"How the hell did you find me, anyhow? There must be a dozen ships here."
"Aye, and I've checked four already, wastin' time I haven't got… will you be still now, Eamon?"
He nodded.
"Fine. I'll make this quick." She took a deep breath and hurried on. "When you reach Fort Benton, you must find Bridget and warn her."
"About what?" He cocked his bead, staring at her, eyes narrowed.
“Then you haven't heard." She crossed herself swiftly. "Frances was found dead in the river yesterday." Even though she knew it to be true, Mary Kate was having a hard time believing it.
"Ah, no." His voice softened, his shoulders slumped. "How?"
“They say she drowned." Mary Kate snorted, her feelings for that theory plain. "Not bloody likely, I say. Not without help, anyhow." Mary Kate grabbed his hand. “The water's like ice now. What would she be doin' in it?”
"She could've fallen…"
“No.” She shook her head. “First Colleen, then Frances. Two accidents in so little time? I think not, Eamon." HIs silence agreed with her. “Find Bridget. Ask around. Someone will know where she is. She has to know about what's happened. To be on her guard. Just in case." She looked around uneasily, as if just speaking of the danger would bring it down on her own head.
"What about you, Mary Kate?" Eamon took another step closer, his concern evident. "What are you goin' to do?"
"Dermot.” – she jerked her head in his direction – “is takin' me to the train soon. I'm leavin' for Chicago this mornin'."
“Chicago?” Eamon sighed his frustration. "If you don't think Bridget is safe in Montana, what makes you think all will be well in Chicago, woman?”
“Because I've six brothers livin' there." She straightened up. “Whoever's doin' this thing will have to go through the McDonough boys to get to me."
"Well, that's good. All right. I'll find Bridget, then."
"Good." She turned and started down the ramp, then stopped. "And Eamon, remember, she's usin' her mother's name. O'Dell."
"I'll remember." He backed up the ramp and raised his hand. “Take care, Mary Kate. And you, Dermot. You keep your wits about you."
The shadowy, indistinct figure at the bottom of the ramp waved, then dropped his arm around Mary Kate's shoulders and hurried her off, away from the levee.
One hundred yards away, on yet another of the ships waiting to pull out for the gold fields, Harry Longdon stretched out on his bunk. He was a lucky man, he told himself. Who would have thought the little man he'd robbed the night before would be carrying enough money to buy a first-class passage to Montana?
Harry smiled. Things always have a way of working around right.
#
Fort Benton
“But you don't understand," Bridget argued, determined to make the little man listen. "I must have a job. I've no place to stay, no money to speak of." Surely not enough to stand up against the prices she'd seen since arriving in the busy mudhole, she thought. It was hard to believe indeed that a barrel of salt bought for one dollar in St Louis sold here for forty-five!
“Look, lady," the short, squat man behind the counter said for the third time, "I know you need work. So do half the men in town. Not a whole lot of gold been found in Fort Benton, you know." He looked up from the sack of coffee he was weighing and said, "I can’t use you."
One of the miners behind her moved closer, rubbing against Bridget's back. She stepped away, threw a furious glare at him, and tried again. "But I've tried everyone in town. You're the last." She'd noticed the dark shadows under the man's eyes, the lines of strain around his mouth. "I can see you need the help. You look like you've not had sleep for a week!"
Jonas Applewhite dropped the sack of coffee back onto the scale. Ignoring the complaints of his waiting customer, he turned to look at Bridget again. “That's true enough. Ain't had much sleep since this whole damn gold business started. Benton used to be a nice, quiet, peaceable place." He waved impatiently at the miner demanding his coffee. "But now, it's only the middle of June, and we already had sixteen ships dockin' here, dumpin' off over a thousand men." He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "And that ain't the half of it. We got more freight sittin' on the levee collectin' mud than we know what to do with. We got men carryin' their gold home wantin' to buy downriver passage, and we got adobe huts and fall-down wood shacks springin' up overnight tryin' to cash in on all these damned fools tryin' to spend their money. Carrol and Steele, they can't keep enough supplies in their store and I hear tell Hamilton, down the street a ways, is bringin’ in a billiard table the end of the month."
