Born of Treasure (Treasure Chronicles Book 2) (7 page)

“What’s goin’ on?” Ryann bellowed. He lay against the coach on the other side of the broken door. The gas lamp illuminated the water gushing through the broken window.

“What a stupid stagecoach!” Amethyst shoved the slut away from her. “Can you believe this? I’ll have the company know how reckless the driver is. Now we’re even
more
soaked and filthy. I can’t imagine the state of your luggage up top. I’m just glad ours is at the inn.”

Clark stood, bracing himself against the wall near Amethyst’s head. He pounded his fist against the door until it snapped open, the curtain fluttering. Rain stampeded over them and a wave gushed inside.

“Brass glass.” Clark crouched to grab Amethyst’s hand. “The road must’ve flooded. We’re stuck in the river.”

“Someone will have to fish us out.” It would take even longer now to get back to the inn. She’d been looking forward to a warm meal and a cozy night of cuddling with Clark near the hearth in the downstairs. The night before, a fiddler had entertained the guests, and Clark had gotten to teach her a new dance.

Why did he gape at her like that?

“If they can get to us,” he growled. “People drown. Can you swim?”

He had to be joshing. “Of course I can’t swim.” Her heart started to pound. “You can, right? We must be safe in this stagecoach.”

“The river must’ve swelled,” Karlie gasped.

The gas lamp flickered. A wire snapped and sizzled; the light blinked out.

Amethyst dug her fingernails into Clark’s arm. “You can save us.”

The water had filled the stagecoach up to her waist as she sat up. As a child, she’d worried about drowning in the rooftop pools; she’d never imagined it could occur in a coach. She laughed, even though it sounded sadistic amongst the waves. Clark pulled her up and she wobbled against him. He wouldn’t let her drown. Vulgar water wouldn’t be the end of Amethyst Treasure-Grisham. The structure bobbed in the river; it was a boat, just a boat, she didn’t need to panic. Clark tightened his arms around her waist. As long as she had him, she would be all right. Even if she did drown, he could bring her back to life.

He didn’t care about Karlie. He didn’t try to comfort her. Amethyst was the special one.

A crack exploded in her ears and the stagecoach tore apart. That couldn’t be a sign of salvation. Hunks of wood and metal rained over them. Had they sliced through them? Would she feel the pain later, like what had happened with the glass? Water drenched her as though she would never be free of it. Clark slipped from her arms as the river covered her head. The current beat against her as if to whisper, “Let me kill you, little girl. Let me steal your life into my depths.”

Her heart pounding, she clawed and kicked for purchase. The ground slipped by, and the current kept shrieking in her mind: “You’re mine!” Her hand brushed something; something else snared the back of her jacket and jerked her head from the water. She gasped, her lungs burning.

“Don’t struggle,” Clark shouted.

Rain pelted her face and the frigid water bit through her skin. He looped his arm across her chest and tugged her through the waves. She squeezed her eyes shut. Clark knew what he was doing; he wouldn’t let anything hurt her.

The ground hit her backside and he pulled her to her feet. She stumbled as he turned her to face him and his mouth crushed hers. His tongue darted past her teeth and lips. She grabbed his shoulders, pressing her front against him and moaning, tasting dirt and rain and his breath.

“What happened?” she gasped when he swayed back.

“We hit a tree. It tore through it.”

Rain washed the filth off her face. “I’ve never been in a flood before. Are they always this bad?”

Clark nodded. “I’m going to see if I can find Karlie and Ryann. Stay here and if the water rises, keep backing up. Don’t move from this area. Promise me.”

“Don’t find me,” Karlie said. “I’m happy now.”

Clark jerked around, gaping at the spirit floating over the rushing creek. Lighting flashed in the sky, but Karlie shown brighter. His coat hung off her, huge and manly, but protective, as if someone had finally cared about her.

“Karlie, where’s your body?” He stepped toward her, still clutching Amethyst’s hand. “I can bring you back.”

“I’m safe now. No one can hurt me.”

Words from his mother exploded around his head.
I just want us to be safe, where no one can hurt us.
“I can take you somewhere safe. I have a house in Hedlund City. I can set you up.” He could do for Karlie what he couldn’t do for his mother. “I can put you in a school, or a profession.” He had no idea how to do that, but he could figure it out. His mother once told him how she would’ve loved to attend a school and become a piano teacher.

Karlie wasn’t his mother, could never be his mother.

“Let me go.” Karlie smiled. How could a Tarnished Silver, younger than him, see a part of him he liked to hide? “It’s better.” Her spirit shimmered in the rain that wouldn’t touch it, and vanished.

“Clark?” Amethyst whispered.

He pulled the journal from his jacket. Water dripped off the leather cover, the pages stuck together. Numbness crept over his mind. He peeled at the pages, but they stuck, a corner tearing. The pencil had faded in the muck and the ink ran along the fibers.

Eric had tried to help a Tarnished Silver, Clark’s mother, by wanting to take her away. Most men only used a Tarnished Silver and moved on to the next. Women snubbed them. Children were told horror stories to keep them away.

Saloon owners tortured the poor girls who couldn’t escape.

