Miner's Daughter

by Duncan, Alice

  In an icy voice, Mari said, “Tiny will be with me. Nobody will dare bother me as long as Tiny’s there to protect me.”

  “Protect you? Ha! He’d be more likely to invite a crook into your house for tea and crumpets.”

  Her laugh sounded both spontaneous and reluctant. “Stop being silly. I’m fine. Especially with Tiny along. He scares strangers, even if he isn’t very ferocious, and anybody who’d be likely to want to do me harm would have to be a stranger.”

  “You don’t know that, and neither do I.”

  “Fiddlesticks. I know everyone in town.”

  “That doesn’t make any difference, and you know it. For all we know, Edison’s bribed the whole town to prevent Peerless from making this picture.”

  From the expression on her face, Tony judged she wasn’t buying that one any more than he did. But she only said, “That’s silly.”

  Bother. He hated it when she was right He wasn’t going to give in on this issue, though “I’m going. If you won’t let me drive you, I’ll walk with you.”

  “But then you’ll have to walk back to the hotel alone, and that might be dangerous for you. You don’t know the landscape like I do.”

  “I,” Tony said stiffly, “am a man. I’ll have a lantern with me, and nobody would dare attack me. I’m strong enough to fight back.” Especially with the revolver he carried in his pocket. He didn’t mention it, because he sensed Mari wouldn’t approve. He was a damned good shot, though, even if he did say so himself.

  She huffed. “I can take care of myself, too. I’ve been doing it for years now.”

  “I thought your father died only a few months ago.”

  She hesitated before she said, “Well, yes, but—” She broke off abruptly, and Tony feared he’d prodded an unhealed wound.

  “Say, Mari, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up your father. I know you and he were close.” No matter how much Tony thought Mr. Pottersby had been a stinky father to her.

  Another moment’s pause ensued then she said, “No, it’s not that. It’s only—” Again, her words broke off, making Tony picture a guy with an ax lopping off the ends of her sentences.

  “It’s only what?” he asked gently, hoping she’d divulge one or two of, her deepest secrets, although he couldn’t imagine why she would. Not to him. Hell, for all he knew, she still despised him, both for being rich and for being . . . well, a little harsh with her at first.

  He heard her expel a huge gust of breath. “It’s only that my father and I were . . . well, we were close, but he didn’t really help much with anything.”

  Exactly as Tony’d expected. His antagonism toward Mari’s deceased parent grew another yard or so. He tried to keep anger from sounding in his voice when he next spoke, since he knew the quickest way to shut her up was to disparage her, her father, her dog, that damned mine, Mojave Wells, or anything else connected with her life. He cleared his throat and “Oh?” There. He was proud of himself for being so absolutely noncommittal. Not even Mari, who was good at it, could take exception to that one teensy word.

  “Yes.” She shut up.

  Damn. Tony had been hoping she’d open up and spill the beans about her idiot father. An idea blossomed in his head, and he decided it was stupid. Then he decided, what the hell, and used it anyway. “I, ah, have never been close with my own father.”

  “No?”

  She sounded interested, so Tony decided to take one more baby step.

  “No. He, ah, wasn’t home much.”

  “Too busy earning money, I expect.”

  He heard the smile in her voice and took heart. Maybe he could do this without getting all maudlin and mushy. He decided he could place his long-distance call tomorrow, and the two of them walked outdoors together. “Yeah. He loves money. More than he loved my brother and mother and me, I sometimes thought.”

  “Oh, you knew your mother?”

  What an odd way to put it. Tony lifted the lantern so he could see her face. She appeared nearly avid. “I still do. She lives in New York. You didn’t know your mother?”

  She shook her head. “She died when I was a baby. I don’t even have a memory of her.”

  Although she spoke lightly, Tony thought he could detect traces of ancient pain. His own heart lurched and ached for her. So, she’d had no mother and an obsessed father. Great life for a darling little girl. He was sure she’d been darling. She still was. “I’m sorry, Mari.”

  “It’s all right.” She shrugged.

