Arizona Gold (27 page)

A strange noise was coming from inside the wood box.

Thinking it was a rat or a snake, she raised up on her knees and drew her pistol, then cautiously reached to lift the lid.

Just then it banged open with a loud clatter, kindling sticks scattering as Ryder poked his head up to find himself staring into a gun barrel. “Don’t shoot.”

Wide eyed, Kitty holstered her pistol. “How did you get in there?”

He climbed out and dusted himself off. “When I was stacking the dynamite I noticed a large hole beneath the edge of one of the larger rocks. I looked inside and realized it was actually a tunnel of some sort, so I climbed in to see where it went, hoping it would lead to the mine shaft. It led here instead.”

Kitty rocked back on her heels. “Why on earth would they have done that?”

“Obviously for an escape route in case they got trapped in here by outlaws or Indians. There’s no telling what we’re going to find around this place, and—” He saw the open knapsack beside her. “What do you have there?”

“The letters I wrote my uncle over the years. Looks like he kept every one of them.”

He saw her sadness and gathered her close. “It hurts, I know. They shouldn’t have died. They should have given up the damn map, told where the gold was.”

He rested his chin on top of her head as he continued to hold her. “I keep thinking how my father hinted he’d be going to Mexico with us, and the look on my mother’s face when I told her. I realized then they never stopped loving each other. It was going to be a chance for them to be together and make a new life.

“I hope we don’t lose
our
chance,” he murmured, his cheek brushing her hair.

“I hope not, too, Ryder,” she said shakily, pressing closer against him, delighting in the warm, masculine scent of him and how she felt so protected, so cherished, in the circle of his arms.

He bent his head and kissed her, long and deep and possessing. She yielded, twining her arms about his neck.

Then, lifting her up, he carried her to lay her down on one of the mattresses. “I think supper will have to wait awhile,” he said huskily as he began to undo the buttons of her blouse while raining kisses over her face, “because we’re having dessert first.”

As he worked on her blouse, she tore at his shirt, his trousers, wanting to be flesh to flesh, heart to heart.

When they were naked, he lay back and spread his thighs, then gently settled her on top of him. She shuddered with delight to feel his swollen shaft enter and began to undulate her hips against him.

He clutched her buttocks tightly, lifting his own to match her, sensuous rhythm.

It did not take long. They felt themselves peaking together. Kitty threw back her head and gave a soft cry as Ryder clutched her tighter in his own journey to bliss.

Afterward, she collapsed beside him, soaked with sweat and exhausted.

“You’re like a wild mustang,” he whispered, caressing her cheek as she snuggled against him. “You can be tamed, but your spirit will never be broken. And that’s how I’d want it, Kitty. I—”

It was like a hailstorm of lead as an explosion of bullets suddenly hit the front wall of the shack.

Kitty screamed, but Ryder, no stranger to sudden danger, reacted quickly. “Stay still,” he ordered, holding her tight against him.

The firing lasted for interminably long moments, then there was silence.

“Now,” he commanded, lunging for his gun in the near-darkness. “Shoot back, goddamn it, and let them know we’re still alive before they rush us.”

Together they fired off several rounds. Ryder dared peer out a window, to see several men running for the cover of the rocks.

“Get your clothes on fast. Then reload.”

Hands shaking, Kitty obeyed. She had never been in a gunfight, and knowing how to shoot was little consolation, she feared, when outnumbered. “How many are there?”

“It’s hard to tell. I can’t see. It’s almost dark.” He was rapidly stuffing bullets into the gun’s cylinder. “I’m glad I tied the horses by the water hole on the other side. Otherwise, they’d probably have been hit.”

Kitty fed her own guns. “There were only two at the river yesterday.”

“Evidently they rounded up a gang. Damn it, maybe I should have covered our tracks, but if they are the murderers, I wanted them to follow.”

“So did I, but I never thought they’d bring all their friends.”

“We’re going to have to clear out of here. I had one more box of dynamite to move, and if it gets hit, we’ll be blown to bits. We can use the tunnel under the wood box. Once we get to the top of the boulders, all we have to do is scramble down the back side to the horses and ride out of here.”

“But what about those murdering bastards?” she protested. “Are we going to just let them get away?”

“Hell, no. I’ll leave you someplace safe, then go back to my camp and get my warriors.”

“That means riding through Comanche Pass.”

“I don’t have a choice.” He slid one last bullet in the cylinder and gave it a spin, then clicked it in place. “Go now. I’ll hang back to cover a few minutes, and then I’ll be right behind you.”

