In the Shadow of the Mountains

by Rosanne Bittner

  Chapter Eleven

  “This is a near disaster,” Bea fumed as she fluffed Kirk’s pillow for him. “Gilpin should be tarred and feathered!”

  Kirk quelled an urge to laugh. Whenever Bea Kirkland’s money was threatened, she became as nervous and defensive as a she-bear protecting her cubs. “Bea, I’m sure the man thought the government would make good on those drafts.”

  “Well, he wasn’t sure enough, was he!” She straightened. “I don’t think you realize the seriousness of this, Kirk. Denver’s businessmen, including you, I might add, invested thousands of dollars in the Volunteers, on the promise we would be paid back by the government. How could those men in Washington be so ungrateful as not to make good on their promise? Don’t they realize what the Volunteers did? They saved Denver’s gold for the Union! And this is the thanks we get? We’ll be a long time recovering from this, not just Denver, but us! We will have to be very careful about spending for a while, and right when we’re finishing the new house!”

  “Somehow I imagine you’ll find a way around this,” he answered, picking up a piece of bacon from the tray Bea had brought for him.

  “We’ll find a way, I suppose. But the city is going to suffer. Our first remedy is to get rid of Governor Gilpin and get someone more responsible in here! Bill Byers is already working on it.”

  “I expect he is, seeing as how he’s never been too fond of Gilpin.”

  “And with good reason.” She folded her arms. “The man had the audacity to give most of the government printing contracts to other papers instead of the News, after all Bill has done for this area.” She walked to a window and opened the curtains.

  “Open them good and wide so I can see the mountains,” Kirk told her.

  “You and your mountains. I wish you would pay more attention to matters close at hand.” She turned to face him. “We’ve already petitioned President Lincoln to appoint a new governor,” she went on. “We have suggested Bill Larimer. After all he’s done for this area, he’s the logical choice. He knows Colorado, knows what we need and want.”

  Kirk ran a hand through his hair. “Well, it doesn’t matter much to me. I’ve never seen a whole lot of difference in any of these government men. They all make promises they can’t keep. We’re better off each man watching after his own interests.”

  “Now that is the kind of attitude that will stifle Denver. We have to keep working together under some kind of leadership.”

  He laughed. “You’re the one who ought to be governor.”

  She held her chin a little higher, stood a little straighter. “I could do it.”

  He laughed harder, shaking his head. “Oh, I have no doubt about that. Too bad they don’t let women hold offices like that.”

  Bea wanted to smile and laugh with him, but she was too worried about losing ten thousand dollars of their own money that they had invested in the Colorado Volunteers, money the government had promised to pay back. She wished she could take such news as lightly as her husband, but to her it was a disaster, and Kirk’s attitude irritated her.

  “Yes, it is too bad,” she answered, eyeing him narrowly. “But it’s a good thing some women can assume the leadership at home, or some men wouldn’t be worth much, would they?”

  He sobered slightly. “Now, Bea, if I didn’t lend a little humor to this household, things would be like a tomb around here. You’ve got to learn how to relax.” He sipped some coffee. “By the way, how is Irene? Did the doc have a look at her yesterday?”

  “Yes.” She turned away so that he couldn’t see her eyes. “He says she seems to be fine, says perhaps she caught something the day we went into town to view the parade. He gave her a tonic.”

  “You shouldn’t tell her she can’t ride anymore, Bea.”

  “I don’t think it’s good for her.”

  “It’s the best thing for her. That’s her tonic, just like mine is going to the mountains. I don’t often go against your wishes, Bea, but I’m telling you now that I want you to tell her she can keep riding Sierra—if not every day, then at least every other day. I mean it.”

  The woman sighed. Knowing how deeply Irene had been hurt because of Ramon, she decided perhaps she could lift her ban on riding. At the moment, Irene needed something to cheer her up. She had taken the news about Ramon much harder than Bea had anticipated. She was worried about her daughter’s despondency. “All right. I’ll tell her she can ride.” She wished she could explain to Kirk what the real problem was, but Irene was too special to him. He might go along with the girl’s ridiculous infatuation with Ramon Vallejo and give her permission to see the man.

