Midnight Star (34 page)

Chauncey watched Jasper struggle. Delaney was the larger and the stronger, but Jasper wouldn’t release the gun.

“Please, God,” she whispered, watching every movement, hearing every strangled breath from the two men.

The table collapsed as Delaney’s body smashed against it. He held Jasper’s gun arm, feeling the muscles and bones twisting beneath the onslaught. The man was howling, trying desperately to bring the gun upward.

Jasper kicked Delaney in the groin, and for an instant Delaney’s grip loosened. But only for an instant. “I’m going to kill you, you filthy bastard,” he whispered between gritted teeth.

Jasper had time only to bring the gun up between them.

Suddenly there was a loud retort.

Chauncey weaved where she stood. Neither man moved.

“Del,” she whispered in a strangled voice. Slowly Delaney pulled away from Jasper. Blood covered his chest.

Chauncey screamed.

Then she saw Jasper, his chest ripped open, sink to the floor. The gun fell from his lifeless fingers and clattered across the room.

There was utter silence.

“I’m all right, Chauncey,” Delaney said, his voice once again calm and controlled. “It’s all over, love.”

She flung herself at him, clutching him tightly to her, sobbing violently. She felt his hands stroking over her back, heard him whispering soft, meaningless words to her.

She eased, her breath evening out, her sobs becoming hiccups. She opened her eyes and the first sight she saw was Baron’s sprawled body.

“I killed him,” she said, disbelief and shock thick in her voice. “I actually killed someone. Oh God!”

“Hush and listen to me, Chauncey. You saved yourself and you saved me. You were very brave and courageous. I love you and I thank you.” His fingers were stroking her brows, her cheeks, her jaw as he spoke. “Do you understand? You did what you had to do. I am so very proud of you.” His hands closed around her face and he looked deep into her eyes. “Do you understand me?”

She drew a deep breath. “The derringer is so small.”

“Yes, but deadly.”

“I think I’ll retch if I ever touch it again.”

“You will touch it again and you won’t retch. You’ll respect that small piece of hardware now, and you won’t abuse it. You will carry it until we have Montgomery. All right?”

She whispered his name. “I never believed a man could be so evil.”

“Evil and desperate. Now, I want you to take one of my shirts—unfortunately, they’re all soiled—and go bathe in the stream. There’s a sliver of soap and a towel on the floor in the corner. You will stay there until I come for you.”

She realized that he would bury the two men, spare her that awful sight, and she nodded slowly.

“Good girl. Go now.”

Only three hours had passed, Chauncey thought, dazed. Three hours since Baron and Jasper had hurled themselves into the shack. Now they were dead and buried, their horses given to the first miners they had seen.

Delaney hadn’t tried to make conversation with her. When he’d fetched her from the stream, he’d simply smiled and said, “Now, love, we’re leaving. Are you up for a long ride?”

She nodded, grateful that she wouldn’t have to return to the shack.

She didn’t particularly notice the beautiful countryside they were riding through. The fir trees jutted high on the surrounding hills. The foothills of the Sierra Nevadas, she told herself. They saw men now, miners, who were working in the creek bed, their gold pans swishing in a continuous circular motion. The air was clear and dry, and not too hot. A fine day.

She turned finally and said to Delaney, “We’re going to Nevada City?”

He grinned widely at her. “Not yet, love. First, it’s Grass Valley, a small mining town only about five miles west of Nevada City. If you haven’t noticed, you and I aren’t exactly the picture of elegance. We’ll spend the night at the Davidson Hotel, buy ourselves some decent clothes, and then I’ll go to Nevada City tomorrow.” He paused a moment, his brows drawing together as he stared between his horse’s ears. “I want to face Montgomery as I am normally,” he continued, “not looking like an itinerant miner.”

“What do you mean by ‘I’?”

“Just what I said,” he replied, his voice clipped, brooking no argument. He heard her draw in her breath and tensed, waiting.

“You, Del,” she said, delighting in the fact that her voice sounded so reasonable and calm, “have never before seen Paul Montgomery. I can’t imagine that he would be such a fool as to use his real name, either.”

“I, on the other hand, believe that he will. He has no reason not to. You will stay in Grass Valley, safe. For once.”

“No, I won’t.”

“I believe your marriage vows included one of obedience.”

“Bosh! I can’t believe you, Del! Not above two hours ago you were telling me how proud you were of me, telling me that I was brave and courageous. Now I’m back to being a helpless female?”

He didn’t look at her. “I didn’t protect you. I was a fool not to guess that the Indian was not
the only one involved. My stupidity nearly cost you your life. I will hear nothing more about it.”

“I don’t think you can avoid it. After all, if you ride off, I’ll just get lost. Now, I don’t consider that much protection!”

