September's Dream by Ruth Ryan Langan Read Free Book Online Page B

trail, she seemed even smaller than she had on the boat. Jase wondered idly where her luggage was. His lips thinned. Maybe a girl like that traveled light.
    He turned and headed toward the town. He’d stop at Mueller’s Store and pick up some supplies. Jacob Mueller knew everything that went on in the town. It wouldn’t hurt to catch up on the latest news. In his line, he needed all the information he could get.
     
    *  *  *
     
    September wandered aimlessly among the tents, trying to determine her best course of action. Seeing a sign over a wooden building reading, "Miner’s Gear and General Store," she hurried inside.
    Two men, deep in conversation at the rear of the building, looked up as she entered. September felt her mouth go dry. One of the men was the stranger who had practically ordered her to go below the night Deke had . . . She stared pointedly at her muddy shoes as heat flooded her cheeks.
    A short bewhiskered man stepped forward. Though he had a young man’s face, his hair and beard were prematurely gray. "Yes, Miss? I’m Jacob Mueller. Can I help you?"
    Drawing the shawl tightly about her to cover her mud spattered dress, she said, "I’ve come in search of my father. I thought you might know him."
    Behind Mueller, the man from the boat took a step closer. Aware of his interest, September averted her gaze.
    "I’ve seen a lot of men pass through this town, Miss. Don’t know that I’d remember most of them though, unless there’s something remarkable about them. Got a tintype or a photograph of him?"
    Cursing Deke Kenyon, September shook her head. "No photograph. But I can describe him. He’s tall, maybe a little taller than you. As tall as your friend, I believe. And broad-shouldered." Her eyes came alive, dancing with the light of remembrance. "He used to carry me on his shoulders without any effort, and I’d reach clear up to the ceiling. And his hair is red and brown, mostly red, and when he doesn’t shave, his beard is red, too. His eyes are blue—bluer than the sky, and they crinkle at the corners when he laughs. He speaks with a bit of an Irish brogue, and his name is Patrick Malloy."
    She finished with a rush and the man gave her a bleak smile. "I’m sorry, Miss. He sounds like a fine-looking man, but you’ve just described hundreds of men who’ve come through this town looking for gold." Seeing the way her smile crumbled, he urged, "Is there any special mark? A scar, maybe, or birthmark?"
    She thought a moment, then brightened. "Oh, yes. He has a little strawberry birthmark on his shoulder just like this." Without hesitation she dropped her shawl and pulled aside the high neck of her prim black gown to display the distinctive mark on her pale shoulder. "Ma said it’s been in the Malloy family for generations."
    The stranger coughed, and Mr. Mueller discreetly swallowed back his chuckle. Realizing what she had done, September hastily gathered her dress and shawl about her. Her throat and cheeks flamed.
    "I’m afraid a little mark on a man’s shoulder isn’t distinctive enough to set him apart from the hundreds that pass through here, Miss."
    "I see." Avoiding his eyes, she stared at the floor.
    Sensing her desperation, Jacob Mueller added, "I’ll pass the word around the town that Patrick Malloy’s daughter is searching for him."
    "Thank you." She continued to stand, scuffing a shoe over the toe of the other shoe.
    "Is there anything else?"
    She paused, then plunged on. "Yes. I’m also looking for Deke Kenyon. Do you know him?"
    He thought a moment. "Nope. Never heard of him."
    "Kenyon Mines? You’ve heard of them?"
    "Kenyon Mines." He shook his head. "Can’t say I have."
    Another lie. But then, she shouldn’t be surprised. Lying came easily to a man like Deke, or whatever his name was.
    September gathered her courage for one more question. "How much does it cost to outfit someone for a trip to the gold fields?"
    He rubbed his chin whiskers. "Couple hundred dollars, if you want