by Bobbi Smith
Rori had heard Chance's shot and cursed her own lack of quarry. She'd been searching nonstop since she'd left camp, and she couldn't find another rabbit to save her soul. Frustrated and fearing that she was going to be the one swallowing her pride at dinner, Rori refused to return just yet. Instead, she continued on, tense and ready to match what she believed was Chance's triumph.
The hare came out of nowhere, but alert as she was, Rori did not miss the opportunity. With perfect aim, she drew a bead on the racing critter and fired, killing it instantly. She almost shouted in excitement. Though a competition hadn't been declared, Rori knew she'd take great satisfaction in having Chance see just how good she was with a gun. Grabbing up the rabbit, she started back proudly.
Big Jake was waiting for her, and he raced to her side as she came into view, barking a happy welcome.
"Get away. Go on," she told him as she kept on walking and tried not to look too pleased about his warm greeting. "You think I'm supposed to be glad to see you?"
Jake gave such a pitiful whine that she couldn't help but smile. He knew she could never stay mad at him for long.
"Well, I didn't need you anyway. See." Rori held up her rabbit for his inspection. "We ain't gonna starve tonight."
"Congratulations on your luck," Chance said as she entered the encampment carrying her prize.
"There wasn't no luck involved. It was just plain, good shootin'," Rori bragged and then asked, "Where's yours? I heard you shoot."
"Mine's probably sitting out there in the brush somewhere having a real good laugh."
"So you missed?" The news delighted her.
"Thanks to Big Jake, I did."
"Jakie? What did he do?" Rori was surprised by this, and she looked from Chance to the carefree mongrel in puzzlement.
"Well, after being quiet during the entire hunt, the first time I got a chance to shoot, he decided to bark."
"And the rabbit got away?" she asked, trying to keep from laughing at her dog's duplicity. Had Jakie known it was important to her to outshoot Chance? Had he gone with him deliberately? She glanced at her pet and saw how eagerly he was waiting for her praise.
"And the rabbit got away," he confirmed.
"That's a shame." Rori fought to keep her delight at his failure from showing. "You know, it's kinda strange, though, 'cause it ain't like Jakie to make a bunch of noise when he's out huntin' with me," she remarked as she hunkered down and started cleaning the rabbit.
"Well, from now on then, he can stay with you," Chance told Rori.
Rori gave a derisive snort as she continued to prepare the rabbit for cooking. "Big Jake belongs with me, but I doubt it was his fault you missed your shot."
"Maybe, maybe not," he responded tightly, trying to ignore Rori's insult. "I was thinking that you might have deliberately trained him that way."
His remark caused her to laugh out loud. "I've taught him a lot of things, but I never taught him to do that. He's a smart dog, though. He probably figured out all by himself that you wouldn't be able to shoot the thing, so he tried to catch it by himself."
The night before Chance had thought to befriend the boy, but now he was having a rapid change of heart. Rori's sharp tongue and abrasive ways were wearing thin his good intentions. Right now, all he wanted to do was to turn the mean-spirited youth over his knee and paddle him. Since kindness wasn't making an impression on him, maybe a good beating would shut him up.
Chance let the thought pass by, though, for Rori was probably expecting him to react that way. The boy had accused him of being just like other whites, and if he reacted to his dislike with anger or violence, he would only be reinforcing the already low opinion he had of them.
Burr's call interrupted their testy exchange, and they both looked up to see the old man heading their way.
"What is it, Grampa?"
"I thought I'd scout around a bit before it gets too dark," Burr informed them. "It gets a mite more treacherous up ahead a ways, and I just want to make sure nothing's changed since we came through here last." He had heard from some of the prospectors in town that there had been some small earthquakes in the area, and he wanted to be certain that their way was clear, for it was a long, tedious, and dangerous trip to the next overnight stop.
