A hint of respect slowly dawned on the mule skinner's face, although he didn't drop his guard. "You from anyplace hereabouts?"
"Chicago originally, but I've been here and there."
"Chicagy, eh? One of them Eastern dudes."
"Chicago isn't that far east." Devlin indicated the straight-backed chair across from Jess. "Mind if I join you?"
A short silence was followed by a grudging headshake from Clem. With a hobnailed boot, he even nudged the chair back from the table in an invitation of sorts. "Town's full o' drifters, nowdays. Cain't be too careful."
"Devlin isn't a drifter," Jess interjected. "He's a—" She bit back the word gambler, not wanting to divulge Devlin's profession.
"Businessman," he finished smoothly for her as he seated himself.
"He figuring on camping out up yonder at the mine?" Clem asked Jess. Not giving her time to reply, he shook his shaggy gray head. "That's a crack-brained notion if I ever heard o' one, Jessie. Burke ain't gonna be afeared of no city slicker. And Hank Purcell, neither."
"Burke will think twice about taking on Devlin, believe me. You didn't see what happened tonight. I did. Devlin's no tinhorn. He knows what he's doing."
"It's you what worries me. Jess. I always thought you had a good head atop your shoulders, but it seems you ain't got a lick o' sense!"
"Clem, you're wrong. Hiring Devlin makes perfect sense. The Wildstar miners are scared, you know that. If we don't do something to protect them from Burke, they'll up and quit. Who's going to work our claim then? Riley won't be well enough for weeks."
When the old man didn't answer right away, she pressed, her point. "And what about guarding the mine? Who will do that? You? Me? The marshal? I didn't see anybody rushing to volunteer—and never will, if it means going against Burke." She sent Devlin an encouraging smile. "We need him, Clem. He can sleep here during the day and be here for Riley while I'm at the boardinghouse."
"He's gonna stay here!"
"In the daytime. At night he'll be up at the mine. I'll take Devlin up there tonight and show him around—"
"Now just a dad-blamed minute! You ain't goin' up there at night, with or without no citified pretty boy!"
"Hush, or you'll wake up Riley!"
"I ain't gonna wake up Riley! He's out like a grizzly in winter. But he'd have my hide it I was to let you pull a damn-fool stunt like that."
"It isn't a stunt. We need to get up there tonight. The mine's unguarded right now. and if Burke means to try to sabotage it, now would be the perfect time."
"She's right, you know," Devlin said objectively, entering the argument for the first time.
Clem turned his fierce scowl back on Devlin. "If Riley was dry-gulched, who's to say you won't be, too?"
"I'll be ready for it."
"Yes," Jess agreed eagerly, "now that we know what to expect, we can take precautions."
"How you gonna ride back down alone in the dark, gal? That's jest askin' for grief."
Jess hesitated; she hadn't considered that problem. "I'll stay up there tonight with Devlin—"
"You sure as hell won't!"
"Don't cuss in the house."
His face red with frustration, Clem held back the retort he was plainly itching to make. "I'll go up yonder with him," he said finally.
"You can't. You need your sleep so you can be fresh for work in the morning. And you have to be at the boarding-house to convince the crew to go with you and make them see there's nothing to be afraid of. They'll take it better coming from you."
Clem's expression turned mutinous, but Jess's tone went soft and pleading. "You have to keep working the mine, Clem. If you don't, then Burke will have won, don't you see?"
He grunted, obviously unhappy with the comer he was being pushed into. "What about mealtime? You cain't just leave us to Mei Lin. She's liable to fix us a mess o' fricasseed cat, like she did that one time afore we all knew it."
"Mei Lin won't do any cooking, I promise. Flo can make breakfast in the morning and fill the lunch pails." Jess paused to say to Devlin, "Florence O'Malley is the neighbor I told you about. She's almost as good a cook as I am."
"Hah!" Clem's grunt was followed by a muttered, "Thought your pa taught you better'n to tell tall tales."
Clem . . . please?"
