Arizona Gold (12 page)

Pale Sky seemed to wilt in her despair. “So the gold is lost to us forever. We must go with empty hands to Mexico…where we will starve and die like so many of our people before us.”

Ryder watched her go, then settled back on the bearskin rug once more.

He was not ready to give up, but neither had he come up with another plan to get his hands on Kitty Parrish’s map. In all probability, she would have reached Tombstone safely. His mother had told him where she had left her and the direction she had told her to head. Based on his estimate of how fast she would have moved, she would have reached the stagecoach route and been picked up by the stage due to come along soon.

Once in Tombstone, she would find Opal Grimes, who would tell her right off about the savage Indian that had held a knife to her throat while asking questions about the map to Wade Parrish’s gold mine. She and Kitty Parrish would add things up quickly and decide it could only have been Whitebear.

He tossed away the notion of going back to the shanty. They would expect him to do just that, and have weapons ready and guards posted.

“Damn it,” he cursed and slammed his fists together. A fool. That’s what he was. Before his people and before the woman, because he had acted like she was a man, not caring whether she saw him naked, and, hell, he had even made her give him a bath. And now she was somewhere laughing at him for his stupidity while he was ashamed to look anyone in the eye. It would serve her right if he did the same thing to her.

He stiffened, jolted by a sudden thought.

There had been certain women in his past that needed persuasion to come to his bed, and he had coaxed them with warm caresses and a honeyed tongue. Perhaps he could do the same thing with Kitty Parrish. After all, she was young and might not have had much experience with men.

Then again, he might fail…might wind up looking like an even bigger fool.

But he had to try.

And, if he succeeded, he would enjoy a double triumph. He would have her half of the map.

And then
she
would be the fool.

Chapter Eleven

“Say hello to
Miss
Parrish,��� Opal said proudly as she stepped back from the mirror to allow Kitty a full view of herself.

For a moment, Kitty could only stare in awe. She had not worn a dress since she was eight years old and certainly never one so fancy.

She turned slowly, loving the way the big red sash trailed down the back of the skirt. It matched the ribbon of the bonnet which was tied in a saucy bow beneath her chin.

“Well?” Opal prodded anxiously. “What do you think of yourself as a girl…a
woman
?”

Kitty found the curls Opal had fashioned with a hot rolling iron a bit strange. “Well, it’s a different feeling. That’s for sure.”

Opal gave one of the sleeves another tug to fluff it. “You’re beautiful, and you know it. Now, let’s be on our way. Around noon is the only safe time to be on the streets, and then it’s no guarantee bullets won’t start flying.”

As they walked along, Opal pretended to grumble, “I don’t know why I’m even bothering to move you into the Oriental with me. You’ll probably get a wedding proposal before we even reach Allen Street.”

“Well, maybe you will, too,” Kitty said, then added to tease, “After all, you’re the one who said a woman needs a man to look after her.”

“I didn’t mean me. I do fine on my own. Always have. Always will. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“And I told you—I can take care of myself.”

Opal snorted. “Don’t look to me like you’ve done such a good job. If not for that squaw letting you go, you’d still be with the Apaches.”

Kitty felt a prickle of resentment, then steeled against it. It was only natural Opal would be concerned about taking responsibility for her. After all, she had descended on her penniless and homeless. “Well, you don’t have to worry. I’m going to do just fine on my own.”

“Hmph. That remains to be seen,” Opal grumbled, twirling her parasol as they walked along.

As they left the rows of shanties and entered the main part of town, Kitty forgot about Opal’s nagging and sought to acquaint herself with her new home. When she had arrived the day before, she had been too exhausted—and, yes, angry and anxious about confronting Opal—to notice anything around her. Now, however, she drank in the sight of the bustling town.

The streets were crowded with cowboys and prospectors. Mule- and horse-pulled wagons lumbered in and out, wheels sometimes miring in the thick mud of the street.

Opal lifted her skirts to step over a puddle as she said, “This is when folks usually start waking up after a long night of gambling and drinking. It’ll take ’em a while to get going again, but they will. And it’s a rare day when there’s not trouble of some kind. Tombstone is different from any place you’ve ever lived, honey, so don’t be surprised at anything you see.”

“I’ve only lived in one place my whole life, and that was a farm—not a town.”

“Then you better get ready to go around with your eyes bugging out of your head for a while, ’cause this place can get real wild. At last count, we’ve got two dance halls, twelve gambling houses, and twenty saloons.” Opal pointed to some nearby construction under way. “I’ve heard that’s going to be a real fancy place. They’re going to call it the Bird Cage Theater, and it’ll have a little bit of everything—dance hall, gambling, saloon,
and
brothel. The whores are even going to have little stalls like birdcages hanging from the ceiling.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Opal.”

Kitty and Opal stopped short as a cowboy suddenly straightened from where he had been leaning against a rain barrel enjoying a smoke. He tipped his felt hat to Kitty, eyes shiny with interest. “And who might you be, pretty little lady? I don’t recall seeing you around town before, and to be sure I would, lovely as you are.”

