Authors: Sarah McCarty
“Best you hush that dog up before I shoot it.”
Again, Maddie wished she’d had the forethought to steal a gun
she knew how to work. The two men in back pulled their guns from their holsters.
The rifle in the saddle scabbard looked good, but she’d only ever fired it once.
And this close it wouldn’t do much good.
“Hush, Worth.”
As discreetly as possible, she untied Worthless from the saddle
horn.
“Are you alone out here?” the leader asked.
What to answer? Holding on to her smile, she managed to say, “I
got a late start.”
It sounded like a lie even to her own ears. She wasn’t
surprised when the men didn’t lower their guns.
“You saying you’re alone out here?”
“I have Flower and Worth, and I should catch up to my friend
soon.”
The men exchanged a look between them. Clearly, she was much
better at fooling herself than others, which was a sad thing.
“Does your friend know you’re coming?”
She smiled brightly at them. “I imagine he’s expecting me
momentarily.”
“Honey, we’ve been riding on this path for an hour and a half
and haven’t seen a soul.”
“You wouldn’t if he didn’t want you to.” That was the truth.
Caden was like a wolf in the night, slipping in and out of the shadows, being
seen only when he wanted to be seen but always dangerous except when he was with
her. She reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, holding on to the
strength of the memory of the brush of his fingers.
“And who is this friend you’re trying to catch up with?”
She licked her lips. Flower, sensing her tension, shifted her
feet. Seconds seemed like hours as Maddie debated her options.
“Don’t lie, girl. Just tell the truth.”
Habit made her answer to the snap in that voice. “Caden
Miller.”
Another look exchanged between the men. “Caden Miller of Hell’s
Eight?”
She nodded.
“You think Caden Miller of Hell’s Eight is here?”
She nodded again. At least they knew Caden’s name. There might
be some protection in that.
“Shit. Come here, girl. Let me have a look at you.”
There wasn’t any choice but to go forward. She kneed Flower in
a gentle urge. The little horse walked sedately forward, showing none of the
trepidation that she had. Why didn’t anyone but her see the danger here?
As if on cue, Worthless growled, low and deep in a way that
said he meant business. The leader pointed his gun. She had to do something. It
was easy and natural to slip back into the role of coquette. Shameful, even, the
ease with which she did it. Dropping her shoulders, tilting her head to the
side, leaning just that little bit forward, Maddie angled the horse between the
dog and the man.
“Here, now. He doesn’t mean any harm.”
“He’s not going to do any, either.”
“But you might.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “How’s that?”
“Flower here isn’t used to guns.” She flipped her braid back
over her shoulder and trailed her fingers across the top of her chest. “If you
just go firing shots randomly, I might end up thrown, maybe even—” she ran a
hand down her thigh “—breaking a leg.”
The transition from weary to interest was subtle, but she could
see it in the set of the men’s shoulders, the tip of their chins, the relaxing
of their hands on the reins.
The man in the back with the faded brown hat spat and said,
“Would be a shame to break such pretty legs, boss.”
As she suspected, the older man was the leader. His clothes
were of better quality, and his face sported less stubble, as if he took more
frequent care of his appearance. With a press of her knee, she shifted Flower’s
direction, putting herself closer to him. This was the man she had to
influence.
His eyes traveled from the top of her head down to her waist
and then back up, stopping at her breasts. Men always liked her breasts. She
hated them. Fingers clawing, pinching; mouths slobbering. But there were
advantages to having big breasts.
“You’re lying, girl.”
Yes, she was, but not in the way he thought. He brought his
horse forward. The gelding towered over her little mare. He towered over her. He
rode all around, checking her gear from front to back.
“That horse doesn’t bear the Hell’s Eight brand.”
No, she didn’t. Because Maddie wouldn’t let her be hurt that
way. Caine had fussed. Tucker had pointed out the reasons. Even Shadow had tried
to tell her that it was okay, that it was necessary. Only Caden had understood.
