Lover's Gold Read Online Free

for himself.
    “Damn miners don’t know when they got it good,” the older Dawson put in. “They got it a damn sight easier’n they used to. Leastwise they got Sundays off. Some of their pappies used to work a seven-day week.”
    Morgan stiffened. Seven ten-hour days a week, unsafe working conditions at the Middleton Mine, and the resulting accident had killed his father. He had not forgotten. Things had been better at Blue Mountain—at least until McAllister took on Dawson and Redmond.
    Morgan ran a hand through his dark, wavy hair and forced the hatred from his sky-blue eyes. “And just what would you gentlemen suggest I do about this little problem of yours?”
    Henry Dawson broke in before Redmond could speak. “The miners is havin’ a meetin’ tomorrow mornin’. Walkin’ off the job for it. Costin’ us time and money. We ain’t gonna stand for it. We want them stopped once and fer all. We want you to attend that little meetin’ wearin’ that big hog leg of yers. Just make sure they know anybody makin’ trouble will be dealin’ with you—and with that iron on yer hip.”
    “If that doesn’t discourage them,” Redmond added, “maybe we can arrange a little accident to demonstrate our sincerity.”
    Morgan clenched his teeth. He’d been right. Things in Keyserville hadn’t changed a bit in the last nine years. If anything, they’d gotten worse. “How much is this show of sincerity worth to you boys?” he asked.
    Chuck Dawson spoke up for the first time. “How much you figure you’re worth, gunman?” His dark eyes squinted as he leaned forward in his chair.
    Morgan betrayed no emotion. “I’ll expect double what you offered in the letter. Half now, half when the job is done. This little problem of yours seems a whole lot bigger all of a sudden.”
    As he pursed his lips, Dawson’s sandy brows drew together; then he relaxed against his chair. “You’d better be worth it, gunman.”
    “Name’s Morgan,” he reminded the man coldly. “Dan or Mister.”
    The sound of the door opening interrupted the exchange. Elaina McAllister entered the room carrying a tray laden with mugs and a pot of coffee. The radiance on her face that Morgan had seen earlier had disappeared, replaced by what he read as a mask of careful control.
    Chuck Dawson rose from his chair to help her set the tray down, his hand lingering in a possessive manner on her arm. Morgan couldn’t be certain, but he thought he saw her flinch. She watched Dawson warily, with a look that sent a chill up Morgan’s spine. Where was the spunky little girl who had braved the depths of an abandoned mine to save her friends? Where was the fiery woman he’d seen? Now her gentle amber eyes looked only wary and resigned, like those of a caged beast.
    “Mr. Morgan,” Chuck Dawson was saying, “may I present my fiancée, Miss McAllister.”
    Morgan was glad he was sitting down. His breath seemed so tightly lodged in his throat he had to force himself to release it. It was all he could do to keep his voice even as he steeled himself, came to his feet, and nodded a greeting. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss McAllister.”
    Of all the unmitigated gall, Elaina thought, reading the tension in the hard planes of the gunman’s face. He thinks I’m afraid of him! Just because he kills people for a living doesn’t mean he can frighten everyone. For a moment she felt a surge of spirit and lifted her chin. Then she met the brooding dark eyes of her fiancé, and the same revulsion that had plagued her these past few years knotted her stomach into a hard tight ball. Feeling Chuck’s fingers move absently up and down the length of her arm, she stiffened, then carefully numbed herself to the feeling, as she’d taught herself to do.
    Glancing toward Morgan, she noticed the .45 slung at his hip and focused her mind on the introduction being made. “I’m sure the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Morgan,” she replied sarcastically, her gaze frosty as