The Beginning (Gold Rush Brides Book 1) Read online

  “I don’t know, Sam. Seems to me I’ve been doing a whole passel of wishing and I might have run out.” She tried to give him a weak smile but it felt more like a grimace.

  Sam’s stooped shoulders squared and he turned to give her a mirthful grin.

  “Never too late for wishes, Dell. No go on and take that walk. Don’t come back till ya done some mighty wishin’, y’hear? Betcha before ya know it, the answer’ll drop right into your lap.”

  ~*~*~

  It was no surprise she’d never taken the trail Sam described. It was barely a path at all; just a faint memory of a path remained. She carefully picked her way down a steep bit of scrubby hillside and guessed at which way to go a few times, but following the trail wasn’t hard once she knew it was there.

  The whole way she pondered what her next step would be. Perhaps she could get a job in town — all the able-bodied workers were leaving in droves for the diggings, after all. It would probably take years, but it was possible she could pay back everyone.

  More likely, her father would insist she marry, and find someone suitable for her through his myriad business acquaintances. Undoubtedly he would be older and successful so she could pay back her debts. It would be a loveless union and the very thought of it gouged a hole in her soul the size of the bay. She’d rather be at hard labor every day for the rest of her life than marry for convenience. They were her debts and she was determined to pay them herself.

  She broke through a particularly thick patch of shrubbery and came out into a small clearing. At the center was a tiny pond with a lovely stone fountain in the middle. She neither heard nor saw any type of machinery that would allow the fountain to bubble in such a mesmerizing way.

  Perching herself on a nearby rock, Delilah gazed into the water as it burbled down the side of the fountain and into the little pond. To call it a lake was a stretch but it certainly was picturesque — and distracting. Simply watching the fountain eased her mind, and a sense of peace flowed through her like the water through the fountain.

  As silly as it was, she felt obliged to make a wish to appease Sam. She had no coins with her to toss in so she picked up a smooth rock at the edge of the pond.

  “I wish for some way to get my paper out.”

  The rock made a small splash as it landed in the pond and the deed was done.

  Chapter 7

  The last person Delilah wanted to see when she returned to the boarding house an hour later was Jack. But there he was, large as life, sitting at the kitchen table eating a big stack of flapjacks. He looked like death warmed over — wrinkled clothes, a shadow of a beard on his chin and hair that stuck up every which way from the top of his head. It was obvious he’d been up all night, the only mystery was with whom.

  Probably that little trollop who directed Delilah to that swindler Franklin Browne. Her cheeks burned at the thought of Jack in that despicable woman’s arms. She’d seemed sincere enough when she made the suggestion, but in hindsight, Delilah recalled how the woman had laughed when she fell in the dirt, and how she’d glared at her when Jack was helping her up.

  No, Miss Sweet set her up. And sitting there stuffing his face with Sam’s flapjacks was her beau, and quite possibly her accomplice.

  “What’s he doing here, Sam? I thought you quite rightly evicted him.”

  She refused to so much as look at Jack, focusing her anger on Sam, who took a step back when he saw the fierce look on her face.

  “Um…I…uh…”

  “Learned a long time ago,” said Jack through a mouthful of hotcakes, “that you catch a lot more flies with honey than vinegar. You should try it some time, Miss Price.”

  She blinked in surprise that he called her by her true name, not that horrid nickname he’d chosen for her. She was so startled that she did exactly what she vowed not to do and caught his gaze. His blue eyes were full of mirth, and shivers ran down her spine when he winked at her. Blushing, she hurried past him to pour herself a cup of coffee. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered.

  “So, heard you mighta had some trouble with that new printer fella…”

  Jack’s words turned her to stone. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she turned her glare on Sam.

  “How could you?! I told you that in confidence, Sam!”

  The big man held his hands up in defense. “Whoa, li’l lady, tweren’t me!”

  “Naw, Sam didn’t blab,” confirmed Jack. “You outta know better’n that.”

