Gold Rush Bride
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He closed his eyes and tipped his face into the rain. When he opened them again there was Landerfelt, standing behind the counter grinning at him. Their gazes locked through the distorted glass of the storefront.
How in hell had he gotten that miniature?
Dennington had always kept it on him. He’d been sick with fever on and off for nearly a year. Will had made it a point to look in on him whenever he was in town. Surprisingly, over the last month the Irishman’s health had improved. So much so that Doc Mendenhall had predicted a complete recovery. But on Tuesday morning Liam Dennington was found dead in his bed. Just like that. And the miniature scribed with his daughter’s likeness was for sale in Landerfelt’s store.
“It’s the spittin’ image of her, ain’t it?”
Will turned at the sound of the familiar voice. It had been weeks since he’d seen Matt Robinson—his only friend, now that Dennington was gone. Although Matt was a year or two younger than Will, he’d grown up on the frontier and had taught Will everything he knew about how to survive. Trapping, trading, where and how to live.
They’d worked the Rockies together, then had made their way west to California. But the beaver were all trapped out now, and Matt had succumbed to the same lust that had every butcher, baker and candlestick maker heading for California in droves.
Gold fever. Will ground his teeth.
Matt whistled as he eyed the miniature. “I saw her two days ago at Sutter’s Fort. Had no idea she was Dennington’s kin. She don’t look much like him, does she?”
Will glanced toward Dennington’s just as a frazzledlooking Kate ducked out of the store to retrieve the traveling bag she’d left outside. It was a wonder no one had stolen it.
For the hundredth time in the past hour, his gaze was drawn to her trim figure and the wisps of auburn hair framing her lightly freckled face. She stole a glance at him, and he felt a queasy sort of unrest.
“I see ya’ve noticed.” Matt elbowed him, and Will snapped to attention.
He’d been crazy to think of helping her. The last thing he needed was to get involved with another down-on-his-luck immigrant’s problems. He’d done enough on that count lately, and look where it had got him.
It was time to change the subject.
“What brings you all the way to town, Matt? How’s the claim?”
“It’s a goin’. That’s why I’m here. I thought I’d take one more shot at convincin’ ya to go in with me. Whaddya say?”
Will looked hard at him, and read in his eyes what his friend didn’t say. “You’ve heard, then.”
“Heard what?”
“You know what. The whole town’s talking about what a damn fool I am.”
“The whole territory, more like it.” Matt cracked a lopsided smile. “But you’re no fool. I’d a done the same for the old Chinaman if I’d had the money.”
Will snorted.
“Speakin’ o’ which…”
Mei Li stepped out of Dennington’s store and turned up the street toward the Chinese camp on the outskirts of town. She shot Matt a tiny smile. He plucked his hat from his head and gawked at her like a schoolboy until she disappeared around the corner.
“You’re sweet on her,” Will said.
“Have been for months.”
“You’re asking for trouble, you know.”
“I know.”
Will grinned. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” He glanced at Landerfelt watching them through the window, and the smile slid from his face. “Seriously, Matt, if you intend to court that girl, you’d best watch your back.”
Matt shook off his momentary stupor and slapped his hat back on his head. “I was hopin’ you’d do that for me.”
“Oh no. Not me. I’ll be halfway to—”
“It’s all gone, ain’t it? The cash, your horse, everything.”
Will met his friend’s knowing gaze. “Yeah.”
“Ya’ve got nothin’ to lose then. Work the claim with me and we’ll be filthy rich come the first snow.”
Filthy rich was right.
No, that was his father’s game, not his. Will had made a new life for himself here, had put his past behind him. But the gold fever and what it had done to this pristine place and the once-honest men who lived here brought it all back in spades.
“Sorry, Matt. Not interested.”
“Damned if I can understand your reasonin’.”
His reasons were good ones, but none of Matt’s damned business. He shot another glance at the miniature in Landerfelt’s store window. “Each man has to make a life for himself, Matt. On his own, in his own way.”
“You’re set on Alaska, then?”
He studied the image of Mary Kate Dennington’s proud Irish features and bright blue eyes. “I am.”
“But how ya gonna—”
“I don’t know. All I know is, come hell or high water, I’ll be on that ship.”
