Brand 9 Read online

‘It’s next door to mine,’ he said simply, as if that explained everything.

  Virginia smiled wryly. ‘Oh. Why? Do you think I’ll be needing your help again?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised.’

  He turned to go. Almost without realizing what she was doing Virginia reached out to touch his arm. He turned back towards her, his head lifting, and for the first time Virginia was able to see his face clearly. Beneath the dark stubble and without the near-scowl it could have passed for handsome, though there was no softness to it at the moment. No trace of effeminacy. Even the eyes mirrored the exterior hardness. Virginia felt a faint shiver run through her. She couldn’t explain why. This man didn’t frighten her but she realized that she had become aware of his potential violence. He was not a man to be trifled with. Now she recalled the way the desk clerk had behaved and she could see why. This man had no need to advertise himself. People only needed to look at him, talk to him, to know who and what they were dealing with. The thought ran through Virginia’s mind that this was the kind of man she could do with at her side.

  Perhaps ...

  She realized her hand was still touching his arm. She drew back slowly.

  ‘I just wanted to say thank you for what you did. ‘Mister...?’

  A humorless smile ghosted across his stern mouth before he spoke, forming the word as if he wasn’t sure of it himself.

  ‘Name’s Brand, ma’am. Jason Brand.’

  Not giving Virginia time to respond he turned and walked to the door of his own room. Without a backward glance he opened the door and stepped inside, closing the door firmly after him. He left Virginia Maitland staring after him, angry and intrigued at the same time, and also confused as to why he was having such an effect on her. She was still trying to puzzle it out as she entered her own room, securely locking her door before she crossed over to the bed...

  Chapter Two

  Struggling out of the thick coat Jason Brand tossed it across the foot of the bed. He flung his hat on top of the coat. He stood for a moment in the middle of the room, staring moodily at the thick snow swirling outside his window. Not for the first time did he declare himself a damn fool for coming to such a Godforsaken place as Butte in the middle of what looked like the worst winter in history. Not that he’d had any other place to go. All he’d wanted was to get out of Agua Verde and the fussy ministrations of that damn doctor. Three weeks he’d been in that place. He’d been just about ready to crawl up the wall by then - but if he’d been thinking he’d had enough there was more to come. The doc, the Rurales, they wouldn’t leave him alone. Dogging him from morning till night. Questions and more questions. He’d taken it until he could take no more. After that he just let go at them. He’d never believed a room could empty of people so quickly. After that it was only the Doctor who came to see him. Brand figured he could do with that but only up to a point. He had enough to handle on his own, because he knew nothing of himself apart from his name - and only that because someone had told him what it was.

