“Then make it right moving forward,” Henry said. “I’ve got faith in you.”
Esme smiled. “We all do.”
* * *
Molly stood in the assayer’s office and waited. The door opened, and as she glanced over her shoulder, her heart galloped in her chest when her eyes met Jake’s. He paused, clearly surprised to see her, but removed his hat and entered anyway.
It had been two weeks since her meeting with Henry, and Jake had done nothing but avoid her. It was obvious that he no longer desired to marry her although he hadn’t come straight out and said it to her face, and for some crazy reason, this gave her a sliver of hope.
Since she never knew when she might run into him these days, she always made certain she looked her best, and today was no exception. She wore a navy dress that flattered her figure with a hat angled atop her coiled hair.
He tossed his Stetson on a table, sat on a stool, and crossed his arms, watching her. He’d let himself go, his dark hair longer and his days-old face stubble fast turning into a beard and mustache. Shadows hovered beneath his molasses-colored eyes. He wasn’t sleeping, of that she was certain.
Shoring up her nerves—something she’d been doing a lot of these past days as the owner of the famous Bluebird claim—she raised her chin. “Are you going to stop pouting like a child and speak to me?”
“You think I’m a child?”
She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. “Hardly.”
Of late, during the occasional times they’d been in one another’s vicinity, she was witness to the ruffian he was at heart. His aloofness and brooding behavior drove home that he was The Jackal—smuggler, spy, wanderer. Nothing but a scamp.
What had she been thinking?
And yet, it was maddening how even more devastatingly handsome he became each time she saw him.
She repeatedly scoffed at her ability to swoon over him, but it didn’t end the desperate longing she felt. Only pride kept her from begging. If they were to be together, she’d find a way to keep her self-respect. After everything that had happened, it was the only way.
And if they weren’t together, she’d get over him. She would travel and see the world on her own, and then she would return to Tucson and marry.
So why was she still here?
The Bluebird, of course. She’d wired her folks and told them she planned to extend her visit, keeping the details of the claim to her herself for now. Once it was all put in order, she’d share her news.
“Checking on your samples?” he asked.
She gave a curt nod. Exploratory shafts had been sunk on all the claims that now dotted the entire mountainside in the Bluebird Valley, the previous, less-well-known name of Glen Valley having quickly fallen by the wayside. The value of samples of ore extracted was slowly trickling in. If rumors were to be believed, everyone in town was eagerly waiting for the results from Molly and Bridget’s claim, and not just the Bluebird, but the Molly Rose as well. If the appraisal came in high, it would bolster the value of all the neighboring claims.
Investors hovered with bated breath. Molly had already fended off more than she could count. A few had relentlessly hounded her and Bridget to sell now, at ridiculously low prices, pressuring them that they knew nothing because they were women. Thank goodness for Henry Patterson and his help in managing it all.
Many lawyers had become involved in the Bluebird Valley, as everyone had taken pains to protect their claims from any shenanigans from Shep Lannigan, or anyone else for that matter. Thankfully, the Sheriff had stepped in, and several employees at the Claims Office that Shep frequented had been replaced. In the end, however, there wasn’t enough evidence to pin anything on Lannigan. Molly suspected this was a bur under Jake’s skin. Just one of many, it would seem, although based on his behavior, she surmised she had the honor of top bur these days.
The door opened again, and Robert and Bridget entered. Everyone silently acknowledged one another.
“Is the assay finished?” Bridget asked into the awkward silence.
“Mister Mathers said he’d be out shortly,” Molly replied.
The office door opened again, and Ivan and Pearl crowded in along with Boom and his lady love, a short rosy-cheeked, flaxen-haired woman with wide hips. Molly shuffled toward the wall to allow more room, disappointed that the action took her further from Jake.
Molly didn’t think another body could fit in the foyer of the assay office, but she was proven wrong when Shep Lannigan, James Winston, Nine Toes Bishop and Charlotte Cohen insisted on gaining entry.
