For a moment she was tempted to ride to the Lampton house and inquire about her grandfather’s health. Instead she wheeled her horse and headed back to the stable.
As she let herself into the darkened house, Cameron realized the members of the household had retired for the night. Making her way cautiously to the stairs, she stopped abruptly. There were voices coming from her father’s study.
As she moved stealthily toward the closed door, she prayed no creaking floorboards would betray her. Pressing her face to the door, she peered through a crack. Alex and Jarret were facing Colt across a desk. Each man had a drink in his hand.
Alex was speaking. ". . . get my hands on all of it. That’s where you come in. Think you can handle it?"
Colt had his back to her. She could hear the smirk in his tone. "It should be easy. I’ll just ply him with plenty of whiskey. You know that’s his weakness. Then I’ll lure him into a card game."
"But how can you be certain he’ll lose?"
Colt threw back his head with a low rumble of laughter. "Don’t forget, I’ve made it a point to get to know him very well. Quenton Lampton is the worst poker player I’ve ever met. Don’t worry. Once he’s drunk enough, the rest will be easy."
Cameron saw Colt drain his glass and set it on the desk. "By the time I’m through with him, you two will have the deed to the Lampton property in your pockets."
"And that fancy artist and his old man will be penniless." Alex slapped Colt on the shoulder. "Here’s to us, partner."
He poured another drink for Colt. The three men touched glasses and emptied them in silence.
Cameron’s heart was pounding. She covered her face with her hands and fought down the hysteria that bubbled in her throat. They were plotting to destroy the Lamptons. She had to warn Quenton.
The door handle turned. Cameron’s heart stopped. Frozen with fear, she forced herself to shrink back and flatten herself against the wall. The doors were thrown open, and the three men strode out and down the hall.
One set of footsteps paused, then returned. Cameron’s heart leaped to her throat. She had been discovered. They would have to kill her, to ensure her silence. Pressed against the wall, she closed her eyes tightly, too afraid to open them lest she see Alex’s dark eyes looking at her.
The sound of the footsteps halted at the doorway. The silence was so ominous, Cameron stopped breathing. She was certain that the person standing there could hear the rapid pounding of her heart. When she thought she couldn’t endure another second of the tense silence, she opened her eyes. Alex swung through the doorway, carrying the half-filled bottle. His footsteps moved away. Still, she continued to stand rigidly until her legs buckled. Trembling, she knelt on the floor, taking in great gulps of air to steady her nerves.
Chapter Seventeen
Cameron was awakened by a timid knock on her door. She sat up, trying to clear her sleep-drugged mind.
She had tossed and turned during the long hours of the night before she managed to fall asleep. The conversation she overheard in her father’s study had left her reeling. From the beginning, she had sensed the anger and hostility in her stepbrothers. But now, in her mind, Alex and Jarret were the personification of evil. They were the Devil himself. And Colt! He was now much worse than just a gambler and gunfighter. He had used Quenton’s hospitality; he had lived in his home, eaten at his table, to get to know him better, to assess his weaknesses. Now he was willing to sell that knowledge to the highest bidder. The man she had once foolishly thought of as a hero was actually going to help her stepbrothers cheat her uncle of his inheritance.
During those long hours of restlessness, she had come to a decision. She would warn Quenton and find a way to help him. Alex and Jarret weren’t going to get away with this evil scheme.
Despite her fears, she smiled as she bounded from bed and pushed the heavy dresser away from the door. Her early morning visitor was probably Alexander. The little boy had begun to come often to her room to visit when the household was first coming to life. She loved listening to his childish jabbering while she went through her morning ritual of washing and combing and dressing behind an ornate screen. She enjoyed seeing his animated features while he plunked himself in the middle of her big bed, his dark eyes, so like his mother’s, round with excitement. After the terrifying drama of the previous night it would be good to listen to someone sweet, to be reminded that in this world there still existed simple, normal goodness.
