Free Yellow Rock by Elle Marlow Page B

night.
    While he contemplated that, Willow mumbled something, snuggled herself even deeper against him, then fell silent. If she woke up, he’d have to run for his life. For sure, she’d chase him all around the cabin with that dull butter knife again. Dutch smiled at the thought. Hmm,. A few more minutes won’t hurt, he reasoned. It would be a couple hours yet before they’d need to get up and make their journey to the claim, so why not enjoy this at least for a little while longer? The more he talked himself into staying in the bed, the heavier his eyelids became. Dutch gave up and then wrapped his arms around her, immediately falling back asleep.
    “Dutch. Dutch, Fatty is outside crying his little heart out. Dutch?”
    He jumped out of bed.
    His vision was still blurry, but his ears worked fine. Fatty was braying out a warning. Dutch reached for his rifle.
    “What is it?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
    “I don’t know who yet, but we’ve got visitors.”
    He stood next to the window, only allowing one eye to view out the dirty glass. What he saw instantly rushed ice to his veins. He estimated at least six war lances, painted, and with feathers flying from their tops, were lodged into the ground in front of the porch. It was a warning. An effective message that he’d pressed his luck long enough. Dutch worked his mouth to return moisture to it, while he waited by the window. He kept his eye on the mule. When Fatty went back to grazing, he knew the war party was gone. At least for now.
    He turned his attention to the Willow. “Listen, I know you’re going to get upset, but the Apaches paid a visit during the night. It is really important we leave the cabin and get to the mine. We’re going to have to stay there longer than I thought.”
    “Alright…”
    “And then,” he paused, “Willow, I’m sorry, I know I told you that you could stay as long as you needed, but something must be aggravating those Indians. I can’t chance it. After we mine, I’m taking you back to Hell’s Creek.”
    Her brows scrunched together along with the puckering of her lips. Willow removed herself from the bed and then marched the few short steps to reach the door. To his horror, she flung it wide open.
    “Will you just look at what our neighbors have done? It’s just like those hooligans to hold a church social on our lawn, and then leave without cleaning up their mess.”
    Feeling his heart pound against his ribs, a new and sudden fear prompted him to grasp her by the shoulder and spin her to face him. He bent himself forward to get eye to eye with her. He could see she wasn’t completely aware.
    “Willow. Come back to me. Listen, those aren’t rude neighbors. That mess was left by Apache warriors. You have to stop retreating back to Georgia every time life gets scary, and face reality here. Do you understand a thing I’m saying?”
    Blue eyes welled with tears as her lower lip began to softly quiver. He realized he was squeezing her arm pretty hard. She jerked herself out of his grip.
    “I’m so disappointed in you, I thought you shot all those Yankees…”
    “Those are not Yankees! Do you understand me? This mountain belongs to the Apaches and we’re the ones who have trespassed on their land. We’re the bad guys, Willow. Us. Now it’s one thing for me to risk my own life for gold, but I can’t risk yours, not anymore. You’re going back!”
    “But Dutch…”
    “No, Willow. No buts about it.”
    “Not even if I love you?”
    Her words came out more like a breath, but he heard her loud and clear. Her sentiment entered his mind, and then buried itself deep. Dutch’s memories raced to Birdie who’d struggled with the concept of love, and then mispronounced the words at their wedding ceremony. It had been so long since anyone had said those three words, he could convince himself he’d forgotten what they’d actually meant.
    Willow’s eyes rounded, and her lips became firm, indicating she was