Cherokee sat up in bed with a curse. It couldn’t be long until morning. He’d get his business taken care of and get out of town before thoughts of the woman drove him loco. The only other alternative was to kidnap her and take her up to his cabin, where she would be at his mercy while he sated his lust on her small, ripe body.
Chapter Two
Silver paused in the doorway of the shoemaker’s shop before picking her way along the wooden sidewalk in the early morning chill. The shop had promised the new dancing slippers delivered just before tonight’s show.
Drat! The street looked muddy in front of Haw Tabor’s general store and that was where she wanted to go. Maybe if she was careful . . .
Gingerly, Silver lifted her full, aqua skirt and eyed the mud. These new, fashionable hoops didn’t help matters any. She looked up and down at the busy street. All she had to do was indicate her need and some miner or cowboy would rush over eagerly and carry her across.
The thought of a man’s touch made her shudder all over. After all that men had done to her, she never intended that another one even touch her hand.
Her mind went to the dark half-breed from last night. His hands were as big as he was, and probably as hard and tough as the man himself. She had a sudden vision of those callused hands stroking her breasts and felt her nipples harden into pink points at the thought.
The feeling shocked her. Never had any man made her feel desire. Revulsion and fear—those were the emotions men aroused in her. But her mind was still occupied with him as she began picking her way across the wet street.
The mud was deeper than she had thought. The slippery ooze pulled at her shoes. Silver paused halfway out, still struggling to keep her skirts above the mire. What a sight she would make if she tripped and fell! Worse than that, it would ruin the fine new dress that had just arrived on the Denver stage last week.
She took another step and felt the cold mud ooze over her shoe tops. Drat! Why hadn’t she had Haw deliver what she needed? There was no real reason to be out this morning. Certainly, she told herself, it wasn’t because she thought the big ’breed might be on the street or in the stores where she might see him.
She paused again. The half-breed came out of the hotel coffee shop on the other side of the street, then stopped, stood looking at her.
Ma’am,” he yelled in that thick Georgia drawl, if I may be of service to a lady—”
No, thank you,” she snapped back, taking another tentative step. She didn’t appreciate such sarcasm, although he didn’t look as if he meant anything by it. She knew the respectable” people of this area would not consider her a lady.” Besides, she didn’t want his big hands on her body.
Silver managed to take two more precarious steps and was beginning to hope she might make it to the sidewalk with no more than soiled shoes. Then she stepped into a hole.
The man leaned against the general store’s sign, smoking a cigarette and watching her. Others had stopped to watch, too. But the local men knew her well enough not to offer. They knew how Silver felt about a man’s touch.
Silver struggled to raise her foot out of the mire and lost her shoe. She stood there like a crane on one leg, struggling to maintain her balance. What the hell did she do now?
He tossed away his cigarette. Still don’t need any help?”
No, thank you.” In an agony of decision, she looked around, trying to decide what to do.
But at that moment, he strode out through the mud, swung her up in his arms, and carried her to the sidewalk.
Silver kept her body rigid as a dressmaker’s dummy, quaking inside with the horrible memories the feel of a man’s body against hers brought back. The heat and the strength of the rugged man seemed to burn through both their clothing.
She was actually trembling as he slowly stood her on her feet. He looked down at her a long moment, evidently puzzled by her fear.
I’ll get your other shoe, ma’am.” He spoke in a soft, reassuring drawl as if speaking to a frightened child.
Silver didn’t say anything. She stood there with nails digging into her palms, watching the giant of a man stride out to retrieve her shoe. He was one of the biggest men she had ever met, she thought, watching him walk. A big man like that could hurt her worse than that one in Chicago or even her stepfather. . . .
Here it is, Miss Silver, but it needs a lot of cleaning.” He doffed his Western hat and almost bowed, holding the shoe out. Maybe I should accompany you back to the Nugget—”
No, I’ll be fine.” She jerked the slipper out of his hand and put it on, very aware of men stopping to stare curiously at the pair. This must be the only man in the Rockies who didn’t know how Silver Jones reacted to being touched. Thank you for your help, Mister . . .”
