Dust And Dreams (The Rivers Brothers Book 1)

by Lynn Landes

  “What’s the cargo?” Jeb snorts out.

  “What difference does it make? You either want the work or not! I've got others who are willing to earn a double rate, and they don't ask questions.”

  “Yeah, well, I ain’t doing nothing illegal!” he snarls and turns away to drop the crate he is carrying.

  “Now hold on, no one said anything about illegal. Just dangerous. That’s why the pay is so good.”

  Jeb turns with a gleam of interest in his eyes. “How dangerous?”

  His lips purse in disapproval, and he looks around before answering. “Nitroglycerin, a couple crates coming in. We unload it onto a wagon and deliver it to the Wells Bank.”

  “Count me in,” Jeb says, grabbing another crate.

  “Good. Friday, 10 p.m. I’ll need you to be on time. If you’re late, you don’t work.” He stomps off.

  An hour later, Jeb walks into the Pier 9 bar and orders a bottle of whiskey.

  “A bottle?” the bartender asks with a raised eyebrow. “Pay up first,” he demands.

  Jeb tosses cash on the bar and snatches the bottle before heading to the corner. Pier 9 isn’t your typical saloon. The dock workers are a tough lot from many nationalities. The owner turned the warehouse into a bar after discovering that everyone in this area shared one common trait, desperation. Those that end up here have lost hope, are missing their families, and wondering what the hell they’ve gotten themselves into.

  Tables are set up on the brick floor with a huge rectangular bar made out of old crates sitting in the center of the warehouse. On top of the crates sits a metal bar which has been nailed into wooden tops with their rusty heads sticking out at odd angles. Bar stools in various states of disrepair line the bar. A scantily dressed woman in a sweat-stained bustier sings on stage while a piano plays. A fog of cheap tobacco smoke floats through the room mixing with the smell of fish and sweat.

  For those seeking privacy, corner booths are tucked into low lit areas. Gas lanterns give off a glow for the waitresses to work under. Most of the women who work here are from the brothel. They provide drinks and more if the pay is right.

  Select rooms in the back of the warehouse stay busy. It is a symbiotic relationship. The men drink, and the woman get paid. The owner receives a percentage of the ladies score, and as long as the women are treated right, the arrangement works for everyone.

  Tonight Jeb wants privacy, not company. He drinks straight from the bottle and keeps his gun close. Jeb notices the stranger as soon as he enters. His dress gives away his status, he screams money, but the man's eyes show a ferocity which Jeb can appreciate.

  Aiden takes in the scenery, scanning the room until his eyes rest on Jeb before dismissing him and stopping on the girls. Two of the painted girls walks toward him with a smile, and he puts his arms around their shoulders and walks toward the bar, laughing at something one of them says. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. He places his order and takes a seat at the bar.

  He shrugs the women off and asks the bartender a question before they both turn towards Jeb's corner. Aiden looks and pays for another bottle of whiskey before heading his way.

  Jeb watches the stranger walk toward him and raises his pistol to the top of the table. Aiden's grins and slams the new bottle on the table and takes a seat.

  “This place smells like shit,” Aiden says with a sneer of disgust.

  “What do you want?” Jeb slurs and stares at the bottle.

  “Well, thank you for asking. I'm in need of a man who knows his way around this city and has access to supplies.”

  “I ain't interested,” Jeb says finishing off his bottle. “I gotta find out where they buried my brother. Then, I'm gonna make them pay!” he yells slamming the empty bottle on the table. His other hand cocks and uncocks his revolver, unaware that he is doing it.

  Aiden leans back with a gleam of interest in his eyes. He opens the whiskey bottle and pours a glass for himself, then slides the bottle towards Jeb.

  “Bastard killed my brother, and then he takes that bitch, Cassie, and leaves!” Jeb rages and takes a long pull on the new bottle, ignoring his company he puts his pistol down and sighs.

  Aiden is instantly alert. “Did you say, Cassie!” His hand snakes out, and he snatches the revolver from Jeb's hand, flipping it around to point at his surprised face. “You're gonna need to pay real close attention to me, Jeb. I came here to find her, and you are going to help me. You help me, I'll help you. Who took Cassie and where did they go?”

