by Roxy Harte
Daniel dismounted, smiling. “Miss Birdie, you look lovely. Much too fine to come near the likes of me.”
She hugged him, and Lucy's eyes bugged.
“Nonsense. Will you be joining one of my girls tonight?”
He shook his head, apologizing. “I wish I could, but I have a delivery I need to make.”
The woman looked up at Lucy, making her uncomfortable. She didn't need to see the distaste cross the woman's face to know she was filthy and trail worn. She lifted a brow, saying, “I see.”
Daniel dropped his face low, his cheek almost pressing the other woman's cheek. Lucy worried her bottom lip and wondered what he was saying to the woman. Whatever it was, she tittered and rocked back. Looking at Daniel fondly, she said, “Well, don't stay away too long, and don't forget the house rules.”
He smiled wide. “Bathe first.”
She winked before walking away, and even after she'd turned her back, Daniel watched her walk before leading the horse on down the street. He obviously wasn't planning to rejoin her in the saddle, and she didn't think it had anything to do with his fears of overburdening the animal.
“Who was that?”
“Bernice Winston,” he answered. Looking over his shoulder, he explained, “Otherwise known as Miss Birdie. She owns the Gilded Cage. It's a high-end parlor house at the edge of town.”
“Parlor house? You mean a den of wickedness?”
Daniel chuckled. “Yes, well, there are all shades of dens here in the West, and parlor houses are top-of-the-line. Only the most beautiful women are invited to work there. The women are refined, educated, fashionable. They are an accessory to an establishment, which caters to an upscale clientele who come to the parlor for the best things life has to offer them: food, wine, cigars—and women instructed in the erotic art of seduction.”
Lucy pointed at one of the women hanging out of a window, currently flashing her breasts and hawking lewdly. “That is not such a place of refinement.”
“You catch on quickly, Lucy Bowman. That is a crib, a step below a brothel, and that poor women is an addict, selling her body for her next drink or hit of opium.”
Lucy looked over her shoulder, eyes wide.
“Once I have you settled someplace safe, I'll bring some of those dresses from Paris back here to see if Miss Bernice would be interested in buying them.”
Lucy jumped off the horse, miraculously landing on solid earth and not falling face-first. “Why not sell them now?”
“There's a time and a place for everything, Lucy, and right now is neither of those.” He lifted her back onto the horse. “Sleep while you can.”
Exhausted, Lucy didn't argue. She did fume for a while before nodding off, though. Waking at daybreak, she was still angry, but more confused than anything else. It was most obvious the man didn't love her, not when his head turned toward every available woman in sight. She'd been a fool for believing otherwise. “Why didn't you leave me in Hangtown?”
“I can't protect you there.”
“I can protect myself.” She didn't have to see Daniel roll his eyes to guess his reaction to her ridiculous claim. She sighed heavily. “Where are we going now? Is there work there? How much longer are we going to be riding?”
He chose to answer only the last question. “Three more days.”
Lucy closed her eyes. After so many months, three days was nothing to fret about, but she was…fretful, anxious, nervous…heartsick. She wished Emma were there to share the joy of their ending journey. At least then she wouldn't feel so alone.
Chapter Five
Daniel was very happy when they finally walked into Jimtown. Home. Or as close to anything he could consider so. A bright, warm sun was shining overhead and bore a good omen. Only another mile to the ranch and he could sleep for days if he chose. No more looking over his shoulder, no more sleeping with one eye open—here, he was safe—and had enough friends to see he stayed alive, even if trouble came looking.
Beside him, Lucy's gaze had grown wide, and he had to admit the town was a little rougher than he'd left it.
When gunfire filled the air, he pulled Lucy behind him. In Hangtown, the men had been rowdy, firing their pistols into the night sky. Here, in broad daylight, three men lay dead in the middle of the road, and by the number of freshly made caskets propped outside Newt's, they weren't the first casualties.
He met the glares of the two men still standing, guns smoking and pointing toward each other. He recognized them as miners from farther north and figured they'd come to town to settle a claim dispute. None of his concern. He took Lucy's hand and drew both the woman and the horse through town to the general mercantile. Sid and Flint sat on the front porch, a game of chess between them.
His other men loitered in the doorway. One of his vaqueros, the one called Loco, commented, “We gave you up for dead.”
“What's happening here? Range war? Where's the colonel?” he asked, inquiring about the man who had founded the town. Fact was, the town was named after him, Jamestown, but no one bothered to call it that.
Flint laughed. “Colonel ran. Took every man here for all he was worth before he left too.”
Daniel lifted his brow. He knew that James had his darker activities, but hadn't figured theft to be one of his vices. Shame. He'd always considered him to be a good man. “Where's Edward?”
Flint spit tobacco into a pail. “He hightailed it too.”
This left Daniel in complete disbelief. Now he knew his men were just messing with him. Edward Hasty and his brothers were the closest thing the town had to law. Loco pushed a chair toward him. “You might want to sit.”
“Story that unbelievable?”
“Yep,” Flint answered and then filled in the gap left by Daniel's three months away. “Outlaw by the name of Rages Like Thunder shot two of the Hasty Gang when one of the brothers shot MacEff in the back three days ago.”
