Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1)

by Cynthia Wright

  Tears stung her eyes. “Fine.” Why, she wanted to ask, had he not prepared her more fully for the circumstances of this new life? Why had he not told her all about his house, his business, and the family members who shared his home? Katie felt powerless and frustrated. She wanted to be happy and excited about the future that stretched before her, but Jack’s attitude thwarted that.

  It was hard not to be stirred by her first sights of San Francisco, however. The busy streets were crowded with people, wagons, and carriages of every description. Store owners were bringing in their merchandise off the sidewalks as Elijah drove the carriage up Clay Street, and men were crowding into the doors of saloons. When Katie remarked on the number of buildings under construction, Jack explained:

  “San Francisco is being rebuilt with Nevada silver. This is a boom that rivals the gold rush. The silver mines have yielded more than fifteen million dollars so far this year, and I’d estimate that more than a thousand new buildings have gone up here as a result of the fortunes made in Nevada. We’re beginning to have a city of quality.”

  “I have always heard that it is quite fabulous.”

  Jack arched an eyebrow. “Fabulous, perhaps, but not always in the best of taste.”

  Katie opened her mouth to reply, then closed it, dumbfounded. Was this the down-to-earth, unpretentious man she had known in Columbia?

  Sandy hills rose up around Stockton Street, imposing a western barricade. Elijah turned south, and before long they emerged into virtual countryside. Katie stared out the window with interest, while Poppy scrambled onto Jack’s lap. When he began to stroke her, gently rubbing her neck with his strong fingers, the noise of the kitten’s purring filled the carriage.

  Rincon Hill curved around the foot of the bay, much of which had been filled in in recent years to create a straighter waterfront for the city. Rincon Hill rose above the fog, majestic and imposing with its elegant brick homes—particularly those of South Park, which was built along the western slope. South Park consisted of mews patterned after those in London; residential blocks were centered on a floral park, and the whole area was enclosed by a locked iron fence. Katie stared in astonishment when Elijah pulled up at the gate and got out to unlock it.

  “You don’t live here, do you?” she exclaimed.

  “Any complaints?” Jack countered mildly, his large hand stroking Poppy’s tiny body.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? All you said was that you had ‘a house.’ I expected something considerably more modest!” She fell silent when Elijah climbed back up onto his seat.

  “Kathleen, are you familiar with the expression ‘pleasant surprise’? Usually it evokes elation, smiles... that sort of thing.”

  He looked so calm, even amused, as he reclined against the upholstered seat, watching her with hooded green eyes and petting the besotted Poppy. Her husband made her furious. And how could her kitten turn traitor this way? Poppy appeared to be enamored of Jack to the point of forgetting her mistress completely.

  The carriage drew up before a handsome brick house embellished with Palladian windows, pillars, and porches. The house was flanked by cypress trees and surrounded by a graceful iron fence. Elijah got down to open the door for them, and Katie turned to Jack, intent on speaking her mind.

  “I assume that your reference to the ‘pleasant surprise’ was meant to infer that I am reacting inappropriately. I do not appreciate your attempt to turn this around so that I appear to be at fault.” Her eyes blazed at him. “When I accepted your proposal of marriage, I asked you to promise not to try to rule me, and you agreed. May I suggest, sir, that your purposeful withholding of information is nothing more than a means to exercise power over me. I do not even know what your occupation is. You hold all the cards and make all the rules, but I am raising an objection. Perhaps you imagine that you have married the sort of woman who will meekly acquiesce, settling for a pat on the head and a crumb of information. If so, pray allow me to dispel that misconception. If you are unable to accord me the respect I deserve as your wife and partner, then perhaps you ought to send me back to Columbia right now!”

  Jack coolly returned her glare. “That’s a tempting suggestion. I’ll think about it. In the meantime, why don’t we go inside and have supper.”

  Elijah, waiting outside the carriage for the storm to pass, now opened the door and helped Katie down. As Jack passed him, he carefully avoided his employer’s eyes, but the merest suggestion of a smile tugged at his mouth. Until now, working for Jonathan Wyatt had been an ordered affair, so much so that it threatened to become tedious at times. It was also financially secure, which Elijah appreciated, but he had always hoped to see the day when someone or something would shake up the Wyatt household. Obviously that day had come, courtesy of Kathleen MacKenzie Wyatt, and Elijah could not have been more delighted.