  Jeb's eyes widen, and he groans, “That woman ain't caused me nothing but trouble! She says he's her husband, but I don't believe it! No man in his right mind would let a woman that beautiful walk around this city alone! My brother and I was just going to get to know her some, and he did this to me and killed my brother, Boomer.” Jeb tries to set the bottle down without spilling it, and Aiden is forced to hide his disgust.

  “Does this man have a name? Where did they go?” Aiden asks again lowering the pistol, he slams a five-dollar bill on the table. “I can pay you very well, Jeb.”

  “You’re too late, they left this afternoon on the train. His name is Dalton Rivers.” Jeb says, spitting on the floor. “He’s taking her to his ranch, in Utah or Wyoming, somewhere?” he slurs looking away.

  Aiden leans back and smiles. “This is perfect.” While she is traveling, thinking she's escaped, I can take care of the ‘paperwork' at the bank. No paper trail, no evidence of her ever having sold the mine or land.

  “Jeb, I need someone I can trust. I can promise you that before we are through this, Dalton Rivers will suffer, and you will be rich.” Aiden states.

  Jeb smiles, “Now you’re talking. Tell me what you need.” Jeb takes the five dollars and holds his hand out for his pistol.

  “Dynamite. I'm going to blow up Wells Bank, then I'm going after a train,” Aiden says sipping his whiskey and watching Jeb's reaction.

  A wicked sneer crosses his face, “Dynamite is a thing of the past. I know where to find liquid gold, enough to take out a city block, I have a few guys who will help us, but it will cost you.”

  “I’m listening.” They spend the next hour talking about the shipment coming in Friday night and formulating the plan. They agree to meet back at the bar on Thursday night at five o’clock with the crew. Aiden will pay them half up front and half on delivery.

  “Enjoy your whiskey, Jeb. I have two ladies waiting for me.” He saunters off, and the girls lead him to the back room.

  Jeb watches him go and imagines all the ways he will make Cassie beg as he kills her man in front of her. His laughter rolls out, and he finishes his second bottle before stumbling back to his room. Friday can't come soon enough.

  Chapter 25

  Thursday morning Faith lines the six paintings up on the wall in the living room and stares at them. She’d used some of her savings to buy paints after they’d arrived. “What do you think, munchkin?” Hope stares at her and waves her tiny fist in the air, answering her with a cooing sound. Faith smiles and kisses her cheek.

  “They are good, aren't they? If I make enough, I'm going to buy you a proper cradle so you will not have to be on a cold floor or couch.” Faith quickly wraps her art in brown paper and prepares to take them to the galleries.

  After a beautiful evening together the night before, Solomon offered to take her to three of the art galleries in town the next morning. Then they will check with the Western Union office and possibly have brunch together.

  “Oh, Hope, I want to be able to take care of us, so that never again will I have to depend on someone else for our needs. Although, I could get used to Solomon. He's amazing, isn't he?” she asks her daughter who yawns in response.

  A knock on the door startles her. Solomon is running late, and Faith has a sense that something is wrong, she didn’t hear the carriage. Swiftly, she places Hope on the couch and covers her. A quick step moves her to the corner and lifts her rifle, cocking it with a swift familiar motion of her wrist. Anot
her knock, this time more insistent has her aiming her now loaded rifle at the door.

  “Who is it?” she asks without opening the door. No answer. Just another knock and the sounds of footsteps retreating. She's trembling now, and she sees a shadow move past the window in the living room. Faith moves quickly to the couch to protect Hope, and yells out, “I have a gun! Go away, or I will shoot you!”

  Nothing, not a sound can be heard. Faith slips her finger to the smooth trigger of the rifle and glances down at Hope. The scraping of a wooden window in her back room has Faith trembling. Heavy footsteps and she raises her gun firing a shot through the hall, straight into the back room of the house and quickly cocks the rifle again. The concussion of the blast startles Hope, and she starts crying.

  Solomon is pulling up when he hears the shotgun blast. He leaps from the wagon and runs with his pistol drawn. “Faith!” he roars out. She tears open the door, holding a screaming baby to her chest and a smoking rifle.

