The Irish Devil

by Diane Whiteside

  “Welcome to the Mueller gold mine, Mrs. Ross,” Lennox said jovially, stroking his muttonchops with his bandaged hand. “Magnificent, isn’t it? I’ll mine it after we’re done here, of course.”

  “Indeed. How did you find it?” Viola slowly pulled herself into a sitting position and moved away from the water, especially where it disappeared into the floor. She refused to grovel on the floor like an earthworm in front of Lennox. She’d lost her bonnet at some point, but her clothes remained respectable, albeit sadly torn, rumpled, and smeared with dirt. At least they hadn’t raped her while she was unconscious.

  A more marked contrast to last night’s delights with William could not have been imagined.

  Lennox sat down on a rock facing her, with his lantern at his right, and rested his Colt on his thigh. He did not offer her any help as she sat up, but watched her coldly.

  “The boys found an unknown old tunnel last week,” he answered. “It had some odd quartz chips in the wall, almost like signs. They objected to exploring it, saying the rock was unstable, so I sent the O’Flahertys down. They found this cavern.”

  Viola sat down near the rock wall and forced her breathing to remain even. Lennox’s lantern and a half dozen candles around the chamber provided more than adequate light to assess her situation. The cavern was shaped like an oval, with a deeper and darker pocket a few paces to her right. It was a very spacious cavern as these places went, probably hollowed out primarily by water. It was certainly a good deal larger than any underground space she’d worked while mining with Edward.

  Some thick blue veins showed in the rock behind Lennox, making this a likely place to mine as long as one was careful to avoid cave-ins.

  Water oozed from the wall just to Lennox’s left, and trickled across the floor between them before disappearing into a hollow by the wall to her left. It probably signaled instability in the rock. Unfortunately, the walls of this old mine weren’t shored up with modern square sets, such as she knew the Golconda used.

  Something scuttled at the edge of the light. Cave rats, no doubt. She’d spent enough time mining to know them as friends, albeit friends she preferred to keep at a distance.

  Lennox lifted his Colt and casually fired a shot into the darkness. The sound reverberated through the rock.

  Viola flinched and frantically looked for cover. Dear God, the fool could bring the cavern down around them with his shooting.

  A small squeal, a very soft thud, and a dead cave rat rolled into the light just as a few rocks and dust dropped around Lennox.

  “Hate those little bastards,” Lennox mused as he cast an uneasy glance at the roof and shifted his seat closer to the lantern. “And there’s not enough light in here to be rid of them.”

  Swallowing hard, she asked another question to buy time. “How did you know it was Mueller’s?”

  Lennox laughed. “Who else could it belong to, except the crazy German who was swept away by a flood? Besides, his camp is over there, about five feet to your right.”

  Viola peered more carefully into the pocket and repressed a shudder. Sleeping bag, fire pit with kettle hanging above—everything looked as if the owner had just stepped out.

  Fire pit? She looked more closely at the candles. The one between her and Mueller’s old camp was flickering erratically, unlike the one closest to Lennox. Boulders obscured that portion of wall, hiding any exits.

  The original passage must be near that candle, given the breeze disturbing it. Perhaps she could make her way out, after she somehow got these ropes off her wrists.

  She needed to escape quickly. The coming thunderstorm would be a bad one, possibly as big as what Mueller had died in.

  This chamber could collapse at any time, especially if water burst through or if Lennox fired his revolver again. The confined space would amplify the effects of the gunshot, shaking the rock and possibly causing a cave-in.

  “Have you recovered from the chloroform yet, my dear?” Lennox asked, in a neat mixture of solicitude and superiority. “In either event, let’s discuss your situation.”

  Viola raised an eyebrow and waited, her fingers seeking the ropes around her wrists. Her stomach flopped again.

  “You have two choices—marry me or die. Either one; it makes very little difference to me. If you die, I’ll simply forge a wedding license and claim your money. But you’d be more comfortable if you lived.”

  “I am not rich,” Viola objected. Dear God, he was willing to kill her? Ice washed over her.

