Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1) (2 page)

Deftly, Jack changed the subject. “Missouri Dan rode down from Placerville with me, and we spent last night just north of here. I didn’t get much sleep, though, because Dan made me dig most of the night....”

Katie responded to the gleam in his eyes. “Dig?”

“Seems that last fall Dan discovered some gold over near Fraser River and brought it here to be weighed. There was more than five thousand dollars’ worth, but he decided to put it away for safekeeping rather than take it along to Placerville—”

“Or have it stolen by the Griffin!” Katie exclaimed.

“I think the Griffin specializes in stagecoaches, lass,” her father murmured.

“Anyway,” Jack continued, “Dan chose a clump of five pine trees near a stream, and buried the gold there. The winter in Placerville wasn’t financially rewarding, so Dan was anxious to get to his pine trees last night and dig up that treasure.” The corners of Jack’s mouth slowly turned up as he paused to sip his water. “The stars were out as we came over the crest of the hill, but instead of lighting up Dan’s clump of pine trees, they shone down on a vast, cleared field and a newly built cabin.”

Katie gasped. “Someone had settled there!”

“That’s right.” He nodded, more than a little amused, his eyes twinkling as they met hers. “They’d not only cut down Missouri Dan’s pine trees, but they’d also planted grain. Of course, he wouldn’t give up without a fight. Made me dig alongside him all night long until that field of grain was covered with holes. I just prayed that the farmer wouldn’t wake up! As it is, I shudder to imagine the look on his face when he saw his field this morning.”

“Don’t suppose you found the gold?” Brian asked hopefully.

“Of course not! Dan’s in the blackest of moods. I left him digging one last hole before dawn, but I heard that he was at Big Annie’s this morning—” He cut himself off, realizing that he shouldn’t have mentioned Big Annie’s bawdy house in front of Katie. “Well, no doubt Dan’ll be appearing here any minute to drown his sorrows. He was ranting all night about the good old days when people didn’t go around cutting down trees in these parts. According to Dan, a man can’t depend on anything now.”

“He should have put the money in the bank,” Katie said.

“Now
there’s
a civilized suggestion! Not Dan’s style, I’m afraid.” Jack laughed lightly as his eyes wandered over her face and settled on the thick braid that hung down Katie’s back. “You’re an uncommonly pretty girl, Miss MacKenzie. You’d have men lining up outside just to look at you if you’d change your style. Why not free your hair?”

Katie took a step backward, bumping her elbow against a decanter of brandy. “I prefer to wear it this way. It’s cooler.” Her cheeks felt hot. “And neater.”

“She’s a stubborn girl,” Brian told Adams.

“I don’t give you men advice about what clothes to wear or how to comb your hair, so I suggest that you show me the same courtesy,” Katie said, recovering her composure. “Besides, why would I want to be examined by a lot of strange men?”

“I can’t imagine.” Jack bit back a smile. “I humbly apologize.”

“Apology accepted. If you are starved for the sight of female beauty, you ought to visit the new German dancing girls at Darling’s Dango Hall.” Picking up
Jane Eyre
, she turned to her father and said, “Papa, since you have urged me to do as I please today, I believe I’ll go over to the
Gazette
and write an article about Missouri Dan’s adventure. I think our readers might find the story very entertaining.”

“Wouldn’t you rather spend your birthday seeking some entertainment for yourself?”

“I love to write, so that is entertainment.” Katie kissed his cheek, then smiled politely at Jack. “Meeting you has been very interesting, Mr. Adams. Have a safe journey.”

“That’s kind of you, but I’m not leaving Columbia just yet, Miss MacKenzie. I feel certain we’ll meet again.” He gave her a lazy smile. “Happy birthday.”

Jack watched Katie cross the saloon and stride out into the sunshine, idly noting her slim back, narrow waist, and gently curving hips. When he turned back, he discovered that Brian was contemplating him thoughtfully.

“I don’t know what to do with that lass,” MacKenzie said, sighing. “Twenty years old today and she’s acting like there’s no hurry to marry. I don’t think it even crosses her mind! Not that any of the men around here are worthy of her. Many of the best are off fighting in the war between the North and South.” He shook his head. “It’s a difficult bride who’s not only beautiful but also smarter than most men. She’s hardworking and has a mind of her own, but she’s quick to laugh, too, and—”

“MacKenzie,” Jack put in softly, his expression knowing yet amused, “why are you telling me this?”

He looked down the bar at the bouquet of lilies and larkspur. “Well, I—I’ve no idea!”

“Neither do I.” He patted the older man’s shoulder, then stood up and brushed the dust from his smooth buckskin pants. “I’m off to have a bath and a shave, get my clothes laundered, and take a room above the U.S. Bakery and Coffee Saloon.” He put some coins on the bar. “Thanks for the water and conversation, MacKenzie. Buy Missouri Dan a drink for me when he comes in, will you?”

“Be glad to.” Brian picked up the coins and looked at them for a moment. “If you want a clean bed and home cooking, you’re welcome to stay with us. I like you.”

Jack stopped at the door and glanced back, his wide shoulders and lean hips outlined against the sunlight. “That’s a kind offer. I’ll consider it.”

* * *

Katie made her way down Columbia’s dusty Main Street which was shaded by trees of heaven, their spreading boughs abuzz with bees. She waved to the blacksmith and greeted an elderly couple coming out of the Cheap Cash Store, but otherwise the street was quiet. Constructed since the fires of 1854 and 1857, the handsome brick buildings had sturdy doors and windows with tall, green shutters made of fire-resistant iron. Many of the facades boasted fancy ironwork balconies cast in Troy, New York, and brought by ship around Cape Horn.

