An Outlawed Heiress and Her Duke

by Denise Daye

  “That is probably why he hasn’t replied to us yet,” Esther thought to herself out loud.

  “Who?” George pursed his lips.

  She gasped, almost choking on her own breath. Darn it. Did she just say that out loud?

  “Y—Your friend. Billy, was it?” she said, scratching her cheek with unease.

  George narrowed his eyes on her for a moment, but then shook his head as to tell himself don’t be ridiculous.

  “Yes, Billy,” he confirmed without suspicion, finally relieving her anxiety.

  Phew. George had no clue as to her true intentions for being here—to find Jones. The thought of it almost made her dizzy. What would he say if he were to find out about her deceit? That she was a woman? It was very unlikely that he would still let her tag along into the lawless frontier, no matter the amount of pleading and begging.

  “So, you think that the government is somehow involved in Billy’s disappearance?” George nodded toward the documents pinned underneath her hands.

  “I don’t think they would do anything to him, but they might simply have cut Chama off the map until the whole situation with the natives is settled.” Esther stared at the documents once more in growing annoyance.

  “To avoid alarming the press?” George wanted to clarify.

  “Amongst other things.”

  Esther bit her lip. How much was he involved in this? She was afraid to find out but had to.

  “Did you know about this when you bought your mine?” Her tone sounded more provocative than she had intended. Her heart was pounding louder and louder; she locked her gaze on George, who now returned the favor. Even now, she couldn’t help but adore the way he looked at her, his eyes shimmering in the dim light of the gas lantern, passionate and unraveled. His white shirt was unbuttoned around his neck, exposing bits of his chest.

  “No,” he said holding her gaze. “No, I did not.”

  Esther stared a few seconds longer, before tearing her eyes from his, dropping her gaze down onto the floor.

  “I believe you,” she said in a tender tone, a flush slightly visible on her cheeks.

  George let out a sigh. His shoulders dropped down, his body hung loose, almost vulnerable. Was he relieved? Did he care what a poor street boy made of him? He leaned on the desk, throwing his head back to face the ceiling.

  “Any ideas what I am supposed to do about all of this?” he asked, letting his guard down. “I can’t just mine on stolen land,” he said, closing his eyes in vain. “I would detest myself until my last breath.”

  Esther was not surprised that he would do the honorable thing after all. For some reason it felt as though she knew George, and he was nothing like the usual rich, entitled people who thought they were better than everybody else.

  “Why do you need this mine? Is it important to your family?” Esther wondered. George let his head fall forward.

  “Very much so. I'm afraid without it I am ruined.” He waved his glass up and toward her with a nod, before taking a deep sip.

  “That is terrible.” She truly felt for him.

  “It’s even worse.” He shook his head, his mind seemingly wandering off into parts he would rather not visit.

  “My sweet sister would be forced to marry a monster in human skin. I haven’t heard from her in months, but that is most likely the doing of my angry mother cutting me off from her and burning my letter. Who knows, she might already be married to him, if my mother has finally got her way. Knowing my sister, she would sacrifice herself against my wish if she knew that this mine will not save us.”

  A heavy silence filled the room. Esther had no idea that George had found himself in such dire circumstances, almost reminding her of herself. Unknowingly, they had more in common than he knew. This trip to Chama was not just about money to him; his very livelihood, and that of others, seemed to depend on it.

  “I don’t see how the Jicarilla Apache would be able to win this no matter what,” Esther said, shaking her head in empathy for those poor natives while at the same time trying to encourage George that he might get his mine even if he didn’t want it this way.

  “You aren’t really at fault here. You could simply wait until the agreement is signed and the land becomes legally yours. Then sell it.” It was a terrible suggestion, but maybe a little better than constantly having to deal with a mine that only filled his mind with guilt.

  “I’m afraid I still could not look into the mirror again.”

  “Is it a lot of land that you bought?” Milton now entered the conversation; they’d almost forgotten he was there.

  “Enormous. Half of the bloody mountain.” He let out a hard sigh.

  “Why don’t you go and talk to the Apache?” Milton wondered, scratching his neck. George let out a laugh.

  “Just go there and talk to them? They would kill me.” He chuckled some more.

  “But would they?” Esther mumbled, rubbing her chin. Despite what the white man thought, not all tribes were the same. Most of them were very peaceful, only resorting to violence when threatened. Before the white men started to steal their lands, they had been peacefully trading with one another for many years.

  “Maybe,” she announced, becoming the focus of attention, “if you were to offer them a deal. Trade. Maybe they would hear you out. They aren’t savages.” George reached over to the whiskey bottle and poured himself another drink.

  “And trade what?” He had a big smile on his face, finding all of this comical. “The profits from the gold mine?” he added as a joke, when his smile turned numb, eyes drawn out and lips parted. He jumped up from his seat and started pacing back and forth with a finger waving in the air like a stick. “I could offer them half of the profits. Or better, I could offer them to keep the land and let me mine it for half the profits in return!”

