The Unexpected Champion

by Mary Connealy

  She’d make him pay—oh yes, she surely would—when she’d had some rest and food. No, she’d wait until they had little Cameron back and had settled in San Francisco. She needed a man right now, and Edmond was all she had.

  But very soon, she’d crack the whip, and he’d step back into his place in her life.

  “We need a good night’s sleep.” She spoke through gritted teeth. “You see to the bags. I’ll get us a room—hopefully without vermin.”

  Weighed down with the two satchels she never let out of her sight, she headed for a ramshackle two-story building with the words Bolling’s Boardinghouse painted above the front door.

  It looked to be the closest they’d come to a hotel. The boards were unpainted and weathered gray. There was a row of six windows along the second floor, which made it near a mansion by this town’s standards. She wondered at people who could live in this squalor.

  Florence didn’t look back. Edmond would probably handle things with the stagecoach, mainly because it took few brains to watch a man throw down baggage. And they didn’t have much. It wasn’t easy to carry luggage when a couple was slipping away from creditors in the dark of night.

  Add to that, all their true wealth was in Florence’s possession. She’d started the journey letting Edmond carry the gold while she carried the lighter but more valuable jewels. Then she’d caught him gambling. Since then, heavy as they were, she’d carried those two bags herself, day and night.

  They were finally in Nevada. Now they needed to find out where Trace Riley lived. He was from a town called Dismal, which was the address on the letter Florence had received from Deb Harkness all those months ago.

  They’d given up waiting for that Pinkerton agent to come back. Not because he was overly slow—they knew it would be a long journey for him. But because their creditors had run out of patience . . . so Florence had run out of town.

  Yes, these two satchels contained enough money to pay what they owed, including their house, mortgaged to the rafters, and bills in all the most fashionable shops in Philadelphia. But to pay their bills would have taken most everything she’d been hoarding all these years, and she had no intention of impoverishing herself.

  So, they’d skipped out of town to come after their grandson. A little boy with an inheritance he knew nothing about—from his mother, who’d also known nothing about it. A little boy who, if he was in their care, was worth a fortune.

  A fortune that Florence had no intention of seeing go to anyone but herself.

  Luther slammed both hands flat on his desk. “They made it back to town?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Payne. They did.” Dudd nodded his head while holding his battered hat with two hands, nervously circling the hat round and round.

  Luther had to give it to his hired man. The other two men who’d gone on this ill-advised mission hadn’t had the courage to come in and tell about the failed search for those folks who’d brought Raddo’s body in.

  They’d said Raddo left nothing behind, and Luth was half-inclined to believe them. But Luther knew his brother well. He was as wily as a coyote. Raddo had known coming to Luth for money was dangerous. Years ago, after they’d given up a life of crime, Luth had helped set his little brother up in mining, and warned him he’d do no more.

  Then Raddo had wanted more.

  What was a little good-natured blackmail between brothers?

  Oh yes, somewhere there was evidence, there could be no doubt of it. But Luther was also sure Raddo wouldn’t carry the evidence on him, for fear Luth would send someone to retrieve it and silence Raddo for good. Being brothers and thieves and murderers together hadn’t bred much trust.

  Raddo would leave enough clues behind so someone could find that evidence, if they realized what they had. Did that pair know?

  Luth had made Raddo swear to leave the area. And he’d given him enough money to do it in comfort. But of course, Raddo paid no heed. Now he was dead, and Luth hated the thought of secrets, so long buried, surfacing like ghosts escaping from the grave.

  And Luth was the one they haunted.

  “What do we do, Mr. Payne?”

  Luth fumed. Did he dare let it go? He’d been keeping a lot closer track of Raddo than his brother realized, and one of his men had seen him killed and come running with the news in time for them to set up the kidnapping in Dismal. But it had been a huge risk.

  And now that pair knew there were questions. His actions might have sent them on a mission to figure out exactly who had kidnapped them and why, and they’d look closer at Raddo while they searched for Luth.

