"I'm not here to bed your women," Jon said. "I'm looking for a woman, slender, pretty, golden red hair. She'd be new to the area, would have arrived no more than four or five days ago."
"Was she lookin' for work?"
"No. She was taken against her will. We have reason to believe she may be somewhere around here."
Goldie's painted brows came together with a thoughtful frown. She eyed him speculatively. "Red hair, you said?"
"Golden red."
"I've heard tell that some of the boys living in a shack on the Dopp claim up Calkins Gulch have a woman with hair like that. Word is she's right pleasin' to look at, too. I guess there's men waitin' in line for that one."
A cold shiver touched Jon's spine. "How long has she been there?"
Goldie shrugged. "Three, maybe four days. Never saw her myself, but I heard talk of a fancy-looker who came in on one of the steamers. Set the town a-buzzin'. My boys—the regulars here—were pretty excited, thought she was comin' here. But I guess that bunch up the gulch have their own place set up."
"How do I get there?"
"Just follow the trail north till it forks. Two, maybe three miles up yonder. But instead of takin' the high trail, head east into the gulch and start lookin' for the water tower. It's not more'n a mile or so up the creek."
Jon pulled a gold piece from his pocket and flashed it in front of Goldie. "I need to send word to the government steamer. Who can I trust to do the job?"
Goldie eyed the gold piece. "If you give that to any man around here, you can be sure it'll be used to warm one of my girls' beds. So I'd better go myself."
"Fine." He handed the gold piece to Goldie. "I want you to go aboard the government steamer and tell the deputy exactly what you told me. Tell him to follow me up the creek and meet me at the Dopp claim."
Goldie lifted her skirt and slipped the gold piece into a small pouch tied to her garter. "Consider it done."
Jon thanked her and left the saloon. Heading north on the mucky trail, he pressed his horse into a mud-splattering gallop. Cold rain pelted his face and rolled down his neck inside the collar of his coat. At the fork in the road, he followed the lower trail into the gulch. He couldn't imagine what Sarah's state of mind would be at this point, but he'd soon find out, as the shack at the base of the water tower was quickly coming into view.
Reining in so he wouldn't alert whoever might be inside the shack, he dismounted and approached slowly. A short distance from the cabin, he tethered his horse, scrambled across the clearing, and crept onto the porch. Crouching, he peered through the window. His breath caught. His heart tumbled. Sarah stood in the doorway of what appeared to be a bedroom, talking to a man who sat in a chair, his back to Jon. In the haunted depths of her eyes, Jon saw a grim remoteness. And as he stared at her haggard face, the sharp sting of guilt pierced him. She'd been living in her own private hellhole. He'd free her from it now, but the scars might last a lifetime.
Her hand went up to her chest and her fingers tightened protectively on her bodice as he heard her say, "How long do you plan to hold me here?" Her voice sounded unnaturally passive. Yet it didn't ring of defeat. And when he caught sight of the scornful curve of her lips, he knew the man had not broken her spirit.
The man shrugged. "Who knows? When we're finished here, we might just sell you to the whoremongers and double our profit."
Another man's voice came from inside the bedroom behind Sarah. "Get back in here, you little whore!" he bellowed. "You're not done yet."
Hate and fear rose up inside Jon, the fear making his hate much greater. All he had to do was walk in there and take Sarah... and he would.
But first, he intended to beat the bloody hell out of two men.
Raising his leg, he kicked the door at the latch, sending it crashing open. He knocked the man in the chair to the floor and planted his fist hard into the man's face, hitting him repeatedly square in the nose, under the jaw, in the chin. Then he attacked his belly, the blow sending a whoosh of air erupting. "You bastard!" Jon yelled. "You bloody rutting bastard." He kneed the man hard in the crotch and the man let out a sharp howl of pain as he attempted to double up under Jon's weight. Then Jon took the man by the collar and hit him square in the jaw, and again, and again until the man went limp beneath him. But before Jon could get to his feet, another man jumped him from behind. Jon shrugged him off, turned sharply and landed a punch to the man's belly, sending the man staggering back and falling to the floor. The man struggled to his feet, but Jon lunged for him, knocking him down. Straddling him, Jon pressed his thumbs to the man's windpipe until he saw veins bulge in his temples...
