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A Fortune for the Outlaw's Daughter
Lauri Robinson


More Precious than Gold…Cole ‘Lucky’ DuMont is off to forge his future in the Alaskan hills. Standing in his way… ? A dark-haired beauty in need of rescue.Maddie Stockwell’s life has always been ruled by men. And now, to ensure her freedom, she strikes a deal with her gorgeous saviour: she’ll help Lucky in his quest and find her own fortune along the way! Except when Maddie has to pose as Lucky’s wife she feels a thrill she could never have anticipated.And suddenly there’s something even more tempting than gold on her mind…







His lips left hers, but only to return again…like a flat rock thrown just right, so it would gently skim over the top of a pond. She’d always been amazed by that, and this was just as incredible.

When Lucky’s lips settled upon hers for an extended length of time her knees threatened to give way all over again.

As gently and perfectly as the kiss had started—she was sure this time that it was a kiss—it ended, and Lucky once again folded his arms around her and held her tight. She didn’t know when her arms had wrapped themselves around his waist, but they had, and she kept them there, hugging him in return.

They parted by some mutual silent understanding a short time later. Maddie wasn’t sure what to do, how to react, and wondered if she should be embarrassed, letting him kiss her like that, but couldn’t come up with a reason why. Not when deep inside she was longing to be as close to him as possible. It was strong … similar to how badly she wanted gold.

But that couldn’t be. She didn’t want anything as badly as she wanted gold.


Author Note (#ulink_62a062cf-0e15-50ed-9a8d-165ca7c8211a)

I’ve had many people say they have a story idea for me. Usually I have so many stories already swirling around in my head there simply isn’t room for one more. Not this time. When a friend e-mailed me after returning from mining gold in Alaska with a story idea I was intrigued. He’d set the plot based on a historical couple he’d learned about, and gave me the freedom to embellish it. Which I did—diamonds weren’t discovered in Arkansas until a few years after Maddie and Lucky’s story.

That’s part of the fun of writing fiction!

Thanks, Chris, for the story idea. I hope you and everyone else who picks up this book enjoys how Maddie and Lucky strike it rich.


A Fortune for the Outlaw’s Daughter

Lauri Robinson




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


A lover of fairytales and cowboy boots, LAURI ROBINSON can’t imagine a better profession than penning happily-ever-after stories about men (and women) who pull on a pair of boots before riding off into the sunset—or kick them off for other reasons. Lauri and her husband raised three sons in their rural Minnesota home, and are now getting their just rewards by spoiling their grandchildren.

Visit: www.laurirobinson.blogspot.com (http://www.laurirobinson.blogspot.com), www.facebook.com/lauri.robinson1 (http://www.facebook.com/lauri.robinson1), https://twitter.com/LauriR (https://twitter.com/LauriR)


To my brother, Norman,

for unknowingly giving me the idea

for the name of Lucky’s ship.


Contents

Cover (#u4d71c50f-1e0d-5304-a639-9957a815193a)

Introduction (#u13447429-c9cd-59c5-b9aa-941c329d887b)

Author Note (#uc6735330-b0ba-5508-9a3c-5785cf0666e6)

Title Page (#uc9c20475-029c-57e5-968b-ac06f50c12da)

About the Author (#uf393bc49-22c1-5d38-bfd5-28737d4960aa)

Dedication (#uc4c1611b-039f-5651-a6cd-6745a939c666)

Chapter One (#u04f25c7e-f274-5413-9384-0e3b002d98c4)

Chapter Two (#uafd43aeb-ea85-5efb-8dc9-0f8c6842ae2b)

Chapter Three (#ue551a855-aad4-523f-bdfd-55ef2fa10dd2)

Chapter Four (#ubb37ce25-d2a1-57a6-ab97-179aac87421b)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_e34251bb-4484-5069-a30e-6122fc96db2b)

Life had never been easy for Maddie Stockwell. Being the daughter of the outlaw Bass Mason, a man who’d changed his name more often than he’d changed his socks, had forced her to look out for herself at an early age. She was quick on her feet, too. Quicker than the man with the hands that had just seized her could possibly know.

The fingers digging into her waist sent curse words—things she’d never say aloud but had heard numerous times—running through her mind. They muffled the piano music and shouts of people filling the saloons on both sides of the alleyway. Furthermore, the hand over her mouth stank of fish, and the pressure of that hand pressed grit into her lips and cheeks, igniting her fury.

Whoever he was—this man who’d grabbed her as she left the community well—was big. Strong, too, given the way he hoisted her off the ground, dragging her backward.

Claws of fear dug into her throat, but it was the anger surging inside she focused on. Not again. Did every man think all they had to do was hover in the night darkness and snatch her up as if they were picking peaches or something?

They might be able to do that to other women, but not her.

With movements she’d acquired while fighting off those who had ridden with her father, Maddie kicked one heel backward into the man’s knee as she shot an elbow straight back, catching his ribs. She also flung her head back, connecting with what she assumed was his nose by the way he screeched.

She didn’t stop there, though. The frustration inside her hadn’t played out. As the arms around her went slack, she spun and brought the now half-full water bucket around at full speed. It met the side of his head with a solid thud, and her well-aimed kick targeted right below the belt buckle sent him the rest of the way to the ground.

He was no longer a threat, rolling on the ground as he was, but the names he was shouting, the things he was calling her—as if any of this was her fault—had her temper flaring.

Maddie swung the bucket again, cracking him upside the head. The last bits of water flew in all directions while the bucket splintered into pieces. She froze for a moment when the man went quiet. As swiftly as his hands had grabbed her moments ago, something she couldn’t describe gripped her from the inside.

Her entire being shook as if she stood in the center of a Rocky Mountain snowstorm instead of a warm, dark California night. Mad Dog had found her again. This wasn’t him, but it was one of his men.

Shouts, muffled by the throbbing in her ears, had her spinning about. Two men, as big as the one on the ground, barreled down the alley.

Instinct said run, but where?

She couldn’t go back to Hester’s. That would jeopardize the other girls, so Maddie leaped over the prone body and headed for the street at the end of the alley several buildings ahead. Her heart raced as fast as her feet. The ground rumbled from the weight of those chasing her, and the opening seemed to get farther away instead of closer.

A whoop or whistle had her chancing a glance over her shoulder.

Like the devil riding out of hell, a horse raced right between the two men, knocking them aside.

“Hold out your arm, darling,” the rider shouted. “Lucky will save you!”

The two men were scrambling to their feet. The horse getting closer. Her choices were clear: get run over and caught or leap on the horse behind the devil himself.

Instinct, again, had her choosing the latter.

Turning, she held out an arm, and as the man’s hand clamped her elbow, she jumped, flinging one leg over the back of the saddle. She’d leaped on behind her father more than once, way back when, before he’d left her with Smitty. He’d been the one man she could always count on, Smitty that was, right up until the end. God rest his soul. Unlike most men, he deserved a place behind the pearly gates.

“Hold on, darling,” the man in front of her shouted.

The clop of hooves echoed against the bricks as the horse rounded the corner, entering the street. Maddie wrapped both arms around the stranger to keep from sliding off, and caught a glimpse of her pursuers shaking their fists in the air.

Laughter from the rider in front of her filled the air, and feeling a touch of elation, Maddie shouted, “Are you?”

“Am I what?” the man asked in return.

“Lucky?” She could use some of that. Hers seemed to have run out weeks ago.

“Hold on, and you’ll find out.”

He took another corner, and then zigged and zagged down streets and up others, turning so many times she was dizzy, and lost, but Maddie kept her knees bent, legs out of his way as the man heeled the horse, keeping it at a full run.

Sea air—a mixture of dirty water, salt, dead fish and wet wood—stung her nose when he brought the horse to an abrupt halt. They dismounted at the same time, and he grabbed her by the back of one arm, propelling her in one direction while slapping the horse on the backside, sending it in the opposite way.

“In here,” he directed, hushed and hurried.

The tall building blocked the moonlight, making it impossible to see much of anything. He’d saved her from the other men, but that didn’t mean he was safe. Few men were. Life had taught her that. “What about your horse?” she asked, trying to buy time to figure out an escape on her own this time.

“It wasn’t mine,” he answered. “I stole it.”

She dug her heels into the dirt. “Stole it?”

His strength was no match as he pulled her forward. “Don’t give up on me now, darling.”

“Don’t call me darling,” she said. “And let go of me.”

“Can’t. Alan Ridge isn’t going to be happy when he learns you knocked out his henchman. I may have gotten his other men off our tail for a bit, but eventually they’ll learn where we went. At least the general direction.” He threw open a door. “You can trust Lucky, darling. You’re safe with me.”

A chill rippled through Maddie. Mad Dog Rodriquez and Alan Ridge were the same man; she’d discovered that in the first town she’d hightailed out of in the dead of the night. Smitty had heard Mad Dog was in Mexico, and that was why he’d sent her to California: to escape the outlaw for good. That plan had backfired and she’d been doing little more than avoiding capture since stepping off the train. Mad Dog had a penchant for stealing girls and selling them at high bounties, but that wasn’t the only reason he was pursing her.

“You know Alan Ridge?” she asked.

“I know of him.”

She didn’t like it, not one little bit, but Lucky, as he called himself, seemed her only alternative at this moment. Given her choices, Maddie followed him, vowing to escape the first chance she got.

He closed the door behind them and let go of her arm but took her hand as he spun around. It was even darker inside, completely black. “Hold on to my belt. I’ll never find you in here if we get separated.”

Maddie was contemplating that when he whispered again. “But Ridge’s men will. Have no doubt about that, darling. When that one comes to, he’s going to be looking harder than ever.”

“Are you one of Ridge’s men?” she asked point-blank, though not really sure what she’d do if he said yes.

“Aw, darling,” he drawled. “Would I be trying to save you if I was in cahoots with him?”

Men were a fickle bunch, and not a one of them was above lying, yet her instincts, which she hoped weren’t trying to fool her, said she could trust this man. However, her ire was still riding high. “Will you stop calling me that,” she hissed, while wrapping her fingers beneath his belt. Men who’d ridden with her father always called her darling. She’d hated it then, and hated it now. Along with everything else about her past.

Lucky started walking forward slowly, as if feeling his way. “I will if you tell me your name.”

“Maddie. Madeline Elizabeth Stockwell,” she answered. It was a good name. This one she’d settled on. No one could trace it back to Bass. That wasn’t likely, considering he’d been calling himself Boots Smith when he died, but she wanted to sever all ties to her former life. California was supposed to have been a fresh start, but since arriving, she’d found herself running more than when living with outlaws.

“Well, ain’t that a mouthful?”

Stung, she retorted, “It’s better than Lucky.”

“Lucky’s just my nickname, darling. Real one’s Cole. Cole DuMont.”

“Who gave you a nickname like that?”

“I did.”

“You gave yourself a nickname?” She’d given herself a full name, but that had been a necessity; giving yourself a nickname was just plain silly. Maddie was her real name, as far as she knew. Madeline as well as Elizabeth and Stockwell were ones she’d chosen. They sounded distinguished. Proper. That was what she wanted. A real, proper and distinguished life. She’d have it, too. If she ever got away from Mad Dog and his henchmen.

