Deep Trouble (6 page)

“If you want her, you’re going to have to go get her,” Giselle Dysart said as she fanned her gently tilted-up nose.

Buckstone “Bucky” Chatillon Shaw
did
want Shannon Dysart. But did he want her bad enough to go get her?

It was a long, hard trip, and honestly Bucky was used to comfortable living. But the idea had some allure. He’d been raised on the trapping and scouting stories handed down from his great uncle, Henri Chatillon. Living a rugged life in the unsettled West was a childhood dream of his. But honestly, those dreams were best enjoyed in a soft bed in a warm room with plenty of food ready to be prepared by a skilled cook and delivered by an efficient maid.

But more than he didn’t want to go get Shannon, he didn’t want her mother, Giselle, nagging him anymore, nor his own mother, nor his father, nor any one of six living grandparents. The only one who wouldn’t have nagged was Shannon’s father, and since the man was both a lunatic and dead, it hardly mattered how Delusional Dysart would have acted.

So, he’d better go get her. With a sigh he accepted the inevitable. He was taking a trip west. He tried to look on the bright side. Maybe it would be fun. Maybe his childhood dream would become the adventure of a lifetime.

And maybe he’d end up with an Apache tomahawk embedded in his skull. He didn’t know much about Apaches, but what he did know… was all bad.

However it ended up, it had to start somewhere, and Shannon was his and had been since birth. Their marriage would join four of the most powerful families in St. Louis—the Chatillons, the Astors, the Shaws, and the Campbells. His marriage to Shannon Dysart would be the stuff dynasties were built on. He played around with the image of himself as governor and liked it well enough. And to be governor, he needed a wife. Shannon.

It was past time for action. He’d waited long enough for Shannon to give up her dreams and marry him. It pulled Bucky up short to think the woman he planned to marry needed to be hunted down to do her duty. Add to that, she had to give up the great goal of her life, her own dream, to do it. That didn’t make this the love match of the century.

“You’re right, Mrs. Dysart.” Bucky felt almost certain that Giselle Dysart was wrong, wrong, wrong. “I let Shannon go on this journey because I believed she needed to retrace her father’s steps before she could settle down. But we haven’t heard from her in too long. She may be in trouble.”

“She hired competent help.” Giselle waved a hand as if Shannon being out of contact for nearly a month now didn’t concern her in the least.

Bucky suspected that was exactly the case. What concerned Giselle was her own comfort, her own wants being catered to quickly and without the burden of hearing about any problems.

Giselle wanted this dynasty. Though she’d done her best to wash her hands of her unfortunate marriage to a peasant, she always acted as if her husband carried a bad smell. She wanted better for Shannon, and Giselle wanted to secure her own place slightly higher in St. Louis society. Having the Astors as relatives of course made her unassailable, however tenuous the connection, but Giselle always wanted more.

She was the perfect vision of beauty. Her blond hair was pulled high on her head so the elegant curve of her neck showed and the defiant tilt of her chin was emphasized. Her carefully pampered skin glowed in the gaslight. Giselle sat on a fragile-looking chair, cooling herself with a delicate fan.

Bucky’s mother sat beside Giselle. The two were a vision of wealth and culture. Which didn’t really hide the fact that they were as stubborn as Missouri mules. Unlike Giselle, Bucky’s mother was dark—Bucky took after her with his brown hair, but his eyes were blue like his father’s. Both women were slender as reeds, dressed in silk and coifed to perfection. And both of them rarely lifted a finger.

With his hands clasped behind his back, Bucky stood before them as they dictated his life. He understood perfectly why Shannon had run off to the West. He chose to see her as escaping from her overbearing mother rather than from him. And yes, he might as well admit he could be lying to himself.

But her escape meant nothing, because it was only temporary, and therefore, it was no escape at all. Shannon was stuck with him, and it was time she accepted it.

Stuck with him? Give up her dreams? It was the love story of every woman’s dreams.

He pictured himself on one knee, holding her hand.

Shannon, I’m sorely afraid we’re stuck with each other. Would you please give up your dreams and marry me? And can we do it before our parents drive us crazy?

Bucky almost buried his face in his hands. He made a fervent promise to himself to spend all his spare time thinking of a better way to propose. The truth was obviously out of the question.

“I should have married her and gone along on her trip.” He hadn’t asked her, and as obsessed as she’d been about her father’s ridiculously garbled last words and arcane map, he didn’t think she’d have paid him much mind if he had.

“You should have married her and insisted she give up on this rubbish,” Mother said as she straightened the ruffles along the rounded collar of her dress.

“But I didn’t.” It occurred to Bucky that if he left right now for the Wild West, he wouldn’t have to talk to any of Shannon’s or his family for a long, long time. That alone recommended the idea. “Now it’s time to rectify the situation.”