Evans. Cherokee Evans.” He bowed again with that gallantry that seemed to come natural to any Southern male—even a half-breed. I’m always happy to help a lady.”
No, he wasn’t being sarcastic. His dark eyes were honest, friendly. Too friendly. She must not encourage him. Next thing she knew, he’d want to share her bed and Silver had never done that with a man—willingly.
She gave him a nod of dismissal and turned toward Tabor’s store.
But Cherokee Evans rushed to open the door for her. I allow as how I was going in here for supplies, too.”
What could she do? There was no law against a man going into a store. Silver decided to ignore him. Maybe he’d take the hint. She walked to the back counter.
Immediately, Haw’s sour-faced wife, Augusta, looked up, saw her, frowned, and suddenly discovered something in the back of the building that needed immediate attention, probably so she wouldn’t have to wait on Silver. It had happened before.
Such treatment from respectable” women no longer hurt Silver; she’d grown used to it. The only satisfaction she got was knowing that often the respectable” women’s husbands were frequenting the Nugget Saloon at night while their wives thought the men were at a town meeting or working late.
Cherokee followed her. Either he didn’t realize Silver was ignoring him, or he refused to take the hint. She knew what he wanted from her—what all men wanted from women. Silver never intended to be put through that humiliation and pain again. And as big as he was, there’d be a lot of pain, besides the sheer weight of his big body pinning her against the bed.
Genial Haw rushed over to wait on her. Silver made her purchases, gave a curt nod to both men, and sailed out of the store, her shoes squeaking wetly. She walked as fast as she could back to the Nugget, ran up the stairs, slammed her door and shot the bolt, and leaned against the locked door, trembling. Now she was safe. Not that the ’breed had made any threatening moves. It was just that he kept looking at her with that dark, intense gaze that let her know if he decided to take her, locked doors and dozens of witnesses couldn’t stop him. Maybe in a day or two, he’d get discouraged and go away.
Cherokee stared after her with both longing and regret. In truth, he had seen her come out of the shoe shop from the hotel coffee shop and had bolted his breakfast so he could be standing outside when she crossed the street.
What had he expected? He watched her walk on down the sidewalk while he remembered every detail about the few seconds she had been in his arms. The feel of her body against his, the warm softness of her, the scent of her wild flower fragrance had made him almost dizzy with desire as he had carried her to the sidewalk. She seemed to fit into his embrace almost perfectly, her small body light in his arms.
But the girl had been rigid, trying to keep from touching him. And she’d actually been trembling when he had stood her on her feet. There had been no mistaking the fear in her eyes as she looked up at him. He had had the most insane impulse to take that flawless face between his two big hands and gently brush his lips across hers. I won’t hurt you, Silver,” he had almost whispered. I’d never hurt you or let anyone else. You’re safe with me, you’ll always be safe and protected while I’m around.”
Who was he kiddin
g? Himself? He looked out the front window at the slight blonde in pale aqua as she hurried down the wooden sidewalk. All his body could think of was getting that expensive aqua velvet and fine jewelry off that slim body so he could run his hands over her white, naked skin.
She’s a pretty one, ain’t she?” the shopkeeper’s voice broke into his thoughts and Cherokee looked around, realizing he had been staring after the girl like a hungry hound after a tender morsel.
Oh, I reckon. Maybe a little too small for my taste.” Cherokee shrugged and reached to add a bag of salt to his supplies.
Then you’re the only man in the Rockies who thinks so!” The jovial Tabor jotted the purchase on a pad on the counter before him.
What’s her story?” Cherokee asked a little too carelessly, damning himself because he wanted to know everything about her.
Tabor stuck a pencil behind one ear and shrugged. No one knows really. About a year ago, she got off the stage here, accompanied by that ugly bartender of hers, Al. Nobody knows where they came from or anything else about them except the stage driver thought from their tickets that they had started out from Chicago.”