When he'd gone, Rori ignored Chance and turned her full attention back to skinning the rabbit. Chance decided to take the time to wash up, and he unselfconsciously stripped down to the waist again and began scrubbing off the day's trail dirt. The bandage on his arm was in need of changing, so when he'd finished washing, he got the medical supplies he needed from his saddle bags and approached Rori.
"I could use your help, if you can spare me a few minutes. I've got to change the dressing."
Rori swallowed with some difficulty. She'd been trying her darnedest not to watch Chance as he bathed, but she'd found it impossible to keep her eyes off him. From beneath lowered lids, she'd observed his every move, watching as he stripped away the binding and then scrubbed himself with the soap. Rori found that she wished she was the one doing the scrubbing. The sight of his nearly naked male form left her filled with a curious yet very disturbing aching deep within her.
Now, here he was, wanting her help in wrapping his arm again. There was no way she could refuse, although that was exactly what she wanted to do. Rori didn't want to touch him again as she remembered far too clearly how overpowering being near him had been and how the touch of his rock-hard thigh had felt like a brand against hers. The strangeness of her feelings distressed her. She didn't know what they meant or how to handle them.
Having finished cleaning the rabbit, Rori could see no way to avoid the intimacy the act would require. She was careful to keep the panic that welled up inside her under control as he came to stand beside her.
Squinting against the sun, she looked up at him. He appeared to be some massive, God-like creature as he towered over her, silhouetted by the sun, and to her annoyance, her pulse quickened.
"I gotta finish up here first," Rori told him abruptly, nervously. Trying to stall him as long as she could, she stood up and put the meat on the roast before walking down to the watering hole.
Chance followed. When Rori knelt to wash her hands, he sat down right next to her, and she almost groaned out loud in frustration.
"All right," she said tersely, "I'm ready now."
"Good." He handed her the supplies.
Turning toward him, still on her knees, Rori tried to remain clinically detached. All I'm doing is putting a bandage on his arm, for heaven's sake! Rori told herself. There's no reason why I should let it bother me this way, no reason at all!
The wound was an ugly slash, but it appeared to be healing nicely. Hurrying so she could get the whole ordeal over with, she applied the salve with less than a gentle touch, and Chance flinched.
"If you had an Indian name, it'd probably be Ironclaw!" he snapped. He knew he should have expected less than compassionate care from Rori, but he never thought the boy would try to break the wound open again.
"Sorry," she muttered resentfully. She hadn't meant to deliberately hurt him. She just wanted to get done! With a lighter touch, she continued to put the medicine on.
His skin felt hot beneath her fingers, and a current of unnerving emotion shot through her. An inner warmth heated her, and Rori paused in her efforts. Lifting her gaze from his arm for a moment, she stared at his profile. What was there about this man that he could stir these feelings within her? Why did just touching him cause her pulse to quicken and her breath to catch in her throat?
Chance had been bracing himself for another painful, "helpful" assault on his arm, and when Rori stopped for a minute, he was puzzled. He turned his head to look at the boy, wondering what it was that had caused him to pause.
Even with the protection of her floppy-brimmed hat, his gaze managed to collide with Rori's, and the emotion he saw reflected there took him completely by surprise. For just an instant, it looked as if the youth was actually sorry that he'd
hurt him. The discovery pleased Chance, and he hoped that he might be making some progress with him.
"Something wrong?" he asked casually.
"No." Rori jerked her head down, tearing her gaze away from his and forcing herself to concentrate on the matter at hand.
"Look, if the sight of this little knife cut bothers you, I can wait for Burr to help me," Chance teased.
Rori, however, thought he was mocking her. "Hell, this little scratch you're so worried about don't bother me none!" she countered. "It's so small, I was just wonderin' why you been favorin' it so much. My cheek was cut worse than this . . . "
Chance lifted a hand to brush Rori's hat back so he could get a better look at his face. He frowned as he studied the marred cheek. The cut where the rock had hit the boy was beginning to heal, but his cheek was still slightly swollen and a colorful combination of reddish purple, black, and blue. Chance knew it had to hurt, and it amazed him that Rori hadn't once complained.
