Gold Rush Bride

by Shirley Kennedy

  In the dining room, men in mining clothes sat around a table at least thirty feet long, not a woman among them. Judging from their scraggly, unkempt appearances, they’d come straight from their mining claims and hadn’t given a thought to dressing for dinner. They were making a great deal of noise as they passed around huge platters of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, and dipped into a large, steaming tureen of soup. All action stopped when they spied Letty standing in the doorway.

  Someone whistled.

  Someone shouted, “Lookee, a woman.”

  She froze, about to turn and leave, but a calm, genteel voice said, “Gentlemen, there’s a lady present. Settle down.” An older, white-haired man wearing spectacles arose from his seat. Although dressed in miner’s clothing like the others, he had the air of a gentleman about him. He bowed in her direction. “I believe you’re the new boarder.”

  From around the table, assessing male eyes were devouring her, making her feel as if she were on display in a butcher shop window. She wanted to run, but if she did, she’d make a fool of herself. Besides that, she was practically salivating at the sight of all that food. She forced her lips into a smile and nodded back at the white-haired man. “Indeed, that’s correct, sir.” Good. She’d sounded cool and confident. Her gaze swept around the table. Loud and clear, she announced, “I’m Letty Tinsley from Boston. Now, if I can just find a place to sit?”

  “Here! Here!”

  Amidst eager cries, she hastened to where the white-haired man was beckoning. He scooted along the bench he was sitting on, making a place for her beside him. She wasted no time in seating herself. “Thank you,” she whispered, highly relieved to be out of the limelight.

  He nodded agreeably. “I’m Jared Leventhal. In another life, I was Doctor Jared Leventhal from Atlanta. Now I’m just another miner who’s fool enough to believe he’s going to make a fortune. Call me Doc.” His warm eyes filled with interest and concern. “Why are you here, young lady?”

  “It’s a long story.” During the meal, while enjoying every bite, she told him why she’d come to Empire. When she finished, she asked, “Did you know Charles?”

  “Never had the pleasure. Now tell me this, Miss Tinsley, how will you search for your brother? Do you have a plan?”

  “Do call me Letty. Not exactly.” As yet, she had no plan all.

  “I thought not. Here’s what you should do. First thing tomorrow, you go to the Assay Office—that’s also the mining claims office. Show them Charles’s Golden Hill claim. Find out if it’s still good. I dunno.” He bit his lip and looked doubtful. “If he hasn’t been there for a while, he might have lost it.”

  “Oh, I hope not. Of course, I don’t want to work his claim, I just want to know where it’s located, so I can go up and take a look around. He had a tent up there.” Honest though Doc seemed, Letty was careful not to mention the map Charles drew of Montezuma and its “fabulously rich vein of gold.”

  “There won’t be much left, if anything,” Doc replied. “Winters are rough in the high Sierra.”

  “I don’t care about that. I want to see Golden Hill.”

  “Of course. Here’s what else you should do…”

  By the time Doc finished, Letty’s confidence had spiraled. Thanks to him, she now had a clear idea of how she should search for Charles. He’d laid out a plan she’d find easy to follow. And best of all, she’d found a new friend. She hadn’t realized how lonely she’d feel as a complete stranger in a town different from anything she’d ever known.

  After dinner, returning to her room, she met Mrs. Del Vechio in the hallway. She planned to pass by with a quick nod, but her prickly landlady stopped and wanted to talk. Cocking her head, she asked, “Do you really think you’re going to find Charles?”

  Letty ignored the brash attitude. “I’d like to think so. I’ve come all the way from Boston to find out.”

  “Humph! Likely a wasted trip.”

  She’d be nice if it killed her. Maybe asking the woman’s opinion might help. “What do you think happened, Mrs. Del Vechio? I’ve heard that probably robbers killed my brother, or thieves. Do you think it might have been that bandit, Juaquin Marietta? I’m told he was in the area at the time.”

  “Not likely.” The landlady bent close. “There were rumors. Some said Garth Morgan was responsible, but I don’t believe it. That man is honest as they come.”