Kitty worried. “But if they start shooting and hit the dynamite—”

“Go.” He hooked a hand around her neck to yank her close for a quick kiss, then released her. “Don’t worry about me.” He gave her a gentle shove.

She took a few steps, then turned to look at him once more, barely able to see him in the shadowy darkness as he crept toward a window.

A shot rang out, then another, and he yelled at her to get the hell out as he started shooting back. But Kitty could not abandon him and rushed to the other window to take aim.

He saw her and yelled, “I told you to get out of here, damn it—”

And then he was hit.

With a grunt, he pitched forward.

After a few moments, the firing stopped, and Kitty was able to rush to him, but he pushed her away. “Go on. Get in the tunnel.”

“But you’re hurt. I can’t leave you.”

“You’ve got to. It’s my leg. I can’t run, Kitty. Now go. I’ll hold them back.”

“I won’t leave you,” she repeated sharply. “Let’s fire a few rounds and then we’ll both go. I’ll help you through the tunnel.”

“You’re going to get both of us killed,” he fumed. “God, woman, I should have beat that stubborn streak out of you when you were my slave. Start shooting.”

She raised to the window and emptied one of her pistols, then ducked as a hail of bullets was promptly returned.

“Now,” she said. “We can get out while they reload. Put your arm across my shoulders. Hurry…”

He shrugged her away.

“Now who’s being stubborn?”

“Go. I’m coming. I promise.”

But Kitty refused to climb down into the wood box, insisting he go first. “You know the way, how the tunnel curves, and I’ll be behind you in case you pass out.”

She could imagine the fury etched on his face as he snapped, “I’m not going to pass out. I’ve been hurt worse than this.”

She knew he was bleeding badly. “Wait a minute.” She bent and quickly tore a strip of material from the bottom of her skirt and wrapped it tightly around the wound.

When she was finished, he braced himself against the anguish of moving his wounded limb and lowered himself into the box.

Kitty was close behind.

It was pitch dark, and the way was narrow, forcing them to stoop. She knew he had to be in agony.

They began to move upward, stretching, reaching, climbing. Kitty wondered how he was able to endure, and marveled at his strength and courage.

At last, he pulled himself up into the night that had finally descended.

“Are you all right?” she whispered anxiously when she reached his side.

“I think so. The bandage helped.”

“They haven’t fired at the shack any more.”

“They’ll likely wait till morning since we aren’t shooting at them. They figure they’ve got us pinned down, and they don’t want to waste any ammunition firing wild.

“At first light,” he went on, grasping her shoulders tightly and wishing she could see his face to know he meant business, “you’re getting out of here. I can’t go with you. I’d hold you back, and we’d both get caught. But you’re going to slip down the back side, get your horse, and ride to Tombstone. You can cut around the boulders so they don’t see you, then hit the trail. You should be able to follow it. Find Marshal Earp and tell him your uncle’s killers have got me pinned down here. Tell him to round up a posse and get here as quick as he can.”

“But you can’t hold them off by yourself,” she protested. “Not wounded like you are. You might pass out from loss of blood, Ryder. Then they’ll be all over you. And what about your own ammunition? Once they rush the shack and find us gone, they’re liable to find the tunnel and track you up here. You won’t have a chance.”

“Oh, won’t I?” He chuckled. “You’re forgetting I’ve got my own personal arsenal up here with all this dynamite. And the way it’s stacked, it won’t be hit by a stray bullet. I can hold the bastards off for days. And the first thing I plan to do once you’re out of here is blow up the tunnel to keep them from getting up here that way. Now don’t argue.”

She gently touched his wound and could feel that while the bleeding had slowed, despite the arduous trek through the tunnel, the bandage needed to be thicker. She tore another strip from her skirt.

“The bullet is going to have to come out,” he said as she wrapped him.

But Kitty was not listening as she thought how once she got to the Chiricahua, they could be back before day’s end. That meant Ryder would not have to hold off the outlaws as long as he would if she went to Tombstone, which was where he believed she was headed.

She was confident she could make it through Comanche Pass. Her horse was strong and fast, and she was an expert rider. All she had to do was dig in her heels, keep her head down, and ride like thunder through the pass.

She would do it, by God, because it might be the only way to save Ryder’s life. After all, she had no assurance Marshal Earp would even gather a posse and come to his rescue. By now, Opal might have done so much talking that no one would lift a finger to help Ryder, regardless of the circumstances.

“Sleep now,” she said. “I’ll keep watch. I just wish we had something for you to eat. You’re going to need your strength.”

She could imagine his mocking grin as he murmured, “That’s what I get for having dessert first.”

She was about to tell him it would always be that way, because she loved him too much to ever refuse him anything.

