Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1)

by Cynthia Wright

  Jack nodded. “Yes, and I can’t afford to lose a whole day. I’m afraid that, after I have something to eat, I’ll have to be on my way again.” Watching Lim refill his mug, he added, “It wouldn’t do for Van Hosten to hear I’d been in town today, either. I begged off making that stage trip with him because I couldn’t spare the time.”

  “Well, if he’s gone to Sacramento, he doubtless won’t return for two or three days. Besides, why should it matter to you one way or the other? You’re no longer in his employ, are you?”

  “That’s true. I don’t care particularly, but on the other hand, he isn’t a man I’d choose for an enemy.” Jack rubbed his eyes with long fingers. “What are you serving today?”

  “Boiled mutton with oyster sauce, and there’s bread pudding, too. Abby, would you fetch a plate of food for Mr. Adams?”

  Reluctantly, Abby let go of Jack’s arm and headed off to the tiny kitchen at the back of the saloon. Jack gazed at Katie.

  “You must be at least as hot and tired as I am,” he remarked. “Why don’t you come around here and sit down for a few minutes? Just because you’re in charge doesn’t mean you have to stay on your feet the entire time.”

  After a moment, Katie succumbed to temptation. She gave him a smile, knowing that he found her smiles beguiling, walked around the bar, and perched on the stool next to his.

  “It’s almost worth the time and trouble just to see you again,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

  Katie knew that she was bedraggled, but she felt radiantly pretty in Jack’s eyes. She wasn’t sure what it was that he saw in her, but it pleased her that he saw it. On the other side of the bar, Abby set down the plate of mutton with a thud, rousing them both. Jack had just lifted his fork when Gideon Henderson entered the saloon.

  “Hello, Gideon!” Katie greeted him. “What brings you here? I hope you don’t need me today because Papa has gone to Sacramento, and I promised to look after the saloon in his absence.”

  Gideon’s face was pale and covered with a film of sweat. “That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about, Katie.” He stood facing her. Swallowing hard, he continued, “The sheriff asked me to tell you... well, it’s bad news...”

  “Yes?” Dimly, Katie felt Jack’s strong male hand clasp her own, and then Gideon’s face seemed to blur before her eyes.

  “There was an accident today. The Griffin held up the Sacramento stage, and Brian was shot....”

  “He’s not—”

  His face came closer, eyes swimming with tears behind his spectacles. “Katie, I’m so sorry. Your father is dead.”

  Jack was on his feet, gathering her into his arms and holding her fast. Katie’s knees buckled, and her mouth opened wide to scream, but no sound came out. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she twisted in Jack’s arms, looking for Gideon. He reached out to clasp her shoulder.

  With an effort, she whispered, “Are you saying... that the Griffin shot Papa?”

  Gideon nodded. “It looks that way. Your father and Harold Van Hosten were both killed. But you don’t want to hear about this now—”

  “Yes. Tell me.” She leaned against Jack, letting his arms support her. She hadn’t the strength to both stand and speak. Jack was stroking her hair, and the rhythmic motion of his hand seemed to be all that kept her heart beating.

  “Well, the details are a bit muddled. Victoria Barnstaple and her sister were the only other passengers, and they are both hysterical and confused. The driver was climbing down from the box when your father was shot, so he’s not entirely certain what happened, either, but as I understand it, the Griffin asked Brian and Van Hosten to get out of the coach. He took them behind it—to search Van Hosten, I believe—when a struggle ensued. At the end, both men were dead and the Griffin was unharmed. There is some question as to whether your father was shot by Van Hosten or the Griffin.”

  “Van Hosten?” Katie’s thoughts spun crazily. “But that’s impossible. He wouldn’t shoot Papa, he’d have tried to shoot the Griffin.”

  Jack spoke up quietly. “There may be more to the story than we know. Perhaps the stage driver will remember more clearly.”

  “But it doesn’t really matter, does it?” she replied. She felt cold, lifeless, her heart a stone. “Papa is dead, and the Griffin is to blame, even if he didn’t fire the shot that killed him. If he hadn’t robbed the stage, Papa would be alive right now.”

