Heart of Gold (2 page)

She rode behind the loose bunch of horses he and two hands drove toward the Circle B. Someone should tell her that’s where the most dust flew, but he’d let one of the other two boys do it if they were so inclined.

“Boss, we got trouble,” Erick said, riding alongside. The hand had been with Frank’s outfit nearly as long as Charlie and had more horse sense than anybody, so Charlie immediately gave his attention to the other man.

“What is it?”

“I was taking a look back to make sure our guest,” the hand grinned and winked at Charlie, “was doin’ all right and noticed some dust kickin’ up.”

Charlie shrugged, trying to loosen his neck a bit. Seemed like he’d had more stress today after meeting Opal Bright than all of last calving season. “We aren’t far from Sheridan yet. Could be other travelers moving this way.”

“These fellas seem to be riding our trail specifically.”

Charlie’s unease heightened. “How long?”

“‘Bout an hour. As long as we been on the trail.”

Charlie immediately thought of Opal’s loud announcement about gold back in town and the rough men it had attracted. What if some of them hadn’t believed Charlie’s denial and were following with nefarious intentions?

Charlie quickly filled Erick in on what had taken place in town.

“You’re joshin’.”

Charlie shook his head. “Wish I was.”

Erick’s mouth set in a hard line. “You’d better go tell Lee. Make sure his rifle’s loaded in case your hunch is right.”

Charlie did, shaking his head at the younger man who was more excited than concerned about the possibility of someone following them.

Figuring he’d better tell Miss Priss, Charlie rode back to where she’d fallen even further behind. As he neared, he realized she was talking to the horse. Arguing with it.

“If you’ll just cooperate, I’ll make sure you get some nice carrots or tomatoes or-or whatever your favorite treat is if you’ll just
move
.”

“Having problems, Miss Opal?”

She startled and turned those unusual gray eyes on him. “This horse simply refuses to
listen
,” she whispered furiously as if the horse could hear her.

Aware of the riders possibly coming on behind them, Charlie took a quick look at Misty’s gait. He couldn’t help grinning as he drew up alongside Opal, who continued muttering at the animal. “Misty can’t understand English, ya know. She’s much more attuned to what you’re saying with your posterior and your legs.”

He watched Opal flush and start to get good and riled. He winked. Before she could start spouting off, he grabbed the reins just under Misty’s chin and halted the horse.

“She ain’t misbehaving on purpose. Looks like she might’ve thrown a shoe.”

Opal’s eyes narrowed, maybe with suspicion, but she let him assist her off the horse.

A quick check of the mare’s hind leg revealed he’d guessed right.

What surprised him was the yowling that commenced from the hatbox tied behind Misty’s saddle.

“What—”

Opal moved between him and the hatbox before he could even reach for it.

“It’s my cat. I couldn’t leave her behind in Omaha-my aunt Jennie can’t abide her. She won’t be any trouble, usually she sleeps in my bedroom most of the day—”

Charlie found himself facing a foe he hadn’t expected: a pleading Opal with those silver eyes asking him not to deny her.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t seem to bother Misty. We need to get going. The horse should be all right to make it home without a passenger. We’ll ride double. Let’s go.”

Opal’s nose wrinkled as if she found the idea distasteful. “Isn’t there another horse I could utilize? There must be twenty in the herd.”

He couldn’t hold back a grin as he imagined her trying to handle one of the mostly-wild ponies.

“Sweetheart, those ponies are green-broke, which means you wouldn’t last five minutes in the saddle on one of ‘em.”

“I’m not your
sweetheart
.”

Something about the way her cheeks pinked and the flash of her eyes when she started getting riled twisted his insides. He liked it.

“What about your horse? He seems tame enough. I can ride it and you ride one of the, erm… ‘green-broke’ animals.”

He shook his head before she’d finished, although he had to admire her ingenuity. “No. No one rides Turk but me.” Charlie fit his foot into the stirrup and stepped into the saddle, the familiar creak of leather reminding him they needed to get moving. He reached out his hand for Opal. “You coming?”

“I’d prefer not—”

A faint but piercing whistle brought Charlie’s head up. Erick and Lee had ridden on with the small herd of horses; Erick waved his hat wildly above his head on a ridge up ahead.

Charlie twisted in his saddle and saw three riders approaching at a full-out gallop. Headed straight for him and Opal.

“No choice,” he said curtly, gripping her wrist and hauling her into the saddle in front of him, urging Turk to move at the same time.

She shrieked and clutched his shoulders, bouncing because she didn’t have a good seat, but he couldn’t take time to settle her. He reached for his rifle instead.

“Remember those ruffians from town?” Charlie shouted.

“What?” Her breathless response made his heart thump once, hard.

“They’re following us. Coming fast.” And he’d foolishly fallen too far back from his two cowhands. How could he have let himself get so distracted?

“What about Misty?”

Turk took a long, low leap over a fallen log and Charlie heard Opal’s teeth clatter.

Her concern for the animal they’d left behind was admirable, but he was too busy trying to keep their hides intact to dwell on what it said about her.

“They aren’t after your horse, darlin’. They want the gold we don’t have.” Misty would be fine until he or Erick could ride back around to collect her. Right now Charlie and Opal needed to outdistance the desperados trailing them.

If Charlie let something happen to the boss’s daughter, Frank would never forgive him.

Opal thought Charlie must be exaggerating, trying to frighten her. Until she managed to raise her head to see over his shoulder and caught sight of the large, dark-bearded man with a rifle pointed at them.

“He’s got a gun,” she huffed.

“Then you’d better pray he’s not a sharpshooter!”

She couldn’t find the breath to tell him she didn’t put much stock in prayer, not anymore.

