by Bobbi Smith
Yet, even as he sat there, alone in the moonlight, Chance was remembering the exquisite feel of her satiny skin beneath his hands and the glory of her hair as it had hung unbound around her shoulders. He thought of her kiss and of the way she'd responded to him so openly and lovingly. He thought of the beauty of her breasts and how perfectly they had fit into his hands. He remembered the feel of her smooth, slender legs against his. Desire stirred within him again, and he scowled in agitation. He might desire her physically, but he was never going to act on that desire again. From now on, he would have nothing more to do with Rori. She was trouble, plain and simple.
Chance searched out his gun where he'd left it by the bushes and then sat down on the bank to stare out across the quiet water. A long time later, when his clothes were reasonably dry, he returned to his own bed, and even then sleep still proved elusive. Finally, just before dawn, he managed to drift off, but as he did, his last thought was of Rori and the glory of being one with her.
By the time the sun began to brighten the eastern horizon, Rori was already up. As she made her way through the camp to where Patch was tied with the other horses, she cast a covert glance at Chance and was aggravated to find that he was sound asleep. The idea that he could actually fall asleep while she'd tossed and turned restlessly all night infuriated her, and she silently cursed him with every vile cussword she knew.
Obviously, the passion that had exploded between them had meant nothing to him. It had been an accident . . . a fluke, and it was over, just like that.
Rori knew that she could parade before him in a fancy dress like his wonderful Bethany wore, and he still probably wouldn't even notice her. The thought pained her, but it was a pain she was determined to ignore. She wouldn't allow herself to feel anything for him! She wouldn't!
"Rori?"
The sound of Burr's voice startled her, and she jumped nervously. "What?"
"I was just wondering what you were doing up so early. It isn't even sunup yet," he pointed out as he joined her by Patch.
"I woke up and couldn't sleep any more, so I got up to see how his leg was," she answered simply, hoping he wouldn't notice anything different about her this morning.
In the ghostly glow of the still-rising sun, Burr could see the beginnings of dark shadows beneath her eyes and knew she wasn't telling him everything. He wondered why, because they were usually totally open and honest with each other.
"Something troubling you, girl?" Burr pressed, wanting to help if he could.
"Nope. Not a thing, Grampa," Rori denied quickly.
"You all over what we talked about a while back?"
"Yep. That's why I'm anxious to get started today. I want to get up to the mine and be done with it."
"How's Patch looking?"
"He's healthy and ready to go, just as soon as we are," Rori told him as she stood up and dusted off her hands on her pants. She was relieved that they wouldn't be forced to spend another day at the watering hole. She wanted to get on the trail away from the memories that haunted her here.
Burr gave a curt nod. "I'll wake Broderick and we'll go." He headed off to do as he'd said, knowing that there was more to Rori's mood than she was telling him, but also knowing that she wouldn't tell him what the trouble was until she was ready. The girl is too close-mouthed, he thought to himself in irritation and then realized with some chagrin that she took a lot after him.
Burr had no trouble waking Chance, and as soon as he'd gathered his things together, they were on their way farther up into the mountains. Rori had ridden out the minute she saw that Chance was stirring, and she maintained that lead all day. The last thing she wanted to do was to talk with him or be with him in any way. She wanted to stay away from him until they got to the mine, and then she wanted to get away from him just as quickly as she could.
When Chance discovered that Rori had already ridden out ahead of them, he'd been strangely disappointed. He found himself trying to catch a glimpse of her as the day progressed and was constantly frustrated for she was nowhere in sight.
"Don't you worry about Rori when he's this far ahead of us?" Chance was careful to make sure he still referred to her in the masculine with Burr.
"Rori knows the area as well as I do," Burr dismissed his concern.
"What if Patch should turn up lame again?" he asked.
"If Patch needs to rest, Rori'll rest him. Don't go worrying none. Rori won't run the horse into the ground. We'll get you up to Doug right on schedule."
