Kid Calhoun (28 page)

Wat followed behind the other outlaw, keeping well back in case he should have to make a run for it. He heard Snake’s cry of distress and then the cacophonous rumble of rock falling. He looked around at the walls and ceiling of the tunnel. Would the landslide ahead cause these walls to cave in and bury him?

Wat panicked. He couldn’t turn his horse in the space he had, but he frantically backed the animal out of the cavelike tunnel. The animal was spraying stone with its hooves by the time Wat finally felt sunshine on his back again.

He was trembling and looked around to make sure there was no one around to see how scared he was. He used his bandanna to wipe the sweat from his face, then dismounted and stepped up to the tunnel opening.

“Snake!” He waited for an answer and called again. “Snake!” There was no answer, only the eerie echo of his voice coming back to him again. It was plain no one was getting into Booth’s hideout this
way. But that meant no one was getting out this way, either.

Solano heard the shouting and rode down to join Wat. “Where is Snake, señor?”

“It was a trap,” Wat said. “Snake’s dead.” He gestured toward the rock wall. “Can you find another way to get inside there?”

The Mexican looked up at the towering cliffs. “Perhaps there is another way inside. But to climb this wall—it would be a difficult thing.”

“Find me a way in,” Wat said. “You do, and half the gold is yours.”

“If the gold is there,” the Mexican said quietly.

“It’s there,” Wat said. “Where else could it be? That girl is in there, too. You can bet on it. Once we get into that valley she’ll tell us where the gold is, all right. I’m good at persuading people to tell me what I want to know.”

Solano didn’t doubt it. He would do his part and find a way into the valley. And leave it to the other man to take care of the girl. He was an old man. It would be nice to take his share of the gold and go back to Mexico.

If Rankin let him live.

The Mexican had no illusions about the true nature of the fiend who had arranged for the Calhoun Gang to brutally murder the man who had been their leader for many years. Look what had come of it. Of the six outlaws who had ridden in Booth’s gang before Wat Rankin showed up, he was the only one left. He didn’t trust Rankin, but he figured he was safe until they found the gold.

Once that happened, he would have to watch his back.

When Jake saw Dog crossing the floor of the valley he let go with a string of profanity. Dog must have
shown the outlaws the entrance to the valley. “Apparently one of the outlaws tripped the booby trap at the end of the tunnel,” he said.

“Do you think any of them got through?” Anabeth asked.

“Whether they got in this time or not, now they know for sure where the valley is.” It was only a matter of time before they found a way inside. Which meant that he was racing against time to find the gold and get himself and the Kid out of here.

“There’s Dog. He must have sniffed out the entrance to the valley!” Anabeth headed for the animal on the run.

“Don’t touch him,” Jake warned. “You go near him, and he’ll take your hand off.”

“He doesn’t look vicious to me,” Anabeth said. But she slowed her approach to the huge dog.

“Looks can be deceiving. You stay here. I’m going to see who found his way into the tunnel.” And whether he had come out alive on the other side.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Look, Kid—”

“I know more about this place than you do, Jake. I can help.”

He stopped arguing with her and headed for the tunnel on the run. He stopped where he still had cover and checked to see if anything had been visibly disturbed around the entrance to the valley. There were stones blocking the entrance to the tunnel.

“It looks like we’re not going back out that way,” Jake said.

Anabeth was hanging over Jake’s shoulder. “Do you see anyone?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean someone isn’t hidden nearby. You wait here, and I’ll go take a look.”

Jake might as well have been talking to a wall. Anabeth
didn’t stay put two seconds before she was right behind him again.

“Look, Kid. When I told you to stay put, it was for your own good. What if someone’s down there with a gun?”

“You can be shot just as easily as I can.” She stared at his wounded leg. “More easily,” she said with an arched brow.

Jake gritted his teeth and kept on walking—make that limping—toward the valley entrance.

The gruesome sight they found made it clear no one had gotten out alive. A hand extended out of the stone—nothing more.

Anabeth pointed to a ring on one of the exposed fingers. “I recognize that ring. Snake wore it.” Another of her uncle’s murderers was dead. “It seems fitting somehow that he ended up buried like this.”

“How so?” Jake asked.

“Because snakes are always hiding under a rock.” Anabeth picked up a flat stone and finished the job of burying Snake’s exposed hand. “Rankin knows we’re here now, doesn’t he?” she asked.

Jake looked sharply at Anabeth. “Yes. Unless he got caught in the slide, too.”

“The slide wasn’t rigged to catch more than one man,” Anabeth said.

“Then he’ll be looking for another way to get into the valley. Will he find it?”

“It’s there,” Anabeth admitted in a quiet voice.

“Will you show me where it is?”

“So you can stick me in jail and come back here to look for the gold on your own? No, Jake, I’m not that crazy. You’re welcome to try finding it for yourself.”

Jake grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “It’s not safe for you here anymore.”

“This is my home. It’s where my father and my uncle are buried. It’s where I’m going to stay.”

“What happens when Rankin comes after you? And he will.”

“I’ll be waiting for him.”

He saw in her the determination of the outlaw, Kid Calhoun, for revenge. He had to finish his business here and get her out of the valley.

Jake grabbed her hand and dragged Anabeth after him. “Let’s go find that gold.”

Go away from me! I do not want you
.

Stalking Deer’s words rang in Wolf’s ears. He was furious at the fact she had sent him away. But it wasn’t only anger he felt. The sting of rejection had taken him by surprise. Not since he was a very young boy had he allowed himself to care what another human being thought of him. He had learned his lessons well as a son of many fathers. Or so he thought. He had not realized he could still be hurt.

