Lover's Gold (3 page)

“Damn miners don’t know when they got it good,” the older Dawson put in. “They got it a damn sight easier’n they used to. Leastwise they got Sundays off. Some of their pappies used to work a seven-day week.”

Morgan stiffened. Seven ten-hour days a week, unsafe working conditions at the Middleton Mine, and the resulting accident had killed his father. He had not forgotten. Things had been better at Blue Mountain—at least until McAllister took on Dawson and Redmond.

Morgan ran a hand through his dark, wavy hair and forced the hatred from his sky-blue eyes. “And just what would you gentlemen suggest I do about this little problem of yours?”

Henry Dawson broke in before Redmond could speak. “The miners is havin’ a meetin’ tomorrow mornin’. Walkin’ off the job for it. Costin’ us time and money. We ain’t gonna stand for it. We want them stopped once and fer all. We want you to attend that little meetin’ wearin’ that big hog leg of yers. Just make sure they know anybody makin’ trouble will be dealin’ with you—and with that iron on yer hip.”

“If that doesn’t discourage them,” Redmond added, “maybe we can arrange a little accident to demonstrate our sincerity.”

Morgan clenched his teeth. He’d been right. Things in Keyserville hadn’t changed a bit in the last nine years. If anything, they’d gotten worse. “How much is this show of sincerity worth to you boys?” he asked.

Chuck Dawson spoke up for the first time. “How much you figure you’re worth, gunman?” His dark eyes squinted as he leaned forward in his chair.

Morgan betrayed no emotion. “I’ll expect double what you offered in the letter. Half now, half when the job is done. This little problem of yours seems a whole lot bigger all of a sudden.”

As he pursed his lips, Dawson’s sandy brows drew together; then he relaxed against his chair. “You’d better be worth it, gunman.”

“Name’s Morgan,” he reminded the man coldly. “Dan or Mister.”

The sound of the door opening interrupted the exchange. Elaina McAllister entered the room carrying a tray laden with mugs and a pot of coffee. The radiance on her face that Morgan had seen earlier had disappeared, replaced by what he read as a mask of careful control.

Chuck Dawson rose from his chair to help her set the tray down, his hand lingering in a possessive manner on her arm. Morgan couldn’t be certain, but he thought he saw her flinch. She watched Dawson warily, with a look that sent a chill up Morgan’s spine. Where was the spunky little girl who had braved the depths of an abandoned mine to save her friends? Where was the fiery woman he’d seen? Now her gentle amber eyes looked only wary and resigned, like those of a caged beast.

“Mr. Morgan,” Chuck Dawson was saying, “may I present my fiancée, Miss McAllister.”

Morgan was glad he was sitting down. His breath seemed so tightly lodged in his throat he had to force himself to release it. It was all he could do to keep his voice even as he steeled himself, came to his feet, and nodded a greeting. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss McAllister.”

Of all the unmitigated gall, Elaina thought, reading the tension in the hard planes of the gunman’s face. He thinks I’m afraid of him! Just because he kills people for a living doesn’t mean he can frighten everyone. For a moment she felt a surge of spirit and lifted her chin. Then she met the brooding dark eyes of her fiancé, and the same revulsion that had plagued her these past few years knotted her stomach into a hard tight ball. Feeling Chuck’s fingers move absently up and down the length of her arm, she stiffened, then carefully numbed herself to the feeling, as she’d taught herself to do.

Glancing toward Morgan, she noticed the .45 slung at his hip and focused her mind on the introduction being made. “I’m sure the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Morgan,” she replied sarcastically, her gaze frosty as she searched his light blue eyes. Then she felt Chuck Dawson’s moist palm at her waist and suddenly wanted nothing more than to be out of the room.

“Thank you for the coffee, my dear,” Dawson said dismissively. “I have a meeting at the mine this afternoon. Maybe I’ll see you this evening.”

Elaina nodded, glanced at Morgan, and fled the room.

Morgan sat back down. He hadn’t missed the relief that swept over the girl as she’d closed the door behind her. He owed that girl. Owed her his life. He was going to find out what the hell was going on in Keyserville if it was the last thing he ever did.

Glad for the clanging pots, scraping silver, and pounding mallets of the hotel kitchen, Elaina picked up a serving spoon and stirred a pot of beef stew that was bubbling on a back burner of the huge black stove. As long as she was busy, she didn’t have time to think, though it was hard not to dwell on her grim future as Mrs. Chuck Dawson.

