Wildblossom

by Wright, Cynthia

  "Don't get into a huff, old fellow. I didn't mean to imply that you are my inferior in any way."

  "Next door to it!"

  "Look, you won't exactly be my valet; we'll just pretend that you are. It will be a role, like my role as a painter of portraits." Sandhurst arched a brow and grinned. "We'll both be commoners for a few weeks. It should be quite amusing!"

  "This is all more your style than mine. What if we're found out? God's teeth, imagine the humiliation!"

  "Jeremy, you know you wouldn't miss this adventure for the world, so why not spare us both the ordeal of this conversation and just capitulate?"

  He sighed loudly. "All right then. I'll go."

  "A toast, my friend!" Raising his tankard, he proclaimed, "To our adventure!"

  "And its safe conclusion," muttered Jeremy. He drank deeply, Sandhurst's laughter echoing in his ears.

  Page forward for an excerpt from Cynthia Wright's

  BRIGHTER THAN GOLD, another wonderful Western romance set in 1864 San Francisco and the gold rush town of Columbia, California. It's the story of a mysterious highwayman who falls in love with the daughter of one of his victims...

  Excerpt from

  Brighter than Gold

  by

  Cynthia Wright

  Chapter 1

  Columbia, California

  June 21, 1864

  Riding slowly down Main Street, the tawny-haired man on horseback reflected that the sleepy town of Columbia had certainly known better days. A dozen years ago, it had been heralded as the "Gem of the Southern Mines," the largest and most prosperous of all the towns that had sprung up during the rush for gold in the Sierra foothills. More than fifteen thousand boisterous people had lived here, making and spending fortunes in Columbia's thriving gambling palaces, saloons, fandango halls, theaters, restaurants, and bawdy houses. Stores were stocked with merchandise delivered by a constant stream of freight wagons from Stockton. Stagecoaches rumbled down Main Street morning and afternoon, dislodging a colorful variety of eager newcomers, including a French chef who charged outrageous sums of money for gourmet meals and imported champagne. The town's four theaters had hosted Edwin Booth, Lola Montez, and circuses with elephants and lions. Columbia even had a Chinese theater for the particular benefit of its immigrant citizenry.

  In the town's first decade, more than $87 million worth of gold had been discovered in its diggings. The scales at the Wells Fargo office weighed an average of $100,000 of gold a week, and in the heady decade of the 1850s, it seemed that the supply would never run out.

  However, those days of unrivaled prosperity had passed.

  On this dusty afternoon, the man on horseback rode into a town of fewer than five hundred people. Tucked behind hills that staggered down to the dramatically beautiful Stanislaus River, Columbia had acquired a haunting serenity lacking in its heyday. Delicate, locustlike trees of heaven lined Main Street, and many of the homes were embowered with climbing roses in full bloom. The clamor was over, yet the traveler felt a surge of respect and fondness for this tenacious community. It had had its share of challenges, but it simply refused to die, adapting instead to change.

  Farther ahead down Main Street, the man on horseback spied MacKenzie's Saloon. Hot, tired, and in need of friendly conversation, he decided to stop for refreshment.

  * * *

  At the far end of the polished mahogany bar, Katie MacKenzie was perched on a stool, drying glasses and reading Jane Eyre at the same time. It was a quiet afternoon. The shafts of sunlight that streamed into MacKenzie's Saloon were mellow and golden, scented with roses. The corner tavern was large, with a magnificent carved mirror behind the bar and numerous tables ringed with chairs. Once upon a time, MacKenzie's had echoed with the laughter and raucous conversation of men from all walks of life. Now, the place was an ornate mockery of a golden age long since passed. Katie looked up to see two lone, grimy miners, clad in red shirts and dungarees, who slouched at a distant table, dozing before their empty bottle. Farther down the bar, Brian MacKenzie poured a whiskey for his third patron, then approached his daughter.

  "I'm thinking this is a fine way for you to celebrate your twentieth birthday," he murmured, his ruddy face and curly white hair reflected in the twenty-foot mirror behind them.

  Katie gave him a sweet smile. "Nonsense, Papa! You sent all the way to Boston for this book and you gave me these beautiful flowers." Lovingly she fingered the vivid bouquet of blue larkspur and orange Humboldt lilies that filled a vase at her elbow. "It's a perfect birthday!"

