by Maggie James
Kitty knew there was no use in trying to reason. Opal was fanatically loyal to her brother and would stand for no criticism of him. “All right, I’ll go. But you have my word that if I am able to find the gold, I’ll see to it you get your share.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure you will,” Opal cackled as she followed her to the door. “And folks in hell are gonna want ice water, and pigs will fly.”
Kitty rushed into the night.
Opal went back to the table and the whiskey, intent on drinking herself into a stupor.
“You can come out now,” she said dully.
The curtain at the rear of the kitchen parted, and Nate entered, a smug look on his face.
“I told you the bitch was two-faced,” he said, picking up the bottle and turning it up to his lips. He took a deep swallow, then wiped his mouth and said, “She only came here tonight wanting you to stake her to go after him. She never intended to share with you.”
“I know that now,” Opal sadly agreed. “But I was hoping you were wrong, and that she’d let you and Roscoe help her.”
“So what do we do now?”
She yanked the bottle away from him and took a drink herself, then fiercely declared, “You follow her and when she and that half-breed find the gold, you take my share, goddamn it.”
Kitty knew it was not safe to be on the streets at such an hour. Hurrying along, she went straight to the livery stable. No one was around, and she quickly scurried up the ladder to the loft to once again bed down in the hay.
She planned to be at the bank as soon as it opened, then be on her way to make Ryder McCloud regret, by God, that he had double-crossed her.
Weariness carried her away to slumber so deep she was unaware when someone took up vigil below to await her next move.
The river was a liquid ribbon, curling through and around the rocks and boulders.
Overhead, hawks rode the breeze, soaring endlessly without need of flapping their wings.
A rabbit peered from a hole to watch as the horse and rider passed by, then dove back into the earth to wait for safer conditions to scamper forth.
Kitty pulled her hat lower on her forehead against the unrelenting sun. Her shirt was wet with perspiration and clung to her like a second skin.
She paused often to allow her horse to drink his fill from the cool river waters, and she frequently dismounted to submerge her whole head in an effort to find relief from the smothering heat.
Judging from the shadows, Kitty estimated it was perhaps three or four in the afternoon. She had been at the bank when it opened at nine and left right after, so she had covered a good distance. It would have been more, however, had she not allowed the horse to go slowly, lest he succumb to the scorching heat of the day.
Delighting to find a spot of shade beneath a cottonwood tree, Kitty dismounted for much-needed respite.
She did not tie the horse but allowed him to graze his way along the bank. He would wind up in the water, but she was not worried he would run away.
Taking a few bites of hardtack and a cold biscuit from her saddlebag, Kitty sat down and settled back against the tree trunk to once more study her map.
The numbers she made out were 18:27. Part of the preceding was missing, but she could make out the phrase “unto the Lord.” Ryder had been positive it held an important clue, and she hoped he had already figured it out. It would make things so much easier if all she had to do was find him somewhere ahead, then settle back and wait for him to do all the work. Then she would take him by surprise, guns drawn, and demand her part.
She had made up her mind never again to think that the passion that surged so fiercely between them might lead to something else—like caring…and love. Damn it, she had made a big enough fool of herself. She was not about to let him think she had been falling in love with him.
Still, despite feeling humiliated, Kitty allowed herself to think how she had actually been drawn to two men—two different, distinct beings. Whitebear, the fierce Apache warrior, and Ryder, the gunfighter who also possessed charm and a rollicking sense of humor. The two halves combined into a man, Kitty knew, who could have held her heart in the palm of his hand.
But no more.
Betrayal was not something she took lightly.
She would get what was coming to her and then ride out of his life and never look back.
At least that’s how she hoped it would happen.
She could not control the dreams that haunted her nearly every night…dreams of what was…what might have been…and, painfully, would never be.
Folding the map, she tucked it inside her hat band. She had almost memorized it, anyway, but was puzzled by a huge X in the middle. If she had the other side, she thought she might be able to figure it out. As it was, it appeared to be marking a cabin of some sort, for there was a crude drawing of one. At least, it seemed that was what it was. But perhaps it would not matter. Ryder would probably already be there by the time she arrived at that vicinity, and, having the entire drawing made by his father and her uncle, he would have figured it all out.
She noted that the horse had waded out into the stream, no doubt to get cool rather than drink. Then it dawned on her that with no one around, she should do the same. There was time. In fact, she figured she would have to camp overnight before reaching where she expected to find Ryder.
Unbuckling her holster, she carefully laid it beneath the tree, took off her boots, then peeled out of her shirt, trousers, and underwear. Naked, she ran down the bank and waded in.
It felt wonderful, and she swam till she was tired, then flipped over on her back to float lazily.
She heard nothing…saw nothing. And it was only when she emerged a half hour or so later, squeezing water from her hair, that she froze in horror to realize that her clothes were not where she had left them.
And neither was her holster.
She whirled about, expecting to see—what? Indians? They would not play such a trick. They would have charged right in to either fill her full of arrows or capture her. Neither would outlaws have taken time for pranks.
