Marry Me By Sundown

“Your tone suggests you’re about to show your true colors, which is no lady at all.”

Was it that obvious that she was exhausted and aching in every limb? They had traveled half the day, to go by the sun directly overhead. But the man was so bloody frustrating. He seemed willing to talk about anything—except the two mines. Because he thought she was an impostor. Yet one of the mines was hers now. But until he actually showed her where it was, she couldn’t do anything with it. So she couldn’t afford to alienate him in a shouting match or tell him how ridiculous he was being. Not yet.

He led them into the yard. The land leveled out inside the fence and was actually flat farther back by the cabin. They passed a large, dark hole in the cliff on the left that she assumed was Morgan’s mine. A large pile of wooden beams was stacked outside it. Closer to the cabin she saw an iron or steel door in the cliff. She guessed it secured another hole where he stored his supplies. Not far from the steel door stood a narrow structure about six feet tall with a brick dome and some sort of pulley apparatus next to it.

Before they reached the cabin, she asked, “Why on earth would you mine here, so far from town, so far from the other mines in Butte?”

“Because I wanted to mine in peace, and if I didn’t find ore right away, move on to another spot. I traveled through this mountain range for nearly a month last summer before I settled on this location.”

“But why so high up the mountain?”

“This isn’t high up at all. This range has an elevation of ten thousand feet. We’re still in the foothills here.”

She supposed they were, since he’d been able to get this far on horseback. Still curious, she asked, “And why exactly here? Did you know you would find ore here?”

“I ran across a retired army scout on the way here. He was of Crow descent, the Indians who used to live in this region. He said all the mountains in this territory are rich in ore. His people had always known that, they just had no use for shiny metals. He suggested this particular range instead of the ones by the overcrowded mining camps near Butte and Helena. He said I’d know why once I got here.”

“Does that mean gold was just lying around up here?” she asked.

“I found a little evidence of it in the creeks and streams around here, but I didn’t come this way to pan for gold.”

“Why not? Wouldn’t that be easier?”

“Sure, but not as profitable as a mine full of it would be. And right here, there was evidence of gold in the cliff face. I also liked this spot because it is reasonably flat and wide enough for a camp, the stream runs next to it, and there’s even a water hole in case the stream dries up by the end of summer. And the rock face is high enough to tunnel through without having to worry about cave-ins.”

As she looked around for the stream, she noticed all the flowers growing along the right side of the camp. She couldn’t see the water, but guessed the flowers were hiding it from view. The colorful blooms made the area he’d carved out rather pretty.

“Well, you obviously didn’t need to move on,” she commented as she glanced back at him.

“No, I definitely got lucky. There was a smattering of gold for a few feet in, then some silver. I kept digging, hoping for more gold, but five more feet in I crossed a damn mother lode of silver that hasn’t let up yet.”

She was impressed. If he’d been up here mining since last summer, he must be rich by now. You certainly couldn’t tell it by the way he dressed, or lived, for that matter. But his cabin wasn’t made of logs, despite there being so many trees up this way. Somehow he’d brought lumber up this hill, and even glass for a couple of windows. But the cabin looked small from out front, which made her wonder about sleeping arrangements. She hoped it had more than one room. Sharing one with him would be scandalous and ruin her reputation! All the more reason for her to quickly find her father’s mine and money and persuade Morgan to take her back to Butte.

Other than the gray rock cliff face, it was quite green up here, and the air was cooler even with the sun shining down on them. There were even a few shade trees inside the fence, which continued on the right all the way beyond his cabin. If he hadn’t mentioned claim jumpers, she would have thought the purpose of the fence was to provide a corral for his animals.

They hadn’t passed her father’s mine on the way up here, or perhaps they had while she’d been blindfolded. But it could as likely be in another gorge nearby. And the sooner she found out if her father had stored his money there, the sooner she could go home.

So she asked Morgan, “Will you take me to my father’s mine now?”

“No.”

“But—”

“Lady—”

“Stop calling me that,” she cut in. “The way you say it, it sounds like a bloody insult. If you won’t call me Miss Mitchell, then you have my permission to use my given name, Violet.”

“Why?” he countered. “We aren’t friends, you aren’t who you claim to be, and I might have to resort to unusual measures to find out what you’re really up to.”

Her eyes flared briefly then narrowed on him. “You’ll do nothing of the sort, and we both know it. You’ve fed me. You’ve even let me sleep against your chest, which I apologize for, but you still allowed it. You wouldn’t resort to torture no matter who you think I am, so do not make pointless threats.”

He turned to her, his light-blue eyes roaming over her for a moment before a lazy smile formed. “Who said anything about torture?”

He took a step toward her, his arms extended. She’d gone too far! He was going to disprove everything she’d just said in a horribly physical manner!





Chapter Twelve




CONSIDERING WHAT WAS RAMPAGING through her mind, Violet gasped and slid down the other side of Morgan’s horse to escape him, then groaned as pain shot up her legs from such an abrupt landing. She would have fallen to the ground if she wasn’t still grasping the pommel of his saddle.

But he came around the horse and pried her hands loose from the pommel. “Why’d you dismount like that? You in some kind of hurry?”

“No, I—”

She stopped when he swept her into his arms and started walking toward the cabin. She realized he probably only intended to help her up to his porch, since it was about two feet off the ground and the one step that led to it had been built for his long legs, not a woman’s. And there was no hand railing to help her manage the steep climb. Her legs probably would balk if she tried to do it herself.

Still, she was utterly flustered by what she’d thought he was about to do and snapped, “I don’t want to hear any more threats from you, real or not. I’m at the end of my tether, tired, and hungry, and I need a bloody bath!”

He sniffed. Twice! “Yes, you do.”

She gasped at that insult and immediately returned it: “So do you!”

“Are you suggesting we bathe together?”

That infuriated her even more. “I meant nothing of the kind.”

She noticed the twinkle in his eyes. Was he trying not to laugh? The beast! Yet as he finally set her down on the porch, he said, “You’ll get your bath as soon as I unload the mules.”