Calico

by Raine Cantrell

  “You knew I would. I heard a distinct but—”

  “Well, now, William, I’ve never been one to bother you with the sometimes difficult problems that I encounter—” “And you will not begin to now, Thadius.”

  The command grated on Thadius. But this time, for the first time, he had the upper hand. “As you wish. The owner refuses to sell, so I’ve decided to pass.”

  William eyed him with amusement. “You are telling me that? I’m not one of your gullible marks, Thadius. If that sample tested out as pure as Walter claims, we stand to make a fortune.”

  “You just made one on the railroad,” Thadius pointed out. “But I’ll admit you’re right.” Sucking noisily on his cigar, he hooked his thumbs into his vest’s pockets and rocked back on his heels. “However, in this case, the owner is proving troublesome.”

  William Berger was of an equal height to Thadius, but without an excess bit of flesh on his bony frame. He patted his thinning brown hair, his dark eyes narrowed as they snagged

  Thadius’s gaze. “You wouldn’t be thinking to claim there are problems to up the ante, would you?”

  Shifting the sodden tip of the cigar to the left side of his mouth, Thadius took exception. “Didn’t I cut you in for a tidy profit on that deal—”

  “Not here. But yes, yes you did.”

  “And who was it that put you wise to buying the land up in Deming before the rail ever laid a piece of track near there, William?”

  “You did, Thadius. I do not deny that you’ve made me money. I expect you to make me more. I want that gold claim. When you are alone and see what I have given you to show my gratitude, Thadius, I believe you will find that I have been more than generous for what you did.”

  “Never doubted that for a moment. Always could count on you. But since you never wish to be bothered with all the little annoying details—and in this case there are plenty—I can’t offer you a cut.”

  Thadius turned away, the conversation at an end. But William, with his eye on the governor’s mansion, knew he needed more money than he had amassed to have his desire come to fruition. Money bought power. He reminded himself that the kind of dirt men like Thadius generated was wont to stick to one’s feet. No matter how necessary they were to the scheme of things. The assay report tantalized him. William broke his own law of never getting involved personally on Thadius’s level.

  “Perhaps I’ve been hasty, Thadius. A good friend and business partner should extend help when it’s needed. Why don’t you tell me about the problems you’re having?”

  Inwardly Thadius smiled. Now he had William hooked. He faced him, knowing his fish so well, and didn’t waste any more time.

  “It was to be clean. An accident, a jumped claim, and the deed done. But this man of mine, damn good I must say, faced a shotgun held by a woman. Can’t do business with a woman. Never works, as you well know. The creatures can’t be decisive, don’t think with logic that makes any sense to a man, and likely can’t see past their next fancy to buy. It set my plans back a bit with her refusing to sell. But I told you my man was good. He offered to marry her.”

  William’s smile never reached his eyes. “It’s a temporary solution that would work.”

  “Temporary is right,” Thadius agreed, lowering his voice so that William had to lean closer. “A week or two, we had figured, just long enough to refile the claims and make out a will.”

  “And once again I hear a but.”

  “Someone else is claiming to own the mine.”

  “A problem, just as you said. But tell me, Thadius, won’t someone suspect another death so close to the first?”

  “Don’t know what you’re babbling about, man.”

  “You know. Don’t ever forget that I’ve known you long enough to understand exactly how you work, Thadius. You do not leave things to chance. If this woman is in the way, she’ll be removed. Permanently. If not by your front man, then by the other one you’ve already had in place as a backup.”

  “Think you’ve got me all figured out, Berger? Don’t.” But Thadius had a moment’s fear. William shouldn’t know such things about him. He’d always been careful to cover all his tracks. “I never said there was anyone else down there to negotiate for me. Watch your mouth—you’ll have us both swinging from a rope.” After removing his pocket watch, Thadius flipped open the case, glanced at the time, and then snapped it closed. “I’ve got another appointment that I’m already late for.”

