Of Gold & Blood Series 2 Books 1 & 4

by Jenny Wheeler

  *****

  An hour later they were hunched over the remains of a lumberjack’s breakfast sipping their second cups. Seb’s jaunty manner had leaked away and was replaced by a dark detachment as Nathan had told his story. Nathan sensed he was focused inwards, mulling things over. He hesitated before speaking, as if weighing his words.

  “I’m kicking myself it didn’t click earlier. It was staring me in the face and I just didn’t see it.”

  “Now I don’t get it. What do you mean?” Nathan fiddled with his cup. “What was staring you in the face?”

  “I chased you down here because of things I’ve discovered in the last few days that I should have cottoned on to before this.”

  “You’re talking in riddles, Seb. Cottoned on to what?”

  “Cottoned on to what Vance Pedersen was really telling us in that report. You recall in the last pages there were tables and diagrams with a lot of figures but no explanation as to what they all meant? We sort of skimmed over them because we were fixated on the revelation of the rogue mining.”

  Seb drummed tense fingers on the table edge. “The night you left I went to look in on Anna Santa Maria and the family as you’d asked, just to make sure they were alright.”

  He paused. “They’re doing pretty well by the way. Vulcan seems to have settled in as another member of the family.” He grinned. “But seriously, when I told her and Antonio that Martens had left town, it was like a dark cloud lifted. They opened up. Said they’d suspected it was him who’d killed their dog, murdered Willie. They were terrified he’d come back and kill them if they identified him.

  “Thing was”—he leaned across the table, and lowered his voice—“I challenged Antonio to a chess game. When he brought the board out, I noticed the stitching was coming undone along the edges of the board. I was fiddling with it while Antonio was contemplating his next move. There was a bit of paper slipped into the space, tucked right into the base of the board.” He paused and leaned back.

  Nathan felt his breath suck in involuntarily. “Yes… And?”

  “I’m certain it relates to that last page in his report. It’s a key to what the figures mean. I’m sure of it. But the only way we’ll know is if we check with Graysie and look at the report. I presume she’s got it with her?”

  “What sort of key?” Nathan’s mind whirled. “What have you got in mind?”

  Seb paused again and took a deep breath. “Looking at it as an engineer, I’d hazard a guess it’s a record of the readings from a series of well-calculated mining assays. That’s about as much as I can tell without having all the paper in front of me.”

  Seb glanced away. His distracted air was so unlike his normally intense focus.

  “That’s not all, is it? There’s something else.” Avoiding cold egg yolk stains on his sleeve, Nathan leaned over and grasped his brother’s wrist. “What is it? Tell me.”

  Seb laughed a short low laugh. “You don’t miss much do you, Nat? Yes, there is more.”

  Nathan let go of his wrist as Seb grinned.

  “Antonio very nearly beat me at chess, I might add! But after I left them I reflected on the whole case, from when Vance was killed. I went back home and made a list of everything, everyone, who’d been attacked, threatened, extorted.

  “The next day I started retracing all the steps. I went back up to Sixways and talked to the barman. Funny how people were a lot easier to talk to once they knew Martens had left town.

  “Martens and de Vile were both hanging around the Exchange visiting Madam M at the time Minette went missing. The Sixways guy told me Martens had been up there too. There were rumors circulating that Vance was onto something big. It just all fit together like it hadn’t before.

  “I talked to John about it yesterday and he agreed I needed to get to you as soon as I could. I’m not sure we’ve got enough evidence to convict Martens in a court of law, but we sure have enough to run him out of town and make sure he never comes back.”

  “Then we’d better get onto it,” Nathan said. “Graysie and Lisette and the girls are staying at the Orleans.”

  Fifty

  Before Graysie had a chance to decide the best way to approach Basil Stockton, a note arrived with her breakfast tray addressed in a bold flowing script: Private: Miss Castellanos. The tissue-thin writing paper rustled expensively between her fingers. Stockton was inviting her to attend a business meeting later that day at his Lake Diablo mountain resort.

