by Jillian Hart
"You win all your gold in poker games," Carson observed, but didn't take a step. As if he were hiding a possible limp.
"I win it the easy way. Why does it matter to you where I get my gold?"
"No reason." Carson's hat could hide a bandage.
Wyatt wasn't fooled. Whoever killed his brother had known Ben had panned a lot of gold, for robbery had been the real reason behind the murder. He'd started his footwork in the same saloons where his brother had spent lonely nights playing cards. And betting those fifty-dollar nuggets. It was the primary place Ben had spent his gold.
Now, looking at the panning supplies in the corner of the store, and then at the guns behind glass against the back wall, Wyatt had to move Carson up on his list of suspects. "You carry a good selection."
Carson grabbed his key to the case. "Are you looking for a new rifle?"
"I found one just like this on the road one night. Wondered how much it was worth."
Carson bowed his head. He fumbled with the key-chain. "You wouldn't get as much second-hand."
"Probably not." Wyatt wondered about the shopkeep. "Is this the only place in town that sells guns like these?"
"Well, there's the gunsmith down the street."
"Right. I'd forgotten." Wyatt hadn't forgotten. He knew how much a rifle was worth. "Sell many of these?" He pointed at a gleaming Winchester.
"None in at least a month."
"Is that right? Figured the man who lost the rifle might have replaced it."
"Not from this store."
"I appreciate your time, Carson." Wyatt headed toward the door, his instincts unsettled.
"Do you want your change in gold or coin?" the merchant asked, stepping behind the safety of the counter.
"Credit. Put it on Garnet's account."
"Whatever you say. With all the lonely men in town, is Miss Garnet getting a lot of suitors?"
Wyatt considered that question, too. "Yes, Carson. She sure is."
"Do you know what kind of candy she likes?"
"Expensive." Wyatt turned to the door. With any luck Garnet would hate whatever candy Carson brought. He headed down the street to pay a visit to the gunsmith.
* * *
Garnet picked her way along the trail that followed the muddy banks of Stinking Creek. A rabbit darted out of the low bushes and across the path. A puff of cold wind rattled the alders overhead. Birds scurried about their work, and the crackling expectation in the air signaled a storm was coming.
There he was, just up ahead. Her heart gave a jump at the sight of him. Wyatt knelt at the creek's bank, his hat tipped over his eyes, his wide shoulders braced as he shook a broad shallow pan.
"You shouldn't sneak up on an armed man." He didn't look up as he worked.
She picked her way across the uneven ground. "I didn't know you were armed."
"Aside from the intruder you wounded, now and then someone decides it's easier to steal the gold than it is to work for it."
"I didn't know panning for gold was work."
"Well, maybe it's time you learned." Humor flashed in his eyes. "Come sit down by me."
"No, I have laundry hanging on the line that needs ironing and–"
"Sit down." Firmer this time, brooking no argument. He held out his big hand, wet and muddy.
Her foolish feet carried her forward. She placed her hand in his. "Do you actually find any gold?"
"Sometimes." Wyatt tugged her down to kneel beside his big steely body.
She felt his heat, his strong hard presence in tune with the wilderness surrounding them. His voice rumbled through her as if it were her own.
"What amazes me is the earth." How reverent he sounded. "Something of great value is hidden beneath all this dirt and rock. Plain ordinary dirt. You can't tell where it is by looking. But a patient man can brush away the ordinary, bit by bit, and find the treasure beneath."
"You make it sound almost noble, but I'm not fooled." But she was captivated by this man wearing plain, ordinary clothes, living a plain, ordinary life.
"Here. Put your hand on this." His fingers wrapped around hers and set them on the edge of his pan. The metal was wet from the creek water and warm from his touch. "And your other hand here."
"You're trying to convert me into being a prospector."
"I'm trying to prove you wrong." His eyes sparkled with amusement and warmth and caring. "Now, shake it like this, back and forth."
"It's like flouring a cake pan."
