Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1)

by Cynthia Wright

  “Yes...”

  “Don’t look so nervous!” Katie gave her a big smile and patted her arm. “I’d never admit it to Jack, but he was probably right about the article I wrote. I need to have some proof that Aaron Rush stole Mr. Yee’s egg, and you can help me get it!”

  “I can?” Abby paled.

  “You won’t be doing anything wrong. Aaron Rush has come into the saloon for supper, and he’s with a man I don’t recognize. All I want you to do is give them the best service possible, stay near their table almost the entire time they’re eating. Offer them more coffee, extra cream, things like that. And when you aren’t waiting on them, busy yourself nearby so that you can hear what they’re saying. You just might be able to provide the clue I need.”

  She tugged at a stray golden curl. “Well, I owe you so much, I’d do anything I could to help you, Katie.”

  “I knew I could count on you! Now, you just go on out there and be your own sweet self. Give them a big smile and don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of the cooking—and Gideon. Then, when Rush and his guest leave, we’ll meet back here. All right?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Katie pointed Abby toward the door and gave her a little nudge. “Good luck!”

  * * *

  For the next hour, Katie cooked, heaped plates with food, and chatted gaily with Gideon. Occasionally she passed by the doorway to the saloon, where she saw Abby hovering over Aaron Rush and his dandified friend. Abby’s performance was impeccable. She was always near them, fluffing her burnished curls with a dimpled hand and displaying her bosom before their appreciative eyes. Finally, as the men applied themselves to generous portions of cranberry pudding, Abby glanced toward the doorway and flashed a triumphant smile above their heads. Katie’s heart raced with excitement.

  As soon as Rush and his guest had departed, Katie gave Gideon a bowl of pudding to keep him occupied and hurried toward the storage room. Abby was waiting for her, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

  “That was fun,” she whispered, nearly giggling. “I felt like one of those spies!”

  Katie could scarcely contain herself. “What did they say?”

  “Well, it sounded like the rich-looking gentlemen had come all the way from San Francisco. While they were eating dessert, I heard him say, ‘I’m eager to see the item. It sounds like just what I’ve been looking for. One of my clients collects artifacts in that line. When can I see it?’”

  Katie clapped her hands with glee. “And what did Rush reply?”

  “He dropped his voice real low, and I started talking to another customer at the next table so he wouldn’t suspect anything. But I heard him say, ‘I’m keeping it away from town, Mr. Armbrewster. We’ll have to go by horseback. Can you be ready at six o’clock tomorrow morning?’ And the other fellow nodded. Then Mr. Rush says, ‘Good. Meet me at the livery stable, all right?’ They agreed, then Mr. Rush looked around for me and asked for the bill.” Abby’s revelations had tumbled out, but now she paused. Then, after a moment, she ventured, “Was that any help? Perhaps you can tell Jack and he’ll follow them.”

  “Yes, of course, that’s a wonderful idea,” Katie replied distractedly. “But you leave it to me. You don’t have to give this matter another thought, Abby. You’ve done your part splendidly!”

  * * *

  At a quarter to six that next morning, Katie stood in the now vacant icehouse behind the livery stable. During the winter, the ice man took his high-sided freight wagons to the frozen lakes of the Sierras and returned with huge blocks of ice. Properly insulated and stored with several inches of sawdust between them, the past year’s ice had lasted through early September. Now the ice man was away visiting his daughter in Sacramento, and Katie was grateful for this hiding place. She stood stroking the velvety nose of her horse, Willoughby, a gray gelding named for the scoundrel in Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. Her eyes strayed restlessly from one side of the livery stable to the other as she waited for Rush and Armbrewster to appear.

  Katie was proud of her disguise. In a pair of old dungarees, battered boots, and a warm gray flannel shirt, she could easily pass as a slight, harmless teenage boy—particularly once she’d pinned up her braided hair and covered it with a large brown felt hat that had belonged to her father.

  At last she saw them, entering separately, then emerging onto Fulton Street astride the stable’s two best horses. She waited a few minutes before walking Willoughby out onto the street. Rush and Armbrewster were barely in sight, heading east on Yankee Hill Road.

