Arizona Gold by Patricia Hagan Page A

Sky said defensively, “It is the custom. Mating before marriage is not punished or considered wrong. And it is not the young boys who encourage it but the girls. It is common, you see, for the more mature unmarried girls to slip into a boy’s tepee and teach him the art of lovemaking. It is supposed to be a secret, as the girls wish not to be called immoral, but Adeeta and Meena have been pursuing my son for so long that everyone knows it.”
    Kitty was exhausted. Her rope burns hurt despite the salve. The tortillas had not satisfied her, and she was still hungry…not to mention thirsty. She would like to have a bath herself and wanted nothing more than to fall down on one of the cozy-looking fur pieces on the floor and sleep for days. Yet she had grueling work ahead of her hauling water, not to mention having to bathe a man, and the last thing she wanted to hear about was his lovers. “I’ll fetch the water,” she said drily and turned toward the entrance and lifted the fur piece.
    Behind her, Pale Sky snickered. “Do not worry, Billy Mingo. The maidens will not visit you. You are a slave. They know to have nothing to do with you.”
    Thank God for that ,Kitty thought. Amorous Indian girls creeping into her bed was the very last thing she needed.
    She counted a dozen trips to the stream to fill the pot on the stove inside Pale Sky’s wickiup.
    The Indians stared at her curiously, some with open hostility. A girl stepped from a wickiup and shook her fists and screamed words Kitty did not understand, but she sensed it was a threat. Then she saw Coyotay in the background and knew the reason.
    Carrying the hot water to Whitebear’s tent as steam rushed into her face was extremely difficult, and her weary legs staggered under the weight.
    Whitebear, munching on what looked like a roasted rabbit leg, watched her come and go, urging her now and then to go faster.
    She felt like telling him if he was in such an all-fired hurry to get started rutting two girls all night long, to just go ahead. Why bother with a bath first?
    But she said nothing, doggedly continuing until the tub was amply filled.
    “How did you get a tub out here, anyway?” she could not resist asking as she emptied another bucket.
    He regarded her coldly. “It was at our last camp, before we were forced to the reservation. It belonged to my father. I found it and brought it here.
    “Would you like to use it after me?” he surprised her by adding. “Or do you prefer to stay dirty?”
    Kitty’s gaze dropped to take in her overalls, filthy from the long walk as well as the tumble over the rocks. Her arms were streaked with grime. She had taken off her boots because her feet were so sore, and she could see they were nasty, as well. Her hair was probably the worst—greasy and smelling like a horse. The thought of warm water, even dirty, was enticing, but, of course, she could never indulge due to her secret. “I will bathe in the stream later.”
    “As you wish. And by the way, you can have the run of the camp, because you won’t get far if you try to run. There are sentinels all over the place.”
    She would remember that—just as she would not forget to make sure it was pitch dark before stepping into the stream where she had just filled the buckets. It was narrow and not too deep, and she could manage a bath in the dark.
    “If you could let me borrow some clothes till I wash my own, I would be appreciative,” she dared request.
    He threw back his head and laughed long and loud before sweeping her with mocking eyes. “If you wore my clothes then I would lose you, because they would swallow you—skinny bird that you are. But don’t fret. I’ll have my mother borrow things from one of the younger boys, though you’d come nearer fitting into a girl’s dress.”
    Kitty scurried out, lest he think about what he had just said and wonder more about her diminutive size.
    She returned with the last of the water. Bending and pushing the tent flap