  “That’s true,” Gideon agreed, nodding. “Oh, Katie, I wish with all my heart that I could undo this terrible thing. You know that I loved Brian, too. Everyone did. He was a wonderful, kind-hearted man, and he certainly didn’t deserve to die. Not yet, and not like this!”

  Katie disengaged from Jack and went to embrace her friend. He had begun to weep, and as she patted Gideon’s back, her own tears began to flow at last. Great, gulping sobs racked her body. She felt like crumpling to the floor, but instead, after a few moments, her composure began to return. Jack held out a handkerchief and she took it, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose.

  “Why don’t you sit down, Katie?” It was Abby, holding a chair for her.

  She sank onto the wooden chair and drew a deep breath. “Well, there’s nothing I can do, is there? I can’t change what’s happened.”

  Lim Sung knelt beside her. “You must grieve, dear friend, and leave the rest to us. No worries.”

  “No... worries?” Katie repeated, and gave a bitter laugh. Suddenly she realized that she was all alone. Both her parents were dead—the two people she loved and needed most were lost to her forever. Now she was completely responsible for herself. She would have to run the saloon on her own, live in the house without her father, and be able to support herself. The future yawned before her—interminable, uncertain... an uncharted wasteland. Was it possible that her father would never again wrap her in his bearlike embrace and warmly tell her how dear she was to him? Through a mist of tears, Katie stretched out a hand toward Lim. “You won’t leave me yet, will you?”

  “Of course not.” He tilted his dark head against hers. “No worries, Katie. Not now.”

  “Let me get you a drink,” Abby offered. “That will make you feel better.”

  “Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Katie whispered.

  “Believe me, it helps,” she insisted, and slipped behind the bar to pour Katie a sherry. Soon after handing it over to her, Abby retired to the storeroom at the back of the saloon.

  Jack looked on as Lim and Gideon pulled up chairs next to Katie and murmured reassurances. After a moment, he rose and walked quietly back to the storeroom, pushing open the door just in time to see Abby quickly attempt to conceal an open bottle of sherry. He winced.

  “Have you lost your mind, Abby?” He crossed the storeroom and wrenched the bottle from her trembling hands. “You’re working, for God’s sake!”

  “Mr. MacKenzie’s murder is a terrible shock to all of us,” she cried, eyes wide with panic. “I just needed a little something to calm my nerves.”

  “Save your excuses for someone more gullible. You’ve been drinking in secret, haven’t you? You’ve been through a difficult time, what with Ben’s death and moving to Columbia, but this has to stop.” His voice softened slightly. “Drinking won’t make your problems go away. Believe me, they’ll wait for you and just get worse.”

  Abby began to weep, clinging to his sleeves. “Please, Jack, take me with you when you go! Don’t you see, I love you! The only moments of happiness I’ve known since Ben died have been with you, and today, when you went away, it felt as if my heart... as if I had a knife in my heart. I wouldn’t be any trouble! I’ll take care of you and love you and—”

  Jack held her away from him. “Abby, you don’t love me. You’re just grateful to me because I reached out to help you. You have to build a new life. A good starting place would be dealing with your feelings instead of numbing them.”

  Out in the corridor, Katie stopped at the sound of Jack’s raised voice. Then Abby’s sobs reached her ears. She’d come
back to tell them that she was going home to be alone for a while, but obviously this was not a moment to interrupt.

  “No, no! I’m so lonely!” she heard Abby cry. “No one in this town really cares about me. I’ll die if you don’t take me with you!”

  “That’s enough. If you are lonely, it’s because you haven’t tried to make friends here in Columbia. There are many people here who will care for you if you will let them.” There was a slight pause, and then Jack went on in a firm voice: “Besides, I cannot take you with me. There is a woman waiting for me in San Francisco.”

  Katie backed away from the door, forcing down the wave of confusion and pain that threatened to engulf her. It was too much. As she returned to Lim and Gideon, there was a buzzing in her ears and she felt as if she were floating. When the faces of her two friends came into focus, she tried to smile.

  “Lim... you’ll come home with me, won’t you?”

  “Of course.” He took her arm. “Mr. Henderson, do you think you can close the saloon? Ask Mrs. Armitage to help you.”

