by Jo Goodman
Ryland turned toward the bed, beginning to unbutton his vest. His fingers stopped when he saw he was facing the barrel of her silver-plated revolver. "It slipped my mind," he said, refastening the buttons.
"I thought it might," Brook said agreeably.
He shrugged carelessly. "I suppose this isn't the time to belabor the point about what you owe me."
"I think not. Tell me where I can send your money and let's leave it at that."
"The Bank of California," he said. "I'll make the arrangements."
"Fine. How much time do I have?"
"Two weeks."
"Two weeks? That's absurd!" She took measure of the hard-line stubbornness of Ryland's mouth and bit back the rest of her objections. "All right. Two weeks."
She pointed her weapon toward the sitting room. "Good evening, Mr. North. I would like to say it's been a pleasure, but I know how you feel about liars."
Ryland's half-smile was rueful. "Good evening, Brooklyn." He gave her a mocking two-finger salute and took his leave.
Brook had never thought borrowing the sum she needed would be easy, but she also had never thought it would be impossible. At the end of two weeks she had less than a quarter of what she needed and that meant wiping out her own savings. William Maine did not mix friendship with business and told Brook that he would not give her the money. Brook didn't like it, but it was a decision she could respect. He suggested any number of people who might loan her the money, but Brook discovered quickly that for such a large sum the lenders wanted something in return. They talked around what it was they wanted; none were as direct as Ryland North, but the result was the same. If she were willing to be kept as a rich man's mistress she could have lighted fires with the money that would have been hers. Brook was not willing. Men she thought were friends were first and foremost businessmen. She knew it would have been futile to approach a bank. They would have wanted to know why she needed the money and would have discovered soon enough if she lied. The last option open to her was to go to Phillip. Brook would not even consider it. She still felt some sense of loyalty toward Phillip, and that meant protecting him from Ryland. Then there was the matter of swallowing her pride and suffering indigestion for months afterward. She hadn't asked anything of Phillip in years. Brook knew she wasn't going to start now.
There seemed to be only one solution open to her.
Ryland had given Brook two weeks, but he allowed twenty-one days to pass before he went to the Bank of California and checked the account he had opened solely for her deposits. Nothing had been added to his initial balance. He told himself he should be furious, yet he couldn't wipe the grin from his face. It was the excuse he had been waiting for, the opportunity to see Brooklyn again.
Ryland would have been concerned about going to the Brass Slipper if it weren't for the fact that Andrew had left the city five days earlier. His relationship with his cousin was still strained, but Ryland believed that Drew, for the most part, had done what Brook anticipated he would. After a week of sulking he had joined forces with Ryland and bemoaned the fate of all men who were so unlucky with women. Louise and Robert were thrilled with the turnabout in Andrew's affections, and when he suggested going to Virginia City to oversee the mining operation they could scarcely contain their relief. At last, they felt, Drew was going to shoulder some responsibility.
Ry had his own reasons for wanting Drew to be gone, but he didn't dare explain them to his aunt and uncle. Since Drew's departure he had been filling time with details related to Abby Gordon's missing granddaughter and waiting for the appropriate moment to confront Brook again. Now that the moment was at hand he felt a surge of excitement ripple through him. He was determined to call her bluff when she pulled out that seven-ounce, automatic-action lady's weapon she kept tucked next to her thigh.
The Brass Slipper was still crowded when Ryland arrived near closing hours. He had to cool his heels at the entrance until his admittance was cleared. Luckily there had been several members of his acquaintance who were willing to vouch for him. It was also the first time he had heard himself referred to as Andrew North's cousin. He remembered when Drew North had been his cousin.
Ryland milled around the gaming hall, watching the players and engaging in faro for the better part of an hour while he waited for Brook to appear. When he never caught sight of her it occurred to him that she might be hosting a private game in her suite. He turned to the player beside him and commented on Brook's absence.
