Authors: Barbara Bretton
The general store, the blacksmith's shop, the pharmacy, and the King of Hearts Saloon all belonged to Jesse Reardon. And, if the rumors she'd heard were true, he owned the most popular business in town: the Golden Dragon. The men of Silver Spur looked to him for leadership and she sometimes wondered if the Single Man's Protection League—or the town, for that matter—could run without him.
She wanted to take none of that away from him. He had so much and she was asking for so little. She only wanted what belonged to her.
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Silver Spur's brand new solid silver Liberty Bell, made from melted-down donations of ore from hungover prospectors, was being unveiled in the center of town and the din from two brass bands and hundreds of frolicking citizens made it nearly impossible for Caroline to hear what Reardon was saying.
She motioned to Abby who was standing in the corner of the parlor. "Close the windows," she whispered. "He could be selling the judge a bill of goods for I cannot hear a word."
"That's one hell of an opinion you got of me, darlin'."
Caroline looked up at the sound of his voice to find herself the center of attention. Reardon's midnight blue eyed gaze was focused upon her, as were the gazes of Judge Willoughby and his grey-haired wife Amanda.
"Pardon me," she said, her voice cool and collected despite her embarrassment at being overheard. "I instructed Abby to close the windows so we can all hear the proceedings."
Reardon leaned back in his seat and puffed on his cigar. "Worried I'm puttin' one over on you?"
She shot him her fiercest look. "We aren't sitting here to pledge our undying devotion, Mr. Reardon."
His eyes narrowed as cigar smoke encircled his head. "You got yourself one suspicious mind, darlin'."
"And can you blame me? You have done nothing but make my life miserable from the first moment my stage arrived in town."
"Maybe it's time you got yourself packed and headed back home to Boston."
"Maybe it's time you minded your own business, Mr. Reardon, and not mine."
Judge Fitzgerald cleared his throat. "I hate to interrupt this fascinating discussion, folks, but the missus and I have a barbecue to attend at sundown and since we're guests of Doc and Mary's, it wouldn't serve if we arrived late."
"I apologize for our rude behavior, Your Honor," said Caroline primly while Reardon watched, a sardonic smile upon his face. "Of course we should proceed."
The judge looked at Caroline and Jesse. "Let's see if I have the particulars: Jesse says he won the Crazy Arrow and the Rayburn mine in a poker game from Aaron Bennett moments before Mr. Bennett met his demise." Jesse started to say something but the judge raised his hand to stop him. "Miss Bennett says she is in possession of papers showing that she is the sole owner of said properties. Am I correct?"
"You are entirely correct, Your Honor. Those are the facts as I know them." Caroline found it impossible to keep the triumphant smile from her face. What a brilliant, well-educated man Judge Fitzgerald was!
"The hell they are," said Reardon. "What kind of town is this when a man's word don't mean nothin'? I won the Arrow and the mine fair and square and you can ask anyone who was at the King of Hearts that night."
"Hah! Of course he can ask anyone," said Caroline. "Who in this town would dare cross the almighty Mr. Reardon?"
"Miss Bennett," interrupted the judge. "I'll thank you to keep your personal grievances to yourself for the time being. I am not here to ascertain Mr. Reardon's social standing."
Chastened Caroline sat back, biting the inside of her lip to keep from saying more.
"I assume you have papers to prove ownership?" the judge asked her.
"Yes, Your Honor, I most certainly do." She reached into the pocket of her dress and withdrew the documents. "I think you'll find everything to be in order, sir," she said, handing the papers to the judge.
The room fell deathly quiet. Caroline could almost swear she heard the tell-tale beating of her heart as the judge unfolded the deed and the letter.
"Ain't worth the paper they're written on," Reardon mumbled under his breath. "I got me a claim and no city gal's going to ace me out of what belongs to me."
"Oh, do be still," she hissed, "and take your defeat like a man."
"Goddamn worthless pieces of paper."
"I'll be the judge of that," said Fitzgerald with a lopsided smile.
"My claim is good?" asked Reardon.
"Yes, it is," said the judge.
Despair flooded Caroline's being. "But what about me?"
The judge patted her hand. "Your claim is good, as well."
"That's insane!" said Caroline and Jesse in unison.
The judge caught his wife's eye and sighed. "I wish I had a gold piece for every time I've been in this position. You, Miss Bennett, have a bona fide deed for the Crazy Arrow Saloon and the law stands behind you." He held up the waterstained piece of paper dealing with the mine. "This, unfortunately, isn't worth the ink used to write it. I have affidavits from Messrs. Taylor, Markham, and Morgan that state you clearly won the mine on the night of April 15th. In the interests of fairness, the mine, therefore, belongs to you, Mr. Reardon."
"I refuse to give up the mine," Caroline stated flatly, thinking of the coming railroad and what that property could mean to her future and the future of Silver Spur, as well. "Reardon will only waste his time searching for silver that is no longer there."
Reardon kicked over his chair as he stood up. "And if you think I'm lettin' some featherbrained petticoat turn the Crazy Arrow into a sewing circle, you're short of hat size."
"We'll find another judge," she said. "How difficult can it be?"
"The judge retires next month," said Mrs. Fitzgerald with a gentle chuckle. "It may be near to a year before you see a replacement. This isn't the most possible circuit."
"You won't hear different from another judge," said Fitzgerald. "Facts are facts and they are not open to interpretation. The only way both claims could be satisfied is if you two were to marry and share the properties in question."
The idea of marriage between them was so absurd that neither she nor Reardon dignified the judge's statement with an answer. "I refuse to allow Reardon to usurp my legacy."
"Talk English, darlin'. I ain't had a whiskey all day and I'm at enough of a disadvantage."
