Native Gold (28 page)

He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or worried that Mattie wasn’t inside. He’d half expected to find her slumped in a pool of blood, shot by her own rifle in some terrible accident. But no, her cabin looked to be in order. The candles were blown out. Clean dinner dishes sat on the shelf. Even her sketching paper and pencils were stacked neatly at the foot of her bed.

But if she wasn’t here, where was she?

Zeke scratched at his beard. "Maybe she just stepped out to, you know, pee."

Maybe. But Swede didn’t think so, for two reasons.

One, that package on the porch didn’t just drop out of the sky—it meant something.

And two, Mattie’s rifle was missing.

Sakote’s ears still rang from the explosion. He wrenched the gun from Mati’s hands before she could fire it again and hurt someone. With a growl, he seized her shoulder and wheeled her around to face him.

"Are you crazy?" he demanded.

"Sakote?" With a little cry, she flung herself into his arms, laying her cheek against his chest. "Oh, Sakote, thank God it’s you!"

He frowned. He wished he’d never told her his name. It sounded soft on her tongue, soft and helpless, like her body. But no, he wouldn’t be tempted by her woman’s ways. He wouldn’t be fooled by the
willa
’s trickery. He set her purposefully away from him.

"Why are you following me?" he snapped, though in truth it felt like the frightened yip of a cornered coyote. His hand shook as he raked the hair back from his forehead. The gunfire had shocked him terribly, but not as much as the knowledge that he’d been tracked by a white woman nearly all the way back to the village, and he hadn’t noticed. How could he have been so careless? "And why did you fire your rifle? You could have killed someone! What if I had been my little brother?"

Mati crossed her arms defensively. "What if you’d been a bear come to eat me?"

"Bears don’t eat crazy white women."

Her voice grew suddenly quiet. "Is that what you think of me? That I’m a crazy white woman?"

Sakote clenched his fists. No. That wasn’t what he thought. But fear and worry twisted his words into crooked spears that he threw at her.

She lowered her head. "I’m sorry," she whispered, and he heard the hurt in her voice. "I thought we were..." A soft sob caught the rest of her words as she turned away.

Sakote’s heart sank. Not tears. Anything but tears. He wished to be angry with Mati. He wished to scold her for her recklessness. He wished to punish her for breaking his heart. But already she softened his warrior’s spirit. She stifled a sniffle, and the sound melted his rage.

With a great sigh of defeat, he propped the rifle against a tree and reached out for her. He clasped the back of her head, and ignoring her weak protest, gathered her into his embrace, holding her close to him, against his foolish heart.

A pang of protective longing streaked through him as her ragged breath warmed his chest. Instinctively, he stroked the back of her head. Her hair slipped between his fingers, finer than his own, and it waved beneath his touch like the surface of the creek. He’d forgotten how perfectly she fit against him, how right she felt in his arms. And she smelled good, like sweet spice and pine smoke. He could hold her forever.

But Mati wished to talk.

"Why didn’t you visit me?" she whispered against his chest, absently twining a strand of his hair around her fingertip. "I went to the waterfall every day. I thought we were...friends."

"Friends?" Sakote did not fully understand the language of the white man, but to him, a friend was Noa or one of his Konkow brothers. What he felt for Mati was far beyond friendship.

Mati withdrew her hand. "I’m sorry. I thought you..."

"We are...friends," he told her.

"But you never came to me."

"You were busy," he said pointedly.

"I missed you," she breathed.

Sakote tried to remind himself that she’d let other men hold her like this. She probably had made kisses with the miners, maybe even mated with them. He wasn’t special to her. He told himself these things, but he didn’t listen to his own words. When she leaned toward him, her mouth parting as if to drink from him, he heard only the beating of his heart.

Her lips were gentle on his, and he closed his eyes with the wonder of her tender touch. Her sigh caressed his cheek as she tipped her head, deepening the kiss. His pulse leaped wildly out of control, but he coiled his fingers tenderly in her hair, holding her head still so he could taste each corner of her mouth.

