Emmy (Gold Rush Brides Book 2) Page 8

  He stopped to gather his thoughts and Emmy let him.

  “In this one, the bandits killed every person on the coach. Didn’t bother to tie ‘em up or nothing. Just rode up and shot each one where they sat.”

  Emmy was speechless. Her gaze drifted over to the sheriff and her heart ached for his loss. No wonder he was so unhappy.

  “Worst part of it was,” Fred continued, his voice barely above a whisper, “Marie was with child.”

  Emmy gasped, goosebumps popping up all over her body. “No!”

  Fred nodded. “‘Fraid so. Mason waited for that danged coach for two hours before setting off to find it, and I rode with him. We spotted it off in the distance about an hour out of town. It was just sittin’ still, and the horses were patiently waiting in their harnesses. I tell ya, I knowed right then something bad had happened. So did Mace.

  “We raced on up to it, guns drawn but there was no one left to shoot. The bandits were long gone with the gold. I tell ya, Miss Emmy, I thought the saddest sight I ever seen was blood pooled on the ground under the stagecoach, but I was wrong. It was Mason screamin’ Marie’s name and pulling her limp, bloody body from that coach and cradling her in his arms. ‘Bout broke my heart in two.”

  He sniffed back tears at the memory. Emmy was sick to her stomach imagining the sheriff’s agony at finding his wife shot to death. It was horrifying and explained so much. The poor man had lost his wife and child in a single random robbery.

  “Mace vowed to track down her killers if it was the last thing he ever done. Only problem was, the crew that hit the coach left nothing to track ‘em with. Their trail petered out about a mile out from the scene, and we never heard a peep in town about some big mouth braggin’ on it, which is usually what trips ‘em up. Mace worked himself ragged trying to figure out who done it, but never got nowhere. You can imagine how tore up he was.”

  She nodded.

  “We never had a robbery like it again. Or so we thought. ‘Bout six months ago, we had one where they left everyone alive and stole the horses. They were smart, though. They didn’t try selling ‘em, which could have traced back to them. Instead, they set ‘em all loose in a field a few miles away. Too far for the survivors to retrieve ‘em and go for help.

  “We didn’t put it together that the first two were the same gang till your hold-up. Mace noticed some scratches in the dirt that looked like a star, and remembered he saw something similar at the other two. No reason for him to put ‘em together cuz they sorta looked like scratches in the dirt, ya know? Weren’t till that last time that he realized there was a pattern.

  “I tell ya, Miss Emmy, I haven’t seen him so full of pep in months. Maybe it ain’t happy pep, but the fire’s in his belly now and he’s on the hunt. For the last year, he’s been acting like he failed his beloved Marie. If we don’t catch Roy Kirby…well, I dunno what’ll happen to Mason. It’ll probably break him.”

  Her horror turned to disgust at herself. Forgetting that she’d unwittingly married the man responsible for those murders, she’d been nothing but uncharitable toward the sheriff, assuming he was simply a grumpy lout, rather than a man grieving the loss of his family. She hung her head in shame and sniffed back her tears.

  “Oh, I shouldn’t have told ya all that, should I, Miss Emmy? It was too much for a lady like you.”

  She whipped her head up to give Fred a fierce look. Her entire life had been spent acting the part of a ‘lady’ but, as she sat by the firelight surrounded by trees and darkness and horses and brave men, she was keenly aware that she’d never been taught to be proper lady. Her mother hadn’t been there to teach her how to be kind and charitable and forgiving and humble. That homesteading woman had been ten times the lady Emmy had ever been.

  “Look at me, Fred. I’m wearing men’s clothes, have bear grease all over my face and I’m riding with a group of men. I’m no lady, and if a lady is what I’ve been my entire life, then I hope to never be one again.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Mason was drooling when he woke up. He’d slept fitfully all night, dreaming that Roy Kirby was always just ahead of him but he could never quite catch him. When the smell of frying meat entered his dream, his eyes popped open to a dawning day.