She flashed a look at Jake, who continued to keep an eye on her, but she honestly couldn’t tell if it was desire she saw in his gaze or irritation.
Pearl jostled her way over. “Has he come around?” she asked quietly.
Molly gave a slight shake of her head.
Pearl gave a knowing smile. “Have you tried seducing him?”
Molly leaned closer, concerned someone would overhear. “Of course not. You were the one who warned me of the pitfalls of such a thing.”
“That was then,” Pearl whispered. “If you want him, you have to go after him, and the surest way is with physical relations. You’ll have him in the palm of your hand.”
Molly frowned with indecision. While she appreciated the truth that Pearl no doubt spoke, uncertainty outweighed the advice. She was far from confident in her ability to hold Jake’s attention with her womanly abilities, and he would no doubt be skeptical of her advances now that she owned the claim.
Her skin flushed with perspiration. She wiped a hand along the back of her neck. Being in the crowded room was beginning to remind of her of the panic she’d felt in the well, and Pedro’s tunnel, and Pearl’s abandoned mine.
The desire to flee welled up as her heart pounded in her head, her chest aching, her breathing shallow.
“What’s wrong?” Pearl asked. “You don’t look well.”
“My stomach is a little queasy.” She began to push her way to the door. “I need a bit of air.”
“Molly?” Bridget asked, but Molly ignored her.
Keeping her head down, she made no eye contact with Lannigan or Winston where they stood at the entrance as she pried the door open just enough to slip outside. Once free, she took several deep breaths, steadying herself with a hand on her chest. The mountains cast a shadow in the late afternoon sun, making the air much cooler than earlier in the day. She immediately began to feel better.
“Are you ill?”
At Jake’s question, Molly didn’t turn around. “No,” she answered over her shoulder. “I just needed a break from the crowded room.”
“It appears we’re all a herd that moves together.”
“How did everyone know the samples would be ready today? Bridget and I have been careful who we tell.”
Jake moved to face her. “You and Bridget are the stars of town. You’re mentioned in the paper on an almost daily basis.”
Molly had heard this although she hadn’t bothered to check. “Is that why you’re so angry with me?”
“Because you’re famous and I’m not?”
She nodded.
He gave a humorless laugh. “No, of course not.”
“Then what is it, Jake? Please tell me.” So much for her pride. She was slowly dying without him. Looking into his eyes, shadowed with pain and confusion that mirrored her own, she knew she couldn’t live without him. In a matter of minutes, she’d commence the begging.
He didn’t respond right away, but Molly waited, her stomach in knots, needing to know but at the same time fearing he would tell her he didn’t love her—had never loved her—and now that he’d realized it, wanted to go his own way.
“I won’t lie—I was stunned that you stole my claim right out from under me.”
“That’s not true,” she said in a rush.
“But it is.” His eyes narrowed, contemplative. “I’ve always been an opportunist. I’ve never had the tables turned on me, at least not by
someone I cared about.”
“Jake—”
“For the first time in my life, I realized the one thing I’d been missing…the one thing that was important to me. And that’s loyalty.”
“I told you why I did it. You said you wanted to marry me. When…,” she faltered, “if we marry, it will be yours. Bridget hasn’t handed over her share to her father. She and Robert will keep it. They still plan to wed.”
“Well, be that as it may, I’m not convinced everything will be tied into a neat little bow.”
He was slipping through her fingers. “Haven’t you ever trusted anyone?”
“I wanted to trust you. And I suppose that was my mistake, not yours. Honestly, I’m impressed that you pulled it off.”
Words clogged Molly’s throat with rebuttals to his implication that she’d been planning this all along. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Bridget exited the assayer’s office, a huge grin on her face. She handed a certificate to Molly.
Having spent several meetings with the Patterson’s, as well as picking Robert’s brain, Molly had learned much about the history of mining in Creede and, more importantly, what would make the Bluebird special. As she scanned the results of the assay, she knew the outcome was beyond expectation.
