River Song (10 page)

Suddenly remorseful, Sunny lowered her lashes. "I thought you were someone else. I was following a trail from Yuma."

"You followed me all the way from Yuma? Why?"

Sunny's heart constricted at this. Had she been wrong about his innocence, made another mistake? Until now, she'd only guessed he'd been in her homeland. Still able to hope that he could not have been involved in her mother's murder, she became the interrogator.

"I followed two riders from Yuma.
Men whose horses bore the same prints as yours."

Cole shrugged. "I rode out alone. As for the prints, I suppose other ranches have horseshoes made in about the same way." He took a deep drag on his cigarette and tried to make sense out of all she'd told him. "Why were you on my trail?"

"I told you. I am looking for two men. One of them has a nasty wound on his right leg. When I came into your camp, I saw you were limping."

With a short laugh, Cole said, "You'd limp too if you were stupid enough to sit on a Gila monster. Damn thing chewed through my jeans and started working on my leg before I could get his teeth pried apart with my gun barrel."

"You have been bitten by a Gila monster?" she said. "Why aren't you dead?"

"I didn't give him enough time to chew his poison into me. He just got enough in to give me a belly ache and a damn painful swollen leg."

"Oh?" she breathed in awe. "My mother's people believe the breath of a Gila monster is enough to kill a man. How could you survive the bite?"

Familiar with the old Indian tale, Cole chuckled softly. "Don't tell me you believe that. Only Indians—" He cut off his words when he remembered the girl's description of her family. "You're
mother's
people? You told me she was white."

Certain now that Cole was not one of the men she hunted, Sunny resumed drawing figures in the sand. "I was afraid to tell you my mother was Quechan, afraid if you were the man I sought, you might guess my true purpose." Her large dark eyes glistened with tears as she explained. "My mother and older brother were murdered by the men whose trail I followed. I thought you might have been one of them."

"Oh, Sunflower."
He groaned, thinking of her pain, remembering she'd also lost her father. "I'm sorry for your terrible losses, but please believe me. I had nothing to do with their deaths."

"I realize that." She nodded. "And I am sorry for the wound I gave you. Is it deep? Does it give you much pain?"

"Don't worry about me," he assured, wondering how he could feel such compassion for an Indian—one who'd tried to kill him at that. "It's just a scratch."

Still feeling a deep empathy, Cole approached her and slid a comforting hand along her shoulder. "You're not alone, Sunny. You may have lost your entire family, but my offer is still open. Come to Triple F ranch with me. You might even find some relatives at Fort McDowell."

Taken aback at first, Sunny recalled her earlier story about mining the Superstitions. "There is one more thing you should know. My father is not a Pima Indian. He's Patrick Callahan, straight from Killarney, Ireland."

Surprise trapping a puff of smoke in his throat, Cole coughed and tossed his cigarette on the grave. He'd expected the Gaelic bits of her conversation had come from an educator, mentor, or perhaps even a husband, but her father?

Cole stepped away from her and stood with hands on hips. "You said,
is.
Am I to assume your father wasn't murdered?"

"No, I forgot to set you straight. My father and older brother, Sean, are seeking gold somewhere north of Yuma. They should be in La Paz or maybe Fort Mohave by now."

"I see," he muttered thoughtfully, but he really didn't. She'd told him so many
stories,
he didn't know what to believe. Had she lied about anything else? Did she have other surprises planned for him if he went ahead and escorted her back to the ranch? He'd let his guard down around her once and it had nearly cost him his life. It wouldn't happen again. "I think it's time we had a very long and
truthful
discussion. Join me at the fire."

Sensing an underlying storm in his words, Sunny followed him to the campfire and accepted the cup of coffee he offered. Settling cross-legged into the sand, she took a cautious sip of the hot brew and waited for Cole to take the lead.

"All right," he said after rolling and lighting another cigarette. "I want the truth from you.
Every bit of it."

"But I have told the truth," she objected, suddenly indignant. "There is nothing more."

"And the truth is—your mother was Quechan, murdered by unknown
assailants,
and instead of going to your Irish father for help, you took off,
alone
, with the idea of taking care of the varmints by yourself?" His tone incredulous, Cole raised it another notch and added, "You really expect me to believe that?"

"
'Tis
the truth," she snapped, banging the tin cup against her knee. Wincing as droplets of hot coffee burned through her cotton breeches and shirt, Sunny tossed the cup across the fire towards Cole's boot. "Believe what you wish you yellow-haired leavings of a bull-headed coyote, but I swear by Saint Patrick, those are the facts."

As he regarded the dark coffee stain spreading across the toe of his boot, Cole's mustache began to twitch, but even he couldn't be sure if it jerked with anger or mirth.

Chancing a glance into her midnight-blue eyes, he said, "You expect me to accept the fact that a smart girl like you didn't think of the danger she'd be in crossing Arizona alone?"

"I knew of the danger," she sniffed. "But if I had gone alone after my father, the danger would have been no less." Indignation gave way to anger and Sunny jumped to her feet. "I suppose you think I should have stayed at the farm,
alone
,
wailing and weeping for the next two or three months until my father returned?"