Bridget simply stared at him. She had no idea what all of this had to do with the fact that she needed to find work.
Jonas looked at her sadly. “What I'm tryin' to tell you is, I got enough goin' on around here every day as it is. I don't need no woman standin' behind this counter, drawin' in even more folks. It ain't like I need to improve my business any. Why, I'm gonna have to close up shop in an hour or so, just to get down to the docks to pick up my load of merchandise to restock my shelves. These miners buy everything before I get a chance to set it out."
He turned back to his scale.
"I'm right sorry, lady, but like I said, I can't use you." Jonas yelled at a young man standing in the corner to get busy and carry out a waiting order.
Bridget looked around the packed room and swallowed back the lump of frustration in her throat. She'd spent the last few hours wandering from one end of the town to the other, looking for work in every place of business. She'd even tried the blacksmith. Jonas Applewhite was her last chance.
Frantically her mind tried to work as she pushed through the milling crowd in the small store. She should have thought of this possibility before she'd left St. Louis, but it had never occurred to her that she'd be unable to find work. Her gaze swept the busy street. She felt the interested, sometimes hungry stares of the men, but so far, no one had done anything threatening. Of course, she told herself, it was still broad daylight – even the roaches and rats feared bright light. But at night, in the concealing darkness, anything might happen. A curl of fear touched her, and she shuddered.
Her stomach growled noisily, reminding her that she'd eaten nothing since leaving the ship. Without even looking, Bridget knew exactly how much money she had left. Twenty-two dollars. She sighed. With prices as high as they were everywhere, that wouldn't buy her a decent place to stay and meals for more than a day or two. Then what?
A burly miner crashed into her, sending her staggering back against the rough wood wall of Applewhite's store. Apparently oblivious, the man continued on down the walkway, shoving his way through the crowds. Bridget gathered herself together and threw mumbled curses at his back. She'd had about enough. She'd been jostled, pushed, stepped on, stared at, and ignored, and she wasn't going stand for it any longer.
Her green eyes flashed, and an older man standing nearby quickly ducked his head and got out of her way. Gripping the handle of her carpetbag tightly, Bridget marched stiffly down the walk, her heels clicking dangerously on the wooden planks. First, she would get herself something to eat. Then she would somehow find a way to solve her problems.
As she neared the Overland Hotel, her steps slowed.
Squinting past the men loafing around the entrance to the one-story wood structure, Bridget focused her gaze on the tall man standing off to one side. Even though he was partially blocked to her view, Bridget recognized Jacob immediately. There was no mistaking that broad-shouldered, ramrod straight form. Indeed, standing as he was, in the midst of the slumping, half-reclining miners, he stood out like a Protestant at Mass.
Her heart beat faster and her mouth went dry. She hadn't counted on seeing him or Jessica again, and she'd almost become accustomed to the lonely ache that had stayed with her throughout the day. Now there was no way to avoid them.
She would have to say good-bye after all.
He crossed the remaining space between them to greet her. At on
ce Bridget moved her gaze from his to Jessica's. It was much safer for her not to look for too long into those pale blue eyes of his.
"Hello, darlin'," she said softly.
“Bridget!" Jessica left her father's side and flew to Bridget, wrapping her arms around the woman's knees. Tilting her head back, the little girl said, "You was lost. We couldn't find you." '
Bridget pushed a long strand of hair that had escaped one of the girl's lopsided braids out of the blue eyes that stared up at her. Slowly Bridget's finger traced the line of the little girl's cheek. "I'm sorry you couldn't find me, darlin', but have you had a lovely time with your papa?"
"Oh, yes." A shy grin crossed the child's face. “We have some horsies and a wagon and –“
"All right, Jessica" – Jacob smiled – “you can tell Bridget all about it later. After you've eaten." He looked at the unsmiling woman across from him. "Will you join us, Bridget?"
She sighed. There was no hope for it. Even if she left them this minute, she'd still have the heartbreak of good-byes. Might as well enjoy what little time you have left with him… them, she told herself. "Yes, Jacob, I will."
Inside the crowded, noisy dining room Jacob found three seats on the far side of the building. An uneasy silence lay between the two adults as Jessica excitedly recounted her day's adventures. Bridget's newly discovered courage faltered and failed under Jacob's penetrating gaze, and she mentally gave thanks for the little girl's unending stream of conversation.
