Emmy (Gold Rush Brides Book 2) (4 page)

Emmy had read about this ‘elephant’ many times, and she supposed she was in search of her own at the moment. It symbolized the exciting prospect of success, but also the disappointment of failure. A man was just as often said to have ‘seen the elephant’ if he struck gold in the diggins as if he never made it there in the first place.

Considering that the play was poking fun at the very men who made up the audience, Emmy was surprised at how well-received it was. They roared with laughter when the mule kicked the daft prospector in the head and clapped wildly when he conceded defeat and limped home with his tail between his legs.
 

The show helped her see her own life in a new light. Her time in California might not have started in the most auspicious way, but she decided then and there that any group of men who could laugh at themselves so easily was one she could live among. They weren’t all ruffians and rascals. Most were hard-working romantics looking for a better life, like her. The stuffy, staid men back home bored her to tears, and as rough as life was in California, there was no doubt everyone here was doing absolutely everything they could to live life to the fullest.

Pride swelled in her to be counted among them.

~ * ~ * ~

He stood in a dark corner of the room, watching. Ignoring the featherbrained actors, he kept his gaze on her, never wavering. He sidled around the edge of the room — always staying in the shadows, not wanting to risk being spotted — until he had a perfect view of her perfect profile.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered from their ‘meeting’ earlier in the day. Her golden ringlets were bouncy and her dress fresh. It was hard to tell from this distance but he swore he could see a rosy glow in her cheeks. He never had a chance to see her smile that morning but the one on display now, as the actors’ antics amused her, took his breath away.
 

She was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, which was why he had to see her again, even if it risked everything. His crew was in the crowd, enjoying the show as much as everyone else, but they had no idea about his true motives when he presented them with tickets this afternoon.

“Consider it a bonus for a job well-done,” he’d said as he passed them out. Only Frankie had given him the side-eye, but danged if that little thief wasn’t suspicious of everything anyway.

He wasn’t too worried she would recognize any of them, but he’d ushered them to the opposite side of the room, just to be safe. When they were fully engrossed in the silly play, he slinked off into the dark to get a better view of her.

Now he was entranced. He’d never been a particularly spontaneous man but he was overwhelmed by the urge to go gather her up in his arms and carry her from the hotel, kicking and screaming, if he had to. And even though he’d enjoyed the company of some of California’s loveliest ‘sporting women’, he’d never felt this kind of desire, this utter
need
, for a woman before.

He took a deep shuddering breath to calm himself. Years of being a highwayman had taught him that detailed planning was the key to success at anything. Kidnapping her tonight would be impossible. The room was too crowded and he was certain that her hosts would escort her safely to her room for the night.

But he knew precisely where she would be at eight o’clock the next morning. And he would be there to take her as his own.

Emmy woke early the next morning with butterflies flitting around in her belly. That was the pretty little saying, but these felt more like crows trying to peck their way out. As confident as she’d felt the night before, this morning she was a jumble of nerves.

What if Roy was disappointed when he saw her? What if
she
was disappointed? What if they weren’t compatible? What if he didn’t show up at all?
 

This last thought nearly crippled her. She would be settling her bill with the hotel on her way out, and then she would be nearly penniless. If Roy were to stand her up, she had no idea what she would do. Perhaps Mr. Portnoy would hire her as a maid, regardless of the fact that she’d never so much as made her own bed in New York.

Gnawing on her lower lip, she dressed carefully in the same lovely yellow dress she’d worn the night before, cinching her corset as tight as she could manage alone. Her wedding dress was packed in her trunk, on top of her undergarments, toiletries and woolen traveling dress, which needed a good washing.
 

When she’d arrived in San Francisco, Dell and Jack Dalton had met her ship and told her that normally grooms schedule the wedding for the day of the bride’s arrival, so no time is wasted. Having left New York so quickly after receiving Roy’s proposal, she’d barely had enough time to send him her answer, along with her travel itinerary, so she had no idea what he had planned for a ceremony. She only hoped she’d have time to change into her mother’s dress.

