HT02 - Sing: A Novel of Colorado (14 page)

“Come. Sit.” He moved into the kitchen and gestured toward a chair for Tabito. “I don’t know what’s right, Tabito.”

“You told her, then?”

“Yes. But it’s confusing for her, for me. And with Bannock out there now.…”

“You hired the man? To follow him?”

“The detective, yes. We should receive a telegram several times a week. And if anything is alarming, he’s to come here to report to me … or you.”

“Sell the gold, Bryce. Go East, but only to sell the gold and return. That far away, Bannock won’t learn you had it.”

“It will hold off the bank, see us through a winter. Not purchase new stock.”

“Then hold off the bank. Let the stock do as it may. You never know what the new year will bring. Wait. Trust. Hold.”

Bryce rose and ran a hand through his hair in agitation. “I cannot wait … It’s not the McAllan way.”

“It was your uncle’s way.”

“But not my father’s.”

“You do not fear Bannock’s return?”

“What does he have to gain? It’s very public that we have not mined any of the O’Toole property. If he asks anyone, he’d know that. And he knows nothing of this bar of gold—only you, Dess, and I know of it. Even I think it’s the only one, a bar that got separated from the rest at some point. We can’t make any sense of the marking in Louise’s Bible—she might have been as mischievous as her son, trying to lead us on some wild-goose chase.”

“Or not.”

Bryce shook his head. “No. I can’t follow that faint trail, Tabito.” He put his hands out as if holding a large ball. “I have to move forward with what I know, what is real, known to me
now
.” He paced back and forth, chin in hand, thinking. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I ought to go East, see if I might sell the gold, see if there is enough to purchase at least some stock from a breeder. It will be more expensive, but if the gold is worth enough, I could pay the bank what I owe and even gain eight mares, maybe a stallion …” He cocked his head to one side and stared at his friend. “We’d be ahead.”

“But you’d leave one very angry wife behind.”

Bryce stilled and stared at him. Then he nodded. “I would. She’d be furious. But it’s for our good, all our good that I must do this.”

“Send me. I’ll take the bar, buy horses if there is enough.”

Bryce hesitated. It was a good solution, wise. But Indians, even in a white man’s clothing, were notoriously taken advantage of. There would be no way he’d get a fair price.

Tabito, obviously reading his look, sighed and rose. “Then send Doc and Dietrich, men you trust, and who know a good horse when they see one.”

“Maybe.” Bryce looked up and smiled. “Maybe.” But even as the word left his mouth, he felt a shudder of doubt. What was the right course? And why was God being so silent?

Moira and the others settled back into life aboard ship, eager to forget the trauma that lay behind them. Five sailors and one passenger had died that night, all but two of them washed overboard. All six were remembered in a brief ceremony, and the remaining two bodies were buried at sea.
To fight that night only to be relinquished to the waters,
Moira thought, as she heard the splash below and closed her eyes.

She opened them and found herself looking into Daniel’s deep brown eyes. Even though she stood beside Gavin, it was as if Moira and Daniel were the only two on deck. He had avoided her since that night. Was he angry, jealous? She knew not what drove him, but at this point in her life, she preferred the clear, aboveboard communication that Gavin offered, rather than the mysterious, silent ways of Daniel. There were enough questions ahead that she didn’t need a man raising more for her.

She ripped her eyes away from him and back to the captain, who was completing his brief eulogy. Her gaze moved to the wall beyond him, where planks had been replaced, new bright-gold pine against a plane of gray, weathered wood. In three days they had repaired the ship and buried the dead, put everything back to rights. Sailors were nothing if not efficient.

Mrs. Olsen came up to them, smiling demurely at Gavin across from Moira. “We think it would be good to hold an Irish wake this night. Three of the sailors were Irish, and I do believe it will lift all our spirits. The captain has approved. Will you join us?”

“Certainly, certainly,” Gavin said. “Exactly what we all need to break us from this gloom and doom.” He moved off with Mrs. Olsen, chatting about the plans, but Moira turned to look for Daniel. Perhaps he needed a party too, to lift him from whatever darkness had descended upon him that night of the storm. Parties did good work on such a front. She knew this from experience.

But he was gone. In seconds the deck was empty, everyone hurrying inside to avoid the cold.

Moira blinked in surprise.

“Moira?” Gavin called. She turned, to see him standing beside Mrs. Olsen, both of them looking her way. “Are you coming, darling?”

Moira smiled. “Coming,” she said with a nod, staring at Gavin, so bright, so dapper in his crisp clothing. Even the healing gash at his head made him appear more gallant, intriguing. She pushed Daniel out of her mind, intent on the man before her.

If Daniel wished to live his life in shadow, that was up to him. For Moira, Gavin’s light was too bright to ignore.

Chapter 8

19 April 1887

Practically everyone aboard was gathered on deck the day they sailed into New York Harbor. Despite the cool weather, Gavin had encouraged her to don her coat and come outside a good hour earlier than the rest in order to secure their place at the rail. “You’ll wish to see the great lady. She’s new since you left America’s shores.”

He spoke, of course, about Lady Liberty, a gift from the French, who couldn’t seem to cease talking about it in Paris—never mind that Americans had had to raise funds to build a base in order to raise her. But when she came in sight, a glorious copper woman, stately, hopeful, Moira’s breath caught. Atop her pedestal, she was taller than Notre Dame’s bell towers and far more grand. She represented freedom for the thousands who continued to pour into the United States, all hungering to achieve, succeed, prosper—and believing that here, nothing could stand in their way.

