Shadow's Stand (28 page)

“Son of a bitch.”

“You say something, Shadow?” Caine asked.

Shadow yanked the rawhide tight around the blankets. “Just thinking out loud.”

Caine nodded. “Had a few of those moments myself.” He took a sip of his coffee, grimacing before spitting out some grinds. “So this woman we’re about to hunt down, what does she look like?”

“Last time I saw her, she was about this high.” Shadow put his hand to just below his breastbone. “Slender, almond-shaped green eyes with flecks of amber, small nose, lush mouth, long, thick black hair—”

“Hell,” Tracker interrupted, glancing over at Caine. “He’s a goner.”

Shadow stood and kicked dirt over the fire. “What? I can’t notice a woman?”

“Oh, you might notice a woman, but string that many words together about her?” Sam shook his head. “That’s a dead giveaway.”

“I just had to hear him use the word
lush,
” Caine said. “Not sure I’m going to survive that shock.”

Zacharias’s knife scraped across the stone loudly in an abrasive interruption. “Does your Fei have any special skills she might be using for a job?”

“She’s an expert with dynamite.”

Zacharias glanced up at him from under his hat brim, his expression inscrutable. “And she didn’t blow your sorry ass up?”

“She happens to like my sorry ass.”

Tucker tipped his hat back. “Liking your ass aside, it’s doubtful she could use a skill with explosives to get a job.”

“She has before.” When everyone looked at him, Shadow explained, “She pretended to be her father when he took ill.”

Caine quirked an eyebrow. “She posed as her father?”

Shadow shrugged. “No one gets too close to the explosives. Put on a big hat and the right clothes, and as long as the job gets done, who’s going to question it?”

Caine picked up his rifle and brushed some dust off the sight with his thumb. “True. But that still takes guts.”

“Fei’s long on guts.”

“So, a brave woman who might have changed her appearance?” Zach surmised. “She might not be easy to find.”

Shadow ran his hand around the back of his neck. “Probably not.”

“And why would she want to change her appearance?” Caine asked.

Shadow dropped his hand to his side. “She has a habit of pissing people off.”

Sam tipped his hat up. “Like who?”

“Culbart thinks she stole from him.”

The shadow from the flames danced across Tracker’s face, alternately hiding and defining the deep scar on his cheek, taking him from handsome to vicious in a subtle fluctuation of light as he asked quietly, “Did she?”

“Literally or technically?”

Caine braced his rifle against a fallen log and withdrew his revolver from the holster. “Let’s start with technically.”

“Her father sold her cousin to him. Fei took her back.”

“A woman who understands family,” Sam observed. “You could take lessons from her.”

Shadow had about had it with Sam’s digs. “Do you have a problem with me, Sam?”

Beneath the brim of his hat, Sam smiled that itching-for-a-fight smile he was famous for. “Nothing that can’t wait.”

Shit. He didn’t have time for this.

“Where do you think she’ll go?” Caine asked, cutting off anything else Sam had to say.

“To her claim.”

“Claim?” Zach asked.

“She found gold, which is why she married up with me in the first place. She was desperate.”

Sam laughed. “Shit, she really did marry you in the middle of a necktie party? I thought that was just shine on the back of a tall tale.”

Shadow wished. “You and me both.”

Tracker asked the question Shadow could read in everyone’s eyes. “Why?”

“She needed the gold to buy her cousin back, but she couldn’t get the gold out of the claim without protection.”

Both Caine’s eyebrows went up. “And she thought the hangman’s noose was a great character reference?”

Shadow couldn’t explain that himself. “Somewhere between the rope going around my neck and the hanging, she decided I was the dragon she’d been waiting for.”

The steady rhythm of Zacharias’s sharpening faltered. “She thinks you’re a lizard?”

“For your information, in Fei’s culture, a dragon is a noble beast. A warrior. Defender of the weak.”

“She thinks you’re her hero,” Tracker said quietly.

“Yes.”

Tucker slapped a mosquito on his neck. “Have you seen the gold?”

“Yeah.”

“Hard to move gold around without somebody knowing,” Zacharias observed.

Shadow nodded. “There are some claim jumpers circling around her already.”

“Do you think she got the gold out yet?” Caine asked.

“I don’t think she’s had enough time.”

“But if she did, where would she be headed?”

“San Francisco.”

“Didn’t she run away to avoid going there?”

Shadow had told them all he knew about Fei. Including how they’d parted.

“Yes.”

“Then why change her mind?” Sam asked.

“To free her cousin.”

Caine slid the revolver back in the holster. “Does her cousin want to be freed?”

“I believe Fei’s going to offer her something she’s never had.”

“And what’s that?”

“A choice.”

