Claim: A Novel of Colorado (The Homeward Trilogy) (16 page)

She studied his face as if she could see the realization come over him. He wasn’t ready for her to know.
Not yet.
He withdrew his hand from hers, rose, and turned away. “I need to step out for a bit. I’ll be back.” He pulled on a light coat to ward off the morning chill and then moved through the door, carefully closing it behind him.

He walked up the hill above the cabin until he was looking down at the moss-covered roof. A tendril of smoke curled and rose from the narrow chimney pipe, and he thought about Sabine sitting at the table, perhaps staring out the window after him, lost in her own thoughts. And Everett, happily munching away. Was it Sabine he loved? Or this sense of family he’d stepped into, almost by accident?

He put a hand on the back of his head and looked out to the valley. He’d been with many women before, some he’d fancied. But never had he proclaimed love for any of them. He had missed a couple, wondered about a few, but never longed for any until Sabine. Standing out here, he felt torn, wanting to be inside, beside her, reaching out and touching her even as a part of him writhed against what felt like increasing numbers of tethers tying him down.

Nic sat down, hard.
In love. So this is what it feels like.

Down below, the door of the cabin creaked open and then shut. Everett walked past the house and down a faint trail. Immediately Nic knew he was heading to his father’s grave site.
He must be missing Peter.
Was he as at ease in Nic and Sabine’s care as he seemed?

Nic rubbed his eyes and face and then rested his chin on his forearms, looking out to the mountain valley.
You’ve cobbled together a sort of family here, Lord. On purpose?

He heard no response, only the gentle breeze in the trees. His eyes scanned the mountains, some rolling and covered in pines, others fearsomely rugged and thrusting upward above the tree line, as if striving to reach their Creator. He thought of his father, who always professed belief in God but never really talked about Him. He thought of his mother, praying beside his bed each night. What would they think of Nic, here in Colorado, so near Odessa but still wrestling with something inside him that kept him from going to her?

The door down below creaked again, and Sabine walked out, looked around, saw him, then climbed up the hill. She sat down beside him, pulling up her knees and hugging them to her chest. She looked fresh and clean in her new skirt and blouse.

He held out his hand and after a half breath of hesitation, she slipped hers into it. They sat there for a while in companionable silence, staring outward. Then Nic said, “You think you can leave this place? For good?”

“I think so,” she said. “Sometimes it’s good to make a change.”

“Where would you go? If you had a fortune in your pocket?”

She thought on that for a bit, then glanced at him. “I … I don’t know. What about you?”

“Day by day, Sabine, I find myself hoping that wherever I go next, it’ll be near you and Everett.”

She smiled a little and looked to the valley, as if a bit embarrassed. But she kept her hand in his.

“I’ve had a fortune in my pocket before,” he said. “A few years ago, when my father died, and I split the proceeds from the sale of his publishing house with my sisters.”

She sucked in her breath. “You have sisters?”

“Two,” he said, smiling gently at the thought of them. “Odessa—she was sick with the consumption, so we came out here so she could get well.”

“Did she?”

“Yes. Married a rancher near Westcliffe. Bet they have a baby by now.”

“Westcliffe? That’s not far. You haven’t sent her a letter? Don’t you want to go see her?”

“Been a little busy since I arrived,” he said, sidestepping her question.

“And the other?”

“Moira. Last I heard she was in Paris, singing on the opera stage there. But it’s been a couple of years.”

“Paris,” Sabine said, lifting her brows as if that city were as far away as the moon. “My only sibling is Sinopa.”

Nic nodded. “Do you miss him when he goes?”

She shrugged. “We make no promises to each other. But he has been here for me when I needed him most.”

“I wish my sisters could say the same about me.”

“You failed them?”

He thought about that a moment. “I’m not certain they would say that. But my father would. He would have wanted me to stay close to them. Yet I took my share and traveled.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Europe, then the islands. Ended up in South America. Spent most of my inheritance by the time I got there. Then lost the rest when I was shanghaied. Eventually I got back to the States and here I am,” he said, shrugging his shoulders a little.

