Texas Lucky (7 page)

She paced about restlessly as thoughts whirled through her head like dandelions in the wind. Would the judge believe her when she told him Lulie had loaned her the horse, or would he sentence her to hang? Dear Lord, even though her life seemed hopeless she did not want to die. She wanted, needed, a chance to prove she could make it on her own, because, as the hours slowly passed, she became more and more determined to survive, to make up for being such a ninny.

Finally, because she was bored as well as lonely, she dared to venture deeper into the shaft, into the darkness.

She moved cautiously, sliding each foot forward slowly to feel for a hole or a drop that might send her plummeting into the bowels of the earth.

She could hear no sound save for the trickling of yet more water running down the rocky ledges above.

And it was cold. The farther she went, the deeper the dampness and chill.

Rounding a curve, she could see light flickering against a distant wall. Venturing closer, she realized it was a fire and flared with sudden jealousy that Curt Hammond was able to stay warm while she was freezing. She had no matches and knew nothing about rubbing sticks together to make sparks. And where had he found the wood, anyway?

Her hand touched a supporting beam, and she cried out as a splinter dug into her flesh.

Curt stepped in front of her, holding a torch aloft.

“I might’ve known it was you.”

“Well, who else would it be?” Her hand was hurting something fierce.

“A bear. Or a tiger. Maybe an alligator. You can’t ever tell.”

He was being unbelievably sarcastic, which frustrated all the more, and she fired back, “All of which I would prefer to you. Snakes and scorpions, too,” she tartly added.

“Actually, I thought maybe we had company.”

He sounded less cocky, so she asked, “You mean our jailers come inside the shaft? I didn’t know—”

“No, I didn’t mean them. I thought maybe they’d brought another prisoner. I’ve seen enough traces of former occupants to tell this place has a lot of business. And since there’s nobody else here but us, I figure the judge came by recently to clear it out.”

“Which means we’ll be here awhile.”

“Exactly.”

Silence fell and Tess turned to go, anxious to get away from him. He might think she was looking for him, God forbid.

“Why did you cry out?”

“I…it’s nothing.”

“It might be. Did something bite you? I wasn’t making it up about the scorpions. They like the damp and cold. Believe it or not, it gets real hot during the day on the outside so they come in here to get out of the heat.”

“It’s a splinter. Now I know where you get your wood for your fires from the posts.”

She could see his smile in the flickering glow of the torch. “Yeah, and I’m trying not to think about the poor devils who’ll be here when the whole place collapses because I’ve torn so many down. But I don’t suppose it matters. From all I’ve heard, the judge gives everybody the rope, so they’ll die one way or the other.”

Tess shuddered, but not from the chill that seemed to penetrate all the way to the very marrow of her bones. She was thinking how if she hanged, no one would ever know what became of her. Her aunt would not care if she never heard from her again, but Perry would think she had deserted him.

“Want me to try to get the splinter out?”

“No. It’s nothing.”

He held the torch closer. “Then why are you gritting your teeth? You know, it’s probably a good thing your fiancé got himself killed. It spared him having to put up with a piece of fluff like you for a wife. Whatever made you think you could cope with the rough life out here?”

“I didn’t have any choice,” she said without thinking, and could have kicked herself. Then, venting her anger at herself, she lashed out, “And why do you keep nosing in my business? Seems to me you’d be more concerned with yourself, seeing as how you’re going to hang for murder.”

“And what are you going to hang for?”

“I’m not. I’m—”

“You’re going to cry in front of the judge, aren’t you? You think he’ll feel sorry for you with your golden curls and big blue eyes, dressed up in ribbons and lace like a baby doll.” He laughed and shook his head. “Maybe it happens that way back east, princess, but not out here.”

Blinking her eyes furiously to hold back her tears, she ground her teeth together so tightly her jaw ached. “I won’t cry. And damn you, Curt Hammond, for the scoundrel you are, I swear you’ll never make me. I hate you, and if they do hang me, I just hope it’s after they hang you so I can watch, and—”

Her hand flew to her mouth, and she gasped to think she could have said such a horrid thing. “I…I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I really didn’t mean that. I don’t want you to die. I truly don’t, and—”

“And you’re lying. The truth is, you don’t care about anybody but yourself. That’s why you wouldn’t help me…wouldn’t give me a chance to explain. I could’ve made you see how it was, that I had no choice but to kill that son of a bitch, and—” He threw up his hands. “What difference does it make? What did you come back here for, anyway?”

He was looking down at her with disgust and loathing, and Tess felt strangely guilty. Maybe she should have given him a chance. And maybe he was right about her being too weak to survive in the West.

And maybe, she thought with a sob caught in her throat as she turned and fled, she deserved to die for being such a weakling.

Returning to the front of the shaft, she sat down on the ground to bathe in the warmth of the sunshine and once more considered her plight…realizing how it was no one’s fault but her own.

The day wore on.

And with each passing hour, Tess became more and more determined that if she should by some miracle be given a second chance at life, nothing about her would be the same.

She would make herself strong.

And never again would she cry.

Shadows fell, and just before she was once more swallowed by darkness, Skelly came with food. Though far from appetizing, the fare of boiled beef and potatoes with a slab of bread was better than the breakfast gruel.

“Where’s your man?” Skelly asked when Curt did not appear.

She was quick to respond, “He’s not my man. I don’t know where he is, and I don’t care.”

He flashed his toothless grin. “Lover’s spat. Don’t worry. You’ve got lots of time to make up.” He set the pot down just outside the gate. “I shouldn’t leave this, but it’ll just go to the hogs if I take it back. He might show up later.”