“Hello, Katie!”

She looked over to see her friend Lim Sung emerging from his father’s Chinese laundry. Lim was a thin, wiry boy of eighteen whose cheery smile never failed to brighten her spirits. “Hello, Lim! Can you come to the
Gazette
with me? I have to write a story.”

He fell in beside her, his smile fading. “I don’t think they like me there.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Katie said, dismissing her friend’s comment with a wave of her hand. “Besides, I doubt anyone will be there now.”

Lim Sung and his parents were among the handful of Chinese who had been allowed, grudgingly, to remain in Columbia after the fire of 1857. Prejudice against them was rampant throughout the gold country. People insisted that the Chinese were sneaky and untrustworthy, blaming them for thefts, fires, and other crimes. The customs and beliefs they had brought from China made the miners all the more mistrustful, but Katie knew that their prejudice was rooted in ignorance and jealousy. The Chinese people she knew were hardworking, industrious, and patient. Indeed, it was their infinite patience that maddened the other settlers. Many a miner had given up on a claim only to have it taken over and worked painstakingly by a Chinese family with successful results. Now that the gold was playing out, a great deal of general frustration was increasingly being taken out on the Chinese population.

As they passed the D. O. Mills Bank Building, Katie glanced over at Lim Sung. In a fresh white shirt and loose black silk trousers, he looked alien and out of place. His hair was drawn back into a long queue, which accentuated his high cheekbones, and his uptilted eyes were dark and fathomless. To others he was a foreigner, an outcast to be feared and rejected. But to Katie he was just Lim—her childhood companion, her trusted friend.

Lim met her gaze and smiled. He couldn’t imagine life without Katie. She was his bridge to the white world, his friend, teacher, and counselor. When they were little children, they had sat under the trellis of morning glory in front of the MacKenzie house while she shared her lessons with him, teaching him not only to read and write in English, but to speak the white man’s language without a trace of his parents’ accent. He would never forget the debt he owed her.

“Look what my father gave me for my birthday,” Katie said now, holding up her book. “
Jane Eyre.
It’s a wonderful, haunting romance that takes place in England.”

Lim grinned as they turned up Washington Street toward the
Gazette
office. “How can a romance be both wonderful and haunting?”

“This one is! Charlotte Bronte is a very talented author.”

“A lady wrote this book?” he exclaimed in surprise.

Opening the door to the
Gazette’s
cramped offices, she was about to reply when Gideon Henderson called to her from his desk. “Katie! I’m glad you’re here. I need you to take over Owly Shaw’s duties. He’s ridden over to Murphys to talk to the stage driver.”

“The stage driver?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Gideon’s glasses slid down his nose as he sorted through the papers littering his desk, perpetually in search of the one that wasn’t there. “The Griffin robbed the Sonora stage this morning! Took a thousand dollars in gold off one of the passengers, but left the others in peace. He’s the confoundedest stagecoach robber I’ve ever heard of!” As an afterthought, Henderson picked up a piece of white linen from among the papers and tossed it to Katie. “Care for a souvenir?”

She stared down at the snowy handkerchief, its corner embroidered with the figure of an animal that appeared to be half eagle, half lion. Katie swallowed hard and whispered, “It’s a
griffin....”

Chapter 2

June 21, 1864

Carrying a chicken, freshly killed and plucked, and a bag of potatoes, Katie approached the white frame house she shared with her father. Located on a quiet corner of Jackson Street, it was not as grand as some built with gold fortunes, yet she loved it for its cozy charm.

Beneath the profusion of vivid blue morning glory blossoms that spilled over the porch roof, Katie saw that the front door was ajar. Juggling the chicken and vegetables, she gently pushed open the door with her hip, passed through into the kitchen, and stopped, staring.

A man stood gazing out the back window, his physique framed by lace curtains and sunlight. Katie took in the damp hair that curled slightly across back of his head and grazed his tanned neck. A freshly pressed white shirt set off straight, square shoulders and a tapering back. The man stood with his hands on lean hips encased in faded dungarees. His feet were bare.

An unfamiliar sensation rushed through Katie’s body, settling in her midsection as she regarded this vital figure. The image of the curls against the male neck and the line of his shoulders and back burned into her brain. The sack of potatoes slipped from her grasp, rumbling upon impact with the scrubbed floorboards.

The man turned, and a thoroughly disconcerted Katie met the green eyes of Jack Adams. Before she could speak, he was crouching to retrieve the potatoes.

“I must have startled you,” he said, glancing up to smile into her eyes. “Your father invited me to stay here, but perhaps he should have consulted with you?”

“Oh, no....” Katie glanced away, saw the taut muscles in his thighs as he rose slowly, and murmured, “Here? You’re staying here?”

“If this poses a problem...” Jack set the potatoes on the table which was covered with a cheerful yellow-sprigged cloth. He tried again to capture her gaze.

“Of course not!” She laughed brightly. “Why would it be a problem? My father and I frequently entertain house guests.”

“I just thought perhaps
I
might be the problem. You don’t like me, do you?”

“You flatter yourself, Mr. Adams. I have no opinion about you one way or the other.” She put the chicken on the table and crossed to get a pot from a cupboard under the pine dresser. Glancing back, she saw that his eyes were twinkling. “As it happens, I have more important matters on my mind.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes. The Griffin has struck again!”

“Your tone of voice seems to indicate that this is dramatic news. Isn’t the Griffin just another stage robber?”

Katie’s eyes widened with disbelief as she opened the back door. “Don’t you read the newspapers, Mr. Adams? But then, maybe you can’t read at all. Most of the miners of my acquaintance are not intellectually inclined.”