Emmy (Gold Rush Brides Book 2)

by Cassie Hayes

  “How’d ya like it?” he asked, giving her a knowing smirk.

  Her eyes were downcast but she peeked up at him from beneath those ridiculously long eyelashes, making his mouth go dry. Bear fat be hanged, her beauty was so profound, he couldn’t understand why every man in the place wasn’t clamoring around her.

  “It was awful going down,” she whispered, looking around to make sure no one was within earshot. “But it sure felt nice after!”

  He busted up laughing, and so did his deputies. What a gem! He’d have to remember that one.

  “So how’d it go at Watson’s, Mace?” Fred asked when they finally simmered down.

  “‘Bout how I expected. He’s a gasbag, that much is certain, but I think I shamed him into helping. We’ll see. In the meantime, I think we need another round to rinse off that ride. Barkeep!”

  Moments later, they were all chuckling at Emmy coughing and sputtering, but Mason was impressed that she’d taken the shot. No doubt about it, the girl could handle herself pretty well. She’d kept up with them, after all, even after catching that rash. But he wasn’t about to let her have another drink. No sense in her getting roostered.

  They spent the next hour eating fine steak dinners and chatting about nothing in particular. The conversation was lively and laughter came easy for all of them, including Emmy. She stayed true to her promise to keep a low-profile and didn’t say much but her crystal clear laughter pierced the rough guffaws of his men and burned itself on his brain. No matter where she ended up after this ride, he would forever remember that sweet laugh of hers.

  Another thirty minutes went by, and Mason was rather disgusted that Sheriff Watson had yet to show. How long did it take the man to ask a few of his contacts if they knew Kirby? He himself had a nice little network of men who were privy to many of the darker secrets of Nevada County, as any good sheriff would. Of course, Watson had already proven he wasn’t a good sheriff, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

  Mason had been cheerful when he joined his men at the saloon, thinking that Kirby would be his very soon. But with every passing minute, he became more and more tense. Unable to wait any longer, Mason pushed back from the table and took a stool at the bar. There wouldn’t be a man in town more knowledgable about the gritty goings-on than the barkeep, and time was wasting.

  “Sheriff, what can I get ya?” the man asked, wiping a mug with a grimy towel. He didn’t have an attitude, so maybe he would be willing to talk.

  “Well, maybe a little information, if ya got a minute.”

  The bar was bustling and the barkeep looked around to see if anyone needed attention, but they all seemed satisfied. “I can spare a minute.”

  “Wondering if you ever heard of a man by the name of Roy Kirby. I hear he has a place somewhere around these parts.”

  The barkeep went still. He didn’t move a muscle and stared intently at Mason. Then he shifted his gaze conspicuously to his right, toward the back of the saloon. “Nope, never heard of him,” he finally said, turning away and moving to the other end of the bar to help a customer.

  “Well, that’s that, I guess,” Mason said for the benefit of anyone listening. “Guess we’ll be moving on then.”

  He motioned for his deputies and they sauntered out of the saloon like they didn’t have a care in the world. Once the door closed, he ducked down the alley next to the saloon, waving at his men to stay put, and popped out at the back entrance, where the garbage was kept.

  He only had to wait a few minutes in the stench before the barkeep rushed out, breathless. “Listen, no one can know I talked to you, all right?”

  Mason nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “Roy Kirby has been a thorn in my side ever since I opened up. I gotta pay him every month or he’ll see to it my place burns down. I know for a fact his band burned down an outfitter who wouldn’t play nice. It’s high time someone brung him down.”

  The man was agitated and at risk of rambling. Mason needed to keep him on track.

  “Where can I find him?”

  “I never been there but I hear tell his place is dead east of town, near the American River. Last stop before ya tumble down the hill to the water. But don’t expect to walk up to his front door, Sheriff. His boys’ll do whatever it takes to protect him, and he’s got others playing on his team, too.”

  “Like who?”

