Just After Midnight: Historical Romance

by Lori Handeland

  There she learned he had not reported for duty and her fear increased. She informed the officer of what had occurred the previous afternoon and he sent a man in Alex’s wake. Then there was nothing to do but return to The Celebration and wait as the cold dread settled deep in her soul.

  Alex lay on the ground in the snow, trees blocking the dark sky above him. Because of the absence of the sun twenty-four-hours-a-day during the winter, he had no idea how long he had been unconscious. With a groan, Alex sat up and put a hand to his throbbing head. His fingers encountered a sticky substance at the temple—blood frozen to his skin. Grimacing, he forced himself to stand.

  The world swayed and he gritted his teeth, fighting the weakness. He couldn’t remain in the open where there was too much danger from exposure or wolves. He had to find shelter until he was stronger. He vaguely remembered being near the claim cabin and stumbled from the copse of trees. His feet and hands tingled, warning him he needed to get inside soon or risk frostbite.

  He reached a hill and fell, climbing the rest of the incline on his hands and knees in the snow. When he reached the top he sighed in relief. Below lay the cabin and safety.

  It seemed to take a long time to reach the building; and when he did, his face stung from the biting cold and he fumbled with the door, afraid he wouldn’t be able to open it, his hands were so stiff. With a creak the portal gave way and Alex fell into the room.

  As quickly as he could in his weakened state, he lit a lamp and built a fire, relishing the pain as the blood flowed back into his near frozen limbs. When his hands were in working order once again, he filled a pan with snow and heated it over the stove, then washed the blood from the cut on the side of his head. Once it was cleaned, he saw that the gash was not as bad as he’d feared and, though it might leave a scar, he should have no permanent damage.

  He had to thank his guardian angel that whoever he had been following had not stayed around to finish him off. He must have assumed Alex would die of exposure before returning to consciousness.

  Alex stumbled across the room to lie on the bed, knowing he needed to rest before attempting the return trip to Dawson City. By now, Megan had surely alerted the Mounties to his absence and one of his fellow officers was probably hot on his trail. Unless new snow obliterated the tracks, he would have assistance in returning to town.

  He awoke several hours later feeling much stronger, minus the headache. The night was clear, no sign of a storm. He set about making a meal with the staples he had left on his last visit to the cabin. Before the soup was done, a young Mountie burst inside.

  “Carson, you had better have a good explanation for leading me on such a chase in this weather.”

  “Sorry, Jackson,” he told the recruit. “Whoever took a shot at Miss Daily got a jump on me and knocked me over the head.”

  “Someone got a jump on you? That’s a new one. Think it was McMurphy?”

  Alex frowned. “Could have been him. The person I saw was big enough to be McMurphy.”

  Alex glanced around the cabin. He knew from previous visits that someone had been living in the place on and off. Might that someone be Ian McMurphy? If so, then where was he now?

  The two men sat down to eat before braving the return trip.

  “Hey, Carson. Look what I found hanging outside. Does it belong to your lady friend?” Jackson held up a necklace.

  The light from the lamp caught the gold and turned it to burnished amber. Alex’s throat closed off and he stared, entranced, as the rose twirled round and round. Reaching out, he snatched the necklace from the surprised Mountie’s hand.

  “Where did you get this?” he rasped.

  Jackson frowned, puzzled. “It was hanging from a hook right outside the door of this place. I noticed it when I walked up. Is it yours?”

  Alex clenched Joanna’s necklace in his fist and stood, walking away from the table to stare into the fire.

  Joanna’s necklace, here at Brian Daily’s cabin. What did that mean? Had it been there all along and he’d never seen it? Had Joanna left it here herself or had it been left by the mysterious occupant? Was it Willie Shore who stayed in the cabin … or Ian … or someone else entirely?

  He was sick to death of the questions. He wanted to know who had left his sister to die, who the mysterious Willie Shore was, and why the answers to those questions were so important that someone had tried to kill both him and Megan.

