Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1)

by Cynthia Wright

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not finished yet,” Katie declared. “That man will be brought to justice—”

  “If it’s the last thing you do?” an ironic voice interjected from the doorway.

  Katie’s heart leaped at the sight of Jack striding toward them. His appeal seemed to grow more potent with each passing day. She was stirred by the casual, catlike grace of his movements, the set of his shoulders, the shape of his hands...

  Stop it! she scolded herself. He took the stool next to Gideon and reached forward to pour himself a cup of coffee from the pewter coffeepot on the bar. Then he gave Katie a sidelong glance.

  “I think you would be wise to forget about Aaron Rush for the moment. Leave it be.”

  She smiled sweetly. “I appreciate your advice, Mr. Adams, and I promise to consider it carefully.” Turning to Gideon, she inquired, “Aren’t you going to announce your good news?”

  “Oh—certainly!” He flushed. “I’ve asked Abby to marry me, and she has agreed.”

  A sudden, sincere smile lit Jack’s face. Putting out his hand, he said, “Congratulations, Gideon! I couldn’t be happier for the two of you. Ah, and you’re a lucky man, you know. Abby’s quite a woman.”

  Gideon nodded. “I know. And I have you to thank for bringing her into my life.”

  “It was my pleasure. It’s very satisfying to see that two people can successfully navigate the course of true love!”

  Katie gave him a quick glance, then looked away as Gideon asked Jack to be his best man.

  “Consent? I’d be honored! Except that I’m not certain I’ll still be in Columbia....”

  “We’re hoping to have the wedding as soon as possible. Abby is off right now checking with Mrs. Barnstaple to see how quickly her dress, and Katie’s, can be done.”

  “Katie’s?” Jack echoed, his tone casual.

  “Katie will be the maid of honor.”

  “I see.” He sipped his coffee. “Well, if this momentous occasion can take place within the next fortnight, you can depend on me to be by your side, my friend. I’ll just remain in town a little longer.”

  Katie felt her cheeks growing warm as the two men shook hands again and was grateful for the distraction when a stranger entered the saloon.

  Jack glanced up, too, his mouth going dry at the sight of Samuel Clemens walking toward him. Sam was smiling at the unexpected sight of his friend, and Jack knew a momentary sense of panic. Jumping off the bar stool, he walked forward, hand outstretched.

  “Well, if it isn’t Samuel Clemens! I hope you remember me. The name is Jack Adams. We met in San Francisco this past summer.”

  Sam caught the barely perceptible wink that Jack sent his way and managed to conceal his confusion. “Of course I remember you, Jack. I’d hoped that we were friends! I can only assume that you questioned my memory because each time we met you were sober and I was... not”.

  “It’s good to see you again, Sam, and to discover that your wit remains intact,” Jack said, laughing. “Allow me to introduce you to my friends.”

  As the introductions were made, Katie studied Clemens. His was an interesting face—rather craggy, with deep-set, snapping dark eyes under bushy brows and a mouth that was partially obscured by a thick mustache. His head was crowned by a wild mop of reddish-brown curls. As he smiled at her with frank interest, Katie tried to place his name.

  “Aren’t you a writer, Mr. Clemens?”

  “I like to think so, though there are plenty who would disagree, Miss MacKenzie,” he replied with a chuckle.

  “I knew it—you’re Mark Twain!” she cried. “I’ve read your work in the Virginia City Territorial Enterprise, and more recently in the San Francisco Morning Star. The stage drivers are kind enough to bring me newspapers when they think of it. You are very talented, Mr. Clemens!”

  “And you are a young lady of rare taste and judgment,” Sam replied.

  “Miss MacKenzie is not just the owner of this saloon,” Jack explained. “She is also a newspaperwoman herself. She’s on the staff of the Columbia Gazette, which is owned by Mr. Henderson.”

  “Call me Gideon,” the young man protested. “And Katie and I are the staff of the Gazette. I couldn’t do without her.”

  Unable to suppress her curiosity, Katie inquired, “Will you be in Columbia long, Mr. Clemens? I am eager to learn more about your trade, and would be very grateful for anything you could teach me.”