  * * *

  Ambrose Summers sat on a maroon wing chair in the parlor. The cavernous, mahogany-paneled room was dark except for the small lamp at his elbow and the fire blazing in the marble fireplace. A worn copy of David Copperfield lay open on the curve of his belly, below which curled the fat, furry body of Harriet the cat.

  Half dozing, the old man raised his head and pushed back his spectacles when the sound of male and female voices reached him from the entry hall. So, his grandson had come home at last. Summers smiled, pleased. Perhaps now Jonathan would settle in and stay put. Ambrose wasn’t particularly fond of Genevieve Braithwaite, but one couldn’t be choosy in the West, and Genevieve was the most beautiful woman in San Francisco. She’d be a proper, elegant wife, and she’d give Jack beautiful babies. That’s what the boy needed: a family. Then he’d abandon these mad jaunts to the gold country and stay home where he belonged. He’d have to be a fool to leave if Genevieve was in his bed.

  Ambrose turned dreamy at the thought of becoming a great-grandfather. It would be wonderful to dandle an infant on his knee for a few minutes, then turn it back over to its parents. All the benefits of parenthood with none of the responsibilities....

  “Grandfather?”

  Squinting at the shadowy figure in the doorway, Ambrose struggled to sit up, but Harriet’s weight proved too great a burden.”Jack? Welcome home! Come in here and give your grandfather a proper greeting. Was that Genevieve’s voice I heard?”

  “No, Grandfather.” Wyatt reached back and drew into the doorway a figure wearing what appeared to be a dark, shapeless dress, but the light was too dim to make out the woman’s identity. “There is someone I’d like to introduce to you.”

  As they crossed the shadowy room, Harriet began to dig her claws into Summers’s legs and emit a low growl. “Harriet, behave yourself! What’s gotten into you, you cantankerous old woman? Don’t you remember Jack? “

  Jack himself had forgotten all about Poppy, who was curled into the crook of Katie’s arm, half-hidden in the folds of her blue-gray traveling cloak. Just as he was about to reach for her, the calico kitten sprang forward and landed on Harriet, who was several times larger. Horrified and furious, the old cat hissed menacingly, but Poppy batted at her bewhiskered face before springing down to the Persian carpet and running for shelter.

  “God’s eyebrows!” Ambrose exclaimed, hoisting himself to a full sitting position. “How did that thing get into the house? Jack, find that little beast and get rid of it before it attacks Harriet again!”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Grandfather,” Wyatt replied with a weary sigh.

  “What the devil are you talking about?” he blustered. Leaning forward, Ambrose finally got a good look at the woman standing beside his grandson. “Jonathan, who—”

  “The kitten belongs to my wife, I’m afraid. Grandfather, I’d like you to meet Kathleen MacKenzie Wyatt, your new granddaughter-in-law. Kathleen, this is my grandfather, Ambrose Summers.”

  The old man peered over his spectacles at Katie. Through the shadows, he saw that the young woman’s body was swathed in a dark cloak that belled out over her gown and crinoline. She had glos
sy black hair smoothed back into a chignon and a delicate, pale face. What immediately struck him, however, were her eyes. Large, sapphire blue, and thickly fringed with long dark lashes, Kathleen’s eyes sparkled with a mixture of defiance, intelligence, and uncertainty. Ambrose was intrigued. Apparently his new granddaughter-in-law had character.

  “So, you’re the girl from Columbia,” he muttered, thinking aloud.

  Katie was startled. Could Jack have told his grandfather about her before returning to the foothills last month? “Yes, I’m from Columbia, Mr. Summers, and I’m glad to meet you.”

  “Call me Ambrose—or even Grandfather. Whatever suits you.” His sweeping mustache curved upward as he chuckled absently. “I think I’m going to like you, Kathleen, even if you have brought another cat in to invade poor Harriet’s territory. Just between us, I suspect that it will be good for all of us to have our routines upset a bit. I’m glad you decided to leave Columbia after all, and I’m glad you did Jack the favor of becoming his wife!”

