“Ramsey Tucker wants your gold, Papa,” she said. “The men in town told me your claim’s played out. Is that true?”
Emory nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Then what are we going to do?”
“I’d give everything I have to see you and your sister safe and well and happy,” he answered. “But since I have nothing of value to offer, we’ll just have to make Charity’s husband understand.”
“It’s not that simple,” Faith explained. “Tucker doesn’t take kindly to bad news. He probably won’t believe you’re penniless no matter what we tell him.”
“I’m not. Not exactly,” he said. “I’d saved out a few nice nuggets to show your mama.” Eyes misty, he went to a tin sitting in plain sight on a shelf beside his bed, opened it and removed a yellowed white handkerchief.
He handed the small bundle to Faith. “They’re yours, now, Faith. Yours and Charity’s. I never want to see another fleck of color. Never. It’s all been for nothing.”
“Oh, Papa, don’t say that. You did what you thought was right. I know you wanted to make a better life for all of us. That’s not wrong. It just didn’t work out the way you’d expected. Mama knew you loved us. That’s why she made me promise to come west and find you.”
“It’s a wonder you did. Many’s the man who disappears for good in the diggin’s,” Emory said, sighing.
Irene had been silent during most of the conversation. Now, she spoke up. “Where Tucker is concerned, it’s mostly his women who are never heard from again. How can you all just sit there, talking about that man as if he were less than evil?”
“It’s not like that.” Faith sought to placate her. “We have to prove his character to Charity as well as make him pay for his crimes.” She scowled a warning at Irene. “And I don’t mean take the law into our own hands.”
“Why not? The minute Ramsey Tucker sees you and me he’s going to know his evil doings have been exposed. Then what? We can’t let him walk away with your sister, even if she won’t believe us. She’s a witness. Once she puts two and two together, she’ll be in terrible danger.”
Holding the handkerchief containing the gold nuggets, Faith fingered their hardness through the fabric. “Maybe we could trade?” A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Suppose Papa offered to trade Tucker his valuable mining claim in exchange for his daughter’s freedom? We all know he’d accept. And that would certainly show Charity her husband’s true colors, wouldn’t it?”
Connell laughed. “It sure would. I like the way your mind works, Little Dove Woman.”
“And then what?” Irene demanded.
Faith had a ready answer for that question, too. The whole plan was suddenly coming together brilliantly in spite of her weariness. “Papa can keep our presence secret while he deals with Tucker. Nobody in town knows who we are so we’ll be safe enough. I don’t think the Good Lord will mind a temporary falsehood in order to right a wrong.”
“You? Lie?” Connell chuckled. “It’s okay with me, if you think your conscience can stand it.”
“I’ll live,” Faith retorted cynically. “While we get things ready here, you backtrack up the canyon and see if you can spot Tucker coming so we won’t get caught unawares.”
“I might be persuaded to do that for you.” Connell glanced at Irene. “If my future bride doesn’t mind waiting a bit to see her new home.”
His innocent words tore into Faith’s heart and left it bleeding, empty. She averted her gaze rather than chance seeing anyone’s unspoken query into the reason for her pain. She thought she’d die when her father said, “You know, there’s a traveling preacher due here in a few days. He could marry you. We might even be able to come up with a regular dress for the lady from the Kentucky gal down at the Majestic. I know I’ve seen her wear a pretty one.”
Faith wanted to scream. To wail. To jump to her feet and confess her love for Connell in spite of Irene’s presence. She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a croak any frog would have been proud of.
Irene, however, had no trouble stating firmly, “No.”
“No?” Connell looked puzzled.
“No.” Standing proud, Irene addressed everyone, Faith included. “You all seem to forget. I’m already married to Ramsey Tucker. Until that problem is resolved, one way or another, I’m not free to marry anyone else.”
Faith breathed a relieved sigh. In all her mental ramblings regarding Irene and Connell, she’d never once thought of the problem that Irene’s marriage to Tucker was still binding. He didn’t think of it that way, of course, because he believed Irene was dead. They all knew better. And the proof was standing right there in front of her, very much alive.
