Comanche Gold (10 page)

With nothing left to say, he stopped talking
and they rode on in silence.

Catherine had been gazing into the distance
for several minutes when a frown tugged at the corners of her
mouth. “I wonder,” she asked pensively, “if there'll ever be a time
when we can do without guns and war. It seems to me that so many
problems would be solved if we could just get rid of guns.”

Tucson grinned at her. “Do you think the
Indians, or the whites for that matter, would've been spared their
tragedy if there'd been no guns or war?”

“Of course I do!” Catherine glared at him,
surprised at the question. “What else could I think?”

Tucson shook his head. “What happened—the
destruction of the Tribes—was the only way it could have gone down.
Even without the wars, the gap between the two cultures, white and
red, was just too wide.” Even as he made his argument, his eyes
never ceased studying the terrain for any sign of danger. “There's
no way the Indians could survive the culture shock of living next
to white civilization,” he continued. “And don't forget, the Tribes
weren't only defeated by war. They were decimated by white diseases
they had no immunity to.

“The cholera and small pox plagues that swept
the plains in '49 wiped out almost half the Comanche. They never
recovered from it. No,” he concluded with finality, “the method
might not have been so bloody and brutal, but the end result would
have been the same.”

“I see your point,” Catherine replied
grudgingly. “But you also said that with guns the war was that much
more brutal. Doesn't it seem obvious that whatever problems we have
are made worse by our reliance on guns?”

“I don’t know,” Tucson answered thoughtfully.
“Some of the worst massacres I've ever heard of were caused by
people using axes and knives. A gun will crumble into dust unless
someone picks it up and pulls the trigger. As far as I can see,” he
said, after a moment’s deliberation, “blaming guns for things is
just another way of avoiding the main problem.”

“What do you see as the main problem?”

“The major mistake most of us make is in
seeing problems and solutions as being ‘out there’—outside of
ourselves.”

Catherine burst out laughing. “That's an
utterly strange thing to say!” She swept her gloved hand out in a
gesture that included the whole countryside. “Where else would our
problems and solutions be than out there?”

“Within
ourselves...” Tucson answered
simply. “I think someone said once that character creates
destiny.”

Catherine’s jaw dropped, and she seemed on
the verge of saying more, when they topped a rise and reined in
their mounts. They sat their saddles and looked over the country
spread out before them.

The desert abruptly gave way to a shallow
bowl about five miles in diameter, sloping gently down to a flat
bottom where a ranch house sat among a cluster of oaks. A large
horse corral and shed was set off to the rear, a barn was on the
left and a bunkhouse was on the right. An atmosphere of prosperity
and peace hung about the place.

“That's the Rolling M Ranch,” Catherine told
him. “This is the headquarters, but there's about five thousand
acres all told. Chuck and Margaret Mitchell own it. Margaret just
had the baby.”

Tucson nodded silently, and they kicked their
horses into a canter and rode down toward the buildings.

* * * *

Chuck Mitchell was out with his drovers
rounding up cattle, but Margaret was in the house, attended by an
old Mexican woman. Tucson stepped inside long enough to meet
Margaret, but went back out to water the horses at the trough in
front of the barn. Then he sat on the front porch of the house,
smoking a cheroot and sipping the glass of cool lemonade brought
out to him by the old Mexican woman.

The place looked even better close up. There
was a fresh coat of paint on the house, and the corral and barn
were kept in good repair. The ranch reflected lots of care,
patience and dedication. Tucson had been on the move all of his
life; he never spent more than short periods of time in any one
place. But he could appreciate a spread like this when he came
across it.

Sometimes, if the situation called for it, he
could stay in one place for a while; but before long his feet would
start to itch, he would get restless and have to be on his way.
Tucson could appreciate what Chuck Mitchell had accomplished, but
he couldn't quite understand the impulse behind it. For Tucson,
riding the high places, the lonesome places, living free and easy,
independent, touching the world lightly as he passed was the very
breath of life to him, and he could be no other way.

