Love and Fury: The Coltrane Saga, Book 4 (15 page)

She recalled the events of the day they arrived by stagecoach from San Francisco, having taken the route Gavin wanted to take. Weary from the rugged ride, she had wished only for a place to lie down, but Gavin had led her directly to the first bank he spotted.

“We have to get horses and then find our way to the Coltrane ranch,” he explained brusquely. “I’m sure the bankers will know exactly where it is. Hell, the Coltranes probably
own
the damn bank,” he laughed greedily.

So Gavin had approached a bank officer and introduced Briana as the daughter of Travis Coltrane, and himself as her stepbrother.

Briana hadn’t missed the strange expression that passed over the man’s face as he informed them that the Coltranes did not do business with his bank, but that he would help them in any way he could.

Gavin said, “Well, we are arriving without notice, and eventually we’ll need directions to the Coltrane ranch, but since we’re here now, we might as well introduce ourselves to people we will be doing business with while we’re in Silver Butte. Would you be so kind as to direct us to the bank where the family does do business?”

The man gave them directions, and then as Gavin thanked him, he said nervously, “Wait. I—I think there’s something you should know.”

Gavin and Briana waited, and then he said, “Have you been in contact with the family at all…recently?”

Gavin’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

The man gestured helplessly. “I really hate to be the one to tell you about this, but you surely don’t know, or else you would not be going to the Bowden Bank.”

Gavin began to look wary. “Well? What do you want to tell us?”

The man looked away, then let the words out in a rush. “There was a robbery at the Bowden Bank Mr. Bowden’s daughter was killed.” He glanced at Briana before continuing. “She was Colt’s fiancée. He went with the posse after the robbers, but he didn’t come back with them, and…” His voice trailed off.

“Why not?” Gavin asked tensely.

“I…I don’t like to spread gossip,” the man stammered.

Briana knew Gavin was becoming angrier with each moment. But he got a tight rein on himself and said, “Please tell me whatever else you know.”

The bank officer confided the gossip, explaining that Carleton Bowden was bitterly holding Colt responsible for his daughter’s death because of an argument they’d had shortly before she was killed. Further, he told them that the Coltranes’ ranch foreman had ridden in one day with the recovered gold, and that Colt was wounded during a shootout with the bank robbers and was recuperating somewhere south of Silver Butte. “So,” he finished, “if I were you, I’d watch what I said to Mr. Bowden. In fact, I don’t think I’d even go near him. He probably hates all the Coltranes now.” He tried not to look at Briana.

Outside the bank, Gavin was unable to contain his exuberance. “This is even better than I’d hoped for! Young Coltrane has disfavored himself in this town, and that is definitely to our advantage.”

Briana was so filled with dislike for the whole business that she said, “Can’t we just claim Dani’s money and leave?” She knew this would make Gavin angry but wanted to say her piece anyway.

He gripped her arm painfully, jerking her along the boardwalk toward the Bowden Bank. “We’ll leave when I say we leave, so don’t bring it up again. I’ve got enough on my mind without having to listen to you whine.”

As they made their way down the boardwalk toward the Bowden Bank, Briana pulled her plaid shawl tightly around herself, glad for the cover, such as it was. She wasn’t cold, as it was a warm day, but she felt so naked on the occasion of her first performance as an imposter that she needed something to cling to. Dani’s bright green-and-red shawl was better than nothing.

Entering the Bowden Bank, Briana stiffened, wondering what Gavin would do. He led her to one of the teller windows and, in a voice thick with counterfeit compassion, said to a pleasant-faced middle-aged woman, “Good morning. I am Gavin Mason, and this is Miss Dani Coltrane. We just arrived from Europe and heard about the misfortune suffered by the Bowden family. We’ve come to convey our condolences, and”—he paused for emphasis—“to apologize on behalf of the Coltrane family.”

The woman appraised him silently, then said, “I will inquire if Mr. Bowden will see you.”

She disappeared through a door at the rear of the room and was gone for only a few moments before returning to say that Mr. Bowden would see them.