She did have a Northern accent, Cherokee thought, but somehow, Silver had struck him as a country girl, not someone from a big place like Chicago. Does she really own that saloon?”
Lock, stock, and barrel!” Tabor hooked his thumbs in his white apron. She had two thousand dollars in cold cash, gossip says, and promptly bought the place. That’s a lot of money by anyone’s standards.”
He was even more intrigued. And there’s no other man?”
Who? Silver? Perish the thought!” Tabor made a gesture of dismissal. Not her! Folks say she wouldn’t even allow whores there, but they begged for the jobs. Her card tables are honest, which is rare, and the Nugget don’t water the whiskey. Silver’s always treating some old bum or hungry passerby to a meal.”
Hard-eyed whore with a heart of gold. It was the stuff novels were made of. But if she wasn’t a whore, just what was she? Whatever she was, Cherokee didn’t want to leave town until he unraveled the mystery, even though his partners needed him back at the claim.
You been here long, stranger?” the other interrupted his thoughts.
Cherokee shook his head. First time in town, though I’ve been up on the claim for months. How’d it get a name like Buckskin Joe?”
Oh, some call it Laurette now, sounds fancier, I reckon, but it won’t stick.” The storekeeper stuck his pencil behind his ear. Most of us think it should stay named for the old mountain man who founded it.”
Cherokee grunted, his mind still on the girl.
We’ll be a state someday, sure you’re born,” the shopkeeper said. Why, us becomin’ an official Territory last month is just the beginnin’, and I intend to be part of her future!”
Oh?” Cherokee smiled politely as he reached for his money. I got business at the blacksmith and then I’ll be moving on.”
Tabor snorted. Sorry, fella, you’ll have to wait ’til tomorrow for the blacksmith. He’s out of town at a funeral.”
Is there another one?”
Nope. What’s your all-fired hurry, anyhow? He’ll be back tomorrow. You probably ain’t findin’ much gold nohow.”
Cherokee felt both guilty and elated. He sighed and reached for his parcels. Prospectin’ is just something that gets in your blood, I reckon. My papa spent his whole life chasing after the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow that was always just over the next hill.”
Tabor scratched his head. He ever find it?”
No.” The Welshman had gone off with a white saloon whore named Lulu, chasing yet another rainbow while his deserted Indian wife and son made out the best they could in the Georgia hills.
An empty ache came to his heart. He had still been only a child when the government decided to move the Cherokees thousands of miles away to Indian Territory in the wintertime. The Removal. Tsi-ge gv-wo-o-ta-ne-i, his people called it. His mother was forced to go and died along with thousands of others. Cherokee’s grandmother had taken him deep into the woods and they had hidden out for years. It had earned its other name—the Trail of Tears.
Tabor pushed his parcels to him. Take my advice, fella, find another way to make money besides digging for gold. Now myself, I’ve grubstaked a few prospectors. If any of them ever hits pay dirt, I’ll be a rich man without ever touching a shovel.”
Cherokee only half listened. Already he was thinking how glad he was that he had an excuse to stay in town at least another night. Immediately he felt guilty. Those two old prospectors he had taken in as partners needed help back at the claim.
He whistled jauntily as he picked up his packages and went out. Cherokee had brought a small poke full of silver, intending to spend it on a good time. But now he had a sudden desire to buy the beautiful girl a present. Maybe then she might look at him with favor. What could he buy that would please her?
She wore expensive jewelry, but he knew he couldn’t afford that. Besides he had no experience at choosing pretties for women. Probably wasn’t much to buy in this town anyway. He half turned back toward Tabor’s store, then decided the sour-faced wife wouldn’t-have ordered really fine fabrics or anything that Silver hadn’t already bought if she wanted it.
