Kaitlin's Silver Lining (32 page)

“Oh.” She pursed her
lips. “Well, then, I’m about to double your worth.”

His eyes widened.
“You’re expectin’?”

She gripped the seat,
and her face warmed. The thought of being pregnant had never entered her mind.
She’d been too busy with ranch matters to pay much attention to her body.
Staring at her abdomen, she placed a protective hand across her middle,
wondering if she dared hope. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean,
you don’t know?” Bryce pulled on the reins, halting the horses. He pushed the
brim of his Stetson back. “Expectin’ isn’t the secret you’re keepin’ from me?”

She tilted her head.
“Well, I suppose it could be. I just never really thought about it. But it
would explain a lot of things, like the loss of appetite and the fact I haven’t
had my monthlies since the end of January.”

She giggled. “A
baby.”

Bryce hugged her to
him. “Dang, you shore know how to keep a fella intrigued.”

“Intrigued keeps you
coming back for more, right?”

He dipped his head
and claimed her lips in a heated kiss. She melted into his embrace, enjoying
the impromptu show of affection. If nothing else, Bryce knew just how to touch
her to stimulate her desires. She moaned and tore her lips from his. “Your
father will be waiting.”

“He’s waited awhile
now. He can wait a mite longer.”

“JD and Rachel might
come upon us.”

He laughed. “They
just might at that.” His expression turned serious, and he touched her cheek.
“If not the baby, what other secret do you hold?”

“Kiss me again, and I
might be tempted to tell you.”

Without further
urging, he accepted her invitation. She savored the taste of him. A gentle
breeze teased the wisps of hair peaking from underneath her bonnet. Her cowboy
sure knew how to kiss. This time he broke the contact first. “Tell me or I’ll
have to keep you captive in this very spot all day.”

“And you’re just
stubborn enough to do it, too.”

“You know me well.”

She smiled and pulled
the reticule into her lap. Fishing around, she pulled out a rock. “Remember
this?”

“Galen, right?”

“Galena.” With a nod,
she continued. “I finally found time to search our property. It took time, but
I found galena on the east section, and I had it assayed.”

He clutched her
shoulders. “It contained silver?”

“We’re looking at a
pretty rich strike. You, my dear, are a wealthy man.”

He tossed his hat in
the air and laughed then immediately sobered. “This changes nothin’ between us,
Kaitlin, so don’t even get ideas.”

A fierce frown
gathered between her brows. “What are you talking about?”

“Rich or poor, I’ll
love you no matter what. I didn’t marry you because I thought the land might
contain silver. I married you because you’re the best thing that’s ever
happened to me.”

A strong wave of
emotion rocked her core, and tears gathered behind her eyes. “I love you, too.
You make me richer than all the silver or gold in the world.”

“Then let’s get
movin’ so we can reach the Double S before dark.” He laughed and snapped the
reins. The horse jerked forward, putting the buckboard into motion again. “I’ve
a sudden hankerin’ to share my wealth with my family. I want them to know just
how lucky I am.”

Other Books By Ciara Gold

Sci-Fi Futuristic Romance

Celestial Dragon

A Nobel Sacrifice (an Epic award winning book)

Dragon King

Historical Western Romance

Sarah’s Brass Token

Julia’s Golden Eagle

Eliza's Copper Penny

Once Jilted

Texas Forged

Historical Fantasy Romance

The Keeper Of Moon Haven

Viking Era Time Travel

On The Silver Edge Of Time

On Timeless Wings Of Gold

For more information on
Ciara Gold visit www.ciaragold.com

Dedication

I’d like to thank my
four-corners crit partners from the Northwest Houston RWA chapter for helping
iron out the beginning. Thanks go to Linda, John, Suzan, Judy, and Toni for
their second set of eyes. And another big thank you to all the members of this
terrific chapter for their love and support.

Please
enjoy the first chapter of
Texas Forged,
a historical western romance
set during the hurricane of 1875 in Indianola, Texas.