Daniel knew MacEff was Roland MacPherson, owner of the saloon and what might be considered a hotel. He rubbed his jaw, understanding suddenly why the saloon's porch and steps were littered with passed-out drunks. Without MacEff and the Hasty Gang to keep the rowdy bunch under control, they'd probably drunk all his stock and destroyed the place.
Flint confirmed his thoughts. “Bank plans to sell the mortgage to the place at auction, but there isn't much in the way of stock left. Talk around town of burning the whole place down—since there's no compensation for their losses and all. Even if the place goes on the block, no one here'll have enough cash on hand to buy it.”
“Hell,” Daniel muttered. A bullet whizzed by his head and buried in the mercantile's wooden clapboards. Lucy screamed, covering her ears and crouching. Daniel turned to see one of the two men who were involved in the gunfight when he'd first hit town. The man raised his gun to fire. Daniel drew quickly and fired, winging him. The man screamed, grabbing his arm, but made no move to try to fire his gun.
Looking over his shoulder, Daniel saw two of his vaqueros had drawn but not fired. At least they'd had his back. Without his asking, they clambered down the steps and dragged the man toward the jail. Lucy was still crouched and screaming when Flint joined him on the road. He handed Daniel the sheriff's shiny silver star. Shiny, except for the dried blood caked on the back of it. “You taking over as sheriff?”
Daniel shook his head and pulled Lucy to her feet. He hugged her close and quieted her. “Nope. I guess you better show me where that gunslinger is hiding out.”
“Oh he's not hiding. Took a room above the saloon. Haven't seen hide nor hair of him in two days, but folks say he's still there.”
Shaking his head, Daniel told Lucy to stay with Flint and assured her the man would keep her safe when she argued she didn't want him to leave. Women. Couldn't they understand some things a man had to do alone? He felt confronting a gunslinger was one of those times. He crossed the road and went in through the front door of the saloon, took the stairs two at a time, and listened for the man's snores. It wasn't hard to fi
nd him.
He woke him up with the tip of his gun pressed against his nose. “You don't look like much for the cold-blooded killer I hear tell you are.”
Thunder's eyes opened, going wide. “Dangerous Dan. Guess I'm fair disappointed in the sight of you too. Heard tell you were eight feet tall and as wide in the chest as a buffalo.”
Daniel curled his lip into an almost smile. “Six feet? Eight feet? Guess starin' down the barrel of a rifle exaggerates the estimatin' of the one doing the figurin'.”
The two men sized up each other a second longer before Thunder admitted, “I've been waiting for you. I was told you own this town when you're here. Either join your damned boys or get the hell out. This your way of telling me I've overextended my welcome?”
Daniel, not lowering his gun, scrutinized Thunder's face. He knew the outlaw known as Thunder only by reputation. “So you're the same half-breed killed One-Eye Phelps in Beaverton for cheat'n at faro? Strung up most of the Whittle brothers over rumor?” He didn't repeat the story circulating through the territory claiming the brothers had their hanging coming to them after they raped two young girls, aged eight and eleven. “Suppose'n it's not a far stretch of the imagination you gunned down the sheriff and ran his brothers out of town.”
Thunder didn't confirm or deny, leaving Daniel no choice but to toss the badge onto the man's bare chest. “This is my way of telling you that around here, the man willing to kill the law of a town better be ready to assume his responsibilities. You'll find your first prisoner already behind bars.”
Thunder tossed the badge back. “You're in such a lather for this town to have law and order, you wear the star.”
Daniel laughed at him. “I'm a black man—I'd like to live to be an old one—word gets out I'm running this town, every gunslinger in riding distance will be after my hide.”
“What makes you think they won't come after me?”
He shrugged. “Didn't say they wouldn't. See you on the street, Sheriff.”
* * *
Lucy'd done as she was told, staying behind with the men Daniel'd been talking to at the mercantile, but she'd wanted to hold on to him for dear life. She'd seen her share of violence on the plains, men tired and hungry, easily offended, but since crossing into California, it seemed every town was plagued with wanton violence. Watching Daniel walk away, she feared she might never see him alive again. She felt as if her heart were in her throat, choking her and confirming her worst fear: he might not love her, but she still loved him.
The man Daniel had called Flint edged nearer, being bold enough to stroke his finger over her cheek.
“Oh!” She backed away, recognizing the way he was looking at her as pure lust and worried his friendship with Daniel wouldn't be enough to keep him from crossing a line.
“You know, when I saw you back in the desert, naked as the day you was born and covered with eight kinds of filth, I never believed you'd clean up so fine.”
She blushed and lowered her gaze, not wanting to remember her nakedness then. She certainly didn't want him thinking about her without her clothing. But then two men staggered from the saloon, and it was obvious one had offended the other and was calling him out. Steps were counted off, pistols were being drawn, and she ducked behind Flint. She closed her eyes tightly as gunfire filled the air.
The next thing she knew, she was being wrapped in strong arms, a mouth was descending on hers, and the pleasure of a kiss was lifting her out of her terror. Daniel. She responded with every ounce of her being, deepening the kiss, her tongue sweeping out to stroke his tongue. He whispered against her face, “I like to feel a woman tremble in my arms.”
