Emmy (Gold Rush Brides Book 2) (17 page)

But then a darker scene played out in her mind, unbidden. There she is, sitting by her fire, smug and full, but Mason never comes back. Worry gnaws at her and sleep is a distant memory. Then the dawn comes, slow and torturous. She gave Mason her word that, if they weren’t back by dawn, she’d ride north to Nevada City. She waits until the sun has fully risen over the tree line, much later than she promised, then carefully snuffs out what remains of the dying embers, mounts Blaze with tears in her eyes and takes to the road. Alone.

“No!” she mumbled to herself, shaking away the vision. That would
not
be the way this journey ended. It couldn’t.
 

Busying herself with building a fire, her thoughts shifted to what would happen after they caught Roy. They’d all return to Nevada City, where a trial would be held. There was no doubt of his guilt in her mind, and surely an impartial jury would see it the same way. But how long would a trial take? And where would she stay? If he refused to sign the annulment papers, who would take in the wife of a murderous highwayman and how long would it take to obtain a divorce? How would she earn her keep?

Back in San Francisco, Jack and Dell had arranged a special deal with Sam Arbuckle, the proprietor of a boarding house, where she would help with housework in exchange for room and board. Looking back, her contributions had been meager and pathetic. That Sam had honored their agreement, even though she was so lacking in basic skills, was a testament to his decency. They were all so kind to her, and had told her to contact them if she had any troubles. She had to believe that, with their contacts, they would help her find a situation in town.
 

But how would she get there? She had no money and no prospects. Maybe Mason or his men could help her find temporary work. She wouldn’t need much, just enough for the $30 ticket back to San Francisco and a little extra for a room at Sam’s, if he couldn’t be persuaded to let her work again — and she would hardly blame him for it.
 

A blackness washed over her at the thought of leaving. She’d grown so fond of these men. David and Jake were hilarious jokesters, and Fred already seemed like family to her. If it hadn’t been for him, the other two probably wouldn’t have had the nerve to defy Mason by teaching her.

Then there was Mason. Strong, tall, tormented Mason. His parting words to her reverberated around inside her head until her tummy was warm and tingly. “It’s been a downright privilege to know you,” he’d said, before kissing her hand, like a gentleman. It still tingled where his lips had touched.
 

Truth be told, it was
her
privilege to know
him
. He was oblivious to how much he’d taught her, but faithfulness, hard work and true honor were foreign concepts to her before meeting him. His dedication to tracking down his family’s killer and then his doggedness at hunting Roy awed her. She could only hope that someone would love her that much someday.

A tiny part of her wished Mason would be that someone, but even she could see that would never work. Aside from the fact that a man in his position wouldn’t hold that position for very long if he married the former wife of his own wife’s murderer, he didn’t love her. Perhaps he’d grown to appreciate her, maybe even like her, but he was still mourning the loss of his wife and child.

Besides, she wasn’t even entirely sure of what she wanted anymore. The last few days had opened up a whole new world to her, one in which she was responsible for herself. Who was to say these feelings for Mason were even real? Perhaps they were simply a byproduct of their traveling together combined with her sympathy for his plight.

It was all irrelevant anyway. When the men returned, they’d go back to Nevada City and she would find work until she earned enough to go back to San Francisco. She would have a fresh start in a town where no one knew of her shame, where they wouldn’t judge her. She could quietly divorce Roy and start a new life and one day, hopefully, find love.

The frantic squeal of a rabbit snapped her out of her reverie and she was surprised to see a small flame licking at a twig. She’d built a fire! The rabbit was screeching like crazy, but she wanted to build the fire up a little before abandoning it to fetch dinner.
 

When it was burning brightly, she scampered off into the woods to retrieve the now-subdued rabbit. He was fairly large but not fully grown like the ones David had shot. Plenty for dinner for her. Gathering up the net in her arms, she trotted back to the clearing.
 

“Now what?” she wondered aloud. She’d watched David kill and clean the rabbits he’d been feeding them, but she’d never done it herself. Should she wring its neck? Hit it over the head? Shoot it? Her gun was in her saddlebag, but that seemed so…violent.