  Keeping a safe distance behind them, Katie was grateful for the rain that had fallen during the night. The ground was just damp enough so that the two horses’ hooves left a faint impression. If they turned off Yankee Hill Road, she would know it.

  The narrow road passed through land now decimated by years of hydraulic mining. What had once been a fragrant pine grove was now a pitted wasteland punctuated by craggy rocks. The mining town of Yankee Hill was nearly dead. Only a few miners’ cabins, a tiny store, and a ramshackle saloon attested to its brief, lively past.

  The journey seemed to take forever. Twice in two hours, the men stopped to stretch their legs and drink from flasks. Katie assumed that Rush was setting such an easy pace in deference to Mr. Armbrewster, who was obviously no horseman. As the morning sun rose higher, she began to feel tired and warm herself. When she glimpsed Rush and Armbrewster turning off the road onto a path that wound upward through shady pines, she sighed in relief.

  Soon, however, her mind turned to more important considerations than the unseasonally balmy weather. Now, she realized, it was imperative that she not be discovered. Anyone could have reason to be on Yankee Hill Road, but what excuse would she offer if they caught her in this much more remote area? Katie had never been on this trail before; she had no idea if anyone even lived nearby. Every time Willoughby stepped on a twig, her heart lurched in utter panic until she was certain Rush hadn’t heard. She was afraid to get close enough to see them, afraid that if she could see them, they could see her, too. What if they turned off into the woods again, and the hoofprints were lost in a carpet of pine needles?

  For the first time, Katie began to see her situation from Jack and Gideon’s point of view. The word predicament occurred to her. How was she going to get the proof she sought without being discovered? Even more horrifying to contemplate, what would Rush and Armbrewster do if they caught her? Physically, Katie was no match for two big men, and she had no gun. There was no one around to hear her scream, and no one knew where she had gone. If Rush killed her, it would be as difficult to prove his guilt as in all the other crimes he had committed.

  At least another hour had passed, Katie figured. She had dropped farther and farther behind, even stopping once to relieve herself a ways from the trail. Before mounting Willoughby again, she glanced up through the pine trees at the azure sky and said a silent prayer. It occurred to her that she could simply turn back, but stubbornness won out. She decided to keep going for another half hour.

  A few minutes later, she spied a narrow path that led through the trees toward the south fork of the Stanislaus River. On a hunch, she tied Willoughby to a branch and walked through the trees, keeping to one side of the path. Soon an abandoned old cabin came into view. Her heart began to pound at the sight of the men’s horses tethered outside.

  Near the cabin was a clump of lilac bushes, apparently planted by a past owner. Summoning all her courage, Katie scampered across the carpet of pine needles and huddled behind the sheltering bushes. She realized then that her palms were sweaty with fear. She was covered with dust, and her shirt, damp with perspiration, clung to her back. Minutes passed, no one came to flush Katie from her hiding place, and gradually her nerves calmed. She could hear Rush and Armbrewster talking inside the cabin; obviously they were unaware of her presence.

  Tentatively, Katie raised her head and peeked through the leaves. There was an open window just a few yar
ds away. Through it she could see Aaron Rush moving about, opening cupboards and drawers, apparently looking for something. Armbrewster stood in the middle of the room, his expression skeptical. Then he turned his back to the window, and Rush walked over to join him.

  Were they looking at Tsing Tsing Yee’s egg? Frustrated, Katie strained to hear what they were saying.

  Finally Armbrewster’s voice carried to her on the faint breeze: “I’m prepared to pay handsomely—” But the rest was lost.

  Bolder now, Katie convinced herself that the two men were far too preoccupied to notice any activity outside the cabin. She simply had to get close enough to see Aaron Rush in possession of the egg, otherwise she would return with nothing but more charges based solely on speculation. On a rush of adrenaline, she crawled from her hiding place and, head down, approached the cabin. She was nearly there when a rabbit jumped a few feet away, causing her to gasp involuntarily.

  “What was that?” said Armbrewster.

