A Fortune for the Outlaw's Daughter

by Lauri Robinson

  When Jack borrowed a lantern to light the trail home for him and Homer, Cole took Maddie’s elbow and helped her to her feet. “Time for you to call it a day, too.”

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “I’m going to stay out here for a while yet,” he answered. “I want to make sure they shut down and swap out the blankets on the main sluice before the nuggets build up so high on those ripple boards that gold starts flowing into the river.”

  Disappointment flashed over her face, and though regret flowed in his veins, he was surprised by her reaction. She enjoyed their nights together, he didn’t question that, but gold was her first and true love. There was no doubt in that.

  “You won’t be long, will you?” she asked.

  Telling her he wouldn’t retire until she was well asleep felt practically impossible, but he was back to where he’d been before—working himself until he was too tired to do anything except sleep once he crawled into bed beside her. This time was harder. He wasn’t doing it because he thought it right, he was doing it because they lived amongst a pack of men and the walls of their tent were too thin.

  “Will you?” she repeated.

  Her tone was almost pleading and tugged at everything inside him. “I’ll try to not be too late,” he said. Pulling up a teasing grin, he added, “And I’ll try not to disturb your dreams of that big house you’re going to build.”

  Bowing her head, she nodded. “Night.”

  “Good night,” he said, kissing her cheek.

  He held the door for her to enter, and stood in the exact same spot after closing it behind her. His gaze roamed the camp. The tents, the sluice, the men working. If this, finding more gold than most men dreamed of, couldn’t keep him in one spot, nothing would. Yet that was exactly what Maddie wanted. One spot. A big house. Since finding the gold under the outhouse, her determination to gather every ounce had tripled. So much she rarely slept.

  “Cole! Come take a look at this!”

  He lifted a hand and waved at Abe, signaling he’d heard before he emptied his lungs of pent-up frustration and started walking toward the sluice.

  Chapter Twelve

  Maddie was sick and tired. Sick of the mud covering the floor, and tired of scraping it up. She was tired of gold, too. Smitty would think her crazy. No one could ever get sick of gold. She was, though, but having no idea exactly how much gold Lucky needed, she couldn’t stop.

  “Just one more trip,” Tim bellowed as he walked in the door, “and we’ll quit tramping mud in your tent.”

  She nodded as he walked to the foot of the bed, where Lucky had stacked the gold to be taken to town today. The trips to Bittersweet took place every three days, rain or shine, and for the past two days it had been rain. Again. It seemed the sun only came out every third day or so.

  As if he read her mind, Tim announced, “Clouds are breaking up. I’d say we’ll have sunshine by midday.”

  Maddie merely nodded again, not just because the man wouldn’t hear whatever she might say, but because she didn’t have anything to say. Even if the sun did come out, it most likely would rain again tomorrow.

  As Tim exited, Lucky appeared in the open doorway. “The rain’s letting up. I could fashion a tarp over the back of the boat if you’d like to go with us.”

  The longing to say yes added to Maddie’s gloom. “No,” she answered, turning back to the pans on the table waiting to be cooked down and separated. The days kept ticking by, and the end of each one brought her fear stronger to the surface. That of leaving. She hadn’t felt this way in a long time, but remembered it well. Whenever her stomach had started churning like it was now, doom was approaching.

  It was as if she’d lost control over everything all over again. Like it used to be when she’d lived with Bass. No matter how much she begged or pleaded, he’d always leave.

  Lucky hadn’t said what would happen once they left Alaska. She wanted to ask, but was afraid of his answer—that he’d go to his family and leave her. Leave her the first chance he got. That was what Bass had always done. She knew Lucky was thinking about it because whenever their leaving was brought up, all he’d talk about was the house she wanted to build. Her house, he called it. Not theirs.

  In truth, that was the only part of going south that gnawed at her. Once she left Alaska, she’d no longer be safe. Neither would Lucky.

  “There’re other people who can do that,” Lucky said.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Clean out the gold,” he answered.

