Anne’s cheeks prickled with heat and her hands were trembling. “Are you quite finished?”
Mrs. Carver gave a single jerk of her chin.
“I am well aware of where Lottie came from. Thank you.”
“My girl, you don’t understand. You cannot have her in a position so close to you. Her presence will tarnish your own reputation.”
“No. You are the one who does not understand. Lottie has been my friend for years. She fed me when I was starving and half-drowned from the rains. And she took care of me when I was sick. The people who work for me are not just employees. They are my friends.” Anne stood again. “I have tried to change everything about myself to suit you.” She waved a hand at the sober navy day dress she wore. “And I’ve let you have free rein to change my house to better suit your tastes. But you will leave my friends alone. They have been family to me far longer than I have known of your existence.”
Once more Bao Chang appeared in the doorway with a tray. With quiet dignity he brought it in and set it before Anne. Then he produced a thin, yellow telegram and handed it to her. “This has arrived for you, Miss Anne.”
“Thank you, Bao Chang.” She gave a nod that bordered on a bow.
He withdrew with his usual dignified air.
Her hands were still trembling as she took the flimsy sheet, but they stilled as she read.
“Is something wrong, Miss Shepherd?” Jack’s voice intruded on thoughts that had grown suddenly jumbled. He stood at her elbow as if she might faint and he would need to catch her.
She did feel dreadfully cold. “I—um, yes. There is trouble at the mine. Someone has tried to take it over.”
Jack watched Anne closely. All the blood had drained from her face, and where a moment ago she had been full of magnificent fire as she squared off against her aunt, now she looked suddenly fragile. She let the telegram slip from her fingers and flutter to rest on the tray.
“Excuse me, I need to go.”
Politeness would have required an acknowledgment and a gracious farewell, but she had spoken with too much finality. “Go? Where are you going?”
She raised her eyebrows as if the answer was obvious. “To the mine. I have to go take care of this.”
“The mine? But isn’t that some distance from here?”
“About a hundred and eighty miles.”
Her aunt sat up at that, spluttering. “You want to travel so far, alone in the wilderness?”
“I’ll take the train as far as Stockton.” Anne smiled.
“But that still leaves some one hundred miles to your destination, doesn’t it?” Jack asked.
“You needn’t worry. I’ve made the trip many times.”
Jack had been waiting for just this opportunity to head out into the wilderness. He cocked his head, trying to signal to her that this was the opportunity for her to follow through on her part of their deal. His chance to test his mettle against the wilderness. “But the territory is hardly tamed.”
“That’s true. Many of the mining towns between here and there have dried up.” Anne looked at his facial contortions as if she feared for his sanity. Then her expression cleared. “Of course, having a gentleman along to keep me safe would be most welcome.”
Mrs. Carver slammed her cup into its saucer. “You absolutely cannot go into the wilds alone with a young man. It would be suicide for your reputation.”
Jack’s rising hopes spiraled to the earth, but Anne merely smiled. “Then you’re welcome to join us.”
Flustered, Mrs. Carver waved her hands. “I couldn’t possibly. The idea—there’s too much. The—” She seemed to latch on to a thought. “Perseus can’t go into the wilderness either. His foot is still healing, and he ought to stay home and take care of it. You can send someone. Surely you have someone you trust—”
“I have a number of people I trust, but this is personal. That mine is my father’s legacy, and I worked it with blood, sweat, and tears. I’m not going to let someone come in and try to take it away.”
“And I’ve got a clean bill of health on my foot. I can’t in good conscience allow a delicate young lady to face the rigors of the wilderness alone.” Jack knew he was laying it on a bit thick, and he thought he saw Anne hide a grin behind her cup, but she was so quick he couldn’t be sure.
The lacy handkerchief in Mrs. Carver’s hand looked like a white flag of surrender. “When must we leave?”
