Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1) (16 page)

Awkwardly Conrad took the matching chair, folding and unfolding his long legs. “You must be joking... Yes, I can see that gleam in your eye. Either that or you’re mad. There’s not a male above eighteen in all of San Francisco who wouldn’t give a fortune in gold to be alone with Genevieve Braithwaite. I’ll wager that she’s the sweetest, most beautiful woman in all of California!”

“Ah, youthful fervor!” Jack laughed softly. “Just remember that love is blind—and passion can be life-threatening. If you have to give up a fortune in gold or anything else of great value to win a woman, you’re in grave danger, my boy.”

“I never thought I’d say this about you, Jack, but I think you’re becoming stodgy.”

Jack laughed again, but his mind was obviously elsewhere. Then he said, “How have you fared in life and love during my absence, Con? Any news? Are you still courting Miss Pierce?”

“Nothing of any real importance has taken place. Work at the bank is progressing well. Mr. Braithwaite has spoken of a promotion.”

“Good!” He flashed him an approving grin. Conrad had tried working at the
Morning Star
but had no talent for either editing or reporting. It had taken all of Wyatt’s considerable tact to persuade his younger brother to seek employment elsewhere.

Conrad shrugged. “I suppose. It’s rather boring there. And I’m growing rather bored with Emma as well. I long for excitement! Which reminds me—I stopped by Barry and Patten’s Saloon after I saw Emma home and heard some rather provocative news. That’s what I came to tell you.”

“Well, don’t fall silent now. Pray enlighten me.”

“There were two miners at the faro table, just arrived from Columbia. They said that Harold Van Hosten was killed by that highwayman who calls himself the Griffin.”

“Really?” Glancing down, Jack flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his fawn trousers.

“Really!” Conrad sat forward, his voice rising. “I wish I knew who the Griffin was so I could thank him myself. You can’t imagine the ill will I have borne toward Rush and Van Hosten for cheating me out of my claim, or the frustration I have suffered since heeding your advice not to seek vengeance against them.”

“Perhaps now you’ll be able to put that unhappy chapter behind you,” Jack suggested.

“Well, I might if it weren’t for Aaron Rush. The miners said that he was away when the shooting occurred, but he returned two days later and the town has literally been quaking with his fury. He’s vowed to find the Griffin and bring him to justice, and is offering a huge reward for his capture.”

“Indeed?” Wyatt’s brows flicked upward. “Well, I wish him luck. From all I’ve heard, the people of Columbia are grateful to the Griffin for all he’s done. It’s doubtful that any of those citizens will turn him in.”

Conrad sank back on his chair. “The miners said that the Griffin disappeared without a trace after Van Hosten’s shooting, and he hasn’t been heard from since. The thing is, people fear that Rush is going to resort to even more disreputable and punitive dealings with the miners, partly out of anger and partly out of a desire to draw the Griffin out of hiding. The townspeople scarcely know what to think or hope for.”

“I imagine this will all blow over in time.”

“Perhaps.” The younger man sighed and ran a hand through his curly red hair. “One can’t help hoping that the Griffin will return to finish Rush off and put an end to that evil once and for all.”

“Don’t count on that, Con. From all I’ve heard, the Griffin isn’t one to resort to violence. My guess is that Van Hosten’s death was probably some sort of accident, and I’d further venture to predict that the Griffin will be lying low for a long time... if not forever.” Jack’s tone was grim.

“Oh, God!” Conrad exclaimed dramatically, slumping on his chair. “What a depressing thought! What’s become of courage and honor?”

Wyatt stared into the dark fireplace. “Perhaps there’s more at stake for the Griffin. He’s not some character in a fairy tale. The man’s a human being.”

Chapter 11

Columbia, California

September 11, 1864

Lim Sung walked slowly up Main Street toward the MacKenzie Saloon. It had rained the night before, and the cool morning air was fragrant with pine. Even Columbia’s usual clouds of dust were dampened, a welcome change after the summer’s unremitting dry heat. A quartet of miners passed en route to the Wells Fargo office, while the stagecoach rumbled into view at the north end of town.

Entering the saloon, Lim spotted Katie hunched over a corner table with a number of papers spread before her. She wore an expression of worried concentration as she wrote, crossed out, then wrote again. Lim made his way over to her, his brow furrowed with concern. Katie looked so tired these days, and she was thinner as well. In summers past she’d ripened like a peach, her skin a soft golden hue dusted with freckles. She’d ridden her horse daily, pausing to play or lie on the wildflower-strewn hillsides, and wherever Katie had gone, a radiant smile and ready laughter had been her companions. Now that smile showed itself only rarely. Her heartbreak over Brian’s death was compounded by the burden of work and responsibility that came with running the saloon. Lim knew there were other problems, too, that Katie kept to herself. On its best days the saloon barely turned a profit, and she had hinted to Lim that a review of Brian’s books had confirmed her suspicions that this had been the case for more than a year. Although Lim and Abby put forth their best efforts to help the saloon prosper, the future looked truly bleak.

One night, Lim and Katie had closed up together. Seeing her sad, faraway expression, he had gently encouraged her to talk about her feelings. Slowly, Katie opened her heart to her friend and shared her grief for her father, whom she missed constantly. She spoke of her worries about the saloon, questioning whether this was the way she wanted to spend her life. And then, on the verge of tears, she had confided that she was lonely. He had patted Katie’s back consolingly as she whispered, “It’s as if there’s a yearning inside me that no amount of work or the love of friends like you can fill. Papa’s death is part of it, I know, but...” Her voice had trailed off, and she’d refused to say any more about it.

Lim sighed now, remembering. He wished there were a man in Columbia who suited Katie—and deserved her. Someone with intelligence, strength, and wit to match her own....

