Midnight Secrets

by Janelle Taylor

  Ginny checked outside in all directions before she went to the barn and corral out back to saddle her horse. She attached her supplies and saddlebags, then mounted. From sightseeing trips last week with Frank, she knew which road she needed to take. It was Friday at five o’clock; the town was busy and noisy enough that she should go unnoticed in her disguise, and she was visibly well armed to discourage trouble. There were about three to four hours of daylight left to assist her escape, time to get miles away and concealed in the forest. She scanned her surroundings and, seeing no one, she left the boardinghouse corral to head for her destination, about four days’ ride from town.

  Stone had finally shaken both men and sneaked to the boardinghouse barn to hide in the hayloft until later. He’d heard someone below him and stayed still and quiet. When the person had gone outside after saddling a horse, he’d peeked through a crack and seen his Ginny sneaking off alone and obviously prepared for a long trip! Astonishment, dismay, and confusion had kept him from exposing himself to her or to anyone who might join her.

  Stone reasoned that she knew where the cabin was located and must be heading there. But why leave without him or not even telling him? If he hadn’t been concealed here, she would be long gone before he was wise to her ruse. She had been such a genteel lady when they’d first met, but she’d learned plenty of tricks and skills since that day months ago. Stone read panic in her behavior and posture, and he wondered about the cause for them. Perhaps Matt had gotten a message to her to join him somewhere in the foothills. Or maybe she had decided to look for her father at the cabin. That was rash and dangerous, and not including him was suspicious. He would shadow her to seek the truth but not reveal himself unless she got into trouble.

  Shu, woman, you said you told me everything. Said you loved me and trusted me. Why are you sneaking off like this? Maybe you knew I was keeping something from you and that caused you to doubt me and bolt. Or maybe you’re just choosing your father over me. Mercy, Ginny love, how can I help you, protect you, and win you if you keep running away from me?

  Ginny avoided the two toll roads that snaked into the foothills, ways of getting wagons and supplies inland. As she rode northwestward, she glanced at Pike’s Peak and was relieved she didn’t have to head in that direction or scale the towering summit that was still capped with snow despite the fact it was almost July. Yet many sharp ridges, plateaus, valleys, meadows, canyons, and rugged terrain lay between her and the secluded cabin. The lofty range before her was intimidating and beautiful. The landscape’s colors were almost startling in their vividness: the sky overhead was an intense blue; trees, grasses, and bushes were various shades of green; upturned hills and boulders of red sandstone blazed like fire beneath the sun; and snow atop peaks or trapped in crevices of grayish brown or crimson rock was a pristine white.

  She passed near Manitou Springs where ancient cliff dwellers had lived, hundreds of years ago. She rode through the edge of the Garden of the Gods and was fascinated by the unusual formations in red-and-white sandstone, some reaching two to three hundred feet tall. She followed the map’s instructions, which she had committed to memory, staying within sight of the northernmost toll road but out of view from any travelers or workers on it. She knew the road and the stream near it would be her markers for a long time.

  Gradually the elevation increased but not fast enough to create a hardship on the horse or herself. Her pace was slow, but the ride wasn’t difficult, yet. Pines and scrubs clung tenaciously to rocky cliffsides, creating a lovely contrast of emerald and vermilion.’ She ventured between rugged hogbacks with verdant coverings of piñon, oaks, juniper, alder, and birch. She saw trees twisted and stripped by the forces of harsh nature and creeks of swift, clear water which she discovered was cold when she halted to rest near one and drank from it. It had been warm today, but she knew the air would cool fast when dusk arrived in the mountains that engulfed her. The light jacket already felt good, but Stone’s embrace, she mused dreamily, would have been better.

  Don’t do this to yourself Ginny. He’s left behind for now. Until Father explains his part in their past, you can’t trust him.

