“But you managed to get back to Butte. You can’t even remember that route?”
“What I did was get horribly lost for a day and a half until I had the good fortune to run across your surveyors. My only guess is that the mines are north of this road, because he did turn north at one point before I got blindfolded.”
He moved away, but her trembling set in as soon as he did. She didn’t know what she was going to do if the sheriff didn’t arrive soon, at least before dawn. She could only keep them on that road for about three more hours, because she’d already told Sullivan that they’d turned north. She was going to have to pick a spot to do that while the three mountains were still within view. Would the sheriff notice their tracks leaving the road tomorrow if he had halted his search for the night? Bloody hell, where was he? He should have arrived by now.
She’d been allowed to sleep by herself beside one of the campfires, a little distance away from the men. But she couldn’t sleep, was attuned to every little sound around her, a cough, a snore, the crackle of the fires, crickets that chirped too loudly, everything but the sound she most wanted to hear—the posse arriving. She felt like crying again, but didn’t. She wanted to escape, and gave that some thought. But that would give away her plan, reveal that she wasn’t really cooperating, so she forced herself to have faith in Abigail and the sheriff. She couldn’t lose her nerve at this point!
A hand went over her mouth. She hadn’t heard him coming but could see him clearly in the firelight, Morgan leaning over her. He’d come to rescue her again! He really did care for her. She tried to sit up. The hand on her mouth tightened. Did he think she’d give him away?
Before she realized what was happening, he picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and moved silently away from Sullivan’s camp. Then he started running. She bounced painfully against his shoulder and back, gasping for breath. How long could he run and carry her this way? When he finally set her down on her feet, she leaned over, drawing air into her lungs. Morgan loomed over her, and she saw Caesar hobbled nearby. She straightened up and whispered, “Thank you for rescuing me again. This situation isn’t what it appears to be. I wasn’t taking Sullivan to your—”
“Shut up.”
He looked so furious she couldn’t keep silent. “I didn’t betray you!”
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “I don’t want to hear your lies.” His mouth covered hers abruptly in a kiss that was rough, passionate, and deeply satisfying. She slipped her hands around his neck and pressed her body against his, responding with equal fervor, so relieved he’d come for her, thrilled by the intensity of his desire and the way his hand was caressing her backside, pushing her closer to him. But . . . he’d said she was lying? She had to make him understand.
Pressing her hands against his shoulders, she shoved, and he stopped kissing her. When she looked up at his face, she was startled by the fierce anger in his eyes. She’d only seen it once before—the night she’d pointed the shotgun at him. “You’re mistaken—”
“No, you made a mistake. You should have shown your true colors earlier. We could have had a lot more fun in the sack before you sold me out to Sullivan.”
“That’s not true!” She struggled to put some distance between them, but Morgan held on to her. “I’m here to help—”
They both froze at the sound of pistols cocking.
“Let the lady go, or you’ll get more than one bullet in your back.”
Violet gasped. Oh, God, three men were pointing pistols at them. Sullivan’s guards.
Morgan released her. One guard immediately confiscated his Colt. Another approached her to ask, “Are you all right, miss?” She just nodded. The third man took the hobbles off Caesar before they began the trek back to Sullivan’s campsite, two of the guards flanking Morgan, holding their guns ready.
As she walked, Violet couldn’t tell if she was shivering from the cold or trembling with fear for herself and Morgan. But she felt no relief when she saw the glow of the three campfires. Sullivan was standing by one of them. A guard ran ahead and spoke with him.
“Well, well, Callahan, finally we meet again.” Sullivan was smiling. “But you show up in the middle of the night and try to abduct Miss Mitchell and do who knows what else? I’ll have to turn you over to the sheriff. You should be thrown in jail for attempting something that low.”
“No, Sullivan, I just hate to see my dead partner’s daughter with scum like you. She doesn’t know anything. Let her go. You can deal with me now.”
Sullivan laughed. “Too late. I don’t need you anymore. Miss Mitchell is going to show me where her father’s mine is located, and yours too, as I understand they’re right close to each other. In fact, I offered her a hundred thousand dollars for her mine, and she’s going to get her brothers’ approval to sell it to me.”
Morgan snorted. “She might look like a lady, but she’s a viper and a liar. She doesn’t own that mine; it’s an invalid claim. She can’t sell it to you or anyone else. Besides, she doesn’t know where it is. She’s led you on a wild goose chase.”
“I think you might be the one who’s lying.”
Sullivan turned to Violet expectantly. She was horrified that she had to lie and act like the viper Morgan had just labeled her in order to preserve the rescue plan.
“I do own the mine and I know exactly where it is,” she insisted. “He’s the one lying to you!”
Morgan glowered at her before turning back to his nemesis. “Don’t get taken in, Sullivan. She might have spent some time in my camp driving me crazy, but she doesn’t know the exact location.”
Sullivan smiled. “But you do.” And then he told his men, “Tie him up, and it better be as tight as if he were in a prison cell. He gets away and you’re all fired.” Yet he was smiling again at Morgan when he added, as if giving Morgan a choice, “Why don’t you spend the night with us and show us to the mine tomorrow morning?”
“I saw you coming. There’s no way you’ll ever get your hands on those mines. I planted dynamite charges in them. You go near them and step in the wrong places, half the mountain will come down on you.”
The guards looked a little worried, hearing that, but Sullivan didn’t. “Nice bluffing, Callahan. But you’ll take me there, and you’ll step in the right spots, otherwise Miss Mitchell could have a fatal accident. No one would be surprised if a gently reared lady fell off her horse and broke her neck riding up these rocky slopes.”
Violet blanched. Morgan was gagged before he could respond. She stared at him, but he didn’t seem to notice because he was glaring daggers at Sullivan as the man walked away. One of the guards nudged Morgan pretty hard in the side with his boot, sneering, “There’s no need to wait till the morn.”
“What do you think you’re doing, O’Donnell?” Shawn demanded as he walked back to the group.
The guard stepped back, but wasn’t contrite. “I was thinking to get the answers you want.”
“Beating him isn’t necessary, not when we have her. We can’t leave now in any case, no matter what he says, so he’s got the night to decide if the lass lives or not. That’s all the torture he needs. Miss Mitchell or his mine.”
Oh, good Lord, what a choice to give Morgan when he was so angry at her! Violet did the only sensible thing she could think of at that point—she started screaming as loudly as she could and wasn’t going to stop. She ran around the camp, trying to evade Sullivan’s guards, who definitely wanted her to stop it. But the sound would travel far, especially in the stillness at night. If the sheriff was close enough to save them, he’d hear it. If not, she and Morgan would both die tomorrow.
Chapter Thirty-Seven