He swiveled in the saddle and glared at her. He could hold his ill-humored expression for only a moment, however. She looked like an adorable waif, from her tattered and faded skirt to his huge shirt, to her thick single braid of hair. “Lord, I do wonder what Montgomery would say were he to see you now! Some English lady!”

“At least you’re laughing,” she said, grinning at him. “That’s got to be a step in the direction of good sense on your part.”

The smile was wiped from his face. “Chauncey, I’ve thought about it. I know what I said to you this morning, and I mean it. But I can’t face that again. I’ve never been so damned afraid in my life, nor felt so damned helpless.”

“Well, I refuse to let you go alone to face Montgomery. It is my fight, after all, Del. Until this morning you were but a bystander.”

“I won’t argue with you about it anymore, Chauncey.”

“Good!”

They rode in silence until they crested the rise of a small hill and saw the town of Grass Valley below them.

“How lovely it is,” Chauncey said. “So peaceful.”

Delaney hooted with laughter. “Just wait until Saturday night, when the miners come into gamble and raise hell. There are more saloons than
stores or houses in this town. There’s no law, but there is a post office.”

They rode past scores of rough-garbed miners.

“They’ve been at it since forty-eight,” Delaney said, waving at the men. “We’re riding along Wolf Creek. The surface gold here gave out early. You just might meet George McKnight, who came here in fifty. That lucky bastard stumbled on a shiny rock outcropping. He discovered that the rock was loaded with gold. To date, this area is the second-richest find in California. Why—”

“You’re just trying to distract me, Del, and it won’t work! And so much for your quiet little town. Would you just look at that crowd!”

They’d ridden onto Auburn Street, a fairly wide road lined with wooden buildings. Dust kicked up about their horses’ legs, for it hadn’t rained much here and the sun was brilliantly hot overhead. As they neared Bank Street, the crowds grew thicker. There were shouts and hoorays from scores of men.

Delaney motioned for Chauncey to rein in for a moment. He dismounted and asked a bearded miner, “What the hell is going on?”

“You ain’t heard? Why, Lola Montez just arrived! Lordy! She’s a looker. Got her husband with her. Hear she’s gonna settle here.”

Delaney shaded his eyes with his hand. Sure enough, he could make out Pat Hull standing next to the famous dancer. He looked pleased as punch at the reception his wife was getting.

He returned to Chauncey and told her what was happening.

“Goodness,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “The
famous Spider Dance in Grass Valley. What a treat!”

“Given what happened after her first couple of performances in San Francisco, I wonder how long it will be a treat.”

Poor Lola, Chauncey thought, her tour in San Francisco hadn’t been very successful. Her eyes suddenly fastened on a man who looked so much like Paul Montgomery that she gasped aloud.

Delaney gave her a sharp look. “What’s the matter? Is your shoulder hurting you?”

“No,” she managed. “I’m all right, Del, really.” Never would she tell him about the man; it would only give him more of a reason to leave her behind.

They wove their horses through the crowds and turned onto Mill Street. The Davidson Hotel stood on the corner, a two-story wooden structure that had enjoyed a recent painting.

“Let’s get settled in first, then do some shopping.”

Chauncey felt terribly self-conscious, but the stoop-shouldered, bespectacled clerk behind the counter didn’t seem to see anything wrong with her appearance.

“Ah, Mr. Saxton. Welcome back to Grass Valley, sir.”

“Thank you, Ben. Is Hock’s still the best store for women’s clothes?”

“Yep. Men’s too. But I’ll betcha that old Bernie is out watching that famous dancer woman.”

“We’ll give him a while to enjoy himself properly,” Delaney said. “Could you send up some hot bathwater for my wife and me?”

“Certainly, Mr. Saxton. Welcome to Grass Valley, Mrs. Saxton.”

“It’s nice that some things don’t change. I didn’t think Ben would last, but he’s still here. I think Davidson gave him part-ownership to keep him from leaving for the mines. Ah, here’s our room, love.”

At least, Chauncey thought, her gaze roving about the boxlike room, everything looked clean. There was a simple oak armoire that looked as if it had been built two days before. The wood smelled quite fresh. A small basin on a commode, a good-size bed with a quilted cotton counterpane, and a hooked wool rug made up the rest of the furnishings.

“Ah, to be home,” she said, grinning at her husband.

“Have I married a snob?” he asked, a brow arched upward.

“Look at me closely and ask that question again!”

There were several women in Hock’s General Store and they blinked at Chauncey’s clothes, but their look wasn’t at all disapproving, only curious. As for the men, they didn’t seem to see anything out of the ordinary. One of them even tipped his felt hat at her. If I were seen like this in London, Chauncey thought in some amusement, there would be a riot! As for “old” Bernie, he was all of forty, as round as he was tall, and had a merry smile.