“Where have you gone, Lim?” Abby inquired playfully, coming over from the bar.

He gave her an absent smile. “Good morning! You’re looking well.” It pleased him to say so honestly. Slowly, Abigail Armitage was finding peace. Two months had passed since her last sip of sherry, and she was finding strength through daily prayer. She now had friends in town and was a great favorite with the saloon’s customers. “I was thinking about Katie,” Lim continued. “I wish you could give her some of the roses in your cheeks.”

“My heart aches for her,” Abby whispered. “I know what she is going through....”

Katie looked up then, shading her eyes against the sunlight that streamed through the east windows. “Hello, Lim. I’m hurrying to finish an article for the
Gazette.
I know I said I didn’t have time to do them anymore, but Gideon is desperate.” She glanced down again, adding, “It’s about the fire at Widow Turner’s last Monday, and how our fancy little Papeete fire engine saved the day.” The committee dispatched to San Francisco to buy a fire engine had found the charmingly decorated hand-pumper on a ship in the bay, destined for the king of Tahiti. The ship’s crew had left for the gold fields, so the Papeete had come home to Columbia.

Lim set a basket on the table in front of Katie. “I brought a few bird’s nests from home. Tsing Tsing Yee just got dozens in for his store, and naturally Mother was the first one there to pick the best of the lot. She thought you might want to make soup and sends these with her regards.”

“How very kind of her.” Katie touched the three tiny, rather pungent-smelling nests. “I must thank her.”

“Are you feeling well?” Lim asked.

“Of course!” Katie declared forcefully. But there were dark smudges under her blue eyes, Lim noticed, and clearly she had lost weight. Katie, who had never been vain, seemed now to be completely without concern for her own appearance. Her faded lavender calico gown was mended at one elbow, and her ebony braid had lost some of its luster.

Standing up, Katie turned her attention to gathering the papers in an effort to avoid Lim’s penetrating gaze. “I must go over to the
Gazette
now to give Gideon this story. He’s setting type for this week’s edition.”

“I hope he’s planning to leave out the editorials attacking Aaron Rush and his mine,” Lim said. “That man has had a dangerous face the last few times he has come to the saloon. Many thought that Van Hosten was the evil one in that pair, but lately it seems the real truth is coming clear.”

“I know!” Abby chimed in. “Mr. Rush may look weak and harmless, but there’s something in his eyes that frightens me. Gideon has been very brave to print editorials in defense of the miners, but now that the Griffin isn’t around any longer to distract Rush’s attention...”

“Don’t ever speak of the Griffin as a hero again,” Katie said coldly. “He killed my father. And obviously he’s too afraid of being arrested for murder to continue to take risks on behalf of the miners. It’s clear to me that the Griffin was never the champion we once believed him to be.”

When Katie started toward the saloon door, Abby ran after her. “Wait, please! I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking. I didn’t mean to remind you of your loss. It’s only that I’ve been worried about Gideon. He’s been a good friend to me these past weeks, and I’m concerned for his safety.”

She gave her a sad smile. “Never mind, Abby, it’s all right.”

“Would you mind if I walked with you over to the
Gazette
? I’d just like to say hello.”

“You’ll have to come right back. I realize that business is slow, but there’s always a chance...”

The two young women emerged onto Main Street in time to see the stagecoach rumble past. As they walked, Katie absently watched it stop in front of the Wells Fargo office. Two passengers disembarked, one of them a tall man with lean hips and wide, even shoulders. Thick hair curled over his collar. For an instant, Katie couldn’t breathe. A shiver ran down her spine and her face grew warm as she stood staring at the man’s back, waiting. Finally he turned to catch the bag the stage driver tossed down to him, revealing a sharp-boned profile. Katie’s breath returned in a heaving gasp.

“Are you all right?” Disconcerted, Abby followed her friend’s gaze to the stage passenger. “Goodness, that man looks a bit like Jack from behind, doesn’t he? Did you think it was Jack?”

“I—yes.” She was too stunned by her own reaction to lie.

“You two became friends while he was here, didn’t you? Have you missed him?” Abby was surprised by the sudden glare Katie shot at her.

“Believe me, I’ve had more important things to think about than Jack Adams. Just because you find the man irresistible doesn’t mean every other female shares your weakness!”

Abby rushed to catch up to her, matching her pace. “I’m sorry, Katie! It’s just that... well, Jack is a very attractive man and you’re a beautiful woman, and I think it occurred to many people that the two of you would make a handsome couple. Please, don’t be angry. I’m only saying these things out of affection for you.”

Katie didn’t look at her. “The last thing I need right now is a man—especially one like Jack Adams! Didn’t you say not so long ago that he was a lone wolf, that he could never commit himself to a woman?”

“Maybe he simply hasn’t found the right one.” Abby smiled in spite of herself. “In any case, a commitment may not be what you need. Perhaps a good dose of love and romance would do you more good.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Color flooded her cheeks. “I cannot believe you are saying these things! What about your own feelings for Jack?”

Abby shrugged. “I think I was just... oh, I don’t know—afraid, I suppose, and lonely, too. And then when Jack came into my life, I thought he would take care of everything for me.” She smiled, remembering. “Instead he helped me to understand that I had to sort out my own problems and not expect someone to rescue me.”

“But you think that I should look for a rescuer?”

“It’s not rescuing that
you
need, Katie!” Suddenly Abby remembered what Jack had said to her about a woman waiting for him in San Francisco. “Well, I suppose that you’ll find romance when the time is right. Jack isn’t here, after all, so it doesn’t much matter what I think!” As they approached the white frame office of the
Gazette,
she sought to change the subject. “You know, there’s another reason I got over Jack Adams so painlessly. This is something of a secret, so I’ll trust you not to say anything to anyone else.”