A Wild Woman (Mail Order Bride of Slate Springs 2)

She looked us over with her shrewd eyes. She might be at death’s door, but she didn’t miss a thing.

Lane shrugged, then winced. After almost two weeks, his shoulder still bothered him. Nothing was broken or torn, just bruised. He had a cut that was mostly healed on his forehead and a number of scrapes and bruises along his back, his hands, his shins.

I had a goose egg lump on the back of my head from fallen rock, most likely a concussion, but there was no treatment for that. All we needed was time and it had taken care of most.

“Luck. There’s no other explanation for it,” I said.

After the first collapse, we’d gone in searching for any injured, anyone who’d survived. It had taken two days to get to them through the rubble and while they were dehydrated and hungry, they were alive. But it had been when Lane and I had gone back in with the foreman searching for the cause of the collapse, to replace any beams, that another collapse occurred, this one near the mouth of the mine.

We’d been trapped within for three days. During that time, in the pitch darkness, the foreman had completely gone insane—something easily done without any light and a touch of claustrophobia—and told us of his nefarious actions. Lane and I assumed by then the mine was most likely being sabotaged, but we didn’t know why, or how. It was the only explanation for the troubles, all of which had been since Lane had arranged for the sale. He’d owned it for years without any issues with timbers, with cave-ins. His mine had been one of the safest in Colorado.

“Rachel said it was done intentionally, the damage,” she said.

I nodded, thinking of the cut and weakened timber we’d found. “Turns out the new owner was looking to lower the value of the mine. Wanted to pay less.”

Lil’s gray eyebrows went up. “So he put men in danger just to save some money?”

Lane paced the room, still angry at associating with such a fucker. “Yes. He’d hired someone on the crew to ensure bad shirrings were installed.”

“Is he still at large?”

Lane grinned. “The foreman, the one who’d done the new owner’s dirty work, was trapped in the mine with us. Three days of possible death and he’d come clean. Even told us about the time he stole candy from the mercantile when he was six and how he used to wet the bed.”

It had been a long three days and I was glad to have the sheriff take him away when we emerged.

“I went to Denver and confronted the new owner. He’s behind bars and I’ve moved on to a new buyer, one who has plenty of integrity.”

“When does the sale go through?” she asked.

“Next week, but he’s sent his new foreman—one who isn’t guilty—up to take over the running. Arrived two days ago. It’s a done deal.”

I’d had a good night’s sleep, then spent all day with a woman birthing her first child. I was ready to get back to Slate Springs, and Piper. When Lane and I emerged from the mine, Luke Tate had already returned to his family, having worn himself out and been replaced. Piper’s whereabouts were known by everyone—it was a small town—and we knew she was with the Tates. But we’d only known her for a day, one damn day, and I missed her fiercely and it was time to go get her.

We’d left things on bad terms. She thought the woman before us was our mistress. We’d gone into the mine with her spitting mad and let too much time pass. It wasn’t our intention to let two weeks go by, but shit intervened. We’d get to her and explain, make things right. In the meantime, she was safe, but I was a selfish man. She’d been with the Tates long enough. They had their own wife.

“No more about the mine. How are you feeling?” I asked.

Lil lifted her hand and waved it at me, frowned. Her skin had a yellowish tinge to it and I knew her liver was not well. “I feel like I’m dying. Tell me about your wife.”

“Piper,” Lane said.

She gave Lane a steely gaze. “Yes, Piper.”

“She has bright red hair and a fiery personality to match.” I told her about seeing her for the first time in the saloon in Pueblo, how she’d handled the angered man with words and a gun. I couldn’t help the smile, thinking back on it now. I’d been impressed then and even more so now. Lane, though, was still riled about the incident, how she was not thinking for a moment about her own safety.

“I think I’ll like her very much,” she said. “Reminds me of me when I was young.”

I remembered back to when Lil had first taken us in. She’d been in her thirties then, a decade older than Piper was now, but she could wield a gun with ruthless precision and handle any man, drunk or sober.

“Where is she?”

“Slate Springs,” I replied. “Walker Tate took her with him back to their house. She is safe there and has his wife, Celia, to keep her company.”

“I’m glad that she is staying with friends who are taking care of her, but she should be with you. Both of you. You’ve barely had what, a day, with her?”

We both nodded curtly and she laughed. “I know men and I can only imagine the state of your balls.”

Lane ran his hand over the back of his neck and I was thankful my beard hid the blush that heated my cheeks. She never let us forget she was a hardened madam.