The Gold Digger

by The Gold Digger (lit)

  A horrible laugh rumbled in his chest. The sound of it made her sick.

  He pulled her face so close she felt his hot breath wash over her face. She tried to twist her face away, but he curled his fingers tighter. “You’ll be comin’ to Deadwood with me. I made a few connections last night. I think once they see you, you’ll be their new favorite girl.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Cinda whispered.

  “Oh, it is, missy, and those stupid men you wrapped around your finger can’t do a fucking thing about it. I might even make sure of it before we leave.”

  She forced herself to meet his eyes. “Don’t you touch them.”

  “I don’t think you’ll be the one givin’ orders, Lucinda.” He gripped her hair tighter, and her knees buckled from the pain. He shoved his face into the crook of her neck. “You smell good. Maybe I’ll keep you for myself.”

  Cinda closed her eyes and squeezed them tight, trying to keep the tears at bay.

  “We’ll leave this worthless hill in this worthless territory. Seems only right we take a bit of the gold. For your services.” He nuzzled closer, and his lips roamed up her neck. “You know where it is, don’t you, baby girl? Come on. It’ll make your life a lot easier if you tell me.”

  Cinda clenched her jaw and tried to nod. “Yes, I know where it is. If you let me go, I’ll get it.”

  Wilson drew away and wrapped his fingers tighter. He gave her head a little shake. “Nothin’ funny now.”

  She tried to shake her head, but his grip was too tight. She squeezed her words through tight lips. “No, nothing funny.”

  He released her, and she stumbled against the table. He stepped around her and pulled the envelope out from under the bundle.

  “No! Don’t touch that!”

  “Is it a bank draft? Are those two dumb asses payin’ you for fuckin’ them?” He flipped open the envelope and yanked the paper out. He looked at it for a minute then shook his head. “It’s a goddamn marriage certificate. You slut. You married one of them without my permission? Without givin’ me my share?”

  Cinda darted forward, but he lifted the paper higher. He shoved her again, and this time she hit the table with a force hard enough to knock it across the floor. She caught herself before she fell, darted across the room, and grabbed Stuart’s razor off the wash stand. She whirled and ran toward him, swinging the blade just as her stepfather lifted his face. The tip sliced through his shirt, and he lurched backwards with a cry of alarm. He stared at her, his eyes wide.

  “Damn, Lucinda. Don’t be like that.” He crumpled the certificate in his hand and dropped it to the ground. “What’s wrong with you, baby girl? Did I pull a knife on you?”

  “No, you brought a gun instead.”

  “Well, hell, I wasn’t going to use it unless you made me.” He lifted his shirt and studied the slice in the dingy cotton. When he raised his face back to hers, his eyes blazed with something she’d never seen before. She’d always known her stepfather was a cruel man, but the man before her carried a danger she’d never seen before. “You need someone to tame you, bitch. Looks like I came to collect you just in time. And we’re going to have a good time.”

  She held the razor in front of her, her knuckles white around the handle. “Stay away from me.”

  “You’re done giving orders.” He angled the rifle toward her. “Don’t make me shoot you. Get those nuggets. It’s time to share.”

  “I don’t want to share,” she snarled. She dodged toward him, jabbing the blade several times in his direction. He jumped backward. “I want you out of my life. Take that seventy dollars and get out of this territory, now, today, before I slit your sorry throat.”

  “That’s not going to happen, Lucinda. You see, there was a very good reason why I brought the gun. I brought it just in case things didn’t work out. I thought you might decide to be difficult. I’m not afraid to pull the trigger.”

  “Put it down.”

  “Not a chance.”

  She drew back her arm and flung the blade as hard as she could. Wilson screamed as the razor drove into his upper chest. He started to raise the rifle but stopped. Before she could turn around, she heard the voice behind her. “You should have listened to the lady, Mr. Parks.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. Mitch pointed his rifle directly at the center of Thomas Wilson’s chest. She swiveled her face back to her stepfather. Wilson lowered his gun, pulled out the blade and pressed his palm over his wound. His wide gaze swept between her, Mitch, and the barrel of the gun.

