Sourdough Creek (3 page)

Besides, a claim on a river was no place for children, especially two as young as Cassidy and Joey. They wouldn’t last a fortnight out there alone. It was for their own good to spare them that danger.

At Sam’s pronouncement, Cassidy looked as if he’d just bitten into a lemon. His eyes bulged and his face turned crimson. Sam almost laughed.

“I’m not surprised you’re headed to California with all the gold being scooped out of the cold waters of the American these days,” he said. “Everyone’s doing it. But what a coincidence that I should meet up with the two of you the day before you set out upon your way. My dear friend’s nephews. What a twist of fate. We’ll go together. It’s safer traveling in a group.”

Before the boy could respond, his little brother was back, carrying the dark gray cat they called Ashes. He set the feline on a chair and stroked her fur from head to tail.

Once again doubt darkened Sam’s thoughts. Did he really want to be responsible for this boy’s life? Cassidy must be around fifteen or so, but little Joe was really young—and would be a huge responsibility. Any number of things could happen.

Joey turned his immense blue eyes on Sam. “Cassie…
dee
is going to make a cherry pie today. Miss Hawthorn left behind her last bag of dried cherries, just for us. Do you want to stay and have some? She—” Joey stopped hard and shook his head, “
he
makes really good pie.”

Sam couldn’t stop the laughter that burst out. Cassidy’s incensed expression fueled his amusement. The little one sheepishly ducked his face at calling his brother a girl, even though it was highly understandable. The small, sinuous young man with his slim hips and chiseled face was probably taken for a girl more often than not. And heck, the little one was talking about baking a pie, after all.

“Cherry pie?” he choked out, biting the inside of his cheek to quell his laughter. He coughed into his hand, but not before humiliation flickered across Cassidy’s face.

Darn! He’d hurt the boy’s feelings—again. He hadn’t intended to. “Cherry pie, why, that’s my favorite. I have a few things I need to take care of first. When I get back maybe the pie will be baking. Can’t say that I’d enjoy anything more. Thank you. That’s a hospitable offer.”

He stood. “But, only if it’s good with you, Cassidy. Then we can discuss our plans and route to California. By my calculations it won’t take us more than a week, give or take a couple of days, to get there.”

Joey’s mouth dropped open at this pronouncement.

“That’s right, son,” Sam declared with enthusiasm, chucking Joey under the chin. “We’re going to Coloma together. California, here we come!”

He went to the door and put his hat on. Cassidy and Joey followed. “Since almost everyone’s left town, I guess you don’t have a blacksmith anymore.”

Cassidy found his voice. “We do. Bristol Sherman is a smithy of sorts. You’ll find his shop on the corner of the next street over. He might be able to help you, but be warned. The Shermans are capable of just about anything. I wouldn’t trust either of them at all.”

“Appreciate the warning. You sure you’re up to it? The pie I mean,” Sam added, his hand on the doorknob.

Cassidy’s chin tipped up in defiance.

“I promised Joey I’d make him a pie before we left Broken Branch.”

Sam felt another stab of guilt about the whole situation, but it wasn’t enough to prompt him to ride off and leave them with his rightful claim. “Well, I’ll be looking forward to it, for certain.”

The second the door closed Josephine threw her arms around Cassie’s middle. “I’m sorry I invited him to pie. I’m sorry I called you a girl. I’m so stupid!”

“Hush now. You’re not stupid. You’re a very smart girl. We’ve just been put into, I don’t know, a dreadfully bizarre situation.” Ashes, winding her way through the legs of her mistresses, meowed her support. Josephine let go of her sister to pick the cat up.

“What about poor Ashes after we’re gone?” Josephine asked, scratching the cat under the chin. The cat purred, closing her eyes. “What will become of her?” Josephine frowned in worry as she rubbed her cheek against the cat’s warm coat.

“I’ve already told you she can’t go. Cats are afraid of horses.” Looking at Ashes in Josephine’s arms almost broke Cassie’s heart. If there was a way to keep the cat safe she’d take her along. Their ma had brought her home as a kitten after their father’s passing, to make them feel better, and she was a dear friend to both of them. But, a long trip in the wilderness would be a death sentence to her. Cassie had more than enough to worry about now. No, Ashes would be safer here in town. “She’d most likely get scared off and lose her way. You don’t want her to be supper for some hungry coyote, do you?”

