“I gotta say I like the idea of a sporting woman better than I do a virgin.”
The boss snapped, “The woman never said she was a virgin. Would never have brought her home had she mentioned that.”
What kind of men were these?
“I say we keep her,” the man in the back said.
She kept her eyes on the leader. The others could say all they wanted, but until this man spoke, nothing was going to be in stone. She knew it. So did they, which was why they were angling so hard.
The leader looked at her.
“You really a working girl? Because I don’t want no misunderstandings this time round.”
The answer lodged in her throat as the reality of where she was sank in around her. Once a whore, always a whore. She’d heard that so many times. She’d stopped believing it when Tracker had taken her away and the acceptance of Hell’s Eight had settled around her. But just ten hours away from Hell’s Eight, she was back to where she’d started.
“Yes.” It was hard to get the word out.
“The men’s humor would sure improve with a woman around the place.”
The guy in the faded brown hat offered, “Morale has been down. Comanche’s got everyone working double time.”
“How much do you charge?” the boss asked.
“For what?” she stalled.
“I’ve got a camp of ten men who need satisfying.”
“Around the clock?”
“You get Sundays off and from sundown to sunup. Other than that, the men come in, and you’d be available.”
“And who would I be working for?”
“Frank Culbart of the Fallen C here.” He made a token touch of his finger to his hat. She didn’t get the impression that he was being disrespectful but that he was just rather gruff.
Culbart? Dear God. These were the men who’d purchased Fei’s cousin and held her captive! “I don’t cook and clean,” she said.
“Girl, you’ll pretty much do what I want.”
She raised her chin, thinking of Tia. “I’m a working woman, sir, not a slave. I’ll expect a decent wage.”
“I yank you off that horse you’re whatever the hell I say you are, so you best take what you get before you find yourself in a position you don’t want to be in.”
She didn’t want to be here at all. She wanted to be with Caden.
One of the men rode forward and grabbed Flower’s reins, slipping them over the horse’s head, and pulled Flower forward.
“We’ll leave the dog here.”
“He won’t stay.”
He pulled his gun out. “Then I’ll shoot him.”
“No! ”
“Don’t you be telling me what I will or will not do.”
She yanked at the reins, panic gathering in her stomach. Worth snarled and charged the man holding Flower’s reins.
With a calm that she couldn’t fathom, Culbart pulled the trigger. Worth howled and fell, whimpering before lying still.
“No!”
Culbart took aim again. Kicking Flower forward, Maddie grabbed for that gun before he could fire again. Culbart swore.
“Goddamn it! Hold her, Dickens.”
She screamed when somebody’s arm went around her waist and yanked her off her mare, hating the laughter that flowed around her, mean, vicious chuckles that declared their superiority. She clawed at her captor’s hands, but her nails raked harmlessly over his gloves. Before she could get her bearings, she was thrown around. She automatically splayed her hands, but she didn’t hit the ground; instead, her stomach hit the saddle, and the slap on her ass was hard enough to arch her back.
“Calm down. The dog’s already dead,” Dickens ordered.
She didn’t want to calm down. Caden! The scream came from her heart. The ground spun as the man wheeled his horse.
“We keeping her, boss?” someone asked.
“We’ll see how she works out.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Nobody’ll miss a whore.”
The truth of that sat like ice on her soul.
CHAPTER FOUR
UNDER THE BEST of circumstances, mining was back-breaking work. Under these circumstances—one man trying to discreetly salvage a mine that had been blown to smithereens—it was brutal. Caden sighed and tied the rope to another boulder, hooked the harness around his shoulders and dragged the stone away from the hole, muscles straining with the exertion. The job would have been easier with help, or with equipment, and he knew he was going to have to break down, eventually, and get both. But right now he needed to establish his hunch as true. He had a pretty accurate description of the layout of the tunnels from Fei, but the reality was the explosion had collapsed everything. Even part of the mountain had caved in. When Fei decided to blow something up, she did a thorough job.
It was hopeless to think he could restore the natural caverns that had formed the basis for the original mine, but Caden was banking on the explosion having freed up a lot of that gold embedded in the rock walls. His plan was to dig and sift until he had what he needed to set up a full operation. Fei had given the mine a lyrical name in her native Chinese. When asked, she explained it meant “fresh start.” He grunted as the boulder caught and jerked him back. Fei had found a new start for her life here with Shadow. Now it was going to give him one, but instead of love, he’d take cash. Cash was power. Cash was the future.
He hauled the rock to a preexisting pile. Fei had kept the mine secret. He wanted to maintain that secrecy, at least until he had something to claim. Too much disturbance of the surrounding area would draw curious eyes, so he was working slowly and steadily and just dreaming of a less laborious process. When he got the rock to the edge of the pile, he dropped the rope from his shoulders, flexing them against the stiffness and pain. It would have been easier if the secondary mine exit had survived. But it hadn’t. Nothing had. Except Fei’s hopes and dreams and her belief that spirits of good fortune rested here. Being half-Chinese, Fei had a lot of strange beliefs, but when you boiled it down, they weren’t any more fanciful than his da’s belief in the wee folk.