  Tony got the impression of both great strength and hurt. “Doesn’t sound all right to me. No mother and a father who . . . well, I know he was a good man . . .” He knew no such thing. Tony thought he was a damned idiot, if not worse. “But evidently he didn’t take very good care of you.”

  He cringed as soon as the words left his mouth, knowing from bitter experience that Mari didn’t take kindly to censorious comments about her parent. She surprised him with another huge sigh.

  She followed it up with, “No, he didn’t. It’s not that he didn’t love me, but he didn’t think about it. I mean, he just figured I was part of his life and would naturally share his ambitions and dreams.”

  “That mine—that is to say, the Marigold Mine—was what his ambitions centered on, I imagine “

  “Yes.”

  “He named it after you?” That had been a nice gesture, at any rate:

  “No. He named me after the mine.”

  Tony stopped dead in his tracks for no more than three seconds. He didn’t want to upset Mari and make her stop spilling her guts. Hmmm.That didn’t sound right. He chucked it and went back to the conversation. “He named you Marigold for the mine, did he?” He was pleased that none of his rage could be detected in his voice. “That’s, ah, an interesting round-about.”

  She laughed, and it sounded genuine. “You don’t know how much my dad loved that mine. And me, of course.”

  “Of course.” It didn’t escape his attention that she’d tacked herself on as an afterthought. His fury against Mari’s father had risen to such a proportion that what he said next surprised the socks off him. “I imagine there are lots of ways people show their love. Your dad’s might have been a little eccentric, but there you go. Just because he was, um, kind of an oddball doesn’t mean you can’t love him, either”

  Good God, where had that come from? It sounded like something out of one of those soppy women’s magazines his mother liked to read.

  Now that he came to think about it, that might say something about his parents’ marriage. Shoot, when he’d started this conversation, it had been to get to know Mari better. He hadn’t intended to open any of his own cans of worms.

  “You’re absolutely right.” She sounded happy that he’d admitted it. “That’s exactly what I think, too. I know a lot of people in Mojave Wells thought my father didn’t treat me very well, but he loved me, and I knew it We had great times together, even if I did feel rather like I was the parent sometimes. If you know what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean.” He could picture it in his mind very well, in fact. He imagined Mr. Pottersby, an inveterate dreamer, being hauled down to earth by his little girl. Poor Mari. He wanted to hug her and promise to take care of her for the rest of her life.

  That was probably the stupidest thing he’d ever wanted. His train of thought was interrupted precipitately when Tiny gave a sudden, ear-splitting yowl and plunged into the darkness like a locomotive thundering into a tunnel. Tony was so startled, he nearly dropped the lantern.

  “Tiny!” Mari yelled, exasperated. “Tiny, you come back here.” Lowering her voice, she muttered, “Drat that dog. Must be a jackrabbit.”

  “You think so?” Tony’s heart had started drumming like the timpani in an orchestra. He wasn’t accustomed to dogs scaring the bejesus out of him. He hoped, too, that whatever Tony was after really was something as benign as a jackrabbit.

  A huge sigh preceded Mari’s next comment. “I’m sure it is. They come out at night, and Tiny
just adores running them down.”

  “Yeah? You mean he can catch them?”

  “Sometimes. Not always.”

  Tony saw her glance up at him in the dim lantern light. Her face, shadowed with night and lantern glow, was appealing and mysterious, not at all like the face of the rugged miner’s daughter. She was a remarkable woman, he thought in that moment. Beautiful, honorable, tough as rocks, and as hardy a specimen of womanhood as he’d ever encountered. She’d have made an admirable pioneer, his Mari.

  His Mari? Good God. This whole thing was in danger of getting out of hand.

  He spoke hurriedly in order to dispel the ungentlemanly surge of lust threatening him. “Um, can you do anything with the rabbits after he catches them?”

  “Do anything with them?” She sounded puzzled. “Well, I generally bury them, but Tiny just as often digs them up again. It’s a losing battle.” She chuckled.

  “You can’t eat them?”