  When the stern faced doctor had explained what was wrong with him Brand’s first reaction bad been stunned silence. It took a little swallowing. The silence had helped to conceal a fair amount of initial panic. He’d figured he had a right to be scared. It wasn’t every day a man lost his identity, his past, and found himself mentally naked. He had no knowledge of his former character, how he might have acted in such a situation, and it left him off-guard, somehow unable to cope. But a little while later, left alone, he had been able to rationalize his feelings. Get himself sorted out. There was no point in fretting over what had happened. He had to accept it and make the best of it. Acceptance, however, didn’t help too much. And as the time slid by and he got stronger he began to get restless. He found himself wondering if that was part of his old self. Had he been the restless kind? Unable to put up with inactivity? Wanting some kind of distraction? He had some luck in that direction when he was allowed to leave the hospital after a couple more days. The savage blow he had received to his head was healing on the outside, but the internal damage, according to the medical man, might take lot longer. All he needed was rest. Time would do the repairs. He’d asked how much time - but the doctor couldn’t tell him. Whatever healing process there was, it lay inside his head, and the body had its own timetable for recovery. It might take a month, six months, a year. It might never right itself. The doctor’s last statement was ringing in his ears, and he felt like a new born baby tossed out onto the street. Something would slip into the conscious stream of his thoughts, just long enough for Brand to become aware, but then it would drift away before he could grasp it, leaving him coldly fuming at his inability to take command of his own memory. He found he had a gray, shifting mass of imagery on the fringe of his conscious mind. Partly composed pictures of faces, of places, names which refused to reach his lips. Yet even this help did little to satisfy Brand. The long days drifted by in a haze. Brand stared at the walls of his room in the hospital room in Agua Verde until he could take no more. In the early hours of a cool morning he got dressed. He strapped on the gun belt and dropped the big Colt into the holster. The gun had been with him during his time in the hospital room. It was the only thing he had any union with. The weapon felt familiar to him, and he didn’t need telling that the Colt was an important part of his life. He had no way of knowing why. He just knew it was a link with his past. His only one, and he had no intention of losing it. Brand had slipped quietly out of the hospital. He’d been told he had a horse at the livery but he had decided against riding out. His condition had left him weak, so he figured taking the train might be less of a strain and would at least give him time to rest up. He made his way to the small depot and bought himself a ticket on the first train out that crossed the border into the US, and when that one reached the end of the line he picked up another. He traveled in this haphazard fashion for over a week. He had no destination, no final resting place. Just a need to be on the move. To be alone. Away from the claustrophobic atmosphere of Agua Verde where there were too many people asking too many questions. He found that he felt more at ease out on the vast, sprawling open countryside. A small part of his character began to show itself. He was in harmony with this wild land. He felt it deep inside. Despite his yearning to travel he finally tired of the long, boring days sitting in draughty carriages, staring out at emptiness, with only the mournful sound of the train whistle breaking the silence of the wilderness. On a bitterly cold afternoon Brand had stepped down from the train that had brought him to the snow-covered township of Butte in the Montana Territory. At the back of his mind, was a vague feeling that told him he’d been here before. Perhaps some memory had drawn him back again. He couldn’t he sure, and he didn’t feel that it mattered. Tramping up into town through the crisp, frozen snow, Brand had picked out a hotel, booked a room, and had settled in for an indefinite stay. He had enough money in his pocket to see him through the winter, and if nobody found him he figured he could find satisfaction here. A couple of weeks later, with Butte practically cut off, Brand had begun to question his choice of refuge. He had sampled Butte’s complete range of amenities, and he was beginning to feel as if he was back in Agua Verde. He was bored, impatient with his mind’s refusal to return to its normal condition, and he desperately needed some kind of distraction. That had been the night a beautiful young woman named Virginia Maitland had stepped into his life. Brand had involved himself in her affairs without an invitation, knowing exactly what he was doing, and somehow accepting the fact that he was bound to regret his actions sometime in the not too distant future...

  ~*~

  Brand turned away from the window. He stretched out on his bed and gazed up at the ceiling, following a long, zigzag crack that ran from one corner to the other. He thought about Virginia Maitland, trying to figure out what she was doing in a Godforsaken place like Butte in the middle of winter. He had thoughts, too, about the man who had attacked her. The man had been something more than just an over-excited drunk
after a bit of company. He’d deliberately waited for the woman, biding his time in the darkness, and if Brand’s curiosity hadn’t been aroused he would have got away with whatever he’d intended. Virginia Maitland was evidently a young woman in demand for some reason. Brand wished he knew what. That would have to come later.

  He dragged the blankets over him, deciding to sleep on the matter. He found sleep hard because he couldn’t get it out of his mind, that Virginia Maitland was in the next room, and he realized now that that was just a little too close for comfort. His comfort.

  His next clear recollection was of someone rapping sharply on the door of his room. Brand sat up, tossing the blankets off his legs. He lurched off the bed, rubbing a hand across his stiff face. Still half asleep he located the door and yanked it open.

  ‘Good morning, Mr. Brand.’

