Blood Wedding

15

They weren’t walking fast, so they weren’t hurt, though Fargo’s nose was a little flatter than it had been.

“That’s it,” Molly said when she’d recovered from the unexpected jolt. “The end of the line. We aren’t getting out of here, Fargo.”

“The water goes out, and we can smell the bats. We’re getting out.”

Fargo let go of Molly’s hand and bent down to kneel on the sand. There was a small opening at the base of the wall, though not large enough to slither through.

“The bats must be in another cave that’s connected to this one by this hole where the water goes out,” Fargo said. “They like a cave with water in it, and a high ceiling to catch the warm air. There must be another opening somewhere in this wall leading to the other cave. If there weren’t, the smell wouldn’t be so strong.”

“Look up,” Molly said, touching his shoulder. “Is that light up there?”

Fargo looked up. Thirty or forty feet above them there was a thin line of light, unless he was imagining it.

“We’d never be able to climb up there,” Molly said. “Not in the dark. Maybe not even if we could see.”

“If we can’t go over, we have to go under,” Fargo said.

He started scooping sand away from the bottom of the wall. Molly heard what he was doing and got down on her knees to help. Before long they had made an opening big enough to slide through. A faint light shone under the wall.

“You first,” Fargo said.

Molly didn’t wait for him to say it again. She flopped down on her belly and wormed beneath the wall. Fargo was right behind her, her feet practically in his face. When he stood up on the other side and brushed off the sand, he found himself in another cavern. He could almost make out the contours of this one because across from them there was a slit in the cave wall, no wider than three feet across. Light shone outside it, and looking at it hurt Fargo’s eyes.

Above them the bats stirred. It was as if a giant sigh had gone around the cavern. The smell of their droppings was almost overwhelming.

“Let’s get out of this smell,” Molly said. “I don’t want to be here when they wake up.”

“They won’t start flying out of here until dusk,” Fargo told her.

“I don’t care. I want out of here now.”

Molly started off across the floor of the cave and had gone eight or nine steps before her feet slipped out from under her on the slick guano. She landed on her rear and sat there until Fargo made his way to her.

“You have to be careful when you’re walking in shit,” he said.

“I appreciate the good advice. Now help me up from here.”

Fargo did as he was asked, and Molly stood up, holding onto his hand to steady herself. Clinging together, they went toward the light.

When they reached it, Molly shoved through, with Fargo right behind her. The rivulet ran out of the cave into a small pool that overflowed on down the side of the hill that they found themselves standing on. It was late afternoon, and there were clouds in the sky, but the hazy sun was almost blinding to them because they had been in the cave for more than twelve hours. They fell down on the grass and closed their eyes.

After a while Molly sat up and said, “I’m filthy. I’ve been crawling around in a cave all day, and I have bat shit all over me. I’m going into that pool.”

“With your clothes on?” Fargo asked.

“No. I plan to take them off and wash them out after I’ve bathed. I’ll trust you to be a gentleman and keep your eyes off me.”

“I’m glad you trust me that much,” Fargo said.

Molly started to take off her shirt, but she stopped and said, “You’re not being a gentleman.”

“That’s one thing I’ve never been accused of. Do you mind?”

Molly grinned and said that she didn’t. “But maybe I shouldn’t bathe. Murray must know we’re gone by now. You don’t think he’ll find us here, do you?”

Fargo didn’t see how it was possible. Murray probably didn’t even know about the connecting caves. He’d surely checked on his prisoners by now and discovered they were gone, but he probably thought they were just wandering around in the depths of the cave or trapped in the tunnel. Or maybe he was smarter than that. Maybe he’d search for them.

“I think we can take a quick bath, and then we’d better get ourselves out of sight.”

“What do you mean ‘we’ can take a bath?”

“I think you know what I mean.”

Molly grinned again. “All right, then, come on.”

Molly stripped off her clothing and waded into the pool. Fargo removed his buckskins but paused long enough to admire the action of Molly’s ample but firm backside as she moved away from him into the water. It was the kind of sight he never got tired of. When she entered the water, she turned to face him, and Fargo went in after her.

The pool was only a couple of feet deep and the water was cold, but it felt good on Fargo’s skin as it washed off the grime and sludge. He ducked his head under the surface and came sputtering to the top, flinging his hair back out of his eyes. The pain in his head was easing, and the cuts on his hands no longer stung.

Molly was sitting nearby, watching him. She raised herself to float closer, and when she got beside him, she reached under the water and grasped a part of him that was standing at attention.

“I thought you might be in that condition,” she said. “Even after all that just happened to us, you’re still as stiff as a fence post.”

Fargo nodded and said, “It’s your fault. Looking at you got me that way.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to do something about it,” Molly said.

She turned to straddle him and sat on his rod, letting it slide right into her. Even in the water she was slick and ready for him. When she had settled herself on him, her large breasts flattened against his chest, the nipples poking into him like small hot stones.

