Midnight Star (Star Quartet 2)

He had the final payment in his pocket. His valise was packed.

“Sir? Mr. Montgomery?”

Montgomery turned to face a skinny boy garbed in too short flannel trousers and bright red wool shirt. “Yes? What is it you want?”

“I’ve got a letter for you, sir.”

Paul Montgomery stared at the folded sheet for several moments. He dug into his vest pocket and withdrew a coin and gave it to the boy.

Slowly he opened it and read: Montgomery, Saxton is dead. We’re holding the girl at the old Hopkins mine just a mile south of Nevada City. You can kill her. It won’t take much. Baron.

Damn!

He reread the short note. Damn Baron! Bloody squeamish coward!

“Boy!” He rose quickly, but the lad was gone. Damn Baron! Why was he playing this wretched game? Why? You can kill her. It won’t take much. He shuddered, knowing they’d raped her. Why couldn’t they simply finish the job? God, he’d wanted it quick and clean. He’d tried; he’d really tried.

“Damned little bitch! She has more lives than a cat!”

Montgomery sat back down and drew off his spectacles. He slowly and thoroughly wiped the glass lenses with his handkerchief. It was a habit that always soothed him.

Saxton is dead.

He felt sorry about that. But, he repeated to himself silently yet again, he had no choice. No choice at all.

I’ve got to kill her! How? Put a bullet in her heart? Throw her over a cliff? Strangle her?

He felt his gorge rise. He wasn’t a bloody savage barbarian like those wretched Sydney Ducks and Hoolihan and Baron. And Baron was a savage barbarian. Why hadn’t he killed her?

Damn Baron to hell!

He rose

somewhat shakily to his feet, his steps becoming more purposeful and confident as he strode to the swinging doors of the saloon.

The Hopkins mine had been abandoned a year before by its disconsolate owner, Jeb Hopkins, Delaney told Chauncey, to pass the time. What Hopkins had believed to be a vast gold-bearing quartz vein hadn’t appeared. Another Ophir Hill he’d thought it would be. But it wasn’t. There simply wasn’t enough gold to separate from the quartz.

The main tunnel and the huge shaft dug into the bowels of the mountain weren’t yet in ruin.

“It’s damp in here,” Chauncey said, hugging her arms around her. “And cold.”

“Yes, I know. Poor old Jeb is working alongside many other miners today, over at the Ophir Hill Ledge. The underground workings will be something to see someday. He’ll be here soon, Chauncey. Everything will be all right, I promise you.”

“I just want it to be over with,” she said, trying to smile.

“Baron!”

Chauncey leapt to her feet, but Delaney laid a restraining hand on her arm. “Easy, love,” he said in a low voice.

“Baron! Where are you?”

“It’s him,” Chauncey whispered, Montgomery’s voice filtering through her mind back to long-ago childhood memories. She raised wide, dilated eyes to his face.

“Listen to me. I can’t take the chance that he knows Baron’s voice. I want you to scream now, as loud as you can.”

Chauncey moistened her dry lips. She let out a shrieking yell that reverberated off the walls of the mine tunnel.

Delaney stepped back into the darkened tunnel. He withdrew his gun from its holster and held it easily in his hand, pointed to the mine entrance.