  Brand stared into Virginia Maitland’s smiling face and tried to understand the logic behind anyone being so damn cheerful so early in the day. He glanced over his shoulder. Beyond the window of his room snow was still falling heavily out of a lead-gray sky.

  ‘What time is it?’ he asked.

  Virginia laughed softly. ‘Almost seven-thirty,’ she said.

  ‘God, woman, what’re you thinking of?’ Brand turned away from her in disgust. He crossed to the washstand and picked up the big jug, spilling water into the basin. His flesh cringed when he splashed the icy liquid over his face. He snatched up the towel and dried his face.

  ‘I would like you to be my guest for breakfast, Mr. Brand,’ he heard Virginia say.

  ‘It’s about the best offer I’ve had today.’ Brand peered at his face in the mirror and decided he could get away without a shave. He ran a comb through his dark hair. ‘You mind if I put on a fresh shirt first?’ he asked.

  ‘Shall I leave?’ Virginia asked, not entirely hiding the amusement in her tone.

  ‘I figure you’re old enough to make up your own mind about that.’

  She stepped into the room and closed the door.

  ‘Have you come to Butte for any particular reason, Mr. Brand?’ she asked pointedly.

  Brand looked up from unfolding a clean shirt. ‘Happened to be where the train stopped.’ He stripped off his creased shirt and tossed it on the bed. ‘Isn’t too polite to ask too many questions like that.’

  ‘I had my reasons,’ she said. Her eyes were drawn to the scars and the puckered tissue of old wounds marking his hard-muscled torso. Almost guiltily she looked into his face. ‘I need to know whether or not you have a job, Mr. Brand, because if the answer is no I can offer you employment. If you think you might be interested.’

  Brand picked up his coat and hat. ‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘I talk a whole lot better on a full stomach.’

  Chapter Three

  ‘More coffee, Mr. Brand?’

  Brand nodded and pushed his cup across the table. He watched as Virginia filled it, appreciating the opportunity of being able to take a good look at her. He only confirmed an earlier decision - she was a beautiful young woman. He had no doubts on that score.

  ‘Do I pass your inspection, Mr. Brand?’ Virginia asked, her eyes lifting from the filled coffee cup.

  ‘Bernie cooks a good breakfast,’ Brand said casually. ‘Don’t you think so?’

  Virginia smiled. ‘Yes, Mr. Brand, he does.’

  They were the only customers at this early hour. Brand had chosen the same table he’d been using the previous evening. They had eaten their meal in comparative silence. Despite her earlier mood of calm Virginia had begun to show signs of unease.

  ‘I think it’s time I offered you an explanation, Mr. Brand,’ Virginia said. She paused for a moment, searching for the right words, which she had been putting together all through the meal. Now, though, none of them seemed to fit. ‘You have probably realized by my accent that I am English. My home is a small village in Buckinghamshire, not far from London. For the past few years, however, I have spent a great deal of time in America. Until nine months ago I accompanied my father on his business trips. He became ill very suddenly and died within a week. I was left an inheritance comprising of a large number of businesses, both here and in England. My mother died many years ago and I have no brothers or sisters. My father, thankfully, was a man who did not allow discrimination to get in the way of ability. The fact that I was a woman made no difference to my being taught all about his considerable business enterprises. And I enjoyed the opportunity. To be honest, Mr. Brand, I was surprised when my father’s will became known. He had left everything to me. His entire business empire and his money. Financially I am an extremely wealthy woman. If I closed down all the businesses tomorrow I would still have more than enough money to live on. In hard cash alone I am worth somewhere in the region of four million dollars. I am telling you this to show you that I am not just an empty-headed woman acting on impulse. I pride myself on being capable of rational decisions.’

  ‘Was it a rational decision that brought you out here in the middle of winter?’

  ‘The situation, Mr. Brand, demanded that I act without delay. It is unfortunate that we cannot always control every aspect of every situation, which occurs. However, I do not intend to let a snowstorm stop me.’