On the second knock she threw open the door with a smile. Her smile faded a fraction at the sight of Nina.
Covering her surprise, she invited, "Won’t you come in?"
"I—I’ve disturbed your sleep." Nina hesitated on the threshold, then peered over her shoulder cautiously.
"I don’t mind, Nina. Please come in." Cameron wrapped a shawl bout her nightdress of cotton lawn.
The woman clasped her hands together nervously, then crossed the room. "I need to talk to someone, Cameron. I hope you don’t mind?"
"No." Cameron showed her guest to a chair. "What’s wrong, Nina?"
Ignoring the chair, Nina paced. "I—I find myself in an intolerable situation."
Cameron pulled the drapes open to allow the brilliant sunshine to flood the room, then sat and waited, her heart in her throat. Was Nina about to confess her love for Colt?
When the trembling woman continued to pace, Cameron asked gently, "How can I help, Nina?"
"I don’t think anyone can help me. But I need to talk to someone. I thought . . . You seem so strong, so fearless. . . ." She knelt down before Cameron and caught her hands. "I am desperately in love with someone—someone other than my husband."
Cameron’s throat went dry. She couldn’t speak. Her eyes fastened on Nina, as if praying she would say no more. She couldn’t bear the pain of the words that were to follow.
"He is the kindest, gentlest, finest man I’ve ever met. Oh, Cameron. We both know our love is wrong."
Cameron felt a knife slice her heart.
"We’ve tried not to meet. But we can’t stay away from each other." Nina let go of Cameron’s hands and covered her face. Her words were muffled. "If Alex finds out, he’ll kill us both."
Without realizing it, Cameron began to stroke the black hair, to comfort the grieving woman. "Nina, how long can you hope to keep a thing like this a secret?"
The woman shook her head. "I don’t know. We seem to have gone beyond thinking. I only know that I must see him again."
Cameron’s voice was barely a whisper. "Listen to me, Nina. You need to think this out very carefully. There’s also Alexander to consider. What will his life be like here with Alex, without you? Or do you intend to spirit him away and go far away with—your lover? If you continue on the course you’ve begun, without stopping to think, you’re all going to be hurt. It can be no other way."
Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, Nina stood, her head bowed. Her words were a cry of pain. "Oh, Cameron. I love him so. But Alexander ..."
Cameron stood as well. "I know you’ll do the right thing, Nina."
Nina nodded her head as if in agreement. Without a word, the two women embraced.
As she reached for the door, Cameron said softly, "Nina."
The dark eyes met hers.
"I—know what you’re going through. My heart goes out to you."
A brief smile touched the lips of the beautiful, haunted woman before she turned and walked from the room.
Odd, thought Cameron, that she could feel so much compassion for the woman who loved Colt. Michael, the lover of her dreams, in love with Alex’s wife, it tore at her heart to think about the two of them meeting secretly, sharing their love.
As the door closed behind her, Cameron pressed her fists to her pounding temples. Why must love be so complicated? She thought of her mother. Nina. Her own conflicting feelings for Colt. Why must it be so painful? Where was the pleasure in love?
* * *
Cameron was suffering through another stiff, unco
mfortable breakfast with the entire family as well as their new boarder. Throughout the long ordeal, Cameron’s gaze darted from Alex to Jarret to Colt. Several times she felt Colt’s dark eyes leveled on her. Knowing what they were plotting against her uncle, she found their company nearly intolerable.
A servant entered to announce that Quenton Lampton was at the front door.
At the announcement Colt’s eyes narrowed a fraction. Nina’s hand flew to her mouth. Alex pounded the table with his fist.
"By God! What nerve!"
The servant shrank against the door before adding, "He asks to see Miss Cameron."
Everyone at the table turned to study her. Scraping back her chair, she ignored their questioning looks.
In the hallway Quenton was pacing. Seeing her he stopped, then held out his hands to her.
"Cameron, I’ve come with sad news."
