“You can’t possibly think you’re going to get away with this.” Anne shook her head. “Even if you kill me, my heirs will own the mine, and they’ll come to check it out. You can’t steal a mine without someone noticing.”
While Holt kept the gun trained on Anne, Clint grabbed hold of Jack’s hands and began binding them behind his back with a piece of rope. Undeterred, Jack spoke. “Anyone looking at those will know they’re forgeries. You didn’t even spell California correctly.”
“We’re not trying to steal the mine.”
Anne had no idea what he was getting at but refused to give him the satisfaction of asking.
He gave her a look that was the equivalent of a pat on the head. “We’re stealing the gold, sweetheart.”
“What?” Jack’s question had an incredulous little laugh at its tail.
“We are stealing the gold,” Holt enunciated carefully. He looked back to Anne. “Your men are very kindly helping us out.”
“You’re using them as slave labor.” The heat in Anne’s blood began to climb again. Clint reached for her arm and she jerked away in revulsion, bringing her other hand around and boxing him soundly on the ear.
“Ow.” His grunt of pain was loud but almost drowned out by Holt’s bark of laughter.
“You’re going to have to keep an eye on this one. She put up more of a fight than all them other boys put together.” He tipped his hat to her. “I suppose that’s why you’re the boss, ma’am.”
Clint approached her more warily this time, and she backed away from him one step and then another. Unfortunately, this put her too close to Holt. Lightning fast, he stepped forward and grabbed her by the throat. The pressure of his fingers digging into her windpipe held her in place.
Hands tied behind him, Jack dove toward him headfirst. “Let her go.”
Holt clouted him on the head with the butt of the gun and bright red blood immediately welled up from a gash on Jack’s forehead. He slumped to the ground with a groan.
Dark spots swam in Anne’s vision. Her feet had only the most tenuous purchase on the ground. She couldn’t get leverage. Couldn’t get a breath. She wanted to claw the hand away from her throat, but Clint had jerked her arms behind her as he bound her wrists. The cord bit deep into her skin, and her last panicked thought was a plea for air.
Dazed, Jack lay on the floor. Something dripped into his eyes, burning, and blurring his vision even more. He blinked furiously. A groan escaped him, and he tried to stand.
“Hurry up, you idiot.”
“I’m working on it, boss.”
“Now you’ve gone and done it. She’s passed out. I told you to hurry up.”
Jack struggled to right himself. It was difficult with the world spinning around him and without his hands.
“Sorry, Holt.”
“What did you do to her?” Jack demanded.
“She’ll be all right.” Holt was dismissive as he let Anne’s limp form slump to a chair. Her head lolled and she sat at an unnatural angle, with her arms behind her.
“Why are you doing this?”
Holt looked mildly confused. “Gold.”
“Why not rob a bank?”
Holt laughed. “We’ve done that, too, but there’s no percentage in it.” He holstered his gun and sat on the edge of the desk. Seemingly happy to explain the depths of his brilliance. “Banks are in towns where they got police, and folks get together posses. It gets messy. We could try the trains, but they ain’t as easy to hit as you’d think. They’re moving targets for one thing, and for another, every would-be crook in the west is trying to make his name robbing trains. We practically have to stand in line to take our turn. But I got to thinking, we needed a quiet place to lay low for a while, and we needed some big money. So I thought to myself, why not kill a bunch of birds with one rock. This mine had a few guards, of course, but it was easy picking them off, and then it was just a matter of rounding up the other guns and putting everybody to work. When we leave, we’ll be loaded down with all the gold them miners is digging up for us right now, and no one to say it ain’t ours fair and square.”
Jack was impressed in spite of himself. “That’s pretty smart.”
Holt nodded smugly.
“But where are you going to get it smelted?”
“You don’t need to worry about that none. Suffice it to say I got it all worked out.”
“What are you going to do with us?”
“I’ll give you options. Either you can join your pals in the mine and dig us up gold faster, or I’ll have Clint here throw you off the cliffs.”
“Not much of a choice.”
Holt shrugged. Jack longed to punch the smirk off the man’s face.
Anne stirred and then straightened up with a tiny moan. “I’m not going to work my mine for you.” Her voice sounded hoarse.
“Your choice.” The smirk grew darker. “We might be able to find another way to make you useful.”
Jack seethed, his wrists straining against the ropes. He should never have allowed himself to be tied up so easily. His struggles struck Holt as funny. The fellow began chortling and he pulled a face, evidently in imitation of Jack’s expression.
“Just wait until I get loose.”
“Ooh.” Holt waved his hands nervously. “I guess I gotta make sure you don’t get loose then.” His contempt hung in the air. “Clint, take the girl into the back room. I think I’ve got something she can do for me.”
Clint moved to do Holt’s bidding, but the instant he came within range, Anne lashed out with a kick that caught him square in the stomach. He doubled over, retching. Holt moved toward her, hand drawn back as if he was going to strike her. Jack lunged at the fellow, catching him just behind the knees with his shoulders. They both crashed to the ground in a tangle. The breath was driven from Jack’s lungs in a great whoosh. He gasped for air.
