Toeing her boot lightly into his ribcage, Hannity sought to rouse the tracker as the sun's first rays splintered the horizon. When he did finally open his tired eyes she stood towering oven him smiling her deceptively easy smile, the damned shackles draped at her waist over her gun butt.
"Aw, McCall," he whined sitting up and automatically rubbing his painfully raw wrists.
She squatted next to him, her duster splayed out around her, and confessed, "I knew I could hold you prisoner last night between my legs but the night's gone and we're only two days from Tascosa."
"We made love last night goddamn it, Hannity!" he avowed passionately.
His face was pained and her tone softened.
"Yes we did, Vin Tanner. It was real and it was wonderful but I respect you, respect your cunning, your strong sense of self-preservation and I know the only reason you aren't a hundred miles away from here by now is that you'd have had to kill me to do it…and you're no killer."
"You believe me?"
It had become imperative that she believe him, believe in him. The knowledge, however, was for him alone because it wouldn't change the situation. Hannity wouldn't turn him loose no matter what her feelings toward him were. It just wasn't her way and he respected her for it. He stood up and noticed the sweat running down the sides of Hannity's face despite the coolness of the morning and, when she handed him hardtack and a piece of jerked beef, a stabbing pain caused her to grab his shoulder to steady herself. Lifting her chin gently her eyes met his and for the first time he saw fear in them. A second stabbing pain blanched her face and her hands began to tremble visibly as she vainly tried to reattach the hated hardware.
Vin grabbed her shoulders and squeezed. Couldn't she see that he wouldn't escape? That he wouldn't leave her alone and sick to be overtaken by whoever followed them, day after day, mile after dogged mile? His only wish now was that she trust him enough to leave his hands unfettered.
"Hanni, please! Leave the irons off. I promise I'll get us to Tascosa."
Knowing he spoke the truth, she simply let the shackles fall into the dust, her days of hunting bounty coming to an end even more quickly than she'd figured. With his help she mounted her horse and they started for Tascosa at a dead run, Hannity bowed low over her horse's neck and Vin now in the lead.
Barely a mile later Hannity pulled her mount up abruptly and threw herself from the saddle. She stumbled to a scrubby bush where she vomited blood and bile, her years of addiction to the potent drug literally tearing her up inside. She leaned over and retched again as gentle hands pulled back her hair and soothingly rubbed her back.
Vin could feel her body tremble and the sweat that had soaked through the fabric of her shirt and into the duster. He suspected the laudanum might kill her sooner than later but the more immediate danger was whoever followed them.
Jackson Tate had been following them for days and watched from a small rise not fifty feet away with a smile on his pock marked face. The formidable Hannity McCall was on her knees, retching and maybe even dying while Vin Tanner, a murderer worth five hundred dollars in the sovereign state of Texas, tended to her. McCall's addiction was common knowledge to those why plied her trade and Tate watched with satisfaction as the drug took it's toll. For many years the laudanum that had made her a seemingly fearless hunter was now a demon riding her for all she was worth. He had watched the changes in her over the years and had most recently seen the effect of her dependency in her eyes when she threatened him at the poker table in Prairie Junction.
Urging his horse forward, the long haired bounty hunter figured he had only to shoot them both to be free of the bitch and five hundred dollars richer. He would take the killer's body the rest of the way into Tascosa and Hannity McCall? Well, he would leave her for the buzzards.
Helping her to her feet Vin took Hannity's arm to guide her back to the horses. Before they could remount, the cocking hammer of a gun brought the tracker's head up. They were now both sitting ducks and Vin stared hard into Jack Tate's eyes trying to anticipate the man's next move. Convinced he would shoot Hannity first, Vin deftly stepped in front of the woman just as Tate fired, his well-aimed bullet making a solid hit to his chest and leaving his mind reeling with blinding pain.
Vin heard a second shot ring out and could only watch as Hannity dropped to the ground. Unable to stay upright he fell to his knees just as Tate's boot tips came into his blurred field of vision. The bounty hunter now stood directly over Vin, gun cocked, barrel pressed to the tracker's forehead. Blood dripped down Vins chest, soaking his shirtfront, seeping through the soft leather of his jacket to leave a dark stain that Jack Tate watched with satisfaction. He'd never seen a man bleed out so quickly.
