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“Was it Scully’s idea to turn back, or was it the woman’s?”
The two men exchanged glances before Blackie replied, “I’d say it was the lady’s. She didn’t want to go on.”
Barret nodded. She didn’t want to look anxious. The girl was smarter than he thought.
He said, “All right, that’s all I need to know for now. Get out, and remember what I said. Don’t let that ‘lady’ out of your sight.”
Waiting until both men had left his office and closed the door behind them, Barret sat down at his desk and reached into his drawer for the small sack that was never far from his reach. He withdrew the gold nugget from inside the sack and held it tight in his hand as he had many times before. He recalled the moment when Charlie Pratt had walked into his office late that first day. Short, wiry, unkempt, Charlie had been indistinguishable from any other prospector he had ever seen, but when the old man smiled and put the nugget down on the desk in front of him, Barret knew his moment had come.
A man of few words, Charlie told him he’d struck it rich, that he wanted to register his claim in his own name and that of his granddaughter, and he wanted to do it “real legal like, so there’d be no problem afterward.” Charlie left the nugget behind for a “retainer” without disclosing the location of the claim, and said he’d return to sign whatever papers were necessary in a couple of days.
Barret’s heart pounded in vivid recall. He had immediately set Blackie and Larry on the old man’s trail. His plan had been simple. Charlie had kept his strike a secret. He had been cautious enough not to tell anyone but Barret about it. Blackie and Larry would follow the old man, find his claim and report the location back to him so he could record it in his own name before the old man returned—“real legal like, so there’d be no problem afterward.”
A familiar knot of frustration twisted tight inside Barret as memory returned the details of the debacle that followed.
Charlie also had been smarter than he thought. Charlie had evidently spotted Blackie and Larry following him and had led them on a circuitous trail obviously meant to confuse them before reaching his cabin in darkness. He had then tricked them into thinking he had gone to his bed, only to appear unexpectedly behind them with a gun, demanding to know what they were after.
According to Blackie, the situation deteriorated into chaos from that point, ending up with Charlie being shot and with Blackie and Larry determined to hide their crime by throwing Charlie’s body into the cabin and setting the structure afire.
Furious when they returned with their story, Barret had still considered the situation salvageable. It had seemed a matter of simply scouting the area Charlie had been working to find the source of the gold.
Barret remembered his panic at the news that Charlie’s eight-year-old granddaughter, Lacey Stewart, had arrived in town injured and bleeding, fresh from the scene of the burned-out cabin. He’d been sure she would tell someone about her grandfather’s strike, that she might even know its exact location. He had been furious with both his men for having allowed her to survive.
Fearing Lacey would be able to identify his men and the identification would eventually lead back to him, he had paid them off and told them to leave town. They had obediently stayed away until Lacey was sent to a school back east and it was safe for them to return. The girl never spoke of her grandfather’s strike. He had been overjoyed at that, but his dream of a return to the wealth and prosperity of his youth had died when all manner of prospecting and excavation in the area of Charlie’s cabin had failed to locate Charlie’s gold.
Now Charlie’s granddaughter had returned to Weaver, and with her return, his dream had been revived.
Barret clutched the nugget tighter. Lacey Stewart may have fooled everyone else, but she didn’t fool him. She wouldn’t have traveled back from the big city to a town in the middle of nowhere if she didn’t think it would be worth her while—if she didn’t have some idea where to look for the strike her grandfather had made.
It appeared, however, that she wasn’t about to share the strike with Jake Scully.
It also appeared that Jake Scully was totally taken in by her.
But Lacey Stewart didn’t fool him. He would get that claim—one way or another.
Chapter Four
The sun had barely risen and Weaver had not yet fully awakened when Lacey crossed the empty main street and headed toward Sadie Wilson’s restaurant. Against Scully’s adamant protests, she had started working there a few days ago. She had made certain to rise at dawn so she would be at the restaurant before the first customer even thought of appearing at the door, and she now knew she would find Sadie already at work in the kitchen when she arrived.