“Sure enough did.” Lucky paused to open a door. “Figured if I called myself that often enough, it would stick. Luck, that is.”

She followed him outside. The air was cool and it had started to rain. Mist really, since it was more as though the water just hung in the air rather than falling to the ground.

“Has it worked?” she asked, curious.

“Sure enough has.”

The moisture-filled air was darker, and she wondered how he’d found the next door he opened. Luck, maybe?

They did that several times, entered buildings, weaved around boxes and crates—at least she assumed that was what was on both sides of them, snagging her dress sleeves at times—and exited only to take a few steps before entering another one. Warehouses along the seashore were like that. Long lines of buildings storing the cargo shipped in and out of the bay. She’d explored them during the day in the town she’d first arrived in, but the men she’d encountered along the seashore made her not want to visit the docks again.

Mad Dog’s men.

“Was that Ridge’s horse you stole?” she asked.

“Don’t know,” he answered. “I’d just stepped out the back door when I saw you knock down Bubba.”

“Bubba?” This building had a sharp, almost sickeningly sweet scent filling it, like molasses, and she glanced around, but might as well have had a burlap bag over her head. She couldn’t make out anything in the darkness.

“Don’t rightly know if that was his name or not,” Lucky said, “but he was one of Ridge’s men. I saw the other two going after you, so I ran around front and jumped on the first horse I came to.”

They were still whispering, and it was making her voice burn. At least that had to be why her throat felt so thick. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’d you steal the horse?”

“To rescue you.” He stopped suddenly and she bumped into his back before stilling her steps. “You do know what Alan Ridge does with the girls his men snatch off the streets, don’t you?”

“I’ve heard.” She refrained from admitting all she knew about the alias Mad Dog had taken on. It seemed the outlaw was now the leader of his own gang and had henchmen in every town lining the coast.

Lucky—she still thought that was a silly name—opened another door and scanned the area like he’d done at each one before.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “Ridge won’t catch us. Not tonight.”

Stepping into the wet night air once again, Maddie squinted, hoping to see something this time. Nothing but blackness, yet she could hear water sloshing. “You sound funny,” she said when he opened another door.

“That’s because I was born and raised down by New Orleans. A bayou boy. That’s what my granny always called me.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Shh,” he said. “Listen.”

She did, until her ears stung from the thundering of her own blood.

“Must’ve been a rat,” he said, moving forward.

Maddie quivered. Rats came in all shapes and sizes, and she knew firsthand how some walked on two legs, pretending to be human.

“Don’t worry, darling, rats don’t like us any more than we like them. It’s not much farther, either.”

“Maddie, the name’s Maddie.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, as cocky as every other statement he’d made.

After the last building, he led her along a series of docks. Thick fog had settled in, and so had her nerves. An escape route hadn’t presented itself. Lucky may have rescued her from that alley, but that was not to say he wasn’t as bad as Mad Dog. He could be taking her to a place no better than Mad Dog did the girls he captured. Long ago she’d figured out what happened to those girls before they were sold. She hadn’t let that happen back in Colorado, and wasn’t going to let it happen here, either. Not with Mad Dog or a man who called himself Lucky.

He stopped and started unlooping a thick rope from one of the posts lining the dock. “Climb down.”

She peered over the edge. A rowboat bounced in the water. “Into that?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“So I can row you out to my uncle’s ship. The Mary Jane. It’s sailing for Seattle posthaste.”

Her heart skipped several beats. “Seattle?”

“Yep.”

That could be far enough away, but traveling cost money—something she didn’t have. The small chunk of gold sewn in the waistband of her petticoat was her seed gold. Smitty had given it to her when she’d left Colorado, along with all the cash he’d had. He’d said he wouldn’t need it where he was going, and Maddie had promised to make him proud. To become a woman he could smile down upon while he was busy filling the world with sunshine even on cloudy days. A smile tugged at her lips, remembering how Smitty had insisted if she ever needed him, all she had to do was look up. He’d brighten the sky for her.

“Come on,” Lucky said, as he turned around and started climbing down the wooden ladder. “Unless you want to stay here, become one of Ridge’s girls.”

Something changed, and Maddie glanced up. Strangely there was a momentary part in the clouds. The moon, as big, round and right as she’d ever seen, peeked through and shone down on her. Her heart skipped several more beats as she glanced back toward the rowboat. Still cautious, she asked, “How much will it cost me?”

“Nothing.”

It was the first time she got a good look at Lucky’s face. Kind of long, with a square, clean-shaven jaw. It was his eyes that caught her attention. Even in the fog they twinkled as if that was where the stars were, instead of high above the clouds where nobody could see them. She glanced up again. The moon was gone. No stars, either.

“Come on, Maddie,” Lucky coaxed. “I promise you’re safe with me. You’ll be safe all the way to Seattle.”

There were no others mingling around, no one to hear if she shouted, unless perhaps Mad Dog or his men—if they had followed. She wanted to believe Lucky, climb down and escape this town and all the dangers it held, yet caution had been her constant companion for years. “How do you know I don’t have family here?” she asked. “Someone looking for me. Right now, even. Who’ll hunt you down, along with Ridge.”

His smile made those eyes twinkle brighter. “If you had family, you wouldn’t have been fetching water for Hester.”

A splattering of hope rose inside her. “You know Hester?” The older woman had assisted Maddie in escaping Mad Dog’s clutches once before and had promised a permanent escape would happen soon.

“That’s why I was at the saloon,” he said.

The air left her lungs in a gush. “It is?”

“Yes. I’m the rescue Hester promised.”

Relief filled Maddie. That explained why Hester had sent her out to fetch water tonight. This was her chance, and she had to take it. “Why didn’t you say so?”

He made some kind of reply, but already swinging around, Maddie didn’t hear exactly what. She was too busy willing her heart to stay in her chest as she lowered closer to the water. Wet and slippery, the ladder wasn’t easy to navigate. A wave of reprieve rushed over her when a firm hold took her by the waist, lifting her the last few feet.

The boat rocked as Lucky guided Maddie to sit on one of the wide boards. Then he flipped a blanket over her head and shoulders before he sat down opposite her and grasped the handles of the oars.

Though already damp, the blanket didn’t offer warmth, but did block the wind, and Maddie repositioned it, grasping both corners beneath her chin. Her thoughts went to the two younger girls that Hester had ushered into the attic late last night. When Lucky started to row, she asked, “What about the others?”

“I was just sent after you, but don’t worry, if Hester promised them an escape, it’ll happen.” He made several more big circles with both arms at the same time, moving the boat through the water, before asking, “Are they friends?”

“No,” Maddie admitted. “I don’t even know their names.” Just as she hadn’t known the names of the other girls that had come and gone within hours the past few days. Hester had said it would take time to get her out of town, considering her previous encounters with Ridge’s men. They hadn’t been just run-ins, they’d been escapes. Maddie escaping, that was. Three times, in three different towns. She still didn’t know how Hester had learned about her or knew to meet her at the edge of town, but the woman had, and she’d done exactly as promised.

Maddie’s happiness faltered. As badly as she wanted to escape Mad Dog, she didn’t want to go as far as Seattle. There was no gold there. It was here. In California. That was what Maddie wanted. Gold. Enough so she’d never be hungry again. Never be cold or scared or homeless or penniless. And with enough gold, she could go someplace Mad Dog would never find her.

“Where are you from?”

Maddie lifted her head and questioned answering. The less anyone knew the better. “East of here.”

His laugh was quick. “Everything is east of California. Where were you born?”

Her memories didn’t start until Wyoming, then Montana, Texas, Arizona. She even remembered a hut down in Mexico. Thus was the life of an outlaw. Until Colorado, where they’d run across Smitty, prospecting high in the hills. Her father had left her with him instead of dragging her along to the next train, stagecoach or bank that Bass thought he needed to rob. That had been five years ago. “Kansas,” she said. At least that was what she’d been told.

Cole couldn’t say she was lying, and he couldn’t blame her for being evasive. She wasn’t the first girl he’d been assigned to collect from Hester. She was the last, though. He’d helped with several escapes and liked the adventure of it, but Ridge had caught sight of him last year, and that could jeopardize future rescues. The loss of this woman would bother the outlaw. Her black hair and mature figure, which Cole had tried to ignore since pulling her up behind the saddle, would bring a high price. That was what Ridge counted on. The lovelier, the more expensive.

It was a good thing this would be the last trip for the Mary Jane this far south for a while. Ridge had too many eyes on the shore to not put two and two together.

“How old are you?” Cole asked.

“Nineteen.”

She was certainly older than the thirteen-and fourteen-year-old ones he was used to moving north, but he’d guess her no more than sixteen. “There’s no need to lie to me.”

Pulling the corners of the blanket tighter beneath her chin, her blue eyes glistened as she snapped, “I’m not lying.”

It didn’t matter one way or the other, and Cole decided to let it go. “What brought you to California?”

“Gold.”

She hadn’t hesitated in her answer, but it was the gleam that instantly appeared in her eyes that he recognized. Knew exactly what it was like. There wasn’t another word that affected him like that one did. Gold. Just thinking about it got his blood racing, his heart pounding. He had the fever. Caught it last year, but he didn’t let it rule him. Instead, he let it drive him. And it had. All winter. He was now set, had everything lined up, and before long he’d be gathering up more gold than most men only dreamed about. He knew where to find it. Maybe that was why he told her, “There’s no gold in California, darling.”

“Yes, there is,” she argued.

“None a man can freely claim.” He wasn’t trying to disillusion her. It was something he knew for a fact. The money being made in California was off the miners, not by mining. It was that way other places, too. He just knew where the odds were better.

Her lips were pinched tight and her chin had jutted up a notch.

“Alaska,” he said, thinking of his destination. “That’s where the gold is.”

“That,” she said sternly, “is a wives’ tale. Alaska’s nothing but frozen tundra.”

“Now, who told you that?”

“No one in particular.”

“Well, go right on believing that, darling. You and the rest of the world.” It would leave more for him to find. Tales of discovering gold in Alaska had spread along the coast for years, and prospectors made their way there only to return saying the same thing she did—mainly because they didn’t know where to look. He, on the other hand, did. Those thoughts had him slowing the speed of which he rowed. The Mary Jane had to be close, and in this fog he might row smack-dab into her side.

“You’ve seen it?” she asked. “Alaska? Gold?”

“Yes, darling, I’ve seen it.” Something blocked the wind, and he had no doubt it was Uncle Trig’s ship. Paddling slow until he could make out the ropes hanging down, he said, “We’re here.”

The rowboat bumped the big hull of the Mary Jane. Cole caught a rope and pulled the little boat beneath the ladder. “You have to climb up first this time. But don’t fret, I’ll be right behind you.”

There was caution in her eyes, but not fear, and he liked that. He’d had to carry more than one young girl up the rope ladder, which wasn’t easy. She tucked the blanket under the bench seat and carefully maneuvered to the ladder. He waited until she was well on her way to the top before he tied the side ropes to the rowboat so it could be lifted out of the water by the pulleys once he arrived on the deck of the big ship.

Uncle Trig was at the top and two shipmates were already hoisting up the rowboat when Lucky climbed over the edge.

“Everything go all right?” his uncle asked.

“Yes,” Cole answered. “No problems at all.”