  She actually was ashamed of herself for believing the worst of sweet, wonderful, generous Sam, and Jack’s quiet “Tsk tsk tsk” didn’t help matters.

  “I’m sorry, Sam. I just assumed…” A thought dawned on her. “Wait. If Sam didn’t tell you, then… I knew it!”

  It was Jack’s turn to look surprised. Sam had retreated into a corner to sip his coffee while he watched the show.

  “You knew what?” he asked, suspicious of her suspicions.

  “You and that…that…woman were in cahoots! You set me up with that man just to see me fail!”

  Anger flushed Jack’s face. He pushed his chair back to bolt upright, tipping it over in the process. The clatter made everyone jump.

  “You calling me a swindler?! I been called lots of things in my life but never that!”

  “Well, if the shoe fits, Mr. Dalton, I suggest you put it on and walk right out that door.”

  “Let me get this straight. You think I organized an elaborate scheme where I bump into you on the street, have the random dance hall girl I’m with tell you about the one printer in town you haven’t talked to, go to the trouble of warning you away from that printer and then…then somehow get that printer to close up shop on the very day you’re supposed to start your good-for-nothing newspaper? Oh, and do all of that just so I could laugh at your failure?!”

  His loud laugh was bitter and her heart hurt at the sound. Now that he’d put it that way, it did seem rather unlikely, but she wasn’t ready to surrender quite yet.

  “Well, what about your friend? She was the one who suggested Mr. Browne, after all.”

  His blue eyes turned to ice. “No argument there but I can’t speak for her aim, which I have little doubt stemmed from…uncharitable emotions.”

  Delilah didn’t know what to think anymore. She’d had more highs and lows in the last two days than her entire six months sailing to California, and they were beginning to meld together into one big mess.

  Still in a bit of shock over her devastating loss, she slumped into the nearest chair and ducked her head into her hands. She didn’t care if Jack saw her pain and vulnerability — her charade of a confident woman who could handle anything was quickly crumbling around her.

  “Then how did you know?” she mumbled from between her hands.

  His silence was deafening. He’d been shouting just a moment before and now he couldn’t find words? She peeked up at him through her fingers and saw him glancing back to Sam for help. Sam nodded and kept sipping his sludgy coffee.

  “Well, um, ya see…I won it.”

  Delilah shook her head, not understanding.

  “Won what?”

  A twinkle glimmered in Jack’s eyes and a hint of a smile played on his lips.

  “The print shop. I won it in a poker game last night.”

  “What? How?” She was more confused than ever.

  He just shook his head and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed and looking utterly delighted with himself.

  “Told ya that fella was no good. Ran into him down at The Eagle and played a few hands of cards with the man. Turns out, after he drank and gambled away all your money, he didn’t have none left. All he had was the deed to his print shop, which I happily accepted as payment of his debt to me. Did you know he won it in a card game, too? Kinda…what’s the word? Ironical!”

  Delilah was speechless. She’d had one hope to get her fledgling business off the ground and it had been dashed away in one night of debauchery. And now the one
man in the world who most wanted to see her fail held her only hope in his filthy, mean-spirited hands. She’d never thought of herself as a person who could hate, but she was certain that was the emotion coursing through her at that very moment.

  “Hey, I got an idea.”

  Jack and Delilah both turned toward Sam’s voice, the former grinning like an idiot, the latter nearly in tears.

  “Why don’t you two go into business together?”

  ~*~*~

  Jack was sure he’d misheard Sam, but the look of horror on Dell’s face told him he’d heard right.

  “Have you been sneakin’ some of Gus’s firewater, Sam? That stuff’ll make you say crazy things.” He tried to laugh away the suggestion as a joke, but he suspected wily ol’ Sam had more to say on the matter. Dell was still as stone and just as cold.

  “Now hear me out, the both o’ ya. Jack, you done hit paydirt up in ‘dem hills. You come down here and had yerself a right fine time of it, am I right?”