  Brian wrapped her in his bearlike embrace and smiled. "You're a blessing, Kathleen Elizabeth. Why don't you put away the towel and glasses and go outside? It's not a day for chores."

  "I'm fine, Papa." Already her attention was wandering back to Jane Eyre.

  Sighing, Brian studied his daughter's profile. It was almost a shock to realize, daily, how beautiful she had become and how much Katie resembled her mother who had died eight years before. She had inherited Mary's lustrous ebony curls, her striking black-lashed azure eyes, her delicate features, and radiant smile.

  However, Katie's temperament mirrored his own. If only Mary had lived to teach their daughter ladylike ways! Growing up in the rugged atmosphere of a mining town, Katie was used to working hard, but otherwise she dressed and behaved to please herself. Today she wore a faded rose calico dress with one petticoat, but she was just as likely to be clad in trousers and a shirt if the mood struck her. Worst of all, Katie had declared that she had no interest in marriage. And she did indeed seem to prefer helping him run the saloon or writing articles for the Columbia Gazette. Women were at a premium in the foothills, especially beauties like his daughter, and Brian prayed nightly that she would come to her senses one day soon and begin acting like a woman. Hadn't he a right to grandchildren?

  "Quite a romantic hero in that book, eh?" he inquired slyly. "What's his name?"

  “Edward Rochester." Katie gave him a fond smile, familiar with his ways.

  "Indeed? Why, seems to me that that name alone would be enough to turn a maiden's thoughts to love!"

  The swinging door creaked to announce the arrival of a customer, and Brian trundled back to work. He squinted as the man approached the bar, then smiled broadly as recognition dawned.

  "Why, it's Jack, isn't it! Where've you been these past weeks?" He set a shot glass on the bar and reached for a bottle of whiskey.

  Settling onto a stool, Jack spread a tanned hand over the glass. "Save your whiskey for someone who'll appreciate it, MacKenzie," he said in a husky voice underlaid with ironic amusement. Surveying the dazzling array of decanters, squat vases of cigars, and jars of brandied fruit reflected in the mirror, he ventured to ask, "Do you serve water?"

  "Ah, that's right!" Brian laughed, remembering, as he poured spring water from a pitcher into a larger glass. "You don't drink liquor. Tell me, do you belong to that Dashaway Society that's been promoting temperance in these parts?"

  Jack's answering laughter was sufficiently roguish to make Katie look up at last. "Lord, no," he replied. “I've just never seen the point in drowning what few wits I have in liquor."

  His expression and manner made it clear to Katie that Jack's wits were far more considerable than he so modestly implied. His looks were noteworthy as well. Katie's first thought was that he reminded her of a tawny mountain lion. His hair, wind-ruffled and dusty, was nearly the same color as his sun-darkened skin, and a two-day growth of beard glinted like flecks of gold against his lean cheeks. There was something appealing about the slightly bent shape of his nose, the smile that lingered on his mouth, and the grooves on either side that hinted at dimples. She was most intrigued by his eyes, though, and wandered down the bar for a closer look.

  Cat's eyes, she decided after a few moments. A clear, sage green dusted with gold, slightly hooded, as if a bit weary of surveying the world, and framed by laugh wrinkles and sandy brows. Katie was disarmed by the sight of his roguish smile and the sound of his frank, h
usky laughter, but she sensed that, like the mountain lion he resembled, this man could be dangerous.

  "Ah, here's my girl," Brian announced, wrapping an arm around her slim form. "Katie, have you met Jack Adams? He's new to these parts. Came in here the first time just a couple months back. Jack, this is my pride and joy, my daughter Kathleen."

  Seeing the appraisal in his eyes, she put out her hand and smiled. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Adams."

  He smiled back. "The pleasure's mine, Miss MacKenzie," he said in his appealing, rough-edged voice. "Call me Jack."

  "I'm Katie." She shook the hand he held out, glancing at the well-tended nails. It was a strong hand, tanned against the faded blue shirt he wore but only slightly callused. She wondered what he had done before coming to the gold country. "Where are you from, Jack?"

  He shrugged. "Nevada, lately. Placerville last week. I have my eye on a couple different claims, but can't decide whether they're worth working. One's near here."

