Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1)

by Cynthia Wright

  Jack smoothed the silky black curls from her brow and drank in the sight of her face in repose. Her long lashes brushed her cheeks, and her lips were full and tender looking. He felt his heart clench and was almost afraid to wonder why.

  Oh God, he thought, what have we done?

  Chapter 13

  October 12, 1864

  The sun was warm on Katie’s face and the insides of her eyelids were on fire. Still, it was difficult to wake up. She was dreaming that she had come into the house and found her parents eating breakfast in the kitchen. Her mother, looking up to smile lovingly, was unchanged. She wore the cameo brooch at her neck, and her rich black hair was pinned up into a chignon. Brian invited Katie to join them, and she obeyed, not wanting to question their return to her life.

  Then a mockingbird called from the peach tree outside the bedroom window and reluctantly Katie opened her eyes. Reality returned in a flood of morning sunshine. What time was it? How could she have slept so late? When she turned to get out of bed, she became aware of the tenderness between her legs and realized that she was naked. Her eyes widened in horror.

  The dream came back in a spine-chilling rush. Jack Adams had been in her bed; he’d made love to her. Blushing as she remembered each intimate caress, Katie threw back the sheet and saw the spots of blood. It had been real! He’d not been a dream at all, but flesh and blood, and their lovemaking had been more sensuously explicit than anything she’d ever imagined. And worst of all, she had been an enthusiastic participant.

  Panicked, Katie pulled on the discarded nightgown and rose to pace back and forth across the bedroom. What had happened to him? Where was he now? How dare he come into her house, into her bed? She couldn’t believe what her mind insisted was true. How could it have happened? It was impossible!

  Heart pounding, Katie washed and dressed in her plainest faded pink gown. She buttoned it up to her throat and wore no petticoat or adornments of any kind. Sitting at her dressing table, she stared at her flushed face. Was it her imagination, or did her lips look a little swollen? Oh, God! What had come over her? Was she mad? Possessed? Katie brushed her hair back and braided it so tightly that it hurt, then got up and hurried out of the house.

  On Main Street, she suffered through a conversation with Victoria Barnstaple about the unseasonably warm autumn, distractedly returned greetings from various townsfolk, then tried to calm herself as she entered her saloon. Her heart was thudding wildly, but all seemed well. A couple of miners were having morning beers at the bar, while a few of the tables were ringed with men eating breakfast. Lim waved to her from behind the bar, but he seemed preoccupied. Katie began to breathe easier as she greeted her customers and made her way toward the kitchen.

  “‘Bout time you got a new cook, Miss MacKenzie!” a grizzled mountain man exclaimed from his table near the end of the bar. “These’re the dandiest flapjacks I ever tasted! Lighter’n my sainted mama’s!”

  “Oh.” Katie pasted on a smile. “Thank you.”

  Puzzled, she backed toward the door of the kitchen, which was a small, makeshift affair off the rear of the saloon. The mouthwatering aromas of sizzling eggs and sausage, coffee, pancakes, and fresh-baked apple muffins wafted out to her as she approached. She could hear muffled voices—Abby’s, and then, for an instant, a man’s, followed by loud laughter from Gideon.

  “Gideon, are you certain you should be out of bed?” Katie demanded as she entered.

  His reply was lost in the fog of the next few moments. Katie froze at the sight of Jack Adams standing over the cast-iron, wood-burning stove, using a spatula to turn flapjacks with practiced ease. He wore a towel knotted snugly around the hips of his faded dungarees, and the sleeves of his blue shirt were turned up to reveal the strong tanned forearms that she remembered all too well. Jack’s hair was shorter than it had been that summer, freshly washed and brushed back from his irresistibly attractive face. His grin flashed in the sunlight, and a day or two’s worth of stubble glinted on his cheeks.

  “Surprised to see me, Miss MacKenzie?” he inquired huskily, the arch of his eyebrow betraying his amusement.

  “In my kitchen?” Katie heard herself reply. “Of course I’m surprised. What are you doing here?”

  “Cooking breakfast.” He turned back to his work.