He had just thrown the butt of his cigar into
the dirt in front of the porch when Catherine and Margaret Mitchell
stepped out the door. Tucson stood to greet them. Margaret Mitchell
was blonde and buxom and looked like she came from German stock.
Her cheeks were rosy and she had laugh-lines at the corners of her
blue eyes.

“Thank you kindly for the cookies,” Margaret
was saying to Catherine. “I know Chuck will love to have some when
he gets back.” She reached out and pressed Catherine's arm. “And
don't stay away so long. It gets lonely out here.”

“I know,” Catherine replied with a smile,
putting her sombrero on and adjusting the cord. “But running that
boarding house is a full time job. I don't get much time off
myself.”

Margaret glanced at Tucson and extended her
hand. “And you, too, Tucson. I'm sure Chuck would like to meet you.
Come back any time, you hear?”

“Thanks, Mrs. Mitchell,” Tucson replied,
taking her hand in his. “I just might do that. You've got a nice
place here.”

Tucson and Catherine stepped down from the
porch and mounted up. With a last wave to Margaret Mitchell, they
reined the horses around and rode away.

When they reached the crest of the bowl,
Catherine pointed north and called out to Tucson, “Let's cut over
in that direction. There's something I want to show you.”

They rode for about a mile, the rested horses
keeping up an easy canter, when suddenly a steep arroyo yawned at
their feet. Tucson reined the stallion to a rearing halt then
looked down the canyon wall to where a stream ran along the sandy
bottom.

“It's amazing,” he grunted, “how you can't
see these canyons until you're right on top of them. I had no idea
this was here.”

Catherine laughed with pleasure. “Let's ride
a ways upstream. There's a path down to a beautiful spot.”

Tucson followed Catherine for about a quarter
of a mile then she turned her mare onto a narrow trail that led
down the arroyo-wall to the bottom. The path meandered downward
until it ended in the shade of a copse of cedars surrounding a
small pool formed in a cluster of rocks. Around the pool and in
among the trees was a thick carpet of green grass.

“You're right,” Tucson observed, gazing about
the spot admiringly. “This is beautiful.”

“Yes,” Catherine breathed. “I come out here
when I need to get away from town.” She glanced shyly at Tucson.
“This is the first time I've ever brought anyone else.” Then she
looked away and stepped down into the grass. “We can hobble the
horses over here,” she suggested, leading the mare further into the
stand of trees. “There's plenty of grass for them.”

Tucson dismounted and slipped the bridle out
of the stallion’s mouth then loosened the cinch strap. He pointed
into the trees. “Go on, big fella,” he said affectionately. “Relax
for a while.”

With ponderous dignity, the stallion ambled
in among the cedars and began nibbling at the grass. The Appaloosa
moved over beside him and rubbed her muzzle against his shoulder.
Tucson watched them for a moment with a grin on his face then
turned back to the pool.

Catherine took the blanket roll from behind
her saddle and draped it over her arm then walked to the edge of
the pool. She spread the blanket out on the grass and sat down,
folding her legs out to the side. Tucson scanned the upper edges of
the arroyo. There was nothing in sight but a couple of hawks
soaring in the clear blue sky, searching the desert for their next
meal.

He bent and untied the thong around his leg
and unbuckled his gun-belt, then sat down beside Catherine. He
gazed at her clean-cut profile as she watched the pool and listened
to the sounds of the stream rippling over the rocks. The breeze was
cool and fresh there in the shade and some birds were singing in
the trees.

“I've never seen anything finer,” Tucson
observed quietly.

Catherine glanced at him, realized he was
staring at her, and turned away and blushed. “It...it is nice here,
isn't it?”

Then she turned back and faced him, this time
meeting and holding his eyes.

Tucson leaned forward and kissed her gently
on the lips. Her mouth tasted faintly of fresh honey. After a
moment of hesitation, she came willingly into his arms, her body
melting against his. They held each other for several minutes,
kissing, then Tucson lowered her down onto the blanket.

Her eyes had turned dark and smoky under his
caresses. Somehow her auburn hair had fallen loose and it fanned
out over the blanket, framing her pale face in flames.

