Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1)

by Cynthia Wright

  “Well, it was all a ruse, anyway,” Jack interjected. “Katie didn’t really mean to write for the Call, she just wanted to scare me into giving her a place at the Star.”

  “And it worked,” she confirmed, beaming. “I am now a reporter for the Star—and a good one. Isn’t that so, Jack?”

  “You may be competent, but you’re incorrigible. If you continue to write such controversial articles, you’re going to make enemies, and you’re going to get into trouble.” He turned to his friend. “She won’t listen to me, Sam. Every time I threaten not to publish what she writes, she starts talking about looking for work elsewhere.” He narrowed his eyes at Katie, but there was an undeniable note of affectionate respect in his voice.

  “Sounds to me like you two have a rollicking good marriage, and I’m not fool enough to take sides,” Sam declared. “Besides, if Katie gets into trouble here, she can always run away like I did. She has a ready-made refuge in Columbia!”

  “Oh, God,” Jack said, giving him a dark look. “You’re a great help.”

  “Enough about us,” Katie declared, offering Sam another muffin. “What’s been happening in Columbia? Did you ever find your pocket of gold in Jackass Gulch? How are Lim, and Gideon and Abby? Has the Griffin returned?”

  “Whoa!” Clemens held up his hands. “One thing at a time. I know you will both be shocked to hear it, but I never did strike it rich pocket mining. Matter of fact, I didn’t strike much of anything at all.” His eyes twinkled under bushy brows as he took a sip of his coffee. “Finally, I decided that I’d rather be poor and ragged in San Francisco than in Jackass Gulch, especially during the winter. Oh—I almost forgot. I do have one accomplishment to report. I have an idea for a story that I started writing last week. It sounds crazy—it’s about a jumping frog contest in Angel’s Camp—but I think it will work. As for Columbia, little has changed. Gideon and Abby are very happy. I saw them at Christmastime; they invited me to the saloon for roast turkey, and it was the best meal I’d had in weeks. Lim Sung, as I recall, is planning to come to San Francisco. In fact, he may have left already.”

  “His mother told me that she had found a lovely girl for him,” Katie said, nodding. “I think he’s too young to marry, but it’s none of my business, and of course, I’d be delighted if he were in San Francisco. Yong Sung has two laundries and a herb shop here now, so Lim is needed.” She paused. “Is there any news regarding Aaron Rush—or the Griffin?”

  Sam glanced at Jack. “Well, Rush continues to be a rather ominous presence in Columbia, although he hasn’t done anything too dastardly of late. His main weapon is fear.”

  “And the Griffin?” Katie persisted. “Has he returned?”

  Jack almost spilled his coffee when he heard Sam reply, “As a matter of fact, he has. It would appear that this has been a lean winter for the Griffin, because he can no longer afford to play Robin Hood. Word has it that he’s held up two stages this past month and robbed everyone on board, and none of the passengers had any connection to Aaron Rush. In fact, both stages were carrying shipments from the only two independent gold strikes made in the Columbia area this winter.” Stroking his mustache, Clemens observed, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think that the Griffin was in league with Aaron Rush.”

  As Jack stared in consternation, Katie leaped to her feet and cried, “I knew it! That highwayman is as low a villain as Aaron Rush himself!”

  * * *

  “What the devil possessed you to spin that preposterous tale about the Griffin?” Jack demanded. “Have you lost your mind?”

  Jack had brought Sam to the Bank Exchange Saloon on Montgomery Street because it was one of the few places he could be certain that Katie wouldn’t suddenly appear to interrupt or overhear their conversation. Jack drank water while Clemens sipped Pisco punch, a Peruvian brandy concoction invented by Duncan Nichols, the colorful man who presided over the saloon.

  “As a matter of fact, I thought that it was quite ingenious of me to tell Katie that the Griffin had returned. Don’t you see? Now there is absolutely no possibility that she will ever suspect you. You need worry no longer on that score.” Sam gazed around the marble-floored saloon as he spoke, drinking in the sight of valuable oil paintings hanging on the walls and fabulous crystal chandeliers dangling from the high ceilings. “Good Lord, it’s good to be back in civilization again! The foothills hold many charms, but I’ve missed this bawdy city.”

