Gold Rush Bride. Debra Brown Lee

living quarters flanking the store. Kate had been busy in the short time he’d been gone. The cabin was spotless. So tidy he hardly recognized it.

      “There’s a shelf in there needs fixing,” she called out when she heard the scrape of his boots across the split timber floorboards. “By the stove.”

      It had been like that all morning. She’d roused him in the gray dawn, rattling off a list of chores that would take six men a week to complete.

      “I’ll get to it,” he said. “When I’m ready.”

      His reply was met with icy silence on the other side of the wall separating the cabin’s living quarters from the storefront. Though he couldn’t see her from where he stood, he felt her blue eyes burning into him.

      The tiny brass bell he’d hung over the storefront’s door tinkled to life. One of the first things he’d done that morning was repair the busted front door latch. He’d be paying a visit to the Packett boys later today on that account.

      Mei Li blew across the threshold with an armload of stuff, eyeing the newly installed bell. “Okay, Miss Kate. I ready to start.” Will recognized Cheng’s old abacus sticking out from under her arm.

      “Good,” Kate said. “It won’t take long if we work together.”

      In the day and half he’d been gone, these two had grown thick as thieves. What exactly were they up to? Will sidled up to the doorway and peered into the store.

      Mei Li set the abacus on the counter and surveyed the hodgepodge of items left over from their last shipment. None of it was good for much, in Will’s estimation.

      Kate ran a hand over the carved ivory balls of the Chinese counting device, then handed Mei Li a paper Will recognized—the inventory list Dan the wagon driver had delivered along with the shipment.

      Mei Li thrust the paper back at her. “You read list. I count.”

      “But—”

      “Faster this way.”

      Under the counter Mei Li found the inventory ledger she’d created for Liam Dennington months ago. Will recalled that the Irishman had rarely used it. Dennington hadn’t been one to keep track of his stock, or his profits.

      “You read,” Mei Li said. “I count. Then you write—here.” She nodded at the ledger.

      While Mei Li sorted goods, Kate studied the list and the ledger, her expression as grave as Will had ever seen it. He wondered what she was thinking. Their situation wasn’t all that bad. Dan would be back in a week with new stock.

      “Okay, I ready.”

      Will watched as Kate ran a hand over Dan’s chicken-scratch writing. Her gaze fixed on the list, but it was as if she were feeling the words on the paper rather than reading them. Mei Li looked at her expectantly.

      Then it dawned on him.

      Kate Dennington couldn’t read.

      A split second later she saw him, lurking there in the doorway. She slapped the list onto the counter. “What the devil are you doing there?”

      “Watching.” He stepped into the store.

      “Watching? Watching what?”

      “You.”

      She made a derisive little sound and turned her back on him. “Don’t you have chores?”

      “They can wait.”

      Mei Li shot him a quick glance, then slipped toward the front door. “I come back later. Husband and wife talk now.”

      “She’s not my—” the brass bell signaled Mei Li’s swift departure “—wife.”

      Kate flashed angry eyes at him, grabbed the list and the ledger off the counter and yanked open a drawer.

      In three strides Will was behind her, his hand clamped over her wrist. “Not so fast.”

      “Let me go!”

      “Let’s see that list.”

      She jerked free of his grasp and slammed the list and the ledger onto the counter. “I’ve work to do. I’ll just—”

      “Read it to me.” He gripped the edge of the counter, hemming her in as she tried to slip past him. “Read it.”

      “No.”

      Anger, and something else, flashed in her eyes. In the privileged world he’d been raised in everyone could read and write. But things were different here on the frontier. She was different, too. Perhaps he’d misjudged her.

      “Mei Li could help you with that, you know. I could even help you, if you wanted.”

      “With what?”

      He nodded at the list on the counter. “Reading.”

      Surprise registered in her eyes, then vanished just as quickly. “I don’t need your help.”

      He knew she’d say that. In fact, he would have been disappointed had she not. “Suit yourself. It doesn’t matter to me if you can’t read.”

      “I never said I couldn’t read.” She tried to move past him again, and again he blocked her escape. “It’s just that…” Her face flushed crimson. “It’s none of your business.”

      She was right, it wasn’t. “Fair enough.” He was sorry he’d embarrassed her. That’s not what he’d meant to do. Besides, what did he care if she could read or not? “But why the inventory?”

      “It’s necessary.”

      “For what? What does it matter? The goods come in. We sell them. Period.”

      He pressed closer, and she looked away, refusing to acknowledge his invasion of her personal space. He told himself his proximity to her didn’t affect him, either, but it did.

      All at once he was aware of a hundred tiny things about her. The shimmering wisps of auburn hair grazing her neck, her freckled cheeks flushing under his scrutiny. He leaned closer still, dangerously drawn to her lips, which were pursed in that prim, defiant manner he was beginning to admire.

      “To keep track of the profits, of course.” At last she met his gaze, her blue eyes ice. The hint of vulnerability he’d perceived a second earlier had vanished.

      “The profits,” she repeated, as if he hadn’t heard her the first time. Her expression hardened before his eyes. “Yours and mine.”

      “Yours and mine?”

      “Exactly.” She pushed past him, and this time he didn’t stop her. “We shall count every item sold, and at the end of each day, we’ll divide the profits between us in equal shares.”

      It was always about the money, wasn’t it? First his father, then Sherrilyn. Now her. “What, do you think I’d cheat you?”