Then she pressed her palms against his
chest.

“Why don't we go into the pool?” she
suggested with a smile. “You can get your bath in a little early
today.”

Tucson grinned and rolled back up into a
sitting position.

“Sure,” he said, as he began unlacing his
jacket.

His eyes were riveted irresistibly on
Catherine as she removed her jacket and unbuttoned her blouse,
revealing a white lace camisole beneath. Rising to her feet, she
kicked off her boots then unhooked her skirt, letting it fall to
the blanket. Then she dropped her camisole. All that was left were
her bloomers.

She paused and arched her brows when she
noticed that Tucson was staring at her.

“Aren't you going to undress?” she asked.

Fascinated by the lush perfection of her
body, Tucson could only nod dumbly.

Enjoying her effect on him, Catherine smiled
playfully, then hooked her thumbs in the waistband of the bloomers
and shucked them in one smooth movement. She kicked them aside and
stood up straight, facing Tucson with a spray of color across her
cheeks.

Her milk-white breasts were high and full and
the nipples were as big as silver dollars. Her ribs arched down to
a gently rounded stomach that plummeted to a red silken triangle
between her legs. As she turned to step into the pool, Tucson
admired her slender waist and flaring hips, the firm line of her
thighs and her taut rear-end.

Then the water closed over her, and the
vision was blotted out.

With shaking fingers, Tucson finished taking
off the rest of his clothes. Catherine watched as he laid the .45
and .32 at the pool’s edge, then stepped into the water. Her hazel
eyes widened at the sight of his leanly muscled shoulders, chest
and arms, his ribbed stomach and narrow hips, his bronzed skin
etched and puckered with the scars of bullet and blade.

Then he was beside her in the water.

It was refreshing after the heat of the day,
and he leaned back, luxuriating in the coolness. Catherine floated
toward him and put her arms around his shoulders, pressing her lush
body against his. Tucson kissed her passionately, but she broke
away, laughing, and began splashing about the pool. Captivated by
her playfulness, Tucson joined in the fun, and they spent the next
fifteen minutes chasing one another through the water and dunking
each other beneath the surface.

But even in the midst of play, Tucson
ceaselessly scanned the canyon ridge for intruders. A part of him
was always on the alert, ever watchful; no activity could
completely distract him. It was a trait he had cultivated over the
years, and it had saved his life more than once.

Catherine held up her hands. “Alright!” she
gasped, her long hair plastered over her face. “I've had enough.
Let's stop for now.”

Still laughing, Tucson floated toward her and
put his arms around her. Catherine slid her arms around his neck
and clamped her legs around his waist. They hung there, staring
into each other's eyes, then she curled her fingers in his black
hair and crushed her lips against his.

“You know,” she whispered, when she had
pulled away, “this is a little new for me. I've never done anything
like this before.”

Tucson ran his hands over the satin
smoothness of her waist and hips. “I believe you,” he said. “So
then, why are you doing it now?”

She studied his face as if she were trying to
memorize it. “Because you're the most unusual man I've ever met,”
she replied, with simple sincerity. “You carry yourself
differently, you talk differently - you're just different!
And...and it feels like you won't be here for very long. So I don't
have any time to waste.” She paused and looked at him almost
fearfully. “Is that true?”

Tucson sighed heavily then nodded his head.
“I'm a man passing through. And where I go, I go alone.”

Catherine closed her eyes and leaned her
forehead against his chin. When she looked up again, she was
smiling, but there were tears in her eyes. “Let's go back to the
blanket,” she murmured.

She lay back on the blanket and stretched her
arms up to him. He held back for a moment and gazed hungrily at her
naked body, glistening like ivory in the sunlight. Then he lowered
himself against her, enjoying the way their still-wet bodies slid
along each other. He twisted down and licked the moisture off her
nipples, puckered from the water.

Catherine ran her fingers along his jaw, down
his corded neck and over his shoulders then gazed up at him
intensely. “Please be gentle,” she whispered. “It's been a long
time.”