“Laina honey, who is that man?” Ada Lowery pointed toward the inner office. Living, as she did, in a small suite of rooms off the kitchen, Ada missed little of what went on in the hotel.

“That’s Black Dan himself,” Elaina said, putting the lid back on the stew pot. Then, taking her place beside Ada, she picked up a knife and started peeling an onion.

“Lord A’mighty, he’s a hard-lookin’ sort. Tougher’n a boot, I’ll wager. Kinda handsome, though, if he’d lose that scowl of his.” Ada, too, picked up an onion and set to work.

The kitchen was warm and humid; a kettle of beef stock for gravy and soup boiled next to the stew. The windows were fogged with steam, and the dampness made tiny dark brown ringlets curl around Elaina’s face. Absentmindedly she shoved them behind her ear.

“He looks a little like Ren Daniels,” she told Ada.

“Who?” Ada’s eyes were beginning to tear from the stinging onion juices.

“Oh, just a boy I used to know. I’ve mentioned him before. The one I had such a fancy for when I was a little girl. Surely you remember. I probably drove you crazy talking about him when I first moved in here. His younger brother, Tommy, was my best friend.” She and Tommy had played together whenever she could escape her mother’s endless round of socializing—teas, recitals, church functions—and her own numerous hours of lessons—piano, singing, ballet, French. It had been through one of the abandoned tunnels she and Tommy used to play in on the far side of Blue Mountain that she’d been able to find the boys that night in the mine.

She wondered for the thousandth time in the past nine years where the two boys were. What had become of Tommy? Had he grown up to be as handsome as his older brother? She’d met Ren only a few times, when he came to walk Tommy home from school. Ren had insisted Tommy go to class while he worked extra hours in the mine to support them. Ren took care of Tommy after their parents died, and Tommy adored him.

Elaina finished peeling the onion and picked up another. Her eyes, too, were beginning to tear. The women looked at each other and laughed good-naturedly.

“Good thing the men can’t see us,” Elaina joked. “They’d be sure we were crying.”

Ada Lowery grew serious. “You sure you ain’t gonna be cryin’ up a storm if you go through with that weddin’ Chuck Dawson has planned? He ain’t gonna be put off much longer.”

Elaina sighed. Ada was right. Chuck had been pushing for the wedding for over two years. Lately he’d become adamant. In three weeks their engagement would be official, and Chuck had already warned her not to plan on a long engagement.

“I don’t have any choice,” Elaina said defensively.

Ada shook her head. “Life’s nothin’ but choices, honey, and this is the most important one you’ll ever make.”

“We’ve been all through this, Ada. Henry Dawson’s the last man on earth I’ll be indebted to.”

Ada harrumphed but said nothing. Elaina picked up another onion.

When her father died, he’d left behind dozens of staggering debts, most of them owed to Redmond and Dawson. The men had taken the McAllister mansion as partial payment, but Dawson had insisted Elaina and her mother remain in the lovely old Victorian house when by rights they should have sold it to pay off some of the debts. He’d take care of whatever they owed Dolph Redmond, he’d said.

Elaina could still hear her mother’s deathbed words: “You’ve got to set things right, pay him back somehow, clear the family name.” Elaina had heard the words so many times they still rang in her ears.

“Some debts can’t be repaid,” Ada interrupted, and Elaina wondered, not for the first time, if reading minds was one more of the buxom woman’s many talents.

“ ’Sides, the way old man Dawson takes care of you ain’t nothin’ special. You work for yer keep, same as me.”

“It doesn’t matter. I owe him and I intend to repay him, for Mama
and
for me.”

Ada shook her head. “I just wish there was somethin’ I could say to make you change yer mind.”

“Nothing’s going to change my mind, Ada. I won’t be beholden to him. Besides, maybe somehow I can make things better at the mine.” Secretly, she hoped that after she and Chuck were married, she’d be in a position to exert some influence over working conditions at the mine, make some improvements. It was a long shot, but it was a chance she was willing to take.

Ada just shook her head. “Yer blasted pride’ll be yer downfall, honey.”

Elaina ignored her, turning out the next onion with renewed vigor. She owed Henry Dawson, and though she felt no love for Chuck, she was going to repay her obligation to Henry the only way she could—by marrying his son, as she knew he wished. Elaina grabbed a dish cloth and dabbed at her eyes, suddenly glad for the onion tears that disguised a few of her own.