Caine got to his feet and dumped out the rest of his coffee. “Well, then, I guess it’s time we find Fei and her pot of gold.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A
FRESH
START
WASN
’
T
as easy as Fei had hoped it would be. Walking down the street of Simple, a town two stops along the railroad route west of Barren Ridge, checking windows for help-wanted signs, Fei began to consider the possibility that she’d made a mistake leaving when she had. She’d been worried about being lost in San Francisco, of being swallowed up by the crowds as she started over. Of being in a place where her skills had no value. But in small towns, a woman alone stuck out, she was discovering. Employment was also scarce and her skills had no value.

Was this what you wanted to protect me from, Father?

It was galling that her skills had no value not because there wasn’t a need for explosive experts. There was a big need, but because no one believed a woman could actually do the job, she couldn’t get a chance. She paused at the edge of the walk, waiting for a buckboard to pass. Humiliation burned over her anew as she recalled the way the railroad crew chief had laughed in her face, refusing to even allow her to demonstrate her skills. She’d wanted to light a stick of dynamite and stick it down his pants. Instead, she’d had to stand there and listen to him offer her another job, that of camp girl. She stepped down off the walk into the street. In fact, the only employment around seemed to be that of camp girl, but she wasn’t desperate enough to take that position. Yet.

It was on the way back from that interview that Jewel had been stolen. Fei had only left her for a moment. Just long enough to pick some berries to ease her hunger. She’d heard a startled whinny. By the time she’d gotten free of the brambles, a man was galloping away with her horse. Without her horse, she couldn’t get to her claim. Not only would it be a two-day walk, but once she collected the gold, it would be too heavy to carry out by hand. As she stepped back up on the walk on the other side, she discreetly checked the small cloth purse tied to her hip, hidden by her long tunic. When she’d left Barren Ridge four days ago, she’d had to wrap the coins to keep them from jingling. Now, with only three coins left to pay for lodging and supper, she could walk down the streets with no fear of detection. Money did not go as far as she’d thought. Just one more eye-opening realization she’d discovered on her road to independence.

Stopping, she took a breath, trying to soothe the panic. There was only enough money to pay for tonight’s lodging, but not tonight’s supper. She had no prospects. No hope. She fingered the coins as she passed the telegraph office. No options. The rhythmic
tap-tap-tap
of the telegraph machine followed her down the walk, lured her back. Looking through the window into the dim interior, she watched as the man tapped out the code that sent messages across the distances, connecting families in wondrous ways. Such a marvelous machine. It could be the answer to her problems if she were willing to accept the life someone else deemed right for her. It would be so easy to send a message to her uncles. So easy to sit on this bench and wait for them to come. And they would come for her. It would be a loss of face not to.

They likely would lecture her, too, mostly because it would be a loss of face not to. It wasn’t that they were bad men. Her uncles loved her in their way, and wanted the best they could give her. They just didn’t understand why she wasn’t happy with what was, in their mind, proper. They’d found her a very respectable match. Second wife to a firstborn son of a good family that owned several small grocery stores in San Francisco. His business was set to expand. The uncles said he was of good temperament, very fond of his first wife, who was of delicate health. It was because of his love for his wife that he was looking for a second. He wanted to ease her burdens. It was, actually, an excellent match.

Sighing to herself, Fei sat down on the iron bench set up in front of the office. So why couldn’t she jump at it? It sounded as if her prospective husband was a kind man. One who would likely make minimal demands on her. Marrying him would provide her with a secure life. Not a perfect life but a good one. Why couldn’t she see it as anything but prison?

Shadow’s face popped into her mind. Handsome, strong and resolute. He’d sent her away without a word of apology, his jaw set in that way that said there would be no arguing. And she’d gone without a fight, partly because that’s what she’d been raised to do, to follow a man’s orders, and partly because she hadn’t known how to fight such a wall of resolve. And she regretted it. She should have fought. She’d wanted to fight. But she hadn’t and now she was left with frustration and regret, whereas he…? She sighed and forced herself to accept the truth.

Shadow was probably hundreds of miles away from here by now. In another town. With another woman. Moving forward with his life. Enjoying a future that didn’t include her. Moving on in ways she couldn’t. Grabbing tightly to the handle of the bench, Fei clamped down on the pain and forced herself to admit the truth. She hadn’t asked and he hadn’t promised. Their marriage had ended the way it had begun, spontaneously, without a lot of discussion. She would have begged if she thought Shadow would have listened. She would have argued his belief that sending her to a life she abhorred would be better than whatever time she had with him. Would have. Could have. They plagued her. Why hadn’t she at least tried?

