Emmy (Gold Rush Brides Book 2)

by Cassie Hayes

  She led Emmy into the barn, where she helped her change out of the dress and into patched overalls, a threadbare flannel shirt and worn leather coat. They were a little long but much more comfortable than her wedding dress. There was a bandana in the bundle and Emmy tied it up and around her head to keep her hair contained. Finally, Lill produced a tattered straw hat that had seen better days, but it would work nicely to keep the sun off Emmy’s ivory — well, normally ivory — skin.

  “Now let’s get you fed before those boys in there leave you behind.”

  Lill winked and dragged her toward the house, but not before Emmy got one last look at the sad remains of her wedding dress, lying in a jumbled heap on the packed-dirt floor of the barn. It was a delicate and frilly thing that had no business in the harsh new world that was California. Tough and practical was what was needed out here. She’d stubbornly dragged it thousands of miles, hoping to salvage one last vestige of her old life, of her old self. But it was time to put all that away. It was time to become a Californian.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Mason nearly choked on his coffee when Emmy walked through the door. The men’s clothes almost entirely hid her femininity and the oatmeal smeared all over her face completely disguised her identity. She looked like a frightening scarecrow from his childhood nightmares, and he couldn’t help laughing.

  “What are you snortin’ at, Sheriff?” Lill gave him a sharp look that stilled his tongue.

  “Uh, nothing at all, ma’am.”

  “That’s what I thought. Now I’m gonna make sure this little wisp of a thing gets a proper meal before y’all set off again, so take your time with that coffee, y’hear? Those bad guys won’t get too much farther away in the next few minutes.”

  As much as it grieved him to wait, he didn’t dare object. She looked like the kind of woman who wouldn’t hesitate to box his ears, even though he towered over her. Of course, she was right that five minutes wouldn’t make much difference one way or the other, but it was the fact they were waiting on Emmy that was so irksome. But he had to give her credit for not only tracking them yesterday but keeping up with them today, especially in her current state.

  Fred didn’t seem at all bothered by the wait. He plopped his big old rear end across from Emmy and peppered her with questions while she ate. He was nosy as all get out but he had a way about him that made it endearing.

  “So, Miss Emmy, do fellers have to pay extra to get a bride as pretty as you?”

  She waved a dismissive hand at him. “Oh, go on, Deputy Merchant. I’m a monster.”

  “Don’t be silly, girl. You got a rash is all. That’ll be gone in a few days and you’ll be pretty as ever. And call me Fred.”

  For the first time ever, Mason thought he spotted real gratitude in her eyes. So far, he’d only seen entitlement and vanity. Maybe rolling around in a patch of poison oak was a good lesson for the spoiled brat.

  “Yeah, you ain’t got nothing on ol’ David here,” said Jake. “He’s so ugly he has to sneak up on a dipper to get a drink.”

  “Oh yeah?” David shot back. “Well, you’re so ugly you could bluff a buzzard off a meat wagon!”

  “Oh yeah? Well, you’re so ugly—”

  “All right, this could go on all day,” interrupted Fred, laughing at their antics. “Seriously, though. How does a feller go about getting a catalog woman?”

  Emmy giggled at him, but not in a condescending way. “You simply place an ad in The Nuptial News and wait for the responses to come flooding in. A gentleman like yourself would have no shortage of ladies eager to make his acquaintance.”

  If Mason hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed Fred could blush. But there it was, a bright pink flush creeping up his plump cheeks. Even looking as bedraggled as she did, Emmy Gibson knew how to charm a man. And if ever there was a man who deserved a little harmless flattery, it was Fred Merchant.

  Emmy was finishing up her bowl of stew when their hostess set a bedroll next to her. On top, she placed a tin can and a package of food wrapped in paper and tied with twine, nice as could be.

  “You leave that old blanket of yours and take this instead,” she said. “It ain’t much but it’s a sight better’n a pile of poison oak.”

  Emmy turned her appreciative gaze to Lill, taking the woman’s hands in her own blistered, oatmeal-covered ones.

