The Treasure Hunter's Lady (23 page)

Shadows hovered in crannies, but images stood out against the gray stone; crude paintings of running animals and stick figures with weapons chasing herds of bison. A gathering of people sitting on a mountain with water surrounding them. A single figure on the mountain top and an eagle swooping toward her upraised arms. Abel forgot about sleep and clothes. He pressed his fingers against the ancient drawings.

“I'll be damned.” He raised the light to another illustration.

“Abel?” Romy's sleepy voice barely registered. “What is it?”

He couldn't find the words to answer her. She got up and padded over to him.

“Amazing.” She drew in a breath of awe. “It never gets old. I could look at a hundred caves with thousands of drawings and I'd never tire of it. Someone, or several someones, have taken great care to record their history here.” She smiled at the colorful pictures, tracing them with her fingers.

He tried to move his mouth, working his jaw and finally just shook his head. She moved to stand beside him. Gooseflesh prickled all over his body. The picture in front of him looked mark for mark like the serpent tattoo curling around his arm and up his shoulder. The only difference was the fangs protruding from its mouth, poised to strike. Two little gold nuggets sparkled in its head. Romy’s eyes flew to Abel’s chest.

His stomach turned. He reached up to touch the spot where the snake's head should have been. Romy's hand flew to her mouth and her eyes went round.

“It's moved again.”

He didn't know what to say. She stepped in front of him, blocking the serpent drawing and her hands slipped around his neck as she pulled him to her.

Staring at the drawing reminded him that with every heartbeat, he was that much closer to losing everything that mattered to him.

Chapter Nineteen

Abel didn't think either of them slept much. Romy had coaxed him to lay down a few minutes after his discovery. Reluctant and once again uncertain about the future, he'd put out the lantern. They curled together in the darkness, listening to the storm and watching the occasional flashes of lightning. The bolts cast eerie glimpses of the cave paintings. He thought those images would be burned in his head forever. Or at least until he died. He could almost hear the clock ticking, marking each second as his last. What little sleep he got was filled with glimpses of shiny scales, vicious fangs and a treasure always out of reach.

Near dawn, the thunder stopped and the gurgle of rushing water from the Missouri made up the bulk of the noise, punctuated by the chirp of birds. Romy snored lightly, her head resting on his arm. Her hair tickled his chest and her smooth, soft buttocks were tucked against his pelvis.

His wildest dream come true and it was overshadowed by Uktena and the Diamond. If he was careful, he could slip away from her and be gone before she woke. Find the cursed serpent, kill it and take the Diamond back home.

He found the serpent illustration on the wall and judged it against the small stick figures on the mountain surrounded by water. Huge, according to legend. A reptile as long as three oak trees and the width of one around had a clear advantage over him. He had no weapons, no way of defeating a creature like that.

The drawing glared at him, its eyes unnaturally bright. The whole journey across the country, he'd suppressed his worry, letting himself get involved with Romy and her welfare. Today, instead of being thrilled he’d found more proof of Uktena’s existence, he felt fear surging through his veins.

Its heart, he recalled, was buried under the seventh circle of scales around its neck. Protected by nearly impenetrable skin. He needed a sword or a lance of some kind to stab it. As if it would ever allow him get close enough.

Romy stirred and blinked, then turned her head to smile up at him. An easy, satisfied smile that made him forget about his problems for a second.

She sat up, propping herself on one hand and rubbed her eyes with the other before yawning. “What time is it?”

“My watch is waterlogged. It wasn't very good to begin with. The springs are probably rusted through already,” he said. “The sun just came up. So it’s early.”

“We'd better get underway then. Do you still feel as though,” she paused, looking worried, “as though it's calling to you?”

If anything, the feeling was stronger. He gave a noncommittal shrug. “You could say that.”

“That settles it. Onward then.” She stood up, wincing as she straightened her knees. The bruising was livid purple and he wished like hell he could convince her to stay behind. To head back for Bismarck.

“I'm not sure you're up for any more adventures today, Romy.”