He gave her a hard, fuming look before throwing a narrow-eyed glance at Devlin. "Just fer one night?" he asked Jess. "You ain't going up there after tonight?"
"No, I'll stay right here, I promise."
"Well . . . I ought to have Doc take a look at my head. Must be loco for lettin' you rope me into this."
"Good, then it's settled." She turned to Devlin. "Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat before we go.
He shook his head, his lips quivering in amusement. "I ate earlier."
"All right. I'll just fix lunch in case you get hungry later on." Jess took a deep breath. "Clem, there's just one more thing. I want to take Nellie and Gus up to the mine with us."
Clem came up out of his chair like an erupting volcano. "Now wait a durn minute! Nobody touches them mules without my say-so!"
"I know. That's why I'm asking you."
"No! And that's final."
"You don't even know why I want them."
He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at her. "You gonna tell me?"
"I just thought they would make good watchdogs. You know how they kick up a fuss whenever a stranger comes near. We can tie Nellie and Gus just outside the mine so they'll alert us to anybody who doesn't belong there."
"And jest who's gonna take care of 'em?"
"I'm sure Devlin will give them the best of care."
"I'll guard them with my life," he said soberly enough, though when Jess looked to him for confirmation, she had the distinct impression he was trying not to laugh.
"See? I know they're your favorite mules, Clem, but it won't hurt them to spend the night up at the mine for a few weeks. It's not as if this was winter."
"Damitall, Jess!"
Though frowning at the cuss word, she remained silent, waiting for him to relent.
Clem muttered under his breath, uncrossed his arms, crossed them again, tugged on his beard, and finally gave in with a sigh of frustration. "I reckon it won't hurt them much."
Jess gave the mule skinner a brilliant smile. "Thank you, Clem. Would you get them ready? And show Devlin to the livery stable? He's going to use Riley's horse. I'll be along in a minute, when I get a lunch packed."
With one last shake of his gray head, Clem turned and retrieved his rough jacket and coarse felt hat from a peg on the wall, then stomped out the back door, muttering about muleheaded womenfolk.
Jess let out her breath on a sigh before glancing at Devlin. The look he was giving her held laughter and something more . . . admiration, perhaps. Whatever it was made color rise to her cheeks.
"I'm sorry Clem was rude to you. He didn't mean anything by it. He treats all strangers that way."
"I didn't mind," Devlin said with a lazy grin. "I had a front-row seat for the entertainment. It was better than a ticket to a vaudeville show."
With that, he tipped his hat and rose from the table. Not knowing how to answer, Jess watched him go, her blush deepening. It wasn't much of a compliment to be told she had provided amusement for a man like that.
Devlin followed Clem outside and found the mule skinner kicking at the back step and swearing a blue streak.
"Dad-blister her! That bullheaded female can get me so riled!" He punctuated his opinion by spitting a stream of tobacco juice on the ground and administering another kick at the hapless step. "That durned gal is gonna land herself in a heap of trouble and there's not a blamed thing I kin do about it. Her pa would skin her alive if'n he knew she was going up to the Wildstar with you—"
Clem stopped and turned suddenly, balling his fists as he glared at Devlin. "Jessie's a proper lady, young fella, you best remember that. Don't you go and try nothin', or I'll turn you into
a steer so fast you won't know what hit you."
"I wouldn't dream of treating her as anything but a lady," Devlin said dryly.
His answer seemed to defuse Clem's anger somewhat. "She ain't always this stubborn. Where her pa's concerned, Jess is like a she-wolf with her pup."
"So I gathered."
"Well, come on, then. We got work to do."
"Let me fetch my rifle."
After retrieving Devlin's Winchester from Jess's saddle, they walked the block to Carson's Livery Stable. There, amid considerable cussing, Clem got his mules ready and Devlin saddled Riley's horse.
Jess rode up just as they were leading the animals out.
