Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1) (29 page)

October 22-27, 1864

“Well, thank you—I guess—for escorting me back to town,” Katie said as she slid from Willoughby’s back and handed the reins to Jack. “Are you sure you don’t mind returning him to the stable?”

“I have to go there anyway. You go on inside and let your friends know you’re all right.” Jack’s voice was huskier than usual, and he avoided her eyes as he crossed Willoughby’s reins with Byron’s.

“Yes, I suppose I should.” Katie fiddled with the handful of straggly, late-blooming poppies that Jack had picked for her when they’d stopped to stretch their legs on the way back from Jackass Gulch. She wasn’t sure why they both were so ill at ease, and further, she didn’t want to think about it. “Well, good-bye.”

Jack glanced down at her, nodded, and nudged Byron to turn back down Main Street. Katie walked slowly toward the saloon, watching until Jack and the two horses had turned the corner of Fulton Street. Confused, bittersweet emotions assailed her mind and battered her heart, leaving her utterly drained.

Inside the saloon, Lim and Abby rushed to meet her, exclaiming their relief and plying her with questions. When their curiosity had been satisfied, Abby said, “Thank goodness Jack stopped by looking for you. Otherwise, you might still be in Jackass Gulch, and we’d still be worrying about you!”

Katie’s eyes widened. “Jack was here? Looking for me? I thought you sent him to find me.”

Lim shook his head, watching her all the while. “No, he came here, then he went to look for you at home, then he came back again. He brought you a present.”

She was completely confused. “He certainly didn’t say anything to me about a present. Where is it?”

“It’s a she,” laughed Abby, “and she’s in the kitchen, lapping milk.”

Lim disappeared around the corner and returned holding a tiny bundle of furry patchwork. Katie stared. It was the calico kitten Jack and Maggie had been watching in front of the dry goods store.

“Jack said he was keeping his eye on her most of the day until he was satisfied she was an orphan,” Abby explained. “He just had a feeling that you’d be the person who could give her the love she needed.”

Tears stung Katie’s eyes. “He said that?”

They both nodded. Lim held out the kitten and Katie lifted it, gazing into its bright blue eyes, then held it against her cheek. The warm, velvet-soft body began to purr immediately. “I love her,” she whispered. Her eyes fell on the orange poppies that lay on the bar. “I’ll call her Poppy.”

* * *

Timing up the collar of his long tan duster against the evening chill, the Griffin watched Aaron Rush’s two assistants leave the mining offices which were located a short distance south of town. The miners themselves had gone home more than an hour before, and now it seemed that even loyalty to Rush could not keep his closest aides from their supper. The Griffin was concealed behind a cluster of pine trees as the pair walked by. He heard the bigger man say, “Damn it all, I’m starved! The boss has that Chinaman to cook for him when he decides to put the books away and go home, but I don’t got servants and I need
food!
” His companion, a thin fellow whose red face bespoke a fondness for whiskey, laughed and nodded his agreement as they reached their horses, mounted, and rode away.

Jack narrowed his eyes at the one-story brick building that housed the mine offices. The front windows were lit, and he could see Aaron Rush inside, moving around from time to time. Jack glanced back down the road toward town. He’d been staying away from Columbia, spending most of the past two weeks at the Gillis cabin as he waited for Gideon and Abby’s wedding, which would take place tomorrow. There was a war going on inside him over Katie. He craved her, yet he couldn’t let himself go near her. He’d begun to think of her as a fire, warm and inviting, yet dangerous if he got too close. And it seemed that he couldn’t stop himself from getting too close. As soon as the wedding was over, he was going back to San Francisco. The Griffin was retiring, but first he had to tend to some unfinished business.

Carrying his hood in one hand and his shotgun in the other, Jack took a circuitous route through the trees that led to the back of the office. Working for Harold Van Hosten had acquainted him well with the floorplan of the building. Pausing outside the rear door, he slipped the hood over his head and adjusted the eyeholes. Then, holding the shotgun lightly, he eased open the door and moved silently down the dark hallway. The door to Rush’s office was ajar. Jack stood in the narrow bar of light, looking at his nemesis, who sat hunched over a magnificent desk.

