by Maggie James
“I know all I need to know, Whitebear.” She spat the name. “Or should I call you Sam? And by the way, which name would you prefer on your tombstone?”
“Sam Bodine is not my name. And I grew the beard not only to keep you from seeing some resemblance but also because I’ve worked as an army scout using my real name—Ryder McCloud. I was afraid I might run into soldiers that know me. So it was necessary to create a whole new identity to keep you from finding out who I was—changing my voice, the way I walk…everything.
“You should be able to understand that,” he added, venturing a crooked smile to remind her of her own deception. “You did the same thing.”
“And thank God I did,” she fired back. “Otherwise I’d have been raped…tortured…scalped.”
“That’s not true. I would not have let that happen.”
Her laugh was bitter. “And I was your slave, remember? I had to do your bidding, wait on you hand and foot like you were some kind of god, and sleep on the ground outside your tepee while you made love to all those girls, and…”
He quirked a brow, pretending shock. “You mean that’s what this is all about? You were jealous of those girls? But if you’d let me know the truth about yourself, I’d much have preferred you, and—”
Her face turned even redder. “Why…why of all the nerve…”
It was all he needed—a split second of diversion as she sputtered with indignation.
Moving with lightning speed, before she knew what was happening, his hand struck like a rattlesnake to wrap around her wrist and jerk it to one side.
The gun went off in a deafening explosion.
“You could have killed me, you little vixen,” he roared, wresting it from her to toss into the far shadows.
Swiftly he rolled her over to pin her arms over her head. “Now it’s my turn to talk, goddamn it, and you are going to listen even if I have to gag and hog-tie you.”
“I hate you,” she hissed, eyes glittering like a wolf at prey. “I never knew I could hate anybody so much. You were using me. All you ever wanted was the map. You were never my friend.”
“I was your friend. I still am. Now more than ever, because of what we just shared.” His gaze went to her heaving bosom, and he fought the impulse to attempt to silence her with his lips.
“You never cared about anything but the damn map,” she repeated.
“That’s not true.”
“And now I feel so foolish.”
“You feel foolish?” He laughed incredulously. “How do you think I look to my people? Whitebear, their leader, could not tell his slave was actually a woman.”
“I was trying to survive, damn you, not trick you so I could steal your share of the gold. And besides, if you had found out who I was you’d have taken my piece of map and then killed me.”
“No, I would not have,” he said quietly, soberly. “My intention when I attacked the stage was to find you and keep you till I could scare you into handing it over, then let you go.”
“Oh, I’m sure it was, but when I was clever enough to escape, and you discovered later how I’d tricked you, you set out to seduce me and persuade me to take you in as my partner so you could swindle me.”
“Not necessarily in that order.” He smiled, a slow, lazy, taunting smile that infuriated her all the more. “As I said, we already had a deal before you wound up in my arms. And as for your claiming to be clever enough to escape”—he paused to sneer—“my mother was responsible for your getting away, and you know it. Otherwise you’d still be there giving me a bath whenever I told you to.
“And, oh, what a shame I didn’t know the truth then,” he goaded. “Think what fun we’d have had in the bathtub together.”
“Damn you,” she repeated as she struggled against him.
“But your secret would have been discovered sooner or later. You know that. You were lucky my mother took pity on you before it was.”
Suddenly curious, she asked, “When did you find out the truth?”
“I went into Tombstone as Ryder McCloud and overheard a conversation between Opal Grimes and someone else about how the young woman she had been expecting from back East had been taken by Indians and how no one on the stage knew she was a woman, because she dressed and acted like a man.
“You even changed your voice,” he said, grudgingly impressed at how cunning she had been.
“When I realized what you’d done,” he continued, “when I realized Billy Mingo was actually you, I rode back to camp like the devil was on my heels, but by then my mother had already let you go.”
“And how did you find me after that?”
“It wasn’t hard, and it didn’t take long. I knew you’d head to Tombstone and straight to Opal Grimes, because you didn’t know anybody else or have anywhere else to go. I went to her shanty. She had moved, but I knew where she worked.”
“And you had earlier paid her a visit as Whitebear and held a knife to her throat, hadn’t you?”
“I didn’t hurt her. I just wanted to scare her into telling me what she knew. That’s how I found out she’d sent Parrish’s half of the map to you. It was later I discovered where she’d hidden the telegram saying when you’d arrive, and then I made my plans to attack the stagecoach.”
“So the night you shot the gun out of Roscoe’s hand you were actually at the saloon to spy on me and leaped at the chance to rescue me so I’d be grateful and let you get close to me.”
He gave her a gentle shake. “If I let you up, will you be still and listen?”
“To what? You’ve told your lies. I don’t believe you. So go ahead and kill me, because I don’t have the map with me, and I’m not going to give it to you.
“In fact,” she cried with a fresh roll of anger, “If I have a chance, I’m going to burn it. I’d rather not find one nugget than have you get your dirty hands on it.”
