The Southern Devil

by Diane Whiteside

  Suddenly the tunnel widened out into a larger chamber, which the lantern’s beams didn’t fully illuminate. The air was still and very dry, as if patiently waiting for something.

  Morgan straightened and turned, swinging the lantern to see more fully. The walls and ceiling beyond the tunnel were rough-hewn, as if cut by stone axes, and sparkled, like a million tiny stars. His voice was rough when he spoke. “Light your lantern.”

  Jessamyn fumbled with the matches in her haste and her carbine bumped against her hip in its sling. Finally her lantern caught with a faint hiss, revealing the chamber’s full dimensions.

  A small dais lay at the light’s edge. Nuggets of gold were piled on top of it, a yard tall and almost two yards wide. Dear God in heaven, it truly was more treasure than a man could put his arms around.

  Morgan had brought her safely to it. The man who had slammed the greatest betrayal into her face had also brought her safely to her family’s greatest treasure.

  She took a step forward and another. “The gold,” she breathed and sank to her knees. “How did it get here?”

  Morgan came up behind her, like a column of protectiveness. “The boulders outside? They’re water-worn, what you’d see in a placer mine. Ortiz must have noticed raw pieces of gold threaded between them, what miners call pay dirt. When he and his men mined them, they worked their way into the cave above us and down the tunnel very easily, still following the pay dirt.”

  “But this chamber?” Morgan was explaining mining techniques to her. Surely anyone planning to steal the gold from her wouldn’t do that, lest she be able to poke holes in their scheme.

  Complete trust built up with every word he uttered, as if welling up from the stone around them.

  Morgan’s hands rested on her shoulders. “This is a glory hole, a pocket of gold easily worked by a handful of miners. When Ortiz found it, he hacked away at the rock until he took everything easy to find. See how rough the ceiling and walls are when you move away from the tunnel?”

  A dull roar resonated through the very walls and floor around them. The ground trembled then shuddered under them. The nuggets rattled and dust sifted down from the ceiling. Jessamyn fell back against Morgan.

  A cloud of gunsmoke rose over the hill, shutting off any view of the mountain and canyon beyond. Shots rang out almost continuously, especially from those two blazing Spencer repeaters. Maggie cringed, thinking of the time she’d seen a single Spencer shut down all traffic on an entire block.

  But this was far more deadly. Where had Morgan come up with so many good fighters? Could Charlie’s gang hold them off long enough for Charlie to snatch the gold?

  Then dynamite roared again to the west, sending tree branches cracking. The guns fell silent for a moment, as if holding their breath, and one of Morgan’s men shouted a warning.

  She grinned. Good, Charlie’s fellows were doing well.

  Charlie growled from beside her. “Where the hell are they?” His field glasses bumped into her shoulder.

  She rolled her eyes, certain for once that he couldn’t see her—and punish her for impertinence. A hawk couldn’t find a mouse amid these rocks—and one man couldn’t find another here either.

  “Do you think they are here?” she asked, careful to sound timid. Dammit, once they had Ortiz’s gold, she was going to find herself a good-looking, stupid man who knew how to fuck and have him kill Charlie. Maybe she’d marry him afterward and maybe not. But at least then she’d have the gold and be free of this wretch.

  He took the bait and launched into a display of his reasoning. “Of course they are, since their sentry was posted on that ridge. But there’s no telling which godforsaken boulder hides their warren. We’ll just have to wait and see where they emerge.”

  In the sun, with little food. Maggie blew out a breath and tried to find a comfortable position. At least they’d be close to the gold while they listened to Morgan’s men being destroyed.

  Jessamyn ducked instinctively, throwing her arms over her head. Morgan hauled her close against him and she leaned gratefully against his warm strength. “What is it?”

  “Goddammit, Jones is using dynamite!” His mouth was set so hard, white grooves bracketed it.

  The ground stopped shaking but dust continued to drift down. A few nuggets tumbled off the dais.

  “We have to get out of here before the roof comes down.” He released her and she turned toward the tunnel, refusing to look at the gold again, the treasure that could keep Somerset Hall free from greedy intruders.

