All Lurene could think of was the way she’d made her money back in St. Louis. Her skin crawled to think of going back. Lurene knew she was a hard woman. She’d had to get hard to survive. But at that moment the hardest part of her heart and soul turned to pure stone. She couldn’t go back. She wouldn’t! She’d steal and kill, and certainly kidnap, so she could keep the groping hands of men away.
“Those tracks,” Cutter said, “tell me the Dysart woman is down in that godforsaken canyon. If we want her, we’ve got to find a way down.”
“Just give it up. Let’s go somewhere and get out of this blasted heat.” Ginger swiped at her brow and added to the filth on her face.
“There is no way down I can see.” Cutter looked at Lurene. He was asking her to give up. Ride on and forget this whole crazy scheme.
Sin had never made Lurene rich, and she’d engaged in plenty of it. But not on this scale. This was big-time sin, because before this was over, Shannon Dysart would be dead and several if not all of her partners would be, too. “Remember she’s an Astor. She’s rich. As sin. We ride on and we’re heading for nothing.”
“We’ve got a lot more than nothing,” Ginger sneered. “We’ve got a hundred dollars each. I can use that to have a mighty good time.”
Lurene glared at Ginger, who held the gaze for a couple of seconds, then started to squirm and scooted just an inch closer to Darrel. They’d teamed up, Lurene realized. And if Ginger was with Darrel, then the Lloyds and Ginger were all together. Three against two. Lurene caught herself. She was figuring Cutter was on her side. A woman did well not to count on any man. She sure hoped she didn’t have to bet her life on Cutter siding with her over the others.
“What are we going to do then? Jump off the edge?” Ginger poked the ground with her stick and threw it down. It bounced and hit Lurene.
Lurene’s temper ignited like a torch set to dynamite. She grabbed the stick and threw it right in Ginger’s face.
With a growl that’d do justice to a wildcat, Ginger came up on her knees. She reached for the stick, which had bounced closer to Lurene.
“Cool off.” Lurene slapped the stick aside.
“How’m I supposed to cool off in this place?” Ginger’s hand closed over a rock.
Lurene had her colt revolver in her pocket. She braced herself to go for it. She wasn’t having a fistfight with this nasty woman. She’d shoot her and be done with it.
Lurene felt the Lloyd brothers come to full alert. Cutter moved, putting himself in a better position to settle trouble without getting hurt himself. It could be a bloodbath if they all opened. Or it could be quick if she just shot Ginger dead and no one cared enough to protest.
Lurene’s hands clenched as she thought of her pistol. The heat and her temper and frustration made her killing mad.
Ginger’s fingers clutched the stone.
Thunder cracked across the sky. The noise disrupted a perfect chance for Lurene to get rid of one of her oversupply of partners. The most useless one of the bunch.
“Rain?” Ginger let go of the stone and looked up. “I wish it would rain.”
“Not rain.” Cutter wheeled toward the edge of the canyon. “Quiet.”
The thunder echoed. It bounced off the canyon walls that stretched and stretched as far as Lurene’s eyes could see. What in the world was making that sound? Not rain? An earthquake? Lurene had heard of those.
A horse appeared over the edge of the canyon. Impossible. It came right up over the edge of a deadly drop. The animal was small, stunted maybe because it looked like a full-grown horse rather than a colt.
Another appeared and another. Brown horses, pintos, reds, roans. Black and white and buckskin. All undersized, all climbing a wall that no horse could climb.
The five of them were frozen by those galloping horses. Then they were gone. Two dozen horses at least in that herd. They galloped straight north and rounded some sagebrush and rock and vanished.
If dust hadn’t hung in the air, Lurene wouldn’t have believed she’d seen it.
“That’s a trail to the bottom of this canyon.” Cutter headed for his horse, tied off to the side—and a good thing they were tied tight.
Lurene looked at the nervous mounts, eager to run off with their wild friends.
“A trail a horse can handle.”
Lurene was only a step behind Cutter. By the time she was on horseback, the Lloyds and Ginger were untying their mounts.