"Lyn?" the man asked absently, concentrating furiously on the game in front of him. "She's not been around for nearly a week. Bill says she's gone east for a while. Something about a sick aunt. Damn!" He grimaced as the dealer turned up the next card and he realized he had lost. "Place isn't the same without her, is—" He broke off, eyebrows raised, seeing that Ryland was walking away from him.
Ryland found Bill Maine in his office, going through the evening's proceeds. John Nathan's formidable bulk blocked Ry’s entry and his belligerent stance dared Ryland to do something about it. "I'm not here to rob you," Ryland said, striving for calm. He unbuttoned his jacket slowly and withdrew his gun, handing it over to Nathan.
"You were supposed to check this at the door," Nathan said, yielding no ground.
"I forgot." His voice dripped with sarcasm. Over Nathan's shoulder he watched Bill Maine put several stacks of bills into the safe and lock it.
"It's all right, John," Bill said. "Let him in." He stood behind his desk and rubbed his chin in a gesture that appeared to be thoughtful but was really habit. "What can I do for you, Mr.—"
"North. Ryland North." He added for good measure, "I'm Andrew's cousin." The effect was not what he hoped for. The bull of a man beside him gave a guttural growl, and William Maine looked apoplectic.
"Show the man out," William said.
"With pleasure." Nathan put the gun on the desk, disdaining to use the weapon.
Ryland blocked Nathan's attempt to grab him and forced the man back a few steps. "Wait a minute. I've come about Lyn. I want to know where she is."
"Ask Drew," William said tersely. "She went with him." He sat down again and motioned to Nathan once more.
Ryland sidestepped Nathan's lunging advance and ignored the crash behind him as the man toppled a chair. "What do you mean she went with Drew?"
"Eloped. That was the note she left," William said. "Took off out of here in the dead of night. The suite's empty of her belongings."
Ryland felt Nathan inching up behind him. He elbowed William's bodyguard in the gut and put him on the floor again with a sharp right hook. "Next time," he advised, "use the gun." He picked up his weapon from the desk and placed it in his shoulder holster. "Why haven't you told anyone? Why the story about the sick aunt?"
"Because I want people to believe the princess is coming back... at least until I can find someone like her."
Ryland's laughter was harsh. "There's no one like her, Maine. No one." He turned on his heel, stepped over Nathan's body, and closed the door behind him. Before the door shut he thought he heard William murmur his agreement.
Ryland had no difficulty finding the fury he thought he should have felt earlier. She had managed to make a fool of him a second time. Not only that, but she had enlisted Drew's aide. No wonder Drew had been so irritatingly complacent before he left for Virginia City. It had all been arranged ahead of time. Ryland hoped Drew enjoyed the honeymoon, because when he got to Virginia City the marriage was very definitely going to be put asunder.
The excuses he put before Robert and Louise the next morning sounded lame to his own ears. He disliked lying to them about his reasons for wanting to leave, but in this case, he disliked the truth even more. He told them he was going to Virginia City to finish making amends with Drew and because he had been reading about the latest developments in mining equipment and wanted to see for himself if they would suit the operation in Nevada. "I won't get in Andrew's way," he promised his uncle when Robert looked at him rather skeptically. "I know h
ow important this first step of his is. But I wouldn't be surprised if Drew doesn't find mining all that interesting and returns before long."
"Wouldn't surprise me either," Robert said. "I thought he'd find the railroad business much more to his tastes."
Ryland didn't remember what he had said in reply. He didn't remember much of anything about those hurried hours before he left San Francisco. Trying to hide the urgency of his departure was one of the hardest things he had ever done. It wasn't until he was safely on the train from Sacramento to Virginia City that he began to think of what he would do when he found Drew and Brook. He refused to consider the possibility that they might not have gone to Nevada at all. That particular bridge was meant to be crossed if he came to it.
