Silver Nights With You (Love in the Sierras Book 1) (6 page)

“Aye, I’m willing.”

“I will pay you a sum of three thousand dollars.”

Contrary to the reaction Morgan expected, Ephraim tilted his head in thought, his fingers twitching successively as though he were making mental calculations. When he had drawn a conclusion he tsked and shook his head.

“Let’s see,” he began. “Beef is going at about eighteen cents per pound, and that’s on the low-end of the scale. I estimate you’d get near enough to eight hundred pounds per beast yielding about four hundred fifty pounds of meat, and
that’s
on the low-end of the scale. That gives you eighty-one dollars per beast and at forty beasts, you’re looking to make at least three thousand two hundred and forty dollars on my cattle.” He peered at Morgan with a gaze that said he was doing him a favor before he added, “and that’s on the low-end of the scale. Throw in the land and I’d say the entire stead is worth no less than five thousand dollars.”

Morgan sat back in his chair with a wave of shock. “Five thousand dollars?!" The little Mormon was a negotiator. "You were prepared to walk away with
nothing
before I showed up at your gate.”

“Not true,” Ephraim returned. “I was prepared to walk away with three thousand two hundred and forty dollars’ worth of beef.” There was a mischievous glint in his eye. “And that’s on the low-end of the scale.”

Morgan coughed in disbelief. “You may have walked out of here with over three grand in beef, but you and I both know that you wouldn’t have arrived at Salt Lake with that much. You’d be fortunate if even half survived that trek across the forty-mile desert.” He eyed the man with a humorous respect for his gall. “No, I think you were planning to leave them all along.”

“Maybe I was planning to sell them all along,” he spun. “I’ve got markets all around here: Genoa, Carson, Virginia City, Dayton. Hell, even the Indians buy from me now and again.”

Morgan stared, silently working his tongue into circles on the inside of his cheek as he thought about how much he was willing to part with.

“Three thousand five hundred,” he offered.

“That’ll cover the cattle just fine,” Ephraim said easily. “You willing to put out another thousand for the land?”

Morgan leaned back in his chair and studied the man’s features. “This is all based off of your word that there are forty beasts roaming the mountains. I’ve only seen twelve with my own eyes. What if I scour the hillsides and find nothing?”

“Well, then I’d say you were cuckolded, but you won’t be. They’re there, I’m telling you. I’m an honest man.”

“So am I, but I’m not a fool,” Morgan said with a grin. “Thirty-five hundred. If you pulled out of here with forty head of cattle, you’d lose half. If you sold all before you left, you’d get about half of what you’re claiming as I happen to know that eighteen cents on the pound is on the
high
end of the scale, not the low.” He fixed Ephraim with a knowing stare.

“Well, now, that depends on the buyer, doesn’t it?”

Morgan sighed. His respect for the man’s bargaining powers was starting to savor of contempt. He rubbed the tip of his nose with his thumb thoughtfully, then sat forward and put his palm on the table with an air of finality.

“Three thousand five hundred dollars, and that is my final offer. If that’s not good enough I’ll keep my money and wait for you to clear out.”

Ephraim smiled, his white crooked teeth flashing through the dark mesh of his beard and mustache. He thrust out a hand.

“I’d say thirty-five hundred is more than fair,” he agreed.

“Yeah,” Morgan drawled as he shook the hand. “More than fair. You’ll have to accompany me to Virginia City for the money. It’s in the Bank of California but there is an agent in Virginia City. You have the deed?”

“That I do. We’ll need at least two weeks to pack up and prepare the caravan. Will you grant us that much?”

“I’ve waited this long. I suppose another fortnight will be fine.”

“And you’ll have to drive the cattle down from the mountains yourself. We won’t have time to do it for you. I can meet you in the city tomorrow at noon, if that will work for you?”

“That’ll do nicely. Just bring the deed.”

Lila descended the stairs with a smoothness that belied the stiffness in her body. She slept solidly a full twelve hours and just left her father, who had eaten the breakfast she took him and was now shutting his eyes for the first time since they arrived. She carried the empty plate down the stairs and held a few crisp greenbacks in her hand. Though she was loath to leave the house without her father, he encouraged her to make use of their delay and purchase a new dress in Virginia City. Her stomach was making unladylike noises in need of food.

She went unnoticed by David, Val and Ellie as they huddled around a newspaper on the dining room table. She opened her mouth to greet them but stopped as she heard David reading aloud.

“
With wood-colored hair scattered like a dervish dance atop her head, the daunting Lila Cameron greeted me in the parlor of Miss Ellie Copper’s boarding house in Gold Hill. This was no fettered female, my friends, but a full-figured powder keg stuffed into trousers and vest. Eyes as fierce as a desert storm challenged my occupation and indeed threatened to strike me down when my tone was not to her liking.

“
As I stood face-to-face with the region’s first female assassin it was not difficult to imagine such ruthlessness felling a wayward robber. Do not look for tears or wails of feminine weakness, however. When asked whether Miss Cameron suffered any fear or trepidation during or since the stage coach robbery, she responded with a hearty ‘Don’t be absurd. I am thrilled!’”

