Arizona Gold

by Maggie James

  His hand reached for hers. “Maybe I just want to help you, Kitty. You’ve been through so much in your life.”

  “But—”

  He silenced her with his lips, arms going tight about her, and he instantly felt himself grow hard as her breasts crushed into his chest. His tongue touched the corner of her mouth, coaxing her to open for him, then fiercely claimed possession.

  Kitty moaned and swayed, would have stumbled had his arm not been tight about her waist. Heat unfurled in her belly, and she closed her eyes to let the delicious waves ripple up and down her body.

  His tongue still exploring the sweetness of her mouth, he began to gently knead her breasts.

  Suddenly frightened by the wild churning within, Kitty came out of the heated trance to tear her mouth from his and raggedly whisper, “We…we mustn’t. Please—” She pushed at his chest, trying to free herself of his embrace.

  “I’m sorry,” Ryder said in a rush, releasing her and stepping back.

  “There…there’s no need to be,” Kitty murmured thinly. “It…it was my fault. I shouldn’t have let it go so far…”

  Snatching up the horse’s reins once more, she mounted and, still teeming with the desire he had ignited, said, “We have to be getting back. We’ve been away longer than usual, and I have to get ready for the first performance.”

  He also swung up in the saddle. “Don’t you think we ought to finish the conversation I so rudely interrupted?” he asked with a reckless smile.

  Kitty also smiled, pleased to have him so deftly take them from the tension. “Do you really want to help me look for the gold?”

  “Not help you,” he said carefully. “I wouldn’t want you involved. It’s too dangerous. Whoever killed those two men might still be looking.”

  Kitty’s face went tight. “I’m afraid I’d have to insist on coming along.”

  “I couldn’t allow that,” he said, eyes growing darker to think of having her exposed to potential danger. It was, truly, a distinct possibility that the murderer—or murderers, as the case might be—would be lurking around waiting for her to appear. Him, too. They could be followed, and he could not chance it.

  “Then I’m afraid it’s out of the question.”

  “And I’m afraid I feel insulted, because it’s obvious you don’t trust me.”

  “And it’s obvious you don’t trust my ability to look out for myself. I wouldn’t be in the way, and you know it, just like you know if we run into trouble I can handle a gun. So I have to wonder what your real reason is for not wanting me along.

  “Well?” she persisted when he offered no explanation. “What am I to think when you won’t say anything?”

  What could he say—that he would welcome the intimacy during the search…welcome the glory of emptying his passion into her sweetness every chance he got until she found out who he really was? Because once the gold was located, he would have to identify himself in order to demand his rightful share, and she would surely hate him forevermore.

  But why not enjoy her in the meantime? a little voice within nagged. What is the harm?

  The harm, he was pained to admit, would come because he feared he was falling in love. And even if she should love him in return, it could never work out between them. They came from two different worlds, and he would not risk things turning out like they had between his parents. It was best to end it now before they got more deeply involved. Once he located the gold, he would deposit her share in a bank and send her a note telling her where it was. Then Sam Bodine would drop out of sight never to be seen again, and they could both get on with their lives.

  Finally, he said, “You can’t go. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Then forget it,” she snapped, digging her heels into the horse’s flanks to send him into a gallop.

  Ryder pulled his horse alongside, keeping pace. “You’re being stubborn, Kitty, I told you—I know the country around here. I’m certain I can find it.”

  Over the sound of hooves clicking on the rocks, she cried, “If I don’t go, you don’t get the map.”

  “What you’re saying is that you think I’m going to swindle you. I’m not an outlaw, Kitty. And when I give my word, I keep it.”

  “I have no reason to believe you. I hardly know you.”

  “We were pretty close back there for a little while,” he said with a roguish smile. “A little while longer, and we might have got to know each other real good.”

  “That…that has nothing to do with it. And if you won’t agree to take me with you, we’ll just forget the whole idea.”

  “Hell, woman,” he exploded, “you’re going to throw away a chance at a fortune because you won’t trust me.”

  She looked at him then, a quick dart of fury. “No. You’re throwing away a chance at a nice reward because you’re like most men—you can’t accept a woman being able to think for herself and make her own decisions.”

  “That’s crazy. You’re just afraid I’ll find the gold and keep it all for myself.”

  “Well, if that weren’t your intent, you’d have no objections to me going with you. I’ve damn well proved myself, Sam Bodine.

  “But you haven’t proved anything,” she concluded angrily, popping reins across the horse’s neck to make him go even faster.

  They rode the rest of the way in frosty silence, and when they reached the livery stable, Ryder was so mad he turned away from her without a word.

  Tossing a coin at the boy to wipe down his horse and put him away, he headed for the nearest saloon.

  Leaning against the bar, he ordered a shot of whiskey and quickly gulped it down.

  He saw Kitty pass by the window. Her chin was up, and her eyes were flashing.

  Stubborn filly, he grumbled to himself. So sure of herself with a gun. Hell, she didn’t have sense enough to realize shooting at a cactus was different than drawing against a man. True, she had hit Coyotay, but that was in the midst of an attack. She did not know one damn thing about tracking or sneaking up on anybody or outwitting the enemy.