  And what about his hired guns?

  Luther’s gut impulse was to kill all three of them. Getting rid of the witnesses . . . Raddo had learned that from Luth.

  But loyal men weren’t that easy to find, and Dudd here, and the men with him, were loyal. And besides, Luth could always kill them later. Unlike Raddo, Luth was slow about his killing. And sneaky about it. He’d made sure none of his crimes ever led back to him.

  Until this miserable mess.

  Had those two seen or heard anything that could be a clue? Had they found his tracks and come after him? No, they’d be here by now if they had. And he’d heard enough from Raddo to know it wasn’t just those two. They came with friends and family.

  “For now, I’ve got some other things for you to do.” Luth explained what he wanted. “We’ll worry about the pair we kidnapped later.”

  Dudd nodded and left so quickly, Luth had to wonder if Dudd had feared for his life. That made him a mighty brave man to come and give a full report.

  Bravery had its place, but Luth didn’t want a man with too much backbone. They were the kind who stabbed you when you weren’t looking.

  He sat down at his massive oak desk and began to turn over plots and plans in his head.

  What evidence had Raddo hidden?

  What clues to that evidence had that couple seen?

  What was Luth going to do to keep his dynasty from tumbling down on his head?

  CHAPTER

  13

  John pulled away from Penny. “Now we’ve got another kiss to remember.”

  He watched the heat in her dark brown eyes. Not temper—passion.

  Everything about her glowed a shining sable brown save the golden highlights sunburned into her hair. The doeskin coat she wore and the slouchy leather hat that looked like she’d made it herself were brown like her hair and eyes.

  She’d twisted her hair into two braids, hanging down in front. She’d cleaned up from their first adventure in the woods, then dressed for her own comfort and convenience.

  He found he liked that about her. At home in nature. With little vanity and taking pride only in what true skills she possessed that aided her survival.

  A woman with good sense who looked like warmth, felt like fire.

  Oh yes, he surely did remember that kiss.

  John looked at her, and she stared right back. And she hadn’t insulted him or punched him in quite a while.

  “I think we should at least give being married a chance.” Those words popped out. He didn’t plan them. He didn’t mean them. He didn’t even know if he wanted to be married to her.

  Well, he wanted to kiss her again. And he wanted a few other things that meant he probably should admit he did want to be married to her.

  If he’d had his druthers he’d’ve avoided it. But given no choice . . . “Don’t we owe it to each other to at least try? We took vows before God—”

  “I’m pretty sure I didn’t say a word, the sheriff just plowed on over my silence. And I think you said ‘I do’ when he jabbed you in the belly with his pistol. God was bound to notice we weren’t making sincere promises.”

  “And yet here we stand married. And we’d probably have to take it all the way to the Supreme Court to fight that situation. So—what do you think? I find that I respect you, and obviously I enjoy kissing you and . . . and . . . Do you think we should at least try being married before we put ten s
tates between us and live out our lives alone?”

  “T-Try?”

  He watched her throat move as she swallowed. Almost against his will, he kissed the spot on her throat he was watching. He’d meant try getting to know each other, try to see if they got along. But when she spoke and that long, graceful throat moved, he’d gotten distracted. He kissed her again. This time on the side of her jaw, and he felt her face pull into a soft smile.

  Oh yes, he surely did have something he wanted to try.

  She shoved against his chest, and when he didn’t move, she stumbled backward. “We have things to do, McCall.”

  And he had to fight back a smile on that one. They most certainly had some very married things to do. But not yet. They really did need to get to know each other before anything else happened.

  “You’re right. So right. I’ve spent the last week at your mercy, Mrs. McCall.”

  Penny scowled but didn’t bother to correct him . . . since he was correct.

  “But now we are going to town. I know more about those boots than I let on. I wanted to think it over, consider the possibilities, and I didn’t want to debate things with your brother and Trace and all the rest of the family. But I saw flashy boots. Not just new, but shined, calfskin, polished black Hessian boots, with just enough dirt on them to tell me those boots get polished every day.”

