“There she is,” a gruff voice snarled. “What’s she done to Vance?”
The crowd surged forward as men craned to get a view of the body. Nathan felt himself crushed forward into Graysie, pressing her back against the wagon side, and he felt an unwelcome surge of heat.
In the two years since his wife’s death, he’d been frozen numb, but something about this capricious woman was melting that ice. Desire was followed by another kind of heat—fury at his own stupidity.
His hands braced on the wagon rail either side of her; he protected her—a slip of a girl swamped in a sea of unfriendly, sweaty men in heavy boots—and prayed for the turbulence to cease.
Her red-gold hair straggled in a muggy mess around her bewildered face, highlighting her vulnerability. He saw she was on the verge of tears.
Sebastian, who’d been sworn in the week before to stand in for one of the town’s permanent law men who’d been called away on urgent family business, took command. “Take the lady across the way to the Ladies’ Lounge,” he said with a nod in the direction of the hotel. “We don’t need her here. There’s plenty of others to help get Vance inside. I’ll come across and talk to her later.”
They crossed the street in silence, and Nathan was holding open the separate entry from the street to the Ladies’ Lounge when a rotund red-headed woman appeared down the hall, hands on hips, jaw set in a hard mean line. Along her top lip ran a fuzz of dark facial hair. He knew from bar hopping a few nights prior that this was the innkeeper the hotel patrons covertly called Madam Moustache, and she was on the warpath.
“You’re not coming in here. Not in our Ladies’ Lounge. Don’t tolerate no scandals, it’s bad for business.”
As they’d reached the doorway, Graysie had put Minette down to stand on her own feet. At the sound of the woman’s harsh voice the little girl shrank against Nathan’s leg and grasped his trouser with a grimy hand. He turned to the innkeeper with a placating smile.
“We’ve had a distressing time of it, Madam Ring. Miss Castellanos is badly in need of a little rest and a glass of water. Perhaps we could leave the talk till later?” His deep, calm voice had a soothing effect; the hotel manager hesitated for a couple of seconds, and then moved aside to allow them in.
Graysie put one leg forward and her knee buckled under her. Nathan made a quick grab for her elbow to hold her up, and after a few seconds she regained her footing. Once again, something inside him rose to welcome the pressure of her slim strong body resting against his thigh. He didn’t want to let her go.
“Sorry,” she said, her cheeks pinking as their eyes met. “I’m a bit woozy.”
Madam Ring followed them down the corridor. Once Graysie was settled in a leather armchair with a glass of water, the innkeeper resumed her belligerent stance.
“Like I said, you can’t stay here… everyone knows Vance, and they liked him. The miners could riot tonight if they thought you were staying here. I’m not taking the risk.”
Her voice was hoarse and rasping, with a hint of a Continental accent—German or Dutch maybe? Nathan was about to respond when there was a knock at the interior door from the hotel lobby, and Sir John entered, his handsome brow set in deep frown lines.
“What’s going on here, Madam Ring? Nathan? Is there a problem? Seb has his hands full across the street, and he tells me you were the one who brought Vance in.”
His black eyes flicked from Madam Ring to Nathan, and then to Graysie, who stared back blankly.
Nathan took charge. “John, I don’t think you’ve met Miss Graysie Castellanos? My brother, Sir John Russell, Miss Castellanos. We ran into each other today out on my ride—and then unfortunately Vance Pedersen ran into us.”
John dipped his head in her direction. “Graysie Castellanos? Really…? I’ve been a close associate of Eustace Mountfort’s for many years… If I can be of any help…”
Graysie flinched and blinked rapidly. She opened her mouth as if intending to speak, then closed it again. When she opened it again her words tumbled out in a rush.
“Eustace? You knew Eustace? Oh my goodness, I am so surprised to meet you. Shocked even. I’m here because of Eustace, and it’s all turned into a terrible mess.”