But suddenly a voice rang out, clear and booming in the still of the night, directed toward the shanty.

“You might as well come on out, McCloud. And the woman, too. You’re surrounded. And I ain’t gonna lie to you and say we’ll let you go once you hand over the map, neither. I’ll just do you the favor of killing you quick so you won’t suffer like your daddy and Parrish did ’cause they was stubborn sons of bitches.”

Kitty made a whimpering sound, and Ryder was quick to clamp his hand over her face to muffle the sound.

“Last chance,” the outlaw bellowed. “You make us sit here till morning to get you out of there, and I’ll make you beg to die once I get my hands on you.”

And then chills rolled over them to hear another voice, speaking low, directly beneath the boulder where they were hiding.

“You’re wastin’ your breath, Nate. We might as well let some of the boys stand guard while we get some shut-eye. We’ll get ’em first thing in the mornin’. But remember I get my turn with the girl before we kill her.”

“Yeah, yeah. But after me, Roscoe.”

Had Ryder not continued to press his hand over her lips, Kitty’s cry of rage would have carried farther than that of the coyotes howling miles away. For she knew, as did Ryder, in that heart-stopping moment when time seemed to stand still, who the outlaws—the
murderers
—were.

Nate Grimes and Roscoe Pate
.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The night wore on, but Kitty and Ryder did not take turns sleeping, for neither could rest. Ryder was in too much pain, and Kitty was shaken with rage to know Nate and Roscoe were the murderers.

Below them, the outlaws kept their vigil on the shack. Every so often Nate would call out his taunting threat again—how he would make them suffer a slow death if they did not surrender themselves
and
the map.

Ryder whispered, “He figures we’ll destroy it to keep them from getting it and can bargain to kill us quick if we hand it over. To hell with him,” he snarled. “He doesn’t know the Apache.”

“My uncle wasn’t Apache,” Kitty reminded. “And they couldn’t make him give up his part.”

“Sorry.” Ryder gave a low chuckle. “How could I forget you’re living proof of the stubborn blood in your family?”

Kitty ignored the good-natured barb and continued her furious brooding out loud. “When Nate offered to help me look for the gold, he said he’d just found out about the map from Opal, but I think now he was lying. I also think he was the one who ransacked my room, and that’s why he made the offer—because he couldn’t find it and didn’t know what else to do without arousing Opal’s suspicion.”

“Exactly when did he offer to help you?”

“The night before I left to find your camp. He followed me to the livery stable. I had to sleep in the hayloft, because I couldn’t find a room. Thank goodness I left before dawn. Otherwise he’d have followed me.”

“As he did when you thought you were following me. Did you sleep in the hayloft that night, too?”

“Yes. Like I told you—Opal got mad when I wouldn’t agree to Nate and Roscoe searching with me. She accused me of not wanting to share any of the gold with her and threw me out of her shanty. Nate must have been close by and trailed me to the livery stable and waited for me to leave the next morning.”

Ryder nodded to the darkness. “Oh, I have an idea now he knew where this place was all along. He had probably been stalking my father and your uncle but couldn’t figure out where the dig was and finally attacked them. Now he thinks we know where it is.”

He was leaning back against a rock, wincing against the pain in his leg. “The bullet has to come out,” he whispered suddenly. “Use the knife my mother gave you.”

Kitty knew even if she could dig it out, the bleeding would be worse. She opened her mouth to argue, but he did not give her the chance.

“If it doesn’t come out, I’ll have lead poisoning and lose my leg. So do it and be quick about it.”

Kitty knew his mind was set, just as she knew he was probably right. Taking the knife from inside her boot, she said, “I’ll try, but how am I going to see in the dark?”

“You aren’t. All you can do is feel for the hole, cut into it till you feel the bullet, then dig for it.”

Kitty swallowed hard.

“Do it,” he hissed.

Sucking in a deep breath, Kitty found the hole and stuck the knife in before she had time to think about it. She felt him go stiff and knew the pain had to be excruciating.

The knife tip hit something hard. “How do I know it’s the bullet and not bone?” she asked, hysteria bubbling within her.

“Feel for it,” he said between clenched teeth, “And hurry. I don’t particularly enjoy having a knife stuck in my leg.”

“And I don’t enjoy sticking it in there, either,” she fired right back. Then, with another hard breath drawn, she plunged her thumb and forefinger into the hole she had widened with the knife, then gave a soft cry of relief to fasten about the bullet.

With a mighty tug, it pulled free.

Blood began to flow heavily, and she quickly ripped at her skirt for bandages to try and slow it.