Cutter rode toward the edge of the trail. Lurene shuddered as he approached the spot where those horses had come up. He went over the edge.
She half expected to hear the sound of his body falling, the horse screaming. But nothing. This was a trail, impossible. She could almost smell the gold in that pit or she’d never have gone after Cutter.
Lurene smiled for the first time all day. They were back on the trail of the Dysart woman and a city full of gold.
Luck was with her, that was for sure. That gold was as good as hers, whether it came from a city down there or from a wealthy family back east. If she did this all exactly right, it might come from both.
And when she was rich enough, she could make her own rules for herself. She could be clean and free to do as she pleased.
No man would ever put his hands on her again.
Nineteen
I’m up to the ride.” Shannon’s need to head for that gap—the one clearly marked on her father’s map, the one she just needed to step through to find gold and prove her father right and restore him to respectability, that one—gnawed at her until she started to rise from her bedroll, only to be stopped by the pain. She managed to sit upright, but that was as far as she was going without help.
“More rest, girl.” Hozho roasted rabbits in their fire. Hosteen had brought in several, enough for a feast. She also stirred a small pot that steamed and smelled of herbs and grass. Some potion to help Shannon’s arm feel better.
It was still early in the day. The sun hadn’t risen enough, and they sat in the relative cool of the shadows.
All Shannon could do was chafe at the delay. A delay caused by her. “Just get me on that horse. We can get there today. It hurts, but it will loosen up once I’m on horseback.”
“Stop whining.” Gabe carried all the canteens in one hand, hanging from their leather straps. They’d all been drinking water steadily, all last evening and ever since they’d gotten up. Trying to get fluid in their parched throats. Stock up, get ahead in case the next stretch of this trail was as long and dry as the last.
“I’m not whining!” Flinching, Shannon definitely heard a whine in her voice. Disgusting.
Gabe handed all the canteens but one to Hozho.
Hozho wrapped a cloth around a tin coffee cup and poured the liquid out of her little pot into it, then handed that to Gabe. “Get her to drink this. All of it.” Hozho shot Shannon a bossy sort of look.
Shannon was getting really tired of being pushed around by the people who were supposed to be working for her.
Emptying some leaves out of her little pot with a crack of metal on rock, Hozho then reached for the canteen and poured water into her pot to make coffee.
“Drink it all.” Gabe gave Shannon the tin cup, careful to keep the cloth around it so it wouldn’t burn her hands. “And when you’re finished, drink more water. You oughta be mighty wrung out after yesterday. The crying alone should’ve dried you to the bone.”
“What is this stuff?” Shannon ignored Gabe’s remark about her tears and stared suspiciously into the cup.
“It brings down swelling, keeps a fever from setting in. It will help.” Hozho gestured with the canteen she’d just emptied then stood from where she knelt by the fire.
“I will get more water.” She headed down the trail Gabe had just come up. She left three filled canteens on the ground and only carried one, so the woman was just going to the river to get away from Shannon. And her whining.
Snatching the canteen with her right hand, Shannon did her best to control a shud
der of pain. Everything hurt if she moved—her head, her legs. Even breathing hurt. How could one stupid shoulder hurt all over her whole body?
“We’re going to rest for a day.” Gabe lowered himself to the ground beside her and drew in the scent of the rabbit, which helped Shannon remember she was starving for that sizzling meat. They’d had enough food, but it hadn’t begun to taste good. The smell of the meat was now driving her crazy.
Shannon reached for the lid of her canteen with her left hand by reflex. Even stopping instantly, with an arm tied to her body by the sling, the pain almost knocked her out. Her vision turned black around the edges. She blinked her eyes open to see Gabe leaning over her with her cup in his hand.
“Shannon. Shannon, talk to me.” Gabe knelt beside her, easing her to the ground, so worried, so careful about her arm. Kindness radiating out of the dark of his eyes.
It made her throat ache with unshed tears.
“I know you’re eager to get on with the trip, but you can’t ride, sweetheart. I’m sorry. But please be careful.”