Then it dawned on her.
Ryder.
Evidently he must not have been as far ahead of her as she had thought. He had managed to see her and was teaching her a lesson, but enough was enough. She wanted her clothes back, along with her guns, because if he were mean enough to take them and keep on riding, she was in big trouble.
“Ryder, that’s enough,” she indignantly called out in the stillness. “Give me back my things, and let’s talk.”
She had backed against the tree, arm across her breasts, hand covering her crotch. She felt so vulnerable, which was making her furious. “Do you hear me, damn it? This isn’t funny. Now give me my clothes, or—”
“Or what?”
The man stepped from behind a boulder only a few feet away. His hat was pulled low on his forehead, and a bandanna covered the lower part of his face. And while he wore a holster, he had not drawn his gun. There was no need, for Kitty was unarmed.
“Leave me alone,” she said in a voice braver than she felt as he advanced toward her. “I don’t want any trouble, so get the hell out of here.”
“Soon as I get what I come for, I will.”
Panic stabbed like a knife as Kitty pressed farther back against the tree.
“Wouldn’t of been no need for all this if you’d left the map in your room.”
Fear was shoved aside by rage. “You’re the one who ransacked my room.” She ached to see his face, for surely she would recognize him as someone who had frequented the Oriental, knew Opal, and had heard her ramblings.
“No, it wasn’t me,” he said lazily. “My partner’s the one who did that, and if he’d found it, you wouldn’t be here now. But maybe you’ll be glad you are, ’cause I’m gonna show you what it’s like to have a real man.”
He licked his lips and squeezed his crotch and kept walking toward her.
Kitty waited till he drew close, then lowered
her head and ran for him, intending to butt him right in his gut, knock the wind from him, then make her escape before he could rally to his senses.
She had not, however, realized just how huge a belly the man had—huge and hard. She bounced right off of him, and with a vicious laugh he grabbed her by her throat with one hand and slapped her with his other.
Still clutching her neck, he hit her again. She felt herself slipping away in a storm of pain and blackness and struggled to cling to consciousness. If she passed out, he would have his way with her. As long as she could hang on, there was a chance she might find a way to disable him.
Through the haze of anguish that fell like a shroud about her, Kitty heard a second man’s voice.
“That’s enough. Leave her alone. Ain’t no need to beat her to death.”
Her attacker continued to hold her and cackled maniacally, “Oh, I ain’t gonna kill her. Not now, anyways. I’m just breakin’ her spirit so I won’t have to work so hard to get between her legs.”
“If you beat her senseless, she can’t tell us where the map is.”
He gave her a violent shake that set her head bobbing to and fro. “Shit, we don’t even know she’s got it.” Then, to Kitty, “What’d you do with it, bitch? Hand it over, and I’ll go easy on you.”
“She’s got it,” the other said confidently. “Otherwise, she wouldn’t have got this far. She knows where she’s goin’, all right.”
“Well, I’m gonna make her tell.”
Kitty’s eyes flashed open in time to see his fist coming straight toward her face, and suddenly she screamed—a long, piercing howl fueled by rage, as strength she never knew she possessed suddenly coursed through her veins.
The villain was stunned, caught off guard, and loosened his hold just long enough for her to make a lunge for the pistol in his holster.
“Watch it,” the other outlaw yelped, grabbing her.
It was a wild tussle, and in the midst of it all, shots rang out, and the men, abandoning Kitty, scrambled for cover.
Staggering, she looked about wildly, trying to figure out who was shooting and from where.
A familiar voice boomed from behind the rocks. “Get out of the way, Kitty. I can’t get a clear shot for you.”
She dropped to her knees at once, at the same time hearing the sound of horses as the outlaws made their getaway.
Ryder scrambled down from the rocks and rushed to where she was slowly getting to her feet. “Are you hurt?” He helped her on up.
“I…I’m fine,” she managed to say, head still throbbing from the vicious blows. Then anger took over. “You double-crossed me, you lying sneak.”
“That’s not true. You’re the one who ran off. When I got back to camp, you were gone.”
“You weren’t supposed to leave till dawn.”
“That”—he grinned to admit—“was a lie. I had to go look for my father’s piece of the map while it was dark.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You would if you knew where I had to go to get it.”
“Then you did find it? But where—”
He shook his head. “Believe me, you’re better off not knowing.
“Anyway,” he continued, “when I saw you weren’t there, I knew what you had to be thinking—that I had double-crossed you, so I went to town to look for you. It took me a while to get there, though, because I had to buy new clothes, get a hot bath, and by then you were gone. I knew, because I went to the livery stable, and your horse was missing. I figured you’d made a copy of the map you gave me like you said you were going to and set out on your own to try to catch up with me. Thank goodness I was behind you instead of in front and heard the commotion.”
Kitty was washed with relief. “Then you didn’t abandon me after all.”
“No, but I should have.” He furrowed his brow in a mock frown. “Especially since I was taking a chance riding back into town now that the soldiers know I’m half-Apache, thanks to Opal. But tell me,” he pressed, “how did those men know to follow you?”
