VIOLET HAD JUST LEARNED from firsthand experience that hindsight was useless. She realized now that she should have fired her weapon immediately when she’d had the chance, even if she’d only taken a warning shot. Morgan would have heard the shot and come to investigate, and her heart wouldn’t be pounding with fear.
But Morgan would know by now that she had been captured. The man who had gagged her had ridden off to tell him so, while the other one had ridden with her down the hill, then south along the base of the mountain range until he finally came to a temporary-looking camp. They seemed to think they could get Morgan to abandon his mine in exchange for her return. They were in for a nasty surprise.
She really wished she didn’t know who these men were, but she did, the claim jumpers who had tried to kill Morgan last year, the two he’d looked for but never found. She’d gleaned as much from what the men had said to each other.
As soon as she was set on the ground and her gag was removed, the curly-haired man asked, “What’s your name, honey?” When she didn’t answer, he grinned and pointed at his hair, volunteering, “Family calls me Curly, enemies aren’t so nice. Real name is well-known. Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”
She ignored his humor, but wanted to talk to him so he wouldn’t think she was afraid of him. “You don’t actually live on this range, do you?” Her mouth was so dry after being gagged that her voice sounded scratchy.
“Live outdoors? Why would we? We’ve been living in comfort in Helena for a few years now. Roughing it out here is for loners like your friend, though even he finally built himself a house. Did he do that for you?”
It didn’t sound as if they knew about Texas. And they certainly didn’t know much about Morgan.
“No, he didn’t,” she said. “He doesn’t like me, considers me a thorn, which you’ve managed to rid him of. I’m sure it wasn’t your intention, but you’ve done him a favor.”
His dark brown eyes moved over her in an insulting manner before he laughed. “Then we win either way, ’cause I sure as hell wouldn’t mind keeping you for a spell. Would you like that?”
Her stomach turned in repugnance. She glanced away so he wouldn’t see the fear in her eyes. Her feet weren’t tied, but her wrists were still bound in front of her; however, she didn’t think about running. That would just give him an excuse to put his hands on her. She hoped Curly wouldn’t try to assault her, at least not before they had Morgan’s answer. Would Morgan give up his mine for her? Stupid question—of course he wouldn’t. But she imagined he would get angry when he heard the claim jumpers’ demand. That would be like poking a bear. . . .
He handed her a canteen. “Sit. Striking a bargain with the miner might take a while.”
As thirsty as she was, it was frustrating that he’d given her a canteen without removing the cap for her, and he wasn’t offering to untie her so she could open it herself. Did he want her to ask him for help? Or was he making it clear she was completely at their mercy? He’d already turned his back on her to watch the path below. So she sat, placing the canteen in her lap long enough to get the cap off so she could bring it to her lips with both hands—and loudly spewed the liquid out of her mouth. Whiskey?!
He heard the spewing. “Damn, wrong one. That weren’t intentional.”
As if she would believe that, but he did fetch a different canteen. She smelled its contents this time before she drank, then watched him go to his horse again. He came back with three strips of jerky for her. She wasn’t hungry, although she ought to be, as late in the afternoon as it was, but there was a deep queasiness in her belly instead. Fear. She thought she was doing pretty well at hiding it. She wasn’t sure if she feared just for herself, or for Morgan, too.
Morgan might shoot before he was even told that they had her. He had a bloody sign on his gate proclaiming that’s exactly what he would do. Then he wouldn’t be able to find her. But he would look. He was an honorable man who wouldn’t stand by and do nothing when he knew a woman was in danger. And he’d shown her in too many ways that he cared about her welfare—also that he was attracted to her. But what if he got hurt in a shoot-out with the claim jumper? It could already have happened. Would shots from the mine be heard this far away? She had to get out of this herself.
She stared at the horse, which was still saddled. She could escape if she could get on it before the claim jumper yanked her off. She couldn’t try it yet. They were both the same distance from it.
“Do I need to tie your feet, too?”
She glanced at him and saw that he’d been watching her calculating her options. She tried distracting him. “If you live in Helena, why do you come to this mountain?”
“Never would’ve if we didn’t see the miner heading up it last year on our way to Billings. It was my brother’s idea to make the detour to see what he was up to.”
“And steal his mine?”
He grinned. “Seemed like a good idea at the time, though it didn’t work out too well. He’s pretty good with a gun for a miner. But we’ve checked back a few times to see if he’s moved on, since we pass this range no matter which route we take to Wyoming to sneak in and visit our ma. Thought we got lucky last year when we found his camp empty, but it didn’t really look deserted, so we hid till night to see if he was only out hunting. When he didn’t show, we got enough ore out of there to fill our bags. That was a nice payday and got my brother determined to take over that mine eventually. Since then he’s put up a damn steel door. Not so easy now to help ourselves to his silver. But we’ve been waiting patiently for another chance, and today on our way to Butte, patience surely has paid off.”
“Butte?”
“Yeah, that town over yonder,” he said, pointing his thumb behind him.
“Butte is northeast of here?”
“You’ve never been? It’s only a half day’s ride from here.”
Good grief, had Morgan really taken her on such a roundabout route that he’d wasted a full extra day getting her to his camp? Yes, of course he had. At the time, he’d been sure she worked for his enemy.
How ironic that she had a claim jumper to thank for telling her exactly where they were, on that lovely mountain she’d seen in the distance—and passed right by—the day Morgan took her out of Butte. But considering everything the claim jumper had just said, she asked, “If you want to mine, why not just make your own?”
“ ’Cause this one is already dug and beamed, has a smelter, even a house now, and water right there. And we don’t mind killing him for it.”
She gasped. He chuckled, adding, “Who’s gonna know if we take over his mine?”
“I’ll know what you’ve done.”
“Not if you’re dead, too. Lawmen ain’t hunting for us up here, and we aim to keep it that way. Just have to be real careful down in Wyoming when we visit Ma, or we’ll end up getting strung up again. My brother didn’t like being kicked out of Laramie and shot the ornery deputy doing it. There were a few witnesses. The posse found us pretty quick, four of them. They hanged us out in the middle of nowhere from the only tree around. But our ma heard about what happened and she followed the posse. She got there in time to shoot them all and our ropes. We thought Bert was dead, he weren’t breathing. Ma was mighty steamed up about it and started beating the living daylights out of him, and damned if it didn’t wake him up.”
“So you’ve never done anything to deserve a hanging?” she asked. “Just your brother—and your mother?”
He laughed. “Didn’t say that. We had to eat and put some money in our pockets before we found a new place to live. But I won’t kill you if you can be accommodating. Can you?”
“I thought you were negotiating with the miner!”
He shrugged. “If that works, sure, but you said it wouldn’t work. Or were you lying about him not liking you? You were, huh? Course you were, pretty thing like you.”