by Bobbi Smith
Since Broderick had told him before that he was expecting someone, Virgil figured the boy was telling the truth. He relented reluctantly. "All right. Go on. He just went on up. If you don't catch him, his room's the last door on the left."
Rori nodded and started up the stairs. She caught sight of Chance when she reached the top and called out to him just as he began to step inside his room.
"Broderick! I need to talk to you!"
Chance was already halfway through the door when he heard her, and he turned to look back just as Hal lunged with the knife. Rori's call saved Chance from instant death as Hal's thrust took him only in the upper arm. He gave a strangled cry as the force of the attack sent him reeling into his room.
"Tom! Quick! Get the damn door closed!!" Hal ordered as he launched himself at Chance determined to kill him.
Tom charged forward from where he'd been hiding to slam the door shut, but Rori was already there. Though the room was dark, there was enough light from the hall for her to see Chance and the other armed man struggling on the floor. She rushed into the room to help and, as she did, saw Tom running toward her. Rori reacted instinctively, drawing her own knife and throwing it at him.
"Hal, I'm hurt!" Tom cried as the blade sank deeply into his shoulder. He yanked the knife out and threw it aside in agony.
Hal was furious. His plan had been going so well and now . . . He could hear the sound of voices and the thunder of running footsteps as those downstairs were alerted to the trouble. They had been so close! If only his first attempt had killed the bastard everything would have gone as planned! Snarling in outrage, he hit Chance as hard as he could, hoping to stun him long enough for them to make their getaway. Hal jumped to his feet and was starting to run for the window when Rori attacked.
"You ain't gettin' away, you bastard!!" Rori yelled, grabbing Hal around the neck from the back.
Hal was surprised by the assault, but the boy was so light he threw him off with little trouble. As Rori crashed into the wall, he helped Tom out onto the porch roof. The force of the blow knocked her light-headed for a minute, but she was soon back on her feet racing toward the window. She reached it just in time to see that the two men had jumped down to the alleyway and were making their escape on the horses they'd left tied there. Rori was torn between chasing after them and going back to see how Broderick was. She hesitated, looking back to where Chance was struggling to get up, and at that moment Virgil and several other men burst into the room, their guns drawn.
"Hold it right there, you little red-skinned bastard!!" Virgil shouted, taking aim at her with deadly intent. "See to Broderick, and one of you light the lamp," he directed the others without looking away from Rori.
Rori's eyes widened as she stared at the advancing white man. Surely they didn't think she was the one who'd attacked Broderick . . .
"So you had a message for him, did you!? I knew you were a murdering little savage!" Virgil started toward her, the gun pointed directly at her chest.
Fear seared Rori's soul as she stared down the barrel of the weapon. She fought to keep her expression stoic, but the depth of her sudden terror was mirrored in her gaze.
"Keeps, you're wrong! It wasn't the boy . . ." Chance managed, holding his wounded arm as he struggled to his feet with the help of the other men.
"What are you talking about?"
His pain-filled gaze met Rori's, and, despite her relatively calm expression, he could read the fear that gripped her. Chance hurried to explain. "There were two of them! They were waiting for me in the room. They jumped me when I came in . . ."
"Two of 'em?" Virgil sounded doubtful as he glanced back at him.
"You don't really think he's strong enough to do this to me, do you?" Chance scorned, gesturing toward his injured arm.
"Could have if he took you by surprise," he insisted, not willing to let it go yet. He was looking forward to lynching the damned half-breed troublemaker.
"He came upstairs after me, Keeps," he replied angrily. "The two who did it were waiting in the room, and when they heard you coming, they went out the window. Maybe you can catch them outside . . ."
"What did they look like?" one of the other men asked, knowing that what Chance had said was the truth.
"I'm not sure. It was dark, and the one who stabbed me took me from behind. All I know is that he was a big man, had dark hair and a mustache," he offered. "The other one . . .?" Chance looked to Rori for help.
