“I’m hopeful.” He shook his head. “But we need to be on guard. If someone went after them, and we know it wasn’t anyone from our team, does that mean that same someone could come after us?”
“I look forward to seeing what you have to offer me.” The man tossed several golden eagles down on the desk.
She raised an eyebrow at him. Cretin. “I don’t take bribes, monsieur.”
He waved it off. “It is not a bribe. Let’s call it a gift. I know the power and control that you wield. It is worthy of a little ...lagniappe.” His mustache wiggled with the word.
A little something extra ... She let her lips turn upward. “Merci.”
“I will eagerly await word from you.” He set his lavish, gold-capped cane down on the floor and dipped in a bow. “Good day.”
She watched him walk out of the room.
He’d traveled all this way from Louisiana to check in with her. Gentlemen like him were few and far between.
She liked to think of him as one of the old-timers. Like her father.
Life in the world of underground smuggling had been prestigious. Dignified. Generations of her family had built an empire on the trade of prized goods. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds, gold. Fine works of art. They’d become smugglers during the Napoleonic Wars and had made a fortune.
Once they came over from England, her father had expanded the business in America. She had grown it even more. And loved the thrill of something new and exciting around every corner.
From the time she was a blossoming ten-year-old, he’d taken her under his wing and taught her the business. Perhaps it was a little ugly for a young lady. But he’d often told her that understanding the harsh realities of life—and death—made them smarter and stronger.
And if they had to take a life to get what they wanted, whatof it? Most of the time, the life given up wasn’t worth anything. In the grand scheme of things, her family had simply put souls out of the misery that was to come to them.
What a remarkable heritage she had. Oh, to be able to pass it down to a new generation, but would that day ever come?
With a shrug, she shook off the dismal thought and went back to her desk. Many so-called irons were in the fire right now. It gave her a little thrill to be juggling all of them. It kept her on her toes. Kept her sharp.
Venturing into the fossil business had been easy enough. A priceless commodity that couldn’t ever be produced again. For two decades, she’d enjoyed adding that little side business.
But apparently, there were others on the prowl.
She hated it when the peons tried to encroach on her territory. Time to show them who was queen in all this.
WEDNESDAY, JULY10, 1889•JANKOWSKIDIGSITE
Sweat dripped off Jacob’s nose and into the red clay. It was past one, and the heat of the day was taking its toll on everyone at the dig. Though lunch had been a brief respite from the pounding sun, wind still whipped through the tent, salting their food with dirt. He wasn’t complaining though. With gentle swipes, he brushed more dust and rubble from the three vertebrae he’d found the day before.
It was a wonder Martha let him return. Hewouldprove that she could trust him and that he was here to help her accomplish her dream. But no matter how much he longed for things to be as they were before—or to show her how much he cared—any trace of warmth between them was gone.
Martha had become a firm, ambitious woman who had a deadline riding her and no patience for anyone. He didn’t even have an ally in Lily Rose anymore. All he received from that quarter was icy silence and angry glares.
Not that he could blame either one of them.
Even so, Martha’s companion had made him wince more than once since he returned. Her feelings toward him seemed to swing on a giant pendulum. He couldn’t predict it any more than he could predict a tornado dropping out of the sky.
Jacob chiseled another hard rock from the edge of the bone, his eyes burning from the glare of the sun.
He’d messed up. When it came right down to it, he never should have taken the job with Martha. That would have prevented any appearance of wrongdoing on his, or her, part.
But no, he’d taken the job, and he’d hurt her. No wonder Lily Rose was downright rude to him. She wasn’t about to forgive him for that. But he suspected he’d been in her bad books ever since his conversation with Martha the night of the second lecture—when they had discussed the Lord and creation.
He grabbed his canteen and took a swig of water, then grimaced. Even the water was hot today. Letting out a sigh, he wiped his brow once more. He had to get these vertebrae out. They were behind as it was. His fault because he hadn’t been here to keep the men motivated. Men around camp were starting to chafe against the pressure, and the growing tension and uneasiness among the workers worried him.
It was an environment that could make men sloppy. Pressure to work fast often created broken or chipped bones, which wouldn’t help Martha at all—
He grunted. Wouldn’t help Miss Jankowski.