Chance was glad that Burr had interpreted his worry as concern about being delayed in getting up to the mine. He didn't want the old man to think that he was interested in Rori, because, of course, he wasn't. He didn't care where she was or what she was doing. Chance couldn't help but ask himself, though, why he was constantly scouring the distance for some sight of her slender form mounted on the powerful pinto.
Chapter Twelve
Hal and Tom exchanged disbelieving looks as they rode up to the slide area.
"Did they git over it?" Tom asked as he studied the seemingly insurmountable incline.
"Had to," Hal spat. "Weren't no tracks goin' out. There must be a way though. We just gotta find it. Let me take a look around for their prints and see what I can figure out." He dismounted and started checking the hard ground.
Tom's shoulder was a little better, but it still pained him. He was not looking forward to a jarring ride up the steep hillside. "Is there any way around it?"
"Nope. We double back, we lose 'em completely. We gotta stay with 'em."
"I was afraid you were gonna say that."
"Your shoulder that bad?"
"It's been better, but it ain't no worse. Don't worry. I'll stay with you. I want that little Indian bastard bad," Tom vowed.
"And I want that map," Hal said seriously. He paused in his efforts and stared up one incline. "Looks like they all went up here. It may look bad, but if they made it, we can make it."
"Let's ride."
The going was treacherous, the footing still loose and tricky. They came close to falling twice, but continued on, refusing to quit. By the time they reached the top successfully, their horses were winded, but still they went on.
Hal knew the watering hole was just a short ride away and that they could rest there. They were pleased when they found the remnants of Broderick's camp just on the other side of the slide. Encouraged, they rode even harder, knowing that every mile they covered brought them closer to their quarry.
It was midafternoon when they finally reached the pond, and their horses were desperately in need of rest. Tom took care of watering and feeding the mounts as Hal searched the area for some sign that Broderick had been here. When he found their burned-out campfire and realized that it wasn't twenty-four hours old, he grew excited.
"Tom! C'mere!" he shouted from where he squatted by the ashes.
"What is it?" Tom hurried to his side.
"They were here all right and not too long ago! Look here . . ."
"How far ahead are they?"
Hal glanced up at the sky and judged the time of day. "I'd say they rode outta here about dawn, so figure they got a good half day's ride on us."
"Damn!" Tom swore. "I wish to hell the horses were rested."
"Don't worry. We'll rest 'em real good tonight and head out first thing in the morning. You know we got the advantage, don't you? We know where they are, but they don't know about us."
Tom grinned evilly. "I can't hardly wait to get my hands on that dirty little breed."
"Our time's acomin', all right," Hal smiled as he stared off in the direction Rori, Chance and Burr had gone some nine hours before. "Yes, sir, it sure is."
Nilakla shaded her eyes against the setting sun and gazed off down the valley. Her instincts kept telling her that someone would be coming soon, and usually her instincts were right. So far, though, there had been no sign of anyone. She was glad, for the thought of Doug's brother coming for him shattered her heart. The less she thought abo
ut their inevitable parting, the easier it was for her to face each day, cherish it, and live it to the fullest.
"What is it, Nilakla?" Doug called from where he stood just inside the mine's entrance. "Do you see something?"
"No, nothing," she answered, trying to keep the joy she was feeling from showing in her voice. This meant they would have one more day together! As hard as Doug was praying for his Chance to show up, it wouldn't do if he discovered that she was praying for just the opposite.
"Damn," he swore, frustrated. "It's been so long . . . so many months now . . . I'm beginning to wonder if Chance is coming at all . . ."
Nilakla shrugged and wisely held her tongue as Doug disappeared back into the bowels of the mine. She had just started down from her lookout point when it happened, and she gasped in surprise. Their child had moved!
A look of pure wonder crossed her lovely features, and her hand flew to her stomach, covering the spot where she'd felt the quickening. She waited breathlessly for it to happen again. The movement had been so light it almost seemed like she'd dreamed it, but all was quiet. No further motion occurred.
