In the Shadow of the Mountains

by Rosanne Bittner

  All that mattered now was that she had had this wonderful moment. Chad might marry Irene, but she had just shared something with him that Irene would never know about, and now she was special, too. That was all she ever really wanted to know. She felt beautiful, desired. At least now he knew she loved him. She felt a strange, flooding relief at getting it out of her system, and his kiss and the touch of his hand at her breast was suddenly enough. It had frightened her some, made her realize she really wasn’t ready to be the kind of woman Chad Jacobs was used to.

  She watched his eyes, and she saw only gentleness and respect there. “I’ll leave first,” she told him. “You’d better wait a few minutes.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek, then ran out of the room.

  Chad’s eyes immediately glittered with hate. Oh, how he wanted to kill her for figuring it out about him and Susan! What a conniving, scheming, nosy little bitch she was! The worst part was he wanted her, not because she was pretty, for there wasn’t one pretty thing about her. He only wanted her because she was ripe for a man, itching to find out what it was like. He’d like to have at the little bitch until she begged for mercy. She had a look about her, a look he’d seen in the eyes of whores. Elly Kirkland was begging for it, and he suspected that before too long she would find someone to oblige her, someone to cool the burning desire she carried for a man she couldn’t have.

  He sighed, relieved that for the now he had managed to keep her under control and convince her he’d had nothing to do with Susan Stanner. He had been right to deal with the girl by giving her what she wanted for the moment. He had suspected right away that it would have been more dangerous to try to go against her. Just like her mother, Elly had to be treated a certain way, for he suspected that to suffer the wrath of either Kirkland female would be an experience better avoided.

  He closed his eyes, feeling satisfied he had again saved himself, deciding that for a while he would have to lay low and mind his business. But that meant staying away from other women and showing his total devotion to Irene once she returned. He was not usually so careless. From now on there would be no ministers’ daughters in his bed, at least not until things had calmed down over Susan Stanner’s death.

  He left the room, deciding that from now on he would check every nook and cranny wherever he went in this house. Elly Kirkland was a deceitful, nosy sneak, and for the moment he wished it was she who had been buried today instead of Susan.

  Chad awoke in a sweat, sitting up to get the nightmare out of his mind. He had dreamed of ghostly people standing around a grave, and then both Susan and Elly climbed out of the black hole, reaching out for him.

  He rose, wiping perspiration from his brow. It had been a week since Susan’s funeral, and ungodly hot for April, one of the driest springs in Colorado history. There had simply not been enough snow in the mountains the past winter to create a good runoff, nor had any spring rain fallen in any measurable amount. Everything was tinder dry, and a battering wind outside blew dust from the dirt streets below right through Chad’s second-story window.

  He walked over and closed it, then sat down to light a thin cigar, wondering if maybe he should go visit his favorite whore. It was obvious he was not going to get any more sleep, and Irene was due back tomorrow. Once she was home, his womanizing would have to come to an abrupt end. He leaned forward and picked up his pocket watch from a nightstand and opened it to see that it was three A.M. Not even the whores were up and about at this hour.

  He puffed on the cigar, actually looking forward to seeing Irene, hoping that having her at his side again would ease his nightmares and remove this lingering guilt over Susan. He hated her for what she had done, chastised himself for not realizing how young and stupid she had been. He wondered if any other women he had left behind had been left pregnant or had done something dumb like commit suicide over him.

  He rose and studied himself in the mirror, again convincing himself it was their fault, not his own. He couldn’t help it if women fell all over him. In a way, he realized suddenly that part of the reason he could think of Irene as special was because she had not fallen into his arms in a swoon. That fascinated him. Irene would be more of a challenge than any of the others, because for some reason he had not made her faint dead away in his arms.

  Maybe it was because she was so beautiful in her own right. Or maybe it was just a certain strength she had gleaned from her powerful, determined mother that made her seem so pure and strong. There was a peace about Irene he had never felt with any other woman, and he actually looked forward to her return, even though it mean no more affairs for a while. He was curious to know if and how she had changed, if maybe now she would be more responsive to him.

  The wind battered the window again, making it shake. He thought he heard a strange popping sound then, and he turned from the mirror, taking the cigar from his mouth and going to the window. He put his hand against it to look out into the darkness.

  It seemed his heart literally stopped beating for a moment. A strange orange glow was rising from the vicinity of the Cherokee Hotel. Fire! “My God,” he muttered. He quickly put out his cigar and pulled on his pants. In this dry, windy weather, fire could mean disaster for the whole town! He didn’t stop to pull on a shirt. He only grabbed his watch and money, then charged out of his room and banged on doors. “Fire,” he hollered as he ran down the stairs. “Fire! Fire! Everyone out!”

  He heard a scream, then a few mumbles. Doors opened and people stuck their heads out. He yelled “Fire!” again, but kept running, heading for the lobby. His only thought for the moment was to get to Kirkland Enterprises and save whatever records he could save. He wished there was time to go and wake Kirk, who had just gotten back from the mountains, but the Kirkland home was too far. There was no time. He thought that at least its location would probably keep it safe.

