Cole saw murder in Gully’s eyes and forgot all about Mel and her half-wit idea about moving to the mines. “What’s going on?”
“Get down here.” Gully jerked his head toward the gravesite, then marched right back down the mountainside.
Cole looked at Mel, who shrugged. Finally, something the woman didn’t think she knew everything about.
Heading down, Mel fell into step beside him. He wanted to argue with her some more, but that was just wearing him out. He’d just bide his time and tie her to her saddle and lead her horse home, as that seemed like the most reasonable way to handle the situation.
Gully was far enough ahead, Cole couldn’t hear what he said, but the graves looked finished. The men digging had set their shovels aside and left.
Crouching beside the first body, Gully looked up at Cole. His eyes then shifted to Mel. “This ain’t a sight for a woman, Miss Blake.”
Mel nodded. “I appreciate your warning, but I’m tougher than I look.”
Cole considered nagging her about this and was sick of his own voice. “What have you found, Gully?”
As if gathering himself, he said, “My apologies, miss.” He flicked the blanket aside from the first man. Cole’s stomach twisted at the ugly cut on the man’s head.
Gully spoke without being asked. “Just by itself this wouldn’t worry me, Cole. A man hit by a flying rock has a good chance of looking like this, no doubt about it.” He covered the man back up, then stood. “I’ll show you four more dead men and every one of them has a wound too much like this one. A blow to the head, that same ugly cut.” Gully went on to describe what Cole had just seen.
“And the chances of them all dying from such a similar wound is—”
“It’s impossible, Cole.”
Cole felt ice sleet through his veins, coating the anger to keep it under control. He looked from Gully to the men lying dead at his feet. “These men were murdered?”
“We know all six were murdered because whoever set off that explosion killed them. Emmett on the end died because he was in the wrong spot at the time of the explosion. But these other five . . . I’m saying these men were specifically killed by someone standing behind them, probably with a shovel.” Gully paused, his voice turning cold, quiet. “Whoever set off the explosion may have done it for the express purpose of covering up murder.”
But why? Cole thought it, but didn’t say it aloud. They were all thinking it already.
“We need to find out if these men were connected in some way,” Mel said. “They had to be. If their deaths weren’t random, then they were in something together.”
“They were connected in some ways. Their cabins are all close, their mines clustered together. I’ve been here a long time, Cole, a lot longer than you.”
Cole thought Gully sounded resentful about that. Did he not like having a new boss?
“These men never seemed close, though. Not especially friendly to each other or anyone else.”
Gully nodded, his eyes looking back into the past. “I can’t say for certain, but I think they all leased their mines about the same time. I know for sure three of them did. Not together; they came in separately. I’d remember five at once, with cabins side by side.” Shaking his head, he added, “Check the records in the mine office. See if they’ve been here about the same length of time.”
“I’ll have Murray get the dates,” Cole said.
Gully shook his head. “You should do it yourself.”
Gully was glaring at him as if angry Cole would send someone else to do work he oughta do himself. Cole knew the men didn’t exactly like Murray, but he’d never given it much thought. “You don’t trust Murray to handle this?”
“I didn’t say that.” Gully crossed his arms and stared down at the row of fallen men. All of them killed by someone. “I just think it’s best to keep it quiet. Whoever did this went to a lot of trouble to cover things up. No sense making the coyote suspicious that we’re on to him. Take these men’s names to the sheriff, have him do some checking, and see if there’s any proof they knew each other before they came here.”
“Because they might’ve come with a plan, something to do with a gold mine.”
Gully cocked his head and sighed. “No shortage of men willing to kill over gold.”
Cole dragged a hand over his mouth. The words he wanted to say were best kept inside, for now anyway. Was this about these six men or was it connected to the other troubles the Bodens had . . . or could it possibly be both?
“Where were they when they died? Who found the bodies, and were they found together?”
“I can’t answer any of that,” Gully said. “But I will before another day passes.”
Without a word, Cole went to each man, uncovered them and studied the wounds that had killed them. One could have taken a terrible blow from a flying rock, but every one of them in the same spot on the head? Finally he was convinced.
Cole looked up the hill and saw Emmett’s brother coming with a group of others. “Gully,” he said, “we need to pay our respects and speak a few words for Hoot’s benefit. He’ll miss his brother.”
They took the time to do it right. Cole, Mel, and Gully shook Hoot’s hand and talked quietly with him. No one came to see the other men.
“I’ll bury my own brother, Gully.”
“Hoot, we’re not giving up until we find the ones who set off the dynamite. It’s murder, plain and simple.” Cole glanced at the dead. Not all that simple.
Gully nodded as he moved to the man next to Hoot’s brother. “Time I got started on the burying.”
“I’ll check some things here and then take everything I’ve got to the sheriff. We need to get our questions answered. Gully, for these five, have someone clean out their cabins and store the stuff together. I’ll go through everything they own to see if there’s anything that should be sent to their heirs.”
Or anything that could be used to track down their killers.
