Unforgettable

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Unforgettable Page 37

by Rosanne Bittner


  Holliday nodded. “Fine.” He stood up and opened a drawer, handing five ten-dollar bills toward Trevor. “This should get you by for a few days until I decide how and when we’re going to do this. I’ll have Wayne get in touch with you when we’re ready. In the meantime, you just pretend you’re still looking for work. I don’t want anyone to know yet that you even work for me. That way when you leave to go up to the mining site, you can tell your wife you’re going to some other town to look for work. That will be your alibi. After it’s done, I’ll hire you back, but the deal we’ve made about your pay and a percentage of the mine will be just between us. You are not to tell your wife, and certainly not your brothers.”

  “Will you give them jobs, too?”

  Holliday buttoned his silk suit jacket. “If it makes you happy.”

  “How do I explain the extra money when it starts coming in from the mine?”

  Holliday shrugged. “I’ll make an announcement to the other miners that I’ve given you a new job—promoted you. You’ll be in charge of traveling around to all my mines, inspecting the handling of explosives, something like that. The men will think you’ve been bought off to keep you from organizing a union, but who cares? You’re the one who’ll be raking in the money and putting your wife and kids up in a fancy house down in Colorado Springs. As one of my supervisors, you’ll have power over the other men, a different kind of power than you have now, much more control, a man of importance. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  Trevor took the fifty dollars and counted it, grinning. “Yes, sir. I’d like that just fine, Mr. Holliday.” He met the man’s eyes. “From here on I’m your man.”

  Holliday laughed, a deep laugh of evil satisfaction that came from the gut. You’re just where I want you, he thought, putting out his hand. “Welcome back, Trevor.”

  Trevor shook his hand, then glanced at Wayne with an air of haughtiness. “Looks like you and I are on the same side now, Trapp.” He laughed lightly, shoving the money into his pocket. He looked back at Holliday. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you then.” He walked out, and as soon as the door closed, Wayne walked closer to Holliday.

  “Five percent of the mine? You’ve never made me an offer like that!”

  Holliday chuckled. “Relax, Wayne. You’ll be taking him up there, remember? When the job is done and the Indian is dead, you shoot Trevor Gale. Everybody in town knows the man hates Ethan Temple’s guts. It will be no problem at all convincing them that Trevor went up there to kill the Indian, especially when they find out the job was done with explosives. It’s been a few months since that confrontation between you and the Indian and Allyson Mills. People won’t think much about it anymore. We’ll just convince them that since it has been several months since we made our first offer, and since Miss Mills apparently still hasn’t found her bonanza, I sent you back up there with another offer, and the explosion occurred while you were there. You caught Trevor running away from the scene and you shot him. Everyone will put two and two together. Trevor tried to kill Ethan Temple and got caught. Right now no one knows he’s working for me. As far as they know, he still hates my guts for firing him, so they won’t link it with what he did to me at all. We’re rid of the Indian and the woman and Trevor Gale, who is the only one who could link us to what happened. We get the mine, and we’re off the hook at the same time. Trevor will have done our dirty work for us.” He reached out and put a hand on Wayne’s shoulder. “And for your part in this, I’ll give you that five percent share.”

  Wayne blinked, thinking, letting it all sink in. Then he slowly grinned. “You’re one smart man, Mr. Holliday.”

  Holliday grinned. “That’s how men like me get to be rich. You do your job right and stay loyal to me, and you’ll be rich yourself.”

  Wayne grinned even more broadly, then broke into laughter. “Yes, sir, you’re one smart man.”

  26

  Ethan walked quietly over fallen pine needles, his moccasined feet soundless. He always wore buckskins and moccasins when he was hunting. It was easier to walk through forest or underbrush without making noise, and the buckskin clothing helped camouflage him, as long as the wind did not blow in the wrong direction and carry his scent to his prey.

