was hopeless to think he could restore the natural caverns that had formed the basis for the original mine, but Caden was banking on the explosion having freed up a lot of that gold embedded in the rock walls. His plan was to dig and sift until he had what he needed to set up a full operation. Fei had given the mine a lyrical name in her native Chinese. When asked, she explained it meant “fresh start.” He grunted as the boulder caught and jerked him back. Fei had found a new start for her life here with Shadow. Now it was going to give him one, but instead of love, he’d take cash. Cash was power. Cash was the future.
He hauled the rock to a preexisting pile. Fei had kept the mine secret. He wanted to maintain that secrecy, at least until he had something to claim. Too much disturbance of the surrounding area would draw curious eyes, so he was working slowly and steadily and just dreaming of a less laborious process. When he got the rock to the edge of the pile, he dropped the rope from his shoulders, flexing them against the stiffness and pain. It would have been easier if the secondary mine exit had survived. But it hadn’t. Nothing had. Except Fei’s hopes and dreams and her belief that spirits of good fortune rested here. Being half-Chinese, Fei had a lot of strange beliefs, but when you boiled it down, they weren’t any more fanciful than his da’s belief in the wee folk.
He glanced around the barren rock-strewn area. The impression was the opposite of hope. “If you could see your way to sharing, I’d be mighty grateful.”
He didn’t know who he was talking to, Fei’s spirits or his da’s wee folk. In the end it didn’t matter as long as someone listened. As he stood there, the midmorning sun beat down on him like a fist. The hot, humid air pressed in on him, a bead of sweat rolled down his spine. Damn, it was hot for June. Felt more like August. Taking off his hat and wiping his forearm across his brow, Caden looked to the southwest where storm clouds gathered low on the horizon. It was late in the year for tornadoes, but that didn’t mean one wouldn’t come calling. Shit.
The breeze kicked up and blew dust across the site. Another chill went down his spine, and the knowledge that something was wrong settled in his bones. Walking over to the side of the clearing, he picked up his rifle, checked to make sure it was loaded and the barrel clean before he cocked it and looked around. Nothing moved except the leaves on the trees and the birds in the sky. Everything appeared normal. It was only the hairs on the back of his neck that said differently.
He climbed to the top of the rise, his tired leg muscles protesting the effort. Standing on an outcrop of rock, he covered his eyes with his hand and looked around, slowly and methodically scanning for any signs of movement. Any sudden flight of birds. Anything to explain the lifting of hairs on his nape. He saw nothing, which didn’t mean he was in the clear. He sighed and rested his rifle in the crook of his arm and checked again. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt a threat before he saw it. As far as the eye could see, there were only trees, sun and the sparkle of light off the river below. Whatever it was, it wasn’t close.
He half slid, half walked back down the hill, jumping off the small ledge near the bottom before setting his rifle back against the stone ledge. He’d already taken precautions, booby-trapping the trails coming in. Whatever trouble was coming, it wasn’t going to interfere with today’s work. More’s the pity.
Putting his hands on his hips, Caden stretched his back, groaning as the muscles unknotted. He looked at the opening again. Two days’ work and he’d managed to go in about two feet. Not exactly an impressive pace. As a matter of fact, it’d be discouraging but for the incentive. He reached in his pocket and pulled out the piece of inconspicuous rock he’d found yesterday. It looked like any other rock until he turned it over and saw the veins of gold running through it. Disturbing the mountain might have changed where the gold was, but the gold was still there and—Caden closed his fist around the rock—it was going to be his.
He looked heavenward. “Soon enough, Da, the Millers are going to be worth something.”
It wouldn’t make up for much, but at least one Miller was going to fulfill his vow. A swirl of wind blew dust and leaves up around his feet. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled again. The hilt of his knife settled into his palm with familiar comfort. Either his da approved of his plan or trouble was walking in tandem with that breeze. Since he wasn’t a man given to fancy, he was banking on the latter. Whether that trouble meant claim jumpers or Indians, he didn’t particularly care. Whatever it was, it was welcome to come try to take this mine. While Millers might have trouble finding their pot of gold, they didn’t give it up once it was theirs.
Grabbing his canteen, he took a drink of the tepid water, his pleasure in the day’s work fading under the new tension. He put the cork back in the canteen and hung it up on the shady side of the outcrop of rock. He paused as he hung it, seeing the cuts and bruises crisscrossing the back of his hand. It’d been a long time since he’d worked like this. Not since the early days of Hell’s Eight when they were building rather than sustaining. It felt good to work again, to do something with his hands, to do something for himself. Hell’s Eight had been Caine’s baby. This was his, and he had the deed to prove it locked up in the vault at Hell’s Eight. The work might be backbreaking, but whatever the results, they were his. And he needed to get back to it. If trouble was coming, it would get here in its own time. He pulled his hat down over his eyes against the bright sun. In the meantime, he had a load of rock to move, a ton of dirt to sift through and a future to build.
* * *
TROUBLE DIDN’T COME the way he thought it would or from the source he expected. It came in the form of Ace riding up the path a week later on his big black stallion, his shirt torn, his jaw set, wearing a sense of urgency that only those who knew him well could detect. Caden knew Ace very well. Caden set down his sifting pan and took off his gloves.
“Afternoon, Ace.”
Ace pulled up his horse. “Did you have to booby-trap every damn bend in the trail?”
“Seemed appropriate at the time,” Caden drawled.
Ace plucked at his torn sleeve. “That second branch you had following the first on that switchback is a nice innovation.”
“Thank you.” Caden pushed his hat back. “What brings you here, Ace?”
“Maddie.”
Caden sighed. “I know she’s got a soft spot for me, but I’m not coming back just to keep her peaceful if she’s gone loco again.”
In her first few months at Hell’s Eight, Maddie had often slipped away, either going into a blind stupor or raging fit. Turned out he’d been the only one who could settle her down. All it had taken was a hug. He didn’t know why no one understood that. Maddie just needed to feel safe so all her sweetness could flourish. Her face flashed in his mind. Big green eyes, freckles, upturned nose and a mouth that would turn a saint sinner when she smiled and showed those dimples. Damn, he missed her smile. The way she’d touch his arm when she thought he was upset. The calm she brought him. His cock stirred. The passion she incited. That passion was the reason he’d been staying away from Hell’s Eight more and more of late. Maddie had had enough men lusting after her in her life. She didn’t need someone like him joining the queue.
“I wish it were that simple,” Ace said on a sigh.
That sense of something being wrong started howling. Caden froze. “What about Maddie?”
Ace didn’t immediately answer. Never a good sign. He swung down off his horse.
“Let me get my cup. We’ll talk about it over coffee.”
Fuck. Caden nodded and walked