  Esther now got up as well, her eyes sparkling.

  “Yes! That could interfere with the government forcing them off their land too. If a white man, especially a duke, does legitimate business on their land, then they could face a whole lot of legal issues if they would just cease it without your permission. Your business, that is.”

  “Will the government not try to stop you from going to the natives in the first place so you can’t make this deal with them?” Milton didn’t seem so enthusiastic about all of this, despite it being his idea in the first place.

  Esther shrugged her shoulders, still sparkling. “They would try. But only if they knew our intentions.”

  George thought about it. “We could make something up, so they’d let us pass.”

  Then, as if someone was turning on a lantern in the dark, Esther had the most marvelous idea. Why not use this whole situation to her advantage as well? It’s not like it would hurt anybody. She could bring Jones into all of this. Esther had no doubt in her heart that he would assist her. He was an honorable man and most likely already arguing with the government over this horrid piece of paper they called an agreement. Jones would be able to draft a legal contract for George and the Jicarilla Apache to settle their mining deal. And more importantly, she would find Jones and get her own mess sorted out. But she had to make finding Jones the priority.

  “If I am not mistaken, I read in the papers that one of the negotiators is a man by the name of Doug Jones.” She tested the water.

  Milton jerked from his seat to face her, his eyes squinted in silent accusations. He knew all about her situation and was smart enough to put one and one together.

  “What about him?” George raised an eyebrow.

  “He is famous in all of New York for his progressive mind,” Esther said, telling herself that she wasn’t lying. “He is most likely one of the reasons why the negotiations came to a halt.”

  “Are you saying he is advocating for the natives?”

  Esther was guessing here but did so with confidence. She had known Jones her whole life and had never come across a kinder and more respectable man, besides her father of course—and George.

  “T
hat’s what I’m assuming.”

  George tapped his lip with his fist, slowly walking up and down again.

  “We could tell the government that we are here to talk sense into Mr. Jones. That we need this agreement signed.” George was contributing to the plan that was forging in front of them.

  “We could tell them that we are very well acquainted with him—even friends.” Esther perfected it.

  “It’s risky. If Jones doesn’t play along with us, they could throw us in prison, or jail as you Americans would say,” George remarked in such a calm and composed manner, his bravery nothing short of admirable. He had no idea that Jones would recognize Esther in men’s clothes, short hair or not.

  “They won’t throw me in jail, I am just a guide,” Milton chipped in, which made George laugh in warm response.

  “Of course, I shall take full responsibility. I promise you two will never see a Wild Western jail from the inside. Though, I hope you will try to break me free at least?” he joked.

  Milton scratched his head, seriously thinking about the proposal.

  George threw Esther a wink with a smile that warmed her heart. For a moment, Esther wondered what George would do if she just told him the truth about her. But that noble notion was shortly taken over by the reality that he would put her on the next train to New York, telling her it was for her own safety. But he needed her more than ever. Just thinking about taking the train from Antonito to Chama gave her goosebumps. Not a month went by when her father wasn’t informed about trouble on those lines, from robberies to train failures. Every white hick in the region was trying to pull a Jesse James these days. Despite the line generating a respectable profit for the Silvertons, her father was talking to Jones about selling his stake as no money in the world was worth this headache.

  George looked like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders, or at least part of it. He walked over to Esther and stopped right in front of her. She froze when she realized that he had gently placed both hands on her shoulders. His grip was so tender, it made her feel breathless, dizzy.

  “This is the first time in months that I feel like I have a chance again,” he said in a soft, grateful tone.

  Esther could feel his breath on her; it smelled of whiskey and fruit. A tingling overtook her whole body. She couldn’t help but direct her gaze at those beautiful lips of his and wonder if they were as soft as his touch. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. A strand of her short hair fell into her face, and before she could even move her hand, George went ahead and gently tugged it back behind her ear for her. Gosh, she wanted to kiss this man although she didn’t even know what kissing really was. Her knees weakened thinking about it, and just when she thought they were about to give out, a loud knock tore both of them out of the moment.

  “George?” A familiar voice penetrated the air through the door, followed by a second loud knock. Esther jerked away from him, while George stepped back, brows closely squished together in confusion, still staring at her as if he were lost over his own actions. What had just happened? The way he had tugged her hair back… Did he know who she was?

  Another knock, almost aggressive, clearly demanded to be answered.

  “George… I hope I'm not interrupting?” Emily's voice echoed from the other side.

  George slowly released Esther from his gaze and turned to make his way toward the door. Esther’s eyes now met Milton’s, who was biting his lip and slowly shaking his head, almost like an adult who’d just caught two kids stealing forbidden cookies.

  The door opened to reveal Emily dressed in a beautiful evening gown of the finest blue silk and of the latest fashion. Her golden hair was put up tightly into a bun and she was wearing a diamond jewelry set that sparkled just as bright as her beautiful eyes and white teeth. Her face curved into the most charming smile the moment her eyes saw George. Esther tasted bitterness in her mouth. Emily looked nothing short of stunning. No man, George included, could withstand a beauty like that. It was simply not possible. Her heart sank from the highest point she was moments ago, to the deepest depths of the underworld.