Nilakla knew it had happened, though, and she felt a great sense of peace well up inside her. She was really having Douglas's child. The future without him suddenly didn't seem so completely forlorn and hopeless. At least, when he'd gone from her, she would still have his child . . . their child . . . conceived in love. Her weary heart warmed at the thought, and serenity filled her soul as she started back to the mine to begin cooking their evening meal.
Over a thousand miles away, Agatha sat alone in her parlor with only one low lamp burning. Her nerves were stretched taut, her mood sour. Nothing! She'd heard nothing from either Chance or Doug, and it was driving her absolutely mad!
Agatha knew the conditions in the territory were primitive, but she'd held out hope that Doug might have had the opportunity to write to her again. There had been no correspondence, however, from him or from Chance. She supposed she shouldn't worry so much, but they were all she had left in the world. They meant everything to her. If anything happened to them, she didn't think she could go on.
Lonely as she was, Agatha wished now that Chance had taken her prodding seriously and had found himself a wife. She'd been after him for years to settle down and start a family, but he'd always managed to avoid it one way or the other. It angered her now that he'd been so selfish, but she knew in her heart that she was being the selfish one. If Chance hadn't married, it was because he hadn't met the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with yet.
Agatha did sense that there might be something to his association with Bethany Sutcliffe. The girl was a beauty, and they would surely make handsome children together, not to mention the financial coup that would be accomplished by the joining of the two families. It certainly was a match worth encouraging, if and when he ever got back . . .
Not "if", she scolded herself angrily, definitely "when". Chance would come back just as he always did, and he'd have an unrepentant Doug in tow just as he always did. Agatha smiled warmly to herself. It was a good thought, and she would hold on to it.
"Madam, you have a caller."
Bailey's surprise announcement startled her from her reverie. "At this hour?"
"Yes, ma'am. Miss Bethany Sutcliffe is here and would like to see you."
"Bethany?" Agatha repeated with a small frown, wondering suddenly if the beautiful young woman had heard something from Chance and feeling a small stab of jealousy at the possibility. Grande Dame that she was, though, she allowed no discontent to show in her manner. "Please, show her in."
Bethany knew she was being outrageously brazen in approaching Agatha Broderick this way, but she was desperate for news of Chance. He'd been gone for weeks now, and she still hadn't heard a thing. Not that she'd expected to after the way they'd parted, but she always held out hope. There was no news of him through the usually very active society gossip mill either. It almost seemed as if he'd dropped completely off the face of the earth, and she was worried.
"Good evening, Mrs. Broderick, I'm so glad you're in tonight."
"Good evening, Bethany. This is an unusual surprise."
"I know I shouldn't have dropped in on you like this, but I'm so worried . . ."
Agatha suddenly grew fearful. Dear Lord, did the girl know something? Had something happened to one of the boys? "What is it, dear? What's wrong?"
"It's Chance . . ."
Agatha's heart constricted, but before she could speak, Bethany went on.
"I haven't heard from him in all this time, and I'm so concerned about him. I was just wondering if you'd heard anything, anything at all?" She gave the older woman her most pleading look in hopes that she could convince her of her sincerity, although there wasn't any need of her to play-act. She was really worried about Chance, but she also wanted to ingratiate herself to his mother so that, when he did return home, she'd have an advantage.
"I haven't heard from my son, but then I hadn't expected to," Agatha responded with dignity, not letting on how close she came to being distraught. It was good that Bethany hadn't heard anything. No news was certainly better than bad news. "Arizona is not Boston, you know."
"I know," she demurred, "but you see . . ."
"Yes?"
"Well, Chance and I had a bit of a fight that night at the Richardsons."
"You did?"
"He didn't tell you?" Bethany was leading the conversation to find out just how much she knew.
"No. We rarely discuss such things."
"I see . . . well, I was upset when I found out that he was leaving again so soon. I'd waited so long for him to return from his last voyage, and then for him to turn around and leave again . . . I'm afraid I'm quite ashamed of the way I acted when he told me."