  “Drop the razor, Parks,” Mitch said. “Then kick it under the table.”

  Wilson opened his fingers, and the razor clattered the floor. “First off, the name is Wilson.” He kicked the razor, and it sailed across the planks. “This is all just a slight misunderstandin’ that started a couple days ago.”

  “Was that the day she ran from your house or the day you shot at me?”

  “That didn’t mean nothin’,” Wilson said. “Just tryin’ to get her home is all. Lucinda took it in her head to run off, but her mama wants her home, and I’ve come to collect her.”

  “She’s not interested in going back,” Mitch said. “She’s staying here.”

  “She’s my stepdaughter.”

  “She’s my goddamn wife,” Mitch snarled.

  “Well now, we can talk about that. There’s the matter of the dowry. If you give me my share, I’ll be on my merry way.”

  “Your share of what?” Mitch asked.

  “The claim, the gold, the—”

  Mitch strode forward and slammed the barrel of the gun into Wilson’s chest. A strangled noise came from her stepfather’s throat as he doubled over. Mitch swung the gun again and knocked the rifle out of Wilson’s hands. He kicked it toward Cinda and took a step back.

  “I don’t think that will be happening, Mr. Wilson.”

  Wilson surged toward the rifle, but Cinda beat him to it. She dropped down and reached for the gun. When Wilson dodged toward her, Mitch rammed the barrel of his rifle into Wilson’s back, then swung it in an arc, slamming it down onto Wilson’s shoulder. The man howled in pain and slumped to the ground.

  Mitch laughed. “How dumb are you, Mr. Wilson?”

  Cinda grabbed the rifle from the floor and aimed the gun directly at his head.

  “Go ahead,” Cinda said. “Try it again. I dare you.”

  Mitch shoved the gun barrel between the man’s shoulder blades. “I don’t think I’d take that dare if I were you. While you’re on your knees, pick up those coins.” When Wilson didn’t move, Mitch jammed the barrel harder. “If you don’t pick them up, you’re going to be splattered all over that wall. After that, I’ll let Cinda do what she likes with your carcass. We have some pretty big buzzards around here.”

  Wilson reached out and began to pick up the coins, rolling them in his hand. When he stood, Mitch shoved the rifle against his back again, and Wilson groaned.

  “Now give them back to Cinda. Nice and easy like.” Mitch smiled, but it wasn’t comforting, and it made Cinda’s stomach flutter. Wilson gulped. “Give them back the way a caring man might hand something to his stepdaughter.”

  Wilson held the coins out with a shaking hand. Holding the rifle firmly with one hand, Cinda opened her palm, and the coins slid into it, cold against her skin. She curled her fingers around them then took a step back, flipping her skirt to get it away from him quickly. She didn’t want his stench on anything in her new life.

  “Nice work, Mr. Wilson,” Mitch said. “Now get your ass out of this cabin, off this property and out of the Dakotas. I’ll be swinging by your place tomorrow, and I better find it uninhabited. If I don’t, you’ll be taking a tumble from a wagon, and it won’t be an easy landing.”

  Holding his arm against his chest, Wilson nodded. He shot one more glare toward Cinda then sidestepped around Mitch. He sidled out the door, and Cinda heard the furious scramble of boots hitting dirt and tearing down the path. Stuart yelled “I didn’t hea
r you say congratulations!” before he erupted into riotous laughter.

  Cinda let out a huge breath, laid the rifle on the table, and slumped into a chair. She dropped the coins on the table where they circled and twisted before spinning to a stop, collapsing into an untidy pile. She plunged her face into her hands and rubbed her eyes furiously.

  “It’s over, honey,” Mitch said gently. “Don’t cry.”

  She raised her face and laughed. “I’m not crying. I’m so angry I can’t see straight. If I see him again, I’ll kill him.” The thought of seeing Thomas Wilson again made her heart pound, not from fear, but because she knew if she did and could get to a rifle, she wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

  “Quite a stepfather you got there, Cinda.” Stuart clomped across the room and started slamming through cupboards. “I’m glad to know we’ve all risen above the level of our parents. That was a little intense.” He grabbed a tin of biscuits from the cupboard.