  He dashed outside and heard more screams. The street seemed to come alive all at once, as people began to realize what was happening. Chad ran three blocks to the Kirkland offices, which were downwind from the flames. Already he could smell the acrid smoke, feel bits of burning embers biting at his flesh. He darted inside, charging into his office and quickly lighting a lamp. With a pounding heart he yanked a drawer from his desk and shoved everything into it that was most important, including his files on eastern investors in worthless mines owned by Colorado Mining Company, the bogus company he had set up for Bea. He grabbed up land records, deeds to property and buildings, and hurried back outside.

  Buildings just two blocks away were already breaking into flames, and sickening popping and cracking noises were followed by windows blowing out or sudden gushes of cinders leaping into the air. People were running everywhere now, horses whinnying, a few wagons clattering by, filled with people already fleeing the area where the fire was the worst.

  Chad ran with the drawer full of files, heading away from the fire, the wind at his back. Hot ashes flicked at his skin in painful little stabs. He ran past his own hotel, the new Denver Inn, of which Bea was so proud. He ran through an alley, heading east and north, then veering in the exact direction of the fire, but keeping farther east of it so that he could get around behind it, where there was less danger.

  Suddenly smoke smacked him in the face, burning his eyes, and for a moment he couldn’t see or think straight. He bent over and coughed, setting the drawer down for a moment to regain his bearings. He rubbed at his eyes and looked around, noticing another building on fire that was not even in the path of the flames. Its roof had begun burning from cinders blown about in the wind. The wind was gusting in a hundred directions. There was really no way of being sure what path the fire would take.

  Now the whole town had come alive with screams and shouts. A fire wagon rushed past him, but he knew it would be of no use. There was no saving Denver in this dry wind, with most buildings made of hardwood or pitch-filled pine logs, most rooftops made of split shakes. The new fire company was just that—new and disorganized.

  He again picked u
p the drawer full of valuable records, heading out of town and toward Kirkland Bluffs. He had to alert Kirk and Bea. Maybe there was more that could be saved. The drawer seemed to get heavier and heavier as he ran, but he hung onto it. He stopped partway up the gradual but steep incline away from the city to sit down and rest for a moment, looking back on the disaster that was taking place below.

  Fire seemed to be everywhere now. It looked for a moment as if the two Kirkland banks and the hotels might still be alright, but he could tell from here that the warehouses were already burning. He forced himself back to his feet and started running again, clinging to the drawer, wanting to get it to safety so he could go back to see if there was anything he and Kirk could do to save Kirkland property or help get people to safety. He wished he had a horse, but there had not been time to grab Sierra.

  Sierra! He turned again. He had used Sierra yesterday, had put the animal up in the stalls used for hotel guests. Irene’s treasured horse was still down there! “Damn,” he growled. How could he face Irene if something happened to Sierra? He could only pray she wouldn’t blame him. After all, his first thought had to be for important Kirkland records.

  With an aching heart he turned and hurried on, not even thinking about how Susan Stanner’s death had not affected him nearly as much as the death of Irene’s horse would. He hoped the animal would survive until he could get back down to it, if he could even go near the area. He ran until he thought his chest might burst, stumbling up the steps to the house. He dropped the drawer of files and pounded on the door.

  “Kirk! Everybody! Wake up in there,” he shouted. He pounded again, hollering until Ester Sanchez, wearing a nightcap and a robe, opened the door and held up a lamp, embarrassed to see Chad standing there bare-chested. He pushed his way inside to greet Kirk as the man came hurrying downstairs in his underwear to see Chad standing in the great room, panting, black from smoke, small burns all over his chest, arms and back.

  “Denver,” he panted. “The whole town’s on fire!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Irene’s blood ran cold as the Overland Stage Company coach in which she rode approached Denver. The coach made its way along Seventeenth Street, past smoldering ruins. The heart of Denver, including one of the Kirkland banks and, Irene could see even from a block away, the new Denver Inn, were gone.

  “Dear God,” she muttered, her heart pounding with dread. Was her family all right? And what about Chad? He lived at the Inn! Others in the coach gawked out the windows, astonished at what they saw. Everything was black, smoke still drifting from charred wood. People milled about in the streets, shaking their heads, some crying, some trying to climb amid the ruins of their homes or businesses to see if they could find anything left of value.

  “This must have just happened last night,” a man inside the coach spoke up. “Otherwise we would have heard about it at the last stop.”

  “It’s been a dry spring,” said another.

  Irene searched frantically for signs of life as the coach passed what was left of the Denver Inn. Its brick walls still stood, but the roof was gone, and the insides were gutted. The coach slowed there, unable to go on because of debris in the dusty street. The driver climbed down, announcing the passengers would have to get off here, or he could turn around and drive them to the closest undamaged hotel.

  Irene climbed out, unsure what to do. Acrid smoke stung her nose, and a pig ambled past her, snorting and nudging its nose into an overturned barrel of apples. She jumped back when two dogs came bounding toward her to chase the pig, and suddenly the air was filled with squeals and barks. The pig ran off, the dogs biting at its heels.