She wasn’t even sure how to hold a live rabbit while trying to figure out how to kill it, so she cuddled it like a puppy or kitten or baby. The terrified little creature buried its head under her arm and snuggled in as far as it could go.

“Awww.” The poor trembling bunny’s tawny fur was so soft and warm against her stroking hand. “Come on now, let’s have a look at you.”

The moment she looked into the rabbit’s frightened brown eyes, her appetite evaporated. It was so darling and soft and…
darling!
Gazing into the rabbit’s eyes, she could see it only wanted to be free to live its life. It hadn’t bargained for getting caught in a trap. It was just hopping out of its burrow, probably looking for its own dinner. It had no idea its own hunger would lead to its demise. All it wanted was to escape and forget the whole thing had ever happened.

That sounded all too familiar.
 

“You’re just like me, aren’t you, little guy? Well then, neither of us is going to die tonight.”
 

As much as she enjoyed a good rabbit dinner, she couldn’t kill this poor little bunny. She’d have to make due with the provisions Mason had given her, as unappealing as they were. She gave the rabbit a little hug and set it gently on the ground. It took a tentative hop, as if making sure it was really free to go, then tore off for the bushes.
 

A loud crack nearly deafened Emmy, and she watched in horror as a bullet tore through the rabbit and it fell to the ground. Blaze whinnied and stamped his feet as a dark form stepped out from the long shadows of the woods. The same bearded man who’d held a revolver on her at the robbery was doing the same now.
 

“You’re wrong about that, you know,” he said in a hoarse growl. “You’re both going to die tonight.”

“You!” Emmy cried, unable to stop herself. Of all the miserable thieves from that robbery, this one was the worst, the most eager to kill. She recalled the frustration in his tone and posture when Roy let her keep her trunk. “How did you find me?”

The man circled around her to pick up the rabbit while still keeping her in his gun’s site. “Psh, easy,” he said from under the same bandana he wore during the robbery, his bushy beard sticking out of the sides. “I followed you out of town. I seen your men head east but you weren’t with ‘em. Roy and the boys will make quick work of them, and I get to take care of you.”

“What…what do you want?” She couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice. Would he rape her before he killed her? The thought was unbearable. Almost as unbearable as the thought of Roy killing Mason.

A hint of disgust colored his grunt as he threw the rabbit at her. “The same thing I’ve wanted since I first laid eyes on you — to see you dead. But first, clean that and make me supper.”

He had to be joking. “Why? So you can kill me afterward? Make your own supper, you hound!”
 

Before she could so much as blink, the man stepped forward and slapped her so hard it brought tears to her eyes. “I’m the one that says around here, you hussy! I can draw it out or make it quick. Which would you prefer?”

As much as she wanted to defy him, she was more afraid of what he might do to her if she continued. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she gently picked up the dead bunny, stroking its soft fur and whispering a prayer for it…and herself.

A knife whooshed past her, embedding itself in the dirt inches from her foot. “Don’t get any ideas cuz I’ll be aiming right for your heart,” he said, looming over her. “Hurry up.”

She sobbed quietly while cleaning the rabbit as best she could, but she made a terrible mess of it. David made it look so easy but there was hardly meat left to eat on the small body when she was done. Fashioning a spit from a stick, she set the meat to cook and gingerly laid the knife next to the fire before scooting away from it.
 

While she worked, the gunslinger pawed through her saddle bag and pocketed her pistol, her only chance at surviving this. With a smug smile he sat down across the fire from her.

He was quiet as he studied her. Finally, “You sure did get ugly, din’t ya?”

She bristled at his words, but kept her eyes averted. He seemed overly happy about her rashy skin, which barely had any grease left on it. She’d meant to apply some more but had forgotten in all the excitement. Lord only knew what he would have said about
that
if he’d seen it
.

“If only Roy could see ya now. He wouldn’t think you’re an angel from heaven no more. He’d see ya for what ya really are. The devil.”