  “Finish up,” he said. “We’re going back to Dawson City.”

  Megan was losing steadily at poker when Alex came through the door. Throwing her cards onto the table, she launched herself into his arms without thought and kissed him.

  His lips were cold, but they warmed under hers and parted. Memories of their night together surfaced, and she melted into his embrace.

  The cheers brought her around. Blushing, Megan pulled back and glanced around the room. Every man in the place grinned from ear to ear at her display. She took Alex’s hand and led him through the dance hall and upstairs to her room. To hell with dignity, she wanted answers.

  As soon as the door closed behind them, he tried to pull her back into his arms, but she resisted. “Alex, where have you been? Did you catch the person who shot at me?” She reached up and touched his face. “What on earth happened to your head?”

  “I’m glad to see you’re not angry anymore. Does this mean you forgive me for my stupidity the last time we were together?”

  “I’ve been worried about you.” She frowned. “One thing doesn’t have anything to do with the other. I want to know what happened.”

  “I trailed the culprit to a copse of trees near your cabin, where he jumped me from a tree and knocked me over the head.”

  “Oh, no.” Her lower lip trembled, and she bit down on it, hard, to still the motion. “You could have been killed.”

  “But I wasn’t. And that fact alone has me wondering what’s going on around here. The questions we’ve been asking have led to attempts on both our lives. We’ve got to find Willie Shore soon or I’m afraid that the next attempt will be successful. I need to talk to Queen.”

  “Queen? What for?”

  “Ian’s vanished, although the person I followed was large enough to be him. Ian seems to be pretty fond of Queen, and I thought she might be persuaded to tell me if he has a claim of his own or a friend who does.”

  “You’d better let me talk to her.”

  Alex’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Why?”

  “You know how she is, Alex. She’ll just make a joke out of your questions. She doesn’t trust lawmen. I might be able to convince her to tell me something, woman-to-woman.”

  Alex hesitated, clearly uneasy at the thought of letting her do what he considered his job. Finally, he nodded. “All right. But I want to know exactly what she says as soon as you’ve talked to her.”

  “Fine, but I’d do best to wait until we close tonight. She wouldn’t be too receptive to me if I cut into her dance time.”

  “True,” he agreed, moving to the door. “I have to get back and talk to the colonel. I don’t think you should leave The Celebration without me. I’ll stop by later.” He opened the door, then paused. “And Megan …”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks for worrying about me.” He leaned over and kissed her quickly on the lips before slipping out the door.

  Megan crossed the room to sit at her desk. He hadn’t exactly apologized for his behavior the night they’d made love. But he seemed to be sorry he hadn’t trusted her. Still, she yearned for some acknowledgment of the fact that she’d given herself to him when she had never done so with any other. But to ask for the words would render the sentiments useless. Knowing the depth of Alex’s commitment to his job and his sister, any relationship would be relegated to second place until he had the answers he craved. And what if the answer were that her father had, indeed, abandoned Joanna? Would Alex ever be able to look at her without seeing the daughter of the man who had driven Joanna Carson to her death?
Would she be able to look at him without wondering if he thought just that?

  By the time the dance hall was empty and Megan went looking for Queen, the woman had already gone to her room. Climbing the stairs, Megan hoped fervently that her friend had not gone to bed yet. Tales of Queen’s temper upon being awakened after a night of hard work were legend. Megan didn’t need a tongue-lashing, but she had to talk to Queen—or Alex would.

  She knocked tentatively on the door to the woman’s room, letting out the breath she’d been holding when Queen called a jovial, “Come on in.”

  The dancer lounged on her bed in her favorite purple silk robe. Megan often wondered if Queen had to pay extra for her clothes since they obviously needed more material than usual for an average dress.

  “Lovey, I thought you’d be sleepin’ by now. Or at least entertainin’ that man of yours.”

