“Certainly not! Of course, my parents are hoping that I will do something just that frivolous and fickle.” She closed her parasol with a crisp snap. “It will not happen! Peter and I are meant to be together. The knowledge that he loves me and is waiting for me is all that sustains me through these months of enforced exile in California. When I return to New York in the spring, and my parents see that nothing has changed, they’ll have no choice but to consent to our marriage.” Softening slightly, Maggie smiled and touched Jack’s arm. “Your friendship sustains me, too, Jack. It’s a pleasant experience to be friends with a man, and your company is most enjoyable.”
“It’s pleasant for me as well, knowing that there will be no romantic complications between us. I’ve been snarled in those too often lately.” He smiled down at her. “I like you, Maggie. Now, shall we go in to church?”
* * *
Thundershowers threatened that afternoon as Jack sat in the tiny lobby of the City Hotel where he had taken a room. Reclining on a chair of tufted maroon velvet, he perused a three-day-old copy of the Sacramento Union, given to him by the stagecoach driver.
Half of the front page was filled with advertisements for available jobs, jewelry for sale, dentistry, and assorted improbable medicinal potions. The Eureka Bath House and Barber Shop announced “cupping and leeching,” adding that they would dye hair and whiskers any color desired. Jack saw that the Miss M. Atkins’s Young Ladies’ Seminary in Benicia was resuming operations.
He skipped ahead to a long letter from the Union’s “lady correspondent” about life in Paris. She was particularly irate about the lack of respect Frenchmen displayed toward women, citing that Frenchwomen could not walk more than a few steps in public without being insulted. Jack reflected that females seemed to have no such discrimination problems in Sacramento, since the next article was also written by a woman about her visit to the West Point Military Academy. And that completed the Union’s front page, the bulk of which had been written by women. Jack sighed and shook his head. The days of the male-dominated newspaper seemed to be over.
He folded the tattered pages for a moment and thought about Katie and her dogged determination to singlehandedly resume production of the Gazette. She was willful and feisty, but to himself he could admit that he admired her strength. Katie had battled on alone after Brian’s death, not merely coping, but also running the saloon in his stead. Jack liked the fact that she stood up to him and yet he could never forget that she was a woman. She might braid her hair and cover her body with prim gowns, but he was acutely aware of her innocent sensuality. The memory of their lovemaking was fresh and exciting each time he called it up. Katie’s artless passion had infused every kiss, caress, and arch of her hips...
Forcing himself back to reality with an inner shake, Jack thought over his conversation with Gideon Henderson. The younger man had spoken of his concern for Katie’s welfare and asked that Jack keep an eye on her, despite her demands that he stay as far away as possible.
He stood up and stretched lazily. Just because it was Sunday, that didn’t mean that Kathleen MacKenzie was resting....
* * *
The white frame boardinghouse that overlooked Washington Street next to the offices of the Columbia Gazette was owned and run by Mrs. Pondhollow, a garrulous old woman who was known to collar weary miners and solicit business on the street. Today, apparently, was no exception. Jack awakened her interest as soon as he rounded the corner from Main Street.
“Good day to you, sonny!” Mrs. Pondhollow tottered forward on two canes to the edge of the wooden sidewalk. “You look like a young man in need of a cozy room and a hot meal. I just happen to have an opening!”
Jack paused before her, shielding his eyes against the sun, and grinned. “Mrs. Pondhollow, we’ve had this conversation twice in the past three days. Don’t you remember? I already have a room at the City Hotel.”
She pursed her lips into a withered smile. “What do you want with that fancy place? I can promise you a clean bed,” she boasted. “No bugs! And my cooking is legendary.”
“Let me strike a bargain with you. I’ll give you some money to reserve one of your lovely rooms, but I’m not certain I’ll be able to stay here. Don’t worry about me if I don’t turn up, all right?”
Mrs. Pondhollow’s eyes glinted. “I suppose that’s fair. Shall I save you some of my delicious venison pot roast and baked squash?”