  The long and lonely journey continued. She needed to put as many miles as possible between her and Colorado City before dark closed in around her. It was fortunate there were no strikes and prospectors in the area she was covering, for now anyway. She skirted a rocky cliff where a stream of icy water shot over the precipice with a loud roar and in a burst of white. During her ride, she saw and heard squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks, bison, and pronghorn. Once, she and a moose startled each other in a low marshy place near a nature-made pond.

  When she reached the highest elevation since departure, Ginny paused to glance back at Colorado City in the flatland far below her. It looked as small and alone as she felt in the heights around her and the vast expanse of the land before her. Continue or turn back? she asked herself.

  There was no choice; she was committed. Frank wouldn’t know she was missing until Sunday evening and might be fooled until Monday by the message in her note to Hattie and the possessions left behind. He might believe she had panicked and traveled to Denver to put distance between them, and perhaps search for her there. She hoped so as that would give her more escape time. But even if she headed back this minute, she wouldn’t reach town before Stone realized she was gone, if he found a way to get to her room tonight. She couldn’t imagine what he would do when he discovered she had vanished again.

  Damn you for lying to me last night. Can I ever trust you again? Ginny forced him from mind after warning herself to stay alert.

  The forest-covered Rampart Range to her right was steep and rugged, and she was glad she didn’t have to cross it. She heard a wagon rumbling down a slope on the road and paused behind bushes to stay out of view. She reached the point where it veered southwest beyond Cascade Creek; that knowledge supplied her present location. She was glad she’d practiced drawing the map from memory and she could close her eyes and visualize it with clarity.

  Dusk approached and told Ginny she must halt soon to camp. At least a near full moon was rising to prevent the woods from being pitch dark on her first night out alone. That and having eaten before her departure would enable her to skip lighting a fire whose flames could be sighted and odor smelled by the wrong person. She was compelled to guide her mount into a rushing stream to avoid rough and uneven terrain. As they walked in the chilly water, she strained her ears to catch any sound of prospectors panning or camping ahead. She prayed she would see danger before it struck, as her view was restricted by twists of the hilly banks. By the time the terrain allowed her to leave the water, she’d only encountered animals coming to drink and she’d spooked them. She passed Sand Gulch and saw a cabin on one hillside with smoke leaving its chimney to reveal it was occupied. She rode onward, the elevation steadily increasing but the evergreen pass aiding her chore.

  Not far ahead she stopped for the night at Crystola Creek. She unsaddled the horse to let him drink and graze. If peril came while she was sleeping, surely he would make enough noise to awaken and alert her. She spread a borrowed blanket on pinestraw-covered ground and placed her weapons beside it.

  In the near darkness, Ginny heard all kinds of sounds. Nocturnal birds called to each other. Animals moved about in the brush, a browsing deer actually coming close before he sniffed her presence and darted away. Frogs and crickets were abundant near the water. It was chilly as she nestled into the blanket for warmth. When breezes stirred foliage and limbs, her imagination fashioned them into scary threats. Her heart pounded and pulse raced. She trembled. A few times, her teeth chattered. It didn’t help to try to convince herself she was being childish and cowardly. At last, exhaustion allowed her to sleep.

  Stone crept close to her position, tossed a blanket over him, and slept nearby to guard her. He wanted to ease her fears but needed, if he could, to wait until she exposed her motive for running away.

  On Saturday Ginny crossed the South Plat
te River and trekked through Wilkerson Pass in the lower mountain range. She was surrounded by trees of various types: a world of vivid green with smells she found refreshing and heady. Purple fringe, daisy, columbine, and monument plant gave certain areas beautiful splashes of color; so did the numerous butterflies and other insects working on them. She smiled as a pair of red foxes paused to watch her pass before returning to their playful rolls in the grass, and almost laughed aloud when a fat porcupine waddled across the trail and caused her mount to prance and whinny in fear of tangling with those sharp spines. She saw many large hares leaping for cover and wondered how one would taste roasted over a fire until crispy brown. Mule deer and elk grazed in meadows and only lifted their heads a moment to make certain she wasn’t a threat to them. She listened to squirrels chattering in trees and noisily feasting on the seeds inside pinecones. It was an awe-inspiring territory that was lovely and peaceful for the time being.

