Frontier Courtship Part 25

Faith breathed a relieved sigh. In all her mental ramblings regarding Irene and Connell, she'd never once thought of the problem that Irene's marriage to Tucker was still binding. He didn't think of it that way, of course, because he believed Irene was dead. They all knew better. And the proof was standing right there in front of her, very much alive.

Truth dawned. She gasped. "That's right! Charity can't can't be legally married to him. Isn't that wonderful?" be legally married to him. Isn't that wonderful?"

"For you, maybe," Connell said flatly. "But it sure puts a serious crimp in my future plans."

Faith watched her father closely for the next several weeks. Some days he seemed almost normal. Other times, no matter how he tried to hide it, she could tell he was dismally unhappy. She understood how he felt. Every time she thought of Connell she experienced a jolt of awareness, a sense of abiding love that warmed her all the way to her soul. Those blissful thoughts were always spoiled by an imaginary picture of him standing beside Irene, reciting wedding vows.

Except for an occasional foray out to check on Ben and the horses, Faith had kept to the cabin. Her father had explained to his friends that his wife's cousin and her traveling companion were visiting and no one had doubted the story. In the Territories and those few states west of the Mississippi, men didn't ask questions, nor did they welcome being queried about their own past lives. It was a place to start again. To take a new name, if necessary, and leave behind the failures of the past.

Seated by the small stove in one corner of the room, lost in thought, Faith was suddenly overcome by the realization that nothing could ever be as she remembered it. In a vague way she'd sensed that truth when she'd first set eyes on her father and his simple cabin. It wasn't only that their family home in Ohio had been leveled by disaster, it was knowing that none of them could go back to the kind of life they'd once shared.

They'd all changed. Grown. Faith especially. She'd been forced into taking charge and as a result had found a fort.i.tude within herself she'd never dreamed existed. The carefree child she'd been such a short time ago was merely a fond, distant memory.

And now?

Faith sighed. Her duty, once all was said and done, was to her father, just as Irene's had been when she'd chosen to take responsibility for her elderly parents rather than marry Connell and accompany him to the wilderness. Funny how history repeated itself, wasn't it?

The sound of an approaching horse and Ben's answering bray drew her from her reverie. She jumped to her feet to greet Connell with a grin as he burst through the door.

"They're coming!" he shouted. "About ten minutes out. Is everything set?"

"Yes." Faith hurried to the tin box. "I have the nuggets right here. Papa's been spreading the word he's made another big strike. We're as ready as we'll ever be."

"Good." Connell scanned the room. "Where's Irene? Is she okay?"

"She's fine. She's gone down to the river with my father. He's showing her how to find gold with a Long Tom." And I'm fine, too, thanks. Real tickled to see you, And I'm fine, too, thanks. Real tickled to see you, Faith added, deriding herself for being so excited that Connell was finally back in Beal's Bar. Faith added, deriding herself for being so excited that Connell was finally back in Beal's Bar.

"Well, don't just stand there. Let's go. We have to warn the others and plant those nuggets."

"Right." Faith followed him out the door. "I'll go saddle Ben."

"There's no time for that," Connell said. "Take my hand. We'll ride double."

"You're sure Rojo is well enough to carry the extra weight?"

Chuckling, the plainsman grabbed her arm and swung her up behind him in one fluid motion. "Don't worry. He's all healed up. Hardly even a scar. Besides, even a lame horse wouldn't feel the little bit you weigh."

"I'm so glad he's okay."

"Me, too. In case I didn't remember to thank you, we owe you a lot for coming to our rescue."

"You didn't remember," Faith said, adjusting her skirt as best she could while the horse pranced and shifted beneath her. "But you're quite welcome."

"Good."

He wheeled the big gelding, pointed his nose down the slope toward the river, and kicked him into action.

Straddling the ap.r.o.n of the saddle behind him, Faith knew if she was to keep her seat she had no choice but to wrap both arms around Connell and hang on for dear life. She couldn't help smiling. There was nothing like necessity to overcome inhibitions, was there?

All her good intentions, all her promises of self-control, fled the moment she touched him. Arms around his waist, Faith pressed herself against him, held tight and closed her eyes.

Their trip was over in moments, but she nevertheless thanked the Lord for giving her that one last chance to be so near the plainsman, to innocently lay her cheek against his warm, broad back and dream of what could never be.

Moving quickly in spite of her whirling emotions, Faith dismounted, helped Emory place the nuggets in the narrow, wooden race of the Long Tom, then stood back. By shading her eyes with her hand, she was able to watch Charity and her villainous husband descending the steep trail toward the river.