She purred like the wildcat, deep in her throat, and the sound seemed to call an animal forth in him, for he hauled her to him then, crushing her softness against his hard chest, opening her mouth with his tongue to seek the succulent fruit within.

Her hands moved over his shoulders and across his chest, sculpting his muscles like they were made of clay. Then she broke from the kiss to devour the rest of him, nipping at his jaw, nuzzling his throat, gasping with desire as she tasted his flesh so wantonly that it made him tremble.

His loins ached, and he pressed her hips against his need, longing beyond thought and beyond reason to join with her, this woman who drove him to the edge of madness.

"Ah, Sakote," she whispered breathlessly against his ear. The sound seemed like the wind of destiny.

He reached down with one desperate arm and gathered her skirt aside, letting his fingers glide up along the fawn-soft skin of her thigh. By the son of Wonomi, he wanted the white woman. He wanted his man’s-knife inside her and her legs wrapped around his bare back.

Mattie wanted...Lord, she didn’t know what she wanted. Him. More of him. All of him. He left her with a ravenous hunger impossible to quench, though she fed on his delicious flesh with lips and teeth and tongue till she could scarcely breathe. Her hands explored his body with blind need, memorizing each curve and swell. She turned her ear to his wide, warm chest, reveling in the strong, rapid beat of his heart against her cheek. She quivered as his callused fingertips grazed her thigh. And she gasped as he pressed his hips boldly to hers, branding her with his iron-hard desire.

Floating in a sleepy haze of rich sensations, Mattie made no protest as he pulled her into a faint patch of moonlight, his hand slipping higher up her leg, over the hollow of her hip, along the edge of her linen drawers, inside the fabric. She moaned and arched closer.

But something stopped him. Just as his fingers began to tangle gently in her woman’s curls, he blew out a long, sharp breath and pulled away, leaving her cold. Stunned, she mewed in complaint and lifted heavy-lidded eyes to his face.

Whatever battle waged there was hard-fought. Sakote’s brow darkened with deep furrows, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes, despite the vulnerability of his parted mouth and the winded heaving of his chest.

"No," he said gruffly. "No." He took a full step backward, clenching his fists as if he fought for control. "We must go."

"But—“

"Come!" he barked, grabbing her rifle and setting off, expecting her to follow.

Sakote thought he’d rather be shot by Yana arrows than endure this torture. His body wanted Mati. His man’s-knife ached with need.

But nothing had changed. He and Mati were from two different worlds. And if they didn’t take care, if they let their passions cloud their thoughts, those worlds might collide. There wasn’t much time. He’d hesitated too long already.

Everyone had heard the gunshot. The young braves in the village would come soon to investigate. Then the miners would come. And in the dark and confusion, their fear would create misunderstanding. Someone would get hurt.

No, for the sake of his people, Mati and he must not be found together.

He couldn’t abandon her. She wasn’t safe here. And if she tried to return home, she’d lose her way in the dark. He helplessly shook his head. Though it was a great risk, he had to take Mati back to her cabin.

"Come," he said more gently when she didn’t budge. "I’ll take you home."

Bewildered, she turned to him with welling eyes, but he had to ignore her. If a hunter let himself be distracted by every wide and innocent gaze, he would starve. But that watery gaze swiftly turned to ice, and with a glare of accusation and a furious snap of her skirts, Mati strode off ahead of him.

He quickly caught her and took the lead, glancing back from time to time to make sure he didn’t travel too quickly for her, but he didn’t want to look at her face. Like his sister, Mati wore her thoughts in her eyes, and he was ashamed at what he knew he’d see there, ashamed of the pain and rage he’d caused.

But he could change nothing. Mati didn’t understand. She couldn’t. She was a white woman. She’d never had to protect her people, never felt fear for her family, never worried about food or shelter or cold or sickness. She didnt realize that the peace between the Konkows and the miners was like a thread of spider’s web, easily destroyed by the wave of a hand.