Emmy was in a daze as she paid her bill and left the hotel. Mr. Portnoy handled her account personally, and sent a porter to help with her trunk, but his words of encouragement were lost in a buzz of apprehension.

Walking along Broad Street’s boardwalk to the stagecoach station was like being inside a magic lantern show, all vapor and illusion. Every step seemed to push the platform farther away and the people streaming past and around her were mere phantoms. Her heart raced as she tried to speed up, but never seemed to get any closer. Then, before she realized it, she was there.

Two men were standing on the platform, looking in the opposite direction, waiting for the coach. One was tall and lanky, neatly dressed in crisp canvas trousers, a tan long-sleeved shirt and handsome leather vest. The other man towered over the first man, and was dressed in the same worn britches, blue flannel shirt and black leather vest he’d worn the day before. In an instant, she knew it was Sheriff Wilder, which meant the other man had to be Roy.
 

She never knew her heart could beat so fast. It felt like it might pound right out of her chest at any moment. And as much as she tried, she couldn’t will her feet to move another inch. She was a statue, simply watching the men waiting for her coach.

Roy — or the man she presumed to be Roy — leaned over and said something to the sheriff, who looked down and broke into a grin. He slapped Roy on the back a couple times and resumed his wait.
 

She couldn’t see Roy’s face, but Sheriff Wilder’s smile filled her with warmth. As rude as he was, there was no doubt in her mind that he was a good man. It occurred to her that somewhere along the line, she’d forgiven him for his churlish treatment of her — though after a good night’s sleep, she wondered if perhaps she hadn’t deserved it.
 

The fear that he might say something uncomplimentary about her to Roy got her feet moving again and, when she was a few steps away from the men, she cleared her throat loudly. Both men turned and both men’s eyes widened as they stared at her. She wasn’t sure how to proceed.

“Roy?” she squeaked softly.

The man continued to stare mutely at her, his mouth hanging open under a bushy mustache. Overall, he was a handsome man. Perhaps a little more weathered than she’d imagined, but it suited him. His blue eyes blazed out from his tanned skin like beacons, beckoning her to him.
 

Sheriff Wilder broke the spell by slapping the man on the back again, a grim smile on his lips. “Go on, man. Don’t leave the lady hanging!”

Roy lurched forward and shoved his hand out at her. “Roy Kirby.
You’re
…Emmy?”

The quaver in his voice was endearing, and much of the tension she’d been feeling all morning whooshed out of her in a great sigh.
 

“Yes,” she said, rushing up to take his hand. “I arrived a day early. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Yes, I mean, no, I mean…wait. You were on
yesterday’s
stagecoach?” He looked at the sheriff and back to her. “The one that was robbed?!”

She blushed and ducked her head. Sheriff Wilder stepped up and put a hand on Roy’s shoulder.
 

“Simmer down, she’s fine.”

“Are you? Were you hurt?” His concern was touching. Other than her father, she’d never had anyone
really
care about her well-being. Her new life, with this kind man as her husband, was about to begin. The fear that had plagued her for months started to fade.
 

“Honestly, I’m quite well,” she said, focusing on his mesmerizing eyes. If her gaze wavered, she might see Sheriff Wilder, and his presence was making her more and more uncomfortable.

They fell into an awkward silence for a moment before the sheriff gave Roy a small shove. “Well, whatchya waiting for?”

Roy hooked his arm out and Emmy gratefully snaked hers through it. As they walked away, she looked back at the sheriff, grateful that he hadn’t reported her bad behavior to Roy. He seemed sad, so she gave him a bright smile, hoping to cheer him up. It didn’t seem to, though. He just turned back around, rude as ever.

~ * ~ * ~

Mason kept his eyes on the horizon for what seemed like eternity before glancing back over his shoulder. Kirby was escorting Emmy down the street slowly, like he had all the time in the world, and she was bouncing along next to him pertly. They were grinning at each other like fools and it grated on his nerves. The poor porter from Bailey’s was dragging that dag-blamed trunk around like her own personal valet.