  He toyed with his cup of coffee. ‘What about aspects like that feller last night? Appeared to me you were having difficulty controlling him.’

  Virginia glared at him but resisted the urge to argue. ‘I don’t deny the fact I was in trouble before you came along. Which is why I have a proposition to put to you. If you are interested.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Before I come to that I’d like to explain why I am here. North of Butte, about two days’ ride, is a town called Bannock, the center of an area supporting a number of copper mines. Three of the mines belong to me. My father was one of the first to start mining around Bannock. The largest of the mines - Maitland One - has the highest yield of copper ore for miles around. It has one of the richest veins ever discovered. To date it has been producing for nearly three years and shows no sign of running out.’

  ‘So what’s your problem?’

  ‘My father always believed in paying good wages. Looking after the men who worked for him. The mines at Bannock are no exception. Despite that fact there has been a considerable amount of trouble. More than once production has been disrupted. Men have been attacked. Company property has been destroyed. Three times wagons taking ore to the smelters at Anaconda have been stolen. A man died during one of the thefts. A man who worked for me.’

  ‘What about the local law?’ Brand asked.

  Virginia smiled. ‘Perhaps you haven’t had much to do with mining towns, Mr. Brand. If you had you would know that they are their own law. They make their own rules and expect everyone to abide by those rules. A town like Bannock is a closed community. It lives for the mines, and the mines need the town. Each is a part of the other. Bannock looks after its own. Nobody interferes with a town like Bannock. Copper is an extremely valuable commodity, Mr. Brand. Not only is it used in this country, it is also exported. As far as Washington is concerned they are happy to leave places like Bannock alone as long as the ore keeps coming out. Short of mass-murder and civil war the outside world will leave Bannock to deal with its own problems.’

  ‘Sounds the kind of situation just ripe for trouble.’

  ‘I think that is what’s happened in Bannock. I’ve based my suspicions on a number of letters received from the man responsible for managing the three Maitland mines. His name is Jack Bell. I know him personally. He has worked for my father for many years. He knows his job and he knows mining towns. And the things he put in the letters he sent to me all point to the same thing. That there is trouble. He talks of frightened miners. Of hired thugs terrorizing them. Accidents. Thefts. His last letter was the one which prompted me to come here. In it he said that he had found out what was going on but he was sure that the people responsible were on to him. I think he’s in trouble, Mr. Brand. For his sake and for the men who
work in those mines I have to get to Bannock to find out what is happening.’

  Brand shook his head slowly. ‘Damnit, couldn’t you have sent someone else?’

  ‘Who? Jack Bell said in one of his letters that he had got to the point where he trusted no one. Not even his own administration staff. He felt sure that someone amongst his own work force was working for the people responsible for the troubles. It made me realize that there might be someone in my own organization doing exactly the same. How could I confide in anyone? Which face could I trust? My father had always believed in going out and dealing with the dirty jobs himself. So I decided to do the same. I know my way around mining camps and I also know the business. If there’s something going on I’ll find out what it is. The only problem is that it seems my presence has already become common knowledge. I told no one in New York where I was going or what I intended doing. But someone did find out and warned Bannock. The proof came in the shape of that man last night.’

  ‘Where I came in,’ Brand remarked.

  Virginia nodded. ‘And where I’d like you to stay,’ she said. ‘Mr. Brand, determination and logic are all right in their place. But I’m no good against violent men or the threat of physical harm. I know this and that is why I would like to hire you to guide me to Bannock, and to stay by my side all the time, wherever I go.’

  ‘That could he both interesting and downright embarrassing.’

  ‘And that would be all the time with reservations, Mr. Brand.’

  ‘You could be walking in on a hell of lot more trouble than you ever dreamed of. If these people do exist, and they’ve realized you might be on to them, they might decide to stop you the permanent way.’

  ‘The thought had crossed my mind, Mr. Brand. But you carry a gun, don’t you?

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you know how to use it I presume?’