As they crept through the trees, Sakote listened carefully. He heard no white men in the forest, which troubled him greatly. He could always hear the
willa
as they clumsily made their way through the leaves. He should hear them now, unless...unless they lay in wait.

When he finally emerged into the clearing, it was too late. He was right. A crowd of miners stood guard outside Mati’s cabin, teeth bared, eyes glowing fiercely in the moonlight. A dozen weapons instantly swung about to murder him.

Mattie didn’t notice them at first. In fact, she collided with Sakote’s back when he halted suddenly. She was surprised she didn’t break on impact, for between hurt and anger, she felt as brittle as bone china.

"Hold it right there, Injun!"

She peered around Sakote’s massive arm, the one clutching her gun, and gasped. Standing before them, brandishing rifles, revolvers, knives, and pickaxes, were the residents of Paradise Bar. Swede, holding aloft a flickering lantern, stood at the fore.

Dash spoke. "If you hurt one hair on Miss Mattie’s head, Digger, I swear..."

Frenchy finished the oath. "I will carve your red carcass up like a Christmas goose!"

"Put down the gun, son," Zeke said, spitting a wad of tobacco onto the ground.

Mattie blinked. "What is this about? Mr. Jenkins? Mr. Swede?"

Much to her consternation, the men ignored her.

"Lay down the rifle nice and slow," Swede repeated, cocking his weapon.

Sakote made no move to surrender the weapon. Mattie’s heart flipped over. Did the miners mean to shoot the both of them?

"For heaven’s sake," she pleaded with Sakote, tugging on his arm, "put the gun down."

He refused, growling some word at her in his own language. Her jostling only made the miners more nervous.

"Back away, Miss Mattie," Tom advised.

She’d had enough of the men’s inanity. "And just what do you intend to do then?"

"Shoot the bastard!" Harley cried, and his brothers joined in with enthusiasm.

"You’ll do no such thing!" Mattie protested. "Can’t you see—“

"Go on and put the gun down now," Swede said softly to Sakote, "so’s the lady don’t get hurt."

Mattie looked up at Sakote, his black hair gleaming in the moonlight, his eyes like polished beads of jet. His breath slowed somewhat, but there was an anxious sheen of sweat above his lip.

She stroked the sleek muscle of his upper arm. "It’s all right, Sakote. They won’t hurt you. They’re my friends."

He turned to her, and she thought she’d never seen such sad and wise eyes as his. He warred with some great decision as he searched her eyes. Then he sighed, dropping his shoulders in surrender.

The rifle had barely thudded on the ground when the miners rushed forward to haul Mattie out of harm’s way. Before she could cry out in dismay, four of them wrenched Sakote face-down to the ground. A dozen guns aimed at his naked back, pinning him there.

"No!" she screeched.

Red kicked him once in the ribs, and Sakote grunted in pain, spurring the Cooper boys to throw in a couple of hard punches.

"Stop it!" she shrieked, battling against Tom and Frenchy, who tried to restrain her. "What are you doing?"

"Don’t ye worry, Miss," Tom said. "The boys’ll make this Digger so black and blue he won’t be able to move for a week, never mind tryin’ to abscond with our womenfolk."

"Abscond..." Mattie gasped. Was that what they thought? "He didn’t..."

But the mob wouldn’t listen to her. They’d already made up their collective mind. They formed a circle around Sakote and began pummeling him with fists and the butts of their rifles as if he were a rabid dog they had to kill.

With a cry of horror, Mattie finally tore herself from Frenchy’s grasp and broke through the maddened crowd. Before another cruel blow could land on Sakote, she threw herself atop him, shielding him with her own body.

"Don’t you touch him!" she screamed. "Don’t you dare touch him!"

The ugly pack still brandished fists and weapons, their monstrous leers and rolling eyes made garish by the lurching light of the oil lamps. Mattie scarcely recognized them. Good Lord, would they strike her down, too?