Flower was hers. She wasn’t bringing her pain.
She smiled wider, showing her dimples. Men loved her dimples.
Sure enough, the man’s eyes dropped to her mouth.
“I rode up for the wedding celebration.”
“Rode up, hmm? Hell’s Eight’s a day and a half away from any
town.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t ride up alone.”
“But you’re riding out alone.”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t what I expected.”
“I hear they aren’t too particular about the company they
keep.”
She was used to men hating others because of the color of their
skin. It was always a cause for a fight in a whorehouse. The proprietors learned
quickly to separate out the Indians, otherwise they’d be replacing the furniture
every day. Maddie wasn’t sure the violence really had anything to do with the
color of the skin. Men just seemed to like to fight. Any excuse would do. Skin
color was just the easiest one.
She nodded. “A girl’s got to have her standards.”
One of the other men snorted. He was wearing the same dirty,
dusty brown shirt and pants as the others. The only thing that distinguished him
was his blond hair. “No way in hell the men of Hell’s Eight let a pretty little
thing like this slip out.”
“I heard all of them were married up anyway.”
“Not all of them and they’ve been hiring help.” She shuddered
delicately, feeding their assumptions. “Not a lot of single women up there.”
“You think the married ones would let a whore in their midst,
boss?”
She raised her brows at the man. “Are you calling me a liar,
sir?”
She didn’t know what she’d do if he said yes. She wasn’t used
to confronting people head-on. She thought of Bella and her fire and added for
good measure, “Because if you are...”
“If I am, what?”
So much for Bella’s inner fire. She couldn’t copy that.
“Then I would have to tell you, you’re wrong.” She put her hand
to her chest, drawing the man’s gaze back to her best assets. The feel of her
cotton dress was a shock when she’d been expecting skin. It was hard to flaunt
your attributes when you were covered to the chin, but Tia had insisted nice
girls didn’t wear low-cut dresses. It had been useless trying to explain to Tia
that she wasn’t a nice girl, and while rape was something to be avoided, it
wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. But Tia was Tia and she always got her
way.
After Maddie’d gotten used to thinking of herself as
unavailable, she’d loved her dresses. The material was cool and comfortable, and
while men smiled at her, none had touched her. None had tried to corner her when
their wives weren’t looking. No one treated her with anything but respect. And
even better, women didn’t pull away when she came close. She’d started to form
friendships. As a result, she’d begun to think of her coming to Hell’s Eight as
a new beginning, a wiping clean of her past. She’d kept herself pure. Felt good
about it, even. Having a choice made her feel so...strong, in a unique way she’d
never had.
But it had been just another illusion like so many others. As,
predicably, the men leered at her, Caden’s face flashed in her mind. She saw his
frown as she smiled back, and her heart sank. He wouldn’t want her if these men
touched her. The knowledge was a stab through her heart. Around the edges of her
consciousness, the opportunity to escape presented itself. Worth whined. She
shook her head. She couldn’t give in. Worth was Hell’s Eight. He would die for
her. She was Hell’s Eight. She couldn’t abandon him. She checked to make sure
Flower was still between the man and her dog. She was. “May I ask your name,
sir?”
“Who I am’s not important. Who are you?”
She tossed her head again, wishing her hair was free so it
could flow about her shoulders. Men loved her hair almost as much as they loved
her breasts. “They call me Ginger,” she said, giving them her saloon name.
His eyes went to her hair. “Your spirit as fiery as your
hair?”
She smiled the smile she knew he expected from her, the one
she’d been taught to give, the one that came too easily for the proper woman
she’d been training to be.
“So I’ve been told.”
“Hell’s Eight owes us, boss. We lost our last woman because of
them.”
Last woman? That sounded ominous.
“True enough.” The boss stared at her a moment. “She’s got more
meat on her bones than the last one.”
