Trail of Golden Dreams (16 page)

A thought suddenly
occurred to him.  Maybe it had all been an act.  Was seducing him a
part of her plan? He knew she wanted, and intended to get, more than forty
percent of his gold after they found the nuggets.  She’d do anything to
get all his money and run off to San Francisco.  He pursed his lips. What
a fool he’d been to fall for those crocodile tears that had streamed from her
big, blue eyes!

He glanced at her
riding tall and proud in her saddle.  Her hair had come loose from its
braid again, giving her the look of a young and vulnerable girl. 
Ha!  Vulnerable, my foot, he thought crossly.  On one hand, she made
his blood boil, thinking she could fool him with that sweet innocent act. 
On the other, he couldn’t help but think life wasn’t fair.  The life she’d
been forced to lead had apparently been a struggle in many ways.  She seemed
too young to shoulder the disappointments that met her at every bend in the
road.  She deserved her dreams the same as him or anyone else.  But
not at his expense, he reminded himself.

Grey had been
around plenty of women in his time—schoolteachers, churchgoers, painted women,
and saloon girls.  They’d all wanted to change him in one way or
another.  All of them, that was, except his ma.  She knew the real
Grey Paladin, the true man behind the impulsive young boy she’d raised. 

Ma had begged him
not to leave the ranch five years ago, but he hadn’t listened. Too eager to
strike out on my own, he’d told her and pa.  He’d wanted to go out into
the world and see the things he’d learned about in school.  After all,
wasn’t that why they’d wanted him to get an education?  So he could
experience more than farm life?  There’d be plenty of time to work cattle,
he’d told them.  Pa could make do until he returned from his
adventures. 

The morning he’d
left, Grey had kissed Ma’s cheek, shook Pa’s hand, and didn’t look back, even
with young Rusty running behind, crying after him.  What he hadn’t known
at the time was that Pa was sick.  Then six months later, fever
struck.  He wouldn’t find out his folks had died until a year after they’d
been laid in their graves.  It was then he learned his little ten-year old
brother was gone, too.  His ma’s sister and her husband from back east had
sent for him, and he’d been in Boston ever since.  As if that weren’t
enough, Grey had also discovered the bank had taken the farm for non-payment of
back taxes. 

Despite the pain
of his losses and the torment of a guilty conscience, he’d not shed a
tear.  But that was when he began wearing all black.  Grey had
devised a plan shortly after, and it had been a long and difficult five
years.  But he never gave up on it.  He’d struggled, moving from town
to town, taking odd jobs here and there, sometimes going without food for days
at a time—all in an effort to raise the funds he needed to bring Rusty
home.  In White Oaks, all the blood, sweat and tears had finally paid
off.  His luck had changed overnight when he struck gold. His quest had
nearly come to an end.  For the first time in years, he’d felt like a free
man. Then Leroy Hart took it all away.

Grey licked his
lips and could still taste Josie’s sweet kiss on them. She’d fit in his arms
perfectly, as supple and soft as an old leather boot.  He glanced at her
again, talking to that mule like she expected him to talk back.  She’d
been a smart-mouthed girl full of sass and vinegar a few days ago.  Since
then he’d seen her naked, scared, brave, happy and distraught, among other
things.  He no longer saw her as a child, but as the person she really
was—a woman determined not to give up on her dream. Josie Hart was a grown
woman with soft lips, strong hands, and a supple body made for touching,
holding and loving.  Even if he wasn’t sure he could fully trust her,
being with her these past few days had made him realize what his life sorely
lacked, which was companionship, warmth, laughter, security, and love.

He shook his
head.  It’d do him no good to wax sentimental.  He was so close to
reaching his goals.  No one was going to take away what he’d worked so
hard to accomplish, not even the pretty, dark haired, blue-eyed crocodile.

It was late afternoon
when they rode into a small, rundown village that consisted of a few adobe
houses, a saloon, blacksmith shop, livery and stables, an eatery with broken
windows, and some boarded up buildings.  The whole place appeared
abandoned.  There were a few horses in the corrals and a wagon sat in the
blacksmith’s, which was missing its wheels.  Tumbleweeds blew down the
main street. 