  Abby exchanged looks with Gideon, who sat on a chair near the back stairway. Abby’s big eyes widened further as she took in the angry set of Katie’s jaw. Rushing forward, she hastened to explain, “I hope I didn’t make a mistake, asking Jack to cook! It’s just that you didn’t come in, and I didn’t want to disturb you, and I was having a hard time keeping up, so when he offered—”

  “Never mind, Abby. It’s all right.” She indicated the three laden breakfast plates on the oak sideboard next to the stove. “Shouldn’t you serve those?”

  Her friend scooped them up and made a quick exit, grateful for the opportunity to escape. Katie approached the worn pine work-table that ran down the center of the cozy room and set about turning muffins out of their tins. She tried to pretend that Jack was not standing just a few feet away, even though every breath she took was an effort.

  Suddenly Gideon exclaimed, “Katie, did you hear the good news?”

  She glanced up from refilling the muffin tins, her eyes flashing. “No, but I’d be grateful to hear some.”

  “Jack’s brought us a platen! That’s the reason he came back. We can repair the press and resume production of the Gazette!”

  Jack ladled pancake batter onto the griddle, not looking up as he said casually, “I heard about Gideon’s misfortune in San Francisco. I happened to have access to a platen, so I brought it along.”

  “How noble of you.”

  He pretended not to notice her tone. “That’s very flattering, but I cannot allow such kind words to be spoken without a disclaimer on my part.” Bubbles broke on the surface of the flapjacks, and he flipped them neatly. “My motives were a bit more complex than a simple desire to serve justice and restore Columbia’s freedom of the press. Certainly I wanted to help Gideon, but I also wanted to thwart Aaron Rush. He needs to be taught a lesson.”

  “And you’re just the man to do it. I declare, Mr. Adams, you could teach moral decency lessons in the schoolroom!”

  This time Jack glanced over his shoulder. “Why, Miss MacKenzie, I had no idea you had such a high opinion of my character!”

  Abby reappeared then, carrying a stack of dirty plates. “Everyone’s been served, so I think we can relax for a moment. It’s late enough now that there may not even be any more breakfast customers. I’ll go around with the coffeepot, then start washing dishes.”

  Katie reached for a mug and hastily filled it with coffee before Abby took the pot away. She leaned against the wall, drinking and watching Jack finish the last of the flapjacks. When they were done, he picked up the tins of muffin batter and looked over his shoulder at Katie.

  “Do you want me to put these in the oven?”

  “Yes. They’re good for lunch, too.” Their eyes met for an instant, and she felt the heat in her cheeks.

  Jack wiped off the griddle, washed his hands, then untied the towel around his hips. “If you don’t mind, I could use some breakfast myself.”

  Katie took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Could you spare me a few minutes of your time first?”

  “As always, I am at your disposal.”

  Her blush deepened. “I would like to speak to you in private. Shall we go back to the storeroom?”

  Gideon smiled and waved at them, then returned to gazing out the window. “Go right ahead. I’m just enjoying the view!”

  * * *

  Katie led the way through the saloon, back into the shadowed storeroom. She waited for Jack to pass inside, then closed the door behind them. Crossing the floor, she stopped amid the crates. Faint, dusty rays of sunlight streamed through the single window as she turned to confront him. Jack leaned against the door frame, arms folded, watching her and waiting with keen inter
est and admiration.

  “You are more odious than I ever dreamed!” Katie said, her voice dangerously quiet. “How dare you take over my saloon on this of all mornings? And how dare you pretend that you...” She faltered, then took a deep breath and continued, “That you didn’t do what you did?!”

  Jack suppressed a smile. “Before I answer those charges, it might be helpful to know exactly what you’re referring to.”

  “I am referring to your violation of my body last night.” Her heart was pounding madly as she spoke the words. To keep him from seeing how her hands shook, she balled them into fists.

  “That’s an interesting turn of phrase,” he remarked, looking calmly into her eyes. “Are you suggesting that I forced you?”

  Katie’s voice rose. “I will not allow you to stand there, the picture of self-possession, and infer that it was I who initiated our—that—what happened!”

