by Bobbi Smith
"I had business to take care of in town," Rori answered simply. She had never deliberately gone against his wishes before, but this had been something that she'd had to do, something she'd been driven to do.
"Let's get back to camp," he said sternly, giving her a hand and swinging her up behind him for the ride back.
In silence, they rode back to the low-burning campfire with Big Jake tagging easily along. Burr didn't speak again until they were settled in before the fire.
"Just what was so important that you had to go into town at night without telling me?" he challenged, his earlier concern having turned to full-blooded fury.
Rori gave a stubborn lift of her chin as she faced him. "I went to see Chance Broderick."
"You what?!" Rori had gone to Broderick?! Burr's anger plummeted to despair as he believed his worst fears had been confirmed. He had been right! She had been attracted to him! But now it was too late . . .
He had never dreamed Rori would be so brazen as to go to him, but then Rori had never shown any interest in a man before. It was his fault, all his fault, he mourned. He should have taught her about men. He should have told her so many things, and now . . .
"I went to see Broderick, and I told him that since you wouldn't take him to Doug, I would," Rori finished, a hint of the steely resolve that had fired her decision in her tone.
As quickly as the despair had hit Burr, it was gone. But his relief was short-lived when he realized what she'd actually agreed to do. The very situation he'd hoped to avoid was coming to pass. Could things possibly get any worse?
"You told him that you'd take him to his brother?" Burr repeated dumbly.
"Yes, I did."
"Even though you knew I'd already refused to do it?" he demanded.
"That's why I had to. Grampa, you know I've never gone against you before," Rori started, but he cut her off viciously.
"Then why are you doing it now?!"
"You always told me a man's word was his most important possession," she came back at him. "Are you telling me now that that was a lie?"
Rori's painful logic silenced Burr for a moment. Everything she'd said was true. Damn, but she was a sharp one—just like her father, he thought. Stubborn like Jack was, too. Whenever Jack had been convinced he was right about something, nobody could change his mind.
Burr wasn't sure if he was pleased to discover these traits in his granddaughter. The fierce determination Jack had shown had been a driving force, a motivating factor, but in Rori, a woman . . .
Burr realized then, with some chagrin, that he had no one to blame but himself for the way Rori had turned out. He'd raised her the only way he knew how, the same way he'd raised her father. He'd taught her to think clearly, judge fairly, and act according to her conscience. She was without guile—completely honest. She was a stranger to society's ways of manipulation and deceit, and it was no wonder that she'd reacted as she had.
"You know damn good and well that a man's word is his bond," he growled, caught in a web of his own making.
"Then you won't stand in the way of me takin' Broderick? I know you have your reasons for not wantin' to go, and I know you aren't gonna tell me what they are. But there's no reason why I can't take him, is there? I mean, the money, think of all the money he's offerin', and I know the mountains as good as anybody," she finished confidently.
"Rori, you just can't go gallivantin' off into the mountains alone with the man."
"Why not?" she asked innocently, her eyes wide with surprise.
"Because you're a girl, damn it!"
Rori's green-eyed gaze hardened. "What's that got to do with anything? You know I'm as good a tracker as any man, 'cept you! You always tell me that! You know I can ride and shoot and throw a knife straighter than just about anybody! Why just tonight, in Broderick's hotel room . . ."
"What about tonight in his hotel room?!"
Rori quickly explained about the ambush and the ensuing fight. "I did real good, Grampa. I got the one guy right in the shoulder," she finished, sounding quite pleased with herself. "I guess I showed Broderick. I was the one who rescued him. Now if I can just keep him from gettin' himself killed on the way up to Doug's mine . . ."
Rori smiled widely as she thought of how much she was going to enjoy showing the arrogant Broderick just how good she really was while they were making the trip. It had been hard enough for him to accept the fact that she'd saved him in the fight, and he thought she was a boy. If he ever found out she was a girl, she'd definitely have the last laugh.
