Adobe Palace

by Joyce Brandon

  “Nothing, sweet,” she murmured. “We’re just worried about Samantha.”

  “Have you heard any word from her?” Chane asked Bill Penney.

  “Well, no, not directly. But we got a wire that there’s a crazy Indian woman killing folks all over that area. And we got a bunch of workmen and a big shipment of building materials for Mrs. Forrester. Looks like she may have been burned out or something. There’re enough men and enough stuff on those flatcars down there to build a couple of houses.”

  Chane scowled. Amy whined, and Jennifer bounced her to quiet her. “You’d better go see about Samantha,” she said.

  “I can’t leave you now.”

  “You’ll be back by tomorrow, latest, won’t you?”

  “I suppose so.” He turned to Bill Penney. “Put together a train for me with my palace car and the flatcars of building materials. I’ll take Mrs. Kincaid home and be right back.”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Penney said, following them toward the Kincaids’ heavily sprung brougham carriage that had just rolled up to the station platform. “Mr. Lance Kincaid has requested a special train to take him to Mrs. Forrester’s house, too. I just got the request this morning and was going to act on it favorably, but I realized you’d be here by the time I could anyway…”

  “Thanks, Bill, you did well. Route my train through Durango and I’ll pick Lance up. Wire him and tell him what time to expect me.”

  Bill Penney grinned. “It’s as good as done, sir.” There was only a narrow gauge track to Durango, installed to service Lance’s mine and the copper mine, but Penney knew how to handle the transfers.

  Two hours later, Chane knocked on the open door of the L & K Silver Mine in Durango. Logan was a silent partner. Lance made all the daily operating decisions. The part of the building visible to Chane was empty, and no one answered. Chane glanced around the deserted work site.

  A man strolled up the slope from town, saw him, and angled over to greet him. “Looking for Mr. Kincaid?” he asked, pulling a toothpick out from between his front teeth.

  “Yes.”

  “He’s in the mine. We sprung a leak this morning, and he’s working with the engineers to try to stop it before it puts us out of business.”

  “Can you show me where I might find him?”

  Just as he asked the question Lance strode out of the mine shaft with three other men.

  Chane waved, saw Lance wave back, then walked over to meet him. Lance didn’t look happy, but that was to be expected. No man wanted water instead of silver.

  Lance wiped heavy beads of sweat off his forehead. His shirt was sweated through, his face streaked and dirty. “I guess Yoshio couldn’t keep his mouth shut,” he growled.

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Chane said, surprised at his brother’s truculent mood. “You requested a special train to Samantha’s house. Since I’m going that way, too, I decided, if you don’t object,” he said, squinting at his brother’s obvious hostility, “that we could share the same train.”

  Lance turned to the men who had followed him out of the mine. “You know what to do. I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

  Without another word to Chane, Lance strode down the slight incline toward town. Chane scowled and followed. Something was amiss.

  “How’s Angie?” he asked of his brother’s broad back.

  “How the hell should I know!”

  That answer explained a lot. “Something happened?”

  “She moved to San Francisco and filed for divorce.”

  “Why?”

  “I guess she found someone else.”

  Chane lengthened his stride to walk beside Lance. “I’m not the smartest man in the world when it comes to women, but I’d have bet all my stock in the Texas and Pacific that Angie was and still is deeply in love with you.”

  “Well, you’d be looking for work now, wouldn’t you?” The bitterness in Lance’s husky voice evoked an ache of compassion in Chane.

  “So, what now?” he asked.

  “Now?” Lance repeated, squinting through narrowed eyes. “Now I guess I just pick up the pieces and go on. Unless I’ve missed something…”

  “You’re bitter now…”

  “No!” said Lance, his tone sardonic.

  “Angie loves you, and you love her. I expect this’ll work out, if you give it a chance.”

  “Talking to Angie lately has been about as easy as kicking a mule up a ladder.” Lance stopped abruptly. “If you didn’t know, what brought you to Durango?”