  “I said no such thing. For God’s sake, Kathleen, what we committed was not a crime. It’s not necessary to apportion blame! We are adults who have been attracted to each other for some time, and I happen to believe that giving in to our feelings was not a sign of weakness.”

  “I did not ask you here to discuss my physical desires, Mr. Adams! They are no concern of yours! You obviously broke into my house and seduced me. I was not even aware of what I was doing. I was dreaming!”

  He walked toward her. “Kathleen...”

  “Don’t come any closer!” Her blue eyes shot sparks at him.

  Jack stopped, then said gently, “You looked at me. You called me by my name.”

  “I thought I was dreaming!”

  “Of me?” he queried softly.

  “I don’t remember! Why, I barely remember any of it!” Katie’s cheeks flamed in betrayal. “It wasn’t until I saw the—the evidence, in the daylight, that I realized it had really happened. Still, I tried to think of another explanation. I believed that you were still in San Francisco. Of course, when I came into the saloon this morning and discovered you shamelessly taking over—”

  “Unjust!” Jack protested. “I was only trying to help.”

  “You are an overbearing cad!” Katie cried. “You forced yourself into my bed, and then you had the nerve to impose yourself upon my business! That is the simple truth, and I will not allow you to attempt to justify your behavior!”

  He gazed off into the distance for a moment, then shook his head and sighed. “All right. I’m going to agree that what happened last night between us may have been a result of poor judgment on my part—but our lovemaking was completely mutual. You were as eager as I!” Jack paused to rake a hand through his hair. “Don’t you see that what we shared, and what you felt, was not bad. On the contrary—it was natural and beautiful.”

  “You took advantage of me.”

  “That wasn’t the way it happened. I arrived in town late; everything was closed up. I was exhausted, and I thought that I might sleep in your parlor. You didn’t answer when I knocked. I wasn’t even certain you were staying there, so I used my key.”

  “You did break in!” she cried triumphantly.

  “I wasn’t sneaking around. I went straight to your room to inform you of my presence and give you a chance to throw me out. I asked if I might sleep on the sofa, and you insisted that I stay there with you! I assumed that you... that you were lonely, and all I wanted at that moment was a place to close my eyes. Truly, I only meant to lie down next to you for a few hours. I don’t even remember taking off my clothes. When you began to snuggle against me, I was only half-conscious—”

  “Oh, I see! It was my doing! Next you’ll say that I seduced you, and you were powerless to resist my advances!”

  “Nothing of the kind.” He strove to keep his voice even. “But I do think that we both were more inclined to succumb to passion because we were rather drugged with sleep.”

  “I don’t remember succumbing to anything,” she insisted stubbornly. “All I know is that you forced yourself upon me.”

  “I think you remember a great deal more than you are willing to admit, Kathleen.”

  The tenderness in his voice was like a caress, and Katie felt a hot chill run down her spine. That was the problem: she did remember, and it was sheer torture. “Mr. Adams, I feel that it would be pointless for us to continue this conversation. When are you leaving Columbia?”

  She was a little fireball with a veneer of ice. Jack’s eyes strayed helplessly to Katie’s full, rosy mouth, and he almost sighed aloud. “I’m not quite certain.”

  “I thought you came to deliver the platen. Well, you’ve accomplished that noble goal, so I see no reason for you to linger here.”

  He smiled dryly. “Be that as it may, I cannot make my plans on the basis of your opinions. I have other things to see to here in Columbia, and I have no way of knowing how long that will take.”

  Her curiosity was keen, but she affected an attitude of nonchalance. “My goodness, how very mysterious you are. Well, I suppose that I shall just have to tolerate your presence in town, but I see no reason why I should have to tolerate your company.”

  Jack cocked an eyebrow. “Have I been banished from your circle of friends?”

  “I think it would be stretching the point to say that we were ever friends. And in light of your behavior last night, I see no reason for any further contact between us.” Katie tilted her nose upward, thinking it an inspired touch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

  He suppressed a chuckle as she swept past him toward the door. As she turned the knob, he said, “Kathleen, you’re a woman. You cannot simply force your desires back into a box and lock it in the attic.”

