“That’s the greatest part,” Ambrose inserted. “It’s just over the ridge from the Taggart Mine, on the back side of Taggart Mountain.” Lantern light bathing his features, he leaned forward over the table, his gaze clinging to hers. “Just think, Cassandra. We’ll be hauling ore out of the same mountain that has made Luke Taggart a rich man!”
It was an exciting prospect, Cassandra had to admit. “How come Mr. Taggart is allowing people to file claims on the back side of his mountain?”
Ambrose shrugged and smiled. “Beats me! Papa and I thought he’d filed on every inch of it himself. But Peter Hirsch has papers, all legally filed and stamped with an official seal. Papa and I even double-checked the boundaries to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake. It’s all on the up-and-up, legal as can be.”
Taggart Mountain was full of gold; everyone in town knew that. She turned an incredulous gaze on her father. “Oh, Papa! I’m so happy for you. After all your years of hard work, it may really happen for you.”
“For all of us, darlin’, not just for me.” Milo winked at her. “I found color tonight. Not a lot, mind you, but more than I would’ve found at our dig if I’d worked it for weeks.” He clucked his tongue. “She’s in there. Mark my words, honey, she’s in there, just waitin’ for us to find her.”
A claim on Taggart Mountain. Cassandra closed her eyes for a second, scarcely able to believe it.
Abandoning her stew, she pushed up from the table and did a waltz step around the table, taking care not to kick over any of the pans that were strategically placed to catch leaks from the roof.
“Oh, Papa. What if you really do strike it rich?” She swung to a stop. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful?”
Milo chuckled. “Now you see why I’m wantin’ to celebrate.” He motioned at Ambrose. “Fetch my whiskey, son.”
Cassandra hugged her waist. “And I guess I’d better be fixing your lunches for tomorrow. Extra-big ones so your energy doesn’t flag while you’re working over at the Hirsch Mine tomorrow night.”
“It ain’t the Hirsch Mine no more,” her papa corrected as he sloshed measures of whiskey into two coffee mugs. “From here on out, it’s the Zerek Mine as well.” He lifted his cup in a toast, swinging his arm to encompass them all. “Mark my words, we’re going to be one of the richest families in this whole state.”
Milo felt like a boy again, with hot blood racing through his veins and dreams of all he would soon be able to do for his family spinning like a top in his head.
After a lifetime of wanting and trying, he was on the brink of doing, really doing. Cassie and the boys would finally live the good life he’d promised his darlin’ Mary Margaret, God rest her sainted soul.
Not that he wasn’t willing to work for it, he hastily reminded himself as he took up his pick. A few feet away, Ambrose was brushing away the debris of an hour’s labor, looking for the telltale glint of gold in the quartz. At the mouth of the new tunnel, Peter Hirsch was adjusting the wick in his light. The three of them made a good team. Willing to work hard for what they got. Honest men, doing honest labor.
For two evenings running, the three of them had dug for five long hours in this tunnel, and excitement was still high. At eleven o’clock each night, when Milo and Ambrose dragged their tired bodies home, Cassandra was waiting up for them, a hot meal warming on the stove.
Suddenly Milo heard voices at the entrance to the tunnel. When he left Ambrose to go investigate, he saw torches bobbing in the darkness.
“Who goes there?” he called out. “Do we have visitors, Peter?”
No answer.
Milo was about to advance a few more steps when a torch swung up close to his face. Throwing up an arm to cover his eyes, he said, “Peter, is that you, son?”
A deep voice replied, “No, Mr. Zerek. It’s Marshal Sizemore.”
Squinting to see, Milo eased his arm down a bit. “Marshal Sizemore? What on earth are you doin’ here?”
“Now ain’t that a coincidence. I was about to ask you that same question.”
Milo waved at the light. “Would you mind getting that out of my eyes?”
The marshal moved the torch to one side. As Milo’s vision readjusted, he saw the shadow of another man behind the lawman. After a moment, he recognized Luke Taggart. Behind Taggart stood a half dozen deputies, all of them packing side irons.
A tingling, uneasy sensation inched up Milo’s spine. Something was amiss here. Exactly what, he didn’t know, but he figured he was about to find out.