He’d never seen Kirby in town before. During the few minutes they shared on the platform, he quizzed the man a little. He said he ran an express company, sending documents and gold between Sacramento and the various mining communities in gold country. That was tough work and he grudgingly admired the fellow for taking it on.

As much as he wanted to find something wrong with Kirby, Mason got the sense he was a decent enough fellow who probably deserved some happiness. Which was why Mason didn’t think Kirby and Emmy were a good match. She was a high-fallootin’ minx who would bring nothing but heartache to whatever man she snared.
 

Sure, she was comely — she’d nearly knocked the wind right out of him this morning, he had to admit — but she was spoiled rotten, and Kirby couldn’t make enough as an expressman to keep her in the finery she probably expected.

Still, he had to wish them well. Everyone should have someone to love, at least once in their life. He’d had his turn, now it was someone else’s turn. Besides, the last time a woman offered her love to him, he’d let her down. It’d been a year since Marie’s passing and he ached with loneliness. He wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on his worst enemy, and he wasn’t interested in ever feeling it again.

The sound of the approaching stagecoach drew his gaze back to the road. He wanted to talk with the driver to make sure he hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary on his way in, not that he expected any news. The robbers’ trail had been as cold as he predicted and petered out into nothing a couple miles away, where they’d left the coach’s horses to graze. He’d never felt so utterly powerless.

He glanced back in time to see Kirby and Emmy hurry into the Methodist church, his gut clenching at the sight. Dust must have blown into his eyes because all of a sudden they were watering, darn it. Everything went blurry.

Out of the corner of his stinging eye, he caught a glimpse of a figure darting out from the shadows of a building and moving toward the church, but by the time he rubbed the ‘grit’ from his eyes, there was nothing to see. He turned back to wait for the coach.

“Oh, you look just beautiful,” breathed Elizabeth Owen, the reverend’s wife. She took a step back to take in Emmy’s appearance and clasped her hands to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears.
 

She handed Emmy a small hand mirror to check her appearance. Her curls were perfect, and her cheeks and lips had a pretty blush to them. She’d had her mother’s dress altered before leaving New York, but the arduous voyage across the Panama Isthmus had left her a bit thinner. The dress hung on her frame a little more than she liked but it wasn’t too noticeable. A few weeks of comfortable married life should cure her of that.

She blushed at the idea of ‘married life’ with Roy, wondering what their intimate times would be like. He was handsome and so charming, which was a relief. He was exactly as he described himself, and he seemed pleased with her as well.
 

After their initial meeting, he wasted no time in taking her straight to the church, where he’d already arranged the wedding, as Jack and Dell had predicted. It was a low-key affair, which was to be expected, under the circumstances, with the only people in attendance being the Reverend Owen and his helpful wife, and two witnesses who had yet to arrive.
 

Mrs. Owen had ushered her into a side room, and had the hotel’s porter bring in the trunk. Naturally, they didn’t spend much time primping, but the woman had been so kind as to pick a bouquet of fresh wildflowers.
 

Despite the events of the day before, Emmy was grateful she arrived a day early so she could look her best on this day. She was pleased with her overall appearance as she gave herself a once-over with the hand mirror. Her hand shook with nerves, creating a wobbly effect that made her stomach churn even more.

Or was it something else?
 

Everything was falling into place perfectly — with the exception of the terrifying robbery the day before — but she was more fretful than she’d ever been in her life. It was all happening so fast.
 

They’d spent all of five minutes talking before they entered the church, with most of that time filled with him asking about her welfare after the hold-up. She insisted she was no worse for wear, which seemed to satisfy him. Then they were in the church’s foyer.
 

It would have been wonderful to spend some time getting to know Roy before saying her vows. But there was nothing for it. Even if Roy had lied and been a old, fat drunkard, she had no choice but to marry the man. There was nothing left for her back in New York but misery, and she’d spent the last of her money on the luxury of a hotel. She had nowhere to go and no one else to turn to. This was her new life, whether she liked it or not.