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Sarah backed against the wall, watching in stunned helplessness, when suddenly she glimpsed the face of the man who had burst into the cabin. "Jon!" she gasped, but knew he was too filled with murderous intent to hear her. Fearing she'd soon be witnessing a killing if she didn't do something quick, she picked up a bucket and banged it repeatedly against the floor. "Stop!" she yelled. "Stop, Jon, you'll kill him!"
When Jon made no move to stop, Sarah whacked him across the shoulders with the bucket. "Stop!" she yelled, tugging on his arm. "That's Tyler!" For a moment, she thought Jon hadn't heard, and she wasn't certain Tyler was still conscious. But then Jon released his hold and moved away. Tyler sat up abruptly, clasping his throat and coughing, while across the room, Hollis lay unconscious. Jon's fists still balled, his gaze shifting between the two men, he curved his arm around Sarah and drew her to him. "Are you all right?"
Sarah braced her hand against him, fearing her knees might buckle with the relief she felt on being in his arms again, her body pressed securely against his. "Yes, I'm fine." She looked up, and for the first time saw his drawn and weary face: eyes deeply shadowed, mouth heavily downcast, unshaved chin shadowed in whiskers.
Jon peered down at her and studied her more closely, as if inspecting her. "Then they didn't... I mean, no men have...?"
"I assure you, Jon, I am untouched."
"But I don't understand," Jon said, brows drawn in puzzlement. "Why were you called back into the bedroom?"
"To finish mopping the floor. Tyler spilled beer." Sarah released a weary sigh. "That was part of their redress. And I had to do it with threadbare rags, which don't work very well."
"I can't believe they went to such extremes just to make a servant out of you."
"They didn't." Sarah looked at Hollis, her gaze coldly assessing the unconscious man. For the first time in months, she didn't fear him. "They did it to get my money. They said they'd sell me to white-slave traders if I didn't sign."
Jon's palm began gently moving up and down her arm. "Did you sign, sweetheart?"
On hearing his endearment, tears misted Sarah's eyes. "No. I knew that as long as I refused, Hollis would hold the men at bay. But the bids for me were getting higher, and eventually I knew they'd be too high for Hollis to turn down. I tried to escape once, but the ruffian Hollis hired to guard the cabin caught me and dragged me back. This morning, Hollis gave me an ultimatum: sign today, or be sold to a man named Milligan. But I knew that signing wouldn't stop Hollis from selling me as well to get even more money." Just thinking about it sent a rush of bile to her throat and a cold sweat dampening her brow.
"It's all right now, love," Jon said, when Sarah started shaking. He curved both arms around her and held her in a warm, secure hug. "It's all right, sweetheart, you're fine now—"
"Hold it!" Hollis dragged himself to his feet, a pistol gripped in his hand. Before Sarah could scream, Jon hurled her out of the way and lunged for Hollis, gripping him around the waist and heaving him against the wall. As they struggled for the gun in Hollis's hand, it discharged, the sound reverberating off the walls. For a moment, both men remained standing. Then, gradually, Hollis slipped out of Jon's grasp and fell to the floor.
Sarah stood in shocked silence, too stunned to speak. Then she saw Jon holding his side, blood dampening his shirt. "Oh, God!" She rushed over to him.
Sarah stared at Hollis, feeling both remorse and relief at the death of the man who had caused her so much heartache. For years, she'd lived in fear of what he might do, and now she was free of him. But her freedom had come at too high a price. Death was so final. If only things could have worked out differently. If only she could have been Hollis's friend instead of the enemy he'd made her out to be. If only Hollis had not been driven by greed...
She closed her eyes, blocking out the horrible scene. But a yet more troubling scene invaded her mind. It could have been Jon instead. How could she have lived with that? Opening her eyes to reconfirm that Jon was indeed safe, she gasped when she saw him inspecting a large, ruddy-black wound at his waist. "You have been shot," she said.
"It's just a powder burn," he assured her. The issue was dismissed when Jon spotted Tyler inching toward the door, primed to flee. Jon quickly stepped in front of him. "Don't plan on leaving," he said. "Kidnapping is a punishable offense."
