Trail of Golden Dreams

by Coverstone, Stacey

  “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.

  She wondered how many men he’d killed in his lifetime. Was he really a miner, like he’d told her? Or was he an outlaw? Was that why he dressed all in black? Or was it just an image he wanted to portray? She’d seen him express some tender moments in the last few days like sharing his blanket and caring for the newborn lamb. He treated his horse like family, too. Even her mule seemed to have grown on him. Grey scratched Traveler’s neck every so often, and she’d caught him talking to Lightning more than once. This had surprised her, since she thought no one but her talked to her animal.

  She replayed the gunfire over and over in her head. Grey’s first shot had hit Mr. Bailey squarely in the chest. The second shot had gone wild. Thank God the third had connected with the preacher. If it hadn’t, she felt sure the old man would have murdered them both. When the firing had started, Grey had pushed her out of harm’s way. She’d hidden behind Lightning with her gun aimed, ready to kill the preacher herself, if she had to. Lucky for her, it hadn’t come to that.

  As she thought about it now, she questioned whether she could have really pulled the trigger. Killing a man took guts and the ability to walk away without looking back. What if Grey hadn’t been so quick to kill? Could she have put a hole in the preacher? Yes, she realized. She would have done whatever it took to save Grey and herself.

  Her eyes sprang open at the sound of shuffling hooves. A big lazy moon smiled down from the starry sky, showering the ground with moonlight. A line of horsemen appeared against the horizon briefly and then vanished. Josie smothered a gasp and reached inside her pants pocket for her derringer.

  “Grey!” she whispered.

  He didn’t stir.

  With her teeth clenched tight, she stared into the dark and listened for more sounds, and wondering if it had been a trick of the shadows she saw. “Grey!” she choked out again, this time louder.

  When he didn’t rouse, she quietly crawled out from underneath her skirt, flattened herself on the ground, and slinked over to him on her stomach like a snake. She placed her hand over his mouth and shook his arm.

  “Shhh,” she warned. “It’s me, don’t talk loud.” After his eyes fluttered open, she removed her hand from his mouth.

  “Why the hell are you waking me up, Josie?” he whispered back.

  “I just saw something that spooked me. I ho
pe it’s not Marshal Kendall finally catching up to us.”

  That got Grey’s attention. He ripped his revolver out of its holster and cocked the hammer. “Where?” he asked.

  She pointed. “Out there.”

  They both tilted their heads, but she heard nothing but lizards scurrying around and the fire crackling.

  “Maybe you were mistaken. Do you think you were dreaming?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I was wide awake. I saw horsemen lined up in a row. I swear it. Maybe it’s not the marshal. Do you think it could be a hunting party?”

  “Not at night,” he said. “Nothing moves around here except jackrabbits and Indians.”

  “Do you think it was a jackrabbit?” she asked, hopeful. She didn’t know which was worse, Indians or the posse, unless the Indian was Taza, which she highly doubted. Her lips and hands trembled, either from fright or from cold. She wasn’t sure which.

  “Be quiet.” He put a finger to his mouth. “Did you see that?”

  She snuggled close to his arm and glanced around. “What?”

  “A movement that wasn’t part of the sagebrush.” Grey scrambled to his knees and motioned for her to do the same. “Do you have your gun?”

  She showed him the derringer in her hand. This time, she did hear a sound—the snorting of horses. It came from behind them where Traveler and Lightning were tied. Relief melted off her shoulders like snow on a hot tin roof. “It’s our own animals,” she said, breathing a sigh.

  “I’m not so sure about that.” Grey stood, grasped her arm, and lifted her to her feet. “I’m getting a bad feeling.”

  “Again?”

  His gaze held her in an iron grip. “Let’s saddle up and go.”

  “Now?” she protested. “I haven’t had any sleep.”

  “Would you rather be tired or dead?” Even in the dark, his eyes flamed like a hot skillet over a campfire.

  He didn’t wait for her to answer. In a few minutes, they’d saddled their mounts and struck out in the dark.

  * * * *

  The sun was rising behind the mountains when they stopped and hurriedly watered the animals in a stream. They waded across the water and led the horse and mule by the reins up a steep bank. When they found a cottonwood tree with a double trunk, they crept behind it.

  “Do you think it was the marshal and his men I saw last night?” Josie asked, hunkering beside Grey. She was dead tired, hungry, shivering, and now her boots were soaked. The ride through the night had been long and cold. The wind raged, nearly sweeping off her feet, and her face felt as dry as an eggshell.

  “Yep. I don’t know how they found us, but they did. Reno King might be a good tracker, but maybe he’s not such a sharpshooter. They could have picked us off last night, but for some reason, they’ve chosen to make their move now and attack us in the daylight. We’re gonna be ready for them.” He pulled his rifle out of its scabbard and sighted down the barrel. His revolver was on the ground next to him, where he could snatch it in a hurry. Josie held the derringer up to her eye.

  Scanning the desert for sudden movement, she felt like they’d walked into a rattlesnake den. Could the two of them hold off three men? What good would her derringer be from a distance? She wasn’t even that good of a shot up close. She searched Grey’s profile. It was lined in deep concentration. His piercing eyes were glued to the scrub near the stream below, and a muscle ticked along his granite jaw. His chest rose and fell beneath his black shirt. On the trigger was his finger, ready to squeeze.

  She hoped his hands weren’t as cold as hers. All night long hers had been half numb, despite wearing gloves. They were shaking now, too. She wiggled her fingers and then offered up a quiet prayer. “Lord, please keep my hands from trembling and help me to hit my mark.” From the corner of her eye, she could see Grey glance at her.