  Mercifully, the ropes weren’t so tight as to stop all circulation in her hands. Her hands twisted faster, careful not to make any movements that would betray her to Lennox.

  “Your grandmother left you a quarter of a million dollars.”

  “Dear heavens.” Grandmother Lindsay dead? Sorrow flashed bright, only to be ruthlessly repressed for the moment. She’d mourn her favorite grandmother later.

  Lennox must be speaking of Grandmother Lindsay’s egg money, her famous store of small change to do whatever she wished with. Her sons had joked more than once that their mother knew more about the China trade than any man.

  “It should build me a very impressive mansion, don’t you think?” Lennox smirked.

  Something in Viola snapped at his continued assumption that she’d be a docile female. She’d been raised to meet that standard and her married life had centered around it. Only William enjoyed her unconventional side.

  “No, I think it won’t build you a mansion at all,” Viola spat. “Now why don’t you untie me and we’ll forget about this little conversation?”

  His eyes flashed. “Before you refuse me so quickly, Mrs. Ross,” he snarled, “consider something else—your mother’s activities during the recent unpleasantness.”

  Viola froze, terrified. Cold washed over her skin and she stopped plucking at the unyielding rope.

  “Oh, Mrs. Ross, if you could see your face!” Lennox laughed triumphantly. “Yes, I know all about your mother’s thousand rifles and how they went to Richmond.”

  He lingered over the last word. Viola shuddered but defiantly kept her eyes on him. A single rope end brushed her wrist.

  “Richmond, the capital of the late rebellion. A hanging offense, if there ever was one,” he purred.

  “No one will convict a woman of treason now, six years after the war’s end,” Viola asserted, angling her hands to catch the rope.

  Lennox clucked his tongue. “The courts are too clumsy and slow for a matter like this, Mrs. Ross. No, I believe your mother’s activities should first be discussed with her husband. After all, a man is responsible for his wife’s behavior, is he not? I cannot imagine Captain Lindsay will take kindly to this news. And Hal Lindsay should also be informed, as the representative of the family’s next generation,” Lennox added.

  Viola’s stomach twisted into knots as the old nightmare reawakened. Dear God, she’d married once to hide Mother’s treason; must she do so again?

  The trickle across the floor had strengthened, causing a foot-wide stream to run across the cavern floor and disappear into the hollow, which was now a small pool. Water dripped from the ceiling.

  “No,” she managed as she wiggled away from the water. She would not yield to blackmail again. “No. Your choices are nonsense, sir, since Mr. Donovan will soon come for me.”

  “Ah, now that’s where you truly misunderstand the situation. I have offered to sponsor Donovan’s membership in the Pericles Club, if he accepts our wedding. I see you understand how much he covets that social plum.”

  She knew precisely how much William hungered for society’s acceptance. He needed his family to dine richly and in comfort at a great club, to guarantee they would never starve and die in a gale, as his mother and brother had.

  She could see his plump wife now, with rubies gleaming around her throat, as he escorted her to dinner at the Pericles Club, while their four sons watched from his mansion’s window.

  Viola gritted her teeth.

  But she h
ad to believe in William. He’d given his word to her and he’d keep it. He had to.

  Viola shook her head slowly. “He promised me he would protect me. He will come for me.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  William whistled softly as he worked through his correspondence, preparing to send it off on the afternoon stage. It was bloody hard to think about stockpiles of axles in Santa Fe, though, when his body was still purring contentedly from last night. Viola had been so exquisitely beautiful in her abandonment to passion. He was damn proud he was the one who’d brought that expression to her face, that sated relaxation to every muscle in her body.

  Perhaps they’d spend a quiet evening tonight and savor the trust built between them. Perhaps some music or poetry. Or perhaps he’d simply take her to bed.

  He glanced up at the polite knock. “Enter.”

  “Letter for you, boss,” Lowell announced. “Lennox’s clerk just brought it. Shall I tell him to wait?”

  William’s eyebrow lifted. “Does he expect a reply?”

  “Says it’s up to you.”