He envied Shannon her absence. Yet another thing he could leave out of his marriage proposal.

“If I’m to strike out in the wilderness, I’ll need to hire a few people to go along with me.” A shiver of pleasure surprised him. Why, he was looking forward to the trip.

“I took care of it,” Mother said.

Bucky kept the scowl off his face through years of practice, but his heart was definitely scowling. “Thank you, Mother.”

“I’ve bought you a train ticket as far west as Shannon’s last known location.” Giselle fluttered her fan and gave Bucky a smile that almost chilled his blood into ice. A big part of why he’d always wanted to marry Shannon was to save her from this scary woman. “I’ve had someone checking on her routinely throughout this venture.”

“You have?”

“Yes, of course.”

“But she had a terrible time hiring someone to accompany her. If you hired someone to follow her, why didn’t you just hire someone to go with her?”

“She’d have seen that as my giving her my blessing. I couldn’t do that.”

“Certainly not.” Bucky’s mother sniffed. “Such nonsense, Giselle. Why didn’t you put a stop to it?”

“It was her father’s fault. Dreadful man. Such a mistake to marry him.” Giselle shrugged her dead husband off with a mere lift of her shoulders and her snooty nose. “And she has complete control over her inheritance from my father. What was my Grandpapa Shaw thinking?”

“He was too much influenced by Chatillon and his fur trading stories. Henri always was a law unto himself. So often men are. No reasoning with them.”

It was not the least bit fair that Bucky stood here taking orders from these two old hens while they lamented unreasonable men. He had a flicker of rebellion and for once enjoyed it rather than feared it.

“So this person you’ve got following her…” Bucky needed them to get back on the topic of Shannon. “Why don’t we just telegraph him and find out where she is?”

“Well, he isn’t actually with her of course. She set off into the wilderness, and my inquiry agent stayed behind in the nearest suitable town.”

“What town? I think Durango, Colorado, is the last I’ve heard from her.” Bucky had tried to find it on a map, but with no luck. A train did pass through there, though, so Bucky could go to Durango, in Colorado, home of mountains and perhaps a buffalo or a mountain lion or a grizzly bear. Or an Apache.

He decided to pack his rifle. There would be reasonable comfort since his family owned their own train car. They owned a fair share of several trains, too.

“My agent said Durango isn’t a town fit to live in. He hired someone to inform him when she returned, and then he traveled on to Denver.”

Nodding his head silently, Bucky found himself rehearsing testimony.

But your honor, the man was supposed to protect, or at least follow, my fiancée. Instead, because Durango was too rustic, he went to Denver to await word. Simple human decency forced me to kill the worthless worm with my bare hands
.

He suspected the judge would acquit him instantly.

“When am I to meet these people you’ve hired to accompany me, Mother?”

His mother said, “Ring for the butler, please. Ebersol has the details.”

Mother hired the butler; the butler hired the men who would accompany him. Giselle hired an inquiry agent; that agent hired someone to do his job. Bucky yanked on the bell pull with far more force than was necessary. He gripped his hands behind his back.

“Would you mind terribly telling Ebersol to send in a tray of tea, dear?” Mother asked. “Then discuss this business outside. Giselle and I have to consult with my secretary about sending invitations to this fall’s rout. I don’t believe you’ll be back from fetching Shannon home in time to attend. Pity.

With a stiff smile he left the room, having another stiff talk with the judge. This one about matricide. And—and matri-in-law-icide. Was that a word? Because it certainly should be.

With a grim smile, Bucky knew he’d be acquitted again, with the judge’s thanks for making the world a less pretentious place.

It wasn’t the first time that Bucky had felt a passion to marry Shannon just to get both of them away from these two shrews. His father had already purchased the lovely home here in St. Louis where they’d live. His mother’s father was already dropping a quiet word here and there about Bucky’s political ambitions.

Hopefully, Grandfather would drop a word in Bucky’s ears soon, so he’d know what those ambitions were exactly. Giselle and Mother were planning the wedding, the social event of at least the decade.

He was quite sure they’d already ordered Shannon’s dress. He really did have to get on with rounding up his bride.

Bucky wondered if Shannon would be interested in moving permanently to Durango… or maybe Denver.

G
abe watched Shannon climb down the wall with such agility she might well have been part mountain goat.

Except with dark hair. And petticoats. And she smelled real good.

Shannon wasn’t really much like a mountain goat at all.

Her hair was in a tight braid, not smooth and nice. He doubted she had a comb handy. But she’d done her best and looked tidy. Her eyes, a warm brown, much lighter than his, snapped with energy as she approached the fire in the chill morning air and gave him a bright smile. It was only when she got close that Gabe realized all of it was fake. The energy, the smile, the mountain goat imitation—all of it phony as all get out. Once she was close, he saw the dark circles under her eyes. “Good morning, Gabe.”