  Chane told him about Samantha’s train and the crazy Indian woman who was killing people. “You want to go with me? If not I’ll wire Bill Penney to send another train whenever you say.”

  “I don’t mind going with you, but I have to change first. You can wait at the train if you want.”

  “I’ll walk with you. It’ll do me good. I’ve been cooped up on trains for the last two days.”

  They skirted the small town’s main street in favor of one less traveled. The houses looked deserted. Sleepy dogs lay on porches or under trees. Occasionally one got up enough energy to bark at them.

  Walking beside his brother, matching his long strides in silence, Chane realized he had felt uncomfortable ever since he’d seen his brother coming toward him earlier. Now his mind was giving form to that feeling. He realized Lance looked exactly the way he’d looked and sounded after Lucinda died—like a wounded animal gathering its energy to do destruction.

  Chane did a quick calculation. Lance was thirty-five now. He had fallen in love with Lucinda when he was seventeen. Lucinda had been twenty, three years older than Lance, and that had been enough of a difference to incur the Kincaid family disapproval. In spite of that, Lance and Lucinda had planned to marry when he graduated from Harvard Law School. Three weeks after his graduation, she’d been murdered.

  Lance had tracked down two of the three men who’d done it and had killed them with his bare hands. Afterward, he’d been so horrified at what he’d done that he hadn’t pursued the third. At their father’s suggestion, Chane had taken his brother off to France for a holiday. Unfortunately Lance had done anything but rest. He had broken hearts and savaged women’s lives all over Paris. It had taken the experience with Colette, Chane’s fiancée, to finally stop him.

  Chane had heard the truth about what had happened between Lance and Colette only after it was over. Colette was tawny skinned, tawny haired, and lithe as a young kitten, and Chane had loved her. Lance and Colette had known each other without his knowledge. Apparently she had flirted with Lance every day as he walked by the small dress shop where she worked. Lance had warned her that she couldn’t get away with that forever, but she had only smiled her seductive smile at him and continued to tease him.

  Finally Lance had kidnapped her and kept her for three days, making love to her repeatedly, even though he would not tell her his name or allow her to tell him hers. He told her he didn’t want to know anything about her except the smell of her flesh as he made love to her. When the three days were over he took her back to her shop and did not ask her to keep the secret, even from the police. But of course she did. By then she was madly in love with him and would have done anything for him.

  A month went by, and Lance did not come back for her. She almost died of a broken heart. Then he showed up at the shop and spirited her off for another three days. Same rules. Same disappointment when he returned her.

  Finally Colette came to Chane and told him she needed to break their engagement to marry. She admitted she was in love with a mystery man whose name she did not even know.

  Shortly after that Chane started following Colette and saw the mystery man who had enchanted his fiancée. Then he confronted his brother. Lance was devastated to learn that Colette was Chane’s fiancée and that he had ruined Chane’s relationship. Lance had gotten staggering drunk that night and sailed for America on the next available ship.

  In New York he had quit his job at his father’s firm an
d taken a train to the Arizona Territory. When their mother had asked why he was leaving, he’d said, Maybe if I stay away from civilized people I won’t do any more damage than absolutely necessary.

  Then, much to his family’s chagrin, Lance had taken one of the most dangerous jobs on the frontier—Arizona Ranger. Their father, Chantry Two, had been furious but impotent to do anything about it.

  And now that same bitterness and hardness were back in Lance’s blue eyes. It did not bode well for any woman he singled out.

  Lance changed clothes at the house. They walked back to the mine and boarded the narrow gauge train that had brought Chane on this leg of his journey. When they had transferred to the palace car and were finally headed toward Samantha’s ranch, Chane broached the subject again.

  “So what now?” he asked cautiously.

  Lance shrugged. “Maybe I’ll court Samantha.”

  Chane scowled his displeasure.

  Lance quirked an eyebrow. “You have some objection to that?”

  “I guess not. As long as you remember your manners.”

  “And what if I don’t?” he asked grimly.

  “If you hurt her the way you hurt Colette…”

  “Is that a threat?” Lance asked, his eyes narrowed.