  He turned the letter over in his hands, appreciating the envelope’s high quality. It had the look of a formal invitation, something he’d rarely seen directed to him. “No, he can go,” he answered absently.

  He slit the envelope open with his penknife.

  My very dear Mr. Donovan,

  I find myself lost in admiration for your high principles. I believe the Pericles Club would be honored by your membership and have taken the liberty of submitting your name for their consideration. Viola Ross is now my guest and I need hardly say that I’m certain you will wish us every success in our marriage.

  Your humble servant,

  Paul Lennox

  Paul Lennox offered him membership in the Pericles Club if he would give up any claim to Viola?

  William read the letter again without changing its meaning.

  Viola Ross is now my guest, Lennox had said. Bloody damn, Lennox held Viola, and she must be terrified. If Paul Lennox was alive for another five minutes, it would be four minutes too long.

  William dropped the letter on his desk, doused the lamp, and headed for the gun rack.

  The door slammed open and a harsh voice interrupted his grab for a rifle. A big, blond Viking with dark blue eyes and a neatly trimmed goatee, in a black suit and duster, filled the doorway.

  “You Donovan?”

  “Aye.”

  The big Viking threw a punch with a ham-sized fist. William blocked it and the struggle began. William found himself fighting a man whose size and strength equaled his.

  Normally he would have enjoyed a good fistfight but this was not the time for delay. He needed to reach Viola now. Crampton’s table collapsed when he slammed the other man against it. The lamp and bottle of ink shattered when they hit the floor. A cloud of papers scattered across the room.

  “Where’s my sister, you bastard?” the Viking bellowed as he aimed a kick toward William’s balls.

  William dodged and kicked the other man in the shin, making him back off momentarily. Viola’s brother.

  “She’s not here.” He needed to end this.

  “You’re hiding her.” The Viking charged him again.

  William dodged, spun, and slotted his shoulder into his opponent’s armpit, as his arm went around Lindsay’s neck while his other hand slipped up the chest. With a sudden surge, William locked his hands together in a three-quarter nelson and flipped Lindsay onto the floor.

  The big armchair crashed against the wall. An instant later, William landed on top of Lindsay. “Lennox has her.”

  To give him his due, the Viking simply snarled and tried to keep fighting.

  William settled his full weight on Lindsay.

  The Viking grunted, “Damn you.”

  “Listen to me, you fool,” William gritted. “Lennox kidnapped Viola and I need to rescue her. We can fight later.”

  The big body stilled. “Lennox?”

  “Letter’s on the desk.”

  “If you’re lying, I’ll kill you.”

  “Fair enough.” He released Viola’s brother and backed away. The other gasped for air as he read the invitation.

  Suddenly, the big alarm bell began to ring from his compound above.

  William ran for the door, snatching up a rifle from the wall rack. He brushed past Lindsay without apology, but the man followed him quickly, picking up a Henry rifle that had been leaning against the wall outside.

  Every man in the depot joined them in the yard, all armed and ready to fight. The sentries on the roofs facing the desert seemed bewildered as they looked in all directions. But the sentry facing the main street let out a long whistle.

  “What is it?” William demanded.

  “Abraham’s fighting Lennox’s thug just outside the general store, sir. There’s no sign of Mrs. Ross.”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” William headed for the gate, Lindsay at his side and his men behind.

  He reached the street in time to see a spectacular display of whirling kicks and blows as Abraham and the youngest O’Flaherty fought. Then Abraham kicked a gun out of O’Flaherty’s hand. The weapon spun into the air and the young fool tried to catch it. It went off in his hands, sending a bullet through the thug’s head. He collapsed into the street.

  Abraham swayed, then grabbed a hitching post to steady himself as he stood on one foot. “Mr. Lennox and his men stole Mrs. Ross from Graham’s store, sir. They took her back up the street but I didn’t see their destination. I am deeply ashamed.”

  “You did very well for being outnumbered,” William reassured him. “You okay?”

  “Only a sprain, sir.”

