Silver Dreams (36 page)

Max's stomach dropped like a stone. His heart pounded. His hunch about those men had been correct and he was staring at the proof right now.

At the entrance to the mine, Betsy had frozen. Her frightened eyes testified that she'd also noticed the pistols in each man's hand. Max's knowledge of guns was based on extensive research and very little firsthand experience, but he knew enough to recognize a .44 Smith and Wesson and a Winchester rifle. He was well aware, too, either one could rip a hole in a man's chest big enough to pass a hand through.

"Who are you?" Betsy demanded. She'd obviously gotten her wits about her, and her indignation triumphed over her fear. Max knew that could have disastrous results.

The man with the revolver answered with a sneer. "We'll tell you what you need to know, lady, when the time is right. But now you'd better sit your fancy little fanny down there by your boyfriend."

Max recognized the look on her face, the firm set of her lips, the glinting green sparks in her eyes, and he waited in fearful anticipation of what was to come. He quickly appraised their situation and willed the thoughts tumbling around in his brain to focus. If Betsy delivered the full punch of her anger, he'd have to try something to protect her.

"How dare you!" she spat out. "I demand to know what you're doing here."

"You either sit yourself down right now, or you're going to find out the hard way what we're doing, and I guarantee you won't like it." The man raised his revolver and pointed it at her.

"Wait a minute," Max said. "There's no need to shoot. Betsy, come over here. Do as he says."

She reluctantly joined him, but in her own fashion. She moved with an impertinent thrust of her chin that said,
I'm going, but I'm not liking it.
"All right, then," she said when she stood beside Max, "now tell us who you are."

"You've got an awful high and mighty attitude considering you're at the receiving end of this pistol," the gunman warned her. "Now sit down and shut your..."

With a hand on her arm, Max made Betsy sit on one of the ore buckets. "I think I know who these men are," he said.

"How would you know despicable men like this?" She paused and then her jaw dropped and a light of recognition dawned in her eyes. "On second thought, why would I ask you that? These two are just the kind you consort with on a regular basis in New York, aren't they?"

"Actually, I think they're the kind your brother consorts with."

"My brother? What are you talking about?"

Max kept his gaze fixed on the two thugs. "Betsy, I think these two are associates of Frankie Galbotto's. And I believe they're here to check up on one of Frankie's more recent business investments. Am I right, boys?"

The talkative one delivered a cocky half grin. "You were right once upon a time, but things change. We're now
ex
-associates, and the business venture we're checking on is our own."

"I see," Max said. "When's the cat's in New York, the rats play their own game."

"You got that right, Cassidy, and I make it a point to know all the players when I'm in a game. I happen to know that you've been on Frankie's hit list for a while now. Too bad the old man won't ever know about the accident you had out here in the mountains."

Betsy leapt to her feet. "What accident?" The man with the Winchester stepped up to her and pressed the rifle barrel to her shoulder. She sat down again and looked at Max with eyes that sparked with fear, not spirit. "Would you please tell me what's going on? And you might also tell me why you know and I don’t."

Since he had no intention of taking his eyes off Galbotto's men, Max couldn't even offer Betsy a sympathetic look when he said, "I have a hunch you're not going to like what I'm about to tell you, Betsy." He sensed a stiffening of her posture, as if she were preparing herself for the worst, which she should be. Things were going to go downhill quickly for all of them.

"Ross borrowed money from Frankie Galbotto to finance this trip," he said.

"He wouldn't do that. He told me he borrowed from a friend. He knows how I feel about Galbotto. He wouldn't have involved me in anything having to do with that...that horrible creature! And besides, Ross promised he'd stay away from him."

She sat very still a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice reflected a crushing disillusionment, and her realization that Max just might be telling the truth. "I don't want to believe this, Max," she said. "Tell me it's not true."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Betsy. My editor, Gus Kritsky, heard about it through a reliable source, and he sent me out here to follow the story. I wish it weren't so, but it is. Ross is tied to Frankie Galbotto with a rope that stretches from Manhattan to Colorado. These guys are all the proof you need to believe me."

Max abandoned his vigilant guard over the Galbotto boys long enough to risk a sideways glance at her. She sat as rigid as a pole, her gaze on tightly clenched hands in her lap. He was afraid she might cry. She took a deep shuddering breath and started to raise her head. God, he hoped she wouldn't cry. Max doubted these men would be sympathetic to female emotions.

"Max, you despicable brute!" Her head snapped up the rest of the way, and her fiery green eyes locked onto his. She certainly wasn't going to cry. "How could you do this to me? You've known this all along and you didn't tell me?"

