Believe me or not. I don’t give a
fig. Either way, I’m taking that map and going after the nuggets.
You and I both know your pa was a lazy, no account vagabond who probably never
did an honorable day’s work in his life. And we both know he’s never done
right by you. But that don’t mean I have to give up what’s mine.”
Josie gazed into
the fire. “Vagabond? That’s fancy talk for a cowboy,” she teased,
frowning at him.
“The truth hurts,
don’t it?” he replied, harshly.
Her throat
tightened. Tears wanted to fall, but she wouldn’t let them. The
stranger had hit a nerve. Why was he being so mean to her? Why did
the preacher want to hurt her? Why was the marshal and Del determined to
hunt her down and ruin her life? She’d never had anything to call her own
in her whole short life, except the cabin, and now it was gone. That and
her ma’s porcelain bowl was all she’d ever laid claim to—all that ever meant
anything to her. Now the bowl was gone in the fire, too. If her pa
was giving her the opportunity to get out of New Mexico and start over, whose
right was it to take that away? Not this dude, Grey Paladin, whoever he
was. That was for damn sure.
Josie balled her
fists, and inhaled and exhaled slowly. “So you knew my pa. That
proves nothing. He was a common thief and you’re an outlaw. There
ain’t no difference between the two of you.” Her gaze flew to the fire,
dismissing him.
Grey searched her
face, figuring he deserved that remark. Normally, it wasn’t his way to
speak unkindly to women. It was just that he’d been smoldering for
days. When he found his gold missing, and another miner told him he’d
seen Leroy heading north, he’d packed up and followed his tracks. The
vein he’d discovered had about dried up, and he’d tired of mining.
Besides, he wasn’t a greedy man. The nuggets Leroy stole were enough to
get Rusty back and buy a little ranch. That’s all he cared about.
Unfortunately,
he’d lost Hart’s trail when a freak storm hit that first day out and washed
away all signs of tracks. But he knew enough about Hart to decipher where
he’d eventually end up. While they shared a camp, Leroy had talked
non-stop about his daughter, Josephine, and how much he owed her for not being
a good pa. He’d even told Grey they lived several miles outside of Dry
Gulch, so Grey scrapped his plans of tracking Leroy north and headed to Dry
Gulch to wait for him to show up. If Leroy still had the nuggets, Grey
would get them back, forcefully, if need be. He was younger, bigger and
stronger than that scrawny desert rat. If Leroy had stashed the nuggets
somewhere up north, which Grey suspected was the case, then he’d beat the
information out of him. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
Sure enough, Hart
had moseyed into Dry Gulch over a week later. However, it was just Grey’s
bad luck to learn that the man had been arrested for stealing a horse and
tossed in jail before he could confront him. The next day, it was all
over town that Leroy and another man were to be hanged as horse thieves.
Grey stared into
the fire and thought back to two days ago. Neither the marshal nor his
deputy had allowed him into the jail to see Leroy, so he’d decided to wait
around town, hoping Leroy’s daughter would show up for the hanging. There
wasn’t much else he could do, anyway. For once, luck had been with him,
and his strategy paid off. He would have known her anywhere from the way
Leroy had described his pretty, half-breed daughter and her big gray mule.
When Grey watched
her come and go from the jailhouse the morning of the hanging, he hoped and
prayed Leroy had told her about the gold. After all, riches wouldn’t do
the man any good in hell, and he’d mentioned more than once how he’d never done
right by the girl. It only made sense he’d want to make up for the grief
he’d caused her whole
fig. Either way, I’m taking that map and going after the nuggets.
You and I both know your pa was a lazy, no account vagabond who probably never
did an honorable day’s work in his life. And we both know he’s never done
right by you. But that don’t mean I have to give up what’s mine.”
Josie gazed into
the fire. “Vagabond? That’s fancy talk for a cowboy,” she teased,
frowning at him.
“The truth hurts,
don’t it?” he replied, harshly.
Her throat
tightened. Tears wanted to fall, but she wouldn’t let them. The
stranger had hit a nerve. Why was he being so mean to her? Why did
the preacher want to hurt her? Why was the marshal and Del determined to
hunt her down and ruin her life? She’d never had anything to call her own
in her whole short life, except the cabin, and now it was gone. That and
her ma’s porcelain bowl was all she’d ever laid claim to—all that ever meant
anything to her. Now the bowl was gone in the fire, too. If her pa
was giving her the opportunity to get out of New Mexico and start over, whose
right was it to take that away? Not this dude, Grey Paladin, whoever he
was. That was for damn sure.
Josie balled her
fists, and inhaled and exhaled slowly. “So you knew my pa. That
proves nothing. He was a common thief and you’re an outlaw. There
ain’t no difference between the two of you.” Her gaze flew to the fire,
dismissing him.
Grey searched her
face, figuring he deserved that remark. Normally, it wasn’t his way to
speak unkindly to women. It was just that he’d been smoldering for
days. When he found his gold missing, and another miner told him he’d
seen Leroy heading north, he’d packed up and followed his tracks. The
vein he’d discovered had about dried up, and he’d tired of mining.
Besides, he wasn’t a greedy man. The nuggets Leroy stole were enough to
get Rusty back and buy a little ranch. That’s all he cared about.
Unfortunately,
he’d lost Hart’s trail when a freak storm hit that first day out and washed
away all signs of tracks. But he knew enough about Hart to decipher where
he’d eventually end up. While they shared a camp, Leroy had talked
non-stop about his daughter, Josephine, and how much he owed her for not being
a good pa. He’d even told Grey they lived several miles outside of Dry
Gulch, so Grey scrapped his plans of tracking Leroy north and headed to Dry
Gulch to wait for him to show up. If Leroy still had the nuggets, Grey
would get them back, forcefully, if need be. He was younger, bigger and
stronger than that scrawny desert rat. If Leroy had stashed the nuggets
somewhere up north, which Grey suspected was the case, then he’d beat the
information out of him. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
Sure enough, Hart
had moseyed into Dry Gulch over a week later. However, it was just Grey’s
bad luck to learn that the man had been arrested for stealing a horse and
tossed in jail before he could confront him. The next day, it was all
over town that Leroy and another man were to be hanged as horse thieves.
Grey stared into
the fire and thought back to two days ago. Neither the marshal nor his
deputy had allowed him into the jail to see Leroy, so he’d decided to wait
around town, hoping Leroy’s daughter would show up for the hanging. There
wasn’t much else he could do, anyway. For once, luck had been with him,
and his strategy paid off. He would have known her anywhere from the way
Leroy had described his pretty, half-breed daughter and her big gray mule.
When Grey watched
her come and go from the jailhouse the morning of the hanging, he hoped and
prayed Leroy had told her about the gold. After all, riches wouldn’t do
the man any good in hell, and he’d mentioned more than once how he’d never done
right by the girl. It only made sense he’d want to make up for the grief
he’d caused her whole
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