“More like Chivor’s mines,” Cat agreed. Her short-sleeved cotton shirt gave her some relief from the static heat and sweltering humidity. She took the red neckerchief she always wore out in the field and wiped the latest layer of grit and sweat off her face. In the distance, she could see the faint outline of two tented camps. Halfway up Caballo sat a smaller camp with three olive-drab tents and one fire. About a quarter of a mile below that was a small city of tents, bustling with men and activity. Construction machinery sat behind the main camp, steel chargers that looked dark and forbidding in the jungle twilight. In the valley, Cat could barely make out huge, neat piles of posts and stulls to be used in the creation of the mine shaft. Electricity was provided by a number of diesel generators, now heard faintly in the distance. All the comforts of home, Cat decided with satisfaction. Suddenly excited, she looked forward to meeting Alvin Moody, Slade’s partner.
*
Cat couldn’t resist a smile when she saw Alvin. He was stooped over a fire, stirring the contents of a black kettle, when he saw them. Slade hadn’t exaggerated the facts, she saw as Alvin rose to his full height. He looked like an honest-to-God Texas legend come to life: a ten-gallon straw hat was angled low on his silver hair and a caterpillar mustache sat above his lean mouth. A long, brown, chewed-up cigar was clamped between his teeth. Cat turned to Slade as he braked the Jeep to a halt.
“Alvin looks like a page torn out of the 1860s,” she said.
Slade grinned, shutting the Jeep off. “That’s Alvin, all right.”
“He’s dressed like a marshall from Dodge City–leather vest and two six-shooters low on his hips,” she pointed out gleefully.
“This is Dodge City and he is the sheriff, for all intents and purposes of this camp,” Slade growled. “Those two pearl-handled Colts he carries are the real thing. He’s used them a time or two, believe me.”
Cat gratefully slid out of the Jeep, her muscles protesting as she stretched to unknot all the kinks in her back and rear. “Where’s his badge?”
“Those Colts are his badge and they do all the necessary talking for him.” Slade came around the Jeep, sliding his hand beneath her left elbow. “Come on, he’s been waiting to meet you.”
She laughed. “The big question is, am I ready to meet him! My God, he’s a giant of a man!”
“Texas born and bred, sweetheart. In that state, they don’t do anything on a small scale.”
Cat agreed. As they drew up to Alvin, who stood with his large hands resting comfortably on the handles of his low-slung Colts, he grinned.
“Say,” he crowed, sweeping off his hat in a courtly gesture, “you ugly-lookin’ rock hound, you never said how purty this little filly was.”
“Hi, Alvin. The name’s Cat, Cat Kincaid.” She extended her hand, grinning broadly.
Alvin gripped her hand, refusing to relinquish it as Slade stood nearby.
“If I’d told you how pretty she was, Alvin, you’d have left this pit and come back to Texas,” Slade said, slapping him on the back.
“That’s for sure, Slade. Miss Cat, welcome to the Verde mine,” he told her, sweeping his arm toward Caballo Mountain just above them. His pale blue eyes twinkled. “We’re right glad you’re here to help us.”
“Thanks, Alvin.” Cat cast a glance over at Slade. “Your partner had to do a lot of talking to get me out here.”
Alvin chortled and finally released her hand. He settled the huge hat back on his head. “This Texan’s got more ways to twist a cat’s tail than even I do. I figured if anyone could talk you into consulting for us instead of that kangaroo outfit in Australia, Slade could do it. By Gawd, I was right. You’re here and that’s all that matters.”
Slade looked around, taking off his cap and stuffing it in the back pocket of his jeans. “What’s cooking, Alvin?”
Alvin gave him a hint of a smile from beneath his mustache. “In my kettle or around Caballo?”
Hunkering down over the kettle, Slade stirred it briefly. “Both.”
Alvin motioned for Cat to sit down on a log near the fire. “We got us some sidewinders prowlin’ around, Slade.” He patted his Colts affectionately. “Nothing I can’t take care of.”
“How many?”
“About half a dozen guaqueros have been hoverin’ around since the mining equipment and workers was brought in.” He pointed to the left, toward the shadowy mountain. “Everything you ordered is here–bulldozers, backhoes, shaft equipment. The whole kit and caboodle. That pack of guaqueros came with it.” He squinted to the east of them. “As far as I can tell, they’re makin’ camp up there on Lazo Mountain and waitin’.”
