Emmy (Gold Rush Brides Book 2) (2 page)

It wasn’t unheard of for the new folks in town to stop by the sheriff’s office to ask directions or advice. But they were almost always men, Johnny Newcomes — new miners — with donkeys burdened by hundreds of pounds of equipment. So when three well-dressed, if disheveled, ladies and two men who were obviously not prospectors walked through his door, he knew trouble had arrived.

“You the sheriff?” asked one of the men. He was rougher than the other man, definitely dirtier. In fact, he was covered in dust from head to toe. Very few professions got a man so filthy.
 

Mason glanced at the clock on the wall and chided himself for not realizing he’d never heard the eight o’clock stagecoach roll by. It was now eleven o’clock. It wasn’t too hard to put two and two together.

“Well, shoot,” he grumbled, dropping his big boots back to the floor and sitting upright. “Where’d they get you, Whip?”

The driver did a double-take. “Pardon?”

“The road agents. Where’d they stop you? I’m not wrong that y’all are from the morning stage that never arrived, am I? You’re the driver, right? The whip?”

The driver rubbed the back of his grimy neck. “Well, I’ll be hanged. Yup, you got it right, Sheriff. We was an hour outta town when a band of five highwaymen stopped us. They got the express box and some of the passengers’ valuables. Didn’t hurt nobody…but maybe they shoulda.”
 

The driver glared at one of the ladies, a young woman who nearly took Mason’s breath away with her beauty. He hadn’t noticed her at first because everyone else had crowded in front of the petite creature, but now he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
 

Porcelain skin and hair so yellow it reminded him of blooming daffodils. Her ringlets were a little limp and her skin sported reddish-brown dust smudges, but that did little to detract from her charm. She was stunning and he was powerless to stop his heart from speeding up a beat or two in response.

The young woman squared her shoulders and pushed through the little crowd to face him. Her blue eyes flashed and her pretty pink lips were pursed as she glared right back at her traveling companions. He tried to hide a smile at her feistiness. It was adorable.

Then she opened her mouth.

“Sheriff, what kind of lawless pit of vipers are you running here?”

She peered down her nose at him haughtily, like she was queen of the world or some darned thing. It didn’t matter a hang how fetching she was, it didn’t sit well with him when someone insulted his town
and
him in a single breath.

“Watch yourself, Miss…”

“Gibson. My name is Emmy Gibson, and I demand to know what you intend to do about this terrible affront to human decency!”

“First I need to know what happened, Miss Gibson,” he replied as calmly as he could manage. He’d had countless drunks and fools scream in his face and had never lost his temper with them, but this little bit of a thing was setting his teeth on edge.

She rolled her eyes at him, further inflaming him. “The driver just told you. We were robbed at gunpoint. Our things were rifled through, belongings stolen. Then we were forced to
walk
the remaining five miles into town.”

Mason looked at the clock again and double-checked his math. “It took you four hours to walk five miles?” he asked the driver. “That walk shouldn’t have taken more than two hours.”

The driver cocked his head at Miss Gibson and grimaced. “She wouldn’t leave without it,” he said. That was when Mason noticed a large trunk on the floor.
 

“It’s my trousseau,” she said, tossing her ringlets around for emphasis. “I’m to be wed tomorrow and I didn’t dare leave my only belongings on the road for the other barbarians who populate your little settlement to plunder.”

Mason scrubbed his chin with a meaty hand in frustration. “You mean to tell me that you wasted four hours in getting here for the sake of one trunk? A trunk that has, what? Your wedding dress in it? Maybe a few trinkets? Do you have any idea how far away those road agents are by now? By the time I get out there, their trail will be as cold as the Rockies in January. ”

Miss Gibson blinked at his admonishment. “How dare you speak to me that way! I’m a bride—”

Mason was on his feet in a flash, looming over the tiny woman. “Enough,” he barked. He was done with her foolishness. It was time to get to work.

“Whip, come tell me everything. The rest of you can take a seat wherever you can until I get to you.”

“But there’s nowhere civilized to sit in this filthy sty,” insisted the irritating Miss Gibson, looking around her in disgust.

