Sahara Splendor

by Charlotte Hubbard

  After donning a simple gown of forest green and fawn stripes, Sahara brushed her hair dry and plaited it into four loops that draped gracefully from her crown. She could hear the musicians warming up in the second-floor ballroom, and there was so much to see to! Who had kept an eye on Bobby? Was Phineas Jenkins still here, or had he slunk onto another stagecoach already? It was as though she’d lost a whole day, and she was eager to catch up on what had happened.

  When she entered the crowded ballroom, Madigan stood up with a pleased grin. Tired as she’d been when they stopped, he could’ve whisked Sahara into his own room, and she wouldn’t have known any better—but sleep and a bath had restored the vital young woman to a radiance that made him simmer. Her dainty braids glimmered like red gold in the light from the candles along the walls, and her tawny skin and green eyes came to life in the becoming dress she wore. He waved, and then delighted in her smile.

  Standing a head taller than the others, Dan Madigan made her heart stop. His gaze promised an evening of infinite pleasure, and he stood regally handsome in a white shirt with a fitted brocade vest and dark trousers. His grin flickered with anticipation as he watched her approach the table he’d reserved for them, and she was barely aware that other people were chattering gaily above the music, filling their plates from the variety of fragrant platters on the sideboards—until she glanced lower.

  “Well—Bobby! I wondered where you’d spent your day,” she said lightly. He, too, looked better for a bath, but he remained seated, rather awkwardly, she thought.

  “Had the time of my life, bunkin’ with Madigan here,” he replied gruffly. When he moved, she heard the rattle of the handcuff that was locked around one arm of his chair. “Tried ta tell ‘im I wasn’t goin’ nowhere, what with this spread they was puttin’ on, but he’s watchin’ me like a hawk anyways.”

  Sahara smiled wryly. “Perhaps we need to hear a certain name. Confession’s good for the soul, you know.”

  Madigan took her elbow, eager for more intimate talk. “I told him we’d bring him a plate, and perhaps a good meal will get him to say who hired him to attack your coach,” he said in a low voice. “Such information might be worth his freedom if that’s all right with you. I, uh, had hoped to have him out of my room so I could keep prettier company tonight.”

  His suggestive tone stirred her, and after they set a heaping plate in front of Bobby, she followed Dan eagerly to the ballroom floor. He chose a spot where they were surrounded by other waltzing couples and pulled her close. “You feel wonderful,” he murmured.

  “Yes, I do,” she quipped with a languid smile. “Thank you for ordering that tub, and for getting everyone settled. I was so exhausted I don’t even recall going to my room.”

  Madigan smiled down at her, thinking how he’d like to love her until she could recall nothing else. Dancing with this elegant sprite was a new pleasure—one of several he hoped to enjoy with her as the years went by—and he wanted to start off on sound footing.

  “I was pleased to see to your comfort,” he whispered, “because I’ve missed our times alone together. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you the night of the Indian attack, but I can’t say I regretted that little rooftop adventure. Few women would rise to the challenge, and I admire you for it.”

  Sahara succumbed to a giggle that started deep inside her and made her feel as giddy as a little girl. “I—I’ll never forget that as long as I live,” she admitted as he whirled her gracefully among the other couples. “What does it matter, what Bobby and the others think? Far as I’m concerned, you’re the only man I have to answer to—and when I said yes that time by the Kents’ creek, I meant it.”

  Madigan pulled her close for a brief but thorough kiss. “What do you say we eat and then slip up to my room?” he murmured. “There’s Fergus and Bean—they’ll watch Bobby if need be. I’ve never loved you on a real mattress, and it seems like a fine night to try it.”

  Heart fluttering, Sahara chose several delectable foods and preceded Madigan back to their table with her plate. Dancing against him had ignited her senses, and she was rested enough to enjoy Dan’s advances and initiate her own. As she sat down beside Bobby, she gave him a questioning glance before sticking a forkful of succulent roast pork into her mouth.

  “Luther Bean,” her brother muttered.

  She raised an eyebrow and stopped chewing. “Luther Bean what?”

