by Nancy Bush
“There are two. Jace has the other one.” Harrison took the match from her nerveless fingers, striking it and touching it to the kindling he subsequently tossed into the stove.
“Jace…?”
“Joshua Garrett bought both of his children a box. Jace’s is almost identical to this one. Joshua had them specially made for both Jace and Kelsey.”
“But that can’t be!” Miracle stared at him in total lack of comprehension. She blinked several times. “But if the box is Kelsey’s, then how did my father get it?”
“He either took it from Kelsey purposely, or he simply had it with him and gave it to your mother with the money.”
The color ebbed from her face, only to return in a wild blush of red. “Are you saying my father’s a thief? What happened to the rich man everyone knows courted my mother? What about him?”
“I’m saying your father was Joshua Garrett!” Harrison declared through his teeth. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“No.” The word escaped Miracle’s lips without thought. Her stomach heaved. No, no, no! Of all the men who could have been her father, this was one she would not accept. “You think Kelsey’s father – Jace’s father – was my father? That’s impossible!”
“Why?”
“Because my father wasn’t like Joshua Garrett at all! He was – he was – finer than that. He was a gentleman.”
“A gentleman with an Indian mistress?” Harrison was forced to point out.
“He wanted to marry her. Everyone said so.”
“Who said so? Your Uncle Horace? Your Aunt Emily? The two people who loved you and wanted to protect you the most?”
“Stop!” Miracle only just kept herself from clapping her hands over her ears.
“Then what other answer is there?” he demanded relentlessly. He didn’t want to hurt her, but neither did he want her to shun the truth. “If Joshua Garrett didn’t give it to her, then explain how your mother got Kelsey Garrett’s tin box.”
“Maybe – maybe my father was a thief. Maybe he found the box and wanted to give it to my mother,” she said, knowing she was rambling, searching for an answer to deny the obvious.
“What about the money? You said it was full of money. Joshua Garrett was a rich man.”
Miracle’s head ached. She would rather think her father was a petty thief than believe he was Joshua Garrett. “Uncle Horace knew him. He said he was a gentleman.” This was such a horrible, blatant lie that Miracle wouldn’t have been surprised if God unleashed a lightning bolt to strike her down where she stood. Uncle Horace had never met her father and thought he was a bastard, through and through.
“Pardon me, Miracle,” Harrison said dryly, “but I wouldn’t take anything your Uncle Horace said as gospel.”
“I won’t believe it. I simply won’t believe it!”
“Well, you’d better start,” he warned her. “Because Jace isn’t going to rest until he gets to the bottom of this, and it’s only a matter of time until Kelsey puts it all together and realizes you’re probably her half-sister, too.
Miracle was too stunned to move. A part of her was already accepting it as truth, but her heart denied it.
“You’re right about the kidnappers having stolen the box from you, of course,” Harrison added, his heart twisting at the lost look on her face. “We’ve got the boxes and the Colt forty-five. Something, or someone, ought to connect who’s behind all this. There aren’t that many strangers who come through Rock Springs. If the kidnappers are still around, someone’s bound to find them. The tin box is our first real lead.”
New problems rose from the ashes of Miracle’s dreams. “Harrison…?”
“Hmm?” It took all his resistance not to gather her into his arms, but he knew she wouldn’t accept him yet. Still, vulnerability shown in her eyes like an aquamarine beacon.
“The Colt forty-five’s mine.”
It took a heartbeat for the message to sink in. “What?”
“The gun’s mine.” Color rode up her high cheekbones. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to be in worse trouble with the law. The gun was stolen from my wagon that night, along with the box.”
He stared at her. “Why didn’t you tell me that originally?”
“I was afraid to.”
“Are you telling me everything now?” he demanded.
She nodded.
“For Chrissake, Miracle.” Harrison bit off the rest of his words. “If you’re hiding anything else, tell me now. No more secrets.”
Miracle surfaced from her thoughts, realizing belatedly that she’d lost some of his trust and respect. That made her furious. Why should she trust any white man? Even her father – rot his soul – had been exactly the treacherous bastard Uncle Horace claimed him to be. “I swear it’s God’s truth,” she said flatly. “I’m not hiding anything else!”
