Eyes wide, she realized all her problems were solved! Those bright streaks in the rock weren’t just on the floor, but on the walls and the ceiling, too.
“Your pa’s stuff is here,” Morgan said when he stopped, not quite at the end of the tunnel, though close enough for her to see the back wall in the lantern light. “I used his horse to carry him to the doctor and I didn’t bother to retrieve it after I was told he died, so the stable has probably sold it by now. This is everything else Charley had with him when he came up here.”
She moved around him and saw a bedroll, a rifle, two saddlebags filled with mining tools and cooking gear, everything he would need to survive up here alone. But he hadn’t ended up alone, he’d ended up making friends with a bear. Her father’s valise was there, too. She dropped to her knees to open it.
Behind her, Morgan said, “He never talked much about home. He seemed ashamed to admit that he’d been rich at some point and wasn’t now, but it was obvious from his manners and the way he talked that he was a gentleman. I would have got around to hiring someone to take this stuff to his boys—he never mentioned their names—I just didn’t see any reason to hurry when there’s nothing of value here.”
“My brothers are Daniel and Evan. You could at least have let them know he’d died.”
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I want to deliver news like that. They’ll hear from me soon. I was taking their address to Doc Cantry this trip so he could send them a telegram, but I found you there instead.”
Violet was only half-listening to Morgan as she looked inside her father’s valise. The lantern she’d set down didn’t offer much light in the dark tunnel, so she couldn’t see much of what was in it, but she reached in to pull out a few things. A small handful of letters rested atop the pile of clothes, letters tied with twine, all of them from her brothers, which was where Morgan must have found their address.
She pulled out one of her father’s jackets and held it up to her face. The smell of it brought tears to her eyes. She was surprised she even remembered that scent after all these years, but it had been his favorite cologne. Oh, Papa, why were you so careless with your inheritance that you had to resort to these drastic measures?
“Are you crying?”
She dabbed the cuff of the jacket against her eyes before saying, “Of course not. Thank you for leading me to Papa’s belongings. It’s incredible that he was able to dig all this out at his age.”
“He didn’t—I did.”
She glanced around. “I don’t understand. This is his mine, correct?”
“Not exactly.”
She was too excited about all the silver in the mine to want to argue with him, so she merely pointed out the obvious. “He staked the claim—you let him—so now it belongs to his heirs. And you don’t need to help with the mining anymore, I can get workers up here to do—”
“Stop right there,” he growled furiously. “I dug this tunnel for Charley only because I felt sorry for him. I sure as hell don’t feel sorry for you. And you damn well aren’t deciding anything about what I dug out. Your pa didn’t find the silver here, I did. He broke every rule putting a claim down this close to mine. If I hadn’t agreed to partner with him, he would have had to move on somewhere else. If you try to bring workers up here, I’ll damn well close the book on that partnership and go to the claim office and get his claim invalidated.”
“You’re a horrible man!”
“No, I’ve got a heart of gold, just not for you!”
She’d never seen him this angry. It terrified her because she barely knew the man or what he was capable of in this state. He’d been doing all the work for someone else when he had his own mine? No one could be that generous. He had to be lying, everything he’d told her had to be lies. He’d even admitted that the only way he could get rid of Charles was to kill him!
Without thinking it through, she reached for her father’s rifle and pointed it at Morgan’s chest. “You killed him, didn’t you? I only have your word that you found him unconscious. Everything you’ve said could be lies to cover up what really happened.”
“Lady, if I was going to kill him, I would’ve done it when he first showed up, and I would have finished the job, not hauled him to town unconscious. No one, not even the doc, knew that he wasn’t going to wake up and talk again before he passed on. And now you’ve pissed me off. Point a rifle at me again and you damn well better pull the trigger. You’re on your own.”
Now she’d made him angry? He’d already been furious, she’d just tipped the scale. She let the rifle slip from her fingers as she watched the lantern light move down the short tunnel. Then it was gone—and the cabin door slammed shut in the distance, like a bell tolling her doom. She was horrified by what she’d just done after he’d admitted he and her father had been partners. Her panic at seeing him so angry was no excuse. She’d just enraged a bear, and he wasn’t forgiving.
She had a lantern, but that wouldn’t give her any warmth tonight. She untied her father’s bedroll and spread it out, then curled up on it, hugging her father’s jacket to her chest. Tears were running down her cheeks again, but for herself this time. Morgan really was abandoning her in this cold, dark mine.
Chapter Seventeen
MORGAN LAY ON HIS bed, glowering at the ceiling. He was still livid. Stupid woman. She just didn’t get it, that no one could find out about this location or else Sullivan would use underhanded methods, even resort to violence, to commandeer his highly productive mine. He didn’t want to have to kill anyone to protect his property. No, she just didn’t care about the hell it would put him through, was only interested in what she could get from a mine she thought was now hers. It wasn’t. His partnership agreement had been with Charley, made with a handshake. There was no document to prove it. It sure as hell didn’t mean he was going to partner with Charley’s heirs or a woman who’d just tried to kill him!
