A Fortune For The Outlaw's Daughter
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“Yes, there is,” she argued.
“None a man can freely claim.” He wasn’t trying to disillusion her. It was something he knew for a fact. The money being made in California was off the miners, not by mining. It was that way other places, too. He just knew where the odds were better.
Her lips were pinched tight and her chin had jutted up a notch.
“Alaska,” he said, thinking of his destination. “That’s where the gold is.”
“That,” she said sternly, “is a wives’ tale. Alaska’s nothing but frozen tundra.”
“Now, who told you that?”
“No one in particular.”
“Well, go right on believing that, darling. You and the rest of the world.” It would leave more for him to find. Tales of discovering gold in Alaska had spread along the coast for years, and prospectors made their way there only to return saying the same thing she did—mainly because they didn’t know where to look. He, on the other hand, did. Those thoughts had him slowing the speed of which he rowed. The Mary Jane had to be close, and in this fog he might row smack-dab into her side.
“You’ve seen it?” she asked. “Alaska? Gold?”
“Yes, darling, I’ve seen it.” Something blocked the wind, and he had no doubt it was Uncle Trig’s ship. Paddling slow until he could make out the ropes hanging down, he said, “We’re here.”
The rowboat bumped the big hull of the Mary Jane. Cole caught a rope and pulled the little boat beneath the ladder. “You have to climb up first this time. But don’t fret, I’ll be right behind you.”
There was caution in her eyes, but not fear, and he liked that. He’d had to carry more than one young girl up the rope ladder, which wasn’t easy. She tucked the blanket under the bench seat and carefully maneuvered to the ladder. He waited until she was well on her way to the top before he tied the side ropes to the rowboat so it could be lifted out of the water by the pulleys once he arrived on the deck of the big ship.
Uncle Trig was at the top and two shipmates were already hoisting up the rowboat when Lucky climbed over the edge.
“Everything go all right?” his uncle asked.
“Yes,” Cole answered. “No problems at all.”
“Did you see Jasmine?” Trig wanted to know.
“Who do you think motioned me when the time was right?” Cole slapped his uncle on the shoulder. “She’s as lovely as ever.” Long ago Jasmine had been shanghaied from some foreign coastal town much like Ridge was doing to innocent girls, and though she was now the madam of a similar business, she believed girls should choose to work that profession, not be forced into it. Trig had once been a steady customer of Jasmine’s, and though Cole felt there was more—that his uncle had fallen in love with the woman—neither Jasmine nor Trig ever proclaimed anything but friendship. They were cohorts, though, in slipping girls out of town right under Ridge’s nose. Although neither of them would admit to that, either.
“I’m sure she is,” Trig answered.
“How’d you know about this one?” Cole asked. They’d barely arrived in port when his uncle told him of the mission. Usually there’d been cargo to load or unload and he’d always assumed word had been sent during that time. This time, glancing toward Maddie standing near the wheelhouse, he was curious to know how Trig knew Hester—Jasmine’s housekeeper—had this girl hidden and ready for an escape.
“Two lanterns.” Trig waved a hand in the general direction of Cole’s gaze. “I hung a hammock in my cabin for you to bunk with me until we get to Seattle.”
That wasn’t new, either. He often gave up his sleeping space for the girls, but not satisfied with his uncle’s answer, Cole questioned, “Two lanterns?”
“If there’s only one, all is well. If there’re two, we’re needed.”
“Where?”
“Warehouse number seven.” Trig, his skin wrinkled and weathered from the sun and sea, squinted thoughtfully. “You thinking about changing your plans?”
Cole shook his head. “You know I’m not. Sailing’s been profitable, but not enough to cover what the family needs now. Robbie’s waiting in Seattle. He’ll take over the rescues.” There was a fleeting ounce of regret inside Cole, for he had enjoyed the past four years with his uncle, sailing the seas, mainly the West Coast. They had gone around the cape once and back again. That had been his greatest adventure so far—and most profitable. The funds he’d acquired from buying and selling highly sought after merchandise had allowed him to send a considerable sum home. Yet as much as that had been, he’d heard the family needed a whole lot more. Trig had contributed, too, but the hurricane that had wiped out the family shipyard and warehouses west of New Orleans had done a number on the entire coast, and his uncles back home said Gran was struggling to rebuild the family empire to its former glory.