“No, thank you, I have other plans for dinner.”
“Plans? Hmmph! Probably carousing at one of them dance halls!” She waggled a finger at Jack. “It’s the devil’s work, son!”
He handed Mrs. Pondhollow a five-dollar bill, which was several times more than the price of one of her rooms, and then backed away. “Nice to see you, ma’am. Good afternoon!”
She watched him, eyes narrowed and canes trembling, until he entered the Gazette office. Then, muttering, “It’s the devil’s work!” she backed shakily onto her chair and resumed her vigil for the next unwary victim.
* * *
Jack found the Gazette’s front door ajar and entered so silently that Katie didn’t hear him. She was bent over a table covered with trays of type, proofreading the original copy of her latest creation.
Jack paused in the doorway for a few moments to imagine the curves of her hips under the layers of petticoats and skirt. Remembering the feeling of Katie snuggling against him, he sighed involuntarily. She jumped and whirled around.
“You! What are you doing here?”
He gave her his most disarming smile. “Gideon asked me to keep an eye on you. For some reason, he’s worried that you might print something dangerous.”
“Ridiculous!” she exploded. “I will not be treated like a child simply because I am female. I don’t need any assistance from you to put out the Gazette—or from Gideon Henderson, for that matter.”
“Gideon might see things a bit differently....”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, I think he might argue that he has every right to interfere since he owns the Gazette.” Jack spoke with wry irony, then softened his tone. “Don’t you see, though, the issue isn’t power. Gideon is less concerned with retaining control over the contents of the newspaper than with keeping you safe, Kathleen. We’re both worried that your headstrong tendencies will get you into trouble, particularly when it comes to dealing with Aaron Rush and his cronies.”
“It seems to me that men do not concern themselves with their male friends’ ‘headstrong tendencies’ in this matter. You do not rush around trying to protect each other from doing something risky. It just so happens that I am quick-witted, and I am also smart enough to proceed with caution. I need neither a nursemaid nor a guard.” Katie lifted her chin. “And I particularly don’t need you!”
He tried another tack, replying gently, “You know, when your father was alive, he knew how to counsel you in ways that kept you out of danger. I think he’d want someone to look out for you now. I was very fond of Brian, and I—”
“Oh, no, you don’t!” she cried. “Don’t you dare tell me that you are behaving as my father would have wished! Would he have condoned what you did to me the other night?”
Her words were like a slap in the face, and Jack winced slightly. “What happened between us was not planned on my part....”
“Nor on mine! Now, leave me alone.” She turned back to the typeset article and tried to concentrate, but all her senses were alive and tingling. When Jack walked up behind her, Katie caught a whiff of his scent, a mixture of shaving soap, fresh air, and something indefinably male. A sweet, maddening longing swept over her.
Jack looked over Katie’s shoulder and read: PRICELESS YEE EGG STOLEN! The facts were laid out in the story that followed, but the text was also interlaced subtly with hints and speculation. The final paragraph read: “Who could have committed this heartless crime, and why? Privately, some townsfolk have suggested that certain men in power might have reason to terrorize Tsing Tsing Ye
e. The longtime storeowner has refused to sell his property at any price, and some suspect that the valuable Tang dynasty egg, estimated to be nearly 1,200 years old, may have been stolen in part to frighten its owner. Will a worse crime be committed if Yee does not succumb to this latest pressure?”
As Jack read, he reached forward to brace himself lightly on the edge of the table. Katie glanced beneath her lashes at his strong, sun-bronzed hand, staring at the fingertips that had caressed her so intimately a few nights before. For an instant, she yearned to touch the hairs that glinted on the back of his hand.
“You can’t print this,” Jack said suddenly, his voice hard. The spell was broken.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You were smart, Miss MacKenzie, setting up this story on a Sunday afternoon, when you thought no one would bother you. But fortunately I can keep up with your agile mind. There is absolutely no possibility of this article seeing the light of day.”