“Sit!” roared Mason.
 

He felt a twinge of guilt at her flinch. He’d never shouted at a woman before but he needed her to stay out of the way while he did his job.

~ * ~ * ~

Thirty minutes later, the sheriff had spoken with everyone but Emmy. She was sitting in the jail’s empty cell along with, but not next to, two other ladies. They were whispering to each other and casting vicious glances at her. She felt a bit like a criminal, sitting in a cell — even if the door was open — and her travel companions weren’t making it any better.

Finally Sheriff Wilder called her over. Her pride still stung at being berated for merely wanting to look her best on her wedding day. Most men groveled for her affection, so just to teach this brute a lesson, she would give him the cold shoulder. That would show him!

The sheriff sighed as she sat down primly in front of his wobbly little desk, looking out the room’s small window instead of meeting his gaze. While she was, of course, punishing him, she also had trouble breathing when she looked him in the eye. Something about him made her insides feel funny, and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Miss Gibson, I’d first like to apologize for my outburst earlier. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

He sounded contrite enough, but she wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily so she simply tilted her head in acknowledgement. He sighed again and she felt a little thrill at his discomfort. Served him right.

“So I’m sure you heard everyone else’s stories about the robbery. Is there anything you can add?”

It was true that everyone else had given very detailed accounts of the events, including her temper tantrum, which had embarrassed her more than she cared to admit when she heard it from their point of view. She was used to getting her own way, but it had never occurred to her that she might be putting everyone’s lives at risk by standing up to the highwaymen. A twinge of shame at her selfishness twisted inside her stomach, not that she would ever let anyone know that.
 

“I can’t recall anything beyond what the others have described, I’m afraid. Everything happened so quickly, that much of it is already fading from my memory.”

“Alrighty then,” he said, scratching some notes down into a ledger. “You said you’re getting hitched tomorrow?”

She flicked her gaze over to meet his for a moment and was surprised by a flash of something there but it was too quick to identify. Averting her eyes again, she nodded mutely.

“It’s downright odd to me that your husband-to-be didn’t come find me when your stage was late.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, but it was a question nonetheless.

“He’s not expecting me until tomorrow morning. I took an early stagecoach from San Francisco. My friends there thought it would be nice to have a day to get rested and freshened up before my wedding.”

She could see him nodding out of the corner of her eye. “Sure, sure. Well, what’s his name?”

“Roy Kirby.”

“I can send word for him to come fetch you—”

Emmy spun toward him, aghast at the suggestion. “Oh no! I couldn’t possibly let him see me like this. I’m hideous! And those ruffians ran their vile hands all over my wedding dress, so that needs to be cleaned up. No, I’m afraid that’s out of the question.”

Sheriff Wilder was dumbfounded at her stubbornness. He stared at her bug-eyed before finally asking, “Where are you going to stay?”

Emmy straightened her back and looked him in the eye. “Just point me to the Bailey House Hotel. My friends gave me a reference letter for the manager. Apparently he’s arranged a special rate for us.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Us?”

Emmy blushed, suddenly shy about her situation. “I…I’m a mail order bride,” she whispered, worried the rest of her company would hear and judge her harshly. Appearances meant everything to her, now that she had nothing else.

She hadn’t mentioned it to anyone during her travels from the east coast, not really out of shame, but simply because it didn’t occur to her to share it. Her life in New York was over and this was her best, quickest path to freedom, and she wasn’t ashamed of taking it. She just didn’t see any reason to advertise it.

But now, staring into the depths of Sheriff Wilder’s dark brown eyes, she questioned her choice for the first time. He was looking at her with a mixture of disbelief and disappointment and it made her wonder if she’d made a hasty decision in the face of adversity.
 

“What on earth…?” he wondered aloud.

No! She would not allow him to second-guess the course she chose for her life. Who was he to judge her anyway? Only some uneducated hick pretending to be the law in a town full of lawlessness. Her resolve strengthened, she cast her most withering look at him.