Cat glanced at Slade, watching the frown on his face deepen. “Waiting for what, Alvin?” she asked quietly, almost afraid to hear the answer.
The Texan joined them, pulling three tin plates from a nearby wooden trunk that had seen better days. “They smell green fire, Miss Cat. This bunch has a nose for emeralds like a starvin’ coyote does for meat on the hoof. Right now, they’re being real patient and checkin’ us out.” Alvin cocked his head in Slade’s direction. “El Tigre is headin’ up that bunch of no goods.”
Slade scowled. “Him?”
“Who’s El Tigre?” Cat asked, suddenly interested.
Alvin heaped a tin plate with the vittles. “One of the meanest two-eyed snakes in the business of being a guaquero. He’s a puny little bastard. Lean as a whippet, with eyes like a viper. He got his nickname over at Muzo because of his reputation of jumpin’ other guaqueros after they’ve found green fire.”
With a muttered curse, Slade stood and came over to where Alvin was doling out the food. “He’s been accused of kidnapping, raping and thievery. Not necessarily in that order.”
Her eyes widened. “Raping?”
“Sure,” Alvin snorted, handing her a plate. “Men ain’t the only ones to hunt for green fire. We got some tough women who pan right alongside the other guaqueros. El Tigre doesn’t care if it’s a male or female who has the emerald on them. He treats both sexes equally. If they don’t give ’em the green fire, he’ll do whatever’s necessary to get it. That can be anything from torture to murder. If the guaquero’s smart, he or she will hand over the loot and thank God for getting away alive. Sometimes, just for the hell of it, El Tigre will butcher his victim anyway as a warning to other guaqueros. There’s a hundred-thousand-peso warrant out for his arrest by the owners of the Muzo mines.” Alvin snorted. “El Tigre was born and raised in these mountains. Ain’t no one gonna catch that oily weasel alive.” He patted one Colt. “That’s why you wear these at all times, Miss Cat. You eat, live and sleep with ’em.”
Cat took the tin plate, now covered with beans and something with a red sauce on it. She sniffed it cautiously.
“That’s rum beans for a main course,” Alvin explained, “and sourdough bread and the tomatoes with biscuits is called pooch. It’ll stick to your ribs.”
Cat grinned. “As long as it doesn’t grow hair on my chest, Alvin.”
Alvin slapped his thigh, his laughter sounding like the rumble of thunder in his large chest. “Spunky little filly, ain’t she? I like her, Slade. She’s got a down-home sense of humor.”
With a grin, Alvin served up a heaping plate for Slade and himself. The Texan sat across from them at the fire, wolfing down his portion of the food. “All I cook is cowboy food served on the open ranges of Texas. Rum beans has some bacon, molasses, mustard and a half a cup of good hundred-and-eighty-proof rum in it. Pooch is an old cowboy dessert.”
The beans were tasty, maybe because she was starved. Alvin was a fine cook, Cat admitted. She smiled at him. “Well, I know you aren’t going to try and poison me with your cooking, Alvin. This stuff is pretty good.”
Alvin gave her an effusive grin, pleased by her praise. “I’ll make you a real ‘welcome to the Verde mine meal’ tomorrow night, Miss Cat. I’ll even throw in the horse-thief special for dessert. Hell, there ain’t a cowboy alive who wouldn’t ride hard like a horse thief to get a bowl of it.”
He winked conspiratorially at Slade. “We’ll have her puttin’ a few pounds on that skinny frame of hers in no time.”
“Alvin, I’m not a heifer to be fattened up,” Cat warned. “I like being thin.”
“I like her that way, too,” Slade agreed, laughing.
Alvin looked at them and said nothing, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “I’ll only make half the amount of horse-thief special, then.”
“No, make all you want,” Slade countered quickly. “I’ll eat the leftovers.”
“See what I mean, Miss Cat? Men will do anything to get that dessert.”
“I can hardly wait until tomorrow night,” she promised him.
Conversation gradually drifted to the equipment, the work timetable and a long business discussion. The sun dropped behind the saddle formed by the two mountains, and the surrounding jungle suddenly came alive with the songs of insects. The mosquitoes had been pesky earlier; now they were vicious. The trio saturated themselves with insect repellent so they could sit around the fire without being attacked by the bloodthirsty insects.