  He had decided to take a day away from mining to hunt for rabbit and maybe a deer. The aspen leaves were beginning to change to their autumn yellow, and it was time to store up some meat for the long winter ahead. He thought how much happier he was doing this than picking away at a bunch of rock inside a cave. He liked the sound of the wind in the pines, of rushing waters, birds singing. He breathed deeply of the smell of pine trees, stronger today because everything was still damp. This morning was the first time in three days he and Allyson had not awakened to torrential rainfall. Pans of every size and sort were scattered over the floor of the sorry cabin, set there to catch leaks in the roof. When he was through hunting, he would have to take another day to cover the roof and sides of the cabin with tar paper, which he still had to go back to Cripple Creek to buy. On top of that there was wood to chop and stack, and he wondered just when he would be able to get back to hacking more gold out of the mountain. There was a lot to do to get ready for winter.

  He still was not sure that what they were getting out of each day’s hard work was worth it. He was finding bigger chunks, but getting to them was a miserable, unending, tedious chore. He hated being inside the small cave he had created, often thinking about how much happier he would be making his living on a ranch that was all his own. Every chunk or flake of gold he retrieved thrilled Ally, but he got no pleasure from it. He would be glad when the promised year was up, but he still feared that when the time came for Ally to leave all this, she would not be able to do it. The last thing he wanted was to be away from her again, but when he was through up here, he was getting off this mountain and going back to the real world. It would be Ally’s decision whether or not to go with him.

  He stopped for a moment to get his bearings. He’d never been up this way, above the cabin. He couldn’t see it now, so he decided maybe he had better not stray too far in case Ally needed him. After all the rain they had had the last couple of days, he cherished the feel of the sun’s warmth on his shoulders as here and there tree shadows gave way to openings where the sun could get through. That warmth did not amount to much, as up here in the mountains winter was already pushing at the door. Nights were much colder again, but the days were beautiful, crisp, clear, cool.

  He sat down on a rock, hoping that if he sat quietly long enough, something worth shooting would stroll into his range. He had time to think for a few minutes, and all he could think about was Ally. He loved her, and there was no getting around it. How could he ever live without her after what they had shared up here on this mountain? He did not doubt her love for him, but he did still wonder if that love was stronger than her desire for wealth and independence.

  Hell, he would gladly take care of her the rest of her life, but maybe what he had to offer wasn’t enough for somebody like Ally. She was constantly afraid that she would lose him, that she would be alone again, left to survive by herself. She had been threatened and abused and abandoned too many times in her young life, and her experiences had left scars that maybe even the love they shared could not heal.

  It was all so natural for them now, being together twenty-four hours a day, sleeping together, sharing their love through their bodies. It all seemed so right, but he knew deep inside that there were still many things wrong. There was still that little part of him that did not fully trust her, and there was still an eagerness in her eyes whenever he held up another gold nugget.

  There was no sign of an animal, and he decided to move on to an area where the trees and underbrush were thicker. Rabbits and deer alike would prefer the cover. He turned to head toward a nearby stand of trees, then spotted an antelope lazily grazing on a rise above his own position. He slowly crouched down behind the rock on which he’d been sitting, then raised the rifle and took careful ai
m. It was then that he spotted something that took his attention away from his prey. It looked like a cave, the freshcut kind that a man would dig, similar to his own efforts below.

  The antelope moved, and he reminded himself he was up here to get meat for the winter. He took aim again and fired. The antelope, a medium-sized female, collapsed, then tumbled down the hill, landing only a few yards from him. He quickly moved from behind the rock to check to be sure the animal was dead, then closed his eyes to say a quick prayer to the animal’s spirit, thanking it for offering its body for food, an Indian tradition he had always kept. He took a piece of rawhide from the sack of supplies he carried over his shoulder and quickly tied the animal’s legs together so he’d be able to pick it up and carry it across his back.