At the nonchalant attitude, Burr was seized by fear. She could have just as easily been killed tonight! "Do you realize how close you came to getting seriously hurt?"
"Well, I'm fine," she dismissed, stubbornly resisting his attempts to frighten her.
"Right now you are, but what if the two men who got away decide to try to get the map again? God only knows if Broderick can handle a gun or not. You don't know if he'd be able to help you in a situation like that. You got lucky tonight, Rori, and I know you're good, but you aren't that good. Do you really think you could fight off the two of them single-handedly if they decide to come after Broderick again?" he argued, knowing that there was no way he could let her do this alone. He had to protect her. "I'm coming with you."
Chapter Five
The sky had grown light in the east. Standing in the window of his hotel room, Chance was watching for Rori in the street below. The aching soreness in his arm had prevented him from seeking any rest, so he'd used those long, dark, sleepless hours of the night to prepare for the journey. Now, Chance was dressed and his things were packed, but still there was no sign of him.
Long minutes passed, and as the day grew brighter, Chance scowled and turned away from the window. It occurred to him that Rori just might not show up after all, and he swore angrily under his breath at the thought. Nothing had gone right so far. Why did he think things necessarily had to get easier?
Not that Chance really believed things were going to get easier. For even though Rori had helped him last night, he still had no proof that the boy was good enough to lead him to Doug. Hell, he thought, the kid might drag him up into the mountains and then get them good and lost! That happy thought left Chance edgier than ever, and he paced his room like a caged animal.
A sound in the street drew him back to the window, and he looked out to see Rori riding slowly up the street on a big black-and-white pinto and leading a pack horse, his monster of a dog trailing lazily behind. Aggravated at the boy's seemingly casual attitude, Chance threw his saddlebags over his shoulder, grabbed up his rifle and bedroll with his good arm, and went down to meet him.
Rori glanced up at Chance's window as she reined in in front of the hotel. The room was dark, and she saw no sign of him. She wondered if he was even up and moving yet. The thought of the greenhorn easterner still lying in bed after having been so anxious to get an early start left her chuckling.
Burr had insisted that they pack extra supplies just in case Doug needed anything, and it had taken her longer than she'd planned to get ready. She felt it was important to her to impress Broderick by keeping her word, and she was worried about being a few minutes late in meeting him.
When he wasn't out in front, chomping at the bit to get going, Rori relaxed. Smiling in self-derision at her overblown concern with Broderick, she slipped easily from her mount. Big Jake came bounding up to her as she dropped lightly to the ground, and she bent to give him an affectionate pat on the head.
"You're a good boy, Jakie," she told him as he gazed up at her, his big, brown saucer eyes filled with adoration. "You wait here for Grampa while I hurry inside and . . ."
"You just now worrying about hurrying?" Chance demanded, as he stalked out of the hotel to find her petting the dog.
"I . . . uh . . . " Rori jerked her head up to look at him and almost did a double take. The voice was the same, but . . . She stared openly. It was Chance Broderick all right, but he sure didn't look like any greenhor
n. He was wearing a black Stetson pulled low across his brow, a navy-blue shirt that fit perfectly across his wide shoulders, dark, slim-fitting pants that clung to his heavily muscled thighs like a second skin, and boots. Though his clothes were new, they were perfectly suited for the kind of traveling they had to do through the mountains. Chance carried his Winchester rifle as if he knew what to do with it, and the holstered sidearm that rode low on his hip looked altogether too natural on him. Rori suddenly wondered if she might have underestimated the man.
Chance had been prepared to chide the youth unmercifully about his lateness, but he paused when he caught sight of the boy's discolored, battered cheek, feeling a moment of sympathy for him. His own arm was hurting pretty badly, so he knew Rori's face had to be just as painful.
Rori didn't know why he'd hesitated, but she was glad he had. Determined not to let him see the confusion she was feeling about him, she quickly took the offensive.
