A shadow moved over the trees then, and he looked up to see an eagle floating quietly above him. The quietness of his surroundings, the smell of pine, the soft hum of wind through the needled trees made him wonder what the hell he was doing here.
The ranch. He had to think about starting again somewhere, away from the miserable hopelessness of the reservations in the Dakotas and Oklahoma; away from places like Guthrie, where painful memories faced him; away from wild, noisy mining towns like Cripple Creek. Just a few more weeks at five dollars a day and he’d have plenty to get started. The only trouble was, no matter where he went or what he did, he would always be haunted by what might have happened to Allyson Mills. Time had not healed anything. In fact, it seemed that the passage of time had only made things worse. Guilt had set in—maybe he should have stayed. What if she needed him? No matter what her deceptions, she had, after all, been his wife. He had let his damn pride get in the way. Maybe they could have worked things out somehow.
The ground shook with an explosion deep beneath the earth. He turned Blackfoot and headed back to continue his routine ride around the perimeter of the Golden Holliday Number One. In a couple more hours a load of gold gleaned from the mill would be ready for shipment to Cripple Creek. This time he was to accompany that shipment all the way to Colorado Springs, a job he welcomed. It would get him away from the noise and lawlessness, the dirt and overbearing crush in this uncivilized, often ruthless, gold town. Maybe he would pay another visit to Lynn Brady, the pretty, young, red-haired prostitute he’d found at the Holliday House. She had reminded him of Ally.
21
Roy Holliday followed Wayne Trapp up the steep trail that led around the back side of what he considered Holliday Mountain. He would not ordinarily go up into these remote places to visit prospectors, but he’d been told that Allyson Mills was quite the stubborn woman. Maybe impressing her with his fine black horse and his obviously expensive clothing would have an impact and make her see how miserably inept she was at mining her claim. He had worn deep-blue worsted trousers with narrow-gauge black stripes and a white silk waistcoat with deep blue embroidery trim, over which he wore a black cashmere morning coat. The high-buttoned waistcoat was set off at the neck with a black bow tie.
Men in these mountains didn’t usually dress this way. He had brought along more rugged, warmer clothes, as any wise man did who ventured into places like this, just in case the elements or an accident compelled him to stay longer than the one day. He and Wayne had left almost before dawn, with the intention of reaching Allyson Mills’s claim by two o’clock. Once there, he intended to talk the foolish young girl into selling out to him, after which he would come back down to Cripple Creek the same day. If it got too dark to travel before they reached the town, he had enough clothes along to change and make camp for the night.
He used to do more of this, in the early years, but now he had other men who did such things for him. He remembered the first days of struggle—a number of men had had to die for him to get what he wanted. Through murder and bribery and, finally, simple financial power, he had managed to amass a fortune in gold claims without anyone being able to point one finger his way. He had far outdone the fortune his father once enjoyed, and destroying the man who had brought his father to ruin had been a satisfying experience indeed.
Now there was this woman—that was certainly a new challenge. He just couldn’t quite bring himself to have a woman killed, and he hoped she would make this whole matter easy for him. If not, before he caused her any harm, it was still possible that her vein stemmed from his own mine. In that case, there would be no argument. Her claim would belong to Holliday Enterprises and she would have to leave whether she liked it or not.
“How much farther?” he called out to Trapp.
“Maybe an hour.”
Holliday shivered slightly in his morning coat. No matter how warm it got farther below, it seemed it was never quite warm enough in these higher elevations. He found it amazing that any woman, especially a young, pretty one, would dare to come up here alone and try to work a claim. She must be quite something.
Trapp came to a level area and stopped his horse to rest it. “We’ll have to get off and walk the horses for a ways,” he told Holliday. “The climb is even steeper from here up. They can’t be carryin’ our weight.”
Holliday almost laughed. Wayne Trapp weighed a good hundred pounds more than he did. “Whatever you say. It’s been a long time since I’ve been up in parts like this myself. I haven’t even been to the mine since I got back from my trip. It’s been close to three months.”
