“Gentlemen, the mine is over there,” she said, pointing to the entrance in the hillside. “Everett, why don’t you come in and share a glass of tea with me while they see to their business?”
The boy looked up at her and smiled. “Oh, Sabine, I kinda want …” He longingly looked after the group moving off.
“Go on,” she said.
They moved off as a group, Everett trailing behind, but the last two—Rinaldi, with his twisted grin and improper gaze, and Nic, his jaw muscles tightening and eyes hardening in his direction—lingered a moment.
“Let’s get on with it, Rinaldi,” Nic growled, shooting a look from him to Sabine and back again. “Mr. Dell is far ahead.”
“On my way, Mr. St. Clair,” he said, still staring at Sabine. “Mrs. LaCrosse.” He tipped his hat, then slowly, ever so slowly, moved his eyes off her and onto the path ahead.
Nic gave her a rueful look that said, I’ll want to know later what that was about, and then followed him up the path. His body moved in the easy, rocking motion of a man comfortable in the saddle.
Sabine stared after Nic. It felt nice to have a man look after her. Only Peter and Sinopa had done that for her.
Or was it that they were the only two she had ever allowed to do so?
CHAPTER TEN
Nic wondered why Sabine had refused to accompany them down to town the next day, saying she’d be along at the appointed hour. After the visit from the surveyor’s team, and Rinaldi’s clearly unwanted attention, she’d seemed to take a step back, refusing to tell him what had happened. Was Rinaldi a past beau or a threat of some other kind? Every time he thought of it, his heart raced in protective concern for her.
You have no business entertaining thoughts of Sabine LaCrosse, he told himself for the hundredth time. He was about to sell the mine and leave. There was no time for a romance to develop, even if he was interested and she happened to be interested too, which he hadn’t yet ascertained. It was an idle, foolish distraction, this idea of Everett and Sabine and him somehow being together forever. She had her life. He had his. Everett would find his way too, in time.
Daisy stumbled as they left the Gulch path and hit the main road into town. Everett swung around behind him, holding firmly to Nic’s waist, as the horse pulled up short.
“She’s thrown a shoe,” Everett said.
“Ahh,” Nic growled, swallowing a swear word. “Hop off.”
Everett did as he was told, and then Nic swung his leg over and lowered himself to the road. He leaned into the mare’s hind quarters until her weight shifted, and then he lifted her hoof, easing it up as Everett ran back to retrieve the missing shoe. Nic felt along her fetlock, and was relieved to find that nothing else appeared to be wrong. He sighed and said, “At least we’re early. Let’s head on over to Jed’s and see if he can reshoe her.”
Everett hesitated. “Maybe God doesn’t want us to do this—sell the mine.”
Nic scoffed. “You a believer in God now?”
The boy shrugged a shoulder, the tinge of a blush at his cheeks. “Me and my dad, we’ve always believed in God.”
Nic softened when the boy mentioned Peter. He reached out a hand and put it on Everett’s shoulder. “This is a good thing, Ev. You’ll see.”
But the child wouldn’t return his gaze. Nic held his breath, ignoring the sense of betrayal in his chest. Was it for the child or for himself that he was so keen to sell the mine? Then he swallowed hard. He hadn’t asked to become guardian to Everett Vaughn. Peter had gone and gotten himself killed—that was no fault of his. No, he could sell this mine, put money away for Everett that he’d never have seen otherwise, find him a good home, and move on. This was just another stop for Nic on a very long journey home. These people intrigued and moved him, but they were not part of his future. He had to get to Odessa, find out about Moira … the money from the mine would allow him to do that with his head held high. His sisters never need know that he had spent and gambled his inheritance away, just as their father had feared he would.
They walked through town, Daisy moving more easily behind them now that she was relieved of her burden. “I’ll want you to fetch some supplies at the mercantile,” he said to Everett, “while I’m at the meeting.”
“Yessir.”
They passed a new block of small, hastily constructed buildings, all raised over the last two weeks. A livery. A laundry. A restaurant. The town was bustling, far busier this day than when Nic had arrived.