  Suddenly, down below, a man stepped partway out of the brush carrying a shotgun on his shoulder. It was Reno King. The wide brim of the black sombrero hid his features, but Josie could sense danger emanate from him. Del Emmerson materialized about twenty feet from King with a pistol in his hand. There was no sign of Marshal Kendall. Josie’s breath hitched, and her heart pounded out of her chest.

  Grey didn’t wait for them to make the first move. He aimed and fired off a couple of shots. A volley of bullets answered his fire, but they all went wild. When he peppered the ground and stream with more bullets, Josie saw Reno King throw himself into the dirt and scramble behind the brush. Del splashed, cat-footed, into the stream and disappeared.

  There was no time for consultation between Josie and Grey. Reno King fired off another round from behind the bush. The bullets whizzed past them. One slammed into the tree trunk and split it.

  “Get down!” Grey shouted, pushing her out of the line of fire. She was no good to him, anyway. Her derringer was jammed. She banged it on the ground and swore under her breath. Grey and Reno King fired away at each other, and there she was—useless! She looked up just as the marshal appeared on the right side of Grey, about fifty feet away, with his rifle raised. “Grey! Look out!” she screamed.

  He turned and squeezed off two rounds, one whizzing past the marshal’s shoulder and one hitting the ground at his feet. When Kendall howled and fell backwards, Josie realized Grey had shot him in the foot. The man wasn’t going down without a fight, however. He flipped onto his belly, gritted his teeth, and fired three more shots before rolling down the embankment.

  More bullets flew over their heads. Obviously, the men below were not giving up. When Grey’s rifle ran out of ammunition, he tossed it on the ground and picked up his revolver and used it to return fire. When that gun jammed, he frantically dug into his pockets for more rifle shells.

  Hearing a sound to her left, Josie’s head turned. Del had crept up the other way. He pointed his pistol at her. For one fleeting second, she thought she saw sympathy behind his eyes. Time stood still as their gazes locked. She wondered if he was really going to kill her. They’d known each other all their lives, and he’d been sweet on her. Surely a handful of gold nuggets would not be worth his old friend’s life.

  He cocked the pistol, and the hard expression returned to his face. With no time to think, Josie aimed her derringer and fired. The pistol fell from Del’s hand, and he peered down at the blood flowing out of him. He was gut shot, bleeding from a burning hole in his belly. It was apparent from the stunned expression on his face that he hadn’t expected her to shoot him. His hand splayed over his stomach, right before he dropped to the ground.

  Del wasn’t the only one who was surprised. Josie stared at the smoking derringer and mumbled, “Thank you, Lord.”

  “You alright?” Grey asked, shaking her arm.

  The shooting had stopped. When they heard horse hooves thundering away, he peeked over the bank. “King and Kendall are leaving. Dammit! I was hoping to do more than shoot the marshal’s foot.”

  Josie wasn’t listening. She crawled on her hands and knees to Del and leaned over his body. His eyes were wide open, staring at her with blame. Her breaths became ragged as she closed his eyelids with her fingertips. A sickening sweet taste filled her mouth, and she turned her head and retched. A few moments later, when she felt Grey’s strong hands on her shoulders, the tears began to fall.

  “Are you alright?” Grey repeated.

  “No!” she cried, facing him. She wiped her mouth with her shirtsleeve. “I’m not alright. I just murdered a friend, Grey. I never killed anyone before. It doesn’t feel good.” She let the stress and anguish of the past couple of days ripple out of her. Her shoulders jiggled as full-fledged sobs rocked her body.

  He let her cry for a minute and then tipped her chin up. “You had to do it, Josie. He left you no choice. He would have killed you.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “No. It doesn’t. You’re right about that.”

  “A person has to be so hard to survive out here,” she sobbed.

  Grey’s repl
y was straightforward. “We all do what needs to be done to keep above ground.”

  My derringer jammed,” she bawled. “I thought I was a goner when I saw that pistol pointed at me. It was a pure miracle my gun fired.”

  He pushed some stray tendrils of her hair off her face and wiped her tears away with his finger. His hands were as rough as sandpaper, but she didn’t care. His touch was kind and caring.

  “I thought they were going to kill you,” she wheezed. “Wade Kendall stole my pa and my house from me. He could have taken you from me, too. Why does he want me to suffer so? He wants to line his pockets with my gold, but he has no right!” She buried her face in Grey’s broad chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Grey. If they’d done away with you, I couldn’t have stood it. There’s only so much a woman can take, and I couldn’t take that.” Her weeping began again.

  He put his arms around her and held her until she quieted. “It’s done now,” he said. “We’re both alive, and we’re gonna stay that way. They won’t get me, or you. I won’t let it happen. That’s a promise.”

  She pushed back and saw the beginning of a smile, the crinkling of lines around the corners of his dark eyes. “Do you swear?” she asked.

  He drew an imaginary X across his heart. “Swear.”

  She stifled another sob and smiled up at him.

  Without another word, Grey pulled her toward him and kissed her lips. As his hold tightened around her arms and waist, fire surged deep in her stomach. She didn’t know anything about passion. All she ever wanted was to belong to someone. For the moment their lips were pressed to each other, she felt the ache of loneliness lift and hope rekindled.

  After their mouths parted, he continued to hold her. She fit against him like a hand in a glove. With his heart beating next to hers, she wondered how it would feel to be with a man. This man in particular, who was lean of body, and hair she wanted to stroke, and skin she wanted to touch. How would it feel not to sleep alone? To have someone to call your own, who would always be there for you in good times and in bad?