Trapp dismounted with a grunt. “I expect you’d be best to stay away a little longer, till things cool down a bit again. Ever since that thing between the Indian and Trevor Gale a few days ago, there’s been a lot of grumblin’ goin’ on. Trevor is the one startin’ it all, sayin’ now Roy Holliday’s men are startin’ to beat up on the miners for nothin’.”
“I wouldn’t call being drunk and handling explosives down in a mine nothing, Wayne.”
Trapp turned to face Holliday with a look of one who knew all there was to know. Holliday knew he liked thinking he was his right-hand man. It always amazed him that people like Wayne Trapp had no idea they were being manipulated. But Ethan Temple, there was a man who couldn’t be fooled that way.
“Trevor Gale can handle explosives just fine no matter what shape he’s in. I’ve seen him go down there when he could hardly walk straight,” Trapp said. “Your biggest concern, you’ve said, is avoidin’ trouble, and the Indian spells trouble. The way Ed Humble says it, there probably wouldn’t have been a problem at all if Ethan Temple hadn’t been there. Gale started the whole thing because he didn’t like no Indian watchin’ over him. I tried to tell you, Mr. Holliday, men don’t like takin’ orders from no Indian. You ought to get rid of him.”
Holliday pulled a thin cigar from inside his morning coat, grinning. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Face it, Wayne, you just don’t like the man and you resent me for hiring him.” Holliday could read the jealousy in Wayne Trapp’s eyes, but the man just shrugged.
“Who you hire and fire ain’t my business.”
“You’re exactly right,” Holliday answered, a hint of a threat in the words. He lit his cigar and puffed on it a moment, watching the worry in Trapp’s eyes. He enjoyed the way some men could be so easily impressed and so easily threatened. “If my memory serves me right, Trevor Gale beat the hell out of you once, didn’t he?”
Trapp’s face began to redden, and he scowled. “He jumped me from the back, just wanting to make trouble in the saloon. The drunken bastard had made a bet he could knock the hell out of a Holliday man.”
Holliday chuckled. “Well, he proved that, didn’t he?”
Trapp’s lips pressed together in an effort to control his anger.
Finally Holliday took out another cigar and handed it over. “Have a smoke, Wayne, and don’t get yourself all worked up.”
Wayne took the cigar with a mumbled thank-you.
“I know there have been a lot of times when I should have fired Trevor Gale. Fact is, I have. I’ve sent men to his house, and his brothers’, too, with dismissal papers for all three. Word is they’re getting too organized, especially since that thing with Ethan. Union men with a grudge who know how to use dynamite are not the best kind to have around. Let them all find work at some other mine.”
Wayne scowled, still holding the unlit cigar. “How come you waited all this time and just now fired them?”
“I just told you why. They’re starting to make too much trouble.”
“Then you ought to fire the Indian, too. If not for him, none of it would have happened, and you wouldn’t have lost your best explosives expert. All he did was make it more evident that you’re willing to use force against your own men.”
Holliday puffed on his cigar. “Wayne, face it. Ethan Temple did exactly what he should have done, something you never would have or could have done. He put Trevo
r Gale in his place, and in spite of one of my men using force against a worker, the others understand that he did it to protect them. Letting Trevor go down in that mine in the shape he was in would only have shown them that I don’t give a damn about their safety. I’ve been keeping my eyes and ears open, and there aren’t that many now who are so ready to follow Trevor’s union movement. Thanks to the Indian, they have a new respect for the men who work for me.” He took a deep breath of fresh air. “Hell, maybe I should give him your job. The man has more tact and more guts. The others see an honesty in him, and they like that.”
Holliday watched Wayne’s face literally pale. “Mr. Holliday, I gave up botherin’ with a family, gave up ever doin’ anything else with my life in order to always be available for you, to be your right-hand man. You thinkin’ of replacin’ me with an Indian, a man you’ve only known a few weeks?”
