Arizona Gold (18 page)

“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 her 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.”

A loud clang resounded through the room as he was bashed over the head by a metal tray wielded by Opal. With eyes flashing fire, she screamed, “You let her go right now, Nate, or so help me I’ll bash your skull.”

With a cry of pain, he released Kitty, and she fell to the floor, stupefied.

Opal had called him
Nate
.

He was her
brother
.

“Now you get out of here,” Opal warned, hitting him across his chest for good measure, “before the marshal gets back here and hauls your ass off to jail. That’s what oughta be done with you, anyway, drunk as you are.

“And you oughta be ashamed of yourself,” she railed on, holding the tray up as though to smack him again as he backed away, hands over his face. “Scaring Wade’s niece that way.”

“Wade’s…niece…” He looked down at Kitty, who was still sprawled on the floor. “Well, I’ll be cat scratched. What’s she doin’ here? And ain’t she a pretty thing?”

Opal gave him a shove. “Yes, she’s pretty, and you leave her alone and get on out of here.”

Nate Grimes whined, “But, Opal, sugar, I ain’t got no money. I need a stake. I got robbed in Mexico, and—”

“You got robbed by whichever
puta
you were laid up with all these many weeks, and I’m not giving you a cent.”

“Hell, you won’t even give me nothing to eat,” he bellowed, “and how come you moved? I went to the shanty and some man run me off with a shotgun. I started to blow his head off.”

“I live upstairs now. But that’s none of your business. Now git.”

Nate sneered at Kitty. “You ain’t nothin’ but trouble. I heard how you caused Roscoe to get a little crazy with your prancin’ and flirtin’, givin’ him all kinds of notions.”

He took a step toward her, stumbled, and fell.

Kitty scrambled to her feet and backed away from him, but then saw he was no longer a threat.

He was out cold.

“Help me get him upstairs,” Opal said to Morton. “He’s just had too much to drink. He’ll sleep it off and be fine in the morning.”

Kitty watched as Morton and another man pulled Nate to his feet, then slung his arms about their shoulders and proceeded to take him up to Opal’s room.

“Now I’ve got to get to work,” Opal said to no one in particular.

Kitty sat at the bar and had another glass of wine, feeling miserable to the tips of her toes. She had lost her job, had no place to go, missed Sam Bodine terribly and wished they had never quarreled. He had called her stubborn, and he was right. She was. And if she knew how to get in touch with him, she would tell him so.

Memories of how he had held and kissed her made her feel all the worse, and she sank so deep in her despair that she did not protest when Morton kept refilling her glass.

Finally, with heavy head and heavy heart, she went up to her room.

She did not notice that the door to Opal’s room at the other end of the hall was standing open and that Nate could see her as she went to her own.

Neither did she think, light headed from drink, to lock her door.

Promising herself she would make a new start in the morning, she undressed and got in bed, the wine making her fall asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Ryder stood in the alley behind the Oriental Saloon. He knew Kitty’s room was in the front. He had kept a vigil across the street with hat pulled down over his eyes until he managed to see her pacing in front of the open windows. Getting down the hall without being seen at such a late hour was no problem. The trick would be to scale the wall and enter through the window opening into it.

It was time for Kitty to go onstage for her second performance…and also time for him to get in her room, find the map, and get the hell out of Tombstone before anybody saw him.

Quickly, deftly, he took the tomahawk he had brought from his hiding place outside of town and tied it to a rope. Then, after several mighty swings over his head, he sent it sailing upward to land with a thud in the wall just below the window.