HisBootsUnderHerBed (9 page)

“Garth, he’s so weak, he can barely move. I’m just humoring him.”

“I hope he doesn’t intend to fire a gun.”

“You said there’s no further threat of attack.”

“I said I doubt it. Don’t you two have any sense of survival? If you want fresh meat, you have to trap it. You fire a gun and the shot will be heard for miles. How do you think I found you so quickly when you were under attack?” He shook his head in disgust. “The two of you have no business up here. You’re inviting disaster in everything you do.”

She slumped down and leaned back against a tree. “I’m getting real tired of your survival lectures, Davy Crockett.”

“The truth hurts, doesn’t it?” Garth got his canteen and unscrewed the cap. “Here, you look like you could use a cool drink.”

Rory took a long draught from the canteen, then handed it back to him. “Thank you. That really tasted good. I used up the last of our drinking water last night. Couldn’t even make coffee this morning.”

The nag at his conscience grew greater. No matter how angry he’d been toward her, it bothered him to see her going without water—especially when he knew where there was a plentiful supply of it.

“I should have guessed it was too early in the morning to try to beard the lion. Especially when she hasn’t had her morning coffee yet.”

“Knowing how your interests run, Fraser,
she
wonders if you mean
bed
instead of
beard
?” Rory opened her mouth to say more, then suddenly broke into laughter. “Did I just say that? I really am miserable in the mornings, aren’t I?”

He grinned. “You’re also very pretty in the mornings—even with dirt on your face. So that makes it tolerable.”

Those gorgeous eyes of hers widened in surprise. “A compliment, Fraser! Does that mean you’re not angry at me anymore, or is it just that detestable cheerfulness of yours that comes up every morning with the sun?”

“Of course I’m still angry for what you did. I just don’t like to start a day with an argument. Unlike someone I know.”

He changed his tone. “Honey, is this really worth what you’re going through?” he asked gently.

She closed her eyes. “I suppose it would be if we strike gold.”

“What if you don’t? And what if you get hurt…or worse?”

Rory opened her eyes. “Then I guess you can stand over my grave and remind me that you told me so.” She tried to sound flippant, but fatigue had crept into her voice.

“You aren’t even certain there is gold in that mine, Rory.”

“
You
believe there is. Isn’t that why you traveled from one ocean to the other? Crossed plains and mountains?”

“It really isn’t, Rory. My brother and I came west in pursuit of our sister. Then I figured as long as I was here, I’d check out Uncle Henry’s mine. But I always figured that one day, when I got through stretching my legs, I’d go back to Virginia and settle down.”

“And how long do you figure that will take?”

He grinned. “Can’t say. My legs still have a lot of stretching yet to do.”

He clasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get working on that coffee.” While she filled the coffeepot from his canteen, Garth knelt down and built a fire.

“Give me your canteen and I’ll fill it. I’ve found a source of fresh water farther up the trail. I can be back by the time your coffee’s ready.” He mounted Boots and rode away.

Rory smiled as she watched until horse and rider disappeared. With Pop’s health so shaky, Garth was a godsend, and it felt good to have someone like him around to lighten the load. He seemed to do everything so effortlessly and solved every problem in the same easy fashion. And from a completely selfish aspect, he was good for her morale.

“You and that morning cheerfulness of yours, Fraser,” she murmured. “Thanks to you I feel better already, and I haven’t even had my
first
cup of coffee.” Grinning, she put the pot on the fire and reached for the slab of bacon to slice.

Returning to his camp, Garth filled Rory’s canteen and then checked the snares he’d set. There was a rabbit caught in one of them. He stuck it in a pouch and attached it to the saddle. What the hell, he could eat jerky again tonight. But before leaving, he reset the snares just in case he got lucky again.

Paddy had returned to camp—without water or meat—by the time Garth got back. “Good morning, Paddy.”

“Top of the morning, young man,” Paddy said.

Garth handed him the pouch with the rabbit in it. “Here’s your supper tonight, Paddy. You well enough to skin it?”

“A rabbit!” Paddy’s face lit up with that Irish grin of his. “I’ll be doing just that, me boy.”

