“It’s yours,” Stuart said. “Partner.”
Cinda squealed with delight and launched herself into his arms. He caught her easily against his chest and swung her in a circle. “Partner? Really? That’s the best name you’ve ever called me!”
Mitch shuffled his feet in the grass then toed a rock and flipped it into the stream. “There might be another one, even better.”
For a moment, Cinda froze. She gazed into Stuart eyes and saw a shock she thought must mirror her own. Both of them twisted their faces toward Mitch at the same time.
“Mitch?” Stuart said. “What are you thinking?”
Mitch flushed. “I’m thinking if we’re going to have a partner, it should be more permanent. Three can dig better than two, and I swear, this girl has a gift.”
Cinda nodded enthusiastically. “I do have a way of finding nuggets.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Mitch said.
She wrapped her hand around his neck and tugged him closer to them. Her heart thumped erratically in her chest, and she could barely breathe, but she forced the words out. “Then what did you mean?”
“I meant…Cinda Parks, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve…we’ve ever met. You’ve brought more light and laughter into our lives than I ever dreamed possible. When a man’s been through as much life as we have, he starts to know what he wants and needs. And, Cinda, I…we need you. I can’t imagine waking up tomorrow and not having you here to share our lives. Would you have an interest in becoming Mrs. Dare?”
Cinda tugged him toward her. “Mitchell Dare, you have such a way with words. But you talk too much. Kiss me.” His mouth swooped down hard on hers.
“Longest speech he ever made,” Stuart said.
When Mitch lifted his head, he said, “Shut up, Stu.” He glanced up shyly at Cinda. “Is that a yes? Will you marry me, us, whatever?”
“Yes! Yes! It’s an absolute yes!” She dove into his arms then wrapped her arm around Stuart and pulled him into the hug. She kissed them each on the cheek. “I don’t know how being with two men works legally, but I figure we can buy our way out of any problems, right?”
“Damn right,” Stuart said. “A little gold goes a long way. I’d say with two mother lodes, we could make you queen of the Dakotas, maybe even the entire continent.”
Cinda smiled. “I don’t want to be queen. I just want to be Mrs. Dare. I can’t imagine there’s anything better than that.”
Chapter 8
She wore the best of her two dresses, a blue calico print that almost fit her. Her breasts strained against the confines of the fabric, and every time she took a deep breath, the buttons threatened to burst. She put her grandmother’s broach on a ribbon around her neck and brushed her hair until it shone. She piled it up high on her head, allowing small ringlets to cascade down her neck. She felt pretty and special, but more importantly, she felt loved. Her heart hadn’t stopped fluttering since Mitch had asked her to become Mrs. Dare.
They mounted Goldy and Midnight for the ride to Deadwood. Cinda nestled back against Stuart’s chest, scarcely believing that by the end of the day she would be a bride, probably the most unusual bride in the history of the Dakotas, or maybe even the continent. How many women were lucky enough to find one good man, let alone two?
Of course, one thing remained unresolved.
An hour after they’d left the cabin, Mitch and Stuart launched into the same topic they’d been arguing for the past three days.
“I’m telling you,” Stuart said, “she should marry me.”
Refusing to get caught in their discussion, Cinda held in a laugh and let her gaze wander over the shafts of sunlight peeking through the trees. She didn’t care which man she married, for in her heart, she knew she’d be married to both.
“Any particular reason she should marry you?” Mitch called over his shoulder.
“I usually handle the business transactions.”
Mitch grunted. “This isn’t exactly business.”
“It’s a partnership of sorts,” Stuart said. “That puts it in the realm of business.”
Cinda let her gaze slide toward Goldy who ambled slowly down the incline in front of them then looked up to the man in the saddle. Mitch stared for a moment into the trees.
“That’s exactly your problem,” Mitch said. “A marriage might be a partnership, but there’s a lot more to it than that.”
“And you’re an expert?” Stuart asked.
When they reached the bottom of the hill, Mitch tugged on the reins, and Goldy came to a halt. Mitch turned in the saddle. Her heart sped up as his gaze fell on her.