“Did you see Jasmine?” Trig wanted to know.

“Who do you think motioned me when the time was right?” Cole slapped his uncle on the shoulder. “She’s as lovely as ever.” Long ago Jasmine had been shanghaied from some foreign coastal town much like Ridge was doing to innocent girls, and though she was now the madam of a similar business, she believed girls should choose to work that profession, not be forced into it. Trig had once been a steady customer of Jasmine’s, and though Cole felt there was more—that his uncle had fallen in love with the woman—neither Jasmine nor Trig ever proclaimed anything but friendship. They were cohorts, though, in slipping girls out of town right under Ridge’s nose. Although neither of them would admit to that, either.

“I’m sure she is,” Trig answered.

“How’d you know about this one?” Cole asked. They’d barely arrived in port when his uncle told him of the mission. Usually there’d been cargo to load or unload and he’d always assumed word had been sent during that time. This time, glancing toward Maddie standing near the wheelhouse, he was curious to know how Trig knew Hester—Jasmine’s housekeeper—had this girl hidden and ready for an escape.

“Two lanterns.” Trig waved a hand in the general direction of Cole’s gaze. “I hung a hammock in my cabin for you to bunk with me until we get to Seattle.”

That wasn’t new, either. He often gave up his sleeping space for the girls, but not satisfied with his uncle’s answer, Cole questioned, “Two lanterns?”

“If there’s only one, all is well. If there’re two, we’re needed.”

“Where?”

“Warehouse number seven.” Trig, his skin wrinkled and weathered from the sun and sea, squinted thoughtfully. “You thinking about changing your plans?”

Cole shook his head. “You know I’m not. Sailing’s been profitable, but not enough to cover what the family needs now. Robbie’s waiting in Seattle. He’ll take over the rescues.” There was a fleeting ounce of regret inside Cole, for he had enjoyed the past four years with his uncle, sailing the seas, mainly the West Coast. They had gone around the cape once and back again. That had been his greatest adventure so far—and most profitable. The funds he’d acquired from buying and selling highly sought after merchandise had allowed him to send a considerable sum home. Yet as much as that had been, he’d heard the family needed a whole lot more. Trig had contributed, too, but the hurricane that had wiped out the family shipyard and warehouses west of New Orleans had done a number on the entire coast, and his uncles back home said Gran was struggling to rebuild the family empire to its former glory.

Cole had set his hope and goal on gold. It would show to his mother that following in his father’s and grandfather’s footsteps had been the right choice, and prove every man had his own fortune to seek. If his mother had her way, Cole and his brother would still be living under her roof, married to the women she’d handpicked.

He’d left, though, to his mother and Rachel’s dismay. So had Robbie. His younger brother by three years had escaped their mother’s clutches two years ago, just as Cole had three years before that. It wasn’t that they didn’t love their mother, just that a man has to live his own life. Gran knew that, and said it, though their mother never listened. Gran had seen through Rachel, too. Even before he had.

Cole let his thoughts skip right over Rachel, as he had for years now. He was glad Robbie had joined him and Trig. It was his brother’s turn now to learn the ins and outs of being a sea merchant. He’d stepped off the ship last fall to spend the winter in Seattle in order to drum up cargo he thought they could make a profit from. Trig had given instructions, just as he’d given Cole the first time he’d let him wander on his own, striking deals.

It had been then, when they’d dropped off Robbie, that they’d heard about the hurricane—a message had greeted them when they’d arrived in port. His father’s other two brothers, though neither had been overly involved in the shipping industry, had sent a wire saying everything had been lost, but Gran was insistent upon rebuilding.

That was the other reason he needed to find gold, and lots of it: Gran. She’d dedicated her life to the shipping industry and had used her profits to see her sons set up in businesses, and now, as life was catching up with her, she deserved to have her family come together in order for her to rebuild her one true love. DuMont Shipping.

As kids, he and Robbie had loved spending time at her place. They’d sneak away from the house to pretend they were sailors, maneuvering little rowboats around the bayou, both of them dreaming of the day they’d join their father or Uncle Trig on the seas. Their mother had been dead set against that and whipped them soundly the one time she’d discovered where they’d been and what they’d been doing. She’d forbidden them from spending nights at Gran’s after that. Even as a young child he’d been torn between the adventures calling him inside and the pain of seeing his mother cry, claiming the sea had stolen her husband. She’d cried when he’d left, too.

Cole sighed. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but the calling had grown too strong, and now, well, now he had to save the family business. A man lucky enough could make money in Alaska—lots of it, and that was what he needed.

With another friendly slap to Trig’s shoulder, and more determined than ever that Alaska was where he needed to be, Cole took a step. “I’ll show our guest to her cabin.”


Chapter Two (#ulink_c8831406-d773-5311-b425-63f3421beba2)

To Maddie it seemed only hours had passed, not days, when a voice on the other side of the door said they were heading into port. At first she’d been cautious, nervous even, but Trig DuMont—Captain Trig—reminded her so much of Smitty, her reservations had disappeared. He was always grinning, and carefree and happy. So was his nephew Cole—although she continued to call him Lucky, still hoping it would rub off on her.

Both Lucky and his uncle acted as if the sun never set, that the world was a glorious place, and all they had to do was flash one of those eye-twinkling smiles and all their dreams would come true. Though comfortable talking with either of them, she still didn’t trust men, any of them, and kept to herself most of the trip. The boat was full of other men and she’d readily agreed when Lucky had suggested it would be best if she stayed inside as much as possible. Which wasn’t hard.

The cabin was remarkable. Not only did it have a bed—she’d only slept on one of those a few times in her life—but it was full of books and newspapers and magazines—all about gold mining. Due to her limited abilities, reading them had been difficult at first, but the more she kept at it, the easier it became and she found herself wishing they’d never arrive in Seattle. Or better yet, sail right past it. Her luck had shifted—she could feel it deep inside—and she knew what she had to do.

The books she’d read filled her with additional excitement. Alaska was full of gold. There were ways to get it out of the ground, too. Frozen or not, it wasn’t so different from what she already knew in a lot of ways. Smitty had taught her all he knew about mining.

Settling the last book back to its rightful place, just as she’d done with all the other ones, Maddie swallowed, forcing her heart to slide back down her throat to where it belonged.

Alaska. That was where gold was, and she wanted gold; therefore, Alaska was now her destination. She wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder every step, either. Mad Dog would never follow her all the way to Alaska.

Freedom and gold. Her luck had definitely changed.

Captain Trig smiled brightly as she opened the door. Much shorter than his nephew, the captain wasn’t much taller than she. The top of his head was completely hairless and a ruddy red from being exposed all the time, and he had a jagged scar that wrapped around one ear. Yet, like Lucky, his glistening brown eyes made him appear less dangerous than a woeful pup looking for a home. Though her luck had changed, Maddie continued to tell herself she still had to be cautious. Wolves were once pups.

“We’re pulling into Seattle,” Captain Trig said.

Maddie stepped out of the cabin.

“Hope the trip wasn’t too rough for you.”

“Not at all,” she answered, pulling her eyes off the gray skies. Seattle didn’t appear any more excited to see her than she was to see it. “I could sail for days yet. Months even.”

Trig’s laugh was low and choppy, but not frightening. Pleasant in its own right. “It would get old to you long before months were up, girlie.” He gestured toward the busy shoreline. “We’ll dock here. No need for a rowboat this time.”

“I didn’t mind the rowboat, either.”

He laughed again. “Trying to finagle yourself a job?”

Maddie glanced his way.

His eyes sparkled, even as he said, “A ship’s no place for the likes of you, darling.” Taking her elbow as they walked, he continued, “There’s a good woman here in Seattle. She’ll provide you with the training to become a nursemaid or servant girl and find you a good family to work for. You’ll never have to worry about men like Ridge again. Just follow her instructions.”

Maddie bit her lips together. He was right in saying she wouldn’t have to worry about Mad Dog ever again, but she’d never be a servant—she’d have servants. Now wasn’t the time to share that, so she asked, “For free?” Her father had never figured it out, but she had. Nothing in life is free.

“The cost is covered,” Trig answered. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Worry wasn’t what she felt. There wasn’t a word, not one she knew, to describe how her stomach soured at the thought of being beholden to anyone. She’d given Hester the gun Smitty had given her as payment for getting her out of town. A tiny derringer not worth much, but next to her nugget, it was all she’d had. She’d repay Trig, too, and Lucky, for their parts. The Mary Jane was sailing to Alaska when leaving Seattle, and Maddie would be on her. This was her chance and she wouldn’t give it up. Once she found her gold, she’d clear her debts and finally be in complete control of her life.

“When are you sailing out?” she asked. “In case I want to say goodbye?”

Trig glanced around at the men doing things with ropes and riggings and such. When his gaze settled on one man, her heart fluttered oddly in her chest. She realized then it was Lucky.

“To me or my nephew?” Trig asked.

She’d barely spoken with Lucky, yet she did think a lot about him. Mainly because she was so preoccupied with all his books. He was her route to the gold, and she had to follow it, yet no one could know that. Not Trig, and not Lucky. Shaking her head, she answered, “You of course. I owe you for rescuing me.”

“Think nothing of it, honey. Besides, Lucky rescued you. My ship just carried you north.”

“Well,” she said, contemplating the truth of that. An answer settled and she grinned. “You told him to.”

Trig laughed again. “We’ll be sailing out in three days.”

Maddie started to count the hours at that very moment. When the time came, it was Trig who walked her down the steep slope created by the drawbridge-type door that was lowered from one side of the boat. He talked amicably about a Mrs. Smother as they walked along the dock then up the stone-lined shore.

Four blocks from the water—she counted and noted distinct landmarks to find her way back—he led her up a set of steps on a large brick building that, despite the colorful flowers lining the walkway, had every shutter shut as if keeping everything outside out and everything inside in.

Mrs. Smother was summoned by the older woman who answered Trig’s knock, and soon Maddie was ushered up a set of stairs by the same white-haired lady who’d opened the door while Mrs. Smother, a middle-aged woman with brown hair and faded blue eyes, invited Captain Trig to tea. Maddie had to grin at the thought of the captain drinking tea, but followed the other woman, who introduced herself as Martha.

Maddie was biding her time of course, she couldn’t just run away, not until the Mary Jane was about to set sail. Martha led her into an extraordinary room. There was a tub for bathing, a commode for, well, necessity and hooks on the wall holding several garments.

“There’s hot and cold water,” Martha explained. “You can wear anything that fits and leave your dirty clothes in that basket.”

A thousand questions danced in Maddie’s head, but she didn’t want to sound or look ignorant, so she simply nodded.

“Do you need any help?”

“No,” she answered, “thank you. I’ll be fine.”

Years ago her father had left her to live with one of his lovers—that was what he’d called Roseanne—and there had been a room just for bathing there, though not as elaborate as this. Maddie had learned a lot about life that winter, and men and women, and had been glad when Bass had returned. “Make sure you scrub well,” Martha said. “It looks as if it’s been a while since you’ve bathed.”

Considering there hadn’t been a creek handy for several days, it had been a while, but the other woman’s tone struck a chord that went beyond that. Maddie held her temper in check and waited until Martha opened the door before suggesting, “I would like to say goodbye to Captain Trig before he leaves.”