  And who was to say when it came right down to it she wouldn’t do something stupid—like cry or faint? No matter how good she was with a gun, she was still a woman, and therefore, he felt, not competent to face the dangers that might be waiting. After all, somewhere out there was the man—or men—who had killed her uncle and his father, and they were probably still trying to find the hidden gold strike.

  But, despite everything, the fact remained that Kitty Parrish was not some empty-headed female easily swayed by a man’s charms. Now he suspected that if he had made love to her, it would have made no difference in her decision not to hand over the map unless she was part of the deal.

  He ordered another drink and thought maybe he should just give in and let her go along with him and enjoy the hell out of her before going back to his people. And so what if she did find out he was actually Whitebear? What could she do about it except hate him forevermore? He could take her, use her, and—

  He gave his head a brisk shake and slammed his glass down in signal for refill.

  He couldn’t do it, damn it, because he cared about her. Like it or not, he cared. And the sooner he was rid of her and on his way, the better off he would be.

  But not before he got hold of the map, because he had come too far to give up.

  She had let it slip that it was hidden in her room. All he had to do was sneak upstairs while she was performing and find it. She might not even discover it missing till she got his note about the deposit in her name.

  But he would have to wait a few days and let her think that Sam Bodine had ridden out of town and out of her life.

  It was how it had to be…no matter how much he wished it could be otherwise.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “You should have given him the map and been done with it,” Opal grumbled.

  Kitty wondered how many times she had heard her say that in the four days since Sam was seen riding out of town. She wished she had never told he
r about his proposition.

  “Hell, what did you have to lose?”

  “The map,” Kitty coolly pointed out—and wondered how many times she had said that, too.

  “Well, it’s sure as hell of no use to you.”

  “True. But at least now he can’t try to find the gold and keep it all for himself.”

  “You don’t know he would’ve done that.”

  “Well, if that wasn’t his intention, why did he object to me going along with him to look for it?”

  Opal was sitting on the side of the bed buffing her nails while Kitty dressed for the evening. “It would’ve been a gamble, but if you don’t bet, you don’t win. So now what have you got? Half of a worthless map and no money.”

  “Well, I’ve still got my job,” Kitty said, but without enthusiasm. She liked her work less and less, and with Sam gone, she was lonely and back to having nothing to do all day.

  “You won’t have it for long if some of those chairs don’t start filling up. Besides, I hear the Lucky Nugget down the street has got a dancer wearing nothing but feathers.”

  Kitty was quick to say, “Well, Mr. Earp better not get any ideas about changing my act to the Singing Chicken.”

  “Maybe you better start learning to deal or call faro.”

  Kitty hated the thought. She wanted, needed, to be outdoors, working with horses and enjoying the world, not stuck in a smoky gambling hall. “I guess I’d better get downstairs,” she said, tired of conversation.

  “Yeah. Me, too.” Opal gathered her things, then paused to say in an accusing tone, “You know he was the pick of the litter, don’t you? A fine-looking man like that, and you let him slip right through your fingers by insulting him and making him feel Like an outlaw.”

  Kitty’s shoulders sagged. Like it or not, Opal made sense. She had insulted him. She had been stubborn. And if she had it to do over again would react differently. Besides, the map was no good to her, anyway. She could not strike out on her own and make head or tail of any of the clues and landmarks. It would have been better to trust Sam Bodine. And, beyond that, she was pained to think, there was always the chance that their feelings for each other would have grown. Now, sadly, it was over, and she was left to wonder how it all might have ended had she not been so obstinate and suspicious.

  She was wearing a new gown Mr. Earp had insisted she have made. Fashioned of bright red satin, it was covered in thousands of sparkling sequins. And it was different from any of her other costumes, which were in soft pastel colors and lacy and fluffy in style. Obviously Mr. Earp was concerned about the dwindling audience and trying to spice things up.

  “Lord have mercy,” Morton said, wide eyed, when Kitty went to the bar for the glass of wine that always fortified her for the show. “I can’t say as I’ve ever thought of an angel wearing red, but you’re sure beautiful, Kitty.”

  “I think red goes with the other place.” She pointed down and smiled.

  She took the glass of wine he had waiting and walked toward the little table in an alcove to the side where she could observe without being seen or bothered. It was early. The saloon was nearly empty. Not a soul was waiting for her performance to begin and only a few weeks ago not a seat would have been left.

  Morton called after her, “Oh, I almost forgot. Mr. Earp said to tell you he wants to see you in his office before you go on. He’s waiting for you.”

  Kitty felt a shudder of foreboding. Mr. Earp never asked her to go to his office when he wanted to speak to her about anything. He would just walk up to her before or between performances.

  She went to the very back of the saloon, where there was a long, narrow hallway. The office was at the end.

  She knocked on the door and softly called, “Mr. Earp, it’s Kitty Parrish.”

  “Come in,” came the booming response.

  He was seated behind his desk, elegant in satin-striped vest, white shirt with ruffled collar, and gray trousers. Smoking a thin cheroot, he waved her to take a seat as he leaned back in his oxblood leather chair.

  Kitty sat down. “Morton said you wanted to see me.”