"I understand your predicament, my dear," Agatha sympathized. "His departure was rather sudden, but sometimes there are things that can't wait . . . things that have to be taken care of."
"I know that now . . . Let's just say that I'm sorry for being so upset with him and that I can hardly wait until he comes home so I can tell him." At this point, Bethany knew she had nothing to lose in confiding in her. "You see, Mrs. Broderick, I'm in love with Chance."
"I can see that, Bethany." Agatha smiled warmly at her. Perhaps, she thought, it was time she did a little matchmaking on her own since Chance didn't seem so disposed. "Are you expected anywhere else this evening?"
"No."
"Then why don't you join me in a cup of tea? This might be a good time for you and me to get to know each other better."
"Thank you, Mrs. Broderick, I'd like that. I really would." Bethany had never imagined that things would move along this quickly, but she was not about to argue with success. She was going to marry Chance no matter what, even if it took kowtowing to his mother. Mentally patting herself on the back, she settled in for a long, intimate evening with her new ally in her plan to get him to the altar.
The days had passed quickly as Hal and Tom had kept up a torturous pace trying to close the gap on Broderick. Though originally they'd been excited about being so close, now they were growing increasingly frustrated. No matter how fast they had ridden or how many hours they had stayed in the saddle, they seemed to gain little ground.
Many days had gone by before they finally caught sight of their elusive quarry. Tom saw them first some miles ahead on the almost nonexistent trail that led up the steep, rocky, cactus-studded mountainside. Bloodlust filled him immediately when he picked out the smaller form of the breed riding a short distance ahead of Broderick and the old man.
"I can pick him off from here," Tom swore, reaching for his rifle.
"No, damn it! Hold it a minute!"
Tom looked at Hal in disbelief. "What d'ya mean 'hold it a minute'? I owe that little bastard! We been followin' them for days now just to kill 'em, and I mean to do just that!"
"Don't worry, you'll get your chance. Just use your head!" Hal criticized his companion's impulsi
veness. "What if you take a shot and miss?"
"I won't," he replied stubbornly. He wanted to kill the kid and be finished with it.
"But you might, and then where are we? If they find out we're here, they'll start hidin' from us. We lose out. Let's do this cautious-like. Let's do this my way."
"Which is?" Tom always worried when Hal started plotting.
"We want the gold, right?"
"I want the Indian more," he insisted stubbornly, and Hal was growing exasperated.
"We can have them both," he argued back. "All we gotta do is hang back, yet keep them in sight. Instead of stealing the damned map, we'll let them lead us up to the mine. Then, when we get there, we attack."
"It sounds too simple."
"It's simple, but it'll work as long as they don't know we're trackin' 'em. We gotta stay back and stay low."
Tom glanced ahead and frowned. He was anxious for his revenge, but the thought of easy riches lured him. "What if there's guards at the mine? Then what?"
Glad that he was winning Tom over, Hal quickly spoke up. "If there are, we'll kill 'em. But I gotta feelin' there ain't nobody knows about this gold but us and the miner and them three up there."
"All right," Tom agreed. "I ain't no fool. I ain't against easy money. Let's ride. We don't want to lose 'em now."
Hal breathed a sigh of relief that he'd curbed his friend's rashness and then urged his horse onward, keeping a close watch on Broderick and the others.
The days had passed in tedious exhaustion for Rori. In order to avoid Chance, she'd forced herself to be the first one up and out of camp in the morning and the last one to bed at night. Whatever free time she had was spent tending to Patch in an area well away from the men or merely sitting off by herself with Big Jake. She was glad that they had kept up their rugged pace and were now less than a day away from Doug's mine. She could hardly wait to bid Chance a final good-bye.
Rori wanted to get away from the arrogant easterner who'd made everything so complicated for her. She wanted him gone from her life, and once he was she didn't ever want to see him again. Rori was certain that the only way she would really be happy again was to rid herself of his presence. Once he was out of sight, she felt sure that she wouldn't think of him, she wouldn't miss him, she wouldn't desire him . . .