Aaron Rush appeared harmless. Sweat soaked his white shirt and unbuttoned brown waistcoat, and his plump, pink face showed signs of obvious fatigue. He took a long drink from the snifter of brandy at his elbow, then rubbed his eyes with meaty fists. Jack wondered how such a man could be capable of so much evil.

Stepping into the room, the Griffin spoke. “Mr. Rush, might I have a few minutes of your time?”

Rush looked up and gasped, paling visibly.
“You!
You devil! How dare you come here and show yourself to me?”

“I simply walked in the door,” Jack replied dryly. “It didn’t require a surfeit of daring on my part. There are some matters I would like to discuss with you.”

Rush fumbled in a drawer, and Jack raised his shotgun and aimed it at the older man. “Looking for your pistol? Take it out and set it on the desk, please.”

Now Aaron Rush turned beet red. “Oh, you’re smooth, Griffin, but that smart mouth of yours won’t save your hide. I’m going to see you dead!”

“Not tonight, however. Just set the gun on the desk,” Jack repeated patiently. When Rush had complied, he walked over and picked up the pistol. “Now then, since my more subtle warnings regarding your conduct seem to have had little effect, I thought it might be best to spell things out, so that there would be no room for misunderstanding.”

“You’re a thief and a murderer!” Rush shouted.

“Then we have something in common,” Jack shot back coldly. “I wish I were more inclined toward cold-blooded murder; I could save myself and this town a lot of time and trouble. However, gentlemen that I am, I’m going to give you one more chance.”

Sweat trickled down Rush’s high, flushed forehead. “I’ll see you dead, Griffin!”

“You are repeating yourself,” Jack replied in bored tones. “Now shut up and listen to me.” He placed the cold barrel of the shotgun against Rush’s jowl. “Are you listening?”

The older man swallowed, blinking rapidly. “All fight. Yes.”

“I want you to stop harassing the good people of Columbia. Leave Tsing Tsing Yee in peace. Stop trying to force him, or anyone else, to sell their properties to you. Understand?”

Aaron Rush gave an almost imperceptible nod of assent, his beady eyes straying constantly to the barrel of the shotgun that pressed his hot flesh.

“I want you to start treating the miners fairly. Pay them what they’re owed, and stop trying to cheat people out of their claims. You have plenty of gold without taking the small amounts others might find.” Jack paused for a moment to let his words sink in. “Finally, leave Gideon Henderson and the
Gazette
alone. Henderson and Kathleen MacKenzie must be allowed to write what they please. If I hear that you have harassed Kathleen any further, or harmed a hair on her head, I’ll kill you. That is a promise.”

Rush felt a surge of joy as he recognized the tone of the Griffin’s voice. A sly smile touched his mouth, and his eyes gleamed triumphantly as he nodded. “Of course. Whatever you say.”

There was nothing more that Jack could do. He drew the shotgun back, sick inside with the realization that he’d shown his hand. “I won’t take any more of your time, then, Mr. Rush. If you value your life, you’ll remember what I’ve said and behave accordingly.”

Aaron Rush waited until the Griffin had gone, then stood to look out his window, watching as the hooded man tossed Rush’s pistol into the hydraulic mine pits. When the Griffin swung up onto his horse and rode off into the woods, away from town, Rush allowed a slow, malevolent grin to spread over his face.

“Kathleen MacKenzie, eh?” he whispered. “My dear Griffin, at last I have discovered your Achilles’ heel!”

* * *

“I can’t believe I could have been so
stupid!”
Jack shouted, pacing across the dirt floor of the Gillis cabin.

“Sure you don’t want a whiskey?” Sam inquired again. He sat by the fire, thankful that the Gillis brothers had gone off to Tuttletown to take in the show at the fandango hall. In his present mood, Jack didn’t seem to care who knew he was the Griffin.

“Even while I was saying those things about Kathleen, warning him to leave her alone, I could hear the—the—”

“Emotion?” Sam suggested helpfully.