  “Hired me. And if I was you, little sister, I wouldn’t trust him and that Scotchman no farther’n I could throw the both of ‘em.”

  Madigan sat down on the other side of their prisoner and followed his gaze to where the buckskinned express messenger and Fergus were standing near the doorway, talking to each other. “How do we know you’re telling us the truth, Caldwell? You’ve ducked it plenty of times before.”

  Sahara’s brother let out a disgruntled sigh. “Ya think I wanna be chained ta this chair all night whilst you and Sary—it’s Bean, I tell ya. When he heard I’s cut loose of my ranch job and saw I’s plenty sore about it in Atchison, he offered me money ta hold yer coach up outside of Fort Riley. Saw ‘im again in Junction City, when he told me ta paint up and whoop like an Injun. That’s why me and my friends never got shot, till Madigan plugged me. All parta the plan, I tell ya.”

  Pieces of the puzzle fell together with alarming clarity as she glanced at her brother’s bandaged shoulder. “What plan? Why would Bean stoop to Ben Holladay’s tactics and have my private coach attacked?”

  “‘Cause he thought you’d scare easy,” Bobby replied after swallowing a bite of pie. “Thought you’d want outta the stagin’ business—and thinks ya have no right to it anyways, owin’ ta the circumstances of Spade’s death, and ta the fact that yer female. He don’t cotton ta women steppin’ outta their rightful place.”

  Chewing slowly, she considered Bobby’s story. She hadn’t asked for Bean’s escort—didn’t even know of his existence until they met in Atchison—and the appearance of Charlie Oswald in the doorway made her sit up straighten. “Who else is in on it? What were they planning to do if I knuckled under?” she demanded in a whisper.

  Bobby shrugged. “That’s all I know, little sister, ‘ceptin’ the part about the money. I was told ta grab for the pay box in the driver’s boot, and Bean said somethin’ about bags under the floor of the coach. But both times I attacked, Madigan here cut me off ‘fore I could get at either one of ‘em.”

  Madigan’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “They were wanting you to rob the stage and then turn the money over to them later?”

  Caldwell nodded. “It was a rotten trick, Sary, but when Bean said the gunfire’d be all for show and nobody was ta get hurt, I figgered—”

  “They? Who’s they?” Sahara quizzed the accountant across from her. “You sound like you suspected something all along, yet you never mentioned—”

  “I think we’d better move now and explain later,” Dan interrupted, his gaze following the blue-uniformed Scot and Luther Bean away from the party. “With all of us in here and the coach in the livery barn, whatever’s on board is easy pickings for those double-dealing bastards. Sit tight, honey.”

  Her head was spinning as she watched Madigan stand up and unlock Bobby’s handcuffs. “But why do you think—”

  “Go around the back of the barn and come in behind them,” Dan instructed her brother. “Wait until they expose whatever’s under the coach floor, or we’ve got nothing to nail them with. I’ll get John Melvin and a few others to back us up.”

  The men walked between the tables as though fetching more food was their only concern, leaving Sahara to glower at their backs. They were no better than Bean, talking as though she weren’t even present—like she wouldn’t understand the plot that had been thickening over the past five hundred miles! Letting her fork clatter to her half-empty plate, Sahara rose to follow them. Nobody could make her stand meekly by while Spade Express was being robbed!

  Once out the back door, she crept along the tavern’s shadow,
just within earshot of quiet male voices and figures that were advancing toward the barn. How sickening, to think that all this time Luther Bean had only pretended to tolerate her when he was actually—and surely Fergus McGee wasn’t part of any scheme to scare her away from running her stage company! More likely, it was that snake Tom Underwood who’d started this whole thing, after she fired him in the general store. All along he’d been sneaking glances at her with those midnight eyes, watching for her fall—trying to bilk her of more by becoming her lover!

  When she reached the barn door, Sahara held her breath. Voices were raised in accusation and denial—voices that belonged to her partner, her express messenger…and the winsome Scot who’d taught her how to handle a team.

  “Ye’ve got no call to ride such a high horse yerself,” he was saying, his accent shrill. “’Tis no secret how ye procured yer own share of Horatio’s holdin’s, Madigan! Luther and I just want what’s our rightful share, after all these years of faithful service, and ye can’t fault me for goin’ after the wench’s favors as well.”

