Would he have it any other way? But it was all so new. Love. Faith. What did he know about either? He needed his old friend Cain. But Cain was gone. Quillan would have to learn on his own. He knocked on the wooden door of the shed near the mine workings.
“It’s open,” Makepeace called from inside.
Quillan turned the knob and walked in.
Alex Makepeace removed his small oval spectacles and laid them atop the papers on the desk. His thumb was stained with ink from the well and pen just to the right of his felt writing board. He hesitated only a moment. “Good morning.”
For the first time Quillan considered the man as Carina might. Pleasant enough in looks, trim, well-kept beard, no rogue’s growth, hair a darker shade of brown than Quillan’s. Regular features and modest physique. Some might say handsome. But there were signs of strain. Was it Quillan, Carina, or the business that caused it? “You’re busy?”
Makepeace shrugged, waved his hand over the desk. “My report to the powers that be.”
Quillan looked around the small room. Neat maps, topographical and survey, hung on the walls. A plane table stood on its tripod in one corner, a stove in the opposite. Beside the stove, a cot. He returned his gaze to Makepeace. “I have some questions.” The man’s lips narrowed, and a tightening around the eyes showed his unease.
Quillan was tempted to make him squirm but said, “I want to know who attacked my wife and why.”
Makepeace interlaced his fingers. “What do you know about the mining business, Quillan?” He motioned, and Quillan took the chair in front of the desk.
“All I want is names.”
“So vigilantes can string them up like the last bunch?”
Quillan flinched. He didn’t like to think of that ugly affair, though he wasn’t surprised Makepeace had heard of it. Even the Tabors in Leadville had heard of it. He’d tried to avoid that action, but would Makepeace understand that? The names Quillan and Carina provided from Beck’s ledger had been the fuel. Cain’s murder had been the match.
“The fact is, most of those high-minded vigilante citizens were probably in on the threats made to your wife.”
“Threats? I don’t consider what happened a threat. I call it an attack.”
Alex Makepeace dropped his gaze to his hands. “The attack she brought on herself, Quillan. And don’t think I say that lightly. I wish . . .”
“You wish what?”
Makepeace aligned his index fingers, unconsciously pointing them at Quillan’s chest though his hands remained resting on the desk. “I wish I’d seen the danger.”
Quillan wanted to contest that, to say it wasn’t Alex Makepeace’s place to protect Carina. But that would only illuminate his own failure to do so.
Makepeace met his gaze. “The men who attacked Carina were spirited away before the echo of my shots died out.”
Quillan winced at the man’s use of Carina’s name. Such familiarity was not easily won with his wife and proved his suspicions. There was also the subtle reminder that it was Alex Makepeace’s gun that had sent the attackers running.
Makepeace said, “You won’t find them. I’ve given the names of those behind the threat to the authorities. Their statements have been taken. I’d wager nothing further will be done. Such action against the most powerful citizens in Crystal would bring chaos. Your fledgling law officials can’t risk that. Besides, what happened was, at least in part, my responsibility and your wife’s.” He stood, walked to the wall, and studied the framed map that hung behind his desk.
Quillan frowned. Maybe Carina and Alex Makepeace had crossed a line that caused trouble between the miners and the management. But he couldn’t ignore what had been done to his wife. That the powerful mine owners of Crystal would resort to hiring thugs to frighten and, yes, even beat a woman . . . He had to understand why.
“How would helping the families of dead miners bring that kind of repercussion?”
Makepeace turned. “Because it isn’t done. Can’t be done without turning the industry upside down. The mining company cannot be responsible for accidents or carelessness. By paying the families, it appeared the mine was accepting blame. I should never have compromised the New Boundless that way. Should never have acted against my better judgment. I don’t know why . . .” He sighed.
Quillan sent him a cold stare. He knew why. Carina Maria DiGratia Shepard. Was there a man alive who wouldn’t buckle under her spell? Especially when her heart was in it? Especially if his was captured already.
“It was an inexcusable lapse.” Makepeace tapped a letter on the edge of the desk. “Hence, my resignation.”
Quillan eyed the letter. “Why?”
“I compromised the standing and safety of the organization.”
“You showed compassion in the face of tragedy. I might have ordered it myself.” If he’d been there when the mining accident, which took thirteen lives, occurred. He felt a fresh guilt for the months he’d left Carina in Crystal alone, though not alone after all. . . .
“And I would have refused. With all respect.” Alex bowed his head slightly.
“But you didn’t refuse Carina.”
Alex Makepeace leaned against the wall. “No,” he said, leaving Quillan to make what he would of that.
Quillan frowned. “I’d like to see the mine records.”
Makepeace raised his brows. “The financial records?”
“All of it, everything.”
“Are you suggesting I’ve acted with less than integrity where your interests—”
Quillan shook his head. “I’m not suggesting anything. I just want to see them, to see how it all works.”
“Your instructions were to deposit your profits directly into the bank. That’s been done except . . . the one time Mrs. Shepard had them diverted.”
So it was back to Mrs. Shepard. “I’m not questioning your good faith. I’m trying to establish what my portion of the mine is worth.”
Makepeace stood in silence a long moment. “For what purpose?”