  Still the alarm bell continued to ring, loud and clear above the stamp mill’s din. Bloody hell, not an Indian attack, too.

  People swarmed into the streets and boardwalks until they were full. Every man was armed, and most of their women, as well. The McBride brothers appeared together, guns ready. Even Mrs. Smith came running with a shotgun, followed by Lily Mae with a cleaver and the other girls with a startling assortment of firearms.

  The bell stopped and its attendant sentry came to the watchtower’s window nearest the street.

  “What’s the problem? Apaches?” William shouted. If it was, he’d have to go after Viola alone and leave his men to defend Rio Piedras.

  “No, sir, no Indians. But Lennox and two of his thugs ran up the street from Graham’s store into the Oriental’s back room. One of them was carrying a woman with her head wrapped in a sack. Looked like Mrs. Ross’s dress, from what I could see.”

  The crowd muttered and stirred.

  “Kidnapping?” a woman gasped. “Mr. Lennox abducted Mrs. Ross?”

  “Hanging’s too good for the likes of him,” a man snarled, and a chorus rose in agreement. Kidnapping a white woman was an unforgivable sin on this rough frontier.

  Too icily calm to speak, William nodded at one of his teamsters, who promptly helped Abraham back to the compound. Another teamster headed for Graham’s store.

  Then William headed for the Oriental, Lindsay still close by his side. The townsfolk parted to let them pass, then fell in behind, guns at the ready.

  Lightning cracked in the ominous skies above. The coming storm looked to be a gully-washer.

  “He must be heading for the mine,” the eldest McBride said suddenly, from just beyond Lindsay.

  “What do you mean?” William asked without breaking stride.

  “There’s an old entrance there, from when the ore was closer to the surface.”

  “Can you guide me?”

  “My pleasure.”

  They reached the Oriental just as the skies opened in a blinding torrent of rain.

  William handed his rifle to one of his teamsters, wary of taking a long gun into a mine’s confined spaces. “Take some men up to the Golconda’s offices and make sure he doesn’t slip out that way.”

  The normally quiet, ex-Union cavalryman nodded. “Glad to.
Lennox has needed killing for a long time.”

  By unspoken agreement, all of the women headed for the mine’s offices. William didn’t envy any man who tried to stop them.

  He glanced over at Lindsay. “Any problems with small spaces?” he asked the big man.

  Lindsay shook his head as he checked his Henry rifle. “I served four years on Mississippi gunboats. Reckon a mine’s a mite more spacious than they were.”

  William’s mouth quirked. “Reckon it might be. Come on.”

  They burst into the Oriental’s back room behind McBride, followed by his brothers and more men, and found a pair of solid wooden doors gracing the back wall beyond a large table.

  McBride wrenched the doors open, grabbed a lamp from the table, and disappeared into the darkness beyond barely a step ahead of William.

  The doors opened to a hole in the ground with a ladder disappearing into it. William climbed down it quickly and soon found himself in a small chamber, pitch-black except for McBride’s lamp. He ducked to avoid a beam and stepped out of Lindsay’s way as other men crowded in. His back rubbed against plank walls.

  “Which way?” he asked McBride.

  “Could have gone either direction. Most likely is to the right, toward the hoisting shaft and the offices. But…”

  “You’d have gone to the left.”

  “Yes, sir. There’s an abandoned tunnel we just found. If I was to hide anywhere, that’s where I’d go.”

  “Then we’ll go left with you. The others can split up to cover both directions.”

  Lindsay growled his agreement, hunching his big frame to fit between the heavy uprights. William smiled sympathetically, well aware he was doing the same thing. He’d been in many mines since he’d arrived in California but he’d never learned to enjoy them.

  “Good idea. My brothers can lead the other party,” the eldest McBride added.

  A single clap of thunder sounded overhead, followed by heavy drops of rain.

  “Lowell, you and the other teamsters stay with the miners and follow their lead. If they start running, you run, too, understand?” William said quietly.

  Lowell looked around and caught sight of water trickling between the planks beside him. He blanched and nodded. “Yes, sir.”