“I’m relieved you didn’t fire that rifle.”

“Just you never give it a mind, me lad.” He winked at Garth, and whispered aside, “Me darling daughter’s been harping at me about it like a fishwife.”

“I heard that! I was just warning you, Pop, like Garth did to me.”

“Well, I’m feeling poorly from me walk, so I think I’ll take me a wee nap.”

“Don’t you want something to eat first, Pop?” Rory said worriedly when he handed her the rabbit. “I’ve fried some bacon and potatoes.”

“I’m not hungry, darlin’.”

“But you’ve got to eat something.” But he had already disappeared into the cave. She sighed and turned back with a worried frown. “You feel like some bacon and potatoes, Garth? I hate to see good food go to waste.”

“Sure, why not?” he said.

His eyes followed her movements as she filled a plate. Even thieves had feelings, too, he reasoned, and despite what she had done to him, Garth could see she was also a daughter struggling with worry over the health of her father. And yet she held her emotions in check. He admired that kind of fortitude.

“He’ll be okay, Rory. He’s had a bad bout with the illness and just needs some time to rest.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked.

“Of course I do, honey. Why, my Grandfather Fraser suffered with consumption starting before I was born and he eventually died from old age. Paddy just needs a good rest. A few decent meals under his belt wouldn’t hurt, either. Once you get back to the mission, let him rest and relax for a while. Elena can put some meat on his bones, and Father Chavez is good company and will be the best medicine Paddy could have.”

“I hope you’re right.”

He stood up and handed her his empty plate. “Thanks for breakfast. I’ve got a couple things to do, so I better get going.”

His gaze was drawn to her face. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt for you to take a good rest and put on a couple of pounds, too. I’ve noticed you look a little peaked since you’ve left Buckman.”

She looked distressed and unwittingly raised her hand to her face. “Really?”

Good God, why did I even mention it!
“I don’t…that is…I didn’t mean to sound ungallant—I only meant—”

The plucky challenge returned to her eyes. “I’ve noticed you’ve developed a stutter since you left Buckman, Mr. Fraser. Perhaps you’ve suffering from foot-in-mouth disease.”

“I think you’re confusing it with hoof-and-mouth disease, Miss O’Grady. I read recently that it appears to attack only cattle and sheep.”

“I stand corrected. And now they can add horses’ asses to their list,” she said with a saucy shrug as she turned away.

She always managed to get in the last word, Garth conceded in amusement. But he still had some
unfinished
business with her.

Rory came over as he prepared to leave. “Thank you for the rabbit, Garth. Will you join us for supper?”

“Think I’d enjoy that much more than jerky,” Garth said as he tightened the cinch.

“I’ve noticed you always loosen Boots’s cinch whenever you stop. Why is that?”

“I only do it when I expect to stay awhile. Do you like to remain trussed up in a corset if you don’t have to?”

The question caused her to laugh. “You clearly know a great deal about ladies’ corsets. The truth is, I’d rather not be trussed up in a corset at any time. I never wear one if I don’t have to.”

His gaze swept her body in a slow, bold appraisal. “So I’ve noticed.”

She met the return of his eyes with a brazen smirk. “So
I’ve
noticed.”

Garth’s gaze followed her trim figure as she walked away. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against Boots. “There goes a whole lot of woman, fellas.”

Faded Levi’s failed to disguise her long legs, tiny waist, and the best-looking little ass he was itching to get his hands on. “There’s no one who wants that luscious body of hers to remain
untrussed
more than I do.”

Saddle raised his head and cocked a furry brow.

Garth returned to the task of picking at the wall in search of a vein. Gold mining was a slow and laborious job—and not to his liking. But not because he wearied of the hard labor; he was no stranger to danger and hardship. He’d certainly borne them enough times throughout the war and the trek to California.

But through the years, from the time his uncle had left for California, Garth had dreamed of the search for Uncle Henry’s mine—dedicated himself to finding it. It had become a mission to him. But unlike the nobility of an Arthurian knight’s quest for the Holy Grail, or the cynicism in Diogenes’s search for one honest man, his mission was clear: the luster in
finding
the mine, rather than the sheen of the gold that might be within it.