  “A rich man. I think we told you every other man around here is a millionaire because of the Comstock Lode.”

  John sincerely doubted it. “Those boots weren’t by any tinker out here in the mines.”

  “All the rich types travel to San Francisco several times a year.” Then Penny furrowed her brow. “I’ve heard that when they come to Virginia City, they don’t flash their wealth. There are too many outlaws. The richest men build mansions for themselves in San Francisco. They come to Virginia City in the summer and get out before winter hits. Then they spend the cold-weather months dressed in fine feathers and living it up in California. When they’re here, they live humbly.”

  “Well, this man was dressed up—or rather his feet were. And his connection to Raddo—I have to wonder if he doesn’t go back a long way around here. Maybe of a type with Raddo.”

  “Maybe even an old partner in his outlaw gang.” Fire flashed in Penny’s eyes.

  “He asked us what Raddo said and carried. Now, I’m a suspicious man for a living, but that sounds like a man who fears we know something. And that sounds like Raddo might’ve been blackmailing him.”

  John crossed his arms and turned to pace. It helped sometimes to move when ideas where sparking. He stopped and looked thoughtfully at Penny. “I was there when he died. I know he was searched.”

  “Yes, and what about his horse?” Penny went on. “He had all that money in his saddlebags. Raddo was purely pathetic the one time I saw him, near the end of winter. He was dressed nearly in rags. We didn’t think he had a horse, because when he kidnapped Deb, Trace and his cowhands came storming in to rescue her, and Raddo lit out on foot. He didn’t have a horse that we saw.”

  Penny rubbed her hands together. “When he died, he was well set up compared to when we found him in that cave. A good horse, a nice suit of clothes, plenty of money and supplies.”

  John went back to pacing. “But you found no evidence that would tie Raddo to whoever he was blackmailing?”

  “Cam hunted through everything before we took Raddo to the sheriff.”

  There was an extended silence, broken only by the sound of John pacing, ten strides one way, turn, and ten strides back. Over and over.

  Penny asked, “Where would Raddo hide something in such a way it’d be sure to come to light if he died?”

  “We call it, ‘In the event of my death,’” John said. “And very often the person will leave evidence with a lawyer with instructions to . . . make whatever he’s holding public or send it to someone.”

  With a grimace John found cute enough to stop his pacing for a few seconds, Penny shook her head. “Would such a rough character as Raddo have a lawyer?”

  “He could have. But he could also leave the evidence with a friend.”

  “Raddo wouldn’t have a friend he could trust,” Penny said with flat certainty.

  “Now, Mrs. McCall, have you never heard of honor among thieves?”

  Penny snorted. Her wrinkled nose earlier, now a snort. John should not find it all so charming. But mercy, he did.

  Grinning, he said, “I happen to agree.”

  More silence, more pacing.

  “Is this how Pinkerton detectives work? Standing around thinking?”

  “Thinking often helps. You should try it before you find fault.”

  She snarled this time. Also cute.

  “But I can think and ride at the same time. Let’s go.”

  “I haven’t even picked up a trail yet.”

  John paused a beat. “We need to head to Virginia City.”

  Penny stopped in the middle of gathering up her reins. “What made you decide that?”

  “We’ve reasoned out that our kidnapper is an old-timer to the area. That says to me Virginia City.” John swung up on his horse.

  “I think Carson City sprang up at the same time.”

  “Yes, but Virginia City’s the boomtown. It’s wilder, more lawless. Carson City, the new state capital, has government, order, probably lots of law. Not where a man with crimes in his past would settle. Let’s go to Virginia City and ask some questions.”

  “A town that’s lawless sounds dangerous. I’ve heard Virginia City is a madhouse.”

  “Didn’t you just come into the country about six months ago, then you got locked in for the winter in a remote cabin? And now you’re an expert on Virginia City? You haven’t been there, have you?”