Muddy shoes. Hers had been ruined this morning. She’d been coming out of the shoe shop when Cherokee had first seen her this morning. Would she accept a gift anyway? Probably not.
Undaunted, he stroke over to the shop and went inside. The dim interior smelled of leather and polish. A slight man with his hair parted down the middle and a cobbler’s hammer in his hand looked up. Can I help you, mister?”
Cherokee lost his nerve. Uh, I was thinkin’ of havin’ me some new boots made.”
I can do her! Never did hold with these factory-made jobs; don’t even come to fit your foot, no left and right.”
Cherokee only nodded, looking around, wondering what kind of shoes Silver would order. And then he realized that the shoemaker was working on the smallest shoe Cherokee had ever seen. Only one woman had feet that small. Are those for Miss Silver?”
The shoemaker held the slipper up, evidently proud of his workmanship. I always do my very best work for her. She’s one of those women every man would like to call his own, but I doubt anyone ever will.”
Cherokee held out his hand and the man put the shoe in it. He could close his big fist around it. Cherokee had seen bigger children’s shoes. The workmanship was good, but the shoe was not quite finished. I owe Miss Silver a favor,” he said.
Half the town does,” the man said, leaning against his workbench. The womenfolk don’t cotton to her, but she’s kind to even the most down-and-out old drunk. And that face! You ever see such a perfect face?”
Cherokee agreed, turning the small dancing shoe over and over in his hand, thinking. When these got to be finished?”
She wants them for tonight’s show. I told her I’d bring them over myself right before the performance.” He winked broadly. Gives me a perfect excuse to stay a few minutes, if you know what I mean.”
If she owns the place, why does she sing and dance there?”
Because it draws a crowd and she likes to do it, I suppose.”
That made sense. Somehow, when she sang, the small blonde had a way of making a man think she sang and danced only for him. Cherokee handed the slipper back and reached for his poke. I want you to do something to these shoes—something she’ll like but she wouldn’t accept from me.”
I don’t know about this.” The cobbler scratched his thin hair doubtfully.
Tell her you did it as a way of saying much obliged’ for her business. That way, she can’t turn it down.” Cherokee opened his poke. He had an idea that pleased him and he thought it would please her . . . as long as Silver didn’t have to feel obligated. He explained his idea.
The cobbler smiled. She’ll like that! I’d do it myself, but I don’t have the silver. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her!”
&nbs
p; Every man in town felt the same way, Cherokee discovered as he wandered about that day. Nearly all had a tale to tell of her kindness and generosity. A dozen told him they’d begged to marry her, but Silver’s nunlike life was as well known as her flawless face.
If he could, Cherokee intended to put an end to that. He had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted this one, but he was a little unsure how to go about it. He’d had little experience with women except for paid whores—with one exception. He frowned at the memory. No, they were all whores—even the ones who pretended to be respectable.
It seemed a long day, but finally the sun set and Cherokee leaned against the Nugget’s ornate bar, impatient to see the girl again.
Al looked up, reached for a cup of coffee, and slammed it down by Cherokee’s hand. You’re wasting your time, sport.”
Let me be the judge of that.”
The ugly little man glowered at him. She don’t sleep with nobody. That’s the way she wants it and my shotgun sees that Miss Silver gets what she wants.”
Cherokee sipped the coffee and watched the bartender take a gulp of patent medicine then wipe his mouth. You known her a long time, Al?”
Long enough.”
You related to her?”
Nope.”
You don’t say much, do you?” Cherokee said in exasperation.
Al grinned then put the medicine bottle in his hip pocket. You ever hear about the man who got rich mindin’ his own business?”
No.”
Then maybe that’s why you ain’t rich.”
Cherokee stared past him into the big mirror behind the bar. He wasn’t going to learn anything about Silver from this gorilla.
The saloon grew crowded and smoky as darkness fell and men drifted in. The piano banged out off-key songs, the roulette wheel whirled, glasses clinked, and women laughed.
Quicksilver Passion Page 3
