Read The Diamond of the Rockies [03] The Tender Vine for Free Online Page A

little rest. It drove his desire to conclude the sale of the mine and make preparation for departure. As Quillan crossed Central at Pine under the clear morning sky, he was hailed by Ben Masterson. Quillan turned and extended his hand with a smile. “Mr. Mayor.”
    Masterson clasped his hand. “I hear you’re selling out.”
    “From whom?”
    “Round about.”
    Quillan shrugged, trying to look noncommittal. He’d told no one but Carina, though Makepeace might have talked. “I was hoping to keep it tight until I heard back from Daniel Cain.”
    “Selling out both your interests?”
    “I don’t know yet. D.C. hasn’t answered.”
    “He won’t, either. Not for a while.” Masterson sent his gaze upward toward the pass. “Snow brought down the lines two nights ago.”
    The night Quillan and Makepeace had fought through the storm back to Crystal. It must have been especially heavy over Mosquito Pass, where the telegraph line ran. Quillan frowned. He had time before Carina could travel, but he’d wanted to wrap up this sale as soon as possible. The consolidateds would try to get their hands on the New Boundless, and he was determined to resist their efforts after what had happened to his wife.
    He’d offered the mine to Makepeace for less than its worth, assuming D.C. would also sell, and Tabor had set liberal terms. If details got out, he’d have a dogfight with men he’d rather strangle than haggle with. It was critical he communicate with D.C., but the lines could be down for weeks.
    “I’m sorry about your wife, Quillan.” Masterson looked sincere, but Quillan knew he was only sorry as far as it didn’t threaten commerce and peace. He’d been willing to lynch her once.
    Quillan nodded.
    “Guess it’s understandable, your clearing out. Will she be able to travel soon?”
    “Doc Felden thinks a couple more weeks abed, then we’ll see.”
    “I’m truly sorry. It’s an ugly business when our women aren’t safe. I’m just glad those reprobates cleared out after.”
    Again Quillan nodded. It would do no good taking Masterson to task. He had a political mind, and to him the welfare of Crystal far exceeded Carina’s justice. Quillan tipped his hat and continued across Central. Turning left, he headed for the livery.
    “Good mornin’, boyo.” Alan Tavish huddled in a rocker next to the stove, fragrant pipe smoke circling his head.
    “Good morning, Alan.” Quillan took in his bent, arthritic form. Alan seemed more contorted than ever, and Quillan’s heart seized at the thought of leaving him. With Cain gone, he’d drawn close to Alan, and he worried about the old man. Who would check in on him beyond their livery needs, stay to chat, see that he took care of himself?
    Quillan dropped to a barrel beside the rocker.
    “How’s the lass?”
    Quillan smiled. Carina would always be “the lass” to Alan. “Better since she’s following doctor’s orders.”
    Alan grinned. “Bit of vinegar there.”
    “A bit.” Quillan raised his brows.
    Alan pointed with the stem of his pipe. “And you?”
    Quillan knew which part of his well-being Alan addressed. “I’m trying, Alan. Courting her as you said I should.”
    Alan patted Quillan’s thigh, his crumpled knuckles upraised like spider legs. “It’ll do ye good, boyo.”
    Quillan leaned his head back to the wall. What he wanted most was to grab Carina into his arms and kiss her breath away, then know her as he had on their wedding night. But he had hurt her once, taken her in anger, and he was determined not to even kiss her again until he’d mended that. Carina had to want his touch, his kiss. Sometimes it seemed she did already, but it was more likely his own desire speaking.
    “I need to reach D.C., Alan.”
    His change of subject had little effect on the old ostler. Alan was used to his close keeping of personal thoughts.
    “Ye know where he is.”
    “I wired him in Northfield, but the lines are down.”
    Alan shrugged. “Send a wire from