Opal promptly poked him in the chest with her parasol. “You get out of our way, Hardy Pope. We’ve no time for your foolishness.” To Kitty, she said, “Hardy is a good-for-nothing. Lives for the price of a drink.”

“Aw, don’t talk like that, Miss Opal. You know I’m working a dig up in the mountains.”

“And finding just enough ore to get drunk.”

“Oh, that ain’t so. Now, I’d appreciate your introducing me to this li’l lady proper, ’cause she’s about as cute as a speckled pup.”

Kitty bit back a giggle as Opal snapped, “If the truth be known, Hardy Pope, you’d marry a speckled pup if you could find one that would have you.” To Kitty, she said, “Didn’t I tell you men in these parts are desperate?”

Hardy held out his hand. “Now that you know my name, how about telling me yours since Miss Opal ain’t gonna be polite.”

Opal gave Kitty’s arm a tug. “Come along. He’s not worth your time.”

Kitty thought Opal was being needlessly unkind. She felt the man, despite his unkempt appearance—scruffy beard and rumpled clothing that had seen better days—had behaved politely and deserved like response. She took his hand. “My name is Kitty Parrish, Mr. Pope. I’m pleased to meet you, but I’m afraid we are in a hurry.”

She started around him, but he quickly stepped in front of her, eyes suddenly wide. “
You’re
Kitty Parrish? The one the Apaches had hold of? I don’t believe it. Some of the boys that saw you when you got into town yesterday were talking last night about what a sight you were. Didn’t look nothing like a girl, they said. Looked just like an Injun boy. Now look at you. Why, they ain’t gonna believe me when I tell ’em how you look now.”

“And you’re not going to believe it when I whack you over the head with this parasol.” Opal held it up in threat. “Now, get along with you, Hardy. We’ve got business to tend to, and Miss Kitty just hasn’t been here long enough to know it don’t pay to be nice to you rowdies.”

She poked him again with the parasol, and he stepped aside, still shaking his head in wonder as he stared at Kitty.

Opal was annoyed and walking so fast Kitty had trouble keeping up with her. The high buttoned shoes Opal had insisted she wear were a bit too large and slipped up and down on her feet. They were also awkward, because she had never worn anything but boots in her life.

“I told you the men would flock around you like flies to sugar,” Opal said, maintaining a firm grip on Kitty’s arm. “And all they want is a wife to take to bed when they feel like it, wash their dirty clothes, cook their grub, and have a baby every year.”

Kitty laughed. “And you dare wonder why I don’t want to get married?”

“For you, it’d probably be better than starving. You just need to be particular, that’s all. You ought not even be seen talking to white trash like that, much less shaking his hand. You’ve got a lot to learn, honey. You—”

Shots rang out.

Kitty froze in terror, but Opal reacted quickly, shoving her in the doorway of the store they were passing as she cried, “I hate it when they have these damn shoot-outs in the street. Some innocent soul is always getting killed. You got to learn to be ready to duck, honey, or you’re gonna be one of them.”

The firing stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Kitty dared to peer around the corner of the door frame to gasp, “Oh, no…”

An innocent soul
had
been shot—Hardy Pope.

He lay on his back in the mud. Sprawled nearby were the two gunmen, who had ultimately hit their targets—each other.

Kitty started toward Hardy, and Opal tried to hold her back. “Don’t. There’s liable to be more trouble. You could get shot yourself. It’s best we keep going…not get involved.”

Kitty struggled against her. “But look. He’s alive. He’s trying to raise his head.” She could see blood on his chest. The other two were facedown and not moving.

“No. You got to learn to mind your own business.”

After running for cover, people had started to return to the street, but no one made any move to help Hardy Pope. Neither did anyone yell for a doctor or move to find one.

With a mighty tug, Kitty yanked her arm free of Opal and, pulling her skirt up above her ankles, took off running.

Opal wailed, “Kitty, come back here.”

Reaching Hardy, Kitty dropped to her knees, unmindful of the mud.

With a great, rasping cough, he looked up at her with dazed eyes. A feeble smile touched his lips. “Why…glory be…,” he whispered. “It…it’s an angel. I see an angel. I…I guess I didn’t lead such a bad life, after all. I reckon I’m goin’ to the promised land…praise the Lord…”

Kitty jerked his shirt open. He had been hit in the right side of his chest. Quickly untying the bandanna around his neck, she pressed it against the bullet hole. Over her shoulder she yelled, “Please…somebody get a doctor. Hurry.”

“An…angel…,“ he repeated. “I see an angel.”

“Don’t try to talk, Mr. Pope. A doctor will be here in a minute. Just be still and save your strength.”

“It don’t…don’t matter. Angel…come to take me home.”

She cradled his head to try and help him breathe better. Tears stung her eyes. It was not fair. He had just been standing there, watching her walk away and not bothering anybody.