  Katie’s heart felt immeasurably lighter. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear you say that, Mr.—Ambrose. Your kindness is deeply appreciated at this moment.” She shook the hand he held up to her. “Everyone calls me Katie except for Jack, so you also may choose the name you prefer.”

  Summers turned to his grandson, who was observing this exchange with mixed emotions. “I’m pleased to see that you did the right thing, my boy!”

  Jack didn’t particularly care to have this conversation in front of Katie. “Well, I’m pleased that you’re pleased.” He turned to his bride. “Mrs. Gosling is waiting to take you upstairs to freshen up and Elijah has already brought up your trunk. Wouldn’t you like a bath before dinner?”

  “That would be nice,” she said politely. “Will you excuse me, Ambrose?”

  The old man’s round cheeks turned pink as he beamed at Katie. “Of course, my dear. Enjoy your bath. I hope you’ll pardon me for not standing. It’s not for lack of manners, I assure you. My legs simply aren’t what they used to be.”

  She grinned. “To tell you the truth, sir, neither are mine!”

  Katie left the two men then and returned to the entry hall to join the waiting Mrs. Gosling. The housekeeper was more than a little unnerved at this unexpected turn of events. What would her life be like now that she was no longer the only woman of influence in the Wyatt house? When Katie appeared before her, however, Mrs. Gosling’s heart softened. The girl was young, and she looked rather lost. The older woman smiled at her warmly and was encouraged by the sweetness of the new Mrs. Wyatt’s answering smile. They had just started up the stairs when Ambrose Summers’s voice carried out from the parlor:

  “Tell me now, Jack, what the devil do you intend to do with Genevieve Braithwaite? She dropped by the other day and was prattling on about the new draperies she has in mind for the parlor and dining room! You’re going to have a mess on your hands when she and her mama hear that you’ve gone and married someone else!”

  * * *

  Katie stood in the middle of the stunning Turkey carpet, cleverly woven in shades of indigo, cream, and blood red, that dominated Jack’s spacious bedroom. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that he might live like this. She felt out of place, not only because of the grandeur of her surroundings, but also because the room was unequivocally masculine, from its color scheme to its handsome Hepplewhite furnishings. It was impossible not to wonder if she might always feel like a guest in her husband’s bed.

  Elijah had started a fire in the walnut-framed fireplace, which added an element of cheery warmth. The bathroom echoed with the sound of running water, and a moment later Mrs. Gosling emerged.

  “I’ve started your bath, Mrs. Wyatt, and you’ll find towels on Mr. Wyatt’s dressing table. I’ve brought in some more feminine soap from the guest bathroom.”

  Katie smiled wanly. “Thank you, Mrs. Gosling. I truly appreciate your help.” Her knuckles were white as she clutched her folded cloak in front of her, looking for all the world as if she were interviewing for the position of housemaid.

  “How remiss of me not to take your wrap when you came in!” the older woman exclaimed. “I suppose my only excuse is that I was too surprised by Mr. Wyatt’s news.” She took matters in hand then, draping the cloak over her own arm, unfastening Katie’s dress and unlacing her corset, and finally leading her into the bathroom. “Now you just get undressed and have a good long soak. It’ll do you a world of good. I’m going to go next door and prepare your own rooms for you.”

  Alone again, Katie obeyed mechanically. She was sitting in the beautiful porcelain bathtub, steaming water gushing out of the nickel-plated faucet in front of her, when Mrs. Gosling’s words sank in. Her own rooms? Did that mean that she would not sleep with Jack? Before she could assimilate this latest turn of events, Jack’s voice drifted to her from the other side of the wall, where, apparently, her own bedroom was located. Quickly she turned off the taps and strained to hear what he was saying. Most of it was muffled, but she did manage to make out a few phrases:

  “...because I’d like these rooms ready before we retire tonight. Mrs. Wyatt will doubtless be exhausted from her travels, and I would hate to wake her in the morning.”

  Waves of confusion washed over Katie, but she managed to compose herself when she heard Jack enter the bedroom through the connecting door.

  “How are you doing?” he called, peeking around the entrance to the tiled bathroom. “Is the water hot enough?”