As the train labored up the High Sierras, then almost as slowly began the cautious descent, Ryland found his thoughts wandering again and again to Brook's treachery. It was difficult to know where her lies began and ended, but it seemed to Ryland now that her intention had always been to marry Drew. It was likely that she had known all along that he had been in her suite and rather than confront him, she had played with him, rejecting the proposal in order to convince him of her sincerity. Agreeing to repay the money she had stolen was simply a way of buying time until she could have Drew alone and accept his marriage offer. Ryland wondered how she had explained away all the things she had said when Drew returned and found them in her suite. He would have liked to hear that one. Second only to himself, Ryland thought Drew had to be the biggest sucker west of the Rockies.
The advent of winter meant that when Ryland arrived at the Virginia City station it was already dark, though it wasn't much past six o'clock. He sucked in the cool, dry desert air, finding it just the balm he needed after spending hour upon hour in the crowded passenger compartment. He paid a young boy lounging on the station steps to help him carry his baggage to the livery, where he hired a horse and a mule, then went to the dry-goods store to purchase the supplies he would require. Mentally he added the cost to what Brook already owed him. Her debt was steadily mounting.
When Ryland left the store he wove through the rowdy town fanning out on the foothills of Mt. Davidson and began the climb that would eventually take him to Porter's Valley. When Robert North first bought controlling interest in the Porter Mining Company, he expanded the offices in Virginia City and made his living quarters above the offices. That arrangement was satisfactory until Louise demanded to accompany him more and more often to Virginia City. Though she never complained about the accommodations, Robert took it upon himself to build a home closer to the mines, which were sunk deep in the Sierra ravines. He found an oasis of sorts in the mountains and called it Porter's Valley after the man whose shares Robert had bought. A clear mountain stream cut the valley in two, and the land was rich with tall pines and wildlife. More importantly, taking a breath on a summer afternoon did not sear the lungs. Lumber and stone were plentiful, and the houses, left to the whim of the builders while Robert was away, began to take on proportions that he had never envisioned. Though it was certainly small by Nob Hill standards, it was a palace when compared to anything built in or near Virginia City at that time.
Though Robert had intended to use the house year round whenever he came to the mines, the first winter in the mountains taught him differently. The pass to the city was completely obliterated by snow, and he spent three weeks in the house with only Hung Ly for company before a freakish thaw allowed them to leave. From then on the rest of the family gently referred to it as the summer cottage when Robert was in hearing range.
Ryland had loved the sprawling house from the first moment he had seen it. It was far too grand to be called a log cabin, but essentially that's what it was. The rough-hewn planking had been smoothed out, making the exterior appear as if it had been polished. In the summer it resembled a semiprecious stone laid on a bed of thick emerald velvet. The floors were hardwood, and the large fireplaces were fashioned from stone cut from the mountainside. Three bedrooms and a bath with cold running water were situated side by side on the second floor. Their doors opened onto a balcony that overlooked the main living area of the house. Louise quaintly insisted upon calling the upper story of the house the loft, though a pioneer would have been hard pressed to recognize it as such. To the right of the main sitting room was a study and a billiard room, and to the left, a dining area and spacious kitchen.
Ryland wondered if Brooklyn had ever cooked a meal in her life. The thought of Drew being forced to eat her burnt offerings made Ryland feel almost sorry for his cousin. It also reminded him of his own hunger. He kicked his mount's flanks and pulled harder on the rope hitched to the pack mule lagging behind him.
The trail that Ryland followed had been widened over the years by the necessity of transporting large and heavy mining equipment to the shafts. The earth was rich with silver, but it required a wealthy man to supply the equipment to extract it. Some of the mines were thousands of feet deep and the miners worked where the heat reached as much as 120°. He passed three camps, their locations marked not so much by the gaping entrances in the side of the mountains, but by the dozens of tents which served as living quarters for the miners between shifts. Two hundred yards from the third camp the trail narrowed for half a mile to little more than a wagon's width, then gradually yawned open to reveal the picturesque valley.