“Immediately.” Anne had a curious look on her face, as if she were regretting the rash decision to invite her aunt now that it looked as if it might be accepted. “There’s no time to be lost. But it will be rigorous. We will need to ride hard.”
“Don’t you worry about me. I am an accomplished horsewoman.”
The lines of Anne’s face hardened once more. “We leave in one hour.”
Mrs. Carver’s mouth hung open and her hands dropped to her lap. “Such a thing simply isn’t possible.”
“It certainly is. I would give you longer, but we need to catch the afternoon train for Stockton. I’ll send Lottie to help you. Take only the essentials.”
Without a backward glance, Anne marched from the room, and Jack could hear her issuing orders. Within a few minutes the sounds of scurrying feet could be heard throughout the house.
Mrs. Carver remained seated, staring forward. She had an almost windblown look about her, as if she had been caught in a tornado.
“Well, ma’am.” Jack offered his arm. “It appears we both have packing to do in a very short amount of time.”
“Hm? Yes.” She allowed him to help her up and escort her from the room. “She’s a rather forceful young woman, isn’t she? Not at all docile.”
Jack nodded gravely. “I think that’s fair to say.” Personally, his unease about how Anne would be able to manage her opinionated relative had been put to rest, and in the process he had a bubbling, fizzing sort of sensation in his chest. Like he was standing on the edge of a precipice and looking forward to the leap.
Chapter 4
Anne had been hard-pressed not to pace the length of the train car during their journey the previous day. They had arrived in Stockton too late to make any headway before they lost the sun. So she had led their small party to the Occidental Hotel, which was located not far from the station.
Though she had slept fitfully, she was ready to go, dressed in a divided skirt and cambric shirtwaist, as soon as dawn broke. She pinned her hair into a neat chignon at the nape of her neck then drew on her battered old Stetson. She caught a glimpse of herself in the tarnished surface of a mirror, and a spark of recognition flew through her. For the first time in months she looked like herself. It was nice. She slipped on her heavy trail gloves and slung her saddlebag over her shoulder. Maybe it was time to stop pretending that she could ever be a lady of refinement and get back to the business of running the mine and her investments. If she had been out at the mine and paying attention, there might never have been any trouble.
In the lobby she spoke to the clerk, who summoned a boy. The boy took her saddlebag and sped off through the hotel. When she turned back to the lobby, she found her aunt descending the stairs stiffly, Jack at her side, though she was waving away the assistance he offered.
Anne met them at the base of the stairs. “Are you all right? Perhaps you ought to rest here, while we head out to the mine.”
“I’ll be fine.” Mrs. Carver brushed away all attempts to assist her, standing on her dignity as she had since Anne had insisted that she could bring no more than a single bag.
“I could also get you a ticket back to San Francisco.”
Her aunt might have replied, but her attention was diverted by something behind Anne. Anne turned to find the clerk to whom she had spoken.
“They’re ready, miss.” He led the way outside. Standing in the street was the boy he’d sent running earlier, along with four horses.
“We’re riding? Are these your horses, or did you hire them?” Jack sounded intrigued.
An
ne signed the paperwork the clerk handed her. “These beauties are mine. They came with us on the train yesterday. You didn’t think I was going to make you walk a hundred miles on foot, did you?”
“I, for one, had no idea as to your intent.” Her aunt sniffed. “You’ve been very high-handed.”
Anne gave the clerk and boy each a handsome tip and took the reins of the animals. Jack immediately stepped forward to assist her.
“I apologize if my manner has offended, Mrs. Carver. It’s too slow to go around by the cart roads. I’ve brought horses so that we can take more of a straight shot. The terrain is rough. It will take three or four days to get out to the mine.” She thought about offering to send the woman back to San Francisco again but decided that it might seem too pushy.
The packhorse had already been loaded down with essential supplies, and the other animals had been groomed and saddled. Anne made a quick circuit, inspecting each animal to make sure they didn’t have any injuries. Then she clapped her hands together. “I think we’re ready to hit the trail.” The thought of getting up into the mountains made her tingle. She was going home.