  Megan blushed, uncomfortable with the knowledge that everyone knew about her relationship with Alex.

  “I wanted to talk to you.” Megan pulled a chair next to the bed.

  “There a problem downstairs?”

  “Nothing like that. We’re making money hand over fist here thanks to your help. I wonder that Papa never asked you to be a partner, Queen. You really have a talent for bringing in the customers.”

  “Brian asked, but I wasn’t interested. I like to pick up and move on when the mood takes me. Brian understood that.”

  “You were good friends.”

  “We were at that. Never met a man I could get along with like your papa.”

  “What about Big Ian?” Megan asked, seeing her opening and jumping in with both feet.

  Queen frowned. “What about him?”

  “He seems to have taken a liking to you.”

  “So have a lot of others. That doesn’t mean I want to marry ‘em.”

  “No, I just wondered how well you knew Ian.”

  Queen’s eyes narrowed, and Megan stifled the urge to squirm under her friend’s gaze.

  “What’s it to you?” Queen asked.

  “I wondered if he ever mentioned having a claim on the Bonanza or if he might go and visit someone who did?”

  “Why?”

  “He’s been missing a long time and I thought maybe he’d gone to work a claim.”

  “Ian’s got his finger in enough pies in town, he don’t need to be mining a claim. Where’d you get such an idea?” Understanding dawned on Queen’s face. “You’re questioning me for your Mountie friend. They can’t find Ian, so he sent you to see if I knew where the big ox might be holed up. Well, even if I did, I’m no liver-faced snitch.”

  “I know that.” Megan attempted to soothe the woman, though she had hoped to get Queen to “snitch.”

  “Well, make sure you remember it then.” Queen sniffed. “When you tell me somethin’, you can rest assured I’ll take it to my grave.”

  “Thanks, Queen. You’ve been a real friend.”

  Megan stood to leave and Queen rose as well. As she did, something fell from the pocket of her gown, hitting the floor with an odd sound. Megan bent to pick it up, her fingers closing around the hard object seconds before the dancer’s. Megan rose and opened her hand.

  Resting on her palm lay a nugget of gold worth a small fortune.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Queen snatched the nugget from Megan’s hand and popped it down the front of her robe. “Thanks, Lovey, wouldn’t want to lose that.”

  “I’ve never seen a nugget so big. Where’d you get it, Queen?”

  “One of the boys gave it to me. You know how they’re always begging me to run away with ‘em. They try to bribe me, too. I’ve got lots of ‘em, and I usually just spend ‘em as fast as I get ‘em, but this one was so purty I decided to hold onto it for a while. If them boys want to throw away their gold on me, I say let ‘em. A girl’s got to look out for her future.” Queen tilted her chin as if daring Megan to argue with her.

  “True,” Megan agreed, wondering as she moved toward the door how many of the other girls had such caches in their rooms. “Sleep well, Queen.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t tell you nothin’ about Ian. Tell your Mountie that the big ox will turn up sometime. He just has to be patient.”

  Megan returned to her room and replaced her work clothes with a dressing gown, taking down her elaborate hairstyle and twisting the heavy mass into a single braid. As she did so, she wandered around her rooms, coming to a stop in front of the painting of her mother.

  The fire in the grate warmed her as she stared at the beloved picture. She had been toying with the idea of moving the painting into her bedroom where she could see it better. Deciding there was no time like the present, Megan moved a chair in front of the fireplace and climbed up, pulling the heavy painting from the wall and awkwardly getting down from her perch. When she glanced back at the now-empty wall, her mouth fell open in surprise. A small door with a lock had been built into the wall.

  Climbing back onto the chair, Megan examined the door. There was no handle, only the small hole for a key would open the panel. But where was the key?

  She glanced around the room, her brow furrowed with concentration. Where would Papa hide a key?