  She’d tried so hard to be invaluable to him, yet seemed to have failed in that, too. No matter what she did, from cooking to cleaning out the gold, there was someone else who could do it just as well. Better in most cases. “And rob us blind,” she said.

  The door shut, but he hadn’t left; instead, his hands settled on her shoulders. His touch once so sweet and wonderful was now painful. Mainly because she missed it so much, and knew she’d miss it forever. Him forever. She shrugged off his hands and spun around.

  His sigh echoed in her ears. “Why are you so suspicious of everyone again? No one will rob us. These men are more determined to gather gold than either of us.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “They could pocket nuggets or decide to divide a cleanout between them if we’re both gone at the same time.”

  “They wouldn’t do something like that. Tim and Albert can oversee things.” Taking her hand, he rubbed the back of her fingers with his thumb. “You’ve only gone to town a couple of times since we moved out here. Come with me today.” Tugging her a bit closer, he said, “We could spend the night there, come back tomorrow.”

  Her heart fluttered at the thought of everything he was promising with his twinkling eyes. Maddie glanced toward the pans of gold on the table. Tim could clean it out. He helped her to do it every day. She could even wear her new yellow dress. Would have to, considering both the one she had on and the one waiting to be washed were crusted with mud. In town, she might even be able to sleep. Lately, every time she laid her head down old nightmares settled in. Terrible ones about Mad Dog finding her. They were worse now than ever. In these nightmares Mad Dog killed Lucky.

  Escaping those dreams, if just for the night, would be heavenly. She was about to agree, to tell Lucky she would go to town with him, when he let go of her hand.

  “Fine,” he growled. “Stay here with your precious gold.”

  “I—” she started to explain, but he interrupted.

  “Just remember in two more weeks you won’t have a choice.”

  Anger at how he assumed her answer and how he wouldn’t let her speak flared inside her.

  “Don’t forget that,” he said, stomping toward the door. “Two weeks.”

  “You’re the one who has forgotten,” she snapped as he grasped the handle. When he turned, she folded her arms over her chest, where her heart was burning. “I told you no man will ever tell me what to do, and that includes you.” It wasn’t much, but it was all she had as a comeback.

  “What are you saying?” he asked. “That you aren’t leaving with me in two weeks?”

  That, too, had kept her awake at night. Mad Dog wouldn’t find her here, but once they sailed south, he would. Something deep inside told her that.

  Overcome with frustration, with fury, Maddie spouted, “Maybe.”

  Her heart hit the floor at the way Lucky’s expression went completely blank.

  “We could build a house here,” she said. “In Alaska, and—”

  Without a word, he pulled the door open and left.

  Maddie sank onto the nearest chair and laid her head on the table. Building a house here wasn’t what she wanted, but neither was running from Mad Dog all over again. She didn’t have time to contemplate any of it before a knock sounded on the door.

  Wiping
the tears off her cheeks, she stood and bid entrance.

  Tim had cut holes in a canvas tarp and fashioned it as a raincoat, complete with a hood, and probably hadn’t even heard her tell him to come in. He pulled the tarp over his head. “I’m here to help you. Cole said to.”

  Maddie nodded, and though her eyes were smarting so sharply it was hard to see, she withheld the tears, until that night, when Lucky didn’t come home.

  * * *

  After delivering the gold and accepting his payment, Cole told the two men with him he had other business to attend to and would meet them at their boat in a couple of hours. He then went to the shipyard. Boats were scheduled to sail for Nome every day until it was no longer possible. He’d already checked on that, but today he’d buy tickets. Two of them. Actually, three—he’d promised Jack to arrange his passage when the time came.

  The time had come, all right. He’d taken all he could of Alaska. He chose a date two weeks out and paid for first-class arrangements, having no idea what that might entitle. He went to the bank next, where he made his deposits and recorded everything in the book from his pocket. He’d set up accounts for each man in his employ and deposited their shares at the same time he did his and Maddie’s. Theirs was a joint account. Mr. and Mrs. Cole DuMont. Seeing the names on paper stirred his already sour stomach.

