The Tender Vine (Diamond of the Rockies #3)(100)

Famous? Quillan looked at him, mystified. He was past the hope of meaningful human acceptance. On the verge of losing Carina, on guard for his life—and Roderick Pierce spoke of fame? God had a very odd sense of humor. Quillan nodded at the rock pile beside him. “You can leave it there.”

“Actually,” Pierce sat down in the spot Quillan indicated, “I have a proposition to discuss.”

“No.”

“Now I know you’re not quick on the bait, but I think when you’ve heard me out you’ll appreciate my ideas.”

Quillan took his journal and stood. “I need to get back to work.”

“Now that’s just the thing.” Pierce got to his feet, as well. “Why is a man of your financial situation working in a rock quarry?”

Quillan said nothing. What would Pierce know of his financial situation?

“I would think the sale of your mine would have you sitting pretty.”

If Pierce had stripped him of his pants and shirt, Quillan could hardly have felt more naked. “What mine?”

“New Boundless. Wasn’t that the name?”

Quillan turned and started down toward his wagon.

“Now the figures I got weren’t staggering, but certainly substantial.”

Quillan spun. “Figures?” Had Alex Makepeace run off at the mouth?

“From whom?”

“It took some digging, but one thing led to another until whop! I’d landed in Horace Tabor’s lap. Friend of his, are you? He spoke fondly.

Very curious about your wife. I assured him she was as lovely as any woman I’ve seen. You don’t mind my saying so, do you?”

The tendons in Quillan’s neck pulled tight. Yes, he minded any man noticing and remarking on her beauty. It only made the pain sharper. “I don’t appreciate you digging into my affairs.” He glanced at the newspaper Pierce had snatched up when he stood. “It’s all printed in there?”

“Oh no.” Pierce waved the paper then held it out again. “See for yourself.”

Quillan grabbed it, shoved it inside his shirt. Then he bent and removed the rocks he had placed to block the wagon’s wheels from rolling.

“I only covered the train incident with the small details your wife added.”

Small details like his involvement with Shane Dennison in the bank robbery, no doubt. Quillan pulled himself up to the box.

“Mind if I catch a ride?” Pierce grabbed hold of the edge of the box.

Quillan did mind, but by the time he’d released the brake and taken up the reins, Pierce was aboard.

“Now hear me out, Quillan. I’ve started, and I may as well go the whole hog before you tip me over the side.” He laughed. “The fact is, people were considerably taken with this piece, with you, and it doesn’t take a Philadelphia lawyer to see the opportunity. I’ve sold Harper’s Monthly magazine on a series of biographical sketches featuring the hero of the Union Pacific.”

Quillan kept his eyes straight ahead. “Did they catch Dennison?”

Nonplussed, Pierce regrouped. “Not that I’ve heard. But he hasn’t hit another train along the line since you put him off. Now, as I was saying—”

“Two letters, Pierce: N and O.”

“The world needs heroes, Quillan. People to respect for their fortitude, courage, and old-fashioned gumption.”

Quillan shook his head, amazed by Pierce’s own fortitude. He surmised that nothing short of tipping him over the side of his wagon would suffice. If he were such a hero, why did Carina’s father refuse to acknowledge their marriage? Why did the quarry men shun him? Last night God had shown him that man’s esteem was worthless and at any rate, beyond him. Now here was Roderick Pierce, laying out the kingdoms of the world before him.

Was it the enemy trying to steal the peace he’d found in God alone?

To turn him back to groveling for acceptance among those who would never understand, never accept? Fame. The wagon rocked over a ridge and corresponding dip, but Pierce stayed in the box.

“Well, I know you’re a private man, but in truth, I’ve gathered enough to make a start on the sketches from other sources.”

That irked. “If it’s Hod Tabor, he’s got more gas than evidence. Might as well write a dime store version and be done.”

“That’s why I’m here. Mrs. Shepard charged me on the train to tell it right. She sent me here today.”

Quillan jerked the reins and turned. “You saw Carina?”

“I did.” Pierce sobered.

“How was she?” Quillan could have bitten his tongue, but he had to know.

“Well, now that you ask, she wasn’t good, not good at all. Quite upset. She’d been crying.”

Quillan’s heart tore. By now he had thought her embraced by her family’s love, imagined her wooed and comforted by the same. “Did she say anything?”

“Just that I’d find you here. Trouble, is there?”

Quillan looked into Pierce’s face. An unlikely confessor for sure, but the one person who, however misguided, seemed to care. “Yes, there’s trouble. Carina’s father, the good dottore, wants no part of me as a son-in-law. Her betrothed, from whom she fled to Crystal, wants me dead. And just about every Italian in town bows to one or the other.”