The Drum_The Twelfth Day

by E. E. Burke

  “Where is Mr. Powell?”

  “On his way north, or west, I’m not sure. He didn’t make an appearance at the wedding, and Mr. Burnside didn’t say precisely where he went.”

  Her matter-of-fact tone, one she might use to comment on a spate of bad weather, threw Charlie into confusion. He couldn’t have heard right.

  “Are you saying Silas deserted you?”

  She appeared to consider the question before answering. “The correct term is jilted. If we had said our vows and afterwards he left, that would be desertion.”

  Silas had stood her up. That didn’t sound like something he’d do. Then again, Woody wouldn’t have lied about him leaving, and Penny had no reason to make up this story.

  Charlie shook his head. He’d missed the signs, like before, when he’d failed to recognize the fatal flaws in his partner’s character, or for that matter, his wife’s true nature. Only this time, the one who was suffering was an innocent woman.

  His befuddlement dissolved in the heat of anger.

  “That sorry son-of-a…” He clamped his jaw shut to stop the obscenity before it slipped out. And to think he wrote a letter of reference for the low-down skunk, and had gone so far as to say that Silas had integrity.

  “You did right to come and tell me.” Charlie’s anger whipped into fury as he moved past her and hung up her cloak. “Wait here. I’ll go after him.”

  Penny snagged his arm before he could retrieve his heavy coat. “No! I didn’t come up here to ask you to find Silas and bring him back. I refuse to marry a man who doesn’t want me.”

  How could any man not want her? She was lovely. Her eyes were a rare silvery gray, and she smelled faintly of apple blossoms, something he hadn’t noticed before. Her skin appeared soft and smooth. Lifting his hand, he stroked her cheek with the side of his thumb.

  “Fool.”

  She blinked as if startled, then moved away from him with a look of alarm. Did she think he was the fool? She could be right. He wanted badly to keep touching her.

  “You, um, have a speck on your cheek.” Now he could add fibbing to the list of his sins. He ran his hand over the back of his neck in frustration.

  Before the brides came to town, he had no need to worry about remembering proper manners. Curse Chase Hammond and his hair-brained scheme. This was his fault, too.

  The flush beneath her cheeks heightened her skin’s alabaster hue. Beneath the charcoal gray traveling suit, her waist was cinched in so small he could circle it with his hands. She was every inch a lady—from the top of her carefully coiffed curls to the bottom of her custom-made boots. Few well-bred women ventured this far west, and even fewer came to mining towns.

  “I think we can agree that Silas is an idiot. Have you come up here to berate me for the part I played in this fiasco?”

  “Do you mean by writing his letter? I did intend to give you a piece of my mind for meddling.” Her finely arched brows puckered in a frown as she tugged the tip of each finger and removed her black kid gloves.

  Perhaps she planned to slap him with the gloves? Wasn’t as if he didn’t deserve it. He hadn’t thought of his favor to Silas as meddling, but he could see her point. “Mr. Powell is illiterate; he can’t write or read. That’s the only reason I agreed to help him.”

  Her lips parted in surprise, as if she’d just realized something. “So you read my reply?”

  “Only because Silas couldn’t.” Charlie offered the half-truth. So what if he had anticipated reading her letter. He still recalled what she’d written: the heartbreak of losing two husbands, her desire for a fresh start, and the unexpected joy and optimism that his words had inspired. Her response had renewed his determination to save Noelle and make it better in order to give Penelope Jackson the kind of the place she deserved.

  Guilt lassoed his conscience, jerking him back to harsh reality. Regardless of his intentions, he’d misled her and had enabled an ill-fated betrothal. Now it was his responsibility to fix things…somehow.

  “Did Mr. Powell happen to mention to Woody why he left?”

  For the first time since she’d arrived, she wouldn’t look him in the eye. Instead, she dropped her gaze and her color deepened. “In so many words, I’m bad luck.”

  Bad luck Penny. Oh, he’d heard the gossip, blaming her whenever some mishap occurred and she happened to be around. But he would call down anyone he caught spreading the nasty rumors She wasn’t responsible for random accidents. “That’s balderdash.”