  Confidence oozed from the masculine curves of black ink. ‘My man will come to your hotel and accompany you to the 10am Folsom train and then coach transfer to the lake. Please prepare for an overnight stay and bring a warm wrap. The mountains can get cool in the evenings.’

  She felt a pang of uncertainty at the thought of leaving Minette behind with Lisette. But that was engulfed in a wave of excitement at the prospect of a possible breakthrough with the mine at last. Could what she’d been hoping for ever since she’d first met with Fisher nearly four months ago be about to happen? Would Mr. Stockton help her meet the critical deadline?

  The Golden Queens were not scheduled for that night, being Sunday, so Graysie had the perfect opportunity to talk with Stockton in a private setting.

  Without bothering to taste the toast on the breakfast tray, she bounced out of bed to warn Lisette of what was afoot and started packing.

  A short while later she was on the train for Folsom.

  *****

  As he and Seb waited at the reception desk at the Orleans for Graysie to come downstairs, Nathan vowed he wasn’t taking any more chances with their lives—his or hers. They’d had too many close shaves, but he did not want to tempt fate any further.

  “Nathan! You want to see Graysie?” Lisette bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry, but she’s not here. She’s away on a business trip.”

  “A business trip? Where?” Nathan felt rocks in his stomach.

  “Somewhere in the mountains. Mr. Stockton’s resort. She didn’t know exactly where. She’s with Mr. Stockton. One of his men was with her.”

  “Stockton? How does she even know Basil Stockton?”

  Seb braced his shoulders and addressed Lisette. “How long ago did she leave?”

  “Three—maybe four hours ago. They went on the train this morning. Perhaps you could check with Mrs. Stockton. She’s staying here too. Although she might have gone as well. I really don’t know what the plans were.” Lisette frowned and shrugged. “Look, sorry, but I do have to get back to the girls. That storm last night frightened Seraphine. We’re having a quiet day.”

  She turned to go back upstairs. Nathan quickly stepped in front of her, his hand up to halt her departure.

  “Lisette. Promise me you will be extra cautious until Graysie returns. Don’t answer the door to strangers. Stay in the hotel. A quiet day is a good day. I don’t know what’s going on but I’ve got a bad feeling about it. Promise me?”

  Lisette’s eyes widened in surprise, but she assented with the dip of he head. “Certainly, Mr. Russell. I’ll be extra careful.”

  Sebastian had wasted no time in presenting his deputy credentials to the hotel desk, requesting an urgent meeting with Mrs. Stockton. Within a few minutes Alycia Stockton descended the stairs, a picture of calm elegance. Seb once again flashed his deputy badge.

  “Mrs. Stockton we are told Miss Castellanos is meeting your husband today, for some kind of business meeting?” Seb raised his eyebrows in inquiry. “I wondered if you could tell us where that meeting is taking place? It’s a matter of urgency.”

  Alycia Stockton frowned and shook her head. “Not to my knowledge. And I am certain I would know of it.”

  Nathan stepped forward. “Nathan Russell, Mrs. Stockton. Sir John’s brother and a friend of Miss Castellanos. So you don’t believe they were meeting at your husband’s resort?”

  Alycia gave him a stern look. “Definitely not. My husband has business in quite the other direction today, to Placerville I believe. What makes you think otherwise?�
��

  Seb and Nathan exchanged a charged look, and Sebastian stepped forward. “I’m afraid we have reason to believe Miss Castellanos may be in grave danger. Can you give us clear details of how to find your mountain property? And please—can I ask you to concern yourself with the safety of Miss Castellanos’s family here in Sacramento. Have you got a man you could detail to provide extra security in the meantime?”

  “Certainly.” Alycia’s voice was strong and resolute. She gave them a curt nod. “If Graysie’s in danger I won’t hold you up any longer. But please,” she paused and her expression softened. “Please. Bring her back safely.”

  Amen to that, Nathan thought.

  As Nathan dodged around Orleans guests, heading for the street, he shot an arrow prayer heavenwards. Please God, don’t let her die. He thought he heard a distant rumble of thunder, but couldn’t be sure.