Madam Ring cleared her throat impatiently. “Sir John, I was just telling the lady there’s no room for her here. She’ll have to go to the common boarding house on Federal Street, or to the nuns.” Her fat lips puffed out in contempt. “I can’t afford to have guests who get mixed up in killings.”
Nathan interrupted. “To be fair, Madam Ring, Miss Castellanos did not ‘get mixed up’ as you put it. We both simply happened to be there when Pedersen appeared. He’d already been badly wounded. We could do nothing for him, and we did not see who attacked him. All Miss Castellanos and I could do is bring his body back to town.”
Graysie eyes flicked to Sir John. “I asked Mr. Pedersen for advice about a mine Eustace left me shares in. That’s all I know. I can’t imagine that had anything to do with anything.”
Madam Ring’s feet remained planted in a wide, determined stance, her arms folded across her chest. “That may be, but he’s dead. And you were meeting him. That’s scandal enough.”
The room fell silent. Graysie reached out and gathered Minette into a reassuring cuddle. “Everything will be fine soon, sweetie, you just see.”
Nathan spoke. “Seb will want to talk to you, Miss Castellanos, but I can vouch that you had nothing to do with Vance’s death. It’s all just very unfortunate.” And it wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t a reckless and rash female, he added privately. He flicked a look at John, but he was not registering, deep in thought.
“But now…” he continued. “Well, now, perhaps it would be best to stay at the convent for a night or two while you make other arrangements?”
Graysie Castellanos snapped to attention, like a woman who’d just been doused with cold water. Her head jerked back and the glassy vagueness in her eyes lit to high alert. “Other arrangements? Like what?”
Nathan hesitated and shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly uncertain about the wisdom of continuing. “Set a new course. Find something else. Be a governess in San Francisco or something, I’m sure you could find somewhere that would take Minette as well…”
He faltered at her frigid stare, but she didn’t speak so he took a deep breath and stumbled on. “As Madam Ring has said, you can’t stay here. None of the other hotels will be keen to have you either, at least until the shock of Vance’s death has blown over.
“And what is there really left for you here anyway? Some vague idea about a mine you’ve inherited? I don’t want to interfere with your plans but…”
Graysie stood up with such a rush, Minette was momentarily pushed sideways. She reached to lightly guard the girl from falling over without taking her blazing eyes off Nathan. “You sound remarkably sure you know what’s best for me, Mr. Russell.” Her face glowed with a magnetic energy.
“You don’t know a thing about me. I’ve no idea how Mr. Pedersen came to be attacked, but it’s nothing to do with me. Of course I regret his death. But I am not about to give up because of a momentary setback.”
She drew a long breath. “I will remove myself to the convent—if they can take us—as soon as the deputy has finished with his questions. Perhaps you could ask him if we could do that very soon?”
She thrust out her jaw, and he didn’t need an interpreter to get the drift: Back off. Leave me alone. Get lost. She communicated it all wordlessly. Then she took another deep breath. “The sooner this is over, the better,” she said stiffly. “Can you find out please if the deputy can come now?”
There was a long silence as she glared at Nathan and he gazed back. Even when she was furious with him, the attraction still gripped him. His throat was so dry he could barely swallow, but he feigned disinterest, shrugged lightly, and turned to go and fetch Seb.
John held up his hand to stop him. “Nathan, it occurs to me, we’ve got plenty of room at Gold H
ouse. It seems appropriate to invite Miss Castellanos to stay for as long as she needs. Eustace was very helpful to me over the years; it’s really the least I can do.” He turned to Graysie.
“What do you think, Miss Castellanos? It would give you a chance to catch your breath while you decide what’s next.”
Graysie stared, momentarily blown away. “I’m overwhelmed, Sir John,” she said with a wan smile. “If you’re sure, I’d be delighted.” She dipped her head in Nathan’s direction as if to confirm that the last thing she’d want would be to spend any more time with him. “I’ll try not to get in your way.”
As Nathan left to get Sebastian, he shook his head in disbelief. He wasn’t sure if he was more unsettled by his brother’s sudden eagerness to entertain this new guest or her intransigence to seeing common sense.