Only after he’d left for Sheriff Raynor’s did she remember she hadn’t told him about the bounty hunter. But she wasn’t hiding anything from him. And anyway, Raynor would tell him. Then they could all chase after the murdering Brody. She had enough to think about all on her own.
Chapter Fourteen
She couldn’t just stand here and wait, Miracle decided as she stared into the flames of the now roaring fire. Patience had never been her long suit. Besides, Uncle Horace was still at the Half Moon, and she wanted to talk to him, to assure herself that he was all right and explain about the tin box.
The tin box. Good Lord! Kelsey Garrett’s tin box. The realization finally struck home, and it rendered Miracle near immobile. Could she really be Joshua Garrett’s daughter? Could Jace and Kelsey’s father also be hers?
Shivering even with heat blasting against her outstretched hands, Miracle finally admitted that it was possible, maybe even probable. Joshua Garrett had been one of the wealthiest men around in Rock Springs. He was bound to have made trips to Portland and beyond. It was quite possible he traded with local Indians, probably offshoots of the Chinooks, and there was no denying the fact that he was a womanizer.
How could her mother have fallen in love with him?
Miracle grabbed up her cloak and drew it over her shoulders. Had he taken Kelsey’s tin box and given it to Miracle’s mother as a gift? Or was Harrison right that he’d merely had it with him the last time he’d visited her, and guilt, or some latent, perverse sense of generosity, had prompted him to leave it for his unborn child?
Uncle Horace had called the man a bastard. From what Joseph Danner had told her of Joshua Garrett, he wasn’t that far from wrong. Her mother was lucky he’d given her anything at all!
It was providence that he was dead, she thought. He would never have recognized her as his daughter. A half-breed would never be Garrett kin.
She shook her head in disgust, mostly at herself. Why hadn’t it occurred to her before that her father might be dead? It made perfect sense. No wonder no one in Rock Springs could help her identify him. Just as she had, they had assumed the man she sought was living.
She remembered Little Rain’s description of her father: tall, black-haired, blue eyes, always dressed in fine clothes, impeccable speech.
Who else in Rock Springs possessed those qualities? No one.
How had Harrison described Joshua Garrett? “Tough and belligerent, riding roughshod over anyone who stood in his way.”
Oh, Lord, does it have to be so? Couldn’t my father be someone else? Someone kinder? Better?
With a last glance at the burning stove, she headed out the door, locking it behind her before she scurried through the harsh November wind and across the street in the direction of the Half Moon and Uncle Horace. Rain pelted her face, and she had to turn away, but not before she saw a wagon parked in the sheltering gloom at the far end of town, near Garrett’s Hotel. There was a man standing beside it, and a woman, but neither of them glanced at Miracle, and she, in turn, was focused only on the lights spilling from the Half Moon.
She was halfway across the street, skirt
s in hand to avoid dampening them in the standing rain puddles, when she heard a woman’s short, aborted scream. Miracle froze, glancing toward the wagon. It sounded as if the woman’s scream had been strangled inside her throat!
There was no one standing by the wagon now. Straining her ears, Miracle glanced to the left and right. Music and noise from the Half Moon tumbled into the street. Otherwise the town was locked up tight. Automatically she pressed her hand to her side, feeling the outline of her knife. Only at the dance had she been without it. Since her attack on Harrison she’d wondered if she shouldn’t get rid of the weapon, but now she was glad for the company.
Booted feet rang out against plank boards. Miracle jumped nervously. A misting gloom had settled over Rock Springs like a pall, making sight near impossible past more than a few yards. Carefully, her throat dry, Miracle worked her way the rest of the way across the street.
“Goddammit, woman,” a familiar gruff voice whined near the fog-shrouded wagon. “Keep your teeth in your head!”
Miracle’s flesh crawled. Gruff Voice! The man the bounty hunter had called Brody! He was here! Right here!
