One-Eyed Charly: Paradise Pines, #5

One-Eyed Charly

ISBN

This work is copyrighted © as of 2014 by Paisley Kirkpatrick

The cover design is copyrighted © by Gwen Phifer

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Chapter One

Sierra Mountains, California

April 1854

A bullet sliced through the air.

Charly whipped her head around and spotted the two masked men who had chased her all the way across the valley. The bastards were nearly on top of the stagecoach. She hunkered down as a shower of bullets whizzed through air heavy with gunpowder. Choking as she drew in a breath or two, she cracked the whip within a breath of her horses' backs. The coach surged forward over the dusty road leading deep into the mountains and, she prayed, safety.

A pair of horses danced as their riders leveled Enfield rifles aimed right at her. Damn if they didn't have the road blocked.

She slid lower on the seat, mad as hell that she'd been drawn into a trap. Charly wrapped the reins around her forearms. She stood and hauled back on the harnesses, drawing the four-horse team to a dusty stop.

Knowing they had her good and boxed in, the bandits approached the stagecoach. The stockier of the two bared his buck teeth and prodded his mount closer to the conveyance. Drop the cashbox.

Her palms itched to drop the thieves instead of the cashbox. Handing the bank's money over without a fight went against every grain of honor and pride Charly Sinclair embraced. Her gaze moved over the two bandits. Seconds crept by as indecision raged through her. She had never lost a payroll and by all the saints she would not lose one today. Instinct tightened her grip around the handle of the whip. She snapped the seven-foot length. Its end wrapped around the closest rifle with the speed of lightning. Another flick of her wrist sent the firearm flying through the air and slamming against the rocky ground.

The thief's uneasy pinto shifted backward and knocked against the other horse. The boom of a rifle filled the air. A bullet whizzed past her ear. The stage rocked as her passengers moved uneasily within.

Shock registered on the thieves' faces as she cracked her whip again and rid the second thug of his gun as well.

Let us pass, she raised her whip again, or I'll thrash your hides.

The pounding of hooves warned Charly the pair behind her approached at a fast pace. It's either run for town now or surrender without a fight. She pulled in a deep breath and gave the team full rein. The stagecoach sprang into motion. Her arms ached as she drove at breakneck speed along the narrow winding road.

Protests from the jostled passengers and a child's screams penetrated her concentration. Charly cursed the fates and brought the team to a stumbling halt. Let the bandits have the cashbox. The contents weren't worth anyone getting hurt, especially a young child.

A twinge of resentment stuck in her craw, but she slid the heavy container along the narrow floorboard with her foot until it hit the raised edge. She lifted the box by its leather handle and heaved it over the side. The box flipped and crashed with a thud. Its metal lid snapped open. The documents and bills scattered in the breeze.

Her whip cracked its command again. The coach careened up the narrow mountain road. She took a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure the riders didn't follow. They had stopped where she'd tossed their booty. Dust and rocks flew behind the high wheels lurching and teetering precariously around treacherous curves.

As dusk settled a half hour later, she rolled through the outskirts of the mountain community of Paradise Pines. She found Main Street empty except for the cowboys loitering in front of the saloon. Exhausted by her misadventure, she pulled the stage to a stop in front of Chaumers Hotel. Declan Grainger met them on the boardwalk in front of his establishment.

You're late, he said. I was getting worried.

She ran the back of her sleeve across the sweat dripping off her brow and dismounted the coach. Never again would she put her passengers in a situation where she didn't have control. I got robbed. Can you give me a hand?

Are you all right?

She nodded. I'm just worn out and furious.

At least you're all alive.

She offered him a tired grin. Well, I can't argue with that.

You're more than welcome to some coffee and, if you'd like, there's stew on the stove.

Thanks, I may take you up on the coffee.

Declan opened the coach door and helped Charly's five passengers out of the conveyance and into the lobby.

Charly breathed a sigh of relief. Her passengers' comfort was taken care of now and her obligation done. She lowered their luggage from the top of her coach and onto the boardwalk. It didn't take her long to carry the cases inside the hotel and set them in front of the check-in counter.

She joined her passengers at the large rock fireplace where Declan served them coffee. She accepted a cup from him and let the hot drink ease her parched throat.

I am so sorry for jostling all of you over the last stretch of road into town. Your cooperation and bravery has not gone unnoticed.

Mr. Rogers tipped his hat and wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders. You're the one who deserves our gratitude. Your quick actions saved us.

Thank you. If you're all right, I'll leave you in Mr. Grainger's care while I let the sheriff know what's happened.