Her eyes flew open. Flint! Gasping, she backed away. Not believing their betrayal, her hand flew to her lips. They felt swollen, if not bruised. Oh God! Until Daniel, she'd had no experience with kissing, save Ollie and the scout. She'd had no idea kisses could make one feel like they were soaring in the sky with eagles—and now this man—this stranger—had made her feel as wondrous as Daniel. “Oh! Oh my.”
Her breasts were heaving, the man was looking at her like he might devour her, and Daniel walked right into the moment.
“Is everything all right?”
Lucy looked away, unable to meet his gaze.
“There was another gunfight,” Flint answered for her.
She felt Daniel's eyes boring through her and knew if she met his gaze, he'd realize more than a gunfight in the street had her flustered. She didn't look up. She didn't understand herself why her heart was pounding frantically or why she might want to be kissed again.
Daniel took her elbow and hauled her over to the horse, before taking the reins in hand. “Where are we going now?”
“Me and the boys mostly keep to a ranch outside of town.”
Lucy saw a glimmer of anticipation slither through both Flint's and Sid's eyes. It was the same expression the men dicing for her had worn. They expected their turn. “Why, I can't go there!”
“Excuse me?”
“I want to build a life in California, a respectable life, and staying in a house with several men isn't bound to do my reputation any good.”
Daniel shook his head. “Your reputation was ruined the moment you rode into town with the likes of me.”
“Then I guess I better start setting people's minds straight.” Lucy slipped around the horse. “I s'pose I'll be seeing you around town, Daniel Hatch. Thank you for bringing me to California.”
Walking away, she half expected Daniel to follow her and was disappointed when he didn't. Sighing heavily, she knew she'd done the right thing. It wasn't like he was the marryin' kind, not that she wanted a husband, she reminded herself, kicking all thoughts of babies and domestication from her mind. He was the kind of man who would stick around only long enough to leave her nursing a broken heart when he finally left.
She stepped up onto the wooden boardwalk to look for work inside some of the businesses but then caught sight of her reflection in a windowpane. “Oh my!”
She tucked her hair and straightened her dress as best she could, but even those little improvement weren't enough to get a job, even though she was willing to scrub floors or cook meals. She'd offered to wash shirts or darn them, but the men she encountered all wore the same expressions on their faces. She'd never known men could be so lustful.
It seemed the men in town only had one thing on their minds.
She'd been pinched, jostled, and proposed to, but there wasn't a single legitimate job…and the women were worse than the ones she'd met in Hangtown. Territorial didn't begin to describe their attitudes. She'd been spit on and swept out of the mercantile with a broom. She'd had a washwoman toss a bucket of dirty water at her, and only by quickly jumping to the side had she avoided being doused.
Reaching the end of town, she sat down on a wooden step. She wasn't sure quite where to go or what to do. She knew Daniel expected her to find him and was most certain if she asked anyone in town where to find him, they might know, but it still rankled knowing he would use her and leave her to the folly of his men. She'd thought he'd cared for her a little, which only proved how naive she was.
Across the road, the saloon doors gaped open, like a big, empty cave, and that was when the idea struck her clear out of the blue. If no one in the town would give her a job, she'd create one for herself. She could cook, clean, and pour whiskey. She could tally ledgers. If she owned the saloon, she could control her own destiny. Standing, she quickly looked at the bank's window, where all the foreclosure notes were hung, and readily found the notice for the saloon, though it was listed as a hotel. She didn't know if what she had to trade would be enough, but she could try.
“That is some serious thinking.”
Lucy looked up at the man speaking to her and backed away, suddenly afraid, her hand flying to the parcel balanced on her head to make certain it didn't fall. The man leaned against a post, and she found herself looking into the darkest, most dangerous eyes she'd ever seen. His dark bl
ack hair was the color of a raven's wing and closely cropped, though he had the deep brown skin and sharp chiseled features of the Indians she'd seen in the desert. She found herself swallowed by eyes as dark and deadly as sin. She gulped, thinking that if Satan really could take human form, he would come to earth as this man. He winked, making her jump, which only made him chuckle. She caught the bundle as it fell from her head, and held it to her chest like a shield.
“My name's Thunder.”
It might have been her imagination, but as she watched, a shadow of emotion washed over his face, reminding her of the great rolling clouds that crossed the plains, split by bolts of lightning so terrifying, she couldn't bear to watch. She felt he was aptly named, and found that, though she tried, she couldn't force herself to look away. There was something mesmerizing about his deep-set eyes, the perfection of his high cheekbones. His lips were thin, his expression firmly set, making her believe there was every reason to fear him, but her heart wasn't racing out of fear.
“New in town?”
His question broke through foggy thoughts, reminding her she was in a strange place and virtually alone in the world. California might be a place of freedom, but there were men who would force her back East given the chance and make a pretty penny by selling her again as a slave. She'd come too far to go back. She wished Daniel were near to protect her but just as quickly felt foolish for the wishing. She was on her own now, and though the thought terrified her, she had to face hard facts.
“Staying with friends?”