by Dana Alden
Delia shuddered. “Is that why you tried so hard to make me think Steven was alive? So I couldn’t move on?”
Geoff shrugged. “I wasn’t sure about him at first, either.”
J.B. was vibrating with the need to rush Geoffrey, to shove him away from Delia, to pound him into the ground for touching her. For terrorizing her. For trying to take her away from him. Only Geoff’s gun, pressed into Delia’s side, and Freddy’s gun aimed at him, stopped him.
J.B. cussed. “It’s here. Right here.” He gestured to a burlap bag on the ground. He pulled it off, dirt and pebbles falling to the side. And there was a beautiful, shiny, enormous chunk of gold ore. It was about the size of half a bucket. There were streaks of gray and black granite, but with more gold throughout than any other big piece of ore that J.B. had ever found. It was everything he had ever dreamed of. Everything he had hoped for. It was what kept him going through this backbreaking work.
And he’d give it up happily if it meant keeping Delia safe.
But he was afraid that wasn’t enough. He knew his last chance to rescue her was coming, when the men would be distracted by the gold. Even if Geoff was giving it all to Freddy, he’d have to be impressed. And maybe it was enough that he wouldn’t want to give it all. J.B. could incite a fight.
He reached down to haul it out, his arms and back straining to lift it. He shoved it onto the ledge.
He prepared to spring out of the hole, right at Freddy. He turned his head to catch Delia’s eye, willing her to be ready. Her eyes widened, but they weren’t looking at him. They were looking behind him.
Pain exploded in the back of his head and everything went dark.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Delia screamed as J.B. crumpled, disappearing into the hole. She tried to rush forward, but Geoff grabbed her arm, holding it tight, and shoved the muzzle of the gun under her ribs.
“I’ve had enough of your misbehaving. You’ll do as I say, or I’ll put you down like a rabid dog.” His voice was deep and rough and like nothing she’d ever heard him utter before. Chills ran down her spine. She stood still, waiting. She wouldn’t let them shoot J.B. She had to get them out of here.
“Let’s leave now. Right now. All of us,” she said. She took a deep breath. “And I won’t give you any more trouble.”
Geoffrey squeezed her upper arm until she thought he might break it. “You don’t think I see where your hand is inching to?” He let go of her arm and reached into her pocket, pulling out a knife.
“Please—" she gasped. He shoved her forward and she fell to her knees.
“Freddy!” Geoffrey barked. “You’re not leaving with that gold until we’re sure J.B. can’t follow.” Freddy swung around with his gun aimed down into the hole.
“No!” screamed Delia.
Geoffrey kicked her in the side at the same time as he yelled at Freddy, “No! Damn fool! We’ve made it this far without getting noticed. No gunshots unless absolutely necessary.” He walked over and picked up the shovel. “Fill it.”
Delia watched as Freddy’s face turned sour. He holstered his gun and took the shovel. He used it to point at Delia. “She can help.”
Delia felt her heart stutter at the idea of burying J.B., like her very insides were being crushed. Still on her knees, she put her clasped hands to her chest. “Please, no.”
Geoff grabbed her hair and tilted her head back. “If you’d rather, we can slit his throat and leave. I’d prefer something less obvious, in case anyone comes looking around, but it’s up to you.”
Delia’s eyes watered until Geoffrey was a blurred image, inches from her face. She whispered, “No. I’ll help.” She wasn’t sure she could help J.B., but she’d try.
She grabbed the burlap sack and slid into the hole. J.B. was half sitting, half lying against the side. She pulled on his arm until he slid all the way down, lying with his head next to an outcropping of rock. She threw the burlap sack over him, trying to catch it on the rocks around his head. She was trying to create an air pocket. She leaned down and whispered, “I love you, J.B.”
“What’re you doing?” Freddy asked.
“I’m showing respect. Haven’t you ever buried anyone before?” she spat out. If she acted like he was dead already, if they thought he was dead, maybe they wouldn’t try so hard to ensure it.
