until he was quite certain he had died and gone to hell.
Except that this wasn't hell. True enough, the overhang he lay beneath was hot red stone, but the canyon floor was lush with the kind of vegetation that only came from water. Definitely not a flaming hell. In fact, with the sun's warmth and the lazy humming of insects and the calling of birds, this could only be a slice of heaven.
Automatically Ty sat up to have a better look around. Pain and dizziness struck, chaining him in place, forcing him to revise his opinion of where he was. Eyes closed, his weight braced on his elbows, he decided that the valley might be in heaven, but his body was indeed in hell.
"Lie down, Ty. You've been sick."
He opened his eyes. Gray eyes watched him with concern. Without thinking, Ty shifted his weight until he could raise his hand to touch the cheek that was so close to his.
The skin was smooth and fine grained, as soft as an angel's wing.
"It's all right," he said fuzzily. "I'm fine now."
"Lie down," Janna said, pressing against his bare shoulders.
It did no good. He remained as he was, propped half-upright on his elbow.
"Please, Ty," Janna said, her voice husky with emotion. "Lie down. The fever's broken and you're much better, but you need to rest."
"Thirsty," he mumbled.
Instantly Janna grabbed a canteen, poured a stream of amber, herbal-smelling tea into a tin cup and helped Ty to drink. The taste of the liquid brought back other memories. He had drunk from this cup many times, with slender hands holding him upright and then easing him back down and stroking him until he fell once more into feverish sleep.
Sighing deeply, Ty allowed Janna to help him to lie down again.
"How long?" he asked.
"How long have we been here?"
He nodded slightly.
"Four days."
His eyes opened.
"You've been sick," Janna explained. "You caught a chill riding through the rain. That, plus your injuries from the gauntlet…" Her voice died. Automatically she reached forward and brushed back the slightly curly lock of black hair that had fallen over Ty's forehead.
Ty flinched from the touch and looked Janna over with narrowed green eyes. "You don't look so good yourself. You're skinnier than ever. If you don't take better care of yourself, you'll never get tall and put on muscle."
"Not all men are built like a side of beef," Janna retorted, hurt because Ty had refused her touch. She reached into the herb pouch, brought out a twist of paper and sprinkled the white powder into another cup of the herbal tea. "Here. Drink this."
"What is it?"
"Poison."
"Fresh as paint, aren't you, boy?"
"You're half-right," Janna muttered, but she said it so softly that Ty couldn't hear. She silently vowed that she would make him see which half of the truth he knew-and that he would be crazy with desire before he figured it out.
Ty drank the contents of the cup, grimaced and gave his companion a green-eyed glare. "Tastes like horse piss."
"I'll take your word for it, having never tasted that particular liquid."
Ty laughed, grabbed his left side and groaned. "Damn. Feels like a mule kicked me."
"It won't be so bad in a few minutes," she said, standing up. "Then I'll unwrap the bandages and take another look."
"Where are you going?"
"To check on the soup."
The thought of food made Ty's salivary glands contract in anticipation.
"Hungry?" she asked wryly, recognizing the look.
"I could eat a horse."
"Then I'd better warn Zebra to stay away from you."
"That old pony would be too tough to eat," Ty drawled, smiling slowly as h£ relaxed against the folded blankets beneath him.
Janna watched from a distance while Ty's eyelids closed and the taut lines around his eyes relaxed as he drifted into sleep. Only then did she return to his side, kneel and pull up the blanket so that his shoulders were covered once more. Even with the overhang of red rock to reflect back the sun's heat, she was afraid of his catching another chill. She didn't know what she would do if he became ill again. She was exhausted from broken sleep or no sleep at all, and from worrying that she had helped Ty to escape from renegades only to kill him by dragging him through a cold rain into the secret valley.