  “Emily, what a delight,” George welcomed her.

  “Would you mind if we had a word in private,” she inquired in the most elegant, angel-like tone.

  George turned to Esther and Milton, almost as if he were asking them if her request was an issue. Esther took the initiative and nodded Milton out the door. “Not at all.” She tried with all the strength she possessed to sound as casual as possible.

  Milton followed her, but not without stopping for a moment to get a good, long glimpse of Emily, whose beauty clearly robbed him of his breath.

  “Milton!” Esther barked at him, dragging him out of the room. Let her draw her shiny harpy claws into George, but she would not get the boy, too, Esther thought to herself, ignoring the fact that for the first time in her life, she was getting feasted on by nothing else but pure jealousy.

  Chapter 8

  W hat a blessing that the train had pulled right into a small train station somewhere near the Colorado border. Esther craved nothing more in this very moment than to get a deep breath in from the cool, Kansas night breeze! It was dark out and the station was lit by small gas lanterns attached to wooden poles. Passengers on the platform were now an equal mixture of cowboys, Western locals, and East-coast travelers.

  At the other end of the train, third-class passengers were lining up for the wooden lavatories that could only be considered inhumane even for animals. Weeks of human waste was piling up in a hole dugout in the dirt, covered by wood walls. If the wind blew the right way, or the wrong way as far as Esther was concerned, the stench would swallow the train as a whole, suffocating its passengers in an unbearable, nausea-provoking cloud of reek all the way to the first-class cars.

  For months Esther had had to use the New York lavatory version of this train station shithole, so she couldn’t help but whisper a relieved thank you to George for letting her stay with him in his train car with private bathroom amenities.

  Esther was about to ask Milton if he would like some sweets from the vendor next to the ticket office, when he walked straight past her, his mouth and eyes wide open in utter shock.

  “Milton, what’s wrong?” Esther worried, but he continued dragging his feet over the pavement without stopping.

  “What is it?” She followed him, grabbing him by the arm to make him talk to her. But Milton pulled loose and kept walking until he stopped right in front of a train steward who was dressed all in green and most likely worked for the train that had arrived at the platform across from theirs. He was hammering something to one of the numerous wooden poles that held up the station’s more than modest roof and lanterns. Esther was just about to ask Milton once more why he was acting so strangely, when the steward walked to the next pole, giving them full sight of the poster he had just hung up there.

  A breathtaking fear tightened Esther’s throat, driving all the color away from her face. Anxiety swirled around her head, making everything feel light but weighty as more and more people stopped to read the piece of paper that now had become the biggest threat not only to her mission, but her very life.

  Esther stumbled backwards in a loss of footing when she bumped right into a huge cowboy in dirty ranch clothes pushing her back closer toward the pole.

  “Wanted. Esther Silverton. Dead or Alive,” he read out loud with a huge grin on his face.

  “Te-Te-Teyn thousand?!” another cowboy stuttered as a crowd of people gathered around them, smothering Esther in the middle, making it impossible to breathe. She tried to push her way out, panicking, almost ready to scream, when she felt a hand grabbing her trembling arm. It was her little knight, Milton, who’d used his crowd reading skills from years of fleeing from the police once more to pull her out, bumping shoulder to shoulder before completely sliding by the last few bystanders like a slippery fish from its captor’s wet hands.

  “This woman better not squat with her spurs
awn or sher’s maahn,” another cowboy whooped to the crowd, exposing his yellow teeth in hysteric excitement. An older woman dressed in a simple ranch dress and dusty boots stepped next to Milton and Esther several feet away from the crowd. She held her hand up to her mouth in shock. “Te-yn thousand… That’s double thuh ballast thay offer for Jesse James.” She shook her head. “What she done?”

  “She was born a woman,” Esther heard herself say without even realizing that she said those words out loud. The words must have slipped out in sheer distress. The old woman now looked at her with sad eyes, almost as if all the hardships a woman in the nineteenth century had to endure just flashed in front of her. “Ahm guilty of that craahm too.”

  Esther instantly turned away and pulled down her leather hat to shade her face. More and more people rushed by her toward the poster. Their faces all looked alike, a bunch of wolves in sheep’s clothing, hungry for fresh meat.

  “This sage hen will keep my scamper juice flowin’ for life,” another cowboy joked in a wet, spitting voice that was fading in the distance as Milton and Esther hurried back. Everybody was now laughing, cheerful and elated, but to Esther it all sounded like a blur of moving bodies squirming upon each other like maggots on a dead carcass.

  She somehow managed to drag herself back to first-class wagons before her legs gave out and threw her against the cold metal of the train car. She leaned her back against it, trying to hold herself steady. Her heart raced like a frightened stallion in a burning forest, with no way out.