His anger kept him going, refused to let him stop. It had been with him from the moment he’d realized she’d sneaked off while he was working in the mine. The one day he didn’t come out for lunch, damnit! And she’d done it after they’d made love, after he’d felt a closeness to her that he’d never felt with another woman. And she’d started it by asking him to kiss her and telling him not to stop. Had that been her way of thanking him because she’d already known she was leaving? Yet he recalled how upset she’d been that day after being captured by the claim jumpers and witnessing their deaths.
She was a young lady out of her element who’d been scared that night and needed someone to comfort and protect her, and while she had desired him at the time, she might have regretted what she’d done. Of course she would. She was used to sophisticated, wealthy noblemen, even talked about marrying one. She’d never settle for a mountain-man miner like him. One more thing to infuriate him, that she didn’t think he was good enough for her.
No matter what came to mind to explain her taking off like that, it didn’t diminish his anger. It was a fact that she’d left the moment she’d gotten what she wanted from him, the money to pay off that loan on her family’s home and a mining partnership that would last long enough for her to pay it back. Would she have stayed if he’d agreed to a permanent partnership? Possibly, but he’d never know now.
He couldn’t even guess which way she’d gone. That was why he hadn’t found her yet. The rain had washed away her horse’s hoof marks, and he’d done too good a job confusing her about the location of the mines. He’d even ridden to Dillon, the last town before Butte on the train line, to see if she’d bought her train ticket there. If she’d ridden directly west and run into the train tracks, and remembered that town from when she’d arrived, she might think she was closer to Dillon and head south to it. But she hadn’t been there either, and his anger had turned into fear. Four damn days. Could she really still be alive out here in this heat, without food?
He’d returned to his cabin late last night for a few hours of sleep and to check if Texas had left another note. His friend was out searching for Violet, too, but his latest note was no more encouraging than the others. Morgan had ended up sleeping till noon, a waste of good daylight, but he wasn’t surprised, with as little sleep as he’d been getting since she’d left him. Left him? It did feel personal when it shouldn’t.
He had planned to check Butte again and then Helena today, though with this late start, Helena might have to wait until tomorrow. She might have gone there just to hide while she waited for her brothers to arrive.
He rode north to the east road. Halfway there he saw the dust cloud, not big like the ones stagecoaches made because of their speed, but big enough to indicate more than a couple of riders. He stopped and pulled out Charley’s spyglass. Eight horses riding at a slow trot—and he spotted Violet on one almost immediately. How could he miss that silly parasol?
His relief was tremendous, until he saw who was riding next to her, and then his rage surged back, worse than ever, because he’d been right from the start—she really was in cahoots with Shawn Sullivan. Had the man promised her a fortune for her mine that night he met her at the hotel? She’d just had to find her way there first, and she’d done that and was now leading him right to both mines for her big payday. Sullivan wouldn’t care that she wasn’t in a position to sell Charley’s mine; he’d pay just as much for the location.
And they were almost there. They would notice him soon after they left the road to ride south. He was so furious he couldn’t even think how to keep them away from his mountain. They were too close, and besides, she was leading them right to it. He really had misjudged her. This was what she’d apologized for with the gift of her body. She’d known all along that she would betray him.
He headed back to the mountain to take cover in the first copse of trees, a mile or so before Texas’s camp. He pulled out the spyglass again; Sullivan’s party hadn’t come into view yet. He waited, still not sure how he was going to handle this. Fire the first shot? He’d have cover, they wouldn’t. Or maybe he should just go blow up both mines before they reached them. Now, that sounded like a plan he could live with. And he’d beat them to town and have Charley’s mine invalidated to boot. Revenge at its finest. So why did it give him a sick feeling in his gut?
He trained the spyglass again, then frowned when there was still no sign of a dust cloud. Cautiously he rode, back toward the road, but still didn’t see it. What the hell? He kept going, and when he finally reached the road, he saw the tail end of their cloud—beyond his mountain.
He started to laugh. She didn’t know where the mines were. Had she found her way back to Butte by sheer luck, or had she encountered someone who had shown her the way?
He began to follow them, staying far enough back that he could only see that dust cloud with the spyglass. When they made camp for the night and settled down to sleep, he was going to steal her away from them. He wasn’t going to leave her out here with Sullivan long enough for her to eventually figure out where the mines were. He was going to take her straight to the claims office in Butte and have her watch as he invalidated Charley’s claim. Just desserts, as far as he was concerned.
Chapter Thirty-Six
VIOLET’S GUN WAS IN her valise. No one had searched it to see if she had a weapon, probably because she was a woman. She’d been told to leave the valise behind, that she wouldn’t need it, but she’d refused, so one of the men had tied it to her saddle. Having her own gun close at hand was the only thing that kept her from panicking during that long day of riding surrounded by guards who had the look of hardened men.
They definitely weren’t Shawn’s miners, each with a gun on their hip and a rifle on their saddle; they wore vests, their coats already removed—it was going to be another hot day. These were likely the men that Morgan had told her had broken into his crates at the train station and beaten her father in an alley. Irish easterners, probably from Chicago where Shawn was from and who obviously didn’t mind breaking the law any more than their employer did.
Kayleigh had awakened her at six o’clock that morning, telling her to be dressed to travel, as if she’d already agreed to this trip, so she’d replied, “An excellent idea, in case my brothers do agree to sell the mine.”
“Oh?”
“Obviously, none of us will have to come back this way if your brother knows where the mine is located.”
“Of course.” Kayleigh smiled. “Smart of you to finally realize that, lass.”
They had been a little late in leaving, due to some emergency at Sullivan’s mine that he’d had to deal with, so they hadn’t departed until nine o’clock. She’d had to mention when they left that it was going to take a day and a half to get to the mine. She’d expected that acquiring more provisions might delay them further, but they’d apparently already prepared for being gone several days.
It was another sweltering day on the road. And she couldn’t stop worrying. This plan had sounded fine when she’d discussed it last night with Abigail and her father, but what if Abigail was a part of Sullivan’s plan and was just pretending to be on their side? Had the housekeeper really gotten Charles out of the house today? Would the sheriff show up to rescue her?
At least she was pleased when they passed Morgan’s mountain. She made sure not to even glance at it. But when they made camp that night, Shawn Sullivan didn’t hide his impatience.
He joined her at the campfire where she was sitting. It was one of three his men had started, and they were close enough to the road for the sheriff to see the firelight if he hadn’t stopped for the night, too.
Sullivan looked frustrated and tired, but his tone was sharp when he said, “If you’ve lied about how long this trip is going to take—”
“I haven’t lied,” she cut in. “It took a full day and a half to get there, plus a few extra hours of Morgan riding at night. The last thing I saw before he blindfolded me was three mountains pretty far away in different directions, north, south, and east, similar to where we are now. I don’t know which one he headed to after that.”