Rapture's Gold

by Rosanne Bittner

  She quickly left, wanting to run as fast as she could, but knowing she didn’t dare. She must show no fear. She walked calmly to the stage depot and paid the driver, then went on to her hotel, where her luggage had already been put in a room. She walked up the stairs and through the door, then closed and locked it.

  Finally she could give in to her fear. She fell onto the bed. Grabbing a pillow and holding it against her, she curled up into it and wept until she fell asleep from pure exhaustion. She had met and conquered her first challenge, but she knew there were many more to come. It would be hard being strong all alone, but she had no choice.

  Late afternoon found Harmony standing at the grave of Brian O’Toole. After a good cry, a nap, and a bath, she had changed into a pale yellow cotton dress and a wide-brimmed hat, then had gone to a bank, where she’d deposited most of her own savings and the four hundred dollars from Wade Tillis; after doing so she’d gone to see the doctor. He had told her of Brian’s death and had explained where he was buried. Upon leaving him, she had walked directly north of town, amid stares and whispers. It seemed incredible, but she was certain that news of her arrival and confrontation with Wade Tillis had already spread all over town. Many people gave her friendly smiles, and she smiled back and nodded, certain it was better to win their friendship than to injure their pride by being snobbish. She needed all the backing she could get, although she did not intend to be too friendly with anyone.

  As she stood at the grave now, staring at a crude wooden cross, her eyes filled with tears. It didn’t seem fair that a man like Brian O’Toole should die in such an unobscure fashion, be buried here with his name already fading on the cross. He had been such a good man. Although she still felt the pain of the day he’d left St. Louis, and the loneliness of his not returning, she couldn’t really blame him, for he’d fallen into that great abyss she pictured this land to be…and now she was falling into it too. Perhaps one day she would lie in this mass graveyard, among the many who had ended up here due to starvation or freezing to death, too much whiskey, a fight over a claim, a mining accident, or sheer loneliness. In a sense, that was what Brian had died of in the end…and Becky. They should have been together. How sad life sometimes was.

  She breathed deeply and blew her nose. She would see to it that a proper marker was erected at Brian O’Toole’s grave, a nice stone with his name carved into it, something that would last forever. She knelt down, touching the mound.

  “Thank you, Brian,” she said softly. “I love you. Thank you for taking me in and loving me and giving me a home. And thank you for the claim. I’ll work it, Brian O’Toole. I’ll work it and I’ll do everything I can to get even more gold out of it.”

  She stood up, wondering why Brian had given her the claim and not Jimmie. Perhaps it was because he knew she was the real worker, that she would do something with it whereas Jimmie would probably have just stayed in St. Louis and sold the claim for far less than it was worth because he’d consider it too much work to come out and pan it himself. If anyone could make it work, Harmony Jones could, and she’d do more than pan for gold. She’d use that gold to get richer by other means. Yes. Brian had probably sensed that, and perhaps he’d felt badly because he’d never legally adopted her or written a will. In any case, he’d assigned his claim to her. That was a tiny bit of a sign that he’d loved her after all. And she still believed that if he hadn’t collapsed, Brian O’Toole would have come home, either to stay or to take her back with him. Or maybe, once he’d learned what Jimmie had done to her, he’d have kicked Jimmie out and given everything to Harmony.

  There was no use contemplating now what might have been. What mattered was today, this moment. The wind blew the yellow dress wildly about her legs, and she grasped her hat and refixed the hatpins to keep it from blowing off. There was no shade here on this hill, only a few scraggly Yucca bushes and some scrubby sage plants. She wished Brian’s grave could be shaded by a nice big tree like the ones back in Missouri—perhaps a nice oak. But in this land there were only pines, and the few cottonwoods that grew along the riverbeds. And here on the hill where the graves were dug, there were none of those.

