Nevada Nights

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  Miriam’s eyes widened at the description of a herd of wild mustangs loping across the barren hills. Cameron recognized the yearning for that same kind of freedom and found herself wondering, as she had so often, how Miriam had managed to keep her sanity in this house of hatreds. Until recently, a simmering anger seemed to be her only emotion. But lately Cameron sensed other emotions. Miriam was like someone who was awakening from a long slumber.

  Ti entered carrying an embroidered lap robe. He placed it over Miriam’s knees, then lifted her easily in his arms.

  "Nina says you are to have some sunshine." He looked down into her upturned face, and Cameron nearly gasped at the tenderness in his expression.

  If Miriam couldn’t see the affection Ti felt for her, she must be blind.

  Following them outside, Cameron watched as Ti settled Miriam onto a blanket spread on the grass.

  "I’ll be back in a minute with fresh lemonade." He turned to Cameron. "Shall I bring you some too?"

  "No, thank you, Ti. I’m leaving."

  When he was gone, she knelt beside Miriam. "How long have Ti and Nina been here?"

  Miriam frowned. "Alex left about seven years ago on a ship bound for the Caribbean. When he returned, he brought his bride, Nina, and her brother, Ti." She shook her head. "Poor Nina. Alex had convinced her father that he was a good, Christian man and a wealthy landowner in America and that she would live like a queen." Her voice lowered conspira- torially. "Ti and Nina are a real prince and princess, Cammy. Their family is royalty on a small Caribbean island. When they were here for a while, they realized that they had been brought back only to be used as unpaid servants."

  "Why don’t they leave?"

  Miriam glanced around before speaking. "I don’t think Alex would mind if Nina left. There is no love there. But she would never see little Alexander again. Alex would see to that."

  "And Ti? Why doesn’t he go?"

  Miriam frowned. "I’ve often wondered. There’s nothing here to hold him back."

  Cameron touched Miriam’s hand. "I think there is, Miriam. You."

  Miriam’s eyes widened in shock. "Me! Don’t be silly. Why would he stay for my sake?"

  "I can’t believe you’re so blind. Can’t you see the way he looks at you? Ti is in love with you, Miriam."

  She watched her half-sister’s gaze wander to the dark, handsome figure walking toward them. Standing, Cameron smiled at the look of shock on Miriam’s face. She was thunderstruck.

  * * *

  The day after their conversation, Cameron made it a point to ride to the same location where she had spotted the fresh digging. This time when she dismounted she walked to a stick she had pounded into the earth on her previous visit. She stared for long minutes, then mounted and rode in a circular path around the mine entrance, looking for anything that would give her a clue as to who could be digging on her land. She was certain now that there had been fresh work done here. Yesterday, the top of the stick had marked the height of the mound of dirt. Today, the mound was nearly a foot higher than the top of the stick. Someone had managed to haul a lot of dirt from below the ground. She was certain of one thing. This work hadn’t been done in the light of day.

  As she headed her horse toward home, she came to a decision. She would grab a quick nap before dinner. Tonight she would need to be alert while she concealed herself along a ridge overlooking the fresh mine shaft.

  * * *

  Dinner seemed to go on forever. Alex was in a rare expansive mood. Usually surly and uncommunicative, tonight he seemed almost jolly by comparison.

  "I hear old Lampton’s failing. Doc says he won’t live much longer." He turned to Cameron. "You remember your first introduction to the town drunk, little sister."

  Dark eyes flashed her a knowing look, and she found herself flushing as she recalled again that night in the saloon. Alex would never let her forget it.

  Alex gave a cruel laugh. "Old Lampton is the town drunk’s father. All these years that old man was just too ornery to die. Till now. And his son will soon drink himself to death." He snorted. "Good riddance. To both of them."

  For the first time that she could recall, Cameron saw Nina’s temper flare.

  "Don’t call Quenton Lampton the town drunk. It’s a disgusting, demeaning title."