  For the past two nights Ginny had refused to fret over the three men in her life and allow such thoughts to distract her concentration. She didn’t want to worry and suffer over her father’s survival. She didn’t want to fear over Frank’s vengeful pursuit. She didn’t want to agonize over Stone’s possible betrayal and treachery.

  But she could no longer keep the men from her thoughts. She scolded herself for not giving Stone a chance to explain before she acted on impulse from anguish and shock. It was probably foolish and dangerous to have ridden into this vast wilderness alone. Anything could happen to her. She could have an accident and be far from help. She could be attacked by a band of men like Bart’s gang. She could encounter a perilous wild animal; already she had seen two large bears this morning. She could fall prey to a renegade Indian or a desperate prospector driven mad from defeat and solitude. She could miss a marker and get lost, as mileage was difficult to judge in the rugged terrain. No matter that Stone was misguided and mistaken about her father, she was certain he loved and wanted her and wouldn’t harm her. It had been stupid to take off without speaking with him and bringing him along. He must be thinking horrible things about her.

  She had warned him that Kinnon was dangerous, though Stone could take care of himself; if Kinnon believed he knew where the silver was located, he could try to beat the information out of him or even ambush and kill him. Stone could be in danger this instant. Probably the only reason Kinnon hadn’t attacked Stone so far was because the villain knew he was a lawman whose murder would entice other agents to investigate and possibly unmask him. Kinnon had no way, she hoped, of knowing what Stone may have written in his official reports about him.

  Without a doubt, the moment that telegram arrived from Denver with a claim listed under V. A. Marston, Kinnon would head for the same location she would reach on Tuesday. If Stone didn’t arrive soon after she did and her father wasn’t there, she must ride to the closest town for protection while she decided what step to take next.

  She retrieved her attention as she saw a distant cliffside honeycombed with tunnels. Sluices and flumes snaked their way down rocky walls to a place where workers waited to separate gold from gravel and sand. Men with rakes, picks, shovels, and wheelbarrows labored under the late-June sun or in the near darkness of shafts. She watched a while, then journeyed onward until she found a sheltered area near Wilkerson Pass and camped.

  Monday, July first, Ginny left the dense forest for a time to travel across a plateau of scattered trees, scrubs, and rolling grassland. She used the fieldglasses and compass she had purchased in Colorado City to spy her markers and to provide the right direction. She continued to be successful in avoiding goldseekers and fur trappers on creeks and streams. She skirted the area where she saw a grassy hillside dotted with shaft entrances, some disappearing inward and others downward. Many men were mining the obviously productive site. Tents, shacks, lean-tos, and dugouts were scattered nearby for shelter and sleeping. Wagons and teams waited to be filled with gathered ore to be taken to a smelter or a Sampling Works, as she saw no processing structure. At the latter, Kinnon had told her that ore was purchased, assayed on the spot, and the miner paid, with a deduction for smelting and transporting charges. She made certain to go unnoticed.

  Before Ginny camped that night in a gulch, she checked the sky and air for signs of rain to prevent being trapped during a flash flood. Kinnon had told her how many men ignorant of this area were killed that way.

  She had finished her chicken and biscuits Saturday night. Yesterday she had risked a fire long enough to cook johnnycakes, warm beans from a tin, and to brew coffee, but she had doused it the moment her meal was ready. She did the same tonight. Tomorrow, she would eat the leftover bread and dried beef. She had been fortunate to have a constant water supply along the way. She longed for a relaxing and muscle-soothing bath but couldn’t risk being caught naked and unarmed by man or beast.

  When she finished eating, she stretched out her sore body on the blanket. This time, she dreamed of Stone when she slept.

