The Treasure Hunter's Lady

by Allison Merritt

  White Elk untied his own knife sheath from his breeches, passed the steel blade to Yellow Knife and offered the leather to Abel. Romy took the sheath from White Elk, holding it out to accept the knife.

  He tried to smile, but couldn't find the strength. “Suppose we better do as Yellow Knife says.”

  Romy raised her hand to touch the knife, but he jerked it away from her. She drew back, looking hurt. “I was only going to help secure it to your belt.”

  “It's—”

  Recognition dawned in her eyes. “Like the fang. It's calling to the Serpent. Or seeking it.”

  “I don't even know what to think anymore. Fangs wanting to go home to the mouths they fell out of. Knives that want to bite serpent flesh. Serpents that want to destroy mankind. It can’t be real.” He shook his head, hoping to clear some of the confusing thoughts away. It didn’t help.

  “Just put it away for now. You have plenty of time to get your mind around it.”

  But she sounded skeptical and he didn’t blame her.

  ****

  Little Hawk led them away from the village. Soon the smell of morning fires and the sounds of activity faded into the distance. A memory and nothing more. Again, Romy caught the scent of metal—scorched copper. Or blood. The flat land around the river gave away to more hills and the trio wound its way through a valley that had very little plant life.

  Their Indian guide seemed to have no end to his energy. He said nothing and made almost no noise as he walked. Not unlike a ghost. She had to suppress a shudder despite the heat clogging the valley. She felt like an intruder and realized immediately that it was true. These people had inhabited this land for hundreds of years. Far longer than the Europeans had. What they must think of strangers like her and Abel. If White Elk and Yellow Knife were to be believed, they weren’t even in the same world Romy knew.

  By the afternoon, she had new blisters and within an hour they'd burst. Sweat burned her eyes as it dripped from her face. Yellow Knife had declared their destination two days away, but if they kept up this pace, surely they'd arrive in the middle of the night.

  Little Hawk had started out stoic, but when the shadows grew long, he appeared nervous. Or at least cautious. He cocked his head at noises she could only pretend to hear. He halted in his path, eyes darting toward a lizard as though it would leap on him and fight him to the death. More than once, his hand flew to his knife, ready to unsheathe it and tear some unknown foe to bits.

  Romy was dying to ask a thousand questions about Uktena, but even if Little Hawk understood her, she doubted he'd be willing to answer them. So she voiced them to Abel instead.

  “Do you think the wind will really tell him we're coming?”

  Beads of sweat dotted Abel's brow and his shirt was wet and dark at the neck. “Why not? He knows we're in Dakota anyway.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I hear,” he paused and licked his lips, “a voice. It's not one I recognize and it's not in a language I understand. Maybe the wind. Maybe the knife. Maybe Uktena.”

  Little Hawk sent them a wary look. “No say name too much. Bring bad spirits.”

  He nodded once, indicating that they should travel on then turned away. Long legs carried him several feet before Abel drew in a breath and followed. Romy shifted the straps on her pack and trotted after them.

  “You're not telling me something,” she pressed. “No more secrets, remember?”

  Abel's face was grim. Without speaking, he held his hand out, palm up. The one White Elk had taken the blood sacrifice from. Romy was so surprised, she couldn't even gasp. A thin cut traced across his palm at an angle. The flesh around the wound was shriveled and gray. It looked dead.

  “The magic of the knife is fighting the Serpent's poison.”

  Abel's no-nonsense tone chilled her to the core. She grabbed his wrist and forced the sleeve of his shirt up. The veins along his arm were dark gray beneath his skin.

  “But the knife was meant to kill Uktena, not you.”

  Little Hawk looked over his shoulder, his gaze sharp. There was annoyance on his face when he saw the distance between them. Romy didn't care. All this way with Abel dying and now he was dying faster. It wasn't fair.

  “Guess it kills what it recognizes.” Abel pulled his sleeve down. “Sorry, darlin'.”