  “Then who do you think was involved?”

  Mrs. Del Vechio leaned closer still. “If anyone was involved, it was that employee of his, Mathew Hastings.”

  Letty was hard put to conceal her surprise. “Mathew? But I know him. He’s the most mild-mannered, harmless, inoffensive man I know.”

  “You can’t judge a book by its cover.” With a smug look on her face, the landlady walked away, leaving Letty shaking her head, incredulous, and totally disbelieving.

  Next morning Letty sat next to Doc at breakfast. He greeted her warmly and looked apologetic. “I’d go with you if I could, but I’ve got this claim I’ve got to—”

  “Of course I understand,” she hastened to tell him. “You can’t waste a day.” She’d spent less than twenty-four hours here but already recognized the feverish excitement that possessed Mrs. Del Vechio’s boarders, the same that had swept the nation, if not the world. The prospect of finding a fortune had driven these men to dedicate every waking hour to their search. Each man believed his luck could change at any moment, even intelligent, reasonable men like Doc and her brother. Today could be the day they’d find that nugget big enough to make them rich the rest of their life.

  Letty dressed in her rosebud calico dress and gray silk bonnet. Making sure, as she always did, that the map was securely pinned inside her bodice, she didn’t include the claim this time. Instead, she placed it carefully in her reticule and set out for the main street of town. She soon found the assay office, a busy place with step-up windows where clerks weighed bags of gold dust for miners who patiently waited in a never-ending line. When Letty finally reached a window, she handed Charles’s claim to the young male clerk. “My brother filed this claim that he called Golden Hill. I’d like know if it’s still good.”

  The clerk disappeared to a back room. She anxiously waited. When he returned, he handed back the claim, nodding affirmatively. “It’s still good. No one else has filed. Of course, if it hasn’t been worked for three months, it’s considered fair game and anyone can file a new claim, but this doesn’t appear to be the case.”

  She smiled with relief. “That’s good news.”

  “Be warned, though. Someone could be working up there illegally. You never know.”

  “How do I get up there? Could you give me directions?”

  “Not sure,” the clerk said with a shrug. “That whole Coyote Creek area is pretty much played out. You’d have to find someone who’s familiar with the diggings up there.”

  “I see.” She thanked him and turned to leave.

  He called after her, “The Gilmore brothers had a claim pretty close to Golden Hill, I understand. They’re away, but they’re due back in town any day now.”

  She turned back and asked, “Where can I find them?”

  “If they’re home, they’ll be staying at the High Sierra Hotel. Right up the street. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

  The clerk gave her a warning glance. “Whatever you do, you’d better hurry. Summer’s nearly over. We’ll get snow any day now, and that’ll be the end of the digging.”

  She left the assay office happy and depressed at the same time. No one had taken over the claim, and that was good. But where was it located? Should she wait for the Gilmore Brothers? How could she get up there? And winter was coming.

  * * * *

  Sitting in his office at the Golden Phoenix, Garth couldn’t concentrate on the pile of work on his desk. For the first time in his life, he knew what it was like to be lovesick. In the past, he’d
scoffed at desolate friends who’d loved and lost. “You’ll survive, old boy,” he’d say, accompanying his shallow remark with a comforting slap on the poor fellow’s back, all the while thinking the man a weak fool. He never said such a thing, of course, but personally, he’d never met a woman who could even put a dent in his composure, much less shatter it completely, and he certainly never would.

  Letty had changed all that. He used to think there was no such thing as a broken heart. Now he was hard put to conceal his own. The fact was, he, the formerly poised, supremely confident Garth Morgan, the man known for his success at everything he tried, had suffered such a devastating blow he couldn’t sleep nights, lost his appetite and more than once had actually gotten tears in his eyes. Of course, he concealed his anguish well. At the first sign of weakness, his cutthroat colleagues would gleefully close in for the kill. So he held in all the grief and misery. Told himself to forget her.

  Please don’t try to find me, she’d written.

  Fat chance he’d try. He had his pride. He would never chase after Letty Tinsley like a lovesick calf. Hell would freeze over before he’d try.

