Lover's Gold (38 page)

“Drink all of it,” the man with the low-slung revolver said. His bushy brows rose as he watched her drink.

She swallowed the last of the bitter contents—water mixed with something else—and handed the glass back to him. Almost immediately she began to feel dizzy and disoriented, then the room began to blur. Swaying slightly against the little man who had walked up beside her, she blinked and fought to remain standing, but her vision narrowed till the light was merely a speck. She clutched the short man’s arm as a wave of blackness engulfed her.

“Put her in our buggy,” Chuck Dawson directed, “and don’t forget to load her trunks. She’ll need something to wear.” The two men picked up the unconscious woman and headed for the door. Chuck walked to where the housekeeper and her husband huddled on the floor, their wrists and ankles carefully bound, gags in their mouths.

“I want you to give a message to Morgan—or Daniels, or whatever his name is. Tell him Elaina’s marrying the man she should have married in the first place. Tell him not to worry about her; she’ll be well tended. I doubt he’ll care anymore, anyway. By now he’s married to the Stanhope girl. I’m just solving a little problem for him.”

Roughly he nudged the housekeeper’s foot. “You listening? Tell him if he’s dumb enough to come after her, he’ll be going up against Bill Sharp, not me. If he’s smart, he’ll stay away. This is none of his affair. It wasn’t then—it isn’t now.” He looked at the man tied beside his wife. “You’d best remember that man out there was killed in a fair fight. He drew down on Sharp first.”

The bound man nodded.

Dawson went out the door, moved down the porch steps, dragged the dead man’s body into some bushes beside the house, and walked to where the other two men waited with a rented buggy. If they hurried, they could make the one o’clock train east, back to Keyserville and the wedding that would make him a wealthy man. Chuck already saw himself sipping Napoleon brandy and smoking Havana cigars.

The hour and a half trip from the city had seemed like an eternity. Ren climbed down from the train and made his way across the platform toward the wagons for hire. Herbert Thomas usually picked him up and drove him to the ranch, but today there’d been no time to make arrangements; Ren was too eager to get to Elaina.

He couldn’t wait to see her. Couldn’t wait to hold her again. A hundred times he’d rehearsed his speech, but no two times had it come out the same. He would play it by ear when the time came. In the meantime, he’d fidgeted nervously all the way to the ranch.

Even before the wagon approached the long gravel drive, Ren knew something was wrong. He had a sixth sense about trouble that rarely failed him—and he clearly sensed trouble now. His heartbeat quickened as he neared the wagon waiting forlornly in front of the house. The horses snorted and blew and had pawed holes in the soft earth beneath their hooves. They’d been standing for some time.

“Pull up here,” Ren instructed the driver while they were still some distance from the house. “Wait for me. But keep the wagon away from the house. There may be trouble.”

The man at the reins nodded his understanding, waited till Ren climbed out of the wagon, then turned and headed toward a shady place beneath a distant oak. Ren approached the house cautiously. Everything looked quiet—too quiet. He flattened himself against the side of the house, then, crouching, moved quietly up the front porch steps to a place beneath the parlor window. One pane was shattered, another marred by a neat, circular bullet hole. His instincts had been right.

He raised himself up just enough to see inside. Herbert and Flora Thomas huddled together in one corner of the parlor, their wrists and ankles bound. Elaina was nowhere to be seen. His heart pounded harder.

Cautiously circling the house, he carefully looked through several windows. Finally convinced the men and Elaina were already gone, and sick at heart, he entered the house through the back door. He made a careful search of each room, grabbing his rifle on the way; then he entered the parlor. He knelt beside Herbert Thomas and loosened the gag.

“They got her, Mr. Daniels. Said to tell you Miss Elaina was going to marry the man she should have married in the first place.”

“Dawson!” Ren removed Herbert’s bonds, then let the older man untie the ropes that bound his wife. Herbert relayed Dawson’s message, including the part about Bill Sharp; then the two men went outside to look for the guard.

They found Simpson’s body hidden beneath a shrub.

“What’re we gonna do, Mr. Daniels? Miss McAllister didn’t want to go with those men. They made her drink something, then carried her away unconscious.”

Ren clenched his teeth. “You take the team into town and fetch the sheriff. Tell him exactly what you told me. Nothing else. I’ll take care of Miss McAllister.”