Katie flushed slightly. Jack knew her better than she’d realized, for it was true that she had assumed he’d be otherwise occupied with Maggie Barnstaple after church and therefore wouldn’t interfere with her work at the Gazette. “Don’t you have anything better to do than harass me?”
He leaned forward and spoke softly in her ear. “There probably are other things I do better. I’d be glad to show you—again—after you remove this type.”
“You are a scoundrel!” She whirled around to confront him and found his lips a mere breath away from hers. Pulling back as if she’d been burned, Katie vowed, “I will not allow you to bully me any more than I will stand by silently while Aaron Rush bullies Tsing Tsing Yee! Something has to be done, and—”
“You haven’t any proof. You can’t print veiled accusations like this,” Jack said flatly.
The overpowering nearness of him was making her dizzy. “I’m going to get proof!” she vowed, turning her back on him.
Leaning forward so that Katie’s body was imprisoned against his, Jack reached forward with his free hand and began to pull out the type letter by letter. “No, you’re not. You are going to forget about this and concentrate instead on living a long and healthy life.”
Katie thrashed about, grabbing at his hand, until Jack caught her wrists and held them in a grip of steel. Fury boiled up inside her, and she began to yell. “You have no right! Let go of me!”
“You have the damnedest propensity for making seemingly simple situations incredibly complicated! For God’s sake, where did you get the idea that you were responsible for upholding law and order in Columbia?” With an effort, he emptied the last row of type and scattered the pieces across the table.
“Someone has to show some concern for justice in this town! No one else seems to give a fig about it... except, of course, for our erstwhile champion, the Griffin!” She laughed with false gaiety. “And what a hero he turned out to be! In the end, he proved himself a coward like all the rest. After he killed my father, he just slunk away.” With one last flurry of resistance, Katie broke free and spun around to face Jack. Almost instantly he had her wrists pinned against her sides. Their bodies were pressed full length, hearts thudding in unison through the layers of clothing that separated them.
“You can’t stop me from setting the type again,” Katie challenged through clenched teeth.
Jack stared down into her fiery eyes with a mixture of exasperation and admiration. She made him frustrated, but never bored. In Katie’s presence Jack felt keenly, unmistakably alive. How ravishing she looked, her cheekbones smudged with rosy color, her exquisite little nose flaring slightly, her full lips parted, her neck arched. Her breasts were like brands against his chest. Instinctively he bent his head, pausing just above her mouth so that their breath mingled.
Katie was so hungry for his kiss that she could barely speak. “Don’t you dare kiss me,” she gasped.
Jack’s eyes widened, then crinkled at the corners. “I apologize. I don’t know what came over me.” He drew back. “There, you see? I’m not the brute you accuse me of being. I would never kiss a woman against her will.”
Dangerously close to tears, Katie exclaimed, “Just go away and leave me alone!”
“Ah, well, as you might have guessed, I am unable to grant that request. I can’t leave you here to typeset that story again.” He sighed with mock regret.
“You can’t stay here forever!” she cried, enraged.
“I have no intention of doing so.” Jack’s voice was infuriatingly calm. “As you yourself pointed out, I have better things to do. However, I do have this little problem to take care of first. The obvious solution, as I see it, is to remove you from this office.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t want to leave here. I have work to do!”
“I’m afraid it’s for your own good, Miss MacKenzie. You need to rest. If it will make you feel any better, I’ll write a new story about Yee’s missing egg. Just the facts. Now then, did you bring a reticule?...” The picture of gentlemanly concern, he glanced around the office.
Katie gripped the edge of the table. “I won’t leave.”
Picking up her reticule, Jack walked toward her. He looked exhilarated by this challenge. “I’m afraid that you must.”
“You can’t force me!” Katie’s voice rose.
“But, you see, I can,” he replied mildly. And with one easy movement, he put his hands around her waist and slung her over his shoulder.
“Heathen!”