Shadow had told her going away was for her own good. He’d told her she would be happier elsewhere. He’d told her, and she’d listened, as if he knew it all. And yet he hadn’t even asked her what was waiting for her in San Francisco. How she felt about it. He’d been so arrogant, believing that his right to take care of her was greater than her right to take care of him. And she’d allowed it. She should have at least told him what a crock of bull it was. There was a lot she could have done, including telling him that if he wanted another woman, she’d get her father’s cooking knife and castrate him.

Fumbling in her pocket, she searched for her handkerchief before the tears could fall. She’d done a number of stupid things, but bawling in the middle of the street did not have to be one of them. How could he even think of being with another? She couldn’t. Not as wife. Not as concubine. Not even as convenience. In her heart, she was Shadow Ochoa’s wife. In her heart, he was her husband. She just didn’t know what to do with that. Stay. Go. Accept. Fight. A tear escaped her control. Her handkerchief escaped her detection. Would nothing go right this day?

“Looks like you could use this.”

A crisply folded white handkerchief was pressed into her hand. She took it as a second tear joined the first. The handkerchief smelled of bluing and wool.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She looked up. The man was not overly tall, nor overly broad. The most prepossessing thing about him was his dark blue uniform. It was well dyed, beautifully cut and sported an assortment of braid and medals.

She motioned with his handkerchief. “I will have it laundered and returned.”

The man smiled, a one-sided stretch of his lips. “Keep it for as long as you need.”

Despite the friendliness of the words, the smile made her uncomfortable.

“May I may be of assistance?”

“No.” She shook her head, sniffing back another tear. “I will find the answer.”

“Are you sure? I’m not without some influence.”

Fei looked at his uniform again. Likely he did. A belated sense of caution kicked in. “You are a military man?”

“Around these parts, I am
the
military man.”

Shadow’s enemy. Did he know who she was?

Lowering her gaze, she stood and bowed.

“I am honored to be assisted by such an important man.”

“I assure you, ma’am, the honor is all mine. Now, if I cannot help you, could I at least have the pleasure of your company for lunch?”

Her stomach chose that moment to rumble.

“Would that be a yes?”

She shook her head. She chose an obvious excuse. “My family would not approve.”

“What objection could they have?”

“I am Chinese.”

He slipped his gloved finger under her chin and lifted her face. The touch was coldly dispassionate. His gaze became assessing. With his thumb, he tilted her head to the side. “Not fully.”

She jerked her face free. Even though he wasn’t a large man, he was still much bigger than she. And something about him made her think of coiled snakes in tall grass. He made her nervous.

“No, I am not.” She took a step back and bowed, effectively escaping his touch. “I must go.”

“Before you go, is there someone I can speak to?”

“In regard to what?”

He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. With a smile, he handed it to her. “I’d like you to be my guest to the box social in Barren Ridge tomorrow.”

Barren Ridge was four hours away. Why would he invite her there? She took the paper. “I do not understand.”

“I’m told this is the most exciting event that has happened around here in years.”

Looking at the flyer, she felt the blood drain from her face. Centered at the top of the page was a sketch. It was both clever and horrific. It was Shadow, yet not. A demon caricature of him. In the drawing, he was portrayed as a knife-wielding monster with a head larger than the rest of his body. Around his neck was a spiked noose. The caption read: Caught At Last.

They were going to hang her Shadow. At the bottom were instructions on how to enter a basket in the box social. And they were going to have a dance afterward. She wanted to throw up.

“Shadow Ochoa has been terrorizing the state for years now. It’s going to be quite a celebration.”

“Why do they call him a savage?”

“He’s half Indian.”

And she was half Chinese. That meant nothing. She touched the sneer the artist had etched into Shadow’s face. They’d made her dragon a demon and were planning on dancing on his grave. That could not happen.

She handed the flyer back to the man. “I do not even know your name.”

“Colonel Jeffrey Daniels.” He bowed. “And what’s your name?”

Keeping her gaze lowered, she allowed a hint of distress to enter her gaze. “I am sorry.” She looked down the street is if she feared being watched. A proper Chinese woman would never be seen in the company of any man, unescorted. Least of all a white man. “I must go.”

Any hope she had that he would just let her walk away died the moment he fell into step beside her. She glanced up the street again, as if fearing to be caught. “Please, you must go.”

Instead of moving away, he inched closer. When she would’ve slowed and let him go by, his hand curved under her elbow.

“I’m afraid, ma’am, that I’m going to have to insist on accompanying you.”

She stopped dead. “Why?”

He stepped in front of her, hemming her in.

“Because you have something I want.”

Slipping her hand under her tunic, she grabbed the purse and yanked it from the belt. She held it out. “This is all I have.”

He didn’t take it. “I think you have more than that.”

“I don’t understand.”