Mitch tipped his hat back. “I’m no expert, but I do know that what I feel for this woman falls well outside the parameters of business.” His gaze shifted to Stuart. “Besides, you owe me.”
“For what?” Stuart asked.
“I could have shot her dead the first day, no questions asked. I think I should get a prize for that.”
Cinda laughed and tilted her face to Stuart.
He rolled his eyes. “He has such a twisted view of life. I give up. Mrs. Mitchell Dare it is.”
* * * *
When they reached the bottom of the incline and broke through the tree cover, Deadwood appeared right in front of them as if by magic. Overwhelmed by the size and amount of people, Cinda could do nothing but stare in wonder at the amazing collection of structures lining the rutted paths serving as streets and the odd characters roaming between the buildings.
“It’s so much bigger than Sturgis,” she murmured.
Stuart tightened his arm around her waist. “It gets bigger every day. The telegraph came through last winter, and I’d be willing to bet we have a railroad soon.”
Mitch led Goldy onto what appeared to be the main street, and Midnight followed. Cinda’s gaze roamed over the banks, saloons, merchants, and dealers. The streets teemed with people moving in all directions, and horses vied for a clear path to travel any distance at all. Several rough-looking men stood at an outdoor stall, haggling over the vendor’s pricing for packets of meat wrapped in bundles. Another group of unsavory-looking men leered at her from an alleyway, and she caught a flash of a frowning face before one of them rounded the corner into an alley. She pursed her lips, thinking the man looked rather familiar, but then decided she couldn’t possibly know him. She knew very few people in the Dakotas and absolutely no one in Deadwood. She turned her attention back to the sights and sounds surrounding her.
Miners and loggers strolled from the livery and headed down to the edge of town where an array of small buildings flanked a meandering, rutted path near a large dancehall. Each tiny structure had either a closed door or one opened to reveal a rather scantily-clad woman. Cinda gulped as she realized these were some of Deadwood’s whores. This had been the offer Barney Dent had made to her, and had she not fled, her stepfather would have sold her as another occupant.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?” Stuart asked.
“For changing my life.”
“Seems that goes both ways, doll.” Stuart pointed toward the largest building she’d seen since she’d arrived in the Dakotas. “That’s where we’re heading. The Deadwood Hotel. Might not be the best place to have a honeymoon, but it’s the closest we’ll get to civilization without a very long stagecoach ride.”
“It looks beautiful.” Cinda smiled as she gazed at the two-story clapboard building. A wide, covered balcony wrapped around the top floor and offered a view of the entire town. She hoped their rooms led out onto the porch. She envisioned her two husbands wrapped in the light of the stars twinkling in the night sky. She sighed and leaned back to look up at Stuart. “Will I be Mrs. Dare tonight?”
“That’s the plan,” Stuart said. “We just have to settle in and find the preacher.”
Cinda glanced around, looking for a church steeple, but the most visible landmark of any other town she’d ever passed through seemed noticeably absent in Deadwood. “Doe
s the town even have a preacher?”
Stuart laughed. “Not exactly your traditional kind, but he can usually be found down near Chinatown at the cribs.” Stuart nodded in the direction of the small buildings where the whores plied their trade. “Not much call for daily services around here, but he does like to check in with the girls and make sure they’re being taken care of. He rotates Sunday services in the larger saloons.”
Mitch slid from Goldy and lifted his arms. Cinda jumped down, and he swooped her up and gathered her close. She laughed and kicked her legs.
“I’m a big girl, Mitch. I can certainly walk a couple of feet.”
“Wouldn’t want you to get those shiny boots all dirty, sweetcheeks. You worked too hard to look this good for us.”
He strode through the mud and settled her on the wooden walkway then went back to Goldy and grabbed the saddlebag. He handed the reins to Stuart.
“We’ll get the room while you settle the horses and find the reverend.” He gave Stuart a hard glare when his brother glanced down the street. “Don’t get sidetracked.”
Cinda followed Stuart’s gaze. “Stuart Dare! Would you visit a whore on your wedding day?”