  Alex rounded on her like an enraged bull. "He hasn’t gone to bed sober one night in a hundred. I’d say that makes him the town drunk." His voice lowered ominously. "And I’ll remind you to be very careful about whom you stand up for in this house. I don’t think that limp-wristed painter is worth it, woman."

  Cameron saw a momentary flash of hatred in Nina’s dark eyes before she stared down pointedly. Cameron was genuinely surprised. Why would Nina risk Alex’s wrath to defend Quenton Lampton? What could he possibly mean to any of them?

  Cameron sipped her tea in silent contemplation. Hadn’t Miriam suggested that Alex was Nina’s prison? Until now, she had given no indication. Cameron felt a surge of sympathy for the beautiful woman. How could she have ever consented to marry a brute like Alex?

  As soon as the evening meal ended, the family members drifted away to their rooms. Alex and Jarret rode off, presumably for their night of cards at the Delta Saloon. No one, it seemed, wanted to be in the company of the others. They weren’t a family, Cameron concluded, but a motly assortment of loners held together by a mutual distrust.

  Alone in her room, Cameron laid out the clothing she had managed to barter from a stable hand earlier in the day. The boy was taller than she, so his faded britches had to be rolled to the ankles. The stiff, homespun shirt was torn at one elbow, but the long sleeves would serve as protection from the night chill. With a handkerchief tied about her nose and mouth and a wide-brimmed hat to hide her fiery curls, she was sure she could ride about the countryside undetected.

  A light tap on her door sent her pulse racing. Looking about the room frantically, she scooped up the strange assortment of clothes and crammed them in a dresser drawer. After one last glance to be sure she had hidden all the evidence, she opened the door.

  "Nina. I . . . Come in."

  The woman paused for long, silent moments. Then, almost reluctantly, she entered.

  As Cameron closed the door, Nina whispered, "I’m not sure I was right to come to you." She licked her lips, then met Cameron’s eyes.

  "Miriam has told me how kind you’ve been to her. You’ve made a difference in her life."

  Cameron remained silent and indicated a chair. Nina perched on the edge of the seat, staring intently at Cameron’s face.

  "Have you ever been afraid?"

  Cameron smiled gently. "Lots of times, Nina."

  "Are you afraid of Alex?"

  Her features were so grave, Cameron couldn’t resist taking her hand. It was as cold as death.

  "I’d be a fool not to have a healthy fear of Alex."

  "But you stand up to him."

  Cameron replied softly, "So did you this evening at the dinner table."

  Nina looked down quickly. A flush stole across her cheeks. "I’ll pay for that. But I don’t care. I want to learn to be strong like you." More firmly, she added, "But you’ve stood up to him so often, I fear his hatred for you is building." She sighed. "Oh, Cameron. Watch out for Alex. I’m afraid for all of us. But mostly I’m afraid for you."

  Cameron dismissed the chill that rippled through her at Nina’s words and said, with more confidence than she felt, "Thank you, Nina. But you needn’t worry. I intend to watch out for Alex—very carefully."

  When Nina left her room, Cameron wasted no time worrying about Nina’s warning. She dressed in the boy’s clothing, then lay down on her bed, determined to wait silently until everyone in the house had retired for the night.

  * * *

  Cameron let herself out the door and picked her way through the darkness to the stable. When the horse was saddled, she led him a distance from the buildings before mounting.

  Dark clouds scudded across a full moon, blotting
out the light, leaving horse and rider in darkness. The terrain had become more familiar to her each day, and Cameron instinctively followed the contours of the hills toward her destination.

  As she drew nearer the spot where she had found the fresh digging, she could hear the murmur of voices and the sound of an occasional horse’s whinny. Quickly dismounting, she tied her horse near the edge of a clearing and continued on foot.

  Coming up over the ridge, she dropped to her knees and inched closer to the mound of earth. Peering around it, she made out the form of a man standing nearby, calling softly to someone she couldn’t see. A muffled reply came from beneath the ground.

  The mine shaft. Someone was down there. Straining, she could hear the crunch of shovel and pick scraping against stone and earth.

