In fact, Paulette realized when she actually stopped to consider it, he was stopping in once, even twice a day. There was no way he was repeatedly commuting back up the mountain. She hadn’t been there, yet, but she had heard that it was steep and winding and that there was no quick way to do it. Zed was visiting far too frequently to be making the trip every time.
And now, when he made his appearances, he wasn’t coming empty handed.
He no longer came to join her for supper. He would walk through the door, or wait for her outside of the office. He would hand her coins and jewelry and trinkets and tell her he had brought her something.
At first she took them, flattered, accepting. She had seemed happy with the gifts. But, the more Zed came, the greater the gifts he brought her, the more disinterested in them — in him — she seemed to become.
He couldn’t figure it out.
“You know, I don’t need you to bring me these things,” she said one evening, studying the unusual chalice he’s handed her, pursing her lips. She couldn’t think of a single use for it. Truly. It would not help her prepare the food. It would not help her do the wash. It was just one more thing he seemed to bring in an effort to make her appreciate that he could bring her things. “I do wish you would stop.”
He noted the perturbed tone in her voice, but couldn’t seem to extract anything beyond that. “Nonsense,” he said, “these are perfect things for you to have. You can start your own collection.”
He positively beamed at her, and Paulette wondered what sort of things she would be able to accomplish with a whole collection of useless gifts.
In truth, she missed the other things. The things she could use that showed he’d actually been thinking of her and her needs when he had picked them out for her. The baby blankets. The bonnets. The personal pieces he’d seen that had reminded him of her. The little things.
Now it was coins and money and shiny things she didn’t want, that she had no use for, which literally meant less than nothing to her, and which Zed couldn’t seem to understand were mostly offensive to her.
And here, piece by piece, he had been merging his collection of things he owned, and the people he cared about.
Each passing day left Paulette with a stronger disliking for the gifts. A greater distaste in her mouth.
She tried not to think of that one kiss, but it was hard not to remember the exact feel, the way it had sent those little shivers all the way down to her toes. How different it had been from how she thought it always was.
She kept coming back to it. The feel of his lips on hers. The way her heart had skipped. His skin on hers. She could barely be in the room with him without thinking of it, of wondering where that moment had gone.
And worse, much worse, was that Zed seemed totally unfazed by the experience. He hadn’t even touched her since. Not intentionally. Not accidentally. And she knew because she’d been keeping track.
He kept his hands politely to himself, his eyes averted. He brought her the endless train of belongings, and it seemed as though he never once considered what it might be like to hold her in his arms again.
She was that undesirable.
Paulette thought about the miner who had stopped by the office. Copeland. He seemed nice enough, despite what Zed had to say about him. He made eye contact, he smiled politely. He seemed to want to be near her just to be near her. The way he’d suggested dinner, or maybe a walk, just some time to get to know one another. Those other times where it seemed like he was just popping in for a quick hello, to check on his lease payments.
Of course, it had been wrong that Copeland had made those suggestions at all, and especially while Zed was there. Zed had made it plain that she belonged to him, and was not simply hired work. He had made it plain to everyone within earshot.
She was just another one of those pretty baubles of his.
Paulette couldn’t help but wonder if the arrangement had been a mistake. True, she’d felt Zed had been cold in the beginning, uncaring. And then, also true, she had thought there was something more to him, something kind underneath all that distance.
And then there had been that kiss — heated and passionate and all the things she thought had been missing in her life. And afterward, nothing but more coldness, the very edge of unfriendliness.
There must be more to the life she had left to live than just that. She loved Abigail, completely. And she would never regret the alliance she’d made with Zed to protect her, but was there something else out there she was missing?
She wasn’t sure she could stomach it if there weren’t.
7
The miner stopped by again, and when he did, Paulette realized she’d been waiting for him to come by — waiting for the opportunity to sort through all those things she’d been feeling. It had seemed like a lifetime since anyone had paid her the kind of attention he had. She couldn’t help but brighten at his arrival.
He stepped through the door, hat in hand, and even if he was less groomed than Zed, he seemed genuine when he asked her how her day was going, when he gave her a gap-toothed grin. Like he really wanted to hear about the conversations she’d had and the work she had completed. It was nice to have someone interested in what she had to say, instead of being only interested in procuring expensive items she had no need or use for.
“Well, Miss,” he said after they’d exchanged the usual pleasantries. The weather. The town. The conversation had been light and easy, and everything Paulette thought a conversation from someone who was interested in pursuing a woman should have been. She stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. “I was just stopping by because I was having some problems with my site claim, and I was wondering if you could come and take a look at it, maybe bring the paperwork to solve a dispute. See, Marcus has the plot next to mine and he’s just found some gold near the mouth of this stream that runs between our properties. As I recall, the stream is on my side, and thereby, the gold he’s found belongs to be. As he recalls, the stream lies on his side, and that vein belongs to him. I was hoping you could pull the records and come give us your opinion. Maybe after, if it pleases you, we could get that dinner we talked about.”