He glanced around the barren rock-strewn area. The impression was the opposite of hope. “If you could see your way to sharing, I’d be mighty grateful.”
He didn’t know who he was talking to, Fei’s spirits or his da’s wee folk. In the end it didn’t matter as long as someone listened. As he stood there, the midmorning sun beat down on him like a fist. The hot, humid air pressed in on him, a bead of sweat rolled down his spine. Damn, it was hot for June. Felt more like August. Taking off his hat and wiping his forearm across his brow, Caden looked to the southwest where storm clouds gathered low on the horizon. It was late in the year for tornadoes, but that didn’t mean one wouldn’t come calling. Shit.
The breeze kicked up and blew dust across the site. Another chill went down his spine, and the knowledge that something was wrong settled in his bones. Walking over to the side of the clearing, he picked up his rifle, checked to make sure it was loaded and the barrel clean before he cocked it and looked around. Nothing moved except the leaves on the trees and the birds in the sky. Everything appeared normal. It was only the hairs on the back of his neck that said differently.
He climbed to the top of the rise, his tired leg muscles protesting the effort. Standing on an outcrop of rock, he covered his eyes with his hand and looked around, slowly and methodically scanning for any signs of movement. Any sudden flight of birds. Anything to explain the lifting of hairs on his nape. He saw nothing, which didn’t mean he was in the clear. He sighed and rested his rifle in the crook of his arm and checked again. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt a threat before he saw it. As far as the eye could see, there were only trees, sun and the sparkle of light off the river below. Whatever it was, it wasn’t close.
He half slid, half walked back down the hill, jumping off the small ledge near the bottom before setting his rifle back against the stone ledge. He’d already taken precautions, booby-trap
ping the trails coming in. Whatever trouble was coming, it wasn’t going to interfere with today’s work. More’s the pity.
Putting his hands on his hips, Caden stretched his back, groaning as the muscles unknotted. He looked at the opening again. Two days’ work and he’d managed to go in about two feet. Not exactly an impressive pace. As a matter of fact, it’d be discouraging but for the incentive. He reached in his pocket and pulled out the piece of inconspicuous rock he’d found yesterday. It looked like any other rock until he turned it over and saw the veins of gold running through it. Disturbing the mountain might have changed where the gold was, but the gold was still there and—Caden closed his fist around the rock—it was going to be his.
He looked heavenward. “Soon enough, Da, the Millers are going to be worth something.”
It wouldn’t make up for much, but at least one Miller was going to fulfill his vow. A swirl of wind blew dust and leaves up around his feet. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled again. The hilt of his knife settled into his palm with familiar comfort. Either his da approved of his plan or trouble was walking in tandem with that breeze. Since he wasn’t a man given to fancy, he was banking on the latter. Whether that trouble meant claim jumpers or Indians, he didn’t particularly care. Whatever it was, it was welcome to come try to take this mine. While Millers might have trouble finding their pot of gold, they didn’t give it up once it was theirs.
Grabbing his canteen, he took a drink of the tepid water, his pleasure in the day’s work fading under the new tension. He put the cork back in the canteen and hung it up on the shady side of the outcrop of rock. He paused as he hung it, seeing the cuts and bruises crisscrossing the back of his hand. It’d been a long time since he’d worked like this. Not since the early days of Hell’s Eight when they were building rather than sustaining. It felt good to work again, to do something with his hands, to do something for himself. Hell’s Eight had been Caine’s baby. This was his, and he had the deed to prove it locked up in the vault at Hell’s Eight. The work might be backbreaking, but whatever the results, they were his. And he needed to get back to it. If trouble was coming, it would get here in its own time. He pulled his hat down over his eyes against the bright sun. In the meantime, he had a load of rock to move, a ton of dirt to sift through and a future to build.
* * *
TROUBLE DIDN’T COME the way he thought it would or from the source he expected. It came in the form of Ace riding up the path a week later on his big black stallion, his shirt torn, his jaw set, wearing a sense of urgency that only those who knew him well could detect. Caden knew Ace very well. Caden set down his sifting pan and took off his gloves.
“Afternoon, Ace.”
Ace pulled up his horse. “Did you have to booby-trap every damn bend in the trail?”
“Seemed appropriate at the time,” Caden drawled.
Ace plucked at his torn sleeve. “That second branch you had following the first on that switchback is a nice innovation.”
“Thank you.” Caden pushed his hat back. “What brings you here, Ace?”
“Maddie.”
Caden sighed. “I know she’s got a soft spot for me, but I’m not coming back just to keep her peaceful if she’s gone loco again.”
In her first few months at Hell’s Eight, Maddie had often slipped away, either going into a blind stupor or raging fit. Turned out he’d been the only one who could settle her down. All it had taken was a hug. He didn’t know why no one understood that. Maddie just needed to feel safe so all her sweetness could flourish. Her face flashed in his mind. Big green eyes, freckles, upturned nose and a mouth that would turn a saint sinner when she smiled and showed those dimples. Damn, he missed her smile. The way she’d touch his arm when she thought he was upset. The calm she brought him. His cock stirred. The passion she incited. That passion was the reason he’d been staying away from Hell’s Eight more and more of late. Maddie had had enough men lusting after her in her life. She didn’t need someone like him joining the queue.