It was nearly dark, and cold as any day in Dublin she could remember. Kate stood in the rain at the foot of her father’s grave, her mind made up.
She was cold and wet and she bloody well deserved to be. She’d been a fool to borrow that money on the promise of yet another of her father’s harebrained schemes. She knelt in the mud and placed a hand on his muddy grave.
“What were you thinking, Da?”
He hadn’t been thinking, and that was the problem. Liam Dennington had been a dreamer, a risk taker. Always after that next pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
She smiled in the dark, remembering.
A bit shaky on her feet, Kate rose as mud seeped into her boots. Exhaustion had finally caught up with her and gnawed bone deep against another familiar sensation. Desperation. She clenched her teeth and willed them both away.
Her gaze swept across the forested hillside peppered with the dying light of miners’ campfires. The single street that made up the town of Tinderbox cut across it, dark and quiet.
One campfire, in particular, drew her attention. But the man hunched beside it with an oiled buckskin pulled over his head against the downpour was no miner. She watched as Will Crockett stirred up the embers with a stick.
Mei Li had been right. Vickery confirmed what the girl had said about Crockett being a trapper on his way north. He was the perfect choice for her plan. Now, if she could only muster the courage to ask him.
The soft strain of a miner’s fiddle carried over the din of the rain and reminded Kate of home, though Tinderbox was certainly not like any place she’d ever seen in Ireland. It was a strange new world, and she was an outsider. That was made clear to her today by Mr. Landerfelt.
The man was pompous and, on the surface, seemed to present no particular threat, but she’d read a dangerous sort of instability in his eyes when Crockett had crossed him. Who knew what the merchant might do to protect the monopoly he seemed determined to create?
There were other dangers, too. All afternoon men had come down from the foothills where they worked their claims, just to get a look at her. It hadn’t taken long for Kate to realize she was one of the few white women here. In fact, since she’d left Sutter’s Fort two days ago, she hadn’t seen one other woman like herself—just Indians and a handful of Chinese.
It was clear she didn’t belong here. Her place was at home with her brothers. They needed her, had relied on her to care for them all the years since their mother died.
Kate had made enough just from the sale of the remaining goods in her father’s store to pay for the traveling expense back to San Francisco. Selling the horse and the mule would pay for lodging and food. What then?
She supposed she could work in a laundry or at some other decent employment until she raised enough to pay the debt owed her mother’s sister, and her ship passage home. But that could take months, and she’d experienced firsthand the tawdry San Francisco rooming houses built of green timbers and canvas walls. Walls that did nothing to muffle the sounds of what Kate could only imagine was going on in the next room between transient men and enterprising women.
No, she was better off in Tinderbox for now, where the memory of her father had garnered her one or two allies. She had a plan, and she’d stick to it.
A branch snapped behind her, yanking her out of her thoughts. Kate spun toward the sound.
“What are you doing out here in the rain? Christ, you’re soaked through.”
Will Crockett stood not two paces from her. How on earth had he crept up on her like that? Why, just a moment ago he’d been…
In the failing light, he took in her muddied garments and dripping hair. “Get back inside. It’s not safe out here.”
She ignored his command, wrapped her sopping shawl tight around her and started for his dying fire. She might as well get this over with.
“You should be at Vickery’s.” He offered her his oiled buckskin, as if it were a nuisance to do so. She took it and met his gaze.
“He gave you a bed for the night, didn’t he?”
“Aye, he did.”
Mr. Vickery had been more than gracious. He hadn’t felt it was safe for her to stay alone in her father’s cabin, and though his wife was away for a fortnight, he didn’t think it improper for Kate to stay under his roof for one night. After all, he was her father’s solicitor, a man Liam Dennington had trusted. Kate would trust him, too. What choice did she have?
“Go back to Ireland, Miss Dennington. Tinderbox is no place for a woman alone. A woman like you.”
Like her? Just what did he think she was like? She agreed with his advice, but for reasons she was certain were different from his. In any case, Will Crockett was in for a surprise.
“I intend to go back, as soon as I might.”
“Good.”
“But there is something you must do for me, first.”
“Me?” He looked at her, his dark eyes shining in the firelight. They were browner than she remembered. That afternoon in the store they’d seemed black as coal.
She made herself hold his gaze.