  And then there was Lillian. Good God. He cursed the day he’d let that woman into his life. When he broke off with her, he’d been the soul of generosity. Out of guilt, he supposed, but he’d made a big mistake when he said she could take her time moving out. She had plenty of money of her own, but as yet hadn’t vacated her suite of rooms—the most luxurious in the hotel—and showed no signs of doing so. He wouldn’t mind if she stayed in her rooms and out of sight, but he seemed to be running into her wherever he went, almost as if she’d planned it. Damn it, he’d have to speak to her.

  * * * *

  “Hello, Lillian.”

  “Well, look who’s here.” She swung the door wide and gave him a big smile. “Come in.”

  He stepped inside. “I’d like to speak to you.”

  “But of course. Please do sit down.” She made a sweeping, exaggerated gesture, so typical of Lillian when she went into her grand actress mode.

  “This won’t take long. I’d rather stand.”

  “My, my.” She made a little moué. “Must we be so formal?”

  “How soon are you going to move?” A little blunt, but she’d get the point.

  She stopped smiling and brought a fluttering hand to her heart. “You plan to throw me out?”

  “Of course not, so don’t go all dramatic on me. I said you could take your time, assuming you’d soon find a place of your own. From what I’ve seen, you haven’t even been looking.”

  Her jaw tightened. She got a glassy gleam in her eye. “Why the rush? Were you planning to move your little blond in? The one with the big blue eyes and tiny waist? Where is she, by the way? I’ve been dying to meet her, but she seems to have disappeared. What happened? Did the love birds quarrel?”

  He stifled the anger that rose in his throat. “She has nothing to do with this. You’ve outstayed your welcome, plain and simple. I’m not forcing you out. I’m merely asking when you plan to leave.”

  Lillian’s face turned red. “What a fool you are, Garth Morgan, falling for that wishy-washy, little piece of baggage. What the attraction is, I cannot fathom.”

  That sneering voice, that bitter twist of her lips—he could hardly believe they’d been lovers once, a dim memory from another lifetime. More talk was futile. “We’re not getting anywhere with this. I’ll give you a month to find another place. That should be plenty of time.”

  She gasped and clutched at her throat. “Then what will you do? Toss me out on the street?”

  “You heard me.” Time to leave. He wouldn’t play her little games. He turned toward the door, had his hand on the doorknob when a thought struck him. He turned back. “The way you talked, you sounded as if you’ve met her.”

  Her eyes went wide and innocent. “What makes you say that?”

  “How did you know she had blond hair and blue eyes?”

  She laughed with scorn. “And a tiny waist? Someone must have told me.”

  She might be a good actress, but she wasn’t a good liar. “You’ve talked to her, haven’t you? Tell me the truth.”

  She jammed a hand to her hip and tossed her head back. “What if I did? What difference does it make?”

  He could read her like a book. Easy to see she was wavering between sticking with her lie or blasting him with the truth. He had an urge to grab her arms and give her a good shake. Not that he ever would. Like Mother used to say, Never hit a girl. Never shake one either, and never yell. In a voice that was cold but well controlled, he inquired, “What did you say to her?”

  “I welcomed her to San Francisco.” She forced an innocent smile. “Told her I hoped we’d be friends.”

  “What else did you say?”

  “Damn you, Garth Morgan!” From the mantle she snatched a flowered French porcelain antique vase that had cost him a fortune.

  “Lillian, no!” He had to duck as it whizzed past his head and shattered against the wall. She would not listen to reason, the state she was in, and he’d better get out of there. “We’re not done with this. Don’t forget what I said.” He left Lillian’s luxury suite seething with such impotent anger he could hardly see straight. Back in his office, he forced himself to sit at his desk, take deep breaths and try to bring his racing pulse back to normal.

  Mathew entered, a ledger in his hand. “I wanted to check this with you, Mr. Morgan, because… You look upset. Are you all right?”