Lacey smoothed the apron tied around her narrow waist. Sadie had provided it the first day of her employment and she wore it proudly. It was important to her that she do well in her new position. Scully had not mentioned again her near hysteria on the trail when he’d attempted to take her to her grandfather’s gravesite, and she was grateful. His solicitude during those frightening moments, however, made her more determined than ever to become independent. Scully was too good, too caring of her welfare. She could not bear the thought of telling him that her nightmares had grown more vivid since that day, nor of becoming a burden to him that he did not deserve.
A smile touched Lacey’s lips as she neared the restaurant. She had prayed, asking the Lord to help her do well so Sadie would be satisfied with her work, and her prayers had been answered. She hadn’t made any major mistakes so far in serving the customers, she was adapting well to the restaurant routine and Sadie had complimented her on the job she was doing.
Her thoughts were interrupted at the sight of the person waiting outside the restaurant door. Lacey hastened her step. She tapped Rosie on the arm when she reached her side. She liked Rosie and her friend, Jewel. Unlike some of the other Gold Nugget women, they had been friendly to her, and she appreciated their openness.
Rosie turned hesitantly toward her, and Lacey gasped with surprise. Wearing a plain cotton dress that bore no resemblance to the gaudy satin she normally wore, and without the heavy makeup of her trade, Rosie looked so young—certainly no older than Lacey, herself—but it was not that thought that stunned her.
A large bruise marked Rosie’s pale cheek.
Lacey asked spontaneously, “What happened to your face, Rosie? Did you fall?”
Rosie flashed a weak smile. “Yes…that’s what I did. I fell. I’m just clumsy, I guess.” She hastened to add, “But I’m all right. The mark won’t show under my makeup tonight, so Scully won’t have to worry about it when I work.”
“I’m sure Scully will just be glad as I am that you’re all right.”
Rosie changed the subject, saying, “Sadie hasn’t opened the door yet. I guess I’m early, but I didn’t get a chance to eat supper last night, and breakfast at the boarding house won’t be ready for hours yet. I couldn’t sleep for the loud complaints my stomach was making, so here I am.”
Somehow hesitant, Lacey replied, “I don’t think Sadie has everything ready, but you can come inside with me and wait, if you like.”
“No, I’ll wait outside.” Rosie took a backward step. “Some of the ladies in town don’t approve of Gold Nugget women, and I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“Sadie’s not like that.” Lacey took Rosie’s arm. “Besides, you’re hungry, and that’s what the restaurant’s here for.”
“That’s all right. I’ll wait here.”
“Rosie, please.” Lacey smiled encouragingly and said, “It’s no trouble if you come inside now…really.”
Lacey drew Rosie reluctantly behind her as she entered. She called out to Sadie as the older woman worked at the stove, “Good morning, Sadie. I told Rosie it would be all right to wait at a table until you’re ready to open up.”
Sadie glanced over her shoulder. “That’s fine. I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
Standing beside Sadie moments later, Lacey whispered, “I hope you don’t mind, Sadie. I didn’t want Rosie to wait outside. She fell and hurt herself. She’s kind of pale, and her face is bruised. I don’t think she feels too well.”
“Fell and hurt herself, huh? Is that what she told you?” Sadie looked back at Rosie, then shook her head. “It’s that boyfriend of hers. That Riley fella uses his hands on her when he has too much to drink. Everybody knows it.”
“You mean he hits her?” Lacey was stunned. “Why does she let him do that to her?”
“Life is sometimes hard for a woman out here, Lacey, especially somebody like Rosie who doesn’t have much to fall back on. I guess she figures she’s better off with Riley than without him.”
“But—”
“I know. It’s not right or fair.”
“But—”
“But that’s the way things are.”
Voices at the door turned Sadie’s attention to the four cowpokes who entered and sat down at a table. She said, “It looks like the restaurant’s open whether I’m ready or not. You’d better get started with the customers, Lacey. We’re going to fill up in here in a hurry.”
Lacey looked at Rosie.
“But take care of Rosie first. Like you said, she looks like she doesn’t feel too good.”
Lacey nodded. She swallowed the thickness in her throat as she turned in Rosie’s direction.
“You’re looking very fine today, Lacey.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gould. What can I get for you this morning?”
