The miner stopped dead.
«There would be no purpose in calling on me,» Shannon said neutrally. «I will never offer the kind of companionship you’re seeking.»
«And if you’re of a mind to just help yourself anyway,» Murphy said from behind the counter, «this here gal belongs to a man called Whip Moran. He told me that most particularly, just ‘fore he went off looking for gold. He been gone a month or two, but he be comin’ back soon enough, and there be pure fiery hell to pay if’n his woman is bothered.»
Shannon wanted to object that she was no longer Whip’s woman, he wasn’t off looking for gold, and he wouldn’t be back at all. But she kept her mouth tightly shut. For a time, at least, Whip’s reputation would help to protect her in the same way Silent John’s had.
«Whip?» asked the miner unhappily. «Be that the one what sent them four Culpeppers straight to hell?»
«Yeah,» Murphy said with malicious pleasure. «And if that ain’t enough to take the starch out of your pecker, Whip’s brother is a gunfighter called Reno.»
The miner looked even less happy.
«And Whip told me right forcefully,» Murphy continued, «that Caleb Black and Wolfe Lonetree think of this little gal as one of the family. Any man goes to botherin’ her will answer to them. And her dog ain’t no bargain, neither.»
Shannon gave Murphy a shuttered look and wondered just how «forcefully» Whip had presented his arguments to the storekeeper. Whatever had been said or done, the result was a remarkable improvement. It was clear that Murphy wouldn’t be acting anything but respectful toward Shannon.
The thought of Whip trying to see to her welfare from afar was another knife turning deep in Shannon’s soul. Whip had left the larder full of store-bought supplies, Cherokee’s smokehouse full of venison and fish and grouse, and firewood stacked to the eaves all around both cabins. Reno had found enough gold that Shannon could leave Echo Basin and live in comfort anywhere she wished.
There was no doubt that Whip had cared for her very much.
But not enough to stay.
May God keep you, yondering man, Shannon prayed silently as she had many, many times in long, painful weeks since Whip had left. May you someday find what you want.
And may it want you in return.
«Excuse me, ma’am,» the miner said politely. «I’ll be getting along, now.»
Shannon tore her thoughts from Whip to the miner, who was standing with his arms full of supplies and watching Prettyface with wary eyes.
«The dog is betwixt me and the door,» the miner explained.
«Prettyface,» Shannon said, stepping to the side. «Come here and be quiet.»
After another seething snarl, Prettyface subsided. When Shannon walked toward the counter, the dog followed. But he never took his wolf’s eyes off the miner.
The front door of the mercantile slammed shut behind the miner, shoved by a gust of cold September wind.
Shannon felt the chill and pulled her worn jacket more closely around her body. September had been filled with storms and wild, icy winds. Elk and deer had already left the high country, sensing that the first heavy snows of the season could come at any time.
That was what had forced Shannon to come into town. She needed to buy warm clothes for herself and supplies for Cherokee. The old woman was in no shape to make the trip herself…although Shannon suspected that Cherokee was lying in ambush somewhere back up the trail as Silent John often had, making sure that Shannon wasn’t followed.
«Good afternoon, Mr. Murphy,» Shannon said, approaching the counter. «Would you please fill this order for me while I select some warmer clothes?»
Murphy grunted.
«And Mr. Murphy?»
He grunted again.
«Keep your thumb off the scales,» Shannon said crisply.
The storekeeper grinned. «Whip told you.»
«He didn’t have to. I’ve known for years that you cheated me. Silent John accepted it as the price of doing business close to home. But I don’t. If that means going into Canyon City for supplies, I will do so.»
«No need to get your water hot, missy. I’m not about to go and get in Whip’s bad graces.»
«Or mine?»
«Or your’n,» Murphy agreed. «Folks what is smart enough to come in out of the rain don’t have no trouble with me.»
«Good. My pack mule is outside. Please load the supplies for me when you’re done.»
«Cost you three dollars extra.»
«One.»
«Two.»
«One and two bits.»
«You drive a mean bargain, missy.»
«Not really. You load Betsy and Clementine’s supplies for free.»
«They throw in a little, uh, extra for my trouble.»
Murphy leered cheerfully.
«One dollar and two bits,» Shannon said coolly. «Do we have a deal?»
Sighing, Murphy nodded.