 
Prologue

October 24, 1874

Aubrey
Caine stared at the faded photograph peeking through from under a canned pickle
advertisement. She ripped the announcement from the general store wall,
unmindful of the three other bulletins that fluttered to the hardwood floor.
Staring at the smiling face that mocked her from the flat surface, she rifled
around in her small purse for change. “You won’t need this flyer any longer;
it’s well over a year old. That said, I suppose you won’t mind if I take the
notice with me, will you?”

“Guess
not, since you practically have it folded and tucked away already.” The store
clerk, an odd looking man with heavy jowls and a pointed head, pulled two more
old photos from the wall. “Can I interest you in a snake oil ad? Or perhaps an
old wanted poster?”

“I’m only
in the market for this one.” Aubrey placed a coin on the counter of the Beaver
Meadow’ store and exited before the clerk refuted her claim to the piece of
paper.

Outside,
she gulped in a calming breath, but excitement flared unchecked as she thought
of facing her missing husband. How long had it been since he left? How long
since he’d stolen her son, Thad? How long since she’d received his curt letter
informing her of her son’s death? She shook her head and lifted her chin. The
scoundrel hadn’t even allowed her to bury the boy. She’d spent nine long years
and countless resources hunting the man, and a chance discovery in his hometown
could very well lead to results.

She
unfolded the faded bulletin and scanned the details. Jason had posted the flyer
to advertise a new enterprise he’d undertaken. The grand opening had occurred
May 5, 1867, three years after leaving her alone in a shack in Birmingham. A
brittle grin spread across her face. With any hope, his precious Grander
Zandorfenland still existed.

She stared
at the empty streets of a once thriving community, her posture rigid with
determination. Tall, longleaf pine and blackjack oak trees stood at attention
along the battered roadway like solemn mothers awaiting the return of their
sons. The strong stench from the paper mill warred with the fresh scent of
pine. She caught a glimpse of something shiny and bent to retrieve an old
button from a confederate uniform. If not for the paper production, the town
would have withered and died a long time ago as there was no longer a market
for the gray attire the depot once shipped to southern soldiers. After finding
information on Jason Caine, she was most grateful to the mill for sustaining
the commerce.

She
straightened, tucked the souvenir into a pocket, and took a unwavering step
toward the depot where she planned to catch the one o’clock train to
Citronelle.

“Ma’am?
Miss!”

She
turned on her heel. The shop owner stood framed within the doorway, waving
another yellowed paper at her. “I seriously think you’ll want this one as
well.”

“Why?”
she asked as she approached the mercantile again.

He
smiled, revealing a chipped tooth and brown gums. “Feller on the front looks
just like the one on your handbill.”

“Indeed.”
She took the fore-mentioned page and cautiously glanced at the drawing. The
name wasn’t Jason Caine, but the face bore more than a striking resemblance.
While she hunted her husband for information regarding their son, Thad, the law
hunted him for something far more serious.

Wanted
for theft. Joshua Walker of Mobile County Alabama. $500 Reward offered.

One

Indianola, Texas
August 5, 1875

“Hold
up,” Aubrey Caine yelled to no avail. Hiking her skirts, she made a mad dash
after the moving wagon. “Stop!”

The
rickety buckboard carrying her few prized possessions careened down the wooden
wharf, leaving her far behind. Not only had the delivery boy taken off without
her, but he’d failed to properly secure the large shipping crate full of
household items. The box bounced like an inexperienced rider on the back of a
feisty bronc. She’d think the scene comical if it wasn’t
her
belongings
flying about on the rattling box on wheels.

She
picked up the pace and made a valiant dash after the wagon then skidded to a
halt when the wheel caught the last board before hitting land and the crate
flew off the back. The impending crash happened a split second later, spilling
her precious contents onto the sandy surface. Before the vehicle came to a
stop, her second trunk sailed off the end and landed with a hard thud. The top
popped open as it bounced on its side. A startled gasp followed by an
unladylike stream of epitaphs punctuated her ire.

“Damn,
damn, damn.”
How could the driver be so careless?

A round
face peered over his shoulder before wrestling the team to a halt, his
expression one of shocked bewilderment. The abrupt action caused her valise to
follow the same path as her other items. Upon impact, the bag popped open,
exposing a host of personal items for the gawking crowd.

