Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1)

by Cynthia Wright

  “My dear Katie, your hostility is sadly misplaced. Do you love Jack so little that you are able to condemn him without hearing his story?” Sam’s eyes were filled with sadness as he crossed to perch on the worktable in front of her. “Have you never made a mistake, that you are so inflexible when it comes to the humanity of your husband?”

  Suddenly Katie felt guiltily disloyal. “All I can sort out right now is what I know to be the truth,” she said. “I hurt too much to go beyond that.”

  “Do you want some help?” he asked in a kinder tone.

  Katie nodded, fresh tears welling in her eyes.

  “Perhaps we should leave the two of you alone,” Gideon said.

  Conrad opened his mouth to protest, but Sam saved him the trouble by replying, “No, I think you all should hear what I have to say. You’re Jack’s friends, and he very well may need your help.”

  “Oh, God,” moaned Conrad. “I knew we shouldn’t have left San Francisco! If not for us, Jack would have had his confrontation with that imposter and gotten clean away. Katie, he might hang because of our interference!”

  By now Katie was beginning to feel that perhaps she, not Jack, was to blame for the mess spread out around her. “Conrad,” she countered stubbornly, “I don’t think that’s fair! If Jack—”

  “Let’s not waste precious time pointing fingers,” Sam interrupted. “I’ve just seen Jack and I think we’d all be better served by some explanations, don’t you? I’ll try to be brief.”

  Katie and Conrad closed their mouths and waited. Abby brought Sam a beer and then went to stand in the shelter of Gideon’s protective arm. Lim still sat close to Katie, a comforting source of silent support.

  “I’m going to go back a bit, back to a time before I came to Jackass Gulch. Jack told me everything, and I think that I’m the only person who knows the whole story besides Mr. Summers, his grandfather.”

  Katie gasped. “Ambrose—knew?”

  Clemens continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Conrad, you were quite right; Jack started this masquerade because of what Rush and Van Hosten did to you. It took on a life of its own after he became aware that other human beings were suffering as a result of the unfair practices at the mine. He continued to play the Griffin long after Conrad’s injustice had been corrected because of all those other miners... and because, I believe, Jack’s new life here was a blessed relief from his structured existence in San Francisco.”

  “Yes!” cried Conrad. “It makes perfect sense!”

  “Then the situation became more complicated after he became friends with Katie and her father. He grew very fond of Mr. MacKenzie.” Sam focused on Katie. “Katie, Jack told me how your father died. The truth is that Van Hosten had a gun. He tried to shoot Jack, and your father grabbed for the gun. Jack told him that he should let go and leave Van Hosten to him, but then the gun went off, and Brian MacKenzie fell.”

  “Oh, Papa,” Katie breathed, closing her eyes.

  “Van Hosten then fired at Jack, and he fired back, killing him. Jack went to your father and held him in his arms, but he had already died. He was in agony, Katie, that’s why he returned to Columbia to be with you when you heard the news, and that’s why he wanted to take you with him to San Francisco. He felt that he owed it to your father to do everything in his power to make certain you had a safe and secure future.” Sam smiled slightly. “Also, I suspect Jack was already falling in love with you, and in light of what had happened, and your animosity toward the Griffin, it seemed an impossible situation.”

  “Poor Jack,” Abby said softly.

  “Well, at that point, he thought that he was finished with the whole business of the Griffin. Van Hosten was dead, and Rush, who had seldom been in town, seemed harmless enough. Then, back in San Francisco, I innocently told him about the attack on Gideon and the Gazette’s printing press. I think you all know the rest. After Jack came back up here, he did what he could to subdue Aaron Rush, including stealing back Tsing Tsing Yee’s valuable egg.”

  Katie’s eyes were wide. “That’s why he was in the woods near that cabin when I needed rescuing!”

  “Yes. The bad blood between you and Rush was a constant worry for him. Finally, when he felt he couldn’t stay here any longer, he went to confront Rush in the Griffin’s guise and, among other things, warned him to leave you alone. Rush looked delighted, as if he’d found the Griffin’s weakness, and so Jack felt that he couldn’t leave Columbia unless you came with him.”

