Trail of Golden Dreams (14 page)

Lightning and
Traveler finally had their fill of water and set to munching on grass after
Grey tied them to a tree.  He opened his saddlebags and fished around
inside.  When he found what he was looking for, he snapped the bag shut
and walked over to Josie.  She had laid down on the rock and had her eyes
closed.  He wasn’t sure if she was asleep or not.  One thing was for
sure; he wouldn’t jiggle her awake.  He’d learned his lesson the morning
she drew her derringer on him.

“Josie, are you
awake?” he asked.

“Huh?”  She
sat up and shielded her eyes with her hand.  “Yes, I’m awake. I needed to
rest my eyes a bit.  I must feed Traveler.”  As she moved to stand,
it was obvious it pained her to do so.

Grey put out his
hand to help ease her up.  When their fingers touched, he was surprised at
how soft and dry her skin was.  Light as a feather, she let him pull her
to her feet. 

“Your mule is
taken care of,” he told her.

“Oh.”  Her
face smoothed into a mask of relief. “Thank you.”

“You’re
welcome.” 

They stood staring
at each other a moment, and then her gaze wandered over the creek bed. Her eyes
had little creases around them, and her shoulders slumped.  She had to be
worn to the bone.  He cleared his throat.  “I picked this place to
stop because I thought you might want to clean up a bit.  We’ve been
riding hard the past couple of days.  I have some soap, if you’d like to
use it.”  He offered her the small piece of lavender soap.  “I’m not
insinuating you’re not fresh,” he added quickly.  “I just know girls like
to smell nice.” The words sounded stupid, but his intentions were good. 
He flashed her a lopsided grin to show her he meant no disrespect.

Josie’s eyes
widened and latched onto the soap, and then her gaze searched his face. 
She smiled.  “That’s very thoughtful of you to share your soap with
me.”  All of a sudden, she seemed to come alive again, like she’d gotten
her second wind.  She snatched the bar out of his hand and started for the
creek.  “Go behind those trees and let me have some privacy.  You can
start a fire and think about what we’re going to have for supper.”  She
pulled off her boots and yanked her filthy shirt out of the waistband of her pants.

“Still a bossy
little thing, aren’t you?”

She spun around
and shooed him away with her hand.  “I heard that.  Go on!” she
hollered. 

“Alright!” 
He turned on his heel and sauntered off, chuckling. Slipping behind the clump
of trees, he started to gather sticks for a fire.  “If she thinks she can
keep bossing me around, she has another thing coming,” he mumbled
half-heartedly.  Secretly, he enjoyed her sass.  It kept things
interesting between them.

After tossing some
broken limbs on the ground, he knelt down and started to break them into
smaller pieces.  When he heard her singing, he stopped and tilted his
head.  The cheerful tune was one his ma had sung to him when he was a
boy.  As he listened, the words he’d long forgotten suddenly popped into
his head.  The girl had a sweet voice.  When the song ended, he heard
her laughing and splashing in the water.  It sounded like a child
playing. 

Her laughter
thrust him back in time when Ma and Pa were still alive.  They’d been a
poor, but happy family. Ma had loved to sing, and she’d had a beautiful soprano
voice.  Grey’s pa had always encouraged her to lift her voice in church,
but she’d been a shy woman. Pa had told her she had more talent in her pinkie
finger than the whole congregation had in their hands all put together, but she
hadn’t held with being prideful.  She’d sung the hymns in church, but not
so loud that anyone else could hear. Ma had felt most comfortable sharing her
music with her small family. 

 Grey’s
memories stirred within him. Rusty would never go to sleep until Ma rubbed his
back and sang him a lullaby.  Being so much older, Grey had not admitted
it at the time, but her music had given him comfort, too.  He hadn’t
realized just how much he’d missed that feeling until now.  He’d give just
about anything to feel his ma’s soft touch and hear her voice again.  That
included giving up his share of the gold nuggets.

When Josie
squealed, Grey was pulled from his reverie. His head pivoted toward the creek
bed. With curiosity getting the best of him, he snuck to the row of trees,
spread some leaves apart, and peeked through.  She’d stopped playing and
was standing waist deep in the water.  Her back was to him, and she was
washing up with his soap. His throat tightened.  The first thing he noticed
was that her hair was down.  It was long and wavy, and as black as a
starless night sky.  It reached almost to her narrow waist, which flared
into curvy hips that disappeared into the water.  Despite being as small
as a whipstitch, her back was broad and looked strong.  She rubbed the
soap under her armpits and then across her brown shoulders and over the nape of
her neck, and finally scrubbed some into her hair.