“Here you are,” she repeated, accepting his tale as if he were telling her about what had happened down in St. Elmo, not the far reaches of South America. She wasn’t like most women, pestering him with detailed questions. She seemed to accept him as he was now, what she knew of him. It was enough for her, it seemed. And there was something reassuring about that.

“Sabine, I’d like you to meet my sister Odessa. Do you think you … you would be willing to come with me for a visit? You and Everett?”

She smiled at him. “I’d like to know your sister. Both of your sisters.”

“You don’t want to find another mine property?”

She let out a light laugh. “After yesterday, I don’t care if I never step into a mine again. I only hope that the sheriff’s friends will be able to offer us enough to move on, see where God is leading.”

“Where God is leading,” he repeated softly. “Do you believe God is leading us? All of us?”

“I believe He shows us where to go. But it’s often only a few paces at a time.”

She sounded content with that. Nic, he wanted to see several miles down the road. He sat there, looking at the mountains, considering the idea of God leading him anywhere. He supposed God had been nudging him all along, here and there. He clearly remembered making a few decisions that felt defiant of anything his father or God would’ve approved of. He had reveled in those decisions at the time. He had been angry, so angry then.

Where had that anger gone? Increasingly it seemed like a distant memory.

She lifted his hand and peered at it more closely. “Where did you get these cuts? And this knuckle,” she said, touching a swollen joint that no longer bent, “what happened to you here?”

He hesitated. Would she fear him if she knew? He met her gaze, and finding only acceptance there, cleared his throat and said, “I used to fight, in the ring. Gambled my way from one corner of the country to another. Lost a few. Won a lot more.”

She had stilled and stared into his eyes. “When did you last fight, Nic?”

“On a ship heading up the coast of South America, about four months ago,” he said. He looked away, suddenly too fearful to continue looking in her eyes. “There was a sailor aboard, taunting me. We fought. And I was tied to the mast and whipped.”

“Whipped?”

He nodded. “Thirty lashes. And left to stand tied to the mast through the night.” He tucked his head to one side. “It wasn’t all bad. There was a coal boss aboard that spoke to me of God. I didn’t want to hear it then. But more and more, his words made sense to me. God has a claim on me. Has all along.”

Something had shifted in her. She was pulling away, in more than the physical sense. He held onto her hand as she stood and turned to face him. Her face held a new kind of fear that he’d never seen there before.

“Sabine,” he said. “I’m not that same man I once was. I know your husband … I’m not that sort of man. I was angry for a long while. Took it out on anyone I could. But not anymore. Not since that voyage … I’d never, ever hurt you. I swear it.”

She pulled back a little. “He used to swear he’d never hurt me again,” she said softly, glancing toward the creek.

“I will never hurt you, not even a first time. I promise it.” He let her go then.

She pulled her hand up and crossed her arms. Then she looked into his eyes, searching them as if she was trying to figure out if she could trust him.

Everett was running along the path below them. “Sabine! Nic! Nic!”

“We’re up here!” Nic called. But then he saw what had the boy concerned.

Rinaldi was back.

And he wasn’t alone.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Rinaldi’s head turned as if following Everett’s gaze on the hill. He rode up with two others right behind him. Sabine’s heart kicked up its pace. Nic stepped in front of her as Rinaldi’s horse pranced before him.

“Well, isn’t this cozy? The drifter and the schoolmarm, playing house.”

“What do you want?” Nic said.

Rinaldi dismounted and stood in front of him. He had a good six inches on Nic, but Nic did not step back, even as the man moved closer. Sabine slipped a hand around one of Nic’s arms, felt the power of it, and wondered if the confrontation would end in a brawl. It made her hands sweat, the thought of seeing Nic fighting. She never wanted to equate anything about her dead husband with this new man in her life.