  She looked out at the horizon. In the distance, mountains surrounded her. Cripple Creek was behind her, and before her the creek itself stretched through a broad valley dotted with cabins and mining buildings. In some places great amounts of earth had been dug away, and farther up in the mountains she could make out more buildings and entrances to even more mines. She tried to envision how quiet and untouched the place must have once been, before someone had shouted the magical word “gold.” And she wondered how long this would all last—how long Cripple Creek would live.

  This was a strange, desolate land, but despite a lack of green and of the big trees she was accustomed to in the East, it was beautiful. There was something in its lonely desolation that made it beautiful. Perhaps she was already growing to like it because it reminded her of her past…of little towns loved and then abandoned…of wide loneliness. It was a land attacked by miners and settlers, and ravaged. It had no defense…was desolate, beautiful, young and taken advantage of. Yet it had a determination and strength. Its mountains defied human progress, creating a constant, natural barrier. She felt as though the rain in this land could be her own tears, the wind her own agony. Had she been destined to come here all along, even when she was only six? Had this land been calling her ever since her parents had abandoned her to come here? She was already feeling attached, feeling a premonition that she was here to stay.

  She bent down and laid some wildflowers on the grave, shoving their stems deep into the dirt so that they could not blow away. Yes. She would get a stone put here, right away. She rose then and was turning to go back when her heart jumped and her breath caught in her throat. A man was standing in the distance behind her, watching.

  He was tall, wearing high boots that looked worn, and a calico shirt, this time its designs in red. A red bandana was tied at his neck, and the wind blew his thick, sandy hair in every direction. Yet its dishevelment seemed only to make him more handsome.

  She had no doubt who it was. Buck Hanner! The man from the train! How did he know she was here? Had he already heard about her confrontation with Wade Tillis? Why had he come here? To spy on her? To attack her? Perhaps he worked for Wade Tillis!

  He nodded, stepping closer then, holding his hat in his hands, the gun hanging low on his slim hips, the calico shirt which was gathered at the yoke and shoulders enhancing the powerful muscles that lay beneath it. He flashed his unnerving grin.

  “Miss Jones?”

  She watched him carefully as he came even closer, feeling no fear, seeing warm friendliness in his amazingly blue eyes. There was so much sureness about him, and an air of gentle strength.

  “Yes?” she found herself saying.

  “My name is Buck Hanner. You probably remember I was on the same train with you—out of Arriba. I…uh…I had no idea you were headed for Cripple Creek too. I watched you this morning—at the Mother Lode, facing down Wade Tillis. I want to tell you I greatly admire your courage…and I was ready to defend you if necessary.”

  Her cheeks colored slightly. “You came all the way up here to tell me that?”

  He looked around with watchful eyes. “Not exactly. I saw you walking this way. Thought I’d follow, just to keep a watch and make sure some no-good didn’t tail you for the wrong reasons. I don’t completely trust Wade Tillis.” His blue eyes moved over her tenderly, but they did not make her shiver with revulsion as most men’s gazes did. “You shouldn’t run around alone like this.”

  She folded her arms, sure she must always be on the defense. “I’ll do what I please, Mr. Hanner. I can take care of myself. I think I proved that when I stood up to Mr. Tillis and got the money he owed me.”

  He grinned softly. “You did. But he couldn’t very well harm you right there in front of everyone. I’m not saying he would for sure, but he’s a scheming man, Miss Jones, and you embarrassed
him in front of half the town today. You’d better be careful.”

  She looked away, feeling hypnotized by his eyes. “And I am supposed to trust you, just because I saw you on a train, though I have never once spoken to you until this very moment?”

  “No. Trust takes time. But a person has to start someplace, and right now you don’t have a soul in this town you can trust. You’ll have to get supplies, and find a guide to take you to your claim. And someone has to show you what to do when you get there. I’m a trusted man around here. Some of the miners actually give me their gold to bring to town and get assayed or turned in for money. I know the mountains around here, and I know where Brian O’Toole’s claim is. Besides I work for the biggest supply house in town. I can get you set up, and I can lead you to your claim.”