He laughed. "Watch. See how the water is moving the dirt. Look, right there. You've found gold."
"This is your gold."
"Isn't it fun?"
"You're not going to get me to change my opinion." But she laughed, in spite of herself. The dull glint of gold amid the tiny rocks and bits of earth was fascinating. "All right, I admit it. It's fun."
"Keep going. Look at that. You've panned yourself a good-sized nugget."
She stilled the pan while he reached for the dull, muddy gold rock. "That couldn't be worth much."
"About fifty dollars is my guess." His smile broadened and etched dimples into his cheeks, dimples she'd never seen before.
She knew so little about him, only that he was everything she should never want in a man, and she wanted him. How she wanted him.
"Fifty dollars?"
"It's yours. That will buy your stage passage to the Montana border."
"Only one ticket."
"Maybe you could sell that sister of yours."
She felt lighter than she'd ever been before. "I pity the poor man who would pay good money for her. She doesn't cook so well."
"Don't talk about leaving. This place isn't going to be the same when you go. It will be pretty quiet around here without your humming and chatter."
"You would miss me?"
"Sure." His gaze roamed across her face. Then he took the gold nugget and bent to rinse it in the creek water. "Without all those suitors and clients coming around to call on you, I'm going to be mighty lonely."
"So it's the visitors and not me you'll miss."
"That's right."
This time she could tell for certain he was only teasing her, saying words that were not true to hide the things that were. Did he care for her? Did he feel as she did, confused but attracted?
All the more reason to resist her physical desire for him. They were friends, nothing more. They could never be anything more. She could never trust a man that much, not enough to hand over her heart.
He dried the nugget on his shirtfront, then pressed it into her hand. The metal held his heat, special to her because he had touched it. "Want to pan for more?"
She swallowed. If she found more gold, then she would have more money to go home with. She would have to leave sooner, maybe as soon as tomorrow, when the stage was due. Maybe she could find enough to see her home in time to start her term of teaching. She would be back where she belonged, where she was safe.
Her heart sank. Maybe that wasn't what she wanted now, after all. She'd sort of gotten used to the idea of staying in Montana for a little while and experiencing some of the things that she'd never had the chance to do before she returned home.
Thunder crashed overhead, a deafening crack that seemed to rend the world in two. Wyatt jumped up, cursing. Lightning tore across the sky, streaking toward the earth. Fire lit up the forest not ten yards from them. The earth shook, wood splintered, and a treetop, struck by the dangerous lightning bolt, tumbled to the ground, flames and smoke rising.
"Stay right there," Wyatt ordered. "Keep away from the trees."
"Where are you going?"
Any moment that lightning could return, closer this time. It could strike him, but did that stop Wyatt? No, he had a bucket of water in hand. He began dousing the flaming branches, trying to stop the spread of fire to the tinder-dry grasses.
Well, she wasn't going to stand around like this. She slipped the nugget into her skirt pocket for safekeeping and submerged the gold pan into the creek. Water
dripping, she hurried to the flames and put out an ignited limb all on her own.
"Get down," he shouted above the thunder.
"The faster this fire is out, the faster we can both be safe."
He growled, racing the few feet to the river. Of course he wouldn't see it that way. He probably thought he could save the day while she sat around complimenting him for it. She filled her pan and after a few trips, the flames were out and the lightning strikes were moving southward across the creek.
"You're a crazy woman, do you know that?"
She laughed, breathless. Was it from running? Or from watching the broad span of his chest rise and fall with each breath? "I guess it depends on whether or not you like crazy women."
"Then I'm in luck." He held out his hand, reaching for hers.
Pleasant tingles danced from her fingers all the way up her arm. The contact of his skin against hers reminded her of their differences. He was rough and callused, hard and powerful, but flesh and bone, just as she was.
Something cold struck her face. "No, it can't be."
"It's just rain. It won't hurt you."
"No, but it could ruin the clothes I left out on the line. Hurry!" She started off at a run and raced along the narrow path.