  *****

  The man who came to meet her had a ruddy complexion and rough hands, surprising for someone who presumably worked as a business man’s factotum, but he’d said little and she’d been happy to be left with her thoughts. They departed the rail depot, at the corner of K Street and Levee, and trundled along the eastern bank of the Sacramento River to R Street.

  The heavy deluge of the night before had left flooding on all the lower lying areas, and river channels that would usually be separated now merged into one big inland sea.

  Luckily for Graysie and her traveling companion, with train tracks high on an embankment above the water, the steam engine’s progress was unhindered. The skies were still cloudy, but the rain had stopped. Soon they were turning eastward away from the water, and an hour and a half later, after crossing an oak-studded plain dotted with prosperous farm houses, fat cattle, and orchards heavy with fruit, they pulled into Folsom, for the transfer to the mountain stage coach.

  The coach threaded its way across a river on a long suspension bridge, the countryside changed from gently rolling foothills to steeper slopes covered in blue oaks and then, higher up, scrubby sage and thorny chaparral bushes.

  She could hardly sit still as they neared their destination, and her first meeting with her newfound uncle. She hoped Alycia had filled him in on Eustace’s revelations or she’d feel a bit of a fool. She tapped a nervous rhythm under the seat—heel and toe, heel and toe—as the stage labored up the steep hill to the hotel.

  The Lake Diablo Resort stood on a flattened promontory reaching out from a high ridge, offering panoramic views. The purple line of the southern Sierras in one direction, the watery expanse from last night’s flooding like an internal silver sea in another. The hotel was perched on the lake shore, set amongst the glossy dark canopies of blue oaks and the russet and gray foliage of the rugged mountain grasses.

  Graysie could see the natural landscape had been supplemented by artful plantings of wild lilac amongst big natural boulders positioned to set off the resort’s stone-fronted arcade. As they pulled up outside, the man accompanying her seemed oddly diffident in his manner. He stammered slightly as he took her bag and ushered her into the hotel foyer.

  “T-t-t-take a seat. Him will be along shortly.”

  An odd thing to say.

  Graysie rubbed her hands down the sides of her skirts to get rid of a clammy feeling that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. Why was this starting to feel all wrong? Where was Basil Stockton?

  Her hand bumped the Derringer muff pistol she had tucked away in her side skirt pocket, and she felt a rush of relief that she’d thought to bring it. Years in the West had taught her there were rare occasions when a lady had to arm herself.

  She’d been sitting quietly for several minutes when the servant returned.

  “Um, miss.” The mousy assistant was back. “Mr. Stockton has been delayed. He’s arranged for you to meet him up at the Summer House. The coach is waiting to take you there now. I’m sure he will have arranged for you to have your lunch there.”

  Graysie searched the hotel lobby. Her throat choked with alarm. “The Summer House? What is that exactly?”

  “Mr Stockton’s private retreat. He frequently has business meetings and entertains there.”

  As he’d been speaking, the man had taken up her overnight bag and moved towards the courtyard, where a gray mare hitched to a mountain buggy stood waiting.

  She’d paused uncertainly in front of the small enclosed vehicle, unsure of her next move, when she heard a familiar sneering voice behind her.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the beautiful Miss Castellanos. Fancy meeting you here.”

  Graysie swung around to face Willoughby Martens, who was standing leering at her. In front of Martens stood a chalk-faced Hector de Vile, Martens’s gun pressed into the back of his neck.

  She stared, unable to believe her eyes. “What? What’s going on?” The sound was strangled, and she was gasping for breath.

  Martens laughed. His eyes sparked arousal in his flushed red face. She gazed wildly around her, heart leaping with a mad hope that there might be someone near who could help, but the courtyard was deserted. Stockton’s man—or who she’d thought to be Stockton’s man—sat with his back to them in the buggy driver’s seat, ignoring the unfolding events.

  “Mr. de Vile…Why are you here?”