  “Good,” he said. “Later today I want to have a talk with her myself.”

  Bea felt alarm, worried Irene would tell her father about Ramon, and that somehow Kirk would figure out the truth about the whole incident. She wanted it to be done with.

  “Has Chad Jacobs been to see her?” Kirk was asking.

  She brightened. “Yes. He brought her flowers yesterday. Oh, Kirk, I hope this all leads to something. I am so fond of Chad.”

  “He seems like a good man—saved my life and all. I’m indebted to him. But I also want Irene to be happy.”

  “How could she not be happy with a man like Chad?”

  Kirk just glanced at her, wondering what she would know about being happy with any man. He decided not to bother answering her question. He set his tray aside and moved his legs over the side of the bed. “Get me some clean pants and a shirt, will you? I want to get outside and get some fresh air. It’s being cooped up in this house that’s keeping me from getting any energy back.”

  “You should stay right in that bed.”

  “To hell with that. Get my pants.”

  Someone knocked at the door then, and Bea opened it to find her housekeeper, Myra. “There is a man downstairs come to visit with Mr. Kirkland,” the woman told Bea. “Says his name is Red McKinley.”

  “Red McKinley!” Kirk stood up, not caring that he wore only his long johns. “Get me those clothes, Bea. I’m not going to let Red McKinley see me laid up in bed.” He looked past her at Myra. “Show Red to the smoking room, will you, Myra? Tell him I’ll be right down.” The woman nodded, her face red from seeing David Kirkland in his underwear. She hurriedly left, and Bea turned to her husband.

  “Honestly, Kirk, sometimes you seem to revert back to the days of the rendezvous, and you treat everyone else as though they’re there with you. Do you realize Myra saw you in your long johns?”

  He waved her off. “She’s got a husband. She’s seen a half-dressed man a time or two.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Who is Red McKinley?”

  “An old, old friend, from my trapping days,” he answered, looking more animated than Bea had seen him in a long time. Her heart fell. She hated it when Kirk talked about the “old days.” Heaven only knew what this Red McKinley wanted. She moved to a dresser and took out some clothes.

  “You just remember that leg and keep in mind the doctor has ordered another week of bed rest,” she told him, handing him the shirt and pants.

  Kirk took them eagerly. “I know better than he does what I need. Go down and introduce yourself to Red. I’ll be right there.”

  She sighed with frustration, leaving him and going downstairs to the smoking room, which was off the parlor, with double doors so the room could be closed off. This smoking room was much smaller than the one Kirk would have in the new mansion, which would have much higher ceilings and a good deal more room, big enough for a pool table, which had already been ordered from San Francisco.

  Still, as she watched Kirk’s visitor gaze around the room, his back to her, Bea realized he was quite impressed. One wall was covered with bookshelves. The most prominent piece of furniture was a huge oak desk and leather desk chair. Two more leather chairs and a leather couch, all in dark green, filled out the room.

  Bea hesitated at the doorway, noticing Red McKinley wore buckskins, which he apparently had had for q
uite some time, since the elbows were rubbed to shiny thinness. He wore knee-high moccasins and was indeed quite a spectacle of a mountain man, just the kind of “old friend” Bea would prefer Kirk never see again. She was having a hard enough time keeping Kirk civil and presentable as it was.

  The man turned then at the sound of her rustling skirts. She stared at his fairly handsome face, but his skin was somewhat freckled and had a leathery look from years of living in the open. His eyes were a sharp blue, surrounded by red lashes, red eyebrows, and his face was framed with red hair, his upper lip decorated with a thick, curled, red mustache. No one needed to ask where he got his nickname. He gave her a faint smile.

  “Hello, ma’am. And who might you be?”

  She caught the Irish accent, folding her arms self-consciously as his eyes took inventory of her tall frame. “I might be Beatrice Kirkland,” she answered. “Welcome, Mr. McKinley. Kirk says you are old friends.”