  Maddie was frustrated, he understood that, and in truth, that wasn’t bothering him as much as other things. She hadn’t been herself lately, and he feared something more than gold mining was causing it. She didn’t want to leave Alaska, even though she’d promised she would. In a sense, he was doing the same thing to Maddie his mother had done to him. Instead of forcing her to stay, he was forcing her to leave. One was no better than the other.

  Another understanding had formed inside him, and brought empathy along with it. For Rachel. He now understood she’d been so clinging, so insistent, because she’d wanted a man to love her above all else. That hadn’t been him. He hadn’t loved her, and he sincerely hoped she’d found that in James. It also made him understand his mother more. And, in a cheerless way, Maddie. She didn’t need a man to love her above all else. Had claimed that from the beginning. The thing he’d admired about her was now gutting him.

  Lost in his thoughts, Cole glanced around the alleyway that would take him back to the river when someone said his name. He pushed the dead air out of his lungs as his gaze landed on a man leaning against a building a short distance ahead.

  Vaguely familiar, Cole responded when instinct told him to check his weapon by hovering one hand over his side.

  “Remember me, DuMont?” the man asked.

  The drawl put the slicked-back hair and beady eyes into clear perspective. “Yes, Ridge, I remember you,” Cole answered.

  “You stole something from me last spring, and I want it back.”

  Cole’s insides went completely cold. “I never stole anything from you.”

  Alan Ridge pushed off the wall, and the cane in one hand proved he still had a bum leg. “A black-haired beauty,” he said. “You must remember her. How you stole her from my men down in California.”

  “You’ve shanghaied boatloads of women, Ridge,” Cole said, not about to admit Maddie was still with him.

  “Yes, I have, and became a rich man because of it.”

  “I couldn’t care less about your financial status,” Cole replied. Ridge still wasn’t within pistol distance and knew it. For every step forward Cole took, the other man backed up one, keeping just out of range.

  “But you do care about Maddie.” Ridge took a long draw on a cheroot before he flicked it onto the ground. “The woman you’re pretending to be married to. I can’t say I blame you. If that’s what it took to get between her legs, I’d have done the same.” Lifting his cane, Ridge waved it from side to side. “That little gal has led me on quite a chase, for years, but it’s been time and money well spent.”

  Cole was fuming, and he was imagining strangling Ridge when movement caught in the corner of one eye. He felt a quick flash of relief the moment he recognized Elwood Reins, which dissolved when his glance in the other direction picked up Butch Grimes. Damn, he should have checked them out deeper. He hadn’t expected this—Ridge and his henchmen following them all the way to Alaska.

  He thought of going for his gun, but the men were moving in too fast. Spinning, Cole met one with a fist, the other with a heel, but it wasn’t enough to deter them. Fists came in from all directions, driving into his jaw, his gut and the side of his face. He threw blows back just as fast, but couldn’t keep up with the ones coming at him. A solid punch hit him in the temple, making his head spin, but whatever hit him in the back of the head was much more solid than a punch.

  He saw stars, and then the image of Maddie’s face before the world went black.

  * * *

  A sour, bitter taste coated his tongue, and every part of his head pounded. He couldn’t have said which area hurt worse or why it felt so heavy. Cole couldn’t say what had happened, either, or where he was. He tried harder to pull his eyes open. Eventually, he managed the task, but it left him winded and dizzy.

  A single lit lantern sat on a table next to the bed, and the room smelled like Trig’s cabin. Old socks and sweat-filled clothes. He wasn’t on the Mary Jane, though; nothing was swaying, other than his stomach.

  Memories hit like a gale wind. On the verge of heaving, Cole threw his legs over the edge of the bed. Wincing at the pain shooting across his rib cage and temples, he stood. It took a moment for his equilibrium to kick in, but when it did, he noticed his coat and gun belt on a nearby chair. His boots were there, too, and while putting everything on, he thanked his lucky stars Ridge—or his henchmen—were more foolish than he thought. Leaving everything in easy reach.