  “A concern.”

  “Sam’s a big girl now.”

  “You’re my brother, and I don’t intend to meddle in your affairs, but I feel the need to speak my mind.” He paused. “Where you’re concerned,” he said carefully, “Samantha is completely vulnerable. You have the ability to deal her a killing blow.”

  “Or to make all her dreams about me come true.”

  “If I trusted that—”

  “So why the hell don’t you?” Lance snapped.

  “When you’re in your right mind, you wouldn’t hurt anyone, especially not Samantha. But you’re…confused right now. You might do something in bitterness that you’ll regret.”

  “And I might not.”

  “So, big brother,” Chane said, “butt out.”

  “Good advice,” Lance growled.

  An hour after Samantha had sent Ramon to fetch Steve, a train pushed its load up the last grade to the house and chuffed to a stop. Recognizing Chane through an open window of the palace car, she picked up her skirts and ran down the porch steps and across the yard.

  “Chane!” she cried.

  His black hair rumpled by the wind, Chane skimmed down the steps of the observation deck, caught her in midflight, and spun her around. “We thought you’d been killed,” he growled. “We came back from a trip to Los Angeles today and found out from Bill Penney your palace car had been all shot up. If Amy hadn’t been sick, Jennie would have come with me.”

  “I’m sorry. I…”

  “Are you all right? Jennie was worried sick.”

  “I meant to send a wire, but—How is Amy?”

  “Running a fever. Measles are going around. You’re all right? And Nicholas?”

  “Yes. Yes, we’re fine.”

  Lance stepped out onto the observation platform, leapt down, and strode toward them.

  “Lance!” Samantha cried, her heart flipping over at the sight of his grim, handsome face relaxing into a smile at the sight of her.

  Chane scrutinized his brother carefully. The smile was a good sign. Maybe, just maybe, Lance would behave himself.

  As Chane watched, men swarmed out of the lead boxcar and walked past them toward Samantha’s water trough. “What the hell are you doing to need all this?” he asked.

  Samantha laughed. “Building a house. Thanks for bringing them. Can you stay for a while?”

  Chane’s green eyes narrowed against the sun. “Who’s building it for you?”

  “I hired a man by the name of Steve Sheridan.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  Samantha glanced from Lance to Chane. Lance shrugged. Chane’s wide jaws clamped in consternation. He pinned her with a look that clearly said that his never hearing of Steve was final condemnation. Every year, Chane looked more like Uncle Chantry, one of the handsomest older men she’d ever seen.

  “Well, I think he’s very good,” she said defensively.

  Lance scowled, too, and it was clear he also didn’t think she should be making decisions like that all by herself.

  “I’m a big girl now,” she said.

  Chane gave a condescending grin and walked back to the train to tell the engineer to shut down the engine and relax while the men unloaded the freight cars. Samantha led Lance into the house.

  “Can you stay awhile?” she asked hopefully. “Come say hello to Nicholas. He’ll be upset if you don’t.”

  “It’s up to Chane.”

  They found Nicholas asleep on his bed. Lance leaned down and kissed his forehead.

  “I’d better wake him,” Samantha whispered.

  “No.”

  Chane joined them. He, too, bent to kiss Nicholas’s forehead. Lance led them out of Nicholas’s room.

  “Jennie wants you to come back to Phoenix with me,” Chane said, glancing around the parlor.

  “Why?” Samantha asked, puzzled.

  “In addition to getting your palace car back with bullet holes in it, and one dead and one wounded employee, we heard there’s a crazed Indian woman murdering people. Jennie wants you to stay with us until they catch her.”

  “That is such a lie!” Samantha said indignantly. Glad that Tristera was outside, she told Chane and Lance what Steve and Tristera had told her. “The cavalry made up the story,” she said, ending.

  Chane asked a few questions, then nodded his understanding. “Well, that should relieve Jennie’s mind. But I’m still worried about your building another house.”

  “You’re probably still upset about this one.”

  Chane nodded.