If he hadn’t known Charley’s rifle was empty, he would have had to grab it from her and risk getting shot. But she didn’t know it was empty. Her threat had been valid in her mind, but her reason was ridiculous.
The woman was cunning, smart, too beautiful, and she’d used it all to get under his skin and lull him into trusting her. He’d been a sucker for that pretty face, and had been feeling guilty ever since she mentioned the loan that Charley also had mentioned. Actually, even before that he had started thinking he might be wrong about her. She was stubborn like her father and had a natural refinement that went deeper than any role-playing. He wished he still thought she was an impostor. It would be so much easier to deal with her now if he did, but he didn’t.
But he sure as hell wasn’t going to partner with a viper, Mitchell or not, who now had a very good reason to want him dead, so she’d have both mines and could do whatever she wanted with them. That wasn’t happening.
He sat up and stared at the closed door. She wasn’t even going to ask to come back in? She was going to deliberately spend the night in that cold tunnel just to make him feel more guilt! Like hell. . . .
He went outside and entered the mine, following the light to the end of the tunnel where he’d left her. She sat up.
“I’m—” she started.
“Shut up,” he snarled.
He swiped up the lantern, grabbed her hand, and dragged her back to the house, then slammed the door shut behind them. “Not one damn word if you know what’s good for you,” he warned before he got back in his own bed and glared up at the ceiling as she settled on hers.
She was silent. Finally she listens? He snorted to himself. And still fumed. And couldn’t sleep. It was small consolation that he knew she couldn’t either after she’d slept the day away.
An hour later, he said coldly, “The agreement I had with Charley was only temporary to help him out of his bind. It ended the day he died. And without a new partnership, which I am in no way inclined to make, that mine is useless where it sits, so there’s nothing for you to exploit or sell here. You and
your brothers are welcome to the money Charley made from the mine if you can find it, but under no circumstances will I allow you to tell anyone where these mines are located. Got that?”
“I’m sorry I drew a gun on you. I don’t really think you killed Papa. It’s just that your anger frightened me and I reacted badly.”
Was that tearful voice real or just an act? Damnit, she was doing it again, trying to make him feel sorry for her. “You come west without knowing the difference between a gun and a rifle?”
“I do know the difference, but it was a traumatic moment and I misspoke. Must we discuss this? I have apologized, and it was quite sincere.”
“Words don’t cut it after the fact, so drop it and go to sleep.”
He shouldn’t have even been here to meet this woman. He’d meant to return to Nashart in the spring. He had more than enough money now to do what he wanted. But he’d bought those damn flower seeds, and Charley had showed up the day after he’d returned from town with them. And when Charley died, he still didn’t leave. He kept coming up with excuses not to go home, because the simple fact was he was in no hurry to be browbeaten by his father to go back to ranching.
That wasn’t going to happen. He had other plans for the fortune he’d dug out of these hills that had nothing to do with cattle, and nothing Zachary could say would make him change them. He’d been thinking about it too long. And it was going to make his mother happy. But he would face one hell of a fight when he did get home. Arguing with his pa was never easy. It simply went against the grain not to do what Zachary Callahan wanted.
His brothers felt the same way. Hell, even his oldest brother, Hunter, was going to marry a woman this summer that he’d never met, just because their father said so. The marriage was supposed to end a feud that should have ended long ago but hadn’t. Hunter hated the idea of an arranged marriage, but he’d still go along with it. Heck, it might have happened already, though the letter his mother had written him early last month had said the girl was delayed in arriving. And he hadn’t gotten around to checking the post on his last trip to town—because of prissy Miss Violet Mitchell.
Anger still gnawed at him. He didn’t hear any movement in the bed across the room. He knew she tossed in her sleep. He’d watched her do it when she’d slept on the trail, and again today when he came in to start dinner. Not one toss yet tonight, which told him she was lying there plotting her next move. He didn’t for a moment think she’d give up on that mine. She was stubborn like her father. He’d never imagined Charley had a daughter, let alone such an exasperating one—who was far too attractive.
He got up and started opening crates until he found the one full of whiskey bottles. He winced at the fumes that rose up. At least one bottle hadn’t survived the trip despite the careful packing.
He took a bottle back to his bed, drank a quarter of it before remarking, “You said they’re older than you?”
“Who?”
“Who else? Your brothers. Fact is, I’m not sure I would have felt sorry for Charley if I hadn’t pictured two young boys, destitute, helpless, waiting for him to come home with some money. I should have pressed him about his family, asked him how old his sons were—then you wouldn’t be here, and he might not be dead.”
“So he’s dead because you didn’t ask a very obvious question? You admit it was your fault?”
He glanced over to see that she was leaning up on an elbow, staring at him, looking as huffy as she’d just sounded. He should have turned out the lanterns. Seeing her in bed again, even if she was fully clothed, still had an effect on him. There was no getting around the fact that she was a beautiful, desirable woman, even if she was the most stubborn, exasperating female he’d ever met.
“That’s not what I said. As it happens, if I hadn’t dug for him for the month he was up here, Charley would have fallen over dead within a week doing it himself. So you could say that I gave him a few more weeks of life. But I sure as hell wouldn’t have helped him if I knew his boys were full-grown men who can take care of themselves. And you, a fancy dresser, obviously don’t need money.”