  “He’s playing some very stupid game he’ll live to regret.” Hector de Vile’s nostrils flared and his lips tightened into a thin hard line. He twisted his head to look behind him, but Graysie could see he was careful not to move too suddenly. “Tell me that thing’s not loaded, you fool.” He spat on the ground.

  “Playing? Oh I’m well past playing, Mister de Vile.” Martens heavily emphasized the honorific. “Yes, very tired I am of being pushed around, treated like dirt. Turned myself inside out for you I did, and then I discover you’re planning to do the dirty on me.”

  He waved de Vile towards the carriage with the hand holding the gun. “And to answer your question, yes, it is loaded, well and truly. And now we’ll all go for a little ride—and this time I’m the one in charge.”

  Graysie watched in stunned silence as de Vile held up his hand in a gesture of submission. “Martens, don’t be stupid. I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, but I’m sure we can come to an understanding…”

  “No more understandings, de Vile,” said Martens. “I’ve done your bidding for long enough. I got rid of the Aussie for you, but that was a personal pleasure.” He sneered. “And don’t go imagining Basil Stockton will be along to rescue you. He has no idea you’re here.”

  He waved the gun in the direction of the open carriage door, this time including Graysie in the sweep of his arm. “Hurry up, get in, both of you.” He jerked his head towards the vehicle. “I’m planning to take what’s mine, and you are going to help me.”

  He lurched at Graysie with a menacing leer. “Get in the carriage, woman. You, me and the man, we’re taking a little ride. How many of us return depends on how nicely you cooperate.”

  Fifty One

  Graysie sat opposite Martens and de Vile, their knees bumping in the cramped space, and knew she was staring death in the face. But that wasn’t what consumed her.

  Martens killed Nathan.

  It buzzed there, like a poisonous wasp, silencing every other thought. He’d dripped with contempt as he’d said it: “I got rid of the Aussie for you, but that was a personal pleasure.”

  A numbness started in her toes and crept up her body. She could no longer feel the comforting weight of the Derringer. She hadn’t seen any opportunity to use it—yet. Martens had his gun pressed hard against de Vile’s side, directly at his heart, and any sharp movement might set it off.

  She should be trying to think ahead, to get ready to jump Martens when the opportunity came. She willed herself to stay on high alert and shook her head to dislodge the incessant buzz: Nathan’s dead.

  No matter how many times her brain insisted, her heart refused to accept it. He couldn’t be dead! A world without Nathan was as unthinkable as one in which the sun
would not rise tomorrow. She clutched her hand to her mouth as she tried to suppress a sudden queasiness.

  She was never going to see Nathan again. She was probably never going to see Minette again.

  She felt another jab of nausea at the thought of Minette. She hadn’t made out a will. She hadn’t been expecting to die. How stupid could you be? And would that mean Minette would be left destitute? Her stomach churned and she was about to beg Martens to stop the coach when she heard the horse hooves slowing and they stopped.

  Martens pulled open the door and turned back to face them, his gun aimed directly at them. One false move and he’d shoot, Graysie had no doubt. He eyed them like he’d enjoy destroying them.

  “Congratulations, both of you. Play your cards right and you could leave here alive. Play them wrong…” He raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Play them wrong and the outcome won’t be so happy.”

  “Cut the crap.” De Vile’s face twisted in an ugly grimace. “You’re already on notice for at least three counts of criminal behavior. This is utter foolishness.”

  Martens chuckled. “Only three? You had no objections when numerous counts of criminal behavior were carried out at your behest.” He spread his arms wide in a gesture of mock surprise, the gun waving wildly as he did.

  “But I s’pose that’s life. However, that does bring me to agenda item number one of this unconventional business meeting—Hector de Vile’s invoice and confession.”

  Martens swung the gun back onto them, his eyes glittering and fixed. He reached down with his free hand to a satchel on the seat beside him and drew out a fistful of documents he thrust at de Vile.

  “You’ll find these contain an invoice for the payment of a quarter of a million in gold to me for services rendered. Specified services, if you care to check, though you might prefer they weren’t so clearly enumerated. You don’t need to worry about delivery—I’ve already taken receipt of payment.”