Deborah Camp (39 page)

“I hope you think this was worth getting killed over, Pa” she said, raising a hand and shaking her finger in a gentle scolding gesture. “Telling Boone that you’d found something in here got you a bullet in the back and got me a lying suitor. Real funny, Pa. It’s a hoot, I tell ya’.” A sob broke from her; then tears stung her eyes. “Oh, pooh! What am I crying for now? I knew there wouldn’t be nothing in here! I knew it!”

But the disappointment was nonetheless real. She’d been harboring a slight hope that her pa hadn’t died because of a bad joke. One thing was sure. When Boone came back to look at her progress, he’d see that she’d reached the end and he would slink off, never to slither over her property again.

“Slimy snake,” she hissed, more than ever hating Boone and his pitiful performance as her ardent admirer.

She shifted irritably and stretched out her legs, crossed her ankles, and closed her eyes. Her thoughts moved unerringly to Rook. She wondered if he was back East by now or if he’d returned to Eureka Springs for Blackie’s funeral. She thought of going to the funeral just to see Rook, then wondered if that was too hypocritical. Shouldn’t the people at the funeral be those who would miss the deceased? She wouldn’t miss Blackie. She was glad he was dead. The world was a better place for it.

Wood splintered and the boards suddenly gave way with a loud crack. Cassie let out a squeal of alarm as she fell backward, landing on her back with a thump and striking her head on the hard ground.

“Ouch! Damn it!” She squeezed her eyes shut and placed a hand at the back of her head feeling for the lump she was sure would develop. Then she reached out blindly, righted the oil lamp, and pulled it closer to her. “That’s what you get for lollygagging around in here,” she scolded herself, wincing at the throbbing in her head. She sat quietly with her eyes closed, waiting for the pain and dizziness to subside.

She opened her eyes slowly after several minutes but closed them again when she saw stars. After a few moments, she tried again. Stars still floated before her, and
Cassie forced her eyes to focus. The stars became pinpoints and multiplied, but they didn’t disappear. Cassie held up the lamp and the brilliance danced around her, making her forget her discomfort and filling her with bright hope. She rose to her knees and walked on them until her nose was an inch from the patch of shiny wall she’d been facing. She held the lamp up high so that its light could bounce off the glittering surface. Stardust, she thought, smiling. No, it’s like fairy dust: Stuff of miracles. Fabric of dreams.

The wall glittered, glimmered, mocked her, awed her.

“Great balls of fire,” she breathed, reaching out a trembling hand to touch the sparkling three-foot-by-two-foot area. She looked down at the rubble just below it. The earth was soft, as if it had been chipped away only recently. But how could that be, unless—

A bubble of hysteria rose in her and escaped in a snatch of laughter. “Pa, you weren’t nuts after all,” she whispered, running her free hand down the starry slab of earth. Earth and fire, she thought with another giggle.

When had Shorty decided to tear off the boards and have a good look-see inside here? she wondered. And how in heaven’s name had he kept from blurting out his discovery to her? What had kept him from telling her? Had he wanted to get someone to confirm his find first before he broke the news to his daughter? Had he found this treasure before or after he’d drawn up the will?

Cassie examined the area more carefully and was finally able to confirm that this section had been mined only a few months ago. Piles of rubble and dirt littered the ground; they had not been hauled out but had been left inside the tunnel. The ceiling was low, so low that Cassie had to double over as she walked down the narrow corridor. At the far end she found the evidence she sought—Shorty’s drinking cup, pickax, tobacco pouch, and handkerchief. Shorty had sneaked back here and chipped away while Cassie was at home cooking or cleaning. Hell, he might’ve even come out here in the middle of the night, for all Cassie knew, and worked the mine while she slept. The old fox! He must’ve smelled the treasure but had kept it to himself until he was completely certain of it. There’d been
so many other false alarms over the years that he probably didn’t want to raise Cassie’s hopes again for nothing. Maybe he even had trouble believing it himself! After all, she was staring right at the patch of glitter now and finding it very difficult believing her own eyes.

A little voice inside her head kept whispering, “It’s a trick. Those aren’t diamonds. The mine is worthless. Haven’t you said so a thousand times or more?”

