Chapter Eleven
The next morning, Dean woke up to Lydia moaning beside him on the bed and clutching her head.
“What is it? Are you ill?” he asked, alarmed.
“My head is killing me,” she said. “This happens to me every so often.”
“How can I help?”
“Make sure the curtains are closed tight,” she moaned. “I can’t handle even a little light when these episodes happen.”
Dean adjusted the dust-colored curtains so that they fully shielded the outside light. “Should you see a doctor?”
“No, I’ll be fine. But I need to rest. I can’t get married or accompany you to the bank. We’ll have to wait for this to pass.”
“Of course, I understand.” Though he felt disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to marry her that day, he was mostly worried about her health. “You’re sure this is a usual occurrence that requires no doctor?”
“Yes, very sure. Just go take care of your business. If I’m lucky, it will pass in a few hours.”
“Shouldn’t I stay with you?”
“No, it will help if you leave. I should be in complete silence. Talking and listening hurts.”
“Say no more.” Dean kissed her gently on her aching head and left. He stopped at the hotel’s front desk and asked that breakfast be served to Lydia in her room and that the person delivering it knock lightly.
Though he would have preferred marrying Lydia that morning, having some free time enabled him to purchase supplies he needed to transport back to the cabin, such as grain, flour, and a new hammer. He exchanged pleasantries with the townsfolk, which further convinced him that no one suspected him of the robbery. He posted Mary and Matthew Dunlap’s belongings without a hitch, addressed from Lydia Shaw to them in Sacramento, and was relieved to be rid of that burden.
When the time came for him to visit the banker, Dean was in high spirits. As far as he could tell, everything was working out. Even if he never recovered the money from the gold that had been stolen, at least the miners would be taken care of with this loan, and he and John would put securities in place to ensure the mined gold was never stolen again.
Dean whistled as he turned the doorknob of the bank’s door and walked in. Mr. Stein looked up from his desk and waved him over. “Come sit down, Mr. Hunter. I have some news.”
“Good news, I hope?” Dean said, taking a seat across the table from him.
“Well, yes and no. I received confirmation that money from your royalties will indeed be wired to your account when it comes time for the distribution. But the thing is, your account has a co-signer by the name of John Peters.”
Dean nodded. “That’s my business partner.”
“Right. Well, to give you this loan, I must first get permission from your business partner as well as from you. You see, according to the records, the royalties from your invention belong as much to Mr. Peters as they do to you.”
Dean frowned. “There must be some mistake. John set up the account for me, but the money from the royalties belongs to me alone.”
“It’s probably a paperwork error,” Mr. Stein said. “But still, I can’t give you the loan until he also approves the repayment of it.”
“I understand. I’ll track down John at the mine and bring him here to sort this whole thing out.”
Mr. Stein flashed him a grateful smile. “Perfect, and I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Not your fault,” Dean said, standing. He shook the banker’s hand and walked back to the hotel. He was disappointed that he hadn’t been able to secure the loan due to a paperwork error, but he was convinced the problem could be easily fixed. He only needed to tell Lydia what happened and travel to the mine to find John.
When he entered the hotel room, he discovered that Lydia’s condition had not improved. She was still lying on her back in bed, holding a wet cloth against her head. She squinted at him as he walked quietly to her.
“Still hurting?” he asked in a soft voice.
“Yes,” she whispered. “This is a particularly bad one. It should be gone by tomorrow, though. After a night of sleep it almost always dissipates.”
“I hate to see you in pain like this,” he said.
She smiled vaguely. “Tell me, what happened at the bank? Did you get the loan?” she asked in a pinched voice.
“There’s been a complication,” he told her. “My partner John has to sign off on the loan since the royalties will be deposited into an account with both our names on it. It’s a paperwork error. He shouldn’t have access to the account, he was just supposed to set it up. I’m going to ride out to the mine and track him down, have him come with me to the bank and sign. Also have him set the records straight that the royalties belong to me. Then I’ll get the loan and the miners will have their money.”
She remained quiet with her eyes closed for so long after his explanation that Dean guessed she’d fallen asleep. He leaned over and kissed her softly. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. I’ll spend the night at my partner’s house. He lives by the mine.”
Her eyes opened slowly. “Your partner’s name is John?” she whispered.
He nodded. “Yes, you’ve met him. Didn’t I tell you? He was on the coach when I robbed it.”
“No, you didn’t tell me. I didn’t know that man was your partner.”
He shrugged. “I meant to tell you. One of those details that doesn’t matter much. You rest up, darlin’, feel better.” He walked away as quietly as he could and shut the door softly behind him.