  “Once again, sir, you underestimate me!” Katie shot back, then made her exit.

  Jack nearly succumbed to an impulse to applaud.

  Chapter 14

  October 14-15, 1864

  “Missy want bamboo shoots? Fresh!” Tsing Tsing Yee grinned broadly at Katie across the glass counter of the Chinese store. With his long white queue, silk tunic, and round steel spectacles, Yee looked ancient and fragile. The old man was not even as tall as Katie.

  “No, thank you, Mr. Yee. We’re cooking Hangtown fry for lunch today. All I need are oysters and eggs.”

  “Hangtown fr-ly?” He repeated the words warily.

  “Haven’t you heard of it?” Katie exclaimed, her eyes dancing. “My father told me that he was in Placerville back when it was called Hangtown. A miner who had just made a strike came into the Cary House when Papa was having lunch, and demanded the most expensive dish in the house. He was told that the most expensive ingredients were oysters and eggs, which cost a dollar apiece. Well, the cook scrambled the eggs with some onions, then folded in oysters, and the dish was christened ‘Hangtown fry’!”

  “But—” Tsing Tsing Yee sounded perplexed. “But it not new! It egg foo yung! Chinese!”

  Katie succumbed to laughter, and Lim, who stood nearby, joined in. “Of course it is!” he assured the old man. “The cook must have been Chinese, too. But white people don’t want to know that, or hear that one of us is cooking their food, or they would have to worry about rat’s tails or cat’s paws in their food. And they can’t admit to liking Chinese food, either. They give our dishes new names and pretend they made them for the first time!”

  Yee scratched his head as Lim wandered away to study the shelves of spices. “I don’t understand.”

  “To tell you the truth, Mr. Yee, neither do I,” Katie admitted.

  He returned to more familiar ground. “You want mushrooms?” he said, holding up a box of dark, dried fungi. “Two kinds. Imported! And fresh, too!” The small, wizened old man turned, pointing to a bin filled with grayish mushrooms. Katie noticed that Yee’s queue was so thin now that it made only a tiny line down his back, as if it had been drawn there.

  She returned his hopeful smile. “Yes, some mushrooms would be nice. I’ll take a handful or two of the fresh ones.”

  As he assembled her purchases, Katie browse
d around the dim, cool store. Lim was staring at the glass containers of exotic spices that lined one wall. Indeed, everything seemed exotic in this place, even the smells—incense, coriander, pungent bottled sauces, Chinese vegetables, dried fish, peppers, jasmine tea. Tsing Tsing Yee and his wife also sold Chinese silk, fireworks, and, it was rumored among the Caucasian population, opium. Katie had grown up eating Chinese food at Lim Sung’s house, and she loved it. It seemed a shame to her that rampant fear and mistrust of the Chinese had prevented her people from discovering Chinese cooking. Now that so many “celestials” had been driven from Columbia, Tsing Tsing Yee’s business was beginning to founder.

  “Katie, have you seen Mr. Yee’s egg?” Lim called softly from the back of the store.

  “Not since I was a little girl,” she replied, going to join him. “He showed it to Mama and me.”

  Yee was taking a beautifully decorated lacquer box from a cupboard. Smiling serenely, he opened it and withdrew a glass case. In it was an exquisite, intricately carved jade egg.

  “From Tang dynasty,” Yee explained in hushed tones. “Very, very valuable. Egg has always been in my family.”

  Katie stared, awestruck. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”

  “I’ll bet it’s worth more than all the gold that’s ever been weighed at Wells Fargo,” Lim declared.

  Another voice remarked, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re right.”

  The three of them looked up, startled, and saw Aaron Rush drawing near. Although he was a heavyset man, his tread was light and nearly soundless. Smiles wreathed his plump, pink face, and the top of his bald head glistened with beads of perspiration. As usual, Rush wore a brown suit, waistcoat, and a pearl stickpin in his black silk tie. From his breast pocket he withdrew a wilted brown silk handkerchief and applied it vigorously to his brow. “That’s quite a treasure you have there, Mr. Yee. Mind if I have a closer look?”