  She finally met his eyes again, having no choice. “How convenient. And why would you be willing to do all this?”

  He shrugged. “It’s part of my job. I get paid to lead people in and out, show them about panning, take their supply orders, do anything that’s required. You’re going to need help, and I would like to see you make this thing work.”

  She turned around. Why did he make her feel suddenly conscious of how she looked and acted? Why did he make her so aware of the strange feelings he stirred in her? She didn’t like those feelings. They went against all she had promised herself, and she scowled angrily.

  “Why do you bother, Mr. Hanner? I was very rude to you on the train—deliberately. I don’t make a habit of smiling and conversing with strange men.”

  He grinned, wanting to run up and grab and hold her. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, and his heart went out to her youth and innocence. She needed help so badly but was fighting it. What had happened to make her so determined to survive all on her own? What made such a sweet, beautiful young girl act so cold and unfeeling? And why was she so insistent about going into the mountains all alone to work a claim, to do something she knew nothing about? Why wasn’t anyone with her? He wanted to protect her, help her, but she was not an easy person to win over. The worst part of the whole thing was that she reminded him so much of Mary Beth. The thought of the girl he was once supposed to marry stabbed at his heart. Mary Beth…cold and dead…her love and softness lost forever.

  “I understand that, ma’am. And please call me Buck. That’s what everybody calls me. All I’m saying is you need help, whether you like to admit it or not. I’m a trusted man around here. Anyone can tell you that.”

  She sighed deeply and turned again to face him. “Where are you from, Mr. Hanner? I mean…Buck.”

  “All over. Mostly Texas.”

  She held her chin haughtily. “You’re really just a drifter then.”

  She saw hurt in his eyes and wished she hadn’t said it. “I suppose. A lot of things can make a man a drifter, ma’am. And a lot of things can settle him down again. A man has to have a purpose, and right now I don’t have any, except to keep working wherever I can find something to do, to see the country and decide where I’d like to light one day.”

  “No family? No wife?”

  The pain in his eyes deepened. “No on both counts. I almost had a wife once, but she’s dead now and that’s that.”

  She softened slightly. “I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to lose a loved one to death.” She thought about her parents. “But there are some losses that are worse than death.” She turned back to make sure the flowers on Brian’s grave were secure.

  “Your guardian? Stepfather?” he asked. “You mentioned in the saloon that you were Brian O’Toole’s ward.”

  She blinked back tears. “He found me…on the docks of St. Louis…where my parents had abandoned me. I was six years old. He and his new wife took me in, gave me a home. Then he came out here and died, leaving me his claim.”

  Buck’s heart went out to her. How lonely and frightened she must be. But she was determined not to show it.

  Harmony turned to face him again. What was it about him that won her trust?

  “Do you really think Wade Tillis might try to harm me?”

  He frowned. “Hard to say. He’s a devious man. If he did intend you harm, he’d not do it himself. He’d send others to do it. But there are strict laws around here about such things, and I doubt he’d try something very soon. Too many people would suspect it was his doing. You have one benefit, Miss Jones, and that is your courage—the way you put Tillis down. A lot of people are rooting for you, even though they might not say so and might seem to be laughing at you. They’d like you to make a go of it; I would too. But I don’t think you know what you’re in for. You’re going to have to trust someone for advice, someone who can get you started right. When I saw you walk into the Mother Lode, I knew then and there fate was telling me to help you. After seeing you on the train, it was too much of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

  “Not really. We were both headed for Cripple Creek. We were bound to see each other.”

  He shrugged. “Think what you want. I followed you up here to see that no harm came to you. And you have to admit I could have harmed you myself if that was on my mind.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “And how do I know you aren’t a spy, working for Wade Tillis?”