Herbert suddenly looked at him. “Where’s Miss Stanhope?”

“Probably getting ready to go on her honeymoon,” Ren told him as they moved back up the stairs and into the house.

“Without you?”

Ren felt the tug of a smile. “With her new husband, Stewart Pickman. I, my friend, am going to fetch my future wife—Miss McAllister.”

Herbert Thomas grinned so widely his cheeks dimpled. “Bravo, Mr. Daniels, bravo!”

Herbert left the house at a run as Ren moved into his bedroom. Removing his now dusty wedding clothes, he pulled a clean white shirt from his massive armoire and slipped on snug-fitting breeches. Shiny black boots came next. When he finished dressing, he moved toward the peg beside the fireplace. Settling his broad-brimmed hat across his brow, he pulled his .45 Colt from its holster, spinning the cylinder to check the load.

Cold, hard anger worked a muscle in his jaw. What would Dawson do to Elaina? Would he force himself on her as he’d tried to do before? If he had settled his score with the Dawsons and Dolph Redmond as he’d set out to do, none of this would have happened and Elaina would be safe here with him now. He cursed Chuck Dawson and swore that if he so much as touched Elaina, he’d kill the man this time for sure.

He strapped on the Colt and tied the thong securely around his thigh, then pulled the revolver from its holster, feeling the familiar weight of the weapon in his hand. Though it had been weeks since he’d used the Colt, it slid into his palm with the same practiced ease as always. For the third time in his life he was breaking the promise he’d made to himself. No longer was he the entrepreneur and gentleman farmer, Ren Daniels. For the next few crucial days he was Dan Morgan—Black Dan.

Again the gun slid into his palm with lightning speed. If he had to draw against Sharp, he would be ready. He knew the man’s reputation. Sharp was good. One of the best. Though Ren didn’t relish the possibility, he knew he might be forced to find out just how good Bill Sharp really was.

Ren pulled his satchel from the armoire and began stuffing it with clothes. The train trip to Keyserville would take more than a week. Chances were Elaina would be safe for at least that long. According to Herbert and Flora, Dawson didn’t have much of a head start. When the men arrived in Keyserville, Ren planned to be right behind them.

Elaina woke to a soft, lulling motion. Her mind was foggy. Images rushed by outside the window, but her mind couldn’t seem to focus. She could hear men’s voices beside her, but couldn’t remember who the men were. How long had she been sleeping? Had her ribs begun to hurt? Had the doctor given her something to kill the pain? She felt as if she were floating above the ground. The seat beneath her seemed to sway and vibrate, but the rhythm only lulled her, made her want to sleep some more.

“Wake up!” A rough hand shook her. “Here. Eat this.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said, her words sounding slurred.

“I don’t care if you’re hungry or not, I said eat it.”

She took the bread and meat, chewed, and forced herself to swallow. Then she took a sip of water from a cup someone held to her lips.

“Take her down the aisle,” the voice commanded. “Wait for her to finish, then bring her back here.”

“Okay, boss,” a soft, high voice answered.

She felt someone lift her arm, and she meekly rose and followed the man to the front of the coach. She was on a train; she could see that now. Rows of seats, most of them empty, stretched out ahead of her on either side of the aisle. She made her way toward the front, assisted by the small man behind her, who deposited her behind a narrow door in a tiny washroom. She ran some water over her hands and splashed some on her face. She relieved herself, washed again, and opened the narrow door. The little man waited patiently outside. Wordlessly he helped her back to her seat. She rode silently for a while, trying to discern the passing landscape, realizing after a while that the man beside her was Chuck Dawson. Then she lapsed back into sleep.

It was a pattern repeated over and over again until she couldn’t remember any other time or place. The only break in the daily routine came when she was given her medication. Chuck would bring her a cup of bitter liquid. She would drink it and then drift back into her pleasant, problem-free world.

She assumed Chuck was taking her home. Back to Keyserville. Why had she ever left? She couldn’t quite remember. Something about a gunman. Morgan—that was his name. Funny. Whenever she thought of the gunman, she felt a moment’s pain. It was the only thing she could really feel anymore. She wondered when she’d be able to stop taking her medicine. But Chuck would take care of that. He’d take care of everything just as soon as they were married. That’s what he had told her. And the way he’d been seeing to her needs, why shouldn’t she believe him? She hoped they would get home soon. She was tired. So tired. All she wanted to do was sleep.

