“Yes, I can.”
Before she leaves, he gives her an autographed copy of his book titled, “The Transcendental Mystiques.” It is fact filled with the history of magic.
“Thank you. You have given me hope. I shall cherish it and study hard. Will I see you at the ball this evening?” she asks.
“Of course, I shall make my rounds. Practice blocking before the ball, Cassandra. Entering a room with that many intentions is hard for a normal person, let alone one as gifted as you.” He kisses her cheek before parting ways.
Cassie sits quietly by the fireplace and collects her book before heading back to her room. If her vision was correct, then Eustace is coming after her. The only thing to do is erase her trail, but first, she must tell Dalton of her past. It isn't fair to drag him into this, but it is too late for those worries.
When Cassie returns to her suite, she finds Mr. Astor waiting for her outside her door. “Madame, your husband insisted I give you this personally.” He hands her a sealed note and opens the door for her.
“Thank you, Mr. Astor.” She says quietly and shuts the door. Walking to the burning fireplace, she slips open the note.
Dear Cassie,
I had some ranch business that needed my attention. Tonight, is the Palace Ball, and I look forward to spending another evening in your company. Today I hope that you rest and catch up on your sleep.
Yours truly,
Dalton
She sighs and presses the note to her chest. Cassie yawns and decides to read some of her books and take a nap. Her dress should arrive sometime early afternoon, and she has a feeling she will need her rest for the ball tonight. Monsieur Constant said that large groups are difficult to block. Perhaps Dalton will be okay if they don't stay very long. She falls asleep thinking of his mouth on hers and his arms around her.
Chapter 11
The Surveyor
Solomon Abbott has been working for the last five years for Mr. Wells. His job is simple; survey and report back. If the report is positive, he sets up the mining camp and hires the workers to get the job done fast. He hires the best, only those who are well acquainted with a gun and the mining industry. Both go hand in hand.
The old techniques of dry washing are crude but effective. “Sheriff Bower, I will be camping here for a few nights before sending my report on. I promise not to get in the way of the workers.”
“No problem, Mr. Abbott. I must admit I was surprised to learn that Cassandra Wolfe is in San Francisco, we thought she had died in the fire or mining accident.” The older man looks at Solomon waiting for a response.
“I only report, sir. I really wouldn't know anything about that. How large is the parcel of land here?” He asks purposely avoiding the prying question.
“Just about a thousand acres. Mr. Wolfe inherited it from his grandfather who homesteaded the land. When he discovered the mine, he did the opposite of what most would have done. He opened the mine and offered a percentage to any who wanted to work it.” Sheriff Bower’s voice grows husky, “He was a good man.”
Solomon glances at the Sheriff with unease. “Why did his daughter run? If things were so amicable, why leave?”
A flash of fear is gone quickly, and the older man turns away, “I don't rightly know. Perhaps losing the last of her family left her feeling alone and hopeless. I can show you the mine.”
He turns his horse and Solomon follows feeling like there is more to this story. When they arrive at the mine shock flickers across his face. The high mountainside is strewn with rubble. The surrounding trees are blackened from fire, and the grass is a burned and lifeless field.
“What happened here?”
“It was a freak accident, from what we can tell whoever was mining hit a gas pocket and it went from the mine to the main home through a cave or something. The house collapsed with a group of men inside, and the dynamite stored in the barn exploded when the house did. It burned for three days before we were able to slow it down. Rain showers helped. I suggest you be careful where you dig and where you camp, Mr. Abbott. There will be some who won't be happy about you being here. You know where to find me if you need anything.” With that warning, the sheriff leaves.
Solomon watches the man ride away and sighs. He is rarely invited to Sunday supper. Most see him as a threat, but he survived his service in the army, which gave him a specific useful skill set. He can handle these people. Though something about the Sheriff's story isn't adding up. He rides around the mine being sure to stay clear of those who are working it. The surrounding damage and burn marks are extreme.
Miners hit gas pockets all the time, and they either explode or suffocate due to a lack of air. They used canaries hung in cages to detect high levels of gas. If the birds died, they would run like hell for the surface.
Looking around at the pattern of debris he realizes the mine is caved inward not outward, as it would be for a regular gas explosion. He files that observation away for later and turns heading in the direction of the house shown on the map.
Riding up to the rubble of the house, he slows his horse to a trot. He slides from his horse and walks around looking closely at the debris and scorch marks. He leans down and pulls from the dirt, half a stick of unexploded dynamite with a blasting cap
