Arizona Gold

by Maggie James

  “Oh, dear Lord,” she murmured, her heart going out to him for having to perform such a grisly task. “It must have been awful.”

  “I tried not to think about it and worked fast. But now we’ve got the whole map, and, after studying it, I think we’ll reach the area of the strike tomorrow. Then the real work begins, because we’ve got to try to figure out what the Bible verse means.”

  Kitty had also scrutinized the map after it was finally put together. “I can see the reference is the book of Genesis, chapter 18, verse 27. There was something about dust and ashes, but I can’t make out the words.”

  “I couldn’t either. His half is in pretty bad shape.” Kitty felt a wave of defeat. “And I don’t suppose you happen to have a Bible in your saddlebag.”

  “No. I should have thought to get one before I left town, but I was in a hurry to find you and didn’t think about it.”

  “Then we’re out of luck.”

  “Maybe not.” He leaned to pick up a stick and stir the fire, sending a spiral of ashes skyward. “Maybe it’s not as complicated as we think. Dust and ashes could mean the strike is hidden near a chimney or stove of some sort.”

  She did not share his optimism and sarcastically asked, “How many chimneys have you seen since we left town, or, for that matter, how many cabins?”

  “They had a shack. It wasn’t much of one, according to my father, but they threw it together to have shelter in the winter. You may not know it, but they’d been digging for several years.”

  “I knew it had been a while. What I never understood was why they didn’t go ahead and record their claim and be done with it. Why all the secrecy? It seems to me if they had a rich strike they’d have gone about it in the right way—dug deep shafts and had carts and mules, men to help. I heard miners talking in the saloon sometimes, and they all dreamed of being able to finance big operations to bring out the mother lode, as they called it.”

  Ryder’s eyes took on the mischievous twinkle Kitty had come to know so well as he made the barb, “The reason they didn’t do all that is because they trusted other folks about as much as you trust me.”

  She fired back, “If they had the same reasons I have, then I don’t blame them.”

  His laugh was loud, robust, as he rolled to his back once more. “Hell, woman, how can I expect you to trust me when you don’t even like me?”

  “Sometimes trust and like go together.”

  The humor slipped from his voice. “I can’t see that I ever mistreated you…even when you were a captive.”

  “That was because of your mother. She wouldn’t allow it.”

  “That’s not why, Kitty,” he said quietly. “Our band of Apache is more civilized than others. Besides, we didn’t want a slave. We’re renegades, and all we’re trying to do is survive. And you know the only reason I wanted the gold—and still do—is to take care of my people till they can get settled in Mexico and start a new life. Otherwise, I’d never have led a raid on a stagecoach or anywhere else.”

  “So let’s find it quick,” she said, uncomfortable to feel as though she had been soundly chastised. “So we can go our separate ways.”

  But even as she spoke, Kitty felt a stirring in her heart that made her wonder whether that was really the way she wanted it.

  “Tell me more about your people,” she urged to end the tension that had sprung between them. She also liked to hear him share Indian folklore, for she had become fascinated with the Chiricahua Apaches and their sad plight.

  So he talked, on into the night, telling her stories of war and famine along with peace and plenty, and she listened intently.

  When he finally lapsed into silence, with apparently no more yarns to spin, she said, “I hope your people will find what they’re looking for in Mexico. I’ll think about you and wonder.”

  He was quiet for a moment, then said so low she had to strain to hear him, “You could go with us.”

  She had stretched out on the ground, propping her head on her saddle to stare up at the silver-velvet night as he talked. Now she turned to stare at him in wonder. “What did you say?”

  “I said you could go with us.”

  The idea had never entered her mind, and she was astonished at the suggestion.

  “Where else do you have to go?” He made his tone light, as though it were an idea born of politeness rather than what he had begun to feel for her the past weeks.