By eleven o’clock, Cat was barely able to keep her eyes open, despite the interesting conversation. She got up, brushing off the seat of her pants.
“Which way is my cot, Alvin?”
Both men stood. “You and Slade share that larger tent on the left. The smaller one on the right is mine. Slade says you know how to live in jungles.”
She smiled. “As long as you’ve got a mosquito net over the cot, that’s all I’ll need.”
“You got it, Miss Cat.”
“Are the guards set?” Slade asked.
“Yeah.”
“Can they be trusted?”
Alvin grinned tightly beneath his silvery mustache. “Didn’t I tell you? I brought some of my boys down from one of my Texas ranches.”
“How’d you get them to come?” Slade asked admiringly.
“I’m payin’ them double what they’d get to sit on a cow pony back home. They don’t mind totin’ around a rifle and standin’ watches to make sure we don’t get our throats slit.”
Cat shivered as unpleasant reality settled over her. Seeing her shiver and rub her arms, Slade came over, placing an arm around her waist.
“We’ll see you in the morning, Alvin.”
“G’night, you two.”
“Good night,” Cat responded, casting a worried look up at Slade. Even so, she felt safe with him near. He guided her over to their tent, which was illuminated by a lantern hung inside.
“I told you this was going to be a rough place,” Slade warned her in a low voice. “You can still back out, Cat.”
She shook her head. “A Kincaid never backs out. We only know one direction, Slade: forward.”
He opened the flap for her and ducked in after she entered. The floor was made of plywood in an effort to keep most of the insects, snakes and rodents out. A cot sat on either side and Cat tested the sturdiness of one of them, then sat down, unlacing her boots. A porcelain basin filled with warm water sat between the cots.
“I hadn’t counted on El Tigre being here,” Slade muttered, stripping off his damp, sweaty shirt. His chest gleamed with perspiration as he quickly washed up.
“Can’t you call in the Colombian police to capture him?”
Cat sat there watching Slade, realizing once again how beautiful a man he was. Then she smiled, because Slade didn’t like that term applied to him. Nudging off her boots, she peeled off the heavy white cotton socks, waiting until Slade had finished with his spit bath.
Slade scrubbed his face vigorously, the cooling water a blessing against the humid heat. “Alvin and I are going to try and operate Verde like Chivor: a private mine with no state influence.” Drying his face and arms, Slade threw the water out the door and refilled the basin from a five-gallon plastic jug that sat beneath the rickety table. He motioned that it was her turn to wash up.
“We haven’t even begun mining operations, so what is El Tigre going to do?” she wondered, sending a worried look to Slade.
But Slade’s mind was on other things. Taking off his khaki trousers, he dropped them at the end of his cot. Cat had shed her blouse, revealing her golden tan now deepened by the kerosene lamp above them. His body hardened for her all over again. Their living quarters might be spare, but that wasn’t going to stop him from loving her. He’d like to time a trip to Bogotà after the mine was under construction, taking Cat back to civilization every once in a while. That way they could spend a night in a real bed with sheets, a hot shower and air-conditioning. Now, all that seemed like real luxury. Slade smiled, watching as she washed her arms and shoulders. His gaze moved slowly up and then down her tall, graceful body, and the stirring heat in his lower body became an aching reality. Slade was amused at himself. Cat made him hungry no matter what she was or wasn’t wearing.
“El Tigre will watch, catalog and send his spies down to talk with our newly hired miners,” Slade said, sitting down on his cot. “He’s going to see who’s the boss and who might know where the emeralds are located.”
Cat toweled off, standing on the wooden floor in only her lingerie. She saw the cobalt flare in Slade’s eyes and swallowed hard. How was it possible that only one smoldering look from him set her on fire? No man had ever made her feel her feminine power as he did. No man had ever made her feel so cherished. Shakily, Cat placed the folded cotton towel near the basin. Before she could turn, Slade had captured her hand, pulling her over to him. He guided Cat to his lap and she smiled languidly, placing her arms around his neck.