  Katie scrambled to her feet, trying to decide which way to flee, and for a moment her eyes met those of Aaron Rush.

  “You!” he shouted. “Boy! What are you doing out there? Wait!”

  She turned to run just as he burst out the cabin door, a revolver in his hand. Certain that death was imminent, Katie ran blindly through the woods. She could hear Rush’s heavy footsteps behind her, and his words echoed in her ears.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot!” A shot rang out each time he uttered the threat.

  Every breath Katie took burned. Her legs trembled beneath her as she ran, waiting for the next bullet to hit her in the back, waiting for the fiery pain that would end her life. And as she thought of Jack and all his efforts to keep her from danger, tears scalded her cheeks, caking in the dust that covered her.

  “Stop, boy!” The gun cracked again.

  Katie felt as if her knees were about to buckle when suddenly she was being hoisted into the air. A horse surged forward beneath her. She leaned against a broad chest, while a strong male arm grasped her securely beneath her breasts. The hand that held the reins was heartbreakingly familiar.

  “Jack,” she breathed in disbelief.

  “Hang on and don’t speak,” he replied tersely. His arm tightened around Katie’s midriff.

  They rode recklessly through the woods, narrowly missing trees.

  Birds scattered before them, and an occasional pine bough grazed their sides. Finally, after what seemed an eternity to Katie, Jack reined in his horse and turned down toward the river.

  “Good work, Byron,” he said, leaning forward to pat the stallion’s neck.

  The south fork of the Stanislaus shimmered invitingly in the sunlight. Jack brought Byron to a stop high on the riverbank, amid a stand of cottonwood trees. Unceremoniously he lifted Katie up and dropped her to the ground, then dismounted. She stood off to one side, too shaken and frightened to speak, watching as Jack led Byron to the river to drink, then tethered him to a tree. Katie wondered what had become of Willoughby.

  “My horse...” Her voice was a croak.

  He was silent for a while before replying coldly, “Worried about him? Perhaps you ought to have given a moment’s thought to Willoughby before you tied him to a branch and left to rush blindly toward certain death. As it is, I sent him home. He seemed glad to go.”

  “I suppose he’ll find the way.”

  Jack walked toward her. “Certainly you couldn’t have returned him, and if I hadn’t set him free, Rush would have found him by now. Your identity wouldn’t have remained a secret very long. Anyone could have told him who owned that horse.”

  “Jack... I—” The words lodged in Katie’s throat.

  “Yes?” He was standing in front of her, his eyes like chips of green ice, his mouth set dangerously.

  “Thank you. For everything. You—you saved my life.”

  He turned his head. “I’m too angry and tired to talk to you about it now. I’m going to wash up before we head back, and I suggest that you do the same.”

  “Yes. Of course.” At a loss, Katie watched as he walked down to the riverbank and began to strip off his dusty clothing. Did he intend to bathe? Jack tossed his boots and shirt onto the grass, then began to peel off his snug-fitting buckskins. Katie turned away, then peeked just in time to catch a glimpse of hard male buttocks and long, muscular legs as he waded into the river and disappeared below the surface.

  Jack swam underwater a good distance out, then broke the surface with a shake of his head, sending droplets of water flying in all directions to shimmer in the sunlight. It looked wonderful to Katie, who had never felt more in need of the sort of refreshment he was enjoying.

  “Hurry,” he called. “We haven’t all day.”

  “But...” She flushed.

  Jack nearly reminded her that he already had an intimate knowledge of her naked body, but such remarks didn’t suit his mood. “Very well, I won’t look. Will that suit you?”

  Half shielded by a cottonwood tree, Katie shed her boots, trousers, and shirt, but she couldn’t bring herself to remove her chemise and drawers. Her hat came off next, and, on a whim, she unbraided her hair and let it fall free. She wanted to feel it floating around her on the surface of the water.

  Jack was enjoying himself as Katie gingerly approached the river’s edge. He let the current pull him a ways downstream, then swam back against it, apparently oblivious to her presence. Slowly she waded into the cool water, savoring the pleasant shock of the chill as she took herself deeper. Finally she submerged altogether, then popped back out into the sunlight, ebony hair streaming down her back.