Cole turned to Mel, who wanted to live alone in a cabin where the last resident had been killed. He needed the help and needed that cabin leased to keep from having to answer questions about why it stood empty. But his stomach twisted at the thought of what she might face. He could lock up the dynamite, but he didn’t see the sense in locking up every shovel. He couldn’t believe he was in agreement that she might come and stay here. He’d have never allowed it if it were Sadie or Angie. But Mel was tough. About as tough as any man he knew.
“You need to go talk to your pa, Mel,” he said, “and see if he’ll agree to your wild plan.”
Murder. Deliberate, cold-blooded murder.
She hadn’t counted on that.
She was acting as though she was going to help them get to the bottom of whoever set off the explosions, but the truth was she had no idea how to investigate a crime, and no real interest in chopping away in a mine. She had a strong preference for cattle and fresh air.
But she did want to help. And if she wasn’t any help, at least she was filling up a cabin so that Cole didn’t have to worry about any new renter showing up . . . maybe even one working for their enemies.
“It sounds like it’s settled then. I’ll head home and be back before nightfall with the hands Pa will send.” If Pa agreed to it. Oh, he’d send the hands, including Uncle Walt. But as for her coming back here to stay, she was going to have to ask him just right.
She headed to the stable for her horse, Cole striding up the trail right behind her. At the flat where the mine office stood in near ruins, she paused. There were other buildings, some in usable shape, with others needing a lot of work. Cole’s broken-down new mine was about a hundred feet to the east side of his office, dug into the large wall of rock that jutted out of a long plateau. The mine looked like the last part of this area to be dug into, and she wondered why they’d left an area so close for last.
“This is a big job, Cole.” It struck her just how big. The white cap of Mount Kebbel loomed over them to the west, and the Bod
en mines went most of the way to the top. “It’s an impressive business. You’ve been running all this work here and I’ve never seen it, never even heard you talk about it much. Why is that?” She stopped scanning the area and looked back at him. “Do you want this place to be a secret for some reason? Have you had trouble with outlaws wanting to steal gold?”
Cole gave her a half smile and shook his head. “It’s just my own project is all. Pa giving me charge over the ranch’s mining interests was a huge show of respect. I’ve spent the last two years, since moving back from Boston, showing Pa I can handle it and make the business work, and that my education wasn’t wasted. I wanted this to be mine—the success of it or the failure.”
“How many of the men renting from you have been here more than two years?”
“A handful of the miners have been here a long time and seem to be settled, but mostly they come and go.” His eyes narrowed. “Not those five who died, though . . . they’d all been here a while. I’ll need to ask Murray what he thinks of them.”
“Murray, the man wearing a suit yesterday who acted like a doctor?”
“Murray did act like a doctor, didn’t he?” That quirked a smile out of Cole. “When I came back, he was running the place for Pa. I took over and lifted a big load off his shoulders and gave him a raise while I was at it. He’s a good man, but I had a few ideas to do things different. Since I’ve been back, the mines have become more profitable. We’ve opened new mines and leased them out. We’ve used new mining techniques that speed up the digging. In fact, I’ve nearly doubled our profits since the day I started here.” He clapped his mouth shut.
Mel knew why. The man was just plain bragging. He was proud of what he’d accomplished and looked fit to bust his buttons when he talked about it, yet she’d never heard him talk about it before. She’d never heard anyone talk much about the mines and that struck her as strange.
“You’ve been back two years now. It seemed like you were gone back east forever.”
“Nearly ten years.”
“Ten years and three months. You left late in the spring of 1868 and came home in September of ’78.” His train carrying him home had come in on a Wednesday, midmorning. The Bodens had thrown a party the next Saturday that was still legendary in the area. Talk about killing the fatted calf. She remembered the day he’d left, and she sure as certain remembered the day he’d come back. But the Blakes and Bodens were old friends, so of course they’d remember the return of the prodigal son. Though prodigal might not be fair. Going to college and living with your grandmother and grandfather wasn’t exactly running off to find trouble.
Chance Boden thought it was, though, and made no secret of his worry that he’d never see his son again once he’d gotten used to life on the East Coast with his wealthy grandparents.
But mostly everyone in the area was proud of a local boy going off to Harvard.
Not Mel. She’d always thought it was pure nonsense. A man didn’t need a college education to handle cattle. But Cole wasn’t handling cattle, now, was he? She saw what Cole had created here and knew he’d used some savvy business training to manage things so well, make so much money, and find a way to do it all so that the miners who leased from him were prosperous and staunchly loyal to him.
She suspected Cole was running on anger mixed with grief right now. But with the suspicion Gully had just raised, Cole’s anger had turned to black rage.
She regretted pushing him, regretted trying to get her own way. She thought she could help, but could she really? Or was she just fascinated by this nearly secret part of Cole’s life—the biggest part that kept him locked up in the office at the ranch, or here at the mines, or on the road between the two places.
And no one ever talked about the Boden mines.
6
So she’d noticed when Cole left and when he’d come back.
“You counted the days I was gone, huh?” Cole waited to see if Mel’s eyes lit up. He always considered her light brown eyes to be unusually pretty. They reminded him of the caramel candy Ma used to make from time to time. Her hair was a match, her tanned skin as well—all golden brown.