"Not big, not small. He's got a knife wound in his shoulder," she added with a proud lift of her chin as she bent down to pick up her knife. With pretended casualness, she wiped the bloody blade on the bedsheet and then slid it back into its sheath at her waist.
"We'd better go see if we can find 'em." Virgil grudgingly lowered his gun as he turned to go. "We'll send the doc for you."
When they'd gone from the room to begin the search, Chance shoved the door shut behind them and turned to face Rori.
Chapter Four
Rori remained rooted where she was on the far side of the bed near the window. When Chance turned to look at her, their gazes locked across the width of the room, and she suddenly knew a strange sense of intense isolation. It seemed to Rori that they were the only two people left in the world. The thought made her uncomfortable, and she frowned.
Chance studied the boy from where he stood, staring at his bruised face as if actually seeing him for the first time. Rori was every bit Indian from his black braids to his moccasined feet, and he looked suitably fierce, especially with his battered cheek. Chance knew from his own personal experience that there was nothing the least bit soft about the youth, but something about his slight build and brilliant green eyes made him seem almost vulnerable right now.
It pained Chance considerably to admit that the stubborn, argumentative boy had put up one hell of a fight, and that his unexpected but timely arrival had saved him from certain death. If it hadn't been for Rori . . .
"Rori . . . thank you," he said earnestly.
The rough velvet of Chance's deep voice sent unexpected chills down Rori's spine. Staring at him in the golden glow of the lamplight, realizing how totally mesmerizing he was, she felt her heart hammer wildly in her breast. Her throat had gone dry and her hands were cold. Rori wondered dazedly if she had hurt her head when she was thrown against the wall, but what she was feeling was not painful, at least not that way. A tiny, niggling voice in the back of her thoughts warned her that this was something else . . . something different . . . something special, and a surge of unexplained panic welled up inside her.
"I told you it was a miracle you'd managed to stay alive this long!" Rori spoke up, being deliberately sarcastic to break the tension that had been building within her. "Who was your nursemaid before I came along?"
"Amazingly enough, until I ran into you, I was managing to take care of myself pretty well," Chance remarked dryly as he stripped off his shirt. Though the cut on his arm wasn't serious, it was still bleeding heavily. Grabbing up one of the towels off the washstand, he single-handedly tried to fashion a tourniquet around his upper arm to slow it down.
Rori had to fight to keep herself from gawking. It wasn't that she'd never seen a man without his shirt on before. She had seen Burr that way many times, but there was something about the sight of Chance naked to the waist that made her breath catch in her throat. His shoulders were wide; his chest, solid, ridged with firm muscle and covered with a light furring of dark hair that narrowed to a vee at the waistband of his pants.
Nervously, Rori jerked her gaze upward. It was then that she noticed the strained look on his handsome, rugged features and knew he was in pain. Oddly, she found herself aching to rush to him so she could be the one to tend his arm, rather than the doctor the other men had gone to summon. She wanted to tell him how glad she was that she'd been there to save him from being killed. She wanted to tell him . . .
The thoughts and feelings that were roiling within her were so powerful and so totally alien to Ror
i that they frightened her. The only person she cared about was Burr, she told herself adamantly. He loved her and she loved him. Grampa and Big Jake were all she needed to be happy in life! She didn't care about Chance! The truth was she couldn't stand him! He was arrogant and hateful!
Still, worried that his injury might be worse than she'd first thought, she couldn't stop herself from asking, "You all right?"
"I will be once I get this tied. It's just a flesh wound. It's bleeding pretty bad, but I've had worse," he commented as he sat down on the bed, struggling to get a knot in the cloth and not having much success.
Chance's last statement, made so calmly, so offhandedly, sent a chill through her. He'd been hurt before . . . Again, Rori wondered at this sudden concern she had for him. What did she care if he'd been shot or stabbed or beaten?!!
"No doubt, from the way you fight!" she taunted, forcing herself to remember that she hated him.
Chance was growing very tired of constantly trading insults with the boy. Earlier that afternoon he'd found his unreasonable hostility mildly amusing, but right now he had no interest in matching barbs with him.