“Mr. Taggart? Good evenin’ to you.”
Taggart inclined his head. “Mr. Zerek.”
Just then, Ambrose came ambling out. Coming to a stop slightly behind his father, he swept off his headlamp and politely greeted all their visitors. Neither Taggart nor any of the lawmen responded in kind.
Milo rubbed the sleeve of his coat over his mouth. “Is there a problem?” he asked, sensing that there was, yet still unable to determine what it might be. “Can we help you with somethin’?”
Marshal Sizemore sighed and shifted his weight. “What are you doing in here, Mr. Zerek? Surely you know Mr. Taggart can’t let you get away with this. If he overlooks one claim jumper, he’ll be overrun by them.”
“Claim jumper?” Milo bristled. “I ain’t no claim jumper. We got legal right to be here.” He eased up on his toes, trying to see past the group of men. “Peter? Show yourself, son. It seems we’ve got a bit of a misunderstanding here.”
Peter Hirsch didn’t respond to Milo’s call. Thinking that the younger man might have gone to pay nature a visit, Milo drew his copy of the partnership contract from his pocket. “Peter Hirsch filed on this claim, all legal and proper. He needed partners, so we went in thirds with him.” He shoved the paper out. “Read for yourself.”
The marshal took the contract and shined the light from his torch on it. After glancing over the terms, he passed it to Taggart. A heavy silence fell. Then the lawman said, “That contract isn’t worth the paper it’s written on. This is Mr. Taggart’s mountain, every square inch of it. No one can file on any of the claims up here. He has them all tied up.”
“But Peter Hirsch had claim papers. I saw them.” Milo looked at Taggart. “You remember Hirsch. He’s the new hire you put on shift with me and Ambrose. He was here just a minute ago. I’m sure he’ll be back shortly. He’ll be able to set this straight.”
Luke crumpled the contract in his fist. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Zerek. I’ve never heard of a man named Peter Hirsch.”
Milo felt his stomach drop. Mouth slack with shock and scarcely able to credit his ears, all he could do was stare at Taggart. How could the man stand there and say he’d never heard of Hirsch, one of his very own employees?
The marshal shook his head. “You and your son are under arrest, Mr. Zerek.” He cupped his hand over the holstered revolver that rode on his hip. “If you’re smart, you’ll come along peaceably.”
“Arrest?” Ambrose repeated. “But we haven’t done anything wrong. Hirsch has legal papers. And we checked the maps. This is his claim, not Mr. Taggart’s.”
Milo simply stood there, his gaze fixed on Luke Taggart’s eyes. The other night, Milo had seen only the yearning and loneliness in the younger man’s gaze. Now, when it was too late, he also saw the ruthlessness.
He’d been had, Milo realized. This entire situation had been contrived, Peter Hirsch hired by Luke Taggart to lure Milo and Ambrose into a trap. That explained why Hirsch had lingered near the entrance to the mine tonight, pretending to fuss with his light. He’d been watching for the marshal’s approach so he could do a quick vanishing act. Now, caught red-handed in the act of claim jumping, both Milo and Ambrose would go to jail, which would leave Cassandra with no adult male relatives to protect her.
Cold fear shot through Milo as he continued to stare into Luke Taggart’s unreadable gaze. The bastard had planned this, no question about it. With both Milo and Ambrose behind bars, Cassie would be Taggart’s for the
taking. As innocent as she was, she wouldn’t realize the danger this man represented until it was far too late.
FOUR
When her father and brother didn’t return at a reasonable hour, Cassandra began to worry. By the time the clock struck midnight and they still weren’t home, she was biting her lip and pacing. Never in her recollection had her papa stayed out this late—especially on a day when he’d been hard at work since before sunup.
A shaft of fear shot through her. Had there been an accident at their dig? A cave-in, possibly? Were Papa and Ambrose even now lying buried under a pile of rubble?
Please, God, she prayed silently, don’t take my papa and brother.
