Her smile faded, and her chin came up in a defiant little tilt. “That suits me just fine.”
“Go fill this pot with water so we can get some coffee on.”
“Yes, Gabe.” Shannon whirled and rushed for the spring.
“And hurry up. This place feels haunted. I hate it.”
“I hate this place.” Randy used to be so quiet. Lurene sure wished he’d go back to it. But he seemed to feel comfortable voicing his unwanted opinions.
Lurene didn’t admit it, but she hated this place, too. They rode into that eerie canyon and looked at those homes built into rock, rising high on the wall. Her eyes went straight to the highest one, and suddenly she realized they had no way to get up there and shake the truth out of that woman.
“Hey, Shannon Dysart.” Her shout echoed off the canyon wall until it sounded as if a hundred people were calling for Shannon to come out. “We’re back.”
There was no response.
“She can’t have died yet. I wonder if we can still collect ransom if she’s dead. I ain’t never tried kidnapping before.” On that ugly comment, Ginger rode her horse forward at a fast clip, as if she weren’t afraid of ghosts one whit.
Lurene followed, and she heard the men fall in line. They rode up to the base of the cliffs, and the five of them stared up, trying to figure out what in the world to do.
“It don’t make sense that she’d be dead.” Lobo looked sideways at Lurene.
“Nope. And it don’t make sense that she’d ignore us. She’s got to know by now that she’ll never get down without help. Maybe she’s scared, but it’ll come to her soon enough that she needs us.”
“We’ve been half the day riding back here.” Randy swung down off his horse and tied it. “I’m gonna get a fire goin’ and cook these rabbits I shot. I’m hungry.”
Because it would keep him busy, Lurene didn’t stop him, assuming she could have.
“If we climb up there and I—” Lurene looked at Lobo, measuring his height. “If I stand on your shoulders, I can—”
“Nope, not enough. You’ll be a good four feet short.”
They both turned to look at Ginger who wasn’t all that tall.
Randy lit a match to the fire. “Why don’t you just use a ladder?”
“Because we shot the ladder to pieces.” Lurene wanted to do the same to Randy.
“Not that ladder, the one out in the brush.” He nodded his head toward a section of the canyon floor that looked impenetrable with mesquite. “It’s old, but it’s in decent shape, at least as good as the one we used.”
“Yep, let’s use that one.” Lurene spent her life being calm. She’d learned she could outthink most anybody, and she’d learned to keep that to herself, especially around men. Her hardfisted pa taught her men didn’t like being bested by women, not even their own daughters. She decided then and there that she’d like very much to calmly cut out Randy’s liver. She’d deny herself that pleasure only until after they’d found the gold. “Can you show us where it is, Randy?”
“Reckon I can.” Randy looked her right in the eye, and Lurene had the sudden sense that he knew exactly what she was thinking. And she thought for the first time he might be as hard to kill as Cutter. And if Randy stuck with his brother, then both of them might be hard to get rid of without sharing the gold.
Lurene didn’t like any part of it.
Getting slowly to his feet from where he crouched by his pile of broken twigs, Randy walked carefully, skirting the mesquite with their reaching, scratching branches, and vanished into what looked like a solid wall of scrub brush. The brush was high enough that she couldn’t even see the top of his head, but minutes later he came out carrying a ladder that looked almost as rickety as the one they’d used yesterday.
“Let’s get up there and have it out with her.” Lurene remembered their struggle of yesterday to get the ladder to that top level.
“You go on. You don’t need anyone else up there.” Randy laid the ladder on the ground and turned back to the fire. “And I don’t have much of a belly for watching you threaten a woman until she tells where to find something that doesn’t exist. Were it up to me, we’d worry about ransoming her and forget a buncha gold no more true at the end of her next map than it was at the end of this one.” Randy looked pointedly at the dull, dusty rock. No one could deny that Shannon’s first map had led them to this worthless stretch of ground. “Whatever you do to her, leave her alive.” Randy went back to his fire, turning his back to them as if he had no fear of a bullet crashing into his spine.
Darrel stood on past Randy, though, facing Lurene and the others. Though Darrel was slow of thought, he was watchful. And Randy clearly trusted him.
The whole thing gave Lurene reason to worry. She looked at Lobo. “Ready to fight with that ladder?”
“Ready. We won’t use it until that last climb. No sense straining it more than we have to.”
Lurene nodded and stepped back while Lobo went to work.
“Can’t we ride any faster than this?” Shannon had promised she wouldn’t ask that question again, but it slipped out, about once every mile.
“No, we can’t.” Gabe shifted as though he was irritated. “The horse is carrying a double load.”
Shannon was riding behind Gabe, holding on with strength born in fear. She’d never done much riding in St. Louis since her family had a carriage. She’d thought she was learning the way of it, though they’d come a long way on the train before turning to horseback. But this wasn’t exactly riding. It was more clinging for dear life. And clinging to a strong, warm man, who shifted his weight and turned to look at her once in a while.
She found holding Gabe very disturbing. Nothing like hanging on tight to the cold, solid saddle horn. She wanted it to be over badly. “He seems like a big strong horse. How far did you say it is to town?”
