Say what one would about Mrs. Carver, the woman was not stupid. And despite the achy slowness of her movements, she readily grasped the basics of lean-to construction. Anne left her to finish while she went to gather moss and pine needles. It was arduous work after a day in the saddle, all bending and standing, squatting and lifting.
How much would it cost to run a branch line of the railroad up to the mine? She began working through the calculations in her head. At Bao Chang’s advice, she had taken a substantial share of her earnings from the gold mine and invested in the railroads, among other things. By train this journey would have ended the day before, or possibly even the day before that if they hadn’t stopped in Sacramento. Once she got home she’d have to look into the possibilities.
Huh. She was thinking of San Francisco as home. Back in the city, she’d always thought of the mine as home.
When she returned with her umpteenth and final basket of bedding materials, she found that Jack had made a creditable place for a fire, neatly circled by stones, and had laid kindling and wood within. Her tenderfoot was coming along nicely.
“Do you want to do the honors?” he asked as she approached.
“I wouldn’t dream of stealing your thunder.”
With an air of suppressed excitement he struck a match, and Anne wondered if this might not be the first time he’d ever laid and lit his own fire. The thought was so preposterous she rejected it, but then, he had grown up in a city with a number of household servants. Would he have ever had cause to light a fire for himself?
A piercing howl pulled her from her reveries as she piled moss in the first lean-to.
“What was that?” For the first time Anne thought she detected a quiver in Mrs. Carver’s voice. “Was it wolves?”
An impulse shivered through Anne. She could repay Mrs. Carver’s haughty meanness with a dose of terror. But, no. “Sounds more like coyotes to me.”
“You’re sure?” Mrs. Carver’s gaze roamed wildly over the thick trees that surrounded them.
Anne placed a gentle hand on her arm and waited until the woman’s eyes rested on hers. “I’m sure.”
Mrs. Carver pressed her lips together and nodded.
Time for a distraction. “We’ve got the biscuits I made at the cabin to eat tonight, but you know what would go really well with some biscuits?”
The response was wary. “What?”
“Honey.” Anne grinned wickedly and pointed toward the beehive hanging pendulously from the nearby tree.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I certainly am.”
Jack drew nearer. “What do you have in mind?”
“We’re going to use your fire.”
“Surely fire would make the bees angry.”
“To be strictly accurate, we don’t want the fire, we want the smoke. It makes the bees sleepy. Then we can borrow some honey without any protests.”
“Won’t it simply irritate them?” Mrs. Carver wasn’t buying her explanation.
“Don’t worry. My father taught me how to get honey when I was real little.” She held her arms out in a circle in front of her. “I need a good-size bundle of green branches with the leaves still on them. They need to be green so they’ll burn very slowly and produce a lot of smoke.”
Jack nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
Meanwhile, Anne retrieved a bucket and a rope from among their supplies and checked the edge of the knife she carried in a scabbard on her hip. It was gratifyingly sharp. She tied a large handkerchief around her nose and mouth as Jack returned with an armful of branches.
“Don’t tell me, you’re really the bandit the Indians were warning us about.”
“The bees might feel that way.” She tied the rope around the bucket handle and then approached the tree.
Jack walked with her. “We could do without honey. You don’t have to go through all this.”
“I’ve got a taste for it now.” She smiled at him, though he probably couldn’t tell because of the bandanna around her face. “Don’t worry.” She plucked a burning twig from the fire and wrapped it in the branches, which she quickly tied tight in a bundle.
With the rope looped over her shoulder, the branches in the bucket, and the bucket handle looped over her arm, she shinnied up the tree. By the time she reached the high limb, the bundle of branches was smoking. She pulled it from the bucket and pushed it in front of her as she found a seat on the limb and scooted along to the hive. The bundled branches were producing a good amount of smoke now. It billowed in a white cloud as she leaned forward, passing the bundle below the hive and letting the smoke saturate it.