“Your father was my friend. I’ll do what I can, but I’m leaving town tomorrow and don’t plan on ever coming back.”
As if of their own accord, his eyes washed over her body. He looked away abruptly, embarrassed, it seemed. It was the third time that day she’d caught him looking at her that way.
She pulled the buckskin tighter, conscious of her wet dress clinging to her, outlining her hips and legs. “That’s exactly why it must be you, Mr. Crockett. You and no other.”
He turned toward her, then, and narrowed his eyes. They were black again. Black as a Dublin night in Liffey Quay. “What exactly is it you want, Miss Dennington?”
She’d likely burn in hell for what she was about to propose, but she mustered her courage and did it anyway.
“I want you to marry me.”
Chapter Three
He was the only man in Tinderbox who would have refused her. But refuse her he did, and sent Kate Dennington off to Vickery’s for the night.
A few hours’ restless sleep under a dead oak in a driving rain hadn’t made Will feel any better about his decision. And now, in the light of day, it seemed damned stupid of him.
He’d had the exact same idea, hadn’t he? To marry her for profit—his and hers. So when she’d proposed the deal, why hadn’t he just said yes? He knew why. Because her doing the asking had rubbed him the wrong way.
The moment the offer had left her lips, she’d transformed herself in his mind from a hardworking Irishman’s daughter in need of help to one Sherrilyn Rogers Browning, conniving Philadelphia socialite. Kate had cast him an honest, hopeful smile, but all he’d seen was Sherrilyn’s mercenary little smirk.
“Crockett, you’re an idiot.” He shook out his oiled buckskin and rolled it into a bundle.
This wasn’t Philadelphia, and Dennington’s daughter wasn’t a compliant pawn in one of his father’s latest business deals. That chapter in his life was over. Finished.
He plucked his beaver-skin cap from the wet ground, then caught himself looking for where he’d tethered his horse. “Son of a…” He’d forgotten the mare had spent the night in drier quarters, one of Landerfelt’s rented stalls down at the livery.
He slammed the cap on his head, tucked the buckskin under his arm and started in that direction. If he was lucky he could hitch a ride on the mule train to Sutter’s Fort. They could always use an extra teamster or two.
It was time to get the hell out of town before he changed his mind about giving Landerfelt his due and taking Kate Dennington up on that offer.
She wasn’t, by a long shot, in the same league with Sherrilyn, but she wasn’t as innocent as she played at, either. He’d known that the moment he’d first laid eyes on her in Dennington’s store. When Vickery told her her father was dead, she hadn’t shed a tear. Not one.
What kind of woman would react like that to her father’s death? A father, not like his, but one who loved a child as fiercely as Liam Dennington had loved his daughter. That little scene at the grave last night hadn’t fooled him one bit. Again, no tears. Just rain. Her eyes had been as clear and cool as a predator’s.
So why had he been so put off by the marriage scheme she’d cooked up? He kicked up a stone as he turned into the wagon ruts on Main Street. She’d disappointed him, that’s why. He’d thought her a world apart from the one he’d come from. A world he was never going back to.
Clearly she wasn’t.
Dennington hadn’t talked much about Ireland or his family, except for waxing poetic about his daughter. Will had no idea if the Irishman had been well-to-do or just a common working man. Kate Dennington’s plain clothes and worn-out shoes led him to believe the latter.
But a man couldn’t be too sure about anyone these days. The gold rush had done one thing for California that Will did like. It made nearly everyone an equal. A rough-looking miner passed him on the street, and he knew the man was just as likely to have been a lawyer or a landowner in his old life as he was a laborer working the railroad.
No, Kate Dennington wasn’t the grieving, noble daughter he’d imagined her to be on first blush, but perhaps he’d been too hasty in refusing her offer. She was bound to marry someone if she intended to go through with her plan to keep the store.
Why not him?
He screwed up his face, remembering the one thing that didn’t make sense. She’d said that it must be him. Him and no other. Why? What did it matter to her? Any man would do for the scheme she’d hatched.
He reached the livery just as the sun was full up. The sky was a brilliant blue, the autumn air fresh as any he’d ever breathed. It reminded him of why he loved the frontier. On impulse he turned and let his gaze wander up the hillside to John Vickery’s three-room cottage.