“It would be best if you didn’t,” Martha answered, not unkind, but stern.

Maddie bit her lips together and smiled. Three days could prove impossible here. A person knew when they weren’t wanted, especially one that hadn’t been wanted since the day she’d been born. It was just as well; she didn’t want to be here, either.

After her bath, which she figured out just fine, and dressed in a pale blue dress that had fit better than the others—at least she could button the front of this one—Maddie met with Mrs. Smother. She listened and nodded, even answered once in a while, although Maddie had no plans on heeding the “strict set of rules that must be followed at all times.” Not stupid, she remained amicable during the evening meal and completed all of the chores requested of her. Then she waited until the house was quiet before sneaking down the stairs and out the door in Mrs. Smother’s parlor. The other two doors were guarded. Bass had taught her a few things that had turned out to be useful, like stealth.

A thorough exploration of the docks, which took up most of the night, didn’t provide a place to stay until the Mary Jane sailed, and a fact occurred to Maddie. Mrs. Smother was sure to contact Captain Trig if she came up missing prior to him leaving port, and he might have the ship searched. As she backtracked and sneaked back into Mrs. Smother’s big brick house Maddie pondered how one might possibly board the Mary Jane moments before it sailed. Once again, a few of Bass’s escapades came to mind.

* * *

Cole cursed as he attempted to roll the wooden barrel up the ramp. The contents inside refused to shift, making the barrel roll back toward him rather than flipping over and rolling up the ramp. Too big around to heft onto his shoulder, he squatted and put all his strength into a hefty shove. It rolled, and Cole hurried upward pushing continuously to keep the momentum going. When it finally topped the ramp, he was breathing hard and calling Robbie a few choice words. Cole had no idea what might be in the barrel, but the scratchy writing, as if someone had used the burned end of stick, saying “the Mary Jane” told him Robbie had agreed to ship whatever the barrel contained.

After it quit rocking, he flipped the barrel on end. The faint morning light showed one more set of scratchy writing. “This side up.” After rolling it up the hill, flipping the barrel onto its other end was simple. He toppled it end for end and then paused to swipe the sweat from his brow as he glanced around, having sworn he’d heard a muffled moan.

“Cole!” Robbie waved from the dock. “Come help with this luggage, would you?”

Glad to leave the barrel where it sat, Cole headed back down the gangplank. Robbie could take the barrel below, into the cargo hull; that would be easy as the ramp was downhill. Arriving at his brother’s side, Cole’s jaw tightened at all the tapestry bags and traveling trunks. Disgusted with the “cargo” Robbie had lined up, Cole shook his head. “We aren’t a passenger ship.”

“We’ve already gone over that. Alaska isn’t yours. People can move there if they want to.” Robbie grinned. “Especially paying the price those ladies agreed to pay.”

Letting his snort tell his brother exactly what he thought of hauling a dozen dance-hall girls to Alaska, Cole grabbed a trunk and headed back up the ramp.

Robbie, with a couple of carpetbags in each hand bounded up beside him. “Could make for an interesting trip.”

Scowling, Cole answered, “Interesting isn’t the word I was thinking. Don’t you remember anything from family picnics? When you get more than three women in a room, there’s bound to be a fight. A dozen of them will be dangerous. Ugly, too.”

“Not one of those gals is ugly,” Robbie argued. “Trust me, big brother.”

Cole didn’t bother with an answer; instead, he declared, “We sail within an hour. If your ladies aren’t here, we aren’t waiting.”

“They’ll be here,” Robbie assured. “They’ll be here.”

Unfortunately, Robbie was right. The women arrived before the mounting stack of luggage had been carried into the hull. The area had been transformed by all sorts of furniture the ladies were paying to have transported. Dressed in outfits and covered in face paint that left their profession in no doubt, the women marched aboard, waving and blowing kisses at the few mates it took to run the Mary Jane.

Mainly a cargo ship, the Mary Jane only had a few cabins—Robbie had explained that to the women, which was why a portion of the hull had been transformed to make the trip as comfortable as possible. Robbie had set that all up, too, and Cole had been a bit surprised when Uncle Trig had agreed to it.

Trig had, though. In the end, his uncle had been the one to convince Cole there was as much profit to be made off those women as any other cargo they’d haul. It wasn’t that Cole didn’t appreciate a woman now and again, he just didn’t have time for the problems that came along with them. Rachel had been a headache from the get-go. Telling him what to do, what to wear. She’d partnered up with his mother, too, trying to make sure he never took to the sea. When he’d told Rachel he wasn’t interested in gaining access to Gran’s fortune, but in finding his own, she’d run to his mother again, bawling. The two of them hounding him nonstop had been more than he could take. He’d left despite the fact Rachel and his mother were planning a wedding.

His.

Women wanted nothing more than to rule a man. That would never happen to him. He’d be in charge of his own life.

Cole set down the last trunk, and as he turned, ready to make his exit up the hull ramp, a head of coal-black hair caught his attention. His heart kicked the inside of his chest, making the air in his lungs rattle. The woman turned around to face him, grinning, and he experienced a wave of disappointment. Or perhaps relief. He’d wondered about Maddie since she’d left the boat on Uncle Trig’s arm. She’d waved and he’d tipped the brim of his hat, but had wondered how she was getting along at Mrs. Smother’s. Maddie just didn’t seem like the domestic-servant type.

He told himself he was glad this woman wasn’t her and hurried up the ramp. The black-haired woman’s profession was the exact thing he was trying to save Maddie from. In all actuality, Hester and Uncle Trig had saved her; he’d just been the runner. She’d been no problem on the trip. Stayed in the cabin, reading his books on mining, although she’d never let on to that. He hadn’t let on that he knew she’d read almost everything in his cabin, either.

Cole chuckled as he scurried across the deck to begin preparations to set sail. Maddie had certainly been different than any other girl he’d ever been around. She’d wanted less to do with men than he did women. He’d sensed that. Not only while rescuing her, but during the few times they’d conversed. They hadn’t said much to one another, usually just greetings during meal times, yet he’d noted her mind was always going, taking in the surroundings and holding on to every word Uncle Trig had said. That had mainly been about sailing or the places he’d been. Her eyes had sparkled whenever Alaska had been mentioned, and that was probably why he still thought about her. She had the fever as bad as he did.

Cole’s thoughts shifted then. It wouldn’t be long now, and he’d be finding gold. The thrill of that put a smile on his face.

The Mary Jane set sail while the sun inched its way into a clear sky turning a brighter blue with each minute that ticked by. Cole embraced the work it took maneuvering the ship out of the bay and setting their course north to Alaska.

His mind was always on his job, and his heart was right along with it. The day was perfect for sailing, and the women—he figured due to the hour of which they must have crawled from their beds—had settled into the hull as soon as they’d boarded, and with any luck, they’d sleep away most of the day.

The deckhands whispered amongst themselves, but no one made mention of the unusual cargo. To do so would have angered Trig, and no one angered the captain. Cole liked that, too, because it promised a smooth and uneventful trip.

Hopefully.

He still had his doubts.

Late that night, while taking his turn at the wheel, his doubts were confirmed. Cole pinched the bridge of his nose at the commotion coming from the hull. The ruckus had been going on for some time and he’d hoped it would stop all on its own, but evidently that wasn’t to be. Since no one else seemed willing to go see what was happening he had no choice. Glancing toward Chester, the other mate assigned to the night shift, Cole nodded toward the wheel. They were in open water, but still needed to be alert. While walking toward the hull, he also glared down the narrow hallway running between the cabins. Uncle Trig or Robbie, who should have been dealing with such rumpus, hadn’t stepped out of their doors.

He’d known they wouldn’t; it was his job to take care of anything that came about during his watch. With frustration burning his lungs, Cole started down the slope. Women and boats didn’t mix. To his way of thinking, women didn’t mix with much. They always needed something and whined until they got it. They were clinging, too, as if they couldn’t take a step without assistance. Women had their purpose, but he sure didn’t have that purpose in his life. That was why sailing fit him so well. Mining would, too.

A man who wanted freedom and peace stayed far away from women.

Cole stopped at the bottom of the ramp. Robbie’s cargo looked and acted like a pen of clucking hens. Half of them had scarves made of feathers around their shoulders, which they were flipping and flapping about, leaving an array of red, black, white and pink fluff floating in the air. He couldn’t see much beyond that, nor could he hear anything above their squawks.

Sticking a thumb and finger against the sides of his tongue, he let loose a squealing whistle.

Silence filled the hull. He could once again hear the water sloshing against the sides. Praise be. Batting aside a few feathers floating before his face, Cole attempted to release the tension from his jaw before growling, “What’s all the commotion about?”

A buxom woman with ash-colored hair streaked with red—a horrible combination—stepped forward. “Where’s Mr. DuMont?”

“You’re looking at him.”

The obvious leader of the pack slapped her hands on her hips and marched forward. As she did so, she exposed a red corset, tasked with the unenviable role of keeping everything in place.

“I mean Captain DuMont,” she retorted, stepping close enough to fill his nostrils with the scent of enough rose water to drown a rat. “I demand to speak with him this moment.”

“Demand all you want,” Cole answered. “He’s sleeping.” Lord knows how. “I’m in charge right now.”

“Well, then,” the old hen said, “I demand to know if that woman paid the same price we did to sail upon this ship.” Waving a hand toward the group, she continued, “Or if she is a stowaway as I suspect.”

Cole stopped shy of saying all the woman had paid when the leader added, “I put out a fortune to have me and my girls transported safely to Alaska and will not abide by others getting a free ride. Put her overboard immediately.”

“Overboard?” Did she think the Mary Jane was an historic pirate ship, making people walk the plank in shark-infested waters? Proof all women’s heads were filled with fantasy and fluff. Just as he’d always suspected.

An eerie sensation and the glare still coming from the woman had him leaning slightly to see around her feathers and hair. His heart dang near dropped to his feet. The rest of the brood had parted, and right there in the middle, chin up and eyeing him with a hint of haughty determination, stood the black-haired beauty he’d been thinking about since she’d walked off the ship. “Maddie?”

“Hello, Lucky.”

The way she said his nickname had his knees growing a touch weak. He locked them in place. No woman made him weak, not any part of his body.

“What are you doing down here?”

Rather than answering him, Maddie turned to the pack leader. “I told you I know the boat’s owner.”

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t a stowaway,” the woman snapped.

Cole had half a mind to wait it out, see how Maddie got herself out of this one, but he couldn’t do that. The buxom woman had her claws exposed and looked as if she wanted to tear someone to shreds. He’d learned what was causing the commotion, and it didn’t help his mood in the least. Grasping Maddie’s arm, he tugged her forward. “What are you doing down here?”

“I—”

Not wanting to spend any more time below deck, he interrupted, “Come on. I’ll kick Robbie out of our cabin for you.”

Her eyes grew as round as silver dollars. So did the dozen other pairs staring at him. Robbie should be the one dealing with this, not him, but leaving Maddie down here wasn’t an option, not even for a few minutes. Waking up his brother would suit Cole just fine, and he wouldn’t be gentle about it, either. He and Robbie now shared the cabin, and his brother deserved to be put out considering the cargo he’d mustered up. Spinning around, Cole pulled Maddie along beside him.