  William was not a physical man, but he gripped Thadius’s arm. “You always get what you go after, friend. I want this to remain a private deal between you and me. And, Thadius, I never want the thought to cross my mind that you’d close me out of a deal this good.”

  “I hope I heard you wrong.” Thadius stared at William. “Don’t threaten me. You talk and it’s my neck. But I’ve protected myself, William. No rope stretches without me having company.”

  “I’m well aware of that. Just as I’m aware that miners meet with all kinds of accidents. But those were men, not a woman.”

  Rocking back on his heels again, Thadius eyed his companion with mockery. “Are you developing a conscience? Didn’t know you could afford one as yet, William. This woman isn’t one in the sense that you’re thinking. And you never wanted to know the details before. Let’s keep it that way.”

  William stepped back and away, heeding the underlying threat that had been returned. Thadius had spread a net in the territory that no one was privy to. Yet there was a nagging in his mind that forced him to ask another question.

  “Why are you taking this delay so well, Thadius?”

  “Didn’t believe I was.”

  A shrewd measuring look met his statement. “There’s more to this than what you’re telling me, isn’t there?”

  “Common sense. Use yours, William. Why would I? Any delay costs me money and time. It costs my investors the same.”

  “Just how rich is this one claim?”

  Thadius removed his cigar, contemplated its stubby length, and smiled. “There’s enough for us to share.” His smile remained fixed in place as he thought of seven staked claims that had tested out to be rich veins of either silver or gold. But no one else had to know. This was his big chance to hit the mother lode without having to share it. He knew William’s greed and his desire to see himself in the governor’s chair. Thadius had made it his practice to sniff out those men whose greed for land, riches, or power could be used to his advantage.

  Slapping William on his back, Thadius laughed softly. “Never fear. I’ve always come through for you. You get your cash together. You’ll be needing it.”

  William Berger watched Thadius weave his way through the crowd and leave. His thoughts raced even as he began his own leave-taking. There was more to this gold claim than Thadius had told him. He was sure of it. Now he had to find a way to act on his knowledge. Thadius had made him money, had helped him gain a measure of power.

  But Thadius was all for himself, and William never forgot that simple truth. And Thadius was dangerous. William never forgot that, either.

  It wouldn’t hurt to have someone of his own to see to his interests in Cooney Camp. He mentally ran through the list of names of those who owed him favors or debts. When he reached back far enough, William found a name he could use.

  A name he recalled recently mentioned for having a stake in Cooney Camp.

  Chapter 4

  Maggie would never forget the last few hours. She was close to dragging herself the last feet to her cabin. The walk back from the canyon left her chilled to the bone, aching with scrapes and trembling. What remained of her wedding gown after she had slashed off the cumbersome material tangling around her boots would serve for rags.

  If she wasn’t so furious, she would give way to the tears burning in her eyes.

  But Maggie was angry. Whoever had been shooting at her had kept her pinned on the canyon rim long after dark. Someone either wanted to frigh
ten or kill her. She knew it had something to do with the claims her uncle had left her.

  Satin rose from the shadows near the corner of the cabin, whining as she nuzzled Maggie’s hand. Maggie thought of McCready pinned down by her dog, but the attempted grin failed. McCready had been as helpless as she. Helpless. She shuddered to understand what that meant.

  Maggie held on to her anger, refusing to allow room for any other feelings. Someone had tried to kill her.

  After opening the door and slipping inside, she set her rifle in the corner, then barred the door. As she lit the lamp on the table, she wished she had let everyone know that McCready had won those claims from Pete. Someone might have used him for target practice and gotten lucky.

  And the attempt on her life would never have happened.

  Maggie slid the glass chimney back on the lamp just as the deepest level of her mind rejected the thought that McCready tried to have her killed. It just wasn’t the man’s way. She couldn’t even question why she believed this.

  At the moment she couldn’t do more than pull out the roughly made wooden bench and sit.