  He rose then, looking back up at the cave-like opening. He decided to leave the animal where it was for a few minutes and go investigate. He kept his rifle in hand and made the steep climb, slipping a couple of times, then noticing it looked as though someone had made this climb before. When he reached the opening, it was obvious that the rocks and mud were remnants of someone’s attempt to pile debris in front of the opening to hide it. The torrential rain of the last two days must have loosened everything, washing away the camouflage and leaving evidence that someone apparently didn’t want anyone else to know about. Why?

  He looked around, gauging his location. As far as he could tell he was still on land that would belong to Ally’s claim. He ducked inside, wishing he had a lantern, glad it was still morning. The early-day sun was offering light at the entrance, just enough for Ethan to see that the dug-out area went about twelve feet back into the earth. The hole was almost big enough for him to stand up straight, probably big enough for a man of average height to work inside freely. He reached up and touched the surrounding walls and ceiling, digging into it a little with a fingernail. This was soft rock, an easy dig. Whoever had started it could probably have dug a cave this size in only a few weeks.

  John Sebastian? His mind began whirling with the possibilities. Roy Holliday had been awfully anxious to get his hands on this supposedly worthless claim. Why? Was there something up here that held the answer? Someone had tried to hide it. Sebastian? Or was it Sebastian’s killer who had attempted to keep it hidden? If it was the killer, then there was something here he didn’t want anyone to know about, like maybe the reason Sebastian was killed in the first place…something the killer wouldn’t want the new owner to find.

  His heart beat with anticipation as he took a wooden match from a little pocket sewn to the sleeve of his buckskin shirt, striking its head against the rock. He quickly moved to the back of the diggings, then slowly held the match out to get a better look. Something glittered. “Jesus,” he muttered. The match burned down to his fingers and he dropped it, then hurriedly lit another. There in front of him was a sparkling vein roughly four inches wide that looked like almost pure gold. He moved closer, pulling his hunting knife from its sheath. The second match burned down and he struck yet another, then quickly picked at the vein with his knife, managing to carve out a good-sized piece. It fell to the ground, and he quickly picked it up as the third match burned down.

  He hurried outside with the rock so he could see it better in the sunlight. It looked so rich that it overwhelmed him for a moment. He moved to a boulder that jutted out from the earth near the cave and sat down, then took the knife and began digging at the rock, realizing quickly that what he held in his hand was an almost-pure nugget. This was not pyrite. This was the real thing, and there was a thick vein of it inside that cave. God only knew how much more there was if a man could just dig even deeper.

  He squeezed the rock in his palm, all kinds of possibilities swirling in his thoughts. Had John Sebastian reported this find? Did Roy Holliday know about it? Was that why Sebastian had been killed? Maybe Holliday figured that since the co-owner of the site was a woman, he could easily convince her to sell the claim once the prospector was out of the way. Still, if Sebastian had reported the find, Ally would have known about it, wouldn’t she? If Roy Holliday knew about this, then Sebastian must have reported it. Maybe the assayer was on Holliday’s payroll. Hell, everybody else in town was. Maybe Holliday had paid the man to keep his mouth shut.

  He opened his hand and studied the nugget again. He could just imagine how Ally would react if she saw this. She would scream with joy. She would be the happiest woman who ever walked…and she would probably forget all about Ethan Temple. A beautiful, young, wealthy woman could have her pick of any man. She could live like a queen in Denver, wear beautiful clothes, be courted by doctors and lawyers and politicians. The vein of gold inside that cave could help fulfill every dream Allyson Mills had ever had.

  That was the hell of it. If he told her about it, he would surely lose her; but if he could keep this from her until she gave up and sold the claim, she would never know the difference. He could take her to Wyoming with him and she would be his wife and the mother of his children. Surely love and family were as important as all the gold on earth. At least that’s the way he looked at it. But did he have any right to keep it from her? Did he have the right to keep her from her dreams, even if it meant risking losing her to a world he could never be a part of?