  “Jackrabbits? No. They’re tough and stringy. The cottontails are pretty good eating. In fact, I eat cottontails and chickens a lot more than beef. I raise the chickens and shoot the rabbits, and they make life cheaper. So to speak.”

  “I see.” Tony never thought twice about ordering thick porterhouse steaks in whatever restaurant he found himself. He could scarcely comprehend having to shoot his dinner. Curious, he asked, “Do you shoot anything else?”

  “Oh, sure. Birds, for instance. There are quail around here, and they’re pretty tasty, although they have all these little bones that I find tiresome. I’d rather eat a chicken.”

  “Ah. Yes, quail do have lots of bones, don’t they?”

  Tony knew they did, because, when he wasn’t ordering porterhouse, he often chose quail. But he didn’t have to shoot it first.

  “Then, too, you have to be careful not to break a tooth on the buckshot.”

  Break a tooth on the buckshot? Sweet Lord in heaven. He said, “I see.”

  “So I generally go for chicken and rabbits.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Mari whistled for her dog who, true to form, ignored her summons. Tony heard her sigh. “Will he come back on his own?” he asked after a moment.

  “Oh, sure, eventually. Probably with a jackrabbit dangling in his teeth. He brings me gifts, you see.”

  “I see.” Tony chuckled.

  “Oh, good, here we are.”

  “We are?” Where were they? Tony glanced around in the blackness and was disappointed to see a light not far off. “Oh. Is that your cabin?”

  “Yup. Home, sweet home, and all that.”

  “You’ve made it quite cozy,” he murmured.

  She laughed outright. “Come on, Tony, you don’t really mean that, do you?”

  “Well . . .” He thought about it and said, “Yes. I do mean it. I think you’re a remarkable young woman, Mari.”

  “You do?”

  Tony knew he shouldn’t resent the amazement in her voice, but he did. “Yes, I do.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad one?”

  “Being remarkable? I’d say it was a good thing. A darned good one, in fact.”

  “Well. Thank you.”

  Tony got the impression she didn’t believe him but didn’t want to say so. Impulse made him say, “I’d better stick around until your dog comes home. Don’t want anything to happen to you, all alone out here.”

  “Don’t be silly.” There was no exasperation in her tone, which Tony found minimally encouraging.

  “No, really. I think I should.”

  “Well . . .” She hesitated for a few seconds. “Okay. I’ll bring out a couple of chairs. It’s kind of nice to sit outside and look at the stars once the sun’s gone down and the mosquitoes go away”

  “You have mosquitoes out here? But it’s so dry.”

  “I know, but I guess they live somewhere, because we sure have them.”

  “I’ll be darned.”

  She pushed the door to her cabin open, and Tony went inside to retrieve two chairs. He noticed that the one room was neat as a pin. Even though he couldn’t even imagine living in such a place, he gave Mari credit for doing the best she could with what she had.

  Maybe the money she was going to make with Peerless would go toward making her life easier. As he lugged the chairs outside, he knew he was dreaming. She’d pour all those thousands of dollars down that damned mine of hers, and before long she’d be just as badly off as she was now. The notion riled him.

  When he set the chairs down with their backs against the cabin wall, though, and looked up to see Mari serenely gazing into the night sky his heart plunged crazily. He walked over to stand beside her. “You’re right. It’s pretty here.”

  “Beautiful. I think this is when I love the desert most.”

  “I can understand that.” The urge to touch her, to hold even her hand, was so powerful, Tony stuck his hands into his trouser pockets in order to make them obey his command to remain gentlemanly.

  “Your eyes get used to the dark after a while, too,” she said softly. “If you stay outside long enough and are still, eventually you’ll begin to see jackrabbits hopping around, and sometimes even the wild donkeys will wander by.”

  “Yeah? The closest I’ve ever come to nature before this was the menagerie in the Bronx back home.”

  “The Bronx? My goodness, I’ve heard of the Bronx. I’d kind of like to travel someday.”

  Her voice sounded so wistful and her profile looked so soulful that, combined, they succeeded in undoing all of Tony’s commands and lured his hands out of his pockets. Carefully, so as not to alarm her, he reached out and took her hand. She whipped her head around, and he read fear and suspicion in her eyes.