He found himself looking more closely at his neighbor, the tough daughter of a tough rancher, and he’d been looking at her too much already.
She was just one of the neighbors, a little unusual too because she was a woman obsessed with ranching. A lot like Cole’s little brother, Justin. Cole had grown up expecting she’d end up marrying Justin. They’d be a perfect match, honestly. The marriage would join the two big ranches, with their interest in ranching a strong bond between them.
To be completely honest with himself—which Cole tried to be—before leaving, he’d had a notion or two about Mel. But she’d been Justin’s friend more than his, though the three of them rode around together often enough when they were youngsters. And at the time, he was already determined to go to college back east. His grandparents wrote to him often and promised a lot of things, and that had awakened a desire to see a bit more of the world and also gain an education.
His grandparents, Davidson and Priscilla Bradford, had said things, very subtle he could see now, about Pa grieving over his ma until he wasn’t thinking right. And Pa running off with Cole under cover of night in some fevered notion that his grandparents wished Cole ill.
They’d laced all their worries in kindness because Cole would never have sided against Pa, and they seemed to know it. Mainly they’d told him how much they loved him and wanted to get to know him.
So he’d gone east to college, even though he knew he was breaking Pa and Ma’s hearts.
Later, when he returned home, he was more than a little surprised that he’d never received a letter telling him Mel and Justin had married. Of course, that letter hadn’t come because they hadn’t married. And she was still as good a friend to the family as always.
And now good old Justin had married someone else. If Cole had warm thoughts about Melanie Blake, there was no little brother in his way. But there was one big barrier, and bigger with Mel than with any other woman.
Except here she was, putting herself in his clutches by moving out to the mines.
Not really in his clutches exactly, because if he put a foot wrong, her dangerous uncle Walt would shoot him, her only slightly less dangerous father would shoot him, his own mighty dangerous father would probably come home from Denver and shoot him, and while they were at it, Mel—who could only be described as dangerous—would shoot him herself.
And even knowing that didn’t stop him from playing with the idea of her being in his clutches.
Then a solid, strong hand shoved at his chest and woke him up from whatever nonsense he was in the middle of. He realized he’d leaned toward her.
Mel stepped back, and he had to face those golden brown eyes, expecting anger, maybe a threat or two. Instead he got “I can only imagine how upsetting this has been for you, Cole.”
Good grief, he got pity.
“You need someone to hold on to. I know you’re grieving and ready to explode with anger. But the way you were leaning toward me, well, Cole, I can’t let your upset turn into a kiss that doesn’t mean anything to you. It’s a hurtful thing you’re thinking of doing to me.”
He looked in her eyes and saw she was hurt. First she’d pitied him, and now he’d hurt her feelings. While he’d been braced for her to draw her gun. Maybe he should make this whole episode officially a disaster by trampling her with his horse.
Mel, a happy girl . . . no, a happy woman. She was twenty-five years old, for heaven’s sake. She was a fully grown, tough woman who had a nice, cheerful attitude about life. He’d seen a lot of expressions on her face, but never hurt, not like this.
And maybe she was right. He was upset almost beyond sense. Had he been having improper thoughts of her because of having such a bad day?
That sure sounded insulting. His muddled brain woke up a little, and having never had a romantic notion toward Mel before today—well, not
much of one—he remembered why it was impossible.
Suddenly her hurt and pity was replaced by anger as she turned on her heel and strode toward the stable where they’d put up the horses. And there he stood, left speechless because he had no idea what to say. And with his feet stuck to the ground, because the only place he could think of to go was after her, which he oughta not do unless he wanted to give her another chance to draw her Winchester on him.
He was still standing there when Mel came out with her horse saddled and the anger gone from her face, this time replaced by a blank expression that told him nothing.
She didn’t ride in a big circle to avoid him. Instead she rode right up to him and said, “I’ll go talk to Pa now. If he’s agreeable, I’ll move into the cabins with the other Blake hands before nightfall. Have them ready.”
She squeezed the horse with her thighs, which Cole noticed overly, and headed down the mountain as if nothing had happened between them.
But oh yes, it had. It took a while, but Cole’s mind cleared and settled on the one thing that could absolutely not be denied.
Despite his fumbling and improper behavior, he knew upsetting her and leaving her angry was the right thing to do, because despite his love for his family, his satisfaction with his job, and his father’s blackmailing last will and testament, Cole knew there was a chance he might not be staying at the CR. He had loved his time back east. He’d loved the cut and thrust of business. He’d loved his finely tailored suits and the women’s silk dresses and the regal houses.
But this life appealed to him, too.
His family. The mines. Home. Being here felt as natural as breathing.
Boston with its busy streets, fast-paced business deals, the pleasure he got from being respected as Davidson Bradford’s grandson. He’d fit in there as well as he did here.
His parents thought that when he came home, it was all settled. But Cole had never lost the tug of the city. One of these days he was going to have to make a hard decision. And if he did head back east, Mel Blake would never come along with him.
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