A plainly overworked waiter brought two cups of coffee to their table and told them hurriedly that their food would be out in a moment.
"But," Bridget said as the man walked quickly away, “we haven't ordered anything yet." Jacob smiled. "There are no choices here, Bridget. You get whatever the kitchen has. Today, by the looks of it.” – he glanced over at the table next to them – “it's some kind of stew. Probably venison."
"Venison?'
“Deer.”
Bridget nodded. It didn't really matter what they brought. She doubted whether she'd be able to swallow any of it anyway. Between Jacob's silences and the stares of the other diners, she found that her appetite had all but disappeared.
She stifled a yawn and forced herself to sit up straighter. But she was so tired. Tired of everything. She'd had such high hopes only that morning, and now, to have them reduced to nothing, was almost more than she could bear. Tiny pricks of dampness started behind her eyes, and Bridget blinked furiously. She absolutely refused to cry, at least until she was well away from anyone who might see. And certainly, far from Jacob Fallon.
After ignoring the long, dire speeches he'd given her, she couldn't very well allow him to see that he'd been right all along, could she? Her fingers plucked nervously at the splintered edge of the table. True, she still needed work, but, she told herself, she wouldn't be put in the position of asking Jacob for help. Not after she'd already turned his offer down.
The young waiter came back carrying a tray loaded with three steaming bowls of stew and one glass of water. Setting the bowls down, he said, "Sorry there ain't no milk for the little one. Couple weeks ago our cow got shot full of arrows." He grinned. "Looked just like one of my ma's pincushions back home."
Bridget's face paled.
Jacob said quickly, "Water will be fine, thanks.”
The waiter nodded. “The boys around here was some put out, I'll tell you. They sure do miss fresh butter on Uncle Jake's biscuits." Looking down at Bridget, he said, "I'm right sorry Uncle Jake wouldn't give you no job, miss."
She glanced up at him and tried to will him into silence. It didn't work.
"Yessir. Me and the others could surely use the help. And you're a helluva lot better-lookin' than most around here. But Jake, he says he don't want the bother of havin' to look out for no female."
"I remember what your uncle said," Bridget answered softly. "It's all right."
"Oh, Jacob Schmidt ain't my uncle. Everbody calls him uncle." The young waiter wasn't finished. Shifting his big tray under his arm, he asked, “Did ya find anything atall?"
Bridget glared at him. "No. No I didn't. Not yet." She looked quickly at Jacob and caught his interested gaze. "But I will."
"Don't see how." The waiter tilted his head back slightly. "As I recall, you'd already tried most everywhere but Applewhite's when you come here. Where else you gonna look?"
"I haven't thought of that yet.” She pointed to a man a few tables away. "I think that fella over there wants more coffee."
Was the young fool going to stand there all day and tell Jacob exactly what she was trying desperately to hide?
He nodded. "He can wait a bit. Won't hurt him. So what'cha gonna do next?"
Bridget tapped the bowl of her spoon against the table top.
"Yes, Bridget," Jacob added, “what are you going to do?"
She looked from one to the other of them and back again. It was useless. There was no way to avoid the question now.
She saw the gleam in Jacob's eyes. There also seemed to be a very satisfied smirk hovering around his lips. Ah, well, she told herself, might as well spit it out and get it over with.
Laying her spoon down, she said quietly, "I don't know what to do next." Glaring at the inquisitive waiter she said, "As you know, I've already been turned down all over this bloody town." Her temper was rising. "They all look at me as if they'd never seen a woman before!"
“Well, they ain't," the waiter acknowledged, not bothered a whit by her anger. "At least, not lately."
She turned in her seat and swept the staring men with her gaze. "As to that, it's no wonder. By the looks of them, not a one of them knows what a tub full of water feels like.”
Most of the men lowered their eyes.
"And for heaven's sake! Am I so different from any of you? I need to work, as anyone else. What makes me so bloody interestin'?"
The waiter cleared his throat and hid a smile.
“Many things make you interesting, Bridget," Jacob offered, "not the least of which is your even temper and quiet nature."