  “Put out your lantern and follow me closely, Jessamyn. We may be alone against whoever Jones has watching the gully.”

  They went silently back up the tunnel, slowly at first. But when another roar echoed through the stones and the ground heaved, Morgan fastened her hand onto his weapon belt. Her knuckles brushed against his back through his coat and shirt.

  They ran up the tunnel in a cloud of dust, stopping only at the sharp bend for Morgan to put out his lantern. Dust sifted out of the walls and Jessamyn kept tight hold of Morgan.

  “Ready? You’ll have to be as quiet as possible,” he whispered, chambering a round into his Spencer.

  “Yes.” She needed to talk to him about why he was behaving like this, and about Memphis nine years ago. She prayed they lived long enough to do so.

  She choked back a cough and he patted her shoulder. “Good girl. Come on.”

  They crept up the last stretch as silently as they’d ever done on a childhood quest. It brightened at the top, showing the cave with the boulders along its entrance. Now they could hear muffled gunfire, making her reach for her Colt. The ground trembled slightly and a horse screamed in panic, echoing through the hills.

  Jessamyn reluctantly stayed hidden in the tunnel, while Morgan scouted the cave. Her heart was pounding loudly enough in her chest that she couldn’t hear the shooting clearly. If anything happened to him, she’d kill Charlie herself.

  He touched her shoulder. Come on, he mouthed.

  She nodded and followed him. He paused beside one boulder, farther north from where they’d entered.

  A bullet suddenly pinged against the hillside just above the cave. Morgan immediately threw Jessamyn to the ground and covered her with his body. “Lucky shot,” he hissed, almost silently. “He can’t know exactly where we are.”

  “Evans!” Charlie shouted from a distance. “I know you’re hiding in that hill. If you tell me where the gold is, I’ll let you and my cousin live.”

  “Liar,” she hissed bitterly. She wished she could savor the feel of Morgan’s body this one last time. She’d far rather feel the pounding heat of carnal passion than the cold clarity that always possessed her when gunplay was needed.

  “Agreed.” He rolled off her slowly and came up into a crouch, rifle in hand. Horses bugled their alarm within the box canyon, their stampeding hooves a counterpoint to the gunfire.

  She gathered her feet under her and matched his stance, eyeing the world beyond the cave. Her Sharps carbine threw a much heavier round than his Spencer repeater and could shoot farther and more accurately. On the other hand, he could fire thirty rounds per minute compared to her ten rounds. She was proud to be his gun partner. “I wonder if Maggie’s with him.”

  “I hope not.”

  Something slithered and a few pebbles rattled. Both of their heads came up, then Morgan and Jessamyn heard Lowell gasp in pain. “Poor boy,” she whispered. “Can we help him?”

  He nodded, his mouth set, and crawled out, staying very low. Moments later, he returned, dragging a white-faced Lowell behind him. Lowell’s right leg was broken, midway between his hip and knee, bending at a dreadful angle against his trousers. His face was white with pain. “Sorry,” he whispered. “The dynamite rattled the ground and I fell between two boulders. After that, I could never get off a good shot at him.”

  Morgan started to lay his rifle down and Lowell jerked away. “Don’t! There’s no time to set it an’ I can still shoot. You deal with them
out there and I’ll wait here. Okay?”

  Jessamyn bit her lip at the young man’s courage.

  “Deal,” Morgan said solemnly.

  Another round burst against the hillside. “Evans! Do you want to live or die like a rabbit?”

  Morgan’s eyes met hers, brilliant with fury. “Jones must be on the other side of the gully on the little rise, the one place with some bare ground around it. He has us pinned down and there’s only one way to stop him.”

  She waited for his orders, watching him steadily.

  “It’ll take a pincer movement. One of us has to draw his attention, while the other one goes up to the knob. I’ll head for the knob.”

  “No! I love you, Morgan. You will not do anything stupid.” Dear God in heaven, where had that announcement come from? But it was the truth.

  He stared at her, a slow smile dawning on his face. “You surely know how to pick your moments to speak up, Jessamyn, when a man can’t respond as he’d like.”

  She swallowed hard, torn between encouraging him and continuing to utter necessities. “You’re too tall to hide behind many of these boulders. I, on the other hand, could do so easily.”