Grey wondered why
no one was astir.  He gazed up and down the street, sizing things
up.  Could this be a trap?  Had Kendall and King beat them here,
locked up the townspeople and waited somewhere to ambush them?  Slowly, he
unholstered his weapon and held it on his thigh.

“What do you make
of this, Grey?  It looks like a ghost town,” Josie noted.

“I don’t like the
feel of it,” he said.  “But we need to feed and water the animals, and we
could use a rest and some grub, too.  I was hoping there’d be a café we
could patronize.” 

“Looks like the
eatery is no longer in business.”

He cupped his
hands to his mouth and hollered, “Anybody here?” Racking coughs came from one
of the houses.  “Did you hear that?”  

“Yes.  Should
we go investigate?” Josie was already dismounting her mule.

“Hold on. 
Maybe we should keep moving.  I’m getting the feeling this is an evil
place.”

The tartness in
her voice could have spiced a cherry pie.  “You’re always getting bad
feelings, Grey.  I wish you’d stop telling me about them.  I’m tired
and my bottom hurts.  You said yourself that Traveler and Lightning need
to rest.”  She tied the mule to a hitching post in front of a water trough
as she complained.  “Bring Lightning over.  There’s plenty of water
for them in this trough.  I’m going over to that house where we heard the
coughing.”  She pointed next door.  “Maybe it’s someone who can spare
us some supper.  After all, we have the few coins we took from the
preacher and Mr. Bailey.  We can pay for a couple of good meals.”

Grey acquiesced
and climbed down from his horse.  After all, he’d been watching for tracks
and hadn’t seen any as they came into town.  Hopefully, shooting Marshal
Kendall in the foot had put him and Reno King off their trail for good. 
As Grey tied Lightning to the post, he craned his neck and watched Josie bang
on the adobe door.

“Hello! 
Anyone home?” she called.

As he sidled up
beside her, she pounded again.  “Excuse me?” she hollered.  “We’re
looking for a bite to eat.  Is there anyone in there?  We’re awfully
hungry, and we can pay for food.”

Hearing a weak
reply, she opened the door and peered in.  “Is there someone here?  I
couldn’t hear you too well from outside.”

“Help me.”

Grey raised his
gun, pushed past Josie, and stepped in.  “You stay put,” he
demanded.  “This could be a trick.”

A sickening sweet
smell greeted him once he was inside.  If there were windows, they were
boarded up or the shutters were closed tight.  The heat was
stifling.  When his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he called to the
voice, “Where are you?”

“Over here.”

Grey took one step
forward.  “Are you shot?” he asked.

“No.”

He kept his gun
aimed in the direction of the weak voice. “Then what?  What’s wrong with
you?” 

“I got the fever.”

The hairs on the
back of his neck bristled, and an icy chill ran down his spine.

Chapter Eleven

“What’d he say?”
Josie asked as she stepped into the house.

“Get out!” Grey
barked.  He grabbed her arm and shoved her back outside.

“Don’t lay your
hands on me that way!” she snapped, wriggling out of his grasp. 

He popped his head
outside the door.  “Sorry.  Just stay put and let me find out what’s
happening in this town. The man in there has the fever.”

She gasped. 
“Then you come out of there, too,” she begged, reaching for him.

He stuck the
revolver in its holster.  “I won’t go near him.  I’ll stay right here
and talk to him.”  He raised his voice.  “What kind of fever you got,
mister?”

The man coughed
again.  “The killin’ kind.”

“I mean, yellow or
typhoid?”

The voice was so
weak and scratchy.  “Don’t know.  I need water.  Please give me
water.”

“Where’s everyone
else in this town?  They all got the fever, too?” Grey asked.

“That or already
dead.”

Josie’s breath
hitched.  “Grey, what are we going to do?”

“Can’t you get up
and get the water yourself?” Grey asked the man.

“Too sick,” the
voice whispered.  “Please.  All I ask is for a bucket of water. 
There’s a rain barrel at the side of the house.”

“Should I go draw
a bucket?” Josie whispered to Grey.

“How do we know
the water ain’t tainted?”

She didn’t know
the answer to that, but she suddenly realized the animals were drinking their
fill from the trough next door.  “Grey!  Lightning and Traveler are
drinking the water!”

The man obviously
overheard their conversation.  He said, “There’s nothin’ wrong with the
water.”