He hadn’t had any luck finding gold in the past two days, and he was considering forgetting about the whole damn thing.

“Hate to admit it, Saddle, but I think Uncle Henry was wrong about this mine. I’ll keep at it until the O’Gradys are able to leave, but I don’t think I’ll come back again,” he said as he scraped at the wall.

Suddenly he caught a flash of glitter on the hardened granite. He scraped away at the surface and stared at the thin golden vein that snaked through the rock.

With renewed energy, he worked through the night, laboriously scraping the gold dust into a pouch. Although the yield was small, it was large enough to fire his enthusiasm to keep going, and help to appease the O’Gradys.

D
irty, hungry, and exhausted, Rory threw the pick down in disgust and went outside and stretched out on the ground. She glanced at her father, lying in the shade a short distance away. He’d coughed all night, and his feeble attempts at walking were only aggravating his condition. Not that she blamed him for trying: lying on a blanket all day would be far more boring than scraping at that wall inside with a pick.

Why was she even doing it? She hadn’t discovered the merest grain of gold in the week she’d been trying.

Greed, that’s why, girl. The greatest motivator of the human race.

And where was Garth? He hadn’t been around for the past two days. Each day she had hoped he would show up, but no such luck. Things were never dull when he was around: they were either sparring or he was trying to seduce her. One was as exciting as the other. But the best times were when they just sat quietly together and talked.

She sat up and looked at her hands. They were disgusting. Not only were they blistered from the pick handle, but there was black dirt under her fingernails!

She flopped back again. She’d sell her soul right now to sink into a hot, scented bath.

Garth was right; she should have sat it out at the mission until Pop got this out of his system. At least there she would have had the luxury of sitting down and having a decent meal or a tub of hot water to bathe in. Of course, as sick as he is now, what would he have done up here alone? Thank God she had come with him.

But she had no one to blame but herself. Deep down, the thought of finding gold was just as alluring to her as it was to Pop—or she wouldn’t be here now.

She picked up her canteen to quench her thirst. After a couple of swallows it was empty. She checked her father’s canteen. There was still plenty of water in it, but she hated to drink from it, so she put it aside.

Rory gently put a hand to his brow. He was still running a slight fever, but it didn’t feel as bad as yesterday.

He opened his eyes and at the sight of her, he grinned as usual, love gleaming in his blue eyes.

“Pop, my canteen’s empty and I’m going to fill it. Garth said he’d found a source of water a short distance above, so I’m going to look for it. Do you need anything before I go?”

“No, I’m doing fine. Stay on the path, darlin’, so you don’t get lost.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “I will, Pop.”

Slinging her canteen strap over a shoulder, she grabbed the empty water bucket and started off. The higher she climbed, the hotter it seemed to be, despite the altitude. Hot in the day—cold at night. One would think they were in the middle of the desert.

The dirt from the mine turned to grime as she began to perspire. Suddenly she stopped and gaped in pleasure at the sight of a narrow waterfall dropping straight down from the rocks above. This had to be the water source Garth had mentioned.

She cupped a handful of the cold and refreshing water. It was so delicious, Rory wanted to shout with joy. The spray from the waterfall splattered her head and shoulders as she filled the canteen and bucket, and the cooling mist felt as good as the water had tasted. She took off her battered hat and raised her face to get the full benefit of the spray. As cold as the water was, it was rinsing away the sweat and grime.

After glancing around, she sat down and pulled off her boots and stockings, then stripped down to her camisole and under britches.

Even though there was no way to stand or sit under the water, the spray felt so great that she grew even bolder and slipped off her remaining clothing. If only she’d known about the waterfall, she would have brought along soap to wash her hair, too.

Rory began to sing as she cleansed her body using her camisole as a washcloth.

Garth came out of the tunnel. Just as he picked up the canteen to take a drink, he heard a woman singing. He knew at once it could only be Rory. Parting the foliage that concealed the entrance to the cave, he gasped—not from surprise, but from awe at the sight of Rory’s naked backside.