  When the clouds passed, allowing the full moon to drench them in its glow, Cameron ducked quickly behind the mound of earth. She couldn’t see from here. And she couldn’t step away without being seen. She needed to climb to the ridge above them, where she would be able to see everything without being observed.

  By crawling until she was out of sight, she scurried down a rock-strewn slope, then ran until she reached the hill on the opposite side of the mine shaft. It seemed forever before, crawling, her hands and knees scraped and bloody, her breath coming in short spurts, she reached the summit and peered at the scene below.

  Bathed in the light of the moon she could make out a man standing at the entrance of the mine, heaving on a wheeled cart filled with sand. The man strained as he pushed it beyond the entrance, dumping the contents, then returning the cart inside. In the darkened mine he spoke softly to someone further down the line.

  Across the ridge, Cameron made out a shadowy figure leaping across a narrow gorge. The figure of a man merged with the shadows of a large rock. For long minutes she continued to stare, but the figure never emerged from the darkness. Finally pulling her gaze back to the mine shaft she was perplexed. The man at the entrance was no longer there.

  From the corner of her eye, she detected a movement close to her. Leaping to her feet, she started to run. Before she could scream, a hand covered her mouth and a strong arm lifted her off her feet. She kicked and bit, but the burly figure continued carrying her as easily as if she were a rag doll. At the edge of an abandoned mine shaft, she was held immobile for one agonizing instant. Then, as her screams were swallowed by the sheer terror she felt, she was tumbling through space down the darkened shaft.

  The long moments she dropped through a curtain of blackness seemed an eternity. Her whole being was exploding in panic.

  There was no way to cushion the fall. With only her hands in front of her face, she crumpled on the rock-hard floor of the mine. Her breath was knocked from her. Dazed, she lay still for long moments before the searing pain began sending out signals, causing her breath to come in short little gasps.

  The interior of the mine shaft was so dark she couldn’t see her own hands. Moaning softly, she tried to sit up. Pain crashed through her temple, causing her to lose consciousness for long minutes.

  From a great distance she could hear the sound of a scuffle. Sitting up in a haze of pain, she realized the sound was coming from somewhere above her. High in the sky, the shimmering light of a star pointed the way to the opening of the mine. So far away.

  The sounds above grew louder. A voice cursed. She heard the thud of fists striking flesh. Feet thrashed about. Something blotted out the light of the star. A body hurtled through space and landed with a dull thud beside her.

  Frantically she tugged at the still form in the blackness. "Who are you? Answer me."

  Her hands found a muscular shoulder, and she began shaking it, demanding a response.

  "Oh, please be alive. Answer me. Who are you?"

  She ran her hand down the length of the arm, then moved to the head. At the temple, she felt something warm and sticky. On the hard rock she felt the growing pool of blood. She knew, before she felt the lifeless pulse, that he was dead.

  A scream of terror bubbled in her throat. She backed away, trying to put some distance between herself and the body on the floor of the mine shaft. With a gasp of pain she came up against the sheer rock wall, bounced backward, and landed in a heap in the pool of slowly congealing blood.

  Cameron covered her face with her hands and wept in desperation. No one knew she had slipped out of the house this night. No one would miss her until morning. And then they would have no idea where to begin looking. She and the dead stranger beside her would be left here together forever.

  Forever in this deserted mine shaft. Years from now, her flesh gone, her clothing rotted, her bones bleached, she would still be trapped in this hole in the landscape. McCormick land. Her land.

  No! She stood on trembling legs and groped along the darkened wall of the mine. Her hands passed over rough timber that supported the roof of the mine. If there was a way in, there had to be a way out. If it took her forever, what did it matter? The time would be better spent searching for an escape than simply settling into gloom and despair and waiting for death’s ominous approach.

  The time passed slowly. Cameron had no way of knowing whether it was still nighttime or whether the dawn had crept over the land. Deep inside the bowels of the deserted mine shaft she groped about in the blackness, feeling her way along cold damp rock and earth.

  Terror was just a heartbeat away. By sheer determination she held it at bay, refusing to give in to the panic that threatened to engulf her.