"Look, I don't know why you showed up here tonight in the first place, and right now, I don't care," he told the boy wearily. "Just help me with this thing before I bleed to death, will you? I can't seem to get it tight enough just using one hand."
Again, Rori swallowed nervously. Help him? Actually touch him? She didn't speak; she couldn't actually. Knowing there was absolutely no way she could refuse, Rori moved slowly toward Chance. She sat down on the bed beside him, and the sinking of the mattress brought her hip in full contact with his. The touch of his muscle-hardened thigh against her softer one was electric for Rori, and she shifted uncomfortably away from him, keeping her eyes down cast. She couldn't risk letting him see the confusion she was sure was showing clearly in her eyes.
Chance noticed her discomfort and gave a ragged, exasperated sigh. "Rori, I know how you feel about me, but do you think we could just call a truce until the doctor shows up?"
No, you don't know how I feel about you, Chance Broderick! I don't even know how I feel about you! Rori thought wildly.
"I guess so," she finally said tightly, fighting to keep her hands from shaking as she reached out to him. Struggling not to betray her inner turmoil, she brushed his hand aside and efficiently corrected his clumsy knot before tightening the cloth around his arm. He had lost a lot of blood, but the makeshift tourniquet would help. She moved to the washstand then and got another towel to press to the bloody gash. "Press tight on that. Between the two of 'em, that should do it for now."
"Good. Thanks." He took the cloth, then leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes. "Damn," he groaned, "I don't know why in the hell I even bothered to come out here. Doug's desperate for help, but I can't get anybody to take me to him, and every time I turn around, somebody's trying to kill me . . . first you and then those two thugs . . ."
"Why d'ya think they were after you? I mean they were waitin' right here in your room for you. Did you know them?"
"No," he answered, opening his eyes to look around the room. "But they had to be after the map. Just look at the mess they made."
For the first time, Rori glanced at her surroundings and realized that everything was in disarray. "Map? What map?"
"Didn't Burr tell you?"
"No. He wouldn't talk about it."
"Well, Doug sent me a hand-drawn map of his mine."
"Did they get it?"
"No, your grampa gave me some good advice. He told me to be careful with it, so I kept is safe," Chance said with relief, touching the pocket where the map was stowed. "Not that it does me a hell of a lot of good. Without Burr to take me up there, I'm at a standstill." Chance closed his eyes again as a wave of weariness washed over him. The day had been one long disaster. "I should have stayed in Boston. At least if I was there I could have Bethany, and a long, hot night in her arms sounds real good right now."
Rori felt her cheeks heat up at the image his words evoked. Chance in bed with some mysterious woman named Bethany . . . She moved away from the bedside, keeping her back to him, just in case he looked at her. She didn't want him to see her blush. "Who's Bethany?" She had to ask.
"One very beautiful, very sexy, very sophisticated lady," Chance said without emotion.
His words stung for some reason, and Rori lashed out at him without thought, her voice full of scorn. "I was thinkin' that was the kind of company you keep." She gestured toward his arm. "It's just pretty clear that you don't hang around with any of the rough boys."
Chance opened one eye to peer at Rori. "I thought we'd agreed to a truce." When the boy fell silent, he went on, sounding irritated and exhausted, "Look, Rori, why did you come here tonight? What do you want?"
"I came to see you about going up in the mountains."
"Burr's changed his mind?" Chance's expression brightened, and there was a note of hope in his voice. "He's going to take me?"
"No."
"Then he's found somebody who will?"
"Well, not really."
"Damn it!" he roared, his frustration getting the best of him. "Doesn't he realize how important it is that I get to Doug? I've got to get up to that mine!"
"I know, and that's why I'm gonna take you," Rori announced.
"You?" Chance stared at Rori in utter disbelief. He might put on a tough act, but he was just a kid. Chance figured Rori couldn't be more than fourteen or so. How the hell was he going to get him there?
"Yes, me!" she countered sharply.