And here, more than anywhere else in the world, they did have that opportunity. Moira had that opportunity. She wore a fine gown worth a hundred dollars, but she had precious little cash left to her name. How many others had arrived with but a few coins in their pockets only to find their way to independence, even wealth? America, land of opportunity. Would Moira find her opportunity here now? An opportunity denied her almost four years ago?

Gavin edged an arm to her right, resting it on the rail, standing close to her, as if protecting her. And she drew comfort from it. No, the man wasn’t interested in finding a wife. He’d made that clear. But the two of them weren’t so different. They wanted the same things, independence, to use their abilities to their fullest. He pulled a tendril of curling blonde hair off her shoulder and tucked it behind her ear, a forward action, but welcome now after their two weeks of nonstop camaraderie. Moira shivered in delight at his touch. There was something about him that soothed and yet entranced her at the same time.

While her plans were to get to the train station as quickly as possible and begin seeking out a suitable Broadway agent, Gavin’s lingering questions about the wealth to be made out West kept echoing through her mind. Was she doing the right thing? She stared back at the statue as the ship moved by. In minutes, it was behind them. Others turned to leave, to go and gather their things, but Moira and Gavin stayed where they were.

“May I ask a favor of you, Moira?”

She glanced over her right shoulder, up at him. His sparkling blue eyes stared back at her from under the brim of a bowler hat. “You may.”

Gavin wrapped his other arm around her, a hand now on either side of her at the rail, his body precariously close to her own. He leaned his head around hers, his mustache tickling her ear as he said, “Can I convince you to not rush off? Would you dare to give me three days to convince you that I might be right?”

She smiled and moved slightly away from his face. “Convince me of what?”

“That you have more opportunity than you can imagine.”

“I’m quite capable of dreaming up my own dreams, thank you.”

“But what of our … friendship? Are you so anxious to be rid of me?” He was moving quietly, seductively.
My, was he attractive …

She turned to face him. He made no move to release the rail. She glanced one way down the deck and then the other, surprised that they were so quickly, utterly alone, and that she felt no fear. A lifeboat hid them from view from anyone inside the main parlor. “I confess I am not anxious to be on my own. I believe a part of me shall miss you, Gavin.”

A tiny smile lurked at the edges of his lips. He moved his left hand to her neck, and she obediently bent it backward, preparing for the kiss she’d seen in his eyes for a week now. He leaned in slowly, hovering a hair’s breath from her lips. “Moira St. Clair,” he murmured, “are you possibly as innocent as you seem?”

A whisper of alarm went through her mind, but then he was kissing her, pulling her closer.

A man coughed, and Moira broke away. Gavin laughed and glanced guiltily in Daniel’s direction. “Lady Liberty inspired me to take my own liberties,” Gavin said with a roguish smile.

She felt the heat rise up her chest and neck, knowing she was blushing. How long had it been since a man had made her blush? It had been months, no years! But it hadn’t been Gavin’s forward ways … it was Daniel’s discovery, she realized.

“Yes, well …” Daniel said. He tentatively glanced their way. “I only wished to say good-bye. Forgive my intrusion.”

“No forgiveness needed, friend,” Gavin said, stepping toward him. “Perhaps our paths will cross again someday. Does your employer ever hire singers to entertain your constituents?”

Daniel’s eyes flicked to Moira and back to Gavin. “All the time.”

“Excellent,” Gavin said. He reached forward a hand. “We may find a way to repay you someday for coming to our aid.”

“No need.”

“It’s been a pleasure.”

“For me as well. Godspeed, Gavin. Moira.”

“Daniel,” she said with a nod. She stayed beside Gavin, but wished she could go after the other man, say a more proper and thorough farewell, but for once she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Nothing seemed right, adequate. After three weeks aboard ship, what they had survived, shared—not shared?—there was a connection that was something akin to family. And yet Daniel had made it clear he wished them all to stay at arm’s length.

“Gavin, what do you think Daniel’s story is? Why is he so sad, so secretive?” She glanced up at him, glad for the moment breaking the heat between them.

“Who knows, darling. The man is a mass of secrets, for certain. I’m more interested in unraveling yours.” Gavin took her hands in his, pulling her attention toward him. “My sweet, give me three days. Let me show you this city. And let us speak of what might be ahead of us.” He shook his head. “I have much business to attend to. But nothing could be more important to me than spending another minute with you. Shall you give it to me? Three days?”

Moira paused, unsure. Yet his blue eyes tugged at her. “I … I really shouldn’t … Gavin, to be frank, I really must use my time to secure my next role.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said with a flick of the hand. “Hold on to your precious savings. I have an apartment on the East Side … completely furnished. And utterly empty.”

Her hand went to her throat. “I couldn’t, Gavin. Stay with you?” What kind of woman did he think she was?

“Oh, darling, of course not! I will not be there. Unless, of course, you mean to forward an invitation,” he said, speaking in seductive undertones again and pulling her a bit closer. He abruptly took a step away, leaving her slightly dazed. Was she relieved? Or a bit sad that there was not to be another stolen moment? She could not see her way clear.

He reached a hand to his head, as if it ached. “Come, we must see to our trunks.” He reached out a hand. “You will do this, for me? Give me a few days? I cannot bear to say good-bye to you yet, Moira. Say you will.”

She paused, glancing down the gangplank. Daniel left, never looking back again.