Cassie limped back to the kitchen with Josephine tagging behind. Baking was the last thing she felt like doing right now. She’d much rather lie down in a dark room with a cool rag on her face.

“Ashes will be much better off staying here where she knows her way about and can feed on mice,” she added, trying to make the betrayal sound better in her own mind.

“I wonder how that fella knows Uncle?” Josephine asked, still holding the cat.

“That’s a good question,” Cassie responded, assembling her baking tools. She used two knives to deftly cut lard for the crust. This was the secret recipe her grandmother had passed down to her mother years ago, the one that would be the foundation of their bakery. “But until we know the answer or exactly what he’s up to, I don’t want you talking to him about anything. Especially stuff to do with our family or the gold claim. Or Uncle Arvid. Do you understand, Josephine? He could be trouble.”

At Josephine’s look of distress Cassie quickly added, “But I don’t think he is. We just have to be cautious. He seems like a good man. He’s clean. Has all his teeth. He’s good looking and has a nice smile.” At the reality of how handsome he really was, butterflies fluttered in Cassie’s chest. She glanced at her sister who was nodding her agreement.

“And he
did
help when Klem was lightin’ into you,” Josephine added in Sam’s defense. “He was actually rolling up his sleeves to fight him. He didn’t have to do that.”

Cassie scooped a cup of flour into the bowl and added a little water. “You’re exactly right: he sure didn’t. But then, looks
can
be deceiving. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, as ma used to say.”

Josephine pulled out a chair and climbed up, standing on the seat of it so she was eye to eye with her sister. “Sort of like us?” she asked innocently. “Are we like wolves in sheep’s clothing, pretending to be boys?”

Josephine had her there. They were being about as truthful with Sam Ridgeway as she suspected Sam Ridgeway was being with them.

“You make a good point. But I’m not sure it’s quite the same. Time will tell.” Cassie took a moment to smile, even if drawing her lips up into what felt like a grotesque grin sent hot slivers of pain radiating about her face. “I think you might be a politician when you grow up.”

Josephine smiled back. “A politician or a showgirl. I haven’t decided.” Josephine curtsied and twirled around, careful not to fall off the chair. It was a silly sight given her boy get-up.

Cassie raised her eyebrows, surprised. “A showgirl?”

“I like their shiny dresses with all the pretty feathers. And their ruby red lips.”

Good Lord, no
!
I promised ma I’d take care of her
! “How in the world do you know about all that?”

“Fannie at the Paper Doll.”

Cassie’s face warmed. “Well—fine. Let’s concentrate now on getting to California. There’s plenty of time later to think about that.”

Chapter Five

S
am found the smithy deserted. He tied Blu to the hitching rail and ventured around back, where he found a rundown shanty that listed to one side.

“Hello—anyone home?” he called, feeling uneasy. It was less than an hour since he’d sent Klem packing. It wasn’t hard to believe the boy would still be nursing a grudge.

“What the devil
you
want?” came a whiny reply from inside. “We’re closed to vermin like you.”

The sounds of a scuffle penetrated the paper-thin walls. Moments later a medium-sized man dressed in overalls appeared at the door. His messy hair and bloodshot eyes shouted hangover.

This must be Bristol, Klem’s older brother, thought Sam, who’d already decided he’d look after his mare himself before allowing either Sherman to lay a finger on her. Instead, he was looking to see if the blacksmith had a horse for sale.

“Name’s Bristol Sherman.” He slurred his words between his teeth. “What can I do ya for?”

“I’m looking to buy a horse.”

At the prospect of making a buck, Bristol’s eyes lit with interest. He stumbled down the step and toward the barn. “Anything special?”

“Just something to get me down the trail.”

Sam followed the man into the dark interior of the barn. Urine vapors, wafting from stalls long overdue for a mucking, burned his eyes.

A horse snorted. Sam glanced into the closest stall. A tall bay munched on hay and eyed him sleepily. He had a nice head and straight legs. A darn fine looking animal, in fact.

“How much you want for this horse?”

“He ain’t for sale. The gelding in the next stall over.”

Bristol picked up a broken stool leg leaning against the wall and proceeded to the stall door. As if on cue, the horse inside lunged at him, snorting and shaking his head. Bristol lifted the weapon in a threatening manner. “Get on back!”

