Arizona Gold

by Maggie James

  She ran to where a warrior was holding her horse and mounted.

  With another yell, Coyotay led them from the camp.

  Though Kitty did not know it, the Indians marveled at her riding skills. Coyotay had feared she would be unable to go as fast as they wanted, but she led the way at full gallop.

  At the pass, Coyotay reined in his warriors to tell them once they started through, they could stop for nothing.

  Kitty did not understand, for he spoke in Apache, but when he finished he told her of his instructions to the warriors, then grimly said, “Tell Coyotay the way to go should you die in the pass.”

  Despite the tension, Kitty had to laugh. “Don’t be so quick to bury me, Coyotay. I made it through once, and I’ll do it again.”

  “You tell Coyotay,” he said fiercely.

  Knowing he was right, she described as best she could the direction they should go once they reached the other side of the pass. “Attack the campsite,” she advised, “but try to take the outlaws alive.”

  He sneered. “They will all die.”

  “No, Coyotay. There are two that must live to face white-man’s justice for murdering my uncle and Whitebear’s father. And since you don’t know which ones they are, you must let them all live.”

  He grunted. “Whitebear will have Indian justice for the one who killed his father.”

  Kitty hoped not…hoped that he would take a different way as an example to his people. But there was no time to worry about it. “Just please don’t kill unless you have to. Now we have to hurry,” she urged. “Whitebear will be on top of the boulder above the well—if he is still alive.”

  With the war cry of the Apache, Coyotay kicked his horse into a wide-open run.

  Kitty was swallowed in the lineup behind him as they all charged through the pass. Unlike the Indians, she did not shriek wildly but instead kept her head down by leaning forward to press herself against the horse.

  Two warriors were felled by arrows. Everyone kept on going, as Coyotay had ordered.

  And then they were through the pass and heading straight for the campsite, another quarter hour’s ride away.

  Coyotay did not slow, and neither did Kitty and the others. It was only when they reached the outskirts of the site that Kitty cut to the side and went to the rear of the boulder. The others attacked, firing their arrows and rifles.

  The air exploded with the sound of gunfire and screams of rage and pain as the Indians routed the outlaws. Those that were not sprawled on the ground dead or wounded lifted their hands in surrender.

  Kitty saw Ryder’s horse still tied. Dismounting, she scurried up the rock, calling his name as she went, slipping, sliding, falling, getting up again. The flesh was torn from her hands and knees, as she took no time to pick her way carefully. She had to get to him, had to know if he was all right.

  Finally reaching the top, she was washed with panic to see he was not there.

  She raced about, looking in every nook and cranny, but the only signs he had ever been there were bloodstains and the empty dynamite boxes.

  Terrified not to find Ryder, she crept to the edge to look down on the camp and was grateful to see that Coyotay and his men were now in command.

  Spying Nate Grimes, arms stretched over his head as Coyotay held him at bay, she cried at the top of her lungs, “Damn you, Nate, where is Ryder? What have you done with him?”

  He glared up at her. “I ain’t done nothin’ with him, but I wish to hell I had.”

  She hurried down the boulder to rush him and demand, “You know where he is. Tell me or I’ll—” She took note of Coyotay’s fierce expression and warned, “I’ll tell the Apaches to make you talk.”

  Nate paled. He was worn and weary and hungry, and there was no fight left in him. “I swear I don’t know.” His face was screwed in desperation for her to believe him. “He blew up two of my men, and when he finally ran out of dynamite, he just disappeared. We circled to the back to take him by surprise, but he was gone. We been lookin’ all over for him, ’cause his horse is still there.”

  “Then he has to be here somewhere.”

  Coyotay drew his knife and held it to Nate’s throat. “Tell us what you have done with Whitebear, or I will cut out your tongue.”

  Nate’s eyes bulged. “No, no. I swear. He just disappeared…like some kind of ghost.”

  “Where’s Roscoe?” Kitty asked.