At that moment the door opened. Jack’s heart sank. It must be one of the gang, and any remote chance of escape they’d won by taking the captors by surprise was lost.
“Everyone hold still.”
That cut-crystal voice could only belong to one person. Jack raised his head. Mrs. Carver stood in the doorway with a rifle in her hands and a pistol tucked in her waistband.
Clint went rigid in his bent-over posture. Holt flopped onto his belly and stared at the newcomer with an expression of mingled surprise, annoyance, and amusement.
Anne bounced to her feet. “Aunt, you were not supposed to follow us.”
“Seems lucky that I did.” The hands holding the rifle were absolutely steady, her words precise. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
Laboriously, Jack gained his knees and then his feet.
“Jack, if you would be so good as to kick that man’s gun away.”
Jack glanced back at her. It was the first time she had ever used his preferred name. “Yes ma’am.”
He toed the gun away from Holt and kicked it into the corner.
“And then if you would be so kind as to step on his hands and keep them in place while I release you both.”
“It would be a pleasure.”
He must have sounded too gung ho. She frowned. “There is no need to be cruel. Simply apply enough pressure to keep him from moving his hands. I don’t want him to get the drop on us while I’m working to untie you two.”
“It’s going to be fun when my men come and catch you. I’m going to take my time,” Holt snarled.
“What? Telling them how you were bested by a woman?” Anne was smiling now as her aunt tugged at the ropes binding her wrists. It took but a moment to release her. “You’re good with those ropes.”
“Yachting was very fashionable when I was young. I became quite the sailor.”
Anne rubbed her wrists. “I imagine you have become everything you ever set your mind to.”
Her aunt returned her smile fully for the first time in their acquaintance. “Let’s just say that there are very few who have ever been able to deny me s
omething I wanted.”
Mrs. Carver set to work on Jack’s bonds while Anne collected Holt’s gun and their own weapons from around the room.
By the time Jack’s wrists were loose, Anne was pressing a peacemaker into his hands. He took it eagerly. “I say we return the favor to these two fellows.”
“By all means, they need to be tied up,” Anne agreed.
Mrs. Carver’s lip had a supercilious curl to it. “We’ll make a better job of it than they managed.”
She and Jack set to work. Hauling Holt to his feet first then pushing him down into the nearest chair, Jack made absolutely certain that the man’s hands were securely tied behind him, weaving the ropes through the chair slats, then took the extra measure of tying his legs to the chair legs.
Anne had busied herself making sure Clint was secured.
She stepped back to admire their handiwork, hands on her hips. “Now we just need to rescue my workers.”
A smile curled its way across Holt’s lips and he exchanged a look with Clint.
“What’s so funny?” Jack demanded.
“Nothing.”
Anne’s sneer at the man was full of loathing. “He thinks we’re stupid and that we haven’t figured out that he must have several men down in the mine keeping watch over my crew.”
Holt’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “If you’re stupid enough to go after them fellers, you’re stupid enough for anything.”
Jack had had more than enough of Holt. Snatching up Clint’s handkerchief from the desk where it had been discarded, he shoved it into Holt’s mouth. Using his own bandanna, he tied the gag into place.
“Thank you, Jack. We should have done that ten minutes ago.” Anne made a similar gag for Clint to prevent him from calling for help. Their problem was that they had no idea how many gang members there might be. While most might be in the mine, there was no guarantee there weren’t some on the surface, working in a kitchen or tending animals or something.
“We need to spread out and make sure all the buildings are empty.” Anne’s voice came from the back room. She returned a moment later with two more pistols and a box of bullets. “Let’s meet at the mine entrance in ten minutes.”
Jack and Mrs. Carver each took their share of spare bullets, and then they fanned out through the small settlement. Jack headed toward the building Anne had identified as the bunkhouse, gazing this way and that as he did so, watching for the slightest movement that would hint at the presence of one of the gang.
He eased open the bunkhouse door and stepped inside. No one. The musky stench of stale sweat and dirty clothes filled the air, but there was little enough inside, a half-dozen bunk beds and a couple of chairs was the extent of the furniture. He crouched, and the single move was enough to see under the whole row of beds.
He exited the bunkhouse and headed for the stables. The stench here was different but no less noxious. He eased the door open a couple of inches and glanced inside. A man was humming to himself and listlessly shoveling fresh hay at the far end of the barn. Why did he have to be so far away?
Pulling his hat low so that it shadowed most of his face, Jack stepped inside. He grabbed a shovel propped by the door and raised a hand. “Holt sent me to come give you a hand.”
“Huh?” The fellow looked up.
“I’m supposed to help you muck out this place.”
“Who are y—” He got no further before the broad blade of the shovel caught him on the head and he sagged to the ground. Jack rolled him to his side and got his hands and feet tied in record time. Maybe once all this was sorted he’d become a cowboy. He seemed to have a knack for roping.
His captive jerked awake as he tied the last knot. “You’re making a mistake, pal. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
Jack had run out of patience with these brigands, but he’d also run out of materials for a gag. He pulled free the fellow’s own bandanna and used that, but the makeshift gag was a fragile barrier to further trouble. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay quiet, and I won’t send the others from my posse in here to string you up.” Let the fellow think that making a ruckus would only cause him more trouble.