“I do, for a dowry.”
“A dowry?” He snorted. “Who the hell comes with a dowry these days?”
“It’s expected if you marry an English lord, which I plan to do. I even met the perfect one right before I sailed home—and found out I’m no longer an heiress. So don’t tell me what I don’t need when you know nothing about my plans for the future.”
“So that’s what this is about? You’re out here driving me crazy for a damn dowry?”
“Not just that. Our family home is my priority. Papa came out here to recover his fortune. You gave him hope that he could do that.”
“So Charley died with hope. That’s not a bad way to go.”
She gasped. “You’re just as insufferable foxed as you are otherwise, and if you don’t know what ‘foxed’ means, it means you, sir, are drunk. And will you please stop referring to my father that way. His name was Charles. None of his friends and acquaintances ever called him Charley.”
“I did, and he never seemed to mind, so how about you stop complaining about nonsense that has absolutely nothing to do with you. And I’m not drunk.”
“Of course you are, but you’re too thickheaded to realize it!”
He sat up. She wisely turned over and showed him her back. At least the scared little girl who could tug on his emotions was gone.
Chapter Eighteen
VIOLET WOKE AT DAWN, surprised she’d slept at all. Morgan was still in his bed, his back turned to her. Only one lantern was still flickering, almost out of fuel. The fireplace was cold as well, leaving the room quite chilly.
She grabbed the blanket from her bed, wrapped it around her shoulders, and went outside, heading down the slope to climb the fence, not caring if the racket she made woke Morgan. She’d looked for a chamber pot in the cabin yesterday, not really expecting to find one, nor had she. And she’d already climbed this fence after seeing Morgan hop it, then hop over the stream and disappear into the trees, only to return a few minutes later. She was glad she hadn’t asked about the chamber pot. She was sure it would have made him laugh.
He’d made getting over the fence seem so easy, but it was quite awkward for her. His camp was so primitive she had no other choice. At least she found the narrow part of the stream he had hopped over, although when she tried it, the heels of her boots got wet because her legs weren’t as long as his.
It was hard not to think of last night. She’d gone from elation over how rich her mine was and how it was going to solve all her problems to anger and suspicion when Morgan had told her the mine didn’t belong to her and her brothers to utter despair when he’d abandoned her in that cold tunnel. She’d been crushed. But he’d come back. Even as furious as he was, he had some sort of protective instinct that wouldn’t let him leave her there all night. Her opinion of him had risen a notch.
But she still had trouble believing that she and her brothers had no right to the mine, that her father didn’t really own it just because of its proximity to Morgan’s. After all, she’d verified that his claim was recorded. Didn’t that make it official? Could the position of the mine really invalidate that if there was no partnership? Morgan had been generous in doing most of the work for her father, but she had doubts that he’d told her the whole story. She wished she could consult a solicitor.
She did feel bad, however, about calling him foxed last night when he probably hadn’t been. She also felt bad about thinking, even for a moment, that he’d killed Charles. If everything he’d said about his working relationship with her father was true, the man really was generous beyond words. He’d said he had a heart of gold, but that didn’t even half describe his doing all the work in the mine and then sharing the fruits of his labor with someone else when he didn’t have to.
On her way back to the cabin, she stopped at the stream to wash her face, then turned about before lifting her skirt to dry her face. The skirt she
’d donned yesterday. She was dismayed that she’d had to sleep in her clothes again, as if they were still camping outdoors. She hoped tonight would be more peaceful because she simply had to rectify the sleeping situation so she could resume her civilized habits, which included sleeping in a nightgown. But first she needed to create some privacy for herself in the cabin.
As she climbed over the fence again and headed for the porch, her eyes were drawn to the top of the cliff. The dawn light was brighter up there, making the silhouette of a man with a rifle cradled in his arms stand out starkly. She screamed.
The door to the cabin burst open and Morgan rushed down the steps, gun in hand, demanding, “What?”
Frozen, Violet just pointed. Then she heard Morgan say, “Don’t worry about him. That’s Texas, a good buddy of mine.” He lowered his gun. “He came with my other friends to help throw up the cabin and agreed to stick around.”
“So he’s a guard?”
“Yeah, he stands watch at night, then sleeps during the day when I’m working.”
She recalled his previous remark about the disadvantage of mining in such isolation. “You said no one would know if something happened to you here. That was a lie.”
He just shrugged. “You weren’t supposed to notice Tex, and he hasn’t always been here. We alternate making trips to town for supplies, so one of us is always here to guard the mine. When Charley was here, he did the guarding and Tex flanked me to make sure no one was trying to follow at a distance.”
So many crazy precautions—he really was fanatic about keeping this location a secret.
And then he yelled up to Texas, “Come on down for breakfast so you can meet my unwelcome guest.”
“That was rude,” Violet remarked.
“No, it wasn’t. Rude would have been using words that made you blush.” He looked down at her as if waiting for something, and finally demanded, “No retort?”