A thought suddenly occurred to her as her guests made no immediate move forward. “My goodness, are you able to ride?”
“I assure you, I can ride perfectly well. I just don’t know which of these brutes is supposed to be mine.” Her aunt’s words were tart, but Anne was relieved.
“Mrs. Carver, I think you might find June Bug an agreeable mount. She’s … tractable.”
“I suppose it’s too much to hope there is a sidesaddle available.”
Anne opened her mouth, but her aunt forestalled her apology with a raised hand. “I’ll manage.”
Anne glanced at Jack, who gave a miniscule shrug. It was clear that her aunt was uninterested in any solicitousness from Anne, so she nodded and they mounted up.
The eastern horizon was still a watercolor painting washed with the gray tinge of night, the sun still lazing behind the mountains as they rode out of Stockton. Anne set a swift pace. They needed to make time as quickly as they could while the terrain was still good.
Anne glanced back a number of times to make sure Mrs. Carver was able to keep up. Somewhat to her surprise, her aunt had outfitted herself with a split skirt. She sat a horse with the ease of long habit.
The town puttered out around them, fading into the occasional farmer’s homestead. They wended around cherry and walnut orchards and fields of waving grains. Jack alternated, sometimes riding next to Anne, other times falling back to ride beside her aunt. He was nothing if not a gentleman. Anne wondered, not for the first time, if there was anything more to his leaving Boston and coming west. He seemed so accomplished, she couldn’t imagine what would cause him to abandon the life he’d always known. Or—she looked out at the unspoiled country and breathed in deeply of the fresh air—perhaps there wasn’t anything strange about it at all.
Anne called a halt for lunch beside a rippling little stream. Dismounting, she felt the ache of muscles she had not been putting to good use for a while. She welcomed the pain. It meant she was doing something to correct the deficiency, but she wasn’t so naive as to think that everyone would feel the same way she did. Jack was walking slightly bandy-legged, and her aunt moved slowly, though neither of them voiced any complaints.
They were tougher than she might have given them credit for, but as soon as they had eaten, she mounted up again. She led them relentlessly on through pasturelands. Through marshes. Always bearing toward the mountains and the mine. She felt like the proverbial homing pigeon.
By late afternoon they reached the Sierra Nevada foothills, a scrubby-looking stretch, windswept and home to only the most tenacious species. She finally saw what she had been aiming for, a ramshackle fence made of scrub brush bound together with everything from bits of rusty barbed wire to twine.
“What is this place?” Jack asked.
“This is a Yokut Rancheria.” Anne swung herself down from her horse and opened a gate that no one would suspect existed if one didn’t know it was there.
There was a moment of silence, and Anne glanced up to see Jack and her aunt exchanging a look.
Her aunt spoke after a moment. “You mean Indians.”
“Yes, it’s their village. They’ve been granted this land back from the federal government rather than having to go to a reservation.”
“Indians aren’t safe.”
Anne couldn’t hold in her laugh. “We were in far more danger of being robbed and beaten in Stockton than we are here.” She held the gate open for them and they rode through.
Jack gazed about appraisingly. “How big is this place?”
“Mm, I’d say maybe twenty acres. It’s meant to support almost four dozen Yokut.”
“How does that work?” Surprisingly, this question was from her aunt.
“Not very well sometimes.” Anne shrugged. “But they prefer this to the reservation. This is their homeland.”
Now this was more like it. He’d finally found his way to the real west if he was going to see an Indian village.
A little girl of perhaps seven darted from around an evergreen.
Anne inclined her head. “Hil-Lé.”
“Hileu ma tannin.” The little girl looked up at them from under breathtakingly long lashes.
“Where’s your mama?”
The little girl took to her heels, scampering through the trees. Anne snorted a laugh. “We’ll have a welcoming party soon enough.”