“This horse? He’s not only nasty but the ugliest animal I’ve ever seen.”

“Take him or leave him.”

Sam didn’t have much choice. For Blu’s foot to heal she needed time without him on her back. The only way for that to happen was if he could secure a second mount.

“How much?”

“Thirty.”

Obviously Bristol was starting high so he’d have room to haggle. When the man turned away the horse lunged again, baring his big teeth. Sam jumped back and Bristol fell over a bucket into the straw.

“Damn! You should pay
me
to take him off your hands.”

Bristol climbed to his feet and began brushing the straw from his overalls. “He ain’t as bad as he seems. Once he’s caught up he’s gentle as a lamb.”

Sam could see in the horse’s eyes that he’d been mishandled and abused. Hatred for Bristol burned in them, too.

Bristol must have sensed his sale slipping away and added, “He rides real nice. Twenty and your horse in trade.”

Sam gazed out the door, thinking. What were his choices? If he waited for Blu’s foot to heal, Cassidy and the gold claim would be long gone. He needed that gelding to carry him, not win a beauty contest.

“I’ll give you ten and not a nickel more.”

“Ten, plus your horse.”

“Ten.”

Bristol hacked up some sputum. “I’ll take your horse in trade. No extra money.”

“It’d be a cold day in hell before I sold her to the likes of you,” Sam said, looking one more time into the stall. The deadly click of a gun being cocked resounded. Anger with himself burst through Sam’s mind. He turned to find Bristol Sherman’s weapon leveled at his chest. Cassidy had been right! He’d walked right into their snake pit, even after the boy’s clear words of warning.

Bristol laughed. “That mare of yours will bring me a pretty dollar, yes indeed. Haven’t seen horseflesh so fine in a long, long time.”

A shot rang out. Dirt kicked up between Bristol’s boots. Both men reacted and Sam had his gun drawn before he hit the ground.

“I
know
for a
fact
you gave Miss Hawthorn three dollars for that horse not more than two weeks ago!”

Sam recognized Cassidy’s voice calling from some hidden spot in the livery yard where he’d gotten a clear shot through the barn door. The boy must have anticipated trouble and followed him.

“That Cassie Angel can take a hike!” Bristol growled nastily. “That girl is a thorn in my side.” His face turned a dark burgundy. “
Hawthorn owed me money
!” he shouted back. “Gave him to me for a good deal in payment for something else. Ain’t none of your business, anyway!”

For a moment Sam was confused. Then realization dawned. A tidal wave of embarrassment washed over him and his face tingled with warmth. Now the large green eyes and slim body made perfect sense! Something hadn’t rung true about that boy, but Sam hadn’t figured it out. Today when he’d offered his help at the steps of the boarding house and their bodies had touched, he’d felt a surge of something, scaring the heck out of him. Relief flooded now and he stifled a laugh.

Sam stood and motioned with his gun for Bristol to throw his to the side. Bristol complied and climbed to his feet.

“I’ll still give you ten,” he said to Bristol. “And a couple more for a bridle. You know that’s more than fair. And I’ll forget you drew on me, too.”

“Deal.”

Sam took a leather pouch from his pocket and fished out the money. “You catch him up and saddle him. I want to see you ride him down the street.” He wasn’t going to get his neck broken when he was so close to getting the claim back.

Bristol shrugged and went into the stall, rope in hand while Sam retrieved his saddle off Blu. After a loud commotion, Bristol emerged leading the horse. It was true. The gelding seemed quite docile.

Bristol smiled revealing a row of stained and broken teeth. “Jist like a little lamb.”

Now, out in the open, Sam could hardly bear to look. The gelding was the ugliest, ewe-necked animal he’d ever laid eyes on. His sizable Roman nose went unpleasantly well with little pig eyes. When Bristol threw the blanket and saddle on the gelding’s back, the animal pinned his ears. The left ear, split down its middle, was his brand. Sam had seen brandings of the like before, but didn’t agree with them. No need to mutilate a horse to mark him. The horse sucked in air as Bristol tightened the cinch, using the old trick in an attempt to keep the saddle from being properly secured. His one redeeming quality was his color—a nice liver chestnut—and his white markings—wide white blaze, and four white socks. It didn’t matter what he looked like, Sam thought, as long as he was broke to ride.