“We’ll fix both of you right up, Del!”

And he did. The two gowns Chauncey decided on were made of sturdy cotton, as were all the
underthings. No silks or satins, my girl, she said to herself, smiling at a particularly flashy gingham skirt.

Even as she smiled and nodded or shook her head as old Bernie presented her with different garments, she felt raw fear eating away at her. She wouldn’t let Del face Paul Montgomery alone. She couldn’t.

“Do you have enough money for all this?” she asked her husband as she eyed the pile of men’s and women’s clothing atop the counter.

“Madam, I’ll contrive,” he said.

That evening, they ate in a small restaurant called Curlie’s just off Main Street. The food was most plentiful and Chauncey felt her mouth water at the sight of bread and butter. “A feast,” she said, rubbing her hands together.

“I’ve always found that a little deprivation makes one appreciate the more basic things in life.”

“You’re salivating too, Mr. Saxton!”

“True enough,” he agreed, and bit into a thick crust of warm bread.

A harassed waiter brought them thick steaks, green beans, fried potatoes, and huge slabs of apple pie.

“Oh goodness. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

She saw Delaney stiffen and knew he was thinking about their close brush with death just that morning.

“Del,” she said sharply, “stop it! We’re both alive and quite well and we’re going to stay that way.”

He gazed at her intensely and she saw the
glittering desire in his golden eyes. She sucked in her breath, her body responding to him, and her forkful of potatoes plopped onto her plate.

“You really shouldn’t be thinking what you’re thinking,” she said, her voice somewhat breathless.

“How do you know what my thoughts are?”

She looked him straight in the eye. “Because I’m thinking the same thoughts, that’s how.”

“Good,” he said, and the caressing softness of that one word made gooseflesh rise on her arms.

They enjoyed their dinner in silence. Chauncey dropped her fork and leaned back in her chair. “Not another bite or I’ll pop out of my very fancy new gown! That was the most delicious meal I’ve ever eaten.”

Delaney nodded, still seemingly interested in his dinner plate. “Do you know, Chauncey,” he began after a moment, “I will never let another day go by in my life without realizing how sweet it is to simply be alive, and how sweet it is to have my wife by my side, laughing with me, even arguing with me. Life can be too bloody fragile.”

It still is!
“Yes, it can be,” she said quietly. “Del, please, we must talk about Paul Montgomery.”

“No,” he said quite pleasantly, “not tonight.”

“What do you intend to do to him?”

“Love, don’t you want more of your apple pie? A bit more wine?”

She frowned at him, her hands clenching. “Treating me like some idiot is not what I call protecting me!”

“Very well, we will speak of it in the morning.
Tonight, wife, my body wants to reaffirm that I am alive. I want you, Chauncey, very much.”

Chauncey never doubted that she wanted him equally, but later, in their bed, she found that her mind wouldn’t cease its mad flights of fear. So much had happened in such a short time. So much was still to happen.

His hand stilled on her breast. “I had thought to act something of an opiate,” he said quietly, nuzzling against her temple.

“We have been very lucky. I am so afraid our luck has to run out.”

His hand gently glided down over her belly, his fingers lightly probing. She was moist, but she wasn’t ready for him, not really, not until he could ease her mind of her fear for him. Better to face it, he thought. “Listen to me, love. I do intend to kill Montgomery. I have to. If I don’t, you will always fear him and so will I. But I don’t want you to see it. You’ve already experienced too much violence and death.”

To his surprise, her body went rigid, and she hissed, “He killed my father! I want him dead. I want to kill him myself!”

“No! No, I can’t allow that.” He felt the resistance in her, the terrible blood lust. He kissed her hard, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, and moved to cover her with his body. Swiftly he shoved her legs apart and lifted her hips to receive him. He had to make her accept him, accept his decision to protect her both physically and emotionally, and his body chose domination. She cried out softly as he drove into her. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t stop. He had to make her understand! He had to . . . His body exploded and
he arched back, a ragged cry erupting from his throat.

She didn’t move. He shook his head, his body held stiff above her, his organ still deep and quivering within her.

He felt as cold as his voice as he asked, “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Chauncey felt curiously detached. She wasn’t angry, for she probably understood his action better than he did himself.

Delaney eased himself off her and lay upon his back staring at the darkened ceiling. “I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t mean to abuse you.”

“I know. Tomorrow, Del, we will decide together how we will deal with Paul Montgomery.”

Suddenly he began to laugh, a deep, rumbling sound that made her smile. “I should have known,” he gasped over his laughter. “I should have known that I would never fall in love with a woman who would docilely and submissively do as I told her. Very well. We will decide together what to do. But you will not kill him, Chauncey. All right?”