Wildstar

"Dad-blister her! That bullheaded female can get me so riled!" He punctuated his opinion by spitting a stream of tobacco juice on the ground and administering another kick at the hapless step. "That durned gal is gonna land herself in a heap of trouble and there's not a blamed thing I kin do about it. Her pa would skin her alive if'n he knew she was going up to the Wildstar with you—"

Clem stopped and turned suddenly, balling his fists as he glared at Devlin. "Jessie's a proper lady, young fella, you best remember that. Don't you go and try nothin', or I'll turn you into

a steer so fast you won't know what hit you."

"I wouldn't dream of treating her as anything but a lady," Devlin said dryly.

His answer seemed to defuse Clem's anger somewhat. "She ain't always this stubborn. Where her pa's con­cerned, Jess is like a she-wolf with her pup."

"So I gathered."

"Well, come on, then. We got work to do."

"Let me fetch my rifle."

After retrieving Devlin's Winchester from Jess's saddle, they walked the block to Carson's Livery Stable. There, amid considerable cussing, Clem got his mules ready and Devlin saddled Riley's horse.

Jess rode up just as they were leading the animals out.

She had brought her shotgun with her, Devlin saw, and was riding sidesaddle, as every lady in the West did, but she'd changed her gray suit for a plainer one of brown pat­terned calico. Thinking the outfit a shameful waste of a gorgeous figure, Devlin found himself re-dressing Jessica in a gown of satin and lace, her milk-white shoulders bare, her swelling breasts barely hidden by the low-cut bodice. It was an image he regretted, since it had the predictable effect of arousing him, a condition which held little imme­diate prospect of fulfillment.

Clem brought him back to earth with a gruff warning. "You'd best take good care of them mules or you'll have me to answer to."

Brusquely, Devlin nodded and mounted up. Jess, hold­ing the lead ropes of the two mules, led the way.

"Don't pay Clem any mind," she said when they were out of hearing distance. "He's an ornery old codger, but he has a heart of gold."

"I'd say he thinks you're a bit ornery yourself. Do you always get your way?"

"When I have to." Wondering if Devlin's remark had been meant as a criticism, Jess fell silent, but the warmth that had afflicted her cheeks ever since meeting him rose again when she felt him watching her. "Maybe you'd bet­ter pay attention to the road, Mr. Devlin. In the dark, a lot of the mine shafts look alike, and you'll have to find your way alone from now on."

His beautiful mouth kicked up at the corner. "Yes, ma'am, Miss Jess. Whatever you say."

Jess gave him a sharp glance. Devlin's answer had been docile enough, but the lazy, provoking edge of amusement in his tone warned her it was going to be a long night.

Chapter 4

It was a scene ripe for seduction. A clear, cool, summer evening . . . stars blazing overhead in the heavens . . . the sweetness of pure, dry mountain air . . . a man alone at night with a beautiful young woman . . .

Devlin grinned wryly at the image. He wasn't alone with Jessica Sommers. He was in the company of two can­tankerous lop-eared mules who objected to having to climb a mountain at this time of night. And the precipitous drop-off on his right was no gentle slope. One slip in the dark and a man could plunge hundreds of feet to his death—hardly conducive to seduction or even romance. It was also doubtful the young woman in question would be receptive to amorous advances from a stranger, especially one she considered to be her new employee. Plus, Devlin thought with a grimace, he had to face the disagreeable task of staying up all night to guard a hole in the ground and maybe get shot in the back in the process. Whatever had possessed him to agree to get involved in a miners' feud?

With a mental sigh, he checked the action of his guns and waited for Jess to cajole Nellie and Gus past a danger­ous shadow in the road. Far below, the lights of Silver Plume twinkled on the canyon floor, beckoning, taunting him.

Shortly they resumed the laborious climb. The rocky wagon road made several switchbacks up the steep moun­tainside, scissoring past numerous tunnel mouths and the scars of barely passable trails. Wild berry patches grew here and there—raspberries, currants, snowberries, and chokecherries—but the rugged slopes were denuded of trees. All the lush natural forests of pine and spruce and aspen had been cleared for use as lumber or fuel or mine timbers—although Devlin did see the dark outline of one sole, brave ponderosa pine which clung in a crevice, too inaccessible to be cut down.

Beside every mine and shaft house stood huge dumps of waste rock that despoiled the rough landscape further. At least, though, it was Sunday and they were spared the ter­rible noise that reverberated through the mountains all the other days of the week—the thunder of blasting and the hammering of mechanical rock drills.

There were lights at the portals of some of the mines, il­luminating the timber-frame chutes that were used to load ore. Jess pointed out the various workings along the way, calling them by name.

A half hour later, she finally brought the mules to a halt.

"That's it," she said quietly. "That's the Wildstar."

Devlin could make out a timber-framed opening in the wall of rock some dozen yards ahead that looked like .ev­ery other mine they had passed. The shack nearest the en­trance was probably the tool shed, and the one just beyond was likely the office.

"Burke's Lady J mine is just up the road, over the rise," Jess added.

Devlin hefted his Winchester and scanned the rocky ter­rain, finding nothing moving in the darkness. "Wait here. I'll take a look around."