A few loud snorts of appreciative laughter greeted that remark, and Bridget flushed.
"And as far as needing a job," he added, "my offer still stands, Bridget O'Dell. Stay with us."
She shook her head. "I don't know about that…"
"Please, Bridget." Jessica's soft voice crept into the argument,
"Sounds like a good idea to me." The waiter smiled in satisfaction.
"Oh, does it now." Bridget looked up at the young man who'd started the whole thing. “That makes me feel so much better, knowin' you'd be happy."
"Well, Bridget?" Jacob stared hard at her and ignored her attempts to evade his question. "What will you do? I have a job and a house waiting for me. I could use your help, and I'll pay you well. So, will you stay here or come with us to Treasure Gap?"
There was really no choice at all. They both knew it. But somehow, Bridget was reluctant to agree. It was a hard thing to have to give up the independence of being on her own. But still, she reasoned, it wouldn't be much different than working for anyone else. It was only a job. She glanced down at Jessica's shining face and knew that for the lie it was. She already cared far too much. This was just asking for trouble. And though she recognized that, she was helpless to avoid it.
She took a deep breath, and her eyes never leaving Jessica's, she said softly, "All right, Jacob Fallon. Treasure Gap it is, and I only hope neither of us is sorry for it."
She felt Jacob's relief.
"Fallon?" The waiter asked. "Major Fallon?"
Bridget's and Jacob's gazes moved to the waiter grinning down at them.
"Yes," Jacob answered. The young man stuck out his band, and Jacob shook it.
"It's a pleasure, Major. Why, the folks in Treasure Gap been sendin' someone in here ever couple weeks, waitin' on you."
Bridget's brow wrinkled.
“The River Belle made excellent time," Jacob said.
"Ah, sure." The waiter brushed
that aside. "But you know how folks are. They've been in buyin' provisions for you… your place must be pretty well stocked by now. Can't hardly wait to put you to work."
Jacob smiled.
"Why, ma'am," the man said, grinning at Bridget, “you couldn't do no better than to work for the major here. Why, from what I hear, he was a reg'lar hero in the war…"
Bridget's eyebrows rose, and she cocked her head at Jacob. He avoided her eyes and shifted uncomfortably.
"Yessir, folks at Treasure Gap been doin' nothin' but braggin' about him for weeks now. Wait'll I tell Jake," the man said as he moved toward the kitchen, “the new marshal's finally here."
Bridget's jaw dropped, and she felt the floor beneath her tilt dangerously… Marshal?
Chapter Ten
The wagon dipped, teetered for a moment then slammed into yet another rut on the road to Treasure Gap. Bridget ground her teeth together and kept her lips pressed tightly shut. It would do no good to complain, even though her bruises had bruises and she was sure her behind would never be the same again. Besides, she still didn't trust herself to speak.
She shifted slightly and moved Jessica's limp form into a more comfortable position. Children were truly amazing creatures, she wondered silently. Imagine being able to sleep through having your body bounced all over creation. Bridget flicked a quick, covert glance at Jacob's profile. It didn't seem to be bothering him any, either.
He'd hardly said a word to her since they'd left Fort Benton behind more than three hours ago. Of course, she acknowledged, neither had she, but then, she had plenty to think about, hadn't she? It didn't seem possible that she could manage to evade the law and get all the way to Montana Territory only to bind herself to the first marshal she came across. There's surely an ill wind blowin' somewhere, she told herself.
Holy Saints – a marshal!
How long could she stay with the Fallons before the truth came out? She closed her eyes and shivered slightly, remembering how she'd slipped not so long ago in front of Jacob. She'd almost said her real last name when talking about her father.
For heaven's sake, Jacob Fallon was no fool. She knew he'd heard her. He'd simply pretended not to for some reason. But she couldn't expect to always be that lucky. Sooner or later the man would start askin' questions – questions she couldn't answer – and then where would she be? I'll tell you, she answered herself silently, on the first boat back to St. Louis, wearin' lovely silver rings about your wrists and feet. If there was one thing she'd learned about Jacob, it was that he had a strict idea about right and wrong… and not much mercy for those who fell between. A few stolen kisses in the dark wouldn't sway him, either.
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