The aggressive buzzing gradually became a low drone. She glanced down to see her audience of two watching with rapt expressions.
Anne rested the smoldering branches on the tree limb in front of her, slid her knife out of its sheath, and sliced away a large chunk of beeswax, which she dropped into the bucket.
This she lowered to the ground with the rope. As soon as Jack had retrieved it, she let go of the end of the rope. “I’m going to toss down the branches next. Douse them in the stream.”
She did so, and Jack snatched up the smoldering bundle and dashed toward the stream. Anne was already scooting her way back toward the tree’s trunk. The bees would rouse quickly now that the smoke was gone.
At the base she found Jack returning from the stream. He was grinning from ear to ear and clapping. “That was quite the performance.”
She bowed. “Why, thank you. Thank you.”
“My brother taught you how to do that?” Mrs. Carver’s voice was curious, without a single note of criticism.
Anne straightened. “Oh yes. He loved the forest. Growing up, I think I lived half my life in a tent, but I don’t recall ever wanting for much. The forest had a way of providing for our needs when he was around.” A deep nostalgic longing for her father made her eyes fill with tears, and she blinked them away. In her desire to become refined, she had moved to the city and had lost her sense of freedom and her connection to him. Maybe she shouldn’t try to be something she wasn’t. She busied herself with retrieving the rest of the makings for supper in order to have an excuse to turn away.
Silently, Jack came to assist her. He was a true gentleman. It seemed to come naturally, effortlessly to him. For him, etiquette wasn’t a list of rules; it was about trying to be respectful and put people at ease. He wasn’t just well mannered, he was gracious. And kind. His manner reminded Anne of her father. She’d say it was in the blood, but if that was the case, why didn’t she have it? Maybe it came with their upbringing. The to-the-manor-born confidence made Jack very attractive.
Not that she cared. She swallowed. Who did she think she was fooling?
“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he said at last. Not pushing for a response.
She summoned the brightest smile she could manage. “No choice. My mouth keeps watering when I think about that honey.”
“Of course, you’ve listened to my instruction well. Active drooling is frowned upon in polite society.” He took the pack of foodstuffs and large pot and carried it to the fire for her.
“I am glad you taught me that. It would have been embarrassing to be the only drooler at my next dinner party.” She used tongs to mound hot embers around the base of the large pot and smiled ruefully. “Although to be fair, I don’t think anyone back in San Francisco is likely to invite me to any dinner parties any time soon.”
Jack put a hand on her arm, forcing her gaze up to his. “That’s their loss, Anne. You’re worth any ten of them.”
She froze, unsure of what to do or say, waiting for the punch line, the joke.
“I just thought you should know.” He removed his hand but left behind turmoil. Was it possible that he cared for her as she had come to care for him? She wasn’t one of the fancy ladies he grew up around. She never would be. How could she ever please someone as polished and educated as he was? Should she try?
She didn’t know what
or who she was anymore.
Mrs. Carver returned from a discreet trip into the woods, and Jack withdrew, heading toward the stream. Anne jabbed at the embers with a stick as her aunt approached and began pulling foodstuffs and tin plates from their bags.
“Mrs. Carver, you know good and well I’ve made this trip on my own plenty of times. Why did you really insist on coming?”
Her aunt swallowed and was silent for so long that Anne was certain she wasn’t going to answer. Finally she pulled out the carefully wrapped packet of biscuits and looked up. “You may not believe it, but when I was a young woman, I had many beaux, and not just because of the family’s wealth. But not a one of them captured my fancy.”
She paused, but Anne didn’t try to fill in the silence. This was the most her aunt had revealed of herself since her arrival in California.
After a moment Mrs. Carver continued. “Not until I met my mountain man. He’d come back east to fight for the North in the war, and I was a nurse.”
Anne stilled her restless hands at this revelation, fearful of drawing her aunt’s ire and halting the flow of confidence.