When Stalking Deer had seemed unconscious of what Wolf wanted from her, it had been easy to convince himself that once she knew how he felt, she would change her mind and come to him willingly. It had been a shock to discover that she desired another. It had been an even bigger shock to realize on the journey home that when he tried to picture Stalking Deer beneath him, another woman took her place. A woman with golden eyes and tawny hair.

What he had felt when he saw Stalking Deer with the white man was not the result of jealousy so much as it was wounded pride. She had chosen another man over him. On the other hand, he realized that if another man had touched Little One, he would have killed him. Wolf did not know when his desire for
Stalking Deer had died. He only knew that what he felt for her now was not the same as what he had felt before he met Little One.

The closer he got to home, the more eagerly he looked forward to the sight of his captive. He remembered Little One as she had been in the moonlight when he had caressed her body with sage. He remembered her sleeping on a bed of animal skins in his wickiup, where he had left her the next morning. He could not understand why he found her so attractive. But he was aware that he was not nearly so anxious to force an unwilling Stalking Deer to come away with him now that he held the golden-eyed white woman captive.

Her brother wanted her back
.

Wolf’s lips curved in a feral smile. The white man had Stalking Deer. It was only fair that Wolf should keep the woman he had taken in exchange.

It was nearly dark by the time he reached the village. Wolf tried to imagine what Little One would be doing when he saw her again. He pictured her sitting at the fire before his wickiup preparing his supper. Thus, when he arrived at his lodge to find there was no fire, nor any sign of his captive at all, the anger Wolf had thought under control, erupted again.

He strode through the village, nodding to those who greeted him from their fires, but refusing to stop. He did not ask if any knew where his captive could be found because he did not want them to know he was seeking her out. It would have told them more than he wanted them to know about his interest in her.

When he had been through the entire village without finding any trace of her, he sought out his mother’s wickiup. He pushed aside the hide covering and without even stopping to greet her asked, “Where is she?”

“Welcome, my son. Who is it you seek?”

“You know who I mean. The white woman. Where is she?”

The old woman cackled. “You are eager for your woman, eh?”

Wolf scowled. “If you know where she is, tell me.”

Night Crawling pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Maybe she sought out the blanket of another.”

Wolf’s eyes narrowed to slits. His mouth flattened. He knew she was taunting him, but he felt a tightness in his gut. “She does not like the Apache. She would not do such a thing.”

The old woman cackled again. “Perhaps she does not like The People. But she has a softness in her heart for a small Apache boy.”

Wolf frowned. “White Eagle?”

“No. He will have nothing to do with her. It is He Makes Trouble she has taken under her wing.”

Wolf left his mother’s lodging and headed for the small wickiup where He Makes Trouble spent his nights. It was isolated on the edge of the camp. A fire burned in front of the tiny brush lodging and the woman he sought was seated there cross-legged, stirring a pot of stew.

“What are you doing here?” Wolf demanded. “You should be at my wickiup waiting to serve me.”

The smile that had started to appear on Claire’s face froze half-formed. “I’m cooking supper for a small boy who would otherwise go hungry,” she retorted.

“Where is He Makes Trouble?”

“He went to fetch some water for me,” Claire said. “Did you find Anabeth?”

“Yes.”

Claire’s hand stopped in the act of stirring. “Was she with anyone?”

“Your brother.”

Claire’s head snapped up. She looked into Wolf’s eyes. “Did you—? Is he—?”

“Your brother is with Stalking Deer. She chose to stay with him rather than to come with me.” He paused and said, “So I will keep you—as my woman.”

“What?” Claire dropped the spoon and stared at him. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively. “You can’t mean that!”

“I do not say what I do not mean!” Wolf retorted.

“You can’t—”

At that moment He Makes Trouble returned with a basket of water and set it down beside Claire.

“We will speak more of this later,” Claire said.

“There is nothing more to say.”

“Hello, Wolf.” The six-year-old seemed to sense the tension between the two adults and sought a way to diffuse it. “Little One has cooked some food. Will you share a meal with us?”

Wolf saw the longing in the boy’s eyes, the wary way he held himself to absorb the refusal of his offer that he was certain would follow.

But Wolf had walked too many miles in this boy’s moccasins. “I will be pleased to join you at your campfire.”

The boy’s smile was jubilant. That alone would have been reward enough for Wolf. But the warm look of approval the white woman gave him caused a flush of pleasure to crawl up his throat and singe his cheeks. He tried to pretend that he was doing nothing special, but Little One’s surreptitious looks, her pleased smile, made it clear she knew otherwise.

He Makes Trouble served Wolf the best parts of the stew, and split the rest with Claire. Wolf was pleasantly surprised at how good the food was.

“What have you put in here to make it taste so good?” he asked.

Claire muttered something he didn’t hear.

“What did you say?”

“Sage.” She glanced up with eyes that were luminous with the memory of what had happened between them.

Wolf’s pulse leaped.

Before he could pursue the matter He Makes Trouble said, “I am teaching Little One how to speak with Apache words.” The child beamed on his adult pupil and said, “Show Wolf what you have learned.”

Claire dutifully recited the Apache words for all the items around the campfire as He Makes Trouble pointed them out. She mispronounced the word for “fire” so badly that both Wolf and He Makes Trouble laughed at her.

Claire smiled when she looked into the happy face of the tiny Indian boy. What a difference from the rebellious look he had borne when Wolf had called him to task for chasing the skunk through camp.

When the laughter died, Wolf grasped Claire’s wrist and drew her to her feet. “It is time for us to go now.”

“We can’t leave He Makes Trouble here alone,” Claire protested.

“It is where he sleeps.”

“But he’s too little to be here all by himself.”