The brothers laughed as Stuart tipped his hat and gave her a wink. He nudged Midnight and angled her toward a clear path in the throng, Goldy following. Mitch tossed the saddlebag over his shoulder.
“Stuart wouldn’t let a whore suck his dick if a free fuck came along with it. But don’t let him near the hardware store. He’ll come out with more equipment than we need, and some of it we won’t even be able to use.” Sure enough, Cinda watched as Stuart slowed down in front of the hardware store on the corner, leaning down to peer into the smoke-hazed glass. “He never saw a tool he didn’t like.”
Cinda turned and wrapped her arm around Mitch, snuggling into his chest. “And I’ve never saw a Dare I didn’t like.”
“You haven’t met them all,” Mitch said. “Believe me, you’d change your mind.”
* * * *
They checked into the hotel, and Mitch got them a room that opened onto the balcony. They arranged for a celebration dinner to be served that evening, and when Stuart returned an hour later with the preacher and a shiny new ax in tow, Cinda became Mrs. Mitchell Dare. The disheveled and somewhat forgetful preacher almost walked out of the hotel with her most treasured thing—her new marriage certificate. She practically tackled him to the ground to retrieve it and stuffed it into her bodice with a happy smile. She slid her hands through her new husbands’ arms, trying to act as though something this wonderful happened every day in her life. Her gaze, however, kept returning to the thin gold band that now adorned her finger. A wife with not one but two husbands.
They had their meal in a private alcove tucked off the main dining room and nestled behind a red velvet curtain. The table had been laid with bone china and crystal glasses, and glistening candelabrum held tall candles that sputtered and flared, casting a soft amber glow in the room. The Deadwood might not have been as elegant as a Cincinnati hotel, but Cinda thought it couldn’t possibly be any more romantic. Her new husbands wore satin waistcoats and string ties, and she doubted more handsome men existed this side of the Mississippi, and possibly not even on the other side.
A tall, lanky man swept in and out, bringing a platter of beef roast, bowls of potatoes and vegetables, and a heaping basket of fresh baked bread. Stuart ordered several bottles of wine, and they took turns offering toasts and sipping from each other’s glasses. The men seemed determined to fill her so full she couldn’t move. Cinda’s excitement made it nearly impossible to eat, but she dutifully took each bite they offered her, savoring the delicious meal, mostly because she hadn’t cooked it herself.
The server brought in a cherry cobbler and cut them huge slices. As he slid the final plate onto the table, the velvet curtain swung back, and a young man, not much beyond a boy, sidled inside. He paused, and Cinda eyed his small frame as he hovered in the shadow, drawing back against the curtain.
The young man cleared his throat. “I’m looking for Mitchell or Stuart Dare.”
Stuart set his wine glass on the table. “You’ve found them both.”
Cinda tilted her head and studied the boy. He shot a glance toward her and worried his bottom lip with his teeth. The boy wore his broad-brimmed hat down low on his brow, and in the shadow of the brim, she had a hard time making out any features at all, except that he seemed fair and petite for a male, no matter how young. He shoved his hand forward, and Cinda saw it trembled slightly, rustling the paper he held toward them.
“Telegram, sirs,” he said.
Mitch leaned forward in his chair. “How did you find us here?”
The boy shuffled his feet. “The operator saw you coming into town, sir.”
“Where’d you come from, kid?” Stuart said. “Haven’t seen hide or hair of you in the telegraph office before.”
The boy jerked forward like a puppet and dropped the telegram on the table. “I-I arrived in town last week, sir. On the stage from Cheyenne. This is my first day of work.” He pulled the hat lower on his brow. “Should I wait for a response, sir?”
“Don’t know yet.” Stuart reached out and plucked the message from the table. He glanced at Cinda as he unfolded the paper. “Sorry for the interruption, doll. Can’t imagine what this is. Our agents only message once a month, and our manager already checked in.” Stuart perused the paper for a moment then lurched to his feet. “Son of a bitch!” The chair rocked precariously then crashed to the floor. The boy uttered a terrified squeak and backed away from the table.