Truth dawned. She gasped. “That’s right! Charity can’t be legally married to him. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“For you, maybe,” Connell said flatly. “But it sure puts a serious crimp in my future plans.”
Faith watched her father closely for the next several weeks. Some days he seemed almost normal. Other times, no matter how he tried to hide it, she could tell he was dismally unhappy. She understood how he felt. Every time she thought of Connell she experienced a jolt of awareness, a sense of abiding love that warmed her all the way to her soul. Those blissful thoughts were always spoiled by an imaginary picture of him standing beside Irene, reciting wedding vows.
Except for an occasional foray out to check on Ben and the horses, Faith had kept to the cabin. Her father had explained to his friends that his wife’s cousin and her traveling companion were visiting and no one had doubted the story. In the Territories and those few states west of the Mississippi, men didn’t ask questions, nor did they welcome being queried about their own past lives. It was a place to start again. To take a new name, if necessary, and leave behind the failures of the past.
Seated by the small stove in one corner of the room, lost in thought, Faith was suddenly overcome by the realization that nothing could ever be as she remembered it. In a vague way she’d sensed that truth when she’d first set eyes on her father and his simple cabin. It wasn’t only that their family home in Ohio had been leveled by disaster, it was knowing that none of them could go back to the kind of life they’d once shared.
They’d all changed. Grown. Faith especially. She’d been forced into taking charge and as a result had found a fortitude within herself she’d never dreamed existed. The carefree child she’d been such a short time ago was merely a fond, distant memory.
And now?
Faith sighed. Her duty, once all was said and done, was to her father, just as Irene’s had been when she’d chosen to take responsibility for her elderly parents rather than marry Connell and accompany him to the wilderness. Funny how history repeated itself, wasn’t it?
The sound of an approaching horse and Ben’s answering bray drew her from her reverie. She jumped to her feet to greet Connell with a grin as he burst through the door.
“They’re coming!” he shouted. “About ten minutes out. Is everything set?”
“Yes.” Faith hurried to the tin box. “I have the nuggets right here. Papa’s been spreading the word he’s made another big strike. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”
“Good.” Connell scanned the room. “Where’s Irene? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. She’s gone down to the river with my father. He’s showing her how to find gold with a Long Tom.” And I’m fine, too, thanks. Real tickled to see you, Faith added, deriding herself for being so excited that Connell was finally back in Beal’s Bar.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Let’s go. We have to warn the others and plant those nuggets.”
“Right.” Faith followed him out the door. “I’ll go saddle Ben.”
“There’s no time for that,” Connell said. “Take my hand. We’ll ride double.”
“You’re sure Rojo is well enough to carry the extra weight?”
Chuckling, the plainsman grabbed her arm and swung her up behind him in one fluid motion. “Don’t wo
rry. He’s all healed up. Hardly even a scar. Besides, even a lame horse wouldn’t feel the little bit you weigh.”
“I’m so glad he’s okay.”
“Me, too. In case I didn’t remember to thank you, we owe you a lot for coming to our rescue.”
“You didn’t remember,” Faith said, adjusting her skirt as best she could while the horse pranced and shifted beneath her. “But you’re quite welcome.”
“Good.”
He wheeled the big gelding, pointed his nose down the slope toward the river, and kicked him into action.
Straddling the apron of the saddle behind him, Faith knew if she was to keep her seat she had no choice but to wrap both arms around Connell and hang on for dear life. She couldn’t help smiling. There was nothing like necessity to overcome inhibitions, was there?
All her good intentions, all her promises of self-control, fled the moment she touched him. Arms around his waist, Faith pressed herself against him, held tight and closed her eyes.
Their trip was over in moments, but she nevertheless thanked the Lord for giving her that one last chance to be so near the plainsman, to innocently lay her cheek against his warm, broad back and dream of what could never be.