You go ahead, Charly. I'll take care of your passengers.

Much obliged, Declan. Thanks for the help.

Charly waved good-by and hurried out the door. It took her a moment to compose her thoughts. Mr. Rogers' unexpected praise demonstrated she had done the right thing after all.

She climbed back up to her seat and drove the rig the short distance down the road to the livery. Today's run to Sacramento and back happened twice a month when the head driver needed a day off. Lucas would take a layer of skin off her as soon as he heard about the robbery. If she'd learned nothing else from the older man, her actions reflected on him. The day couldn't have gone worse. She let her guard down and lost not only the cash box, but also damaged her up-till-now untarnished reputation.

No one was around as she dismounted and unharnessed her horses. She rubbed the team down, released them into the corral, and made sure they had plenty of feed and water before she headed back into town.

Sheriff Matt Stanton sat outside the jail watching her cross Main Street. Good evening, Charly. You rode into town in a hurry tonight. I've told you before about disrespecting my law on driving reckless through town. I should lock you in a cell for forty-eight hours.

Dammit, Matt, stop giving me grief. I was robbed.

He jumped up and grabbed her shoulders. Is everyone all right?

She nodded. It's just my pride that's hurting.

The sheriff opened the door to his office and led her inside. Have a seat and give me the details.

She plopped onto the chair across the desk from him. Four men stole the Wells Fargo box. I tried outrunning the thieving scum, but in the end couldn't risk them shooting my passengers. She ripped off her hat and tossed it on top of his desk. Until today nobody doubted my driving abilities because I've never lost either a passenger or a cashbox.

I thought Anders Conroy always sits as guard on the Sutter's Fort money runs.

Anders didn't show up this morning. I thought about waiting, but couldn't delay my departure and still arrive up here before dark. She gave him a cocky grin. Guess I should've waited a bit longer.

No use trying to rewrite history. Matt pulled a piece of paper from a box on his desk and handed her the wanted poster. You more than likely encountered the four Westons today. Several ranchers put up the bounty for their capture last week—dead or alive.

She stared at the paper and gasped. A one-hundred-dollar bounty seems high. Have they killed anyone?

Matt studied her a moment. No, but don't you even think about going after them. I am well aware of your reputation with a gun but...

She jumped up, knocking the chair backward. Don't even think about stopping me.

He stood, towering several inches over her. Don't push me. If I have to, I'll lock you up for your own good.

His heavy-handed tone cut through her outrage, sparking a surge of indignation. I can shoot the eye off a gnat at a hundred paces, even wearing a patch on my left eye.

Don't argue with me, Charly. The answer is still no. Go grab a beer. Your wounded pride will heal. You'll think clearer in the morning. Matt snatched her hat off his desk and stuck his finger through the hole in the crown. You might be thanking your maker the guy's aim ain't as good as yours.

She shuddered at the near miss. Another inch and she wouldn't have known how this day ended.

Lucky shot. She grabbed the hat from his hand and plopped it on her head. I'm not done jawing about this with you yet, but that wet one is tempting. She picked up the poster and folded it. When she stopped at the tollhouses tomorrow, she would show it to their employees. Maybe one of them could give her information as to where the Westons might be hiding out. She tipped her hat and left the sheriff's office.

In the early evening hours, Trick's Saloon became a haven for ruffians and misfits. She headed across Main Street with her thoughts on a cool one. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Today was no different from any other day. Her slight stature left her wide open to crude remarks. Over time, Charly had grown immune to the reaction her appearance in the saloon caused. All the rude comments quieted back down until she ordered the beer.

What's a young feller like you doing in here?

Ignoring the cowboy's annoying comment, she swallowed a goodly amount of her drink. She'd had enough abuse for one day. If she ignored them, most men moved away from her without making an issue. Every now and then though, a bully couldn't pass up a chance to heckle her. She had changed her appearance to conceal her femininity several years ago. Everyone thought her a seventeen-year old lad earning his way driving the rigs.

You deef, boy? The drunken cowboy's strong grip on her left shoulder hurt like hell.

His whiskey breath heightened her ire. Unhand me, mister.

He shoved her against the bar. You're not man enough to drink the drink, boy.

This time his remark hit her patience dead center. For what she didn't have in strength, Charly made up with the unexpected. She pushed away from the bar and faced the cowboy. You sonuvabitch. She slammed her knee into the cowboy's groin. He doubled over and tried to move away from her. Charly had enough of him and his kind. She shoved the bastard's doubled-over form onto the floor with a firm kick against his backside. She pulled a couple of coins from her shirt pocket and dropped them on the bar. She left the saloon and inhaled the cool evening air.