Shannon handed over her supply list and went to the piles of clothing that were scattered about the mercantile’s floor. By the time she had found two warm jackets, four warm shirts, two pairs of wool trousers, and everything else required to turn winter’s icy winds, Murphy had sacked up and loaded her supplies on her pack mule.
«Add these to the total, please,» Shannon said, dumping the clothing on the counter.
«Huh. Guess I’m gonna have to order some femi-nine frippery. Gets mighty wearisome for a man to see his gal tricked out like hisself.»
Shannon’s lips thinned, but she said not one word while Murphy totaled her bill. The amount made her eyes widen.
«May I see the bill, please?» she asked, holding out her hand.
«What fer?»
«To check your sums.»
Murphy handed the bill over and watched nervously while Shannon checked his addition.
«You are thirty-one dollars and twelve cents over,» she said after a few minutes.
Muttering, Murphy subtracted thirty-one dollars from the total. Shannon handed over a fat poke of gold.
«I have Silent John’s gold scales at the cabin,» Shannon said. «I know precisely how much gold is in that poke. When I return home, I will weigh what is left.»
Murphy shot Shannon a look that was part irritation and part admiration.
«Whip sure put steel in yer spine,» Murphy said.
Shannon smiled thinly.
Murphy took the poke, opened it, and poured. A mixture of dust, nuggets, and flakes spilled onto one of the scale’s small dishes.
«Well, I be go to hell,» Murphy said, surprised. «Whip found some new strikes, eh?»
«What do you mean?»
«None of this gold come from Silent John’s old claims.»
Shannon looked startled. «I beg your pardon?»
«The color and shape is all wrong,» Murphy said impatiently. «Silent John’s claims don’t give no coppery-colored flakes. No pale gold dust, neither. And as for these …»
Deftly Murphy sorted out some heavy, ragged nuggets of a rich golden hue. He pressed his thumbnail hard against one nugget. When he lifted his thumb again, a crease showed on the surface of the gold.
«These pretty gals be too jagged for river nuggets, but too blessed pure for anything else,» Murphy said reverently, «Ain’t seen their like since a fast-talking city boy tried to sell me a Colorado claim salted with pure Dakota bullion. That was reddish gold. But this here nugget puts me to mind of some I saw once on a poker table down to Las Cruces. The gold come from the Abajos. Spanish gold, pure as a baby’s dreams.»
A chill crawled beneath Shannon’s skin as she remembered Reno and Whip talking about bars of pure Spanish gold.
No, she told herself quickly. Whip wouldn’t have done that to me! Murphy must be mistaken.
The storekeeper glanced away from the gold and saw the shocked look on Shannon’s face.
«Don’t s’pose you be wanting to tell me where Whip found this here gold?»
Shannon swallowed and said firmly, «Silent John’s claims.»
Murphy laughed. «Don’t blame you none for playin’ close to the vest. If’n I had me any claims rich as these, I sure to God wouldn’t tell no one neither.»
«Whip told me the gold came from Silent John’s claims,» Shannon said, her voice toneless.
«Smart man, that Whip. What you don’t know, you can’t spill to strangers. But I seen all kinds of Echo Basin gold, missy, and you can take this direct to God’s ear — not one speck of this here gold come from here.»
Reno’s words echoed in Shannon’s mind, shaking her.
Way up in the Abajos, in a crumbling old mine… bars of pure gold so heavy Eve could hardly lift more than one at a time.
Shannon wanted to scream her denial that Whip could treat her so shabbily, but she didn’t let herself make a single sound. She had too much to do to waste energy yelling at a yondering man who couldn’t even hear her.
In icy silence, Shannon ticked off what had to be done. First she had to get Cherokee’s supplies to her. Then she had to track down Clementine and Betsy. And after that, Shannon had to ride to the Black ranch and back home before the first heavy snows came, closing the passes for the winter.
For the first time, Shannon was grateful for the two racing mules she had reluctantly inherited from the Culpeppers. Both Cully and Pepper would get a hard workout in the next few days.
JUST over a day later, riding one mule and leading the other, Shannon reined to a stop in front of Caleb and Willow’s ranch house. Caleb rode in from the direction of the north pasture just as Willow stepped onto the porch.
«Shannon?» Willow asked, shading her eyes against the sun shining out from behind a thunderhead. «Is that really you?»
«It’s me,» Shannon said, dismounting.
«What a lovely surprise! Come in, I’ll have tea on in a minute.»
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