She stood back and pressed her hand to her forehead as she forced herself to think rationally and not listen to those pesky inner voices. How had Boone found out? How much did he know? Did he know it was diamonds, or did he think Shorty had been mining for gold?

When Shorty was with Boone that last time, he might’ve let it slip that he thought there might be diamonds in the mine. Then, after Shorty was dead, Boone might just have decided to wait it out until the diamonds showed up or they didn’t, she rationalized. Boone was letting her do the work while he would come by from time to time to check on her progress. In the meantime, he was saying all those pretty things just to get her to give him the mineral rights, in case Shorty’s predictions came true.

If only Shorty had kept his mouth shut. If only he hadn’t gotten drunk that night and blabbed everything. If only … Cassie ran a hand down her face, remembering her pa’s favorite saying about not crying over spilled milk. What was done was done, she told herself. She had to revise her thinking and figure out what to do now that the played-out mine wasn’t through playing after all. Her next thought was so childish and so whimsical, she had to laugh—maybe there were things like good fairies in the world after all, and one had taken a liking to her.

“Diamonds,” she said, giggling. “Not gold like we always thought! Diamonds!” She closed her eyes for a few moments as the enormity of her discovery began to sink in.

A darkly handsome face appeared in her mind’s eye. A smile quivered on her lips as she recalled that special look Rook had given her the last day they’d worked together in the mine.

“Oh, Rook,” Cassie said with a long sigh. “I wish you were here to see this.”

After confirming her claim at the Patent Right Agency, Cassie walked briskly along the boardwalk toward the bank. She was vaguely aware of heads turning as she swept past the usual assortment of men who were to be found along the main street of the town, hurrying along on business or just passing the time of day. Their attention bothered her, and she wondered if the violet dress Jewel had given her after having her soiled clothes burned was too gaudy. Cassie tugged at the brim of her straw bonnet in a futile effort to conceal her face from the appreciative glances of the strangers she passed. Her high-topped shoes clicked smartly along the irregular boards of the sidewalk as she quickened her pace to a near trot. Nobody had ever given her a second look before; instead of feeling flattered, she found it unnerved her. By the time she reached the bank she was all a bundle of nerves.

Boone looked up from his desk and surprise slackened his jaw before pleasure curved his mouth into a smile. He stood up and held out his hands to her, taking one of hers and helping her into; the chair beside his desk. He didn’t speak for a few moments, giving Cassie a chance to catch her breath. He slowly took his chair again, an unctuous expression on his face.

“Cassie, you look lovely as usual. No, wait …” He stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “I believe you look
more
lovely than usual, if that’s possible. That’s my favorite dress.”

“I’ve only got a few to wear,” she said, folding her gloved hands in her lap and clutching her tapestry purse.

He smiled winningly and rested an elbow on the desk as he leaned toward her. “What brings you visiting today? Have you thought about letting the bank help you with your finances? Remember, we discussed—”

“Yes, I remember what we discussed,” Cassie said, abruptly interrupting him. Then she decided to temper her brusque tone, although his latest clumsy attempt to swindle her out of what was rightfully hers incensed her. “I’ve
been giving it some thought.” She glanced at him from beneath the flutter of her lashes and could almost sense the quickening of his pulse. “But I haven’t yet made up my mind. I’ll have an answer for you Saturday, I reckon.”

“Saturday?”

“Yes, I’ll be back in town Saturday.” She smiled, waiting for him to take the bait. He swallowed it whole.

“That’s wonderful! Won’t you have dinner with me Saturday evening?”

“Well,” she said hesitantly, to keep him dangling on her line, “only if it’s an early dinner. I’ll have to get back to the place before it gets too late.”

“I understand. Of course we’ll make it an early dinner. Say around six?”

“That’d be fine.” She perked up, smiling encouragingly at him. “I’m sure I’ll have decided about the mine by then. I think your offer is very generous, Boone.” She rested her hand briefly on top of his and then rose regally from the chair, feeling justly proud of her performance. She was getting real good at flirting and deception.

“Must you leave so soon?” Boone asked, also rising from his chair and rolling down his shirtsleeves.

“I must be getting along.” Looking out the street window, she sighed. “All these people! The town’s busting its seams.”