She
trudged forward, prepared to give the careless help a piece of her temper. Bits
of shell and sand crunched beneath her sturdy shoes, and the warm sun heated
her skin.

The young
man turned the wagon around and brought it alongside one of the broken crates.
“Miss, I’m so sorry. ‘Spect I was wool gathering and not paying too much
attention.”

“Well, I
hope you gathered enough to make a blanket. I’d like to see something
productive come out of this mess.”

The boy
couldn’t be more than twelve and wore a shade of red that rivaled the silk rose
on her new hat. Her initial anger died in the face of such youthful chagrin.
Not
much to do except gather the strewn pieces.

He set
the brake. “I meant no harm.”

The
luggage manager should have contracted a more experienced delivery man. At
least he’d lost the load on dry land otherwise she might be retrieving her
precious items from the bay. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“No one
told me you’d be riding along. The man organizing the packages just told me to
load stuff. You’d already given me the address on Pecan Street. After I put the
crates in the wagon, I looked around and you were gone. I just figured you
found other transportation and would meet me at your place.”

His long
winded explanation didn’t relieve her anger much. “And why the hurry? You drove
like a swarm of bees were nipping at your tail.”

One
corner of his lip lifted in a wry smile. “Was hopin’ to meet a friend down by
the fishing hole. I truly am sorry, ma’am.”

“What’s
done is done.” Utensils haphazardly decorated the sandy beach, not to mention a
few unmentionables. “We’re creating a spectacle in the middle of the path.”

The boy
jumped down and surveyed the damage. “I’ll pick it all up for you, ma’am.”

 “You
gather all the forks, knives, and spoons you can find. I’ll hunt for the –
other stuff.”

He
followed her line of sight and blushed. “I ‘spect that’d be best.”

She
swiped up the valise and stuffed the partially exposed pink camisole into its
depths before locating other unmentionables. After placing the repacked bag on
the wagon bed, she helped the boy gather the household items. Luckily the
wooden box hadn’t completely disintegrated. Though the seams had loosened and a
board had come free from one side, it was intact enough to encase the things they
gathered. She picked up her coffee grinder and frowned. Repairs were needed for
it to work right again.

The boy
shot her a disgruntled frown. “Galin won’t be too happy with me, but he’ll fix
anything that’s broke. He’s a blacksmith.”

“I’ll
keep that in mind,” she said, setting the ruined grinder in the crate and
thinking if the blacksmith were as careless as his boy, she’d find another to
do the fixing.

“Hey
pretty lady, you need more help?”

She
turned toward the voice, ready to accept the offer. The heavy set man held her
best apron to his chest as if it were a nightdress made for a barmaid. She
snatched the article from his chubby fingers and grimaced at his loud guffaw.
“I believe I have all the assistance I need at present.”

A couple
of the ape’s friends added their raucous laughs to his chorus. She ignored
their crude behavior and hurried her pace in gathering her belongings.

A shadow
fell across a silver fork and she straightened. “Truly, I …”

“I
thought to lend honest assistance,” a well-groomed gentleman offered.

She
smiled. “Why yes, I’d love a bit of help, though I think the boy and I just
about have it all gathered.”

“I
apologize for not coming to your aid sooner. Name’s Clyde Mercer. I just
arrived. I’m a lawyer so if you ever need legal counsel, ask around. I’ll be
setting up my business soon. Looks like you’re a new resident as well.”

A lawyer?
Three years after Jason abandoned her, she’d inquired about a divorce but was
told she’d have to locate her husband first as the document would require his
signature. After seeing those posters, a more pressing question plagued her.
Was she even Jason’s wife or had he married her under false pretenses? Was the
man she called husband Jason Caine or Joshua Walker? While the question caused
worry, the possible answer along with the relentless heat gave her a pounding
headache.

She
extended a gloved hand, thinking she might indeed need his legal advice soon.
“Aubrey Caine. I just arrived on the steamship,
Anna Marie
.”

Her
driver struggled to pick up the crate several feet from the wagon.