Lila gasped. All three heads popped up and turned to see her standing there, a fist balled around her money, face a furious red.

“Lila!” David said, quickly folding the paper up. “When did you come down here?”

“Carry on, David,” she said tightly. “I am curious to hear the rest of this tall tale.”

“It’s nothing,” he dismissed with a shallow chuckle. “Just local…”

“I said read on!”

“How about some breakfast?” Ellie injected. Lila marched up to the table, set the plate down and reached around David to grab the paper from his hand. She unfolded it and found the article, reading aloud where he had left off.

“Witnesses described the heroism of Miss Cameron who defied death itself to save her companions and her father, the old and feeble doctor. She lent credit to the assistance of local miner, David Gardner, with an almost unholy and adolescent gleam of infatuation in her eye.”
Lila stopped, the words having made her momentarily speechless before she carried on.

“The coach suffered two fatalities and one injured passenger. Miss Cameron herself remained unscathed. Of four bandits, two were killed, shot dead by the stowed away pistol of our heroine. The other two have escaped and remain at-large, a fact that Miss Cameron has deemed ‘a tragedy.’ She, no doubt, would have relished the opportunity to pick them all off were it not for the untimely intervention of Mr. Gardner.

“Upon my departure, I thanked Miss Cameron for her interview and with an air of confidence she stared down her nose and shrugged her shoulders, as though her celebrity were a foregone conclusion. ‘The heroes are the real story,’ she told me. May every man of immoral intent beware and every madam of delicate sensibilities steer clear. We have a cool, callous Cameron bedded among us.” 

She continued to stare at the printed words long after the article was finished though she knew Val, David and Ellie exchanged uneasy glances over her head. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t fathom such behavior back east. Blatant lies in pursuit of profit? Slandering a lady for a man’s personal gain? Was the corruption her father spoke of in the east really that much worse than this unchivalrous west?

“I was there with her in that parlor,” Ellie announced to the men. “He twisted her words. She praised her father and you, David, as the heroes. Not herself. She spoke of her fear, too.”

“We know, Ellie,” David said. “We know this is not true.”

“Don’t take it to heart, Lila,” Val finally soothed. “Sam is always making things up.”

“Is he now?” Lila slammed the paper on the table. “Perhaps that is because no one has ever called that little snake out on it! Now, which way is Virginia City?”

“Lila,” Ellie said calmly, “Why not wait for your father to wake and then you can discuss this with him? I'm not sure he'd like you going into town alone.”

“My father,
the
old and feeble doctor
, just went to sleep for the first time in twenty-four hours after saving a man’s life. This writer of…of…
fiction
has done him a great disservice and I’ll not stand for it.”

“Perhaps you should wait until you calm down,” Val cautioned. “If you act in haste you may regret it later.” She glared at him, but he continued to counsel. “Think about it, Lila. If you go storming off as you are to abuse Samuel, you’ll be cementing his portrayal of you.”

She stamped her foot onto the floor with a grunt of frustration. They were offering good sense, but she didn't want to hear it. The situation illustrated one of her father's common complaints about her: allowing impulse and emotion to overrule her reason. After a few deep breaths, however, the anger was still pulsing. She decided there was only one way to handle the bee in her bonnet. Swat it down.

“You’re right, Ellie. I shouldn't be out on my own. And you, too, Val. I can’t face him like this.”  Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. “I need a dress first.” She stomped toward the front door and called over her shoulder, “Now, who is taking me to Virginia City?”

“That’s…uh…not what I meant, Lila,” Val muttered.

“I’ll go,” David answered and followed her with a smile. "I want to see this."

An hour later she was dressed in a plain calico skirt of deep burgundy and a white, long-sleeved blouse that buttoned neatly up to her neck. A maroon waistcoat with silver embroidery buckled around the narrow part of her waist. David strode beside her as she scanned the rows of buildings. She caught sight of her reflection in the glass windows of a watch repair shop. Her hair was flowing down her back to her waist, the top half swept back and pinned. She looked like a young, well-bred and respectable woman. No one would believe the pesky journalist’s tales, she thought. As her ire cooled, shame wound its way into her thoughts, and she looked sheepishly at David.

"I'm sorry for dragging you out here with me, David. I appreciate your escort, even though we only met yesterday."

"Don't trouble yourself over rules of etiquette out here, Lila," he said. "The west breeds a different kind of people. Pioneering takes the strong sort. It's a vicious fight for survival and we're all in it together. No one here minds that you're out with me, and they wouldn't think twice if you were here on your own either. Many respectable ladies live and work alone in this town." He smiled as he turned to face her. "We're much more liberal than you're accustomed to."

"As refreshing as that is, Ellie seems to be a true guardian of etiquette where it concerns me."

"Well, Ellie is a bit old-fashioned." He crossed his arms behind his back as he continued walking. "And somewhat of a hypocrite. She was no older than you when she turned up in the area without friend or family. And she's done just fine for herself not bowing to any social constructs."