  Nate pointed to a body lying facedown. “There. The Injuns got him.”

  Kitty walked over to him, and, sure enough, the turquoise ring, set in silver with snakes entwining the band, was on his finger.

  Nate saw her staring at it and whined, “Yeah, that’s Wade’s ring. Roscoe cut it off his finger. I told him not to, that it wasn’t right, but he did it, anyway.”

  Kitty knelt and, after a few hard tugs, removed the ring. She did not know what she would ever do with it, only that she did not want the fiend that murdered her uncle to have it any longer.

  “Don’t kill him,” she said to Coyotay, who still held a knife under Nate’s chin. “Tie him up. He’ll hang for what he did. Right now, though, we’ve got to find Whitebear. He’s hurt and needs help. Tell the warriors to spread out and look for him.”

  Coyotay gave the orders in Apache, then spoke English to Kitty as he offered an apology for having misjudged her. “You told truth. I am sorry to have doubted.” He grinned. “I will not take your scalp this day.”

  “Or any other day.” She was smiling, but her eyes were solemn; her voice, firm.

  She drifted away to search for Ryder on her own. Passing by the well, she noticed that the boards had been shoved aside. Nate and his men must have been looking for water.

  She started on by but paused to hear a sound that seemed to come from the well.

  It came again, and, heart slamming into her chest, she realized it was someone calling her name, and that someone could only be Ryder.

  Shoving aside the rest of the boards, she gripped the edge of the stone wall around the well and frantically called down, “Ryder, is that you?”

  Joy flooded to hear him shout back, “Yes, I’m down here.”

  Never had she been so grateful or relieved in her life. “Are you all right?” she called anxiously. “How is your leg?”

  “It bled some when I jumped in here, but it’s slowed now. I heard Nate and his boys coming up the back of the boulder and knew I had to hide. This seemed the best place.”

  Kitty was amazed he was able to make it with his injury but knew all too well how courageous he was.

  “I heard the war cry. Where did you find Apaches willing to help? On the way to Tombstone?”

  “I rode through Comanche Pass to get them. They are your warriors, Ryder—Chiricahua. It would have taken too long to go to Tombstone.”

  “You—what?” he bellowed, then, “We’ll talk about that later. Right now I want you to get a rope and climb down here quick.”

  “No. We’ll haul you up.” She called to one of the Indians to bring a rope.

  “Kitty, you don’t understand. I’ve got to show you something.”

  He sounded excited and urged her to hurry and climb down.

  “Let us pull you up instead,” she begged. Whatever he wanted her to see could wait until his wound was properly tended. They would be coming back. With Roscoe dead and Nate awaiting the hangman’s noose, they would not stop until they found the gold strike.

  The Indian brought the rope and dropped one end over the side.

  “I’m not coming up till you come down, Kitty.”

  “And you call me stubborn?” Kitty sighed and climbed over the side, hoping the Indian understood he was to hang on to the rope and not let her fall.

  Ryder was waiting to grab her by her waist, then set her on her feet.

  He was about to kiss her, and she was about to eagerly let him do so, but then she stared beyond him and nearly choked on a gasp of wonder.

  There was light behind him—lantern light—and a tun
nel.

  Breathlessly she asked, “Does this mean what I think it means?”

  “It does,” he said exultantly. “I haven’t explored too far. My wound won’t let me. But I did find a lantern and lit it, and I can see the tunnel winds way on back. This is where they were digging, Kitty. The boards were put over the well to make it appear that it was dry. It was a decoy.

  “And I also know,” he rushed to tell her, “what the Bible verse meant.” He gestured about them. “The reference was to dust and ashes. My father was wanting us to think of something dusty and worthless—like a dried-up well. It was under our noses all along.”

  “Ryder, it’s wonderful.” She hugged him as hard as she dared, for he seemed a bit unstable, leaning against the rock wall for support. “Now let us get you out of here. We’ll leave some warriors to stand guard in case anybody else happens by, and when you’re well, we’ll come back and get the gold.”