She escorted them to his private office, where he was sitting behind his desk, waiting for them. Briana was struck by the deep grief etched on his face. Stiffly he listened to Gavin’s introductions and condolences, remaining seated behind his massive desk. He did not invite them to sit down. When Gavin finished speaking, he said gruffly, “What do you want with me? Is this visit personal or business? If it’s business, you can deal with one of the officers. If it’s personal, there’s nothing to say.”

Gavin took a seat, motioning to Briana to do the same. Ignoring Bowden’s scowl, he leaned across the desk intimately. “This is in strictest confidence, sir,” he began while Briana looked on, amazed by his acting ability and his nerve.

“I don’t know whether you are aware of this,” Gavin continued conspiratorially, “but Dani has been estranged from the Coltrane family since she was a child. We knew nothing about this tragedy until we arrived in Silver Butte. We were shocked beyond words.”

Carleton Bowden’s expression softened just a little. “Mr. Mason, if you have business with this bank, please let one of my staff assist you. I am still in mourning, even though my responsibilities require me to be here.”

Gavin shook his head. “I
have
to deal with you personally, Mr. Bowden. Quite frankly, I had wondered how to approach you about this, but now, in view of the rumors I’ve heard about your animosity toward the Coltrane family, it is imperative that I deal only with you.”

Briana turned her head away, dismayed. She had listened in silent horror as Gavin lied about how he expected resentment from Travis Coltrane’s son when he learned his half sister had come to Silver Butte to claim her share of the family money. Carleton Bowden was becoming less forbidding with each word Gavin spoke.

“So,” Gavin went on, “you can see that we might need your help if Coltrane proves to be a problem. Dani and I both also hope that we can count on your friendship because we don’t know anyone here.”

The bank president actually smiled as he addressed himself to Briana. “Of course. It would be a grave injustice for me to take out my feelings for Coltrane on either of you. You will be staying here, then? Living in Silver Butte? You are not interested in simply selling your properties?”

Briana wanted desperately to say yes, that was just what she wanted to do—sell everything and return to France. But Gavin gave her a warning look. Then he announced that, for the time being, she meant to stay in Silver Butte.

Mr. Bowden nodded. “Very well. When you need my help, come straight to me. I will do what I can.”

Gavin said that if all the Coltrane business was handled through the Bowden Bank, then he wanted a financial statement. He added contemptuously, “We doubt that Coltrane would give us an honest appraisal of the estate.”

“I will take care of it at once,” Bowden agreed. “Is there anything else I can do for you now?”

Gavin asked for specific directions to the ranch. Then, as they prepared to leave, he asked whether Bowden knew how long Colt would be away.

“Forever, I hope,” Bowden stated, then added, “I hear he was shot in the shoulder, but he’s getting better.”

He glanced apologetically at Briana before finishing, “He’s staying at a brothel in a place called Golconda.”

Briana and Gavin rode out to the ranch. Gavin made sure that. Briana was introduced to all the servants, and he made it clear that she was now in charge of the household. Then he returned to Silver Butte to stay at a hotel there, which was a great relief to Briana.

One afternoon, after Gavin had harangued her for an hour on the necessity of playing her role well, informing her half a dozen times that she owed him everything and that he held Charles’s future in his hands, Briana heaved a huge sigh of relief as he departed, bound for the relatively cosmopolitan atmosphere of Silver Butte. How fortunate for her that the ranch bored him!

She went in search of the Mexican housekeeper, Carlota, who had offered to help her let out some of Dani’s bodices. Briana had murmured something about gaining weight since she’d bought the gowns. She and Gavin had packed all the clothing from Dani’s wardrobe that Briana might need, a few bonnets and all of Dani’s gowns and shoes, knowing how lucky they were that things fit. If they’d had to order things made for Briana, the journey to America would have been delayed a month.

The only problem was in the bodices, which were too small by a couple of inches. Dani had good clothes, however, so there was ample material to let things out. A few gowns, the ones made of linen or cotton or silk, would require some ironing to straighten out the alterations so that the gowns didn’t show the old stitching. One gown, of gauze, could not be altered at all because the old seams would show.