  "Just because the boom's past and so many miners have moved on to Nevada or Canada, that doesn't mean our gold's gone!" Brian declared, seizing on one of his favorite topics. "A man with a bit of patience can still get rich and live a more civilized life in the bargain!"

  "Columbia does look permanent these days," Jack agreed. "Until last fall, I hadn't been in the foothills for years. The towns were all wood and canvas when I was here in my youth; a mixture of imported luxury and make-do. A lot of them are gone now that so much of the gold's been mined, but what's left is more civilized." His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Maybe the miners left because they missed the wild life."

  "There's still enough wildness up here for any man," Brian snorted. "And enough challenges. They're destroying the land with that new hydraulic mining now!" He frowned. "As for the town looking more civilized, you know it was the fires that forced us to build brick buildings. The others kept burning down."

  "You must admit that Jack's right, though, Papa," Katie remarked, pouring more water into Adams's glass. "Times have changed. The people who came here looking for wealth and adventure a dozen years ago have either moved on or settled in to more permanent lives. Columbia's a different town."

  "Quieter, that much is true." Brian sighed, gazing around the nearly deserted saloon. By evening it would begin to fill up, and the gaming table where miners gathered to play faro would turn a tidy profit. But Brian no longer expected his saloon to make him a rich man.

  Deftly, Jack changed the subject. "Missouri Dan rode down from Placerville with me, and we spent last night just north of here. I didn't get much sleep, though, because Dan made me dig most of the night...."

  Katie responded to the gleam in his eyes. "Dig?"

  "Seems that last fall Dan discovered some gold over near Fraser River and brought it here to be weighed. There was more than five thousand dollars' worth, but he decided to put it away for safekeeping rather than take it along to Placerville—"

  "Or have it stolen by the Griffin!" Katie exclaimed.

  "I think the Griffin specializes in stagecoaches, lass," her father murmured.

  "Anyway," Jack continued, "Dan chose a clump of five pine trees near a stream, and buried the gold there. The winter in Placerville wasn’t financially rewarding for him, so Dan was anxious to get to his pine trees last night and dig up that treasure." The corners of Jack's mouth slowly turned up as he paused to sip his water. "The stars were out as we came over the crest of the hill, but instead of lighting up Dan's clump of pine trees, they shone down on a vast, cleared field and a newly built cabin."

  Katie gasped. "Someone had settled there!"

  "That's right." He nodded, more than a little amused, his green eyes twinkling as they met hers. "They'd not only cut down Missouri Dan's pine trees, but they'd also planted grain. Of course, he wouldn't give up without a fight. Made me dig alongside him all night long until that field of grain was covered with holes. I just prayed that the farmer wouldn't wake up! As it is, I shudder to imagine the look on his face when he saw his field this morning."

  "Don't suppose you found the gold?" Brian asked hopefully.

  "Of course not! Dan's in the blackest of moods. I left him digging one last hole before dawn, but I heard that he was at Big Annie's this morning—" He cut himself off, realizing that he shouldn't have mentioned Big Annie's bawdy house in front of Katie. "Well, no doubt Dan'll be appearing here any minute to drown his sorrows. He was ranting all night about the good old days when people didn't go around cutting down trees in these parts. According to Dan, a man can't depend on anything now."

  "He should have put the money in the bank," Katie said.

  "Now there's a civilized suggestion! Not Dan's style, I'm afraid." Jack laughed lightly, then his eyes wandered over her face and settled on the thick braid that hung down Katie's back. "You're an uncommonly pretty girl, Miss MacKenzie. You'd have men lining up outside just to look at you if you'd change your style. Why not free your hair?"

  Katie took a step backward, bumping her elbow against a decanter of brandy. "I prefer to wear it this way. It's cooler." Her cheeks felt hot. "And neater."

  "She's a stubborn girl," Brian told Adams.

  "I don't give you men advice about what clothes to wear or how to comb your hair, so I suggest that you show me the same courtesy," Katie said, recovering her composure. "Besides, why would I want to be examined by a lot of strange men?"

  "I can't imagine." Jack bit back a smile. "I humbly apologize."

  "Apology accepted. If you are starved for the sight of female beauty, you ought to visit the new German dancing girls at Darling's Dango Hall." Picking up Jane Eyre, she turned to her father and said, "Papa, since you have urged me to do as I please today, I believe I'll go over to the Gazette and write an article about Missouri Dan's adventure. I think our readers might find the story very entertaining."