She had brought her shotgun with her, Devlin saw, and was riding sidesaddle, as every lady in the West did, but she'd changed her gray suit for a plainer one of brown patterned calico. Thinking the outfit a shameful waste of a gorgeous figure, Devlin found himself re-dressing Jessica in a gown of satin and lace, her milk-white shoulders bare, her swelling breasts barely hidden by the low-cut bodice. It was an image he regretted, since it had the predictable effect of arousing him, a condition which held little immediate prospect of fulfillment.
Clem brought him back to earth with a gruff warning. "You'd best take good care of them mules or you'll have me to answer to."
Brusquely, Devlin nodded and mounted up. Jess, holding the lead ropes of the two mules, led the way.
"Don't pay Clem any mind," she said when they were out of hearing distance. "He's an ornery old codger, but he has a heart of gold."
"I'd say he thinks you're a bit ornery yourself. Do you always get your way?"
"When I have to." Wondering if Devlin's remark had been meant as a criticism, Jess fell silent, but the warmth that had afflicted her cheeks ever since meeting him rose again when she felt him watching her. "Maybe you'd better pay attention to the road, Mr. Devlin. In the dark, a lot of the mine shafts look alike, and you'll have to find your way alone from now on."
His beautiful mouth kicked up at the corner. "Yes, ma'am, Miss Jess. Whatever you say."
Jess gave him a sharp glance. Devlin's answer had been docile enough, but the lazy, provoking edge of amusement in his tone warned her it was going to be a long night.
Chapter 4
It was a scene ripe for seduction. A clear, cool, summer evening . . . stars blazing overhead in the heavens . . . the sweetness of pure, dry mountain air . . . a man alone at night with a beautiful young woman . . .
Devlin grinned wryly at the image. He wasn't alone with Jessica Sommers. He was in the company of two cantankerous lop-eared mules who objected to having to climb a mountain at this time of night. And the precipitous drop-off on his right was no gentle slope. One slip in the dark and a man could plunge hundreds of feet to his death—hardly conducive to seduction or even romance. It was also doubtful the young woman in question would be receptive to amorous advances from a stranger, especially one she considered to be her new employee. Plus, Devlin thought with a grimace, he had to face the disagreeable task of staying up all night to guard a hole in the ground and maybe get shot in the back in the process. Whatever had possessed him to agree to get involved in a miners' feud?
With a mental sigh, he checked the action of his guns and waited for Jess to cajole Nellie and Gus past a dangerous shadow in the road. Far below, the lights of Silver Plume twinkled on the canyon floor, beckoning, taunting him.
Shortly they resumed the laborious climb. The rocky wagon road made several switchbacks up the steep mountainside, scissoring past numerous tunnel mouths and the scars of barely passable trails. Wild berry patches grew here and there—raspberries, currants, snowberries, and chokecherries—but the rugged slopes were denuded of trees. All the lush natural forests of pine and spruce and aspen had been cleared for use as lumber or fuel or mine timbers—although Devlin did see the dark outline of one sole, brave ponderosa pine which clung in a crevice, too inaccessible to be cut down.
Beside every mine and shaft house stood huge dumps of waste rock that despoiled the rough landscape further. At least, though, it was Sunday and they were spared the terrible noise that reverberated through the mountains all the other days of the week—the thunder of blasting and the hammering of mechanical rock drills.
There were lights at the portals of some of the mines, illuminating the timber-frame chutes that were used to load ore. Jess pointed out the various workings along the way, calling them by name.
A half hour later, she finally brought the mules to a halt.
"That's it," she said quietly. "That's the Wildstar."
Devlin could make out a timber-framed opening in the wall of rock some dozen yards ahead that looked like .every other mine they had passed. The shack nearest the entrance was probably the tool shed, and the one just beyond was likely the office.
"Burke's Lady J mine is just up the road, over the rise," Jess added.
Devlin hefted his Winchester and scanned the rocky terrain, finding nothing moving in the darkness. "Wait here. I'll take a look around."
When she nodded, he left her with the horses and scouted the area, entering the dark mouth of tunnel, climbing the slope above, circling the first shack, pushing open the door and peering inside. From what he could make out in the darkness, it was filled with mining tools—hammers, picks, shovels, explosives, and drill steel.
