Mountain Angel by Patricia McAllister

Author:Patricia McAllister [McAllister, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance/Historical
Published: 2012-06-22T04:00:00+00:00

A SAFE HAVEN, AS it turned out, was a seedy boarding-house close to the railroad tracks. Holt insisted they’d be safer there, but Angel didn’t relish the view or the mouse-infested room they rented for a night.

She insisted on accompanying Holt to the mining claim office the following morning, if only to get out of the boardinghouse. She’d never imagined the confusion once they arrived at the government building to check the status of their claim.

Holt supplied the name of his father and the mine, and they waited a half hour for the clerk to research the deed. When the fellow returned shaking his head both Holt and Angel stared at him in disbelief.

“Sorry; can’t find anything. You sure it’s under the name Murphy? Spelled M-u-r-p-h-y?”

“Yes, or the Lucky Devil Mine. Did you check all the records?”

The elderly clerk squinted at Holt indignantly over his pince-nez. “I always do, young man. ’Fraid I checked everything there was.”

“Then I suggest you check again — ” Holt began hotly, but Angel placed a restraining hand on his arm. She adopted her sweetest, most cajoling tone with the clerk.

“Sir, what about McCloud? Royce McCloud. Try that name.”

Grumbling, the clerk wandered back to his dusty files, only to return a short time later with a thick sheaf of papers.

“Yep, it’s here, all right,” he announced. “You could of saved me a lot of time by giving me the right name in the first place.”

“Yes, yes, but what does it say about the Lucky Devil?” Holt interrupted impatiently.

“That’s another thing, son. T’ain’t called the Lucky Devil. It’s spelled out clear right here.” He opened the file and jabbed an ink-stained thumb on the deed. “A-n-g-e-l. Lucky Angel. Odd name for a mine,” he mused. “’Pears there’s been some misunderstandin’ on your end.”

Angel and Holt exchanged shocked glances. “Are you sure?” they asked in unison.

The clerk shoved the file at them. “See for yourself.”

They did, and it was. Angel shook her head over that revelation, as much as another paper Holt read aloud a second later.

“I hereby deed over all my claim in aforesaid mine to my partner, Royce McCloud …”

It was signed by Arthur Murphy and dated several months before his death.

Holt slammed the file shut with a poof of dust. His face drained of color. Angel understood then that she alone, not she and Holt, had inherited the mine. It was renamed for her, and it belonged to her now. Holt had inherited nothing.

“There must be some mistake,” she said.

“No mistake.” Holt spoke curtly. “It’s Arthur’s signature, all right. What I don’t understand is why the old bastard didn’t bother to tell me he’d sold out.”

“Holt, please.” Angel understood his rage and disappointment, and placed her hand over his balled fist on the counter. “It doesn’t change anything.”

He jerked his hand away. “The hell it doesn’t. All my life I’ve sweated, broken my back in that hellhole, for Arthur and his dreams, and he led me to believe I’d have a stake in it someday.

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