Dan Morgan unpacked the few articles of clothing he’d brought on his trip east, shrugged out of his shirt, and sat on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots.

Thoughts of the beautiful woman he’d seen today stirred images of the courageous little girl who’d saved his life nine years ago. She was beautiful now, but no more beautiful than she had looked to him that day in the mine.

“You saved our lives, Lainey,” he’d said to her. “We’ll never forget you.” Or the men who did this, he’d added to himself. His black hair was matted with dirt and coal dust, and all he could think of was making the mine owners pay.

“What will we do now?” Lainey had asked, brushing coal dust from her skirt as she got up from the ground.

“
We
aren’t going to do anything. Tommy and I are leaving.”

Tommy looked stunned.

“It’s too dangerous for us to stay here now,” Ren explained. “We know too much. If someone discovered the truth about what happened here today, it could raise questions about the accident at the Middleton Mine. Redmond and Dawson can’t afford to let that happen. And that makes it too dangerous for Tommy and me to stay.”

“Can’t we just go to the sheriff?” Lainey asked.

“Who’d believe us? Besides, they’d just claim I was stirring up more trouble between the miners and the management. There might be another so-called accident.”

“I guess you’re right,” she admitted, “but I still don’t want you to go.” She smiled sadly, then blushed beneath his close regard.

“You mustn’t tell anyone you saved our lives, Lainey. Let them think we’re dead.” He was tired and dirty, wet, tom, and ragged—and he now knew for certain his father had been murdered.

For the first time Ren noticed the girl’s bleeding fingers. “God, Lainey.” He kissed her bloody hands as he knelt beside her, tipping her chin up with his hand. “You’re the bravest little girl I’ve ever known. Maybe someday Tommy and I can make this up to you. I don’t know how, but maybe someday.” He kissed her dirt-smudged cheek and hugged her briefly. His brother did the same.

“Bye, Lainey,” Tommy said as great tears rolled down his cheeks, leaving trails of white where the coal dust had washed away.

“I’ll miss you,” she had whispered. He could still remember her forlorn figure as she clutched her ragged, dirty skirt, picked up her lamp, and headed home.

Morgan smiled and dropped his other boot on the floor. Elaina was certainly not the ragamuffin he remembered, though her circumstances remained a mystery.

Not for long, he thought, vowing to begin looking for answers in the morning. Reaching for the black leather vest that hung at the head of the bed, Morgan removed a small address book, a newspaper clipping, and several business cards—the only papers that could identify him—from the inside pocket. Carefully, he slid them beneath the mattress. His encounter with Elaina had shown him the need for care, but Morgan wasn’t worried. Being careful was part of his job.

The new day dawned clear, though a harsh spring wind bit with icy spines into anyone unfortunate enough to be out-of-doors.

On the street below her window, the breeze blew bits of paper and tugged at the skirts of the women who passed by, their heads together in quiet conversation. Everyone in Keyserville had heard about the miners’ meeting at the town meeting hall. After her encounter with Morgan, Elaina had decided it was time she made her own feelings known. It wasn’t like her to speak out, to voice her opinions, especially to a roomful of men, but that was exactly what she intended to do. She’d already cleared the time with Ada, who secretly sympathized with the miners.

Pulling her window closed against the chill that suddenly shook her slender frame, Elaina thought about the darkhaired stranger who looked so much like Ren. Black Dan had been the talk of the town when rumor leaked out that he’d been sent for. Morgan was a hard, cruel man, and she wondered how she could ever have mistaken him for the lighthearted, carefree Ren.

At least he forced me to take a stand, she thought as she battled a fresh jolt of nerves. Choosing a warm blue wool jersey dress with a ruffled front and simple gored skirt she hoped would help her make the right impression, Elaina closed the door to the old armoire. With trembling fingers, she pulled the dress over her head, adjusted the lacy cuffs and the modest neckline, then used her mother’s silver-handled brush to arrange her hair, pulling it up on the sides and securing it with combs, but leaving it loose in back, hanging almost to her waist.

After grabbing a woolen shawl, she pinched her cheeks, said a short prayer the miners wouldn’t notice how nervous she was, and headed down the stairs. She knew Redmond and Dawson would be furious, but there was always the slim hope she’d get by without them finding out she was going to the meeting. Whatever happened, she’d worry about the consequences tomorrow. Just this one time, in memory of her father, she had to let the men know how she felt.