Clasping an arm around her knees to hold her securely, Jack strode out the door. He took the keys from her reticule, locked the door, then slipped the keys into his pocket. Mrs. Pondhollow tottered forward on her porch to watch their progress down Washington Street. Katie was pummeling Jack’s back, to no avail.
“Don’t you bother to claim your room, sonny!” the old woman screeched.
He turned his head, laughing. “Let me guess. You won’t refund the money.”
“Not to your sort!” Mrs. Pondhollow affirmed, patting the five-dollar bill in her pocket. “And don’t come begging around here next time you need a place to stay!”
“You have my word, dear lady!”
Katie continued to struggle, ignoring the alarmed stares of passersby, right up until Jack carried her through the saloon and deposited her in the kitchen. Abby was peeling potatoes at the big worktable, chatting with Gideon, who sat on a chair next to the window. Although the MacKenzie Saloon did not serve liquor on Sundays, patrons were always welcome for dinner.
“Gideon!” Katie cried. “This brute has demolished a story I spent hours writing and typesetting, and now he’s locked me out of the Gazette office! Not to mention the indignity I have suffered at his hands as he carried me like a sack of flour up Main Street!” Her cheeks were aflame.
Gideon stared at Jack, trying not to smile. “Did you do that?”
“It was the only way, I’m afraid.” Jack smiled at his friend. “Miss MacKenzie’s story about the theft of Yee’s jade egg was filled with thinly veiled suggestions that the crime had been committed by Aaron Rush, accompanied by an evaluation of the suspect’s character and allusions to his past wrongs. It seemed to me that—”
“You needn’t go on,” Gideon broke in. “I can guess the rest.” He looked at Katie. “How many times do I have to tell you—”
“Don’t you scold me! I refuse to be humiliated any further by either of you—you men!” Turning her back on them, she glanced through the doorway to the saloon... and nearly gasped aloud. Aaron Rush was walking in, accompanied by a stranger who was well dressed to the point of gaudiness. The man wore huge side-whiskers, a large beaver hat, ruby shirt studs, and a heavy watch chain, and he carried a ruby-topped walking stick. Katie immediately sensed that the proof she sought might well be at hand, if she could only eavesdrop on their conversation.
But first she had to get rid of Jack Adams and keep him from seeing Rush in the process.
“Katie,” Gideon was saying, “neither of us means to scold you or tr
eat you like a child. But I can’t help being concerned about the fact that you seem determined to place yourself in danger. Not to mention me—and our new platen!”
“I’m only trying to do what’s right,” Katie protested. “It seems that I’m the only person left in Columbia who loves justice!”
Jack cocked an eyebrow at Gideon, who rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what’s come over you,” Gideon said to Katie. “I’ve never seen you with so much... fire. It’s only been since...” His voice trailed off as he met Abby’s eyes, then glanced at Jack.
Katie looked out the window, blushing deeply. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” Lifting her chin, she looked at Jack. “Mr. Adams, if you don’t mind, I have work to do. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave—by the back door.”
He gave her a reckless grin. “Whatever makes you happy, ma’am.”
Katie smiled as she watched his departing back. “I feel better already. Abby, could I have a word with you in the storeroom?” They had just begun to walk down the back hallway when she remembered Gideon and turned to shake a playful finger at him. “You must be all worn out from scolding me, but now it’s my turn to treat you like a child, and you owe me some indulgence. You stay right where you are and rest. I don’t want you to move!”
Chapter 16
October 15-16, 1864
“Before we go any further, you must give me your word that you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” Katie whispered. “Especially Gideon!”
Abby looked worried. “Is it something dangerous?”
“Don’t be silly. Of course not! Would I ask you do anything that would put you at risk? It’s just that I find Gideon’s overprotective attitude rather annoying.”
“I had noticed,” Abby said with a weak smile.
“We are grown women after all, and have a right to some independence. We can think for ourselves, can’t we?”
Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1) Page 16