Cole had set his hope and goal on gold. It would show to his mother that following in his father’s and grandfather’s footsteps had been the right choice, and prove every man had his own fortune to seek. If his mother had her way, Cole and his brother would still be living under her roof, married to the women she’d handpicked.
He’d left, though, to his mother and Rachel’s dismay. So had Robbie. His younger brother by three years had escaped their mother’s clutches two years ago, just as Cole had three years before that. It wasn’t that they didn’t love their mother, just that a man has to live his own life. Gran knew that, and said it, though their mother never listened. Gran had seen through Rachel, too. Even before he had.
Cole let his thoughts skip right over Rachel, as he had for years now. He was glad Robbie had joined him and Trig. It was his brother’s turn now to learn the ins and outs of being a sea merchant. He’d stepped off the ship last fall to spend the winter in Seattle in order to drum up cargo he thought they could make a profit from. Trig had given instructions, just as he’d given Cole the first time he’d let him wander on his own, striking deals.
It had been then, when they’d dropped off Robbie, that they’d heard about the hurricane—a message had greeted them when they’d arrived in port. His father’s other two brothers, though neither had been overly involved in the shipping industry, had sent a wire saying everything had been lost, but Gran was insistent upon rebuilding.
That was the other reason he needed to find gold, and lots of it: Gran. She’d dedicated her life to the shipping industry and had used her profits to see her sons set up in businesses, and now, as life was catching up with her, she deserved to have her family come together in order for her to rebuild her one true love. DuMont Shipping.
As kids, he and Robbie had loved spending time at her place. They’d sneak away from the house to pretend they were sailors, maneuvering little rowboats around the bayou, both of them dreaming of the day they’d join their father or Uncle Trig on the seas. Their mother had been dead set against that and whipped them soundly the one time she’d discovered where they’d been and what they’d been doing. She’d forbidden them from spending nights at Gran’s after that. Even as a young child he’d been torn between the adventures calling him inside and the pain of seeing his mother cry, claiming the sea had stolen her husband. She’d cried when he’d left, too.
Cole sighed. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but the calling had grown too strong, and now, well, now he had to save the family business. A man lucky enough could make money in Alaska—lots of it, and that was what he needed.
With another friendly slap to Trig’s shoulder, and more determined than ever that Alaska was where he needed to be, Cole took a step. “I’ll show our guest to her cabin.”
Chapter Two
To Maddie it seemed only hours had passed, not days, when a voice on the other side of the door said they were heading into port. At first she’d been cautious, nervous even, but Trig DuMont—Captain Trig—reminded her so much of Smitty, her reservations had disappeared. He was always grinning, and carefree and happy. So was his nephew Cole—although she continued to call him Lucky, still hoping it would rub off on her.
Both Lucky and his uncle acted as if the sun never set, that the world was a glorious place, and all they had to do was flash one of those eye-twinkling smiles and all their dreams would come true. Though comfortable talking with either of them, she still didn’t trust men, any of them, and kept to herself most of the trip. The boat was full of other men and she’d readily agreed when Lucky had suggested it would be best if she stayed inside as much as possible. Which wasn’t hard.
The cabin was remarkable. Not only did it have a bed—she’d only slept on one of those a few times in her life—but it was full of books and newspapers and magazines—all about gold mining. Due to her limited abilities, reading them had been difficult at first, but the more she kept at it, the easier it became and she found herself wishing they’d never arrive in Seattle. Or better yet, sail right past it. Her luck had shifted—she could feel it deep inside—and she knew what she had to do.
The books she’d read filled her with additional excitement. Alaska was full of gold. There were ways to get it out of the ground, too. Frozen or not, it wasn’t so different from what she already knew in a lot of ways. Smitty had taught her all he knew about mining.
Settling the last book back to its rightful place, just as she’d done with all the other ones, Maddie swallowed, forcing her heart to slide back down her throat to where it belonged.
Alaska. That was where gold was, and she wanted gold; therefore, Alaska was now her destination. She wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder every step, either. Mad Dog would never follow her all the way to Alaska.
Freedom and gold. Her luck had definitely changed.