  “Would you mind returning to the subject of the Griffin for a moment?” Jack asked through clenched teeth.

  “Of course not. As a matter of fact, that’s the main reason I came back. You see, I wasn’t actually spinning tales when I said that the Griffin had reappeared in the Columbia area and was robbing stages. Someone is impersonating you, Jack.”

  Wyatt’s face darkened. “Aaron Rush?”

  “Or one of his henchmen,” Sam agreed. “That does seem to be the likely answer, doesn’t it? He’s doing what he and Van Hosten liked to do best—take gold from the few men who are still lucky enough to find it on their own, only this time pinning the blame on the Griffin. You must have really made him angry when you went to see him that night. He couldn’t take revenge through Katie, and the Griffin disappeared as well, so he’s found more devious means.”

  “Christ!” Jack shook his head in disbelief. “It begins to seem that there’s only one way to put an end to this madness once and for all.”

  “I’m sorry to have brought you this news. It would appear that you and Katie have found happiness together; that you have filled the emptiness in your life...”

  “And now I’ll have to go back to Columbia.”

  “Well, perhaps it would be best to put an end to this business once and for all. I certainly wish you luck.” Pensively, he drained his Pisco punch. “I wish there were something I could do....”

  Jack grinned at him, one brow arched. “Oh, but there is. You’re going with me, Sam.”

  Clemens responded with a sickly smile. “I was afraid of that.” He sighed, “No, strike that. Actually, I was resigned to it before I left Jackass Gulch. I had hoped to indulge in a bit of female company first, however. How soon do you want to leave?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Sam groaned. “You’re a cruel man. I doubt that even my considerable charms will win me the... affections of a desirable woman in one night!” Jack’s only response was unsympathetic laughter, so he sighed in resignation. “All right. Tomorrow, then. What about Katie? What will you tell her?”

  “I sure as hell can’t let her know where I’m going, because she’d want to come, too. The truth will have to wait again, but it will be told. Even before you arrived today, I had made up my mind to tell Kathleen the truth about her father’s death. I hate having secrets of any kind from her; it goes against all the principles upon which our marriage is based. But first I had to win her trust. When I return from Columbia, and this mess is cleared up once and for all, I’ll tell her that I was the Griffin.” A tiny muscle pulsed in his jaw. “I’ll tell her the truth and take my chances....”

  “But not now,” Sam clarified.

  “No.” Jack sighed harshly. “Not now.”

  * * *

  Hazy moonlight, filtered by fog, drifted softly over the large testered bed. Katie liked to awaken to light in the morning, so Jack no longer slept with the drapes closed. It was one of the many compromises and alterations he had made in his life-style over the past weeks, and he found that they were surprisingly painless. Jack had learned, as Ambrose had predicted, that he could bend without breaking, and that the process itself was oddly satisfying.

  Now, in the timeless hours between midnight and dawn, Jack and Katie lay together, her slim body snuggled into the curve of his. Jack’s arm was around her, his hand cupping her breast. He had swept her long hair up over the top of the pillow so that he could smell the sweetness of her neck, kissing her there from time to time. Katie imagined that she had never in her life felt as secure, serene, and protected as sh
e did during these exquisite nights in Jack’s arms.

  On this particular night, however, her sleep was troubled. Finally, turning onto her back, she awoke with a start to find Jack staring down at her.

  “Are you all right?” His face, strong and tender, was poignantly dear to her. She hadn’t grown complacent about waking up next to Jack. It was as if each morning were both Christmas and her birthday. “Oh, Jack,” she whispered brokenly, “must you go away?”

  He cradled her against his chest. “I’ve told you that I must, sweetheart, and that I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He took a deep breath, grateful for the darkness as he lied, “Sam is certain that this newspaper in Carson City is the perfect one for me to buy, and you know how much I’ve been longing to make that sort of investment. We’ll ride straight through, spend as little time as possible doing business, and come back. I’ll be home before you have time to miss me.”

  Katie tried to swallow her tears. “But I miss you already.”

  Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he turned her face up so that he could gaze into her glistening eyes. “I love you with all my heart, Kathleen. Do you believe me?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “I swear before God that it’s the truth, and I want you to hold my love close to you while we’re apart.” He kissed her gently. “Promise?”

  Katie tasted him on her lips and smiled. “Yes.” She snuggled nearer, closing her eyes. “I promise.”

  * * *

  “What am I going to do all day today with Emma ill?” Conrad mourned, staring out the window at the unseasonably sunny Saturday morning.

  Katie, who was pacing restlessly across the parlor, whirled on him. “I would appreciate it if you would keep your petty troubles to yourself! You are looking at a woman who is in the first hour of a separation from her beloved husband, a separation that is bound to last at least a fortnight! Although I didn’t say as much to Jack, I am well aware of the risks and inevitable delays that one faces when crossing the Sierras during the winter. And business meetings always take longer than anyone thinks they will. St. Valentine’s Day will probably be here by the time he returns....”

  Conrad put an arm around her shoulder sympathetically. “At least Sam went with him. You don’t have to worry about him getting into trouble alone.”

  “Sometimes I think that Sam takes trouble with him,” Katie said. “Like a carpetbag.”

  “Let’s talk about something else, shall we?” He steered her over to a sofa.

  “Conrad, I hardly think that you can distract me for two weeks!” Reluctantly, Katie sat down beside him and accepted a cookie from the plate he picked up from the side table.

  Conrad smiled. “What news did Sam bring from the foothills?”

  Briefly, she told him about the Griffin’s latest attacks on stagecoaches. When Aaron Rush’s name came up, her brother-in-law colored angrily.

  “I hate that man!”

  Katie stared. “How do you know Aaron Rush?”

  “Do you remember me telling you that I once spent some time in Columbia? Actually, I was nearer Murphy’s, but I did go to Columbia from time to time. We may even have seen each other. It was two years ago, at a time when I was feeling a need to make my own mark on the world rather than trade on my brother’s reputation. I decided that I would go to the foothills to make my fortune, unaware that most of the surface gold was already gone. To make a long story short, I did happen to find three reasonably large nuggets. Fool that I was, I went to the saloon in Murphy’s and was showing them off. Harold Van Hosten was there. He told me that he could get me a better price than they were paying in Columbia, and he seemed so respectable that I believed him.”

  Katie cringed. “Oh, no, Conrad!” It was almost painful for her to imagine her brother-in-law as a prospector in the clutches of Rush and Van Hosten.

  “Oh, yes, it’s true. I was an idiot!” His voice rose. “I gave him the gold... and that was the last I ever saw of it. When I tried to stake a claim, Van Hosten had beaten me to it, and when I confronted him and his partner at their office, he denied ever seeing me before.” Conrad became increasingly agitated as he told his story and got up to pace across the parlor. “No one would listen to me or do anything about it. I thought I’d go mad! In the end, I came back home with nothing. To be perfectly honest, I was overjoyed last summer when I heard that Van Hosten had been killed by the Griffin. Sometimes, when I heard and read the tales about that highwayman, it seemed that he was avenging me. It’s disillusioning to learn that he’s no different from the rest of them....” He sank down on the sofa and stared into the cold fireplace.

  “Conrad, that’s a terrible story! Why didn’t you tell me before?” Katie exclaimed, putting a hand on his arm.

  “Well, I meant to, but to tell the truth, I try not to think about it very much.”

  “I know how you feel about the Griffin. I used to revere him, too, until he killed my father.” Her pretty mouth hardened.

  “What?!”

  She leaned back beside him. “It’s true. My father was on the same stagecoach as Harold Van Hosten, the one the Griffin attacked in June. There’s some confusion about exactly what happened, but as I understand it, the Griffin had them both get out of the coach and took them behind it to search Van Hosten.” Katie’s voice was choked with tears. “A struggle ensued, and at the end of it, Papa and Harold Van Hosten were dead... and the Griffin escaped with his life.”

  “But perhaps Van Hosten had a gun. Do you know for certain that it was the Griffin who shot your father?”