Jack stopped in his tracks and threw Clemens a quelling look. “Hmm... all right, yes, I could hear the emotion in my own voice. Just that undercurrent of passion, and that was all it took. Suddenly there was this smug twist to Rush’s mouth, and this light in his eyes. Instead of sapping his power, I fear I’ve handed him just the weapon he’s been looking for....”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“God, I wish I knew! I only confronted him because I’m leaving for San Francisco tomorrow, after the wedding. Of course,
he
doesn’t know that. I thought if I was menacing and mysterious enough—as the Griffin—and if he feared he might die if he defied me, I could leave with some peace of mind. But now I think it may have been a mistake. Rush has the idea that he’s omnipotent, that he can do whatever he pleases without consequence. He hates the Griffin, and he may well view Kathleen as a weapon now, to use against me.” Jack stopped to stare at Sam, the chiseled planes of his face accentuated in the fire’s glow. “Rush might try to harm Kathleen in an effort to draw the Griffin out. He won’t know that I’m gone.”

A long silence fell between them, broken only by the hissing of the damp wood. Finally Clemens puffed at his cigar and shrugged as he exhaled a stream of smoke. “Have you thought of taking Katie with you?”

Jack ran a hand over his tired eyes. “I suppose it might be the only way. If I left here alone and anything happened to her...”

“Frankly, my friend, I think it would be the best thing for her, Rush or no Rush.” Sam leaned forward, warming to the subject. “That girl needs to spread her wings, and she can’t do it here. She’s wasted in Columbia, slaving at that saloon and writing newspaper articles that few people ever read. In San Francisco, Katie would thrive, especially with the financial security you could provide.”

Suddenly Jack felt drained. He took the chair next to Sam’s and stared into the fire. “You’re right, of course. The question is, how do I accomplish this?”

“Any ideas?” Sam inquired innocently.

He swallowed, then mustered a bleak smile. “I suppose I could marry her....”

“To tell you the truth, I think you’d be doing both of you a favor!”

Jack pretended not to understand. “Well, under the circumstances, it would hardly be a conventional marriage, but that’s not the point right now—”

“I’m not one to interfere,” Sam said bluntly, “but if I were you, I’d a damned sight rather be married to Katie MacKenzie than your porcelain-proper Genevieve Braithwaite!”

Jack was numb. He couldn’t let himself think past the moment for fear of colliding with emotions that shook him to the core. “I’d rather not debate that issue right now, if you don’t mind. Of more immediate concern is how in hell I’m going to talk Kathleen into marrying me at all. It’s insane to think that she’ll agree to this.”

A slow smile spread over Sam’s face, widening his mustache. “Never try to second-guess a woman, my friend. I’ll wager that if you were to just flat-out
ask
her, adding a sentimental word or two, you might be surprised by her answer.”

Jack’s eyebrows arched upward as he shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t know....”He sighed. “If I tell you something, will you give me your word that it will go no further?”

Clemens nodded. “Of course.”

“Nothing’s ever scared me more than the idea of proposing marriage to Kathleen MacKenzie.”

“Hmm. You don’t say.” He puffed on his cigar, then added casually, “I wonder why that is?”

“You do?” Jack’s tone was acid. “
I
don’t, and furthermore, I don’t want to discuss it!”

* * *

Gideon and Abby’s wedding day dawned chilly and overcast. Katie woke at first light after a restless night’s sleep. She had bathed the night before, and the curls that tumbled down her back when she got out of bed were still damp and fragrant.

Poppy mewed and stretched at the foot of the bed, watching her mistress pad barefoot out of the bedroom. The kitten considered following, but her little eyes drooped and closed, and soon she was purring through another dream.

Crisp, bright autumn leaves tumbled from the tree in front of the house. Standing at the kitchen window, Katie watched them fall and join the others that covered the neat front yard. Where was Jack? She hadn’t seen him, or Sam, since he had left her in front of the saloon days ago, and even Gideon had begun to worry that his best man might have left the foothills. Would he come to the church today? Her heart tightened at the thought of seeing him again. By now she was past wishing she’d never met Jack; he was in her blood—he’d taken her from the achingly sweet fantasies of a young lady to the ardent reality of womanhood, and it was no longer possible to pretend otherwise.