  “I could have used your help in here,” Mitch said.

  “I had your back. You seemed to be doing fine. She seemed to be doing fine, too, but I’m glad we got back before she gutted him.”

  Cinda glanced toward the door. “Had he moved again, I would have killed him.”

  “I’ve no doubt about it,” Stuart said. “You’re a hellion, Mrs. Dare, but we don’t need the complication. I’d rather have him alive when the sheriff picks him up.”

  Cinda frowned. “Picks him up from where?”

  “Home,” Stuart said. “I reported his ambush on us here to the sheriff. Normally he wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about a little gunplay, but Mitch and I happen to have a lot of money in Deadwood. I told him to setup a stake-out on Wilson’s property today because we figured he’d make a move as soon as we returned. Mitch saw that girl following us last night.”

  Mitch nodded. “Would have been better if I’d have seen Wilson. I could have taken care of him last night and delivered him to the sheriff myself, but I didn’t know what he looked like.”

  “You were listening to me and Melanie?”

  “Hard not to, honey,” Mitch said. “You might be a great gold digger, but in the spy business, you’re a little bit obvious.” He paused and lifted her chin. “Who exactly is Miranda?”

  “My sister,” she whispered. “She’s the reason I needed money. She’s disappeared, but Melanie thinks the place to start looking is Cheyenne.”

  Stuart smiled. “Then we’ll take a trip to Cheyenne.”

  “But Charlie—”

  “We’ll wait for her,” Stuart said, “and find out what problem she’s caused this time. But believe me, after spending a few minutes with her, you’ll be begging for a trip to Cheyenne.”

  Mitch reached out and lifted her chin. “It’s what you want, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Then it’s what we want, too,” he said.

  She leapt to her feet and hurtled into his arms. She hugged him as tight as she could, burying her face in the flannel of his shirt. She heard the crinkle of paper and peeked to see Stuart trying to flatten out the marriage certificate.

  “This piece of paper is worth a fucking fortune. You’re going to have to take better care of it, sweetcakes.”

  “I will.” Cinda glanced up shyly. “How much of a fortune?”

  “More than you can imagine,” Mitch said. “And a third of it is yours now.”

  “A fourth. Remember we have to think about Charlie.” Cinda leaned back in his arms. “And if I have an idea on how to spend some of it?”

  “What you got in mind?” Stuart asked.

  “I’d like to talk with Mr. Hawkins at the telegraph office. I have a feeling he could use a little help with some charity work he’s been doing. I gathered from Melanie he’s helped quite a few women.”

  “A worthy cause,” Mitch said. “And there’s plenty, enough to fund a similar organization in every major city if that’s what you want. Your share alone would—”

  Cinda reached up and covered his lips with her fingers. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to know how much. I never want to know. Whatever it is, it can’t be worth as much as what I found here.” She reached out and pulled Stuart closer. “I knew when I found that nugget, my life would change, but I had no idea how much. I swear to God, I must be the luckiest person alive.”

  Stuart laughed. “You won’t be saying that in a couple days.”

  “Oh, yes I will,” Cinda said. “Nothing will change the way I feel right now, not even Charlie Dare.”

  She studied her two handsome husbands, and her heart began to pound in an entirely different way. A week ago, if someone had told her there were better things in life than gold, Cinda would have scoffed at the idea. She’d since discovered there were at least two better things in life—and they looked identical.

  Love. So much better than gold, and so much easier. All she had to do was stake a claim. No digging required.

  Cinda laughed, but she’d been laughing a lot lately, and that suited her just fine. She whirled around and ran to the bed, diving onto the lumpy mattress. She rolled over and held out her arms.

  “Come and show me how lucky I am. I dare you!”

  It was a phrase they couldn’t resist, and she planned to use it a lot.

  THE END

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