Moving quickly in spite of her whirling emotions, Faith dismounted, helped Emory place the nuggets in the narrow, wooden race of the Long Tom, then stood back. By shading her eyes with her hand, she was able to watch Charity and her villainous husband descending the steep trail toward the river.
“They’ll be here soon. Time for the rest of us to hide,” Faith said, giving her father a peck on the cheek. “Will you be okay, Papa?”
Emory nodded. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the nuggets since they’d laid them in the shallow, sandy water. His white-knuckled grip on the lever that kept the sluice from rocking gave Faith pause. Though he’d claimed gold had no effect on him anymore, clearly he was deluding himself. Then again, those few nuggets were the only bait they had for their trap. Losing them would be catastrophic.
“Remember, Papa, Charity thinks I’m dead,” Faith reminded him. “You can’t let on otherwise until Tucker has made his move or we’ll lose our advantage.”
Emory agreed. “When she finds out you’re alive she’ll be so happy I know she’ll forgive us for holding back. A few more hours and we can tell her everything.”
“I hope it’s that quick.”
Connell tapped her arm to get her attention. “It’ll be even quicker if you and Irene don’t skedaddle. Take Rojo and hide him behind the cabin with Ben. I’ll stay close to your father, just in case.” He eyed Emory’s fisted hand. “The way he’s shaking, it’ll be a wonder if he lasts long enough to convince Tucker he’s found the mother lode.”
Faith couldn’t argue with that. Emory’s complexion had grown so ashen she’d been thinking the same thing. “All right. Since you’ve shaved your beard off he may not recognize you anyway, especially without your horse.”
“True.” Drawing his fingers slowly over his jaw, Connell smiled at her. “I wondered when you were going to notice the change in me. Were you surprised?”
Surprised? More like thrilled, Faith thought. The urge to caress his bare cheek had been so strong the first time she’d seen his handsome face sans whiskers, she’d barely managed to control her desire. Only the presence of Irene had stopped her from making a fool of herself.
“You’ll do,” Faith said, trying to sound uninterested.
She’d have been convinced she’d succeeded in misleading him if Connell’s roaring laughter hadn’t continued to echo up the valley from the sandbar long after she and Irene had reached the cabin.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Real windows were a luxury few dwellings in Beal’s Bar enjoyed. The two-story Majestic Hotel had three genuine glass panes which, according to Emory, had been packed in from Marysville at the exorbitant cost of forty cents a pound!
Emory’s cabin had one small window in the front, beside the door, which was covered with thin cotton cloth in the summer and blanketed securely come winter. It was easy for Faith and Irene to stay out of sight by simply remaining with the horses and Ben. Conversation inside the cabin echoed up the stovepipe like a megaphone, much to Faith’s surprise and delight.
The sound of her sister’s voice brought tears of relief to her eyes. Charity had survived! And she was mere feet away, on the other side of the wall. Unfortunately, so was Ramsey Tucker.
“My wife and I thank you for your hospitality,” Tucker said. “I’m glad to see you’re doing so well. Naturally, since her poor sister met with such a sad end, Charity has been beside herself.”
“Of course.” There was a choked sound to Emory’s voice. Faith hoped Tucker would assume the telltale emotion was due to something other than perfidy.
“Charity was never strong like her sister,” Emory said. “I can see she’s in need of nursing to get her strength back.”
Faith heard the younger woman begin to sob inconsolably. She chanced a peek inside by lifting a lower corner of the fabric-covered window opening and saw Charity in their father’s tender embrace, her pale blond curls a stark contrast against his dark vest. Ramsey Tucker stood back, his lips curled in a sneer, watching the family tableau unfold.
“If you’ll make me a partner in your mine I might consider letting her stay here with you—until she’s well, I mean,” Tucker said smoothly.
With an arm around her shoulders, Emory gently led his younger daughter aside before he asked, “Would you like that, Charity? Would you like to stay with your papa?”