  “You don’t believe it?”

  “Do you?

  Her dismayed expression made it clear she did believe it. Those superstitious idiots had wounded her tender heart. Reassuring her was the least he could do.

  “There’s not a thing wrong with you.”

  Her gaze turned reproachful. It was obvious she thought he was lying. He didn’t appreciate having his word questioned. However, their conversation had drifted into an emotional realm where he was out of his depth, and he wasn’t venturing any further. He preferred action to words anyway.

  Charlie went to the table and pulled out the chair with the least wear and tear. “Here, have a seat.” He wished he could offer her a comfortable cushion, but he didn’t spend his gold on fripperies. “Tell me what brings you up here, if not to send me after the rascal, or horsewhip me for recommending him.”

  “Neither, I assure you.” She didn’t move from her position by the door. He assumed her hesitancy was due to his earlier impropriety. He’d mind his manners from now on.

  “Are you hungry?” He fished in his pocket for his penknife in order to split the sandwich. Breaking bread seemed the quickest way to assure her she’d be cared for, in spite of the actions of an undeserving cur. “I’d offer you more, but I haven’t been to town lately to buy groceries.”

  “Yes, I noticed you haven’t been around.”

  Had she now? He liked hearing she’d taken notice of his absence because it meant she’d been looking for him. Not that it mattered one way or the other.

  “Yeah, I do like to keep an eye on things. Lately though, I’ve been too busy up at the mine to come down and check on how the weddings are going.” If he had been paying attention, he might’ve caught Silas on the way out of town and persuaded the low-down belly-crawler to behave like a gentleman.

  Penny moved a few more steps into the room, like a cautious doe might approach a watering hole. She put her hand on the back of the chair he’d pulled out for her, and he waited for her to sit. When she didn’t, he remained standing. “I hate to trouble you, except… I’m not sure I can count on anyone else.”

  Her confidence in him triggered something close to pleasure, only warmer. “Ma’am, I’m honored you’d seek me out, and I’d be pleased to offer my assistance.”

  “Excellent. I wish to leave as soon as possible and require an escort to take me to the Denver & Pacific Railroad depot.”

  “Leave! Why the heck do you want to do that?”

  She retreated a few steps. He had to remember not to raise his voice and frighten her. But he couldn’t allow her to just give up and skip town. Circling the table, he kept his tone low and friendly as he approached her. “Of course you’re upset, who wouldn’t be? But you can’t just pack your saddlebags and ride off. What about your agreement?”

  She jerked her chin up and her eyes flashed, reminding him of lightning inside a storm cloud. “I believe it was Mr. Powell who broke the contract. Therefore, I am freed from our agreement.”

  Charlie threaded his fingers through his hair, purely frustrated. Her timing couldn’t be worse. “Free from the contract you made with Powell, yes, but Reverend Hammond wrangled the railroad into a meeting day after tomorrow. He’s promised to bring twelve married couples as evidence the town is growing, not shrinking.”

  “I did not sign a contract with Reverend Hammond, nor did I sign anything with the railroad.”

  Her forceful declaration stopped that argument. Besides, he had no right to question her. True enough,
she’d broken no promises. He, on the other hand, hadn’t kept his commitment to find more gold and secure the town’s future. Who should be held more accountable?

  He conceded with a nod. “Sorry, ma’am, for questioning your honor. You aren’t responsible for saving this town. I am.”

  Her chin lowered and the resolute glint in her eyes gave way to a softer, quizzical expression. “That wasn’t my point, and I don’t think anyone believes that you are solely responsible for the fate of the town.”

  “Pardon me for disagreeing, but I founded this town. My gold built it, and I aim to ensure that my gold will save it.”

  She looked around in frank disbelief. Given his bold statement, she might be thinking he should have more to show for himself than a one-room cabin with a few sticks of furniture. “Are you saying the mine isn’t drying up?”

  He folded his arms across his chest and repeated the answer he’d given to his crew, to the townsfolk…to anyone who doubted. “We’ll strike a new vein soon.”