  As Lim led her toward the door, Katie looked back over her shoulder. “Tell the men it will just be for tonight. Tomorrow we’ll be open as usual. Papa would want that.”

  * * *

  The MacKenzie house was showered with iridescent white moonlight. Standing on Jackson Street, Jack paused for a moment before opening the neat little gate. Everything looked just the same as it had when he’d left that morning. Red hollyhocks marched merrily along the picket fence, and the morning glory vines tumbled over the porch. A golden light shone at the kitchen window, completing the illusion of a contented, happy home.

  But everything had changed. Jack’s heart ached whenever he thought of Brian. The image of his ruddy, smiling face, blue eyes twinkling under bushy white brows, was painfully fresh in his mind. He could still feel the warm pressure of Brian’s handshake when they had said good-bye less than twenty-four hours ago. How could the life of such a vital man be snuffed out so suddenly and senselessly?

  Sighing, Jack opened the gate, walked up to the door, and knocked. After a moment, Lim Sung opened the door.

  “How is Miss MacKenzie?” Jack asked softly. “I’d like to speak to her if she’s awake.”

  “Katie’s bearing up quite well, but then she’s a very strong girl.” Lim gestured for him to enter. “Come in. She will want to see you before you leave.”

  Jack found Katie sitting at the table in the kitchen where they had shared many convivial meals with her father. The evening’s air of unreality was heightened now by the cheery embroidered tablecloth and pitcher of orange poppies sitting in front of Katie. Her gaze was fixed on them, unseeing, while a cup of tea grew cold at her elbow. Jack sat down and reached for her hand. It was cold as ice.

  “Kathleen?” he murmured gently.

  Automatically, she turned her face toward him and smiled. “Hello, Mr. Adams. It was kind of you to walk over and say goodbye again. But then, I suppose you came for your watch? I have it right here in my pocket. It was on the dresser shelf.”

  He blinked. “That’s unimportant, Kathleen. I’ve come to see how you are.”

  Lim cleared his throat. “I must go home now and share the sad news with my family.”

  When the door had closed behind him, Jack leaned toward Katie. “I want you to know how sorry I am. Although I didn’t know him very long, your father was a splendid man. It was very easy to care for him.”

  Her great blue eyes were luminous with pain. “Thank you for saying so, Mr. Adams. I know that Papa liked you very much, too. “

  Jack held her small, cold hand in both of his. “I think you are right. And, I know he would expect me to take an interest in your welfare.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Katie searched his eyes and found them curiously intent.

  “I know that I should wait, should give you time to adjust to what’s happened and to grieve, but it’s time we simply don’t have to spare. All I am certain of is that I came to know both you and your father unusually well in the time I spent in your home. I know that Brian would not have wanted you to spend the rest of your life in Columbia, running the saloon, Kathleen.”

  “I appreciate your concern but you really have no right—”

  “Perhaps I don’t. But, I must speak out, to say what I believe your father would say if he could.”

  A fiery spark kindled in her eyes. “I find your presumption quite extraordinary! Do, please, enlighten me! Since you were acquainted with my father for only a fortnight, and I have known him my entire life, it certainly does seem proper that you should speak on his behalf.”

  “You may think I am being presumptuous, but I do care,” Jack replied in an even voice. “And your father talked to me about you. He was well aware of your many gifts, and anxious that you have the opportunity to fulfill them.” He took a breath, and she looked at him, waiting. “You shouldn’t stay here now that Brian is gone. I want you to come to San Francisco with me.”

  Katie gasped. “You can’t be serious!”

  “Oh, but I am. I am completely in earnest.”

  “Mr. Adams, what exactly are you proposing?” Her mind reeled as she remembered what he had said to Abby earlier about a fiancée waiting for him. Did he expect Katie to be his mistress?

  “Nothing illicit, I assure you. Look, Kathleen, I have a family in San Francisco, a home and a life—”

  “What do you mean, a family?”