“I wish it were that simple,” Ace said on a sigh.
That sense of something being wrong started howling. Caden froze. “What about Maddie?”
Ace didn’t immediately answer. Never a good sign. He swung down off his horse.
“Let me get my cup. We’ll talk about it over coffee.”
Fuck. Caden nodded and walked over to the fire on which the coffeepot swung suspended. Caden knew Ace well enough to know there was trouble. He had a habit of putting his hand on his gun when he was agitated, and right now that hand was firmly planted.
“What about Maddie?” he asked, using his gloves to shield his hand from the heat as he lifted the pot.
Ace held out his cup. “I was hoping to find her here.”
Caden paused midpour. “Why the hell would you expect to find her here?”
The camp was little more than a fire, a tent and a lot of dirt. It was no place for a woman.
Ace sighed and motioned for Caden to finish pouring. “Coffee.”
As soon as the cup was full, Ace brought it to his mouth. Caden had to wait for him to take two sips before he continued.
“She left the night you did, and knowing how she feels about you, we kind of thought she followed you.”
“Why would she follow me?” Caden’s mind had been racing with all the possibilities of what could have happened, where she could have gone.
“She and Bella had a talk, apparently.”
Caden wanted to close his eyes and groan. He set the pot back on the hook over the fire. Bella was a whole different woman than Maddie. All fire and bold spirit captured in a lushly curved body. Maddie admired her tremendously, had taken to emulating her. And Bella would have followed Sam. Shit. Had followed Sam. The ins and outs of that courtship were legend on Hell’s Eight, and not a week went by that some part of it wasn’t rehashed. Caden had a feeling he didn’t want to hear the rest.
“So Bella and Maddie talked, and from that you think she lit out after me in the middle of the night?” It was only half a question.
Ace nodded. “Her horse, Flower, is also missing.”
There was more. Caden could tell from the tone of Ace’s voice that there was more.
“And?”
Ace motioned with his cup. “You might want to sit down for this.”
The hell he did. Caden spread his feet apart and braced his shoulders. “I’m good. So the night I left, Maddie left, too, taking the horse with her.”
“And one of the tracking hounds.”
A hound? “Which one?”
“Worthless.”
“Hell, that one doesn’t even bay.” But Maddie had a fondness for him. She had a fondness for anything left out or underappreciated.
“Yeah, we thought that was pretty telling, too.”
“How so?”
“He’d be my choice if I wanted to follow someone but not be detected.”
Caden’s, too. “Tell me she took a gun.” The thought of Maddie being out there alone undefended was intolerable.
“I wish I could for sure, but unless you gave her one that nobody else knows about, she didn’t pack one.”
Caden shook his head. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried. “That woman’s fear of guns is unreasonable, especially if she’s going to take off on her own. Did you check to see if she went into town?”
“First thing, but no one’s seen her. And there’s more.”
Of course there was.
Ace took another sip of his coffee. “This part’s not so good.”
“What’s not so good?”
Ace cocked a brow at him. “Sure you don’t want to sit down?”
“Just fucking tell me and quit stalling.”
Ace sighed and turned the cup in his hand before saying quietly, “The dog came back shot, Caden.”
“Fuck.” A cold knot formed in the pit of his stomach as Maddie’s name whipped through his mind. Maddie!
“Pretty much.” Ace set his cup on the ground.
“Who’d you put on her trail?” He didn’t doubt someone had gone after her. Maddie was Hell’s Eight. Had been since the moment she’d burst out of that hellhole of a whorehouse and asked Tracker for help.
“Tucker took a hound and backtracked along the trail.”
“Where was she heading?”
“Damned if Tucker could figure that out.” Ace took a coin out of his pocket and began to walk it over the backs of his fingers. “But if she was following you, that woman has no sense of direction.”
She didn’t. It’d taken her a week to learn her way back from the creek. “What did Tucker discover?”
“Not much. The trail was old and the ground not the best.”
“Which dog?”
“Boone, who else?”
Boone was the best. “Good.”
“Boone’s good, but there’s only so much he can do after rain and weather have their say. We did figure out that at some point midway between here and there it looks like she met up with someone. From there Tucker couldn’t follow the trail more than a mile east. Hell, he’s not even sure by that point whether it was her Boone was following.”
Someone. A nice way of saying Maddie met up with trouble. The knot in Caden’s stomach froze over. A woman alone out here was fair game for every piece of scum that decided he wanted her. “Where was it?”
Sam pointed north. “That row of hills between here and there. It looks like she went right instead of left.”
“Did anybody check the houses along that way?”
“Shit, Caden. You know there isn’t anything along that way. The Indians drove them all out.”
Caden nodded. That was true. As more troops were pulled East in preparation for the conflict there, the Indians were getting bolder. He knew exactly the spot that Ace was talking about. There were three ways to go off that peak. To the left toward San Antonio, down into the wilderness, and to the right toward the Culbart ranch and here. It was a good day’s ride from both.
“Has anybody gone to San Antonio looking for her?”
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