“I gotta say I like the idea of a sporting woman better than I
do a virgin.”
The boss snapped, “The woman never said she was a virgin. Would
never have brought her home had she mentioned that.”
What kind of men were these?
“I say we keep her,” the man in the back said.
She kept her eyes on the leader. The others could say all they
wanted, but until this man spoke, nothing was going to be in stone. She knew it.
So did they, which was why they were angling so hard.
The leader looked at her.
“You really a working girl? Because I don’t want no
misunderstandings this time round.”
The answer lodged in her throat as the reality of where she was
sank in around her.
Once a whore, always a whore.
She’d heard that so many times. She’d stopped believing it when Tracker had
taken her away and the acceptance of Hell’s Eight had settled around her. But
just ten hours away from Hell’s Eight, she was back to where she’d started.
“Yes.” It was hard to get the word out.
“The men’s humor would sure improve with a woman around the
place.”
The guy in the faded brown hat offered, “Morale has been down.
Comanche’s got everyone working double time.”
“How much do you charge?” the boss asked.
“For what?” she stalled.
“I’ve got a camp of ten men who need satisfying.”
“Around the clock?”
“You get Sundays off and from sundown to sunup. Other than
that, the men come in, and you’d be available.”
“And who would I be working for?”
“Frank Culbart of the Fallen C here.” He made a token touch of
his finger to his hat. She didn’t get the impression that he was being
disrespectful but that he was just rather gruff.
Culbart? Dear God. These were the men who’d purchased Fei’s
cousin and held her captive! “I don’t cook and clean,” she said.
“Girl, you’ll pretty much do what I want.”
She raised her chin, thinking of Tia. “I’m a working woman,
sir, not a slave. I’ll expect a decent wage.”
“I yank you off that horse you’re whatever the hell I say you
are, so you best take what you get before you find yourself in a position you
don’t want to be in.”
She didn’t want to be here at all. She wanted to be with
Caden.
One of the men rode forward and grabbed Flower’s reins,
slipping them over the horse’s head, and pulled Flower forward.
“We’ll leave the dog here.”
“He won’t stay.”
He pulled his gun out. “Then I’ll shoot him.”
“No! ”
“Don’t you be telling me what I will or will not do.”
She yanked at the reins, panic gathering in her stomach. Worth
snarled and charged the man holding Flower’s reins.
With a calm that she couldn’t fathom, Culbart pulled the
trigger. Worth howled and fell, whimpering before lying still.
“No!”
Culbart took aim again. Kicking Flower forward, Maddie grabbed
for that gun before he could fire again. Culbart swore.
“Goddamn it! Hold her, Dickens.”
She screamed when somebody’s arm went around her waist and
yanked her off her mare, hating the laughter that flowed around her, mean,
vicious chuckles that declared their superiority. She clawed at her captor’s
hands, but her nails raked harmlessly over his gloves. Before she could get her
bearings, she was thrown around. She automatically splayed her hands, but she
didn’t hit the ground; instead, her stomach hit the saddle, and the slap on her
ass was hard enough to arch her back.
“Calm down. The dog’s already dead,” Dickens ordered.
She didn’t want to calm down.
Caden!
The scream came from her heart. The ground spun as the man
wheeled his horse.
“We keeping her, boss?” someone asked.
“We’ll see how she works out.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Nobody’ll miss a whore.”
The truth of that sat like ice on her soul.
CHAPTER FOUR
U
NDER
THE
BEST
of
circumstances, mining was back-breaking work. Under these circumstances—one man
trying to discreetly salvage a mine that had been blown to smithereens—it was
brutal. Caden sighed and tied the rope to another boulder, hooked the harness
around his shoulders and dragged the stone away from the hole, muscles straining
with the exertion. The job would have been easier with help, or with equipment,
and he knew he was going to have to break down, eventually, and get both. But
right now he needed to establish his hunch as true. He had a pretty accurate
description of the layout of the tunnels from Fei, but the reality was the
explosion had collapsed everything. Even part of the mountain had caved in. When
Fei decided to blow something up, she did a thorough job.