Charlie slid his own weapon back into its scabbard by his knee and slung his arm around her waist, bending low over the horse’s neck. Shielding her, she realized, as her arms came around his neck. From her prone position, she had to cling to him or risk falling from the horse.

She had to rely completely on him.

For someone used to doing for herself, she didn’t like the feeling of utter helplessness at all.

And then a weapon boomed and Charlie jerked in the saddle.

For one terrifying moment, Opal feared they were both going to fall from the galloping horse. But then Charlie seemed to regain his seat and his arm tightened around her.

“Are you shot?” she gasped.

“Yep.” His reply was short, curt, but much calmer than she expected.

As she watched, a crimson stain bloomed on his shirt.

She knew enough to put pressure on the wound, eliciting a grunt from him when her palm pressed flat against his muscular shoulder.

“Good thinkin’, sugar plum.” He still pushed the horse at a breakneck speed.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “What are we going to do?”

“This.”

They crossed a ridge and Charlie wheeled the horse sharply to the right, ensconcing them behind a stand of scrub brush. He straightened in the saddle and removed his rifle again.

Moments later, three horsemen crossed the same ridge. Charlie took a shot, the report of the rifle ringing in Opal’s ears, its kick rocking both of them.

“Winged one of ‘em,” Charlie said.

A second gunshot erupted from somewhere else.

“Looks like Erick got one of the others. They’re turning now.”

Opal watched as the three riders hustled back over the ridge and out of sight.

“Did you… the men you hit-will they die?” She could barely think the words, but forced them through frozen lips anyway.

“Possibly. Couldn’t tell where Erick’s shot hit, but mine just nicked his arm. Of course there’s always the chance of infection setting in.”

“They gone, Boss?” One of Charlie’s men rode near, out of breath, dark perspiration covering his horse’s neck and chest.

“Looks like it. You want to ride back and make sure? Get Misty-she threw a shoe-on your way? Jest ignore the squalling cat in the hatbox.”

The other man nodded, though one of his eyebrows arched. “Catch up to you at the Brown’s place?”

Charlie glanced at the sky and Opal followed his gaze to the rapidly-darkening horizon. “It’s still a ways to Brown’s. Might be dark before we make it.”

She was close enough to feel a fine tremor run through him; a shift of her hand on his injured shoulder caused a groan from deep in his chest.

“Charlie was shot,” she informed the other cowboy. “We’ll join Lee with the herd and make camp. I can take care of Charlie’s wound.”

Charlie started to protest and she shushed him with a sharp shake of her head. “I don’t need to sleep indoors. Your wound needs tending more than I need the comfort of a roof over my head.”

Certainly he deserved it after he’d quite possibly saved her life.

Charlie succumbed to her suggestion with surprising meekness. Within a half hour, they’d settled into a crude camp of bedrolls surrounding a small fire with Lee taking first watch over the horses nearby.

Perched next to a small stream, Opal wrung out the cleanest rag she’d found among the cowboy’s saddlebags and turned back to find Charlie had shed his shirt. Instantly, heat filled her face at the sight of his muscled back and shoulders; she only hoped the growing dark would hide her reaction. What was it about the cowboy that attracted her so? He was nothing like her intended, Grover. Charlie was uncouth, almost rough compared to the young banker’s son back in Omaha.

But there was something about him that made her feel safe. Protected.

Shaking off her distracting thoughts, Opal knelt next to Charlie and began dabbing at the wound. In the flickering light from the campfire she saw the bullet had dug a shallow furrow in his flesh, but it seemed to have passed through without lodging there.

“It doesn’t look terribly bad,” she said softly, awareness of their intimate setting lowering her voice. “The bleeding is slowing. It’s too bad you don’t carry a disinfectant with you, but Lee had some sugar we can use.”

“You appropriated Lee’s sugar?” She didn’t have to look at his face to recognize the smile in his voice. “He’ll be cranky in the morning when he tries to swallow Erick’s coffee without it.”

Opal kept her eyes on her task and tried to ignore the feel of his hot skin under her fingertips.

“I have to admit I’m surprised you know what to do for a gunshot wound. Is there somethin’ your pa should know about what you’ve been doing back in Omaha? Or maybe the people you’ve been sparking?”

She stiffened. “If you’re asking whether I have a beau, I do.” Not that she wanted to marry Grover, but she’d resolved to do what she needed to do for the children. “And if you’re insinuating he’d get himself shot, he wouldn’t.”

In the edge of her vision, Opal saw Charlie’s eyes cut to her, saw the tiny quirk of his lips. Was he laughing at her?

“I spend some time helping at an orphanage back in Omaha. I’ve had to play doctor a few times when some of the boys have gotten into scrapes.” Opal briefly thought of the last time, when Johnny and Ellery had been in a fistfight. “There aren’t always medical supplies available, unfortunately.”

He turned his head and looked her full in the face, his brown eyes raking her face. “That’s awfully good-hearted of you.”

He couldn’t know how she related to the orphanage children, even though her father was alive. She’d been abandoned to her aunt’s care at age six, and felt her father’s absence keenly since then. Like many of the children, she wondered what she’d done to make her father send her away. And not to want her back. This trip was her opportunity to find out if he had any regrets.

In the beginning, she’d prayed long and fervently for her father to write and ask her to return, but as the years went by, Opal begun to realize God wasn’t listening.

But she would never share her thoughts with Charlie. He was loyal to her father and besides, he most likely wouldn’t understand. She finished patching his wound in silence and tied it off with a mostly-clean bandana.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have a scar.”

“Just one of many.” Charlie pointed to a jagged white line near his mouth. “My poor ma, God rest her soul, doctored my brother and me so many times I think she gave up on keeping our handsome mugs intact.”

His smile drew her eyes and she traced the faint scar with her fingertip. “It’s very faint…”