“We’re gonna push hard all day, and we’ll spend the night with a family of Navajos who run a herd of sheep and have a small settlement near a waterhole. I spent the night there just yesterday.” There was an extended moment of silence. “No, two days ago.”
Gabe shrugged, and Shannon clung.
“As for a town, Tuba City is to the east. To the west, well, I’ve never been all that far west of here, not this far north. I’ll ask Doba Kinlichee.”
“Doba what?”
“That’s the father of the family of Navajos. Doba Kinlichee. They’re the first place east of here I know of. I was coming from that direction because I’ve been out to see my brother in California, so I stayed with them.”
“I thought you said you’d never been west.” Shannon bristled. He was making excuses not to help her.
“I’ve never been straight west. There’s nothing that way because of the Grand Canyon. I came from the southwest.” Gabe twisted around to look at her. “Is that where you want to go?” He sounded almost like he’d consider coming with her if that was her goal.
Shannon saw no sense in burdening him with the truth. “I’d have to check my map.”
“I was heading to see another brother in New Mexico. My oldest brother, Abe. He’s got kids almost grown. It’s a long ride to the waterhole where Doba lives with his wife and kids. Doba’s mother and some aunts and uncles are there, too. Lots of family. It’s a welcoming place.”
“They live alone a long day’s ride from the nearest city?”
“Their family has lived around this waterhole in the high desert since long before there were any cities.”
“And they’re Navajo? Indians? Are they dangerous?” She clung a little tighter to him. It was no hardship.
“They’re good people. Friendly to me. I don’t know ‘em except for the night I stayed there, but I trust ‘em.”
“What will they think of us riding in like this—together and unmarried.”
“I think it will be fine unless Hank Ford is there.”
“He’s the judgmental type?”
“It’s kind of his job.”
; “To call people to task as sinners?”
“He’s Parson Ford, a missionary to the Navajo. There is a parson who lives at the settlement with his family, and they’re kind, friendly people. But Parson Ford is… well… he’s big into fire and brimstone, or so Doba said.”
“A little fire and brimstone never hurt anyone.” Shannon had heard a few revival preachers, and she enjoyed them.
“Hearing about it, sure. But honestly, Shannon, a little fire and brimstone never hurt anyone? I don’t think you can say that.”
“True.”
“Parson Crenshaw does live at the settlement with Doba and his kin, but Parson Ford is a traveling missionary. He’s gone for long stretches of time. Doba talked about the parson like he was one to set the devil running for cover.”
“I wish he’d been with me yesterday when my expedition members left me to die alone. The devil was in that.”
“From what I heard, Parson Ford would have terrified them until they ran away.”
Shannon thought of the way Lobo had dangled her over the ledge, the ruthless way Ginger had shoved her and enjoyed hurting her, the way the Lloyd brothers had gone down that ladder without a thought of the fate they were leaving Shannon to, and the cold in Lurene’s eyes—the one member of her party she’d felt a friendship with. The good parson would have had his work cut out for him.
As the day stretched longer, Gabe’s temper shortened.
The horse sidled around a jumble of rocks in the barely existent trail.
Shannon gasped and grabbed a tighter hold on Gabe.
“Stop it.”
Leaning forward, hanging on tight, Shannon poked her head around Gabe’s broad shoulder. “Stop what?”
“You’re strangling me.”
Shannon thought that over for a second. “You’re a good one to talk. You didn’t spend a part of yesterday swinging from a noose.”
“It wasn’t a noose.”
“I was the one swinging. It felt like a noose.”
Gabe growled.
“Hey, it was my belly. I’ll judge if I got hanged… hung… anyway, it was a noose.”
“It doesn’t count as a hanging if it’s around your belly.”
“Does, too.”
“Does not.”
“And anyway, what does that have to do with me being afraid of falling off the horse and hanging on tight to your belly?”
Gabe growled.
“That’s no answer.”
“Shut up and ride, woman.”
“You know, some things about you are very heroic, Gabe.”
“Well, thank you.” Gabe turned to meet her eyes, a bit less crotchety—for a second.
“And some things, not so much.”
Gabe growled.
The sun glared down, but they had stretches of shade when they’d ride through thick stands of pine. They passed barren stretches with beautiful red rock rearing up out of the ground, and Shannon saw trails wind up into higher ground, dotted with quaking aspens.
Gabe didn’t head for the high ground. He unhooked his canteen from his saddle horn and handed it back to her without turning. “Drink light.” The man grew increasingly gruff and taciturn as the day wore on.
Shannon’s thirst started to gnaw. She wanted to take long gulps out of the canteen but knew she didn’t dare. “Can’t we ride up there and search for water where those aspen grow?” She pointed at what looked like a fairly lush spot on the mountain they were riding past.
“No.”
She felt lucky for that grunted answer. “Why not?”
“Done with that canteen?”
Fighting the urge to drain the water, Shannon took a sip so small it barely wet her throat then handed it back. She noticed, as best she could from behind him, that Gabe drank little more than she did. She squeezed him to get his attention. “Why not? Those trees can’t grow without water can they?”
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Holding on so tight.”