"Rain can't hurt a pair of trousers." Wyatt kept up with her, one step behind.
"Yes, but I'll have to rewash them and lose all of today's hard work." Her foot slid on a patch of mud. Wyatt's hand cupped her elbow, catching her. Together they broke out of the forest and dashed across the yard.
The huge raindrops had already soaked them and turned the inches-thick dust to mud.
"You run pretty fast for a woman," he taunted as he passed her.
"You're kind of slow for a man." She made him laugh and by the time she turned the corner of the cabin, just three paces behind, he was already tugging shirts and trousers off the line. She joined him and in no time at all they had the garments laid out in the fresh dry straw in the stable. Perhaps they could be salvaged.
"You know what I could use?"
The lure in his voice made her think he might want to kiss her again. Rain dripped off his hat brim and plastered his cotton shirt to his chest like a second skin. She saw every delineated, well-defined muscle, every curve and plane and dip.
Her throat constricted. Every part of her ached to lay her hand there, on his breastbone, over his rapidly beating heart.
"I'm afraid to ask," she confessed.
His chuckle brushed over her like rain. "I noticed we ran out of coffee beans. I picked up another pound at Carson's store."
"Wyatt, that would make you the hero of my dreams."
"Gee, if I had known that, I would have got the more expensive beans."
The mare whinnied in her stall, lifting her nose high to scent the wind.
"Someone's coming." Wyatt took her arm and moved past her. "Wait. I can see him from here. It's Carson.
And it looks like he's carrying a box of candy. Do you like candy better than coffee beans?"
"No, why?" And she didn't like Barrett Carson.
"Then I'm in luck. Come on, go send that dandy home and I'll brew you a cup of real coffee, Montana style."
"Is that a promise or a threat?"
His gaze flickered with mystery. "You'll have to live dangerously and find out."
* * *
Wyatt watched while Garnet tried her first sip of his best coffee. "What do you think?"
"This tastes like mud." Her lush mouth twisted. "Bitter mud. You wouldn't happen to have any sugar around here, would you?"
"Nope. I didn't think of it." And he should have. He should have guessed a woman like Garnet, particular in every way, would drink her coffee sweetened.
"I'll just have to improvise. Look, we'll use Mr. Carson's chocolates." Pleased with herself, Garnet leaned back in the chair to reach the decorated box with the tips of her fingers. She tore the wrapping open and plopped one of the fine chocolates into her brand new tin cup. "Now, I'll just wait for this to melt, stir it around, and then I'll see if I can stomach your coffee."
Wyatt could see the happiness gleam like a precious gem in her eyes, in those blue eyes the color of a mountain lake. Unusual eyes for an unusual woman. "Give me one of those chocolates."
"What? A tough loner like you has a sweet tooth?"
"You have no idea." Wyatt reached for a piece of candy, figuring Carson would be none too happy to know Garnet wasn't the only one enjoying those chocolates. He plopped it in his cup and watched Garnet laugh.
She had changed into a different dress after their dash in the rain, a soft white garment flecked with hundreds of tiny green leaves. White buttons marched from her chin to her waist, accenting a softly shaped bodice and firm breasts.
The skirt was plain, without a bustle or hoops, but it was elegant. The white and leaf-green sprigged material made her look fresh, like the world after a spring rain. Her raven hair was tied back with a white length of muslin, and small wisps had escaped to frame her face. Wyatt stared at the contrast, the white dress and black hair, the soft leaf imprinted on fabric and the porcelain clearness of her face.
Want, long denied, burned in his chest. The memory of kissing her teased him. As she lifted her sparkling tin cup and delicately sipped from the rim as if it were the finest of china, her merry gaze met his.
"The chocolate makes this mud you made quite tolerable. Try it." Steadfast and loyal, honest and passionate. Garnet licked her lush lips with the pink tip of her tongue and set his blood on fire.