After lifting the stew kettle from the stove and moving it to the warming shelf so the contents wouldn’t scorch, she stepped over to the window and rubbed the glass so she might peer out. Beyond the fogged pane, the night looked dark and forbidding with only a half-moon to light the landscape. The other miners’ shacks were also dark, the inhabitants long since abed.
A good sign, she told herself firmly. Surely, if there had been a cave-in, other miners up on Taggart Mountain would have heard the rumble, and the town would be swarming with men attempting a rescue. Someone would have come for her as well. That was the way of things in a mining town.
So why weren’t they home?
Perhaps they’d found a rich vein and didn’t want to leave it, she thought as she circled the room. At this very moment, maybe they were hurrying home to tell her the good news.
Glancing toward the door, she held her breath, listening for the slosh of footsteps in the mud. Instead she heard the thudding of her own heart and the familiar hiss of the lantern. Not even the rhythmic sound of Khristos’s breathing from the nearby cot calmed her nerves.
Still tense, she sat at the table, glad she had Lycodomes for company.
“What do you think, Lye-Lye?” she asked the dog, gently running her hands over his thick fur. “Are Papa and Ambrose all right? Or should I go looking for them?”
Lycodomes whined and licked her nose. Laughing softly, Cassandra bent to hug him, burying her face against his ruff. Three years old, going on four, the dog seldom left her side, and only then to watch after Khristos. The devotion was mutual, for Cassandra loved her pet nearly as much as she did the members of her family. Lycodomes, her friend and trusted confidant. Just looking into his liquid brown eyes made her feel better.
“I guess I’m being silly,” she told him. “Even if there’s been an accident, it’s unlikely that both of them could be hurt. Right?”
Unless, of course, there’d been a cave-in. Entire crews of men could be buried alive if a tunnel collapsed.
Unable to get the thought of a cave-in out of her head, Cassandra couldn’t bear to pace the floor and do nothing. Finally, in desperation, she awoke Khristos, bundled him up against the cold, and set off through the darkness toward Taggart Mountain with Lycodomes as their escort. Even if nothing was amiss, she knew her papa would understand why she’d chosen to break his rules this one time by going out after dark.
Uncertain where Peter Hirsch’s claim was located, she ended up wandering over the back side of the mountain for nearly an hour. Soaked to the skin by a fine drizzle, she was chilled, worried to death about Khristos catching a cold, and completely lost by the time she decided to give up the search. Lycodomes saved them by guiding them back to town.
Once the three of them hit Diamond Street, some of Cassandra’s panic began to abate. Khristos was a tough little nut, and even though he was soaked to the skin, it was highly unlikely he’d catch his death. As for her papa and brother, maybe they’d had a streak of good luck and stopped by one of the saloons for a celebratory drink. If they had, she’d snatch them bald-headed for worrying her.
“Likely they’re fine,” she told Khristos with a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Still, it can’t hurt to make sure.”
The only way to do that, she determined after a moment’s thought, was to take a peek through the windows of all the saloons to see if she could spot her father or brother. If she didn’t find them at one of the drinking establishments, she would have no choice but to ask the marshal to send out a search party.
“Khristos, you and Lye-Lye wait for me down by the mercantile,” she said, pulling her brother’s knitted cap lower on his forehead. “Don’t talk to anyone, and sing out if anyone tries to bother you.”
“But, Cassie, them saloons are dangerous, especially with you bein’ a girl and all. You know what Papa says. No dallyin’ on the streets.”
“Hush, now. This is a special circumstance, and I’ll be careful. You take Lye-Lye and hurry on. I’ll be with you soon.”
Cassandra waited until her brother and Lycodomes disappeared into the shadows. Then, gathering her shawl more tightly around her, she turned her steps toward the section of Diamond Street where all the saloons were grouped together.
Engaged in another high-stakes poker game, Luke Taggart was about to match his opponent’s bet and raise him by a hundred dollars when he glanced up and saw Cassandra peeking in over the bat-wing doors. Luke forfeited his possible winnings by folding his hand, then pushed up from his chair.
“Excuse me, gents,” he said as he pocketed his chips. “I just remembered a pressing matter of business.”
