Authors: Barbara Bretton
"And I suppose you could?"
Jade's crimson-painted mouth tilted in a smile. "Ain't had much trouble in the past."
"The mine is not for sale," she said coolly. "I bid you good afternoon."
"You'll live to regret it, missy." Jade's voice trailed behind Caroline as she glided down the street. "Just see if you don't."
#
Jade's words haunted Caroline as she helped Abby prepare dinner. They followed her into the parlor as she worked on her mending and they climbed the stairs with her when she retired for the night.
She changed swiftly into a dressing gown then unpinned her hair, drawing her silver brush through the golden mass with vigorous, angry strokes.
"Fool!" she muttered as she paced the room. Jade knew nothing about the wedding Judge Fitzgerald had performed the night of the Fourth of July. Her words of warning about Reardon's intentions had no bearing on the situation as it actually was. Whether the mine was sold to the railroad one day or miraculously gave forth a king's ransom in silver—it made no difference at all. Both Caroline and Jesse would have their fair share before this sham of a marriage was ultimately dissolved and they went their separate ways.
Jade had all but told Caroline that she and Reardon were lovers of long-standing. Caroline would have had to be deaf and blind to not have figured out the nature of their relationship these past weeks in Silver Spur. A man did not have his own red satin room in a place like the Golden Dragon if he were not a close friend of the owner. Not that it was Caroline's business, mind you, but she found herself wishing she could tell the beautiful Oriental woman that she had managed the one thing Jade could not: she had married the elusive Jesse Reardon.
She stopped near the window and let the night breeze drift over her heated skin. Yes, she had married Jesse Reardon, even if it was a marriage in name alone, and she wasn't oblivious to the fact that he'd been spending his nights right there at the Crazy Arrow in the room next to hers—and not in his red satin room at Jade's Golden Dragon.
As always the Golden Dragon was ablaze with lights. Male laughter and loud music rang out through the open windows and she heard a woman's voice trill, "Welcome back, Jesse darlin'!"
Caroline parted the curtains slightly and peered across the street in time to see the lean figure of Jesse Reardon bound up the front steps of the sporting house and disappear inside. Outrage pounded inside her breast. Had he no regard for the vows of marriage? How dare he embarrass her by frequenting such a dreadful, decadent place as—
She stopped and let the curtains fall back into place. Reardon had the right to go where he pleased and do whatever he pleased once he got there. Their marriage was simply one of convenience, meant to serve both their interests while the matter of the old Rayburn mine was being settled and to enable her to begin work on the Crazy Arrow.
She needed no one to tell her that Reardon was a man who loved pleasures of the flesh. To imagine he denied himself those pleasures was ludicrous.
He owed her nothing at all, save a fair deal. And if she believed otherwise, she was so much a fool and would get exactly what she deserved.
"Whoa!" Caroline pulled back on the reins in an attempt to slow Jimmy down to a walk. Whatever had possessed her to believe she was ready to head off on her own without Jesse there to see she didn't come to harm on the back of this beast? Riding astride was both uncomfortable and unpredictable and she devoutly wished she had her trusty English saddle and one of the Addisons' gentle steeds.
Unfortunately, none of that had occurred to Caroline when it could still make a difference. She had waited nearly three quarters of an hour for Reardon to show up at the stables and finally she could stand the pitying look of the blacksmith no longer and she ordered the groom to saddle Jimmy up and she started for the mine alone. As it turned out, it was not one of Caroline's better decisions for Jimmy seemed to have a mind of her own and Caroline battled the mare until Silver Spur was left far behind. It was a relief to see the mine up ahead, the makeshift wooden monument with the name "Rayburn" printed on it, the only identifying mark. No matter how difficult the ride was, however, it had been worth it for she could never have stayed back in town that morning, waiting to see Jesse Reardon come stumbling out of the Golden Dragon, his pockets lighter and a smug smile upon his handsome face.
And well he should be smug, for he had more than likely spent the previous night gambling with the men and cavorting with the exotic Jade, while she lay awake in her maidenly bed and stared up at the ceiling.
Well, Caroline Bennett waited for no one. She drew the mare near a stand of trees at the base of the foothill that contained the mine, then clambered down from the horse's back.
"You're a good girl," she said, feeding the horse a lump of sugar then looping the reins around a particularly sturdy branch. It wasn't the mare's fault she was having such a difficult time adjusting to the Western saddle, any more than it was Judge Fitzgerald's fault that her marriage of convenience was turning out to be anything but.
Grey clouds scudded overhead, obscuring the pale sunlight. The air was damp and heavy as it had been all week and she wouldn't be surprised at all if a downpour were in the offing. Wildflowers of red and yellow and blue dotted the eastern slope of the hill, providing a colorful counterpoint to the dreary day, and Caroline found she could not resist their allure. Stepping carefully over the rocky ground, she picked her way toward the brilliant outgrowth of flowers, plucking a fistful of red ones and tucking them into her upswept hair. What would Jesse think, she wondered, were he to see her now? Would he be so infatuated with her charms that the beauteous Jade would be forgotten for the moment? How she would love to have him dancing to her tune, simply so she could have the satisfaction of watching his voice when she suddenly stopped the music.
She broke off a few blossoms and attached them to her upsweep with a long ivory hairpin. So there, Jesse Reardon, she thought, making her way back toward the opening of the mine. She was capable of finding her way around town without him—and of looking well in the bargain.
A large pile of rocks blocked her entrance to the mine. Jesse made a point of arranging them in such a way that the mine appeared inaccessible when, in truth, he only to move a few of the rocks in order to free an opening large enough for them to slip inside.
