Gold Rush Bride. Debra Brown Lee

be the last time she would ever see him.

      Her husband, Will Crockett.

      Chapter Four

      Mrs. Crockett, indeed. The name didn’t suit her at all.

      Kate swept the last of the dried mud clods out the door of Dennington’s Grocery and Dry Goods and into the street. There’d been little business that morning. The fanfare accompanying the arrival of the last shipment from Sutter’s Fort seemed to be over.

      Most of the local miners had gone back to their claims yesterday following her spur-of-the-moment wedding to Will Crockett. The town was quiet. Almost too quiet.

      Crockett had been right about what remained of the shipment. She glanced at the pile of neglected goods he and Matt had stacked against the far wall of the store. She supposed she should sort them out, display the items in an attractive manner. But who in Tinderbox would want to buy a washboard or a set of hammered tin cups or ladies’ undergarments?

      This was not exactly a domestic little village in County Kildare. Besides, there weren’t any women to speak of to buy such things, save her and Mei Li and a few Indians. And none of them appeared to wear the kind of undergarments that had been delivered.

      The wagon driver had made a bargain with Kate’s father to purchase whatever was available, regardless of demand. Everything was scarce in the goldfields. Her father must have figured that, at some point, everything would sell.

      The shipments had been delivered on a fairly regular schedule, as well. Once every couple of weeks, weather permitting, a new load arrived from Sutter’s Fort. It was better than forty miles. A hard day’s ride. But it might take the supply wagon a week, Dan the driver had told her before he’d left town.

      She wondered if she’d ever see that driver again. The promises Crockett had extracted from him yesterday could hardly be enforced now that the trapper was gone. And there were a dozen other small towns just like Tinderbox sprouting up in the goldfields.

      Landerfelt transported his own goods, using his own men—Jed and Leon Packett—those two ruffians who’d tried to abscond with her wagon load, and who’d harassed Mei Li. Landerfelt kept his own schedule, and would also ferry goods and mail for local miners back and forth from Sacramento City—for a hefty fee. Few could afford to take him up on those services.

      Kate leaned the broom up in the corner and wiped a thin sheen of perspiration from her brow. The day was cool, but she was warm from work. Her gaze drifted over the clean shelves and newly scrubbed floor. Aye, it would have to do.

      All she could do now was wait. Crockett had left her a bit of coin, and there were enough jarred goods, salted meat and flour left over for her to get by on until the next shipment arrived. If anyone knew how to stretch the ingredients for one meal into a dozen, it was Kate.

      Mei Li had been a big help to her. Kate had discovered that the girl and her father, Cheng, had ministered to her own father when he’d first taken ill. At least he’d had friends here in this strange and wild place. People who’d cared for him.

      She’d been lucky that Vickery and Mei Li had extended their friendship to her. Vickery had offered to house her until she was able to sail for home, but Kate had declined. His wife was expected back soon, and Kate couldn’t imagine Mrs. Vickery would take kindly to a stranger in her house.

      Besides, the cabin her father had fashioned into a store had a tiny room in the back with a bed, a place to cook and a wood-fired stove. It was a far sight better than where she and her brothers lived near Halfpenny Bridge in Dublin. No evidence of rats, at least. Only field mice and a few harmless insects that wandered in from the forested hillside butting up to the back of the cabin.

      Kate walked to the window and gazed across the street at Landerfelt’s Mercantile and Mining Supply. The man himself hadn’t shown his face since their altercation in the street yesterday morn. Perhaps with Will Crockett gone, this rivalry was over. Surely there was enough business for two stores, Landerfelt’s and hers, in a growing town like Tinderbox. She hoped there was, for as long as it took to raise enough for her passage home and to clear her debt.

      A rap at the storefront window jarred her from her thoughts. She peered out the now sparkling glass and saw Mr. Vickery’s worried eyes squinting back at her.

      Lord, she must look a fright! She snatched the old rag tied about her waist in apron fashion and tossed it behind the counter, then smoothed her hair as best she could. “Mr. Vickery,” she said as he stepped into the store. “How nice to see you.”

      He removed his bowler but didn’t return her smile. “Miss Dennington—um, Mrs. Crockett, I mean.” His frown told her he didn’t think much of what she’d done to protect her assets.

      She bit her lip. “Won’t you please call me Kate?”

      “Very well, Kate. I’ve just come by to check on you. I wish you’d stay at the cottage. It’s not safe for you here at the store. Mrs. Vickery will be back from San Francisco soon, and I’m certain she’ll share my concern for your safety.”

      “I appreciate it, truly I do. But there’s no need to worry. I’m perfectly fine here.”

      In truth, now that she’d been here a couple of days, she didn’t feel any more uncomfortable alone in the store or on the street than she had in certain sections of the grindingly poor neighborhood she’d been raised in.

      “I’ve braved the streets of Dublin alone from an early age, Mr. Vickery. I’m quite capable of watching out for myself.”

      He studied her face for a moment, searching, perhaps, for signs of feigned confidence. She drew herself up and squarely met his gaze. Well, perhaps some of it was feigned.

      “Yes, I believe you are. And I’d have expected nothing less from Liam Dennington’s daughter.” He smiled, finally, then visibly relaxed.

      Kate was pleased. She needed allies, and suspected Mr. Vickery was a good one to have.

      “You’re nothing at all like the first Mrs. Crockett.”

      “The first Mrs. Crockett?” Kate’s eyes widened of their own accord. “You mean, Will was married before?” She’d never considered that possibility. He didn’t seem at all the kind of man who’d have a wife. Well, not a real wife.

      “What happened to her?”

      “Happened?”

      “I mean…she is dead, isn’t she?” The look on her face must have betrayed the split second of fear that shot through her mind.

      Mr. Vickery dismissed her concern with the wave of his hand. “Of course she’s dead. You don’t think he would have…” He shook his head as if she was supposed to understand. “…if she weren’t?”

      “Oh, no, of course not.” Kate shook her head, too, and looked properly shocked at the very thought. Though, judging from her brief experience with Will Crockett, his good deed to the Chinese family aside, she wouldn’t have put it past him to have had a wife in one place and have no qualms about marrying another he would never see again.

      She offered Vickery a seat on the wide window box and pulled up a stool beside him. She encouraged him to go on with his tale.

      “Right. Well, yes, she died of cholera. Not six months after Crockett brought her West.”

      “So he’s from the East then. New York?”

      “Philadelphia.”

      “Ah.” Kate hadn’t a clue where that was. The only place she knew of in the eastern part of America was New York.

      “Sherrilyn Rogers Browning was her name. They say she was a beauty.”

      “Really.” Absently Kate smoothed her well-worn dress and tucked a tendril of frazzled hair back into place.

      “With a taste for luxury and fine things.”