“Thank God,” Josie
sighed.

Grey stepped all
the way outside again.  Chewing on his lower lip, he glanced to where the
barrel was.  “Josie, I’m torn between giving the man a drink and getting
the hell outta this town.”

She didn’t know
what to say, because she tended to agree with him—on the getting out of town
part.

The man groaned
pitifully.  Grey crossed the threshold once more.  “Mister, how did
you and this town come to such a bitter end?”

The man explained
while pausing occasionally to catch his breath.  “Last week…a family
passed through here.  The children…were sick.  Every one of ‘em
died.  When the parents left, we all started getting the chills…and cramps
and fever.  You gotta help me.  I’m…in misery.”

 Grey
replied, “I ain’t a doctor, mister.”  He backed up and retreated out the
door once more.   His face had gone white, and Josie saw a sheen of sweat
on his forehead. 

The man inside
began to sob.  “My throat’s on fire.  Don’t let me die of thirst.”

Josie touched
Grey’s arm. “We have to give this man water.  We can’t ride away and let
him die without trying to help.”

“We might contract
it ourselves,” he said.  “Don’t you understand?  We need to mount up
and leave this place now!” He strode toward Lightning with determined strides.

“Wait!” she
shouted, running to catch up to him.  She grabbed his arm
and swung
him around.  “Are you telling me you’re just going to leave?”

“There’s nothing
we can do for that man.  He’s a goner.”

She swore in
helpless fury.  “I was just starting to change my opinion of you, Grey
Paladin.  I was thinking of you as a decent man, a good man with a kind
heart. But I can see I was wrong.  You’re a selfish coward!”

“Listen here,
Josie,” he muttered.  Standing over her, his body cast a long
shadow.  His face was mere inches from hers.  “You’re young with your
whole life in front of you.  I’m not going to let you do something stupid,
like catch the fever and die.  What about San Francisco and the
ocean?  You’ve gotta hold onto your dreams.  You’re not gonna ruin
your life for some stranger.”

Josie’s body
shook, though she wasn’t sure if it was from anger or because his words touched
her.  He did care about her!  Before he could say another word, she
spun and ran for the water barrel, dipped a bucket of water out, and hauled it
to the adobe. 

“Give that to me,”
he said, jogging to her and jerking the bucket from her hand.  Some of the
water sloshed onto his boots.  Sighing heavily, he entered the house and
groped his way to the other side of the dark room.  Josie poked her head
in, worried, but proud of him at the same time.

“You got a candle
in here?” Grey asked the sick man.  “I can’t see what I’m doing.”

“On the table…next
to me.”

Grey set the
bucket on the floor, pulled a match from his jacket pocket, and struck it
against the bottom of his boot.  When he lit the candle and it began to
flicker, an eerie glow danced off the stucco walls.

From the doorway,
Josie could see Grey looking at the body of a thin, dying man, who lay on a
rumpled bed next to the wall. She saw him grab a glass from the table and dip
it into the bucket.  “Here you go, mister.”  He held the glass to the
man’s lips.

After he swallowed
a few sips, the man said, “Who are you?”

“It doesn’t
matter.”

“Are you…an angel
of mercy?”

“Not hardly.”

The man turned his
head to the wall and coughed.  “Thank you, whoever you are.  Now, get
the hell…out of here…before you catch this, too.  Leave the bucket on the
floor…where I can reach it.”

Grey paused a
moment and then did just that.  When he exited the adobe, he snaked his
arm around Josie’s waist and pulled her along with him, away from the death house.

“Help.”

Across the street,
a woman stumbled toward them with outstretched arms.  Josie’s eyes
bulged.  The woman was as skinny as a skeleton and as white as a ghost,
with long brown hair hanging down her back.  She wore a nightdress, and
her eyes were sunken with black rings around them.  “Help,” she beseeched
again.

“Is she alive or
the walking dead?” Josie asked, hiding behind Grey’s back and peeking around
his middle.

“She’s got it,
too,” he groaned. “I wonder how many folks are still alive in this God-forsaken
town?”  He held his hand out to stop the woman from approaching
closer.  “Wait right there,” he told her.  “We know you have the
fever.  I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do for you.  We were
just leaving.”