  “Sheriff Watson, for one. Most of his deputies, too. Probably not the mayor, at least not yet. I ain’t never seen ‘em together, anyway, and Roy likes to show off who’s in his pocket.”

  Mason saw red. That miserable excuse for a lawman looked him dead in the eye and flat out lied. He wasn’t off trying to locate Kirby, he was off warning him!

  “Hang it all! Thanks for your help,” he said as he started for the alley.

  “Remember, you didn’t hear it from me!”

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Emmy could practically smell the excitement on Mason when he rushed out of the alley and gathered them around him. Somehow she ended up next to him, pressed against his side and keenly aware of the heat beating off him.

  “Kirby’s place is east of town, down by the river,” he said. “But he has a lot of eyeballs here so we gotta make it look like we’re heading back north. We’ll ride out the way we came in till we come to the tree line. From there, the four of us will ride east till we hit the river. We’ll figure out our plan of attack after we get a gander at his layout. Ready?”

  The men all agreed, almost drowning out Emmy’s question. “Four?” She had a sneaking suspicion which four, but she wanted to hear him say it before she got angry — well, angrier.

  The deputies were looking to Mason who blinked in confusion. “The four of us,“ he said, pointing to himself and his men. “You’ll stay out of sight right off the road so we know where to find you when the shooting’s over.”

  She could feel the old, bratty Emmy wanting to burst out and throw a tantrum, but she wouldn’t allow it. That behavior no longer had a place in her life. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t stand up for herself.

  “Sheriff, haven’t I proven myself over the last few days? Would you have even known Roy Kirby was the man you wanted without me? Wasn’t I the one who led you to Auburn? I’m as much a member of this posse as anyone and I don’t see why I can’t finish what I started.”

  He gaped at her open-mouthed. “Do you even know how to fire a gun, Emmy?” he asked, nodding when she shifted her gaze. “I didn’t think so. No, I’m afraid it’s out of the question. You’ll stay put till we fetch you.”

  That got her back up, him ordering her around like that. Rude Sheriff Wilder was back. Just who did he think he was? As hard as she tried, she couldn’t help herself.

  “Oh, I will, will I? What’s to stop me from following you like I did before?”

  Mason’s expression grew fierce and forbidding, and he grabbed her arm to pull her in close. “Listen, Emmy. This isn’t the time to act like a cosseted toddler. We’re hunting a killer, one who might not think twice about shooting the pretty little thing who turned him in to the law. I won’t risk your life like that, understand?”

  There was something behind the anger in his eyes, and it took her a moment to realize what it was: fear. He was afraid of her being hurt or worse. It was more than a sheriff’s concern for a citizen. This was something deeper, and it flustered her.

  For the first time in as long as she could remember, Emmy had no desire to get her way for the sake of it. In the past, it had been a game for her, to see how far she could push or how much she could get. What she saw in Mason’s eyes was all she wanted now.

  Besides her father, no other man had truly cared about her. Plenty had tried to possess her, but none had tried to protect her. Until Mason. At least she hoped that was the case. If it was, it was more important than ever for Roy to sign those annulment papers, because she didn’t want anything standing in the way of her finding happiness at last.

  Holding his gaze, she slid her hand up
her arm until her fingers rested lightly over his and nodded. “Understood.”

  His grip loosened and a great sigh escaped him, as if he’d been holding his breath while waiting for her answer. His eyes drank her in, then traveled down where her hand covered his. Wiggling his fingers, he caught two of hers between them and held them gently, shifting his gaze back to her face. The intensity of the look nearly made her heart explode.

  “Heh hem.” Fred cleared his throat, startling them out of their own little world. “Don’t you fellers think we should be heading back to Nevada City? Might make it ten miles or more before nightfall, if we get a move on.”

  Several men had stumbled out of the saloon and were watching the posse closely. A veil dropped across Mason’s face as he snatched his hand away from her and strode over to his horse. She’d completely forgotten for a moment that she was dressed as a man, and it tickled her that he did, too.