“Let’s forget about the bandits, sweetheart,” he told her thickly. “This is more important…”
As his hand slid lightly up her rib cage to cup her breast, Cat gasped, dissolving into his arms. Desire coursed through her as his thumb caressed her nipple, and she was lost to his warm, knowing mouth. Cat hungrily matched Slade’s mounting desire with her own.
With a groan, Slade eased his lips from hers. Cat’s languorous smile went straight to his heart as she rested weakly in his arms. “I want you,” he growled.
“I know…” With a sigh, Cat sat up, running her fingers through his unruly hair.
Slade patted her nicely rounded rear, the silk of her panties driving him closer to total loss of control. He saw the exhaustion in her eyes and admitted he was equally fatigued by the long trip. As much as his heart and mind were willing to carry Cat over that delicious edge and love her, Slade put a check on his desires. He didn’t want to take her to his bed when he was this groggy. No, he wanted both of them awake and eager. Right now, they were both ready to keel over. He contented himself with holding and sharing this precious time with Cat instead. Moments later, he whispered, “Come tomorrow morning, we’re going to be putting in twelve-to sixteen-hour days. I may not be able to hold or kiss you out there, but remember how I feel about you. We’ll make up for it here in the tent every night. Deal?”
With a small laugh, Cat embraced him. “Deal. But by the time we drag ourselves into the tent to sleep, we might be too tired to do anything.”
“No, we won’t,” Slade promised, trailing a series of moist kisses from her throat to the provocative swell of her firm breasts. “Even when I’m eighty, you’ll still turn me on. Come on, let’s get some sleep. We’re going to need it.”
Reluctantly, Cat knew he was right. Slade’s words filled her heart with unexpected joy. “I’ll see you in the morning, Slade,” she said, rising from his cot to return to hers.
After getting the mosquito netting in position, Cat settled down to sleep. Slade turned off the lantern, and a consuming blackness quickly descended on them. The sounds of insects mingling with the howl of monkeys provided a strange symphony. Cat barely heard them, since her head and heart centered on Slade’s last comment. They were growing closer to one another, and Slade was becoming her friend as well as her lover. As her eyes closed, Cat recognized that theirs was an ideal combination. She had known men in the past who only wanted her as a lover. Others she
had liked well enough to call friend, but they hadn’t stirred the embers of her heart or body to vibrant life. Slade did both. She felt a never-ending thirst to satiate herself with him in every way possible. As Cat sank into the oblivion of sleep, she found herself glad, despite her own personal fears about entering a mine, that she had come to Colombia.
*
Cat silently asked the earth to forgive their invasion as the first bulldozers roared to life. They would clear away the jungle over the site of the open pit location for the Verde mine. She stood on a small rise, white hard hat in place, watching as the powerful, growling noise of the huge machines reverberated through the surrounding jungle. Slade was down there with the dozer operators, making sure each man knew what he was doing. Alvin was coordinating other activities with the hired miners. As soon as the earth had her green mantle scraped free, the miners would carefully go over the newly shorn earth and walk it, an inch at a time. They would be looking for emeralds before another foot of overburden was scraped away.
Cat turned and went back to the newly erected shack, which would serve as her headquarters during the entire venture. The Indians had built her a small building composed of pao d’arco, or trumpet tree. The wood from the sometimes-two-hundred-foot giant would be the prime source for shoring beams in the mine. As Cat spread out her next blueprint on the roughened drafting-board surface, she smiled. Some of her fear left as she focused on the complexities of starting up such a project. With the throaty sound of bulldozers in the background, Cat took off her hard hat and sat down on the stool. Her final calculations would prepare for the excavation that would eventually become the mouth of the Verde mine shaft.
Night did not fall until after nine o’clock. Cat was still in her office on the hill, struggling with figures on her calculator, when the door opened. Thinking it was Slade, she turned, squinting from the light of the lantern that hung on the wall in front of her. She froze, her hand automatically moving to the Colt she carried on her hip.
“Do you want to die, señorita?”
Cat’s mouth went dry as she stared at a dark-skinned man barely her height. He was dressed in black-and-gray military fatigues. Two bandoliers of ammunition crisscrossed his thin chest and an array of knives, grenades and other military hardware were held in web belts. Two more men, less well equipped, slipped inside, shutting the door quietly behind them. Her gaze moved back to the leader.
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