“Well, lookie there,” Jed boomed, spotting them as they entered the stable gates. “Thought for sure you’d end up a dead man before the month was out.” He came over to thump Nic on the back.
Nic glanced at the child, who blanched at Jed’s words. Jed followed his gaze. “Didn’t mean no disrespect, son,” he said. “No, no, Peter was as fine as they come, a saint among us. This one”—he slapped Nic on the back again—“is a mere mortal, far as I can tell.” He looked beyond them to the mare. “Now what’s come against that mare of yours?”
“Threw a shoe,” Nic said. “We were wondering if you could see to her in the next few hours.”
Jed studied him and lifted his chin. “You goin’ to meet with the men of the Dolly Mae now?”
Nic frowned. How could the old man know that already? Although he supposed talk of mines and their production was on everyone’s lips. “I might be,” he said.
“Hold on there, friend,” Jed said, cocking his head to one side. Did Everett lean slightly forward, sensing an ally? “I’d tread mighty carefully with them folk,” Jed went on. “What’re they offering you?”
“I’m really not at liberty to—”
“What are they offering you?” he insisted calmly.
Nic clamped his lips shut for a moment and studied him. Something about his expression made him want to trust him. What did it hurt? “Fifty thousand.”
Jed nodded and looked down at the ground. “A handsome sum. Handsome. But I happened to know the owner of the Dolly Mae, back when it was nothing but a claim like yourn.”
“And?”
“And, they gave him a handsome sum too, then proceeded to mine a thousand times that out of that there earth.” He gestured in the direction of the Dolly Mae.
“They’re offering shares as well.”
“That’s good, good,” Jed said, nodding. He sighed and sat down on the end of a log, upended to be a stool of sorts. He gestured to two other logs, and after Nic and Everett sat down, he leaned forward. “But I’m tellin’ ya, it’s likely they’ll get much more out of the Vaughn mine.”
Nic scowled. “But an operation like theirs is apt to retrieve far more gold than I could ever get at on my own. No, it’s best to take the money and the shares and let them have at it.” He glanced over at Everett. “Go see the mare into the stable, Ev.”
“But I—”
“Go,” he said sharply.
Jed kept his eyes on Nic as the child left them. Then he looked over Nic’s shoulder, down the street, as if to make sure they were still alone. “Those men,” he said in barely more than a whisper, “they are not honest sorta men, ’spite what they seem.”
“What does that mean?” Nic growled.
Jed hesitated, as if he were offended by Nic’s response, and then said, “They swindled my friend Flaherty. Didn’t even pay ’im the second half promised. Cited details in that contract of theirs that they said they could use against ’im.”
“But that mine paid out in the millions. It makes no sense.”
Jed nodded. “I know it. But you’ve got a bigger problem.”
“What’s that?”
“The Dolly Mae is even more powerful than before.”
Nic waited.
“Once that sort wants somethin’, it’s mighty hard to dissuade ’em. They’re like a terrier with a rat, that’s what they are.”
“So … what would you advise?”
Jed leaned back and thought on it a moment; then, “Why not go and fetch your own ’vestors? Cr
eate your own company? Bring some men in here with pockets as deep as those of the Dolly Mae?” He tucked his head. “And hired guns to defend ’er.”
Nic laughed under his breath. “You think I can do that? Just mosey on down to Denver and find my own investors? And who’s to say they wouldn’t try and swindle me, just the same?”
Jed looked him steadily in the eye. “Maybe. Look, it ain’t none of my—”
“No, it’s not,” Nic said, rising. “Please, see to Daisy. We’ll be back after our meeting.” He beckoned to Everett, who was waiting in the dark of the stable doorway.
He looked back at Jed and felt a pang of contrition at the hurt expression on the older man’s face. “Look, I was a little—”
“Don’t mention it,” Jed said, with a dismissive flip of his hand. And then he turned his back and entered the stables.
o
Sabine rode down the Gulch beside the creek, closing her eyes and listening to the water rise and splatter, rush and fall. Above her, the wind wove through the white pines, making her think of her days as a small child at the reservation in Montana. There the trees had had a similar sound and were accompanied by the billow and snap of the worn tepee wall. To her, it was the sound of home.