  “So he married me because he felt obligated?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Well,” Sam replied dryly, “I that may have been the excuse, but you know better than anyone that both of you were a long way from acknowledging your feelings when you got married. The fact is that, by the time I returned to San Francisco the other day, you and Jack had a real marriage. He loves you with all his heart, Katie, and the last thing he wanted to do was come back here and become the Griffin again.”

  “Then why did he?” Lim asked.

  “Yes, what about all those recent stage robberies? The Griffin had gone from hero to villain,” Gideon said. “Even I had to admit that Katie had been right all along. I wrote editorials condemning him....”

  “That’s why Jack returned—just two days ago. When I told him what had been happening up here, we realized that it must be Aaron Rush impersonating the Griffin, serving his own needs while blackening the Griffin’s name. Jack decided to deal with him once and for all, by exposing him.”

  “So that’s what that scene on the road today was all about!” Conrad exclaimed.

  “I was so confused,” Katie said. “When the stage driver climbed down to take Jack prisoner, and then pulled the hood off Aaron Rush, I felt that it was all some sort of bizarre nightmare.”

  “Of course Jack never meant for Rush to die,” Sam said. “He just wanted him unmasked and brought to trial. If you hadn’t been on that stage, brandishing your derringer, he would have made a clean escape and the two of us would be on our way back to San Francisco right now.”

  “And I never would have known the truth,” Katie murmured, a note of bitterness in her voice.

  Sam drained his beer. “No, my dear, that’s where you’re wrong. Jack intended to tell you everything when this situation was settled here. He told me that he couldn’t lie to you anymore.”

  It was hard for Katie to breathe. “What’s going to happen now?” She paused, her heart aching. “How is Jack?”

  “He’s in jail in Angel’s Camp, and more than anything else, he’s concerned about you. He knows the pain you must be in, and he blames himself for it.” Clemens sighed. “The judge is in town, and one of Rush’s henchmen, a big fellow named Potter, is pushing for an immediate trial. So the jury is being assembled, and I’d imagine that the trial will be tomorrow or the next day. Potter is telling everyone in town that he intends to see Jack hang for the murders of Aaron Rush, Harold Van Hosten, and Brian MacKenzie.”

  “But that’s not fair,” cried Conrad. “It was Rush’s own fault that he was shot. It was an accident! And Jack didn’t even shoot Mr. MacKenzie!”

  Sam shrugged. “This is the West, Con, where life isn’t always fair. People have little tolerance for highwaymen; they want to see them punished as a warning to others with similar ambitions. It would be one thing if we could prove that Jack was innocent in those deaths, but I don’t see how that’s possible....”

  * * *

  The little white frame house on the corner of Jackson Street looked forlorn to Katie as she came through the gate. The morning glory vines atop the porch roof were brown and withered and a few weeds straggled along the picket fence. As she opened the front door, Katie felt as if she were stepping into the past. Only three months had passed since she had last been here, yet it seemed an eternity. The air smelled faintly musty, and a thin layer of dust covered the tables. Abby and Lim had been taking care of the house and yard, but what was the point of regular cleaning when no one lived here?

  As
she gazed around the parlor and the kitchen, memories crowded her mind and an odd, bittersweet feeling crept over her. The winter of Katie’s eighth year had been unusually rainy and snowy, and each afternoon Mary MacKenzie had curled up with her daughter on the settee to read from Tales of the Arabian Nights. What magical hours those had been! That winter their parlor had been steeped in the wonder of genies, talking birds, cities of brass, pirates, turbans and silks, colossal jewels, and unforgettable characters like Ali Baba, Sinbad, and Aladdin. And, for Katie, that enchantment would always be laced with the warm sound of her mother’s voice. Looking now at the settee, she could almost see Mary MacKenzie sitting there, the big book open on her lap and her blue eyes brimming with pleasure.