“What seems to be the trouble?” Ren asked the conductor as the train slowed, the clank and grind of the brakes jarring him as he turned to look through the open window. The engine blew off steam, then came to a shuddering halt.

“Track’s washed out up ahead,” the conductor told him. The rotund man lifted his stiff black-billed cap and used his elbow to mop the perspiration from his brow. “We’ll be delayed at least three or four hours. Might as well make yerself comfortable, though in this damnable heat I don’t rightly see how.”

Ren leaned back against his seat. They were somewhere near Salt Lake City. The terrain they were crossing was mostly flat wasteland, dry and arid, with temperatures well into the hundreds. The three-day journey so far had been an agony of worry for him. All he could think about was Elaina. Now Dawson would arrive in Keyserville at least a full day ahead of him.

Dawson was traveling on the Atlantic Express, the only train that had left within the men’s possible departure times. Ren was riding a less expensive train, the Flyer, the first connecting train he could get after leaving the Napa station. This train carried no dining car, so stops were made along the route to feed the hungry passengers. That would give Dawson a decided edge. Ren just hoped whatever the man had planned, he wouldn’t be too late to stop him.

Visions of Dawson with Elaina clouded his mind. He remembered the way Dawson had beaten her; he could still see the bruises the man had left near her eye, her bloodied and swollen lip. Damn him! Damn him to hell for the bastard he was. He hoped Dawson had learned his lesson the first time. If he hadn’t, he was a dead man.

Chapter 28

“Y
OU’RE LOOKING A
little peaked, Elaina. Maybe you’d better sit down.” Dolph Redmond guided her into a chair in the small, book-lined study of Henry Dawson’s mansion, once the McAllister family home.

Beulah Knudsen, Henry’s housekeeper, had kindly assisted her in bathing and changing into something appropriate for the wedding. A light silk gown in her favorite shade of lavender.

“There are just these few matters to attend to,” Dolph was saying, though his voice seemed indistinct. “Then we’ll get on with the ceremony.”

She nodded her understanding.

Waiting beside her chair, Chuck dipped a pen in the inkwell on his father’s oak desk and handed it to her. “Just sign the papers right there.” He pointed to a line that appeared to waver as she leaned forward.

She had trouble making her hand obey her commands. The room seemed a little fuzzy, the men’s voices hollow. She guessed she was still a little groggy from the long train ride and her lingering illness. She scratched the pen across the paper as best she could, then handed the pen to Chuck.

“Good girl. Now let’s go into the parlor. The minister’s waiting.”

She nodded, accepted Chuck’s hand, and leaned against him for support as she moved into the other room.

Henry Dawson talked quietly with the Reverend Mr. Dickerson, then turned to Elaina. “Well, daughter,” he said, “let’s git this show on the road. You’ve kept my boy waiting too long already.”

She smiled inanely and clutched Chuck’s hand. The housekeeper and the two men who had helped bring her back to Keyserville stood by as witnesses, along with Henry and Dolph.

The minister began to intone the familiar marriage vows she’d heard since childhood, and an image of Dan Morgan flashed across her mind. Why should she be thinking of Morgan at a time like this? Chuck was the man she was marrying. She looked at Chuck’s face, his sandy hair, the slightly crooked nose and dark eyes. She pictured blue eyes so light she could barely make out the color and black hair graying at the temples. Ren. Where was Ren?

“Say ‘I do,’” Henry prodded.

“I do,” she whispered.

The minister’s voice droned on. She felt a wave of dizziness and leaned toward Chuck to steady herself.

“You may kiss your bride,” the preacher said.

Chuck tilted her face up and captured her lips. She could barely feel his kiss. Her own lips felt cold and numb.

“Congratulations, daughter,” Henry said.

“Maybe I’d better sit down a moment,” she whispered. “I’m not feeling too well.”

“Of course, my dear.” Chuck helped her over to the settee.

She watched Henry and Dolph pour the minister a snifter of brandy. He smiled gratefully and sipped the amber liquid. She wasn’t quite sure how much later it was that he and Dolph Redmond left.