Page 40 of Cutter’s Lady

“I told you, it’s not guns,” Cutter retorted impatiently.

Leslie pointed down at the holster beside his seat.

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that. And that.” Leslie pointed a finger to the narrow space between the rear wall of the cab and the back of their seats.

“Protection, what else?” He shrugged. “There’s not just guerrillas and army around here. There are also gangs taking advantage of the turmoil to commit various criminal acts. Let’s see, what else? Oh, yeah, snakes, assorted wild animals. Didn’t you hear all this when I told you the first time around?”

“Yes, of course I did. It’s just—” Leslie frowned. “I couldn’t quite conceive of what it’s really like. I probably still don’t.”

“I’m sure you’re right about that,” he agreed grimly. He hit one fist against the steering wheel. “Why in the hell couldn’t you have got on the plane with John?” He glared in front of him for a moment, then went on, “At least you can stay at Dolorosa.”

“Where?”

“Where we’re taking the cargo. You’ll be relatively safe there.”

Leslie turned toward him. “Wait a minute. Who said anything about my staying there?”

He cast her a brief glance. “I thought you said you understood now how dangerous it is.”

“Yes. But that doesn’t mean I’m backing out.” Leslie’s expression was aghast. “I’m not a coward.”

“What does it take to get through to you?”

“It’s not a question of ‘getting through’ to me,” Leslie snapped. “I understand your warnings. I understood them when you first made them, and now I think I have more of a feel for what you were talking about. But I haven’t changed my mind about paying Blake’s ransom or going with you to bargain with the guerrillas.”

Cutter let out a string of low, vivid curses. That ended their brief conversation, and for the rest of the drive, there was only silence in the cab. They started climbing into the mountains; Leslie could feel it and hear it in the whine of the engine, though she could see little of the mountains beginning to rise around her. They went up, then down again, snaking around the feet of the mountains, but the upward movement continually increased. Finally they reached a switchback road and began to climb it, going back and forth, steadily rising.

Leslie knew, without having to be told, that they were in the greatest risk of discovery on this road. There could not be more than one main road over a mountain like this, surely, and that meant Cutter had to take the same one used by the army. Leslie said nothing, but she clenched her hands in her lap, and she could feel the dampness of sweat in them. They started going down in the same sort of zig-zag pattern and at last reached the bottom. The road wasn’t good, but Cutter picked up speed. Leslie guessed he was racing to a back road. The sky was lightening. Leslie glanced at her watch and was surprised to find that she could now make out the numbers. It was a little after five o’clock. It would be full-fledged dawn soon. So Cutter was racing two dangers: daylight and a major road. She wondered if they would pull off the road and hide somewhere until it was night again. She had no desire to spend a whole day hiding in a truck cab with Cutter.

Cutter downshifted and slowed down. He pulled off onto a road that was nothing but two faint tracks and took it into what appeared to be a narrow valley between the mountains. They turned left and bumped along beside a tumbling creek for a while on what seemed to Leslie to be no discernible path at all. Then they were again on a more major road, but they stayed on it less than ten minutes before turning left again onto a dirt track. The road twisted and turned, climbing slowly. They were going into another set of mountains.

Suddenly they left the heavy cover of the trees and burst into a clearing. Cultivated land lay on either side; it looked like farmland to Leslie. In front of them stood a few thatched shacks and a long white adobe wall. Behind the wall rose the jagged rooflines of buildings. The walls were brilliantly white, splashed with the gold of the rising sun. One rectangular shape thrusting upward held a large bell at the top. A church. This must be a village. Leslie’s heart began to pound a little in excitement. Was this the end of their run? Was this the Dolorosa that Cutter had mentioned?

Leslie glanced at him; she thought there was a faint smile hovering about his mouth. This was it. Two wide gates stood open in the wall. Cutter slowed to a crawl and stopped just outside the gates. He hopped out of the cab, and Leslie quickly followed suit, not waiting for him to help her or, as she feared, to order her to stay put. Cutter stretched and glanced around, then walked through the gates. Leslie was right on his heels.

Inside the wall there was grass beneath their feet. Large trees dotted the lawn, and beneath two of them were crude wooden benches. Hens marched in jerky little steps in front of Cutter and Leslie and cocked their heads to stare with bright, unblinking eyes at them. Leslie heard something that sounded like children’s laughter.

A church stood in the center, as Leslie had guessed. There was also a small house, a long building, another one of medium size and several much smaller ones scattered around the complex. It was a strange sort of village, Leslie thought, especially as solidly built as it was. Where were all the little thatched houses?

Light shone through two windows at one end of the largest building. A child appeared at a window, peered out and darted away. More faces appeared at the windows, both children and adults, then a woman came out onto the porch and lithely jumped off the side onto the ground. She ran across the grass toward them, her arms open wide.

“Cutter!” she cried, and Cutter grinned and waved at her, breaking into a trot. Leslie stopped dead and watched.

The woman was young—no more than thirty, Leslie thought. She was dressed in a loose-fitting cotton top and cotton pants. The clothes were plain, but her long, lean model’s figure needed nothing to show it off. Her hair was short and practical but thick and a lustrous red; it blazed in the dawn’s light. Her skin was slightly tanned, and there was a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks, highlighting the bright blue eyes above. She was very pretty, Leslie noted sourly, and she was glowing with pleasure.

“Cutter! I’m so happy you’re here!” she cried, and threw herself into his arms.

As Leslie watched, Cutter wrapped his arms around the woman and picked her up, whirling her around. She laughed, head flung back, lovely throat arched.

“Ah, Mary, my love,” Cutter said as he set her down. “It’s good to be back.” He planted a firm kiss on her mouth.