  He lifted a brow in mock indignation. “You think you’re taking over, don’t you? Giving orders to me and my warriors. You’ve got another think coming, sweetheart, and—”

  “And I don’t have time for your whining,” she retorted with feigned bossiness. “Now, get that rope tied around your waist, so we can lift you up.”

  “Not yet, sweetheart.” He tossed the rope aside and swept her into his arms. “Not till I kiss you till you can’t breathe and tell you how much I love you till you’re tired of hearing it.”

  She yielded to his lips and swayed with joy when he released her.

  “I’ll never get tired of either,” she said huskily.

  “Then you’re coming with us to Mexico?”

  “Try to stop me,” she laughed.

  “This time I’m the one with conditions.”

  She thought he was going to chide her for making the run through Comanche Pass and ask her to promise never to defy him like that again. “All right,” she gave an exaggerated sigh. “Let’s hear it.”

  He had been smiling, but Kitty saw in the lantern’s glow how his face had taken on a stern expression. And the way his eyes were locked with hers made her uneasy, for he was so intent.

  “I only have one condition, Kitty…that you marry me.”

  Her mind began to spin as she frantically wondered whether she had heard him right. After all, he was weak, probably feverish, and—

  “You said you loved me.”

  She did not hesitate then. “And I do. More than I ever thought I could love anyone.”

  “Then marry me,” he said as though it were all quite simple…as though he were not a great Apache warrior and leader of his people, and she an easterner who had barely got western dust on her boots.

  “I’ve had a lot of time to think, Kitty, and I’ve realized you are the woman I want to spend my life with, to bear my children, and help me lead my people.”

  “Oh, Ryder, are you sure? I have so much to learn about you and your ways. I might disappoint you and them.”

  “That could not happen. You’re a woman of courage, and they respect that.” He kissed her deeply, then said with the tug of a smile on his lips, “And once my wound is healed, I’ll show you how sure I am. I’ll take you captive again till you say you’ll marry me.”

  “But I’m saying it now,” she cried, tightening her arms about him. “I love you, Ryder, and I’ll be proud to be your wife.”

  From above, Coyotay called impatiently to Ryder in their native tongue.

  Ryder answered in Apache, as well. They talked back and forth for a few moments, and then Ryder said something and laughed, and Coyotay seemed stunned.

  “What was that all about?” Kitty asked as Ryder wrapped the rope around his waist in preparation for being hoisted up.

  His eyes were twinkling. “He wanted to know what I found down here.”

  “And now he’s excited to hear you located the gold.”

  “Yes, but he’s also trying to figure out what I meant when I said I’d found something else…something even more precious.”

  He pulled her close. “I found my future…I found you, Kitty, and I swear I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy.”

  “I already am happy, my darling,” she declared fervently, raising her lips for his kiss. “I already am.”

  About the Author

  Maggie James aka Patricia Hagan might be the New York Times bestselling author of 38 novels and 2500 short stories, but she can also lay claim to being among the vanguard of women writers covering NASCAR stock-car racing. The first woman granted garage passes to major speedways, she has awards in TV commentary, newspaper and magazine articles, and for several years wrote and produced a twice-weekly racing program heard on 42 radio stations in the south.

  Patricia’s books have been translated into many languages, and she has made promotional trips to Europe, including England, France, Italy, Norway, Greece, Turkey, Croatia, Spain and Ireland.

  Hagan’s exciting eight-book Coltrane saga, which spans from the Civil War to the Russian Revolution, has appeared on every major bestseller list and is one of the most popular series published in France, never having been out-of-print in that country in nearly 30 years.

  Born in Atlanta, Georgia, Patricia grew up all across the United States due to her father’s position as a federal attorney, finally settling in Alabama where she graduated from the University of Alabama with a major in English. She now resides with her husband in south Florida where she volunteers as a Court-appointed Guardian Ad Litem for abused children.

