Chapter 12

Preston went to the barn to check on Midnight Song. He was still kicking himself for taking the mare instead of his father's powerful stallion. Of all the Chadwick sons, he was the one who always fell short when courage and strength were needed. A disappointment to his father.

He inherited his mother's merciful, tender heart, but in the West, that was considered a weakness. So, he'd gone with learning to heal rather than harm others. Mother was pleased, and Father was disappointed.

He patted Midnight's velvety muzzle. "I'm glad you're up to a ride today. Snow or not, we're going home."

The horse nickered.

With a sigh, he led the horse out of the stall and saddled her. He was still in the barn when he heard hushed words just outside the door. Preston pulled Midnight into the stall and hid in the shadows.

He recognized the gravelly voice of Mr. Mullins, the man who ran the mine for Father. Preston wasn't sure of the other voice, but the two men weren't happy with one another.

"Stupid kid is snooping around and asking questions. We need to do something about him, or he'll ruin everything."

"We can't let the old men find out." Mr. Mullins's words came out in a gush of anger.

Preston was surprised. He'd never heard Mullins talk about his father with such contempt. He put his hand over Midnight's muzzle to keep her quiet and listened.

"All I know is Frank won't stop. He might need an accident. The rest of the family members don't come down here anymore. Once we got those two old men mad at each other, we had it made, but Frank is going to cause trouble for us."

Mr. Mullins grunted. "At least neither of the families pay Frank any mind. The boy spent too much time getting into trouble."

Hard chuckles answered him, followed by footsteps indicating the men had moved away.

Preston would have stepped out, but he didn't have a gun with him. Another silly oversight on his part. He knew better than to leave home without a rifle in the saddle scabbard. He shook his head as he imagined the berating his father was going to give him when he got home.

Preston knew he'd be questioned about why he hadn't confronted the two men. The answer? He wasn't sure. Maybe he should go to the two mine directors right now and demand an answer. Then again, he'd been gone for four years and wasn't sure of what was going on with the mines or anything else. Besides, it wasn't his nature to rush in and start trouble.

If he didn't straighten up, Father would send him back to Boston. Maybe that was where Preston belonged. It was a land of civilized people where strength and bravery weren't valued as highly as intelligence and culture. Though he didn't think he was a coward, Preston was bothered about his reluctance to rush headlong into trouble. Frank would. Father certainly did. Ernst? He was a puzzle and stuck mostly on the business side of things. Just because he wasn't one to act brashly didn't mean he couldn't solve a problem. In medical situations, he took his time to assess the situation, but then he acted on it. He wasn't afraid.

Father thought the East was full of weak, cowardly men, but Preston knew it wasn't true. Just because you didn't have to fight for survival didn't mean there weren't brave and strong men and women in the state. Still, Preston had to admit that he felt weak and ineffective here in Denver.

He rubbed the horse's neck and decided he'd go back to the mine office and have a talk with Mr. Mullins. He'd seen the man last night, and he'd assured Preston all was running smoothly.

Now, after hearing the two directors talk, Preston knew all wasn't as it seemed. They'd threatened Frank. What was his brother up to? He said he worked with the Pinkertons. What was going on? Father had shared nothing about the mines or the money coming in. Of course, he'd made so much money, Preston doubted if he needed the mines to bring in any more.

Through a crack in the barn door, he saw Mr. Vander ride away. Was he going to Denver? Feeling it was safe to exit the barn, Preston led Midnight outside, and instead of riding away, he went to the Chadwick office.

Without knocking, Preston shoved open the door and surprised Mr. Mullins. The man had been working on a ledger and looked as guilty as a fox with hen feathers sticking out of his mouth. "How are things going?"

Slamming the ledger shut, Mr. Mullins sat up straight in his chair. "Fine, sir. It's good to see you again. I thought you left earlier this morning."

"There's no rush. I wanted to give the mare a good rest before heading down the mountain in the snow. Has Father audited the books lately?" Preston eyed the books on the shelf behind Mr. Mullins. There was an identical ledger journal behind him but with a large B on the binding that was missing on the one Mullins guarded.

"He does that once a year, sir." Mullins put his elbows on the ledger and leaned across the desk. "Have you talked to your father about the last audit?"

"No, I was just curious." Preston looked around the office. It had been some time since he'd been here. As children, they'd regularly come to the office and had been fascinated with the process of digging gold out of the earth. Although they were not allowed to go deep into the mines.

Preston remembered his family crowded in the room. He glanced at the glass box. It was still empty. Years ago, it had held a ten-pound gold nugget that they'd found in the mine. It had disappeared years ago, about the time the feud started.

His father and Mr. Burnett had accused each other of stealing it, but the nugget had never been found. Was that the start of the feud? Father had never said. He just came home one day and said the partnership with Raul Burnett was over.

"Is there anything else you need?" Mullins stood as if he were dismissing Preston.

The hair on the back of Preston's neck rose. He would not be turned away. This man worked for his family. "Not at the moment. I assume you're supplied for the winter?"

"Of course. I send a list to your father, and he sends the wagons as needed." Mullins edged toward the door.

Preston couldn't think of any more questions. He really needed to talk to Father before he made any rash accusations. "I'll be leaving. Let us know if the miners need anything."

Walking to the door, Mullins held it open for him. "I will. Have a good trip back to town."

As he reached the door, Preston stopped. "Are there any medical needs? I am a doctor, you know."

Mullins shook his head. "No, everyone is healthy."

"If anything arises, let me know. I'll have my office in Denver. I am staying and building my practice here." Preston could see that the man was uneasy about something. The next time he saw Frank, they were going to have a talk.

He mounted Midnight and rode her out of the camp. A quick glance to the right showed Mr. Mullins watching him from his office window. Preston almost expected a gunshot to the back. Those two were up to something. Somehow, he'd have to end the feud and get the two owners to come to terms. Preston hoped Frank could help, but as the two managers had said, Frank's reckless past might keep anyone from listening.

For now, he had an apology to make to Millie. She was one of the reasons he had come back to Denver. Before he left, they would meet on the outskirts of town on a trail leading to the mountains.

He'd never promised her anything, but he had enjoyed her company. Though with the feuding fathers, they'd never talked about a future together. After all, he knew he was leaving for Denver.

Millie had talked about the dogs she trained, her devotion to her father, and her sadness at losing her mother. Despite their feuding fathers, they enjoyed one another's company. He'd kissed her a few times. They were just children having fun, he'd thought.

Until the last time they'd met before he went to Boston. Leaving her was his only regret. Her tears surprised him. There were no words of his return or her waiting, only a tearful goodbye followed by a long kiss. A lover's kiss.

Their brief meeting the other day had not disclosed anything. She seemed happy to see him. But he truly didn't know if she had found a man to marry or be engaged to. His mother's illness had taken most of his attention from thinking about Millie.

In Boston, Preston had, on occasion, taken a woman to the opera or theater, but he'd not been comfortable with any of them. With Millie, he'd always felt at home. Was it because they'd grown up together? Before the feud, the two families had been close because of the mine.

He looked at the heavy snow and knew he'd never get to Denver in time to pick Millie up. He prayed Millie would talk with him and forgive him for not showing up to take her to the ball.

He thought about his shortcomings and failures and realized he would have to forgive himself. It was time for him to claim the courage he knew resided in him.