Shannon frowned at his back. “I really don’t feel all that safe back here. I need to hang on.”
There was a long moment of tense silence. Shannon loosened her hold, but still she was riding on a tall horse. She needed something to hang on to. Besides, he hadn’t answered her question.
“So why can’t we hunt water?”
“I don’t want to climb a mountain and spend an hour searching for water we can do without. We’re already going to be getting to Doba’s late in the day.”
“That makes sense. Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”
Since she was hanging on, she thought she actually heard his insides growl as if he were a wolf getting ready to pounce.
“Say something.” She jostled him a bit with her arms to get him to answer.
“Time for a break.” Gabe rode his horse toward a mountain that was rising up on their left. A clump of aspens offered a bit of shade.
“Hang on to the cantle.”
“What’s that?”
“The back edge of the saddle that you’re sitting so close to. Too close to. Right up against. Hard up against.”
Shannon let go of him with one arm and touched the back of the saddle seat. “Cantle. Okay.” She brushed her hand against Gabe when she gripped it. There was really no avoiding the contact.
“I’ll get off first.” Gabe almost threw himself off the horse and practically kicked her in the head… bad enough with his boot, but the spurs would’ve really hurt. Then he turned and dragged her down. Holding her waist in his hands, when her toes finally touched the ground, she expected, considering his mood, for him to plunk her down and stalk away grumbling. Instead, he held on. “You really want to know why I’m not talking to you?”
“Yes, I really do.” She suspected suddenly, based on the fire in his eyes, that no, she really didn’t.
Their gazes met as he forgot to let go. His strong hands flexed at her waist, and Shannon got the impression that there was something deep in Gabe’s eyes that she needed to see. Had to see. She inched closer.
He was still in his state of forgetfulness apparently.
They stood, Gabe looking as hard at her as she was at him, and suddenly, slowly, as if he wasn’t even trying to stop himself, Gabe very deliberately leaned forward.
“This is why,” he spoke against her lips, and then he kissed her.
It felt right to slide her arms up his broad chest and wrap them around his neck. She’d been holding him all morning. He was familiar and heroic and kind—except for the one-word answers and the grunting.
The kiss ended long before she was ready. Gabe eased back just inches. “All your talk last night of what’s proper?”
Shannon vaguely remembered that… while she lay awake alone in that cold, definitely-not-haunted-but-only-because-there-was-no-such-thing-as-ghosts cave. “Yes.”
“This is why we shouldn’t be alone together for long stretches of time.” He kissed her again, and her toes weren’t even touching the ground. Gabe was holding on tight, but for a fact, she felt like she was floating and it had nothing to do with his grip and everything to do with his lips.
“Does this happen every time a man and woman are not chaperoned?” In truth she’d never had such happen to her before. But then she’d never spent any real time in the company of a man, and certainly not alone. Not even with poor Bucky, whom her mother was determined she marry.
“Not every time. But it can. Especially when a woman is as beautiful as you.” He lowered his head again and tightened his arms, and Shannon was lost.
What time passed, passed without notice. Finally, Gabe pulled away and reached up to unfasten her arms from his neck. “We’ve had a long enough break. We have to go on to the Kinlichee hogan.”
“Now?”
“Oh yes. Right now. Right this very instant before things get out of hand and I end up hunting down Parson Ford.
“The one you said might insist we get… married?”
“Yep,
that’s the one.” He rested his forehead against hers, and she wanted another kiss, just one more. One more moment that was not at all proper.
She sneaked and got herself one. And Gabe sneaked, too. A couple of times.
“What would you hunt him up for?” Just because her thoughts had gone to one idea didn’t mean his had.
“To do some… insisting of my own.”
Eight
Gabe pushed his poor gelding as hard as he dared. But he couldn’t run away from himself.
Shannon kept a snug hold on his waist all afternoon, and that meant he couldn’t run away from her either.
He knew, in the most reasonable part of his mind, that he couldn’t be falling in love with Shannon. Just because her arms around him made him light-headed with pleasure, and he wanted to kiss her senseless, and he felt an almost uncontrollable need to protect her, and he kept picturing her standing in front of the potbellied stove in his house back in Wyoming, and he wanted to take her to meet his brothers, and he could imagine what their children might look like. Just because of that, it did not mean he was falling in love with her.
A man couldn’t fall in love with a woman he barely knew. Add to that, he’d never been around many women. Really only Annette back in Wyoming. And seeing as how she was married to another man, that hadn’t worked out all that well.
What with a house full of brothers and a cavalry full of soldiers, there’d been no women to tempt him. He might well fall in love with any woman he ever spent ten minutes with. How could he know?
Add to that, a lot of what he did know about this particular woman wasn’t reassuring. She was bent on hunting all over the western lands for gold, of all stupid, hard-to-find things. Most gold hunters would make more money driving a stagecoach. Work less, too. And sure as shootin’ live better.
Even worse than digging for gold, she had some half-witted notion that she’d find a city built out of the stuff. And she hadn’t even shown him the map. If he agreed to ride along with her, he didn’t even know where he was going.
West.
That was all she’d really said.
Deep Trouble Page 7