  Her gaze returned, questioning. “In two days?”

  A muscle in his jaw jumped, and he clenched his teeth to stop the irritating tic. He couldn’t guarantee he’d succeed in two days. Two months? Perhaps.

  He still thought Chase Hammond’s idea to order a passel of mail-order brides qualified as crazy. But the local land agent, who had personal ties to the railroad board, had vouched for it, and the weddings would buy the extra time needed to find more gold. Which meant he couldn’t allow this bride to escape.

  “Mrs. Jackson, please, stay and help me—I mean us—fight for Noelle. I’ll bet there are dozens of men eager to wed you.”

  Her eyes grew bright with tears.

  Oh no, not that! He wouldn’t know what to do if she started weeping.

  She blinked until the moisture vanished, and then a brittle smile appeared, which somehow hit him harder than her tears. “You haven’t been in town much lately, so you may not have noticed, but the men cross to the other side of the street when they see me coming.”

  Just hearing about that kind of cruelty toward her put him in a temper. “They’d better not when I’m around. I’ll break their legs.”

  “Thank you, I think. Though that wouldn’t change anything, other than keeping the doctor busier than he already is. Even Mrs. Walters is having trouble finding a suitable candidate for me, although at this point she believes any man might do. She wants to match me up with some big hairy trapper who wears bearskins and only comes to town every few weeks.”

  Charlie could think of only one white man who fit that description. “Do you mean Kinnison?”

  “His name sounded Indian.”

  “The Utes call him Kyi-yee.”

  Penny shrugged. “Frankly, I don’t care what they call him, I’m not interested.”

  Who could blame her? Zeke smelled like a bear, as well as looked like one. Sadly, he hadn’t always been a recluse, but he would be the last person on earth to get roped into marriage.

  Charlie rubbed his hand over the bristle on his face. He hadn’t broken the record for fewest baths in a year, but it couldn’t hurt to shave more often. But he wasn’t volunteering to take Zeke’s place. “Go back to town with me. I’ll buy you something to eat at Nacho’s, and we can discuss other options.”

  “I told you I’m not hungry, and I am not getting married.” She whirled away and grabbed her cloak. “If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone else.”

  Doubtful, considering the whole town knew what was at stake. Still, it was possible she’d find a way to accomplish her goal, or—God forbid—set out alone across eight miles of the wildest country imaginable. Regardless, he couldn’t let her get away. He had a responsibility to the town, and to Penny. He’d gotten her into this mess by writing that letter, and he refused to allow her to slink off in shame and wrap herself in wounded spinsterhood for the rest of her life.

  “Don’t leave. Let me get a few things together and I’ll bring around the wagon.” He picked up his wrapped sandwich, located a few pieces of jerky, and stuffed everything into a flour sack. That ought to last until they circled back before nightfall.

  He had roughly five hours to persuade her to stay. With the way things were going, that might pose a bigger challenge than convincing her to eat.

  Who would marry her? He could think of several miners who’d jump at the chance to wed a beautiful lady, but he wouldn’t recommend even one of them. He might be the only available man in town who had the social standing suited to Penny’s genteel upbringing.

  His heart started racing even though he was standing still. What the heck was he thinking? He wasn’t ready to marry again. He had enough responsibilities without adding a wife—no matter how lovely, or tempting she might be. Besides, she might leave him in the end anyway if he didn’t meet her expectations, whatever those might be. No, he didn’t have to marry her. Not if he could come up with a better option.

  “Well?” Penny adjusted her hood. “Are you going to stand there all day, or will you take me over the mountain to the train station?”

  Chapter 3

  The sun had risen over the treetops and its blinding rays reflected off the pristine snow in a patchwork over the mountainside. More snow covered distant ranges, and the breathtaking vista reminded Penny of a Christmas card.

  Noelle hadn’t been so idyllic twelve days ago when she and the other brides had arrived in the midst of a snowstorm. At least today it wasn’t snowing. Yet. Blizzards were undoubtedly a frequent occurrence up here in the high altitudes, which was another good reason to retreat to a lower locale.