“You have a lot of scars,” she said, putting her finger on one. “Where’d you get that?”

“I picked it up from a grizzly.”

“Does he have a scar, too?”

“Nope,” Fargo said. “He’s dead.”

“I’m not surprised,” Molly said, giving a little wiggle. “How are we going to do this?”

“I figure we’ll find a way,” Fargo said.

“I bet you’re right,” Molly said, and she pressed the palms of her hands on the tops of his shoulders, raising and lowering herself on him. Her body was buoyant in the water, and a couple of times she almost bounced too high, but Fargo held onto her hips so that she didn’t slip away.

It wasn’t long before she was churning the water into a froth. Her head fell back, and she opened her mouth. Fargo knew what was about to happen, but he couldn’t do a thing to stop it. He was about at his own limit, and when she started yelling, he shot into her, bucking up off the bottom of the pool with each volley.

“YeeeeeHaaaaaaw! YeeeeeHaaaaaw!” Molly cried, kicking out with her legs on either side of Fargo and sending little waves to the shore.

When she was finished, she collapsed against him, and they sat quietly for a minute or so.

“I hope Murray didn’t hear that,” Molly said.

Fargo hoped so, too. He figured Molly had frightened the wildlife for a couple of miles around.

“We’d better clean up and get out of here,” he said, and they did, washing out their clothes and putting them on wet. It was uncomfortable, but Fargo didn’t think it would be smart to hang around there much longer.

By the time they were dressed, it was dusk, and the bats started to come out of the cave. At first there were only a few of them, but within a couple of minutes there were so many that they formed a black cloud overhead. The humming of their wings filled the air as they flew away, shadowed against the darkening sky and showing no interest at all in Fargo and Molly.

“I told you they wouldn’t tangle in your hair,” Fargo said.

“That doesn’t mean I have to like them.” Molly shuddered. “Let’s get out of here.”

They started walking. Fargo looked back after they were well away from the pool, and bats were still flying out of the cave. There had been thousands of them in there, he thought.

Molly didn’t look back. She wanted to know where they were going.

“To get us some horses. Judging from what you told me, I figure it’s too far back to the farms to walk.”

“Yes, but I don’t know where we’re getting any horses.”

“From Murray. He might even have my horse there. I’d like to have him back.”

“How can you find the entrance to the cave we were in?”

“I can find it. You might say being able to do things like that is the business I’m in.”

“What business is that?”

Fargo explained a little bit about what being a Trailsman meant and how he’d spent most of his life guiding people from one place to another, finding trails others couldn’t, and getting out of places most people didn’t even go.

“Like that cave,” Molly said.

“Not like that. I’d just as soon never have to do anything like that again.”

“You sure have an instinct for it. I never thought we’d get out of there, but I’m glad I trusted you.”

Fargo didn’t say that there was an element of luck involved. If she wanted to believe he could find a trail even in darkness so black that you couldn’t see, then let her. Besides, he thought, there might even be some truth in it.

He had a lot less trouble finding the horses than he’d had finding a way out of the caverns, and it didn’t take as long. The horses were hobbled in a little grove of trees not far from the entrance to the cave where Murray and his men were hiding out. Among them was Fargo’s Ovaro.

Fargo and Molly crouched on top of the hill, and the cave was below them. Night had fallen, but the moon was coming up, making the landscape seem almost to be shining in bright daylight compared to the darkness of the cave. There was the glow of a fire from inside Murray’s hideout.

“Does he have a guard on the horses?” Molly whispered.

Fargo didn’t see anybody, but that didn’t mean there was no one there.

“Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll sit here awhile and watch.”

They made themselves as comfortable as they could and waited. The night was cool, and a breeze rippled the grass. There was no movement in the trees other than the horses and the leaves rustling on the trees. But Fargo waited awhile longer.

His caution paid off when a shadow finally separated itself from one of the trees and stood aside to urinate. Fargo could hear the splashing as the stream hit the tree trunk.

“He’ll move away from there,” Molly said.

“And when he does, I’ll get him,” Fargo said, slipping the knife out of his boot. “Wait here.”

He went silently down the hill and into the trees. The guard was just finishing his business, shaking off the last few drops, when Fargo came up behind him and put a forearm across his throat.

The man tried to cry out, but Fargo clamped down on him and then hit him in the temple with the hilt of the knife. The man went limp, and Fargo lowered him to the ground. He located the Ovaro and led it back up the hill.

“Can you ride bareback?” he asked Molly.

“What do you think?”

Fargo didn’t answer. He took hold of the Ovaro’s mane and swung himself up on its back. Then he reached a hand to Molly and pulled her up behind him.

“How long do you think it will take before Murray figures out we’ve gotten away?” she asked.

“He’ll know when his guard wakes up. That might be an hour or two. We’ll be long gone by then.”

“Well, by God, I’m glad to hear it,” Molly said.