John never played a single hand, there was almost always some deeper motive at work, so what was it this time? Not that he cared, he simply didn’t want the distraction. He had his own business to be seeing to.
As he strode across the street to find Seb, he shook his head in frustration. How stiff-necked could you be? She may well have stirred up the trouble that led to Vance’s death. Who knew? She was like someone who’d get the bees angry but still be determined to steal their honey.
As he shouldered his way through the grumbling mob of men who still hung around outside the deputy’s office door, he told himself her leave-me-alone message was one he whole-heartedly shared. She was going to be trouble. It was just the kid he felt sorry for.
Four
Thursday, July 2
When Graysie opened her eyes in her charming room at Gold House, the first thing that caught her eye was a lemon orchid in a blue and white traditional Chinese pot on the bedside table. A hint of exotic vanilla fragrance lingered. Did orchids have a scent? She wasn’t sure.
She let out a deep, contented sigh and allowed herself to sink deeper into the feather mattress. Despite the anxiety over Vance’s death and the hostility of the miners, she had slept right through without bad dreams.
The filtered light from the window screens played across the white bedcover appliqued with turquoise peacocks. She felt so relaxed she needed to pinch herself to prove she wasn’t dreaming. After yesterday’s disaster, Sir John’s kindness gave her a few days’ grace before she had to make any hard decisions.
It had been dark by the time she and Minette had arrived at Gold House, which was lavishly set in several acres of gardens a mile and a half out of town.
She’d probably been in delayed shock because she had barely registered anything of her surroundings although she’d been told about the greenhouses for Sir John’s orchids as well as for grapes and salad vegetables for the house. She hadn’t been able to make out much detail in the twilight, but she’d been immediately struck by the silence, broken only by the cry of a night bird. No rumbling of the quartz mills here.
The Russells’ servants had been unobtrusive and efficient, settling her into a balcony room on the second floor with Minette in the nursery down the hall.
A woman in a Chinese robe, who appeared to speak no English, had brought her fragrant hot green tea which had eased her tense shoulders and turned her liquid and silvery inside. She suspected she’d fallen asleep before she’d finished the cup.
Her mind flicked back to the scene outside the sheriff’s office the night before, and she felt it all over again, the heat of desire that had caught her by surprise as Nathan Russell’s arms had protectively encircled her.
He’d infused her with a calm strength which, like his musky masculine smell, still seemed to linger. The butterfly feeling fluttered her insides. She laid there for a minute dumbfounded by the strength of the emotion, then abruptly levered herself up on her elbows and swung her legs over the bed edge.
Time to get up and clear your head of this nonsense, she told herself sternly. He’s made his views plain—he doesn’t approve.
Last night, Nathan Russell had been the model of gentlemanly patience, collecting their belongings from the hotel room, transferring them up to Gold House, but he’d kept his distance, and she’d been relieved not to have to talk.
When Minette had tried to cling to her at bedtime, however, he’d stepped in and settled her to sleep in no time with a bedtime story about kangaroos. It was surprising how the child had taken to him when he didn’t seem a particularly fatherly sort of man.
She hated to admit it, but he would have been almost impossible to resist if he wasn’t such a know-it-all. Luckily she’d had plenty of practice at resistance. She shuddered at the memory of her stepmother’s iron rule.
She’d learned the hard way that the only person you could ever count on was yourself, and she’d do herself a favor to remember it. A tiny nagging voice reminded her she’d spent the night in this deep comfortable bed courtesy of someone’s kindness, but she chose to ignore that fact.
The faintest sound of servants speaking in a Chinese tongue—she didn’t know if it was Mandarin or Cantonese—wafted up from the floor below. Maybe this room was above the kitchen. She stretched appreciatively. Now she’d had a good rest, she needed to get moving. She couldn’t afford to just loll around, delicious as it was.
First, where could she go for advice, now that Vance was dead? How could she assess whether she should just take Hector de Vile’s offer and run?