"I'm not going to jail for something Hollis did," Tyler said. "This was all his idea."
Jon folded his arms and leveled his gaze on Tyler. "You can tell that to the judge."
Tyler looked at Jon, incredulous. "Surely you don't mean to send me to jail. Sarah is unharmed. It was Hollis who planned it. And I give you my word, I won't see Sarah again, ever."
"Oh, you'll see her all right," Jon said, "at the trial. And if you're lucky, you'll see her again in about five years, when you get out of jail."
While Jon was securing Tyler's hands with a rope, two deputies appeared in the doorway. They questioned Sarah and Jon, and noted for their report that Hollis had been killed by his own gun while Jon struggled with him in self-defense. The deputies took Tyler and returned to the hamlet to enlist two men to dig Hollis's grave.
While Jon rode back to the boat, with Sarah sitting in front of him in the saddle, secure in the circle of his arms, Sarah told him the whole story about her abduction and imprisonment on the steamer, and about how the Galbraiths had been kidnapping prostitutes and women of questionable character and transporting them to the goldfields on the Revelation, under the guise of its being a mission ship.
When she'd finished her account, Jon said, "Well, I'll be damned. Who’d have suspected that sanctimonious pair? Certainly not my mother," he mused. "But all the signs were there. Dear whey-faced Harriet's fixation on purging the city of harlots, the venerable reverend's mission trips up the Fraser, the Revelation with its celestial gargoyles and sacred scrollwork. The perfect cover. But how did your stepbrothers become involved with the Galbraiths?"
Sarah's eyes narrowed. "Hollis and Tyler have always had a knack for joining up with scum. The ironic part was, before Hollis approached the Galbraiths, Harriet Galbraith had already pegged me for a trip to the goldfields. So, in reality, Hollis did me a favor by having me brought to the Galbraiths. Of course, if you hadn't come along, things might have worked out quite differently, at least they would have if Hollis had had his way. Tyler did try to reason with him though, and I think that helped bide me a little more time."
"Thank God for that," Jon said. "I may just recommend that the blackguard get off with laying twenty miles of water pipe instead of rotting in a cell."
"I agree with that since Tyler is such a pathetic soul," Sarah said. “Incidentally the Galbraiths are also smuggling whiskey and gold. The whiskey is hidden in the forward hold of the ship, and the gold is smuggled in water barrels."
"So that's how they've been getting past our customs inspectors," Jon said. "No one would have questioned the Revelation."
Sarah considered everything that had happened, and how grateful she was to Jon for coming to her rescue. The import of what he'd done hit her for the first time, and she said with an absurd wobble in her voice, "Why did you come?"
Jon kissed her on the side of the face, and said with affectionate indulgence, "Sweetheart, do you really need to ask?"
In his voice Sarah heard a reflection of her own feelings. Which couldn't be. Nothing had changed. She still couldn't be a part of Jon's life, mustn't jeopardize his political career, or alienate his mother, or threaten his relationship with his daughters. The fact was, there was no place in Governor Jonathan Cromwell's life for her. With that silent affirmation, she said, "I mean... how did you know where to find me?"
"It's a long story, my love, which I'll tell you about later. Meanwhile, we'd better get back to the steamer and track down the Revelation." He clucked his tongue, sending the horse into a rolling gallop.
***
Jon, accompanied by Sarah and the two deputies, boarded the Revelation and found Harriet Galbraith looking at them in stunned silence. Her eyes shifted warily between Jon and Sarah and the deputies, settling on Jon, as she said, "What is the meaning of this?"
Jon held her caustic gaze, and replied, "These men have come to inspect this vessel."
Harriet's mouth compressed momentarily, and her thin nostrils flared with her anxious breath before she said, "This is an outrage. Reverend Galbraith will not allow it."
"I'm afraid the reverend will have no choice," Jon said.
"We shall see." Harriet peered beyond Jon, and Jon turned to find James Galbraith emerging from the cabin.
"Gentlemen," Galbraith said, offering a smile. "What can I do for you?"
