She’d often seen him staring at her when he thought himself unobserved. He’d have a brooding, contemplative expression on his face, but the speculative gleam in his brilliant eyes, darkened them from emerald to a deep moss green.
“Would you like to go shopping with Lottie? Buy yourself something pretty?”
“You don’t have to bribe me.”
“I wasn’t bribing you, I wanted to do something nice for you.”
“I’m sorry, Ben.” She touched his hand and he flinched. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I’m not in the mood for buying clothes or other frippery.”
“It might cheer you up. You’ve been going round with a face as long as a wet week.”
Don’t I have the right? She wanted to scream the words at him. Had it been his baby she had lost, would he have acted any differently? One never knew with Ben, he was always so unpredictable.
By the time they drove down the main street of Deadwood, it was close to lunchtime.
“Would you like a meal at the diner?” he suddenly asked.
“Maybe, if Glen and Lottie want to come.”
“Glen will be busy working, but Lottie will jump at the chance of eating out.”
When they pulled up at the rear of the Flaming Star, Ben helped her down. Glen greeted them enthusiastically, but Lottie was off visiting the mother of one of the girls working upstairs. The woman was apparently quite ill.
“She’ll only be a couple of hours,” Glen said. I’m sorry but I’ll have to leave you, too. I’ve got a couple of important appointments. Make yourselves at home, and help yourself to anything you want; hopefully I’ll see you when I get back.”
On the spur of the moment, Rachael decided she would go and see the doctor to make sure everything was all right, even though she was physically feeling well now.
“I’ll come with you if you like.” Ben made the half-hearted offer which she quickly declined.
Glen offered his sympathy before he left. He seemed to have more understanding of how badly the loss had affected her than Ben did.
Rachael left the Flaming Star a few minutes after him. She dawdled along the street, heading to the doctor’s house. As usual, Deadwood was busy. A few women milled around the mercantile, several ladies were in the diner. Maybe when Lottie returned, they could go there to have a womanly chat without the men being around.
She wasn’t concentrating on where she was walking and cannoned into Mrs. Gleeson, and knocked her over. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She helped the woman up. “Are you all right?”
“I do feel a little shaky,” she said. “Would you mind seeing me back to the boarding house?”
“Of course not.” Rachael put her arm around Mrs. Gleeson’s shoulder. She was limping, but obviously hadn’t broken anything, thank goodness. A heavy fall like that would certainly shake up someone her age, and much and all as she disliked the woman, it would be wrong to leave her to perhaps collapse in the street.
“I do feel a bit light-headed,” she said, wincing and groaning every now and again.
They finally made it to the boarding house porch.
“Do come inside, Rachael, I could do with a coffee, and I’m trembling too much to make it myself.” There was a slight whine to her voice now, but it was a small favor to ask after what had happened.
Mrs. Gleeson fumbled for the key and unlocked the door. The moment they stepped inside and she locked the door behind them, her demeanor changed. Her eyes narrowed. The limp disappeared.
“Where’s the gold?” she snapped.
“What gold?” Rachael edged toward the door.
“Don’t bother, it’s securely locked.” She dangled the key in Rachael’s face, pulling back when she tried to grab it.
“Your uncle’s gold.”
“I haven’t got any gold.”
“Don’t lie to me. Your whore friend, Lottie, said you’d found your pot of gold. So where is it?”
Was the woman crazy? Why would Lottie tell a lie like that?
“I overheard her telling someone in the mercantile that you married Ben Lonigan, and found your pot of gold.”
A pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Rachael suddenly recalled Lottie using that expression.
“It’s all a mistake, Mrs. Gleeson. I don’t have any gold, pot or otherwise. You misunderstood what Lottie meant.”
“No, I didn’t. Do you think I’m a stupid old woman? I heard what I heard, and if you know what’s good for you.” She jabbed Rachael in the chest several times with a long, bony finger. “You’ll tell me now, or my son will beat it out of you when he comes home.”