Her heart seemed to stop for a long moment.
"My father has died."
She nodded, as if somehow knowing that was the only thing that would bring him to the McCormick house. She hung her head for a moment, swallowing back the tears that threatened. Meeting Quenton’s sad gaze, she walked into his outstretched arms and embraced him.
Against his chest, she murmured, "Oh, Quenton. First my father. Now my grandfather. I never got a chance to know them."
Quenton continued to hold her close. Stroking her hair, he whispered, "Before he died, my father asked that you not grieve for him, Cameron. He died happy in the knowledge that he had a granddaughter. He told me to tell you that the two most beautiful women in his past, his wife and his daughter, had meant much to him. But now, knowing that they live on in you, the future looks even brighter for the Lamptons."
Quenton’s voice continued in that soothing tone. She marveled at his tenderness. "My father’s life after my mother died was not a happy one. He’s known much sadness. Now he has finally found his rest."
Swallowing back the tears that burned her throat, Cameron nodded and kissed her uncle’s cheek.
Touching her arm, Quenton cleared his throat. "One thing more, Cameron."
She tried to smile, for his sake. "Yes?"
"My father wanted you to have an equal share in our estate. You and I are the only heirs. He and I both agreed that you show much promise, much more love for the land than I ever could."
Shock registered on her face. "But Quenton, I can’t possibly—"
He touched his fingers to her lips to silence her. "You must accept my father’s will, Cameron. It made him so happy to know that his daughter’s child would continue to care about and share this land."
She stiffened, suddenly aware that their conversation was being overheard by the others in the dining room.
Quenton bent and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "I must leave now, Cameron. The funeral will be in the morning. I’ll come by for you."
"No." That wouldn’t be safe. She must keep Quenton from her stepbrothers. "I—I’ll ride over alone. You have enough to think about." She clutched his arm at the door and whispered, "Quenton, we have something important to talk about. There are terrible things going on here—"
He bent and kissed her cheek. "We’ll talk later, Cameron. For now, I have much to see to."
Cameron stood in the doorway and watched as he mounted and rode away. Then, reluctantly, she returned to the dining room. Seeing the curious stares of those around the table, she steeled herself for the expected onslaught of questions.
For a moment the silence was ominous. Then Alex boomed, "So. We have a traitor in our midst. You’re a damned Lampton bastard."
As she pushed back her chair to stand, he thundered, "A gambler like Big John and the high and mighty Elizabeth Lampton. Who would have ever believed it?"
He threw back his head in a roar of laughter. "I would have loved to have seen old Lampton’s face when he discovered there was a McCormick who claimed kinship with him. I’ll bet he did his best to deny it."
Colt was watching Cameron. He studied the proud spirit that stiffened her spine and infused her with fire.
Her head lifted, the jeweled eyes blazed. "He was no more shocked than I. But he accepted the fact with dignity. And we managed to have a loving reunion before his death. For that, I will be eternally grateful."
Alex’s eyes narrowed suddenly. "Did I hear Quenton Lampton say you were sharing his inheritance?"
"You seem to have a great deal of interest in my business, Alex." Cameron stood and walked to the door.
Alex’s words hit her with the force of a blow. "Since you’re going to marry my brother, I intend to make it my business."
She turned on him. "Marry your brother!" Her glance left him to dart across the table, to the vacant, bland eyes that stared back. "Marry Jarret! What are you saying?"
The sweetness of his tone mocked her. "Did I forget to tell you? Jarret has expressed an interest in marrying you, Cameron. And I think it’s a match made in heaven. After all, who else but a simple man like Jarret would have a bastard for a wife?"
A hint of a smile curled his lips at her shocked reaction to his words. "There won’t be too many men standing in line to marry a mongrel. So I’ve just this minute decided to give my approval. That way, all your land will remain within the family. And now, of course, we’ll have the Lampton land as well. You’ll need us to oversee the operation of such vast holdings." He chuckled. "Jarret will make a good husband. As for you, I’m sure my brother can teach you to be an obedient little wife."