An image of Kate Dennington’s trim waist and curved hips flashed in his mind. Will allowed himself a rare smile.
“Why the hell not?”
Perhaps he’d get the money for his passage, after all, and give Eldridge Landerfelt what was coming to him.
Shading her eyes against the sunlight, Kate squinted at the charred, muddy evidence of Crockett’s campfire and thanked God the trapper had refused her preposterous offer.
She must have been completely out of her mind last night. A hundred rosaries wouldn’t be enough to purge the sin of even proposing it. She’d remind herself to start on them that evening.
Pulling her still damp shawl tight about her, she picked her way carefully up the ravine separating Vickery’s cottage from the rest of town. She hadn’t meant to oversleep. For hours last night she’d tossed and turned, and when she finally fell asleep, she’d dreamed the most sinful things…. Will Crockett carrying her across the threshold of her father’s store…sharing a slice of wedding cake with him on the porch in back. Then later, his dark eyes searing her as she turned down the sheets of their marriage bed.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” She crossed herself and pushed the images from her mind.
A gust of wind blasted a pile of wet autumn leaves across her path as she turned onto Main Street. The town was bustling with activity, and a dozen pairs of miner’s eyes fixed on her as she strode briskly toward Landerfelt’s Mercantile.
She’d best get used to their stares. It had been no different in San Francisco, and that’s where she was likely to end up. For a time, at least. She’d just have to tough it out. There was no other option. Not now.
She’d sell her father’s storefront and land for whatever Landerfelt would give her. Had her foolish pride not gotten in the way, she would have done so yesterday when he’d made her the offer. She could have bargained with him at least.
Her mother would have been practical and sold. But oh, no, not Kate. She was clearly her father’s daughter. She shook her head at her stupidity, then stopped dead in her tracks as a litany of rapid-fire Chinese diffused by men’s shouts caught her off guard.
She fixed her gaze on the chaotic scene unfolding in front of Landerfelt’s Mercantile and Mining Supply. An overloaded wagon sat in the middle of the muddy street. Mei Li stood precariously atop the pile of supplies and mining equipment, yelling and kicking at two men who tried, unsuccessfully, to unload it out from under her.
Kate pushed her way to the front of the small crowd of miners and other townsfolk gathering to watch the skirmish.
The Chinese girl saw her, and her round face lit up. “Miss Kate, hurry!”
“Mei Li, what on earth—?”
“Wagon here with goods! Landerfelt try steal.” She kicked at one of the men who’d hefted a sack of grain from off the pile. “No let him! Wagon ours.”
Ours? Kate pushed closer. “What do you mean? I didn’t order any—”
“Landerfelt offered me double what Dennington put down by way a deposit.”
Kate frowned at the man who’d spoken: a rough-looking character sporting a long buckskin coat, well-worn gloves and chaps. She recognized him from Sutter’s Fort, where she’d overnighted three days ago. He was the wagon’s driver.
“You mean my father paid money in advance for these goods?”
Mei Li let out a screech.
Kate’s conversation with the driver was forgotten as Mei Li let loose another tirade of what had to be Chinese curses. One of the unloaders, Landerfelt’s man, grabbed her ankle. Mei Li fought to keep her balance as the man pulled her toward him, a malicious grin plastered on his face. The onlookers did nothing to stop him. What kind of men were these?
“You there!” Kate caught the ruffian’s eye, and his grin widened to reveal awful-looking teeth. “Leave her alone! She’s—” The wagon driver grabbed her and jerked her back, nearly off her feet. “Let me go! What do you think you’re—”
A gunshot sounded, and Kate jumped nearly out of her skin. A second later the man who’d grabbed Mei Li’s ankle was flying through the air toward Landerfelt’s store window. “Sweet Jesus!” Kate braced herself for the shattering glass.
The tawny-haired man she’d seen standing in the street with Will Crockett yesterday morn, scrambled atop the wagon and swept Mei Li off her feet. Kate was about to cry out for someone to stop him, but the enthralled look in Mei Li’s eyes as her arms snaked around his neck stilled her tongue.
The wagon driver tightened his grip, and Kate renewed her struggle. “I said let me go, you bloody oaf!” She kicked backward at his shin, and he grunted.
“Take your hands off her or you’re a dead man.”
She knew that voice.
