The Outlaw's Kiss (an Old West Romance) (Wild West Brides) (16 page)

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he took my
hand. “I promised you a sunset, Clara James. You’ve not forgotten?”

“Oh no,” I chuckled. “I told you I was going to
make you keep that promise. I don’t forget things easily. Would you like to eat
while I heat your water?”

“I’d be much obliged. There’s plenty of water in
the hills, but very few biscuits as sweet as those you make. Mind if I remove
these boots? My feet haven’t been out of them in days. I fear I may dirty your
floor.”

“Well then, I appreciate your concern for the
cleanliness of my floor. Shake them out by the back door. It’s just this way,
through the kitchen.”

With his hand in mine, I dragged Eli to the back
of the house and as he poured days of dirt out back, I buttered biscuits and
put a pot on to heat.

“I was going to ask if they were good, but from
the pile of crumbs that’s replaced the biscuits, I’ll assume they were.”

He was still chewing, one cheek puffed out, with a
smile on his face. “I’m quite sorry for my lack of decorum. But this is damn
near the best thing I’ve ever tasted. And now I’ll apologize for my foul mouth
in the presence of a lady.” He wiped his mouth on a napkin, which made me
giggle, considering the condition of the rest of his appearance. He swallowed
and sighed with contentment.

I sat down opposite him just as the first bubbles
appeared in Eli’s soon-to-be bathwater. “It’s so good to see you, Eli. I was
afraid,” I trailed off, my eyes fixating on a small bowl of salt on the
tabletop.

“I made a promise to you,” he said with sudden
seriousness. “Eli Masterson does not make promises he doesn’t intend to keep.”

“I know, I know, Eli. But when Itan showed up and
demanded to know where you were, then the town was on fire and, oh forgive me,
but I thought perhaps your keeping your promise wasn’t entirely in your
control. But now, here you are. Why don’t we run, Eli? Why don’t we wait for my
father to return from whatever is keeping him and as soon as he’s here, we tell
him goodbye. He’ll go get the horses from the stables, and then we can be off.
I’ll pack food, we can go right now, we –”

Eli shook his head, chewing another biscuit. “No.
I’ll not leave my friend Seth in such a situation. And if we do that, your
father will be in terrible danger. Our romance is probably the talk of the town
by now. Discretion seems to be useless around these parts. Word moves like the
wind about anything interesting, as you’ve probably found.”

“Mr. Swearengen knew, he –”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Listen, Clara,” Eli
drew near, pulling my hands across the top of the table, massaging my palms
with his thumbs. “If you’re in contact with Al, just know that as soon as he
sees something better for him, allies become enemies. He’s the power in this
town, at least until the army starts putting up forts around the place. But for
now, he’s it, you understand?”

“He’s helping, Eli. He wants to help me clear your
name.”

“He’s what? Why? What deal’s he made with you?”

“How did you know?” I asked.

Eli chuckled. “With Al, there’s always a deal.”

“Mr. Swearengen says he has proof that Eustace
Rawls is at fault for the whole thing, but in order to help, he wants me to
convince Davis Clark to sell his gold claim.”

“Ha! There’s always gold. Two things in this town
are for sure and good – Al Swearengen and that damned color.” He rocked his
chair back. “Any mention of what this proof might be?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. He’s too closely guarded.
As a matter of fact, I don’t even know
why
Itan appeared.”

Eli grabbed another biscuit and bit it in half.
That was the fifth. “There’s a story,” he said. “Evidently, I wrote a letter to
my blood-brother from behind bars, which was somehow delivered. Quite a feat.”

Suddenly, everything connected. The letter that
I’d foolishly kept on my person, Itan’s appearance. “Oh my goodness, Eli, I’ve
made a horrible mistake.” My heart sunk to my stomach. “I kept your letter,
your sweet letter. When Itan appeared in town, I was so afraid that I clutched
it in my hand for strength even as I told him where you were.”

“About that,” he interrupted. “He was once again
impressed with you. But what does this have to do with the letter I sent you?
Certainly you left it here?”

“No, oh no, I’ve been so foolish.”

“Nonsense,” Eli said, holding my hands tighter.
“Nothing you do is foolish. What happened?”

“The letter, Mr. Bullock took it.”

