Heather Graham (20 page)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You always could lie with your nose in the air, Martine.”

“All right. I know about the gold. We were digging, the same as you were.” She took a deep breath. “If you get off my property now, you haven’t committed any crime. If you keep that gun pointed in my face too long—”

“Oh, but I have committed a crime, and Lover Boy there has just about enough on me to prove it. Martine, you must be the only woman alive courageous enough—or stupid enough—to argue with a shotgun. Get up.”

She started to shake. “I think you’re planning on shooting us both anyway. So if you want me up, step outside until I’m dressed.”

He laughed, and with a sinking, terrified heart Martine became certain that none of her desperately sought bravado would have the least effect on him.

But then he moved. “Get dressed quickly. You’re going to lead me to that gold. I know he had a map, and I know you can read it. Now move—and don’t touch him. Not unless you want me to shoot him right now.”

K
ANE COULD BARELY LIE
still and listen to Lander talk to Martine. It took more concentration and effort than anything he had ever done in his life.

But he didn’t dare flinch or give any indication that he was conscious. Mentally he berated himself with a seething, helpless fury.

If only he hadn’t been so damned
happy
, so convinced that he could free Nan from a lifetime of scorn, give her the righteousness she had craved, and at the same time keep his wife—the woman he had come to love so deeply that it had been agony.

Yeah, happy. He’d been so damned happy that he’d run around like an idiot, unaware of anything in the world except Martine and himself—and the sweet, sweet knowledge that despite it all, she loved him and at long last trusted him.

He should have known that Lander was coming. He should have been prepared to meet the man and protect his wife. Instead, he’d been compromised. Forced to listen while his precious and foolish little spitfire brazened it out on her own.

He knew her better than Lander did. He knew her almost as well as he knew himself. He heard the quiver in her words when she retorted to Lander’s demands.

And when Lander walked away, he wanted to assure Martine. He couldn’t. Not until he could get the shotgun away from Lander. He felt ill, when he thought of what a double-barreled shotgun could do to the human body. …Her body. Oh, God!

Kane remained still. He heard Martine stumble into her clothing and go to the entrance of the cave.

“Want some coffee, sweetheart?”

“Why not?” Martine replied with definite hostility.

Oh, love, play it cool, just for a few moments!
Kane prayed silently.

Kane heard the dull clink of metal against plastic. “Thanks,” Martine said dryly as she accepted coffee. There was a silence. Then she murmured, “How did you find out about the gold?”

“I knew about the old woman. When I recognized your husband, I put the family connection together on a hunch.”

“How brilliant of you. What connection is that? And how did you recognize my husband?”

Lander started to laugh again. Kane groaned inwardly, clenching his teeth together to control the urge to ignore the shotgun and make a spring for his jugular.

“You still don’t know who your old man is, do you, Martie? Well, I’ll tell you then. Mr. Macho’s the son of one of the richest cattle ranchers in Arizona. Of course, that isn’t really his claim to fame. No, Golden Boy there started out by being some kind of war hero. Then he came home and started out on his own, digging for oil. Golden Boy had the Midas touch all right. He came up with black gold in some godforsaken dust bowl out in Texas. But of course, that wasn’t enough for Mr. Marvelous. He happened to be around when the vice president was talking to a cattlemen’s association. Wouldn’t you know it? There was a madman hanging around, and Golden Boy steps up to wrestle the gun out of his hand before the old guy could go pluey. That’s what got his picture in the papers, even though he tried to keep the publicity down. Because of the old woman, you know. Damned idiot! Golden Boy, that is. He’d do just about anything to protect the old woman.”

“Why?” Martine asked. Kane could hear the confusion in her voice, the hurt and the amazement. Yet he had to be glad. As long as she could keep Lander talking, they were doing all right. He could wait for his opportunity.