  Sahara’s heart sank with the weight of his betrayal. His sparkling gray eyes and flirtatious banter had been no more sincere than Underwood’s innuendo—and as she walked up behind the men who’d encircled the blue and black coach with their lanterns, she noted the absence of her two freight drivers. Madigan had backed Fergus and Luther against the stage at gunpoint, and she saw Bobby’s slighter form guarding the rear exit in the shadows.

  “The way the wench sees it,” she stated bitterly, “you’ve got no more coming than your pay—if that—McGee. Bean’s involvement doesn’t really surprise me, but you—you who warned me against smooth-talkers who were after my money—are a supreme disappointment.”

  The Scot’s face grew ruddier when the onlookers parted to let her step closer to the stagecoach. “How much did they try for?” she demanded of Madigan. “Somebody notify the sheriff! This is robbery that’s every bit as blatant as what you hired Bobby to pull—only you thought he’d take the blame for it, didn’t you?”

  “Get your booty out from under the floorboards,” Madigan ordered. “Nice and slow. No tricks.”

  Bean glowered, muttering at Fergus as he reached in through the stagecoach door. “Told you we should’ve strung Caldwell up. Told you Madigan would catch on.”

  Questions were buzzing in her mind, but she shared the expectant silence of the others as the express agent lifted the carpet-covered flooring of her coach and tossed three tapestry bags onto the ground by her feet. She’d never guessed such a take had been hidden beneath them all this way! “But how did he get ahold of this?” she demanded. “If my accounts were being drained back in Atchison, why didn’t somebody from the bank cry the alarm?”

  Dan kept his pistol leveled at the bearded thief who now faced them again. “The way I have it figured, Mr. Bean procured the pay box’s contents on his signature, as usual—and because word was out about you raising the wages and the supply allotment, he got two or three times the normal money without so much as raising the banker’s eyebrow,” he said calmly. “But there’s more, isn’t there, Bean? Your signature isn’t the only one that showed up, on letters requesting sizable withdrawals that were supposedly to be reinvested in Spade companies farther west.”

  “You’re talking to the wrong man,” Luther jeered. “Underwood’s the forgery artist, and he’s long gone.”

  Sahara had stepped forward to open the carpetbags, the lump in her throat so large she could’ve choked on it. Bundles of currency and bags of gold coins filled the luggage, and in the third one was the incriminating letter requesting thousands of dollars, signed by Daniel Madigan.

  “You faked my accountant’s signature, and then hired my brother to hold up my stage? All because you think you deserve this piece of Horatio’s fortune more than a mere woman does?” she demanded of the expressman.

  “It was Underwood’s idea to—”

  “But you took it to the bank,” Madigan pointed out, “because you’re the most trusted man in Spade’s organization, besides myself. Good thing I followed Sahara to Atchison. My hunches’ve never steered me wrong.”

  “Tie them up until the law gets here,” Sahara muttered.

  “No need to wait, Miz Spade,” came a; voice from back where Bobby was crouching. “I’m Sheriff Hancock, and I heard the whole thing. Be happy to take these cutthroats off your hands.”

  As the lawman led McGee and Bean out of the barn and the other men dispersed, Sahara stood staring at the tapestry bags, shaken to the core. “Do…do you think Oswald’s in on it?” she asked shakily.

  “I doubt it, or he’d have run off with Underwood,” Madigan assured her. “Bean seems to have swindled Tom out of his share by hiding these bags, or they’d have disappeared along with him. We’ll catch him, honey. Hancock’ll be on the lookout, and we’ll telegraph your station keepers, too.”

  Bobby came up and put an awkward arm around her. “Sorry ‘bout the scare, Sary,” he mumbled, “but I’s ‘fraid ta breathe a word till we got ta where there was men ta back us. If you’d spouted off at Bean on the road, he’d’ve shot us all. That’s another reason I took this robbery job,” he added with a lopsided grin. “Figgered I’d be there ta pull ya out if things got outta hand durin’ the attacks. Luther, he don’t like it much when things don’t go his way.”