  “No, but I do know that if he hadn’t attacked that stage, Papa would be alive. No explanation can change that.”

  “Well, I can certainly understand how you feel,” Conrad said hastily, taken aback by her icy demeanor. They sat in silence for several minutes, each lost in thought. Conrad ate two cookies before Katie spoke again.

  “Con, I was just thinking... there is something very productive that we both could do during Jack’s absence.”

  There was a strange gleam in Katie’s eyes. Unnerved, Conrad replied carefully, “What’s that?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to feel that you had taken some action to right the wrong perpetrated against you by Rush and Van Hosten? Wouldn’t you feel better if you knew that you had pursued justice?”

  “Well, yes, certainly...”He straightened his shoulders.

  “I feel the same way about the Griffin—and I also have a few grudges of my own against Aaron Rush. I could help you confront Rush if you would help me trap the Griffin—”

  “Katie,” he exclaimed, “that’s insane! Are you suggesting that we run off to Columbia and do this while Jack is away?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

  “But what would Jack say?”

  “Stop worrying about Jack! We’re adults, aren’t we?” Her face was animated. “We have just as much right to leave San Francisco as Jack does. More, maybe, because we have just causes. And you certainly don’t need your brother’s permission. Besides, I miss my friends in Columbia, and this would be a perfect opportunity for me to see them again. Please, Conrad! When was the last time that you had a real adventure?”

  He looked uncertain. “Well, it’s been a while....”

  “Say you’ll go with me, please? We can go to Columbia via Stockton—we’ll be there in no time! And we’ll make a pact to stay no longer than four days. If we’ve accomplished nothing by that time, at least we’ll know we tried, and we can return home with that knowledge. What do you say?”

  Conrad sat up straight and expanded his chest. “I say—yes! I’m older now. This time I’m going to confront Aaron Rush like a man and demand justice. I want to be paid for that gold, and any more that they took from what should have been my claim!”

  “And I’ll help you!” Katie cried, filled with the spirit of adventure and justice. “We’ll show Aaron Rush and the Griffin that they can’t toy with Kathleen and Conrad Wyatt and get a
way with it!”

  Jumping awkwardly to his feet, Conrad thrust his fist into the air and shouted, “Hear, hear!”

  Chapter 30

  January 28-30, 1864

  A full moon was the white and luminous centerpiece in the star-strewn midnight sky. Jack stood for a moment outside the Rush Mine office, staring down at the lot which had been raped by hydraulic mining. Bathed in a hazy silver glow, the huge, oblong boulders of granite, limestone, and marble looked eerie, as if part of some other, uninhabitable world.

  Jack shrugged off the chill that crept over him and walked soundlessly around to the back of the mine offices. Without rushing, he picked the lock on the back door and stepped inside, thankful for the moonlight that streamed in to aid his progress. The doors off the narrow hallways were unlocked. He started in Rush’s office, searching through the cabinets, then crossed to what had been Van Hosten’s room. Stripped now of its paintings and handsome cherry desk, it was filled with several tables and chairs and apparently served as an office for Rush’s assistants.

  Jack had no luck there, either, and was losing hope as he stepped back into the central corridor. Then, spying the outline of a narrow door off to one side, he remembered the small storage room and flashed a grin in the darkness. The latch was difficult, but Van Hosten had taught him the trick. Inside, his eyes wandered over the shadowy shapes of trunks and crates containing books and papers until he spied the cupboards built into the far wall. Sensing somehow that success was at hand, he crossed the room and opened them. The deep shelves inside were stacked with a wide variety of miscellaneous office items—books, folded curtains, objects from Van Hosten’s office, rolled scatter rugs, bottles of brandy, and odd pieces of crockery. Jack yearned for light. Carefully he withdrew the curtains from the lowest shelf, bent down, and reached behind them. His hand made contact with a long object wrapped in cloth.

  Heart pounding, he drew it out into the dim light. He carefully unfolded the garment on the floor and saw what he’d known he would find: a handsome double-barreled shotgun identical to the one he himself had wielded as the Griffin. It had been wrapped in a long, tan linen duster. A hood, with holes cut out for eyes, lay next to the shotgun.