It was hopeless to think he could restore the natural caverns
that had formed the basis for the original mine, but Caden was banking on the
explosion having freed up a lot of that gold embedded in the rock walls. His
plan was to dig and sift until he had what he needed to set up a full operation.
Fei had given the mine a lyrical name in her native Chinese. When asked, she
explained it meant “fresh start.” He grunted as the boulder caught and jerked
him back. Fei had found a new start for her life here with Shadow. Now it was
going to give him one, but instead of love, he’d take cash. Cash was power. Cash
was the future.
He hauled the rock to a preexisting pile. Fei had kept the mine
secret. He wanted to maintain that secrecy, at least until he had something to
claim. Too much disturbance of the surrounding area would draw curious eyes, so
he was working slowly and steadily and just dreaming of a less laborious
process. When he got the rock to the edge of the pile, he dropped the rope from
his shoulders, flexing them against the stiffness and pain. It would have been
easier if the secondary mine exit had survived. But it hadn’t. Nothing had.
Except Fei’s hopes and dreams and her belief that spirits of good fortune rested
here. Being half-Chinese, Fei had a lot of strange beliefs, but when you boiled
it down, they weren’t any more fanciful than his da’s belief in the wee
folk.
He glanced around the barren rock-strewn area. The impression
was the opposite of hope. “If you could see your way to sharing, I’d be mighty
grateful.”
He didn’t know who he was talking to, Fei’s spirits or his da’s
wee folk. In the end it didn’t matter as long as someone listened. As he stood
there, the midmorning sun beat down on him like a fist. The hot, humid air
pressed in on him, a bead of sweat rolled down his spine. Damn, it was hot for
June. Felt more like August. Taking off his hat and wiping his forearm across
his brow, Caden looked to the southwest where storm clouds gathered low on the
horizon. It was late in the year for tornadoes, but that didn’t mean one
wouldn’t come calling. Shit.
The breeze kicked up and blew dust across the site. Another
chill went down his spine, and the knowledge that something was wrong settled in
his bones. Walking over to the side of the clearing, he picked up his rifle,
checked to make sure it was loaded and the barrel clean before he cocked it and
looked around. Nothing moved except the leaves on the trees and the birds in the
sky. Everything appeared normal. It was only the hairs on the back of his neck
that said differently.
He climbed to the top of the rise, his tired leg muscles
protesting the effort. Standing on an outcrop of rock, he covered his eyes with
his hand and looked around, slowly and methodically scanning for any signs of
movement. Any sudden flight of birds. Anything to explain the lifting of hairs
on his nape. He saw nothing, which didn’t mean he was in the clear. He sighed
and rested his rifle in the crook of his arm and checked again. It wasn’t the
first time he’d felt a threat before he saw it. As far as the eye could see,
there were only trees, sun and the sparkle of light off the river below.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t close.
He half slid, half walked back down the hill, jumping off the
small ledge near the bottom before setting his rifle back against the stone
ledge. He’d already taken precautions, booby-trapping the trails coming in.
Whatever trouble was coming, it wasn’t going to interfere with today’s work.
More’s the pity.
Putting his hands on his hips, Caden stretched his back,
groaning as the muscles unknotted. He looked at the opening again. Two days’
work and he’d managed to go in about two feet. Not exactly an impressive pace.
As a matter of fact, it’d be discouraging but for the incentive. He reached in
his pocket and pulled out the piece of inconspicuous rock he’d found yesterday.
It looked like any other rock until he turned it over and saw the veins of gold
running through it. Disturbing the mountain might have changed where the gold
was, but the gold was still there and—Caden closed his fist around the rock—it
was going to be his.
He looked heavenward. “Soon enough, Da, the Millers are going
to be worth something.”