  “I live with my grandfather and my brother. It would all be perfectly circumspect. You could learn to explore and enjoy life for a change, attend parties, make new friends—”

  “I think you must be mad!” she interrupted. “Do you think that just because I am a woman, you can take me in hand and tell me what is best for me? If so, you’re very much mistaken! I know what is best for me. I already have a life here with friends and work that I enjoy. Lim will help me run the saloon, and now that Abby is here, too, I shan’t be alone. I don’t need your help or your patronage, or whatever it is that you’re offering!” Tears stung her eyes as she pulled her hand from his.

  Jack bit his lip. How had he erred? “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,” he said quietly. “Believe me, that was not my intention. I came here tonight as a friend, not only of yours, but of your father’s as well. I see that I’ve only made matters worse.”

  Katie’s features were strained as she turned away from him. “I’ll survive. We’ll all survive.” She drew a shaky breath. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to be alone. Have a safe journey, Mr. Adams.”

  Jack stood up, then slowly extended his hand and smoothed back the stray curls from her brow. “I truly do care about you, Kathleen.”

  Katie nodded, still unable to meet his compelling gaze. Then she remembered the watch and held it out to him. He accepted it, his fingers brushing hers before the contact was broken.

  She listened as Jack walked out of the kitchen and out of her life. The door clicked shut behind him, and suddenly the warm July night felt painfully cold. Under a ray of snow-white moonlight, Katie buried her face in her hands, weeping as if her heart would break.

  Part Two

  Chapter 9

  San Francisco, California

  July 7, 1864

  “It’s seven o’clock, Mr. Wyatt.”

  Jonathan Wyatt opened one eye just a fraction. Across the spacious bedroom, Elijah, his manservant, was opening draperies of indigo velvet. The tall second-floor windows afforded an impressive panorama from Rincon Hill that encompassed much of the city to the north and the surrounding bay to the east, but this morning, like most mornings, little of the city was visible through its cloak of fog. Wyatt preferred it this way. It was hard enough to wake up without the shock of sunlight.

  “I’ve drawn your bath, sir,” Elijah was saying. “Would you care for breakfast?”

  “Just tea and fruit, thank you.” They always had exactly the same conversation. Wyatt closed his eyes again, then added on impulse, “Elijah, do w
e have any... muffins?”

  The black man stopped short in the doorway and glanced back, surprised. “I—I am quite certain we do not. Shall I ask Mrs. Gosling to bake some?”

  “Yes,” he murmured, smiling. “But there’s no hurry. Tomorrow will be fine.”

  “Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?”

  “No. I’m sure you’ve thought of everything, Elijah. Thank you.”

  Wyatt listened for the click of the paneled door, then opened his eyes again and stretched. The fine linen sheets caressed his naked body, tempting him to doze, but his bath was hot and his tea would be waiting downstairs in exactly half an hour. It was a routine that servants and employer had perfected over a number of years. If he deviated from it, they would all think he’d gone mad.

  Smiling again to himself, Jonathan Wyatt emerged from his testered walnut bed and padded across the luxurious Turkey carpet. A cool, misty breeze filtered through the window which Elijah had opened an inch or two. Wyatt paused to breathe deeply of the morning air, then continued on to his tiled bathroom. Efficiently he bathed, toweled his hair and lean-muscled body, and shaved. Awake at last, he crossed into his dressing room and surveyed the cedar-paneled closets filled with all manner of expensive, tailored clothing. He chose a dark blue morning coat, white shirt, blue cravat, fawn-colored double-breasted waistcoat, and sleek fawn trousers. When he was dressed, Wyatt briefly surveyed himself in the full-length beveled mirror and adjusted the square shoulders of his coat. The tailoring was impeccable. He brushed back his hair, deciding to stop at his barber’s in the afternoon for an overdue trim, slipped his watch in its waistcoat pocket, attached the chain to the opposite side, then picked up fawn-colored gloves and left the dressing room.

  The house was deceptively quiet as he descended the wide staircase. Dropping his gloves on the table in the entry way, he turned into his book-lined study. A tray awaited him on the large Chippendale desk, which many thought out of place with the Gothic flavor of the room. Wyatt professed not to care: the desk was not just a family heirloom; it was practical as well. It had ample space for his papers when he worked at home and deep drawers for storage.