She flashed a smile over her shoulder, toward the momentarily silent brood, and though he didn’t mind the quiet, Cole warned, “Don’t get too smug there, darling. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

Maddie closed her eyes briefly, just to get her insides back in order. Everything had gone remarkably well until one of the women had noticed her sneaking toward the ramp. If she hadn’t had to relieve herself—which she still did—this would not have happened.

“I know,” she answered, barely glancing toward Lucky. “But can it wait a few minutes?”

“A few minutes?” he asked, forcing her to march up the ramp.

The urge had her bladder on fire. “Yes, there’s something I need to do.”

“What? Jump overboard?”

“No.” Flustered, she admitted, “I need to use the facilities.” There was an area at the back of the boat she’d used before and assumed it was still there. At least she hoped. It had been all day and she was about to burst.

“Go,” he said, gesturing toward the back of the boat once they’d reached the top of the ramp. She didn’t take the time to thank him—couldn’t.

When she emerged from behind the little wall, Lucky was leaning against the high side of the ship a few feet away. His eyes were sparkling like the stars overhead, but the scowl on his face had her throat swelling.

Maddie had been afraid his brother would be the one to enter the hull to discover what had the women so riled up. Of the two brothers, she was glad it had been Lucky. Though she’d secretly hoped it would be Captain Trig. There was something about him that said he was trustworthy—an aspect she’d rarely sensed in a man. Lucky was that way, too—trustworthy—but she’d much rather deal with Trig. Maybe because of his age. Living with Smitty had taught her how to relate with older men—younger ones were scary.

Lucky pushed off the wall. “A few days ago, I rescued you from becoming one of those women, and now—”

“I’m not one of those women,” she insisted, instantly angered by his assumption.

“Then start explaining.”

“Explaining what?” she asked more flippant than intended.

There were no sparkles in his eyes now. “How’d you get on the ship?”

Angering him more wouldn’t get her closer to her goal. She let out a sigh and shrugged. “In a barrel.”

“A barrel?”

She nodded, and refrained from explaining how she’d sneaked out of Mrs. Smother’s house every night—after long hours of being “educated”—and searched for a way to board the boat. Last night, when that barrel had sat at the edge of the dock with the moon shining down on it, she’d been convinced Smitty had put it there. She’d stayed nearby, hiding in the shadows until morning was about to break, and then after scratching the writing on the side, rolled it next to the gangplank and climbed inside. Holding on to the lid had left splinters under her nails she still had to dig out. Once it had been rolled on board, an experience that left her head spinning for hours, she’d sneaked out and hidden below deck.

Lucky rubbed his forehead. “You were in that barrel?”

Although he made no gesture, she knew exactly what barrel he was referring to. “Yes, I was in that barrel. The one you set upside down.” She then pointed out, “It clearly said ‘this side up.’”

“You wrote that?”

“I saw it on some of the other crates and barrels.” Giving him a steady stare, she added, “I assumed you knew how to read.”

“I do know how to read, even chicken scratches.”

Catching the insult, she went with her gut reaction and stuck her tongue out at him.

He laughed, and the night air seemed to carry the sound away in waves. She shot him a glare that told him just what she thought of his attitude and then turned to look out at the water. The moon was out—a huge orange ball in the middle of a twinkling sky. Its light cast a long yellow reflection into the water, almost in a straight line that ended right where she stood.

Maddie drew in a deep breath and wondered if it really was Smitty up there watching over her, showing her she was on the right path. She could almost hear the old man’s laugh, telling her it was him and that he was lighting her way. Smitty had his grumpy moments, too, therefore, young or not, Lucky’s ill temperament or his insults didn’t overly concern her.

He turned around and set both hands on the rail. Maddie didn’t look at him, but she did tell him, “I have to go to Alaska.”

“Alaska’s no place for women.”

The seriousness of his tone had her glancing his way. One of the other girls back at Mrs. Smother’s had asked about him, claimed he was handsome. She’d been young and said Lucky had rescued her the year before. Although Maddie had been focused on escaping, the other girl’s admission had caught her attention and Maddie had asked why she was still at Mrs. Smother’s place. The girl said training to become a proper servant took time, which had increased Maddie’s desire to leave. A year at Mrs. Smother’s would have turned her batty.

Right now, though, Maddie was supposing the girl had been right about Lucky. He was handsome, but she tried not to look at him because it made her cheeks grow warm. She turned her gaze back to the water. “But it’s a place for miners,” she said, “and that’s what I am. A miner.”

His silence said he didn’t believe her.

“I am,” she insisted. “I mined gold for over four years in Colorado. We didn’t hit it big, but only because our claim was paid out before Smitty bought it. We couldn’t move on, but with his guidance, I found enough to keep us going.” Determination stiffened her spine. “I’ll find it in Alaska, too, I know I will.”

“Who’s Smitty?” Lucky asked. “Your father?”

“No, he wasn’t my father.” Exposing her past was not in her plan. Yet gold was what she needed to put everything behind her, and Lucky was her way to gold. Considering that, she admitted, “I did pretend to be his daughter, though. In order to get the medicine he needed. That’s why I kept dredging gold, too.” Turning, lifting her face toward the moon that appeared even brighter now, she added thoughtfully, “Smitty and I were a team. Two people who didn’t have anyone else. We didn’t need anyone else, either.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died.” A strong and invisible power clenched her heart. She hadn’t wanted to leave before he died, but Smitty had made her. Said he didn’t want her waking up one morning and finding him dead. Therefore, he’d trekked down the mountain beside her, so weak he could barely stand, and in Cutter’s Gulch, he’d set her on the train, with boarding passes that would take her all the way to California. Inside, she knew he never made it back to their claim, the cave they’d used as a home for years, and someday, when she had the money, she’d return to Cutter’s Gulch, find his grave and place a huge headstone there, for the greatest man she’d ever known.

“Maddie?”

Blinking, she pulled her gaze off the moon and turned toward Lucky.

“I asked when Smitty died.”

She nodded, having possibly heard his question while deep in thought. “Last fall.”

“You’ve been alone since then? On your own?”

A lump filled her throat. “Being alone and on your own are two different things,” she whispered. Smitty wouldn’t want her focusing on the past instead of the future, so she tossed her head slightly, shattering dark and gloomy thoughts aside. “But now I’m on my way to Alaska.”

“Trig might have something to say about that,” Lucky said. “He laid out good money—”

“I know,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “Mrs. Smother informed me the captain paid for my stay at her place, my training, even the dress I’m wearing, and I’ll repay him every cent. I promise.” Taking a step back, she lifted her chin and pulled forth all the grit and determination Smitty insisted filled her. “I don’t want to be a servant. I want to have servants, and I will someday. I swear it.”

He shook his head as if he didn’t believe her, and that made her stomach burn. Before he could speak, she declared, “I know how to find gold. I know what to look for, how to pan. I’ve built sluices and rockers, and I—”

“But are you prepared to live in a tent, in the wilderness, with—”

“I’ve lived in tents, and caves, and dugouts. In the wilderness and on the plains.”

“You have?”

Nothing would stop her. Not her past, and not a man. “Yes, I have. Matter of fact, I’ve never lived in a house. Not for any length of time. Never had a real bed I could call my own, either.” Standing taller, she added, “There’s nothing about Alaska that scares me.”

He cocked his head to one side and tiny sparks of light returned to his eyes as he grinned. “I believe that, Maddie, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t say that you should be scared. It’s a wild, untamed country.”

“There are a lot of wild and untamed places,” she said. “I know. I’ve lived in some.”

Lucky was rubbing his chin, and Maddie was sure he was about to say something else, but a shout sounded first.

“There she is!”


Chapter Three (#ulink_629e13de-3326-51c1-b057-87dc66d47dbd)

Cole, in his uncle’s cabin, along with Trig and Robbie, plopped onto the chair next to the captain’s built-in desk. “What are you talking about?”

“Why’d you tell them that?” Robbie repeated.

“Tell who what? I just went below to see what all the cackling was about.”

“Somehow those women got the understanding you and that stowaway are married,” Robbie said.

A chill wrapped around Cole’s spine like seaweed on a fishing line. “I didn’t— I’d never say anything like that,” he insisted. “All I said was that I’d kick you out of our cabin so...” The chill increased. “Shit,” he muttered. Women always misunderstood things. Our cabin. As in his and hers, not his and Robbie’s. “I was thinking about waking you up so you could take care of them. Those women were ready to throw Maddie overboard.”

Uncle Trig scratched his head with both hands. “Well, they assumed by what you said that she’s your wife and that’s why she’s on this ship. Robbie promised them there weren’t any other passengers.”

Cole’s stomach clenched. He hadn’t escaped one marriage just to be shanghaied into another.

“There weren’t supposed to be any other passengers,” Robbie said from where he sat on the bed, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Where’d she come from?”

“Hester,” Trig said.

“Why didn’t you deliver her to Mrs. Smother’s?” Robbie asked.

“I did.”

“How’d she get on board?”

Cole blew out a long breath. Trig wouldn’t force marriage upon him, especially not to a stowaway. “In a barrel.” He withheld the grin trying to form and asked his uncle, “What are you going to do with her?”

Uncle Trig let out a raspy guffaw. “We aren’t turning around, I’ll tell you that. We’re set to be one of the first boats to arrive in Alaska this spring.” He crossed the small cabin and shrugged out of his coat. While hooking it on the nail on the wall, he said, “The women have settled down, believing she is your wife, and that’s how we’re going to leave it.”

A shudder raced through Cole. “I’m not—”

“You want a mutiny?” Trig asked. “You want to see that girl thrown overboard? If those women find out they’re being lied to, that’s exactly what will happen.” Shaking his head, he declared, “A hundred men, I could handle. A dozen women...” His gaze went to Robbie. “Will never sail on one of my ships again.”

Robbie turned a bit sheepish, but Cole still couldn’t breathe.

“She’s a smart girl,” Trig said. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow about the importance of letting those women believe their assumption.”

Cole held in a protest—it wasn’t worth the effort right now—but that didn’t stop disgust from lining his guts.

“All right, then,” Trig said. “It’s settled. Cole, you’ll just have to take most of the night shifts, letting Maddie sleep in your cabin. Robbie will bunk with me. During the day, while you get some sleep, she can stay in here.”

“We could—” Cole started, convinced he could come up with a better plan if he had time to hash it out.

“What’s done is done,” Trig interrupted. “It’s not that long of a trip, and hopefully once we hit Alaska they’ll forget all about it.” Waving Robbie off his bed and pointing toward the hammock hanging loose against one wall, he instructed, “Hook that back up. I need to get some sleep.” Turning to Cole, he said, “Your shift’s not over. Try to keep those hens from clucking any more tonight.”

* * *

The gnawing of guilt wasn’t new to Maddie. A person who’d been born unwanted was used to it. Blaming herself for things for as long as she could remember wasn’t new, either, but this time it was different. Lucky was mad, and she was the reason. When they did encounter, his eyes didn’t twinkle and there was no perpetual smile on his lips like when she’d sailed from California to Seattle. Trig, though, was as jovial as before, even while explaining the trip to Alaska was over three thousand miles and would take several weeks.