She’d wanted this time to herself, not to have her thoughts clouded by Nic’s input or Everett’s chatter. Her father would have wanted her to seek Jesus’ guidance for her next steps. She closed her eyes and imagined his heavily accented voice, gone so long now. Jesu, Jesu, we must always zeek Him. Look for Jesu, ze Holy Father, ze Holy Ghost, Sabine. Zey are all around you. Zey never leave you. Never. Sabine looked up to the treetops, their leaves rattling in the wind and thought of God, all around her. Is this what You want me to do, Lord? Move on? Let this place go? Are You urging me forward? Away from this place?
She breathed in and out, waiting, but hearing nothing.
Sabine had always thought she’d grow old here, be buried in the town cemetery along with old miners and fellows down on their luck. If she left, where would she go? She had heard good things about Denver and Fort Collins. On the other side of the Rockies the winters were supposed to be a bit milder. And Nic was right; she’d enjoy a nice house with a nice view that she’d never have to leave.
She sighed as she reached the end of the path and entered the main street of St. Elmo. The law office of Jeffrey Hohn, where she was to meet Nic and the men of the Dolly Mae, was just ahead. When she saw Richard Rinaldi shift from his position and reach to take her reins at the hitching post, she resisted the urge to wheel the horse around and hightail it for home. She pretended confidence but refused to meet his eye.
“Sabine,” he said in greeting, eyeing her leg a bit too long as she pulled her boot from the stirrup. “You going to marry me, quick, before you make your fortune inside? Wouldn’t mind having a piece of that, as well as a piece of … well, you know.” His eyes moved down her body in a suggestive fashion.
She ignored him as she dismounted and moved past him, but he reached out and grabbed her arm. She stiffened, waiting, but refused to look his way. His companion, standing beside the door, looked down the street one way, and then another. He wasn’t going to intervene.
“You don’t even have the decency to respond?” Rinaldi growled lowly in her ear. “Don’t tell me you think you’re too good for me?”
Slowly, she moved her head and met his gaze. “Too good for you?” she said sweetly. “Why yes, Mr. Rinaldi, in more ways than you can imagine.” She wrenched her arm from his grasp and climbed the steps. “Open it,” she commanded the second man, who stood in front of the knob, arms folded. “Or tell your employers there’s no deal.”
Grudgingly, he moved aside, turning the knob for her. The men rose from their chairs at the table, Nic first, and after a second’s hesitation, the men of the Dolly Mae and the attorney, Jeffrey Hohn. Quietly the door closed behind her, and Sabine took a deep breath. She was temporarily shielded from one level of threat, leaving her to negotiate only that threat before her.
“Please, Mrs. LaCrosse, be seated,” Mr. Hohn said, pulling out a chair, beside him.
“We’re so glad you could attend our meeting,” Mr. Kazin said. Across from him, Mr. Dell nodded.
“Thank you.” Sabine unpinned her hat and laid it on the table, smoothly taking her seat. She looked at Nic across the table as the three men sat down, but his eyes told her nothing. Perhaps they had just begun their talks.
She waited and hoped Nic would stay silent too. Her father had taught her that it was always best to speak last in negotiations, not first.
She was thankful when Mr. Hohn opened a folder and extracted some papers. “You’ll see here that we’ve taken the liberty of drawing up the proper documents, ceding both your properties to the Dolly Mae Company.”
“Hmm, that is a liberty,” Nic said, accepting his set from Mr. Hohn and picking up Sabine’s from the table as she started to reach for them. He hesitated over them, looking in her direction as if to say, Is this all right?
She nodded. Together, unified, they would be stronger. And he’d promised not to agree to anything, not today.
The fellows of the Dolly Mae exchanged worried glances, then looked back to Nic as he compared both sets of documents, flipping to the second page. Sabine hid a smile and assumed a demure, patient posture in case they looked her way.
After perusing page three, Nic looked at Mr. Dell, then Mr. Kazin. “You are offering Mrs. LaCrosse forty thousand dollars less for her property than you are for mine.”