Stuart crumpled the paper in a tight fist then shoved it against Mitch’s chest.
“Do I need to ask?” Mitch said.
“Just read the goddamn thing,” Stuart snapped.
Mitch unrolled the paper then gave Stuart a disgusted look. “Would have been easier to read without all these wrinkles.”
“Is there a response, sir?” the boy asked quietly.
Stuart stalked around the table and grabbed his hat. “You can bet your sweet ass there’s a response, and it’s probably going to take more than one. I’ll go to the telegraph office myself.” He flipped a coin in the boy’s direction. As the boy dove for it, Stuart practically knocked the kid over as he flung back the velvet curtain and vanished. The coin dropped to the floor, and the boy grabbed the edge of the table, trying to steady himself. When Cinda reached to help him, his head snapped up. His eyes widened, then he jerked away from her, and his sudden movement caused the hat to tip back on his head. The glow of the candlelight blazed brightly across his face, and Cinda peered into a pair of large brown eyes shaded by long, dark lashes. Dark brown hair, thick and straight, tumbled down to fall onto thin shoulders. The sweet, pretty face and silky locks did not belong to a boy.
The young woman slammed the hat back on her head and furiously tucked her hair back up. Mitch continued to read the telegram, completely oblivious. Cinda nodded as the girl continued to stare at her. Finally she captured the coin, pressed it into the girl’s hand, and gave her a wink.
“Thank you, young man.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” The girl studied Cinda for a moment. “Do I know you? Have we met?”
Cinda shook her head. “I’ve never been to Deadwood before.”
The girl tilted her face, and a dark curl slipped out from under her hat. She pursed her lips, then spun on her heel and vanished through the curtain.
“Deadwood sure is interesting,” Cinda said.
Before she had a chance to contemplate the girl posing as a boy and her curious reaction, Mitch slammed the telegram to the table and leaned back in his chair. “Fucking hell,” he muttered.
“Is there a problem with one of your other mines?” Cinda asked.
“Worse,” Mitch snarled. “Our sister is getting on a goddamn train as we speak.”
Cinda’s eyes widened. “You have a sister?”
* * * *
The last thing Mitch wanted to do
was ruin the evening by talking about the ball of fury otherwise known as their sister, Charlotte. He avoided the subject of the telegram for as long as he could, but when Stuart had been gone nearly an hour, he started to talk. Cinda nibbled at the cherry cobbler and sipped wine, listening intently and nodding occasionally.
They’d struck out from Ohio right before their thirteenth birthday. He and Stuart had no regrets as they said farewell to a farm suffering from neglect and a mother and father they hoped to never see again. Years later, however, they ran across a farmer they’d known in Ohio who’d also set out for greener pastures and the promise of the west. He told them their ma had delivered a baby girl several months after they’d left the Dare homestead. They tried to head back east several times with every intention of getting their sister out of a loveless and unforgiving home, but each time, something stood in the way. The war raging between the states made it increasingly harder to journey the waterways and cross boundaries, and the vast expanse of prairie unsettled by the Indian uprisings made overland travel nearly impossible. They knew even if they did manage to get to Ohio, the risks of returning to the west with a young child were too great. Charlotte was eleven when they finally arrived at the farm on the outskirts of Cleveland, and by then, she was a recalcitrant and surly pain-in-the-ass.
Their parents had balked, refusing to allow them to abscond with the only help they had on the farm, but the sack of coins Stuart had thrown onto their scarred wooden table had done the trick. Mitch packed Charlotte’s things, Stuart scooped her up, and they both listened to her scream and swear halfway to the Mississippi. They settled her into a school for young women in St. Louis, left enough money to provide for anything and everything she’d ever want, and set out for another strike.
Yearly visits had proven difficult, but somehow each summer they’d managed to get back to St. Louis. Charlotte had grown into a beautiful young woman, though her stubborn, sometimes nasty, streak continued. She now held a teaching position at the academy because Stuart had paid them to hire her.
The Gold Digger Page 11