She found his words interesting, and the desire to question Ellie on her rise of stature was burning sharp in her mind. A woman without connection of any kind who could build a successful business was worthy of respect and admiration. The idea that there were more of these kinds of women in town proved stimulating enough to distract her from her purpose.

When the wooden marquee of the city's newspaper came into view across the road, all the fury welled inside her once again. She stormed across the busy dirt road, dodging horses, carriages and wagons as if they were no more hindrance than a hot breeze. Several horses were tethered to wooden rails in front of the office. As she stepped onto the planks of the walkway, Samuel Clemens was emerging from the office with another gentleman at his side. When he saw her, the long fingers of his mustache tilted up in a smile.

“Miss Cameron,” he said cheerfully. “Good morning to you.”

“Good morning, indeed,” she mocked with her fists on her hips. “I came to congratulate you on your work of fiction.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

“Well, then, let me explain it for you,” she began. “You have grossly misrepresented the events of last evening. You’ve twisted my words, insulted my father, destroyed my character and have completely left out the facts necessary to make your article credible. You, sir, are no gentleman, and you are a liar!”

Samuel scrunched up his nose and squinted. “How now, Miss Cameron? You speak with such inflammation! It is true, I am no gentleman. Burn me as you will. But as for your other claim, I contend my article was completely true.”

“It was not. It was
completely
fact-less.”

“Facts are not essential to truth,” he said with a shrug.

“Of course they are.”

“Nonsense,” he quipped. “Christ spoke in parables to illustrate truth, yet not one of his tales was factual.”

“You are not the son of God,” she sneered. “You are a journalist whose sole duty it is to report facts. You made me look like an arrogant, reckless, self-absorbed, bloodthirsty...”

“I made you look courageous.”

“…wild, lacking good breeding, good manners, good sense and utterly obsessed with conflict.”

“Oh no, madam,” he said with a laugh. “I didn’t make you out to be anywhere
near
that
interesting.”

“The people of this town are going to read your article and believe that’s who I am and what I did.”

“Only for today,” he answered happily. “One thing you must learn about the newspaper business is that everyone loves a good story, but only for a day. Something else will come along to grab their attention tomorrow and you will be forgotten. I, myself, have already driven you from my mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me I am about to take lunch with my brother.”

He walked off, leaving Lila to huff on her own. She watched his easy swagger, his unrepentant smile, and her fists curled. Every inch of good sense screamed at her to walk away, to let it go and move on. No one in this town knew her. No sketches or caricatures accompanied the article. Physically, she was still quite anonymous, but his lack of accountability grated her sense of justice. If he had no respect for propriety, why should she? Once again, she called out his name and marched back up to him when he turned to face her.

“You’re right, Mr. Clemens,” she said. “Only for today, I am the woman you described.” She threw her right fist at his left eye and sent him flying backward, swiveling over a wooden tie and into a horse trough with a splash. Pain shot through her knuckles like a dozen tiny lightning bolts, and she shook her hand. Passersby stopped to laugh at the man who was pulling himself out of the water with a mix of coughs and sputters. David stood laughing by her side.

Samuel came to his feet and removed his coat to shake out the excess water. When he was done, he draped the coat over his arm and turned a wide grin on her. He bowed low, laughing when he stood upright again.

“Good show, Miss Cameron! Capital!” He turned to face his brother. “Shall we luncheon?”

They strode off, leaving a watery trail behind them, and Lila shook her head in disbelief. “What an odd man,” she said to David who nodded his agreement as humor still shook his shoulders. “And still no retraction. Not one word of apology.”

“Perhaps you should have hit him harder,” David supplied.

She turned and stomped down the bustling swell of Main Street, her mood not improved at all by the encounter with Mr. Clemens. David kept pace beside her, but neither spoke. She scowled as she worked to calm her anger and the pain throbbing through her knuckles. What had she expected? Shame? Regret? Even the slightest suggestion of remorse would have satisfied her. David was right. The rules of etiquette did not apply there. She couldn't wait to put the town to her heels.

She surveyed the vast area beyond Main Street. The sprawl peppered every inch of hill space with homes, miner’s huts, churches, hotels, shops, bars and a schoolhouse. The place was well on its way to becoming a great city. If there was as much silver as she'd heard, there would soon be an influx of wealthy investors and patrons to improve its state of economy and propriety. Down a side road, she saw the construction of a rather large building, its arced façade being hammered together by workers.

“What is that?” she asked David.

“That, my dear, will soon be Virginia City’s first opera house. It is scheduled to open in two weeks, debuting the popular tale of
Rita
for its grand opening, if I remember correctly.”

“
Rita?
” Lila clapped with excitement before folding her hands beneath her chin. “I’ve been dying to see it!”

David chuckled at her show of enthusiasm. “Well, I would be delighted to take you, but I am sure you and your father will be long gone by then.”

Her features fell, and she feigned a whimper, prompting David’s laughter again. His horse came into view, tied where they'd left it, and she knew her brief time alone with him was coming to an end.