Rinaldi pulled a piece of paper from an inside jacket pocket and slowly unfolded it. “I want you to sign this. Her too,” he said, letting his eyes linger on Sabine.

Nic shifted slightly to break off the man’s gaze. He took the papers, still staring impudently up at Rinaldi, and unfolded them slowly. His every action said,
I will not be rushed or pressured by you
. Sabine absorbed some of Nic’s strength in standing up to Rinaldi, who was frowning at Nic, ignoring her. Sabine hid a small smile.

Nic glanced over his shoulder at her and then turned to pass her the papers. Everett finally reached them, scrambling into their circle. “It’s a new offer,” Nic said in a monotone. “Seventy thousand for each of us. Half up front, half in a year. Points tied to earnings.”

Sabine took a step forward, so they stood shoulder to shoulder in front of Rinaldi. She shook her head and held out the sheets to him. “I told you in town. I don’t trust men who would burn a woman’s home down.” She glared up at him. “Especially when I was the woman in that burning cabin,” she said.

Rinaldi turned back to her. “It’s a good offer,” he said slowly. “More than fair. Take it.”

“And if we do not?” Nic asked.

“You don’t want to do that,” Rinaldi said, his eyes shifting slowly from the boy over to Nic and Sabine. “Not if you’re not ready for all-out war.” He backed up a step and lifted his hands. “Why not take it?”

Sabine let out a scoffing laugh. “Everyone in town knows how the men of the Dolly Mae robbed the original owner. Many promises were never fulfilled. It’s hardly a secret, Rinaldi.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let such idle gossip go unchallenged,” he said. “Not about my employers.” He nodded toward the papers, still in Sabine’s hand. “Sign them and be done with it.”

“You know that the sheriff is bringing his own investors up tomorrow, don’t you? That’s the reason for the pressure from you now.”

“Pressure?” Rinaldi said, one eyebrow lifting. “This is not pressure. This is more money than either of you have ever seen, or will ever see again. Take it, and we’ll all go to dinner tonight at Amy’s Restaurant in town to celebrate.”

“Tell you what,” Nic said, pulling the papers from Sabine’s hand and tapping them against Rinaldi’s chest. “You go and tell your bosses that we’ll get back to them tomorrow evening.”

Rinaldi shook his head. “No. The deal is only good if you sign today.”

“We’re not signing today.”

“Yes, yes you are,” he said, eyeing Sabine again. He glanced down at Nic. “Now.”

As he said the last word, the two men on either side of him moved in, grabbing hold of Nic’s arms. Everett yelled and pulled on the arm of the nearest man that held Nic. The man shoved him to the ground. Two others rode up the hill, but Sabine was concentrating on Rinaldi, who picked the papers up from the ground and then advanced toward her. She retreated as he came around Nic, who struggled against the two men, but could not get free.

Sabine lifted her hand and forced herself to stand her ground. She closed her eyes and waited until he neared, seeing in her mind’s eye her husband coming after her.
Help me, Lord. Help me.
Those days were long over, she reminded herself; why did she cower like it was happening now? She wished she had her rifle. From behind the gun sights, she never felt weak, exposed, vulnerable.

Shield me, Lord.
She prayed Rinaldi didn’t see her fear. A man like him fed on such emotions like a bear drawn to spawning salmon on the river.

Rinaldi grabbed her arm and shook her. “It’s a good offer, Sabine. Sign the pages and be done with it. No harm needs to come to you or yours.” He glanced over at Everett with a menacing look.

“Let go of her!” Nic shouted. He writhed and kicked at one man, shoving him away, but before he could free himself of the second, the first was back.

Rinaldi looked at him and then back to Sabine. A slow smile grew across his face. He pulled her in front of him and gave Nic a sneer. “This rattle you, St. Clair? Me, with my hands on your woman?”

“We have company, boss!” shouted a man down the hill.