“Of course, my parents didn’t approve. I ended up listening to their counsel, but a part of me has always wondered.”
Anne cocked her head, trying to understand the emotions behind the words.
“Wondered how I would have managed. What my life would have been like if I’d run away with him. I suppose I thought that this trip might answer some of my questions.”
Impulsively, Anne laid a hand on her shoulder. “I have no doubt that you could have done it, but if your parents were able to talk you out of it, then he wasn’t the man for you. You’re a woman who acts on her convictions.”
Mrs. Carver didn’t pull away, but there was a sudden sheen of moisture in her eyes and she blinked rapidly. “Yes, well, while we’re on the subject of my stubbornness, I think I could do with some of that liniment, if you still have it.”
Anne swallowed a smile and hurried to fetch the medicine. Maybe there was more to her aunt than her abrasive exterior would suggest.
Jack stared out at the vista spreading before him. This was truly God’s country. He’d never seen a more beautiful spot. Even knowing how rugged and demanding the landscape could be after climbing up into the mountains for three and a half days straight, he couldn’t quite get past the beauty of this wilderness. “I have never seen anything so stunning,” he whispered. He glanced up to catch a glimpse of Anne’s profile as she, too, gazed out over the forest, and he realized that he might have to qualify his statement. With love for this place shining in her eyes, she was easily a match for the scenery.
She glanced his way and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s not much farther.” She raised her hand and pointed about halfway down the mountain, opposite to a bit of a plateau. With her guidance he spied a thin stream of smoke and a clearing with a handful of shingle-sided buildings.
“That’s it?” It was hard to believe that the fabled mine was within sight. Or, more accurately, it was hard to believe that that sight was the fabled mine.
“Yes.” She beamed at him, and he decided to reserve judgment. Some things were most impressive only after you came close to them.
Chapter 6
Anne had managed to keep anxiety at bay in the last few days by focusing on the goal of getting herself and the others safely to the mine. Now that it was in sight she could feel worry expanding like a noxious bubble within her chest. The closer they drew, the more immediate her concern became. It was more than the natural concern that would have been prompted by the maddeningly nonspecific telegram.
She watched the site carefully as they approached. It wasn’t until they were about to break from the cover of the forest that she finally realized what had her on edge. There was no movement in the yard and not a sound from any of the outbuildings. She pulled up hard on her horse’s reins.
She heard her aunt’s grunt and the jingle of her horse’s bridle as she reacted to Anne’s move, drawing to the side to avoid a collision.
Anne turned back to them both. “I know you’re as anxious to get there as I am, but would you indulge me and wait here?”
Her aunt frowned. “What kind of trouble are you expecting?”
“I’d like to look around first and, um, make sure they know I’ve brought guests before you arrive.”
Jack shook his head. “Anne—”
Mrs. Carver gave him a sharp look.
He cleared his throat. “Miss Shepherd, I know you well enough by now to know that you’re not riding ahead to make sure your men have the place tidied up for our arrival. How about you tell us what’s going on.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s just that it’s … it’s too quiet.”
“Then you’re not going in there alone.”
“It’s my mine and my horse. I can ride where I like.”
“No doubt, but I’m riding with you.”
“As am I,” her aunt added stoutly.
It took some doing, but at last Anne was able to convince her aunt to remain where she was so she could go for help if necessary. Considering that the woman had no idea where they were or how to find the nearest settlement, it seemed unlikely that any help she might bring to bear was going to be of material use, but Anne very carefully did not point this out. Jack proved more stubborn. At last her anxiousness to find out what was going on outweighed her objections to his presence.
Together they rode from the woods. Nothing stirred in the little mining settlement.
The whole place hadn’t caved in or burned down. Whatever had happened could be fixed. At least that’s what she meant to keep telling herself.
