Prologue
Indian Territory, 1877

The two men glared at the Indian who stood between their freedom and a king’s ransom in gold.

The Indian was tall, his skin the color of dark bronze, his eyes as black as the bowels of hell. His voice was like slow thunder as he ordered them to get out of the cave and leave the gold behind.
Charlie McBride was willing. Life was more precious than gold. Any fool knew that.

Any fool except Denver Wilkie.

As soon as they cleared the cave, Denver drew his .44 and fired at the Indian. Denver was a crack shot and the bullet struck the redskin in the chest, just left of center. Blood oozed from the wound, spreading like crimson tears over the warrior’s buckskin shirt.

The Indian fired back. His first bullet struck Denver in the throat, unleashing a fountain of blood.

The second smashed into Charlie McBride’s shoulder. He staggered backward, tripped over a rock and landed on his rump, hard. More frightened than he’d ever been in his life, Charlie stared up at the Indian, certain he was about to be given a one-way ticket to hell.
For a moment, the two men stared at each other and Charlie felt as if the warrior were probing deep into his soul, prying into the innermost secrets and desires of his heart.

And then the warrior lowered his rifle. “Take only…what you need,” he said at last. “If you take…one nugget more…my spirit will haunt you…for as long as you live.”

His mouth as dry as the dust of Arizona, Charlie McBride could only nod.
“My body…” The Indian was swaying on his feet now. “Do not leave it…out here…”

Charlie nodded again. “I’ll bury you,” he said. “You have my word on it.”
“Inside the cave,” the warrior said, his voice growing faint. “Swear it…”
“I promise,” Charlie said, but the Indian was past hearing.

Slowly, the life faded from the warrior’s eyes, the strength left his legs and he fell slowly, gracefully to the ground.

Although he was growing a little light-headed from the blood he’d lost, Charlie McBride kept his promise. He jammed his neckerchief over the wound in his shoulder to stop the bleeding, then wrapped the dead warrior in Denver’s faded Hudson’s Bay blanket and left the Indian’s body on a natural shelf deep in the bowels of the cave, across from the treasure he had died to protect.

Then, his saddlebags filled with a fortune in gold, Charlie McBride rode away from the mountain.

His first stop was the land office, where he bought two hundred acres of land, including the Indian’s mountain, even though he knew he’d never set foot in that cave again.



Chapter One
Montana, 1994

She felt it again, a warm breath whispering against the side of her neck and then a chill, as if a cold winter wind had found its way into the cavern.

For a moment, Kelly didn’t move, only stood there, her lantern held high, unable to shake the feeling that she was being watched, that unseen eyes were contemplating her with equal parts of curiosity and malice.
But that was ridiculous. There was nothing to be afraid of, she told herself. Nothing at all. If her grandfather was right, no one but members of the family had been in this cave for more than a hundred years.
Taking a deep calming breath, she placed the lantern on the ground and returned to her study of the body that occupied a narrow shelf along the side of the cave wall. The body, wrapped in a faded Hudson’s Bay blanket, was located exactly where her grandfather had said it would be.
In her mind’s eye, Kelly could see the ancient remains on display in the local historical museum, along with a small white placard that named her as the contributor.

Kelly shook her head. She had never truly believed her grandfather McBride’s ramblings about the riches supposedly hidden in a cave in the mountain behind the ranch. She had thought all his talk about a wealth of Indian gold guarded by the ghost of a savage Lakota warrior to be nothing more than the confused yearnings of an old man’s mind, a jumbled mix of old legends and fables handed down from one generation of McBrides to the next.

A long sigh escaped Kelly’s lips as she stared down at the blanket-wrapped corpse.

She believed her grandfather now.