Briana was grateful that the bustle style had either been played out or failed to arrive yet, for she saw no evidence of it in Silver Butte. She’d hated to think she’d have to wear the silly things and had wondered whether she would. They were still in vogue in France, so Gavin had insisted on her bringing Dani’s bustle-style gowns. Having never worn anything frivolous in her servant life, Briana was much relieved when they arrived in Nevada and she saw plain skirts with undercrinolines. She didn’t believe she could have worn anything so preposterous looking as bustles, not even to make a good impression in Silver Butte.

All the afternoon after Gavin’s departure, she and Carlota worked on the bodices of Dani’s gowns. As Carlota lovingly fingered the silks and satins, Briana longed to tell her that she, too, was a stranger to luxury. But she refrained, contenting herself with keeping up a conversation with the woman, glad to have a chance to talk with another female. Carlota was friendly and kind, and Briana was grateful to have her in the house.

As she sat there recollecting, Briana saw someone walking toward the stable. She watched with interest when she recognized Branch Pope, for despite his obvious coolness toward her, she liked him. He was obviously confused as to how to behave around her. Colt, his boss, was away, and since she was half owner of the ranch and silver mine, she was also his boss.

Gavin had told her to stay away from him, but Briana was lonely. She waved at Branch, and he waved back. What harm would it do, she asked herself, to go down to the stables and have a chat with him? She would be careful not to give herself away. It was a beautiful day, and she was bored with being inside and having no one to talk to.

Inside the stable, where she loved the smell of sweet hay and the magnificent horses, Briana found Branch saddling a big black stallion. “He’s one of my favorites,” she said suddenly, her voice piercing the silence.

Branch whirled around, surprised. “Oh, Miss Dani.” He nodded politely, then turned back to the horse, tightening the cinch around his girth. “This here is Janus. He’s your daddy’s pride and joy. Had him brought over all the way from Arabia when he was just a colt.”

She stepped closer and reached up to stroke the great animal’s silky mane. He jerked his head, pawing the ground in warning, and she jumped back.

Branch laughed. “Watch yourself. He’s high-spirited. Your pa, me, and your brother are the only ones that have ever been able to ride him. I figured I’d better take him out for a run so he won’t get fat and lazy, but it’ll probably be
him
that gives
me
a run.”

She reached to stroke the horse once more, and this time he merely regarded her with those large black eyes. “I would love to ride him,” she whispered.

Branch looked her over curiously. “Had much riding experience?”

“Not any,” she replied.

“Hard to imagine Travis Coltrane’s daughter not knowing how to ride,” he muttered.

Briana tensed, wondering whether she’d said something to make him suspicious. Quickly she lied, “Aunt Alaina was thrown from a horse once and almost killed, and she never allowed me near one after that.”

He shook his head in sympathy. “That’s a shame. Best thing to do if a horse throws you is get right back on again.” He pointed to a chestnut mare in the next stall. “That’s Miss Kitty’s mare. She’s pretty gentle, and she’s used to riding with Janus. I could put a saddle on her if you’d like me to give you a few lessons.”

Briana could hardly contain herself. She clapped her hands together gleefully and cried, “Oh, would you, Mr. Pope? I’d love that. I really would.”

“Sure,” he said pleasantly, then went to the tack room and came back carrying a saddle. “Just do as I tell you.”

He showed her how to mount and how to sit in the saddle, then handed her the reins. “Take it slow and easy. Move with her moves. Relax and don’t tense up or act scared. A horse can always tell when the rider is scared, and that makes ’em act sassy. Let her know you’re in control—or make her think you are!” He laughed good-naturedly.

Briana was delighted. It all seemed so easy. Branch watched her carefully as they headed out of the stable and across the yard. “Should’ve known you’d be a natural,” he said, impressed by her confidence. “Travis Coltrane’s daughter would take to a horse like a duck to water.”