  For a brief moment, he felt at peace. The sun was getting ready to rise and who knew what the day would bring. He hoped fervently it would end with him shackling Roy Kirby and dragging him behind his horse back to Nevada City. Or shooting him. Either would do nicely.

  But then reality crushed his chest and set his teeth on edge. They had no idea where Kirby was headed. They couldn’t go on much farther without some kind of lead. He could be anywhere by now and chasing after a shadow was more than frustrating.

  “Mornin’, Mace,” Fred called out from in front of the fire. Everyone was up already and the sun hadn’t made it over the horizon yet. Usually he had to kick his deputies awake. And since when did they take the time to make a big breakfast when they were on the hunt like this?

  Mason grumbled while he rolled up his bedding, not wanting to take the time to eat but acknowledging that he needed something in his growling belly. Coffee and grub, preferably in that order.

  Jake was waiting with a cup of hot coffee in his hand and Emmy was crouched over the fire poking at something with a stick.

  “Miss Emmy’s cookin’ us breakfast,” said Fred, clearly pleased as punch at the turn of events.

  Mason wasn’t so sure. First of all, a city girl like her wouldn’t know the first thing about cooking, and second of all, why on earth would such a pampered little princess lower herself to perform such a chore. Sure, she’d come a lot farther than he ever expected, he had to give her that, but cooking? Mason gave him the side-eye and settled down with his cup.

  The bitter aroma of strong coffee wafted up to his nose and he took a deep lungful. The smell was almost as invigorating as the drink. He licked his lips in anticipation and pulled a big draught from the cup. He regretted it the instant the rankest coffee he’d ever tasted filled his mouth. Grounds swirled around his tongue as he tried to figure out what to do. His men were grinning down at him, grounds embedded in between all their teeth, waiting for his reaction. He almost laughed but the last thing he wanted was to snort any of this vile concoction out his nose!

  Taking a deep breath and steeling his nerves, he swallowed. It was gritty and awful, and his stomach threatened to rebel, but the the liquid stayed where it was and he was finally able to catch his breath.

  “What the—“

  “Miss Emmy made the coffee, too, Mace. Ain’t it good? Didn’t she do a fine job on her very first try?”

  Fred was tipping his head pointedly at her, and Mason saw she was looking at him expectantly, seeking his approval. His head swam from the disgusting coffee and confusion over her sudden change of attitude. Was this some kind of joke on him? No, the other men had drunk the coffee, too. He decided to play it safe, in case she was in earnest, and simply nodded.

  “Breakfast’s ready,” she chirped, pulling a tin plate from atop the coals of the previous night’s fire. “There’s enough for everyone, so hand me your plates.”

  The men exchanged grimaces at the burnt hunks of meat and cold biscuits she placed on their plates, but didn’t say a word. Mason thought he must have the kindest men in the world working for him because the food she served was just this side of unfit to eat. Burnt rabbit jerky and rock-hard biscuits that had obviously been left out uncovered all night.

  She beamed at them all as she sat down with her own plate of food…if you could call it that. “I woke up early to fix breakfast. You didn’t eat supper last night, Sheriff, so I thought you could use some food before we head out again.”

  He simply grunted as he gnawed on piece of meat, hoping he wouldn’t chip a tooth and wondering why she was being so solicitous. When she tried to take a bite of it herself, he almost choked with laughter. Her big blue eyes grew wide and horrified, and she pulled the offending bit of food from her mou
th as demurely as she could. When the tears started welling in her eyes, he felt a twinge of guilt and took pity on her.

  “Much obliged, Miss Emmy,” he mumbled around a stale piece of biscuit, crumbs falling on to his plate. “Don’t normally go in for a big morning meal but this just about hits the spot.”

  His men nodded furiously, chewing and swallowing as best they could.

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah!”

  “Yup.”

  “Mmmhmm!

  Emmy looked suspicious but ate her own food anyway, and silently took everyone’s plate down to the stream for washing. When she returned, a fresh layer of bear grease was on her still-inflamed skin.

  Mason barely paid attention and was actually grateful for the meal and gritty coffee, as bad as it had been, because now his brain was working overtime trying to figure out which direction to lead his men. Kirby had to pay for what he’d done to Marie and their baby, and Mason wouldn’t stop until he brought the monster to justice!