Jon eyed him with disdain. "These men have come to inspect the ship. We have reason to believe you are smuggling both gold and whisky."
Galbraith squared his shoulders. "That is absurd. I assure you we are doing no such thing."
"Then you won't mind if we look around," Jon said.
James's fists curled at his sides. "This is a mission ship. It is exempt from search."
Harriet, who until now had been standing silently at her husband's side, drew in a ragged breath, and said, "It is for the church. Explain to them, James. Explain that the gold is for the church."
"Shut up you old fool!" James's voice cracked like a whip. "Have you no sense at all?"
"But, James," Harriet said. "Tell them why you did it—"
"We did nothing." James enunciated the words clearly, a note of warning in his voice, his eyes as dark as a dungeon.
One deputy stepped forward. "Reverend Galbraith, smuggling gold and whisky is not the only issue. You are under arrest for the kidnapping of Miss Sarah Ashley."
"She is a harlot!" Harriet cried.
James rounded on her furiously and struck her across the face, sending her reeling to the deck. "You brainless old bitch!" he bellowed, his face crimson, veins standing out in his temples. "Shut your Goddamned mouth."
“James!” Harriet gasped. “You took the Lord’s name in vain!“
"Take him away, Sheriff," Jon said. "We'll deal with him later." He looked at Harriet, who slumped against the deck in shocked silence, and said, while taking her elbow to help her to her feet, "Mrs. Galbraith, you can go to your quarters."
Her lips quivered, but she said nothing as she stared after her husband, who was being led away. After she'd been escorted below, Jon said to Sarah, "For the first time since I've known Harriet Galbraith she seemed at a loss for words."
"What will they do with her?" Sarah asked, suddenly feeling sorry for the pitiful woman.
"Not a thing," Jon said. "But she won't come out of it unscathed. With her husband in jail, she'll face all those wagging tongues she loved to set in motion. But this time she won't be the one starting the wagging. Call it poetic justice." He took Sarah’s arm. "And now, sweet one, you are to go back to my cabin and wait for me there. I have some business to attend to here, but when I'm finished, you and I have some serious talking to do."
***
In a small storage cabin on the Hudson, Jon shut the door and fixed
his gaze on Sarah. "Now, my love, will you be so kind as to explain to me what the devil is going on! I have been looking all over the bloody ship for you. Why are you hiding in here?"
"Because I'm not ready to talk to you," Sarah said, nervously wringing her hands. "But now that you're here, I want to thank you for rescuing me. With Hollis gone, I feel confident that when Tyler gets out of jail he will stay out of my life, and I simply cannot thank you enough."
Jon stared at her composed face. Her words were thoughtful, her tone amiable, but he had the feeling she was telling him goodbye... again. "What exactly do you mean by you can't thank me enough? You can thank me by letting me take care of you and provide for you. Why the devil do you think I went up the Fraser River to the goldfields to do a job the deputies could have done if it wasn't because I cherish you above all else, love you more than life itself, and have no intention of letting you walk out of my life?"
Sarah nervously batted her long lashes. "I thought perhaps that was the reason," she said.
Jon stared at her, blankly. "That's all?" This wasn't going at all as he had expected. Sometimes, Sarah could be as elusive as the wind. Seeing the worry in her eyes, and trying his damnedest to understand her, he said, "Why do I get the distinct feeling that you're still telling me goodbye?"
"Because I am," Sarah said. "I still plan to move to New Westminster. But we can visit back and forth," she added.
Standing no more than a breath away, Jon looked down at her beautiful face and lost himself in thoughts of how venturesome she'd been to come to Victoria with her handbills and her sewing machines and her trunks of bloomers, and how witty and smart she'd been at the council meeting when she'd outwitted the lot of them, and how enticing she looked in the soft light, and how he would never tire of being with her... Damn her pigheadedness!
"If it's because of the inexcusable things I said before you were kidnapped, you know I didn't mean them," Jon said. "I was angry. I also know my mother came to see you."
"That may be," Sarah replied, "but the fact remains that my presence in your life would hinder your career because your cabinet and the merchants would always disapprove of me."
Come Be My Love Page 27