Grey watched, knowing it
was wrong to spy on her this way.  But it was as if his boots were frozen
to the ground.  He couldn’t turn away, no matter how much he knew he
should.   His gaze was riveted.  When she slipped under the
water, he blinked and stretched his neck out like a giraffe.  There were
no bubbles floating to the surface.  The water was as smooth as ice. 
The air around him suddenly grew as still as the quiet before a storm. 
When she didn’t emerge after a few moments, an icy feeling slid up his
arms.  Was she drowning?  The pulse in his neck began to throb.
Pushing through the trees like a bear, he reached the clearing and wondered
what he should do. Could she swim?  Would he have to dive in and save
her? 

Just as he put his
hand on his holster preparing to rip it off and drop it and go in after her,
Josie sprang up.  She’d turned under water, and her brown body faced
him.  He couldn’t help where his gaze was drawn—to her small breasts and
flat belly. Her mop of hair was wet through and through, and water rolled off
every square inch of her.  Her hands shot to her face, and she cleared the
liquid beads from her eyes.  When her eyes opened, they looked straight
into Grey’s. Her blue eyes bulged, first with shock and then with pure rage.
“How
dare
you!” she shrieked. 

To his amazement,
she started splashing out of the creek.  It seemed to him she was a demon
possessed, or had lost all her senses.  She’d just screamed at him for
seeing her half-naked.  Now she stomped toward him in her birthday suit
with her fists balled up, screeching like an owl.   He turned tail
and ran back through the trees. 

When he craned his
neck around to see if she was behind him, he stumbled backward and tripped over
the sticks he’d built up for a fire. Some deep chuckles caught his attention.
Grey glanced over his shoulder.  Two men stood next to Lightning and the
mule.  One had his hand stuck in Josie’s saddlebags.  He looked old,
lean and hard—the kind of man who was looking to get something for
nothing.  The other one was a puny runt wearing round spectacles.

Grey jumped to his
feet, and his hand flew to the pistol at his side.  He leveled it at the
strangers.  “Those animals don’t belong to you, and neither do the
contents of those saddlebags.  Walk away.”

The runt hollered,
“Don’t shoot, mister!”  The other one grinned and slowly removed his hand
from Josie’s saddlebags.

“Take it easy,
pardner,” that man drawled.  “We were just looking for some grub.  We
ain’t et for a couple of days.  You got anything you can share?”

Grey kept his gun
trained on them.  “Move away from the mule and show me your hands. 
Both of you.”

Both men raised
their hands to show they were unarmed.  Grey didn’t like the looks of
either of them, but decided to offer them some of the meat Leandro had packed
and then suggest they move along.  He lowered the gun and nodded for them
to sit.  “I’ve got a bit of mutton I can give you.”

“Thank you, young
man,” the old one said, smiling.  “That’s mighty friendly of you.”

Grey took the
packs of meat out of his pouch that was slung over Lightning’s back.  All
the while, he kept his eye on the two men. When he handed them the meat, they
began to gobble it up like starved animals.

“Grey
Paladin!”  Josie burst through the thicket of trees. He swung around and
saw she was dressed again, but she hadn’t bothered to put her hair back in a
braid.  It hung loose and wet on her shoulders.  She stopped dead in
her tracks when her flaming gaze landed on the strangers.  Her body went
rigid.  Grey thought he saw fear in her eyes.

When she reached
inside the waistband of her pants and drew out the derringer, the two men stumbled
to their feet. The runt reached for a pistol from under his pants legs, and the
old man threw his body to the ground and pulled a shotgun out from a hidden
spot in the grass. Grey sprinted to his horse and yanked his rifle out of its
scabbard, cocked the hammer and ran to Josie’s side.

All four had their
guns aimed at one another.  “Who are they, Josie?” Grey asked.

Her gaze was
locked tight on them.  “The one with the long hair is the preacher from
Dry Gulch.  The other is Mr. Bailey, the undertaker.” 

“Why are you
following us?” Grey asked them. 

The preacher
grinned.  “Miss Hart knows why.”