  “Thank you so much for your kindness, Lill,” she said, her words catching in her throat. “I’m eternally grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”

  Mason didn’t trust the wily little minx as far as he could throw her, but even he believed she was being sincere, not manipulative.

  “Well, if the lady is done eating, we should be shoving off,” Mason said. “I’m sorry to leave you with a pile of dishes, Mrs…uh, Lill. I’d be happy to leave the lady behind to help, if you’d like.”

  The look Emmy shot him nearly singed his eyebrows, but he just grinned in response. She popped up out of her seat, grabbed the pile of gear and gave the woman a tight hug.

  “I’ll get these things back to you as soon as I can,” she said, but Lill sniffed at her.

  “Go on and git, darlin’. You just take care o’ yourself, y’hear?”

  She wheeled on Mason then. “And you. You catch that crook. I don’t want them hearing we put y’all on their trail and have them come back to finish us off. You catch ‘em and you hang ‘em high.”

  He nodded, conceding that’s exactly what the Lone Star Gang would do if they ever caught wind of her kindness to him and his men — and woman.

  “You can count on it, Lill,” he said, tipping his hat to her.

  As everyone filed out the door, she tugged at his sleeve. He leaned down so she could whisper in his ear.

  “And watch over the wee one there. She’s tougher than you think, but she’s still green. I got a feelin’ she’s gonna surprise you one of these days.”

  He glanced over at Emmy as she packed her saddle bag. Quickly and lithely, she mounted Blaze and leaned down to murmur in the horse’s ear, stroking his neck soothingly. He snorted and bobbed his head, almost as if he understood her words.

  Looking the woman straight in the eyes, he said, “She already has.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Now Miss Emmy,” Fred was saying as they made their way south, searching for any sign of Roy. “You can’t be pickin’ any ol’ berries you want, no matter how hungry ya are. Like them there? Them red ones are Christmas berries and they’ll make ya sick if ya don’t cook ‘em right. Them red ones are currants, and they’re okay. I’ll show ya more as I see ‘em, but don’t you never eat a berry you don’t know, y’hear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Emmy thought it was sweet the way Fred, Jake and David were taking her under their collective wing. Seeing that their boss had warmed to her some, they weren’t so afraid to help her, but they didn’t flaunt it either. They took turns giving her little lessons when he wasn’t paying too much attention.

  “All ya gotta do is put the net across the burrow hole and when the rabbit runs out, it pulls the net tight around itself,” David instructed at one point. “Prolly the best way for a beginner to catch some luck.”

  “I’ll need all the luck I can get,” she laughed.

  “Naw, you’re doing jest fine, Miss Emmy.”

  “Hey, Miss Emmy,” added Jake. “If you don’t get it the first time, don’t you take it personal. That feller there couldn’t teach a hen to cluck.”

  “Oh yeah? If all yer brains was dynamite, there wouldn’t be enough to blow yer nose!”

  “That’s right funny comin’ from a feller who can’t tell a skunk from a house cat!”

  “Boys, stop! I might fall off Blaze!” Emmy was doubled over with laughter. Not only were they fine men for trying to show her how to fend for herself in the wild, but they were funnier than all get out.

  All day it went on like that, one man dropping in to give her a tidbit of information, then moving up and another dropping back. Sh
e had to admit, though, that she enjoyed chatting with Fred the most. The boys were hilarious, but Fred was different. His faith in her gave her strength to go on.

  “You know, Miss Emmy,” he said at one point. “You’re a real special lady. It ain’t every woman who could jump on a ship and move out here, without knowing a soul. It was mighty brave, if ya ask me.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” she said.

  “I do, and I might know a thing or two about bravery, having worked with Mace for all this time.”

  She huffed in response but said nothing. The sheriff might be a rude boor, but even she had to admit that he wasn’t lacking in the bravery department.

  “Yup, moving someplace wild like this is bound to change a person. I seen plenty of city folk pass though Nevada City, let me tell you, and only the ones that rejig their innards will make it.”

  “Rejig…what?”