  “That we are. Kirk saved my life once, fought off a bunch of Crow Indians for me—nursed a bad wound.” Red felt suddenly awkward under the woman’s glare, wondering how on earth Kirk ended up with such a big, stern-looking woman. He knew it was a little early to be judging anyone, but there was something about this woman he already didn’t like. “You’re his wife then?”

  “I am. I hope you won’t keep Kirk too long, Mr. McKinley. He was hurt at Glorietta Pass and he became quite ill. He’s still recovering.”

  “Well, ma’am, sometimes seeing an old friend can do a lot toward fixing something like that. Me and Kirk go way back. I haven’t seen him since, oh, back in forty-five or forty-six I think it was. We were—” He hesitated, wondering how things had turned out with the Indian baby. Some people were touchy about adoption and such. Had he married this woman simply because she had agreed to raise little Morning Star? Did she know about Yellow Eagle?

  He decided he had better not bring up the subject until he talked to Kirk. “We, uh, we had a drink together at a trading post,” he went on. “He went his way, and I went mine, both of us knowing we had to find some other way to make a living because of the way things were changing.” He noticed how she glanced at his hat, and he quickly removed it. “I just got into Denver a few days ago, came here because I’d heard so much about how the place was growing and all. I saw the Kirkland name on just about every other building, got to wondering if the man who owned half of Denver was my old friend.”

  Bea watched him warily, suspicious that he had come to Kirk for a handout. She detested beggars. She studied the worn buckskins derisively, and a deep dislike began to grow in Red’s gut for this haughty woman Kirk had married. He read the look in her eyes, and personal pride made him stand a little straighter.

  “And what do you do for a living, Mr. McKinley?” she asked.

  He felt his cheeks getting hot and knew his fair skin was giving away his secret contempt and the Irish temper he was trying to hide. “Spent most of the past few years scouting for wagon trains. I—”

  He did not have time to finish. Kirk was calling his name. “Excuse me, ma’am.” Red gladly moved past Bea and into the parlor to greet Kirk, who came toward him using a cane. “Kirk, you big, worthless Swede, what are you doing leaning on that thing?”

  Before Kirk could answer, the two men embraced, laughing, slapping each other on the back. Red was a broad-shouldered, hardy-looking man, but next to Kirk he looked small. Bea watched them warily, convinced she had to keep a closer eye on Kirk for a while, afraid she could not trust his common sense when he was around a man like Red McKinley, whom she dearly wished had never come.

  “Took a damn bayonet in the leg,” Kirk was saying as they let go of each other. “I’ll be getting rid of this cane soon, though, you can count on that. Seeing you sure helps. How in hell have you been, Red, and where have you been? My God, man, it’s been sixteen years or better.”

  “That it has, my friend.” Red let Kirk lean on his shoulders as they both walked toward the smoking room. Bea stood in the doorway.

  “Irene is sleeping, so keep your voices down,” she told them. “Elly is with the tutor, and I’m taking John to town, Kirk. I will be gone for a while, but apparently you won’t need me around anyway.”

  “I take it the two of you have met,” Kirk asked.

  Bea forced a weak smile. “Yes.” She held Red’s eyes. “Don’t keep him too long, Mr. McKinley. He needs his rest. It’s been nice meeting you.”

  He nodded. “Same here,” he lied.

  Bea moved past them, closing her eyes with disgust when she heard Kirk tell Red he could stay as long as he wanted, stay for supper, if he liked. The two men entered the smoking room, and Kirk closed the double doors, moving behind his desk and lowering himself into the leather chair, a grimace of pain on his face. Red took a seat opposite him, studying Kirk’s silk shirt and having already noticed his well-tailored pants.

  “So, my friend, how in hell did you end up like this?” he asked Kirk. “This is not the David Kirkland I left back at Bent’s Fort. And whatever happened to that little Indian girl you took away with you?”

  Kirk sobered. “She’s all grown up, Red—sixteen years old. Her name is Irene, and she’s the most beautiful creature you would ever want to set eyes on, let me tell you.” He leaned forward. “She doesn’t know she’s part Indian, and neither she nor my wife know about the brother. I hope you didn’t say anything to Bea.”