Sheriff Nelson rode out of the trees, a deputy beside him. He scanned the group, and as he did so Rinaldi and his men let go of Sabine, Nic, and Everett. “You folks all right?” he called to Nic.

“We are now.” Nic turned and climbed the hill, taking Sabine’s hand and leading her away from Rinaldi. He circled Everett’s shoulder with his other hand, giving the child a reassuring look. They walked down toward the sheriff. The sheriff withdrew his revolver from its holster.

Rinaldi and his men followed—Sabine could hear the crunch of gravel behind them. Would there be a firefight? She feared for the sheriff. If they could get to the cabin’s front door, she might be able to reach Nic’s rifle, shove Everett into safety.…

Sheriff Nelson studied Nic, as if looking for silent clues as to what was truly transpiring.

“You come up here to make sure your fish don’t slip the net?” Rinaldi taunted the sheriff, as he entered the clearing.

“Came up here because I received word that you might be pressing a deal,” the sheriff returned. “What Sabine and Nic decide to do with their properties is up to them. And I’m here to make certain it is up to them. You fellows move along now. You’re on private property.”

“You don’t want to do this,” Rinaldi said lowly to the sheriff.

“I don’t?” His face held no trace of alarm.

“You know how it works in this valley, Sheriff. You don’t want a hundred men employed by the Dolly Mae to all be against you.…”

He glanced at his deputy and back to Rinaldi. “We’re striving to make St. Elmo a reputable town. We let you run roughshod across her citizens, we’re not doing our job.”

Sabine moved slowly toward the door, pulling Everett along. She and Nic shared a glance. Nic said something to Rinaldi, obviously buying her some time. In a moment they were by the door. In another she eased inside, daring to take her first full breath since Rinaldi had ridden into the clearing below the cabin. “Get down, beyond the window, Everett.”

“But I wanna see what—”

“Do as I say,” she snapped in fear. She pulled a revolver from a small desk drawer and handed it to Everett. “Anyone but Nic, the sheriff, or his deputy come through that door, you shoot him. Understood?”

The boy nodded, eyes wide. She knew Peter had taught him how to use the gun, but she hoped he wouldn’t have to do so. She edged the door shut slowly, hoping not to rile any of the men outside, and reached above it for the rifle, which she loaded. She cracked open the door and aimed at the nearest of Rinaldi’s men. They’d taken Nic’s revolver and flung it to the ground up above the cabin. At least the sheriff and deputy were still armed too. But they were outnumbered, two to one.

“What are you going to do?” the sheriff asked Rinaldi. “You kill me and my deputy, there will be a posse after you, Dolly Mae men or not. Dell, Kazin, they don’t want that kind of attention.”

Rinaldi glanced from the sheriff to Nic. “You know his boys will never offer you what we’ve offered. Take the deal, St. Clair.”

“As I told you before,” Nic said, “I might do that. But not until after tomorrow night, once the sheriff’s contacts have a chance to survey the properties and make us an offer themselves.”

Rinaldi’s jaw muscles worked, and he pulled off his hat, wiped the sweat from his brow, eyed the sheriff once, and then looked at his men. “Let’s be on our way, gentlemen. There is nothing else for us here.” He mounted his horse and looked down at Nic. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Nic said nothing in response. In minutes, Rinaldi and his men were gone. The sheriff and deputy dismounted, and Sabine and Everett came out of the cabin. Nic reached out to shake the men’s hands. “Glad you fellows arrived when you did. It would not have ended well for us.”

The sheriff nodded to Sabine. “I wouldn’t stay up here tonight if I were you,” he said. “The Dolly Mae bosses might resort to extreme measures. Don’t want to see any more cabins on fire. Why don’t you come down? Spend the night in the hotel?”

Nic hesitated. It had taken most of their gold dust to outfit Sabine again, after losing everything. And the St. Elmo Hotel didn’t run cheap, making what they could off of miners yet to stake a claim. And they’d need two rooms.