Shutting the door, he inspected the miner's hut next, stepping inside briefly to make certain no one was lying in ambush.
"All clear," he said as he walked back to her.
Before he could offer to help her dismount, Jess slid down from her horse and proceeded to picket the ornery Clem's two ornerier mules in front of the tunnel, her movements efficient and determined.
"You'd better let Nellie and Gus smell you," she warned, "so they won't set up a ruckus every time you go by."
Devlin bit back a crude remark at the suggestion, but after hobbling and unsaddling the horses, he did as she asked. Then he followed Jess to the hut and stood aside while she entered.
She fumbled for a minute in the dark, then struck a match against the door frame and lit the coal oil fixture hanging from the ceiling. The place was stuffed with the miscellaneous trappings of the mining trade, Devlin saw, and yet there was little actual furniture, only a rickety pine table and two chairs, and a narrow rope bed. The thin mattress was covered with a blanket but no pillow or sheets.
He shut the door behind them as Jess carried the knapsack of food she'd packed over to the table. When he heard her give a sudden soft gasp, Devlin swung his rifle up. She had come to an abrupt halt, staring down at the large black stain that darkened the raw pine floor.
"Riley's blood," she said faintly.
Devlin felt his heart soften at the tremble in her voice. "Looks like it," he said gently. Relaxing his rigid stance, he took the knapsack from her, laid it and his rifle on the table, and pulled out one of the chairs. "Sit down. You look worn out."
"No, I couldn't sit still just now."
Backing away from the stain as if it frightened her, she ignored his advice and went to stand at the small window whose shutter had been left open, restlessly peering out. "Do you suppose he was shot through the window?"
Devlin eyed the distance from there to the bloodstain. 'The angle's right. Whoever did it must have figured him for dead."
"He nearly was." She shuddered, which made Devlin feel the urge to go to her and put his arms around her— and not just to offer her comfort. "I don't know what I would have done if Riley had died," she whispered.
"Yes you do. You would have gone on without him." He was certain of that. Jess Sommers was a strong woman inside, for all her curvaceous softness outside. Devlin hesitated. "This stranger I heard you describing to the marshal . . . you said he had a scar and was riding a roan. That's all you know?"
"Yes."
"You've never heard of him before this?"
"No. But maybe some of the miners have. I could ask around."
>
"That would be good. Any lead might help us find him."
Wanting to give her something else to think about besides the attack on her father and his near murder, Devlin joined her at the window and closed the shutter firmly. "Why don't you show me the mine and tell me about this feud with Burke? If you're paying me to guard this place, I might as well know what I'm getting into."
Jess looked up to find Devlin smiling a teasing wayward smile that unnerved her. "All right." She didn't really like going into the mine, especially at night. It gave her chills to be deep underground in the darkness. But even that was preferable to the helpless, shivery feeling she got when Devlin looked at her so intimately.
Moving away uneasily, she took down from a shelf a miners' lantern and lit it, then led the way back outside. Both mules set up a raucous braying the minute Devlin came near. Jess scolded them both and made Devlin go through the sniffing procedure again. Then, holding the lantern aloft, she led him into the Wildstar tunnel.
The air immediately felt cooler, he noted, while the lantern light sent giant shadows leaping around the rock walls that were braced by thick timbers. There was not much room to move in a hewn passage that was approximately seven feet high by four feet wide. Ahead of him, Jess carefully skirted an empty ore car and sidestepped the narrow rail tracks that ran along the tunnel floor.
"Be careful," she warned Devlin needlessly. "Accidents happen all the time underground. Just about every week you hear of somebody getting hurt. I always worry that Riley will be next, but he's been lucky. . . . That is, until today.
"This used to be the old Wilson claim," Jess added a minute later in explanation. "Back in '78, Riley used every penny he could scrape together to buy it and sink a prospect hole. He's been trying to develop the property ever since. It isn't much, but it's all he has. There are only two levels, this one and the one below. We should be working it two ten-hour shifts a day, but Riley can only afford a small crew for one shift."
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