  Kitty was still reeling and stammered, “Well, nowhere…yet. Opal wants to go to California. I don’t know…”

  “It would make my mother happy,” he said, thinking how it would make him even more so. “I can tell she likes you very much.”

  Kitty smiled. “She liked Billy Mingo.”

  “She likes Kitty Parrish even more. And so do I,” he added soberly.

  A nervous laugh escaped her lips as Kitty pointed out, “I’m not Apache. I’d never get used to your ways.”

  “So you could teach us yours. Besides, once we get settled, I plan to build a school and find someone to teach the children all they need to know, and that someone could be you. Times are changing, Kitty, for all of us. The old ways will fade away. It’s time to learn new.

  “There’s a lot we could teach each other,” he added as he moved closer.

  She had been staring into the fire but brought her gaze up to meet his eyes as she felt a little shiver within.

  He leaned to tilt her chin with outstretched fingers. “I’ve fought against what I’ve come to feel for you. I want you to know that. But I’m burning inside, Kitty, like I’ve never burned for any woman in my life. I don’t know what it means, but I’d damn sure like to find out.”

  Kitty was mesmerized and could no more have drawn away from him than change the winds or turn the tides. Once more she was his captive, held by invisible chains she did not wish to break…even though she told herself she should. She meant nothing to him but raw, savage pleasure, yet she could not deny herself this time of ecstasy.

  “Tell me to stop,” he commanded huskily. “Because I didn’t mean for this to happen. I swore I wouldn’t touch you, that we’d work together and nothing more, but damn it, being so close to you, wanting you, is driving me crazy. So tell me to go to hell, Kitty, if this isn’t what you want, too.”

  For answer, she bent her head back, offering herself to him as she slipped her arms about his broad shoulders.

  Smiling at her surrender, he cupped her cheek in his hand, gently stroking the cut made by the outlaw’s stolen ring. “I want to take care of you, little one,” he murmured, his thumb following the bow of her lip. “Don’t be afraid. Don’t ever be afraid…”

  Leaning forward, he captured her mouth to taste the sweet quivering beneath his.

  “Tell me you want me,” he coaxed, tongue flicking across her lips. “Tell me you want me, or I’ll stop and never touch you again, I promise. I can’t let you think I forced you…”

  Kitty stared at him, swallowing against the lump in her throat. Never had she seen such tenderness in a man’s face, but there was something else, something more that made her heart swell to bursting. “I do want you, Ryder,” she whispered tremulously. “I think I always have—as you, as Whitebear. I felt desire for the both of you, even though I tried to fight it…”

  He pulled her gently down to lie beside him, as his mouth skimmed along her throat, lips emphatic and unbelievably warm. His tongue flicked over her flesh, making it quiver as her body seemed to melt against the length of him. Through the thin cotton of her blouse, her breasts and her nipples strained toward his hands, which were dropping lower.

  Suddenly he took her lips in a kiss so ravaging that spirals of fire lanced through her. As his fingers tore at her blouse, his tongue swept into her mouth.

  She arched into him, yielding to the kiss, at the same time thrilling to feel him touch a breast and tease the nipple with his finger. He plucked it to a hard, tight bud, and waves of longing swept over her.

  And then she was struck b
y the driving need to touch him, as well. Her hands moved down his back, then around to trace the rock-hard lines of his chest and on to the flatness of his belly.

  She heard his groan, deep in his throat, and then he was undressing her, and she was helping him, anxious to be naked and vulnerable to his sweet assault.

  “So beautiful,” he said thickly as he pulled back to rake her with lusty eyes in the fire’s glow. “Had I seen you this way when you were my slave, I’d have never let you go and kept you naked all the time…”

  His fingers went to her waist, pulling her roughly against him to feel the hardness of his need. “See what you do to me?” He slid it between her thighs, working to and fro, one hand moving to cup her firm, rounded buttocks, to lock her in his embrace.

  His lips burned, his tongue devoured, and Kitty felt flaming heat consume her body.