"It's good to see that you're up and about," she taunted as she gestured toward his injured arm. "I was wonderin' if you'd be movin' this morning."
"I'm moving, but I was beginning to wonder if you were," Chance countered sourly, sorry now that he'd even considered being nice to the boy. He realized with some irritation that there would be just no getting along with Rori. He was aggravating, headstrong, and obnoxious, and this was going to make the next few weeks seem long and tedious. Still, Chance told himself resignedly, Rori was the only hope he had to get to Doug.
"I'm here, ain't I?" Rori bristled.
"You're also late," Chance bit out tersely as he stepped coldly past the boy to where his own horse was tied up and waiting for him. "You had me wondering if you were going to show up at all," Chance remarked as he made short work of sliding his rifle into its scabbard and tying his bedroll to the back of his saddle.
"I told you I was takin' you!" His implied insult sent her temper soaring.
As she was speaking, Burr rode into view leading his pack horse, and Chance was surprised to see him.
"What's Burr doing here?" he asked Rori.
"He's goin' with us," she informed him crossly.
Relief, pure and sweet, swept through Chance, and he thanked God that he wasn't going to be stuck out in the wilderness with a young kid who was still wet behind the ears. He greeted the old man warmly when he drew to a halt near them.
"Burr, it's good to see you. Rori here tells me you've decided to go along."
"I'm riding with you," he affirmed.
"Good. I was worried about making the trip with just the boy. I didn't know that I could trust him, but now that you're coming with us . . ."
Chance continued to talk with Burr, unaware that Rori was glaring at him murderously from behind. So he was worried about making the trip with her, was he?! she seethed. And he didn't think he could trust her?! What did she have to do to prove herself to him?! She'd already shown him that she could fight just as good as he could! She'd saved his life!! Her expression was disgusted as she gathered up the reins to the two horses and swung up onto her horse Patch's back.
"Look, if you're ready, we gotta leave now. It's gonna be hotter than hell by afternoon." Her tone was nasty. "Big Jake, let's go!" Rori called her dog as she yanked a little too roughly on the reins. Big Jake ran to follow her as she turned her horse and headed out of town to the east, leaving her grampa and Chance behind.
"Rori's right, it's best to travel early." Burr watched her ride away. Having seen the look in her eyes when she started off, he knew exactly how angry she was, and the thought pleased him. His worries about her being attracted to Chance were fading. The longer she stayed mad at him, the better. If she was furious, then she would probably avoid Chance as much as possible during the trip, and that was exactly what Burr wanted—to keep these two apart.
"He's gone," Hal announced angrily as he came charging into their hidden campsite where Tom awaited him late that afternoon.
"What d'ya mean he's gone?!" Tom sat up abruptly, though the effort cost him.
"From what I could find out without askin' too many questions and makin' people suspicious, he rode out early this morning with the old man and the kid."
"Where were they goin'?"
"Nobody could say for sure, but they were headin' east."
"East? The only mountains to the east are the Superstitions . . ."
"And if we don't catch up with 'em before they get there, we ain't ever gonna find 'em! How soon can you ride?"
Tom moved his shoulder experimentally, and though the pain was excruciating, his need for revenge was greater. "You're sure the Indian's with him?"
"Yep."
"Then I'll be ready when you are," he said firmly.
Hal smiled wolfishly at Tom's determination. "Good, I was hopin' you'd be feelin' up to it. I picked up all the supplies we'd need while I was in town. We'll leave at dawn."
Rori had ridden ahead of Burr and Chance all day, setting a strenuous pace as she led the way across the barren, boulder-strewn land. She'd found enormous satisfaction in forcing Chance to keep up. Easterner that he was, she'd hoped he would falter as the long hours in the saddle passed so she could show him that she was better on horseback. But, to her disappointment, he'd kept up, voicing no complaints as he rode side by side with Burr a short distance behind her.