  She stared at her trembling hands. Fear finally shoved aside anger to take hold, sticking in her throat like cotton. Her laugh was bitter. Now, she thought, now that I’m safe, I get scared.

  Shivering gripped her body, and she wrapped her arms around her waist. Satin rested her head on Maggie’s lap, soulful eyes looking up. Maggie sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. The need to cry with Satin her only witness to her weakness nearly overwhelmed her.

  Stroking Satin’s head, she closed her eyes. The past, along with the days ahead, stretched out in the wretched weariness of her mind. Quincy’s disappearance was forgotten, her uncle’s murder set aside, and the loneliness that Maggie thought she could live with swamped overburdened senses.

  Maggie knew she was strong. Physically and in spirit. Everyone who knew her told her so. Everyone believed it. There were times she believed it herself.

  From the first, when she had trekked the mountains far to the north, her small footprints barely covering half of those made by her father, she had heard those words over and over.

  “Keep up, Maggie. I warned you how it would be. You have to be strong, girl, or it’s back to the home for you.”

  So she learned how to be strong. Maggie vowed never to go back to living with the orphans. They had no families, no one to care about or to call their own. She had a father and an uncle.

  Seven years old she was, forcing cramped legs to keep moving when another step seemed impossible. She had learned to swallow bile like the first time she had to gut and skin the still-warm body of a rabbit her father had shot for their supper. She had not cried when her father had cut her tangled hair because there was no time for her to be brushing and braiding it. And she had never let it grow long again.

  A long-buried memory surfaced of a corn husk doll that was so briefly in her possession, traded along with a hunting knife for a new pair of moccasins to replace her worn-out boots.

  But these were old hurts. Things she believed she had forgotten.

  The fear inside expanded as Maggie realized what she was doing to herself. Now was the time to be strong, not weak.

  She had to remember that with every difficult skill she learned, there came a freedom she was loath to relinquish. A freedom she had embraced eagerly. Boy’s clothing made movement a joy. Riding astride allowed her to feel the power of the horse beneath her. Using a knife and a gun with unerring skill had protected her and freed her from dependence on anyone.

  She knew how to survive beneath a baking desert sun and in the cold of mountain nights. Maggie had learned to never need another person to do for her.

  But she had broken her own rule. She had needed Quincy Kessnick and his money.

  Behind her closed eyelids she saw herself flattened on the rocky ground again, sweat—not from heat but from fear—pouring from her body. She listened to the echo of the crack and whine of bullets that kept her pinned down. Maggie had admitted that she needed someone then. She needed to know that someone would care if she died. That one person might worry about her.

  It was a secret weakness that she was ashamed of acknowledging, even to herself.

  Satin raised up with her paws on Maggie’s leg and licked her cheek. Leaning her head against the thick, soft fur of the dog’s neck, Maggie took what comfort the animal offered.

  A few moments later the dog growled. Maggie froze, gripping Satin’s fur coat with both hands. She darted a quick look at the empty rifle in the corner even as she released the dog and drew her gun. Someone was coming up the path to the cabin.

  “Maggie? Maggie, open up.”

  The sound of McCready’s voice and his fist pounding the door sent a flood of relief through her. She set the gun on the table and went to unbar the door, unwilling to question herself for trusting him.

  “Where have you been?” he demanded, pushing the door open.

  Maggie had already turned her back on him, her whispered command stopping Satin from attacking him. She urged the dog down, and Satin stretched out on the floor, her eyes pinned on McCready.

  “I asked where you’ve been,” McCready repeated. The nagging fear that had twisted his gut and sent him up here to see if she was all right churned into anger.

  “I was lookin’ for Quincy.” Maggie turned and took her seat on the bench. She looked up to find McCready still in the doorway, her eyes widening when he stepped inside. The lamp light revealed his face; right cheek marred with a purpling bruise, his left eye nearly shut, and his nose swollen. “What happened to you, McCready? Get caught between a rock and a hard place?”

  “Dutch took me down,” he snapped.