Freddy answered with a shovelful of dirt that rained down over her and the burlap-covered J.B. Delia scrambled to protect J.B. without appearing to do so. She pulled larger rocks off the ledge, sliding them down the side and arranging them next to J.B.’s prone form. She tried to not to let anything too big or heavy land on him. She wished he’d wake up. She feared he’d wake up. Geoffrey was pacing, frequently looking down the trail to see if anyone was coming. Freddy kept dumping dirt and pebbles over J.B., slowly covering his body, getting it all over Delia’s dress and hair, too. When neither man was paying attention, she arranged the rocks and burlap around J.B.’s head, trying to create breathing holes. When there was enough dirt that it wasn’t obvious there was a body, she said, “How long are we going to stay here?”
Freddy paused his digging. Both he and Geoffrey peered into the hole.
“I’m finished,” said Freddy. “This is good enough. Now, I told you I’d get you out of Virginia City, but if you don’t leave now, the deal’s off.”
Geoffrey’s gun hand swung toward Freddy and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Delia thought Geoffrey was going to shoot him. From the way Freddy’s eyes widened, he thought so, too. Instead, the gun moved again, to aim at Delia. “Help her out.”
Freddy reached a hand down. Delia grabbed it and allowed him to pull her out of the hole. Once on level ground again she looked back down at the mound that was J.B. She flinched when Freddy kicked the shovel; it landed on J.B. He didn’t move a muscle.
Freddy emptied out J.B.’s rucksack. He rolled the ore into it and wrestled it onto his back. “This way.” He took off walking down the trail. Geoff waved his gun in Delia’s face, then shoved her to follow. It was cold. She slid her hands into her pockets. A few snowflakes fell from the sky.
Chapter Thirty-Six
J.B.’s head throbbed. He was weighed down, far from light and sound. He simply lay still, trying to accommodate the pain swimming at the back of his head. He tried to open his eyes, but it was dim and he couldn’t figure out where he was. Muffled sound began to work its way through his ears. He tried to lift his arms, to push the cobwebs from his eyes, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t even take a deep breath. He began to panic, trying to thrash about though he wasn’t sure he was actually moving.
Suddenly, something was pulled off his head and bright light blinded him and cold air made him cough. His skull spiked pain and he felt a wave of nausea. He closed his eyes and stilled himself. Finally, he tried to make sense of the noise around him.
He looked up and saw a dog’s face peering at him from a distance. It was whining.
“J.B., can you hear me? J.B., it’s me, Reg.”
“And Michael Flaherty,” another voice said.
J.B. moved his eyes just a little. Through the slits, he realized what was happening. He was at the bottom of his pit, half buried. Reg and Michael were digging him out. Chatty’s dog was dancing around the cusp of the hole. It was so bright because he was on his back, staring straight up into the light gray sky.
“Delia,” he coughed out.
Reg didn’t pause as he shoved dirt and rock off J.B.’s arms. “She’s not here. She was headed this way. Did she make it?”
J.B. gave a weak nod. He willed himself to ignore the pain.
Michael, working on uncovering his legs, asked, “Was it her husband? He’s still alive?”
“No,” said J.B. “Steven’s uncle. Geoffrey Watson. Working with Freddy.” He used his one free arm to push dirt-encrusted hair off his face. “They’ve got Delia. We’ve got to get to her.”
Reg took J.B.’s arm and pulled him i
nto sitting position. Dirt and pebbles cascaded from his shirt. He struggled to break his legs free as his two friends continued to use their hands to shovel dirt away. They helped him get to his feet and out of the hole. His head throbbed, but it didn’t matter. He needed to get to Delia. They went down the trail, pausing at the split. Which way?
“I’ll go to town for more men,” said Michael. “There’ll be plenty willing to help look for Miss. Delia. If I see any signs this way, I’ll run back and let you know.”
“I can help you track,” said Reg.
J.B. nodded slowly. “I think this dog can help, too.” Chatty’s dog had started off down the trail away from town. He was stopped, nosing around the trail. Suddenly, he licked the ground. J.B. walked over and got down on one knee. “Can you smell Delia, li’l fellow? Can you track her?” He ran his hand down the dog’s back.