His own rage ebbing, Ryder stood, easily lifting her with him. Standing her on her feet, he gave her a shove away from him along with a disgusted glare. “How dare you think I have no right to my share, you haughty little brat? I’m as much entitled to that strike as you are. Maybe more so, because it was my father, not an uncle, who was partner with yours. That’s thicker blood.”
Tears sprang to her eyes as she said defensively, “Uncle Wade was like my father. I called him Daddy Wade…” Her voice faded as she thought how childish the term sounded now, in the wake of so much bitter frustration.
“But it doesn’t matter,” she said finally. “We’re never going to find it. We couldn’t have with just my half of the map, anyway.”
“Probably not,” he said soberly. Retrieving his clothes, he began to dress, keeping a wary eye on her to make sure she did not go for her other gun. “But I never intended to look with just your half.”
She exploded once more. “That proves it. You were going to take it and then desert me. Oh damn you to hell, Sam…Ryder…Whitebear”—she stamped her foot—“whatever you call yourself. You are a liar and a crook.”
He stepped into his trousers and calmly buttoned the fly. “I am going to try to explain it all to you one more time. First of all, I don’t have my father’s half, but I’ve got a good idea where it is. Second, I am still willing to split whatever we find, but if the deal is off now that you know the truth, I’ll take you back to Tombstone and forget the whole thing. It’s all I can do, because I’m running out of time. I have to get my people across the Mexican border before winter, with or without any money to make a new start. Otherwise, they will either starve to death where they are or be caught by the soldiers and taken back to the reservation. And believe me,” he grimly added, “they’d rather die than go back there.
“My plan at first,” he admitted, “was to take your map, but I changed my mind after I got to know you.”
She snorted, “Likely story.”
“It’s true. You’ll just have to trust me.”
“I do not trust you,” she said solemnly. “And I never will. Not n
ow.”
He strapped on his holster and, without looking at her, said, “Then let’s get you back to Tombstone. It’s over.”
She made ready to leave, but when she went to retrieve her own holster and weapons, Ryder was quick to snatch them away.
“I’ll just hang on to these till we get back to town,” he said drily. “I don’t want to get a bullet in my back.”
“It wouldn’t be in the back. I still think I can outdraw you.” She strode out of the cave to where the horses were tethered.
Ryder swung up into the saddle and held out his hand to her almost grudgingly. “You still can’t ride that horse.”
Petulantly, childishly, she said, “Well, I won’t ride with you.”
“Have it your way. You can walk.” He kneed his horse to start him forward, puffing hers behind.
Kitty stumbled along as they moved through the high, pressing walls of the path. Again and again, she relived the time when she had been his captive and felt so foolish to think how, afterward, she had been so drawn to him.
She mused, also, over the past weeks and how her feelings for him as Sam Bodine had grown so deeply. There had been moments when she actually wondered whether she were falling in love with him. Then, too, she had to admit she had likewise been drawn to him as Whitebear. But now she was rocked to her toes with humiliation, which made it all the easier to despise him.
It was getting dark. She imagined all sorts of monsters hiding in the brush, ready to pounce on her.
Soon she could barely see him in front of her, could only hear the steady clicking of hoof beats against the rocks as they became more distant.
Finally, she could stand it no more. “I’ve changed my mind. I want to ride,” she called into the dimness.
Reining to a stop, he waited for her, then swung her up to settle her in front of him in the saddle. He cursed himself for the tremor that rocked through him as his arms went about her. With thighs pressed against hers, he willed himself not to grow hard…not to let desire rise once more at her nearness.
Her hair brushed his cheek, and he sucked in his breath and fought for willpower to withstand the emotions she so easily evoked. Dear God, he prayed, make the ride go fast so I can get her out of my sight, out of my life, because having her close, touching her, feeling her, is torture too great to bear.
He wished she had not found out the truth so soon, but he had not thought about the scar, damn it…had not thought it made such an impression on her that she would have noticed it so easily. But it was too late to worry about it now. All he could do was get her as close to Tombstone as he dared, then ride away before she sounded an alarm and got a posse after him.
He also hated that he could never again cross the line from Indian to white as Ryder McCloud. She would tell about that, of course, but he had felt it necessary to confide everything in hopes she would somehow sense he was baring his soul and come nearer trusting him. He had gambled and lost, but wondered if it really made any difference. His days of pretending to be a white man were behind him, anyway, for his people would need him in their new home.
Kitty was also lost in needling thoughts and waging her own inner battle, for, despite her choler at his treachery, there was no denying that she had found splendor in his arms. He had shown her what it meant to be a woman, and she would always remember him for it, despite her anger.
As they rode slowly into the night, Kitty wondered how things would have been for them had they met under different circumstances. There was no denying that they had got on well when he had taken her on daily outings.
But it had only been an act, she bristled to remind herself, all a part of his scheme.
“Were you really tempted to shoot me?” he asked, sounding amused.
“I sure as hell was,” she lied. “You caught me off guard before I had the chance.”
He laughed softly. “I don’t think so. I think you just wanted to vent your rage and then leave me stranded.”
She was not about to admit that that had been her exact plan.