You didn’t give up a damn thing for me, you big buffoon, Holliday thought. You work for me because it makes you feel important. It’s the best job you’ll ever have in your whole stupid life. He chuckled aloud and shook his head. “I wouldn’t replace you, Wayne. For one thing, you know too much; and for another, Ethan Temple is too honest to be right-hand man to someone like me. I just like to watch you get your back up now and then.” He stuck the cigar back into his mouth and smiled as relief flooded Trapp’s puffy face. “I’m just saying the Indian is a good man. He helped me out more than he realizes. I think maybe I’ll keep him around. Maybe I’ll put him in charge of troubleshooting, and have the other men report to him whenever they suspect something is getting out of hand and let him take care of it. He has an honest, direct way of doing it that the men respect. Maybe he can eliminate the resentment, I don’t know. It’s just something to think about.”
Wayne lit his cigar, then turned and took hold of his horse’s reins, starting up the even-steeper trail. “How are you gonna avoid resentment when you’re talkin’ about makin’ the miners take orders from an Indian?” God, he hated Ethan Temple, hated all Indians, but Temple in particular. If that sonofabitchin’ redskin thought he was going to take his place as Roy Holliday’s favorite, he had better think again. Trouble was, how could he get rid of Temple without Holliday knowing? The man liked Ethan, and that presented a problem.
“I don’t think his being Indian will make much difference after a time. Besides, he dresses like a white man and he speaks well. And just the fact that he took down Trevor Gale has won him some respect. Nobody has ever put Trevor in his place before.”
Trevor Gale. Wayne thought about how much the man must hate Ethan. Maybe his dirty work could be done through Trevor and his brothers. He made no reply to Holliday’s remark about no one ever putting the Irishman in his place before. He considered it a personal insult, but he was not about to argue with Roy Holliday. He felt like he was walking on dangerous ground now, as though his days were numbered as long as Ethan Temple was around. He had to find a way to get rid of him.
“Hey, boss, maybe this Allyson Mills has died or somethin’,” he spoke up, wanting to change the subject.
“We probably won’t be that lucky.”
“There’s a lot of things we could do to break her will,” Wayne answered. “I’d sure enjoy it.”
Holliday smiled, following with his own horse. “I’m not into abusing women, Wayne, at least not that way. If I’m lucky, it won’t matter anyway. It will take a while yet, but I’ve got a geologist working on the location of that vein. I just hope she hasn’t found it herself yet.” He stopped, now able to see the sorry-looking shack much higher up on the mountain. “If the woman is still panning for gold and just collecting a few dollars a day, it should be easy to convince her it’s not worth the hardships and loneliness she must be suffering up here. Those things and the elements should be enough to break her. The smell of big money to sell out will make her give up even quicker. You’ll see.”
They moved back into the trees again, and thunder rolled somewhere on the other side of the mountain. A storm was coming. Had the woman experienced a fierce mountain storm yet? They could be very frightening and violent, even to a man. He grinned to himself. If summer storms didn’t discourage the little bitch, just wait until her first winter up here. That would really do it. Prospecting a remote claim the slow way couldn’t be a much more lonely, discouraging job, and being practically buried alive in these mountains in winter could do things to a person’s mind. If the woman wouldn’t sell out now, she’d sure as hell be ready by next spring.
Allyson looked up at the dark clouds rapidly billowing over the top of the mountain. A bolt of lightning suddenly ripped out, and at the same time she heard a loud snapping sound. Not far away the top of a pine tree came crashing down, landing in the creek. Instantly Allyson grabbed up her rifle and ran for the cabin, leaving a good amount of gravel in the sluice. Before she made it all the way up the steep bank from the creek to the rickety cabin porch, huge drops of rain were already pelting the ground. A great burst of thunder made her jump, and just before she reached the porch she thought she saw another movement. Her first thought was that it was bushes blowing in the wind, but when she glanced to her left, she saw two men on horses.
For a moment she froze, clinging tightly to her rifle. How long had they been sitting there watching, or had they just now noticed her? Up here no one could be trusted, that was sure. Since old Stan left, no one had been here, and one of the two men watching her looked mean. He was big as a bear, and she didn’t like the look in his eyes.