  She rounded a corner and held her two hands up in front of her, groping for the wall that seemed to have disappeared. Without warning, her hands slammed against something warm, something human.

  She screamed. Hands gripped her shoulders roughly, nearly knocking her off balance. She clutched at the hands, and her fingertips grazed a wrist. Encircling it like a bracelet was a long forgotten scar, thick and knotted like a cord.

  "Michael!" Her voice trembled. "Oh, please Michael. Say it’s you."

  The voice was rich and warm and flowed over her like honey. "Cammy. Thank God I found you. Are you all right?"

  "I don’t know about all right. I’m alive."

  "Thank God." His hands found her face, tenderly tracing the outline of her eyes, her cheeks, her lips.

  "How did you know I was down here?" she asked.

  "I was watching the digging. I saw someone come up behind you and throw you down the shaft. I couldn’t reach you in time."

  "But how did you know it was me?"

  She heard the soft, familiar chuckle and felt his warm breath fan her temple. "I may have been fooled by your crazy getup once, back in that other world you inhabited." His hands found her shoulders, and he drew her closer. "But now that I’ve held you in my arms, little Cammy, there’s no way you could ever hide from me. Even in a nun’s robes, I would know you."

  She shivered at the thread of passion in his voice. Reaching a tentative hand to his face, she whispered, "Do you understand what’s going on here, Michael?"

  She felt him stiffen. "You’re forgetting your lessons. The name’s Colt. Remember that."

  She sensed the authority in his tone and for a brief moment resented it. Then, grateful that she was no longer alone in the mine shaft, she brushed aside the resentment and touched his lips with her fingertips.

  "Yes, Colt. I’ll remember."

  "Good. Now let’s get out of here."

  "There’s a man back there. He was thrown down the shaft after me. He hit his head on an outcropping of rock. He’s—dead."

  "Do you know him?"

  She shook her head. "I was hoping you’d know who he is."

  She felt him shrug in the darkness. "My guess is it’s a drifter. There are plenty of them in Virginia City. They use them for this secret digging, then dispose of their bodies in deserted mine shafts. No one’s the wiser."

  He caught her hand. "Stay close to me. We have to find our way out of here."

  "Do you know the way?"

  He stop
ped, and she felt him turn toward her in the blackness. "I hope so. I’ve been prowling around these mine shafts for quite a while now, and I’ve found some pretty interesting bits of information."

  He moved cautiously forward, keeping her hand firmly in his.

  They made several false starts and spent long hours in the drafty mine shafts before finally crawling along a narrow tunnel and emerging through a wooden door set in an earthen floor.

  "My cottage!" Cameron exclaimed.

  "Yours?"

  She nodded, smiling as she stared around the moon-drenched room. "I found this lovely old place one afternoon while I explored my land."

  Seeing his puzzled expression, she explained, "My father left this land to me. Two hundred fifty acres of land that adjoins the Lampton property and any buildings on it. So that makes this cottage mine."

  For Colt another piece of the puzzle fell into place. This was hers. She had now become even more—valuable to certain interests.

  She held her hands out in the moonlight. "Isn’t it a beautiful place, Mi . . . Colt? Can’t you feel the love here? I think this cottage is filled with pleasant ghosts."

  He studied the tiny figure dressed in the faded clothes of a stableboy and found himself smiling despite the sight of all her bruises. "Yes, little Cammy. I do feel love here." He took her hand. "Now. Sit."

  At her look of surprise, he added, "I want to check for broken bones."

  Her voice softened. "I—haven’t thanked you yet, Colt, for saving my life. If you hadn’t found me down there, I would have never made it out alone."

  He paused in the act of probing her arm.

  "Nothing’s broken. I’m only badly bruised. Thank you, Colt."

  His eyes, she noted, were almost black. His gaze fastened on her mouth. His voice thickened. "I do feel love in this old cottage. But it isn’t from any ghosts."

  He drew her up into his arms. His hand beneath her chin, he tilted her face upward and brushed her lips with his. Despite all she had been through this night, splinters of fire and ice began a dance along her spine.