Charly straightened her eye patch, then hurried along the boardwalk and entered the Bell Tower Café. The waitress nodded at her. With hopes nobody paid attention to her arrival, she headed past the warm kitchen boasting aromas of roasted chicken and baked apples. She wanted a quick plate of grub at her usual small table in the back corner and away from the commotion.

What can I get you? Anna filled her coffee cup and waited for her order.

Charly checked the menu posted on the wall. Chicken and dumplings sound good tonight.

You want your usual piece of apple pie as well?

Charly smiled at the waitress and nodded. Make it a big piece.

While she waited for her food, Charly pulled the wanted poster from her breeches pocket. Whoever sketched the drawing did an excellent job. She hadn't gotten a good look at the two thieves who arrived after she tossed the cashbox down and drove the coach off, but the two she had seen up close were definitely two of the faces staring back at her.

Raised in an orphan house taught her one thing. She was smaller than the other kids and an easy target for the bullies. Even though they picked on her, she never stepped down from a fight. Defeat was not in her nature. Nobody took from her. She would get her revenge.

May I join you? Braden MacGregor pulled out a chair and sat. I heard you had some trouble today, Charly. Are you all right?

Words caught in her throat as the handsome Scot's inquisitive blue eyes held her gaze. She nodded. I managed. Don't worry, your horses are fine.

Anna placed her supper in front of her and refilled her coffee cup. Charly's stomach rumbled as the aroma wafted around her. Even though he affected her senses, her hunger won out. She picked up her fork and dove into her victuals.

Braden frowned and leaned forward. I'm not asking about my horses. I'm asking about you. I know how seriously you take your job as Jehu. I'm not questioning your skills as our best stagecoach driver. I want to know what happened.

She focused so much on the intense stare he leveled on her, she could hardly concentrate, much less form words. Being a Jehu meant she could drive the coaches. The job was the focus of her life. If she didn't get a grip on the desires Braden stirred in her every time he got close, she might as well forget continuing her male disguise. He was a clever man and might realize she only pretended to be male.

Somehow, she got the whole, humiliating story out. As you can see, I'm fine. I don't need your concern.

I wasn't implying you can't cope. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. Sacrificing the cashbox along with your pride to save the passengers was an admirable choice. You made the right decision.

Unsure of how she should handle the compliment, she concentrated on cleaning her plate. Until now Braden hadn't given her any notice or commented on her job performance.

Did you notice anything unusual about the men or their horses?

She sighed and set her fork on her plate. She thought about his question a moment. Come to think of it, one of them rode a brown and white pinto with two different colored eyes.

Dammit. Braden slammed his fist on the table.

Two older women sitting across from them raised their brows at his outburst. He tipped his head, giving them an apologetic grin. Sorry for disturbing you, ladies.

They both nodded at him, one sending him a wide smile in return.

Is the pinto one of yours? Charly picked up a biscuit, dabbed honey on it, and took a bite. She wiped the excess off her lip with her sleeve, and stole a longer glance at the handsome rancher.

Braden stood out in a group of men, because of not only his height and broad shoulders, but because of the way he carried himself. He exuded strength of character as well as raw masculinity. The townsfolk treated him with well-earned respect, another reason why he'd attracted her heart.

I would like nothing better than getting my hands on those thieving bastards. We've lost a couple of horses and several head of cattle so far. My brother, Trev, had his heart set on the pinto for a bridal gift. We've talked about hiring extra guards for night patrol. I can see it's now time we take action.

She pushed her empty plate away and reached for her cup. Give me the job. I could use the extra money right now, and I'm definitely motivated to catch the Westons.

BRADEN'S GAZE MOVED over the lanky boy he guessed was about the age of his youngest two brothers. Charly was better than most with a gun. It wasn't his skills that worried Braden. It was his quick temper.

There's no problem with the way you handle a rifle, Charly, but the job takes a lot of patience. I fear you might not have the right temperament for night duty.

I'm the best chance you've got for catching them thieves. I know what they look like.

The laddie did have a point. All right, you come out with me tomorrow night and show me you can handle the job. If I like what I see, I'll hire you.

Charly grabbed his hand and sealed the deal with a handshake.

Pack your bags and be at the ranch before dark tomorrow night. We have enough room in the bunkhouse for you.

She squared her shoulders and shook her head. I've fixed a place in the loft at the livery. If taking the job means sleeping in your bunkhouse, I don't want it.

Braden frowned at her. How long have you been staying in the loft?

