Yellowstone Memories Read Free Page B

learning. Which is why you’ve gotta work your hardest to get anything she knows outta her. You hear?”
He swept an arm around the golden-hued room
.
“This is a fine ranch, Wyatt, but we’d be sitting on a gold mine if she led us to that treasure. Why, we’d be kings. You know that?”
    Now here Wyatt stood, trying to remember how that same tongue-tied girl—who had stumbled over his broken French and questions about the gold with blank eyes—had just spoken in flawless English.
    “But I thought …” Wyatt blinked at her through crooked glasses.
    “Of course I speak English.” Derision flashed in Jewel’s eyes. “I did go to school, you know—the mission school where I grew up—and I worked for an English doctor for a while. I’ve heard and understood every word you’ve said since your uncle hired me on the ranch. And as for the intelligence of my people, why don’t you let me give you a lesson in Arapaho nouns—since you think you’re so smart?” Jewel moved closer. “Truth is, you can’t even say the name of my pony correctly, and I’ve told you dozens of times. You pronounce all the consonants wrong, and you’ve absolutely no tonal distinction whatsoever.”
    She put her hands down slowly and moved, as if in defiance, from behind the barrel. Sweeping her long skirts and shawl with graceful ease.
    Wyatt took a step back and kept himself between Jewel and the revolver on the shelf, trembling. “So this is your gun,” he said, finally finding words. He picked it up and stuffed it in his belt. “And that must have been your light I saw. Now get your hands up, or I’ll … I’ll shoot!” He gulped the words down, ashamed. He’d sooner put a bullet through Uncle Hiram’s prize stallion than this wisp of an Indian girl who worked tirelessly, frosty dawn to blue-cold evening, without complaint.
    Then again, she’d probably shoot him first if she got the chance.
    Jewel made a swipe for her revolver and then put her hands back up. “Of course it’s my gun. You think I’d be foolish enough to ride off the ranch at night without a firearm?” She tossed her head. “You startled me. I didn’t have time to grab it before you came down the stairs.”
    Wyatt opened and closed his mouth. “So … you know.” His words came out hoarse. “You know where the gold is.”
    Jewel tipped her chin up. “As if I’d tell you.”
    The gun wobbled in his hand as he took another step back, strangely terrified by her fearlessness. “I mean it! I’ll shoot!” he stammered, gripping the stock with two hands to keep it from shaking.
    “No you won’t.” Jewel crossed her arms as if in defiance. “What clues can I give you if I’m dead? That’s what you’ve been after the whole time, isn’t it? With your ridiculous questions about Pierre DuLac that you thought I couldn’t understand?” She pushed the gun aside. “And you’ve got a spider on your head. Hope it’s not a black widow. One bite can disable or even kill a man.”
    “A … a what? A spider?” Wyatt scrubbed at his head in a panic with the crook of his arm. “You’re lying.”
    Jewel shrugged. “Suit yourself. Odds are it’s a black widow though. They nest in dark and undisturbed places just like this.”
    Wyatt wavered, and nausea rose in his gut. “Where is it?” He dropped the lantern on a shelf with a clatter and slapped his forehead, nearly dropping his gun. “Get it off me, will you?”
    “Give me the gun.” Jewel calmly held out her hand, rings sparkling. “Before you shoot yourself.”
    He hesitated, his chest heaving. How could she possibly know he hated spiders? His deepest, darkest, most tightly kept secret that he’d kept from everyone, including Uncle Hiram. What was she, some kind of a mind reader, intent on humiliating him beyond reason?
    “You’re lying.” Beads of sweat broke out on Wyatt’s forehead, and he leveled the gun at her, trying not to think of webs and crawling legs. “Put your hands