  Tuesday she crossed another section of the South Platte River, a well-worn animal or Indian trail, and a creek with large boulders piled in a right-angle bend: all markers on her mental map, which told her she was still on the right path and nearing the cabin. Forest enclosed her again. Ridges of rippling hogbacks filled her line of vision and peaks towered in most directions. Weston Pass southward and Mount Lincoln northward stood out as two of the tallest, with the cabin she sought located halfway between the two majestic points that were guiding the remainder of her journey.

  Shortly after midday, Ginny spied the rustic cabin perched on a large shelf of a steep hillside with a swift stream at its base. It looked unreachable on its lofty perch of sharp and slick rock. The relatively flat ledge and three cliffsides were strewn with trees to provide wood for winter fires and cooking. She wondered how her father and Clay had constructed the sturdy dwelling in such a difficult place. A ladder was raised to prevent entry to trespassers or attackers, but she knew how to lower it. The place appeared to be deserted for a long time. She watched for a while but heard and saw no one nearby.

  Ginny rode to the stream and “dismounted. “Father! Matt Marston! Are you here?” she yelled. “Is anybody inside? Father, it’s Ginny!”

  There was no response, which distressed her. She wondered if he was at the silver site but doubted it because there was no horse or mule nearby, or any tracks fresh or old. All she heard was the rushing of the stream and birds singing. She guided her horse across the cold water to a grass spot, then dropped his reins. She unloaded her supplies and possessions in case something endangered him and he abandoned her.

  She stood below the ladder and gazed up at it. She didn’t like how rickety the climbing device looked and wondered if it was too old for safe ascent. But if her father had left a message there for her, she must—

  “Do you know how to lower the ladder and get inside?”

  Startled, Ginny whirled, her eyes wide, her mouth agape, and her hand going to the butt of Slim’s pistol. “Stone! How …” He looked so handsome and she was so happy to see him that she almost flung herself into his arms before reality returned with his too quick reply.

  “I’ve been on your tail since you deserted me. You did a good job of leaving unseen and getting here safely. You’re smarter and braver than I realized, woman. I’ve been guarding you day and night during the journey.”

  “Guarding me or letting me lead you to my father so you can kill him?”

  “So, you did know the truth all along, just as I feared and suspected.”

  Stone’s hazy answer tormented Ginny’s heart and she was glad her father wasn’t there to confront and challenge this beloved enemy.

  CHAPTER 19

  Ginny glared at him as she tried to conceal her anguish. “You’re sadly mistaken, Mr. Special Agent. I didn’t know about your lies and sinister plans until you riled Frank so badly Friday that he tattled on you.”

  Stone tensed in dread. “What did he tell you about me?”

&nbs
p; “The truth, Mr. Traitorous Chapman.”

  Stone realized that this conversation wasn’t going to be easy. “What is ‘the truth’ Ginny?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you knew both my father and Clay? Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been here many times, that on some of those visits you came searching for my father to kill him for something he didn’t do? He would never murder anyone, especially not Clayton Cassidy.” Before he could respond, she said, “We’d better prepare for an attack by Frank’s men. He said he was having you followed so you probably led them straight here. They’ll kill us both to get information. I was wrong about you. I thought we had been honest with each other. I told you everything about me and thought you’d done the same.”

  “Then why did you take off like that? You didn’t even allow me to explain. You believed what Kinnon—a stranger and your target—said over what the man you claim to love and trust told you. And don’t worry about Kinnon’s men; I lost them Friday afternoon before I sneaked to Hattie’s barn to wait for you to get back from your romantic dinner with your boss.”

  To clear the oppressive air between them, Ginny knew she must be cooperative and honest and pray he would be, too. “I’ll admit it was foolish and dangerous to take off like I did,” she began her explanation, “but I was too hurt and angry and scared to think straight, and I was too far along on the trail to turn back when my head cleared. Besides, Frank telegraphed Denver to check on three names for land registration: Marston, Cassidy, and Chapman. He’ll get a response Monday and I’ll be exposed, thanks to your reckless nosing around. He thinks you might have been a third partner in the strike and that you filed the claim for yourself. He suspects you know where it is. Did you already know about this location?”