Read Online Dead Man's Trail (9781101606957) by Frank Leslie - Free Book Online

he supposed to have done, when she’d practically thrown herself at him like that?—and now he built it back up with several split logs from the crate.
    She stirred on the cot behind him. “Was I all right?”
    On his knees in front of the fire, he peeled some damp bark off another log and glanced over his shoulder at her. She lay on her side, head propped on an elbow, the blanket pulled down to reveal her pale breasts sloping toward the cot.
    â€œYou were fine,” he said, irritated at himself now for indulging himself against his better judgment. Trouble was, he was used to taking comforts when and where he found them. While they were not necessarily few, they were sometimes far between.
    She gave a caustic snort. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Yakima Henry.”
    â€œDon’t let it go to your head.” He used the last log to arrange the others so they’d burn long and hot, then went over to the table and dug his makings sack out of his saddlebags. He had only his own saddlebags now, and the gold was in the same pouch as the makings. He’d left Clifton’s bags in the Shackleford barn. The bulge in the pouch was reassuring, but he’d be glad to be rid of it.
    He stood at the table, the girl watching him, and rolled a rare smoke. He went back to the fire and used the burning end of a twig to light the quirley, then, puffing smoke, walked back over to the bed. He stood over Trudy, who quirked her mouth corners as she reached up and touched him.
    â€œTake me with you.”
    He glanced over his shoulder at the bulge in his saddlebag pouch, then shook his head. She wrapped her hand around him. His loins burned. He swatted her arm away, crawled under the covers, and leaned back against the wall at the head of the cot. She rested her head against his chest, left her warm hand on his thigh, and didn’t say anything for a time before she said forlornly, “Come on. Let’s get hitched. What the hell?”
    â€œI did that once. Don’t intend to do it again.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œNothin’ good.” He meant the end hadn’t been good. In fact, it had been hell. But everything before that had been as close to bliss as any man ever had.
    â€œWouldn’t have to be like that with us, Yakima.”
    â€œNo, I suppose it wouldn’t. Not if we took the gold and headed—where? San Francisco?”
    She moved her hand again. “Anywhere but here.”
    â€œAn eighteen-year-old white girl and a half-breed.” He chuckled wryly as he blew smoke over her head toward the snapping flames. “We might be a little conspicuous.”
    â€œWith the gold, we could buy us a nice big ranch. That’s what we both know. Horses. We could build it somewhere no one would ever find us.”
    â€œI did that before, too.”
    â€œThe horse ranch?”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œArizona. Take your hand away.”
    She smiled and looked up at him. “You like my hand.”
    Yakima held her gaze. “He wasn’t really going crazy, was he? And you weren’t really running away from him. You’re just running away. Figured you’d find me and the gold here.”
    She took her hand away, scowling. “Was I that bad?”
    â€œNo, you were a hell of a lot better than I expected. But that gold is going to Belle Fourche, and that’s all there is to it.” He flicked the quirley stub into the fire, where it bounced off a log and dropped in front of it with a dull thump. It quickly became a burning worm.
    â€œYou go to hell.” With a haughty chuff, she turned away from him, curling into a ball.
    â€œBeen there.” Yakima paused, staring at the ceiling. “And that pistol you got ain’t loaded.”
    Her voice was muffled. “What pistol?”
    â€œThe Colt you took out of my holster when I banked the fire. I unloaded it in case you weren’t