She looked like a wild wood nymph. Bathed in sunlight, her naked skin glistened with rainbow-ladendrops.

Desire swelled his groin with a painful surge of lust. With just a few steps he could touch her, feel that luscious flesh against his own. He restrained himself and instead, like a peeping voyeur, remained concealed.

Having finished washing, Rory proceeded to rinse out her underclothing. She dropped the garment and jumped back in alarm when an animal brushed her leg. Then she recognized it and bent down and patted its head.

“Saddle, you gave me a fright. What are you doing here? Did you come for a drink, too?”

Suddenly she realized that where Saddle was, there was probably Garth. She glanced around quickly, then shrieked when she saw him.

A hot blush swept over her as she tried unsuccessfully to cover her nakedness with her hands. In desperation, she dashed into some nearby foliage.

“How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to admire the view,” he answered with a grin.

Rory glanced hopelessly at her shirt and Levi’s lying nearby. “Kindly go away so I can dress.”

“Rory, I’ve been watching you for the last five minutes. It’s a little late for modesty now.”

“How dare you! I thought you were a gentleman, Garth Fraser. How could you do such a thing?”

“I’ve never been able to ignore a beautiful work of art—and your body, honey, is one beautiful work of art.” He started to unbutton his shirt.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she cried, when he removed the shirt and approached her. “Don’t you dare touch me, Garth! I’m indebted to you for all you’ve done for us, but I won’t let you rape me.”

“You’re not the first woman I’ve seen naked, and I’ve managed to reach twenty-eight years of life without raping any of them. I thought you could use this.” He tossed her his shirt and turned away.

She shivered from the cold and her fingers trembled as she put on the shirt and buttoned it. His shirt was warm from the heat of his body, and it covered her to the middle of her thighs when she stepped out of the foliage and sat down in the sunlight. Rory bent her legs and tucked her chin on her knees. His shirt draped over her legs in divine warmth, and she watched Garth wring out her underclothes. His body was proportioned magnificently. Her gaze fixed on the ripple of corded muscle across his broad shoulders and biceps. A delicious shudder went through her. She thought of that day on the hillside overlooking the ocean. They had come so near to making love. It would have been disastrous had she submitted.

Why?
she now asked herself.

His voice intruded on her musing. “They should dry quickly in this sunshine.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. Considering her own thoughts, she felt ashamed of her unjust accusation. She should have known that he was not the kind of man who would resort to forcing any woman. He wouldn’t have to. She was certain he had women lined up waiting and willing.

“I’m sorry for what I was thinking earlier.”

He turned to her, and his grin melted any remaining chill that might have lingered. “Why? It couldn’t have been much different from what I
was
thinking—though I had a more persuasive and enjoyable method in mind.” His teeth flashed in a wider grin. “How about your shirt and pants? Do you want them washed, too?”

“Might as well. I’ve nothing to lose at this point.”

A mischievous gleam sparked his dark eyes. “Don’t be too sure about that.”

An awkward silence fell between them until he asked, “So, how’s Paddy feeling?”

“He seems a little better.”

“Then why the worried frown?”

“For the last couple of days, I’ve smelled whiskey on Pop’s breath. I’ve searched his bed and pack but there’s none there. I wish I knew where he’s hidden it.” She looked at him and thrust out her chin spiritedly. “I’ll find it, though. He isn’t going to outsmart me.”

Saddle came over to her, stretched out, and closed his eyes.

“Does this dog do anything but sleep?”

“Occasionally, but sleep seems to be his strong point. He’s like a companionable friend, who will listen to what you have to say and never remind you that you’re wrong.”

Rory began to gently stroke the dog. “Does he ever bark?”

“Never. A growl escaped him a time or two, but I don’t remember ever hearing a bark out of him.”

“Do you suppose something could be wrong with his throat that prevents him from barking?” she asked with a worried frown.

“I don’t think so.” Having finished her laundry and strung it out to dry, he sat down beside her. “I think he was just well trained. More than likely by some miner or trapper who knew a barking dog might reveal a position at the wrong time.”

“If that’s true, he won’t be much of a watchdog.”