“Like he did before?” Rachael pulled herself up to her full height of five feet two inches and glared at her. “So, it was your son who bashed me at Uncle Joe’s shack?”
“Yes. He thought he’d killed you.”
Why hadn’t she realized before? The masked man had the same mad look in his eyes as this woman did.
Oh, Lottie, what have you done? An innocent expression being misconstrued like this. Rachael glanced around searching for a way out. She sprinted down the hallway, in case the back door was open.
“Stop, or I’ll shoot.”
She skidded to a halt. Mrs. Gleeson pointed a rifle at her. “Don’t think I don’t know how to use this.”
Please, Mrs. Gleeson, I’ve been sick. There isn’t any gold.”
“Get up those stairs.” With a rifle being jabbed in her back, she had no option except to climb the stairs as ordered.
On the second floor landing, the stairs continued upward, steep and narrow, virtually leading up to a cavity in the roof of the house. Because she was short, Rachael could pass through the door without stooping.
“In you go. Mrs. Gleeson gave her a shove that sent her sprawling, and slammed the door shut.
Rachael heard a bolt sliding into place, then silence. It was dull and dusty up here, the only light coming through a small window. Forcing herself not to panic, she swallowed down on a lump of fear. Glancing through the gloom she spotted several old trunks, saddlery, and an assortment of other junk. She could scream her lungs out and no-one would hear. As well as being so high up, the window faced a brick wall overlooking an alleyway.
Her legs trembled so much she sank to the floor. On hands and knees she searched for a way out. Rifling through one of the trunks she found a coil of rope. Had the window been larger, she could have climbed down the rope to freedom, even though heights terrified her.
Slumping against the wall, she stared out of the window, as if willing it to increase in size. They could murder her up here and no-one would ever know. What did Mrs. Gleeson’s evil son have in store for her? Doubtful anyone would have noticed her with Mrs. Gleeson. Even if they had, the woman only needed to say she had escorted her back to the boarding house then left.
The patter of feet had her swiveling toward the sound, and two sets of beady eyes stared up at her. Rats. A scream burst from her mouth. If there was one thing she detested. It was rats. There were more than two, she could hear them scurrying around on the bare boards, rustling through old newspapers.
“God, why are you doing this to me?” She’d lost her baby, and there was every likelihood she would now lose her life.
Chapter Nine
Ben was sitting in the parlor when Lottie swept in. “What a pleasant surprise. Why didn’t you bring Rachael with you?”
“I did. I thought she was going to find you?
“I haven’t seen her; she’s probably having a browse through the mercantile. Last time she was here she was interested in wool, and material to make baby clothes.”
He hadn’t known that. She’d obviously thought of it as a baby even if it hadn’t been born. I didn’t know women thought like that. Remorse surged through him at the cavalier way he had brushed off her loss. The baby was real to her.
“Um, she lost the baby.”
“What! When?”
“I was away for a couple of
days rounding up strays. When I arrived home she told me.”
“Ben, how could you have been so beef-headed as to leave her when she was vulnerable? After all the trauma she has been through.”
“I didn’t know anything would go wrong. I tried to be supportive, but…”
Lottie paced the floor. “But what?”
“I told her she could have another baby.”
“In other words, you brushed it off as nothing. Men.” Her pacing increased until she minced along. “Where could she have gone?”
“Is there a stage leaving Deadwood today?” Ben asked, feeling sick to his gut.
“Yes. Why?”
His mouth twisted bitterly. “She’s probably on it.”
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“Wouldn’t? Sonofabitch. She doesn’t need to be married now the child is gone. Selfish, deceitful…”
“Stop it.” Lottie glared at him. “Rachael isn’t like that. She gave her word and I know she will keep it. She’s got integrity.”
He stood, and shoved his hands into his pockets so Lottie wouldn’t notice how they trembled.
“If she hasn’t run out on me. Goddammit, where is she?”