Tate's momentary lapse allowed Hannity to roll silently under her unmoving, well-trained mount and regain her feet on the far side. She pulled her coach gun from it's scabbard and laid it across the saddle seat, then spoke up in a voice surprisingly strong and steady, "This is the last bounty you'll ever jump, you son of a bitch."
Turning toward the voice, shock registered on Tate's face. He couldn't believe that the woman was still alive let alone on her feet. He knew his aim had been true but there she stood, her mouth set in a grim line, finger gently pulling first one trigger then the other. At first, the buckshot stung annoyingly then became excruciatingly painful as the pellets burrowed into his cheeks, his nose, his eyes and finally into his brain. Moments later Jack Tate ceased to feel anything as his faceless body pitched forward into the dust.
Hannity dropped the shotgun, circled around the horses and knelt in front of Vin who swayed gently but remain upright through sheer force of will. His wound was bleeding freely and she untied the wild rag at her throat, bunched it up and press it to the wound. The thin fabric was soon limp and colored a dark red hue and she knew he was in trouble.
"Vin, can you hear me?"
He could hear her but her voice was muffled and far away. Raising his head he smiled wanly at her, his eyes lack luster, his pupils dilated.
"Stay put," she commanded and ran to her horse.
She untied the blanket at the back of her saddle, pulled his gun belt from her saddlebags and unbuckled her own from around her waist. Rushing back to kneel before him, she shucked both holsters from their respective belts and buckled the two leather strips together. Wrapping the coarse woolen blanket tightly around his body, she then passed the makeshift cinch around his chest and pulled it as tight as she could.
"Come on cowboy, let's get you back up on this damn pony of yours," she said and pulled desperately on his arm to get him to his feet.
Biting his lip to keep from screaming, Vin made it unsteadily to his feet. With her help he made it onto his horse, his strength waning as he leaned forward and laid his head against Pesos neck.
Hannity took the reins and turned the horse in a tight circle heading him the direction they had just come. Removing the brass spyglass from his saddlebag, she scanned the horizon for the familiar plumes of dust. Riders had been hard on their heels, probably the reason Jack Tate had jumped the gun and gotten the drop on them. She snapped the glass closed and shoved it back into the worn leather bags on the horse's rump and stepped forward to place a hand on the tracker's leg.
"Vin?"
The Texan opened his eyes and reached out with his hand to brush her cheek with his fingertips, the question in his eyes if not on his pale lips.
"I'm fine, Vin," she assured him, "Tate was a worse shot than he was a bounty hunter."
Gathering both of his hands in hers, she placed them around the saddle horn then bound them securely with the reins. Sweat dripped into her eyes and she swiped an arm across her forehead.
"Hannity..." Vin started but she cut him off with a raised hand.
"You know as well as I do that your friends are only about a mile behind us if that, what with me being sick and you dogging it every step of the way. It was only a matter of time before they caught up to us."
She squeezed his bound hands in hers and smiled wanly.
"Hannity, please listen…" Vin tried again but to no avail.
"Jack Tate and Lady Laudanum forced my hand. You'll never make it to Tascosa alive. You just keep this blasted pony of yours headed west and your healer can fix you up right as rain," she said letting go of his hands. Stepping back she added, "Keep heading west, Vin…and watch your back."
"I'll find you again Hannity McCall, wherever you go," he vowed and she just shook her head.
"You deserve better, Vin Tanner," she said and moved closer again to his horse.
She touched his face one last time, her sad eyes belying her smile. Stepping back she slapped the horse smartly on the rump and, shying a few steps to the side, Peso took off to the west at a good clip.
"I've given you everything I have left, Vin Tanner. I only hope it's enough," she whispered, an errant tear slipping down her pale cheeks as she watched until horse and rider were out of sight.
"Please keep him safe," she whispered and realized it was the first request she had made of God in over ten years.
