Summer Breeze (37 page)

They prayed to see sprouts of grass hay or alfalfa if they had water, and wheat or oats if they didn't.

The light that blazed from Joseph's headlamp played over the rock walls of the tunnel. He could see where someone had chipped at the rock until it played out, and then had moved deeper.

Occasionally he saw traces of gold, but nothing to shout about. Then he rounded a corner and saw where someone had blasted with dynamite. Now he was in business. Tresses had been built to support the tunnel, and as he moved deeper into the bowels of the mine, the air became ever colder and thinner.

Someone had been chipping away at this rock for a spell, Joseph decided. One man, possibly two, all under cover of secrecy. His boots slid on the obliterated pieces of stone, left behind by a weary digger who had exhaustively removed possibly tons of rock to some other location to hide the goings-on here.
Years,
Joseph concluded. Small extractions of gold, over time, had occurred here.

In a regular mine, countless men swung picks to break out the ore, and dynamite was used whenever they needed to go deeper, ever in search of the mother lode. But this person or persons hadn't been able to search for the precious metal aggressively for fear of discovery. A little here, a little there, day in and day out, week after week, and year after year.

Joseph rounded a corner in the tunnel. "Sweet Christ."

The miner's light played over a wall of solid rock that was ribboned with gold, some of the veins thicker than Joseph's wrist. The sight fairly boggled his mind. He couldn't recall how much an ounce of pure ore was selling for right then.
A lot.
Enough that a greedy man or men might kill to keep a rich vein like this a secret.

The thought made Joseph sick.
No face.
Five years ago, a family had come here to picnic along a creek on their own land. Father, mother, sisters, and brother, they'd had no inkling that they were so close to a deadly fortune. Had Denver, Rachel's beloved dog, run up here, much as Buddy had, with her little sister, Tansy, at his heels? Neither child nor dog would have understood the significance of this find if they had come upon it.

But greedy men often had no sense. With a fortune hanging in the balance, what might they do to protect their treasure from discovery? Even though Tansy probably hadn't realized the significance, she would have seen enough to go back down to the creek where her family was picnicking and mention what she had seen to her father.

So they had slaughtered the Hollisters. All of them except Rachel, who, by some miracle, had lived. Joseph believed in God with all his heart, and in that

moment of revelation he also believed with utter conviction that God had put the projectile of that one bullet slightly off, possibly by sheer divine will, so that it glanced off her skull. God, in all His wisdom, knew, even then, that Rachel Hollister would be the salvation of Joseph Paxton, a young man who didn't want a wife, wasn't looking for a wife, and believed he didn't need a wife.

Only he had, and somehow God had saved her—out of all the members of her family, he'd somehow saved Rachel, for Joseph.

Tears burned in his eyes. Tears of absolute, mindless rage.
No face.
His sweet Rachel had seen her mother's face blown away while she danced over the grass on a sunny afternoon.
Holy
Mother of God.
Marie Hollister, who'd read her Bible the night before she died and marked her place with a ribbon so she could live her life according to Scripture, observing every code of decency, had died a violent, senseless death right before her daughter's eyes. And for what? For gold. So a selfish bastard could line his filthy pockets.

Joseph leaned against the cold rock. He'd never clapped eyes on any of Rachel's family, but he'd seen that vacant look in her eyes and held her in his arms while she was overcome by the horror of their deaths.
Jeb Pritchard.
That stinking, immoral, hell-bent
bastard.
He'd killed his own wife. Why hesitate to spill more blood? Now Joseph knew how the fools could afford to buy whiskey and nap in drunken stupors on a spring afternoon. They'd done their labor, and it didn't involve cows. Their whiskey money was a crow's flight away, deep in the bowels of a cave.

Joseph didn't need to see any more. He exited the dig, gathered his injured dog in his arms, and hurried down the hill. The circuit judge could hang up his hat. Jeb Pritchard was going to pay for what he'd done.

Darby was still lounging under the oak tree when Joseph returned to the Bar H. Joseph drew up near the tree to dismount and set his dog down. Buddy wasn't his usual energetic self. He just sort of stood there, looking around.