As he headed toward the entrance, he saw Cassandra duck away. Respectable young women did not, under any circumstances, frequent the vicinity of establishments like the Golden Slipper. Luke could only suppose she was embarrassed to have been caught peeking inside. To him, that attitude went beyond silly, and he tamped down a spurt of impatience at the absurdities of Christian morality. Addlepated girl, anyway. As if he’d think less of her simply because she approached a saloon.
Pushing open the doors with a thrust of his shoulder, he stepped out onto the cobblestone sidewalk, his gaze routing through the shadows.
“Cassandra?” he called, half afraid she might have hidden between the buildings. “Cassandra, I know you’re out here. Don’t play foolish games.”
Drunks were a penny a dozen along this part of Diamond Street, passed out on the shop steps, propped against lampposts, sleeping in the alleyways. It was no place for a young lady, especially late at night.
“Cassandra?”
Something moved in the shadows. A moment later, she materialized. When she stepped into the illumination of the lamplight, he saw that her cream-colored wool shawl and old blue dress were soaked from the drizzling rain.
Her skirts clung to her legs, revealing the curve of her hips and the juncture of her thighs. Luke had difficulty looking away, and when he finally managed, he found himself staring at her bosom instead. Her saturated shawl had grown heavy, stretching the loosely knitted yarn and widening the holes in the weave. Through one enlarged opening, a nipple, hardened to erectness by the cold, thrust against the wet cloth of her dress.
Forcing his gaze to her pale face, Luke asked, “What in God’s name are you doing out here at this hour?”
“It’s my papa and brother,” she told him in a quavery voice. “They never came home. I’m afraid something has happened to them.” Shivering against the cold, she wrung her hands, her vulnerable mouth turning down at the corners. “I…um…I was hoping they might have stopped by the Golden Slipper for a drink. You haven’t seen them, have you?”
As Luke took in the condition of her clothing, he knew she’d been traipsing all over Taggart Mountain looking for her father and brother. The hem of her skirts was black with mud, and every time she shifted her weight, he heard her shoes squish.
Christ.
Until this second, he had never stopped to think that she might grow alarmed when Milo and Ambrose failed to come home. The women in his acquaintance wouldn’t walk across the street out of concern for someone else, let alone climb the side of a mountain in the freezing rain. Luke knew as well as anyone how slick those steep slopes could get. It was a wonder she hadn’t broken her fool neck.
Biti
ng back a curse, he struggled against the urge to give her a good shake. Then he realized that if anyone needed shaking, it was him. He was responsible for her father and brother’s not coming home, after all. If he’d been using his head, he would have anticipated her concern and taken measures to prevent it.
“Ah, honey, I’m sorry. I meant to stop by your place in the morning to tell you what happened.”
Her huge eyes widened even more, luminous in the lamplight. “Are they all right?”
“Yes, they’re fine. There’s just been a spot of trouble, that’s all. Nothing that can’t be ironed out.”
“Trouble?”
Luke bit the inside of his cheek. She looked so fragile standing there, her shoulders hunched, her body shuddering. He felt awful knowing he was responsible for her having gotten so wet and chilled. If there had been a way to avoid it, he would have delayed adding to her misery. Unfortunately, there wasn’t. The Zereks were in jail, Luke had every intention of keeping them there, and someone had to tell her. He was the only someone available.
“Cassandra, I’m afraid your father and brother have been arrested for claim jumping.”
Her eyes went wide, her lips slack with astonishment. “Claim jumping?” she repeated faintly. “Papa and Ambrose? There has to be a mistake. They’d never do such a thing.”
Carefully choosing his words, Luke told her what had happened.
“No!” she cried. “It can’t be. Not my papa. He’d never steal someone else’s gold, especially not yours, Mr. Taggart. He thinks you’re the most wonderful employer he’s ever had.”
Not anymore, he didn’t. Luke gazed off up the street for a moment, recalling the fury and hatred he’d seen in Milo Zerek’s eyes. When he swung his gaze back to Cassandra, he said, “I’m sorry, honey, but the marshal caught them red-handed. They were inside one of my tunnels, and it looked as if they’d been working the dig for several days. I accompanied the marshal, so I was present when they were arrested. I saw the evidence myself.”