“I’ll be damned!” Lander said. “Missy Martie, living in a fog at last! You haven’t made the connection yet, have you? Listen up, stupid. The first Montgomerys to come out here were two brothers who came west just before the turn of the century. One moved to Tucson, married a society belle, and settled down to get rich on ranching. The other turned to prospecting and found quite a haul. But passing through these parts, he made a hell of a mistake for a man at that time. He fell in love with an Indian squaw and claimed to have married her. That Montgomery was some kind of a pal to your grandpa, Martine. Evidently he was going home to Tucson to pave the way to bring his bride home. Only he never made it. He was bushwhacked along the way. You gettin’ all this, Martie?”

“I think so. Go on.”

“Well, nobody wanted to believe the Apache girl. The whites rejected her, and so did her own kind—especially when she had a baby, being unwed and all that. Hell of a disgrace back then, you know. Almost as bad as a cocky little bitch who sleeps with her foreman, you know what I mean?”

Kane was stunned by the cool vehemence of Martine’s expletive. Despite it all, he couldn’t help smiling slightly. Bitterly. Tensely. The situation was still too uncertain for any real humor.

Lander laughed. “You understand what’s going on yet?”

“Yes, I think so. The woman spent her life living alone, content with her own knowledge that her husband had loved her. And—”

“No, you still haven’t got it. The living Montgomery brother came here to pick up the baby, a little girl. She was raised with the white folk and grew up to a decent enough match.”

“Lisa’s parents?”

“Right as rain, Martie. You don’t think Golden Boy came from the tarnished side of the family, do you?”

“I think he probably earned everything he got,” Martine said smoothly. “But I’m still a little lost. And you seem to know everything. Go on.”

“One more minute, lady. Then you’re going to lead me to the gold. All right. The squaw always said she could prove she was Mrs. Montgomery if she ever saw any reason to do it. For years and years and years I guess she didn’t. Then along comes her little granddaughter, hankering to marry into another of them uppity French families who just don’t cotton to black sheeps in the family. She starts crying to her grandma, and wouldn’t you know, Granny comes up with the map. Golden Boy is called in to do the dirty work. Only Grandma’s so sick of notoriety that she makes him swear he won’t breathe a word of what he’s doing unless he finds the gold.”

Kane could almost see Martine shaking her head.

“I don’t understand. How does the gold prove anything?”

Lander chuckled deeply. “Martie,
I’m
after the gold. The Montgomerys are after what’s supposedly buried
with
the gold.”

“Which is?”

“The marriage license.”

“Oh …” Martine breathed out softly.

Kane bit his lower lip, wishing that he could go to her, that he could explain why he had promised he wouldn’t let anything out about Nan unless he could prove she had been legally wed all those years ago. He wanted to tell her that Nan had suffered enough, that in her old age she simply hadn’t deserved any more heartache unless she could be vindicated. …

He couldn’t explain anything now. He would be lucky to keep them both alive.

“So how did you find out about the gold?” Martie asked.

“Ah! Because I paid attention to local legend. I wasn’t a rich kid, growing up with a silver spoon in my mouth.”

“No, I guess not. And you were never willing to work to be rich, were you? You got wind of the general area and started digging up here before Kane did. You tried to kill Ed Rice when he came too close, didn’t you?”

“Very smart, Martine. Too smart. Now, where’s the map?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll go in there and kill Lover Boy right before your eyes, Martie. And I’d rather not hurry. I want to see just how far you’re willing to go to see him live.”

“What if I help you find the gold? Will you leave us alone?”

“It’s a hope, isn’t it? Get the map.”

“I’m really not sure where he keeps it.”

“You’d better be.”

Kane could hear Martine fumbling through their things. She took as long as she could, he realized. But then she hadn’t known that it was in the food bag. He’d never thought to tell her. He knew where he was hunting.

And the pity of it was that he hadn’t believed that the gold existed anymore. He dug where it should have been.

“Okay, Martie. You look at that map. And you tell me where the gold is. I know that you know, just like you know this place like the back of your hand.”

“I—I really don’t know. Not exactly. We’ve been digging for two days and haven’t come up with anything. I mean, look for yourself. It should be in the back there, and we’ve already tried, as you can see.”

Bless her heart, Kane thought. She couldn’t know what she was doing, yet she was leading Lander on perfectly. Once they were past him, he could spring from behind. …

They walked on by. Silently Kane twisted around, watching the two at the back of the cave. He winced; Lander had the barrel of the gun dangerously close to Martine.