She finally found her legs and hurried inside, closing and bolting the door. She thought she heard someone yell “Miss Mills!” before the door closed. She opened one shutter and cocked her rifle, pointing it out the window. A moment later the two men were in front of the cabin, and the rain was beginning to pour harder. They quickly tied their mounts and moved onto the porch to get out of the rain. Neither of them could miss the sight of the rifle barrel sticking out her one and only front window. The burly man held back, but the other one, an older man who was handsome for his age and well dressed, approached her.
“Miss Mills, we mean you no harm. Can we please come inside out of the rain?”
“No, sir,” she answered. “Speak your piece and leave.” Deep inside she had to admit that it felt good to hear another human voice, but she was not about to let two strange men into her cabin. The fancy-dressed man smiled, but his dark eyes did not show the warmth that normally went with a grin.
“My name is Roy Holliday. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”
Roy Holliday! He owned half the mountain! “I’ve heard of you. What do you want?”
“Well, if you’ve heard of me, you know I own the two biggest mines on this mountain, which means I am a reputable man. I assure you I’ve not come here to do you harm. I’d like to talk to you about buying your claim. Please let us in. The rain is coming down harder.”
Allyson watched his eyes. She had been insulted and used by men enough to know when they thought they were pulling the wool over some ignorant young woman’s eyes. She didn’t trust this Roy Holliday. So what if he did own a mountain of gold? Besides, the man with him gave her the shivers. “You’re already out of the rain standing right there on the porch,” she told the man. “You’ve said what you want, so you can just leave as soon as it stops.”
Holliday laughed as though it was a big joke. “I haven’t even told you what I would pay for your claim. Don’t you even want to talk about it? My goodness, woman, you’re living under dangerous and miserable conditions up here, and I happen to know there isn’t enough gold on this side to shake a stick at. Won’t you let me come in and tell you about my offer?”
Allyson kept the rifle leveled. “No. I’m not ready to sell.” She glanced at the bigger man, who stepped a little closer. “You keep back, mister, or I’ll blow a hole in all that blubber on your belly! There’s no one who’d blame me, being up here alone like I am.”
The big man scowled and started to speak, but Holliday put
his hand up to keep him quiet. The rain came down in a torrent, and the horses whinnied and shuddered, one of them trying to get its head up under the porch. Roy Holliday came a little closer, leaning on a porch post only a few feet from the window. He scrutinized her closely, then put on another pleasant, but, Allyson guessed, forced smile.
“Miss Mills, you’re just as beautiful as all the men in town told me you were. And how old are you? Eighteen? Nineteen? Why would a lovely, proper lady like you bury herself up here grubbing for a few dollars worth of gold a day? Don’t you realize that in no time the work and the elements will quickly destroy your youth and beauty? And don’t you realize the dangers? Wild animals, woman-hungry men—” Another bolt of lightning ripped overhead, followed by a tremendous roar of thunder that even made the big man with Holliday jump. He moved closer to the front of the cabin as the wind caused the rain to blow in on them. “Let alone the elements,” Holliday spoke up louder, ducking closer. He came so close to the window that Allyson had to back a way a little so he could not grab the barrel of her rifle.
“Come through that window and you’re dead,” she warned. “I don’t care how rich and important you are.”
Holliday put up his hands. “All right. Like I said, I’m not here to hurt you. I have even brought up a few supplies in case you’re running low.”
Allyson had to admit that was good news. She’d been hoping old Stan would show up soon, figuring if he didn’t come within another week, she’d have to make that trip down to Cripple Creek. If not for the lingering terror from the grizzly attack and her fear that the big bear was still out there somewhere, she might have already gone. For two days after the attack she had not even gone out of the cabin. She had simply drowned herself in tears, groveling in misery, fighting that part of her that wanted to give up. She had just gotten back some strength and courage, and now here was a man offering to buy her claim. She could take his money and get out, back to civilization, to hotels and theaters and bath houses and nice dresses, and maybe make enough on the sale to start her own business again.
Unforgettable Page 29