  Smirking, she hoisted herself up on Blaze’s back and led them out of town.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, Miss Emmy,” Fred was saying, but Emmy was barely listening. “We’ll make sure that scoundrel signs these papers, even if it means sittin’ on him to get it done, and we’ll all be witnesses, right boys?”

  Jake and David nodded solemnly as Fred patted the coat pocket where he’s stowed the papers but Emmy couldn’t tear her gaze away from Mason, who was busying himself with checking his guns and ammunition. They were tucked into a clearing in the trees, right off the road — a perfect place for Emmy to wait for their return…if they returned.

  The very thought made her tremble. She’d grown fond of the men in Mason’s employ, especially Fred. He was the wise, old uncle she’d never had. David and Jake, even though their initial meeting had been rather rough, turned out to be courageous and loyal men, plus they were a hoot.

  And then there was Mason.

  Mason had rubbed her the wrong way when they first met but, over the past few days, she’d come to realize that the reason was because he wouldn’t cave to her every whim. She wasn’t used to that, and hadn’t liked it. But it turned out that it was exactly what she needed.

  Learning to do for herself had been liberating. Never again would she lower herself by using flattery or tantrums to get what she wanted, or expect others to be subservient to her. This trip had changed her profoundly and she was deeply grateful, even though her father would have been mortified.

  She even wondered for a moment if she should send Uncle Tate a thank you letter for being such a lout, because if it hadn’t been for him, she never would have discovered the strength inside her. And, more importantly, she never would have met Mason.

  Gazing at him now as he prepared to hunt down Roy, a tightness formed in her chest. She didn’t want him to go, even if it meant the annulment papers never got signed. They’d lost their importance to her somewhere along this journey, and she wasn’t sure where. She’d happily file for divorce and live with a tarnished reputation if Mason would only forget about Roy and ride back to Nevada City.

  Part of her — the old Emmy — wanted to run up to him with tears in her eyes, begging him not to risk his life. Guilt was a mighty powerful emotion, and she’d learned how to use it as a weapon long ago. But that wasn’t who she wanted to be anymore.

  Besides, even if she did ask him to stay, it wouldn’t make a difference. He’d still go. This was about so much more than simply bringing in a dangerous criminal, it was about avenging his wife and child. He’d never be free of his torment if he didn’t go after Roy, and she wouldn’t say a word to stop him.

  Mason finally turned to her, and the other men made a point of leading their horses away to give them space. Emmy’s mouth went dry wondering what he would say to her, how he would leave things. She wasn’t certain he cared for her in any way beyond that of a sheriff for his charge, but an ember of hope burned deep in her chest that perhaps their newfound friendship could turn into something more.

  Her skin heated where his fingers wrapped around her arms, firmly but not too hard. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as he stared intently into her eyes. A sigh escaped her parted lips, wondering what it would feel like to have him kiss them.

  Then he opened his mouth.

  “You gonna do what I said, like a good little girl?”

  Her gaze turned to a glare and the butterflies turned to buzzing bees. He still thought of her as a spoiled city girl! How dare he! She’d obeyed his every command on this trip and given him her word that she would stay put so why didn’t he believe her? How rude!

  Here she’d been fantasizing like a schoolgirl about the strapping sheriff and he only saw her as a child. That threw cold water on her runaway emotions like nothing else could.

  Nodding stiffly, she said, “Yes.”

  “Good, cuz if I see you following us, I might shoot you before I go kill Kirby, got it?”

  Emmy’s jaw clenched in irritation. “Yes, sir.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her, as if trying to read her mind — boy, he did not want to do that at the moment — then smiled and patted her back amiably. “Glad we see eye to eye on this. We’ll come collect you as soon as we can, but just in case, if we’re not back by daybreak, you hightail it up the road to Nevada City. Do not go back to Auburn, got it? We don’t know who’s in Kirby’s pocket, so it ain’t safe for you there.”