  Everything seemed to be in chaos. Irene searched the staggering masses of people for her family, but saw no familiar faces. It appeared at least half of Denver was burned to the ground. Would her parents recover from this? Were they all right? She saw Chad running toward the coach then, his hair a tumble, his face dirty, his pants torn. She recognized the shirt he wore as her father’s.

  “Irene,” he called out. “I’ve been waiting at the Overland station—” he didn’t finish. He threw his arms about her waist, and she hugged him in great relief. He was all right. “What a terrible thing for you to have to come home to,” he told her, kissing her hair.

  She looked up at him, and he met her mouth in a gentle kiss, then pulled away, his eyes moving over her. “You look wonderful, Irene. God, I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too, Chad,” she answered, gripping his arms. “Oh, Chad, what happened! Are my parents all right?”

  “They’re okay. They were up at the house when it happened.” He glanced at the ruins of the Denver Inn. “Thank God I was having trouble sleeping last night,” he continued, “or I might not be standing here to greet you.”

  “Oh, Chad,” she exclaimed, hugging him around the middle, resting her head against his chest. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  He embraced her tightly, almost glad for the fire. The possibility of his demise had made her appreciate him more. “I managed to save most of the important papers from Kirkland Enterprises,” he told her. “The offices are gone, the Inn here, and one of the warehouses. We lost one bank, but gold and paper money that was in the safe was salvaged. Your mother has already moved it to the National Bank. The Inn is a tremendous loss for her, Irene, but at least the brick walls are still standing, and the Kirkland Hotel is all right.”

  “This is so terrible.” She wept, pulling away from him then. “Thank God none of you was hurt. What about Mother and Father? How are they handling their losses?”

  “Your mother has already wired San Francisco for more goods to be shipped here as quickly as possible. With so many people in need, whatever she can get in here will bring a good deal of money. It will help a little in recovering from the financial blow.” He couldn’t tell her that Bea Kirkland had made a killing with her bogus mining investment company, money that would go a long way in offsetting what had happened here. “You know Bea,” he added. “Always thinking ahead, diving right back into things. They’ll be all right, Irene.”

  Irene wiped at her eyes, wondering why she had momentarily let herself worry about her parents’ financial situation. If anyone could bounce back and recoup her losses, Bea Kirkland could. The woman would die before she let herself go under financially.

  Chad asked the stage driver to take Irene’s luggage up to the Kirkland mansion, describing where it was and handing the man a five-dollar gold piece for his trouble. “The whole family is here in town helping clean up,” he told Irene, taking her arm. “They’re sorry they couldn’t all be here. We had planned to give you a grand reception. Bea and Kirk both missed you so much. I’ll take you down to the Kirkland Hotel. Your father is there giving directions to some cleanup crews. John and Elly are at the National Bank with Bea helping set up new records. Bea is already talking about rebuilding the Inn, only bigger and grander.”

  Irene looked around at the pitiful ruins. One man sat crying in front of what had once been his supply store. She thought how Bea Kirkland would never cry over such a thing. She would simply get to work rebuilding.

  “Bea says that after what has happened, Denver businesses had better think about rebuilding with brick,” Chad was telling her as they walked slowly toward the hotel. “That could have prevented much of the damage. The wind was so bad, it just picked up all those flying embers from all the wood buildings and blew them onto rooftops, starting more fires. You should have seen this place last night, Irene. It was like a living hell.”

  Dogs ran everywhere, and Irene gasped when one man turned and pulled a six-gun, shooting two dogs. “Chad!”

  Chad pulled her to the other side of the street. “It’s a new law,” he told her. “So many dogs are running loose they’re forming wild packs. People are allowed to shoot any dog that isn’t tied.” He stopped and grasped her arms. “My God, I didn’t even ask you, maybe you’d rather go to the house first.”

  “No. Not if everyon
e is here. I want to help.”

  His eyes moved over her. She looked ravishing in a blue-striped dress with a deep blue short velvet jacket fitted tightly at her slender waist, with darts in just the right places to accent her full bosom. Her blue velvet hat was perched on golden hair swept up in a tumble of curls. He longed for the day she would be his wife and he could forget about having to be so respectful. “You aren’t even dressed for this. You can’t walk around these filthy streets with these clothes on.”

  “It’s all right. Just take me to see my father at least. Then maybe I can go home and change and come back.” She studied his bloodshot eyes. “Chad, you look terrible. Have you been up all night?”

  He grinned, his face looking even blacker against his white, even teeth. “Some homecoming, isn’t it? Yeah, I’ve been awake since three or so this morning.” He put an arm around her waist and continued walking with her. “I’ll survive. I can’t go to sleep anyway. I don’t have a bed anymore. Hell, I don’t even have any clothes!”

  “Chad,” she said softly, resting her head against his side as they walked. “You know Mother and Father will help. You can stay at our house until things get back to normal.”

  It did feel good to have her back. She was the calm in the storm, a rock amid the raging waters of his confused soul. He slowed his walk, turning to her again. “I’m still yours, Irene,” he told her, bringing utter devotion into his eyes. “Are you still mine?”

  Their eyes held. He looked so pitiful, had apparently been through hell helping save her family’s possessions. And he had saved her father’s life once. “Yes,” she answered.