“I was in an untenable situation in New York and stumbled across a newspaper called
The Nuptial News
. It was the answer to my prayers. I responded to an advertisement written by a wonderful man out west. During the course of our correspondence, he proposed and I accepted. We are to be wed tomorrow, as I believe I have mentioned.”

Her tone left no doubt her decision was final, and that she was quite happy about it. The sheriff scratched his disgracefully shaggy brown hair and shrugged.

“And your friends?”

“Jack and Dell Dalton. They’re the proprietors of the newspaper in question. It’s become quite popular, not only with miners but with ladies back east. I’m really quite surprised you’ve never heard of it.”

She glanced pointedly at his ringless left hand and returned his raised eyebrow. “I have a copy of the latest issue in my trunk, if you’re in the market for a wife, Sheriff.”

His eyes narrowed and his mouth set into a grimace. He was clearly not amused. She thought she saw something else there, too. Pain, perhaps? But it was gone so quickly she might have easily imagined it. Why was he so hard to read? Most men were quite easy to figure out.

Standing, the sheriff cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry your arrival in Nevada County was spoiled by this robbery. I truly hope it doesn’t tarnish your opinion of our otherwise beautiful home. You’re free to go about your business. My deputy and I will do everything we can to get your property back, but with such a cold trail, I don’t hold out much hope.”

Everyone turned to glare at Emmy one last time as they pushed past her to get to the door. When they were all gone, she turned to the sheriff questioningly.

“Yes?” he sighed as he and his deputy started collecting guns and ammunition for the ride out to the abandoned coach. For a man with such a formidable stature, he certainly did sigh a lot.

“The hotel?” she asked.

“Right. Four doors down and across the street.”

She didn’t move, waiting for him to realize his faux pas.
 

“What now?” he grumbled.

“My trunk.”
 

“What about it?”
 

“Aren’t you going to help me with it? Or perhaps your man there?”

Both Sheriff Mason and his deputy stopped what they were doing to stare at her. Finally, the sheriff chuckled and set back to work.

“Lady, you dragged it here five miles. What’s another four doors?”

She was flabbergasted! Did he not have a chivalrous bone in his body? First of all, the men in her party had carried her trunk to town, not her. What did he think she was, a porter? Secondly, after all she’d been through, the least she deserved was a little help with her luggage. But no! She knew the west was populated with scoundrels and ruffians, but she’d never expected such uncivilized treatment from a peace officer.

She tugged and huffed and scraped the trunk to the door, but before she managed to get out of the office entirely, the sheriff mumbled something. Poking her head back in the room, she said, “Pardon me?”

“I said, I wish your new husband good luck.”

Emmy had barely dragged her heavy trunk out of that rude sheriff’s office before five strapping young men had run to her aid. That was more like what she was used to. She’d always attracted quite a bit of attention from the men in New York, and she’d used it to her advantage often enough.
 

She had enjoyed the company of a number of men back home, but her father had steadfastly refused to allow her to formally court any of her gentleman callers. It had never occurred to her to wonder why, mainly because it didn’t bother her too much at all. Most of her would-be suitors were either too old or too boring. Oftentimes both. It was great fun teasing them, though, pretending she was head over heels for them, all the while knowing they had no future. Plus they would bring her all manner of presents.

Most of the time, she played them against her father so he’d buy her pretty new things when she was ‘distraught’ over having to end things with her latest beau. He never denied her anything she wanted, and it was obvious he carried some sense of guilt over not allowing her to marry, so she rather ruthlessly abused that guilt whenever possible. It was a game that worked well, until he died nearly a year earlier, leaving her penniless and with no prospects for her future.

Now she was in what amounted to a foreign land, unsure of the customs and unsure of herself. The latter was a first for her. She’d always been so confident and self-assured, but now…now she was simply afraid of everything. Maintaining a brave front was her only protection.

She did, however, regret saying those awful things to the sheriff about Nevada City. She’d just tromped through town after an interminable five-mile hike and had been in a black mood. Now that she’d had time to rest and clear her head, she saw the little community was quite pleasant, if rougher than she had imagined.