Already it looked different. All traces of her and her father's presence were gone. Instead of a tent, a rickety shack now stood, an old man sitting on a crate in front of it. She could hear the snap of wood burning in the small campfire, and see the coffee pot off to one side. The man whistled from time to time as he waited with a rifle balanced on his lap, but no one was working the mine.
Where were the others? Why was no one working a mine that was precious enough to kill for? Clem studied the man for a long time. In her mind, she referred to him as Whiskers, as he seemed to have very little actual face that wasn't obscured by his long, bushy beard. He never budged from his spot and she watched him for more than two hours, her back and neck stiffening from holding her position. Just as she was about to crawl backward, she heard a loud whistle and an answering one from Whiskers. Momentarily, another man rode down to the shack and dismounted.
"Any trouble?" he asked.
"Nope, don't see why there would be," Whiskers replied, spitting a stream of tobacco juice at the ground. "This here's about the stupidest job you ever got us, Henry. We take turns watching a mine no one works and don't see hide nor hair of another soul. We tain't miners, we are trappers and I'm about sick of cooling my heels here when we could be headed north where the beaver are."
"I know, but it's money, ain't it? We didn't do so well last year if you recall. Damn near starved to death. I figured this was easy money and we could be better stocked, have a bigger poke to start out with."
"I guess, but it sure is boring. When we gettin' paid anyway? How do you know that joker is even coming back? Maybe this is some kind of trickery."
"He's coming back and bringing a crew with him. Something about havin' to go to San Francisco for a few days. Just do your time minding this place and I'll do mine," Henry snapped.
"Fine," Whiskers replied. "You can sit out here and watch the grass grow for a while. I'm goin' to take me a lie down for a spell. Tonight's your watch and I'm heading into town for some decent vittles and a whiskey or two."
"So quit your bellyaching and go lie down. Lord, all you do is complain."
"I don't care. There's something about this place that don't set right with me, for all its peaceful appearance. I'll be glad to see the last of it."
Quietly, Crystal slithered down the slope until she was sure she was out of sight and earshot. She hadn't found out much, but she now knew the mine was being guarded and whoever was taking over would be back in a few days. Whether that man was the same one who killed her father remained to be seen, but at least it was some information. If Whiskers or Henry came into The Red Petticoat, perhaps she could get more details out of them. Maybe Henry knew more than he was telling his partner.
The ride back to town was uneventful and she returned her horse to the livery, giving him a good rub down and brushing. It soothed her to tend to Trooper. After all, he was all she had left in the world.
Sneaking back into The Red Petticoat was easy as pie and she was mighty proud of her skills until she opened her door to find Jasper Montgomery lying on her bed, reading one of her precious books. He had a decidedly peeved look in his eye. Snatching her robe off the back of her door, she nearly succeeded in escaping to the bathing room before he rose, snagged her by the back of her britches and locked the door.
This wasn't going to be good she realized, her shoulders slumping, and as far as she was concerned, whatever he had to say wasn't nearly as important as dumping some of Citrine's lavender bath salts into the tub.
"How'd you get in here anyway?" she demanded. Wiggling out of his grasp, she turned to face him with her hands on her hips.
"Jewel let me come up. I told her we had an understanding and that I wanted to offer my condolences on the death of your father," he explained, lounging against her bureau, his own arms crossed against his chest. "Where have you been? You're filthy."
Peeking around his shoulder, Clem saw her reflection in the mirror and grinned.
"I am, aren't I," she said wryly.
"Disgustingly so. You should be in satins and silks. I know what you're up to, Clementine; at least I have a good idea. Come with me now and you'll never have to get dirty again."
"I'd miss it," she replied honestly, looking closely at her appearance in the mirror. "Never getting dirty, I mean," she continued. "I'd miss the feeling of soaking in a tub, scraping the last of the dirt from beneath my fingernails. Miss the scent of the soap, the feeling of a fresh start, being reborn all shiny and new, like a baptism. I went for a ride and got dirty, so what?"
"You're a contrary woman," Jasper breathed, wiping a streak of dust from her cheek.
"Thank you."
"For calling you contrary?" he asked with a short laugh.
"No, for admitting I'm a woman and not a child." Looking up at him, she watched a surprising blush rise from his neck as he noted her reference to last night.
"You are now, because I have made it so," he snapped back.