  Penny shifted on the buckboard seat to adjust her cape. Riding in a wagon equipped with runners would make for easier travel along the winding roads that led to the closest town, where the railroad line currently ended. She resisted a tug of guilt on her heart. Someone else could save Noelle. She had tried to live up to her commitment, but Fate had other ideas.

  While Mr. Hardt checked the traces, she tucked one of the thick blankets around her and burrowed her gloved hands into her lap. Somehow the cold managed to slip through the layers no matter how many she put on, and she appreciated the extra blankets her escort had provided. He didn’t seem to mind the cold so much. His buckskin coat with its fur lining apparently kept him warm. Also, he’d been living up here for at least the past three years and would be more accustomed to the weather

  The mayor was something of a mystery. The townspeople she’d asked didn’t know, or wouldn’t comment, about his past prior to founding Noelle, other than to say he’d come up from Texas a little more than three years ago and had shown up with a little more than a donkey and some mining gear.

  Now, he owned the mine, as well as most of the buildings in town. Yet he lived in a sparsely furnished cabin that appeared only marginally nicer than his workers’ homes. Everyone in town agreed he obsessed over gold. But whatever wealth he’d gained, he didn’t put on display like the factory owners back east. He went about town dressed in the same type of denim jeans and durable shirts as the miners wore. But the way he carried himself, shoulders back and head up, bespoke confidence and pride. Regardless of his attire, he would instantly be recognized as someone in charge.

  Earlier he’d claimed responsibility for ensuring the town’s survival. Was it pride that explained such an arrogant point of view? Or was there more to it?

  His lean form and long-limbed stride reminded her of the sleek mountain lions that prowled the wilderness not far from town. He even moved as stealthily as a big cat. Two days past, he’d come up behind her in the store and she hadn’t heard him approaching until he’d spoken a greeting. Startled, she had knocked over a display of canned goods. He’d apologized for frightening her and insisted on picking them up. A moment ago, he scoffed at her remark about having bad luck. Maybe he thought she was simply clumsy rather than cursed.

  He tromped back through the snow and climbed onto the seat.

  Penny glanced away, not wanting him to catch her staring.
Just a short time ago, she’d been prepared to marry Silas Powell, but she hadn’t given her erstwhile groom another thought after arriving at the mayor’s cabin.

  “Ready?” Her escort’s voice came out muffled from behind the woolen scarf he’d wrapped around the lower half of his face. Only his eyes showed beneath the black hat brim, but she was struck by how very blue they were. She’d heard people call his gaze cold, but she disagreed. Those eyes heated her all the way down to her toes.

  She nodded and adjusted her scarf to cover her nose.

  He picked up the reins. Heavy leather gloves now concealed his hands, but she could recall, in exquisite detail, the sensation of those long, lean fingers curved beneath her chin and the soft stroke of his thumb on her cheek. His touch had released a charged current, which enlivened every nerve in her body. She could still feel a residual tingle.

  The icy snow crunched, as the metal runners broke free. Then the sleigh lurched, throwing her backwards. Mr. Hardt snaked his arm around her before she tumbled back into the wagon bed. With a grateful sigh, she leaned against his side.

  He tightened his embrace, making her realize what she’d done.

  She jerked up straight and pulled her cloak tighter around her. My, but she was much warmer now. “Thank you. I really am ready this time.”

  Penny pretended not to hear his muffled chuckle. What he thought about her didn’t matter. If the good weather held out, they would be at the train station before dark, where she would bid him farewell and never see him again.

  As he guided the mules up a path, past the entrance to the mine, her gaze wandered back to his strong profile. When he glanced over, she looked away, mortified to be caught staring at him. For the next several hours, she would focus her attention on her surroundings, not the man sitting next to her.

  Metal carts used to haul rock sat empty on a narrow track that went from the mine down to the stamp mill. The rhythmic pounding regularly heard throughout town came from heavy steam-powered stamps that pulverized the gold-rich quartz. Thus, the mine’s nickname. But now The Drum was silent.