Tess hoped not. She did not want him groping around in the dark anywhere near her, and she was too frightened to do anything except stay right where she was. At least it was in a clearing, with a straight path to the stream, and she did not have to worry about getting lost or falling into a hole.

When Skelly had left, she curled up on the ground, her back pressed against the wall. It was cold. Her teeth were chattering, and she was shaking all over. It seemed she would never fall asleep.

But sleep came.

The night passed.

And in the morning, as the first warm rays of the sun touched her face, she awoke…then, startled, she sat straight up.

The pot Skelly had left outside the gate was empty.

And someone had covered her with a blanket.

Chapter Six

Tess grew braver, mustering the courage to explore, and she found a recess behind a big boulder that kept her from having to hover near the entrance.

She did not want to talk to Skelly, for she was repulsed by his crudeness.

And she also wanted to avoid Curt Hammond.

She spent a whole day worrying the splinter in her finger, finally getting it out. After that, there was nothing to do except think.

And think she did.

In her mind, she planned a new life. She would learn to ride and shoot like a man. She would teach herself everything necessary to survive in the West…or anywhere else, for that matter.

She lost track of time but grew bolder as her fantasy of a new, stronger woman locked into her mind. She ventured from her hiding spot to pull rotting wood from support beams and, after endless tries, was finally able to start her own fire.

How proud she was as she huddled before the warmth in the damp chill of the night. Still, she was distressed to think how different things might be had she been more self-reliant in the past.

One morning she was roused by Skelly calling out, “I ain’t leavin’ no more food till you show your face, woman. Worley’s orders. Gotta make sure you’re still alive and kickin’. Wolves or bobcats might be eatin’ the grub.”

Distasteful as the food was, Tess knew she had to have it and made her way to the gate.

“Ha! There you are,” Skelly cried in triumph. Then, eyes moving over her, he said, “Gawd, you just get skinnier and skinnier, don’t you? They’ll have to hang you by a string. Rope’d be too thick. Still pretty, though. A shame to hang somethin’ so fine.”

Tess held out her tin pan. “May I have my food, please?”

He dished out what looked like oatmeal but tasted like soap. Tess doubted she would be able to eat it. So many times the food made her sick. “Any word on when the judge will be here?”

“Naw. Heard he was in Gila Bend two weeks ago. Usually takes him three more weeks to get here after that. Guess you’ve got to wait a while longer to die,” he said, and cackled.

For an instant she thought that death might be a relief, but quickly reminded herself she was now a fighter. “Who says I’m going to die?” she shot back at him. “I get a trial, don’t I?”

His grin was smug. “Yeah. That you do. But I ain’t never heard of no horse thief goin’ free. You’ll swing, little lady. Be it from a rope or a string. You’ll swing.”

He left, and Tess tried to eat the oatmeal but wound up throwing it through the gate. Let the bugs have it. Maybe it would kill them, and she would not have to be constantly slapping them off her.

To wile away the time, she bathed in the water, then, after changing into a clean dress, she washed the one she had taken off. That done, there was nothing to do except allow herself to daydream about what might have been…what might yet be, if she was truly strong and believed in herself.

She was sitting in the sunlight, eyes closed and head pressed back against a rock, when Curt Hammond’s voice snapped her to attention.

“So you’re a horse thief.”

Stunned, she could not find her voice for a few seconds, but was finally able to deny, “No. No, I’m not. Where did you—”

“I heard what Skelly said earlier.”

She bristled. “You were eavesdropping…and
spying
.”

“No.” He lowered himself to sit opposite her. “I was coming to get my food, but I hung back, like I always do when I see you waiting for yours. I know you don’t want to be around me, so I wait till you leave.”

She allowed the barest wisp of a smile to touch her lips. “Then what are you doing here now?”

“I thought you might be lonely.”

“Not
that
lonely.”

Something akin to amusement twinkled in his eyes. “So you still hate me and can’t wait to see me swinging from a rope? My, my.” He shook his head. “Is this the thanks I get for giving you my blanket?”

She was startled. “I thought Skelly gave it to me.”

“Skelly?” he hooted. “The only thing he’d do is crawl under it with you if he had half a chance.”

She grimaced at the thought and said, “Thank you, but it still doesn’t mean I want to be around you.”

“I thought we could call a truce.”

Tess knew she would like that.

A lot.

Because she really was lonely.

And because she could not deny being drawn to him for some reason she did not understand.

Her gaze flicked over him. His beard had grown and looked scruffy, and he was bare-chested despite the early morning cool. She could tell by his broad shoulders and sinewy arms that he was no stranger to hard work.

“But if you want me to leave, I will,” he said.

Tess glanced away, not meeting his eyes lest he see what she was thinking—how despite her dislike of him she found him extremely handsome in a rugged, feral kind of way.

She had never been kissed in her whole life and suddenly found herself wondering what it would be like to have his lips close over hers. She had never been held by a man, either, and felt a shuddering within to imagine his strong arms wrapped about her.

“I…I suppose it’s all right,” she said finally, nervously. “That we have a truce, that is.” Uncomfortable by his raw masculinity, she added, “Aren’t you cold without a shirt on?”

“Not here in the sun coming through the opening.” He settled back, obviously pleased she was not dismissing him. He chewed on a sliver of wood. “So tell me about yourself.”

She was reluctant at first, but then the words came easier, and she told him everything.

He listened with interest, eyes widening now and then, and when she finished, he gave a long, low whistle and said, “So they got you for stealing a mule when that woman actually loaned it to you. That’s bad, princess. Real bad.”