"What's the matter with him?" Darby asked.

"He got beaned a good one."

"Beaned?"

Joseph quickly gave Darby a recounting of the afternoon.

"I'll be damned. Gold, you say?" Darby shook his head. "I knew there was a cave up on that hill, but I paid it no nevermind. Nosin' around in places like that's a good way to get snake bit or come nose to nose with a badger."

Joseph normally avoided caves himself for the same reasons. "Somebody went nosing around in there. Some time ago, if I'm any judge. Mining on the sly, you can't move a lot of rock at once, and a considerable amount of digging has taken place up there."

"And you reckon it was Pritchard?" "Who else? Jeb's been in a snit about that creek since way back in seventy-nine. He had reason to be down there, walking the property, trying to figure out how to alter the course of the stream back onto his land. At one point or another, he came across that cave, realized there was gold in there for the taking, and started helping himself. Chances are his boys have been aiding him in the endeavor."

Darby narrowed his eyes. "And on the day of the killings, the Hollister family chose a picnic spot just a little too close to his treasure."

"And one of the children wandered up into the rocks," Joseph added. "My guess is that it was Tansy, the five-year-old. Pritchard knew the game would be up if the little girl realized the significance of what she'd seen and blabbed to her daddy."

Darby shook his head again. "So, to make sure that didn't happen, Pritchard opened fire on the whole family." His eyes glittered with anger as he met Joseph's gaze. "Hangin's too good for the bastard."

"I totally agree," Joseph replied. "But we've got to abide by the law, all the same. Otherwise, we're no better than they are." "So what's your plan?"

"I need to ride into town and talk with my brother. He's wearing the badge. He needs to make the decisions about how to best handle it, I reckon."

Darby drew his watch from his pocket. "How late you think you'll be?"

"I should be back in a couple of hours. My guess is David won't want to make a move tonight.

Not

enough daylight left to get organized and ride out there before dark. We're going to need manpower this time around, if for no other reason than to help search the property. If Pritchard's been filching gold from Bar H over the last several years, there'll be evidence of it somewhere on his place."

Darby closed his watch. "I promised Amanda I'd come see her tonight. If I run a little late, she'll be sure to understand."

Joseph caught hold of Obie's reins and prepared to remount. "I appreciate you looking after my wife for me, Darby. If she should ask where I went, it might be best if you tell her I had business in town."

"No details." Darby nodded. "I gotcha. As for thankin' me, son, there's no need. I love Rachel, too. Watchin' after her ain't a chore."

David rocked back on his office chair to prop his boots on the edge of his desk. Frowning pensively, he said, "So you were right all along. It was Pritchard."

"It sure looks that way to me." Joseph paced back and forth in front of the window. "I can't think of anyone else who might have had reason to be in that area and come upon that cave. Can you?"

David sighed. "It's not beyond the realm of possibility that Amanda Hollister knows about it. She worked on the Bar H for years."

"Are you back on that again?"

David held up his hands. "Not really, no. I'm inclined to think you're right about it being Pritchard. I'm just trying to look at it from all angles."

"If we find nothing at Pritchard's place to implicate him, we can consider other angles then."

"Jeb isn't gonna sit on his porch having a smoke while we search his place," David pointed out.

"He'll raise holy hell and possibly start shooting at us again."

"I've considered that," Joseph said. "We're going to need reinforcements. A small army, if you can round one up."

"Most men hereabouts are willing to stand in as deputies when I need them. I'll send Billy Joe out to ride from house to house while I go knocking on doors here in town. What time in the morning do you want to join up with us?"

When Joseph got back to the Hollister place, Darby pushed to his feet and walked out to meet him.

"David's rounding up a posse," Joseph said. "I'll meet up with them on Wolverine Road at ten tomorrow morning. We'll descend on the Pritchard place en masse. If Jeb sees a huge group of riders, maybe it'll discourage him from getting trigger-happy."

"I hope so." Darby hooked a thumb toward the house. "Don't go makin' a widow of that girl, son.

You'll flat mess up my plans."

Joseph chuckled. "I have a few plans of my own that I don't want messed up, so I'll do my best to stay safe."