“Shopping,” Lottie said, but didn’t sound convincing. She appeared as worried as he felt.
“She wasn’t feeling too well, I mean, she was still upset. If she couldn’t find you, she’d have come back here. That’s why I brought her into town to see you. I thought it might cheer her up.” He paced the floor.
“So, you aren’t completely heartless?”
“No. I didn’t handle the loss of the baby very well. I did try, though. Everything I said seemed to come out the wrong way, and made things worse.”
“You care for her?”
“I…I.”
“Of course you do. I can read you like a book, Ben, always could. I think you’ve fallen for Rachael.”
He gnawed his lip. “Well, maybe; she’s a mighty pretty gal.”
“Did you tell her?”
“Of course not.”
Lottie rolled her eyes. “You men can be so stupid sometimes. Do you know how she feels about you?”
“No. Well, when I suggested she have another baby. She sort of asked me to give her one.”
“And you said no?”
“Yeah.”
Lottie let fly with a string of swear words, the like of which he wouldn’t use unless he was drunk.
“I’m worried about her Lottie. She was so sad. You don’t think she would try to take her own…”
“Of course not. She’s a strong woman.”
“No. She’s little and fragile, like an angel in one of those religious paintings.”
“Physically maybe, but she’s tough. Look what she’s been through over the last few weeks. She’s a fighter and wouldn’t give up.”
“I’m going to look for her.” Ben’s voice brooked no argument. “Now.”
“We should wait for Glen to get home.”
“No, I can’t, Lottie. It’s killing me not knowing.”
“All right, we’ll separate. You do one side of the street, I’ll do the other. We’ll meet outside the bank.”
Ben strode off to begin his search. He poked his head in every store, and asked people in the street. No-one remembered seeing Rachael. How or when it happened, he had no idea, but slowly, unobtrusively she had somehow worked her way into his heart and his life. His gut clenched. Fear, like he hadn’t experienced in years, almost overwhelmed him.
He couldn’t lose her. He just couldn’t. He fervently hoped she had some fondness for him. That in time she would come to look upon him as a decent man, and be prepared to make their marriage a real one. He was prepared to wait. He had waited for what he wanted for most of his life.
“Ben. Ben.” Lottie dashed up to him. She was out of breath, panting and waving her arms around. “Someone saw her with Mrs. Gleeson from the boarding house.” She scarcely paused for breath. “Apparently, Mrs. Gleeson fell over, and Rachael helped her home an hour or so ago. Thank goodness for that,” Lottie said. “She’s probably having a coffee with her. I know she didn’t like the woman, but…”
“She wouldn’t go into her house,” Ben said. “She thinks Mrs. Gleeson was somehow connected to the assault near the graveyard.”
“She does have a son,” Lottie mused. “He’s a simpleton, wouldn’t know dung from wild honey, so I hear.”
Without speaking further, they hurried to the rundown boarding house. Lottie knocked on the door.
If they’ve hurt Rachael, I’ll kill them so help me, Ben inwardly vowed.
The door swung open and Mrs. Gleeson stared at them with undisguised animosity. Ben rammed his foot against the door so she couldn’t slam it in their faces.
“Where’s Rachael?” he snarled.
“How should I know?”
“You were seen with her,” he said. “She helped you home after you took a fall in the street.”
“Yes, she did. Helped me inside and left.”
“You’re lying,” Lottie yelled. “You’re the last person to have seen her. We’ll get the sheriff if we have to.”
“You’re welcome to search the house if you wish, but you won’t find her here.” Mrs. Gleeson feigned shock, but her eyes were cruel, with no warmth in them whatsoever. Heartless, was the word he was grasping for.
They followed her into the house. Ben’s gut clenched. There was a bad aura hanging over this place, he felt it with every step he took.
They checked each room on the ground floor. On the second floor, at the top of the narrow stairs, was a tall cupboard. No sign of Rachael.
“I told you she isn’t here. Satisfied?”