  They all mounted their horses but didn’t move. Everyone was looking to him to lead the way, but he flat out didn’t know which direction to go. They’d spent the previous day crisscrossing the terrain from settlement to settlement trying to find anyone else who had seen Kirby, but none had…or at least admitted it. They were running around like chickens with their heads cut off and not making an inch of progress. As it was, they couldn’t be more than ten miles out of Nevada City, after all their backtracking.

  “Which way, Mace?” asked Fred.

  Mason looked south, then east, then back south again. “Well, if they headed east, we might find them in Colfax or Foresthill. If they continued south, maybe Auburn, Pilot Hill, Placerville or Coloma. Or they could have gone west to Sacramento. There’s no way of knowing. Hang it all!”

  He slammed his fist into his thigh in frustration, drawing a nervous whinny from his horse. He patted her neck to soothe her and wished he could be calmed so easily.

  “Wait, say those town names again.” Emmy deftly guided her horse closer to him, her eyes wide.

  “Why?”

  “Just say them!”

  There it was, Miss Bossy Pants. It was really only a matter of time before she reared her ugly head again. Well, he’d be hanged if he was going to kowtow to her demanding ways, giving her a cold, hard stare instead of answering her.

  Fred tired of their little stand-off and jumped in. “Colfax, Foresthill, Pilot Hill, Auburn, Coloma, Placer—“

  “Auburn! That’s it. That’s the one!”

  “What about it,” Mason asked irritably, sucking a stubborn coffee ground from a back molar.

  “It’s the color of hair!”

  The four men stared at her like she had lizards crawling out of her ears. She was excited but he hadn’t a clue as to why. Mason guessed that if she didn’t have that black gunk smeared all over her face, her cheeks would have been the loveliest shade of pink.

  “Okay, boys, let’s pick a direction and see what we find,” he finally said, shaking his head and urging his horse forward.

  “Wait!” she cried, grasping his arm to stop him. Her small fingers didn’t have much strength but each one felt like a hot iron on his skin, and that was through a thick shirt and leather coat.

  “No, I completely forgot about this but as soon as you mentioned the name of that town, it popped into my head. In one of his letters, Roy mentioned something about how he couldn’t wait to take me to his place in Auburn. I remember because I thought a hair color was a funny name for a town.”

  For the first time since Marie had died, real hope flared in Mason’s chest. All of the long months spent chasing down the faintest of leads had led to nothing but disappointment. Even when he discovered Roy Kirby’s secret, the scoundrel had slipped through his grasp. With no firm idea of where Kirby and his men had run, he’d nearly resigned himself to the fact that Kirby was going to get away…again.

  But now Kirby was once more in his sights, and it was all thanks to this exasperating, infuriating, vexing devil-in-disguise who had singlehandedly offered up the bandit on a silver platter. If it hadn’t been for her, Mason might never have discovered Kirby’s true identity. And now she might have figured out exactly where he was hiding out.

  “Oh, you brilliant little minx!” Mason had never hugged a woman dressed in men’s clothes before but, as he pulled Emmy into a fierce embrace, he thought it was quite nice. There were no corsets or whalebones poking at him, only a soft, yielding woman pressed against his chest. It had been so long since he’d had a woman in his arms that he was loathe to let her go. Besides, she didn’t seem in any hurry for their embrace to end either.

  The sound of someone clearing his throat brought Mason falling back to reality. He pushed Emmy upright in her saddle and awkwardly patted her back.

  “Excellent information, Miss Gibson,” he said, trying to gain his composure. “Well done.”

  Turning to his men and ignoring their smirks, he said, “To Auburn, boys!”

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Emmy was still reeling from Mason’s hug as he and his deputies kicked their horses into gallops. Blaze grunted and chomped at his bit, eager to join his equine friends in a race to the finish, but Emmy could only sit and blink.