“They’re the ones who ransacked my room. They were looking for my map. They know all about it.”
This time his frown was genuine. “Probably the whole Arizona Territory knows about it, thanks to Opal.”
“She was just frightened for me. Only now she’s angry, because she thinks I won’t give her half of my share like I promised.”
“We’ll worry about that later. Right now we’ve got to keep an eye out in case those men come back and try to track us.”
Kitty was able to smile. “Then we’re still partners?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, dark eyes twinkling as they raked her up and down. “And I like it even better this way.”
Innocently, she asked, “What way?”
He winked. “You naked.”
“Oh, no…” In the excitement she had completely forgotten she was, and began to turn around, arms waving helplessly as she looked for her clothes.
“Over there,” Ryder said, pointing.
With cheeks burning, she ran and put them on quickly. She could feel him watching and cursed herself over and over for having allowed herself to become so embroiled in the situation that she could actually forget she was standing before him without a stitch on.
Finally, she strapped on her holster and turned around. Without meeting his mocking gaze, she said, “All right. I’m ready. And I just hope those bastards come after us.”
“Forget it. We don’t have time for revenge, but”—he pointed to the wound on her cheek—“we’d better take time for you to wash that cut in the river.”
Kitty felt her lips pull in a mysterious smile. “This cut is why I want them to follow us.”
Exasperated, he repeated, “I told you—we don’t have time for revenge.”
“Not even for the murder of your father and my uncle?”
His face went tight. “What do you mean?”
She was rocked with emotion. “I saw a ring on his finger when he was about to hit me with his fist—a turquoise ring.”
“I don’t understand. How does that prove they were the murderers?”
“When my uncle’s body was found, one of his fingers had been cut off in order to get that ring. I know, because Opal told me about it. My uncle wanted me to have it, and Opal described what it looked like.”
“And you’re sure that ring fit her description.”
“Positive.”
He nodded grimly. “Then we’ll be sure not to cover our tracks.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
They had made camp for the night after nearly reaching the spot on the map where they thought the gold might be located. Supper had been a rabbit Ryder had caught with a snare and then spit roasted. Kitty had made beans and tortillas like an expert, and they were finally stretched out lazily beside the dying embers of the fire.
Enjoying the night breeze and the canopy of stars overhead, Ryder seized the first real chance for conversation by asking, “Are you sure you don’t know who those men were?”
Kitty thought hard, then said, “I didn’t see their faces, and the voices weren’t familiar. They could have been any of hundreds of men that passed through the Oriental every night.”
“But they knew about the map,” he said resolutely. “Probably everybody in Tombstone does by now, thanks to Opal. It couldn’t have been anyone but her who told them, because I sure never confided in anybody—till you,” she added sharply.
There was the hint of a smile on his lips. “Still don’t trust me, do you?”
“Not really. After all, you’re actually two different people.” And also devastatingly handsome, she thought as her gaze dropped to his bare chest. He had taken off his shirt, and his muscles rippled and gleamed in the light of the campfire.
“So which one don’t you trust?”
“I haven’t made up my mind,” she laughed to say, “because I can’t decide which one you are. Probably both of you, though.”
He laughed wi
th her. “Well, you’re a good one to talk. First you were a wild-haired, husky-voiced boy, and then you turned into a beautifully soft woman with a voice like melted butter.”
“And you don’t know which is the real me?” she teased.
He rolled to his side to grin and wink. “I think I found out back in the cave.”
Kitty glanced away, feeling her face turn warm. She sat up, cleared her throat, and abruptly changed the conversation. “So where did you find your father’s map?”
“Like I said before—you don’t want to know.”
“Actually I’m more interested to find out why it’s such a big secret…why you seem determined not to tell me.”
“All right then.” He crooked his arm and propped his head on his hand. “I found it in Boot Hill.”
She was stunned. “Why on earth would your father hide it in a cemetery?”
“He didn’t. It was buried with him.”
Kitty tensed. “Are you saying it was still on him? But the murderers would have searched him thoroughly.”
“They didn’t know where to look, which was under the sole of his boot. I remembered he always kept a little money there so he’d never be caught without any. He’d pry off the sole, stick the money in, then tack it back in place. So when I heard how he said with his dying breath that he was taking his secret to the grave with him”—he shrugged—“I knew what he meant.”
“So why didn’t you tell me that? All you said was that you had an idea where it was, which made me think you really didn’t know.”
“I didn’t think you needed to hear that I was going to have to dig up his grave and open his coffin to get it. That’s why I had to make sure you had your half before I went that far.”
Although macabre and horrible to contemplate, Kitty began to understand why things had happened as they had. “So that’s why you had to do it at night…why you left me.”
“Exactly. I couldn’t dig him up in daylight, when someone might see me.”
“That also”—she swallowed past a knot of revulsion—“explains why you had to take the time for a bath and get new clothes.”
“Right again.”