Excitement thrummed through her, and she couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across her face and matched Bridget’s. Not wanting to hide it from Jake, she read the findings out loud.
“The samples contained a fine-grained amethyst quartz carrying a considerable amount of gold, nearly eight percent lead, and zinc as well.” She took a deep breath. “Some of the samples tested at three thousand ounces of silver per ton.”
“Sonofabitch,” Jake muttered under his breath, his stunned tone filled with disbelief.
Molly glanced up, wanting to share her joy with him, but he turned away and shut her out. As he reentered the assayer’s office, the last bit of news she’d wanted to share with him died on her lips.
“I’ve never seen him like this before,” Robert said. “Did you tell him what the surveyor said?”
“No.” And just like that, her momentary happiness faded away.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jake downed another glass of whiskey as he played faro at the Orleans Club. He’d found himself here more often than not in the past two weeks. Sitting alone in his small house—not far from Zang’s Hotel, where he knew Molly rested her pretty self—gnawed at him like a rabid animal, so every night he’d sought distraction with liquor and gambling.
Robert materialized from the crowd and took the seat beside Jake, offering him a cigar. Jake took it.
“I never really pegged you as a prideful ass,” Robert said.
Jake waved the waitress over. “And I never pegged you as a Nancy-boy.” The buxom, black-haired woman winked at him, bending close to get his order. “Another whiskey for me and a sarsaparilla for this whipped dog.”
“Right away, sugar.” She made sure he got an eyeful of cleavage before she left.
Disdain filled Robert’s gaze. “I was too nice. You’re just a piece of horseshit.” He struck a lucifer on the edge of the table and lit his cigar. He produced a second match and handed it to Jake.
Puffs of smoke settled in the air, hanging suspended, much like the tension between them.
“So, you’re gonna bury your face in a woman like that?” Robert asked, waving a hand at the departed fancy girl.
Jake knocked his hat back. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I don’t carouse. Not like you with Mabel.”
“That’s ancient history, and I’m engaged now.”
“Yeah, to the Devil’s own daughter.”
“What exactly are you so angry about?”
Jake paused while the flirty saloon girl deposited his drink and the bottle of soda at the edge of the faro table, and then sauntered away. There was only one female who haunted his thoughts, and this afternoon she’d looked unbearably enticing in a dark dress that hugged every last curve she possessed. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, but his mind did a fine job filling in the blanks.
Jake took a swallow of the firewater, then said, “What’s happening in the Bluebird Valley is a farce, and you know it.”
“How exactly is that?”
“Lannigan will get his hands on it, and he only has to get fifty percent of it. Bridget will cave any day now.”
“No, she won’t.”
“I’m not an idiot, Robert. I know about the survey. I know the Bluebird claim is the apex. We all staked claims around it—Lannigan, Winston, you, me, the Krupin’s, that crazy Cohen woman—but it won’t matter. The Bluebird will own that mountain. It may take months—hell, even years—to figure it all out in court, but that claim will prevail.”
“So what’re you gonna do?” Robert demanded. “Leave?”
“I’m thinkin’ about it.” Jake slumped in his chair.
“Why don’t you honor the promise you made to my sister and marry her? We can both help Molly and Bridget manage this. What the hell is wrong with you?”
What the hell was wrong with him?
He’d spoken to Molly of loyalty, and he couldn’t deny that her actions had sliced him open, shocking him with the intensity of the hurt. Nights of drinking and denial had worn down that pretense, however; beneath it lay a truth that had ripped him open clear to his core.
He wanted Molly’s love.
After his parent’s deaths, after the isolation of the orphanage and the sheer terror of living on his own from a young age, he’d never acknowledged that love was important.
He’d wanted Molly, from the first second he’d laid eyes on her, and that lust had been enough justification for marriage in his eyes. But his heart wanted something else, something he hadn’t been totally aware of until that moment on the mountain when she’d betrayed him. He wanted her soul—bare and open and only for him. He wanted it so much it stole his breath, nearly knocking him to his knees.