  “No, Mathew, I am not.” Ordinarily he never discussed his personal life with an employee, but at the moment he was beyond preserving his usual decorum. Besides, Mathew knew him better than most. He’d never be a friend, though. Loyal though he was, and a hard worker, something about his mild-mannered, colorless employee put him off. Hard to say exactly what bothered him, other than sometimes he sensed a certain insincerity about the man. Right now it didn’t matter. “I’m worried about Miss Tinsley…”

  Garth opened up, proceeding to reveal more about his relationship with Letty than he’d ever revealed before, not that he mentioned the intimate part, although Mathew could probably guess. “And now she’s gone and I worry about her. I’d hate to think she might have gone to Empire by herself. Did you know she’s got a map of some vein of gold her brother discovered? Carries it pinned inside her bodice. I hope she’s being careful. God only knows what might happen if someone discovers it.”

  Mathew had listened with a sympathetic ear. When Garth finished, he asked, “Do you think she’s gone to Empire?”

  “I don’t know, and that maid of hers wouldn’t tell me.” An idea struck him. “Why didn’t I think of it? You know who’d know? Charles’s ex-partner, Thomas Fitzpatrick.”

  “Of course. He’s the one who left Empire and now owns a store here in San Francisco.”

  Calmer now, Garth rose from his desk. “I’m going to see him.”

  Mathew raised an eyebrow. “So you’re not done with her after all?”

  Garth left without answering.

  When he walked into Fitzpatrick’s General Store, Garth found the owner behind the counter. “Sure and it’s Mr. Morgan again,” Thomas said. “Were you looking to find Miss Tinsley?”

  Surprised though he was at the Irishman’s question, Garth answered promptly, “I was, and was wondering—”

  “She’s just fine,” Thomas broke in, eager to talk. “The trip to Empire went very well. Now, there’s a woman I truly admire. The journey wasn’t easy, being we went half of it by pack train, but not one word of complaint came from those sweet lips of hers.” He sighed with regret. “Wish I could’ve stayed to help her. That town is no place for a lady alone, as I’m sure you know.”

  So Letty was in Empire, just as he’d guessed, and judging from Thomas’s friendly, open attitude, she’d said nothing about their quarrel. “Yes, I certainly agree. The town of Empire is no place for a woman alone. I’m planning a trip up there soon
. Can you tell me where she’s staying?”

  “Mrs. Del Vechio’s boarding house.” Thomas’s lip curled with distaste. “I know, Mr. Morgan, that place is a dump and the woman who runs it has a heart the size of a pea. I tried to talk Miss Tinsley into something better, but she said she had to save money.”

  “Did she say how long she was staying?”

  “Until she found her brother, I guess. Or what happened to him.”

  “Thank you. You’ve been helpful.” He kept his voice deceptively calm. Tom needn’t know his brain was suddenly spinning. He’d resolved not to go after her. That seemed a sensible decision at the time, but something—and he didn’t know what—told him Letty needed his help, and needed it now. “I may go up there sometime soon. If and when I do, I’ll see how she’s doing.”

  “Glad to be of help. I...” The Irishman’s brow wrinkled, as if he wanted to say something more but wasn’t sure he should.

  “Yes, Thomas? Speak up.”

  “It may not mean anything.”

  “Understood. Speak up.”

  “All right then.” Thomas heaved his chest and took the plunge. “You remember that day you and Miss Tinsley came to the store?”

  “Of course.”

  “Right before you left, I started to say something and didn’t finish.”

  “I remember exactly. You said, ‘The last time I saw Charles…’ and then you stopped in mid-sentence. I wanted to ask why you didn’t finish but figured you’d changed your mind, and I wouldn’t pry.”

  “You’re right. I had changed my mind. The last time I saw Charles, it was here in this store, right before he disappeared. He and Mathew came in together.”

  Unbelievable. “You mean Mathew Hastings, my employee?”

  “Yes, sir, I do. They were in a fine mood, the two of ’em. Had come down from Empire to celebrate Charles’s good fortune. They stopped by to say hello and then were going to hit the town, make a night of it. That’s the mood they were in, and they were sure in the right place. Where else can you have a wilder night than San Francisco?”

  “But why didn’t you tell us?”