“What about your outbuildings? Ben growled.
“Search there if you have a mind to.”
With Lottie at his heels, he marched toward the run down stable area. After a thorough search they come up with nothing.
***
Rachael lay flat on her back staring upward. In the dim light she noticed thick beams holding up the ceiling. If only the window was bigger, she could tie the rope to one of the beams and climb out. She banged her fists on the floor in frustration.
Suddenly she spotted slivers of light coming through one of the roof shingles. There was a split in it. If she could somehow pry the shingles apart, she could make her escape through the roof, and hightail it out of here. She had to get up there. It was the only option open to her.
Glancing around, she spied the trunks. If she stood on one of them she could reach. She chose the strongest looking trunk and dragged it into position. With the rope coiled around her arm, she climbed up. Flinging the rope over a beam she fastened it securely and left the end dangling. A couple of shingles were loose, but not loose enough. She needed something to bash against the wood.
Her shoe might do it. She slipped one off and hammered it against the shingle with all her might. After a short time her hands and arms throbbed, her legs ached from standing on the unsteady trunk. There had to be another way to split the shingles. They were obviously old and brittle. Climbing off the trunk, she searched through the rubble. After rifling through one of the trunks she found a miner’s pick.
With renewed vigor, she climbed back on to her perch and pushed the pick into one of the cracks. Success came quickly, she could have cried with relief, when one of the shingles split open. Within a relatively short time, she had broken enough shingles to fit through. Clean, fresh air poured in. Clutching a beam that straddled the hole in the roof, she pulled herself up. Her arms took her full weight, and she cried out with the pain, but desperately held on. After a couple of tries she was able to swing her feet up, and heave herself out on to the roof.
Fearfully, she glanced around. Would the old witch have heard the noise? Pulling the rope up she trailed it over the roof then let it drop down over the side wall. The ground was a long way down.
I can do this. I have to if I want to live. I love Ben, I want the chance of maki
ng a life with him.
She only had two choices, climb down the rope and live, or stay where she was, and risk death at the hands of those deranged Gleesons.
Tearing strips from her petticoat she bound her palms to protect her hands from rope burn. The rope didn’t reach the ground. It was about eight or nine feet short.
Half way down the rope, swinging precariously from side to side, she heard a voice. It sounded like Ben. She chanced a look down, the earth spun, but she spied him and Lottie walking up the alleyway.
“Ben, Ben,” she screamed out his name.
“Sonofabitch.” He dashed back to where she dangled. “Let go of the rope and jump. Don’t be afraid darlin’, I’ll catch you.”
“Jump, jump,” Lottie yelled.
Rachael hesitated for a moment.
“I love you, Rachael. Jump. I swear I’ll catch you.”
Letting go of the rope she tumbled into Ben’s strong, outstretched arms. The force of her weight sent him flying on to his back with her sprawled on top of him.
Mrs. Gleeson appeared menacingly waving a rifle at them and shrieking. “I’ll kill you, I’ll …”
A single shot rang out. The crazed woman slumped to the ground. Rachael’s gaze went to Lottie who held a Derringer in one hand.
“The old witch is dead,” Lottie said.
Ben rolled out from under Rachael, and climbed to his feet bringing her up with him.
“Where did you learn to shoot like that, Lottie?”
“Glen taught me, said I needed to know how to protect myself.”
“Oh, Lottie, thank goodness you could shoot straight,” Rachael said. “That woman would have shot us.
Several men, including the sheriff, dashed down the alley.
“What the hell happened here?” The sheriff barked the words out.
Briefly, Ben explained, and the sheriff whistled between his teeth. “Fine shooting, Lottie, you probably prevented a blood bath here.”
Rachael’s teeth chattered with shock and fear, her hands burned from the rope, but she had to get justice for Uncle Joe. “Mrs. Gleeson admitted her son killed my uncle, and that he was the one who bashed me at the graveyard.”
The Cowboy and the Quaker Page 7