Wildstar

His reaction had surprised the hell out of him . . . and scared him, too, if he were honest. Jessica Sommers wasn't his usual kind of woman, the only kind he ever al­lowed himself to get involved with. The sophisticated, worldly kind who could share his bed and indulge in sex­ual intimacies without thinking it meant a lifetime commit­ment. The kind who lacked the power to ensnare his heart and then savage it, the way his one-time fiancée had done.

Jessica likely was the kind to take his flirtation seri­ously, or at least convince herself he was serious. If he continued in the same vein, she'd doubtless be looking for a ring on her finger. He didn't want to lead her on. Cer­tainly he didn't want her to get hurt by his careless games. It had taken him a restless night of guard duty and prowling the mountainside to come to a decision. From now on he would quit teasing her, quit trying to prod her into some kind of reaction. From now on he would keep their relationship strictly business.

Devlin still had made no move to leave when he heard the rumble of an ore wagon, accompanied by the crack of the skinner's whip and the genial sound of bells. Ore wag­ons belonging to various hauling outfits passed the Wildstar regularly, carrying supplies up to the highest mines and loads of ore down, but Devlin had no trouble recognizing Clem Haverty's distinctive voice and colorful language.

Shortly Clem appeared around the distant hairpin turn, driving his ten-mule team up the steep grade, applying his whip with utmost precision. Devlin had once seen a bullwhip expert knock a fly off the ear of an ox at twenty feet without drawing a drop of blood, and Clem's skill was better than that.

"Haw! Steady, Milo, George! Milo, you got mush for brains, you lop-eared excuse for buzzard bait," the ornery mulewhacker yelled. "Whoa!"

Having reached the mouth of the Wildstar and turned the narrow, high-sided ore wagon around, Clem positioned it beneath the loading chute, then hauled back on the reins and set the brake. As he climbed down from the wagon seat, he was still cussing Milo with relish. "That mule is just too indegodampendant! I want my Nellie back!"

Clem gave Devlin a glare that had all the charm of a riled grizzly. The mule skinner still wasn't happy that his usual leaders, Nellie and Gus, had been appropriated to act as sentries for the Wildstar each night.

Repressing a grin, Devlin pushed himself to his feet and went to fetch the two mules that he'd come to know rather well over the past week. They no longer brayed in his presence, and had actually provided welcome company during the long nights alone.

He led the mules to the head of the team, and decided to use the opportunity to ask the old-timer about the con­flict between Riley Sommers and Ashton Burke.

"Why do you suppose Burke only recently developed an interest in buying the Wildstar?" Devlin inquired as he helped Clem with the harnesses.

"Don't rightly know."

"I can think of at least one good reason. If Burke dis­covered a rich vein in the Lady J next door, he might

sus­pect the Wildstar of holding good pay ore. Have there been any rumors about the Lady J hitting a big strike?"

Clem grunted. "Not so's I've heard."

"Well, if that is the case, then Burke would certainly want to keep the news quiet until he had the deal locked up. I wouldn't be surprised if he's planning something else to force Riley to sell the Wildstar, would you?"

"How the goddamn hell am I s'posed to know what Burke is plannin' ? You gonna keep pestering me with your dang-fool questions?"

Devlin gave him a cool glance from his gray eyes. "I'm on your side, Haverty."

"Mebbe you are. But jest because Riley's taken a shine to you don't mean I got to. And you ain't gonna turn me up sweet, neither, by bein' nice to my mule," Clem added with a suspicious look when Devlin scratched a grateful Nellie behind her ears.

"I wouldn't dream of even trying. An ornery old cuss like you could sour a lemon."

Clem harrumphed loudly. Pulling a pouch from his shirt pocket, he drew out a plug of chewing tobacco, cut a fresh quid, and stuffed it in his mouth. Devlin turned and joined two other men who were pushing an ore car from the mine up the timbered ramp to the loading chute.

When that load was dumped, Devlin picked up a shovel and climbed into the wagon himself. As he spread the heap of ore more evenly over the bottom of the wagon, he eyed the mule skinner narrowly. "What is it you have against me, anyway?"

Clem finished buckling a leather cheek strap before an­swering. "Nothin', I guess."

"You want me to leave, is that it?"

He spat a stream of tobacco juice on the ground. "Naw. The boys've been right edgy since Riley got shot, but it's only 'cause you hired on that they're even working. What I got no notion of is why you was game to hire on in the first place."

"The pay's good."

"There's lot easier ways to make money."

"Maybe it's because Jessica asked me."

Clem gave that a long consideration. "Yep, that's a good reason. It ain't easy turning that gal down when her mind's made up."

Devlin made another trip to the ramp to help dump a load. "What makes you think Riley has taken a shine to me?" he asked when he returned.

" 'Cause he said so. 'Course he didn't take kindly to Jessie staying up here that night, jest like I warned you, but he's right glad you hooked up with us." Suddenly los­ing his sour look, Clem grinned broadly through his beard. "I reckon Ash Burke was madder than a new-made steer when he found out."