“I’m wrapping this real tight,” she explained to Ryder as she worked. “You can loosen it in the morning if it looks like the bleeding has stopped. I’ll leave some more strips of cloth in case you need to change it.

“I wish I had some whiskey to give you for the pain,” she continued. “Even water might help. How are you feeling now?”

He did not answer.

Panicked, she pressed her head to his chest. He was breathing, but she knew he had quietly passed out from the ordeal.

Kitty endured the rest of the night alone, biting back rage each time Nate or Roscoe would shout their taunts and threats to the shack, believing she and Ryder were inside.

And during the long, miserable hours till dawn, she knew she was, indeed, capable of taking a human life, for how easy it would have been to kill them if given the chance.

When the first watermelon fingers of dawn began to creep, Kitty gently shook Ryder awake. “I’m leaving now, but you have to wake up and be ready should they realize you’re up here.”

She felt a rush of alarm. “Do you have matches to light the dynamite?”

He patted the pocket of his vest. .“I found some in the shack.”

She checked his bandage. It was soaked but seemed to be drying. “Are you sure you aren’t able to come with me?”

“You’ll move faster without me.”

In the scant light she saw the look in his eyes and knew he was not altogether telling the truth. “That’s not it. You want to cover me, don’t you, so I can get away. You think they’re going to hear me once I’m on my horse, and—”

“And you talk too much.” He managed a lopsided grin. “And you’re also wasting time. Now, get out of here.”

Kitty started to rise, then threw her arms around his neck and whispered, “I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to Mexico with you and your people.”

“Then I have even more reason to be here when you get back,” he murmured, before claiming her lips in a kiss that left both of them shaken.

“Now go,” he urged, gently pushing her away. “Get to Tombstone as fast as you can.”

Kitty turned away, fearing he might sense she had no intention of going there.

Though her instinct was to hurry, she moved slowly, careful not to send rocks tumbling over the side to draw the outlaws’ attention upward to the boulder.

Working her way down, at last she dropped to the ground. Untying her horse, she did not bother with a saddle, instead leaping on him bareback and taking up the reins.

Again, she forced herself to hold back, wanting to get as far from the area as possible before setting the horse into a gallop, to lessen the chance of being heard.

That hope was quickly dashed as someone yelled, “Hey, they’re gettin’ away.”

Kitty leaned across the horse’s neck, dug her heels into his flanks, and yelled, “Go,” just as a bullet whizzed over her neck. In a few seconds, she was around a huge rock and no longer a target.

Maybe, she dared hope, Nate and the others would think both she and Ryder had got away. Then she realized with a heavy heart that they would find Ryder’s horse and know one of them was still around.

But there was no time to look back or worry, because her reaching the Indian camp was Ryder’s only chance of survival. Not only was it doubtful he could hold the outlaws off with dynamite long enough for her to go to Tombstone and back, but also his leg needed medical attention.

She whipped the end of the reins from side to side, urging the horse into full gallop.

The pass loomed ahead. The land was still only slightly bathed in light, rosy and pale, and she dared think she might be able to catch the Comanche sentries off guard at such an early hour and make it through before they realized what was happening.

Digging her heels in harder, she was thundering straight into the pass when she heard the explosion.

She did not slow but turned her head to see the smoke and dust shooting skyward and knew Ryder had blown up the tunnel.

But another blast followed, and terror shot through her. They had discovered he was on the boulder, and he was attempting to hold them off, and she prayed he could do so.

She gave the horse his head, and he sprinted around the big rocks. Sure-footed, he did not stumble and charged ahead.

Kitty heard the enraged scream from above at the same time an arrow whizzed by. Without looking up, she raised her gun and fired off several rounds to let the Comanche know she was armed.

At last the end was in sight.

She was going to make it.

Once through the pass, it was as Ryder had said it would be—she saw signs, got her bearings, knew where she was.

On she rode, stopping but once, at a watering hole for the horse to drink and rest a few moments. Then she was on her way again.

The sun was high in the sky when she saw the familiar saguaro cactus at the spot where she and Pale Sky had come down off the mountain—two green, spike-covered arms jutting to the left, toward the eastern horizon, and one to the west, and taller than her by three heads, at least.

But she had no sooner turned up the trail when three warriors with fierce expressions leaped to block her way, all holding bows with arrows pointed.

“Coyotay,” she gasped, out of breath. Her horse was lathered and also heaving. “I must see Coyotay at once.”

They exchanged glances. They knew very little of the white man’s tongue but understood she spoke Coyotay’s name.