  “Out back, someone tried to come in the back window!” She’s terrified and relieved to see him.

  “Stay here!” he orders and runs around the back of the house while Faith backs into the corner of the small porch. She bounces Hope and coos in her ear.

  “It’s okay, Hope. We’re safe now. It’s okay.” The startled screams turn to hiccups and Faith see’s movement and turns her head losing her breath. Aiden is on a horse staring at her with a triumphant smile. He tips his hat and kicks his horse into a gallop before she can scream for help.

  “No, no, no….” she gasps and rushes inside. She places Hope on the bed and drags out her bag. Solomon returns and finds her weeping and stuffing clothes into a bag. Hope is laying on the bed, kicking her feet and Faith's in a frenzy of movement, “I have to go!”

  “Faith, what’s going on? I told you to stay…” he stops when she looks up at him with her eyes full of terror.

  She points past him to the wall where a knife is pinning a piece of paper. It’s the piece of paper with the list of art galleries on them.

  “I lost it yesterday, I thought,” he whispers.

  “He left it stuck to the w... w... wall,” she hiccups and continues packing.

  Solomon grabs her by her upper arms and stills her. “Faith! Who did this?”

  “Aiden was here. He wanted me to know that he was here, and when you ran out back, he rode around the side on his horse, Solomon. He knows where I am!” her voice is getting louder and louder and he can feel her trembling.

  “Faith! I won’t let anything happen to either of you. I promise. Look at me!” he demands gruffly.

  “You don't know what he's capable of Solomon! He told me in clear words what he would do to me once. Billy thought I was being dramatic. I begged him to come home. You don’t understand.” She shoves him away and starts shoving clothing into a bag, once more.

  When Solomon tries to stop her, she turns and points, “That's Billy's knife!” she screams at him. “I don't know how he got it, but I know we aren't safe here any longer.”

  Solomon's mind is spinning. He's terrified of losing her. When he heard the gunshot, his heart almost stopped. His decision made, he pulls her close and kisses her softly.

  “He's gone now, Faith, but you're right, it’s not safe for you here. This morning I stopped at the Western Union office, that's why I was late. They have the jobs posted. I brought them for you to look at. If you're interested in one of them, then you can be on a train this afternoon. We can sell your art on the way, Faith.”

  Faith burst into tears and throws herself into his arms. “Solomon,” she mumbles, and he lifts her into his arms and sits on the edge of the bed with her in his lap. He holds her until the trembling stops, and both of them laugh when Hope coos.

  Faith looks up and her heart sighs. She takes his mouth softly at first, then more urgently. “I want to remember the taste of you, the feel of you,” she whispers between kisses. Mostly, the sense of belonging she feels when she's in his arms. Moaning, Faith opens her mouth and his tongue darts inside dancing with hers. The pleasure is so intense she is certain that he will think her a harlot, but the possessiveness in his kiss wipes her mind of all doubt.

  Solomon pulls back and stares into her eyes. “You are driving me to distraction, Faith. What I wouldn't give to take you and run? I have half a mind to do just that,” his hands grip her upper arms tightly as if he might actually do it. Faith scrambles out of his lap and smoothes her hair. A blush steels across her cheeks and she stutters out an apology.

  “We’re leaving soon, and I don't know how I will ever thank you for all of your help, Solomon, but you are under no obligation to us. I want to be able, no, I need to be able to support us. It's important to me. Do you understand?” she asks.

  Solomon stares at her with her hair tumbling around her shoulders and her lips swollen from his mouth and smiles. “I do understand, but I will have you both in my life. No matter what choice you make or where you go, I would like a chance to win your heart.” He looks at her with such hope, and she is glad that she’s not a fool, because only a fool would say no to him.

  Faith steps into the space between his legs, and her hands find their way into his hair again. Seated, his mouth is the perfect height. “You better work fast, Solomon because I can't seem to keep my hands off you. Your beard drives me crazy, and your mouth is heaven…” her sentence is cut short when he kisses her again and his hands roam her body.