  “Y’know, change what’s going on inside.”

  “Oh! Adapt. You’re saying I need to adapt.”

  “No, Miss Emmy, I’d never say such a thing!”

  She smiled at his subtle wink. There was no need to take offense because he was right. The change had already begun inside her, she could feel it, and she was keen to discover how far it would go.

  “But till that day comes,” Fred said, “we might as well teach ya how to fight, cuz with a lip like yers, ya might fetch yerself a punch in the nose one of these days.”

  ~ * ~ * ~

  “So Kirby has at least three of his four men with him,” Mason said to his men around the campfire that night. “Wonder if homesteader woman didn’t see number five or if one was missing. If so, where was he? Did he have a falling out with Kirby or did he go ahead to make sure the coast was clear?”

  “She said it was dark, so I bet she didn’t see the other feller,” Fred said. “Probably standing guard somewhere nearby.”

  Mason nodded his agreement. He’d been running it through his mind all afternoon on their hard ride south. The witnesses from the last two stagecoach robberies all agreed there were five men involved. Of course there were no witnesses to the first robbery, but that strange star drawn in the dirt at each scene tied them all together.

  His heart twisted up thinking about the first robbery but he couldn’t afford to get sentimental now. Not when he was so close to catching the sonofagun responsible.

  Emmy bustled up to the fire and Mason nearly laughed again. Only his promise to the old woman stilled his tongue. The oatmeal had dried and cracked on their ride until chunks had started falling away, leaving her red, blistered skin exposed. As soon as they’d stopped for the night, she stooped downstream of Blaze as he drank, and washed away the remaining chunks. Now it had been replaced with some blackish goo that looked downright vile.

  She also came back with four full canteens of water and wordlessly passed them around, one for each of them. She must have collected them from the horses while the men were setting up camp. Mason was surprised she’d deigned to fill his, as her contempt for him was as strong as ever, but he thanked her just the same.

  “Come sit by me, Miss Emmy,” said Fred, patting the ground next to him. “Now what’s that all over yer face? It sure as heck ain’t oatmeal. Phew, it smells something awful!”

  She laughed good-naturedly. “Trust me, I know. It’s bear fat mixed with soot. Lill gave it to me for my rash. I don’t know if it’ll cure it any faster, but it doesn’t itch as badly as it did this morning.”

  David was setting up a spit for another brace of rabbits for supper, and everyone looked ready to eat them raw. The venison stew had been hearty enough to keep them going late into the day, but riding was hard work and Mason found himself wishing they had something more to go along with it.

  Emmy cleared her throat. “I know I’m supposed to take care of my own meals, and I’m happy to abide by Sheriff Wilder’s rule, but I was wondering if I might suggest a trade. You see, the missus back there sent me away with several very large, freshly baked biscuits and I thought…well, I thought I might trade some of them for some fresh rabbit. Would that be fair, Sheriff?”

  As much as he wanted to say no, his men already thought he was an ogre for not letting her mooch off their meager stores. Plus the idea of a homemade biscuit made his mouth water like crazy. But he didn’t want to seem too eager so he shrugged in response.

  “Ma’am?” said Jake.

  “Miss,” she corrected quickly.

  “Uh, miss, I just wanna say how sorry I am for getting kinda rough with ya yesterday. I ain’t never rough with women normally, but I didn’t know who you were or nothin’.”

  Emmy’s forgiving smile made Mason frown. She didn’t seem the type to forget such an affront so quickly or easily.

  “I understand, Jake. You were only doing your job. I’m thankful you didn’t shoot me!”

  Everyone but Mason laughed at her joke. He didn’t like that his deputies were fawning all over the silly girl, but he couldn’t do much about it. Besides, he had more important things to worry about — like figuring out where Roy Kirby was running to.

  “So where do we think Kirby’s gang is?” he asked, hoping to get his men’s focus away from Emmy and back on their mission.

  “Geez, Sheriff, it’s hard to say,” David conceded, rubbing at the back of his neck. “‘South’ is a mighty general direction. Could be anywhere.”