She thought about Vance’s last words… Ruth? Or Ruby? She wondered if they meant anything. Probably a woman who was important to him—his wife or mother or sister?
She dressed quickly and made her way to the kitchen where Minette was watching with fascination as the ruddy-faced cook spooned muffin mix onto a griddle. The kitchen smelt of sugar and cinnamon.
The cook scraped the last of the muffin mix out of the bowl. “Sir John says he will see you for coffee and muffins on the terrace in one hour, if you feel ready for it.” A quick nip of hunger reminded her she hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, and she decided breakfast couldn’t come quickly enough.
*****
Nathan could hear the weeping funeral guitars before he reached the front door of the Spanish mission-style house Vance Pedersen had built for his Mexican wife and five children. The engineer’s body lay covered by a white sheet that was pulled up to his chin, his face tranquil and empty in death.
Once again Nathan was struck by the revelation that our bodies really are just a mortal casing which holds an eternal soul and spirit. The shell was there, but the essential center had already gone. His bier was circled in greenery, its perimeter lit at regular intervals by creamy, wax-dripping candles.
Over in a corner, two older men sat playing chess. A reverent yet relaxed crowd hovered on the margins, the low murmur of talk broken by occasional soft laughter, but everyone naturally deferred to a handsome olive-skinned woman with deep brown eyes who sat at Vance’s head.
Her face partially obscured by a fine white and gold silk shawl, she radiated a deep calm despite her raw grief.
Vance’s sister-in law Anna Santa Maria might be in shock, but she was in command of herself and her surroundings. She drew a comforting arm around the small children who sat on either side of her.
As he’d learned at the undertaker’s the night before, when Vance’s wife, Anna’s sister, had died suddenly several months before, Anna had stepped in as a second mother to his five children. Already widowed with one son, Vance’s death had left her with sole care for all six children.
The room was a good size but crowded, and despite the thick adobe walls, it was already very hot. The air smelled of burning wax and an earthy dog odor that underlay the sweetness from the flower-filled informal altar set up behind the bier.
Nathan’s face was sticky in the sultry atmosphere. As he stepped forward to pay his respects, people parted to allow him through, and Anna rose to meet him. A serious-faced boy of about ten who had been sitting near her stood up as she did.
Nathan took both her hands in his and bowed his head in defer
ence. “Nathan Russell. I’m the one who tried to stop Vance’s horse. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.” He handed her a canvas bag containing enough gold to feed her and the children for a few months. “From my brothers and me with our sincerest condolences.”
She dipped her tear-stained face in gratitude and, taking his elbow, drew him aside. “Do you mind if we sit over here? There are some things I’d like to ask you.”
He nodded. “And me you.”
Two much younger, dark-headed children who’d been playfully vying to pet a rat-like, short-haired dog with a question-mark tail trailed after her, and she turned to the older boy who was still at her side. “Antonio, can you take the little ones and give them some water?” She stroked his head gently.
He shot her a reluctant look but then scooped up the dog under one arm and drew the children to his side with the other. “Come and play, chiquitos.”
Anna sank into a cane chair in the corner and poured two glasses of water from a pitcher on the table in front of her. “Vance was my sister’s husband. A good man.” She gave a deep sigh. “Tell me.” She fixed her dark eyes on Nathan. “Do you believe this was an accident? How can it not be? Vance never hurt anyone.”
“I’m afraid we don’t know who or why…” He paused, and the band, which had taken a rest between songs, started up again with another soulful Latin chant, the guitars adding liveliness to the wailing cry of wind instruments.
“You might be able to help me… Did Vance have any enemies? Was there any reason for anyone to target him?”
Anna shook her head. “None that I know of. He didn’t talk about his work. He was upright, a righteous man. He’d never agree to deception—he’d never falsify a prospecting report like some would—but I have no reason to believe he’d gotten off side with anyone. He didn’t mention any problems.”
Of Gold & Blood Series 2 Books 1 & 4 Page 3