Nodding, she burst into another wave of loud weeping.
As her father turned back to the wagon boss, Faith saw fire in his gaze. Not yet, Papa, she thought, praying he’d be able to hold his tongue and control his temper. Wait till we finish carrying out our plan.
As if in answer to her thoughts, Emory schooled his features. “I haven’t been well, myself,” he said. “It’s dark and dank down here in this narrow valley and winter’s coming. I need to recuperate where the sun shines and there’s no more cold water soaking my boots. There are times, standing in that icy creek all day long, when my bones ache and I think my poor feet have frozen clean off.” He smiled slightly. “I wonder…no, never mind. It’s silly.”
Tucker rose to the bait. “What?”
“It was just an old man’s folly,” Emory said. “For a minute there I thought of asking you to take over the mine for me while Charity and I moved to Sacramento City.”
“You going to make me a partner, like I asked?”
“No. That wouldn’t be fair to you, doing all the hard work while I sat back and got rich.” He reached into his vest pocket and withdrew the handkerchief in which he’d wrapped his supposed new find, then handed it to Tucker. “You saw me take these out of the Long Tom when you rode up so you know my claim is a good one. Would you be interested in purchasing the mine?”
“The whole thing? No partners?”
As planned, Emory vacillated. “On second thought, I don’t know. I’ve worked awfully hard here.” He looked to his red-eyed, travel-weary daughter. “And I wouldn’t want to come between you and your wife.”
With that, Charity began to howl like a coyote caught in the steel jaws of a fur trapper’s snare.
Tucker guffawed. “Me and the wife aren’t gettin’ along that well, as you can see. I only married her so she could stay with the train after she was left alone. You want her back, old man, she’s yours. I give her to ya. Consider it payment for your claim.”
Emory snorted and shook his head. “Nice try, mister, but as much as I love my girl she’s not payment enough for a claim as rich as mine.” He named an exorbitant price.
“I’ll give you half that and not a penny more,” Tucker said flatly. Faith held her breath. Behind her, she heard Irene’s sharp intake of breath. It was almost over.
“I’ll think on it,” Emory said. “You got that much money with you?”
“I can get it.”
&nbs
p; “Sorry. We can’t wait for you to ride all the way to a bank and I won’t take scrip,” Emory said. “Winter’s comin’. Pretty soon the trail up the pass will be too icy for horse or mule. Guess we’ll just have to leave my claim for the winter and hope it’s okay till spring.”
Muttering a curse, Ramsey Tucker said, “Wait here, old man. I’ll be right back with your money.” He started for the door, then paused and wheeled around, hands balled into fists. “And shut up that squawlin’ woman, will ya, or I’ll shut her up myself.”
Outside, Faith sensed her mule’s unrest and calmed him with a hand on his neck. She stroked his velvety nose. “Easy, Ben. Easy. He’s not coming after you. I won’t let him hurt you ever again. I promise.”
Irene was ministering to the canelo, as well. Faith smiled. Any woman who’d make the effort to soothe a helpless animal was okay with her, even if she was a rival for Connell’s affection. Given some of the other choices the plainsman could have made in his travels, Irene would make a fine wife. She was probably a lot like Little Rabbit Woman, his late Arapaho mate, which was all the more reason to be happy for him.
Faith made a wry face. Think it often enough and she just might start to believe it. Eventually.
Emory sat Charity in his only real chair, a rocker where he’d whiled away many an hour of loneliness, and patted her hand. “Stay right here, girl. And stop crying. Your daddy’s fixin’ to make everything up to you. But you’ve got to trust me, you hear?”
She nodded. “I’m so sorry.”
“Nothin’ to be sorry for.” Having no handkerchief, he handed her the corner of her apron. “Dry your eyes and watch. You’re about to see a comeuppance the likes of which you’ve never dreamed.”
“But Papa—”
“Hush.” He straightened, shielding her with his body as Ramsey Tucker returned carrying a small poke.
Frontier Courtship Page 23