She gave him an odd look then shook her head before she picked up her clothes. “It was a stupid mistake and it won't happen again. The rain made everything difficult to see. I just stepped wrong. It happens.”

“It happens,” he agreed. “But—”

“We shall have to be extra careful today.”

“Romy.”

“Abel.” She slipped into her shirt. The front of it was filthy. “You promised to let me help you.”

“I don't intend to put you in any more danger.”

She put her hands on her hips, making a messy, beautiful picture against the backdrop of the morning. “I don't want to see you in danger either. Nor my father nor your uncle. Since it doesn't look like Uktena is going to pop out and offer the Diamond any time in the near future, I suppose that means we'll have to go after it, just like
we
planned.”

They were good for each other. When she was in doubt, he reassured her. When he didn't know where to turn next, she reminded him that they were a team. A damned good one. He smiled and she finished dressing, turning her back to him while she did. He followed her lead, pleased that he wasn't too sore after their trip over the waterfall and the swim to shore. With another long day of walking ahead of them, he was glad his boots were broken in, although he missed his hat. A hat he could afford to sacrifice, but Romy . . . he'd have to watch her closer.

He tested the Lighthouser while Romy fished a tin of dried fruit out of her pack. She grinned in triumph when she held it up. He wanted to laugh at her appearance. She looked like a street urchin in her ragged, oversized clothes.

“It's not much, but it's edible and better than walking on an empty stomach. Maybe we can snare a rabbit for supper tonight,” she said, hope tingeing her voice.

The pistol seemed to work, but he was worried about the charge in it. He tucked it back in its holster then buckled the gun belt around her waist. “A snare, huh? Didn't your daddy teach you to kill a rabbit with a sling?”

“No. There was no need. We had men to hunt for us.”

If that was the case, she'd probably never killed anything bigger than a mosquito. “He didn't tell you the story about how he and Caden met?”

“He never mentioned Caden. Or you, for that matter.” She tilted her head, brow furrowed. “I wonder why not?”

“You'll have to ask him sometime. Not that Caden went to mentioning Maggard had a redheaded spitfire for a daughter, either. They probably figured we’d kill each other if we ever met.” He couldn't imagine meeting Romy any other way than their collision in the alley. It summed up everything about them. Him: impulsive and sometimes reckless. Her: passionate and single-minded.

“So what's this I should know about rabbit hunting?”

“When Caden was younger—much younger—he went to England to study. That's where he met your father, who was about the same age as my uncle. They met at university and became friends. The country was a little too tame for a Texas boy and he wanted to try his hand at hunting. He bragged that he was a good shot and could shoot anything standing flatfooted or from horseback. Maggard decided to teach him about bragging.”

He paused when she offered him the tin of fruit, plucking a few pieces from the canister and popping one in his mouth. She tapped her foot impatiently. He chewed, making a big show of it before swallowing.

“Maggard offered to take him rabbit hunting on a friend's country estate. Caden probably wanted to find a bear and turn it loose or something, but his friend told him this would be exciting enough to start with. They got set to go and as Caden started to put his gun on his horse, Maggard stopped him. He held out a little cord with a loop on one end and diamond-shaped cradle in the center. Caden was baffled, of course. But Maggard gave him the general idea of how to use the sling. Put a rock in the cradle, twirl it around in the air and then let the rock loose. The blow is enough to stun or even kill small prey.”

“My father did this?” Romy’s eyebrows nearly reached her hairline. “I've hardly ever seen him hunt.”

Abel shrugged. “Caden swears this is a true story. So they tromped off into a field, trying to scare up a hare. The first one they come across, before Caden could do a thing Maggard's got a rock in his sling and flattens that rabbit. This went on again and again until the score was five to none. Caden stormed off in a huff. Not too much later, he scared up another hare. Excited, he put the rock in the sling, whirled it around and the rock fell out on his head.”

Romy laughed. “It didn't!”

“It did,” Abel assured her. “Over and over. At the end of the day, Caden was mad as a wet cat and Maggard had a dozen hares, which he shared with his friend who owned the estate. Caden swore there was some trick Maggard wasn't telling him.”