  Romy planted her fists on her hips, glaring at the direction they'd come from. “I have half a mind to go back to that camp and tell White Elk that he'd better find a way to fix this. It's his doing. He's the one who gave you the knife and insisted it needed blood. Why, that's the most ignorant thing I've ever heard and I've heard quite a lot these last few days!”

  Anger didn't do anything to solve the issue, but her vision was red. Damn that irresponsible chief for hurting the man she loved! Besides, the anger enveloped the bubble of fear growing in her chest. A deadly knife wound explained Abel's sudden pallor. If only she could have convinced him to stay behind in Hummingbird's care while she fought the Serpent for the Diamond. But he'd never agree to that. She chewed inside her lip, mentally calculating the distance they'd covered versus the rate the knife's damage was doing. If they didn’t arrive at the lair soon enough, she feared the poison would destroy Abel.

  “We should keep going. Before Little Hawk decides to go AWOL.” Abel nudged her arm with his and offered her a thin smile.

  “Why didn't you say something sooner? There's no way we can keep up this pace. What's his plan, to march through the night? That will hardly do us any good if you die before we get there,” she complained.

  He smiled, but it was tense. “There are others to think of as well.”

  Papa. For a second, Romy closed her eyes, recalling his face the night they'd argued. He'd meant to keep her from this task, to find the Diamond on his own. Keep her locked in an ivory tower like a princess in a story. There had been hardships since she'd left Boston, but without them she'd be sorting through material for a wedding dress instead of traversing the countryside with a man who consumed her every thought.

  Time was nearly out.

  Putting on her best adventurer's daughter face, she shifted the pack once more. “Then I suppose we’d better get a move on.”

  Abel rewarded her with a smile that had the ghost of his cocky attitude in it. Wouldn't Papa be surprised when she brought home his old friend's son and announced she planned to marry a Texan?

  Please, please, let us make it in time. To save everyone, she prayed.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Abel leaned on the pack with Romy against his chest while they stared up at the sky. He wished like hell she were naked against him, smooth white skin on display beneath the stars.

  They'd spread their blankets far away from Little Hawk, but not so far he wouldn't suspect what they were up to if they attempted to do more than kiss.

  “What do you suppose he's thinking about?” Romy whispered.

  “Maybe the best way to get the white man and his woman lost where they'd never find their way back. Anything to avoid meeting a monster face-to-face.”

  “He wouldn't do that. White Elk ordered him to take us to Uktena. He'll do it.” She didn't sound very certain.

  Abel hugged her closer. “We made good time today. Better than anyone would've guessed. I figure we ought to get to the lair sometime tomorrow.”

  Romy turned her head to look up at him. “Let's talk about something else. About what we'll do once this is over.”

  He was silent, trying to imagine what it would be like to live without worrying that someone he loved was going to die. Without wondering if he was making a mistake by coming to an untamed territory looking for a story.

  “We'll meet up with your daddy and go to Texas for a visit. Caden'll be glad to see him. Patience and Caden will want to meet the woman who dogged my trail so hard.”

  “I haven't thought about Papa as much as I should. He's probably worried sick about me,” she mused. “I wish there had been time to see him in Bismarck.”

&
nbsp; Abel tightened his arms around her. “I made sure he knew you were okay. He didn't look very good, but once we get the Diamond, things will turn around.”

  “Even if he's cured, what happens when he goes home? Christensen is Papa's biggest supporter. If he pulls the funding from the museum, they might fire Papa.” She worried the top button at her throat. “If he won't explore and he can't work in a museum, I don't know where he'll go. I'm afraid for him.”

  Abel snorted, brushing aside her worry like spider webs. “He's the best damn explorer in the world. The Smithsonian won't fire him. Caden will see to that.”

  “What can your uncle do?”

  He rubbed his fingers and thumb together. “Christensen isn't the only one with deep pockets and an interest in history, darlin'.”

  “Why am I not surprised? Anything else your family takes an interest in that I should know about?” She smiled when she said it, then turned around and sat on her knees.

  She kissed him hard, her hands sneaking beneath his shirt, soft against his abdomen. God, he wanted her right there beneath the bright moon, in his enemy's territory. He'd never get enough of touching her, of tasting her perfect lips, tangling her tresses around his fingers.