It became obvious to Rori that Chance knew horses, for he neither pushed nor coddled his strong, surefooted mount. Instead, he had handled the gleaming, black-coated gelding with a practiced, expert hand. This discovery grated on her, too, although she wasn't quite sure why.
Numerous times during the long hot ride, she thought of Chance's remark to Burr that morning and silently cursed herself for having ever agreed to take him. The man was an arrogant ass, and he deserved to be stuck in town. She couldn't imagine now why his opinion of her or Burr had ever mattered to her. As she neared their intended campsite, Rori slowed her horse and waited for them to catch up.
Chance had expected the trek to the mine to be hard, and he wasn't disappointed. As a boy he'd often questioned his mother's insistence that he learn to ride, but now he felt extremely grateful to her for her persistence in forcing him to master the art. Still, he was used to captaining a ship, not sitting a horse, and parts of his anatomy were definitely suffering the consequences.
Burr noticed the way Chance's posture in the saddle had changed as the day had passed, and he felt a grudging respect for him begin to grow. They had followed Rori's almost breakneck lead since setting out, and he hadn't uttered one word of complaint.
"We won't always be traveling this fast," Burr told him, his green eyes, which were so like Rori's, showing his concern for Chance's plight.
"Some days we'll be going faster?" Chance grinned.
"No. We won't be going any faster than this. I just wanted to get a quick start while the traveling was good. Rori told me about the trouble you had in town, and I didn't want to take any chances that we might be followed. But just in case you are wondering, the trail does get rougher and steeper up ahead . . . where there is a trail."
Chance bit back a groan of exhaustion, refusing to show either of them just how tired he really was. If a young boy like Rori could make this trip, then so could he. As sharp-tongued and obnoxious as the boy was, Chance wasn't about to set himself up for any humiliation. He would keep pace no matter what.
As they rode up to join Rori, who was sitting easily on his pinto, Chance wondered if the boy ever got tired. They'd been traveling for almost twelve hours with only a few short stops for water and food, and yet he looked as if he could go on for another twelve.
"You still want to stop here tonight?" Rori asked Burr as they reined in beside her. "We've still got some daylight left. We could go on."
"It's a good place." Burr understood why she'd ridden ahead of them all day, being mad at Broderick and all, but he wasn't about to let the horses suffer because of her temper. "The horses need rest."
Rori shrugged and led the way through a maze
of massive rocks to a small clearing beside a small creek. They each took care of bedding down their own horse. Then Burr built a small fire while Rori saw to the food, a meal of dried beef and beans, and Chance refilled their canteens.
The cool, splashing water spelled relief for Chance, and he decided to wash up before eating. Setting the canteens down, he tossed his hat aside and stripped off his shirt. He got his soap from his belongings and washed as thoroughly as he could, taking care not to get the bandage on his knife wound wet. His arm had stiffened up on him during the long ride, and he massaged it gingerly now as he stood up to stretch.
Rori was busy preparing the meal when she accidentally looked up to see Chance kneeling beside the water, naked to the waist. Against her will, she found herself staring at him, hungrily devouring the sight of him—the hard, lean line of his jaw in profile, the way his dark hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck, and the obvious strength of his back and shoulders. Her gaze hesitated on his bandaged arm, and, remembering how bad it was, she gave him reluctant credit for having kept up with her all day. No matter what he was showing them, Rori knew Chance had to be exhausted, and, though she wouldn't consciously admit it, an inkling of respect for him was born in the heart of her at that moment.
Chance sensed that someone was watching him, and he glanced up to see Rori staring at him. Judging from the way the boy was looking at him, he wondered if he'd ever seen anyone bathe before, or even bathed himself for that matter.
"Want to join me?" he called to Rori, holding the soap out in offering.
The fact that he'd caught her watching him embarrassed her. "Nope. Don't see the need," she responded quickly.
"I didn't think you did," Chance said under his breath as he picked up his things and trudged back to the fire.
They settled down to eat the meal as darkness began to fall across the land.