  “The new house will be nothing like this.” Samantha showed Chane a line drawing of the house Steve was building.

  “Pretty fancy,” Chane said. “Are you sure he can actually build this? It would take quite a builder to make a project like this come out right.”

  “He’s built them before.”

  Chane shook his head. “I’ll do some checking. If he’s any good at all, someone will have heard of him.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “I know you don’t, but humor me, okay?”

  Samantha sighed. “Okay.”

  Juana waddled into the room. “Señor Steve is here.”

  “Here?” Samantha asked, horrified.

  “Sí, señora.”

  Samantha couldn’t imagine worse timing. Chane was in a perfect mood to take Steve on. And for some reason she couldn’t articulate, she didn’t want Lance and Chane picking on Steve.

  “I’ll be right out.” Samantha turned to Lance and Chane, who were both looking at her.

  “You wait here,” she ordered firmly.

  Steve rode up just as Samantha stepped out onto the porch. With an odd sinking feeling around his heart, he realized that his time away from her had not dimmed his attraction to her one iota.

  “Afternoon,” he said glumly.

  She looked up at him, and he knew she had a serious problem of some sort, but a smile started in her beautiful blue eyes and spread over her face until it completely erased the tension he’d seen there. In that moment, with her happiness to see him radiating out of her lovely face, he forgave her anything and everything she might ever do to him. An answering smile took over his own face. They just stood there, smiling at each other.

  Finally Steve said, “You sent for me, remember?”

  “Oh, I forgot! I had something else on my mind.”

  “So do I,” he said, smiling so widely he exposed the gleam of gold in his canine tooth.

  Even confused as she was, Samantha was inordinately pleased by Steve’s teasing, but before she could think of a witty rejoinder, a short white-haired man strode around the corner of the house, stopped at the sight of her, and lifted his battered black derby.<
br />
  “Call me a bloody Jacobite!” he murmured. His Scottish burr and the tartan of his vest labeled him a Scot. Merry blue gnome’s eyes looked out of a round, smiling face framed by frizzy sideburns that grew in wispy white arcs from his ears to the corners of his mouth. His chin and the rest of his face were clean-shaven.

  “Would you look at the lass!” he growled. “’Tis no wonder we’re riding trains through a Godforsaken desert to build a house not even on the schedule.”

  Steve grinned. “I see your sight hasn’t failed you.”

  “A beautay!” Macready said loudly, waving at Samantha. “Why, son, she’s a miracle, that she is. A lass with eyes the color of a Highland lake…set in one of the sweetest faces on God’s green Earth.”

  “She is indeed,” Steve said, smiling at Samantha. “Macready has been in America for twenty years, but he drops into an impressive Scottish burr at will. I think he heard from someone that women find it exotic.”

  Samantha laughed, and Steve felt her laughter all the way to his toes. “Actually my partner, Frank Jakovich, says Ian’s half Scot, half Irish, and all son of a gun when crossed.”

  “Don’t you go believin’ a smidgen o’ that,” Macready said, protesting. “Me beautiful bride’s a bit o’ a nag, so I spend me time at one work site or anither. Thanks to me careful planning, lass, we’ve been ’appily married now for nigh onto twenty-seven years.” Ian Macready slapped his thigh with a meaty hand. “Leastways now,” he said to Steve, “I dinna nee’ to check if ye’ve lost yer senses, lad.”

  “Samantha Forrester, Ian Macready. Ian’s one of the best building supers on either coast.”

  “You must be hot and thirsty, Mr. Macready.”

  “Aye, and she’s as smart as a whip, too!” Macready said, smiling at Steve. “How air ye, lad?”

  “Couldn’t be better now that you’re here. We’ve been working with hoes and scraper boards.”

  “Well, lad, yer days of hardship air over, or they’re just beginning, one or t’other. We’ve brought tools enough for every man in the county.”

  Ian Macready turned away to answer a question from one of the men he’d brought with him. Samantha wanted to warn Steve before he was confronted by Chane and Lance.