  He continued to hold her tight while moving a hand upward to once more cup and mold each breast in turn. And then he was lowering his head to feast and suckle, and her cheek lay against his thick, dark hair as she cradled his head and whimpered to urge him on.

  “I’ve never wanted anyone more,” he whispered, his tongue circling a nipple before drawing in as much of her breast as he could take.

  She slid her hands down to grip his shoulders, then ran her fingers along his back to feel the heavy cords of muscle tighten at her touch.

  She felt him move to skim her flesh, downward to her navel and on below.

  A shudder sparked in her loins to feel his long, slim fingers dance through the hair at the juncture of her thighs, then ease them apart to slip inside.

  “No…oh, no…” she whispered.

  He brushed her mouth with yet another fiery kiss as he plunged a finger in and out to send hot, damp tremors up and into her belly. He paused to caress the swollen bud hidden within her sex and tease, “Are you telling me you don’t want this? Are you telling me to stop? I promised I would, little one. Just say—”

  “Yes…I mean, no,” she cried, thinking how she should be embarrassed, but hot, burning need was taking over, sweeping her helplessly into a storm surge of emotion, and with the deep, thrusting rhythm of his finger she could only melt into moaning sighs of pleading for him to go on, to take her all the way to paradise.

  But he was enjoying the honeyed torture he was inflicting upon her and continued to make her writhe and sob with pleasure beneath him.

  Pushing her onto her back, he bent her legs to prop them on his shoulders as he positioned himself between.

  Kitty closed her eyes and threw her head back in readiness to feel the first, hard thrust of his manhood. Then her legs stiffened, and she gave a little cry to feel not his shaft but his tongue instead.

  He began to circle the tiny nub with his tongue, then drew it between his lips to lick and explore. He was, she realized in sweet-hot panic, devouring her. She thought surely she would die if he did not stop. Hot needles of pleasure that were almost painful stabbed to the very core of her being.

  She held tightly to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he continued to feast, turning her blood to liquid fire as her heart pounded so fast she feared it would burst from her chest.

  And then it happened—deep, twisting, gnawing licks of pleasure like blows from a whip. Within, without, over and under. Her insides were exploding, and she began to undulate her hips, striving to get closer to him as he plunged yet deeper, harder, almost bruising, fingers digging into the softness of her hips.

  She twisted her head from side to side, writhing in the most delicious rapture she had ever known, and he held on tightly, making her ride with his rhythmic assault.

  At last, he released her, but not for long, as he tore out of his clothes and positioned himself above her once again.

  And this time she did feel the hard plunging of his desire and clung to him yet tighter, reveling in the feel, for the afterglow of her own pleasure burned as bright and hot as the embers of the campfire that refused to die.

  Ryder took himself to glory quickly, for it had been all he could do to hold back as he had consumed her with his tongue, his mouth. He had wanted to send her into a frenzy of longing, to teach her the pleasures of her body she had not known existed. But it had taken every ounce of willpower he could muster to hold back.

  For a long while, they clung together, arms and legs entwined, then finally they drew apart, gasping for breath.

  “We…we’ll never find the treasure like this,” Kitty said, attempting humor in the wake of embarrassment to have so lost control.

  “Maybe,” he said as he drew her into the circle of his arms once more, “we’ve already found it.”

  Ryder lay awake a long time after Kitty had fallen asleep.

  Nothing had been resolved.

  She had made no commitment.

  He had no reason to think she felt anything for him beyond passion, but then she was a stubborn sort. So he dared to wonder if perhaps she were fighting an inner battle, fearing that to love would mean giving up the independence she so fiercely clung to.

  He worried, too, that the same obstinacy and spirit that had drawn him to her might be her ultimate downfall.

  Coyotay had found her when she was overly confident in thinking she could find the camp.

  The outlaws had tracked her because she was not experienced enough to cover her trail.

  Both were mistakes that could have cost her her life, and they worried him, because if she did go her separate way when their quest was over, what was to become of her?

