The Mother Lode (27 page)

“Come back and visit when you've had your honeymoon and need a little change of scenery,” Faxon had urged. “You'll always be welcome here.”

It had been a tearful farewell for Fiona and Milly. Joe knew that they couldn't come back and visit . . . ever . . . even if they wanted, because of the Peabody brothers.

But now the sun was shining and the air was scented with sage because the rain had softly fallen early this morning. Joe and Fiona had to ride their horses off to the side of the road just before they reached Virginia City in order to let two huge freight wagons pass. They found a good spot to let their horses blow while they dismounted and stretched their legs. Rip spotted a jackrabbit and went after it with a vengeance. He overtook and caught the rabbit, then brought it back and enjoyed his usual nourishment. Rip even ate the bones, but he did spit out the hair and those long ears.

“That dog of yours is kinda scary because he's so big, fast, and vicious,” Fiona said, keeping her distance from Joe's wolf-dog.

“Once he figures out that you're his friend, you'll never have a better or more loyal one,” Joe replied.

Fiona returned to gazing off toward the west. From their vantage point they could look far out across Lake's Crossing to admire the silver thread that was the Truckee River. Towering above it all stood the magnificent Sierra Nevada Mountains.

“Will the mountains where you take us be as beautiful as these?” Fiona asked, her dark eyes luminous with happiness.

“They will be,” he promised. “I think we'll head for the Teton Range up in Wyoming. Those peaks are not as big, but they're more jagged. They lift right out of the ground, Fiona, not like these that sorta slope up to the sky. Wait until you see the Tetons.”

“I can hardly wait. But mostly, I'm yearning to see our daughter and my father.”

At the mention of her father, Joe's smile faded. He supposed that he had to tell her about the death of old Brendan McCarthy. However, Joe felt he was doing no wrong when he gilded the lily just a bit and ended up saying, “Your father had stopped drinking up in Virginia City and was happy when he suddenly died of heart failure. And his last words were of
you,
Fiona. And of his granddaughter. He loved you both very much.”

Fiona cried and made him promise that they could visit her father's grave, if only for a few minutes, before leaving the Comstock Lode.

“Sure,” Joe said, knowing he couldn't deny his new bride this last farewell. “But first we'll get Jessica and we'll all say good-bye to your father on our way out.”

Joe helped Fiona back into the saddle and they rode on into Virginia City, sticking to the back streets because neither of them wanted to be seen or recognized.

“Oh, my gawd!” Joe shouted, standing upright in his stirrups.

“What!”

“Beth Hamilton's mansion has burned to the ground!”

Joe spurred his Palouse hard and Fiona was right behind. When they reached the mansion, the ashes were cold, so it was clear that the mansion had burned a day or two before. Joe dismounted and surveyed the devastation, shaking his head in sadness and almost disbelief. The stable where Jasper, Beth's horse, had been was still standing unhurt, but the horses had been taken away.

“Is this what's left of the mansion you were staying at?” Fiona asked.

“Yeah,” Joe whispered. “I hope that Beth and Ellen weren't inside when it all went up in flames.”

“What could have happened?”

Joe had a bad feeling about the answer to that question. Not so long ago, he had dynamited the Shamrock Mine and burned down Ike Grady's shack. Had the Peabody brothers somehow already made the connection, and taken revenge on poor Mrs. Hamilton while hoping to catch him asleep in the night?

“Hold my reins for a minute,” Joe said, handing them to Fiona and then hurrying into the barn.

Just like the Mormon Eli Purvis, Joe had chosen to hide his money in a metal box or can in the barn. And now he dug up the can and counted the money that he had left from the sale of the wagon and horses he'd taken up at Lake Tahoe along with the timber he'd sold. It came to just over four thousand dollars, and Joe figured he and Fiona had earned every penny of it.

Joe tossed the big tin can aside and handed a fistful of money to Fiona, whose eyes widened with surprise. “Joe, where did you get all this money?”

“Here and there,” he said. “Put it deep in a pocket.”