Captain Trig smiled brightly as she opened the door. Much shorter than his nephew, the captain wasn’t much taller than she. The top of his head was completely hairless and a ruddy red from being exposed all the time, and he had a jagged scar that wrapped around one ear. Yet, like Lucky, his glistening brown eyes made him appear less dangerous than a woeful pup looking for a home. Though her luck had changed, Maddie continued to tell herself she still had to be cautious. Wolves were once pups.
“We’re pulling into Seattle,” Captain Trig said.
Maddie stepped out of the cabin.
“Hope the trip wasn’t too rough for you.”
“Not at all,” she answered, pulling her eyes off the gray skies. Seattle didn’t appear any more excited to see her than she was to see it. “I could sail for days yet. Months even.”
Trig’s laugh was low and choppy, but not frightening. Pleasant in its own right. “It would get old to you long before months were up, girlie.” He gestured toward the busy shoreline. “We’ll dock here. No need for a rowboat this time.”
“I didn’t mind the rowboat, either.”
He laughed again. “Trying to finagle yourself a job?”
Maddie glanced his way.
His eyes sparkled, even as he said, “A ship’s no place for the likes of you, darling.” Taking her elbow as they walked, he continued, “There’s a good woman here in Seattle. She’ll provide you with the training to become a nursemaid or servant girl and find you a good family to work for. You’ll never have to worry about men like Ridge again. Just follow her instructions.”
Maddie bit her lips together. He was right in saying she wouldn’t have to worry about Mad Dog ever again, but she’d never be a servant—she’d have servants. Now wasn’t the time to share that, so she asked, “For free?” Her father had never figured it out, but she had. Nothing in life is free.
“The cost is covered,” Trig answered. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
Worry wasn’t what she felt. There wasn’t a word, not one she knew, to describe how her stomach soured at the thought of being beholden to anyone. She’d given Hester the gun Smitty had given her as payment for getting her out of town. A tiny derringer not worth much, but next to her nugget, it was all she’d had. She’d repay Trig, too, and Lucky, for their parts. The Mary Jane was sailing to Alaska when leaving Seattle, and Maddie would be on her. This was her chance and she wouldn’t give it up. Once she found her gold, she’d clear her debts and finally be in complete control of her life.
“When are you sailing out?” she asked. “In case I want to say goodbye?”
Trig glanced around at the men doing things with ropes and riggings and such. When his gaze settled on one man, her heart fluttered oddly in her chest. She realized then it was Lucky.
“To me or my nephew?” Trig asked.
She’d barely spoken with Lucky, yet she did think a lot about him. Mainly because she was so preoccupied with all his books. He was her route to the gold, and she had to follow it, yet no one could know that. Not Trig, and not Lucky. Shaking her head, she answered, “You of course. I owe you for rescuing me.”
“Think nothing of it, honey. Besides, Lucky rescued you. My ship just carried you north.”
“Well,” she said, contemplating the truth of that. An answer settled and she grinned. “You told him to.”
Trig laughed again. “We’ll be sailing out in three days.”
Maddie started to count the hours at that very moment. When the time came, it was Trig who walked her down the steep slope created by the drawbridge-type door that was lowered from one side of the boat. He talked amicably about a Mrs. Smother as they walked along the dock then up the stone-lined shore.
Four blocks from the water—she counted and noted distinct landmarks to find her way back—he led her up a set of steps on a large brick building that, despite the colorful flowers lining the walkway, had every shutter shut as if keeping everything outside out and everything inside in.
Mrs. Smother was summoned by the older woman who answered Trig’s knock, and soon Maddie was ushered up a set of stairs by the same white-haired lady who’d opened the door while Mrs. Smother, a middle-aged woman with brown hair and faded blue eyes, invited Captain Trig to tea. Maddie had to grin at the thought of the captain drinking tea, but followed the other woman, who introduced herself as Martha.
Maddie was biding her time of course, she couldn’t just run away, not until the Mary Jane was about to set sail. Martha led her into an extraordinary room. There was a tub for bathing, a commode for, well, necessity and hooks on the wall holding several garments.
“There’s hot and cold water,” Martha explained. “You can wear anything that fits and leave your dirty clothes in that basket.”