“For the purpose of sale.” He watched that sink in. “Carina wants to go home. I can hardly look after my interests here or those of D.C., my partner, from Sonoma, California.”
A look of fatalistic resignation passed over Makepeace’s features. And it wasn’t Quillan’s ownership he would miss.
Quillan said, “As much as the mine meant to his daddy, I think D.C.’ll be willing to sell out if I do. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t send that letter just yet.”
“Why not?” Alex Makepeace glanced at his resignation as though it might hold some explanation.
“I’d prefer to keep things stable until this is concluded. You think you acted irresponsibly, but I don’t see it that way.”
“You don’t know—”
“The industry. You’re right. I’m reminded of that at every turn. But I stand by what Carina did. What you did. And I want to make that clear to every man who acted against my wife. That’s why I’m making this offer. I want you to own the New Boundless—my stock and D.C.’s, if he sells.”
Alex Makepeace stared at him, looking as shocked by the offer as Quillan was himself. Where had that come from? He’d had no intention of making such an offer to Alexander Makepeace. This man who’d cozied up to Carina, shared in the secret of Wolf ’s cave, half caused the trouble that might have killed her, that had miscarried their baby . . .
Makepeace spoke low and a little coldly. “I couldn’t begin to afford it. Without looking I could tell you your holdings together are worth a hundred thousand at least. The investors—”
“I don’t care about the investors, or anyone else in town who might want a piece of the Boundless. I’m offering it to you.”
Alex Makepeace sat down in the chair, resting his palms on the edge of the desk. “Why?”
“Because you saved my wife’s life.” There was the truth.
“And I was at least half responsible for it being threatened.”
Quillan ignored that. Maybe i
t was God who had brought things in this direction. Maybe if he focused on the fact that Makepeace had driven away the thugs, if he found a means to compensate that debt . . . maybe then he could keep the crushing jealousy in check. “I have a friend in Leadville who might front you the money. You can make arrangements for repayment with him. If you’re interested.”
Alex Makepeace looked dazed. “A friend?”
“Horace Tabor. You’ve heard of him?” Quillan quirked an eyebrow.
“The silver king?” If it was possible, Makepeace looked more dumbfounded yet.
Quillan hiked one side of his mouth. “I’m off to see him later this morning if the weather holds. Should be a two-day turnaround. Get the records together for me and consider coming along.”
Alex Makepeace dropped his forehead to his fingertips, as though the thoughts that coursed through his brain made it heavy to hold up.
Quillan said, “Think about it. It’ll be an hour or two before I’m ready to leave.” He stood, met Alex Makepeace’s eyes briefly, then turned and left.
Carina laid the book down across her lap when Quillan pushed open the door with a burst of wintry air. Sam scooted in around him, greeted her, then returned to Quillan’s side, tail wagging, as though he shouldn’t let him far from his sight. Carina felt a tingle of foreboding. Something in Quillan’s expression . . .
He stopped at the foot of her bed, parted his buckskin coat, and tucked his hands into his canvas pants pockets. “Carina—”
“Don’t say it.”
He cocked his head. “Say what?”
“You’re leaving.”
His nose was chapped with cold, his lips grayish against his still unshaven face. “I’m only going—”
She clapped her hands to her ears. “I knew it! One night you spend with me, and off you go. Why did I think anything would change? Why did I—”
In three strides he had circled the bed. He grabbed her hands from her ears. “Will you listen to me? I’m only going to Leadville. I’ll be back tomorrow, weather permitting.”
“Why? I thought you would stop freighting. Isn’t that what you said? You would do whatever it took to stay here with me?” She started to shake. It sharpened the pain in her back where the worst of the blows had threatened her kidneys.
“It’s important. I’m taking Alex Makepeace with me.”
That caught her short. What could he possibly be doing with Alex? He eyed her grimly. How long would Alex’s name bring a shadow between them? She sagged onto the pillows behind her.
Quillan held her hands between his. His eyes took on the stormy intensity she knew so well, like the tingle in the air before lightning slices the sky. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
She turned away. All she knew was his leaving kindled the pain of his desertion and the loss of their baby. “So go.” What should she care?
“Carina”—he pressed her hands—“I have things to do.”
“So have I.” She felt him stiffen.
He reached over and turned her face to his. “No, you don’t. You be still and heal.”
She didn’t answer. She felt too weary to do anything else, but she wouldn’t ease his worry by telling him so.
“Give me your word, Carina.”
She said nothing.
He scowled. “You have plenty of Italian names for me. I wish I knew the female equivalent of some of them.”
She almost smiled, he caught her so off guard. Then the hurt of his leaving chased away her mirth. “Why are you taking Alex?”
“Business.” His voice chilled.
“With the mine?”
“Yes.”
She raised up slightly. “Has something happened?”
He pressed her back down. “Nothing to concern you.”
“Oh!” She pushed his hand away. “As though I haven’t fed and encouraged and—”
“I’m well aware of your efforts, Carina. But nothing is wrong with the mine.” His voice was level, reassuring.
She was being childish and petulant. She knew it. But this man brought out the worst in her. The worst and the best. She softened. He was trying, was he not? “Can you travel on the snow?”