Since I started driving the rigs, she snapped.

I don't approve.

She leaned forward. Lucas has no problem with me living up there. He appreciates having someone around in case of fire.

The loft is a storage place for hay, not a bedroom. Their gazes locked. No way would he give in to the young scamp. If you work for me at the ranch, you sleep in our bunkhouse. He stood up and pushed his chair back under the table. Think over my offer. I'll expect an answer in the morn.

He nodded at Anna on his way toward the door.

A few minutes later he reached the livery located a block down the street from the café. His older brother waited for him at the corral.

Braden rested his arms on the fence alongside Trevin. It's as you expected. Charly confirmed the Westons have the pinto. One of them rode it today during the stagecoach robbery.

Trevin sighed. His glance swept over Braden's shoulder. Where's the laddie? I'd like to get his gist on the situation.

I left him at the café. Charly's interested in night patrol. If he can prove he's capable of handling the job, I thought I would give him a try.

Trevin nodded. Not a bad idea. Quintin can train him.

I'm not sure our brother would have enough patience. Let me work with Charly first. I can still remember how we handle hired hands.

Fine. Trevin stepped back from the fence rail. You ready for home?

Let me check the team first. He never found Charly's treatment of the horses lacking and, as he expected, found none this evening.

Braden signaled Trevin with a wave of his hand as he started for the gate. A shot echoed from inside the barn. He and Trevin both dropped to the ground.

The barn door swung wide open. A lantern inside the building silhouetted a slender man holding a gun in one hand and something he couldn't identify in the other. Braden motioned to Trevin. They moved simultaneously toward the barn door and tackled the gunman.

Get off me.

Charly? Braden pushed Trevin away and rose onto his knees, helping the laddie up as he stood. Who are you shooting at?

Charly held up two rats by their tails. I found droppings in the feed today. He tossed the dead rodents into the trash and walked toward the barn door. Excuse me. I've got chores.

Sure, Braden said, moving out of his way. He glanced at Trevin. We only heard one shot and he held up two rats?

CHARLY SLUMPED AGAINST the feeding stalls once Braden and Trevin left. She had no intention of giving in to Braden's directive to sleep in the MacGregor bunkhouse. To argue with Braden was difficult enough, but to face the two oldest MacGregor brothers together left her exhausted. When she'd first started driving horses supplied by their ranch, she'd had a run-in with the two of them over the proper care of their livestock. She knew they rarely changed their opinions once they decided on a plan.

She grabbed the lantern and dragged her tired and sore body up the ladder. This section of the loft might be small and stark, but it was her private domain. She didn't have to share it with anyone. Charly pulled off her boots and collapsed onto her cot. Over time, she'd grown accustomed to the smell of hay, leather, and even the manure during the drier months.

After she removed the binding from around her breasts, Charly took a deep, comfortable breath. She pulled off her eye patch and hooked its strap over the nail by her bed. She poured the last of the water from the pitcher into the bowl on her small wooden stand. Cleaning the dirt off her face and brushing her dark, short cropped hair was a luxury she allowed herself each night.

After Charly finished her nightly routine, she crawled into her bedding and burrowed under her woolen blankets. She'd have plenty of time to deal with Braden's job offer tomorrow morning.

Loud banging woke her. She got up and peeked over the edge of the loft. Braden leaned against one of the saddle racks. He'd lit one of the lanterns hanging on the wall of the barn.

I see you up there, Charly Sinclair. Pack your stuff. You're coming to the ranch with me right now.

The breath caught in her throat. She moved back so he couldn't see her without her patch. I'm not going anywhere with you tonight, Braden MacGregor. We'll talk in the morning.

Braden started up the ladder.

Wait. He couldn't find her without her disguise. Give me a chance to get dressed. I'll be down in a few minutes.

She held her breath until she heard his steps retreating. After a few deep breaths, her heartbeat finally slowed.

You've got five minutes or I'm coming up.

I thought you left with Trevin.

I did, but decided why wait until tomorrow. This way I can help you transport your belongings.

She rebound her breasts, slipped into her buckskin breeches, loose-fitting white shirt, and positioned the patch. She grabbed her worn leather gloves and pulled them on before heading down the steps.

Where's your stuff?

I've already told you if I'm required to live in the ranch's bunkhouse, I'm turning down the job.

He hung the lantern on one of the wall hooks. All right, out with it. What's churning your gut?

I can't sleep in a room full of people.

He studied her face. "Don't give me crap. What's really ailing you?"