Answering some call she didn’t understand, Kelly drew a corner of the blanket back, then blinked in surprise. She had expected to find no more than an emaciated corpse, a skeleton clothed in tattered shreds of deer hide. Instead, she saw the well-muscled body of a man dressed in a buckskin clout and fringed leggings. His moccasins were unadorned. He’d been tall, long-legged and narrow-hipped. His hair was black and straight and fell well past his broad shoulders. His jaw was strong and square, his cheekbones prominent, his forehead wide. His nose was long and blade-straight.

Kelly stared thoughtfully at the dark stain on his shirt front and then frowned in bewilderment. Why hadn’t the body decayed? She had the strangest feeling that the Indian wasn’t dead at all, that like Sleeping Beauty he was merely sleeping away the centuries, waiting to be awakened by love’s first kiss.

With a shake of her head, she put away such fanciful thoughts and then, impulsively, she touched his cheek with her forefinger. His skin was supple and…warm.

Warm when it should have been hard and cold. When it shouldn’t have been skin at all. After all these years, the body should have returned to the dust from which it had been made.

A shiver of unease skated down Kelly’s spine and she glanced around the cave, every instinct warning her to run. Abruptly, she jerked her hand away from his cheek. It was then she saw it, a small buckskin bag resting against his chest.

Curious, she opened the small sack and emptied the contents into her hand. For a moment, she could only stare at the large medallion resting in her palm.

Fashioned in the shape of an eagle with its wings spread wide, the amulet was about two inches in diameter. And it appeared to be made of solid gold. Even in the flickering light of the lantern, the fetish seemed to glow with a life all its own. It felt warm as it nestled in the palm of her hand.

Kelly stared at the eagle for a long moment and then, almost of their own volition, her fingers folded over it and her gaze was drawn to the numerous bags of gold dust and nuggets stacked one on top of the other against the far wall. There was enough money there to pay off the mortgage on the ranch, enough to settle her grandfather’s hospital bill. Enough to keep her in comfort for the rest of her life.

Her hands were trembling as she pulled the blanket over the face of the dead man. She couldn’t put his remains on display. She knew somehow that he wouldn’t want that. Tomorrow, she’d bring a shovel and bury the Indian in the furthest corner of the cave where he could rest undisturbed.
Kelly sighed. The body had rested here, undisturbed, for over a hundred years. She wasn’t going to bury it so it could rest in peace, she was going to bury it for her own peace of mind.

As she stepped away from the narrow shelf, she felt the warm breath against her neck again.

Put it back.

Kelly whirled around, her gaze searching the cavern’s dim interior for the source of the deep, masculine voice. But there was no one there.
Suddenly anxious to be gone from this place of death, she slipped the medallion into the pocket of her jeans. Folding her grandfather’s map, she stuck it inside her shirt.

For now, she would leave the treasure as she had found it.

For now, she wanted only to go home.

Her boot heels made soft crunching sounds as she hurried toward the entrance of the cavern. The cave was long and narrow, with a high rounded ceiling and a sandy floor.

Extinguishing the lantern, Kelly left it on the ground inside the mouth of the cave. The opening was only a few feet high and barely wide enough for her to fit through. It had taken her over two hours of intense searching to find the cave at all and then it had been by sheer luck.
Kelly squinted against the sunlight as she crawled out of the cave. For some reason, she had expected it to be dark outside.

Her grandfather’s old gelding Dusty whickered softly as she stood up. She patted the horse’s neck, suddenly glad for the presence of another living creature, and then she swung effortlessly into the saddle and reined the horse toward the Triple M.

Riding away from the cave, Kelly slipped her hand into the pocket of her Levi’s, her fingertips moving over the golden eagle.

From behind her, she heard a low rumble, like thunder echoing off the mountains, and then she felt it again, that chill that was colder than the north wind.

Seized with a sudden uncontrollable fear, she drummed her heels into the gelding’s sides and raced for home.

Shadows Through Time
Original Time Travel

Apache Flame*
Wolf Shadow *
Lakota Love Song *
Hawk's Woman *
*Originally published by Signet Books
Available as eBooks or Trade Paperback