  Pausing at the door, knowing that didn’t make much sense, he turned the knob slowly, cracking the wood just an inch to listen. The voices he heard were familiar, and not one of them was Ridge’s.

  Cole eased out the door and down the narrow set of steps now comprehending he was in Truman’s store. Fury overrode the pain of his injuries. Gun drawn, he raced down the last few steps and bounded into the kitchen. “Get your hands where I can see them!”

  “What are you doing out of bed?” Truman asked, holding both hands over his head.

  Ignoring his question, Cole turned to one of the other two men sitting at the table. “Are you in on this, too?”

  Looking thoroughly stunned, Abe blinked. “In on what? Me and Sylvester found two men carrying you toward the river. We took chase, but stopped once we realized it was you they’d been about to dump in the water.”

  He was relieved, but, pressed for time, Cole turned back to Truman. “If anything happens to her, I’m holding you responsible.”

  “Who?” Truman asked.

  Cole was already throwing open the door. “Maddie. Those men you sent to work for me were after her. Are after her.”

  “The hell you say!”

  “We gotta get to the mine!”

  Cole wasn’t sure who said what. Finding each step he took harder than the one before, he had to grab the railing to make his way down the steps.

  Truman rushed past him, yelling for Gunther. When the big man walked out of the barn, the shopkeeper shouted, “There’re bad men after Mrs. DuMont!”

  Cole’s head started spinning and grew foggy. He rubbed his eyes, trying to focus. The next thing he knew, he was hoisted off the ground and flung over Gunther’s shoulder.

  “Take it easy,” Abe shouted. “He has broken ribs.”

  Gunther was running, Cole was bobbing and Truman, jogging behind them, was shouting.

  “I’d never put Maddie in harm. Never. They were just asking about jobs. They knew Trig was your uncle.”

  Cole attempted to lift the gun still clutched in his fingers, but his bo
dy wouldn’t respond to his command.

  They arrived at the river and Gunther set him down inside the rowboat about as gently as he’d hoisted him up. Abe climbed in next, picking up the oars, but Gunther, already in the boat, grabbed them. “Gunther row.”

  “Here,” Truman said, handing another set of oars to Abe. “Sylvester and I will follow in my boat.”

  Both Abe and Gunther had arms the size of logs. Every rotation of the oars sent the boat flying over the water and Cole’s stomach rolling. He took a moment to breathe and squeeze at his temples, where the pounding was excruciating.

  “How long was I out?” he asked Abe.

  “Hours,” the man said. “The doctor gave you something for the pain, said you’d sleep until morning.”

  “No wonder my head feels as if it weighs a hundred pounds.” Cole took a deep breath, which didn’t help much. The sky overhead was black, but clear. It wasn’t raining, either, which meant Ridge wouldn’t have had anything to stand in his way of making good time to the camp.

  Gunther stopped rowing long enough to grab the bucket from the bow of the boat. “Drink,” he said.

  “Drink what?” Cole asked.

  “River water,” Abe said. “Enough until you throw up. It’ll empty your stomach.”

  Knowing he needed all his senses, Cole took the bucket and dipped it in the water. Even with both Abe and Gunther rowing, they wouldn’t be at the camp until midmorning at the earliest.

  The water trick worked. Once he cleared out his stomach, the haze left his mind, which also brought Maddie in crystal clear. Albert and Tim were there, as well as Jack, and every other man at the camp would watch out for her, too, but if she even went as far as the outhouse by herself, Ridge would find her.

  * * *

  More than nightmares had kept Maddie from sleeping. The fact Lucky hadn’t returned yesterday was a real and current concern, not some conjured-up dream of her past. Her eyes stung as if coated with sand, and her heart might as well be a rock for as hard and heavy as it sat in her hollow chest.