He continued with a snicker. “You’ll get your revenge when you scream to high heaven the minute we hit town that Sam Bodine is actually Whitebear, the Apache. I’ll be hung as fast as they can get a rope around my neck. No trial needed. They’ll take the word of a lady any day.
“Especially,” he added to goad, “when she’s considered an angel.”
“The billing as an angel was never my idea,” she curtly informed him. “It was Wyatt Earp’s, only it got old after a while. That’s why I now have no job and no place to go…that, plus the fact I lost my audience because they all thought I only had eyes for you. And as for telling everyone who you really are, don’t worry. That’s the last thing I’d do, because I don’t want anyone knowing I was stupid enough to be taken in by you for so long.”
Ryder sensed that some of her animosity had subsided, and it was now her wounded pride that was fueling her hostility. Daring to think there might be a chance he could still sway her to cooperate, he tried a different ploy. “My mother couldn’t believe she was stupid enough to be taken in by you, either. She feels real bad about it.”
Kitty stiffened. “Your mother isn’t stupid. And it has nothing to do with being stupid, anyway. Everyone thought of me as a boy. They had no reason to suspect otherwise.
“Tell her that,” she added. “I don’t want her to feel bad. She was good to me, and I’ll never forget her.”
“So you liked my mother.”
“I certainly did.”
“Then why won’t you help me find the means to give her a new life in Mexico? You know she only wants to live in peace.”
Kitty tried to twist in the saddle so she could look at him in order to convey her sincerity, but when her breast brushed his arm, igniting a delicious tremor, she drew back. “I would like to help her, but not if it means letting you make a fool of me—again—which you would do. I’d never see any of the gold, and you know it.”
“I told you—you have my word. And Apaches don’t give their word lightly. Besides, you’re cutting off your nose to spite your face, because you’ve nothing to lose. You can’t find the gold without me. You’re just being stubborn, and you know it. You also have nowhere to go and nothing to do. You’ve lost your job, and you’ve got to give up your room and probably don’t have much money put back.”
Everything he said was true, but Kitty was still leery. “I don’t think I can take the chance.”
“So what else is there for you?”
She forced a shrug, wanting to seem unconcerned, when all the while desperation was churning inside like cream into butter. “Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”
“Then to hell with you,” he said, losing patience as they rounded a knoll and the lights of Tombstone came into view. “It’s obvious you don’t give a damn about anybody but yourself. Hell, you’d rather see my mother and all my people perish than take a chance that I just might be telling the truth, all because of your silly pride.”
Kitty winced beneath his angry outburst. She did care about his mother. She was in her debt.
He yanked the reins so hard Kitty lurched forward, but he made no move to steady her. “You can walk the rest of the way. I’m not going to be around when you start screaming.”
Before she realized what was happening, he had grabbed her and lowered her roughly to the ground.
“I told you I’m not going to tell anyone,” she said, staring up at him even though she could barely make out his face in the scant moonlight.
“Well, maybe I don’t trust you any more than you trust me.” He tossed her the reins to her horse. “Take him to the livery stable. Tell them how he injured his leg. They’ll know what to do for it.”
“When I first got to Tombstone, I didn’t tell where your camp is, and I could have, you know.”
He tensed. “What are you talking about?”
“I had almost memorized the trail, anyway, before your mother took me down it, because yo
u had taken me out with you when you went hunting, and then Coyotay and the other warriors took the women to harvest food. I could have described the way to the soldiers, and any scout worth his salt could have found it.”
He snickered. “You couldn’t have learned how to mark a trail that quick.”
“I already knew how. Back home, I didn’t have any friends, so I spent all my time when I wasn’t doing chores exploring the mountains. I learned real young and real fast how to keep from getting lost. So I most certainly could have led the soldiers to your camp had I wanted to.”
“But you didn’t,” he said in sudden wonder. “How come?”
“Because of your mother. She was good to me. She made me see that the Indians have their good side, too, so I certainly wasn’t going to sic the cavalry on her or your people.
“Not even Coyotay,” she added with a disgusted wrinkle of her nose.
Ryder had to laugh. “He’s not so bad when you know him. He was just mad because you wounded his pride as well as him—especially when it was found out you were actually a woman. That made it all the worse—that he had let a woman best him.
“But thank you for not telling,” he said, lifting the reins and making ready to ride. “However, I can’t take any more chances with you. So I’d best be on my way. I’ll drop your guns and holster not too far away so you can find them.”
He paused to smile and add, “But it was good while it lasted. I’ll never forget you.”
Digging his heels into the horse’s flanks, he set him into a fast gallop and rode away.
Kitty stared after him in the deepening night.
It was hard to grasp, this all-consuming knowledge that the strong and mighty warrior she had lusted for was the same man she had given her body to so willingly, so freely.
Blended, also, into the maelstrom that consumed like a deadwood fire, was the concession that he was right in saying she was only spiting herself to refuse his offer. After all, she had no other hope at the moment, and should he prove treacherous she would be on guard and ready to leap to her own defense.