  “You might as well take those underthings off and hope they’ll dry a bit in the sun before you have to dress,” Jack called. “Right now they aren’t concealing your body, you know. Wet batiste is provocatively transparent.”

  His choice of adjectives made her blush. Glancing down, Katie saw that he was right: she could see right through the gauzy cotton which clung now to her breasts. She stood there a moment, considering. Her underthings were sopping now, and she didn’t relish the prospect of wearing her scratchy old clothes without them.... Sighing, Katie pulled down her lace-trimmed drawers and draped them over a tree branch that hung low by the water’s edge. The sensation of the cool water on her flesh was pure bliss.

  The chemise gave her a bit more trouble. The pearl buttons refused to budge from their tiny, wet buttonholes, and Katie soon grew frustrated trying to unfasten them. She’d only managed two when she moved her foot impatiently and came down on something razor sharp.

  “Ow!” she screamed, aggravated tears welling in her eyes. Lifting her foot, she saw blood oozing into the water from her big toe. “God’s ears!” she cried, borrowing one of Brian’s expletives.

  Jack watched for a moment as she thrashed about. Then, when she fell backward and disappeared, he swam over.

  “Are you all right?”

  Katie’s face had just emerged from the shallow water. She tried to stand but stepped on her injured foot and let out another yowl of pain. “No! I’m not all right!” When she pushed her hair from her eyes, Jack saw that she was crying. “This has been the worst day of my life!”

  “I can assure you,” he replied dryly, “that it hasn’t been a favorite of mine, either.” Reaching out, he put an arm around her waist for support. “Don’t cry. Let me take a look at that foot.”

  “No! I’m not decent!” She pulled the sheer, wet chemise over her breasts and tried not to think about the fact that, under the water, Jack’s hand was resting on her bare hip.

  “I said I wanted to look at your foot,” he repeated patiently.

  It hurt so badly that Katie complied, still weeping in exhausted frustration. She lifted her foot out of the water and held on to his shoulders with one hand as he bent down to inspect her cut.

  “It’s not bad,” he pronounced, pulling a tiny shard of glass from her toe. “I think you’ll live.”

  Katie’s tears subsided as he continued to hold her f
oot, his hand sliding down to gently massage her instep. To her surprise, his touch sent a current of intense pleasure coursing all the way to her inner thigh. She stared at Jack’s wide, brown back and square shoulders, her gaze lingering on the curls at the nape of his neck. Suddenly she found it hard to breathe. “Jack, if you hadn’t been there today, he would have killed me.” The words spilled out of their own accord. “You were right, right about everything. I should have listened to you. You have every right to be angry with me.”

  Jack released her foot, straightened, and looked down at Katie for a long moment before gathering her into his arms. “I just couldn’t let anything happen to you, Kathleen,” he said softly. “I was angry because you’d put yourself in so much danger.”

  When his hand stroked her back, then pressed her against him until their hips met beneath the water, Katie felt as if a dam had burst inside of her. She melted against Jack’s strong body and opened her mouth to receive his kiss.

  Chapter 17

  October 16, 1864

  Jack’s mouth captured Katie’s full, ripe lips, and their tongues met and caressed in a feverish reunion. She couldn’t get close enough to him. Her arms wound around his neck as she pressed nearer, and in the chill water, the warmth of her belly nurtured his erection. When she felt him stiffen and rise against her, Katie was utterly lost, consumed with desire. Their hearts pounded in unison as they devoured one another in a frenzy of passion.

  The rest of the world slipped away. Katie’s reality centered on Jack—the taste of his mouth, the sure touch of his fingers, the warm, strong, living presence of his body—and the currents of energy that flowed between them. It was more than desire or lust: each kiss, each caress, was charged with intense emotion.

  Jack’s hands disappeared under the water to grip the edges of Katie’s chemise, pulling outward to force the recalcitrant buttons from the fabric. Dreamily, she glanced down and watched for a moment as the tiny pearls drifted through the water, zigzagging lazily until they settled on the gravel bed below.