Barret smiled his practiced smile as Lacey awaited his reply. He had entered the busy restaurant for breakfast a few minutes earlier, as he had for the past few days since Lacey started working there. He knew he made a good appearance. He knew his clothes were impressive, and that the deference the customers of the restaurant showed him made him stand out favorably in Lacey’s mind. He also knew gaining Lacey’s confidence could be useful in so many ways.
He looked at Lacey as she smiled at him, showing even, white teeth with a candid, guileless expression.
He said softly, “You forgot to call me Barret, Lacey.”
To her credit, Lacey managed a demure flush. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I’d like us to be friends.” Responding to her initial inquiry, he said, “I’ll have some of Sadie’s fine hotcakes and eggs this morning, but I know they couldn’t be any finer than the service.”
Barret complimented himself on the inroads he was certain he had made into Lacey’s esteem as she returned to work and he nodded at the familiar faces quickly filling the restaurant. Amused, he watched the cowhands at a nearby table scramble to retrieve a fork Lacey had dropped. He almost laughed. She had everyone fooled with her innocent appearance—everyone but him. He wondered what they would think if they knew how carefully she was guarding her real reason for returning to Weaver.
Those thoughts were still prominent in Barret’s mind when Lacey returned with his breakfast in hand. He patted her slender, ladylike hand as she placed his plate on the table and he commented, “Reverend Sykes and I look forward to seeing you at Sunday services this weekend.”
Withdrawing her hand, Lacey responded, “Yes, I’m looking forward to attending services, too.”
She walked quickly back to the counter to retrieve another customer’s breakfast. Barret turned under the weight of someone’s stare to see Jake Scully looking at him from the doorway. Scully did not return his smile of acknowledgment and Barret turned his attention to his breakfast in an effort to conceal his anger at the slight.
Barret inwardly smarted. He had never liked Jake Scully. Scully had never shown him the same respect that other residents of Weaver displayed toward him. As unbelievable as it seemed, he had the feeling Jake Scully looked down on him.
On him!
Actually, he was astounded that a man of the world like Scully could possibly have deceived himself into believing Lacey had left the refinement of city life behind and returned to Weaver without having greater prospects in mind. Could he possibly believe Lacey had come “home” because of a sense of obligation to him?
If so, he was a fool.
Barret watched covertly as Scully settled himself at a corner table. Scully’s gaze was fixed on Lacey with an intensity that appeared almost proprietary, and Barret’s questions were answered.
Jake Scully—a man who had seen it all, taken in by the wiles of a cunning woman!
The thought was delicious.
He didn’t like it…not one little bit.
Scully scrutinized the patrons who had filled Sadie’s restaurant to capacity although the day had hardly begun. His breakfast lay untouched in front of him as Lacey moved between the tables serving customers.
He seethed.
He watched as Barret Gould again called Lacey to his table, as Barret looked up at her with his suave, cultivated smile. His stomach churned as Barret stood up and whispered into Lacey’s ear before paying his bill, his hand lingering on hers a second too long.
He hadn’t needed that display to realize Lacey was out of her depth here. Lacey was too naive, too sincere. She wasn’t experienced with the divergent personalities frequenting Sadie’s establishment—just as Sadie’s customers weren’t accustomed to a person like Lacey.
Nor was Lacey accustomed to or deserving of the type of treatment she was subjected to by them. He had heard the occasional complaints if the food took too long in reaching the table, the demands that kept Lacey running. He had noted the assumptions about her instinctively friendly manner. One misguided cowhand had actually whistled to get her attention! True, Lacey seemed to handle it all gracefully, but it galled him.
As Scully watched, a young cowpoke summoned Lacey back to his table for the fourth time, smiling broadly. Obviously intent on impressing her, he joked and teased until Sadie called her away with a flimsy excuse. He saw the table of cowboys seated nearby whisper as Lacey passed, then laugh aloud. He noted the glances two matrons seated nearby exchanged when their husbands followed Lacey’s progress across the room with more than common interest, and he observed with growing heat the drummer who called Lacey to his table, then pressed a coin into her hand with a wink. If that man thought he could buy his way into Lacey’s affections—
“Say now, what does a fella have to do in here to get some service?” Scully’s rioting thoughts were interrupted by the loud complaint of an unshaven cowpoke who stood up unsteadily at his table and slurred, “I’ve been waiting an hour in here, Sadie. Ain’t your new girl going to wait on me? I’m a good customer!”