“Let me go!” a high, angry feminine voice demanded. “I’ve changed my mind!”
There was a loud slap of flesh hitting flesh, a whimper, then the sound of wagon wheels sloshing through rain puddles.
Miracle’s blood pounded in her head. She had to do something! Gruff Voice had another woman. If what the bounty hunter had said was true – and she had every reason to believe him – then this woman was Brody’s next victim.
Harrison. She needed Harrison. She turned so swiftly she stumbled, rushing blindly toward the Rock Springs jail, splashing heedlessly through the puddles. Inside the front window she could see a flickering lantern and the outlines of several men.
She was nearly at the door when a hard hand grabbed her arm and spun her around. Miracle didn’t even think to scream. She’d survived too long on her own. Instead she kicked out and fought, twisting to smash her knee in her attacker’s most vulnerable place.
Lights exploded inside her head as his fist slammed into her face. She fell facedown into the mud, choking, unable to breathe.
She didn’t know how long she lay there, minutes or hours. But when she surfaced, it was to find a hard hand holding her down.
“Sorry, Miracle.” A man’s voice apologized smoothly from above her. “But I couldn’t have you telling tales you shouldn’t.”
He lifted her none too gently from the mud, and Miracle spat dirt, her cheek throbbing. “Gil?” she choked out, gathering her wits about her as she recognized the bounty hunter’s voice.
He laughed. “No, little sister. The name’s Blue. And I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”
¤ ¤ ¤
Time seemed to stop. Miracle stared at her long lost brother dazedly. Searching her emotions she realized all she felt was fear. Blue was no bounty hunter; of that she was sure. So how did he know so much about Brody?
The answer was so blindingly clear she gasped. Blue was one of the kidnappers, one of the murderers, one of the men who was even now dragging another victim away for an evening of pleasure – and death!
The scream rose in her throat this time without conscious thought. “Harrison!” she shrieked as loudly as she could, her hand reaching automatically for her knife.
Blue yanked her toward him, wrenching her arms until she fought back a cry of pain. “I won’t hurt you, but if you breathe a word of this, I promise I’ll hurt Harrison Danner. I’ll make him scream in agony. Then I’ll kill him.”
¤ ¤ ¤
“Why the hell did you take that from Kelsey?” Jace Garrett demanded, lunging for the tin box in Harrison’s hands.
Ignoring him, Harrison said tersely to Sheriff Raynor, “This was stolen from Miracle Jones’s wagon the night she was kidnapped. Find who left it at the Half Moon, and you’ll find one of the highwaymen.”
“Give me that!” Jace thundered.
A terrified scream rent the air.
Harrison jerked to attention. “Miracle,” he said, already in motion. He tore through the door like a raging bull, shocked and astounded to see Miracle pushing herself from the mud on unsteady arms, gasping and spitting out dirt. Jace cannoned into him from behind, swearing, and Harrison thrust the tin box in his hands as he raced to Miracle’s side.
“What happened?” he demanded. “Who did this?” He lifted her to her feet, shocked by the fear in her eyes. “My God, are you all right?”
“Y-yes.”
“Who did this?” he growled again, twisting around to glare in each direction, the look on his face was enough to freeze one’s blood. “Where is he?”
Miracle swallowed, gathering her bearings. She pointed in the direction Blue had disappeared, then his threat burned across her brain. With a swift movement she jerked her finger toward the place where the wagon had been, the one with Brody and the woman.
“Stay here,” Harrison ordered.
Fear stabbed her heart. He couldn’t go after Blue! “No!” Miracle grabbed his arm, encountering steel muscle and bone as she tried to stop him. “Don’t go.”
“I have to. Here’s Raynor.” He pushed her gently into the sheriff’s surprised arms. “Take care of her. I’m going after them.” He headed into the jail and returned seconds later with Miracle’s Colt .45.
“What happened?” the sheriff demanded.
“Someone appears to have attacked Miracle Jones,” Jace put in dryly. “And Harrison’s out for blood.”
Harrison unsnapped the revolver and grunted in satisfaction to find it fully loaded. “That someone is more than likely to be one of our highwaymen.”