Jack pushed himself up and headed out the door. His ten minutes were up. It was time to see what the mines held.
Chapter 7
Anne kept her back to the wall of the mountain as she edged toward the mine’s open maw. She’d seen no one in the kitchen or storehouse. That had to be a good thing. It meant they couldn’t have too many men to spare. Or at least, that’s what she hoped it meant.
The skitter of a pebble made her freeze in place. She scanned the area and spotted her aunt crouching low behind a bush. Rifle at the ready, Mrs. Carver gave her a jaunty salute with her free hand. The woman was full of surprises today. Anne nodded acknowledgment and looked for Jack.
The minutes trickled by, but they couldn’t launch their assault without him. They were already outnumbered and, even though they were armed, the bandits would be just as heavily armed, and they would have no compunction about the miners getting caught in the cross fire. Anne adjusted the heavy rope slung over her shoulder, away from her neck, and looked to make sure her aunt was managing okay with the rope looped around her as well. Mrs. Carver didn’t even seem to notice the additional burden.
At last Jack appeared behind the corner of the paddock. The three of them crept from hiding, and together they abandoned the sun for the gloom of the mine.
The mine had started life as a cave, and Anne had explored it all at one time or another, but the mining had changed it in subtle ways since she had last been there. She took one of the lanterns from the hooks by the entrance and lit it. It might alert a guard to their presence, but she had to trust that the gang’s focus was on their prisoners and that they wouldn’t be expecting trouble from their flank. Once she and her companions got a few hundred feet from the cave entrance they wouldn’t be able to see a thing unless they had a lamp.
“There are four branches in the mine. I don’t know which one they will be working.” Her whisper seemed to ricochet off the walls and echo through the long passage.
“Should we split up again?” Her aunt sounded reluctant.
“I think we’d be wiser to stay together. They will have more than one man guarding the miners.”
“How many workers?”
“If everyone is here, there should be thirty-one.” She grimaced as they all tried to move forward quietly but seemed to make an enormous racket.
“If we can get the guards isolated, it will be a whole lot easier to manage them.” Jack patted a large coil of rope he’d brought along, draped over one shoulder.
Anne nodded then realized he probably couldn’t see the gesture. “But what if they’re not isolated?”
“Then we make the dark work for us and play like Gideon.”
“Make them think we outnumber them?” Anne was impressed. It was a good strategy, probably the only one with any chance of success.
“Keep them off-kilter,” he confirmed.
The darkness edged closer, hemming them in as they moved deeper into the mine. Anne’s senses strained to determine which direction might hold the workers. They explored the first branch of the mine, but it seemed to absorb every sound as they moved through it, giving nothing back. She was convinced that the miners weren’t in this branch, but they explored it to the end. Her pulse was hammering against her throat, and she endeavored to hold the lamp steady, quelling the shaking in her hands. They turned around and returned to where they’d branched away from the main shaft.
Just before they reached the second branch Anne glimpsed the blush of another light against the wall around a bend.
“Someone’s coming,” she hissed. She blew out their lamp and pressed herself against the wall.
The rustle of fabric and scrape of boots told her the others were doing the same. The light moved steadily forward. Anne held her breath. The fellow was humming some barroom song in a painfull
y off-tune monotone. By the time his lazy stroll brought him near, Anne had decided he deserved to be trussed up just for the torture he had done to her ears.
He swung his lantern in a lazy arc. It illuminated his face in its flickering glow and then plunged him back into darkness. He appeared far younger than Anne would have guessed, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, with a narrow-jawed face still pocked by acne.
As the lamp arced away from them, Jack moved. Anne heard a thud, and the bandit slumped to the ground. Somehow Jack managed to catch the lamp before it smashed to the ground and started an oil fire. Anne heard his hiss of pain, and he moved his fingers to his mouth.
“Did you burn yourself?”
“I’m just singed. I’ll be fine.”
Mrs. Carver tied up the lad while Anne took Jack’s hand in hers and examined his fingers. Angry red welts seared across the first three digits.
“These are going to blister.” She pulled her last clean handkerchief from her pocket and wound it around the fingers.
“I need to be able to move my fingers.”
“You need to not die of infection. Use your thumb to pull the trigger if you must. I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that.”
“Me, too.” His voice was full of anxiety and rueful humor, and something else she couldn’t define.
She glanced at his face, but it was too deeply shadowed to read. “Have you shot much?”
“Not at people.”
“Me neither.” Anne relit their lamp.
“I thought about trying to get information from him, but there was the chance he’d yell and bring reinforcements running, so knocking him out was the safest option.”
Anne put a hand on his arm. “You were wonderful. I’m glad you’re here.”
Leaving their newest captive and his lamp in the main shaft, they continued on down the side branch. It was shallower than the first branch, and they’d gone only a couple dozen steps before they rounded a curve and could see the glow of lantern light on the wall. Anne set the lamp against the mine wall. She wanted her hands free to handle her gun. If they retreated this way, they could retrieve it then, either at speed or at leisure.
The American Heiress Brides Collection Page 46