But the sheriff was right. It wasn’t safe here. Not tonight. Visions of Sabine’s cabin caving in, firelight dancing off the surrounding trees like giant shadowed ghouls came back to him. Had that only been five days ago?

“You and Everett could bunk with me,” the sheriff said, obviously noticing his hesitation. “Then there’d only be one hotel room to pay for.”

“Thank you, but no,” Nic said firmly. He didn’t want to owe the sheriff, and he didn’t feel comfortable leaving Sabine alone in the hotel. It’d be best if they were in two rooms, within shouting distance of each other, should anyone dare to attack them there.

“Suit yourself,” the sheriff said with a shrug. He nodded toward the cabin. “Why don’t you gather your things? We’ll see you safely to town.”

o

Sabine gathered her dress, trousers, shirt, and a hairbrush, tying them up in a blanket, and then helped Everett collect his things too. They reached town by noon and sat down at Amy’s Restaurant for a meal. Afterward, Everett walked across the busy street to a scrap pile beside the lumber mill, and Nic and Sabine followed. Dozens of chipmunks hopped and crawled over and under the boards.

“Amy feeds ’em scraps,” Jed said to Sabine and Nic when he spotted them watching the boy. “Been doing it for a couple years, so the little varmints don’t know what to do when she has no bread left at the end of the day.”

Everett held out his hand. A chipmunk ran into it, sniffed for food and found none, and so moved on.

“Heard you folks are in for some good money on your claims,” Jed said.

Nic met Sabine’s gaze, then looked back to him. “We’re hoping so.”

“Smart of you, to come down to town tonight,” Jed said lowly. “Don’t be out past nightfall, I’m tellin’ ya. Best to turn in early.” His shaggy eyebrows lifted in sincere admonition. He wasn’t threatening them; he was simply warning them of what he knew to be true.

Sabine looked down the busy street. Wagons and horses moved in both directions. But across from them, about a block down, two men leaned against the side of the bank building, staring their way. Watching them. She turned to Nic.

“I see them,” he said quietly.

Jed didn’t follow her gaze. “You’re playin’ it right. Just keep on doin’ what you’re doin’. And stay in public places. Those Dolly Mae boys, they can be rough at times. But they don’t want no messes.”

“Thanks, Jed,” Nic said, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Anytime! Take care, folks.” He waved across the way to Everett, rousing him from his fascination with the chipmunks.

“Ev, let’s go choose a book from the mercantile. It’ll keep your mind occupied tonight,” Sabine said, “when we’re cooped up in the hotel.”

“All right,” Everett said enthusiastically. “Can I choose it? Maybe one of those Western dime novels?”

“Maybe,” she said. She left a light hand on his shoulder and they crossed the street, Nic right behind them. At the store, he stayed outside, keeping watch while they did their shopping. She was about to go out and ask Nic for the coins she needed, when he arrived, added a couple apples, a loaf of bread, and a wedge of cheese to the pile on the counter. Supper. It’d save them some money. He paid and escorted them out.

“Straight to the hotel,” he said in a low voice.

She glanced around his shoulder but saw nothing. Still, she moved as he directed. In a few minutes, they arrived at the St. Elmo Hotel and checked in, opting for a room for Everett and Nic, and a second for her.

The woman at the desk looked over her spectacles and down her nose when Nic requested the rooms be side by side. “Mr. St. Clair, we are a reputable hotel.” She glanced at Everett, and over Sabine, and her scowl grew. “A block down, you’ll find the Brass Horseshoe. They’ll gladly—”

“It is for Mrs. LaCrosse’s
safety
that I must be next door,” Nic said tightly. He tapped on her log book. “Nothing untoward will be transpiring upstairs. Please, we’d like our two keys as soon as possible. We are all in need of a rest.”

The woman looked all three of them over again and then reluctantly dipped her pen in the inkwell and wrote in their names. Then she turned to pull two keys off a board filled with hooks and turned back to hand them over. “Room 208 and 209.”