The length of the trip hadn’t bothered her, but the other things he told her did. How on earth was she supposed to pretend to be married? She not only knew nothing about marriage, but she didn’t want to know anything about it.

There were, however, other things she did need to know.

Five days had passed since the night she’d been discovered. The women’s sneers were easy to avoid; she simply retreated to Trig’s cabin whenever they left the hull, which unfortunately, was the better part of most days. As long as it wasn’t raining.

Avoiding Lucky was about as simple, since he took his turn of steering the ship at night and slept during the day; however, she didn’t want to avoid him. His books were no longer answering the questions she had, and all Trig or Robbie, who was rather pleasant to be around, would say was she’d have to ask Lucky.

Captain Trig, after explaining the misunderstanding—about her and Lucky being married—had said her appearance hadn’t shocked him. She’d thanked him for understanding and for not throwing her overboard—at which he’d laughed—and after explaining Mrs. Smother’s training program would never have worked for her, she’d offered him her nugget in partial repayment for all she’d cost him.

He’d refused to take it, and that was when he’d told her Lucky would be staying in Alaska to search for gold. Maddie struggled to contain her excitement. Being cooped up in the cabin and unable to question Lucky felt worse than waiting out a snowstorm in the dead of winter.

Trying not to cause more anger, she made sure to be out of the cabin early each morning so Lucky could go there to sleep. It wasn’t hard, being up so early. The inactivity of her days was wearing and made sleeping difficult. Not even reading helped. Her mind grew tired from her constant ponderings, but not her body.

Maddie shifted her gaze to peer out the little window beside the bunk and let out the air that sat heavy in her chest. Here she was, lying on the bed, staring into the blank darkness again and unable to sleep because of the energy she hadn’t been able to use up during the day.

When a knock sounded, she sat up. “Come in.”

“Sorry to disturb you,” Lucky said. “I just need a coat. It’s a chilly night.”

“You didn’t disturb me.” She found the nearby lamp and flint box and lit the wick. “I wasn’t asleep.”

His gaze settled on her briefly as he walked to the foot of the bunk where nails held a couple of coats. She’d eyed those jackets more than once, expecting she’d need a coat once they arrived in Alaska. There were so many things she’d need, and wasn’t sure how to obtain them. She now had an extra dress. The one from Mrs. Smother. She’d kept her old one, once she’d laundered it—that had been her first lesson in domestic chores, as Mrs. Smother had called it—and she’d never parted with her petticoat and the nugget sewn in it. It was what she’d use to outfit herself for gold mining, but that little nugget wasn’t going to be enough.

Watching Lucky pull down a coat, the thought of what the women below believed made her insides burn with embarrassment. “I promised Captain Trig I wouldn’t say anything to the women about what you told them.”

“I didn’t tell them anything. They assumed.”

She nodded. “He told me that. I’m sorry about putting you in such a predicament.”

Putting on his coat, he let out a snort that held disgust. “Predicament? That’s not what I’d call it.”

His orneriness was a bit irritating. It wasn’t as if she’d done it on purpose. “I don’t like it any more than you do,” she responded.

He scowled.

She let out the air once again heavy in her chest. “I will never get married, and even pretending to be galls me.”

“It galls you?”

“Yes, it galls me.” The cabin was tiny, and made smaller by his large frame filling half of it, yet he didn’t make the space feel uncomfortable, just stuffy with his attitude. She swung her legs over the edge of the bunk and the book she’d been reading earlier fell onto the floor.

It landed next to his feet. He picked it up and handed it to her. “I thought every woman wanted to get married.”

Running a hand over the cover, she said, “Maybe the foolish ones. I plan on having gold. Lots of it. Why would I want to have to share it with someone? A husband, I mean. They’d claim it was theirs as much as it was mine and spend it as they chose.” Her father had done that with the gold she and Smitty had found. Claimed it was partially his since she was his daughter. She set the book on the bed. “I won’t have that.” Not wanting to sound completely callous, she said, “I won’t be a miser. I’ll spend my money. Pay Captain Trig back and buy the things I want. Even share it, but I don’t want anyone telling me what I have to do with it. What I can do with it.”

“What if you don’t find any gold?”

“Not find any gold?” She stood. “I’ll find gold, Lucky. I promise you that.” Encouraged by the tiny half smile that appeared on his face, she added, “I’ll find some for you, too.”

He laughed. “I don’t need anyone finding gold for me. I’ll be finding my own.” When she started to follow him toward the door, he asked, “Where are you going?”

Not embarrassed to tell him, she said, “To the back of the boat.”

He waved toward the wall of the cabin. “You better grab my other coat. It’s chilly out tonight.” Then without waiting to see if she did or not, he opened the door and left.

After using the facilities and thankful the oiled canvas coat blocked the wind, Maddie took a stroll along the rail to use up some energy before attempting to sleep again. Lucky stood behind the big wheel, both hands wrapped around the wooden handles that jutted out all the way around the wheel. The fact he’d spoken to her a few moments ago gave her the courage to walk over and stand beside him.

Smitty had been the only friend she’d ever had, and a raw hole had appeared inside her since she had left him in Colorado. Captain Trig’s kindness had helped, but a friend wasn’t what she needed right now. A partner was. One person could scratch up enough gold to live on, but two people could find enough to set a future, and that was what she wanted. A future.

“I meant what I told you,” she said when Lucky glanced her way. “I’m sorry to have caused such trouble.”

Considering she only came up to his shoulder, Lucky glanced down at her, and though he didn’t say anything, the distrust in his eyes made her insides churn. She tugged the big coat tighter, wrapping the open front around her almost like a blanket. “I meant the other part, too, about never getting married.”

His gaze went to the open water ahead of them, even while he said, “Don’t be saying that too loud, darling. Those women below would still like to toss you overboard.”

The moon was out again, big and bright, and a swirl of frustration rose inside her like smoke leaving a fire to disappear into the air. “I know.”

Sounds from the ship, creaks and thuds, the splash of water and other subtle, unidentifiable noises, filled the quiet void as he stared forward, and Maddie, unable to hold it, let out a long sigh.

“One of them say something to you?” he asked.

“Yes.” More than one. Every time one of the women noticed her they hissed a slur of some kind or another.

“What?”

“Nothing of importance,” she answered.

“What did you say in return?”

“Nothing. I just walked away.”

He nodded before he said, “You best head back to the cabin. The temperature is dropping. I predict we’ll see rain in a few more minutes.”

Maddie, full of questions, wanted to protest, but her good sense prevailed. She’d have to be cautious where Lucky was concerned. “Good night.”

“Night,” he responded without glancing her way.

She made her way back to the cabin. Even though they hadn’t said more than a few words, she still felt hope rising inside her.

Maddie held on to that hope, and each night, long after the boat settled into the quiet darkness, she’d venture out to the wheel after using the facilities at the back of the boat. Though Lucky never appeared happy to see her, he didn’t appear surprised or angered, either, and her hope continued to grow. More so when several days later, Captain Trig said he was pleased to see she and Lucky were on speaking terms again. He said the women below had noticed their late-night meetings and no longer doubted the marriage ruse as much.

One night, while standing near the wheel, she said, “Tell me about Alaska, Lucky. Please.”

“Alaska or gold?” he asked a few moments later.

“Both.”

“You have gold fever, darling.”

Though she’d hated it before, she didn’t mind when he called her darling. It suggested his anger might be diminishing. He’d make a good partner, considering all he knew from the many books he owned. With all Smitty had taught her, the two of them could find a lot of gold together. They’d have to have separate claims, of course. She’d meant what she’d said. Her days of sharing—certain things anyway—were over. He was right, though; she did have gold fever.

“I’ve had it for years,” she answered. “How long have you had it?”

“Who says I have it?”

“Me. I know it when I see it.” In truth she wasn’t sure he had the fever. She’d seen men with gold fever and Lucky wasn’t like that. Those men had been dangerous, full of desperation and more often than not, full of whiskey.

Lucky was so quiet she couldn’t even hear him breathing, leaving her to wonder if he was still mad and wasn’t about to share anything with her. Then, gazing over the water, he started, “It’s an amazing place. Alaska. Last year we sailed up the Yukon River to Dabbler. There’s only a few months out of the year that can happen, but when the waterway is open, a sailor can make a fortune. That’s what Uncle Trig is counting on. The hull, the part not full of women, is stuffed with cargo the miners need. Mainly foodstuff they can’t get. Raisins and—”

“Raisins?”

“Yes. Miners claim raisins are all they need to survive. It’s not true, of course. No one can live off just raisins, but they are easy to haul and they’re paying top dollar a pound.”

“Is a boat the only way to get to Dabbler?” she asked, not overly interested in the cargo—raisins or women.

“No, there are trails, but they’re long and dangerous. Sailing in is the rich man’s way. Trig could have made a lot of money taking on passengers, but he doesn’t like hauling people. They’re more work than cargo, and the Mary Jane isn’t equipped for it.”

She’d heard that much. Trig wasn’t impressed with Robbie for agreeing to haul the women, and she’d learned the large woman in the hull had paid a small fortune for herself and her girls to sail on the Mary Jane.

“I plan on going northeast of Dabbler,” Lucky said, “farther into the Klondike. That’s where the gold is.”

Maddie’s heart leaped inside her chest. “How do you know? Have you seen it?”

“Yes. Last year we hauled gold back to Seattle,” he answered. “The purest, richest gold Trig had ever seen. An old friend of his, Whiskey Jack, brought it in, knowing he could trust Trig to get the best price. Knew he could trust me, too, and gave me a map.”

Her heart hammered so hard she could barely breathe.

“It’s not in my cabin,” he said, turning back to gaze over the water.

Slightly flustered, yet not enough to quell her excitement, she said, “I wouldn’t steal your map.”

“How do I know? You sneaked on board.”

“Yes, I did, but I had to. I couldn’t stay in Seattle.”

“Not the kind of gal that can be penned up, are you?”

A flutter happened inside, and she determined it was because he was teasing her, not mean like the outlaws used to do, but in a fun way. Grinning, she shook her head.

“Even that cabin’s driving you crazy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” she admitted.

“How you gonna survive living in a tent for months on end, then?”

“That’ll be different,” she said. “You know it will.”

He nodded. “I guess I do.”

“How much gold did that man Whiskey Jack find?” she asked.

“Plenty, and he said there’s lots more to be found.”

Maddie’s entire being hummed with excitement.

“Settle down, darling,” Lucky said as if he knew exactly what was happening inside her. “We still have a long way to sail.”

“I know,” she admitted. A warmth filled her then, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the moon shining down on her, or because of the sparkles in Lucky’s eyes. Either way, she’d never experienced anything like it. Not as a child or an adult. She knew one thing, though—with Smitty guiding her and Lucky as her partner, she’d soon have the life she’d always wanted.

* * *

Each night thereafter, when she’d join Lucky on the deck, they would talk about Alaska, gold and a few other things. Some nights, they’d stand by the rail of the boat with the moon shining down on them as they gazed north, talking of all the gold just waiting to be found. When the wind grew chilly, he’d take off his coat and fold it around her shoulders, and Maddie had never felt so protected, so shielded from the elements.

Part of it might have been because she had no worries of Mad Dog finding her, but other parts of it came from inside, a place she’d never really been happy before.