“Well, there has to be,” Romy said. “Did Papa teach him the trick?”

“No trick. Honest. It's building the momentum and learning to use your body to throw.”

She eyed him doubtfully. “Can you kill a hare with just a sling?”

He grinned. “Been doing it since I was in knee britches. Never leave home without a sling. You can't always depend on a gun. Might get wet or lost or stolen.”

“Teach me.”

“Are you sure you want to kill harmless little bunny rabbits?” he teased.

“I can do anything a man can do.”

His smile widened. “Well, not anything, darlin'.”

A faint blush colored her cheeks. “You know what I mean. Just teach me to use a sling. I can practice as we walk.”

He took the hemp rope out of his pack. “No shortage of rocks around here. You get us a rabbit, I'll clean it and we'll have fresh meat tonight. Come outside and let me show you what to do. How to aim and throw.”

They went out of the cave into the damp grass and faced the river. The rain-washed air was cool on his face. A fresh beginning for another day of uncertainty. He tried not to focus on what might lie ahead. He wanted to live in the moment with Romy, experience her laughter and touch as long as he could without the constant worry weighing on his mind.

Abel picked up a stone and put it in the cradle. He raised his arm over his head, rotated his wrist until the strap was spinning, then let it fly, using his whole body to throw. The rock landed in the river with a plunk.

“Let me try,” she begged, excitement flashing in her blue eyes.

He took her arm and brought her around in front of him. Her back was to his chest and he clamped the rock in the cradle by holding the rope. “Take the straps and center the rock.”

She followed his instructions and squared her shoulders. “Twirl?”

“Twirl.”

Her attempt was clumsy and uncoordinated. The rock fell out of the cradle at her feet. “Oh. That didn't go as planned.”

Her heard her disappointment and chuckled. “All right, let's try it another way. Then you can take your pick.”

Taking the sling back, he reset the missile. He leaned back, feet apart and started the rotation again, this time throwing the rock from underhand. Again, it landed mid-river. Romy stared at him.

“I'm starting to think it could take years for me to learn the proper techniques.”

“Usually the things worth doing bear taking the time to learn them. Can't have everything at once.” He offered her a smile and lifted the device to her. Her hand folded over his, the familiar jolt of desire washed over him.

An impish look crept over her face, lighting her eyes. “I find I'm enjoying a good many of the things you have to teach, Abel.”

His name was like a caress, coupled with the saucy stare she shot at his groin and he growled under his breath. “Vixen. We have some miles to put behind us today and I can't take any more time teaching you the finer points of lovemaking.”

“But I'm a willing student, just so you know.” She bent and gathered several stones, cupping them in her palm. He was sure she didn't mimic the gesture of wrapping her hands around his manhood on purpose.

“Walk, woman. Practice throwing and keep your mind off other things.”

Romy bounded off through the weeds, her laughter floating back to him like music. Abel waited for her to get a good twenty feet away before he started after her, partly to get his mind out of his pants and partly to seal the image of her carefree playing in his mind.

****

Romy trudged beside Abel, spent from hours of walking. A year of soft living and the last couple of days had reduced her stamina ridiculously. Lifting her legs was like raising weights. She kept pace with him, their hands brushing every few steps. To keep going, she reminded herself that three good men would die if they didn't find the bloody serpent.

Every worried thought showed on Abel's face. He probably didn't realize it, but his brow furrowed and his mouth frowned often. She didn't dare ask if they were lost, because he moved with purpose. They moved south and east, away from the sun and more in the direction they’d come from to begin with. There wasn't any hesitance in his stride. She didn't know whether to be comforted by that or not.

The walk was taking its toll on him too. His steps were slower than they had been that morning. She didn't think he realized how often he touched a spot above his heart, as though it pained him a little. High color flushed his face and sweat beaded his forehead. It was warm, but his eyes were unnaturally bright. He needed a rest, though she doubted he would willingly give in.

“I’m tired,” she said. It wasn’t a lie. Her legs protested another step. Abel stopped inches in front of her and sighed.