“Just so long as it’s not the kind of welcoming party that is interested in scalping their guests.” Jack lowered himself gingerly from his mount and walked with her, trying not to show how sore he was. He had discovered why cowboys had the reputation of being bowlegged.
“Not a chance. Your mangy scalp wouldn’t interest anybody.”
He put on a show of mock outrage. “I resent that. I don’t have fleas.”
“Well now, there’s a recommendation.”
They walked side by side, leading their mounts, following the path the little girl had taken, albeit at a slower pace. Mrs. Carver remained firmly in her saddle, as if she might need to gallop for safety. Jack glanced back to check on her a time or two, and each time Mrs. Carver’s eyes were examining the trees and shrubbery suspiciously, as if she expected Indian warriors to spring from the underbrush with war whoops and tomahawks flying.
What they found instead was what appeared at first glance to be a handful of large, round haystacks. Closer inspection revealed that these were actually carefully constructed dwellings covered in thatch. In the center of the small gathering, a number of women were working around a large central fire pit. They straightened at the approach of visitors.
Anne raised her arm and called a greeting.
The women responded in kind and a couple moved forward. The travelers were quickly overtaken then surrounded by a herd of stampeding children led by the little girl. The children were like a tide encircling Anne. Even knowing that it was idiotic, Jack felt fear tickle the back of his throat. Resolving not to read any more dime-store novels, he stood tall, trying to see the horde as children rather than the savages of legend.
Anne, meanwhile, did not flinch. She remained perfectly composed, even happy. She laughed as she was all but nearly overrun by some two dozen small bodies with outstretched hands. She held up a brown paper bag. The children let out a cheer. Anne gave the bag to the tallest of the boys, and just as quickly as they had appeared they dispersed, following the boy with the bag as if he was the pied piper.
“What was that?”
Anne gave him a smile over her shoulder. “Candy.”
The first Indian woman reached her. “You spoil them.”
“They deserve a treat. As do you.” From somewhere she produced another bag and pulled a handful of brightly colored silk ribbons from inside.
The other women had come alongside them now, and they gasped at the brilliant rainbow in Anne’s fingers. Their eyes lit up, and one of t
hem reached forward as if to stroke the soft fabric. Anne pressed the ribbons into her hands.
“We can’t …”
“Don’t be silly. You have shown me such kindness, I must repay my debt.”
“You will eat?”
“If you will have us. I would love another of your wonderful meals.” Anne turned to bring her aunt and Jack into the conversation. “May I present Mrs. Irene Carver and Mr. Perseus Wilberforce.” With the hand holding the reins she gestured at the women beside her. “This is Huyana, Papi, and Mary.”
The women smiled at their visitors shyly, looking up through their lashes. Anne linked her arm through Huyana’s. “Now, tell me how Captain Frank is doing. The last I heard, he had big plans to get the rancheria expanded.”
Jack let them move ahead of him and hung back to walk alongside Mrs. Carver’s horse. “Are you all right, ma’am? You look pale.”
The lady swallowed hard but then gave him a little grimace that might have been meant for a smile. “My friends in Boston will never believe it when I write to them of this.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He gave her smile back with interest. “I’m sure they are aware of your intrepid nature.”
“Pish. They may think I’m bossy, but I doubt they consider me intrepid.” She grimaced again. “Perseus, might I ask a favor.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
“I’m afraid I am in need of assistance to dismount.”
“Of course!” He stopped instantly, letting his own horse’s reins fall to the ground.
Mrs. Carver all but fell off the horse into his arms. He staggered backward and his healing ankle gave a howl, but he managed to keep them both upright and steady the lady while she gathered her composure. She did not stand up straight immediately, however.
“Have you perhaps injured your back?”
“Go ahead with the others.” She sounded cross. “I’m fine.”
“I would prefer to make sure you are all right.”
The American Heiress Brides Collection Page 43