  Jack puffed up his chest and whistled like it had been a doozy. No need to share that, for some reason, he wasn’t feeling as satisfied as he thought he would. Dell glared at his bravado.

  “I been tellin’ ya for weeks to straighten up and do something worthwhile with that gold, ain’t I?”

  Jack’s narrowed an eye at Sam, nodding slightly.

  “Well, this is it. You get in on the ground floor of a business you know is sound. This ain’t no fly-by-night deal here. Dell’s the real thing and as much as it pains ya to admit it, you know ’tis true.”

  He didn’t have to admit anything of the sort. Instead, he crossed his arms and turned away, burning holes into the wall with his seething gaze.

  “And, Dell, honey.” Sam sat down next to her and plucked a limp hand from her lap. “Dell, you’re outta options, child. I know workin’ with a man like Jack would be like walkin’ with a thorn in your foot—“

  “Hey!” Jack objected, but no one spared him so much as a glance.

  “But you’re in a pickle. Ya got customers to think of, some of them livin’ in this very house, countin’ on ya to do right by ‘em. What are ya gonna tell ‘em when they ask if ya done all ya could?”

  Dell’s eyes were bright with tears before she turned them away. Her head dipped in a minute nod and Sam clapped his hands.

  “There ya are then. It’s a done deal!”

  But Jack wasn’t having it. “Now hold on one cottonpickin’ minute here! I never agreed to any deal.”

  “But, Jack, ya just gotta…” Sam looked stricken.

  “I ain’t gotta do nothin!”

  Jack hated the whiny, schoolboy sound of his own voice. He’d fully intended to make sure she got her gold back — he’d won most of Browne’s gold last night, too — but he wasn’t about to be bullied into working with this highbrow harpie.

  The squeak of a chair drew his attention to Dell. She slowly stood and turned to face him. The tears that had been threatening to spill over moments ago were gone, whisked away by a hot, angry scowl that spelled trouble.

  “As a matter of fact, you do.” Her voice was soft and deathly cold.

  “The hell you say!”

  “Mr. Dalton, since we are now business partners, I shall give you the courtesy of asking politely that you refrain from cursing when in my presence. The next time, I shall not be so polite and you will walk away with a burning cheek.”

  Jack was flabbergasted. He’d just told her he wasn’t about to work with her but it was like she didn’t hear.

  “Didn’t you hear me, Miss Priss? We ain’t business partners.”

  The smile that edged up one side of her mouth sent chills down his spine, and he wasn’t at all happy about the confident set of her shoulders. He’d never been afraid of a woman before — well, a lady anyway — but this one was downright terrifying.

  “I beg to differ, Mr. Dalton. I signed a binding contract for printing services with F. Browne Printers & Stationers. If I’m not mistaken, you acquired the deed to said establishment, which means you also acquired its assets. My contract is one such asset. And as the owner of the company, you are legally obligated to perform the duties outlined in our contract. Now, the only question that remains is when shall we start?”

  Jack’s gaze bounced between Sam and Dell, trying to figure out how they’d played this trick on him and how he was going to get himself out of it. He didn’t know anything about contracts or running a business, much less how to run a printing press. When he won the blasted shop, he just figured he’d find some sucker to buy the place off him and move on to some other lark.

  “Listen, I’ll pay you back every ounce of gold you gave that scoundrel,” he wheedled. “I’ll even throw in a hundred dollars worth for your troubles, but I ain’t goin’ into the printing business and we ain’t partners.”

  He crossed his arms again to drive his point home, but Sam was looking at Dell like she was the smartest creature alive and she showed no signs of budging. Doom crept into his heart.

  “No good. There’s not another printer in town who will take me on. You could pay me an extra thousand dollars and it wouldn’t help me get my paper printed.”

  “Sure it would! You could go back east — in style, I might add — and print it back there. That’s where all the brides are gonna come from anyway.”

  His argument fell on deaf ears.