Standing in the dark, whispering, she told Lucky about living with Smitty, how he’d taught her to find gold. What to look for. Lucky told her things, too, about growing up in New Orleans and all the places he’d sailed. She never asked if she could go with him into the Klondike, and he never offered, but Maddie had no doubt it would happen.

Her late-night excursions meant she slept during the day, often curled up on Captain Trig’s bunk, but sometimes, if she was sleeping when Lucky entered their cabin, he wouldn’t wake her, just go into the captain’s cabin himself. Guilt rolled in her stomach on those days, and she tried to make sure it didn’t happen often.

It was a long trip, and one particular day, Captain Trig entered his cabin and sat down in the chair. “So you’ve mined gold before?”

“Most of my life.” She’d already told him about mining with Smitty, and figured he was going to try to talk her into sailing south with him again, probably back to Mrs. Smother.

Scratching his chin, he said, “Well, then, I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Maddie’s mind raced with excitement. “What’s that?”

“Well,” he started, “seeing how you’re so dead set on staying in Alaska, and Lucky needs to find gold...”

* * *

Cole had listened to Maddie talk about searching the ground, looking for different shades of dirt, and other things he’d never heard or read about, and all the while a battle formed inside him. He had to find a way to tell her that she wasn’t staying in Alaska. As the Mary Jane floated closer to Dabbler, his thoughts became more twisted. That was how it had been lately. He found himself thinking about her more and more. Which had to stop.

Now.

He was still furious at how she’d sneaked on board and had all those soiled doves thinking the two of them were married. That was how women did things. Sneakily. She was sneaking into other places, too, inside him, and he didn’t like that. Not at all.

Rachel had done that, sneaked inside him, and at one point, had almost made him change his mind. Had she said she’d wait for him, let him try sailing, he might have married her.

That would not happen again.

Yet as he gazed toward the shore, he couldn’t help but admit he was partially to blame for Maddie’s behavior. She’d been so skittish at first, like a lone kitten found in a barn, and he’d used little tidbits to entice her out just as he would have offered little treats to a stray. So in a way, he’d led her to believe there might be a chance he’d let her follow him into the goldfields.

His gaze settled on Dabbler. The town had grown considerably since last year. It now boasted all sorts of establishments, and people. Many of them were probably preparing to head into the Klondike, too, which could very well hamper his chances of finding gold.

It wouldn’t hamper Maddie, though. She’d convinced him she knew what she was talking about, and her determination wouldn’t let up until she found gold. Yet the Klondike was no place for a woman, and there was less room now than ever for a woman in his life. His family was counting on him. That was what he needed to focus on.

“There sure are a lot of boats.”

Despite the war going on inside him, Cole had to smile. Leave it to Maddie to refer to the array of the ocean liners as boats. The traffic on the waterway had grown steadily in the past few days, but he, too, was surprised by the line waiting to dock. “Yes, there are,” he said.

It was early morning, no one else on the Mary Jane had stirred, and though it had only been a few hours since he’d told Maddie to go get some rest, she was back and dressed for the day. Lovely, too. He’d come to accept that, as well. The ladies below, flashing their goods and batting their lashes—which had gotten old before any iota of interest could have formed—had made Maddie all the more pretty. And vulnerable. The men in Dabbler would attack her like sharks.

Leaving the rail, Cole walked back to the helm, though no attention was needed, anchored as they were.

She followed, as he knew she would. “I’m so excited, I could swim to shore.”

“I wouldn’t advise that,” he cautioned. “You’d freeze to death before you got ten feet from the boat.”

“I’m not going to do it,” she said somewhat saucily. “I’m not stupid.”

Air snagged in Cole’s chest as he dragged in a breath. “I know you’re not stupid, Maddie.” Gesturing toward the queue of ships, he said, “Most of these are passenger vessels. Hundreds of people, thousands actually, will debark here.”

“All hoping to find gold,” she answered while nodding.

He nodded in return before he said, “It’s going to be dangerous, Maddie. No place for a woman.”

Her face fell. So did his insides.

“I’m not going south with Trig,” she said. Folding her arms, her gaze was expectant when she looked up at him. “I’ve suspected you were going to suggest that.”

“Alaska’s no place for you, Maddie. Go south with Trig. He’ll find you—”

“Lucky...”

When she said his name like she did—all soft and wistfully—it almost took his breath away, and irritated him to no end.

She grabbed hold of his coat sleeve. “Haven’t you learned anything about me in all this time we’ve been traveling?”

He pulled from her hold to grab her arms. “Yes, I have. That you’re a pain in my backside.” It was true. He thought of her all the time, and that was painful. The other truth was, if she’d been a man, he’d have already asked her to pair up with him.

Her mouth gaped, and his insides stung. He did know her, and simply telling her she couldn’t go with him wouldn’t work. She was far too stubborn for that. He had to show her she wasn’t wanted. “That’s right. A royal pain in the butt. I’m going to be busy, Maddie. I won’t have time to worry about you.” He didn’t want to worry about her. Not now. Not ever. With one hand he gestured to the mountain ridge beyond the town. “You see those mountains? I’ve got to cross them. You’d be like a weight around my neck, making the trek that much harder, that much longer.”

She wobbled and he let her go, and told himself not to catch her as she stumbled backward. Any other woman would be shedding tears, but Maddie wasn’t prone to crying, or letting her emotions show. She wasn’t whiny or constantly complaining, either, and for a moment he wished she was. All this would be a lot easier, then. Walking away from Rachel sure had been.

Maddie’s eyes grew cold, bitter, and her chin came up. “I’ll never be a weight someone has to carry. Not for you or anyone else.”

He had one stab left, and he had to seal the deal. “What do you think you’ve been all this time?” he asked. “A paying passenger? No, you’ve been a lie I’ve had to cover up since the first night we set sail. A burden I don’t need or want.”

Her lips puckered and her nostrils flared, yet her chin never quivered as she spun around and stomped across the deck.

Sickened, for he didn’t like hurting her, Cole sent his gaze back to the line of ships ahead of them. He couldn’t say he liked who he was lately. Maddie had changed something inside him, and it wasn’t any good. Just as he’d known it wouldn’t be. When a man lets a woman into his life, everything changes. He’d sworn that would never happen to him, and it wouldn’t. Yet, it left him feeling as if he’d eaten a bucket of crab apples.

* * *

“So you told Maddie she can’t go with you, did you?”

Cole didn’t glance at his uncle, who’d appeared at his side. “The Klondike’s no place for a woman.”

“And that is?” Trig asked, obviously talking about Dabbler.

They were close enough to see how misshapen tents and crudely slapped-together buildings covered acres upon acres of land along the shoreline. “No, it’s not,” Cole said. “That’s why she needs to sail out with you.”

“She won’t,” Trig insisted gruffly. “I asked, but even then I knew the answer. That girl wants gold worse than you do. That’s why I said I’d finance her.”

A shiver shot up Cole’s spine. “What?”

Trig’s grin looked crustier than ever, as if he was as pleased as a pauper sitting in a king’s chair. “I know a good investment when I see it.”

“You’re a fool,” Cole said.

“Maybe, but I don’t think so.”

“You can’t leave her here,” Cole insisted.

“I have to. I’ve financed her expedition—for a ten-percent profit.” Trig’s laughter chased a flock of floating gulls into the air. “That girl has gumption and guts. And knows what she’s talking about. She knows more about gold mining than ninety percent of the people attempting to strike it rich up here right now, maybe ninety-nine percent. You want money to rebuild DuMont Shipping, and so do I. So I hired her to find it.”

“You what?”

“I figure your idea is a good one. I make good money sailing, but it’ll take years to earn enough to build the warehouses back to their glory. Gold, though, a good solid find, could have things back to what they were in no time.”

Fury flared inside Cole. “Traitor.” Finding gold was his plan, his way of making things right with the family and his mother.

“I’m not telling you to partner up with her,” Trig said. “I’m sure I’ll find someone else. Probably have plenty of takers.”

“No, you won’t,” Cole snapped. The thought of Maddie pairing up with someone else was worse than that of having her by his side. And the idea of not being the one to find the money his family needed sparked flames in his guts.

Trig laughed as if Cole hadn’t spoken. “She drove a hard bargain. I was lucky she finally settled on ten percent. Almost had me over the barrel at eight.”

Anger had Cole at a loss for words. “You can’t do this,” he muttered.

“Yes, I can,” Trig said. “And I did.”

* * *

Less than a week later, when the Mary Jane headed downriver to the Bering Sea and, ultimately, to the Pacific Ocean, Cole left Dabbler, taking a well-worn path heading northeast and leading two pack mules.

Behind him, Maddie led two others.


Chapter Four (#ulink_929d2712-ddf8-5f5c-8994-f80d5348f0fd)

Maddie would never, ever, let Lucky know just how badly he’d hurt her. For one, it didn’t make sense. No one, other than Smitty, had ever wanted her, and she didn’t expect people to start now. For two, if she did admit he’d hurt her, she’d open herself up to more hurting. She’d had enough of that in her life. All that really mattered was that she was here, on her way to the richest goldfields in the world. The talk in Dabbler, from miners, town folks and new arrivals, all said it was so, and she believed it.

Her wandering gaze, taking in the mountains they had to trek, the mud covering the trail, the tall pines and spruces, settled on the man in front of her. He was lucky, all right. Lucky she was with him. Especially after the things he’d said. She’d tell him that, too.

Someday.

Right now, they weren’t talking. They weren’t even looking at each other, which was fine with her. She was completely capable of trekking through the mountains without him, and took every opportunity to show him that. From the first night they’d set out, she ignored his offer to share a fire. Instead, she built her own, several yards away from his, and set up her own tent, too.

In fact, if not for the deal she made with Trig, she might have already ventured out on her own. She wouldn’t, though, not with an additional 40 percent of her gold hanging on the line. That was what it would cost her if she left Cole high and dry. Fifty percent of her findings would go to Trig if Lucky wasn’t at her side when they left the goldfields, but only 10 percent would go to Trig if they were together.

They’d be together, all right. Even if it meant she shackled him to her. Lucky, of course, didn’t know that part of the deal. Trig said it would be better that way, and she believed him.

That first night, her feet had throbbed from her new boots and her arms were rubbery after pulling on the stubborn mules all day, but she wasn’t about to let Lucky know that. She’d thought about just bedding down on the ground, but seeing him set up a tent had forced her to set up hers, too.

The days that followed were long; not just in the miles they walked but in how the sun barely left the sky before it rose again. One of the books she’d read said there’d be days when the sun never set. She hadn’t quite believed that, but did now, and found it frustrating. A person needs darkness. Not only to rejuvenate, but to think. She did her best planning, her best dreaming, while lying awake at night. But when it was light out, her eyes didn’t want to close, and that kept her mind busy.

It was midday, on their fourth day on the trail, when they had to stop to let the mules rest after a particularly steep section. She yawned while settling onto a rock to rest her own feet.

“Having a hard time sleeping at night?”

Surprised Lucky had spoken, she glanced up. They’d been civil to one another since leaving Dabbler, but since the day they’d docked they’d barely shared words, nothing like they had while on the boat. Not so sure she was ready to talk to him now, Maddie reached down and checked the laces of her boots.