  Sam was about to reply that Katie was already acquainted with a great source of knowledge—Jack—but his friend gave him a quelling glance. “Actually, I’m on my way to Jackass Gulch to spend more time with the Gillis brothers, but I’ll undoubtedly travel over here from time to time, especially now that I am acquainted with you, Miss MacKenzie—and Mr. Henderson.” Sam looked directly at Jack. “Do you know, I thought I was thirstier than anything else, but now I find that I have a powerful longing for a bath and a shave. Mr. Adams, would you mind showing me the way to the best barbershop in town?”

  Jack smiled. “I’d be glad to. Then you can return here for a hot meal. What are you serving today, Katie?”

  “Sausage and beans,” she replied, “with fresh gingerbread.”

  Sam sniffed at the covered pans. “Smells wonderful! Save some for me; I’ll be back.”

  When the two men emerged onto Main Street, Jack closed his eyes and laughed with relief. “My God, but the sight of you scared me! That’s been my fear all along—that someone from my other life would appear in Columbia and call me ‘Wyatt.’”

  “Your ‘other life’?” Sam peered at him closely. “This is all very interesting. I must say, I wouldn’t have taken you for a man with a secret.” His tone deepened melodramatically. “Out with it now, my friend. Who are you really? Jonathan Wyatt—wealthy, disciplined owner of the San Francisco Morning Star? Or Jack Adams—gold country renegade and... and what? Prospector? Barfly?” Sam’s heavy brows rose questioningly.

  “If I tell you, you must swear that it will go no further.”

  “You have my word. I have some dirt of my own that I’ll ask you to help me keep under the rug.”

  Jack nodded. It would be a relief to share the truth with a friend, especially one who was present in Columbia. They walked into a secluded grove of birch trees behind the Wells Fargo building. Jack glanced around to be certain no one could overhear, then said simply, “I’m the Griffin.”

  Clemens’s mouth dropped open. “The foothills’ own Robin Hood? Are you serious?”

  Jack nodded ruefully. “I’m afraid so. It began simply enough. Rush and Van Hosten had deprived my brother, Conrad, of the gold he discovered near here. I merely came up to Columbia to see that justice was done....”

  “Unbeknownst to Conrad?” Sam was fascinated.

  “That’s right. He still doesn’t know. In fact, the only person, outside of yourself now, who does know what I’ve been doing is my grandfather.” He paused to run a hand through hair. “At any rate, when I discovered how widespread the injustice was, one thing led to another, and I went on with it. I liked seeing the miners get their due, watching Rush and Van Hosten squirm. Then I returned to my life in San Francisco and thought to put an end to it, but I had to come back. I really hoped to resolve the entire situation without bloodshed.”

  “Until Van Hosten and that saloon keeper were killed.”

  “That’s right. And the saloon keeper was Brian MacKenzie, Katie’s father.” It pained Jack to speak the words.

  “Oh, Lord.” Sam paled.

  “It was Van Hosten who shot him, but no one knows that. It shouldn’t have happened. Everything began to get complicated when I returned to Columbia last summer and spent enough time here to make real friends. The charade began to seem real. When I went home, just before you and I met, my life as Jonathan Wyatt seemed rather dull and trite. I found that I missed my other identity. Sometimes I’m not certain anymore which man is really me!” Jack bent to pet a calico kitten so that Clemens couldn’t read the depth of emotion and co
nflict in his eyes. Sam watched him sympathetically.

  “Now that little talk we had in your office makes more sense than ever. I can certainly see why you were so preoccupied in San Francisco, trying to pick up your ordered existence!” Sam gave a cough of dry laughter. “Believe me, I understand. I’ve had more than my own share of identities, with occupations of every sort in various locales.”

  “I suppose I shouldn’t have come back here, but I felt compelled. When I heard that Rush’s henchmen had wrecked the Gazette’s printing press, I brought one up here.”

  “A noble excuse!” Sam teased knowingly.

  Jack smiled, straightening. “Thank you. I thought so at the time. But I didn’t consider the complications. I have friends here now, and I don’t like lying to them about who I really am.” He paused, rubbing his jaw. “It’s a mess. I was going to leave in a day or two, but now Gideon Henderson has asked me to stand up with him at his wedding, so I’ll have to remain for at least two more weeks.”