  But all he could do in the time they had together was to try and make her love him…

  …as he loved her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “I’m starting to think we’ll never find it,” Kitty said, feeling discouraged.

  It was mid-morning, and they had set out at dawn to take advantage of the cool, crisp air before the sweltering heat settled in.

  “It shouldn’t be much farther,” Ryder said without looking at her. They rode side by side, but he was ever alert for any sign of danger, eyes constantly darting about. “How’s your water holding out?”

  Kitty unlooped her canteen from the saddle horn and shook it. “I’m afraid there’s not much left.”

  “We’ll run into the San Pedro again beyond those buttes. We can fill our canteens and let the horses drink, because after that we’ll be heading away from the river. And unless we happen across a stream, we might be in for a dry spell.”

  Kitty wanted to get her bearings. She did not like having no idea where she was. “The trail has been so crooked. How far would you say we are from Tombstone?”

  “Probably a day’s ride.” He flashed a crooked grin. “We got kind of sidetracked, you know.”

  Kitty blushed and felt a stirring warmth to think of the splendor they had shared in each other’s arms.

  He pointed to a distant mountain of rock and sparse vegetation. “My people’s camp is only a half day’s ride through that pass. Once you reach the other side, you’d see familiar signs and know where you were. But I’d never risk going that way again. It’s on the fringe of Comanche country to the north, and they keep sentries in the pass. It’s a death trap.”

  “But you made it through.”

  “Yes, by riding like the devil was on my heels with arrows flying over my head. You can’t see it from here, but the pass is very narrow, with lots of outcroppings and ledges where the Comanche can hide. I knew it was dangerous when I did it, but I was in a hurry to get back to camp. I had gone to find special herbs found only on this side, that my mother needed for a sick baby, and there was no time to waste.”

  “And did the baby live?”

  He smiled. “Oh, yes. My mother is very good with her potions. A medicine man didn’t escape the reservation with us, but she’s the next best thing.”

  “A medicine woman,” Kitty said pleasantly.

  “Well, she can’t be called that. She would have to convince everyone that she had a special gift—the abilit
y to interpret dreams and omens, and subject herself to long fasts and vigils. She would have to go off by herself to meditate and communicate with spirits, especially at night. She doesn’t care about that. She just mixes her potions and minds her own business, and people can call her what they want to.”

  He looked at her suddenly, sharply. “Have you given any thought to what I said last night about your going with us to Mexico?”

  “Some.” She was not about to confide she had thought of little else.

  “Even if we find the gold, it will be a struggle. Shelters have to be built, herds of cattle started, crops planted.”

  “And without the gold?”

  “Some will starve before spring, because there won’t be money to buy food to see us through the winter. I can understand why you wouldn’t want to go.”

  She hedged. “I need to think about it,” she said. After all, he had only said he loved her—not that he wanted to marry her. And even, that revelation might have been inspired by the heat of the moment.

  No, she could not make a momentous decision that could affect the rest of her life unless she was completely sure it was what she wanted. After all, she still had much to learn about the other side of Ryder—the side that was Apache. Perhaps custom demanded he marry one of his own kind. Maybe Adeeta would be his choice. What then? Would he make her his mistress? She did not know about such things, only that she could never share him with another woman.

  She dragged in a heavy breath. She was weary from riding doggedly in the sun, as well as exhausted from the delicious hours of lovemaking the night before.

  They reached the river, and the cool, dark waters proved irresistible in the miserable heat. Kitty, soaked with perspiration, peeled down to her undergarments and waded right in.

  Ryder, however, hung back, and Kitty called, “Aren’t you coming in?”

  His grin was wry. “You seem to forget what happened when you went swimming yesterday. Somebody needs to keep watch. I’ll go in when you’re through.”

  She did not tarry as long as she would have otherwise. They needed to be on their way, and she wanted him to have his turn in the water.