“But why don't you hold onto it?”

“I'm keepin' a thousand and you've got about three. It's always best to divvy it up just in case there's trouble.”

Fiona tried to hand the money back to Joe, but he wouldn't hear of it, so she gave up for the time being.

“Where can we find your friends Beth and Ellen?” Fiona asked.

“I don't know,” he replied, getting a real bad feeling down deep inside. “But I think we had better get Jessica back from the Catholics and leave.”

“Without even knowing what happened to Beth and Ellen?” Fiona asked, clearly upset.

“We can ask about the fire and those ladies when we get down to St. Mary's to claim our Jessica. They'll know all about what happened here just in the few days I was gone.”

Fiona handed Joe his reins and he vaulted into the saddle. “Fiona, I got a feeling we're runnin' out of time up here. Let's hurry, girl!”

Down the mountainside they trotted to the beautiful Catholic church. Joe and Fiona tied their horses at the gate and rushed inside to claim Jessica, but Father O'Connor intercepted them in the hallway.

“It's you!” he said, his voice hard as he confronted Fiona, and then turned his attention to Joe. “Haven't you brought enough heartache to that child already!”

“We'll get to that in a minute, Father. But first, what happened up at the Hamilton Mansion? Are Mrs. Hamilton and Mrs. Ellen Johnson all right?”

“They're fine. It was arson. Someone torched the mansion in the middle of the night. But they escaped and are staying at a hotel up on C Street.”

Joe's broad shoulders sagged with relief. “I sure am glad to hear that.”

“It had something to do with you, Mr. Moss. You are in great danger right now.”

“Where is our Jessica?” Joe demanded. “We've come for her, Father, and we ain't leaving without our daughter.”

“Your lives are in danger and you're not even married!”

“We are now,” Joe announced, proudly dragging yesterday's marriage certificate out of his shirt pocket. “Where is she, Father?”

The priest studied the marriage certificate with shaking hands, and then looked from one to the other before saying, “Please, for the love of God, you must understand that Jessica is happy here . . . and safe. Don't you realize the danger that child will also be in if you take her with you?”

But Fiona wasn't listening. “Father O'Connor, you swore to me that I could have her back. And now I've legally got her father's name to give to the child.”

“This is just all wrong,” the priest said stubbornly.

“She's ours!” Fiona cried. “And you gave me your word that you'd only keep her until I returned.”

“There's blood on
both
your hands!” O'Connor shouted. “And I just can't in God's good name—”

Joe had heard enough. He knew that the priest believed he was doing what was best for Jessica, but the man was wrong. He and Fiona were going to start a new life together up in Wyoming. Far away from all the blood and trouble of their past. He would teach Jessica to swim in clear creeks, track animals, ride horses, judge the weather, and discover the beauty of nature in every leaf, flower, and blade of sweet meadow grass.

“I'll go find her,” Joe said, breaking away and starting toward the church.

“No!” the priest cried. “Please,
they're watching and you've walked into their trap
!”

Joe stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around to face the priest. “Who is watching?”

Father O'Connor raised his hand and pointed to the horsemen that were suddenly surging over a hilltop not more than a half mile to the east. “I think you know who they are and why they're coming for you both. Your only chance is to get on your horses and ride. I'll try to stop them. Make them understand that mercy is . . . .”

Joe wasn't listening to the priest, and his blood froze in his veins. The riders were Peabody brothers and they had a whole lot of company. Joe quickly counted about a dozen horsemen, and every one of them had either a rifle or a pistol in his hand. There would be no talking them out of killing by the good-hearted priest or anyone else. And there would be no trial. All there would be was death for himself and his bride, Mrs. Fiona Moss.

“Fiona!” he shouted, grabbing her and swinging her up onto the sorrel mare's back. “Ride!”

She was pale and shaking, but Joe didn't have time to argue. Instead, he grabbed the rifle out of his own scabbard, took aim, and fired. The first rider took a slug in the chest and flipped over backward into the brush. Joe heard the priest wailing and praying. He winged a second rider, but they kept coming, and now they were firing back.