Eli’s face sunk.  “So he now believes Rawls’s
story that I sent a letter, though in reality, it was
that bastard
who
sent word to Itan by way of whatever magic it is he uses to meddle in other
men’s lives.” Eli stood up, quickly.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve ruined everything, I –”

“No,” he said. “Actually this might have been for
the best. After all, I’m here now, instead of in Yankton waiting for my neck to
be elongated by a hangman’s noose. You say Al mentioned he had proof that Rawls
is behind this?”

I nodded. “I knew it. It had to be him. He’s the
only person who cares enough to set me up to get revenge. If only I’d never
taken that job on the Comstock. No time for regrets, I suppose.”

Bubbles popped on the stove, but neither Eli, nor
I, paid much attention to bathwater. “All you did to him was exposing his
rather poorly conceived, and rather wild, plan to con Hearst out of the
Comstock? Something about this strikes me as odd,” I said. “If George Hearst
had been cheated, why is Rawls still alive?”

Eli laughed. “Rawls’s brashness, I suppose you
could call it, impressed Hearst. That’s the part of the story that not many
people realize. Rumor is that a few years after that excitement, Hearst sent
Rawls here to figure out where the real claims were, and to acquire them.”

I sat back. “Well that makes Mr. Swearengen’s
interest in removing him from the picture a little more understandable.”

A moment passed in silence. Eli ate another
biscuit, and my thoughts were occupied with wonderment at how closely connected
everything was, and how suddenly it fell into my lap. But, there was still the
matter of satisfying Mr. Swearengen’s demand, or all the grains of sand would
fall right back to the ground.

“I should check that pot. Water’s probably ready.”

Just then, as I turned to look, the front door
opened and Eli yanked the gun from his hip.

“That was one hell of a day. Whew.” Father’s voice
hit my ears right before his boots hit the floor. Eli relaxed and I let out an
audible sigh. “Clara?  Was that you? What are you still doing up?”

Father wandered in, covered in sweat and dirt. His
shirt was torn, but he didn’t look hurt.

“Yes, I was waiting up for you when someone
appeared.”

“Eli?” he walked into the kitchen. “Eli, is that
really you? Oh my God, I was afraid you’d fallen into a bad way. It’s so good
to see you.” He crossed the space quickly and grabbed Eli’s hand. “I can’t
believe you’re here, I – wait, why
are
you here?”

“I can explain everything, Mr. James. After Itan
came through, I hid in the hills for a time and –”

“You know what?” His mustache fell out of his lips.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re safe. Clara’s been worried so
sick I thought she was an inch from death. Are you planning to leave?”

“Yes, sir, I think I better. I just had to see her
before I did.”

“Say no more. I know the look you get when you see
my daughter. I remember it from my own more, ah,
vigorous
years.” He put
his hand up to shush Eli. “Where will you go?”

Eli shrugged. “North Dakota? Badlands? I haven’t
thought about it. All I know is that I can’t stay here and endanger you. Clara
had the good will to feed me some delicious food, and then I was about to avail
myself of a bath. I mean to be well out of town before dawn. Before anyone
knows I’ve been here.”

“Absolutely not!” Father and I both spoke at once
then exchange a glance before he pursed his lips to let me continue.

“You will not leave. We already talked about this.
Mr. Swearengen’s got what we need to clear your name, but if you go running, a
posse might hunt you down for the reward, and,” I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t
make Eli being shot a possible reality.

“Now, Clara, I can’t do that, I –”

“You’ve got no choice, son,” Father said. “You’re
here, and here is where you’ll stay. But what’s this about a plan to clear your
name? Involving Mr. Swearengen?”

The pot had begun boiling furiously, hot water
splashing out and sizzling on the stovetop. Father shook his head. “Plenty of
time for that later. You get cleaned up and get some rest. I trust you’re well
fed?”

“Oh yes sir, tremendously so. If I stay around
here much longer, I fear I’ll get fat from Clara’s biscuits.” Eli laughed.

Father patted his stomach. “I’m well familiar with
that. You go get your bath. I’ve plenty of clothes you can use until we can get
those cleaned up. It’s decided that you’re staying, then?”

“I hate to impose on you further, sir. I don’t
want to endanger you.”

“No danger. If what Clara’s saying about Swearengen
is true, then we’ve got the town’s power behind us, and Mr. Bullock certainly
won’t be snooping around. We’ve become fast friends. You’re safe here.”