"And what makes you think Burr's going to let you be my guide, if he won't go himself?"
"I don't know what his reasons are for not taking you, and I don't care. I make my own decisions, and I've decided to do it," Rori told him staunchly. She thought of his earlier remark regarding Burr's honor and knew she had to redeem it.
Chance regarded her skeptically. "Your grampa had decided to take me to the mine, too, but he backed out on his word. How do I know you won't do the same?"
Rori's eyes flashed green fire as she glared at him, and she wondered how she could ever have thought him attractive. She was so angry over his disparaging comment, she was shaking.
"Don't worry, white man, you have my word on it, and I never go back on a promise. Never."
Chance gave her a skeptical look and was about to say more when the doctor knocked and, without further preamble, came bustling into the room.
"I'm Dr. Wallace. Virgil sent me up . . ." he announced and then strode purposefully to the bed. He was a short man whose well-rounded shape gave testimony to his love for food. "He said there'd been trouble up here, and I can see right off he was serious." Glancing at Rori, he asked, "You want the breed here?"
"The boy can stay."
Setting his bag on the bed, the doctor opened it and took out a half-full bottle of whiskey. "Here." He held it out to Chance with a smile. "Best medicine around."
"My kind of tonic," Chance agreed. He took the liquor and drank deeply as the doctor examined his arm. The whiskey burned all the way to his stomach, but at this point Chance didn't care. His arm was throbbing, and any comfort he could get would be welcome. "Thanks."
Dr. Wallace took the bottle back, and before Chance knew what he was doing, he poured the rest of the potent brew over his raw and bleeding arm. Chance went pale as the shock of the alcohol hit him. His jaw clinched in agony as he battled down the pain.
"That should do it," the doctor pronounced proudly as he got some salve and bandages out of his bag and began to wrap up the arm. "You should be as good as new in no time."
"Right," Chance drawled when he was finally able to draw a breath.
"That'll be a dollar, six bits."
Getting up off the bed, Chance pulled some money out of his pocket and paid the man, sending him off happily into the night. As he closed the door behind him, Chance flexed his arm experimentally, wincing slightly at the sharp pain the simple movement evo
ked.
"I plan on leavin' in the morning, unless you think you won't be up to it," Rori chided.
"I'll be ready, if and when you show up," Chance threw out the challenge.
"The five-hundred-dollar offer still stand?" At his nod, she started for the door. "I'll be here at sunup."
"You think it's safe to build a fire?" Tom asked anxiously as he leaned weekly against one of the massive boulders that surrounded their campsite.
"There ain't nobody comin' after us. We got away clean," Hal replied, throwing a few more sticks on the small blaze. "Besides, I gotta take a look at your shoulder. How's it doin'?"
"It's stopped bleedin', but it still hurts like hell. Damn Indian bastard! Where'd he come from, anyway?"
"I don't know, but I'm gonna find out, and when I do, I'm gonna hunt him down and kill him," Hal swore. "He ruined everything for us. We had that Broderick fella. I'da had his throat cut in another minute!"
"And we'da had the map! Instead, we got nothin'."
"It ain't over yet," he said fiercely. "Nobody knows it was us. You just lay low out here until your shoulder's better, and then we'll go after him again."
"What if he leaves?"
"I'll ride back into town tomorrow and see what I can find out. Maybe we'll get another chance at him."
"And a chance at that breed! This time, though, it's gonna be me doin' the killin'. I got a score to settle with him."
Hal was surprised by the fierceness in his voice, for he'd never known Tom to get enthused about killing anybody. The change pleased him, though, and he knew they were going to enjoy tracking down and murdering the little bastard. After all, the only good Indian was a dead Indian as far as he was concerned.
"Where the hell have you been?!" Burr demanded as he came upon Rori and Jake a short distance away from their camp. Burr reined in angrily beside her, his expression thunderous. He'd been worrying himself sick about her ever since he'd wakened a short time before to find she was gone. Thinking something terrible had happened, he'd saddled up as quickly as he could and had gone looking for her.