It did please her, even only to be asked. “Well, of course, I can do that.” But she didn’t follow up on the dinner invitation. She didn’t deny it. She wasn’t sure what to do with it at all, so she just let it sit there, ripe for revisitation as she stood and began to pull the material she would need to fulfill his request.
He gave his claim number. Claims frequently switched hands without the Broker’s knowledge, miners trading back and forth, caught in a downward betting spiral, dying and having their claim usurped. It was easier to keep track of the number tied to their claim, and that was what the office used for its record keeping. As far as Paulette was concerned, it didn’t matter if Mr. Copeland was number 712, or if that number belonged to the neighbor. The only thing she was looking for were the cold hard facts of the claim. She pulled both numbers — one for Mr. Copeland and one his neighbor, Marcus.
Paulette slipped on her outer coat, happy she had left Abigail with the nursemaid for the day instead of bringing her into the office like she’d thought she would. But Abigail had seemed unusually fussy, and Paulette had been certain that, if she’d gone to the office not much would be accomplished.
She turned toward Mr. Copeland. “Do lead the way. I’ll follow you.”
He headed out the door, tugging his hat back into place on his head, and she didn’t hesitate, slipping the key in the door and twisting it locked before heading after him.
For a moment she thought about rushing inside and scribbling Zed a note. Just in case, she told herself. But, just in case what? In case he was right? She bristled just thinking about it. Paulette was still convinced there was nothing about Zed’s assessment of Mr. Copeland that was accurate. She was sure it was just another case of one man jealously attacking another. She pushed everything Zed had said out of her mind, even though it was dan
gerously close to the forefront. Even though, she knew, she would have thought twice about this journey if Zed hadn’t insisted she stay away from Mr. Copeland and his advances in the first place. Ironic how that emphasis from him only made her want to ignore that little twinge of negativity she had felt growing in her stomach.
The site was quite a walk, and Paulette was wishing the day was warmer, brighter. It was amazing to think how many of the miners walked to and from their sites day after day. She couldn’t help but think of Zed now, at his own claim, possibly as far away from her as the East Coast felt. She wondered abruptly if she should have begged off the trip, said the renderings weren’t accurate enough for her to tell and she needed to have Zed with her for a final assessment. With every step away from the office, she felt her stomach sink a little further.
She was really starting to wish she’d gone ahead and left that note for him, after all.
In truth, by the time they had arrived at the location, Paulette was running through a number of things she could have said, could still say, to enable her to make a hasty retreat. There was something about the way the wind had settled, about the darkness that had started to seep around them, that had her spooked.
Maybe it was the sudden, hard set of his shoulders, or maybe it was the way the smile had steeled from his face — how his eyes had become cold and hard, and barely interested in what she had to offer, in any way, shape, or form.
But then they were at the opening of the mouth of the little babbling stream, and he turned toward her and gestured further up the mountain. “If you come this way, you can see exactly where he found the nuggets.”
Paulette moved up past him, focusing on that space where he had pointed, searching for some sign of exactly where the gold had been found, tendrils of fear and discomfort slipping down her spine.
She was part way up the hillside, peering down toward the water when it happened. He was so quick about it, she barely had time to register the pain, the sudden weightless feeling of her body, the knowledge that her feet were coming out from underneath her, and his hands were wrapped tightly around her body.
“That’s right, pretty girl.” He was growling in her ear, his words were hard and angry. “You can tell me all about whether or not you think that money belongs to me. We can pass that along to your little dandy when he comes here searching for you.” He sneered at her, and she was at a loss for the sudden change in his temperament, in his being. His eyes became darker, sparking with something she didn’t want to see. “And he will come for you.”
The gentle man she’d thought he had been was gone, and in his wake was this one, with the angry slivers for eyes, the sneer marring his face, he jabbed at her with one hand and yanked her arm painfully behind her with the other, pushing her forward up the hill so she had little choice but to place one foot in front of the other and allow herself to be steered further and further from her home.
And from Zed. With certainty, she knew he had been right. Copeland was obviously not to be trusted, just like Zed had insisted. And now Zed wouldn’t know where to find her, or even how to look for her. There were no guarantees he would come for her if he couldn’t piece together where she had gone. She didn’t want to think about what that might mean for her. What would happen if he didn’t realize she’d been forced somewhere against her will? What would happen if he didn’t retrieve Abigail from the nursemaid’s house when he was supposed to? Even if he could figure it all out, there were no guarantees he would be able to find where Copeland had taken her. What was going to happen if she couldn’t get her way out of this?
He pushed her along none too gently, until she was walking along a narrow little edge, the empty air beside her a constant reminder of the kind of trouble she was in. They continued until she was standing in a small outcropping of rock — an outcropping Mr. Copeland had obviously planned on using.
He collected the rope and knife that had been sitting there, patiently awaiting her arrival, and bound her wrists and ankles, meticulously tying them to each other so there was no hope of making it back along that narrow little ledge and back to the relative safety of the mountainside.