A thousand questions danced in Maddie’s head, but she didn’t want to sound or look ignorant, so she simply nodded.
“Do you need any help?”
“No,” she answered, “thank you. I’ll be fine.”
Years ago her father had left her to live with one of his lovers—that was what he’d called Roseanne—and there had been a room just for bathing there, though not as elaborate as this. Maddie had learned a lot about life that winter, and men and women, and had been glad when Bass had returned. “Make sure you scrub well,” Martha said. “It looks as if it’s been a while since you’ve bathed.”
Considering there hadn’t been a creek handy for several days, it had been a while, but the other woman’s tone struck a chord that went beyond that. Maddie held her temper in check and waited until Martha opened the door before suggesting, “I would like to say goodbye to Captain Trig before he leaves.”
“It would be best if you didn’t,” Martha answered, not unkind, but stern.
Maddie bit her lips together and smiled. Three days could prove impossible here. A person knew when they weren’t wanted, especially one that hadn’t been wanted since the day she’d been born. It was just as well; she didn’t want to be here, either.
After her bath, which she figured out just fine, and dressed in a pale blue dress that had fit better than the others—at least she could button the front of this one—Maddie met with Mrs. Smother. She listened and nodded, even answered once in a while, although Maddie had no plans on heeding the “strict set of rules that must be followed at all times.” Not stupid, she remained amicable during the evening meal and completed all of the chores requested of her. Then she waited until the house was quiet before sneaking down the stairs and out the door in Mrs. Smother’s parlor. The other two doors were guarded. Bass had taught her a few things that had turned out to be useful, like stealth.
A thorough exploration of the docks, which took up most of the night, didn’t provide a place to stay until the Mary Jane sailed, and a fact occurred to Maddie. Mrs. Smother was sure to contact Captain Trig if she came up missing prior to him leaving port, and he might have the ship searched. As she backtracked and sneaked back into Mrs. Smother’s big brick house Maddie pondered how one might possibly board the Mary Jane moments before it sailed. Once again, a few of Bass’s escapades came to mind.
* * *
Cole cursed as he attempted to roll the wooden barrel up the ramp. The contents inside refused to shift, making the barrel roll back toward him rather than flipping over and rolling up the ramp. Too big around to heft onto his shoulder, he squatted and put all his strength into a hefty shove. It rolled, and Cole hurried upward pushing continuously to keep the momentum going. When it finally topped the ramp, he was breathing hard and calling Robbie a few choice words. Cole had no idea what might be in the barrel, but the scratchy writing, as if someone had used the burned end of stick, saying “the Mary Jane” told him Robbie had agreed to ship whatever the barrel contained.
After it quit rocking, he flipped the barrel on end. The faint morning light showed one more set of scratchy writing. “This side up.” After rolling it up the hill, flipping the barrel onto its other end was simple. He toppled it end for end and then paused to swipe the sweat from his brow as he glanced around, having sworn he’d heard a muffled moan.
“Cole!” Robbie waved from the dock. “Come help with this luggage, would you?”
Glad to leave the barrel where it sat, Cole headed back down the gangplank. Robbie could take the barrel below, into the cargo hull; that would be easy as the ramp was downhill. Arriving at his brother’s side, Cole’s jaw tightened at all the tapestry bags and traveling trunks. Disgusted with the “cargo” Robbie had lined up, Cole shook his head. “We aren’t a passenger ship.”
“We’ve already gone over that. Alaska isn’t yours. People can move there if they want to.” Robbie grinned. “Especially paying the price those ladies agreed to pay.”
Letting his snort tell his brother exactly what he thought of hauling a dozen dance-hall girls to Alaska, Cole grabbed a trunk and headed back up the ramp.
Robbie, with a couple of carpetbags in each hand bounded up beside him. “Could make for an interesting trip.”
Scowling, Cole answered, “Interesting isn’t the word I was thinking. Don’t you remember anything from family picnics? When you get more than three women in a room, there’s bound to be a fight. A dozen of them will be dangerous. Ugly, too.”
“Not one of those gals is ugly,” Robbie argued. “Trust me, big brother.”
Cole didn’t bother with an answer; instead, he declared, “We sail within an hour. If your ladies aren’t here, we aren’t waiting.”
“They’ll be here,” Robbie assured. “They’ll be here.”
