His tone remained calm but had turned a little derogatory when he’d mentioned Shawn Sullivan. Now she understood a bit better why he might be suspicious of her and jump to the wrong conclusion that she was colluding with his worst enemy. But she wanted to know more.
“How did Mr. Sullivan find out you were the mysterious silver miner?”
“Because he was still demanding answers from his men, and they broke into my crates at the station before they were loaded on the train. Sullivan approached me after that and offered a fair price for my mine. He wasn’t expecting me to tell him to go to hell. After that, he had his men follow me when I left town. It was beyond annoying. Took me twice as long to get back here since I had to throw them off the scent. The second time his men followed me, I jumped them and left them hog-tied in the middle of the road withGo to hellnotes pinned to their chests.”
Quite an aggressive response, Violet thought; but wanting him to think she was on his side, she remarked mildly, “I don’t imagine that went over too well.”
“No, the townsfolk didn’t like me after that—well, they never did, but they started giving me a wide berth. And Sheriff Gibson gave me a scolding the next time I went to town. He wasn’t serious about it. He’s had to investigate countless complaints from small mine owners about threats, beatings, even some killings after they refused to sell their operations to rich owners like Sullivan.”
He had to be exaggerating or was simply mistaken. But she didn’t want to antagonize him by defending Shawn Sullivan, which might reinforce his suspicions that she was working for his enemy, so she only said, “Well, you certainly made your feelings clear to Mr. Sullivan.”
“He doesn’t take no for an answer. I even changed markets and made a deal directly with a pair of silversmith brothers in New York. And I started leaving Butte by different routes after that, but Sullivan still tracked me down each time I came to town and made a higher offer for my mine. So I stopped going so often, even started sneaking into town in the dead of night, and I stopped picking up the notes he leaves for me at the hotel. He still wants my mine, but that’s not all. He wants to know where both mines are, mine and Charley’s. He’d be happy with either one to start, because he knows he’ll wind up with both in the end.”
Sullivan wanted her father’s mine, too? That would solve everything! As soon as she located it, she could sell it to him for a lot of money, then return to London and slip back into the social whirl and win Lord Elliott before some other debutante did. Thrilled to have such a perfect solution to her problems, she had to cover her mouth so Morgan wouldn’t see that she was smiling. But would a sale provide enough money for her and her brothers? Or might it be more profitable for them to hire men to work the mine? She wouldn’t know until she actually saw it, but at least she had two good options now.
Done with his task, Morgan slapped the rump of the last mule, then started shoving crates and baskets onto the porch under the railing.
“But you already knew all that about Shawn Sullivan, didn’t you?” He paused after setting a crate on the porch and looked up at her.
She sighed in irritation. “I barely said two words to the man the night I met him. His daughter, Katie, invited me to join them for dinner. He was there to meet his future son-in-law for the first time, not me.”
“Sure.”
His skepticism lit the flame. It might be ingrained in her to keep unpleasant emotions under wraps and put on a good face for all occasions, but she’d never been tested like this! She was tired, hungry, dirty, and totally exasperated with this man.
With a smoldering glare, she pointed out, “You snatched me out of a perfectly comfortable hotel room, accused me of being a liar, made me ride a horse in the hot sun for a day and a half, tried to feed me snake meat! And you made me sleep on the bloody ground! The least you can do now is take me to my father’s mine!”
“You’re not going to like your stay here if you keep asking for something that’s not going to happen.”
His tone was quite sharp, but she was beyond caring or caution. She leapt to her feet, her hands gripping the porch railing. “Youaren’t going to like my stay here if you don’t answer me! It’smybloody mine you are refusing to tell me about. It belongs to me and my brothers now. I demand you take me to it right this instant!”
“Make-believe daughters don’t get to demand anything.”
Another evasion? One too many! In a fury, she reached into the basket at her feet and threw a handful of the contents at him, then screamed in frustration when she saw it was just carrots.
She ran into the house to find something heavier to hit him with, shouting back, “You’ve stolen our mine! Claim-jumped it, or whatever you call it out here. That’s why you want to hide it from me!”
He followed her inside, growling, “You’re out of your mind!”
“You’re right and it’s your bloody fault!”
She grabbed cans off a shelf and started throwing them at him. She didn’t pause to see if any hit him before reaching for more. But when strong arms clamped tightly around her middle and her feet left the floor, she burst into tears at being thwarted.
“So much for the lady story,” he said as he put her down on a bed.
“Go to the devil!” she yelled, and turned over to face the wall. And cried a lot more.
Chapter Thirteen
“We’re so happy you’re home, Violet.” Sophie sat beside her on the blanket. They were on an outing in the park, a few of the younger girls picking wildflowers. But their favorite park didn’t have wildflowers. She tried to tell them that, but no one was listening to her. One of her cousins reached into a picnic hamper and asked her, “D’you want crumpets or cat meat?” Appalled, Violet looked around, expecting to see a cougar, but saw Lord Elliott approaching instead. He looked so handsome in riding jodhpurs and holding a crop. All the girls gathered around him excitedly. He kissed Sophie’s hand, patted each of the younger girls on the head, then glanced at Violet and raised his nose a little higher in the air and walked on. He was snubbing her?! Sophie stopped giggling long enough to say, “He heard you’re a pauper now. Shame on you, Vi, for letting that happen.” Violet burst into tears and started throwing carrots at Elliott’s retreating back. But Elliott must have forgiven her, because suddenly she was dancing with him in a beautiful ballroom, laughing at his clever quips. Everything was right with the world again until hepulled away from her, looking horrified: “A snake is slithering out of your reticule!”
It was the snake that woke her. She looked around frantically for a moment to make sure there wasn’t one with her in the bed that had wormed its way into her dream—nightmare was more like it. She shuddered briefly once she was sure there wasn’t a snake in the cabin, as far as she could see.
She took note of her surroundings. There were just the two windows in the front wall to let in light, the glass so thick she could barely see through it. There was next to no furniture. Instead of a cabinet, Morgan had a wall of deep shelves, one for folded clothes and bedding, one for dishes and pans, the rest for supplies, some of which were stored in baskets. Several crates were now stacked against a wall, too. Three chairs surrounded a rectangular table in the center of the room. Apparently, he did get visitors. There was no kitchen, just a fireplace with two raised griddles over it. A Dutch oven sat on the higher one, two pots on the lower one, a low fire burning beneath them. It was a decent fireplace, though, built of stone with a mantel on which a lantern and a few knickknacks sat. She was disappointed by the spartan accommodations. No sofa, not even one comfortable chair, just two narrow beds in opposite corners. Two?
Morgan walked in with a large sack of grain over his shoulder. She could see that he’d bathed. A long towel was still hanging about his neck, but he hadn’t fully dressed. His chest was bare and wet, his hair wet, too. It was too much when she wasn’t fully awake yet, all that bare brawn utterly transfixing her, not letting her thoughts through, not letting her breathe....
“I built most of the furniture, so it’s as rough as you might expect, since I’m not a carpenter. The table wobbles. Ignore it, I do.”