“You just wait here for me. I’ll come back for you.” He bared his teeth in what Paulette suspected was supposed to be a smile, but that seemed more like a snarl. “And we’ll see what we can get out of your man.”
Then he was moving back along the ledge, and Paulette was left behind, pressing her body into the solid wall of rock behind her, the jagged edges gouging through the thin material of her dress.
Zed had been up and down the street a half a dozen times. Something wasn’t right. He’d known right away, but every passing moment confirmed the fact.
Paulette wasn’t in the office. The door was locked and she was gone. She wasn’t in the house. The door was locked and she was gone.
And when he made his way to the nursemaid’s house, Abigail was safe and accounted for.
So where was Paulette, then?
He’d imagined she’d had a quick errand to run. Maybe she’d stopped to pick up some produce. Maybe she’d gone out of her way to swing by a neighbor’s.
In brief spurts he imagined any number of reasons she might have left her designated posts.
But none of those really made sense. She was always in one place or the other, or close enough to see.
And most importantly, she was never without Abigail.
The more time that crept by, the more Zed was certain something had happened to her.
And if he was a betting man — and he wasn’t because bets were always rigged — he would say it had everything to do with that damned miner. The very one he had told Paulette not to have anything to do with. The one she had practically bent over backwards to defend.
He was angry all over again, just thinking about it. Her stubbornness. Her insistence. Damn that Paulette.
He was wondering what steps he needed to take next when the man made his appearance. He moved slow, and easy, like the cat who’d swallowed the canary — like there was nothing Zed could do to him.
He clenched and unclenched his fist. How wrong the miner was. Zed would just as soon see the man dead than anything else. And if he’d had half an indication where Paulette might be, there wouldn’t have been any waiting.
But Zed could wait. He had centuries of practice cultivating patience under his belt, and he would use that patience now.
“Copeland,” he growled, his whole body rumbling with the sound of his voice, though it was barely greater than conversation level — hard, emotionless. “What have you done with her?”
The miner made a little sound, like Zed’s distress meant nothing to him, did nothing but please him and stroke his ego.
“I knew she was the ticket I needed. The minute I saw you with her, I knew once I had her I would have you.” Copeland’s eyes narrowed and he brought up a hand to that grizzled beard. “If you want your girl now, I think you’d like to come with me.”
There were many things Zed would like to do, and following along complacently behind Copeland was not one of them.
But, like Copeland said, he did have the ticket, and Zed was going to do whatever it took to get Paulette back. Even though that would mean following Copeland, presumably somewhere where Zed wouldn’t have the upper hand.
The miner didn’t wait for an answer. He turned on his heel and walked away from Zed, his very swagger insulting. His confidence in his ability to remain untouchable a slap in the face. As though Zed couldn’t leap onto him from there, and end this debacle all at once.
But he couldn’t. Or he could, but where would that leave Paulette?
Wherever Copeland had stashed her, and around here that could be a lot of places. And wherever she was, she could be in more than one kind of danger.
He shouldn’t have been surprised when they made their way toward Copeland’s claim. It didn’t take a genius to know what this was all about. Copeland felt he was entitled to more than he had. He’d made it pla
in with Zed that he felt Zed was hiding money and wealth from the others, that he was stealing it out from underneath them all, even though he was the only one who even had an actual right to that money.
Like he hadn’t been the one collecting it all these years. Hoarding it all these years. Protecting it. And then these miners sweep in and want to know why they can’t walk out with it in their hands.
They walked past the little path Zed knew meandered through the triangular claim. He knew there were two other pieces and the boundary line wasn’t well defined — he knew because he’d dealt with all of the miners on one occasion or another, fielded their complaints about their neighbor taking what they felt was theirs, impeding on the success they felt they deserved to have. He knew because he knew every inch of this mountain.
It didn’t take Zed long to realize they weren’t heading directly to wherever Copeland was planning on taking him. Copeland had moved forward, doubled back, made exaggerated loops in their walk. Whatever Copeland was playing at, he wasn’t going to find success in it.
If he thought he could turn Zed around, or if he felt he knew the land better than Zed did, he was going to be in for a rude awakening. No one knew this land better than Zed. He had walked these hills and paths before men had even settled there, when it had been just him and the mountainside. He knew every little stream that ran dry in the hot months, and every little reservoir that held water when every other bit was gone. He knew which mountainside was steady and what would crumble under your feet with no warning.
There was literally no advantage Copeland had over Zed.
Except, he knew where Paulette was, and right now, that seemed like the biggest single advantage any man could ever have over him.
It was after dark now, and while Zed did not struggle with the loss of light, the miner did, beginning to pick his way more slowly, more carefully.
He heard her before he saw her, the ragged sound of her breathing, laced with panic. He could smell her on the wind, her sweet scent spiced with fear and longing and desperation.
Bear Outlaw (She-Shifters of Hell's Corner Book 4) Page 29