Cameron stared at Alex as if really seeing him for the first time. He would stop at nothing to have it all. Her voice felt strangled in her throat. "We’re family, Alex. I can’t possibly marry my own brother."
"Stepbrother, little nun. And it can be arranged."
"Never!"
She whirled and ran up the stairs to her room. The sound of Alex’s laughter seemed to follow her. The slamming of her door reverberated throughout the house.
Cameron stood at the window staring out over the land. Her land. A jumble of conflicting thoughts whirled through her mind. Even without her conscious commitment, she seemed to become more and more wedded to this harsh country. The strong people who had come here to tame the land had forged a bond with the next generation. The same people who had given her life had left her a legacy. In their lifetime it may have been a legacy of hope and dreams. For her, it was becoming a legacy of terror.
Jarret. She clenched her fists. Never in her most frightening nightmare could she see herself married to that cruel, mindless tormentor. They must all be mad.
* * *
The funeral was simple. A mere handful of people stood on the hill beside the house. Most of them were strangers to Cameron, old men and women who had known William Lampton and his wife in younger, happier times.
While a priest uttered the words of final parting, Rose wept openly. Hearing the old woman’s sobs, Cameron and Quenton clasped hands as if to offer each other strength and comfort.
As the dirt was being shoveled over the plain wood box, Cameron’s gaze drifted to the windswept hill that stood facing this land. Even in death, Big John McCormick and William Lampton staked out their claims. Each man rested now in the land that divided them. Each man lay beside a brooding house meant to show the other how much wealth and power he possessed. And despite their bitter struggle, each man shared a special place in her heart.
Quenton kept his arm about her shoulder as he accepted the condolences of his neighbors. When they were alone, his words interrupted her sad reverie.
"Come, Cameron. Rose has prepared a lunch."
For the first time they ate in the once lavish dining room. An ornate table of cherry wood surrounded by a dozen matching chairs dominated the room.
At Cameron’s admiring look, Quenton explained, "My father had it shipped from England. It traveled by rail and by stage, clear across the country from Boston. All of our furniture came from the East, or from Europe. As well as our clothes. There was a time, my dear, when your gra
ndfather was the wealthiest landowner in all of Nevada."
"What happened?" she asked as he held her chair.
"I suppose it all began to crumble when my mother died. My father began drinking heavily. He started going to town and staying away for days at a time. We weren’t aware of his gambling losses until he lost to John McCormick. That was when he seemed to lose heart. From then on, my father lost all interest in everything, except revenge."
As Rose served the lunch, Cameron studied Quenton’s haggard features.
"You’ve been through so much. Yet you have so much love and compassion for everyone—your sister, her lover. You don’t seem to harbor any hatred for the rejection by your father or for his less than admirable life."
"Cameron," he said softly, "I’ve seen what bitterness can do to a person. It destroyed my father. I learned years ago to channel my energy into other things. There’s no room for hatred in my life."
To change the subject he brightened and pointed to the wall over the fireplace.
"I think I’ll hang your portrait here, Cameron. It will bring warmth and light to this room. And I’ll put Elizabeth’s in the living room. What do you think?"
"I’d like that."
The fireplace, she noted, was handcrafted of native rock, each piece perfectly fitted to the next. The hearth was a solid slab of white granite.
The wood moldings at the ceiling and walls were intricately carved, bearing the marks of fine woodworkers. The hardwood floor, now dull with age, was covered with a beautiful woven rug.
She tried to imagine this room as it had once been, with a fire crackling in the fireplace, the floor and furniture polished to a rich luster. The table covered by fine linen and gleaming crystal. And most of all, the people, laughing, smiling, loving. How fine it must have all seemed to Elizabeth and Quenton in their innocence.
Sipping her tea, Cameron waited until Rose left the room, then lowered her voice. "Quenton, we must talk about something important."
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