"They'll be here soon. Time for the rest of us to hide," Faith said, giving her father a peck on the cheek. "Will you be okay, Papa?"

Emory nodded. He hadn't taken his eyes off the nuggets since they'd laid them in the shallow, sandy water. His white-knuckled grip on the lever that kept the sluice from rocking gave Faith pause. Though he'd claimed gold had no effect on him anymore, clearly he was deluding himself. Then again, those few nuggets were the only bait they had for their trap. Losing them would be catastrophic.

"Remember, Papa, Charity thinks I'm dead," Faith reminded him. "You can't let on otherwise until Tucker has made his move or we'll lose our advantage."

Emory agreed. "When she finds out you're alive she'll be so happy I know she'll forgive us for holding back. A few more hours and we can tell her everything."

"I hope it's that quick."

Connell tapped her arm to get her attention. "It'll be even quicker if you and Irene don't skedaddle. Take Rojo and hide him behind the cabin with Ben. I'll stay close to your father, just in case." He eyed Emory's fisted hand. "The way he's shaking, it'll be a wonder if he lasts long enough to convince Tucker he's found the mother lode."

Faith couldn't argue with that. Emory's complexion had grown so ashen she'd been thinking the same thing. "All right. Since you've shaved your beard off he may not recognize you anyway, especially without your horse."

"True." Drawing his fingers slowly over his jaw, Connell smiled at her. "I wondered when you were going to notice the change in me. Were you surprised?"

Surprised? More like thrilled, Faith thought. The urge to caress his bare cheek had been so strong the first time she'd seen his handsome face sans whiskers, she'd barely managed to control her desire. Only the presence of Irene had stopped her from making a fool of herself. Faith thought. The urge to caress his bare cheek had been so strong the first time she'd seen his handsome face sans whiskers, she'd barely managed to control her desire. Only the presence of Irene had stopped her from making a fool of herself.

"You'll do," Faith said, trying to sound uninterested.

She'd have been convinced she'd succeeded in misleading him if Connell's roaring laughter hadn't continued to echo up the valley from the sandbar long after she and Irene had reached the cabin.

Chapter Twenty-Three.

Real windows were a luxury few dwellings in Beal's Bar enjoyed. The two-story Majestic Hotel had three genuine gla.s.s panes which, according to Emory, had been packed in from Marysville at the exorbitant cost of forty cents a pound!

Emory's cabin had one small window in the front, beside the door, which was covered with thin cotton cloth in the summer and blanketed securely come winter. It was easy for Faith and Irene to stay out of sight by simply remaining with the horses and Ben. Conversation inside the cabin echoed up the stovepipe like a megaphone, much to Faith's surprise and delight.

The sound of her sister's voice brought tears of relief to her eyes. Charity had survived! And she was mere feet away, on the other side of the wall. Unfortunately, so was Ramsey Tucker.

"My wife and I thank you for your hospitality," Tucker said. "I'm glad to see you're doing so well. Naturally, since her poor sister met with such a sad end, Charity has been beside herself."

"Of course." There was a choked sound to Emory's voice. Faith hoped Tucker would a.s.sume the telltale emotion was due to something other than perfidy.

"Charity was never strong like her sister," Emory said. "I can see she's in need of nursing to get her strength back."

Faith heard the younger woman begin to sob inconsolably. She chanced a peek inside by lifting a lower corner of the fabric-covered window opening and saw Charity in their father's tender embrace, her pale blond curls a stark contrast against his dark vest. Ramsey Tucker stood back, his lips curled in a sneer, watching the family tableau unfold.

"If you'll make me a partner in your mine I might consider letting her stay here with you-until she's well, I mean," Tucker said smoothly.

With an arm around her shoulders, Emory gently led his younger daughter aside before he asked, "Would you like that, Charity? Would you like to stay with your papa?"

Nodding, she burst into another wave of loud weeping.

As her father turned back to the wagon boss, Faith saw fire in his gaze. Not yet, Papa, Not yet, Papa, she thought, praying he'd be able to hold his tongue and control his temper. she thought, praying he'd be able to hold his tongue and control his temper. Wait till we finish carrying out our plan. Wait till we finish carrying out our plan.

As if in answer to her thoughts, Emory schooled his features. "I haven't been well, myself," he said. "It's dark and dank down here in this narrow valley and winter's coming. I need to recuperate where the sun shines and there's no more cold water soaking my boots. There are times, standing in that icy creek all day long, when my bones ache and I think my poor feet have frozen clean off." He smiled slightly. "I wonder...no, never mind. It's silly."