Eli had an astounded look on his face. “I can’t
believe this. You’re both too kind,” he said. “I owe you both.”

“I’ll tell you what you can pay me back,” Father
said with a twinkle in his eye. “Clara keeps talking about a sunset or a trip
to Texas, or some such thing. You take her there, and make my little girl the
happiest woman on God’s green Earth, and you can consider us even. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” Eli beamed. “I won’t let you down. I
promise.”

“Good,” father said, clapping Eli on the back.
“Now go get you a bath. You smell about like you look. Some rest will do you
good.”

October 6, 1878

Deadwood Hills, Dakota Territory

––––––––

E
ven as the creek’s ice-cold water sloshed into my
boot and chilled my foot, the only thing I could think about was Eli. He was
still asleep when we left for the claim, tucked into about four blankets on a
pallet that father made for him. I watched him for a few minutes while father
was gathering the tools for the day.

Already, he looked refreshed, after only a few
hours’ rest. The huge bags under his eyes tightened up, and he started looking
much more like the Eli Masterson I knew; the Eli I fell in love with. He
stirred slightly when father tromped down the stairs, but only enough to turn
from one side to the other and resume his gentle snoring.

*

“F
ind anything yet, Clara? Ollie and Pat think
right around there – right where you are – is where the vein ends. If we find
that, they can start drilling.” Father put his hands on his hips and took a
deep breath. His shirt hung limply around his middle where it used to be a
little tight around his belly. “Too much excitement for this old man,” he said
with a laugh. “My back hurts from this damn pick. I can’t wait until that
shipment of dynamite gets here from Yankton.”

I smiled and waved. “Nothing yet,” I called back.
“I’ll let you know when I,” A glint in the pan caught my eye. “Spoke too soon!
Look!”

He trotted over and plucked the quarter-inch
nugget out of my pan. “I think this is the answer we needed. Good job, Clara!” he
hugged me tight. “This vein is going to save the bank. Save everything.” Father
wore a look of pure relief on his face. No matter what he said about not caring
whether the bank went belly up, I knew better.

“That one’s mine,” I said as I plucked the nugget
out of his fingers.

All at once, the seriousness of the situation
struck him. Father looked like he had just been punched in the stomach.

“Clara,” he said, “this is really happening. I
bought a gold claim on a damn fool attempt at recapturing my youth, and here I
am, about to open up a vein.” Father pushed his floppy-brimmed hat back on his
head. “It’s a dream come true, you know? People live their whole lives hoping
for just a taste of what I – what we’ve found – and here I am. First try,
sitting on a gold mine.”

“This is what we came here for, isn’t it?” I
said, rubbing his shoulders from behind.

He chewed his mustache and squinted. “Was it?”

“What other reason would you give? Whatever else
has happened, the entire point of coming here was to try your hand at something
other than banking,” I replied.

“Suppose so,” he said. “Even still, I don’t know
if it matters
what
I did, precisely, as long as it was something else.”
Father shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m just a sentimental old fool. The
more pressing issue, ideas of philosophy notwithstanding, is that I haven’t the
first damned clue what to do with a gold mine.” He bent over, grabbed a rock
and tossed it in the creek. “Past ‘mining it’ anyway.”

I can’t say why exactly, but that moment seemed
like the best time to broach the subject of satisfying Mr. Swearengen’s
demands. “What about Mr. Clark?”

“What about him?” father said. “Last I talked with
him, he informed me of his fear he had that his claim hasn’t turned out quite
as productive as he hoped. Still working, but not as much.”

“Well, there’s the issue of Al Swearengen, and his
desires.” I let that hang between us for a moment. “He wants Mr. Clark’s claim,
and if his claim isn’t doing as much as he thought and then if yours is
apparently quite rich, then,” I stopped, hoping he’d fill in the rest for
himself.

Father just kept gnawing on his mustache. “What
does that have to do with me?”

“It seems to me, that you could help each other
out. He knows what he’s doing with regard to gold, and you have a huge claim.
Have him sell his to Swearengen, in exchange for a share in yours? With his
management skills, and
your
gold vein, you two could do very, very well,
and you would be free to go wherever you like, while he stays here and runs the
claim. Or, the
mine
, I suppose.”