“They’re waiting for the celebration.”

“The what?” she asked, turning back to him. “What kind of celebration?”

“Haven’t you heard about Blackie Colton being shot here?”

“Oh, yes.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I heard about that, but spilling blood isn’t the least bit interesting to me.” Cassie raised her gaze to Boone’s and was amazed that he didn’t flinch or appear uneasy under her cool scrutiny. “Are you interested in killing and murdering?”

“Me?” He spread his hand against his silvery-gray vest and widened his eyes in surprise that she could ask such a thing. “No, of course not! But the death of Blackie Colton has brought a lot of folks into town, and that’s good for business.”

“Good for business,” Cassie murmured under her breath, disgusted with Boone’s obsession with business and money. No matter what else a thing might be—dishonest, distasteful, immoral, or indecent—if it made a dollar, he was for it.

“Federal lawmen are in town today to see the body, and the sheriff is holding a ceremony to honor the men who volunteered to gun down Blackie.”

“Were you one of them?”

Boone examined her face carefully as if he were trying to decide how to answer her question. Finally, he shrugged his broad shoulders and looked over the top of her head to the windows.

“I was asked, but I declined. I still feel that Blackie or a member of his gang might have shot Shorty. It was because of my belief that I entertained the notion of helping to end Blackie’s life, but I didn’t want his death on my conscience.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” He quirked a brow in slight irritation. “You don’t believe me?”

“I’m not so sure the Colton gang had anything to do with Pa’s death.”

“You never know. From what I hear, Blackie Colton would have shot his own mother in the back.”

Cassie regarded Boone solemnly for a moment, feeling a perverse admiration for him. The man could lie through his teeth and feign innocence better than anyone she’d ever met. That sort of thing took practice, and she could only assume that Boone was so used to lying that he didn’t know himself when he was telling the truth.

“I won’t keep you from your work,” she said, abruptly ending their visit.

“I’ll be looking forward to your company on Saturday,” Boone called after her as she left and waving when she glanced over her shoulder at him.

“Yes, Saturday,” she said, then stepped out of the bank into the open air and milling crowd. “Lying bastard,” she whispered to herself. Then she set off in the direction of
her buckboard and old Hector. Her steps were light and carefree, for the trap had been successfully set.

Dodging darting children, preoccupied photographers, and pushy reporters, Cassie made her way through the crowd that had gathered to hear Sheriff Barnes extol his own courage. The photographers were busy hawking their photos of Blackie’s body and were doing a brisk business.

“Good for business,” Cassie murmured disdainfully, then shook her head when a boy waved a newspaper in her face.

“It’s got a drawed picture of Blackie Colton as he was being gunned down!” the boy said, trying to press the newspaper into Cassie’s hand. “The
Echo’s
got the whole story, and it’s only five cents!”

“I don’t want it!” Cassie shoved the newspaper away and the boy raced to attack another passerby.

Sheriff Barnes was standing on a crate and gesturing wildly with his hands to attract the attention of those around him.

“Eureka Springs is a law-abiding town,” the sheriff stated, throwing out his chest and making Cassie think of a strutting peacock. “We won’t tolerate crime in this beautiful spot. We proved that when Blackie Colton rode into town.” The sheriff glowered at the crowd and hooked his thumbs under his suspenders. “He didn’t ride
out
of Eureka Springs, I needn’t tell you!”

Many people snickered, and some of them applauded. Cassie looked at the stern-faced men lined up beside the sheriff like a row of mindless ducks. The volunteers, she thought, nodding to herself. The brave men who had jumped at the chance to gun down a real outlaw. Ten against one, she thought. Great odds for yellow-bellied gunslingers.

“These men,” Sheriff Barnes bellowed, waving an arm to encompass them all, “are heroes. They stood before a cold-blooded killer and snuffed out his life so that the women and children of Eureka Springs could live in safety!”

Applause rose and fell. The “heroes” twitched and fidgeted and looked embarrassed.

“Today we honor these brave men by giving each of them a silver dollar and a lemon pie baked special by Mrs. Simper.” The sheriff turned a benevolent smile on the bent, white-haired old woman standing near him. “Our thanks to you, Mrs. Simper. Everybody knows you make the best pie around these parts.”