GOLD RIVER (Book 1)

Chapter 9

The decision was simple. Follow the path of the jaguar, and Kate's scream. But for good measure and a sense of direction, Tom used the compass to get a bearing using his good arm. The pain still flared like a son of a gun in his dislocated arm, but it hurt less if he kept it pinned to his side. A more pressing matter was Kate's safety. He needed her alive to help fix his shoulder.

The needle landed on the N. So, the cat was heading north. The terrain in that direction was more or less a valley between two mountains... easy treading.

Another scream. More desperate. Then her voice, loud yet panicked, said, "Bloody cat."

She was close. Tom pushed through the vegetation, watching each step as he went. Spidery vines laced with green leaves covered the jungle floor, dead branches littering the spots in between. One wrong move and he'd be laid out clutching his bum shoulder, or worse yet, shanked by the protruding stub of a small tree that broke off near the ground long ago.

"Go eat Tom," Kate said, a quiver in her voice. "He has far more meat on his bones."

He emerged from a twisted patch of limbs and leaves. "Glad to hear we're still on a first name basis."

Kate and the cat looked at Tom. The feline hissed, baring its pointed teeth. It had her backed against a tree.

Kate glared at him and said in what might as well have been a hiss, "Well, don't just dilly-dally around, do something."

"I'm working on it, sweetheart. I was just enjoying seeing you fend it off with that stick."

The cat nudged closer to her. Tom reacted on a whim and charged at the animal; arms raised. Actually, his good arm was all he could manage, having forgotten about his dislocated shoulder. He tried to lift it, the result an excruciating stab of pain that radiated through his arm. He groaned as he moved forward, but didn't waver, holding it all together, grimacing and wide eyed. Fortunately, the cat took his pained and feeble aggression as a predator on the attack.

Like before, it abandoned Kate and fled, likely remembering Tom from their first encounter.

He blew out a puff of air. Hopefully, it was gone for good.

Kate tossed the stick aside and straightened her white blouse, which covered a turquoise tank top. "It's about time. It almost had me for brunch."

"I suppose it is about that time, judging by the sun in the sky... that I noticed on the way down. Good thing we didn't miss teatime in jolly ole England." There was no British in his accent, pure Texas.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Tom stood there clutching his elbow, sucking in gasps of air between throbs of his bad shoulder. "How about you quit dilly-dallying around and help me get my arm back into place?"

She grinned with more pleasure than he was comfortable with and said, "Anything I can do to assist."

Kate approached him, placed one hand on his shoulder, and with the other hand, grabbed his forearm, sinking her fingernails in deep. Then she lifted and forced the ball and joint into place without blinking.

Tom thought he saw satisfaction in her eyes as his cry echoed throughout the jungle.