  “That would mean a delay of at least six months, if not longer. You may not understand this, but these men want wives as soon as possible. They’re tired of being alone in this punishing, exciting, terrifying new world. They crave the comfort of a loving and committed companion, someone who will stand by them through thick and thin, good and bad. They’re looking for women of high moral character to raise their babies and be their partners in all things. Would you deny them that, Mr. Dalton? How will you face them at dinner every night? How can you call yourself friend to any of them?”

  Jack’s jaw fell open. She had him backed into a corner. He happened to know that dozens of his pals had submitted ads to her. If he refused to print her stupid newspaper, she’d blab it all over kingdom come and he’d be ridden out of town, if not worse.

  “And then, of course, there would be the lawsuits…” she sighed.

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “What lawsuits?”

  “Why, Mr. Dalton, we have a contract.” Honey dripped from her words. She acted as if she truly regretted what she was saying, but he knew better.

  “If you renege on it, I’ll be forced to file suit, but I’m sure many of my advertisers will do the same. Probably not the men themselves, but the businesses that have paid good money to take out display advertisements will be very put out. And obviously the police would need to become involved since this would be considered breech of contract.”

  Sam was sniggering into his chipped blue enamel coffee cup but Jack didn’t think it was funny at all.

  “Boy, that’s what a fella gets for trying to lend a helping hand!” Anger boiled up inside him and he pointed an accusing finger at her, taking a step closer. “You were dumb enough to give all your gold to a degenerate gambler. I tried to tell ya he was no good, I tried to stop ya. But would you listen ol’ Jack? Naw, you had to be a stubborn mule and ignore my advice. And look what it got ya! Hoodwinked! Swindled! Bamboozled! And now you’re draggin’ me into your mess!”

  His heart was pounding in his chest with every step he advanced on her, but the pigheaded woman stood her ground — wouldn’t give an inch — until he was towering over her and she had to crane her neck back to match his glare. He was intensely aware of the heat radiating off her body and her perfume muddled his thoughts.

  Sam’s cheerful tenor barely cut through the tension. “It’s settled then.”

  They both refused to break their mutually hateful scowl until Sam slapped Jack on the back and wrapped an arm around Dell’s shoulders, leading her away from a seething Jack.

  “Just have to work out a few details and get you two lovebirds to work
.”

  Chapter 8

  “Blackmailing me ain’t gonna do you a bit of good, ya know, Miss Priss.”

  Delilah sighed as she took in the dusty surfaces of the print shop. She must have been so focused on getting Browne to take her on that she didn’t bother to notice the antiquated state of the equipment around her.

  There had been great strides in printing over the last few years, but this press looked as if Gutenberg himself had used it. Its small size made it portable but it was also quite slow and labor-intensive — not like the modern steam-powered bed-and-platen presses, such as the one Mr. Kimble owned.

  “If you can’t call me by my given name, please call me Dell. You asked me to call you Jack, and if the offer is still open, I shall agree. I understand if you’re not comfortable with that level of intimacy, considering our situation, but it might make life just a touch more pleasant.”

  “Fine. No amount of blackmail is gonna make me know how to run this dag-blamed machine…Dell.”

  It sounded just as hateful to her ears as Miss Priss, but at least it was a step in the right direction.

  “This is similar to the press my father’s paper used when I was a little girl but I was never allowed to touch it. I did watch a lot when I visited, but I’m afraid my knowledge would be limited to setting the type. Everything else is a mystery.”

  Jack threw his hands up in the air and laughed. “Well, there ya go! Oh, well, we did our best but there’s nothin’ for it. I’ll just pay you the gold you lost, like I promised, and I’ll sell this place off.”

  His chipper attitude grated on her nerves and she wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easy. “Surely, you know someone who could help us. Maybe your friend from Mr. Kimble’s shop? What was his name, Allan?”

  “Aidan,” he mumbled, suddenly crestfallen. She must have unwittingly hit a nerve. Working it until he conceded seemed like the best course of action.