A hiss of pain slipped through her lips before she gathered her control enough to speak. “I know. I’ll quit… whining.” It stung to say that.
Gabe smiled. “My big brothers always accused me of whining.”
“Seven of them, right?”
“There are seven of us in all.” Gabe slid his fingers between the tightly fastened sling and her arm. “It’s pretty tight. I don’t want it too tight, but tight enough. Does it hurt?”
“Compared to what?” Shannon spoke through clenched teeth.
Gabe brushed his hand over her hair.
“So six brothers then, all older, and they always told you that you were whining. Bet you didn’t like that.”
“I hated it. I suspect it made me run to my ma crying a thousand times.”
“Whiner,” Shannon said sarcastically. She was proud of herself for achieving sarcasm. It took about everything she had to appear that clearheaded. She swallowed as she looked at Gabe’s gentle eyes. She’d like to hunt his mean big brothers down and give them a thrashing.
Gabe’s eyes went to her throat, and he said, “Here, let’s get you a drink of this medicine.”
He must have noticed her swallowing. She decided to let him think it was thirst. He eased one strong arm under her shoulders, from the right, so careful of the injured left side. He shifted with agonizing slowness until he’d slid behind her. He raised his knees and leaned her back against his chest to give her a resting place. Then he guided the medicine to her lips and she sipped.
“Ugh, what is that?” She turned her head aside.
Gabe followed her with the cup. “Drink it all. You heard her. You don’t want Hozho mad at you, do you?”
“It tastes awful, bitter. Why isn’t Hozho worried about me being mad at her?”
Gabe laughed. “Because she’s scary and you’re not.”
True.
“It’s warm but not too hot anymore.” Gabe moved the cup so he could touch the tin. “Drink it down now. Be a good girl.”
Shannon felt free to roll her eyes to heaven, since Gabe was behind her and couldn’t see. “Just help me drink the stupid stuff.”
“Swallow fast and it’ll be over.”
Shannon gulped and gulped the hot liquid. She shuddered the whole time and, for a second, thought she might toss it right back out of her not-so-tough belly.
“Collywobbles again?”
“Oh yes. Can I have a drink of water, please?”
Gabe set the cup aside and picked up the canteen. Uncapping it, he moved again and got one hand on the nape of her neck while the other raised the canteen to her lips.
It tasted heavenly.
Gabe let her drink a few seconds then lowered the canteen.
“Icy cold water.” Shannon swallowed deeply, trying to suck enough water in to fill her belly and her skin and her burning eyes. “Where did you find it?”
“There’s a spring right down by the river, pouring out of a fissure in the rocks in a little waterfall. The water is as cold as melting snow. I don’t know where they found any melting snow in Arizona in the summer, but it sure is cold, even if it don’t make any sense.” Gabe raised the canteen. “Another drink?”
Shannon nodded, careful not to move her head one inch more than necessary, because it hurt her shoulder. “Yes, please.” She drank, then rested, then drank some more.
Gabe attended her so carefully. When a dribble of water ran down her chin, he noticed and followed the path of that rivulet in a way that made Shannon very aware of his strong arms around her.
“Thank you so much. For the water and for helping me.” Shannon’s eyes would have filled with tears if she’d had any water in her to spare. Maybe after this long drink worked its way through to her eyeballs… “I owe you my life. Again. You’ve saved me twice now.”
“Whatever we find in that canyon, Shannon, you know that your pa found something important.” Gabe lifted the canteen past her shoulder.
She very carefully shifted around so she could see him. Her eyes followed when he touched his lips. She was strangely aware that her lips had just touched that canteen in the exact same place.
He had one knee resting on a shading boulder, and she leaned against it, grateful for the cushion from this stony world.
He drank deeply then recapped and set the canteen aside. “You know that just finding a trail down here was a big accomplishment, don’t you?”
He pulled a handkerchief from his hip pocket and dabbed at her chin, pausing at that silly dimple she’d inherited from her father. Gabe seemed to like it, and so Shannon decided she liked it, too.