“It’s easier when its dark, isn’t it?”

The urge to know if her voice still worked was too strong to ignore. “You must be used to it, considering you manned the helm at night and slept during the day.”

“That didn’t make it any easier. I can’t say I liked it, either.” He pointed toward the trail. “I’m going to scout up around the bend, see if there’s a place to set camp.”

“Why? It’s early yet.”

“I know,” he said. “But the mules are exhausted. We can’t chance losing one.”

Maddie didn’t say a word as he headed up the trail. Holding a grudge made her insides feel all dark and cloudy. Always had. She’d learned that years ago. Trouble was, when she’d let go of her grudges, mainly those against her father, he’d always reciprocated with another act that left her more vulnerable than the one before.

The deal she’d made with Trig already had her vulnerable enough. She’d attempted to bargain with the percentage, but he’d held strong. Her instincts said there was more behind Trig’s doggedness than he let on, for Lucky certainly could take care of himself, but nonetheless, she’d agreed. In part because she didn’t want to be alone. Serious gold mining took two people.

She was still in the midst of pondering things when Lucky reappeared. His solemn gaze had her rising to her feet.

“It doesn’t get any better around the bend,” he said. “But there is a small space someone else used as a camp. We’ll spend the night there, let the mules get a good rest and start off again tomorrow.”

The short reprieve had refueled her energy, but she respected his judgment, especially when it came to the animals. “Is there water?” she asked.

“Yes, and grass.”

She moved to check her packs, as Lucky did, making sure everything was still secure, and then gathered her lead mule’s rope.

“Ready?” Lucky asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s not far,” he assured her.

It wasn’t far, but the area was little more than an indention in the side of the hill with a tiny pool of water and small patch of grass. She was staking down her mules when Lucky walked over.

“There’s not enough room for two tents. We can share mine.”

“I don’t need a tent,” she said, focusing on driving the wooden stake farther into the hard ground.

Lucky took the hammer from her hand and finished the job. “It’s cold up here, Maddie. We need the shelter of a tent if we don’t want to freeze.”

“Sharing a tent wouldn’t be proper.”

“Proper? We’ve shared a cabin for months.”

She opened her mouth to tell him that wasn’t the same, but he was faster.

“Don’t you think it’s time we called a truce?” Lucky asked. “What’s done is done. There’s no sense dwelling on it.”

“I wasn’t the one dwelling on it,” she insisted.

“You weren’t?” he asked. “You’ve barely spoken since we left Dabbler.”

She took the hammer from his hand and tied it to the pack. “Because you’ve barely spoken.”

Lucky was right behind her and took her shoulders to spin her around to face him. “I know,” he said. “And I don’t like it. Can we call a truce?” A grin formed on his lips before he asked, “Please?”

Though she tried, the smile forming on her lips was too strong to hide. There was something about him that made her feel all light and airy, especially when he grinned. And no one had ever said please to her before, not like that. “All right.”

“Good.” His hands slid off her arms. “How about I get a fire going and then you can cook supper while I put up the tent?”

In an attempt to ignore all the silly things happening inside her, Maddie asked, “Is that the only reason you wanted a truce? So I’d cook for you?”

“No,” he said. “I’ll cook while you put up the tent if you want.”

The twinkle in his eyes tickled her, and that made staying mad impossible. “I smelled the beans you burned last night. I’ll cook.”

“That’s my girl,” he said while touching the tip of her nose with one finger. “I knew you were still in there.”

She frowned, wondering exactly what he meant. He certainly made her think a lot. About many things. He had her feeling things, too. Silly and odd things.

With the afternoon ahead of her, Maddie made a stew out of jerky and rice for supper, and after setting it to cook in the heavy lidded pot, she took advantage of the water trickling down the mountainside and pooling near the base before flowing out along a miniature stream. She heated several pots full and washed her clothes, as well as the spare shirt Lucky dug out of his bag when she asked. She laid everything out on the rocks to dry and couldn’t help but think of those women back on the Mary Jane.

They’d been washing clothes constantly, hanging them all over the decks, even their bloomers, for the wind to dry. Dull and plain, her dresses were nothing like theirs had been. Bright and colorful with bows and ribbons and fancy buttons, she could only dream of having such things.

She smiled then. Dream. Someday she’d have dresses as fancy and frilly as those women had. One of every color. Maybe two. Once she found her gold, all her dreams would come true.

“Sure smells good.”

The packsaddle he’d been working on now sat next to the other one. As he approached, Maddie gathered the tin pans and forks she’d unpacked earlier. “It should be done. I hope you like it,” she added. “I made enough for us to have tomorrow, too.”

“Like it or not,” he said, “I’ll eat it.”

Maddie removed the lid, but paused in dishing up the stew. “Why do you say that?”

“Because we aren’t here to worry about what we’re eating, darling. We’re here to find gold.”

She grinned then. “You’re right. We are.” As she handed him the plate, she added, “I still hope you like it.”

That night, long after everything was put away and they were both stretched out in his tent, the day was repeating itself inside Maddie’s mind. Lucky had said he liked the stew and considering he’d eaten two plates full, she figured he’d been telling the truth. He always did, though, tell the truth that was, which was what she was pondering now.

“Still having a hard time sleeping?” he asked.

“I guess so.” Shifting on the hard ground, she turned to look at him. There was barely enough room for the two of them to lie between the angled sides of the tent. “It’s different here than on the ship.”

He grinned. “Sleeping during the day is easy when you’ve been up all night.”

“Do you always work all night when sailing?”

“Usually.”

“Why?”

“It’s my duty.”

She knew all about duty, and rolled onto her back again, staring at the canvas billowing from the wind. It was chilly this high in the mountains, and tonight seemed colder than the previous ones, which left her with the desire to shake a shiver from her shoulders. “Do you always do that?” she asked. “Fulfill your duties.”

“Yes. Every man does.”

“No,” she argued, as an invisible and heavy weight filled her chest, “they don’t.”

“Why do you say that?”

Unable to hold it at bay any longer, she let the shiver go and snuggled deeper beneath her blanket before saying, “History.”

He scooted closer, pushing an arm beneath her head. Growing stiff, she turned his way, questioning such behavior.

“You’re cold,” he said. Curling his arm so her head rested on his shoulder, he pulled his blanket over so it covered both of them. “We’ll share our blankets. Maybe then we’ll both get some sleep.”

She’d shared shelters with men before, plenty of them, out of necessity, and told herself that was what this was, too. No different than sharing the cave with Smitty, or dugouts with her father and the men riding with him had been.

Inside, though, it felt different. Lucky’s chin rested on top of her head, and that, as well as his arms, was uniquely comforting. Heat was penetrating her clothing, too, from him, and she turned onto her side, snuggling her backside up against him to gather more.

Needing something to concentrate on besides his warmth and comfort, she asked, “Why do you want gold, Lucky?”

“Just ’cause I do.”

“But—”

“Go to sleep, Maddie,” he whispered. “We have a hard trail to travel tomorrow.”

“Worse than today?” she asked. Even with her head full of questions, the warmth was relaxing and her eyes wanted to close.

“Probably not,” he answered.

They both chuckled and Maddie sighed afterward, feeling herself slipping into sleep.

* * *

The trail the following day was no worse, but no better than the day before. At this height, snow covered the ground, so they made one bed that night, sharing the blankets beneath and over them, as well as their body heat. From then on, Maddie began to look forward to the nights. She was sleeping sounder than ever and waking up refreshed, ready to face whatever they encountered.

The days were more fun, too, than in the beginning. Lucky was much more jovial. They talked and laughed and planned how they’d mine gold. She told him about sluice boxes and exactly what they’d need to build one. She’d never felt more pride than when he’d said he’d build one first thing.

Going down the other side of the ridge was no easier than going up had been. The ground was rockier and the trail full of sharp pebbles and gravel rather than sand and mud. Fearful of a mule getting stone bruised, Maddie walked with caution, picking routes for the animals to step.

They’d just topped a miniature ridge when Lucky slowed his mules and waved her up beside him. She clicked her tongue, encouraging her mules to pick up their pace. Arriving at his side, she asked, “What? This doesn’t look like a good stopping place to me.” There wasn’t an iota of flat ground; besides, it wasn’t time to rest the mules, not yet.

“Look.” He pointed down the hill.

Tents and buildings along with a river appeared in the valley below as if Lucky had waved a magic wand rather than pointed.

“Home, sweet, home,” he announced.

A shiver tickled her spine. “That’s a town.”

“Yep. Bittersweet.”

“I didn’t expect a town,” she said.

Lucky started down the hill. “With any luck, darling, we’ll be sleeping in real beds tonight.”

A chill, not from the wind, seemed to start in her toes and didn’t stop tingling until it hit her head, setting a good number of thoughts into motion. The only reason Bass had taken her into towns along the trail had been to leave her there. A warning from Trig flashed through her mind, too. Don’t let him go off on his own, his uncle had said. He likes to do that.

Her gaze settled on Lucky’s back. If he thought she’d just trekked halfway across the world, tugging two stubborn mules in her wake, just to be left in town while he went out looking for gold, he had a whole other think coming. She didn’t care if she ever slept in a real bed. She would, of course, once she was rich, but until then the ground was just fine. Had been all her life and would continue to be for a while longer. She didn’t need his shoulder for a pillow, either. But she would not let him sneak away. Would not.

Hours later, for the town was much farther away than it first appeared, as it usually was when looking down upon things, Maddie had worked herself into a good, steaming fit of anger. Lucky was dang near running toward Bittersweet.

Trig had outfitted her for the excursion, including pocket money, and she was good at finding gold, but Lucky had the map. Therefore, she was trekking just as fast.

Several other sets of prospectors had left Dabbler before them. Their camps had littered the trail, but it hadn’t been until the downward trek that she’d seen how many others there were. All afternoon the trail ahead of them had been dotted with people, scurrying toward the town as quickly as she and Lucky. A glance back up the hill told her how many traveled behind them, too. All the time she’d thought it had been just the two of them in this vast wilderness, they’d just been two among many. Another thought had forced its way into her mind, too. Mad Dog. She hadn’t thought of him for weeks. That wasn’t like her. She still didn’t believe he’d follow her all this way, but others were here, and they were after the exact same thing she was. Gold. She had to get to it first.

“Let’s see if there’s a livery where we can put up the mules and then find a place for ourselves,” Lucky said. “Hopefully everything’s not full.”

“It most likely is,” she said. “With the number of folks ahead of us, I think we’d be best just to continue on.”

His grin had the effect of cactus needles on her—biting deep and leaving a sting. “Can’t hurt to check,” he said, all bright and cheerful.

Swallowing a growl, she kept her frustration out of her voice, but did tell him, “If you’re that tired we’ll just pitch our tent on the edge of town. There isn’t any reason to spend money frivolously.”

“Yes, Maddie, my girl,” Cole said, “there is.” He wanted a room—two rooms—almost more than he wanted gold. One more night of cradling Maddie in his arms might just be the death of him. He woke every morning, stiff and sore, neither from the hard ground, and desperately needed a reprieve.

If his uncle had been anywhere at hand, he’d have belly punched him. Putting a man in this type of predicament was flat-out evil.




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