His ire rising to meet hers, Cole got up and stood facing her across the dying fire. "You might have at
least
gone to the sheriff and let him handle things."

Sunny's laugh was bitter as she said, "You actually think the sheriff would go out of his way to find the murderers of another damned Indian?"

With an inward groan, Cole shrugged. "Some might."

"Not this one." Holding her head high, Sunny tossed her long raven hair over her shoulders, clearly signaling Cole to make the next move.

Uncomfortable, he took a couple of steps around the outside of the smoldering fire, kicking pebbles and rocks out of his way as he went. "What about your mother's tribe? Don't you have some kind of leader who would have helped you?"

"I thought of that," she bit off. "Our leader is Pasqual, a man of great vision. But if I had gone to him, if I tried to—" Sunny let out a long sigh and looked into Cole's green eyes. What she saw, either skepticism or disapproval, made up her mind for her. "You have the head of a pig-eyed goat. You would not understand."

Sunny whirled on her boot heel and stalked off towards Paddy, mumbling over her shoulder as she kicked up the sand, "If I may have a minute, I will be happy to give you
your
rid of me and all the doubts plaguing your
blitherin
' fool for a brain."

Cole rolled his eyes and blew out a long exaggerated breath before he approached her. She'd managed to put
him
on the defense, and while he didn't understand that, or her solitary journey into the badlands, he knew one thing for certain. He couldn't just let her ride off alone again.

"Don't be in such a hurry to run off, Sunflower," he began softly. "I'd like to understand, and could if you'd just give me a chance."

Her back to him as she arranged her traveling sacks across Paddy's neck, Sunny gave him a sideways glance. This time, his spring-like eyes reflected only sincerity, honesty. Keeping her back to Cole, she stroked the pony's mane.

She would try one more time because she really did want his protection on the trail. "If I had gone to Pasqual, it would have been a waste of my time."

"I still don't understand, Sunny. Surely he would have sent some braves, men adept at tracking, after your mother's killers, and saved you the trouble."

Sunny turned and faced him at this. Fighting to keep the hostility from her eyes, she said, "He would have wanted to track the men, of that I have no doubt. But," she lowered her head and stared down at the earth, "the cost would have been too great. If Pasqual sent a few braves after these men, they surely would have found then killed them as honor demanded."

"As you set out to do.
I don't see the difference, except you were alone and put yourself in grave danger."

"And if Pasqual chose the same path as I, which he would not have, the entire Quechan nation would have been in grave danger. We are a peaceful tribe, and love our land and the relative freedom we enjoy." She turned a frosty indigo eye on him as she added, "Surely a man as
smart
as you can guess the price our nation would pay should a band of savage
Quechans
attack a couple of innocent white men."

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. Cole shook his head then pulled his fingers through his wavy hair. "I suppose General Crook would pull some of his troops off Geronimo and send them after your people."

"See how smart you can be, bucko?" Sunny turned back to Paddy and grabbed a wad of his mane.

Just as she prepared to launch her body onto the pony's back, Cole reached out and slipped his arm around her waist.

"Not so fast," he said as he dragged her into his arms. "If you can keep that flaming Irish temper of yours in check for a minute, I'd like to apologize. I didn't understand how limited your choices .were before, but I do now. Please forgive my ignorance and allow me to escort you to the Fort for some well-deserved rest. Who knows, our path might cross the men you're looking for."

It was what she wanted. After spending these past few nights on the trail alone, her few moments of sleep constantly interrupted by the cacophony of desert life celebrating the darkness, the thought of resting in a quiet room safe from all predators, human or animal, was too tempting to ignore. Exhaustion made the decision for her.

Sunny tilted her chin and looked into his hypnotic green eyes. "Thank you. My father will find some way to repay you."

Far too aware of her softness, wondering why he'd found it necessary to gather her in his arms, Cole released Sunny and stepped back. How would her father repay him for the thoughts he was entertaining at this moment?

He cleared his throat and nodded. "Then it's done. We'll spend one more night on the trail, and by tomorrow night we should be at the ranch."
If they rode hard.
If he could manage to keep his eyes and hands off of her until she was safely locked in her own room at the house.

Cole quickly cleaned up the campsite, tied a rope around the thick neck of the outlaw's Appaloosa, then he and Sunny rode off to the east. They progressed much slower than Cole had planned, Paddy still unable to keep up with Sage, the Appaloosa,
windbroken
and ill-used. More than once Cole thought of shooting the unfortunate animal, but sensed Sunflower would find a way to stop him and insist on bringing the poor horse back to health. By the time they stopped and made camp for the evening, he knew they would never reach the gate of the Triple F ranch by the following night.

Glancing over at Sunny as she stacked rocks to form a campfire, Cole considered his options. Maybe the extra time would work in his favor. Even if Paddy slowed his pace further, they would still make Phoenix by sundown tomorrow. He studied the young woman, following every movement of her fluid body as she worked to bring life to the mesquite twigs, and flinched with a new thought. How would his father, a fierce hater of all Indians, react to their houseguest?