Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1) (23 page)

“You can’t force me!” Katie’s voice rose.

“But, you see, I can,” he replied mildly. And with one easy movement, he put his hands around her waist and slung her over his shoulder.

“Heathen!”

Clasping an arm around her knees to hold her securely, Jack strode out the door. He took the keys from her reticule, locked the door, then slipped the keys into his pocket. Mrs. Pondhollow tottered forward on her porch to watch their progress down Washington Street. Katie was pummeling Jack’s back, to no avail.

“Don’t you bother to claim your room, sonny!” the old woman screeched.

He turned his head, laughing. “Let me guess. You won’t refund the money.”

“Not to your sort!” Mrs. Pondhollow affirmed, patting the five-dollar bill in her pocket. “And don’t come begging around here next time you need a place to stay!”

“You have my word, dear lady!”

Katie continued to struggle, ignoring the alarmed stares of passersby, right up until Jack carried her through the saloon and deposited her in the kitchen. Abby was peeling potatoes at the big worktable, chatting with Gideon, who sat on a chair next to the window. Although the MacKenzie Saloon did not serve liquor on Sundays, patrons were always welcome for dinner.

“Gideon!” Katie cried. “This brute has demolished a story I spent hours writing and typesetting, and now he’s locked me out of the
Gazette
office! Not to mention the indignity I have suffered at his hands as he carried me like a sack of flour up Main Street!” Her cheeks were aflame.

Gideon stared at Jack, trying not to smile. “Did you do
that?”

“It was the only way, I’m afraid.” Jack smiled at his friend. “Miss MacKenzie’s story about the theft of Yee’s jade egg was filled with thinly veiled suggestions that the crime had been committed by Aaron Rush, accompanied by an evaluation of the suspect’s character and allusions to his past wrongs. It seemed to me that—”

“You needn’t go on,” Gideon broke in. “I can guess the rest.” He looked at Katie. “How many times do I have to tell you—”

“Don’t you scold me! I refuse to be humiliated any further by either of you—you men!” Turning her back on them, she glanced through the doorway to the saloon... and nearly gasped aloud. Aaron Rush was walking in, accompanied by a stranger who was well dressed to the point of gaudiness. The man wore huge side-whiskers, a large beaver hat, ruby shirt studs, and a heavy watch chain, and he carried a ruby-topped walking stick. Katie immediately sensed that the proof she sought might well be at hand, if she could only eavesdrop on their conversation.

But first she had to get rid of Jack Adams and keep him from seeing Rush in the process.

“Katie,” Gideon was saying, “neither of us means to scold you or treat you like a child. But I can’t help being concerned about the fact that you seem determined to place yourself in danger. Not to mention
me—
and our new platen!”

“I’m only trying to do what’s
right,”
Katie protested. “It seems that I’m the only person left in Columbia who loves justice!”

Jack cocked an eyebrow at Gideon, who rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what’s come over you,” Gideon said to Katie. “I’ve never seen you with so much... fire. It’s only been since...” His voice trailed off as he met Abby’s eyes, then glanced at Jack.

Katie looked out the window, blushing deeply. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” Lifting her chin, she looked at Jack. “Mr. Adams, if you don’t mind, I have work to do. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave—by the back door.”

He gave her a reckless grin. “Whatever makes you happy, ma’am.”

Katie smiled as she watched his departing back. “I feel better already. Abby, could I have a word with you in the storeroom?” They had just begun to walk down the back hallway when she remembered Gideon and turned to shake a playful finger at him. “You must be all worn out from scolding me, but now it’s my turn to treat you like a child, and you owe me some indulgence. You stay right where you are and rest. I don’t want you to
move!”

Chapter 16

October 15-16, 1864

“Before we go any further, you must give me your word that you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” Katie whispered. “Especially Gideon!”

Abby looked worried. “Is it something dangerous?”

“Don’t be silly. Of course not! Would I ask you do anything that would put you at risk? It’s just that I find Gideon’s overprotective attitude rather annoying.”

“I had noticed,” Abby said with a weak smile.

“We are grown women after all, and have a right to some independence. We can think for ourselves, can’t we?”

“Yes...”

“Don’t look so nervous!” Katie gave her a big smile and patted her arm. “I’d never admit it to Jack, but he was probably right about the article I wrote. I need to have some proof that Aaron Rush stole Mr. Yee’s egg, and you can help me get it!”

“I can?” Abby paled.

“You won’t be doing anything wrong. Aaron Rush has come into the saloon for supper, and he’s with a man I don’t recognize. All I want you to do is give them the best service possible, stay near their table almost the entire time they’re eating. Offer them more coffee, extra cream, things like that. And when you aren’t waiting on them, busy yourself nearby so that you can hear what they’re saying. You just might be able to provide the clue I need.”

She tugged at a stray golden curl. “Well, I owe you so much, I’d do anything I could to help you, Katie.”

“I knew I could count on you! Now, you just go on out there and be your own sweet self. Give them a big smile and don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of the cooking—and Gideon. Then, when Rush and his guest leave, we’ll meet back here. All right?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s the spirit!” Katie pointed Abby toward the door and gave her a little nudge. “Good luck!”

* * *

For the next hour, Katie cooked, heaped plates with food, and chatted gaily with Gideon. Occasionally she passed by the doorway to the saloon, where she saw Abby hovering over Aaron Rush and his dandified friend. Abby’s performance was impeccable. She was always near them, fluffing her burnished curls with a dimpled hand and displaying her bosom before their appreciative eyes. Finally, as the men applied themselves to generous portions of cranberry pudding, Abby glanced toward the doorway and flashed a triumphant smile above their heads. Katie’s heart raced with excitement.