  Sam was contemplating a tree branch as he listened to Jack’s story. “Katie MacKenzie doesn’t know that you’re the Griffin, and she believes that the Griffin is responsible for her father’s death.”

  Jack winced. “That’s right.”

  “What’s between the two of you?”

  “I’m not entirely certain myself. We’re friends, when Kathleen isn’t furious with me.”

  Sam pressed, “But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

  “What makes you think so?” Jack asked uneasily.

  “Well, I’m no expert on this sort of thing, but the air seemed to be charged between the two of you in a way that I’ve witnessed before. And for what it’s worth, I didn’t feel it between Jack Wyatt and Genevieve Braithwaite.” Clemens sniffed, took out a handkerchief, blew his nose, then added, “But, as I said, I’m no expert.”

  “I... uh, appreciate your opinion, but the fact is that there can’t be anything permanent between Kathleen and myself. She doesn’t even know my real identity, and of course, beyond that, if she discovered that I was the Griffin, she’d kill me outright.” Jack paused, stared back toward the saloon, then shrugged.

  Sam nodded slowly. “You’re right, my friend. It’s a mess.”

  “Why don’t you tell me your own dire story en route to Snyder’s Shaving Saloon? Perhaps it will cheer me up!”

  Laughing, they set out. The morning was growing warm, and Clemens took off his coarse brown sack coat, a loose-fitting garment with high, short lapels that had become popular for the most informal of occasions. He draped it over his aim, loosened his collar, and began with a question. “Have you ever met my friend, Steve Gillis?”

  “No, I don’t believe so.”

  “Well, you will. He left San Francisco with me. Actually, you might say that he caused me to leave San Francisco.” Sam glanced at Jack, eyes twinkling. “Steve and I are making a history for ourselves of leaving places in a hurry. One day I’ll regale you with the full account of our departure from Nevada, which came about at the invitation of the governor himself. Steve had gotten me involved in one of the duels that were fashionable in Nevada then, unaware that there was a new law against it. When the governor pointed it out to us, we decided to go to San Francisco rather than the penitentiary.”

  Jack felt himself relaxing. Clemens’s laconic style both amused and entertained him. “It’s coming back to me now. Wasn’t Steve Gillis your partner in debauchery when you let rooms from that Frenchwoman?”

  “That’s right. I’d like to blame him for all our adventures, but I suppose I must play some role in them....” Sam grinned. “At any rate, it’s been a rather quiet autumn, except for the trouble I’ve been making for myself as a newspaperman. I’ve been feeling a bit of heat for my attacks, bravely printed by your paper, on corruption of politicians and police. After you left San Francisco, I wrote a piece damning the mobs who hunt Chinese in the streets, and I received a few threats. Naturally, I’m far too courageous to run away, but Steve took the matter out of my hands.” His tone was ironic.

  “You know that we’ll print anything you write,” Jack said seriously. “I gave Edwin Murray orders to that effect before I left.”

  “I know, and I’m grateful. And I’m sure I’ll do more work for you if you’ll have me.”

  “Now that that’s settled, tell me what caused you and Steve to make such a speedy exit from San Francisco.” The Presbyterian pastor and his wife nodded as they passed the two men, and Jack smiled in response.

  “I’ll condense the story for your benefit,” Sam was replying. “We went out to a saloon one night, bemoaning the sad state of our social lives. But Steve is a man who likes a bit of excitement, especially after consuming whiskey. One thing led to another, and he became involved in a brawl. The authorities were alerted, Steve was taken into custody, and I was dispatched to raise the money to post bond. Once he was released, it seemed wise to absent ourselves from San Francisco for a while.”

  “I see!” Jack laughed. “Your facility with words serves you well, my friend. What you meant to say was that you are now a fugitive!”

  “Why would I mean to say a thing like that?” Sam replied innocently, then joined in his friend’s laughter.