Groaning with the effort, she wrapped her arms around one of the huge rocks and was struggling to move it out of the way when she heard a loud crack nearby. Please, no, she thought. The last thing she needed was a thunderstorm to roll through when she was alone in the middle of nowhere. At the best of times she found thunder and lightning to be terrifying. Stranded at the mine, she didn't know how on earth she would cope.
Again, a sharp crack that seemed to echo between the foothills, and, summoning up a burst of strength, Caroline managed to push aside one of the rocks then set to work on another. Just a few more inches of space and she was certain she could squeeze through the opening and enter the mine. The second rock proved easier to budge than the first one and it moved aside just as a third crack of thunder sounded nearby.
Heart pounding, Caroline drew in her breath and slipped inside the dark cavern of the mine. Her skirts snagged on a branch and she tugged at them until she heard the sound of the fabric ripping and she was able to break free. There was something curiously soothing about the velvety darkness, the cool air, the aura of mystery and possibility that seemed to envelop her as she moved through the narrow entry way toward the stone where she had sat just yesterday as Jesse described the internal structure of the mine.
In the past few days she had grown increasingly comfortable with the mine and right now it seemed a haven from the storm that was about to break loose outside. The stone bench was where she had remembered it and she sat down, hugging her chest, waiting for the terrifying rumbles of thunder to rock the mine with their power. Would she never get over this childish fear? She laughed softly at herself. Fearlessly she had uprooted herself from Boston and moved to Silver Spur, only to cower at the sound of nature at its most impressive.
A noise came from the entrance to the mine, like stone falling against stone. Perhaps a clap of thunder had somehow caused the rocks at the opening to shift position. Beads of sweat broke out along her temples. That was all she needed—to be trapped there in the darkness, with nothing left for Abby to find but her dusty bones. Storm or no storm, she had to make her way back to the entrance and—
"I know you're there." A man's voice, low and muffled and near impossible to understand.
She shrank back against the damp cool wall, her hand pressed to her mouth, as the footsteps approached. Had someone followed her to the mine—some crazy prospector, perhaps, intent upon stealing her claim? Jesse had warned her that the structure was shaky as you went deeper inside, but that seemed a lesser danger compared to the uncertainty of facing a silver-hungry desperado.
Quickly she turned and moved deeper into the abandoned mine, her leather riding boots growing wet from the ankle-high puddles dotting the dirt floor. The footsteps were growing louder, heavier, sure signs that the man approaching was of considerable size. Why on earth had she left the derringer back at the Crazy Arrow? Abby had gone out of her way to provide both gun and bullets and Caroline, in her foolish belief that nothing could happen to her now that she and Jesse were bound by the law, had turned up her nose at the weapon.
Fool! she raged inwardly as she stumbled over a loose rock and skinned her hand against one of the shaky wooden supporting beams. Of all the idiotic, foolish things to do, this was by far the—
"Car-o-line!"
She stopped. That voice...that deep, unmistakable voice. "Jesse?" she whispered.
"Damnation, gal!" He was close enough to touch, but still just a voice in the blackness. "Take another step and you're in deep trouble. Those supports ain't going to last much longer."
And then he was next to her, and she was in his arms, the beating of her heart ricocheting wildly off the warm wall of his chest.
"What in hellfire got into you, darlin'? You got no business comin' out here by yourself."
"You didn't show up." If she weren't so relieved to see him, she would be embarrassed by the thin and shaky sound of her voice. "I waited three-quarters of an hour for you, but you never came."
"Sorry, darlin'. Kind of lost track of time. Some dang one-eyed gambler shot up the King of Hearts last night and I been siftin' through the rubble."
"I thought you spent the night at the Golden—" She stopped, appalled by her boldness.
He laughed out loud. "Go on, darlin', say it: you thought I spent the night at the Dragon with Jade."
Caroline tried to pull out of his grip and failed. "And why should last night be any different?" she retorted, embarrassed at being trapped into admitting the truth. "That was your monogram I saw on the sheets, was it not?"
"Real observant, Car-o-line. I'd almost think you cared."
"Oh, don't think that, Mr. Reardon. I should so hate for you to have your spirits dashed."
"Mighty sure of yourself for a gal hidin' inside a mine."
"I am not hiding. For your information, I came out here to inspect."
His laugh rumbled inside her ears. "Inspect what, darlin'?"
"Inspect...the supports."
"You were runnin' for your life."
His tone of voice stopped Caroline in her tracks. "I may be afraid of thunderstorms, Jesse, but I certainly do not believe they can kill me."
"No, they can't," he agreed amiably, "but those bullets sure can."
"Bullets? What bullets?"
"You didn't hear the shots?" he countered. "They were whizzin' all around you out there."
She sagged against him. "I thought it was a storm rolling in over the foothills."
"Hell, no. Looked to be some old prospector, tryin' to scare you off the land. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think it was Old Tom."
"How do you know it wasn't? I've seen him with a rifle! Why, he—"
"Old Tom's got him a Winchester and he can shoot the eyes off a snake at two hundred paces. I'd say this miner had him a forty-four, more'n likely. Damned good thing he was a poor shot. Could've blowed your pretty head off."
"I'm sure that would've pained you no end." She would rather die than allow him to see the fear his words caused.
"Ain't nothin' to be gained by it, is there, Car-o-line? Now that we've tied the knot and signed up all of Judge Fitzgerald's pretty papers, you're worth a whole lot more to me alive." He chuckled. "At least until we get this mine underway."
"How romantic, Mr. Reardon. I shall press that thought into my memory book."
His embrace tightened, drawing her ever closer until her breasts flattened soft against the hard muscles of his chest. His hands were flat against her back; the heat of his flesh burned through the fabric of her bodice and her breath grew ragged and forced. She wanted to pull away, to assert her independence, but with each second that passed, her willpower drifted further beyond her grasp. "What is it you want, darlin', pretty talk like you got from all your Boston beaus?"