“Do you really think so?” She caught his hand where it touched her face. “Do you think after all his talk of a Cibola and Quivera, after all his rantings and the way he died, he’ll be able to rest in peace?”
Gabe’s eyes had rested on her chin, or somewhere very close to it. Now his gaze lifted until he met her eyes. “I think you know that the Bible doesn’t talk much about such a thing.”
Her brow furrowed, and the movement hurt her burned skin. “What do you mean? Rest in peace—people talk about it all the time.”
“Well, yes, sure, but they don’t mean that someone in this life can fix things after you’re dead and somehow give you a happier afterlife. What happens after death is between a man and God. And the choices a man makes about faith come before he dies. Your work can establish a good reputation for your pa. And maybe that’ll give you some peace of mind. Maybe it’ll help your ma feel some pride in her husband. But your pa, well, he’s at God’s side now—if he was a believer—and busy being in heaven. Whatever you do back here becomes between you and God. Your pa has no part in it.”
“So you’re saying I’m wasting my time?” Shannon’s hand tightened on his.
“No, I don’t mean that. There’s no harm in helping your pa be remembered well. It just doesn’t make much difference to him. Just to you.”
“You talk more about God than a lot of men, Gabe. Were you always a man of faith?”
“Reckon I am. My ma”—Gabe’s worried eyes softened with affection—”well, you couldn’t be her son and not be raised right. I embraced her faith from an early age, making it my own. She was a mighty warrior for the Lord.”
“Your ma?” For some reason that made her smile. “You think of your mother as a warrior?”
Gabe nodded and his smile stretched from ear to ear. “I wish you could’ve met her. Elva Lasley was the smartest, toughest, sweetest Christian lady who ever lived.”
Shannon knew she was looking at a man who loved his mother. It hit her hard. Did she love her mother? Did Bucky love his? They were such distant creatures. Yes, Shannon knew, she did love her mother. But she didn’t know her, didn’t like her. It was a sad kind of love. “She taught you words like collywobbles and shimmy.”
“She did indeed. She taught us everything. There wasn’t a school close by, so she taught me to read and cipher
. And she taught all of us real good.”
Gabe’s smile was so full of affection, Shannon began to wish someday the thought of her would bring such a smile to him or to her children. And she didn’t even consider correcting Gabe’s grammar.
“But mostly, you should’ve heard her play the piano. She could make you feel what she was feeling when she played her hymns. All that talent, and she lived out most of her life in a little cabin, crowded to the rafters with boys. We had a piano in there, though. Pa got it for her long before I was born. She always said a home without a piano was a sad place. She wanted it more than a roof over her head, and Pa had found a way. We lived a far piece from any church. Ma would play hymns of a Sunday morning. She played every day, but on Sunday we’d all sit around her and sing. Pa would read from the Bible, his preaching and Ma’s piano and all us boys singing at the top of our lungs.” Gabe laughed. “It’s a wonder we didn’t tear off the roof with our Sunday service. But it was fun.”
With a trembling hand, Shannon reached up and touched Gabe’s smile. She wanted to be closer to it. Closer to him. “I wish I’d had a chance to know her, Gabe. It sounds like you had a happy childhood.”
“Reckon it was as much fun as a boy dares to have, running wild in the woods hunting and fishing and playing with my big brothers. We had to work, too. Work hard to feed all of us. There were chores aplenty, and Ma and Pa both were almost as quick with a switch as they were with a hug. The good Lord knows I got my share of both. But we all worked together, and we had us a lot of fun.” Gabe was looking into the distance—into the past.
He came back to her and looked down, moved his chin so her hand rubbed on the stubble of his jaw. “How about you, Shannon. One child alone. Did you have fun? Did you have music, a church to attend? Was your pa’s studying and mapmaking something you enjoyed while you were growing up?”
“My family isn’t like yours, Gabe. Home wasn’t a place for play or music or worship.”
“Aren’t you a believer?”
“We were prominent members of a large church in our neighborhood. We attended faithfully.”
Deep Trouble Page 21