Emmy wondered what Mason would do if he was in this position, powerless with a gun held on him. Like a bolt of lightning, the answer came to her. He would use his words to stay alive for as long as possible and hope that, somewhere along the line, he’d have a chance to overpower the other man. Considering how much this gunslinger apparently hated her, it was her only chance.

“I don’t think so,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel, adding what she hoped would sound like a condescending chuckle. It was a risky move but her gut told her that begging for her life wouldn’t get her very far with this man.

He blinked. “Have you taken a gander at yourself lately? First off, you’re dressed like a man, which Roy don’t like. Second, your perfect white skin is all blotchy and scabby. Third, what happened to those pretty yellow curls? Tucked up under that bandana and hat. Makes ya look more like a man than ever. I’m tellin’ ya, Roy would
beg
me to kill you, if he laid eyes on ya.”

The man sat smugly across the fire from her, his gun casually propped on his crossed legs, but ready to shoot if she moved a fraction of an inch.
 

“Bet he wouldn’t. He’s so enamored with me that I bet he would not only
not
beg you to kill me, but he would kill
you
if you so much as harmed a hair on my pretty little head.”

She had no desire to ever see Roy again, but it was the only thing she could think of to extend her life. And it seemed to be working, because the man was blinking with uncertainty.
 

“He wouldn’t…he
couldn’t
…” he mumbled, weighing his options. Finally, he snapped with frustration. “Get me my dinner, harlot!”

She scurried forward and made a show of brushing flecks of ash from the meat before pulling the spit free. Moving around the fire, she handed him the stick and went back to her rock on the other side. She stared at the fire while he took his time slurping every last bit of meat from the bones of that poor bunny from behind the mask of his bandana. Night had fallen completely by the time he was done.

“Bet you’re starving,” he sneered, licking grease from his grimy fingers.
 

In truth, she wasn’t hungry in the slightest. First, the thought of eating her rabbit, with whom she’d identified so closely, made her physically ill. On top of that, anxiety was eating her from the inside out, and it had started with her stomach. But she wanted him to think she was miserable so she shrugged and pulled a face.

“Well, too bad,” he laughed, throwing the carcass in the fire and scattering some of the coals. Her eyes never wavered from the fire, wondering if the man was going to kill her or take her to Roy. She wasn’t sure which fate was worse.

“You know, Roy’s birthday is coming up. I think I’m gonna take you to him as an early birthday present. That way he can see what he
won’t
be missing. He’ll be so grateful that he’ll let me kill you anyway. But if he wants to kill you himself, no skin off my nose. You’ll be dead, and that’s the important thing.

The man acted cheerful and confident as he motioned her to stand up but Emmy could sense he wasn’t entirely sure that’s how things would play out. Neither was she. In fact, she suspected her version was the most likely outcome, if Roy ever got his hands on her.
 

At their wedding, he’d warned her that he would kill her if she told anyone who he was. And now she was going to him willingly. A shudder rippled through her body and her mind screamed to run. But the cold black circle of the man’s gun kept her moving.

“Now walk that horse south till we get to my horse. Then we’ll just see what Roy thinks of you now!”

“I should put out the fire first,” Emmy said. David had drilled it into her head to always make sure a fire was extinguished before breaking camp. “Wouldn’t want the forest to catch fire…or draw any attention this direction.”

At his shrug, she started kicking dirt on the fire but it was too robust to extinguish with a small amount of dirt, so she knelt down and scooped up big handfuls to dump on it. It only took a minute to put out, but the gunslinger was antsy to get moving.
 

“Let’s go,” he commanded, waving his gun at her. Nodding, she stuck her hands in her pockets and went to Blaze, who followed her without having to be led by the reins. Such a good horse.

“So, you know my name,” Emmy said, trying to keep the conversation going. “What’s yours?”

She didn’t think he was going to answer at first, but finally he grumbled, “Frankie.”

“I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you, Frankie, but…”

“Shaddup! Less talking, more walking!”

From that point on, she kept her mouth shut and her fingers firmly wrapped around the knife hidden in her pocket.