The dog lurched forward and licked his face. J.B. jerked his head back, but then leaned forward and sniffed. He looked up at the other two men and smiled. “Delia’s pine soap. She’s leaving a trail.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
It was evening. Delia, Freddy and Geoffrey had walked until it was nearly dark. Freddy had led them to a man-made cave; it was an abandoned pit mine. Now, they sat in the dark with a small fire for warmth. Freddy hadn’t wanted a fire, said it was too easy to find them, but Geoffrey had insisted. He wasn’t used to roughing it and, he’d said, “My bride mustn’t catch sick because of this adventure.” His voice was back to the sickly sweet one, and Delia wasn’t sure if her shivers came from the voice or the cold.
It was snowing outside, a heavy, unseasonable – according to Freddy – snow. They’d arrived in time to the cave that there would be no footprints uncovered to show their way, though how they’d leave in the morning, no one was discussing. Unfortunately, Delia’s scented lye soap trail, questionable at best, was a failure. No one would notice a sliver of white soap resting under the snow.
She pulled her shawl closer around, staring into the fire. Suddenly, a shadowy movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Unfortunately, it caught Freddy’s, too. He immediately pulled out his gun, cocking it. Geoffrey’s head snapped to attention. All three sets of eyes were glued to the dark entrance of the cave.
A shot rang out, the sound echoing around them. Freddy staggered back, red blooming from his shoulder, his gun flying from his hand. It discharged as it hit the ground, shards of rock splintering through the air. Geoffrey fumbled for his gun, but before he could unholster it, J.B. dove into the cave and tackled him. Delia scrambled to get out of the way. They rolled toward the fire, and away from it, punching each other.
Delia heard a grunt and saw Freddy stumbling toward J.B. and Geoffrey. She reached into her pocket and pulled out Bertha’s knife. It was small, but sharp. She shuttled across the ground like a spider and plunged the knife into Freddy’s foot, pinning it to the ground. He screamed and swung his arm, backhanding her into the wall. He raised his hand to hit her again but a furry bundle launched itself at him, followed immediately by Reg. He pinned Freddy to the ground.
Chatty’s dog stood sentinel, growling.
Delia shook away the stars. J.B. and Geoffrey were no longer grappling on the ground. Panting for breath, they circled each other. Geoffrey managed to pull his gun without taking his eyes off J.B. His eyes were crazy and he didn’t seem to notice the blood dripping out of his nose, oozing from his lip. J.B. swayed slightly. Delia picked up a rock and hurled at Geoffrey. She didn’t hit him hard, but it was enough to throw off his aim. When the gun went off, the bullet went astray.
Geoffrey flung the gun at J.B. and rushed him. They grappled on the ground and Delia struggled to see who was gaining ground. Suddenly, J.B. reared up, raising his arms over his head. He held…his boot. He’d pulled off his boot and slammed it down on Geoffrey’s head. One. Two. Three times.
And the fight was over.
Geoffrey groaned, but didn’t try to stand up. Reg sat on Freddy. Delia struggled to her feet while J.B. put his boot back on. They rushed together, falling into each other’s arms.
“Are you hurt?” J.B. asked, gently running his hand over the growing bruise on her cheek where Freddy had hit her.
“No, no, I’m fine. Are you hurt?” Delia rushed out. J.B. shook his head. He pulled her in tighter, and then pushed her away, a hand on each shoulder.
“Delia, we’re getting married. Body or no body.” He didn’t look like he was willing to accept anything else, but that was fine with Delia. Her heart felt like it was going to burst. She reached out, putting her hands on either side of J.B.’s face. She slowly pulled him toward her. “Yes,” she whispered.
Someone cleared his throat. It was Reg, looking embarrassed at seeing this personal moment. J.B. and Delia stepped away from each other, dropping their arms. After barely a pause, J.B. reached out and took Delia’s hand, holding it in his. He stood by her side and Delia felt as if together, they could face any foe.