Tucker rose to the bait. "What?"

"It was just an old man's folly," Emory said. "For a minute there I thought of asking you to take over the mine for me while Charity and I moved to Sacramento City."

"You going to make me a partner, like I asked?"

"No. That wouldn't be fair to you, doing all the hard work while I sat back and got rich." He reached into his vest pocket and withdrew the handkerchief in which he'd wrapped his supposed new find, then handed it to Tucker. "You saw me take these out of the Long Tom when you rode up so you know my claim is a good one. Would you be interested in purchasing the mine?"

"The whole thing? No partners?"

As planned, Emory vacillated. "On second thought, I don't know. I've worked awfully hard here." He looked to his red-eyed, travel-weary daughter. "And I wouldn't want to come between you and your wife."

With that, Charity began to howl like a coyote caught in the steel jaws of a fur trapper's snare.

Tucker guffawed. "Me and the wife aren't gettin' along that well, as you can see. I only married her so she could stay with the train after she was left alone. You want her back, old man, she's yours. I give her to ya. Consider it payment for your claim."

Emory snorted and shook his head. "Nice try, mister, but as much as I love my girl she's not payment enough for a claim as rich as mine." He named an exorbitant price.

"I'll give you half that and not a penny more," Tucker said flatly. Faith held her breath. Behind her, she heard Irene's sharp intake of breath. It was almost over.

"I'll think on it," Emory said. "You got that much money with you?"

"I can get it."

"Sorry. We can't wait for you to ride all the way to a bank and I won't take scrip," Emory said. "Winter's comin'. Pretty soon the trail up the pa.s.s will be too icy for horse or mule. Guess we'll just have to leave my claim for the winter and hope it's okay till spring."

Muttering a curse, Ramsey Tucker said, "Wait here, old man. I'll be right back with your money." He started for the door, then paused and wheeled around, hands balled into fists. "And shut up that squawlin' woman, will ya, or I'll shut her up myself."

Outside, Faith sensed her mule's unrest and calmed him with a hand on his neck. She stroked his velvety nose. "Easy, Ben. Easy. He's not coming after you. I won't let him hurt you ever again. I promise."

Irene was ministering to the canelo, as well. Faith smiled. Any woman who'd make the effort to soothe a helpless animal was okay with her, even if she was a rival for Connell's affection. Given some of the other choices the plainsman could have made in his travels, Irene would make a fine wife. She was probably a lot like Little Rabbit Woman, his late Arapaho mate, which was all the more reason to be happy for him.

Faith made a wry face. Think it often enough and she just might start to believe it. Eventually.

Emory sat Charity in his only real chair, a rocker where he'd whiled away many an hour of loneliness, and patted her hand. "Stay right here, girl. And stop crying. Your daddy's fixin' to make everything up to you. But you've got to trust me, you hear?"

She nodded. "I'm so sorry."

"Nothin' to be sorry for." Having no handkerchief, he handed her the corner of her ap.r.o.n. "Dry your eyes and watch. You're about to see a comeuppance the likes of which you've never dreamed."

"But Papa-"

"Hush." He straightened, shielding her with his body as Ramsey Tucker returned carrying a small poke.

He slammed it on the table with a vengeance. "There. It's gold coin. Count it if you want."

"There's no need. I trust you," Emory said.

"Good. Then I'll be having the deed to all this, including your claim. Put it in writing. You may be the trusting sort, but I'm not."

"We should both sign," Emory said. "So there's no misunderstanding."

"Fine with me. I can read, so no trickery."

"You're buying my cabin and my diggings, is that correct?"

"And all your tools. Be sure to spell it out. I don't want any questions after you leave."

"Of course." Emory took out the stub of a pencil and wet it with his lips while he opened a small notebook. "Let's see now, the date is around October twenty-ninth, I think. That's close, anyway. We just heard California became a state, so I know for sure it's late October."

"Fine, fine. Get on with it."

Emory's hand was shaking. He finished writing, tore the paper from the book and handed it to Tucker. "That look right to you?"

Tucker read it and shoved it back at him. "Sign."

"You, too. Here. I made a copy."

"All right, all right. Whatever you say." Grinning, he signed and immediately spit on the dirt floor. "Since this is my house now, take your useless daughter and get out."

"In a minute," Emory said. "First, there's some folks I'd like you to meet."

"I got no truck with any of your friends. Gather up your clothes and skedaddle."

Pa.s.sing the table, Emory pocketed the poke Tucker had given him, took Charity's hand and led her to the door. When he opened it, Connell was waiting.

Tucker gaped. "What in blazes...?"