“I’m coming with you,” Sheriff Raynor declared, his keys jingling as he set Miracle away from his round belly. “The deputy can help you, Miss Jones.”
“I’m fine,” Miracle said tautly, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. The pain in her cheek made her mind feel dull.
“He hit you,” Harrison said, staring at her swollen cheek expressionlessly. “I’ll kill him for that.”
“No, Harrison. Please,” she begged. “It wasn’t what you think.”
“What was it?” Jace asked pleasantly.
“Garrett, are you coming with us, or is the yellow stripe down your back going to keep you safe?” Harrison demanded in a voice filled with loathing.
Jace flushed furiously. “Stay with Miracle,” he ordered Raynor. “I’ll go with Harrison.”
“Now, Mr. Garrett –”
“I’ve got a rifle with my horses.” Jace swept on, his voice cold. “And I’m a damn good shot.”
“You’re not the law,” Raynor reminded him in a thundering voice.
“I can take care of myself!” Miracle declared. “Let Sheriff Raynor go,” she pleaded with Harrison.
Hoofbeats pounded against the ground on the east end of town, in the direction of the road to Malone. Harrison’s head snapped around at the sound. “Dammit, he’s escaping,” he yelled through his teeth. “We’ll need horses!”
“I got some decent ones at the livery,” Jace replied tersely, chasing after Harrison, who was already in motion. Raynor, fat as a cream-fed cat, swore beneath his breath and headed toward the stables alongside the jail.
“Get inside,” the sheriff ordered Miracle as he jogged away.
Miracle had no intention of being left behind. “No, thanks. I’ll go to my shop.” Let him think she was safe. But she’d be damned if she’d just sit around and wait for Harrison to be killed by Blue.
She needed a horse. Tillie and Gray weren’t swift, but they were all she had. She ran to where they were stabled in the shed attached to the back of the store, dragged the key from her mud-soaked pocket, inserted it in the lock, then swore beneath her breath when her shaking fingers refused to work.
The sudden off-key sound of Uncle Horace’s earsplitting tenor brought a quick jolt to Miracle’s heart. Uncle Horace! My God! She had to warn him about Blue!
“Miracle, my girl,” Uncle Horace declared in delight.
Miracle glowered at him impatiently. “How long have you been at the Half Moon?”
“A while.” He propped himself against the wall as Miracle searched through her key ring for the shop key. “Made a few sales, I did. You wait. Tomorr – tomorrow,” he announced on a hiccup. “Won’t be able to leave the store – so many customers.”
Biting her lip, Miracle thrust open the door. She could be behind Jace and Harrison in ten minutes if all went well. “I’ve got to talk to you about Blue,” she said a bit desperately.
“Blue?”
Uncle Horace staggered inside the shop. A second later he pitched face first against the wood stove.
“Uncle Horace!” Miracle screamed, rushing to him. Heart in her throat, she rolled him over. A cut on his forehead streamed blood, and the side of his face blistered as she watched.
All thoughts of pursuit disappeared as Miracle grabbed a clean cotton rag and dabbed at his cut. “Damn you,” she choked out, scared and impatient. She couldn’t leave him to lie here unattended. She would have to forgo following Harrison and Jace.
“Curse and rot your rum-soaked soul!” she muttered.
¤ ¤ ¤
The horse Jace had given Harrison was fresh, spirited, and half wild. Harrison’s arms ached from the effort of keeping the young stallion in line, but he was too determined to succeed in his quest to do more than bark out his resentment once or twice to Jace.
Jace was on a gentler mount, but the gelding was swift and strong. Now Harrison wished he hadn’t goaded Jace into coming. He should have waited for Raynor. The sheriff was a man who could be depended upon.
“How come you took the box from Kelsey?” Jace demanded again.
“Because I knew it was Miracle’s,” he answered tautly, straining his arms as he yanked the bit from the stallion’s teeth once more.
“If it was Miracle’s, then the thieving little breed stole it from Kelsey. That box is Kelsey’s!”