Mr. Kazin cleared his throat until it grated at Nic’s nerves. “Yes, well, our survey team was able to find positive proof that the vein is clearly on your property, Mr. St. Clair. There is an assumption that the vein will continue at its current angle, which would make it extend under Mrs. LaCrosse’s property. But there is no proof that it actually does.”
“True,” Nic said with a nod. “But you said, Mr. Kazin, that you are in need of Mrs. LaCrosse’s property to build the size of structure and supports you need to actively work the Vaughn mine, did you not?”
“We need the acreage,” Mr. Dell put in, clearly a bit flustered. “But we are paying you for the space and the guarantee of quality ore. For Mrs. LaCrosse, we are only assured of the space itself. And land in these parts, without ore, is hardly worth a dime an acre.”
Nic sat back, as poised as the seasoned gambler he was. “But Mrs. LaCrosse has the good fortune of having land adjacent to mine, which should be worth considerably more. And if this mine produces what you think—my, my, you gentlemen are in for quite a payday.”
Mr. Dell let out a small, scoffing laugh and threw up his hands. “But of course. If we did not hope for that, we would not be here at all.”
“Of course,” Nic repeated, nodding in a friendly way. He lifted one hand. “But given that you do hope for that, if you truly hope for that, the only fair thing would be to give Mrs. LaCrosse the same terms as you have given me.”
Mr. Kazin and Mr. Dell exchanged another short, alarmed glance, and both began to voice their retorts at the same time. Mr. Hohn tried to interrupt, tried to soothe the matter, but they ignored him.
Nic waited them out, not looking at them, but only at Sabine. There was something about Nic’s presence that both made her heart beat faster and calmed her at the same time. He let a small smile curl up the corners of his mouth as the two businessmen rattled on. Finally they were silent. Nic looked Mr. Kazin’s way.
“We cannot do it,” Mr. Kazin said, flushing at the neck. “It simply isn’t done that way!”
Nic looked to Mr. Dell.
“Perhaps you are too new here, Mr. St. Clair,” he said as he glanced Sabine’s way. “Mrs. LaCrosse knows how it is.” His mouth opened and closed, as if he were considering words, then swallowing them, then trying again. “Not only is Mrs. LaCrosse’s land … unverified, but she is not in the same position as others to negotiate.”
Nic’s brow lowered and all trace of his smile disappeared. Sabine
watched him, allowing him to rise to her defense, feeling his protection wrap around her shoulders like warm, supple leather.
He placed his hands on the table in a wide Y fashion, fingers splayed, and stared down at the wood between them for a long moment. Then he looked at each man. “I guess you face a puzzling situation, gentlemen. You know for a fact that the Vaughn mine carries a wealth of gold.…” He paused, allowing his words to settle like a hook in a fish’s jaw. “But you won’t see an ounce of it if you don’t deal fairly with the lady. She gets the same deal as me and Ev or there’s no deal at all.”
Mr. Dell stared at him, frozen, caught. “Everyone knows that a woman can’t expect the same as a man. If Mr. LaCrosse were here—”
“But he’s not. And he’s been declared dead. Right?” He looked quickly to Sabine, as if worried that they should have discussed the matter before, and then he visibly relaxed as she nodded. “So Sabine is the rightful owner.”
“But, Mr. St. Clair, it is not only the matter of Mrs. LaCrosse being female,” Mr. Kazin tried.
“No? What else?” He lifted a brow. “Is it that she is a teacher? Are teachers not allowed the maximum value on their property either?”
Sabine tried to keep her head up. He knew what they were saying. They all knew what the men were trying to say. She didn’t have the right to the full value of her land because she was—
Mr. Kazin cleared his throat and lifted his head high. “Mrs. LaCrosse is of mixed blood. There are some that would insist she go to a reservation. That is where people of her descent are allowed to own land. Nowhere else—”
Nic shoved his chair back and stood, then walked around the table and picked up Sabine’s hat and handed it to her. “I believe we must decline your offer, gentlemen. We came here believing you intended to deal with us in good faith.”
Sabine swiftly drove two hatpins into her hair and rose.
Claim: A Novel of Colorado (The Homeward Trilogy) Page 10