Before he knew what was happening, she jumped to her feet, slapped her palms against his chest and shoved as hard as she could. He stumbled backwards, barely keeping his balance. She came at him again, and it was all he could do to pin her arms to her sides.

"Let me go!" she yelled while she struggled against him. "So this is the story you came to Colorado for? To follow my brother and report on his underworld activities! And you let me believe you were writing about the mine! Max Cassidy, you are the lowest of the low..."

"Betsy, listen to me a minute. Let me explain."

She was obviously in no mood to hear him out, but at least she’d bought them some time. Max heard the chuckles from Galbotto’s hoodlums. They were enjoying this moment and maybe, just maybe, dropping their guard.

"No, you listen, Cassidy," she ordered. "You see where all your secrets and lies have gotten us? Max Cassidy, searcher of truth. Are you happy now that you can write a story based on your version of the truth? You can write that Ross is the conniving, pampered rich boy you always thought he was. He'll go to jail. My father will be ruined. Frankie Galbotto will get the silver. And I'll look like a fool. But Max Cassidy, reporter to the masses will have his precious byline, and the
Gazette
will sell a million copies!” Her glare was hot and cold at the same time. “I hope you're happy, Max."

"I don't give a damn about the byline," he said. "Not anymore."

"Liar! It's all you ever cared about."

"That's not true. I wanted to tell you everything, but I knew you wouldn't believe me. You weren't ready to learn the truth about Ross."

"It would have been a lot easier than learning the truth about you!"

A gunman finally spoke. "Geez Paulie, if we leave her alone, this hellcat will do our job for us."

Betsy suddenly transferred her fiery gaze to the thug and the weapon in his hand. She wriggled out of Max's grasp. "My God...Ross...the gunshot. What have you done to him?"

Ross was out cold, and Ramona knew it was probably the only thing keeping Dooley from finishing what he'd started. Ross's chest rose and fell, but Dooley wasn’t close enough to see the shallow movements. Ramona had to convince him that Ross was dead. If he found out his lousy shot had hit Ross in the shoulder instead of the chest, he would surely complete the job.

At least she didn't have to put up a front that she was scared. She’d never been so frightened in her life. "Why'd you do it, Dooley?" she asked. "I know you two didn't get along, but this...this is murder. You didn't have to kill him."

"There wasn't no other way. He's been cheating me from the start, and he deserved what I done to him. Ross is a bad man, girlie. He brought himself down, and he's going take you down after him."

What was he talking about? How had Ross cheated Dooley?  And what did he mean by taking her down? "What are you aiming to do, Dooley?"

He picked up the bundle of dynamite against the wall. "I didn't mean no harm to come to you," he said. "I got nothing against you. You weren’t supposed to be in the mine, but now that you are, I gotta do what I gotta do."

His intentions were clear. Ramona had been in many threatening situations, even ones where she’d stared death in the face, but this, being blown to smithereens...

"You don't want to hurt me, Dooley," she said. "We're friends. I've even taken your side against Ross."

"That's true enough, and I can't bring myself to shoot you. I wouldn't feel right about shooting any woman, but you seen me do this thing to Ross, and I can't take a chance that you'll tell it. All I want is my mine back, and you’re in the way."

"I'll help you. We'll work together, you, me and Max and Lizzie."

"You’re dreaming. That ain't gonna happen, not now."

"But if you set off that charge, how will you get the silver? The way in will be blocked."

Confusion clouded his eyes and deepened the furrows on his face. He finally came up with an answer to her question, an answer she didn't like.

"By the time I come back up here for more silver, you'll have starved to death if the blast don’t kill you. Then when I do clear a path, the silver will be waiting for me, only me."

She had to get through to him. If persuasion didn't work, then she'd try threats. "You won't get away with this, Dooley. Max and Lizzie will know what you've done. You'll go to prison for the rest of your life. But if you let me go free, the law will go easier on you. It's your only chance."

He took a match from his pocket and struck it against the cave wall. "You don't know what's going on outside, girlie. Max and that other one won't be a problem. I got a new set of partners that's handling things with them." He held the match to all four fuses. They crackled to life and sputtered quickly along the strings. "Like I said, I got nothing against you personally, but you shouldn't have been here."

She held a trembling hand out to him. "Don't do it, Dooley. Give me the dynamite...please."

He ordered her back against the far side of the cave. "It's too late," he said. "If you try to escape, then I'll have to shoot you sure enough."

It all happened so fast. The fuses burned rapidly toward the cylinders, and Dooley dropped them at the entrance to the cavern. Then he backed away into a shadow so she couldn't see his face. But she clearly saw the glinting barrel of his gun, and she heard his last words.