“Oh my.”
A weary hand shielded her gaze from the sun as she witnessed the boy’s efforts.

Clyde
chuckled. “I’ll rescue him.” He loped toward the gangly teen and grabbed one
end of the wooden box. Together man and boy carried the heavy cargo to the
buckboard.

When
done, she thanked them both. “My heroes. Thank you again for your assistance.”

Clyde
tipped his hat. “Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

Her gaze
followed his progress down the street until he disappeared around a corner. Perhaps
moving to Indianola would prove more beneficial than she’d hoped. A gentle
smile tugged at her lips. Her harried introduction to the town hadn’t given her
a chance to enjoy the perfect fall day and the beachside scenery offered in
crisp blues and peaches. She cast an eye toward the shore and grinned. The
rolling crash of waves along the beach provided a soothing sound that welcomed
her to Indianola in a way nothing else could. Later, after she unpacked, she’d
indulge in a stroll and toss breadcrumbs for the gulls. She cast another
appreciative gaze toward the bay before hailing the boy to her side.

“What’s
your name?”

“Teebon.”

“Think
you can move this buckboard along at a pace guaranteed to ensure safe
delivery?” she asked.

Teebon
nodded, and the cowlick on top of his head wobbled. “I’ll treat you like you
was a carton of eggs.”

As
long as you’re not thinking scrambled.
“Great. Only this time, wait until I take a seat. I have an aversion to hanging
onto the side of a moving vehicle while my skirts billow in the wind and my
feet flutter like wings.”

His
cheeks blossomed red again, and he ducked his head. “Yes’m.”

“Very
well then.” She settled onto the bench next to the awkward youth and nodded a
greeting to some of the gawkers gathered to witness their small calamity. To
his credit, Teebon proved a competent driver and delivered cargo and passenger
without further mishap.

She
stared at the youth’s profile. “How old are you?”

“Twelve,
but they all say I’m big for my age.” He grinned. “I’m told I got my Pa’s reed
thin legs and my Ma’s reckless desire for adventure.”

He reined
in the horse beside a two-story, small home nestled between two other houses of
similar construction. Teebon pointed and set the brake. “That your place?”

“According
to the instructions, yes.” Excitement bubbled in her chest, and she clamored
down from the seat without Teebon’s assistance.

The
yellow house trimmed in white was perfect. Small but efficient. Lacey
gingerbread scrolls bordered the pillars holding the porch roof. Someone had
left a rocking chair on the tiny terrace, and Aubrey smiled. The weathered
front door screeched opened. An opening from the kitchen led to a set of
stairs. The second story bedroom boasted a large window overlooking the street.
Each room held a minimum of furniture, but the few items there meant not having
to shop anytime soon. She pushed aside Chantilly curtains to enjoy the view,
more relaxed after realizing her employer provided a furnished home.

With her
help, Teebon wrestled the crate from the back without dropping one single item
and placed it in the front sitting room. By himself, he set her trunk and
valise right next to the wooden container. She thanked him profusely and sent
him on his way. After unpacking her few belongings, she checked the time. The
ornate mantle clock indicated five past eleven. Her duties with the Gulf,
Western Texas and Pacific Railway Company would begin tomorrow when she had her
first meeting with her new boss, Harold P. Rhodes.

As tired
as she was from traveling, unpacking became her top priority. Both trunks took
up the majority of floor space in the tiny room. Why hadn’t she thought to ask
Teebon with help dragging the trunk of clothes upstairs? A heavy sigh left her
lips at the thought. She’d just open it and drag each item separately to her
room to place in the armoire. The crate held kitchen items and would be easier
to disperse or so she hoped. The valise contained her most prized possessions.

Feeling a
need to procrastinate and hoping to start her search for Jason sometime
tomorrow, she opened the tapestry bag and peered inside.

A frown
gathered at her brow.

The
advertisement and wanted poster weren’t on top where she’d put them. She rifled
through the contents, her anxiety mounting. With a surge of desperation, she
emptied the luggage onto the hardwood floor.

Gone.
Carried away by the wind when her baggage had broken open.
Frustrations.
Her clues for finding Jason had vanished.