Karlie had attempted to and she’d made it, thanks to death.

Growling, Clark threw the journal into the surging river. A wave washed over it, sucking it down. The words were gone, a part of Eric lost to time, but he knew the truth his father had wanted him to find.

Judy hadn’t been a Tarnished Silver Eric used and disregarded.

“Clark?” Amethyst rubbed his arm.

“We need to do something for Tarnished Silvers.” His body shook and he clenched his hands into fists.

“We can work on that.”

“We can…” His stopped talking to keep his voice steady.

“We’ll figure something out.” She laid her cheek against his soggy chest.

Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. They needed to get away from the river and avoid being electrocuted. Survival came first. Emotions weren’t important.

He turned toward the dim lights of town in the distance. “We’ll head back there. They need to know about the stagecoach.” Maybe he could find the brothel owner and give the fellow a good black eye.

“Yupper.” Ryann wiped the back of his hand across his moustache. “Know that was the folk. Looked just like ‘em. The pair tried to leave me in the river to drown. Well, they saw to me. I’d dragged myself out. They left me, though. Sure I said I was fine, but they left me, they did. “

The sheriff of Yahnke squinted at the wanted poster the mountain hider had ripped off his door. “You said these folk wanted by Senator Horan had names?”

Ryann scratched his belly through his coat. They’d all introduced themselves, but he’d remembered the Tarnished Silver with the big bosom. “I think the lady was, uh, Karlie.” Had that been the fancy girl with her nose stuck in the air or the pretty chit in the ball gown? “The man was, uh, Chuck. His name started with a C.” Names weren’t important in the mountains. You knew things by site. Names came and went, but a cave stayed there so long as the earthquakes didn’t come.

“They were coming here,” the sheriff reiterated.

Hadn’t that been what he’d said? “Look, fella. I figured I’d do my duty and all letting you know. They was in the stagecoach with me and they were heading back here. Think they said something about the inn. Positive like.”

“The stagecoach crashed. They found the body of a runaway Tarnished Silver.”

“I reckon if they survived, you’ll want to pick ‘em up, them being wanted and all.” That Chuck fellow, or whatever his name was, had ruined all the fun. If the Tarnished Silver had to die, then she should’ve at least gotten to know Ryann a bit more private like. Ryann stood and belched as his stomach juices shifted. “Day to ya, sheriff.”

Amethyst leaned against the counter of the inn while Clark signed out of their room and paid the clerk. Yahnke, on the river, might have been small, but the water access provided a flood of people.

Flood. Amethyst shuddered. The rain had ceased, allowing the river boats and trains to travel again.

“Hope your room was everything you wanted for you and your wife,” the clerk said.

Amethyst twined her arms around Clark’s waist and leaned her cheek against his back. The rain had provided plenty of cozy moments. Clark had brought them meals from the kitchen; they fed each other and read from books in the small library, part of the schoolhouse, down the street.

If she’d been back in New Addison City, she would’ve attended a ball at least three times a week. There would have been carriage rides in the park, cafes in the mornings, shopping in the afternoons, and clubs at night. She could’ve flirted, spoken to the newspapers. She could’ve worn the latest fashions and watch other young women in the city copy her.

Yet, staying in a cramped inn with Clark had left her feeling more relaxed than she could remember.

“I have a telegram for you, I think.” The clerk rifled through a pile of papers. “The first names match, but not the last.”

Amethyst stiffened. Clark sent her father regular telegrams about their experiences—all made up to sound like peaceful tourists—and she sent letters when she felt like it. Before they’d left the ranch, she’d made her father promise to direct everything to “Clark and Amethyst.”

“Father,” she’d whined, “you know I love our name, but if people know we’re Treasures, it’ll be just like in the city! We’ll be
stalked
.”

He’d agreed to direct correspondences to their first names.

“What last name?” Clark shifted his stance and buttoned the front of his coat as if he didn’t care, but she felt his muscles tense.

Despite their quiet time, there’d been a sadness in him that had made her heart ache. She’d tried hard to make him laugh, but instead he’d wanted to hold her, listen to her read, and pet her. He’d never mentioned his father’s journal, and she’d not dared bring it up. As far as she knew, Eric hadn’t appeared while they were in Yahnke.

“Treasure.” The clerk pushed his spectacles up his nose. “Clark and Amethyst Treasure. Your last name is Grisham, though.”

Clark chuckled, tugging Amethyst to his side. “I love your father, Am.” To the clerk, he grinned. “Her father has the best sense of humor. He thinks it’s funny she has the same first name as
the Amethyst Treasure
.” He lifted his voice to imitate her.

She pinched his arm, forcing a laugh, and held out her hand. “Thank you for the telegraph.”

The clerk handed the scrap of paper over. “Not a problem.”

Amethyst unfolded it, her heart starting to pound. The name at the bottom made her scowl. Her mother had sent it. No wonder she’d used the wrong names.

“Is it urgent?” Clark asked as they exited through the front door.

“My mother said they’re having a Hedlund Day celebration. She requests our presence.” Amethyst crumpled the telegraph in her fist. “Isn’t it enough she made me come out here? Now she has to tell me where to go?”