  Shaking her head, Penny said, “No, but some of the soldiers I knew had. I heard talk. It has as many as twenty thousand people living there amid every kind of vice. For every hardworking miner, and for every mine owner who’s gotten rich, there are nearly an equal number of thieves willing to kill you for a few silver nuggets that might be in your pockets.” Penny mounted up.

  “I came through there on my way out. I’d say that describes it.” John set out. He noticed she followed, despite her dire warnings.

  “It’s a good thing we’re married so I can protect you,” he said.

  “Fine, I’ll protect you right back.”

  John laughed. “I’ll take the help.”

  He wasn’t sure if she agreed with him about Virginia City, or if she was just a woman who liked to get going. Whichever it was, she was coming along.

  Then he thought of that kiss they’d shared. Having her tag along all the way to Philadelphia was a fine idea.

  Cam walked his horse toward the tent near where Penny’s cabin was going up. He had a few head of cattle grazing on her grass. He had to force himself not to mutter and fidget. Two things he didn’t do. But he was just plain worried about his sister.

  Trace had left her with McCall, and Cam had wanted to beat Trace to a pulp. And then Cam had turned around and let her ride out with McCall just like an empty-headed fool.

  How long would she be gone? How dangerous was this investigation McCall was working on? It came down to his sister being gone again. Maybe McCall was just the sneakiest kidnapper who ever lived.

  A movement up the hill drew his attention. He didn’t make one single change in the way he rode or moved. He went on toward Penny’s cabin until he came to a huge jumble of boulders. Swinging his horse behind them, he leapt down, lashed his stallion to a tree, and hit his belly, flat on the ground, all in nearly one smooth motion.

  Dragging himself forward using his elbows, he got to the edge of the stack of rocks and, removing his hat, he eased out. Too low, the trees blocked his view. Inching up, his eyes riveted on the place where he’d seen that movement. He caught sight of a rifle with a scope on it. A rifle aimed at Cam’s cabin. Where Gwen minded the children while she cleaned up after breakfast and got a star
t on the noon meal.

  Cam felt the roar of rage press to get out. To draw the man’s attention before he pulled the trigger. But he held off. As long as Gwen was inside, she was safe.

  Cam saw no finger on the trigger. The man held the rifle by the butt and barrel, yes, braced against his shoulder as if he was preparing to shoot. But he was looking down that scope.

  Not aiming to kill. Aiming to watch.

  Cam’s mind worked fast—his army training kicking in. It came naturally to assess a situation and make swift changes in plans as things unfolded.

  This man wasn’t a killer, at least that wasn’t what he’d come for today. And Cam knew Gwen had baking to do, and she had already had the children out to the privy earlier. No, she had no plans for a morning outside.

  A chill raced down Cam’s spine as he thought about how easy it would have been for this man to pull the trigger when Cam had come outside.

  Instead of setting out to capture the man, Cam decided to learn all he could.

  CHAPTER

  14

  “Boomtown.” Penny said the word loud enough for McCall to hear, but only that. Nothing more. What more was there to say?

  Penny glanced at him, amazed at the sprawling town carved out of the side of a mountain.

  “You remember me saying I knew the wilderness and tracking and you knew cities, McCall? Do you really think you can find what you want in this place?”

  The constant moving of horses, wagons, men on foot. The sound of hammers and saws, shouting. The smell of the place.

  “Sure, I can.”

  “Virginia City is one of the biggest cities I’ve ever seen. I came from Philadelphia, of course, but out here? I can’t believe this.”

  “Let’s go down and see what we can find.” McCall lifted his reins, then stopped and grabbed Penny’s arm. “Wait.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I forgot I’m wanted for kidnapping and murder.”

  “Surely one look will convince them you didn’t murder me.”

  “Yep, that is, if they bother to take one look. They might just come out guns blazing. We’d better call ourselves by a phony name in case you’re still listed as a kidnap victim and someone is gunning for me. And I was here on my way to find Ronnie. I don’t want to go anywhere I went before.”