  “No!”

  “Can you think of a better alternative?”

  “No,” he snarled, his fingers tight around his rifle. “No. Very well, I will distract him with my voice.”

  She relaxed slightly. “How do you want me to move?”

  He frowned, agony showing briefly in his eyes. “Work your way around the gully to the north, until you reach that knob. From there, you can fire on Jones. He probably won’t let you get in a good shot at him but you should be able to keep his head down. Once you’re in position, I’ll attack him from the other side.”

  She nodded, a warm glow growing in the pit of her stomach despite her nerves. It was the same precise instructions he’d give to his men, the same he’d given her as a childhood companion. They were placing full reliance on each other again. “Of course.”

  Suddenly he captured her chin with one hand and kissed her hard and fast. Startled, she barely managed to kiss him back before he lifted his head.

  She kissed her fingers and laid them against his hard lips. His eyes closed, a silver tear touching one corner, and a muscle ticked hard in his jaw. Then she crept quickly to the cave’s northern end before her courage failed.

  Dynamite boomed again and gunfire continued to roll across the hills. Another bullet cracked into the hillside. “Evans!”

  She eyed the closest boulder outside the cave, considered the sightline to Charlie’s likeliest hiding place, and dashed for the rock.

  “Jones, good fellow, why are we fighting?” Morgan called. He must have slipped out toward Charlie. He’d deepened and darkened his voice as well, until it seemed he spoke in a fine palace rather than a rocky gully. “Surely there’s enough gold for all of us.”

  “Evans, just tell me where the gold is!” Charlie shouted.

  “A partnership, cousin,” Morgan purred, “A partnership.”

  Partnership? At least Charlie found the idea as astounding as she did, given his silence. Jessamyn ran for the next patch of shadow.

  “With my Silver Queen mine in Arizona and your Firelight mine, we’d be the richest men west of the Mississippi.”

  “Charlie darling, Morgan’s offer is intriguing,” Maggie commented. The gunfire was quieter now and some trick of acoustics made her voice as clear as if they stood in the same drawing room.

  “Perhaps…”

  Jessamyn dived behind another boulder, panting.

  “New York bankers would beg for our business. Evans & Jones,” Morgan crooned.

  “Jones & Evans!” Charlie snapped.

  Jessamyn gathered herself for the next dash.

  “We’d have to spend a large amount of time with Morgan,” Maggie mused. “Dinners…”

  Jessamyn rolled her eyes and ran.

  “Why, we could build houses that would make Vanderbilt envious.”

  “A great house,” Charlie mused.

  Jessamyn squeezed between a boulder and a pine tree, grateful she wasn’t wearing a habit.

  “With immense bedrooms…”

  Would the woman ever think of something else? Jessamyn considered how to reach a small clump of pines.

  “We could take a tour of Europe together to shop for our houses,” Morgan urged seductively. “Just the two of us, a partnership in action, traveling through France and Italy acquiring the best of everything…”

  “Sharing the same hotels…” Maggie dreamed.

  “You just want to sleep with Evans!” Charlie roared. He slapped her, the sound carrying clearly across the gully. Maggie screeched, a noise that sounded more like pain than fury.

  Jessamyn looked across the gully but all she could see were boulders and more boulders. If she headed directly for Charlie, he’d probably shoot her. She really shouldn’t care if Maggie was hurt…

  She cursed Charlie under her breath and picked up her pace, heedless of the risk to herself.

  “Of course I do!” Maggie screamed. “He’s more man than you’ll ever be.”

  How stupid can you be, Maggie? What husband will tolerate that from his wife? Jessamyn dashed between three pairs of boulders without stopping.

  “You think I’m not a man?” Another slap followed by another, this one a lighter weight than the first. Charlie yelped. “You bitch, you kicked me!”

  “You’re damn right I did, you Missouri ass!”

  Charlie belted Maggie and she screamed long and loud. She fought back, though, in a contest as noisy as it was apparently bloody.

  Jessamyn ran for the knob, heedless of discovery. She could not stand idly by and listen to a woman being threatened. In the distance, gunfire splattered from the box canyon.