"You can't have the mine," she snapped, the last of her control vanishing.
"Don't matter what you say, gal. It belongs to me, same as the Crazy Arrow."
"The hell it does!" A stunned silence fell across the table, but Caroline was beyond caring. "You'll find your bedroll tossed out on the street when you return tonight, for your days in residence at the Arrow are over, sir."
"I'll leave when I'm damn good and ready to leave. I won the Arrow fair and square, same as I won the mine."
"You'll leave when I say you will!" She rose to her feet and waved her fist right beneath his nose. "The only way you'll open that mine is over my dead body."
"Don't tempt me, Car-o-line, 'cause it wouldn't take much provokin'."
Damn the man! He almost looked as if he were enjoying himself. "Quite the innocent, aren't you, Mr. Reardon. One would never believe you'd already made numerous attempts upon my life."
"I ain't the one who shot out the windows at the Golden Dragon, darlin', then pretended I'd never seen a gun before."
"How I would love to slap your arrogant face!"
He stepped closer and Caroline held her ground.
"Try it, darlin', and see what happens."
Her hand flew toward his cheek as if propelled by some force outside herself and he caught her by the wrist before she found her mark.
"Get out," he said over his shoulder to the astonished Fitzgeralds and the horrified Abby.
"Really, sir—" The judge rose to his feet. "There must be—"
"Get out now!" Reardon bellowed. "The gal and I got something to discuss."
The judge glanced at Reardon then over at Caroline and, to her dismay, ignored the pleading expression upon her face. "Come," he said to his wife and to Abby. "We'll wait outside the door." He fixed Reardon with a quelling look. "I don't take kindly to murder."
"I cannot believe it," Caroline shrieked as Reardon closed the door after the Fitzgeralds and Abby. "He has handed me over to you, knowing full well you are capable of doing anything."
"He didn't exactly leave me in a damn good position," Reardon retorted. "For all I know you got yourself a Derringer hidden in your petticoats."
Once again he closed the distance between them and her breath caught. "Touch me and you'll live to regret it."
"Play tough, do you, Car-o-line?"
She straightened her shoulders and did not back down. "I'll do anything to retain what belongs to me."
An odd expression flickered deep in his eyes. "Would you marry me?"
Her mouth dropped open in shock and she struggled to regain her composure. "Grant me the dignity of serious conversation, Mr. Reardon, please."
"I am serious. I think the only answer is for us to marry."
"Marry?" Caroline's voice shot up three octaves. "I would rather be strapped to a buckboard and dragged a hundred miles through the desert than marry you!"
"It don't exactly thrill my heart either, darlin', but I don't see as we have any other choice."
"You're mad, Reardon! I do not know what treachery you have on your mind but I shall not become part of it."
"You ain't going to give up the mine to me and I sure as hell ain't going to give up the Arrow to you. Seems as if the time has come to compromise."
"Compromise and suicide are two different things, Mr. Reardon."
"Judge Fitzgerald's made his decision, darlin', and short of murder, we both stand to lose somethin' real important if we don't join up."
"Never. Marriage is the last thing on my mind. The only thing I care about is the Crazy Arrow."
He grinned. "So givin' up the old Rayburn mine don't bother you."
"I know what you're up to, Jesse Reardon, and it won't work. Jade told me the value of the property surrounding that mine and I refuse to allow you to steal it away from me."
"Got plans for it, do you?"
"Yes," she shot back, "I certainly do. That property will pay for renovations to the Crazy Arrow."
"The Arrow ain't going to get so much as a coat of paint unless I say so."
"Money speaks, Mr. Reardon. I doubt if any shopkeeper worth his salt would turn away from the opportunity to turn a profit."
"They would if I say so."
"What an inflated opinion you have of your own importance."
"Don't make much difference if you like it or not, because that's the way it is in Silver Spur. Ain't none of your plans for the Arrow going to come to anything without my say-so."
"I don't need your help in anything, Reardon! I have managed twenty-three years without you and shall continue to manage quite well."
"We got ourselves a lot of fires here in Silver Spur, darlin'," he drawled. "Wouldn't be too surprisin' if the Arrow were next in line."
"Are you threatening me, Reardon?" Caroline asked, suddenly feeling like a deer before a hunter's arrow.
"That's a real ugly thought, Car-o-line. I'd say this arrangement would work real good for both of us, wouldn't you?"
"You have everything you could possibly want. What more could you gain by marrying me?"
Again that dangerous gleam in his midnight eyes. "You really want me to answer that?"
She held her ground. This was no time for cowardice. "Yes, Mr. Reardon, I most certainly do."
"I want to re-open the mine. I got me a feeling there's another vein to be tapped and I want the right to look."
"Everyone says the mine is exhausted."
"I ain't everyone, Car-o-line, and I think there's silver to be found and I'm willin' to split the profits with you when I find it."
"And what if you don't find silver?" she persisted. "You cannot expect me to split the costs."
"No more'n I expect to split the cost of fixin' up the Arrow with you." He grinned. "But I sure as hell expect my cut of the profits—assumin' you ever make any."
"I have seen marriage at close hand," said Caroline, thinking of her father and his own failed attempts at matrimony, "and it seems to me there is always a victor and always a vanquished." She met Reardon's eyes. "My father was always the vanquished. I do not intend to follow in his footsteps. Why, you could shoot me dead and have everything I own five minutes after we say our vows."
"Don't really know what in hell you're talkin' about, darlin', but I can tell you this: ain't no woman goin' to get the best of Jesse Reardon."
"We seem to be at an impasse." She paused, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "What did you call it? A Mexican standoff."
"Don't have to be that way," said Jesse. "I got me an idea that could make it work."