  Katie walked slowly into the kitchen, almost expecting Brian to be pulling a chair up to the table, his suspenders dangling and his woolen shirt open at the neck. They’d been so happy in each other’s company, taking care of one another, sitting down together for the evening meal and sharing stories of the day. Katie always knew that Brian had never stopped grieving for his wife, but he hadn’t let that cloud his life with Katie. It had been awkward for him at times, trying to be a mother as well as a father to a growing girl, yet Katie had never doubted his devotion to her. Tears stung her eyes now as she felt his big-hearted hug and heard the love in his voice as he murmured “Katie darling.” It still seemed impossible that she would never see her father again.

  Her own bedroom was untouched, the narrow bed neatly made. Jane Eyre lay on the dresser, apparently overlooked by Lim when he’d packed her books and shipped them to San Francisco. Katie picked it up, thinking that her birthday seemed part of a distant past. That June morning when Brian had given her this book, she had been a girl, innocently living in a fantasy world. And then Jack had come into the saloon, and her life hadn’t been the same since. She was a woman now, and there was no going back....

  Katie stepped out the back door and looked at the little yard with its lovingly tended flower and vegetable gardens. They had been a source of great pride and pleasure, particularly in the spring when the new seedlings sprouted and then thrived under her careful ministrations. She had always loved to sink her hands into the soil, loved the challenge of coaxing plants to grow. Lim had kept up the gardens, planting winter vegetables and pruning back the rosebushes. Katie paused at the gate for a last look, then wandered out of the yard.

  Her thoughts were far away as she strolled west on Jackson Street toward St. Andrew’s Church. Memories of her childhood flooded back, and Katie could almost see herself running along as a little girl, chasing Lim. Her eyes misted again, and she wondered at the emotions that seemed so near the surface these days. Ever since she and Jack had opened their hearts to each other, Katie had found that she felt both joy and pain more keenly.

  Passing the Barnstaple house, she saw Victoria peeking out the window, staring as if she’d seen a ghost. When Katie waved, the older woman threw open the window and leaned out.

  “Katie!” she cried. “You’re here! Is it true what I’ve heard about your husband?”

  “Mrs. Barnstaple, there is something I have to do now, but I would like to come by in a little while and talk to you. Would that be all right?”

  “Of course, darling!”

  Katie waved then and continued on her way. The sun was setting slowly, a blazing sphere of apricot and plum behind the blue spruce trees that ringed the church. Although she wore a plaid wool cloak, the chill wind nipped at her cheeks and nose, and she rubbed her gloved hands together to warm them. After a bit she quickened her pace, lifting her petticoats as she strode up the hill to the church.

  Stopping inside, she knelt and said a silent prayer, and felt better immediately. As she rose, a sense of peace stole over her.

  Back outside, Katie walked behind the church to the small fenced cemetery. Her parents’ graves were marked with wooden crosses engraved with their names. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she sensed their nearness.

  “Mama and Papa, I want to tell you thank you for all the love you gave to me. I miss you both....” Pausing, she swallowed, then whispered, “I miss you, but I’m going to be all right. I promise.”

  Chapter 32

  February 2, 1864

  “It would seem that my husband’s defense has had little opportunity to prepare a case,” Katie remarked to the sheriff as she waited to see Jack. Since San Andreas was the Calaveras County seat, Jack had been brought there to await his trial, which was scheduled to begin at ten o’clock, less than an hour away. Outside, in front of the courthouse, a crowd was forming in spite of the snow that had begun to fall.

  “Well, ma’am, what’s there to prepare? Wyatt himself has admitted that he was the Griffin. The Griffin killed Aaron Rush, Harold Van Hosten, and your own father. Seems pretty simple to me.” Sheriff Jones leaned back in his chair, one cheek bulging with tobacco, and appraised the lady who stood near his desk.

  Katie looked elegant, wealthy, and gloriously beautiful; the violet of her ruched silk gown set off the deep blue of her eyes, while the indigo shimmer of her matching silk jacket instantly drew the eye to her glossy black tresses, which had been caught back in a full chignon. An amethyst-and-pearl brooch was pinned at her collar, and more amethysts gleamed in her ears. At the moment, it was hard to tell whether the color in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes was a result of the weather or her own emotions.