  “If there was something I could do to take this all away,” she whispered, tracing her fingers over the tattoo on his chest.

  “No, darlin'. Who knows where we'd be if it wasn't for that. Not here together, that's certain.”

  “Somewhere else together would be better. But in a few days, when this is all over, everything will be so different.” She searched his face. “I'm sure I can convince Papa that a marriage between Woefield and I would only bring all of us misery. If you wanted to . . . .”

  “Court you proper?”

  She nodded, dropping her eyes like a shy schoolgirl.

  He smoothed her hair back as he gathered the courage to ask the question burning through him. “What if I wanted to elope?”

  That made her stare him right in the eye. Her mouth opened in surprise before she regained her senses. “Don't tease me, Abel. It would serve you right if I told Papa that you'd stolen my innocence after promising to marry me.” She arched a brow. “I believe the term is shotgun wedding.”

  He laughed, surprised by how easy it was. Let the world lay down whatever curses it could find on him. With Romy at his side, he had all he needed. “Maybe I'll just tell him myself.”

  “I wonder who would get the shotgun first: my father or your uncle? You'd never hear the end of how awful you are for taking advantage of a poor, senseless young woman like me.”

  “I think you're overestimating your charms, darlin'. Dollars to cents, Maggard knows good and well just how far you'll go to satisfy your curiosity. Even if it means takin' advantage of a modest, but handsome cowboy who doesn't know so much about women.”

  It was her turn to laugh and the sound rang merrily through the chilly night air. “Somehow I doubt anyone would believe either of us.” She sobered. “You're a wonderful man, Abel.”

  He stroked his fingers down her slender neck, smiling when she leaned into his touch. Inspiration hit him. He pulled Ten Horses' knife from the sheath, dull as it appeared and cut one of the fringes from the sheath. Romy watched, wrinkling her forehead as she tried to figure out what he was doing. The knife severed the buckskin with one quick slice. He tucked the knife away and took Romy's left hand.

  “It ain't pretty and it ain't fancy, a lot like me, but it's something to show you that you have my heart.” He tied the leather thong around her third finger and brought her hand to his mouth.

  “Mine is yours as well.” The sparkle in her eyes reflected the starlight.

  If God would give him a lifetime with Romy, he’d never ask for anything again.

  ****

  Halfway through the following day, Little Hawk led them through a twisting maze of canyon. Red and purple rocks tempered by lines of pink and beige reached up toward the sky in different layers of earth that marked the passage of time.

  Abel would have found it beautiful if not for the increasing sense of presence that made him as jumpy as Little Hawk. Romy fixed a determined look on her face, marching a mere two steps behind the Indian, who seemed to find her as disconcerting as the invisible force that mocked them.

  Abel wondered whether either of them could feel the threat in the air. It pounded against him like an endless surf. Or maybe he felt so tense because his body was at war with itself. Uktena's poison surged through him, pushing the tattoo closer and closer to his heart. Ten Horses' haunted knife chased the poison with a vengeance. He tried to keep the advancing lines that raced up his arm from Romy, but he couldn't do it much longer. He hoped that once he stabbed the Serpent with the knife, it would work much faster to kill the being. Still, he was grateful that it was holding off on him for now.

  Little Hawk stopped dead in front of a break in the rock wall and averted his eyes. Abel's gaze was glued to the image painted on a boulder. His breath caught as he stared. A blood red wavering line as long as his arm, with two curved lines on its head stood out against the rock canvas. Not a work of art, but its meaning was clear. The gateway to Uktena's lair.

  The sense of foreboding intensified.

  “Horned Serpent live here. I stay. Do not go past.” Little Hawk paused, searching for the word he wanted. “Do not pass picture.”

  He drew his finger across his throat.

  Romy studied the painting. She looked up at Abel. “So this is his gate. Beyond it, perhaps we'll find the greatest discovery man as ever made. A way to make the sick healthy.”