“Did you get much sleep?” He’d hated that she’d been in that cold, spooky cave alone overnight. And he’d nearly frozen down here by the fire. How much could she have slept?

“Enough.”

Which meant not nearly enough.

“My headache is nearly gone.”

Which meant it wasn’t gone.

“I feel altogether better able to cope with things.”

She looked ready to keel over.

He didn’t bother to mention any of his impressions because they had to move out whether she felt good or not. “Okay, let’s eat quick, and I’ll take you into the nearest town. I can give you enough money to take the stage to the nearest train, and I’ll make sure you have enough to buy a ticket home to St. Louis.”

Gabe had thought it through carefully. He could afford this, and she was helpless. Giving her money to solve her problems was the exact right thing to do. It felt generous and wise and heroic. He waited for her to thank him. Maybe hug him again. He was especially waiting for that.

“Nonsense. I’m not going home.”

His smile faded. “Why not?” Then he was sorry he asked, because why ask a question if you don’t want to know the answer?

“You said last night you’re free for the rest of the summer, right?” She squared her shoulders and turned that pretty, phony smile even brighter. It didn’t look even close to natural.

“Not free exactly. My family is expecting me sooner or later. I didn’t tell ‘em exactly when I’d show up, but—”

“I don’t have any money with me, but I have funds available to me back home. I think you should help me find the next city. The one that’s
really
made of gold.”

Gabe wished so hard he could believe her. He’d like to find a city of gold. Who wouldn’t? But Gabe had lived with reality just a little too long. He’d lived in the Blue Ridge Mountains growing up, and they got by just barely if Pa and Ma and his six brothers and he worked hard every day. They lived on food from their garden, milk from their cow, eggs from their chickens, and all the meat they could hunt. Then he’d joined the cavalry, and army life almost ground a man up and left him for dust. There was no time for dreaming of cities of gold.

He’d even been to a mining town. It was a blight on the face of the earth. Greed and filth. Brutal work, and if a gold strike did turn up, it had to be dug out of the ground with hours and days and weeks of backbreaking labor. Then a man had to fight to hold on to it with knives and guns and ruthless strength.

It came down to Gabe being a realist. “Shannon, I know you want to prove that your father’s work was worthwhile, but—”

“You’re not doing anything anyway, Gabe.” Her smile vanished, and she grabbed the front of his shirt in both hands. Her desperation was actually a nice change from the phony smile. “Why not come with me? We can find someone to travel along. An older woman maybe who’s interested in heading west. Maybe a husband and wife. Then the trip would be… proper for us. Together. You can hunt for food. We don’t have to spend a lot of money to travel. We’ll live off the land while we follow my map to the next stopping point. Those folks took my money, but I have more. I could pay you enough to buy a nice herd, get your ranch off to a solid start.”

It was quite a speech. “You been practicing that for long?” With a sheepish shrug, Shannon nodded. “Most of the night.” Which might explain why she looked as if she’d gotten next to no sleep. “No. I’m not going on your treasure hunt, Shannon. The closest town east is—”

“You might as well take me to the closest town west.” Shannon crossed her arms and turned into the very picture of beautiful stubborn womanhood. “Because I’m heading west.” “Now, there’s no sense getting riled.”

Her eyes could just as well have been flaming arrows shot from an Apache’s bow. “I’m not riled.”

She didn’t
sound
riled. She sounded calm. Insanely calm. “There’s nothing to the west for a hundred miles. You—”

“I’m going west, Gabe.” She cut him off. “I’m afraid, and I wish very much you’d come along because I have no way to care for myself, but if you won’t come, then please point me in the direction of the nearest town. We can part company now. I appreciate all you’ve done—”

“You know good and well”—Gabe ripped his Stetson off his head—”that I can’t just ride off and leave you in the wilderness.”

“Certainly you can. I’d prefer the nearest town a bit southwest if you please, because that’s the direction I’m going. I’ll be walking of course—”

“I’ll take you!” Like he had any choice, short of tossing her over his saddle and dragging her onto a train heading east. He wondered if the other passengers would support him if he shackled her to her seat. Abusing women was a mighty serious business, so he might have his hands full keeping her on the train until it chugged out of the station. But probably, if they listened to his reasons, they’d side with him and keep the little idiot on board.

Her stubbornness just melted clean away. “Thank you.”

“You’re
not
welcome.”

“Did you have somewhere you intended to go?”

“I told you I was drifting. I’m on my way to my brothers’, and there’s no hurry, but that’s beside the point. My plans are none of your concern.”

