Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1) (9 page)

Chapter 6

June 30-July 2, 1864

Katie cleaned the jars of brandied fruit that were lined up beneath the saloon’s huge mirror. It was late, and Brian was hanging a “Closed” sign in the window while Abby swept the floor. At the bar, Jack Adams folded his copy of the
Columbia Gazette
and drained his cup of tea. Abby watched him, brown eyes filled with longing as she dragged the broom over the same spot for the third time.

“That’s quite a piece you wrote about the Griffin, Miss MacKenzie,” Jack said, handing her his empty cup. “Your store of knowledge about the man is impressive.”

Katie ignored the teasing note in his voice. “I take pride in my work, Mr. Adams.”

For a moment he was tempted by the challenge of making her smile, or at least look at him, but fatigue won out. All too soon five o’clock would arrive again, and he would be forced to awaken and begin another day of work in the offices of the Rush Mine. Besides, Katie’s usual barriers to communication between them had been impenetrable since the day she had learned of his employment by Van Hosten. Most of the time Jack was too busy or exhausted to make more than a halfhearted attempt to pierce her armor. Today it seemed easier to wait for her to grow tired of the game herself.

Now he merely said amiably, “Well, I’m sure that the Griffin, wherever he may be tonight, is flattered by your interest.” Before Katie could reply, Jack crossed the bare floor to exchange a few affectionate words with Abby. Then, with a yawn and a half wave at Brian, he left the saloon.

Abby’s eyes lingered on the swinging door. Moments later, her sweeping done, she disappeared into the back room. Katie was ready to go home to bed herself, but something in the older woman’s demeanor troubled her. After a moment’s consideration, she walked down the back hallway and met Abby coming out of the dark storage room.

“Good heavens!” Abby gasped. “Miss MacKenzie, you startled me!”

Katie was certain she smelled liquor on Abby’s breath. “Haven’t I asked you to call me Katie?” she said, then paused, torn between disapproval and concern. “Abby, perhaps I’ve been too busy or preoccupied to extend a proper hand of friendship to you since you came to Columbia. In any case I want to correct that oversight now. I know that you have been going through a difficult time, and I hope that you haven’t felt all alone in your new home....”

In the shadows, Abby self-consciously raised a hand to her mouth. “You’re very kind... Katie. Thank you.” She tried to escape, but Katie touched her arm.

“Is there something in particular that’s bothering you? It might help to talk about it.”

“I—no... well, I can’t say that I’m exactly
happy
these days, but that’s to be expected, isn’t it? Life seldom turns out as we hope, and I’m learning not to hope anymore.” Tears glistened in her eyes.

“What had you hoped for here?” Katie asked gently.

“I know it’s not fair to draw conclusions about my future in Columbia after only a few days... but I suppose I expected to see a bit more of Jack. Before he came to visit me, I kept pretty much to myself, partly because I just didn’t feel like seeing anyone after Ben died and partly because we lived miles away from anyone else. When Jack rode up, he brought hope and laughter back into my world. He’s so
alive,
isn’t he?” She gazed at Katie with searching eyes, waiting for her nod before continuing, “I see now that it was foolish of me, but I suppose I hoped that I could continue to lean on him here in Columbia. I’m sure he cares for me, and would rush to my aid if I were truly in need, but it’s clear that he has his own life to lead and expects me to stand on my own two feet.”

“That’s hard, isn’t it?” Katie couldn’t forget that worrisome whiff of liquor.

“Well, I have to accept that Jack is one of those lone wolves. He has a good heart, but he’ll never be committed to anyone. He needs his freedom.”

Katie nodded, mulling this over, then put an arm around Abby. There were many things she longed to say, but she compromised with, “You must reach out to the rest of us. Jack Adams isn’t your only friend in Columbia. If you need to talk to someone, I hope you’ll come to me.”

Abby managed a faltering smile. “I appreciate that.”

* * *

The night was warm, and the barest breeze caressed the white curtains at Katie’s windows. In spite of the late hour, she found that she couldn’t sleep. Sitting on the edge of her bed, clad in a long, filmy nightgown of cotton lawn, she reread her article about the Griffin. The last few paragraphs had taken courage for her to write and courage for Gideon to print:

The Griffin’s legend grows with each new stage robbery. Some feel that his allure lies in the mystery of his identity and the flair with which he carries off his crimes. Others contend that he has found favor with the people because they do not perceive him to be a criminal at all, but rather a modern-day Robin Hood balancing the scales of justice.

The Griffin’s motive is a cause for speculation. The most popular theory casts him as a miner who was cheated by Rush and/or Van Hosten, yet he appears to be more refined than any of the miners known to the citizens of Columbia. In these times, when it is common for revenge to be sought with ruthless violence, the Griffin is an enigma.

Many hope privately that this outlaw-hero will never be caught. And perhaps the Griffin will stop preying upon certain stagecoaches traveling the twisting roads of the foothills. Perhaps he’ll grant Rush and Van Hosten a reprieve if they deal fairly with their own employees....

Sighing, Katie crossed the room and set the newspaper on her bureau. Then, pensively, she opened the top drawer, taking out the fine linen handkerchief with its miniature griffin embroidered in the corner. She’d never known a man who owned anything so uniquely tasteful. The Griffin had style, but more important, he had principles that he upheld above personal gain. Katie felt a surge of anger as she thought of the man who lay slumbering on a cot in her parlor.

She was just about to extinguish the oil lamp on her bedside table when a sound in the kitchen made her straighten up. Peeking out of her room, she saw a shadowy figure fumbling at the dresser shelves.