With a bright flash of clarity Wyatt knew he liked this woman far more than was prudent. He couldn't help himself. He leaned across the corner of the table and cupped the back of her head, her satiny hair luxurious against his fingers, and brought her mouth to his.
She tasted of coffee and chocolate and a sweet fire all her own. Every inch of his body strummed with desire for her, only her. He laved his tongue along her lower lip. And when she opened her mouth to him, so willing and eager, he forgot every reason why he shouldn't become involved with her. He explored the even row of her front teeth, took courage from the low moan in her throat. She liked this, too, this intimacy.
Then a knock pounded on the door. Garnet skidded away from him, her hand to her mouth. Rain dripped from the corner of the roof, where it was collecting on the canvas cover. Who would be visiting in a storm?
"Golda. She's back from town." Garnet stood so fast, she knocked over the chair. The impact of Wyatt's kiss burned along her lips. She couldn't look at him as she pulled the latch and tugged open the door.
"Ma'am?"
It wasn't Golda, but a skinny boy in a big slicker, rain dripping off his floppy-brimmed hat. He was muddy from head to toe.
"Are you inquiring about my cleaning services?"
"No–uh," the boy hesitated, rolling his eyes to the sky as if looking for the right words. "Some woman paid me to deliver this. Let me find it."
Garnet watched while the lad opened his slicker and searched both trouser pockets. Finally he held out a folded sheet of paper. She could only stare at it. "What's this?"
"Don't know." The young man turned and ran back out into the rain.
Garnet felt the telltale pitter in her heart that foretold disaster. She unfolded the scrap of paper, her fingers trembling. She recognized Golda's fancy, precise handwriting.
Dearest Sister,
Please find it in your heart to be glad for me, your baby sister. Lance asked me to be his wife. We are running off to Virginia City to be wed.
Chapter Ten
"What's wrong?" Wyatt's steps sloshed in the mud behind her. "Couldn't Toby afford your laundry service?"
Garnet's hand began to tremble. She could not believe this letter, that this was real, that Golda would show such a lack of good sense and run off with a man who didn't even own his tent outright.
"Garnet." His hands cupped her shoulders from behind, such big, comforting hands. How she wanted to lean against him and ask for his help.
How wonderful it would be to depend on him, to place her trust in him.
But how could she? Golda wasn't his problem. And he was a friend, nothing more. The way he'd kissed her so intimately . . . why, she blushed thinking of how his tongue had caressed hers and made her body melt.
How could she rely on a man she wanted to seduce her?
"Bad news?"
Garnet crumpled the paper into a tight ball. "No, of course not. I was just surprised, that's all."
"Surprised? You look ready to cry."
"I am just a bit distressed, but nothing for you to worry about."
"Nothing?" He spun her around so only a tiny breath stood between them.
Garnet gazed up into his eyes and saw an affection so big and bright she could almost believe it. Could it be true? Could he care about her, too? Something in her heart flared again, like a small bit of paper catching a spark. "It's a personal note."
"Not from Barrett Carson, I hope." Black brows rose in a skeptical line. "I think he wants you. That was an expensive box of candy."
"I don't know what Mr. Carson thinks he sees in me." She shrugged, far too troubled over what to do and torn over asking Wyatt for help.
His hand curled over hers. "He sees a beautiful woman full of principles and convictions."
"Principles? Convictions?" She almost snorted.
"That's the woman I see, too. There was such tenderness in his voice, and it rumbled through her with the power of thunder.
Did he truly think so? Garnet could only try to measure the sincerity in his eyes.
What kind of principles did she have, enjoying kisses from a man who knew no permanence in his life? Or living in his cabin without the sanctity of marriage? Back home in Willow Hollow that would make her quite an indecent woman. Decent people would cross the street to avoid her.
"Let me see." He took the paper from her grip, simply, easily, and unballed it.
Her heart thudded in her chest. Wyatt had righted the page and was squinting at it, studying the words intently. "Your sister and her admirer are marrying just for a roll in the sheets?"