“Because you don’t have any?” Shannon gave him a smile that seemed to soothe the grizzly in him.

“That’s right. But I’m not going on the whole treasure hunt. I’m dropping you off at the first place I can and leaving you.”

Her smile faded, and her chin came up in a defiant little tilt. “That suits me just fine.”

“Go fill this pot with water so we can get some coffee on.”

“Yes, Gabe.” Shannon whirled and rushed for the spring.

“And hurry up. This place feels haunted. I hate it.”

“I hate this place.” Randy used to be so quiet. Lurene sure wished he’d go back to it. But he seemed to feel comfortable voicing his unwanted opinions.

Lurene didn’t admit it, but she hated this place, too. They rode into that eerie canyon and looked at those homes built into rock, rising high on the wall. Her eyes went straight to the highest one, and suddenly she realized they had no way to get up there and shake the truth out of that woman.

“Hey, Shannon Dysart.” Her shout echoed off the canyon wall until it sounded as if a hundred people were calling for Shannon to come out. “We’re back.”

There was no response.

“She can’t have died yet. I wonder if we can still collect ransom if she’s dead. I ain’t never tried kidnapping before.” On that ugly comment, Ginger rode her horse forward at a fast clip, as if she weren’t afraid of ghosts one whit.

Lurene followed, and she heard the men fall in line. They rode up to the base of the cliffs, and the five of them stared up, trying to figure out what in the world to do.

“It don’t make sense that she’d be dead.” Lobo looked sideways at Lurene.

“Nope. And it don’t make sense that she’d ignore us. She’s got to know by now that she’ll never get down without help. Maybe she’s scared, but it’ll come to her soon enough that she needs us.”

“We’ve been half the day riding back here.” Randy swung down off his horse and tied it. “I’m gonna get a fire goin’ and cook these rabbits I shot. I’m hungry.”

Because it would keep him busy, Lurene didn’t stop him, assuming she could have.

“If we climb up there and I—” Lurene looked at Lobo, measuring his height. “If I stand on your shoulders, I can—”

“Nope, not enough. You’ll be a good four feet short.”

They both turned to look at Ginger who wasn’t all that tall.

Randy lit a match to the fire. “Why don’t you just use a ladder?”

“Because we shot the ladder to pieces.” Lurene wanted to do the same to Randy.

“Not
that
ladder, the one out in the brush.” He nodded his head toward a section of the canyon floor that looked impenetrable with mesquite. “It’s old, but it’s in decent shape, at least as good as the one we used.”

“Yep, let’s use that one.” Lurene spent her life being calm. She’d learned she could outthink most anybody, and she’d learned to keep that to herself, especially around men. Her hardfisted pa taught her men didn’t like being bested by women, not even their own daughters. She decided then and there that she’d like very much to calmly cut out Randy’s liver. She’d deny herself that pleasure only until after they’d found the gold. “Can you show us where it is, Randy?”

“Reckon I can.” Randy looked her right in the eye, and Lurene had the sudden sense that he knew exactly what she was thinking. And she thought for the first time he might be as hard to kill as Cutter. And if Randy stuck with his brother, then both of them might be hard to get rid of without sharing the gold.

Lurene didn’t like any part of it.

Getting slowly to his feet from where he crouched by his pile of broken twigs, Randy walked carefully, skirting the mesquite with their reaching, scratching branches, and vanished into what looked like a solid wall of scrub brush. The brush was high enough that she couldn’t even see the top of his head, but minutes later he came out carrying a ladder that looked almost as rickety as the one they’d used yesterday.

“Let’s get up there and have it out with her.” Lurene remembered their struggle of yesterday to get the ladder to that top level.

“You go on. You don’t need anyone else up there.” Randy laid the ladder on the ground and turned back to the fire. “And I don’t have much of a belly for watching you threaten a woman until she tells where to find something that doesn’t exist. Were it up to me, we’d worry about ransoming her and forget a buncha gold no more true at the end of her next map than it was at the end of this one.” Randy looked pointedly at the dull, dusty rock. No one could deny that Shannon’s first map had led them to this worthless stretch of ground. “Whatever you do to her, leave her alive.” Randy went back to his fire, turning his back to them as if he had no fear of a bullet crashing into his spine.

Darrel stood on past Randy, though, facing Lurene and the others. Though Darrel was slow of thought, he was watchful. And Randy clearly trusted him.

The whole thing gave Lurene reason to worry. She looked at Lobo. “Ready to fight with that ladder?”

“Ready. We won’t use it until that last climb. No sense straining it more than we have to.”

Lurene nodded and stepped back while Lobo went to work.

“Can’t we ride any faster than this?” Shannon had promised she wouldn’t ask that question again, but it slipped out, about once every mile.