  "Wouldn't you rather spend your birthday seeking some entertainment for yourself, darlin'?"

  "I love to write, so that is entertainment." Katie kissed his cheek, then smiled politely at Jack. "Meeting you has been very interesting, Mr. Adams. Have a safe journey."

  "That's kind of you, but I'm not leaving Columbia just yet, Miss MacKenzie. I feel certain we'll meet again." He gave her a lazy smile. "Happy birthday."

  Jack watched Katie cross the saloon and stride out into the sunshine, idly noting her slim back, narrow waist, and gently curving hips. When he turned back, he discovered that Brian was contemplating him thoughtfully.

  "I don't know what to do with that lass," MacKenzie said, sighing. "Twenty years old today she is, and acting like there's no hurry to marry. I don't think it even crosses her mind! Not that any of the men around here are worthy of her. Many of the best are off fighting in the war between the North and South." He shook his head. "It's a difficult bride who's not only beautiful, but also smarter than most men. She's hardworking and has a mind of her own, but she's quick to laugh, too, and—"

  "MacKenzie," Jack put in softly, his expression knowing yet amused, "why are you telling me this?"

  He looked down the bar at the bouquet of lilies and larkspur. "Well, I—I've no idea!"

  "Neither do I." Jack patted the older man's shoulder, then stood up and brushed the dust from his smooth buckskin pants. "I'm off to have a bath and a shave, get my clothes laundered, and take a room above the U.S. Bakery and Coffee Saloon." He put some coins on the bar. "Thanks for the water and conversation, MacKenzie. Buy Missouri Dan a drink for me when he comes in, will you?"

  "Be glad to." Brian picked up the coins and looked at them for a moment. "If you want a clean bed and home cooking, you're welcome to stay with us. I like you."

  Jack stopped at the door and glanced back, his wide shoulders and lean hips outlined against the sunlight. "That's a kind offer. I'll consider it."

  * * *

  Katie made her way down Columbia's dusty Main Street which was shaded by trees of heaven, their spreading boughs abuzz with bees. She waved to the blacksmith and greeted an
elderly couple coming out of the Cheap Cash Store, but otherwise the main street was quiet. Constructed since the fires of 1854 and 1857, the handsome brick buildings had sturdy doors and windows with tall, green shutters made of fire-resistant iron. Many of the facades boasted fancy ironwork balconies cast in Troy, New York, and brought by ship around Cape Horn.

  "Hello, Katie!"

  She looked over to see her friend Lim Sung emerging from his father's Chinese laundry. Lim was a thin, wiry boy of eighteen whose cheery smile never failed to brighten her spirits. "Hello, Lim! Can you come to the Gazette with me? I have to write a story."

  He fell in beside her, his smile fading. "You know they don't like me there."

  "That's ridiculous," Katie said, dismissing her friend's comment with a wave of her hand. "Besides, I doubt anyone will be there now. You just have to stop acting uneasy when you're around other people. It makes them all the more suspicious!"

  Lim Sung and his parents were among the handful of Chinese who had been allowed, grudgingly, to remain in Columbia after the fire of 1857. Prejudice against the race was rampant throughout the gold country. People insisted that the Chinese were sneaky and untrustworthy, blaming them for thefts, fires, and other crimes. The customs and beliefs they had brought from China made the miners all the more mistrustful, but Katie knew that their prejudice was rooted in ignorance and jealousy. The Chinese people she knew were hardworking, industrious, and patient. Indeed, it was their infinite patience that maddened the other settlers. Many a miner had given up on a claim only to have it taken over and worked painstakingly by a Chinese family with successful results. Now that the gold was playing out, a great deal of general frustration was increasingly being taken out on the Chinese population.

  As they passed the D. O. Mills Bank Building, Katie glanced over at Lim Sung. In a fresh white shirt and loose black silk trousers, he looked alien and out of place. His hair was drawn back into a long queue, which accentuated his high cheekbones; his eyes were dark and fathomless, uptilted and veiled with heavy lids. To others he was a foreigner, an outcast to be feared and rejected. But to Katie he was just Lim—her childhood companion, her trusted friend.