“Ride hard, Fiona! I can't kill them all!”

“I won't have us torn apart again!”

“I'll catch up!” he bellowed, knowing that one of them was going to get killed at any moment. “I'll find you again! I
swear
it!”

Joe whacked the fast sorrel mare across the rump, and it took off at a hard run. Father O'Connor ran in front of Joe, shouting at the onrushing horsemen to stop shooting. Then, suddenly, he took a bullet in the thigh and crashed to the earth, writhing in pain with blood spurting from his wound.

“Damn you boys!” Joe shouted, taking aim on the lead rider. It was a Peabody, and Joe Moss almost smiled when he shot him in the head and watched him somersault off his racing horse.

Three down, but they were so close now Joe could see their eyes. He fired again and again, killing another Peabody and also one of their hired gunmen. That left one brother, but there wasn't time enough to pick him out from the others, and Joe knew he was about to die. Then Rip, with a deep rumble in his throat, charged the onrushing men and horses. As much as Joe's deadly fire, the sight of the huge beast sent their terrified horses swerving away from the wolf-dog. And just as suddenly as it began, the charge ended as Peabody gunmen whipped their frightened horses up the grade and back toward the center of town. The riderless mounts went bucking and kicking into the brush, finally disappearing over the rocky hills.

“Rip!” Joe called, watching one of his attackers dismount and lay on the ground to take good aim at the dog. “Rip!”

Oblivious of the bullets coming his way, Rip whirled and came loping back to Joe and the fallen priest.

“Father, how bad are you hit?” Joe asked, amazed at the amount of blood the priest was rapidly losing.

“I'm all right,” O'Connor managed to whisper.

But he
wasn't
all right. The bullet must have severed a vein in the man's leg, and the now priest was bleeding out right before Joe's eyes. Joe still had that old bandanna around his neck, and now he used it to tie off the wound and staunch the flow of blood.

“Go on!” the priest begged. “Run for your life and never come back!”

“If I take the pressure off this leg, you might be dead in minutes.” Joe glanced up the hill toward Virginia City. He could see that his attackers were regrouping, and knew they would soon make another, smarter charge . . . and that this time he wouldn't be able to survive. “Father, where the hell are all your nuns when you really need 'em?”

“They're shopping in Carson City.”

“Shopping?”

“Yes,” Father O'Connor gritted out. “The sisters may be angels on earth, but they still get hungry.”

“Where is my Jessica?”

“She's with them. Safe. Safe like she's always been when she's been here with us at St. Mary's.”

Joe twisted around and stared at the dust trail left by Fiona's racing mare. She was not to be seen. Thank gawd Fiona was out of danger, at least temporarily!

“Go!” O'Connor begged, looking faint and weak. “I'm begging you for the love of God!”

Joe almost ran for his Palouse and let the priest bleed to death. But he just couldn't do it, and he turned to see that the last of the Peabody brothers was furiously exhorting his gunmen to attack once more. They had formed a line and they were about to charge back down the hill with guns blazing.

“Inside to the altar,” the priest begged. “They won't dare kill you in such a sacred place.”

“Sorry, Father, but you're wrong about that,” Joe said. “But then again, we can't make a stand out here in the open.”

He scooped up Father O'Connor and carried the man into the church, then barricaded the doors.

“Take me to the altar of Christ,” the priest begged.

Joe carried him to the altar and kept his tourniquet tight over the leg wound. His efforts seemed to be working, and he thought that Father O'Connor was going to live after all. But he needed to be seen by Dr. Taylor as soon as possible.

Joe heaved a sigh and guessed he'd never live to see his daughter or Fiona again. “Father, I sure never expected to get trapped and shot to death in a place this beautiful,” he said, admiring the statues of the saints, knowing he wouldn't be chosen to join them in Heaven. “I never would have guessed it.”

“You're not going to die now,” the priest said between his praying. “As God is my witness, you're
not
going to die here this day.”