And he was terrified that Molly didn’t feel the same for him. That she might never feel the same.
“It’s just easier this way,” he muttered into his glass, the alcohol the only tonic able to erase the misery in his gut.
“You’re a coward,” Robert bit out. He stood and plowed into the crowd of men and bar maids, quickly disappearing.
Jake resumed his game, determined not to think about the Simms family anymore.
And he knew it would be impossible.
* * *
“Son, you need to come with me.”
Jake glanced up from the faro table.
Henry Patterson watched him with concern in his elderly eyes. “You’re so deep in your cups these days, you’re not thinking straight. C’mon.” Henry waved him to stand up, his voice stern. “Let’s go.”
Jake obeyed and followed the old man to a less crowded side room. He tried to stay focused with the liquor dulling his senses, which had been his goal all along. But damn it all to hell, no matter how hard he tried, not even the liquid gold could erase Molly Rose from his thoughts.
“Sit down.” Henry directed Jake to a stuffed chair. Normally, men would congregate here to drink and smoke, but Henry’s stern demeanor implied this wasn’t a social meeting.
Jake sank into the furniture. “It’s much too late for you to be out, Henry. Esme will have your head.”
Henry narrowed his eyes. “It’s Esme who sent me. There’s not much that woman doesn’t know in this town. She loves you, you know. Like a son.”
Jake softened, feeling chastised. “I know.”
Boom appeared and shut the door behind him. Jake nodded at the burly Russian. Since Boom now fancied a girl at the Orleans Club, he likely frequented the establishment more than usual these days.
“Glad you could make it, Boris,” Henry said.
Boom sat beside Henry on a couch that had seen better days, the ivory material discolored from smoke and spilled drinks. Orlov looked at Jake, disappointment marring his features
. “I’ve never seen you like this. The Jackal never loses his way.”
Feeling suddenly cornered by the two men, annoyance pricked Jake, and he suppressed an urge to tell them both to jump off a cliff.
“She loves you,” Henry said.
Jake laughed. “And who would that be?”
“She filed that claim to protect you.”
“Did she tell you that? She could’ve signed it over to me at any point these past few weeks.”
Henry sighed. “She wanted to, but I advised against it.”
Jake went still.
This was news.
“I know your history with Shep,” Henry continued. “It showed remarkable insight that Molly Rose filed the Bluebird claim the way she did. But you’ll be happy to know that she wasn’t so diabolical about it—she was simply trying to do what she thought was right at the time.” Henry drew a deep breath. “It’s important to handle the Bluebird carefully because this claim could be one of the most important discoveries to ever be found in the Creede district. To be honest, Jake, you’re not the right person to make these decisions.”
“Bullshit,” he muttered, but clamped down on reacting further. Despite everything, Henry was the last person he wanted to get in a pissing match with.
Henry twisted his mouth then laughed. “She’s a smart girl, and she holds some sway with Bridget Lannigan. I doubt you’d handle the situation with as much finesse.”
Jake gritted his teeth. “Why am I here, Henry? To tell me I should be happy I got bilked out of a fortune?”
“No. You’re a part of this, whether you like it or not,” Henry said, his displeasure clear. “And I can’t tell you who to give your heart to, but if I could, I’d instruct you not to botch this up and let that girl go. But actually, we’ve got another problem.” Henry glanced at Boom. “Shep’s about to box that valley in, and we can’t let that happen.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jake dismounted his horse in front of the Patterson’s house. A young boy took the reins and led the animal away. Tonight the Patterson’s were hosting a party in honor of the Bluebird mine, or at least the future of the mine, and several lads had been employed to aid the guests as they arrived. During the past ten days, Henry had been less than forthcoming about the details concerning investments and buy-outs and the formation of companies, and since Jake wasn’t on speaking terms with Molly or Robert, asking them was out of question. Maybe he was just a coward as Robert had accused.
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