Read Online Native Gold by Glynnis Campbell - Free Book Online

right, ma’am?"
    She nodded and closed her eyes, envisioning the newspaper advertisement she’d answered a lifetime ago, curling and burning, till there was nothing left but ash.
    Dear God—what had she done? She had no money. She knew no trade. And now, she was no man’s wife. She was a stranger here—to the people, to the land, to prospecting. She’d gambled everything on her new life, never imagining that in one fell swoop, one fatal twist of fate, it could be lost.
    "She looks kinda peaked to me," Zeke said, spewing a stream of tobacco juice onto the planks at the edge of the porch.
    "Aw, hell," Swede said, then amended, "heck."
    Frenchy snapped his fingers smartly. "Someone fetch her something to drink, no?"
    All the prospectors moved to lend assistance, but it was the sour-faced old woman who grubbed around in her pack and found a half-empty brown bottle first. She uncorked it and gave the lip a vigorous scrubbing with her dirty sleeve. "Take a slug o’ this, honey. It’ll make you right as rain."
    Mattie eyed the dirty vessel with its mysterious contents. Then her gaze flickered over the faces of the residents of Paradise Bar. They stared at her with a mixture of emotions—some scornful, some challenging, a few awestruck, but most concerned. They were as ragtag a band as Robin Hood’s merry men and as filthy as barnyard pigs. But in this untamed country of rushing rivers and plunging gorges, where a person had to eke out a living from the raw elements of the earth, they were all she had. She couldn’t afford to offend them.
    She steeled herself to take the bottle. It couldn’t be that bad. The spirits she could smell even at this distance would kill anything harmful. And she’d nursed brandy before, which was strong, but not unpleasant. With a brief smile of thanks, she grabbed the bottle. Upending it, she downed a fortifying gulp.
    And almost spit it right back out in a most unladylike fashion. Instead, she choked it down, and the liquid seared a fiery path down her throat, stealing her breath. Her eyes teared up, and her face flushed hot.
    Strong didn’t describe the brew. A far cry from the smooth cognac she’d sipped in ladies’ parlors, it seemed a closer cousin to the noxious potions concocted in chemist shops.
    But she was unwilling to disappoint the scruffy miners that gathered about her with hopeful stares.
    "Thank you," she gasped when she was finally able to draw breath, handing the bottle back with perhaps more enthusiasm than was polite.
    One of the Campbell boys shuffled shyly forward, his hands stuffed into the waistband of his trousers. "Is there anything else we can get you, ma’am?"
    She glanced up at the lad. Yes, she thought childishly. There was something he could get her. He could get her a ticket home. Or he could find her another husband, only one far more refined than any of the filthy wretches she’d met thus far. And while he was at it, he may as well bring her parents back to life. A lump closed her raw throat, and the earnest expression in the boy’s amber eyes almost made her dissolve into tears.
    "No," she answered instead, "thank you."
    "I brung your bag, ma’am," another Campbell boy said, lifting her satchel onto the planks.
    She gave him a brief, grateful smile.
    Tom came from inside the lean-to, stepping onto the porch and circling the rim of his doffed derby with nervous fingers. "I’m terrible sorry, lass, fer springin’ it on ye like that. I was led ta believe ye knew." He cast Swede a pointed glare. "If ye’d like, we can keep the doc in state fer...well, fer a day or two at most, considerin’ the warm weather..."
    "No!" Mattie blurted out, then amended, "That is, I’d prefer he found his peace as soon as possible." The last thing she wanted was to closet herself with a dead man she didn’t even know. "If you don’t mind," she added diplomatically.
    "Not at all," Tom assured her. "We’ll see him buried first thing tomorra. ‘Tis often better ta do