But Kane had to take a chance. He was certain that Lander didn’t intend to leave any witnesses around.

He sprang to the balls of his feet, then shot out at Lander with all his strength. Martine screamed; Kane charged Lander, throwing him off-balance.

The shotgun went off. Blinding pain exploded in Kane’s shoulder as the shot grazed him.

But he was on Lander. The blond man was fighting with a strength Kane wouldn’t have expected, and the earlier blow to his head and the raze of his shoulder were dearly costing him power. They rolled across the cave floor together.

“No!” Martine screamed again.

“Get the hell away!” Kane shouted. Lander had his hands around Kane’s throat. Kane rolled to dislodge him, his heart sinking.

Martine wasn’t going to run! She was dancing around the two of them—trying to find the shotgun, he realized. Where the hell had it gone? Down one of the holes he had been digging probably.

God, his strength was going! He couldn’t lose this fight. If he did, Lander would go for Martine. …

With a wild grunt he forced himself and Lander to start rolling again. Rolling and rolling with such an impetus that they were out of the cave and out by the boulders. If he could just get Lander over by the straggling trees that grew between the rocks. …

He was blacking out, fading in and out of consciousness within split seconds. Lander slammed an elbow against his throat. Kane had to roll again, had to roll and manage to stand and lure Lander along.

The sunlight seemed incredibly bright, blinding, but the trees were coming into sight.

With a grunt and a desperate effort Kane caught Lander with a hard blow against the gut. Momentarily Lander weakened. Kane struggled to his feet, fighting the blackness that threatened to overwhelm him. “Come on, Lander, come on!” he roared to his opponent, backing away. Carefully, very carefully.

Lander came after him. And just when Kane thought he himself was going to fall, Lander let out a scream and fell into the ground. Rocks and dead branches cascaded down into the pit with him.

Kane sank down to his knees, catching his head between his hands.

And just at that moment Martine came charging out of the cliff, the shotgun raised in her hands, fire and tears in her eyes.

Slowly she lowered the shotgun. “Kane?”

“It’s all right, my love.”

“Where is he?”

Kane actually managed a smile. “I told you I was up here setting a trap for the mountain lion that day you came out and found me. I was really digging a trap. I just happened to be doing other digging at the same time,” he added ruefully.

“Oh,” Martine said weakly. She swallowed. “Is he—still alive?”

“Oh, I imagine. He’s probably just a little scratched up.”

“Oh, Kane!” she cried then. “You’re bleeding all over the place. Oh, dear God!”

He saw her racing toward him. “The hole!” he shouted.

She stopped just in the nick of time. He smiled again. The world was going black, except for the pastel beauty of her face, that fiery splendor of her hair, the bright emerald glory of her eyes.

He pitched over onto his face.

Kane awoke with a dull pounding in his head. His fingers edged over something clean and fresh, and he slowly opened his eyes.

Despite that hammering pain, he awoke smiling—ruefully. Martie was sitting at his side, in her bedroom—their bedroom—watching him anxiously. He must look like a real fool, he thought, but it didn’t matter a hell of a lot. Because he couldn’t help it. He thought that everything was going to be all right, but he was scared. Scared with a sensation that riddled his gut with greater agony than that in either his head or his shoulder.

“We’re home?” he asked.

She nodded, smiling, and reached out to touch his cheek tenderly. “You okay?”

“Well, I can see you, and I think that’s all I really need.”

“Oh, Kane.”

“How did we get here?”

“I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t lift you and I was scared to death even to glance at Lander. I got into the truck, and I think I could have made the finals for the Indianapolis Five Hundred on my way back to the ranch.” She smiled. “Luckily my hands are getting accustomed to me behaving erratically. They didn’t have me committed. Jim and Bill returned with me right away while Sonia called the doctor and the sheriff. They got you into the bed of the truck. The doctor said that you should go to the hospital. I swore that I’d watch you like a hawk. The wound in your shoulder is clean, and he says he’s convinced that you have a head like a rock. I agreed with him.”