It was at the gap that Ryland blew out his lantern and gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark. Overhead, the sky was like dark crystal, and a sliver of moon helped to light his route. When he reached the flat stretch of land that had been cleared to build the house, Ryland dismounted and led the animals to the small stable. The lights in the house beckoned him, but Ryland knew they didn't necessarily mean Drew and Brook were in residence. Robert always hired a couple who didn't mind the harsh winter to take care of the house until spring. He forced a patience he didn't feel and took care of the horse and mule first. When he was satisfied that he was calm enough, he hefted his saddlebag over his shoulder and headed for the house.
Ryland didn't bother to knock. He wasn't feeling that calm. There were several lamps lit in the sitting area, but no one was using the room. Ryland tossed the saddlebag over a chair, took off his hat and coat, and quietly checked the other rooms. Finally all that was left was the loft. If it was the caretaker couple he disturbed, he was going to be embarrassed. If it was Brook and Drew, Ryland thought he might just do murder. He mounted the steps with a catlike tread and opened the doors to the bedrooms one by one. The first two were unoccupied, and Ryland drew a third deep breath before he opened the last.
"I told you he'd come," Brook said quietly as the bedroom door swung open and Ryland blocked the light behind him, casting his frame into shadow. She stayed where she was seated in a chair at the foot of bed, but placed her embroidery hoop on her lap and folded her hands over it.
Andrew winced as he tried to sit up straighter in bed, preparing to face his cousin's wrath. The book he had been reading slid out of his one-handed grip. "What are you doing here, Ry?" he asked belligerently.
Ryland didn't answer for a moment. His eyes slipped past Drew's reddening face and settled on the sling that held his right arm securely against his naked chest. Ry leaned casually against the doorframe and asked the first thing that came to his mind. "Did she shoot you?"
"Shoot me?" Drew sputtered. "Of course she didn't shoot me! I broke my arm when my horse slipped on the trail."
"And you slipped off the horse," Ryland added dryly. His glance strayed back to Brook. "I imagine the accident put a damper on your wedding night. Tell me, has the marriage been consummated or do I dare hope we can arrange an annulment?" His eyes regarded Brook contemptuously. "Though I imagine nonconsummation would be rather hard to prove in your case."
"There's been no marriage," Brook said, letting waves of humiliation wash over her as if Ryland's statement were of no account.
"No marriage?" He turned back to Drew. "You're cleverer than I thought, Drew, teasi
ng her with marriage, then deciding to make her your mistress."
"Shut up, Ry," Drew gritted. "You don't know any—"
Brook held up one hand. "No, Drew. Let Ryland have his say. I'm very interested in what he thinks."
"What I think? Haven't I been clear? No, perhaps not. What I think, Miss Hancock, is that you very much wanted to get your hands on Drew's money and you didn't care how many times you lied or to whom you lied in order to make it happen. Bill Maine told me about the note you left, that you were eloping with Drew. I'm not certain how you got him to agree to it after the convincing setdown you delivered in your suite, but knowing how Drew felt about you must have made your work easier." He continued to regard Brook steadily, waiting for her to flinch or show some sign of emotion. She remained annoyingly placid, and it fired Ryland's anger. "You're forgetting that I know the other reason you wanted to marry Drew. Did you think that would cancel your debt?"
"What reasons?" Drew demanded. "What debt?"
Ryland's brows rose lazily. "Didn't you tell him?" Brook shook her head. "No? Then perhaps it will remain our affair." He placed an intentional emphasis on the last word and saw Brook react with a short, indrawn breath.
Ever since Ryland had walked into the room Drew had felt like an outsider. "I think you'd better explain yourself or allow me to get a word in edgewise. It's all wr—"
"Right," Brook interrupted. "Save your breath, Drew. Ryland's unusually perceptive. It didn't take him long to decide how things are between us. He knows why I wanted to marry you, and I'm sure he feels a special satisfaction that it was you who decided at the last minute that we simply wouldn't suit. Isn't that so, Ryland?"