  “I just wanted to be absolutely certain that I understood the situation correctly. You and Gillis ran away from San Francisco, using his run-in with the police and assorted other unsavory types as an excuse to escape to Jackass Gulch, which you had been longing to do all the time.” Jack’s eyes glinted with amusement.

  “I guess grown men need weighty excuses in order to leave the responsibilities of work behind and run off to the foothills,” Sam replied calmly.

  “Truer words were never spoken.”

  The two men nodded soberly, in unison. When they reached Snyder’s Shaving Saloon, Jack opened the door and smiled as his friend passed by. “I’m glad you’re here, Sam.”

  Their eyes met for an instant in shared understanding. “I’m glad, too, especially now that it’s clear I won’t be bored!”

  Chapter 19

  October 22, 1864

  “Lovely, just lovely!” proclaimed Victoria Barnstaple. She darted forward like a sparrow, hands fluttering to her bosom as she beamed at Katie. “My dear, that color is ideal for you! I could only be more pleased to see you wearing white—as the bride!”

  Katie flushed. “Oh, Mrs. Barnstaple, let’s not think about that.”

  “I know that your dear parents would want me to remind you that life’s true gifts are only possible when one has a mate to share with,” Victoria chirped.

  Katie made no reply but waited patiently as the older woman put a few more pins into the yards of lavender-blue silk taffeta that flowed outward from Katie’s waist. “This is the stiffest, widest crinoline I’ve ever worn,” she murmured at last, squirming slightly.

  “Well, that’s good! You should be used to the more disciplined aspects of womanhood by now, my dear. One day, after you’re married, you’ll be attending all manner of important social occasions, and you must be at ease in your corset and crinoline.”

  Katie bit her tongue, then tried to change the subject. “I’m anxious to see Abby’s gown. She must look very beautiful.”

  “Oh, yes,” Mrs. Barnstaple agreed distractedly. Inserting the last pin, she stood back and examined Katie with a critical eye. “You really do need a new hairstyle, my dear. How will you wear it at the wedding?”

  “In a chignon, I thought.”

  Victoria pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes as if to gauge the overall effect. “Yes... Yes, that should look very nice. I wish you’d wear it that way more often. Anything but that braid! You know, Katie darling, you are blessed with extraordinary natural beauty. I cannot fathom why you go to such extremes to conceal it.”

  Her frankness caught Katie off guard. “I’m not entirely certain myself, Mrs. Barnstaple, but I’ll think about what you’ve said.”

  “Well, good. You may remove that gown now. I suppose you ha
ve to be getting back to that saloon.” She sniffed as she helped Katie lift the layers of taffeta over her head. “It’s not right, you know, a girl your age running a place like that. Some people would call it an open and shameless enticement to evil—”

  “But you know our saloon isn’t like that!” Katie protested.

  “You serve liquor, don’t you? I never approved of Brian letting you work there, and I approve even less of you, whose mother was a proper lady, acting as proprietress of such an establishment. It simply isn’t right.”

  Katie stepped out of the crinoline and petticoats, then reached for her own frock of blue-sprigged cotton. “I appreciate your advice and I know you have my best interests at heart, but the simple truth is that the saloon is the only means of support available to me. I intend to make my own way, without having to depend on others.” She cast about for another subject. “Tell me, how is your niece? Is she enjoying her visit to Columbia?”

  “Oh, yes, I think so, though she hasn’t made the acquaintance of many young women her own age.” Victoria began to fasten up the back of Katie’s dress. “She spends more time with that Jack Adams than anyone, and I shudder to think what her parents would say. But then, Margaret has always been headstrong. She wouldn’t heed my brother and his wife, and she won’t heed me. I love the girl, but—”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt you, but I do need to get back to the saloon.” Katie suddenly felt very warm. “Thank you for making the gown for me, Mrs. Barnstaple. I truly do appreciate it.”

  “Well, I’m glad to help you and Abigail. She seems to be a nice young lady, and of course, I’ve always loved Gideon. His mother is one of my best friends.”

  Katie backed toward the front door and lifted the latch. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Your gown should be finished by Thursday, which leaves us time for any last-minute alterations before the wedding on Saturday. Why don’t you stay for tea when you come to try it on?”