“Let’s hope he’s never put to the test. I have to say he’s a pretty good hunter. He usually tracks down his own food, so I rarely have to feed him. He must have found a mountain stream somewhere, too, because this morning he returned toting a mountain trout between his jaws.”

Garth reached for her hand and she winced when he grasped it. He looked in shock at her red and blistered palm. “Rory, what happened to your hand?”

“Oh, it’s just a little sore.”

He turned over her other palm. “How did you do this?” he asked grimly.

“It’s from the pick handle. I don’t have any gloves, and—”

“My God, Rory, your hands can get infected. All that dirt and those open sores!”

He strode to his saddlebags and pulled out a tin of unguent and a roll of white gauze. Tenderly he spread some of the balm on her palms, then wrapped them in gauze. “Don’t you dare go near that pick again. If Paddy wants gold, he can damn well wait until he’s well enough to dig for it himself.”

“It wasn’t his idea; it was mine.” She looked at her hands swathed in bandages. “Thank you. They feel better already, Doctor.”

“How long are you going to keep it up, Rory?”

She laughed lightly. “I was thinking the same thing earlier. I really hate it here.” She gave him a guarded glance and swallowed hard. “Ah, Garth, I’ve been thinking a great deal about this problem. I know I have no right to ask, but until Pop is able to travel, I wonder if you might consider teaming up with us? If we find any gold, I’ll give you half of whatever we find.”

He gave an exasperated sigh. “Rory, you could have had that without stealing the map. I told you back in Buckman I’d split whatever I found with you, for saving me from being shanghaied. My word is my bond. If you’d believed me, you wouldn’t be going through all this now.”

She had just confessed how much she needed him and knew that nothing would be gained by telling him the truth about the map now. It would only sound like an alibi because she wanted his help.

“Your uncle’s belief might be just another wasted dream, Garth, but as long as we have to stick around here, why not try? At least he died convinced he’d found the big strike—that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, like so many others like him were seeking.”

Garth was tempted to tell her that it hadn’t been a pipe dream, that he had succeeded in finding gold and had every intention of dividing it with them. But in truth, they owned the mine, and Paddy O’Grady wouldn’t hesitate to claim all of what legally belonged to them, no matter how illegally he’d obtained it. So it might be wiser to hold off, in the hope he could convince them to leave. No matter what Rory had done to him, he couldn’t carry a grudge big enough to want to see her harmed. If Paddy wasn’t so sick, though he’d kick the old man’s ass all the way back to the mission for even bringing her here.

If he could persuade Rory to go back and wait at the mission, he’d give her the gold dust he’d discovered, then come back alone and continue to mine.

“Why stay on, Rory? We could leave now. When Paddy gets tired, we’ll stop as often as necessary. Even if it takes a week to get back, that’s no worse than sitting around here waiting for him to get better. Then I’ll come back and work the claim. I swear before God that I’ll give you half of whatever I find.”

He pulled her into his arms. “Honey, there’s no…”

The feel of her in his arms stoked the coals of his desire for her, and words fled. He lowered his head and covered her lips.

Surprisingly, she parted her lips. And Lord, she tasted so good, felt so good. So soft, warm—and so desirable. He broke the kiss long enough for a much-needed breath, then reclaimed her lips.

Her response was as heated as his. He lowered her to her back and kissed her again and again. He drove his tongue through her parted lips as he slipped a hand under the shirt and filled his hand with one of her breasts. Her gasp of shock was a weak deterrent as the feel of the rounded globe sent his lust soaring.

She broke the kiss and turned her head away. “No, I won’t let you do this,” she said breathlessly when he pushed up her shirt.

“You know you want it as much as I do,” he whispered, and dipped his head and laved her nipples. When she sucked in a breath, he raised his head, “You liked that, didn’t you?”

The aroused passion in her eyes told him everything he wanted to know. He lowered his head again and began to suckle one of her breasts. The taste of her was like heaven, and her warm body beneath him an aphrodisiac. Dragging his mouth away, he raised his head again and looked deeply into her eyes that had darkened with lust. “You really don’t want me to stop, do you?”