“What’s going on?” she called softly, emerging into the narrow kitchen. “Is that you, Papa?”

“No, it’s me.”

Outside, a cloud passed, uncovering the moon and sending a silvery ray of light through the window to illumine Jack Adams. He turned to face her, and Katie saw that he wore only drawers that rode low on his lean hips. The moonbeam skimmed the sleek, muscled planes of his chest, the clean, square lines of his shoulders, the long, hard curves of his arms, the ridges of his belly...

“Kathleen?”

Her eyes had touched the shadowed indentation of his navel, but now they flew up to meet Jack’s gaze, which seemed more penetratingly than ever in the darkness. “I thought you were asleep, Mr. Adams.”

“I was looking for a glass. I’m thirsty.”

Katie moved around the table to stand beside him, took a glass from the shelf, then felt for the pitcher of water and filled it. When she turned to hand it to him, her left breast, covered only by a thin layer of cotton, brushed Jack’s chest. His sudden intake of breath was audible, just as it seemed to Katie that the sound of her heartbeat filled the room.

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely, taking the glass from her hand.

She wanted to weep with confusion. How could her own body betray her so outrageously? Every fiber of her being was tensed and tingling with arousal. Praying for deliverance, she took a step backward. “I’m going to bed now.”

To her horror, Jack reached for her hand. The pressure of his warm, strong fingers sent a wave of intense sensation through her body. “I wish you would try not to hate me so, Kathleen,” he murmured. “I keep remembering that rare, radiant smile you bestowed upon me the other afternoon. Will you never smile again in my presence?”

Katie took another step backward, freeing her hand. “I don’t hate you, Mr. Adams, but I cannot respect you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m very tired. You should go to sleep yourself. Your esteemed employer would be displeased if you were tardy.”

Jack watched her go. When she had gained the safety of her bedroom, she paused for an instant in the doorway. The lamplight from within cast its golden glow over the curves of Katie’s body beneath her lawn nightgown. Her rich ebony hair swirled as she reached back to shut the door, leaving Jack alone once more in the darkness.

* * *

“My father is talking about leaving Columbia,” Lim Sung remarked. Perched on a grassy cliff overlooking the magnificent Stanislaus River west of Columbia, he stared pensively at the ribbon of blue-green water far below.

Katie, who had been lying on her back studying the clouds overhead, sat up with a start. “What?!”

“You are surprised? We haven’t felt comfortable here since the fire of fifty-seven. Certainly we are pleased that people trusted us enough to believe we were not responsible for the fires or any of the other crimes they were blaming on the Chinese, but it did leave us in an awkward position. After all, being one of the few Chinese families legally allowed to remain in town...” A warm dry breeze mussed Lim’s black hair as he plucked the petals from a cluster of fragrant wallflower blossoms.

“But—all your friends are here!”

He gave her a wry look. “Katie, you and your father are our only real friends. And one day you’ll get married, and your husband won’t want me around.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she said stubbornly. “I’m not getting married, especially not to someone who would try to choose my friends!”

“I must respect my father’s wishes. Aaron Rush has offered him a handsome price for the laundry, and Father thinks that we should go to San Francisco and make a new start while he is still able.” Lim’s fine mouth curved in a half smile. “I would like to marry one day. Whom would you suggest among the young ladies of Columbia? Sally Barnstaple?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake you’re only eighteen. Just because you’re feeling randy, you needn’t get carried away! And how can your father consider selling to that villain Rush?”

“Mr. Rush has made a very tempting offer. You know that Columbia has declined more than ever this year, and people say that life will return to our town only if buildings are razed so that the lots can be mined. Our laundry sits on an important piece of land.”

“If you give in, it will just mean more power for Rush and Van Hosten!” Katie cried.

Lim shrugged philosophically. “Business has been most depressed here, Katie, as you well know. Everything else in Columbia is drying up. If Rush and Van Hosten can revive the mining industry, it will mean renewed prosperity for your family as well.”

Katie threw herself back down in the grass and sulked. “This conversation is most annoying! If your father decides to sell and go to San Francisco, why can’t you stay here for a while? You can work at the saloon, and then, in a couple of years, we can
both
go to San Francisco.”

“Well... we’ll see.” Lim knew better than to continue what was obviously a fruitless discussion. “Nothing is definite now, but my first loyalty is to my family.” He got to his feet and brushed the brick-red flower petals from his trousers. “I must go now, Katie. Will you come?”

“No. I think I’ll stay here for a while and... rest.”

Lim Sung shaded his eyes and gazed down at her. “None of this means I am any less devoted to you. You’re my best friend, my favorite flower.”

“I know, Lim. I don’t mean to be a crybaby, but the prospect of life here without you is so sad.”

He smiled. “You will adjust. No one will ever quell your spirit.”

“I’ll see you later, Lim....” She rose on an elbow to watch him wade through the high grass. When he turned onto Parrotts Ferry Road which curved back around the hill toward Columbia, Katie lay back and closed her eyes, trying not to think about her multiplying problems. When next she opened them, it was to discover that the grassy bluff had grown hazy with pink-tinted dusk.

A voice said, “Thank God! You’re alive.”

Katie blinked and turned her head. Next to her crouched Jack Adams, his hands resting lightly on buckskin-sheathed thighs. His face, which wore an expression of mild amusement, was bronzed in the mellow light.

“Of course I’m alive,” Katie said, gathering her wits. “I must have fallen asleep.”

He chuckled. “Well, you’ll have to pardon my concern. I’m not used to the sight of you lying prone and silent.”