As he glared, she
explained to Grey what she knew.  “He attacked me the night my pa was
hung.  I thought he’d come to rob me, but now I know he was looking for
the map.  I cold-cocked him with a shovel, but I guess he’s got a tough
noggin.  I’m truly sorry I didn’t hit him harder.”

As she told the
tale, Grey kept his gaze fixed on the two men he now knew were enemies. 
Although his and Josie’s situation was potentially dire, he could just picture
her smashing the preacher’s brains with a shovel. She was quite the little
spitfire.

“I’m not sure how
he came to know about the map,” she continued, “but I suspect my pa let it leak
when he confessed his sins in his final moments.  You know my pa and his
big mouth.”  She tossed Grey a weak smile.

“You’re a smart
gal,” the preacher said.  His grin dissolved, and his milky eyes
narrowed.  “Just hand over that map and we’ll be on our way.”

Josie wagged her
head.  “No, sir, preacher man.  That map belongs to me.  You
don’t have a right to it.”  She glanced at the undertaker.  “I’m
surprised you’re in on this, Mr. Bailey.  I didn’t take you for a common
criminal.”

“Shut up!” he
snapped.  His finger twitched on the trigger of his pistol.

Grey didn’t move a
muscle. He thought the man was so shaky he might shoot his own foot off. 
“She don’t have the map anyway,” he informed them.  “I have it.  If
you want to come get it from me, go ahead and try.”   He pointed the
rifle at the preacher’s head.

For a few seconds,
no one budged.  Grey could tell the preacher was considering his next
move.  Apparently it didn’t take him long to come to a decision.  In
the next moment, a bullet whizzed past Grey’s face. He yelled, “Get down,
Josie!” and shoved her toward his horse. 

He fired his
weapon, and the bullet struck the undertaker in the chest, killing him
instantly. Bailey fell into the preacher, spoiling his shot.  Grey’s
second bullet went wild, but his third one tore into the preacher’s thigh. 
It knocked him down, and his shotgun thudded to the ground.  Blood began
to spurt like a fountain.  Despite the injury, the preacher rolled over
and lifted the shotgun again. 

“Hold it right
there!” Grey shouted, striding toward him.  “Drop it or I’ll drill you
another one.”

“You wouldn’t kill
a man of God, would you, son?”

“You’re no man of
God.”

 “Your
opinion makes no difference,” the preacher scoffed, as he tried to plug the
hole in his leg with his thumb.  In a booming voice, he recited, “The silver
is mine and the gold is mine saith the Lord of hosts.  Haggai, Chapter
two, Verse eight.”  He threw back his head and cackled. Grey knew the man
was so far gone in the head he could no longer reason.  When he stopped
laughing, the preacher leaned to his side. Grey followed his cold, merciless
gaze to a spot somewhere behind him.

“If I can’t have
the gold, you won’t either, Miss Hart.”  The preacher threw the shotgun to
his shoulder, and Grey had no choice but to shoot him in the head.  After
the blast had stopped its echo, Grey swallowed hard and lowered the
rifle.  Josie rushed to his side and leaned heavily against him. He felt
her trembling as she stared at the carnage. 

“Are you alright?”
she asked. 

“Two dead
men.  And they’re not even the ones we were concerned about.”

She studied him
intently and shook her head.  “It’s a hard world, isn’t it, Grey?”

“Yes, Josie. 
I’ve seen a lot of it, and believe me, sometimes there’s no rhyme or reason to
the violence and evil.”  He stared off into the sinking sun for a moment,
and then turned toward her.  She looked drained. 

“I’m sure glad
you’re a straight shooter,” she said, softly.

He nodded. 

She reached for
his hand and placed the bit of soap in his palm.  “Thank you,
Grey.   That was the best bath I ever had.”

He inhaled her
lavender-scented hair.  “You smell real nice.”

Their eyes held on
each other for what seemed an eternity. Then Josie whispered, “Can we leave
this place?  I’d like to get as far away from here as possible.”

Grey
understood.  He collected any cash the dead men carried in their pockets,
and then he and Josie got on their faithful companions and rode out. 
They’d keep moving until it grew dark.  Once they found a good place to
take cover for the night, Grey would offer the axel grease to her for her
blisters.

Chapter Ten

The ground was
cold and hard, and visions of the gunplay hours earlier raced through Josie’s
mind.  Apparently, the killings didn’t cause Grey to lose any sleep. 
She could hear him snoring on the other side of the fire.  She laid on her
side, wrapped in her skirt and using the petticoats as bedding.