  “Ya don’t say,” teased Jake. “Boy, with your sense of direction, I’m downright dumbfounded that those fellers didn’t invite you on their little trip. What’s their names again? The ones that went up to Oregon?”

  “Lewis and Clark?” asked Emmy.

  “Them’s the ones!”

  “Dumb is right. Ain’t you a downright genius for rememberin’ their names,” chided David.

  “Enough,” chuffed Mason in frustration. “Can we focus on finding Kirby?”

  The young men ducked their heads in embarrassment. Emmy stiffened noticeably.

  “Is a requirement of your position to always be as rude as possible to everyone?” she asked Mason.

  The gall of that woman! Just who did she think she was, Cleopatra?

  “Listen here, little miss. These are my deputies and I’ll speak to ‘em any way I please. And you! You would be wise to keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut when it comes to how I treat my men, or anything else I do, for that matter!”

  She looked as if he’d reached across the fire and slapped her in the face. “Well!” was all she could manage in response.

  “Now, Mace—“ Fred started.

  “Not you, too, Fred! Aw, hang it all.” Mason stood to his full height, causing everyone around the fire to cower back a little. “I’ve lost my appetite. I’m turning in.”

  For the first time since he’d met her, Emmy didn’t open her mouth, and that was fine by him.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  The men cast worried glances at each other after the sheriff left them, and ate their meal in silence. The rabbit was delicious, as were the biscuits, but no one seemed to enjoy them as much as Emmy had expected. They seemed genuinely worried about their leader, which baffled her, considering how curt and short-tempered he was.

  Jake and David cleaned up and turned in after a few more jokes, leaving Fred and Emmy to peacefully stare into the fire together. It was probably the most comfortable moment she’d had in the past several months and she wanted it to last.

  But she couldn’t get the sheriff’s attitude out of her head. When she heard steady breathing and snores coming from the nearby bedrolls, she summoned the courage to ask what she’d been wondering.

  “Fred, why is he like that?”

  The older man paused, and it was clear he knew exactly who she was talking about. He glanced at the largest lump of blankets before turning to her.

  “Mason’s had a rough spell lately. It’s set him on edge a bit, especially after you came to town.”

  “Me? Why? What did I do?”

  He kindly patted her
shoulder. “No, Miss Emmy, it ain’t you, in particular. It’s just…well, your husband.”

  She bristled at the word. Through clenched teeth, she hissed, “He’s not my husband.”

  The poor man raised his hands in apology. “Sorry, sorry, I only meant that it’s Roy Kirby that’s got him going again.”

  “Again?”

  Fred shook his head and gazed into the fire. Emmy didn’t like the mournful look on his face. It made her sad, and she didn’t even know why.

  “A year ago, Mason was a different man. He was big as ever, of course, but he was happier, always joking around. Never took things too serious-like. He was the constable out this way, before we was an official county. He was here when Nevada City weren’t nothing more than an outfitting store on the way to the diggins.”

  Emmy tried to imagine the bustling town as anything but and found it difficult. She knew communities in California grew up almost overnight, but still, it was hard to visualize Nevada City as anything but what she knew it as. She supposed the same went for Sheriff Wilder. It was impossible to imagine him as anything but cranky.

  “Y’see, he had a lovely wife back then. Marie. She was a right fine lady, that one, and I ain’t seen a couple more in love than them.” He paused and brushed at his eyes, smiling sadly.

  The sheriff had never mentioned a wife, and he didn’t wear a ring. Emmy’s stomach clenched at the implications.

  “What happened to her?” she asked quietly.

  Once again, Fred paused and glanced at the sheriff’s sleeping form. Taking a deep breath, he launched into the story.

  “Marie was on her way back from visiting her family in San Francisco when her stagecoach was robbed by highwaymen right outside Nevada City, right where you was stopped. There’d been a few robberies like that happening from time to time, but Mason was able to track down every single one of them thieves. Mostly cuz they were drunken idjits who didn’t know to keep their traps shut. But this one was different.”