  Of all the men who’d tried to court her in New York, the most they’d ever done was kiss her hand. Besides her father, only one other man had tried to wrap his arms around her, and he was the reason she was in California now. A shudder rippled across her skin at the memory of his touch.

  Then her mind turned to Mason’s embrace. Big strong arms tucking her into his chest, his strong male scent overwhelming her senses, a sense of safety washing over her. Instinctively, she’d nuzzled a little closer, or as close as she could from the back of a horse.

  In an instant, he was gone, and she was left swaying in her saddle, hoping she wouldn’t tumble off. Confused thoughts pinged around her brain, making her even dizzier. Was she attracted to the sheriff? Did he feel the same? Is that why he shoved her away and ran off like a cat on fire?

  She clutched at Blaze’s mane and dipped her head to rest against his neck. His solidity was comforting, but he sure did smell bad. The stench almost made her gag. What on earth—?

  Then she understood. Mason hadn’t been attracted to her. He’d been repulsed by her! The bear fat smelled so terrible that even she couldn’t stand it. She’d been wearing it for so long that she’d sort of forgotten about it until she’d snuggled up to Blaze. The smell was concentrated in the close quarters.

  Mason must have acted impulsively — he was simply excited about having a specific place to search for Roy — and realized his mistake when he caught a whiff of the malodorous grease. But that didn’t change the fact that she’d felt something while she was in his arms.

  Fred’s story the night before had shed new light on why Mason was the way he was. She’d never loved anyone the way he must have loved his wife, but she’d loved her father. When he died, so did a part of her. She couldn’t imagine losing a husband or, God forbid, a child — especially to a murderer — and sympathy for the sheriff welled in her heart.

  Even her dreams were filled with him. In her favorite, he ran down Roy with his horse, and just before the evil swine drew his last breath, he signed her annulment papers, leaving her free to marry again. Of course with him dead, she would have been free anyway, but logic rarely plays a role in dreams. Sadly, the dream evaporated quickly when she awoke, as so often happens, but she was left with a lingering warmth and the distinct impression that Mason had been just as pleased at the outcome as she was.

  Blaze stomped his feet impatiently, pulling Emmy out of her dreamworld. The posse already had a good lead on her but she wasn’t worried. Blaze would catch them, if only to show them who was boss.

  “If I had the money, boy, I’d pay that stableboy twice what he paid for you,” she cooed to him. His muscles tensed beneath her and they were off.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 
They’d been riding hard for an hour when Mason slowed the group to let the horses cool down for a bit. The last thing he wanted was for one to go lame now, not so close to their goal.

  “D’ya think he’s really there, Sheriff?” asked David, trotting his horse next to Mason’s. “Meanin’ no disrespect to Miss Emmy, but he coulda been lyin’ to her.”

  Mason nodded. “Yup, that’s possible, but I got a good feeling about this, David. It feels right, feels true. Can’t explain it any better than that.”

  “‘Sides,” interrupted Fred, moving up to join them. “Even if he ain’t there, someone mighta seen him. Right, Mace?”

  “Yup, and it’s also possible that they’ve already come and gone. We lost a bit of time wandering around like Moses out here. But like I said, I got a good feeling on this one.”

  He left David and Fred at the front of the group to debate whether Kirby was in Auburn or Sacramento or bound for the Sandwich Islands aboard some rickety ship. Dropping back, he sidled up next to Emmy, who was uncharacteristically quiet.

  “How’s that rash today?” He winced as the words left his mouth, but he couldn’t think of anything else to talk about. And for some reason, he really wanted to talk to her, maybe thank her for helping out.

  She ducked her head and let out a big sigh. “Better, I guess. I put on more of that bear fat, as you discovered, and the itching isn’t so bad anymore. But I still look and smell like a prospector, I suppose.”

  She tried to smile but, even through the black gunk, Mason could see it didn’t reach her eyes. For a girl like Emmy, appearances were everything. He’d known her kind for many years and they’d rather be dead than caught looking like her, though it didn’t make much sense to him.

  “Well, I gotta give you credit, Miss Emmy. You got dealt an ugly blow and you never let it slow you down. I wish my men were half as tough as you.”