It wouldn’t make up for much, but at least one Miller was going
to fulfill his vow. A swirl of wind blew dust and leaves up around his feet. The
hairs on the back of his neck prickled again. The hilt of his knife settled into
his palm with familiar comfort. Either his da approved of his plan or trouble
was walking in tandem with that breeze. Since he wasn’t a man given to fancy, he
was banking on the latter. Whether that trouble meant claim jumpers or Indians,
he didn’t particularly care. Whatever it was, it was welcome to come try to take
this mine. While Millers might have trouble finding their pot of gold, they
didn’t give it up once it was theirs.
Grabbing his canteen, he took a drink of the tepid water, his
pleasure in the day’s work fading under the new tension. He put the cork back in
the canteen and hung it up on the shady side of the outcrop of rock. He paused
as he hung it, seeing the cuts and bruises crisscrossing the back of his hand.
It’d been a long time since he’d worked like this. Not since the early days of
Hell’s Eight when they were building rather than sustaining. It felt good to
work again, to do something with his hands, to do something for himself. Hell’s
Eight had been Caine’s baby. This was his, and he had the deed to prove it
locked up in the vault at Hell’s Eight. The work might be backbreaking, but
whatever the results, they were his. And he needed to get back to it. If trouble
was coming, it would get here in its own time. He pulled his hat down over his
eyes against the bright sun. In the meantime, he had a load of rock to move, a
ton of dirt to sift through and a future to build.
* * *
T
ROUBLE
DIDN
’
T
COME
the way he thought it would or from the source he
expected. It came in the form of Ace riding up the path a week later on his big
black stallion, his shirt torn, his jaw set, wearing a sense of urgency that
only those who knew him well could detect. Caden knew Ace very well. Caden set
down his sifting pan and took off his gloves.
“Afternoon, Ace.”
Ace pulled up his horse. “Did you have to booby-trap every damn
bend in the trail?”
“Seemed appropriate at the time,” Caden drawled.
Ace plucked at his torn sleeve. “That second branch you had
following the first on that switchback is a nice innovation.”
“Thank you.” Caden pushed his hat back. “What brings you here,
Ace?”
“Maddie.”
Caden sighed. “I know she’s got a soft spot for me, but I’m not
coming back just to keep her peaceful if she’s gone loco again.”
In her first few months at Hell’s Eight, Maddie had often
slipped away, either going into a blind stupor or raging fit. Turned out he’d
been the only one who could settle her down. All it had taken was a hug. He
didn’t know why no one understood that. Maddie just needed to feel safe so all
her sweetness could flourish. Her face flashed in his mind. Big green eyes,
freckles, upturned nose and a mouth that would turn a saint sinner when she
smiled and showed those dimples. Damn, he missed her smile. The way she’d touch
his arm when she thought he was upset. The calm she brought him. His cock
stirred. The passion she incited. That passion was the reason he’d been staying
away from Hell’s Eight more and more of late. Maddie had had enough men lusting
after her in her life. She didn’t need someone like him joining the queue.
“I wish it were that simple,” Ace said on a sigh.
That sense of something being wrong started howling. Caden
froze. “What about Maddie?”
Ace didn’t immediately answer. Never a good sign. He swung down
off his horse.
“Let me get my cup. We’ll talk about it over coffee.”
Fuck. Caden nodded and walked over to the fire on which the
coffeepot swung suspended. Caden knew Ace well enough to know there was trouble.
He had a habit of putting his hand on his gun when he was agitated, and right
now that hand was firmly planted.
“What about Maddie?” he asked, using his gloves to shield his
hand from the heat as he lifted the pot.
Ace held out his cup. “I was hoping to find her here.”
Caden paused midpour. “Why the hell would you expect to find
her here?”
The camp was little more than a fire, a tent and a lot of dirt.
It was no place for a woman.
Ace sighed and motioned for Caden to finish pouring.
“Coffee.”