She reined up in front of the office, hitched her horse to the post, and headed inside. To her surprise, there was a man sitting behind the desk with his feet propped up. He was a stocky fellow with bushy black eyebrows and a bristly beard. He wore a grimy, sweat-rimmed hat on his head, and there was a hole in the sole of one of his boots. He was reading a dime-store novel and wiping tobacco juice from his mouth with a large handkerchief. At their entrance he lowered the book and peered at them over the top.
His eyebrows rose and the chair legs thumped to the floor. “Who are you?”
“Who are you?”
Their questions rang out simultaneously.
Anne could practically hear her blood begin to simmer. “I’m the owner of this mine. Now tell me who you are and what you’re doing here before I forget that I’m a lady.”
“I’d suppose you’d say this mine has come under new management.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Where is An Wei?”
The door opened behind them, letting light stream in like a river through the office. It was bisected by a dark shadow. Anne turned to see who had arrived. This man was broad in the chest and wore a Stetson like he was some sort of cowboy. Spurs jingled as he stepped inside the office.
“Mornin’, folks, how can I help you?”
Holey Shoes jumped in. “This lady claims to own the mine.”
“Own the mine?” The newcomer’s brow grew rutted, as if he was perplexed. “Why, you must be Anne Shepherd. I’m Sam Holt.” He planted a hand on her shoulder. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you, honey. Your pa was a claim jumper. This is my mine.” He hustled her to a chair. “I’m sure this comes as a surprise.”
The whooshing in her ears almost drowned him out. “This is not your mine, and my father was no claim jumper.”
“I’m sure it’s a bitter pill to swallow. I can understand that, sure enough.” He claimed a seat next to her and leaned forward earnestly and much too closely. “I’ve been wondering how to handle this matter, but I can see you’re a nice young lady. I don’t want to make things hard on you. And neither of us wants a legal wrangle.” He offered a grin that revealed a row of oddly even, white teeth. “You’re my witness, Clint. I’m pledging here and now that I’m not going to pursue this young lady for the gold that’s been stolen from
my mine already.”
“How dare you!” Anne was back on her feet in an instant. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but you’re about to get me riled.”
Jack placed a hand at the small of her back. The slight pressure at once a warning and an encouragement to resume her seat. She quieted, but she was too wound up to sit again.
“Gentlemen, I assume you have some proof of what you’re saying?”
“I wouldn’t make such claims willy-nilly.” The fellow flapped a hand in the air. “Clint, where’s the file?”
Clint prodded the only papers on the desk. “Is this what you’re looking for, boss?”
“I do believe that’s it.” The fellow stood and accepted the documents from his underling. He glanced through them, nodding. “I believe everything is here.” He pulled back just as Jack reached to take the documents. “And who might you be?”
“I’m Perseus Wilberforce the Second, Miss Shepherd’s lawyer.”
“A lawyer. We are in distinguished company.” He handed Jack the papers.
There was a long pause as Jack paged through each document. At last he shuffled them back into order. “I’m afraid I have some bad news, Anne.”
She could not believe what she was hearing. There was no way this man could have a legitimate claim to her mine. Was there?
A wide, froggy smile crossed Mr. Holt’s face.
Jack set the documents neatly on the corner of the desk. “It seems that you are going to be forced to deal with a forger and a would-be claim jumper.”
For a heartbeat there was silence as everyone in the room absorbed what he’d said, then the grin faded from Holt’s face. “I think you’re getting some bad legal advice.”
A sneer curled Jack’s lips. “The patents are terrible forgeries. You boys should clear on out now before the law arrives. We won’t try to stop you.”
A whisper of leather and then Anne heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.
“’Fraid that’s not how this is going to go, lawyer.” Holt looked almost rueful as he stood up, gun in hand, and trained it right between Anne’s eyes. “I hate to do this. I sure enough do. I tried to get you all to just move along, but you forced my hand. I call it unfortunate.” He gave a little flick of the gun tip. “Clint, I’m gonna need you to tie these folks up.”
The American Heiress Brides Collection Page 45