One of them motioned to her holster. She knew what he wanted and quickly unbuckled it and tossed it to the ground, then said in a rush, “Pale Sky. Take me to her.”

Their eyebrows lifted at the sound of yet another name they knew.

“Take me to her. Or Coyotay. Please,” she begged. “Whitebear is in big trouble. He’s going to die if we don’t get to him right away.”

Hearing Whitebear’s name rang the final bell.

One of the Indians leaped behind her on her horse. She leaned forward, not wanting to touch him, for she could feel his hatred. But he reached around her, taking the reins, and she found herself helplessly pressed against him.

In silence they rode the rest of the way, and as soon as they reached the camp, the Indian began yelling for Coyotay.

In an instant, Coyotay rushed from a wickiup, his face twisting with fury to recognize her.

He ran forward and roughly yanked her from the horse and threw her to the ground. Towering over her, legs apart and fists clenched, he spoke his rudimentary English to demand, “Why you come? Why you here? Where is Whitebear?”

Kitty did not cringe and scrambled to her feet despite his menacing stance. “Whitebear is wounded and trapped on the other side of Comanche Pass. Gather your warriors and come with me.”

His lips turned back in a snarl. “You lie. You bring pony soldiers.”

Exasperated and desperate, Kitty screamed at him, “Damn it, you don’t see any pony soldiers, do you? If I had brought them, they’d be all over the place by now. I don’t have time to argue. If you want Whitebear to live, get your men and follow me. I’ll take you to him.”

Pale Sky, hearing the commotion and Kitty’s voice, rushed from her wickiup. “What is this? My son is wounded?”

Kitty quickly told her what had happened, how Ryder was trapped on top of a boulder overlooking the camp where they believed the gold strike was located. “And we have to get to him, fast. He has dynamite to hold them off, but he’s hurt. He could lose consciousness, and then they’ll overtake him and kill him.”

She grabbed Pale Sky’s shoulders and gave her a shake. “The men who have Whitebear trapped are also the ones who killed his father and my uncle. Make Coyotay understand that.”

With an angry roar, Coyotay lunged to tear her away from Pale Sky, but Pale Sky held up a hand to stop him. “We must listen to her. She speaks the truth.”

Coyotay’s eyes narrowed. “How can we be sure? It could be trap. Pony soldiers could be waiting to ambush when we come down off of mountain.”

Pale Sky shouldered hint away from Kitty to stand before her and look deep into her eyes. “I do not see lies. I see love—love for my son. Go, Coyotay. Take the warriors and go with her.”

Coyotay shook his fist in Kitty’s face. “If you lie, you will die a thousand deaths.”

“I already am dying a thousand deaths,” she told him, tears filling her eyes, “to think of what it must be like for Ryder—Whitebear—back there. Please, Coyotay. Hurry.”

He threw his head back and began to shout out orders in Apache.

The camp came alive, as warriors gathered their weapons, while their women and children hurried to ready their horses.

During the mad rush, Pale Sky embraced Kitty. “Thank you, my child, for what you have done. I know of the danger of Comanche Pass, how you risked your life to go through it. You must love my son very much.”

“I do,” Kitty avowed. “And when this is over, I’m going with all of you to Mexico to be with him.”

Pale Sky was taken aback. “Are you sure? The life will not be easy.”

“I’m sure.”

“He has asked you to be his wife?”

Kitty lifted her chin, trying not to show how it hurt that he had not, for she now knew, beyond doubt, that she truly loved him. There would be differences, true, due to their backgrounds, but her love would see her through.

“No,” she admitted finally. “He has not spoken of marriage. He has said he loves me, though, so maybe in time—”

Frowning, Pale Sky interrupted. “Do not cling to that hope. He may fear you do not have the courage to live our life. You would have to prove it to him first.”

Then, seeing the forlorn expression that swept Kitty’s face, she offered, with a smile to comfort, “But who am I to say, child? Perhaps by what you have done you have already proved your courage.”

On horseback, Coyotay charged up to where they were standing, barely reining to a stop before running into Kitty.

She did not leap out of the way but faced him defiantly.

“We go now,” he said. He turned to Pale Sky. “And if she lies, I will bring you her scalp.”

Kitty embraced Pale Sky one last time and managed to smile. “Don’t worry. If he brings back a scalp, it won’t be mine.”

She ran to where a warrior was holding her horse and mounted.

With another yell, Coyotay led them from the camp.

Though Kitty did not know it, the Indians marveled at her riding skills. Coyotay had feared she would be unable to go as fast as they wanted, but she led the way at full gallop.

At the pass, Coyotay reined in his warriors to tell them once they started through, they could stop for nothing.