As soon as the cup was full, Ace brought it to his mouth. Caden
had to wait for him to take two sips before he continued.
“She left the night you did, and knowing how she feels about
you, we kind of thought she followed you.”
“Why would she follow me?” Caden’s mind had been racing with
all the possibilities of what could have happened, where she could have
gone.
“She and Bella had a talk, apparently.”
Caden wanted to close his eyes and groan. He set the pot back
on the hook over the fire. Bella was a whole different woman than Maddie. All
fire and bold spirit captured in a lushly curved body. Maddie admired her
tremendously, had taken to emulating her. And Bella would have followed Sam.
Shit.
Had
followed Sam. The ins and outs of that
courtship were legend on Hell’s Eight, and not a week went by that some part of
it wasn’t rehashed. Caden had a feeling he didn’t want to hear the rest.
“So Bella and Maddie talked, and from that you think she lit
out after me in the middle of the night?” It was only half a question.
Ace nodded. “Her horse, Flower, is also missing.”
There was more. Caden could tell from the tone of Ace’s voice
that there was more.
“And?”
Ace motioned with his cup. “You might want to sit down for
this.”
The hell he did. Caden spread his feet apart and braced his
shoulders. “I’m good. So the night I left, Maddie left, too, taking the horse
with her.”
“And one of the tracking hounds.”
A hound? “Which one?”
“Worthless.”
“Hell, that one doesn’t even bay.” But Maddie had a fondness
for him. She had a fondness for anything left out or underappreciated.
“Yeah, we thought that was pretty telling, too.”
“How so?”
“He’d be my choice if I wanted to follow someone but not be
detected.”
Caden’s, too. “Tell me she took a gun.” The thought of Maddie
being out there alone undefended was intolerable.
“I wish I could for sure, but unless you gave her one that
nobody else knows about, she didn’t pack one.”
Caden shook his head. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried. “That
woman’s fear of guns is unreasonable, especially if she’s going to take off on
her own. Did you check to see if she went into town?”
“First thing, but no one’s seen her. And there’s more.”
Of course there was.
Ace took another sip of his coffee. “This part’s not so
good.”
“What’s not so good?”
Ace cocked a brow at him. “Sure you don’t want to sit
down?”
“Just fucking tell me and quit stalling.”
Ace sighed and turned the cup in his hand before saying
quietly, “The dog came back shot, Caden.”
“Fuck.” A cold knot formed in the pit of his stomach as
Maddie’s name whipped through his mind.
Maddie!
“Pretty much.” Ace set his cup on the ground.
“Who’d you put on her trail?” He didn’t doubt someone had gone
after her. Maddie was Hell’s Eight. Had been since the moment she’d burst out of
that hellhole of a whorehouse and asked Tracker for help.
“Tucker took a hound and backtracked along the trail.”
“Where was she heading?”
“Damned if Tucker could figure that out.” Ace took a coin out
of his pocket and began to walk it over the backs of his fingers. “But if she
was following you, that woman has no sense of direction.”
She didn’t. It’d taken her a week to learn her way back from
the creek. “What did Tucker discover?”
“Not much. The trail was old and the ground not the best.”
“Which dog?”
“Boone, who else?”
Boone was the best. “Good.”
“Boone’s good, but there’s only so much he can do after rain
and weather have their say. We did figure out that at some point midway between
here and there it looks like she met up with someone. From there Tucker couldn’t
follow the trail more than a mile east. Hell, he’s not even sure by that point
whether it was her Boone was following.”
Someone.
A nice way of saying
Maddie met up with trouble. The knot in Caden’s stomach froze over. A woman
alone out here was fair game for every piece of scum that decided he wanted her.
“Where was it?”
Sam pointed north. “That row of hills between here and there.
It looks like she went right instead of left.”
“Did anybody check the houses along that way?”
“Shit, Caden. You know there isn’t anything along that way. The
Indians drove them all out.”