  Red shook his head. “It’s not right, not telling the girl,” he warned. “That’s going to come back at you, Kirk, like a gun that misfires. You know how much that burns.”

  Kirk sobered more. “I know. But sometimes you put things off so long that you can’t fix them anymore.” He opened a gold-plated box and offered Red an expensive cigar. Both men took cigars and lit them, and Kirk leaned back again, going through the entire story of how he had landed in Denver a rich man. Red listened in disbelief, finding it incredible that Kirk’s attempt at providing a home for little Morning Star had led to all of this. He shook his head, leaning forward and flicking ashes into an ashtray from the cigar, which had burned halfway down while they talked.

  “I never would have believed it,” he told Kirk. “I never thought a kid would mean that much to you.”

  “I didn’t either, till I held her. Now I’ve got another daughter and a son.” He sighed. “All this money might seem pretty good to somebody who doesn’t have any, but it’s not all what you think, Red. I mean, this isn’t the kind of life for a man like me. I only do what I do for the family’s sake. I’ve got a lot to make up for to Bea, and I have three children to support. I also want to stay right here in the Rockies, so I do everything I can to keep Denver alive and keep our investments lucrative. Actually, Bea has a remarkable mind for business. She handles almost all the book-work and the investing, runs the two banks we own, oversees new construction, orders, all the things I hate. I spend most of my time in the mountains, keeping an eye on the mines, buying up new claims, overseeing the stamp mills, things like that.”

  Red just kept shaking his head. “Never thought I’d see the day. I’d sure like to meet that daughter, Kirk.”

  “You will—tonight at supper. I insist you stay and eat with us. You just remember she thinks she’s ours—mine and Bea’s. She doesn’t know anything about her heritage, or even that Bea isn’t her real mother.”

  Red took another puff of the cigar. “I hope you don’t regret that decision, Kirk. You ever think about the fact that she’s going to have children of her own someday, and one of them could come out looking like he ought to be wearing eagle feathers in his hair?”

  Kirk paled slightly. “I try not to think about it, and I pray it just won’t happen. If she marries a white man, a child would be three-quarters white—not too likely to give away an Indian background.”

  “You can’t be sure.”

  “This is the way Bea wants it. We struck a bargain a long time ago, and that’s how it is.” Kirk leaned forward. “Red, I need to get out of here—ge
t back up into the mountains. I’ve been away from the mines way too long, what with going out on that campaign against the Texans and all. I keep telling Bea the best remedy for me is to get out in the fresh mountain air again. How about you coming with me? You don’t have any particular plans, do you?” He let out a sigh of disgust with himself. “My God, I haven’t even asked what brings you here—what you’ve been doing with yourself.”

  Red shrugged. “Not much. I came here to see if I could find work, settle some. I’ve been scouting for wagon trains, but it’s getting so I have a hard time staying in the saddle all day. These old bones can’t take it like they used to.”

  Kirk laughed. “I know what you mean. Hell, I can put you to work anyplace you choose. I’ll even float you a loan if you want to get into some kind of business of your own.”

  Red’s heart warmed at his old friend’s generosity. “Thank you, Kirk. I didn’t come here for that. We’ll give it some time, think on things before I go taking money from you. I just wanted to see you again, find out how in hell you ended up owning half of Denver.”

  “Not half. Only about a third.”

  Both men laughed. “Hell, I’d love to go up in the mountains with you, friend,” Red said. “You’re right. I don’t have any other plans at the moment.”

  A longing look came into Kirk’s eyes. “I envy you a little, Red.”

  “You envy me? Who’s the one sitting here with millions in his pockets?”

  Kirk shrugged. “Not quite millions yet. I just mean I envy the fact that you’re still free. You’re not tied down to anyone or anything. It’s been a long time since I lived that way.”

  Red suspected Kirk was not at all happy with his sour-faced wife, who apparently ruled the roost. He knew Kirk was too soft-hearted to go up against the woman’s wishes most of the time; and he suspected Bea Kirkland was not exactly warm and attentive in bed. But he decided that was too delicate a subject for him to bring up, especially after seeing Kirk for the first time in sixteen years.