As soon as Rush and his guest had departed, Katie gave Gideon a bowl of pudding to keep him occupied and hurried toward the storage room. Abby was waiting for her, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

“That was fun,” she whispered, nearly giggling. “I felt like one of those spies!”

Katie could scarcely contain herself. “What did they say?”

“Well, it sounded like the rich-looking gentlemen had come all the way from San Francisco. While they were eating dessert, I heard him say, ‘I’m eager to see the item. It sounds like just what I’ve been looking for. One of my clients collects artifacts in that line. When can I see it?’”

Katie clapped her hands with glee. “And what did Rush reply?”

“He dropped his voice real low, and I started talking to another customer at the next table so he wouldn’t suspect anything. But I heard him say, ‘I’m keeping it away from town, Mr. Armbrewster. We’ll have to go by horseback. Can you be ready at six o’clock tomorrow morning?’ And the other fellow nodded. Then Mr. Rush says, ‘Good. Meet me at the livery stable, all right?’ They agreed, then Mr. Rush looked around for me and asked for the bill.” Abby’s revelations had tumbled out, but now she paused. Then, after a moment, she ventured, “Was that any help? Perhaps you can tell Jack and he’ll follow them.”

“Yes, of course, that’s a wonderful idea,” Katie replied distractedly. “But you leave it to me. You don’t have to give this matter another thought, Abby. You’ve done your part splendidly!”

* * *

At a quarter to six that next morning, Katie stood in the now vacant icehouse behind the livery stable. During the winter, the ice man took his high-sided freight wagons to the frozen lakes of the Sierras and returned with huge blocks of ice. Properly insulated and stored with several inches of sawdust between them, the past year’s ice had lasted through early September. Now the ice man was away visiting his daughter in Sacramento, and Katie was grateful for this hiding place. She stood stroking the velvety nose of her horse, Willoughby, a gray gelding named for the scoundrel in Jane Austen’s
Sense and Sensibility.
Her eyes strayed restlessly from one side of the livery stable to the other as she waited for Rush and Armbrewster to appear.

Katie was proud of her disguise. In a pair of old dungarees, battered boots, and a warm gray flannel shirt, she could easily pass as a slight, harmless teenage boy—particularly once she’d pinned up her braided hair and covered it with a large brown felt hat that had belonged to her father.

At last she saw them, entering separately, then emerging onto Fulton Street astride the stable’s two best horses. She waited a few minutes before walking Willoughby out onto the street. Rush and Armbrewster were barely in sight, heading east on Yankee Hill Road.

Keeping a safe distance behind them, Katie was grateful for the rain that had fallen during the night. The ground was just damp enough so that the two horses’ hooves left a faint impression. If they turned off Yankee Hill Road, she would know it.

The narrow road passed through land now decimated by years of hydraulic mining. What had once been a fragrant pine grove was now a pitted wasteland punctuated by craggy rocks. The mining town of Yankee Hill was nearly dead. Only a few miners’ cabins, a tiny store, and a ramshackle saloon attested to its brief, lively past.

The journey seemed to take forever. Twice in two hours, the men stopped to stretch their legs and drink from flasks. Katie assumed that Rush was setting such an easy pace in deference to Mr. Armbrewster, who was obviously no horseman. As the morning sun rose higher, she began to feel tired and warm herself. When she glimpsed Rush and Armbrewster turning off the road onto a path that wound upward through shady pines, she sighed in relief.

Soon, however, her mind turned to more important considerations than the unseasonally balmy weather. Now, she realized, it was imperative that she not be discovered. Anyone could have reason to be on Yankee Hill Road, but what excuse would she offer if they caught her in this much more remote area? Katie had never been on this trail before; she had no idea if anyone even lived nearby. Every time Willoughby stepped on a twig, her heart lurched in utter panic until she was certain Rush hadn’t heard. She was afraid to get close enough to see them, afraid that if she could see them, they could see her, too. What if they turned off into the woods again, and the hoofprints were lost in a carpet of pine needles?

For the first time, Katie began to see her situation from Jack and Gideon’s point of view. The word
predicament
occurred to her. How was she going to get the proof she sought without being discovered? Even more horrifying to contemplate, what would Rush and Armbrewster do if they caught her? Physically, Katie was no match for two big men, and she had no gun. There was no one around to hear her scream, and no one knew where she had gone. If Rush killed her, it would be as difficult to prove his guilt as in all the other crimes he had committed.

At least another hour had passed, Katie figured. She had dropped farther and farther behind, even stopping once to relieve herself a ways from the trail. Before mounting Willoughby again, she glanced up through the pine trees at the azure sky and said a silent prayer. It occurred to her that she could simply turn back, but stubbornness won out. She decided to keep going for another half hour.

A few minutes later, she spied a narrow path that led through the trees toward the south fork of the Stanislaus River. On a hunch, she tied Willoughby to a branch and walked through the trees, keeping to one side of the path. Soon an abandoned old cabin came into view. Her heart began to pound at the sight of the men’s horses tethered outside.

Near the cabin was a clump of lilac bushes, apparently planted by a past owner. Summoning all her courage, Katie scampered across the carpet of pine needles and huddled behind the sheltering bushes. She realized then that her palms were sweaty with fear. She was covered with dust, and her shirt, damp with perspiration, clung to her back. Minutes passed, no one came to flush Katie from her hiding place, and gradually her nerves calmed. She could hear Rush and Armbrewster talking inside the cabin; obviously they were unaware of her presence.