Scully tensed. Everyone in the restaurant knew Jud Hall had walked through the doorway only a few minutes previously, just as everyone knew Jud was trouble. He knew, because he had tossed the drunken cowpoke out of his saloon on too many occasions to count.
Tensing, Scully watched as Lacey approached Jud, her face hot. He saw Jud’s face change as she drew closer. He didn’t like what Jud was obviously thinking when Lacey said, “What would you like Sadie to make for you this morning?”
A leering Jud answered, “Maybe I don’t want Sadie to make nothin’ for me this morning, darlin’. Maybe I want you to cook me my breakfast.”
Interrupting from her place beside the stove, Sadie called out, “I’m the cook in this restaurant, Jud. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”
“Maybe I don’t want to leave.” His leer turning aggressive, Jud continued, “Maybe I want this girlie here to—”
Scully was on his feet in a flash. Gripping Jud by the back of the neck, he paid no attention to the chairs that scraped out of his way and the customers who dodged Jud’s flailing arms and legs as he propelled him toward the door. He waited deliberately until Jud hit the street with a thud before walking back into the restaurant and closing the door behind him. He did not look at Lacey as he slapped his coin down beside his uneaten breakfast, then walked over to her and said in a voice meant for her ears alone, “When you finish up work here today, tell Sadie you’re not coming back.”
Lacey looked up at him, her face red.
“Tell her.”
He did not wait for Lacey’s response as he walked out the door.
Barret observed the scene from the street.
A saloonkeeper protecting the virtue of a prospector’s granddaughter.
How quaint.
How noble.
How stupid.
But it told him something. He had been right in everything he had been thinking. Scully was totally taken in by Lacey’s pretended innocence.
Barret watched as Scully exited the restaurant. Scully’s involvement with Lacey complicated an already difficult situation. He need tread lightly in dealing with Lacey because of Scully, and Lacey would need to tread just as lightly if she expected to claim her grandfather’s strike without her unwanted protector following at her heels.
Barret considered that thought. It appeared he could be in for a long siege.
Unless…
Barret frowned.
Unless he could find a better way.
Lacey walked across the saloon floor toward the staircase to the second floor where her room awaited her. It had been a difficult morning at the restaurant—the most trying so far because of the incident with Jud Hall and Scully. She recalled the silence that had followed Scully’s departure from the restaurant, then the gradual hum of speculative conversation that had ensued. She was glad it was over. She was anxious to reach the silence of her room, but she knew she would first meet another brief, revealing silence—the one her appearance always elicited when she walked through the saloon doors.
Lacey knew that silence was one of the reasons Scully was so adamant about her taking a room at Mary McInnes’s boarding house. She also knew it was the reason he had arranged for the dilapidated outside entrance to the saloon’s second floor, previously unusable, to be repaired.
Lacey nodded at a few familiar faces in passing, then climbed the staircase, head high. She would be glad when the outer staircase was finished, actually more for Scully’s sake than her own. It would relieve some of his stress. Yet she knew Scully would not be truly satisfied until she had severed all connection with the saloon and its patrons.
Lacey considered that possibility seriously for the first time. Her room above the Gold Nugget was the only home that remained for her. It was her haven. It was the place where she had recuperated from the most traumatic experience of her life. In it, she had known she was safe because Scully was nearby. She felt the same way now, but she was becoming acutely aware of the disservice she did to Scully in insisting that she stay.
Gasping with surprise when Scully stepped unexpectedly into sight at the top of the stairs, Lacey did not protest when he took her arm and said with an expression that suffered no protest, “I need to talk to you.”
Lacey turned toward Scully when he ushered her into her room, leaving the door ajar as he turned toward her to ask, “Did you tell Sadie you won’t be back to work at the restaurant again?” “No.”
