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“Let’s see if there’s a livery where we can put up the mules and then find a place for ourselves,” Lucky said. “Hopefully everything’s not full.”
“It most likely is,” she said. “With the number of folks ahead of us, I think we’d be best just to continue on.”
His grin had the effect of cactus needles on her—biting deep and leaving a sting. “Can’t hurt to check,” he said, all bright and cheerful.
Swallowing a growl, she kept her frustration out of her voice, but did tell him, “If you’re that tired we’ll just pitch our tent on the edge of town. There isn’t any reason to spend money frivolously.”
“Yes, Maddie, my girl,” Cole said, “there is.” He wanted a room—two rooms—almost more than he wanted gold. One more night of cradling Maddie in his arms might just be the death of him. He woke every morning, stiff and sore, neither from the hard ground, and desperately needed a reprieve.
If his uncle had been anywhere at hand, he’d have belly punched him. Putting a man in this type of predicament was flat-out evil.
Luck, which usually followed Cole, seemed to have deserted him. They’d walked from one end of town to the other, and there wasn’t a stall to be found for the mules, nor a single bed, let alone two. And Maddie. Aw, Maddie. Stomping along behind him, lips pinched and eyes snapping, she was about as adorable as he’d ever seen her. Who’d have ever thought he’d find an irate woman becoming? Not him. Yet, she was. Becoming, that was. Feisty, too, glaring at men who’d dared lift a brow as she walked past.
He liked how she could make it clear as glass she didn’t want anything to do with men. He’d seen that in Dabbler, back when he’d been avoiding her. Trying to anyway. He’d tried ignoring her on the trail, too, but being next to her every minute of every day had worn him down. Besides, resenting her for wanting gold had been foolish. She couldn’t help it any more than he could. Right now, what he was trying to control was how he wanted her. Suggesting they could share a tent had been a foolish idea.
“Let’s try the general store,” he said.
“What for? Our packs are still full. If you’d quit wasting time, we could—”
“We’re spending the night here,” he said, stopping her rant. It would be easier to tell her Whiskey Jack had said he’d leave a message in Bittersweet with directions to his camp, but since Cole had yet to find out who might have that message, he didn’t mention it to her. “Come on. There’s one thing I haven’t tried yet.”
Her glare was icy as she wrenched on the mule’s rope to follow him toward the dry-goods store. Once there, Cole grabbed one of the bags hanging off his front mule and handed her his rope. “Stay close to the door, where I can see you.” The town was full of new arrivals and those looking to pick anyone clean. He’d told her the same thing everywhere they’d stopped. Once again, she rolled her eyes at him, but took the rope.
He couldn’t help but chuckle as he bounded up the steps. One thing about her, she definitely made life more fun.
The solid wood door opened as he reached the top step.
“I was just closing up,” a man said, reaching for a sign hanging on a nail and flipping it to say Closed. “Come back in the morning.”
“Just a minute,” Cole said. “I’m hoping to make a deal with you.”
“No deals. Cash money or gold,” the man said, pointing to another sign that said as much in crooked, faded writing. Dressed from head to boots in wool—the shirt red-and-black plaid, the pants a dull gray—the man could have been another miner instead of a merchant. “I’ll be open by seven in the morning.”
“Just a minute,” Cole said, pulling open the drawstring on his bag. “You’ll like what I have in here.”
It took a moment, but just as he’d thought, curiosity won out and the burly man stepped closer to peek into the bag.
“That’s not gold,” the merchant said, drawing back.
“Almost as good,” Cole said. “It’s raisins.”
Again, precisely as he’d imagined, a gleam appeared in the man’s eyes.
“Raisins?”
Cole nodded.
“A man can’t survive on raisins,” the merchant whispered.
“I know,” Cole said. “But rumor has it, a man can.”
The grizzled character glanced around, scratching the chin beneath his thick beard. “Don’t know who started that rumor, but it’s spread faster than tales of half-pound nuggets. Men are acting as if they’re pure gold themselves.” Nodding toward the bag, he clarified, “Raisins, that is.”