Unfortunately, Robbie was right. The women arrived before the mounting stack of luggage had been carried into the hull. The area had been transformed by all sorts of furniture the ladies were paying to have transported. Dressed in outfits and covered in face paint that left their profession in no doubt, the women marched aboard, waving and blowing kisses at the few mates it took to run the Mary Jane.
Mainly a cargo ship, the Mary Jane only had a few cabins—Robbie had explained that to the women, which was why a portion of the hull had been transformed to make the trip as comfortable as possible. Robbie had set that all up, too, and Cole had been a bit surprised when Uncle Trig had agreed to it.
Trig had, though. In the end, his uncle had been the one to convince Cole there was as much profit to be made off those women as any other cargo they’d haul. It wasn’t that Cole didn’t appreciate a woman now and again, he just didn’t have time for the problems that came along with them. Rachel had been a headache from the get-go. Telling him what to do, what to wear. She’d partnered up with his mother, too, trying to make sure he never took to the sea. When he’d told Rachel he wasn’t interested in gaining access to Gran’s fortune, but in finding his own, she’d run to his mother again, bawling. The two of them hounding him nonstop had been more than he could take. He’d left despite the fact Rachel and his mother were planning a wedding.
His.
Women wanted nothing more than to rule a man. That would never happen to him. He’d be in charge of his own life.
Cole set down the last trunk, and as he turned, ready to make his exit up the hull ramp, a head of coal-black hair caught his attention. His heart kicked the inside of his chest, making the air in his lungs rattle. The woman turned around to face him, grinning, and he experienced a wave of disappointment. Or perhaps relief. He’d wondered about Maddie since she’d left the boat on Uncle Trig’s arm. She’d waved and he’d tipped the brim of his hat, but had wondered how she was getting along at Mrs. Smother’s. Maddie just didn’t seem like the domestic-servant type.
He told himself he was glad this woman wasn’t her and hurried up the ramp. The black-haired woman’s profession was the exact thing he was trying to save Maddie from. In all actuality, Hester and Uncle Trig had saved her; he’d just been the runner. She’d been no problem on the trip. Stayed in the cabin, reading his books on mining, although she’d never let on to that. He hadn’t let on that he knew she’d read almost everything in his cabin, either.
Cole chuckled as he scurried across the deck to begin preparations to set sail. Maddie had certainly been different than any other girl he’d ever been around. She’d wanted less to do with men than he did women. He’d sensed that. Not only while rescuing her, but during the few times they’d conversed. They hadn’t said much to one another, usually just greetings during meal times, yet he’d noted her mind was always going, taking in the surroundings and holding on to every word Uncle Trig had said. That had mainly been about sailing or the places he’d been. Her eyes had sparkled whenever Alaska had been mentioned, and that was probably why he still thought about her. She had the fever as bad as he did.
Cole’s thoughts shifted then. It wouldn’t be long now, and he’d be finding gold. The thrill of that put a smile on his face.
The Mary Jane set sail while the sun inched its way into a clear sky turning a brighter blue with each minute that ticked by. Cole embraced the work it took maneuvering the ship out of the bay and setting their course north to Alaska.
His mind was always on his job, and his heart was right along with it. The day was perfect for sailing, and the women—he figured due to the hour of which they must have crawled from their beds—had settled into the hull as soon as they’d boarded, and with any luck, they’d sleep away most of the day.
The deckhands whispered amongst themselves, but no one made mention of the unusual cargo. To do so would have angered Trig, and no one angered the captain. Cole liked that, too, because it promised a smooth and uneventful trip.
Hopefully.
He still had his doubts.
Late that night, while taking his turn at the wheel, his doubts were confirmed. Cole pinched the bridge of his nose at the commotion coming from the hull. The ruckus had been going on for some time and he’d hoped it would stop all on its own, but evidently that wasn’t to be. Since no one else seemed willing to go see what was happening he had no choice. Glancing toward Chester, the other mate assigned to the night shift, Cole nodded toward the wheel. They were in open water, but still needed to be alert. While walking toward the hull, he also glared down the narrow hallway running between the cabins. Uncle Trig or Robbie, who should have been dealing with such rumpus, hadn’t stepped out of their doors.