"It still is worse than this," he said, glancing down at his own arm. "Why don't you clean it up and put some of that salve on it? Here, I can do it for you."
Before Rori could respond, he tore off a small piece of bandage cloth, wet it, and quickly lathered the soap into it. He turned to wash her cheek, but she pulled away from him.
"I don't need no tendin'. My cheek's just fine," she snarled.
"Like hell it is!" Chance grabbed the obstinate boy by the chin and forced him to look at him.
"No! Get your hands off me!"
"Hold still!" he commanded.
"I don't want you doin' nothin' for me, white man!"
"For once will you just shut up?!" He tightened his grip on Rori's chin. Then trying not to hurt her, Chance cautiously began to wash Rori's face. He scrubbed the damaged cheek with gentle strokes until he was satisfied that it was clean.
Rori had half a notion to physically fight to get away, but she knew it would be stupid to do so. Besides, there was a part of her that thought it was rather nice having Chance take care of her this way. She had almost lulled herself into enjoying his ministrations when he put the washcloth away and started to apply the salve. As his fingers touched her cheek, a thrill of excitement ten times stronger than anything she'd ever felt before surged through Rori. Her eyes flew open, and she stared at him in profound confusion.
Chance was completely unaware of the havoc he was wreaking on Rori's tender senses. When her eyes widened in surprise, he assumed that the medicine had hurt her in some way.
"See. I told you it needed doctoring. It hurts, doesn't it?"
Rori was relieved that he had no idea what the real problem was, but the smugness in his voice irritated her.
"Damn right it does! But I ain't one to carry on about such things!" She yanked away and pulled her hat back down low. "Now, leave me alone and let me do your arm."
Chance gave an indifferent shrug as he turned away to look out across the water.
Rori finished putting the medicine on the wound and then took up the bandages and began to wrap his arm. To do it right, she had to lean toward Chance, and suddenly she felt the heat of his body emanating from him. The headiness of his fresh, clean, manly scent surrounded her, and when her hands began to tremble, she rushed to complete the task.
"There. You're done," Rori said brusquely, getting hurriedly to her feet, desperate to get away. "I got to see to the meat."
As she moved back toward the cookfire, she silently cursed her bewildering reaction to him. Rori couldn't figure out what it was about Chance that always managed to upset her so. All she knew was that he unnerved her, and that made her angry.
Chapter Seven
"Yep, it's just what I thought," Burr groused as they rode deeper into the narrow valley several days later.
"What is, Grampa?" Rori was curious, for he'd had little to say for the past few days.
"Abe and some of the other prospectors in town told me that there have been some tremors up here. Looks like they were right." He pointed farther ahead.
Where the way had been relatively clear several months ago on their last trip through, today massive boulders lay in a barricading jumble.
"It's going to be a mite tougher than I thought."
That was an understatement if Chance had ever heard one. "Just a mite?"
Burr knew the easterner could handle his horse under normal riding conditions, but he was unsure of just how good he really was. "Maybe we should head out and circle around."
"How much longer will it take?" Chance worried. His concern for Doug had grown, and he was more anxious than ever to reach him.
"Another week, maybe two."
Chance was troubled by the news, and Rori saw it in his expression.
"We can still get through," Rori declared with bold confidence. "Unless you're afraid to try," she added, giving him a speculative look.
"Rori, I don't know . . ." Burr was surprised by her challenge.
But Chance was more than willing to take the risk if it meant getting to Doug that much sooner. "It's all right, Burr. I'm willing to try it."
"You may be willing to try, but you also might end up dead," the old man pointed out. "This ain't any Sunday afternoon outing."
"I know that."
The old tracker was still doubtful. "I don't know . . ."
"I can handle it, Burr. Let's ride."
They moved onward, their attention focused unwaveringly ahead. The going was difficult, but not impossible as they picked their way carefully through the maze. By mid-afternoon, though, they'd reached what appeared to be an impasse.