  Her eyes lit on the bedside lamp and she heard her father’s voice. “Meggie girl, I always put my valuables under the mattress. You know I’m a light sleeper. No one’s going to get past me when I’m in dreamland.”

  Slowly, she climbed down from the chair and went to the bed, her hand searching beneath the mattress until her fingers encountered a small metal object. Withdrawing it, she looked down at the key in her palm, then glanced up at the locked door. What could be so important that Papa had locked it away? She hurried to find out.

  A sharp knock froze her in place, and her gaze went to the door; thankfully, the lock she had ordered was now in place.

  “Who’s there?” she called.

  “Alex. Can I come in?”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Dropping the key into the pocket of her gown, Megan replaced the painting and returned the chair to its place; then she went to open the door. Damon slipped out, and she let him go, knowing Zechariah would allow the now-recovered wolf out to roam the night.

  Alex stepped into the room and locked the door behind him before taking her into his arms. Megan had no time to protest before his lips came down on hers.

  She had meant to tell him that what was between them could not continue. She couldn’t be what he needed, didn’t want to be the lieutenant’s woman. But all her protests fled as his lips and hands worked their magic.

  Somehow they ended up on the floor in front of the fireplace. The heat from the fire matched the heat growing within her, and it was a relief when her gown fell away and the fur rug softly caressed her back. Alex murmured against her warm skin, and she arched against him, welcoming him into her with a sigh.

  Afterward, they lay entwined and she smoothed his auburn hair back from his brow, then burrowed against his side. She had never felt more at home with another human being. Perhaps she should forget about what had happened to the other women she had known. She was strong, after all. She wouldn’t fall apart if this man left her. She would always survive.

  “Marry me, Megan,” Alex whispered, and the words echoed in the room, soft next to the crackling of the fire.

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  Alex propped himself up on an elbow and tangled his fingers in her hair, which had come loose from its braid.

  “I want you to marry me. As soon as the ice breaks, I’ll take you away from here. You’ll never have to work in a place like this again. I’ll make you happy, I swear.”

  He stared into her eyes with a desperation that confused her. Suddenly, understanding dawned. He was trying to save her. He had failed to save Joanna; so instead, he would save Meggie O’Day and absolve himself from his guilt over his sister.

  “No, thank you,” Megan said primly and pulled away from him.

  “What?” Alex asked, shock e
vident in his voice.

  “I said, ‘No, thank you.’ I’m perfectly happy in Dawson City. I like to work. You don’t have to save me from myself, Alex.”

  “But, but … I want to marry you. You were a virgin. You gave yourself to me.”

  “I don’t give myself to anyone, Lieutenant. I slept with you and we both enjoyed ourselves. Let’s leave it at that, shall we? I care for you, I admit. More than I’ve cared for any man beyond my father. But I don’t need a man to survive. I never will.”

  She turned away and slipped on her dressing gown, her fingers going to the pocket to feel the key still resting there. She glanced up at the portrait of her mother. What lay hidden behind it?

  Alex dressed silently, obviously confused that she hadn’t fallen all over him with gratitude for his proposal. “I’ll ask you again when you’ve had some time to think,” he said.

  “The answer will be the same, Lieutenant.”

  Alex stared at her for several moments, then shrugged. Megan could tell he thought she’d change her mind, and she gritted her teeth with irritation.

  “Did you learn anything from Queen?” Alex asked.

  She grasped at the change of subject. “I’m afraid not. She insists Ian is pursuing her and she wants nothing to do with him. She thinks he’ll turn up eventually to check on his businesses.”

  “She’s probably right, though I’d prefer to talk to him before one of us ends up dead.”

  A chill ran down Megan’s spine and she turned away, her gaze again drawn to her mother’s picture. Should she tell Alex about the secret door? Maybe an answer lay hidden there. No, she would keep the door to herself until she knew what was behind it. Brian must have had a good reason to build the door, and she would not betray his trust yet. If any answers came to light, she could then share the knowledge with Alex.