  She burst out onto the rocky overlook, gasping for breath, and immediately looked for Charlie. On the gully’s western rim, she could see two people fighting hand-to-hand—Charlie and Maggie—their heads barely visible above rocks and sagebrush.

  “This time, Maggie, I’ll teach you to be quiet and stay with me,” Charlie roared.

  “Help me, please!” Maggie croaked.

  Down below Jessamyn could see Morgan weaving through the gully. Suddenly he broke into the open and started running directly toward Charlie and Maggie.

  Jessamyn was dumbfounded. Only a chivalrous idiot would risk his own life to save Maggie Jones. But, by God, if Morgan was going to be a fool, then she’d lay down some covering fire for him. Nobody would hurt her man, if she had anything to say about it.

  She cursed the angle, which made it nearly impossible to hit Charlie. Perhaps if she blasted some stone chips at him, she could slow him down until Morgan arrived. Perhaps…

  She settled the heavy Sharps into her shoulder and slowed her breathing, striving for greater accuracy. The front sight came into focus, and the top of Charlie’s head in the far distance. She squeezed the trigger gently.

  Missed! No time for regrets.

  She fired again, throwing up stone chips from the rock in front of him. That made him flinch—excellent.

  She fired rapidly, chipping away the boulders, and reloaded quickly, peering through the smoke. But Charlie was still alive and Morgan was still running, where her villainous cousin could shoot him. Why the hell did he have to be such a gentleman, as to risk his life for any female no matter how much of a slut?

  Morgan vaulted onto Charlie’s stone bulwark, just as Charlie whirled into the open, his rifle raised. Morgan fired once and Charlie dropped bonelessly into the dust. Then Morgan jumped down to where no sound had been heard from Maggie for far too long.

  Jessamyn slung her carbine over her shoulder and ran down the gully, every sense focused on Morgan.

  She stepped over Charlie’s body without a second glance, barely conscious of a few spurts of gunfire near the box canyon. Behind the boulders was a trampled, sandy hollow, which had once been covered by grass, wildflowers, and sagebrush. Now it
was bloody and flattened, with a woman’s body lying far too neatly in the shade of one boulder. Morgan straightened to meet her, keeping her away from the tragedy.

  Jessamyn flinched. “Is she still alive?”

  Morgan shook his head. “No, he broke her neck.” He wrapped his arm around Jessamyn and she laid her head against his shoulder. It was finally over. But she couldn’t be glad Maggie had died in this way.

  “Come, let’s go back to Lowell,” he said gently. She sighed and matched step with him. All was quiet on the other side, even the horses.

  When they were halfway across the gully, a shadow fell across the sunlight through the notch in the hill. Morgan and Jessamyn looked up quickly, their hands automatically going to their rifles.

  Grainger stood there, a bloody rag tied around his head, and Little at his side. Mitchell, Rutledge, and Calhoun’s heads and shoulders loomed against the sunset. They raised their rifles overhead in a roar of delight and ran forward, shouting “Donovan! Donovan! Donovan!”

  Later that evening, there was little talk among the exhausted men gathered around the campfire, which now resembled a small hospital. Thankfully, none of their own were dead, although Taylor was very badly injured and most of them were wounded in one way or another. Lowell’s broken leg had been set and Little was whittling him a set of crutches. Jessamyn’s own badly bruised shoulder was now in a sling, thanks to long use of her Sharps.

  She took a careful sip of her tea, eyeing the battered scenery. She was very tired after the long day but still fretting.

  All of Charlie’s men were dead, as befitted brutes who’d used dynamite as weapons. They’d even thrown explosives into the box canyon with the horses. Thank God Grainger and the men had pulled up camp that morning, packing all the gear under the overhang. They’d corralled the horses as thoroughly as possible behind the waterfall. By the time Charlie’s men had finally managed to stampede the horses, they’d already thrown so much dynamite that they’d almost completely closed the narrow southern entrance where the Lizard flowed out and the horses and mules had simply run in circles around the canyon. Only two of the horses were dead and one of the mules, thanks to that. O’Callahan had spent much of the afternoon tending the others.