  She nodded, still petulant at his treatment of her, but cooling down quickly. What more could she expect of him, really? He was only treating her as the woman he’d first met, not the woman she’d become. He may have seen more in her, like he said during their chat the day before, but not enough to believe she’d keep her word.

  “Now here,” he said handing her something wrapped in cloth. “That’s some extra food for the trip home, in case things go south. Don’t eat it all tonight, y’hear?”

  Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a small revolver and passed it to her. Surprised, she moved to take it but he pulled back an inch. “This is only for an emergency, is that clear?” At her wide-eyed nod, he handed it over, making sure the muzzle was pointed down and her finger didn’t touch the trigger.

  “Emmy, you don’t know how to handle a weapon like this, but it would be foolish of me to leave you here without a way to protect yourself. If you have to use it, remember three things: One, make sure the person you’re shooting at is a bad guy and not some poor sap who stumbled upon ya; two, make sure you got a clear view and aim for their chest cuz it’s the biggest target; and three, whatever you do, don’t shoot yourself.”

  His wink sent little thrills of delight through her and she couldn’t help returning his grin. “Promise,” she laughed.

  “You’re far enough off the road that no one should spot you but if anyone does, what are you gonna tell ‘em?”

  She thought back to the discussion they’d had on the way out of town. “First, I’m going to lower my voice and make it all rough sounding, like I have a cold. Then I’ll say that I’m waiting for my hunting partner to return with dinner. If it’s late, I’ll tell them we heard a panther’s scream and he went to investigate.”

  Mason nodded, pleased. “That’ll scare the bejeebers out of any sane man, and send him on his way.”

  “Ready, Mace?” Fred and the boys had edged closer to them. “We should get going so we can get the lay of the land before it gets dark.”

  Grim was the only way to describe the look on Mason’s face. He reached a hand out toward her and let his fingers skim the leather of her borrowed coat until they reached her hand. Taking it in both of his, he held it gently, mindful of her easing rash.

  “I just want to say, if I don’t come back from this—“

  “Hush!” she interrupted. “Don’t you dare say such things, Mason Wilder. You go get Roy Kirby, dead or alive, I don’t care anymore. You get him and you make him pay for what he’s done.”

  Tears pricked at the back of her eyes but she willed them away. The last memory Mason woul
d have of her wouldn’t be her bawling like a baby. There would be enough time for that. Right now, he would see the strength she’d found since meeting him.

  “Well, I’m gonna say it anyway. It’s been a downright privilege knowing you, Miss Emmy.”

  He lifted her hand and his lips barely brushed her knuckles. It was the lightest of touches but it might as well have been a sledgehammer for how it knocked the wind out of her. She could only stand mutely and watch as the men mounted their horses and rode east to battle, tears streaming down her face.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Mason and his men only had to ride a mile or two before they spotted a homestead in the distance. It was exactly where the barkeep said it would be, perched atop the last hill before the land dropped away to the river below.

  As they drew closer, they got a better view of the layout. There was a long open road leading up to the small house with no cover to speak of, making it almost impossible to launch a frontal attack. It looked like the trees and chaparral had been cleared away. Low, bushy trees surrounded the house itself, offering excellent cover for anyone inside, but the barren stretch of land between the bushes and the woods offered no protection for his men. The south side of the house was no better.

  If they took any of those routes, Kirby’s gang would be able to pop them off one by one. Even if they attacked after dark, the full moon would give their enemy plenty of light by which to kill them.

  From their vantage point, the only possible way to sneak up on Kirby was by approaching the house from the river side and climb up the hill. The trees would provide enough protection from the moonlight until the were right up on the house, and then they’d get the drop on Kirby.

  The only problem was that it was spring, and the snow in the Sierra was starting to melt. The river was raging and there was no way they could pick their way along the river bank because there was no bank — only steep-sided hills.