  Solomon groans and pushes her back and stands up, out of breath once more. “Okay, time to make some choices.” He pulls out the paper and hands it to her. It is on letterhead from Western Union.

  “Three choices. One is for a job here, not happening.” He balls it up and tosses it on the floor. “The other is in Boston, and another in Texas.” She glances at Hope and finds her sleeping. She's too small to be traveling to Boston. That would take way too long. “Texas…” she whispers.

  “What do you think of Texas, Solomon?” she asks with excitement.

  “I think it's a fine place to start a life,” he answers with a grin.

  “That settles it then, Texas!” she says with a leap of excitement.

  Her smile fades, and she asks, “What about Aiden?”

  In a flash, Solomon's demeanor changes from gentlemen to a warrior. “He will never bother you again.” The promise in his voice has chills running over her body.

  “Alright, I need to get back to the Western Union Office, then to the art district and the train depot. Will you help me?” she asks.

  “I'm at your disposal all day, my lady.” Solomon makes her wait to exit while he checks the area. He loads her painting's and bags before they leave.

  After a quick stop at the Western Union office, she's surprised to find out that the job comes with a small house, with the telegraph inside. The house is in the center of town. The pay is excellent, and they need to her start as soon as possible. The tickets are provided, and Faith will be leaving on the one o'clock train. She's excited about this new phase of her life.

  That leaves only three hours until her train leaves, it hits her. “So soon, I had thought we would have more time.” She murmurs as he leads her outside to the wagon.

  “Now, sugar. I will be back before you know it, and you can telegraph me if you need anything. We can write to each other. If you have time?” He asks, heading to the art district.

  She reaches out and rests her hand on his. “I will make time for you, Solomon.”

  He lifts her hand and kisses it. Outside of the first art gallery, Faith is nervous. She has never dreamed of selling her art, and this is important to her future.

  Solomon is scanning the street and surrounding buildings looking for signs of Aiden. He speared the note to the wall on purpose, he could be watching them even now.

  “Solomon will you carry my art inside for me?” she asks startling him. Each painting is covered in brown paper and tied with a cord, and he stacks them carefully while she waits with the baby.

  �
��Let’s go make you famous!” he jokes.

  They walk inside the gallery and instantly Faith is intimidated. The gallery is lined with art from many cultures and varieties. Her paintings are all landscapes. Rich, vibrant colors and movement. They might not have a market for them. Richly dressed couples are walking around and drinking wine.

  “May I help you?” A prim looking gentleman asks.

  Faith looks at him, and his slicked back hair, suit, and black mustache and has the urge to run, but Solomon clears his throat.

  “Yes, I have some art to sell.” Faith blurts out.

  “I see. You are in luck. We are looking for new artists, and the demand has increased greatly. Follow me.” He walks to the back wall and grabs a knife to slice the rope binding the first one. He speaks to another man who joins them, and Solomon holds her hand while they wait for the first one to be revealed.

  One of the men gasps when the paper is freed. He says something in French and turns to look at her with a smile. “This is yours?”

  Faith smiles, and pride fills her chest. “It is. This is an oil painting of Mt. Arias when the first snow covers the caps. You can see it is still autumn in the valley with the vibrant colors of the trees in the landscape around the base of the mountain, but the hint of what is to come looms overhead.”

  Solomon is stunned. He's never seen anything so beautiful! The colors and movement. The trees seem to move with an unseen wind, the same wind, which, blows the snow swirling around the top of the mountain.

  “Oh! I must have it!” A woman's loud voice calls out. She had followed the gallery owner, and when he revealed it, she was sold!

  “Of course, madam. We will discuss a price, but first, you should meet the artist.”

  Faith is guided to the woman, and they discuss her technique. The woman asks about her other pieces that the assistant has already unwrapped. Each is a unique, vibrant, landscape and the gallery is soon abuzz with excitement.

  Solomon takes Hope and lets Faith have her moment. She is happily discussing each piece and the inspiration for them, when she glances at him. The pride shining from his eyes has her throat clogging with emotion. Is this what love is supposed to feel like she wonders? Moments of joy and sorrow, sadness and terror all shared together? She's never had that, and now she will be leaving it behind.