Reg had tied up Freddy and now stood over Uncle Geoffrey, still prone on the ground. “That’s one heck of a boot you got there, J.B.”
They all looked at the groaning man, holding a hand against the pain in his head. “I’ve got a wood block in that one boot. It’s hollow. Or, it was. Now it’s filled with gold. Heavy gold.” J.B. smiled and squeezed Delia’s hand.
Delia felt a tug on her skirt. It was Chatty’s dog.
“We wouldn’t have found you so soon if it wasn’t for this dog’s love of your soap,” said J.B.
Delia slipped her hand from J.B.’s and knelt down. “It’s time we give you a name,” she said as she petted the dog. Suddenly, he looked to the entrance of the cave and growled. A moment later, they heard Michael Flaherty’s voice call out. “How are things, J.B.? I’ve got some fellows here ready to aid you.”
J.B. looked into Delia’s eyes as she stood again at his side. “Couldn’t be better,” he called out. He held her hand and they walked out of the cave together. “I’ve found the mother lode.”
Epilogue
The door burst open and blast of cold air and bright light shot through the cabin. J.B. stumbled in, tripping over the dog at his feet.
“Dawsy! Get out of my way,” he grumbled to the dog. They were both covered with a dusting of snow. Delia jumped up and quickly closed the door. She began brushing the snow off of J.B.’s coat and then took the basket from J.B.’s hands. She peered inside.
“Eggs! How did you get fresh eggs?” Her mouth watered at the thought.
“Reg made a trade with some fellow who has chickens laying inside his nice warm cabin.” He shuffled over to the stove and held out his hands to warm them. He glanced around their cabin. “I’m not sure I’m willing to share the cabin with chickens. It’s hard enough with a wife and dog.”
Delia raised her eyebrows at him. J.B. grinned. She shook her head.
“Is Reg joining us for supper?” she asked, walking over beside J.B.
“Afraid not,” said J.B. as he slipped his arm around Delia. They stood together in the circle of the stove’s warmth. “He’s going to a meeting about local law. He was real perturbed by the posse that ran off with Geoffrey and Freddy and hung them, without due process of law. He’s finally got the Sheriff willing to listen to him, and that’s today.”
“Is he still mad at Michael?”
J.B. nodded. “Michael wasn’t trying to create a posse. He was just bringing help to find you. But Reg thinks Michael didn’t try hard enough to stop them.” Delia waited, knowing what would come next. “I’m afraid I didn’t try as hard as I could have. I was just glad to have you back and the trouble over.”
Delia rested a hand on J.B.’s chest. “Let’s think about something else, J.B.” J.B. placed his hand over hers, sliding it until it rested over his heart. She waited until he nodded. “I have a project for you. Something to pass the time on these cold winter’s days.”
J.B. waggled his brow. Delia laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “Not that!�
�� She wondered if he could see her blush in the dim light. “A carving project.” She tried to look serious but could feel the corners of her mouth turning up. “I’d like you to carve a cradle.”
J.B. grabbed Delia up and swung her around, yelling “Wahoo!” The cabin shook and a dusting of snow snuck in through the shutters.
J.B. stopped spinning her and they stood together, grinning. He placed a hand on her stomach. “You’re having a baby?”
“I am. We are,” she said.
J.B.’s eyes met hers. “Better than gold,” he said.
Thank you so much for reading! The next book in this series is about former lawman and now owner of a mercantile in Virginia City, Reg Smith, who was first introduced in Mining for Love. If you'd like to receive an email when Reg's story releases, please sign up here.
Also, if you enjoyed this book, please take a moment to leave a review.
Thank you!! ~Dana
About the Author
I live in Bozeman, MT, with my husband and three children. I've lived in Canada, Japan, and parts of the U.S., but my heart is in Montana.
I was introduced to romances as a teenager. One of my fondest memories is sitting on the beach on Cape Cod reading romances that had all the naughty parts blacked out with a thick black marker.
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