Yellow Rock by Elle Marlow Read Free Book Online Page A

Her stomach rolled, rushing acid into her throat. Her breathing started laboring like it had done in the huts. Suddenly the wallpaper turned to the mud of the Indian’s huts. She moaned. Clem’s eyes widened at her response, and then he ran for the door.
    “Are you alright, ma’am? Will you two shut the blazes up!” he shouted down the hall. Then he left the room and slamming the door closed behind him.
    Willow laid on top of the bed, curling herself into a ball. She couldn’t slow her breathing. Her vision made the room appear to take a horrifying dip. When the Yankee entered her room she screamed.
    “Holy… what the heck is wrong with you? It’s just me! It’s just me!” Clem announced. Tears blurred the room as she jumped from the bed. She walked passed the man, using her hands to push the Yankee out of the way. She ran through the door then back down the steps. There were a couple of men in the saloon who let out with a chorus of whistles. When she hit the bright morning sun, lost in a bout of confusion. Then those men in the saloon emerged from the swinging doors, to stare right at her.
    “We want to talk to you! We’ve never seen your pretty face before, and we’d like to get to know it better! Come over here!” One of them stepped off the boardwalk coming toward her.
    “Dutch!” she screamed, lifting her skirts. Willow saw the tracks in the dirt left by the mule. Before anyone could stop her, she started running. Running along the mule tracks in the sand and straight for the mountains.
    ***
    Dutch had only made it partially up the mountain when he had to stop. The rain made the rock formations slick as snot, and he’d forgotten to purchase those boots. Not only that, the sky was turning pitch black, cracking lightening all around him, and making Fatty nervous to the point that the mule began to pace himself back and forth like an expectant father. Dutch hunkered down under a crude lean-to he’d hastily put together, and then lit his cigar to sit through whatever the Thunder God was going to lash out this time.
    As the raindrops fell from the sky nice and heavy, he inhaled the smoke then blew it upwards. Normally about now, his thoughts would turn to the gold, where he’d dig next, where he’d wasted his efforts, and then onto the ranch he was going to build. He’d wonder about the price of cattle in Texas and exactly how many head he’d have to purchase to turn a profit. But tonight, his thoughts took an unwanted turn. Instead of dreaming of cattle and the price of beef, Dutch’s mind raced back to the golden blonde with the haunted eyes that saw every enemy as a Yankee.
    Something raw tugged at him. Something he didn’t expect and sure didn’t have time for. Not since he’d lost his wife to a bullet. After Birdie’s death, he’d sworn off any further thoughts of women. To heck with it. It was easier to keep to himself. Out here, there was plenty of yellow rock in the ground to buy the homestead he’d always wanted. It hadn’t been easy, but every day he was getting closer and he sure as hell didn’t need a woman to come around to screw it up. Dutch exhaled, batting his eyes against the loneliness that had been tugging on him since he met that crazy woman.
    Two years. Two years since he’d wrapped his arms around a soft, feminine body, but he never remembered it feeling like it did when he held Miss Blanford.
    Fatty stopped with the pacing and in the strobe of lightening, Dutch saw the mule lift his head and ears in the direction of Hell’s Creek. Dutch rested his cigar on a post and then wrapped his fingers around the trigger of his revolver. He listened, but didn’t hear anything but the rain tapping on rocks and the thunder rolling above. The mule spun himself in a quick circle and then resumed his pose. What was out there now?
    ***
    Willow lifted her face when it started to rain. The water, cool and falling in heavy drops, eased her mind and washed away the dust, giving her a sense