Rori eyed the blocked passage before them. "What d'ya think? Can we get around it or maybe over it?" She studied the treacherous slant of the jumbled rock and soil of the valley's steep sides.
"I'll try goin' up this way. If I make it, I might be able to find some way through," Burr told them. With great caution he urged his sturdy mount up the incline. Even as good a horseman as he was, he found the going nearly impossible. Yet, after several attempts, he finally made it to a slight plateau.
"I'm going to ride on and see if there's a way through. I'll be back."
When Burr had disappeared from sight, Rori nudged the pinto closer to Chance's mount and handed him the reins to the pack horse.
"I'll try the other side while he's gone," Rori announced.
"Wait until Burr gets back."
Her eyes were glittering as she turned on him. "In case you forgot, Broderick, I'm the one who agreed to take you through here, not Burr." Rori had been harboring her anger toward him since the night before, and his lack of faith in her abilities was all that she'd needed to set her off.
"That's true enough, but Burr's a man full grown, and he knows the area."
"And I don't?" She was really furious now. "What's the matter? Don't you think I can do it?"
Chance gave Rori a strained look as he stated in exasperation, "I have no doubt that you can do anything you set your mind to. I just don't know why you'd want to take the risk before Burr gets back."
"I need to take the risk, because it's gettin' late, and the nearest water is an hour's hard ride on the other side."
"Then I'll go with you."
Rori snorted, laughing. "What good would you be? Even if you'd make it to the top, you wouldn't know what the hell to look for. Just stay here and keep a hold on them pack-horses. If there's one thing we can't afford to lose it's them."
Chance knew the boy was right. "Then take it slow and be careful," he warned.
She shot him a mocking look, feeling better now that she'd made her point. "I'm always careful, Broderick. Big Jake, you stay here," she told her faithful pet as he sat watching her expectantly. He looked decidedly crestfallen at her order, but lay down in the dust as he was told.
As well as she knew Patch, Rori felt the sure-footed animal could make it. Putting her knees to his sides, she guided him up the opposite slope. The loose terrain slipped and crumbled dangerously beneath her, but she held fast, pushi
ng her mount on with a steady hand and excellent judgment. Twice, just as they neared the top, the pinto stumbled, but quickly managed to right itself. Finally, in a burst of power, he lunged for solid ground.
Chance had been watching Rori's progress, and up until that moment, had believed that the boy was going to make it to the top safely. He was wrong.
In that last fateful charge, the pinto missed his mark and completely lost his footing. The ground broke beneath them, and they fell together heavily. Rori lost her seat as he went down. She careened down the rocky hillside and came to a rest and lay still about halfway up from the bottom.
The horse, neighing in terror, skidded backward, groping wildly to get a foothold on something. When he finally managed to stop himself, he stood immobile, shuddering in the aftermath of the close call with death.
Chance tossed the packhorses' reins into a bush, and then, giving no thought to his own safety, he dug his heels into his horse's flanks and fought his way up the incline with Big Jake at his side. It was a struggle, but he finally managed to rein in beside the fallen boy. Cursing Rori for his bullheaded foolhardiness, Chance vaulted to the ground and hurried to kneel next to him. Big Jake was already there ahead of him, whining worriedly and gently nudging the motionless Rori with his nose, but getting no response.
"Rori . . ."
The boy was unconscious, and Chance was worried that he might have broken something during the fall. Gingerly, he began to check his arms and legs with a light, exploring touch.
Chance had always thought of Rori as a tough little devil, for he looked tough, talked tough, and acted tough. He was shocked when his touch revealed, not the solid muscle and sinew he'd expected on the young boy, but a soft suppleness. Chance had no time to ponder the discovery, though, for Rori stirred and gave a low groan as he came around.
Rori had banged her head when she fallen and had lost consciousness. When she started to come around, it seemed every inch of her ached from the rough, wild tumble down the hillside. She groaned and lay still with her eyes closed, trying to figure out just how badly she'd hurt herself.