  “Don’t worry,” he told her. “My intentions are pure. I just didn’t want you to stumble heading to the chairs.” If she bought that one, she was a fool. Tony, who already knew she wasn’t a fool except when it came to that mine, expected her to slap him.

  She didn’t. She only sighed, turned, and walked with him back to the cabin. She didn’t yank her hand out of his, which, again, he found mildly encouraging. Therefore, he didn’t release her hand when they both sat, but kept it in his for several moments. Then he lifted it to his lips and very gently kissed her palm. It wasn’t a soft, delicate palm; it was callused from years and years of hard physical work. Tony’s heart hitched and pitched, and he stifled the urge to make all sorts of wild declarations and promises to this independent girl.

  “Tony . . .” Her breathy voice came to him as if in a fog.

  “You’re a lovely young woman, Mari,” he murmured into her palm. “Beautiful.”

  “Oh, but—”

  To stop her from denying his assertion, which he knew to be true, he leaned over and kissed her lips. Worked like a charm. She didn’t say another word. He did hear a tiny mew of surprise, perhaps even pleasure. As gently as gently could be, he put both of his arms around her and drew her nearer to him. He’d had the foresight to set the chairs close together, so there were no perilous gaps to worry about.

  Pressing her hands against his shoulder, she whispered, “Tony, no.”

  “I won’t hurt you, Mari.” He meant it. He’d never hurt her.

  “But, this is—this isn’t right “

  “It feels right to me.” His sex had stirred and was standing at attention, but Tony felt no urgency to ravish Mari. Perhaps the desert’s magic had got to him. He thought it was more probable that Mari herself had. As much as he yearned to bury himself in her luscious body, he’d sooner shoot himself than add to her burdens.

  She moaned softly, and he got the impression it felt right to her, too.

  “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he whispered as he feathered kisses down her chin to her throat.

  “You-you have?”

  “Yes, I have. Are you surprised?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know why you should be. I was afraid I was being too obvious.”

  She gave a
soft, shaky laugh. “I thought you hated me.”

  “Good God, no.” Although he feared he might spook her, he began to caress her with his hands. Carefully, he stroked her back to the waist and a smidgen lower, where her hips flared gently. Lord, he wanted to see her. She had legs that went on forever; he already knew that much, because he’d seen her in britches the first time they’d met. She was lithe and slender, and as womanly as a woman could be.

  “I don’t hate you, either,” she said quietly.

  It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but it was a start. And Tony didn’t know if he wanted any declarations of love. He didn’t think he was ready for them. He was certainly ready to know Mari, though, both in the intellectual and the carnal sense. Since he knew that he probably couldn’t get the latter without some kind of commitment, he wasn’t pushy. This was a preliminary investigation, sort of a trial run.

  “I’m glad,” he murmured against the skin of her throat. She had an elegant neck.

  He kissed her lips again, caressing them with his own, gently teasing her mouth open. Taking care not to frighten her, he allowed his tongue to play against her full lower lip. She gasped but didn’t draw away from him. His hands finally wandered to right beneath her breasts, and he let them rest there, where he could barely feel the softness of her curves heavy against them. He wanted to cover them and feel her nipples pebble, to taste her, to let his tongue work magic on her.

  But that would have to wait. He didn’t want to frighten her more than he wanted most things in life. The knowledge came as a surprise to him; almost as much a surprise as his urge to protect her and make her life easier.

  She murmured his name so softly he almost didn’t hear it, and in a tone that thrilled him. “You’re a beautiful Mari,” he responded, then deepened the kiss so that his tongue barely penetrated her open mouth. She tasted like heaven.

  He wanted her to explore his body with her hands, too, but she was shy. He didn’t push her, although the ache in his groin was so strong, he had to restrain himself from grabbing her hand and pressing it to the bulge in his trousers. Lord, he wanted her. He couldn’t recall wanting another woman as he wanted Mari, although he’d had women before.