  Sahara let out a long, quavery sigh and hugged his slender waist. She’d never wanted to believe Bobby Caldwell was a hardened criminal, and it felt good to know he was still his honest—if ornery—self. “Guess we’re even now, big brother,” she stated. “And if it’s all right with you, we’ll talk about your new position tomorrow morning.”

  Bobby chuckled good-naturedly. “I ‘spect you and your bookkeeper’s got some discussin’ to do, and me—I

  gotta powerful thirst, after all this excitement. Maybe I’ll just mosey on inta Denver—fortify myself at the waterin’ holes, and take whatever company comes along. See ya in town, Sary. I’ll think about workin’ again when I’m outta cash.”

  She crossed her arms and watched him go, shaking her head. “Seems like a changed man, doesn’t he? Sure would like to know what prompted such a timely confession, too,” she added with a pointed look at Madigan.

  As she expected, the handsome man beside her grinned devilishly. “All right, so I paid him a little advance in salary to confirm my suspicions, before Bean and McGee could make off with your money. Knowing how you’d take Bobby in again, since he’s family and all, I didn’t think you’d mind. I’d hoped to get you a little riled up about it, though, so we could kiss and make up in my room later on. What do you say to that?”

  Sahara studied him in the light of his lantern, loving the laugh lines by his dusky brown eyes, and the curve of his inviting mouth. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, mister,” she replied softly, “but I say we skip that—and the fight—and go right to the making-up part.”

  “We’re on our way,” he said with a husky chuckle.

  Chapter 21

  For Dan, it was a night of unparalleled passion, in which he vowed to prove his love for Sahara each and every moment. He began with her hair, unwinding the soft, shining braids with fingers that trembled with anticipation. Her breathing sounded as fluttery as his own, and when he saw himself mirrored in her vibrant jade eyes, Madigan lost all sense of time and place. Never before had a lover’s face reflected the infinite wonder that now thrummed through his veins. Other women had murmured endearments and promises, but Sahara meant them.

  “Madigan, I…” She fumbled for words that would express her overwhelming desire to be his, completely and forever. “Dan, when you touch me, I…stammer and can’t string three words together to make any sense of them.”

  “So forget about words,” he murmured. “Your kiss and caress…the scent and sight and taste of you. They’ll tell me all I need to know, Sahara.”

  His thumb grazed the outline of her lips, and then he was kissing her, sipping the nectar
from the tender petals of a mouth that yielded so sweetly to him. She was docile and submissive, so unlike the brazen nymph who’d seduced him in Spade’s grove that he pulled away to look at her. “Is something wrong?”

  Sahara’s gaze fell to his unbuttoned collar, and she stroked his gold brocade vest. “Maybe I’ve been too pushy. Maybe you don’t like a woman who takes what she wants without thought of the consequences.”

  “Maybe that’s exactly why I love you.” Dan caressed the column of her neck, smiling at her. “Those who love blindly love best, I think. They follow their hearts through hell and high water, giving instinctively until the world’s right again. You’ve certainly made my world right, anyway. And after watching you brighten the lives of everyone you meet, I count myself lucky to be the one holding you, loving you. You’re a woman like no other, Sahara.”

  She’d sucked in her breath, hanging on every lyrical word, until she felt ready to pass out from joy. Dan’s face glimmered in the lamplight, accented by sun-streaked hair, dark eyes, and a roguish smile that set off the most sensual mouth…lips that spoke of rapture even when he wasn’t talking. Why this handsome, provocative man wanted her was a mystery, yet his desire for her was as pungent as the cedar scent that always enveloped him.

  Sahara reached for him, and her doubts vanished. Again and again she kissed him, ravenous for the release only his rugged body could bring. She heard buttons clattering to the floor and felt warm, broad hands baring her back. Dan’s chest hair tickled her nose, and she tongued the tiny nipples it concealed until he laughed aloud for mercy. They were clawing at each other, tossing clothes aside with an abandon that made her heart thunder wildly. His eyes riveted hers as he rocked back on the mattress, urging her on top of him.