  “You sure you’re from these parts?” Sheriff Jones asked with a trace of sarcasm.

  “I may look a bit different now that I live in San Francisco, but I can assure you that my roots and my loyalties will always lie in the foothills, sir,” Katie replied coolly. “It may be that my husband is a rich man, but that has only affected my outward appearance.”

  “Of course the Griffin’s rich!” Jones guffawed. “He’s been robbing stages of all the gold from the Rush Mine!”

  “He owns a newspaper, Sheriff. He was wealthy long before he became the Griffin.”

  “And you’ll be a rich widow, I reckon, hmm?” He eyed her shrewdly, then aimed a stream of tobacco juice in the direction of a tarnished brass spittoon. “Well, that’s justice, isn’t it. After all, Wyatt did kill your father.”

  “That’s crudely put, Sheriff, but I suppose that the truth speaks for itself....”

  The deputy came out then to say that the prisoner was now washed and dressed, and his wife might see him.

  “Five minutes,” Sheriff Jones warned. “And my deputy will have to watch. We can’t afford to take chances with this prisoner.”

  Katie’s face betrayed no emotion as she nodded and then followed the young deputy down a short stone corridor to the two tiny cells in back. One was empty, and the other held Jack, who stood next to a low iron bunk. A tiny slit in the wall provided the only light, but in spite of the dingy surroundings, Katie was rendered breathless by the sight of her husband. If not for the deputy lurking in the background, she might have wept.

  Jack was tanned a warm shade of dark gold, and his hair was appealingly in need of a trim. He wore neat charcoal-gray trousers and a clean white shirt, and when Katie appeared in the doorway of his cell, he looked at her with his heart in his eyes.

  “Kathleen,” he said softly.

  Disarmed by his engaging smile, she forced herself to remember that they were being watched. “I thought I ought to see you, Jack. Under the circumstances, I don’t think I could stand to attend the trial.”

  He had started toward her, but now he froze. “Oh, God. My darling, will you ever be able to forgive me? I wanted to tell you—”

  “Never mind.” Katie’s tone was cold, but her eyes brimmed with tears. “Your friend Sam has already pleaded your case to me, but that won’t bring Papa back, will it?” Seeing the pain on his face, she rushed on. “I might be able to forgive you for Papa if our marriage had turned out differently, if I could believe that you were a good man with a heart capable of love. As it is, I don’t see how I can forgive you for Papa when I haven�
��t forgiven you for... that night.”

  “What night?” Jack demanded, frowning.

  “The night of our Christmas party.”

  He hesitated, his eyes intent now on hers. “What do you mean?”

  “You and Miss Braithwaite... in your study... for what seemed like an eternity.”

  Slowly he nodded, then backed away a step. “Well, I guess you’re right. I’m a cad, and I deserve whatever I get today, hmm?”

  Katie sighed. “I couldn’t agree more.” She put out her hand, and when he came forward and took it, the warm familiar strength of his touch sent a shiver of longing over her. “Well, I suppose everything has turned out the way it was meant to. I’ll say a prayer for a fair outcome of your trial, Jack.”

  “Kathleen.” Once again his sage-green eyes held hers. “I’m not sorry I married you. We had our moments....”

  “A few.” Katie forced herself to step back and disengage her hand. Glancing over at the waistcoat and jacket on the bunk, she added, “I see that you have some suitable clothing to wear in court.”

  “Sam brought those. He’s been a faithful friend.” When Jack saw that she was about to step out of the cell, he couldn’t resist the urge to look upon her face one more time. “Wait... How is Conrad?”

  She glanced back over her shoulder. “He’s distraught, as you might imagine, but he won’t let anyone speak ill of you. He’s very loyal.”

  “Give him my love.”

  “You will probably see him before I do. I’m quite certain he means to be at the trial.” Katie nodded to the deputy. “I have to go now. The sheriff said just five minutes.”

  “Good-bye, Kathleen,” Jack said huskily.

  “Good-bye, Jack.” She glanced at him once more, then followed the deputy down the dank corridor, her throat aching with tears.