“The pack should be hard enough. You’ve seen me use the chains, and I’ve spiked the wheelers’ hooves.”
“You have to go?”
He didn’t answer, though his eyes said he wouldn’t otherwise.
She sighed. “Then I suppose . . .” She looked up at the knock on the door.
Quillan crossed and opened the door to Alex Makepeace. Carina’s heart jumped. She hadn’t seen him since the night of the attack, and even then she’d been all but unconscious. Mae had mentioned that he asked after her, but he hadn’t once come to see for himself. Because Quillan had come home.
Now with the two of them together, the air crackled. Blood burned her cheeks as she met Alex’s eyes and realized how far she’d let things go. Quillan must see it, too. She was suddenly aware that she was in her bed, covered with blankets and a woolen shawl over her shoulders, her hair loose over her shoulders. She could imagine the picture she presented.
Alex took off his hat and held it to his chest. “How are you, Carina?”
Her throat tightened sharply. “Better than I might be without your help.” How stiff she sounded. “I never thanked you.”
“Your husband has.”
Implicit in that was the conclusion to their friendship. They could not return to a superficial acquaintance.
Quillan said, “You’re ready?” His voice sounded as tight as Carina felt.
Alex nodded.
Quillan moved between them. “I have the wagon provisioned. You have the documents?”
Documents? What were they doing? Business, Quillan said, business with the mine that didn’t concern her. Alex nodded, careful not to look her way again. She wished he would, but then she didn’t. It was Quillan’s glance she craved.
Quillan said, “I’ll meet you at the livery as soon as I take leave of my wife.”
Now Alex did look. “Good-bye, Carina. I hope your recovery is swift.”
She forced a smile, but no words came. It hurt to see him so withdrawn, he who had upheld her hopes and spirits, given her kindness and compassion and good humor. Though chaste, they had crossed emotional boundaries. And he was hurt by it. She must never let that happen again.
Quillan closed the door behind Alex and returned to the bedside. “I won’t be later than tomorrow unless—”
“Your safety is first.” She reached a hand to his sleeve. “Don’t take risks you shouldn’t.”
He frowned. “Are you afraid for me or for him?” His anger flashed, then receded. He dropped to a squat and clasped her hand. “I’m sorry. I had no right to say that.” But she knew he’d seen her affection for Alex, and it burned him. What in another man might be jealousy, in this one was poison.
She started to speak, but he covered her lips with his hand. “You don’t owe me an explanation, and frankly, nothing you say would speak more truly than your face already did. But I’ll tell you one thing, Carina.
No one will have the chance to take my place again. No one.”
A soft whimper escaped her throat as he caught her face between his hands and stared at her hard until she thought she could bear it no longer. “Nothing short of a blizzard will keep me away tomorrow.” He stood, but his gaze lingered on hers. “I’ll even bring Alex Makepeace back with me.” He gave her his rogue’s smile.
It tugged at her heart, made it leap inside her breast. Certainly he would kiss her; she wanted him to. But he backed two steps away from the bed, turned slowly on his heel, and crossed to the door. Sam sprang up, but he ordered the dog to stay, then left them.
Sam whined at the wood separating him from his master. His whole body swung with the wag of his tail, hoping the door would open and the hand he craved wave him on. As the moment passed and Sam’s sharp ears told him Quillan was gone, he dropped his head and padded to her bedside, his brown eyes for
lorn.
“I know how you feel.” Carina stroked his head. “But he’ll be back.” She wished she felt more certain of that.
THREE
To claim I am a man betrayed and rant against my plight,
I must admit I should have stayed and kept her in my sight.
What fool to flee her sweet embrace,
to tear her love apart, and let another take my place within her weeping heart.
—Quillan
QUILLAN AND ALEX MAKEPEACE rode the steep, snow-packed road between Crystal and Leadville. It might have been easier to travel horseback, but with the wagon, Quillan could make the trip count twice. He’d bring back a light load, things he could sell at a profit in Crystal, which was less accessible than Leadville. He’d already resupplied Carina’s larder, but there were plenty of others, Mrs. Barton in particular, who would pay well for anything he brought her.
And if they were stopped by a storm, the wagon would provide shelter. He’d spent one night beneath it with Carina while a blizzard raged around them. He didn’t warm to the thought of doing the same with Alex Makepeace, but weather was chancy in the mountains. Better to be prepared.
At least Makepeace didn’t expect conversation. At most they discussed the mine and a little of the industry. Makepeace was sharp enough and educated. If Quillan cared to, he might learn a lot about mining from the man. But just now his intentions were to rid himself of the New Boundless and cut loose of Crystal. As soon as Carina could travel. As soon as she was well. Dr. Felden believed she would recover if she gave herself time to heal.
Makepeace cleared his throat. Quillan waited for him to talk, but the man settled back into his thoughts. Quillan returned to his own. This trip hadn’t exactly been what he intended. Quillan had intended to seek Tabor’s advice, but he hadn’t premeditated his offer to Makepeace. If that was how God worked, Quillan had better keep his wits sharp.
The Diamond of the Rockies [03] The Tender Vine Page 2