  He had to think about this. He at least had to wait until he could get back to town and question Lloyd Hunt. What did he know about this? He hated the thought of what this find might do to Ally, how it might change her; but he hated even more the thought that men like Roy Holliday were trying to cheat her out of what was hers. She had worked and struggled too long—she deserved this. He held the nugget up again, and the sight of it actually brought an ache to his heart. Never had he felt so torn between what was the right and wrong thing to do. He could just let her go, let her give up and sell the claim, and take her to Wyoming; but then he would have been a part of the grand design to cheat Ally Mills out of what belonged to her, a part of Roy Holliday’s scheme to get rich off her ignorance, if Holliday even knew about this.

  He got up from the rock and walked back to the small cave, pitching the nugget back inside angrily. Of course he knew about it, the bastard! Why else would he be so anxious to get his hands on this claim? The man had paid off Lloyd Hunt to keep quiet about the find, then had John Sebastian murdered. He had come up here and tried to hide the dig, hoping Ally would never find it and would agree to sell her “worthless” claim.

  That had to be it. Nothing else made sense. The problem was, he could never prove any of it. Even to try would mean telling Ally about this find. In fact, Roy Holliday must be sitting down there in Cripple Creek right now worrying that it might be discovered. That meant Ally was still in danger. If the man had killed once to get his hands on the claim, he might try again. It was a damn good thing he’d come back up here with her after all.

  He left the cave and began repiling the rocks that covered the entrance. Until he decided what to do, he was better off leaving it looking as though it still had not been discovered. It took nearly two hours to get everything covered again and another several minutes to carry a couple of fallen, rotted logs over in front of the rocks to shore them up. It was not easy to get it all looking natural, and to his own trained eye he would still know something was amiss, but someone like Ally wouldn’t notice. It would have to do. If he didn’t get down to Ally pretty soon, she would begin to worry. Besides, he had that antelope to clean. He’d already built a stone smokehouse, and he’d better get started curing the meat before the midday sun ruined it.

  He walked back down to where he had left the carcass, picked it up, flung it over his shoulder, and started down. He wondered what the vein he had just left behind was worth. Millions? God only knew, and maybe God would be the only one who would ever know. It wasn’t worth a damn thing to him personally, not even his fifty percent of it, if it meant losing Ally.

  Allyson stirred potatoes and carrots over a campfire, worried over what might have happened to Ethan. The days were growing shorter, and dusk was a
lready falling. She had heard one gunshot, but that was at least three hours ago. She couldn’t imagine that a man with Ethan’s skills could have had an accident, but now she was beginning to wonder. A terrible loneliness filled her, along with a gripping fear, at the mere thought of Ethan never coming back.

  This is why it isn’t good to love and depend on another human being, she told herself. Death takes them away, and then you have nothing but yourself. It had happened to her mother, her father, Toby…Ethan had even left once. It was different then. It had hurt, but not like it would now. Now they had been together three months. She had slept with him, gladly offered him every inch of her body, had come to know and appreciate the joys of being a woman in Ethan Temple’s arms.

  She loved him. She just wished he fully trusted in that love. She didn’t know how to prove her sincerity, except to sell her claim once their year of digging was over. After three months up here with Ethan, she realized more and more what she really wanted—to make a real home for him, to help him realize his own dream. They had taken a lot of gold out of the claim, enough to know they could get a lot more than the three thousand dollars Roy Holliday was offering, but not enough to make it worth slaving away all winter. She was considering leaving sooner, but she was afraid to tell Ethan, afraid to speak the words, for it meant admitting she was willing to go with him, depend on him, love him, give her life to him. She wanted all those things, but the fear of loving him that way and then losing him the way she had lost others she loved, made it difficult.

  Maybe it was better not to care, but she was beginning to suspect she was carrying Ethan’s baby. She was not sure enough yet to tell him, and she wasn’t even sure how he would react. Would he think she was giving up the claim and going with him just because of the child? It was so important that he believe it was all for him and no other reason.

 

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