  His eyes turned icy. “Because I hate Wade Tillis’ guts, that’s why! He’s responsible for—It’s a long story and I don’t care to talk about it. Let’s just say that Wade Tillis is the reason I’m a drifter now, and I make a point to drift in his direction, to goad him, to make him nervous. He knows that some day I’ll find a way to kill him, or at least ruin him. I like to see him squirm. Now you are one of his enemies, a stumbling block to more riches for him. I intend to help you remain in his way.”

  She smiled. She was sure he meant every word he’d said. “Now you’re being honest. You don’t just want to help me because I’m a poor, defenseless girl. It’s a way of getting back at Wade Tillis.” She nodded. “No one can be trusted more than a man with vengeance on his mind. You just sold me, Buck Hanner. You may help me with my supplies and lead me to my claim. I’ll pay you whatever the going rate is for whatever it is you do.”

  He flashed that handsome grin again, and she felt an odd warmth in her veins. Was this the way Becky had once felt about Brian, when first they’d met? No! She must not allow such feelings! She must be very careful, very wary.

  He bowed then. “Glad to be of service, Miss Jones.”

  “You may call me Harmony.”

  He nodded. “Harmony. That’s a pretty name—different.”

  Her smile faded. “Well, I suppose I have my parents to thank for that. They were entertainers, from what I can remember. I suppose the name had something to do with their singing together—in harmony—something like that. I couldn’t care less. We’d better get back. If you will show me the store where you work, after a good night’s sleep I’ll come there in the morning and you can start outfitting me for my journey. By the way, I don’t know how to ride a horse.”

  He laughed lightly. “I’ll teach you then. You’ve got to know out here, Harmony Jones.”

  As they headed down the hill, she was suddenly defensive again.

  “You wait behind,” she told him. “I’ll go on ahead, and I’ll see you in the morning—at the store. Don’t come to my door as though you’re calling on me. Remember this is strictly business.”

  She walked on ahead.

  “Wait!” he called out. “How am I supposed to show you where the store is?”

  She sighed and turned. “Just tell me. I don’t want to be seen walking back into town with you, as though we’d been out together.”

  He grinned. “All right. It’s on the very end of town, a few buildings south of your hotel. It’s called Jack’s Place.”

  She scowled. “And how did you know what hotel I’m at?”

  He gave her a wink, sending that unnerving warmth through her veins again. “I found you here, didn’t I?”

  She felt almost angry at his surenes
s, at the thought that he’d been watching her, although she sensed he’d done it out of concern and that she didn’t have to fear for her person. Was she being too trusting?

  “I’ll see you in the morning, Buck Hanner,” she said curtly, turning and walking briskly back to town while feeling blue eyes on her back.

  Chapter Five

  Harmony had trouble sleeping, for it seemed to her that the town of Cripple Creek never slept. Street noises, piano playing, and loud spurts of laughter made her jump awake whenever she did manage to drift off, and her nerves were on edge. Would Wade Tillis send someone to sneak into her room during the night to murder her? A hundred thoughts rushed through her mind, about her meeting in the morning with Buck Hanner, the equipment she must purchase, the need to learn to ride a horse.

  Most predominant were thoughts of Buck himself. Could she truly trust him, or was she letting his powerful magnetism hypnotize her? She couldn’t quite believe that to be true. There was something so sure about him, a quiet honesty, and a hint of loneliness behind his endearing blue eyes. What had he meant by Wade Tillis being a bitter enemy? What could the man have done to him? And what had happened to the girl he’d once intended to marry? How had she died?

  There were so many unanswered questions about the man; yet she had no one else to turn to. He’d been the only one to offer his services. She determined that she must remember he would simply be her guide, a man who was to supply her with whatever she would need and take her to her claim. She was paying him to do so; their arrangement was strictly business. No feelings must be allowed to enter into it. No womanly instincts must distract her from her purpose. There must be no such thing as friendship between them, so she must stop letting his rugged handsomeness keep producing those odd sensations. She’d never felt them before and they frightened her. She must always remember her mission, the promises she had made to herself, her reason for being here in Cripple Creek, and her promise to Brian O’Toole at his grave.