  He was a man of few words and got right to the point. “I think people have gotten tired of your act, Kitty. After tonight, that’s it.”

  She pressed her hands together in her lap as she quickly calculated her savings. She would be all right for a little while if he did not make her give up her room.

  He quickly destroyed that hope.

  “I’ll have to ask you to move. Like I said before—the upstairs is for special guests and hired help only. I’m not in the business of running a rooming house, but I have no objections if you want to move in with Opal till you find something else.”

  Kitty was not about to do that. She adored Opal and was grateful for her friendship, but it would not do to be around her all the time. Opinionated and prone to speak her mind, Opal also drank heavily and could be hard to get along with.

  “I have a little money,” Kitty said. “And I would appreciate it if you’d let me stay on a little while, at least.”

  “A very little while,” he said, tapping ashes into a silver bowl.

  Kitty hurried back outside, fighting tears of frustration and feeling sick to her stomach.

  Opal had warned her it was coming, that Mr. Earp would let her go, but she hadn’t believed her. Now she was swept with feelings of despair and desperation unlike any she had ever known. It was almost like starting out from Virginia all over again, except that back then she had not known the pleasure of a man’s kisses or the delicious dream of loving and being loved, which made it all worse.

  By the time she returned to the main room, Jim had started playing the piano. He did not miss a note as she whispered to him that she would be giving her last performance.

  “I know, and I’m sorry,” he said. “Mr. Earp told me. But don’t worry. Maybe that beau of yours will propose.”

  “I don’t know that I’d accept if he did. Besides, he’s left town.”

  He continued to run his fingers over the ivory keys. “Ah, that’s a shame. I could tell he was real sweet on you. Never took his eyes off you for a second when you were on that stage. Maybe he’ll come back.”

  “I don’t think so.” She gave his shoulder a pat and made her way backstage.

  She could have told him that, no, Sam Bodine would not be back, because she had not given him what he wanted, only he might have taken it the wrong way, and she was not about to explain.

  Perhaps she had been hasty in rejecting his offer, because Opal had a point in saying she had nothing to lose. After all, if he had been able to find the gold and had kept it for himself, she would have had no less than what she had now—except for her pride.

  So she would never know if she had made the right decision. But one thing she could be sure of—if he had cared anything about her, he would not have been so fast to leave. He would have stayed even if she had not been willing to hand over the map.

  After a while, Jim began to play the opening number. Kitty went up the steps and took her place behind the curtain for the last time. She was only going to do one show. If Mr. Earp did not like it, so be it. Her head was aching along with her heart, and all she wanted was to hide in her room and lock the door and cry her eyes out as she wondered what in the hell she was going to do with the rest of her life.

  Most of the chairs, she was gratified to notice as the curtain opened, were filled. At least her last performance would not be for an empty room.

  She began to sing, wanting to get it over with. She held up three fingers to Jim, signaling that was how many songs she would do. He nodded that he understood.

  She was halfway through the second, which was “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” when a man’s loud, angry voice suddenly drowned her out.

  “Hey, I ain’t listenin’ to that shit. Sing ‘Dixie’ or don’t sing nothin’.”

  Jim, trying to head off trouble because he had seen both the Earps head out the door at the sound of gunfire
in the street a few moments earlier, immediately changed to the melody the man had demanded to hear.

  Kitty, however, did not switch to the other song and instead stopped singing. Glaring at the man, she said, “You are rude, sir. Now, sit down and allow me to finish.”

  He guffawed and waved his arms for her to come down into the audience. “I’ll allow you to come here and sit in my lap and give me some sugar…sugar.”

  The audience burst into laughter.

  Kitty motioned to Jim to go back to the interrupted song, but he stubbornly swung his head in refusal.

  “Now, sing, damn you,” the man roared, stamping his feet and clapping his hands.

  Suddenly, Kitty could stand no more. There was just no way she was going to yield to the drunken buffoon’s demands. She had already lost her job, so why should she subject herself to such humiliation?

  Lifting her skirt so as not to stumble, she walked across the stage and down the steps.

  The man let out a loud, angry bellow and started toward her, bumping into people and knocking over empty chairs. “Hey, you ain’t goin’ nowhere till you sing ‘Dixie’ for me, you little strumpet.”

  Jim stopped playing and leaped to his feet.

  Morton saw what was happening and reached for the gun he kept hidden under the bar, but the man was quicker. He drew his own weapon and warned, “Leave it be, Morton, or I’ll blow you to hell.”

  Morton obeyed, eyes wide as he raised his hands skyward in surrender. “Now, don’t do nothin’ foolish. Just take it easy. Kitty’ll be glad to sing for you. We don’t want trouble.”

  “I will not sing for that insufferable clod,” Kitty said, bristling with fury as she stomped right past Morton and into the line of fire should the man pull the trigger. “I am through with all of this—”

  “No, you ain’t.”

  The man lunged over the last few chairs and caught her by her wrists, holding them pinned behind her. Pistol in hand, he bent her backward as he covered her face with wet, hungry kisses. “You be nice to me, sugar, and I’ll be nice to you. We can have us a good time. You can sing just for me.”