“Free of the damned, miserable mining business at last,” he said, voicing the thoughts of the others.
His father grinned broadly. “Yeah, and the price they’re payin’ us makes the deal even sweeter. Whaddaya say, Dolph? Makes all the dirty work worth it, eh?”
Redmond smiled thinly. “Let’s don’t be counting our chickens too soon, men. Chuck, you just make sure you get the McAllister girl to the altar. I’m sure I needn’t remind you two she still controls fifty percent of the shares in the mine, even if she doesn’t know it. Once you’re her husband, Chuck, the stock will be yours. We can all rest a little easier after that.”
Chuck frowned. “We should have forced the marriage long ago, when she was younger, more biddable. If anything goes wrong”—he scowled toward his father—“it’s going to be on your head.”
“Weren’t no need to force the girl afore now,” Henry Dawson defended. “You had yer lady friends to warm yer bed. Girl needed a little time to git used to the idea of marriage, that’s all. She’s agreed. She’ll stand by her word. If there’s one thing them McAllisters is, it’s prideful.”
“You’d better be right,” Chuck said.
“Don’t worry,” Redmond soothed, “there’ll be a wedding— one way or another.” Moving back to his desk, he opened the bottom drawer and lifted out three crystal snifters and a fine decanter filled with brandy. Chuck and his father moved back to their tufted burgundy chairs. The office wasn’t large, but Chuck could see Redmond’s excellent taste throughout. In addition to the desk and chairs, there was a small settee, and the floor was covered by a wide Persian rug depicting a bloody scene from the Crusades. An Oriental vase adorned a carved rosewood stand.
“This calls for a drink to celebrate our good fortune,” Redmond said. He poured two fingers of the rich amber liquid into each of the glasses and handed them around. “And Chuck’s forthcoming marriage.” The glasses clinked together and all three men smiled.
Chapter 7
D AN M ORGAN LOOKED through the open window at the bustling streets below his room. His shoulder was nearly healed. It was time he found the men who had shot him.
Morgan buckled the heavy strap of his gun belt around his hips and secured the leather thong to his thigh. Instinctively his hand reached for the butt of the weapon, and as always, it slid with precision into his palm. His slim fingers curled around the trigger. Then he checked the load, feeling the comforting metal cold against his skin, eased the hammer back down, and replaced the gun in his holster.
Plucking his wide-brimmed hat from the iron headboard of his bed, he pulled open the door, descended the two flights of stairs to the first floor, and walked briskly through the lobby.
“Dan?” Elaina’s gentle voice drifted from the parlor. She leaned against her broom, a questioning look on her face, her hair tied back in a kerchief that matched her blue gingham dress. “You aren’t going out there again are you?” He walked into the parlor, not wanting to upset her, but determined to get on with his task. “I’m headed to the marshal’s office. I want to see if he or the sheriff have turned up any new leads. I told you, I’m going to find out who shot me, with or without the law.”
“It’s too dangerous, Dan. You’re making a target of yourself. Nobody knew about the trips we made out of town. This is different. Whoever shot you nearly killed you before; he might succeed this time.” She tossed him a defiant glance. “If you get yourself shot again, I’ll be damned if I’ll waste any more time keeping you alive!” Morgan grinned broadly and ran a finger along her cheek. “You’re beautiful when you’re angry, but you’re wrong about my getting shot. I’m ready for him this time. If anybody winds up carrying a bullet, it’ll be him.”
“What makes you think he’ll come after you?”
“Oh, he’ll come, all
His father grinned broadly. “Yeah, and the price they’re payin’ us makes the deal even sweeter. Whaddaya say, Dolph? Makes all the dirty work worth it, eh?”
Redmond smiled thinly. “Let’s don’t be counting our chickens too soon, men. Chuck, you just make sure you get the McAllister girl to the altar. I’m sure I needn’t remind you two she still controls fifty percent of the shares in the mine, even if she doesn’t know it. Once you’re her husband, Chuck, the stock will be yours. We can all rest a little easier after that.”
Chuck frowned. “We should have forced the marriage long ago, when she was younger, more biddable. If anything goes wrong”—he scowled toward his father—“it’s going to be on your head.”
“Weren’t no need to force the girl afore now,” Henry Dawson defended. “You had yer lady friends to warm yer bed. Girl needed a little time to git used to the idea of marriage, that’s all. She’s agreed. She’ll stand by her word. If there’s one thing them McAllisters is, it’s prideful.”
“You’d better be right,” Chuck said.
“Don’t worry,” Redmond soothed, “there’ll be a wedding— one way or another.” Moving back to his desk, he opened the bottom drawer and lifted out three crystal snifters and a fine decanter filled with brandy. Chuck and his father moved back to their tufted burgundy chairs. The office wasn’t large, but Chuck could see Redmond’s excellent taste throughout. In addition to the desk and chairs, there was a small settee, and the floor was covered by a wide Persian rug depicting a bloody scene from the Crusades. An Oriental vase adorned a carved rosewood stand.
“This calls for a drink to celebrate our good fortune,” Redmond said. He poured two fingers of the rich amber liquid into each of the glasses and handed them around. “And Chuck’s forthcoming marriage.” The glasses clinked together and all three men smiled.
Chapter 7
D AN M ORGAN LOOKED through the open window at the bustling streets below his room. His shoulder was nearly healed. It was time he found the men who had shot him.
Morgan buckled the heavy strap of his gun belt around his hips and secured the leather thong to his thigh. Instinctively his hand reached for the butt of the weapon, and as always, it slid with precision into his palm. His slim fingers curled around the trigger. Then he checked the load, feeling the comforting metal cold against his skin, eased the hammer back down, and replaced the gun in his holster.
Plucking his wide-brimmed hat from the iron headboard of his bed, he pulled open the door, descended the two flights of stairs to the first floor, and walked briskly through the lobby.
“Dan?” Elaina’s gentle voice drifted from the parlor. She leaned against her broom, a questioning look on her face, her hair tied back in a kerchief that matched her blue gingham dress. “You aren’t going out there again are you?” He walked into the parlor, not wanting to upset her, but determined to get on with his task. “I’m headed to the marshal’s office. I want to see if he or the sheriff have turned up any new leads. I told you, I’m going to find out who shot me, with or without the law.”
“It’s too dangerous, Dan. You’re making a target of yourself. Nobody knew about the trips we made out of town. This is different. Whoever shot you nearly killed you before; he might succeed this time.” She tossed him a defiant glance. “If you get yourself shot again, I’ll be damned if I’ll waste any more time keeping you alive!” Morgan grinned broadly and ran a finger along her cheek. “You’re beautiful when you’re angry, but you’re wrong about my getting shot. I’m ready for him this time. If anybody winds up carrying a bullet, it’ll be him.”
“What makes you think he’ll come after you?”
“Oh, he’ll come, all
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