  Her eyes glistened and he was startled to see she was near tears. Abel took her hand, the scrapes on her palm rough against his fingertips.

  “It's going to be okay. Trust me?”

  “Always.”

  He knew she meant it. “You'll be here to guide us when we get back, Little Hawk?”

  The Indian looked uncertain. He glanced at the sky. “Brown bird come, take you away?” He made the motion of wings with his hands, flapping them for emphasis.

  Abel shook his head. “There's nowhere for the Ursula Ann to dock out here. She requires a platform or a slip. We'll have to walk out and then catch the ship.”

  “Will there be time?” Concern lined Romy’s sunburned face.

  “Plenty.” The lie tasted bitter on his lips. She looked uncertain. He turned from her to face Little Hawk, but the Indian had already slipped away. The hair on Abel's neck rose as he scanned the small open area. There wasn't a soul in sight.

  Romy stared in the direction they'd come from, clearly as perplexed as he was. “I don't like it when they sneak around like that.”

  “Neat trick,” he murmured, turning to focus on the serpent painting. No use in wondering where Little Hawk had gotten to. The bigger issue was finding Uktena. The howl of wind through canyon walls suggested that wouldn't be much of a problem. There wasn't a living plant in sight, no signs of animals, only colorful rock and loose gravel beneath their feet.

  “Strange how isolated those Indians are. In this day and age, you'd think all and sundry would speak English. Calling an airship a bird, indeed.”

  Abel shrugged. “They're pretty far from town and they have to protect the world from Uktena. Probably ain't many white men itching to come out here. At least not until they discover something they want.”

  “No use dawdling, is there?” She stepped up beside him. “Diamonds to find, lives to save.”

  She sounded anxious and it reflected in her eyes, but she stood firmly beside him.

  “No, nothing gained by tucking tail and running.” His feet moved of their own accord, carrying him forward past the painting and into the Horned Serpent's domain. There was never a doubt in his mind that he'd have to hunt down the Diamond, but he hadn't pictured himself fighting a serpent to get it. He hadn't imagined this strange land with its reptilian smell and eerie lack of life.

  He thought of Caden's frail final handshake, the glimmer of hope in
his thin face. The desire for a miracle that Patience hadn't been able to mask and the worry his cousins failed to hide, though they were too young to know the stories about Uktena. Their pa was sick and Abel had vowed to make him well.

  It had carried him the entire journey. It wouldn't fail him now. Not with Romy counting on him too.

  Romy stopped suddenly, lifting her face to the cloudy sky. “Abel, do you—”

  Pain flared between his temples, raced down his neck and seared into the tattoo. It constricted against his skin. His legs gave out, but he barely registered hitting the ground.

  The earth around him vanished, replaced by a vision of a multicolored valley where a great flat rock rose from the river, a throne for the king of serpents. What he thought were twigs lined the riverbank, but moved to watch as the great serpent coiled.

  Snakes, he realized through the roar of agony. Hundreds of them, watching their father. The snakes twined around each other, vying for the warmth of the rocks. Their bodies, thick and thin, were all shades. The river water swirled in bright blues and greens. The images made Abel's eyes burn. A voice full of pure evil pounded against his ears.

  It returns to me—my fang and a human sacrifice to balance the many years of separation. Come to me, weakling. Answer the call of fang and blood. Bring that which belongs to me and meet your doom.

  Abel gritted his teeth, pressing his hands to the sides of his head. Romy was in front of him, on her knees and talking so fast he couldn't make out anything she was saying. All he could hear was the hissing breath of the Serpent and its rising ire.

  An enemy approaches. Within the vessel that brings the blood owed to me. Ten Horses! It cannot be!

  Abel felt its shock as sure as if he’d been struck. He heard the terrific splash as the beast slipped into the water, followed by its servants with little plops of their own. Within seconds, he was in his own head again.

  Romy had dropped her pack and wrenched him free of his. She grabbed Abel's wrists, removing his hands from his face. She pulled his head against her breasts, mumbling nonsense as she stroked his hair. He gulped air while the pain faded and his vision cleared.