  “Were you wantin’ somethin’ to come here so late?” She watched him close the door and slide the bar in place. Her gaze darted to the gun within easy reach and slowly her hands unclenched.

  “Yeah, you might say that. Ira found your mustang with a bullet crease on her rump.” McCready had avoided looking at her face, almost afraid of what he would find. But he couldn’t avoid it any longer. The torn clothes were bad enough. The scrapes and scratches hollowed out his stomach for long seconds. But it was the glimpse of fear in Maggie’s jade-green eyes that filled his mouth and throat with a cottony dryness he had trouble swallowing. “And you? What happened to you, Maggie?”

  “Someone tried to kill me,” she answered truthfully, her voice raw with fear and exhaustion.

  The words themselves took a few minutes to sink in. Not so the knowledge that Maggie trusted him enough to open the door to him. McCready didn’t eat up the short distance between them because of either reason. It was the way Maggie spoke. There was a disbelief that someone had tried to kill her underscored by the fear that it was true.

  He braced one hand on the table, kept the other clenched at his side, and leaned over. He studied the black rings that captured the fractured shades of green in her eyes. McCready found himself beset with the sudden urge to throttle her for putting herself in danger and hold her close at the same time.

  He did neither one. Maggie never needed anyone. She had told him so plenty of times. Proved it to him when he had dared to doubt her. Maggie made her feelings plain enough, but right now his need overpowered Maggie’s wants. He had to destroy the breathing space between them and touch her.

  The fingers of his hand uncurled at his side, and he slowly raised it, half fearing that she would bolt away from him. He brushed the back of his hand over the scratches on her cheek. While his own face ached from the pounding he had taken, the sight of Maggie’s injured skin sent a new level of pain spreading inside him.

  “McCready?” she whispered, unable to hide the tremor in her voice.

  “Hush, Maggie mine.” Why hadn’t he ever noticed the innocent vulnerability in the purity of her features and the clarity of her eyes? Maggie, he was discovering, had the face of an angel, a body that was a benedicti
on for the hungry, and eyes turning wary as a cornered puma.

  A muscle clenched in his jaw as he made an obvious effort to control the fierce rush of fury inside him. How dare anyone try to hurt her? But with it came a rush of guilt that he had caused Maggie to run off and search for Quincy.

  Maggie sat as still as a fawn being stalked by a winter-starved wolf. She couldn’t make him stop stroking her cheek. She couldn’t find her voice. She couldn’t even move away from him. Being honest, Maggie didn’t think she wanted to move. McCready’s touch was gentle. No one ever touched her like this. She found she had a strange intense longing for his touching to go on and on.

  She stared up at his eyes. The one that wasn’t closed revealed a blue as dark and deep as mountain nights. She didn’t understand why she thought it appeared guilty. Maggie blinked, and it was gone. She locked her fingers together in her lap to resist the urge to reach up and soothe the bruises that marred his handsome face.

  Faith and begorra! What was happening to her? A strong sense of being safe was easing the knots of fear and tension that had captured her. Why? She struggled to understand how McCready’s touch could make her feel this way.

  McCready didn’t like her. He badgered her. He baited her into losing her temper every chance he had and a few he made himself. The man teased her unmercifully. McCready was a thief, she had to remind herself. And a liar. He cheated at cards. He drank. He had women chasing after him. He was as smooth and slick as a wet rock and twice as hard.

  Then why by the saints, knowing all this, was she taken by a tremble that erupted when he leaned closer? Maggie shut her eyes. She was breathing McCready’s scent. Warm whiskey. Night-brushed sage. Blending together until the room began to close in on her.

  Behind her eyelids she was tantalized by the sight of his lips. She didn’t want to think about what his cocky grin did to her stomach. What was he doing to her? She felt almost boneless. And hot. Oh, Maggie, she groaned to herself, wrong thought to be having. Heat and fire were already climbing as his hand slid around so that four fingers rested on the side of her neck, and his thumb began circling her chin.