  But of all her accolades and accomplishments, Patricia most of all loves to boast of being the proud mom of a Navy SEAL.

  Look for these titles by Maggie James

  Now Available:

  Arizona Gold

  My Irish Love

  Ryan’s Bride

  Texas Lucky

  Writing as Patricia Hagan

  Souls Aflame

  Passion’s Fury

  This Savage Heart

  Love’s Wine

  Midnight Rose

  Heaven in a Wildflower

  The Coltrane Saga

  Love and War

  The Raging Hearts

  Love and Glory

  Love and Fury

  Love and Splendor

  Love and Dreams

  Love and Honor

  Love and Triumph

  Searching for a place to call home, the last thing she expects is a man to call her own.

  My Irish Love

  © 2014 Maggie James

  Desperate to escape, Kerry O’Day is running away from the pain of her mother’s death as well as an unwanted arranged marriage. She seeks refuge in North Carolina with her father, only to find that he was killed in the Civil War.

  Complicating things further, the handsome and mysterious Slade Dillon shows up to claim her father’s land—and every ounce of her attention. Forced to split the land due to their competing claims, Kerry and Slade must learn to live together peacefully, all the while fighting to protect their land, their lives, and their hearts.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for My Irish Love:

  Kerry was not surprised her father did not come upstairs. He was probably too drunk to notice she wasn’t around. As for concern over her mother, that would be the last thing on his mind.

  Time passed, and night came. Meara slept on, and Kerry kept constant vigil. And all the while she was thinking how, if her mother did live, she was going to take her and leave. Starving to death would be better than the misery they were forced to endure, especially now that her father had decided she should marry Rooney Sluaghan. But they would survive. Kerry reasoned she could find work at a pub in another village. After all, Galway was not the only place to live nor the only village with pubs.

  Her mother had no family, her parents having passed away in only the past few years. She had few friends, because Sean did not allow her to go out except to church once in a while.

  There was, however, one person who might be willing to help them escape. Somet
imes her father would leave the care of the pub to Rooney Sluaghan while he disappeared for a few days. Kerry suspected he went to see a woman. Her mother had said as much. But neither minded, because it meant he was not around to abuse them. And that was when Edana O’Malley would slip in to visit. She was a kindly woman who seemed to adore Meara. But their times together were infrequent, and Kerry recalled one occasion when her father had returned early and gone into a rage to find Edana there. He had beaten her mother, and Kerry, going to her defense, had wound up locked in the cellar for several days. After that, Meara would sneak out to meet Edana in—of all places—the village cemetery.

  Theirs was, Kerry acknowledged, a strange friendship, but she was thankful her mother had that much, at least.

  Finally, Meara stirred, moaned softly, and opened her eyes.

  Kerry was ready with the laudanum. Lifting her head from the pillow so she could drink, Kerry noticed how warm she felt. Pressing her lips to her mother’s brow, she winced to realize she was burning with fever. Dr. Muldune had not said anything about that but reasoned the laudanum would help.

  “I…I’m so sorry,” Meara said thinly as Kerry gently lowered her to the pillow once more. “I…couldn’t stop him…”

  “It’s all right,” Kerry assured, her bottom still smarting from the brutal licks of the paddle. “But I don’t want you to talk. Dr. Muldune says you need to rest.”

  Meara groped for her hand. Kerry quickly laced fingers with her and squeezed. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to leave you. Now try to sleep, please.”

  Meara’s smile was bittersweet as she looked up at Kerry with rheumy eyes. “Soon I will sleep forever. For now, I want to be with you. Oh, Kerry, how I have loved you…”

  “And I love you.” Kerry was fighting tears. “Now stop talking nonsense. You’re going to get well, and then we’re leaving here. I can find work, and I’ll take care of you. I will never let him hurt you again.”

  “He…he will make you marry Rooney when I’m gone.”

  “But you aren’t going anywhere.” Kerry tried to make her voice light, positive.