She stared down at her feet as she stole a few moments before she answered. "I've never owned anything or had a place of my own before Lucas let me move into the loft. I spent my childhood and early teens in an orphan house. I know all about getting to know who I'm sharing a room with. I didn’t like it then, and I sure as hell will not live that way again."

His gaze locked with hers, but his nod gave her a shred of hope.

I remember being confined in a small place with a bunch of strangers onboard the ship from Glasgow to San Francisco. I was miserable. I can't say I know all of what you've survived, but for now I'm listening. You can't live in these conditions forever. They're not fit for a human.

It's home to me.

Braden moved closer. Relax. I mean no insult. Growing up poor myself, I appreciate your situation. I won't pressure you on moving, at least for now.

Relief washed over her. Thank you. I'll be at the ranch tomorrow night after my meal.

He tipped his hat and left.

Working for Braden probably wasn't the best idea she ever had. If he didn't live up to her high expectations, maybe she would get him out of her system.

She started up the steps, but stopped. She couldn't help from laughing at her ridiculous thoughts. She wouldn't get Braden out of her heart or off her mind any time soon. He had sent her emotions spinning the moment she saw him leaning against the large apple tree the first day she arrived in Paradise Pines.

She prayed she could continue hiding her identity and the true state of her feelings for the man. If she didn't, her life as she knew it would surely come to an end.

Chapter Two

Charly rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Dust particles danced in the early morning sun, shimmering through the small loft window. Today held more sunshine and warmth than yesterday. She lifted the blankets and planted her bare feet on the cold wooden floor. Once her eye patch was in place, she grabbed her buckskin breeches and clean white shirt off the shelf, and slipped into them. It only took another moment to pull her boots and old leather gloves on. She grabbed an apple from the ceramic bowl on her small bedside table and headed down the ladder.

Outside, the air was rife with the smell of fresh hay and horses. She leaned against the corner of the livery building and watched her immediate boss, Lucas. She dreaded the dressing down she would get from him, but knew it was best to take the scolding like a man so she could get on with her chores.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, but didn't miss a step in his routine. He finished hitching his team to the stylish, ruby-red coach, ran a cloth over golden letters depicting it as the Sacramento stage, and tied the heavy leather tarp over the back compartment.

I guess you've heard about the robbery. She bit into the apple and wiped away the juice dribbling down her chin.

You did your best boy. He stepped on the wheel, climbed up to the seat, and grabbed the reins. Luck didn't roll your way this time. You can't win 'em all. He drove the large coach off the lot.

Her mouth dropped open at the usually gruff-speaking man's lack of concern about her losing the cashbox.

Morning.

Charly whirled around and stared at the no-nonsense expression on Braden MacGregor's handsome face. She frowned at the irritating way her heart skipped a beat every time she saw the man.

Please, join me in my office. He motioned toward the small, windowless room off the stables.

Not a good sign. Something must have changed his mind since last night. In all the months she'd worked at the livery the rancher, now part owner, rarely came by the place and only then to deliver or pick up horses—and never this early in the day.

He grabbed an empty cup and filled it from the pot on the small woodstove. Here, start the day off right. He held the steaming coffee cup toward her.

Thanks. She accepted the drink and sat on the stool by his oak desk expecting to hear she'd been fired.

He leaned back in the chair and scrutinized her. You have something on your mind this morn? You're unusually quiet.

Go ahead. Dismiss me. It won't take me long to clean out my belongings.

He chuckled Are you always this grumpy in the morn? His deep blue eyes narrowed on her. You know you're the best Jehu in the county. Nobody wants to fire you.

Relief eased her high-strung nerves somewhat. Why did you call me in here, then?

The old man won't give you heartache over yesterday's robbery.

Her fingers tightened around the cup. His comment surprised her. She expected a scolding from Lucas at the very least. Did you lean on him on my behalf?

Braden sat forward and reached out to touch her arm. Will you relax, please?

She jerked her arm back before his fingers touched her. Any physical contact with him, accidental or not, was sure to send her pulse racing.

What's your motive for catching the thieves?

She watched a sunray cast light across Braden's tanned face.

Charly, are you listening to me?

Her gaze turned to his eyes. Did you say something?

What's the matter with you?

She shook her head, pushing away the sinful thoughts his closeness inspired. I'm sorry, I didn't hear you.

What's your reason for going after the Weston gang?

She took a sip of her drink, which calmed her nerves at the same time. They stole something from me. I intend getting it back.

Good. I like your positive attitude. Matt isn't pleased we are hunting the Westons, but he knows we MacGregors won't give up until the rustlers are swinging by their necks. He pulled a badge from his shirt