  Katie crossed her arms in front of her breasts. “It’s fine,” she answered politely. “May I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.” Jack had removed his coat and cravat and looked engagingly relaxed as he leaned against the door frame.

  “What sort of wife do you intend that I shall be? Will we lead separate lives and only meet for distant conversation over the dinner table? Will you come and go as you please from your rooms, carrying on your life as you did before I came here, deigning to share my bed only when the spirit moves you?” She was shivering in the hot water, her face strained and pale.

  “Kathleen—” Straightening, Jack sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “I think that you are overreacting. You’re tired. Why don’t you relax and enjoy your bath, and we’ll talk about this when you have dressed.”

  “No!” she cried, on the verge of tears. “I want to know now!”

  They were interrupted by a series of loud knocks on the door to Jack’s bedroom. He excused himself and left the bathroom. Crossing the carpet, he opened the door to discover an incredulous-looking Conrad, skin white against his flaming red hair and wild blue eyes.

  “Jack!” cried the younger man. “Is it true? I can’t believe it! Has Grandfather finally gone soft in the head during his waning years, or have you actually gotten married to a stranger?”

  “Frankly, I tend to think you have all gone a little soft in the head around here,” Jack replied sarcastically. “But to answer your question more directly—yes, I have gotten married, and yes, she is a stranger to you, though obviously not to me.” He took his brother’s elbow. “Why don’t we go downstairs and continue this conversation?”

  Conrad froze in the doorway as Jack tried to steer him into the hall. “But what about Genevieve?” he burst out in near hysteria. “All hell is going to break loose when she hears about this!”

  “Will you move!?” Wyatt barked, at the end of his patience. “And keep your voice down, you dolt!”

  Katie heard the door close behind them. Blindly, she reached for the bar of lilac-scented soap and began to rub it into a furious lather.

  The water was cooling rapidly, she was cold, and she felt utterly naked in every sense of the word. As she washed, tears slipped down her cheeks, tears she was determined that Jack would never see.

  Chapter 24

  November 3, 1864

  It was good to be home. Walking lightly down the stairs, Jack stopped for a moment in the entry hall, which was awash with hazy mo
rning sunlight. He took his watch out of his vest pocket and checked the time: seven-thirty, exactly. The chaos of last night was behind him, he mused, smiling. Somehow, they’d all gotten through dinner, during which Katie appeared to win the hearts of both Conrad and their grandfather, and she’d been too tired at bedtime to resume the argument begun during her bath. He’d made an effort to be pleasant, tucking her into bed in her lovely room decorated in rosewood and carnation-pink silk. Katie had been exhausted and accepted his explanation that he had work to catch up on in his study before he could go to bed himself. They’d shared an affectionate kiss, and then she’d gone to sleep.

  Now life was assuming its former structure, and Jack was relieved to be able to let his guard down. This morning he had risen at the usual time, had his bath and dressed in peaceful solitude, and now, after the usual ritual of tea and fruit over the newspaper, he could leave for work just as he always had. He and Katie would chat when he returned in the evening, and perhaps he’d even visit her bed. However, there would not be a repeat performance of their wedding night, at least not for a while. Jack felt uneasy whenever he recalled the force of his own passion—a passion unknown to him before Katie, and one that was entwined with emotions that threatened to consume him. The next time they made love, he was determined to keep it uncomplicated.

  Feeling that he had regained a measure of control over his own life, Jack smiled to himself as he opened the paneled door to his study. As usual, on the Chippendale desk across the room, tea and a plate of sliced fruit awaited him next to the folded newspaper. The house was agreeably quiet, and Jack welcomed this interlude to organize his thoughts and prepare for the day ahead. He had just started across the carpet when a voice startled him.

  “Good morning, Jack! Did you sleep well?”

  Stunned, he stood frozen for a moment, then turned slowly. There, perched high on the ladder that could be pushed on rollers around the walls of books that lined the study, was Katie. Stockinged feet peeped out of a flurry of soft petticoats covered by a simple periwinkle-blue gown that buttoned most of the way up her throat. She had resumed wearing her hair in a single braid again, but soft black tendrils curled about her face. Jack thought that his wife was looking especially appealing this morning, her cheeks stained pink and her eyes sparkling; but he resisted his attraction to her.