A second later the driver released her. And a moment after that, Will Crockett’s fist connected with his face. A nice, clean blow. Kate winced as the driver went down.
As if such things happened every day, two onlookers dragged his limp body out of the mud and propped him against the windowless storefront of Landerfelt’s Mercantile and Mining Supply.
“Y-you killed him.” She took in Crockett’s steely expression and coal-black eyes.
“Nah. He’s just out cold. He’ll be all right.” Crockett’s gaze fixed on her, and his eyes warmed to brown.
The scandalous dream she’d had about him mere hours ago flooded her mind, unbidden. Her face flushed with heat. “Y-you’re still here.”
“Yeah.” His gaze washed over her, and that same queer feeling she’d had yesterday returned.
“But I thought you were gone to Alaska.”
“I was. I mean I am.” He took off his fur hat and played with it, then crushed it in his hands. “There’s something I need to do first.”
She felt suddenly overwarm, as if she’d just come down with fever. “Like…what, supposin’?”
“Well, I was thinking that—”
Shouts and the sound of hoofbeats cut short their conversation. The crowd scattered like rats in a Dublin flat. What now? Kate glanced down the street to see Eldridge Landerfelt bearing down on them on horseback.
Will stepped out in front of her, taking the brunt of the mud clods kicked up as the merchant jerked his mount to a halt in front of his store and took in the chaotic scene.
“Hell’s bells, what’s goin’ on here?” A second later Landerfelt was off his horse, on his feet, and nose to nose with Crockett.
Kate had the same question, and waited to hear the frontiersman’s answer. She stepped out from behind him, but Crockett didn’t spare her a glance. His gaze was pinned on Landerfelt.
“That shipment,” Crockett said. “It’s mine.”
“Yours?” answered Kate and Landerfelt in unison.
Crockett continued to ignore her. “That’s right. Liam Dennington paid half down on it two weeks ago. I know. I was there when the money changed hands.”
Landerfelt cracked a half smile. “What if he did? Dennington’s dead and buried. He can’t pay the balance, and she sure can’t, neither.” He flashed his eyes at her. “I’m doing her a favor by taking it off her hands.”
He was doing her a favor, Kate realized. She certainly couldn’t afford to pay for the goods, and even if she could she’d just have to turn around and sell them.
“You’d pay me back my father’s deposit, of course.”
“Of course.” Landerfelt’s smile broadened. He pulled a cigar out of his jacket and lit it up, much to Kate’s displeasure.
“Fine,” she said, and waved the smoke away from her face. “I’d also speak with you about the store itself, and the land. I was thinking that—”
“She was thinking she’d like to keep it awhile.” Crockett shot her a loaded look.
“Keep it?” For the second time in as many minutes she and Landerfelt voiced the same thought.
“She can’t keep it,” Landerfelt said. “It’s the law.”
Crockett took a step toward him, and Kate thought for sure there would be another fight. “Yeah, so I’ve heard. Single women can’t own property.”
“Or operate a business within two miles of town.” Landerfelt blew a puff of cigar smoke directly into Crockett’s face.
Kate braced herself for the frontiersman’s reaction, but to her surprise he didn’t move a muscle. His cool expression hardened. She admired control in a man. Too many of them, her father and brothers included, went off half-cocked.
“Unless the business is…well…” Landerfelt flashed his blue eyes at her again.
“I know what the law says. And I’m telling you she’s keeping the store and the shipment. We’re keeping it.”
“We?” Kate had a bad feeling when she met Will Crockett’s coal-black gaze.
“That’s right. Mrs. Crockett here—” Will wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side “—and me.”
“What?” This time she only mouthed Landerfelt’s reply. The cigar slipped from the merchant’s gaping mouth and sizzled in the muddy street.
“We’re getting married. This morning.” Crockett tossed her a cold look. “Isn’t that right?”
All at once, Kate felt the world slip out from under her feet. Crockett gripped her tighter, and she was suddenly aware of his body heat, the strength of his big hand and muscled arm.
“What kinda bull is this?” Landerfelt narrowed his eyes at the both of them.
“No bull, just fact. There’s nothing in town law says a married woman can’t operate a business. Especially if it’s her husband’s business. And nothing in the law says I can’t own property. I marry her and it’s mine.”