“Why…why ain’t you singin’ to me, angel?” He looked at her with glazing eyes. “I…I thought there was music when somebody goes to heaven. I…I thought the angels would sing. Maybe”—he coughed and blood flowed from his mouth as his smile faded to a worried grimace—“maybe I ain’t goin’ to heaven, after all. Maybe…maybe I’m goin’ the other way…to the bad place.”

“No. You aren’t going to the bad place,” Kitty said, heart twisting with pity. If he knew he was dying, he did not need the anguish of thinking he was going to hell.

She began to sing a hymn her uncle had taught her—“Amazing Grace.” He had always said she had a beautiful voice, that she should sing in church, but she never did because she never felt welcome there. So she had sung for her uncle, sung for herself, as well as the animals, whenever and wherever she felt like it.

Soon she was lost in the poignant words and spirited melody, unaware of the crowd gathered to watch and listen curiously. Neither did she notice when Marshal Earp appeared, along with his brother, to stand out from the others in their black frock coats and tall hats.

It was only when she finished the last verse that she saw that Hardy Pope’s eyes were fixed, unseeing, upon her face.

He had died smiling contentedly, truly believing that an angel was singing to him on his way to heaven.

Opal, who had pushed her way through the throng to take up position directly behind Kitty, leaned to say, “That was beautiful, honey, but he’s gone now. You can put his head down.”

Kitty did so, then yielded to someone gently trying to help her stand.

Dusting her skirt, she saw the muddy stains and said, “I’m sorry, Opal. I’ll take care of it, and if I can’t get it clean, I’ll try to replace it, I promise.”

She turned to the man who had helped her up. He had dark, hooded eyes and a tightly set mouth beneath a pencil-thin mustache. She fought the impulse to cringe before his grim expression as she said, “Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, this is Wyatt Earp.” Opal was quick to introduce her. “I told you about him, remember? He owns the Oriental Saloon. And I’d like you to meet his brother, Virgil. He’s the city marshal.”

To the two men, she said, “And this is Miss Kitty Parrish from Virginia. She’s going to be staying with me for a spell.”

Wyatt Earp’s expression changed to one of incredulity. “You’re the one who was abducted by the Indians? I heard you escaped and arrived in town yesterday, but I’m afraid my brother’s description of you was quite different than what I’m seeing.”

Virgil Earp laughed. “Well, I’d say looking like an Apache when she got here
was
different.”

Kitty said, “Well, Marshal, I took your suggestion to change clothes.”

“Oh, you’ve already met?” Opal asked, pleased.

Virgil confirmed, “Yes. I asked her to go with me to talk to the army, but she refused.” His tone was condemning.

Kitty was firm. “It’s over, and I don’t want to talk about it. I’m here. I’m fine. That’s all that matters.”

“Isn’t she something?” Opal was beaming, well aware of the admiring glances of the men standing about and also the jealous stares from some of the women. “I fixed her up good, didn’t I? And that’s Ruby Lee’s gown,” she said to Wyatt.

“Which I may have ruined,” Kitty interjected with a sad gesture. Then she glanced down at Hardy Pope to add, “But I had to do it. That poor man…

“I’m afraid it happens nearly every day in Tombstone,” Wyatt said. He took her arm and began to lead her away, leaving the gruesome scene to his brother. “You’re going to have to learn to be very careful when you’re out on the street, Miss Parrish. You must observe everything going on around you and be ready to duck for cover without warning. Especially do not be out after dark.” He shot a meaningful glance at Opal. “I keep telling her the same thing, but she won’t listen—not even after one of those savages paid her a visit. She still walks herself home alone every night, no matter how late it is.”

Opal said, “Well, I’m going to remedy that if your offer is still good to let me have a room over the saloon. I think me and Kitty would be safer staying there.”

“Yes, you would, but the rooms aren’t large,” he pointed out. “The two of you would be crowded. I can rent one to Miss Parrish, however, at a special rate.”

Kitty bit back a groan. If he wouldn’t let them squeeze in together for a while so she could share Opal’s free room, they would have to stay at the shanty and wait for Whitebear to come sneaking around. Opal would never move without her.

“We don’t mind being crowded for a little while,” Opal declared. “When Kitty gets a job, she’ll get her own place.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I prefer one person a room. What kind of job is she looking for?”

Kitty responded before Opal had a chance. “I’m good with horses, Mr. Earp. I used to raise them back in Virginia. We had a farm—my mother and me. I can shoe and bust broncos, clean stables, anything. And once I start work, I can pay for my own room.”

They had reached the boardwalk in front of the Oriental. Wyatt pulled a cheroot from inside his coat, ran it under his nose for a checking sniff, then lit it and took a draw before explaining, “I don’t think I can do that, Miss Parrish. You see, I keep those rooms for special guests and employees, like Opal. Now, if you worked for me…” He trailed off, his meaning clear.