Darby's green eyes twinkled. "I just want to enjoy my last years with someone special. If you're home to stay, I think I'll go callin' on her for a bit." The old foreman returned to the tree to collect his rifle and a

handful of wildflowers. "Just a little nonsense I picked while you was off gallivantin'."

Joseph grinned. "A little nonsense, huh? Looks to me like you're thinking sharp. Most ladies love flowers."

Darby nodded. Then he squinted up at Joseph. "How long's it been since you gave some to Rachel?"

"I gave her a whole courtyard full of flowers."

"That don't count. You gotta pick 'em, son. Makes a gal melt every time."

An hour later, when Joseph finished the evening chores, he walked a wide circle around the house to collect any wildflowers that Darby had missed before he went indoors to greet his wife.

The following morning shortly after Joseph left to run some unspecified errands, Rachel went out in the courtyard to tend her garden. Each little task brought her joy: watering the roses and counting the tiny buds, carefully plucking weeds from around her violets, admiring the cheerful and showy blooms of the crocus, and feeding her three fish, which she could have sworn had already grown a bit. Though the air was crisp, requiring her to drape a blanket over her shoulders, she smelled spring on the breeze, and, oh, how wonderful that was.

"My roses have six buds, Darby.
Six."

The old foreman, who stood guard outside the gate, came to peer through the iron bars. "Well, now, ain't that somethin'?"

"It
is,
it surely is." Rachel beamed a smile at him. "And just look how my violets are flourishing!"

"Pretty as can be," he agreed. "And just lookee at that. You got a barn swallow checking out that bird-house yonder. Could be she'll make a nest inside."

Rachel watched the small bird hop in and out of the hole. "Oh, wouldn't that be grand?" She held her arms wide and twirled in a circle. "He's given me heaven right here on earth, Darby. You just can't know how much I love that man."

"I think I've got an inklin'. And I'm happy for you, honey. So very happy."

Rachel tugged the blanket back around her shoulders. Sobering, she asked, "How are you feeling?

I'm so selfish, only thinking about me. Is your wound healing fine?"

"I'm feelin' stronger every day. And you're entitled to be just a little selfish for a spell, darlin'.

That's how it's supposed to be right after gettin' married, more so for you than for most."

They chatted a while longer before Rachel went inside to check on her rising loaves of bread.

She'd just returned to the garden to laze on her bench in the sunshine for a bit when she heard a horse fast approaching. Buddy started to bark rather furiously, which she decided was just as it should be. Someone was coming, and it was the dog's job to raise an alarm. Rachel wondered who might be calling. Someone from town, possibly, bringing something more for her courtyard?

Harrison Gilpatrick was supposed to bring her some tulip bulbs, and Garrett Buckmaster had promised her some pond lilies. She was greatly looking forward to receiving both.

A little over a week ago,, Rachel might have rushed

into the house to bar her door and hide at the sound of an approaching horse. But she'd come to feel quite safe inside her courtyard. As Joseph was fond of reminding her, the walls out here were made of stone and almost a foot thick. No one could get in. Only she and Joseph had a key to the gate. If anything alarming happened outside the courtyard, she'd have enough advanced warning to escape into the house.

Rachel no sooner thought that than she heard Buddy snarl. It was so unlike the dog to be unfriendly. She turned on the bench to stare at the gate. The dog let loose with another snarl, prompting Darby to say, "Silly fool pup. You need to learn the difference between friends and foes. Mind your manners." Then, "Buddy! Get back here!" Darby whistled. Then he cursed.

"Joseph will have my head, you dad-blamed mutt. You're supposed to stay here today!"

Rachel pushed slowly to her feet. She felt frightened suddenly without knowing why. No, that wasn't precisely true.
Buddy.
He was a friendly fellow, always ready for a pat on the head from friend or stranger. It wasn't in his nature to snarl at anyone—or to ignore Darby's calls.

She heard the horse slowing to a trot out front.

"Howdy, Ray," Darby said. "What brings you out this way so bright and early?"

"It's the boss, Darby. She's gravely ill. Came on her real sudden like. I sent one of the men for Doc Hal-loway, but she's asking for you."