by Connie Mason
“And coffee,” Casey added. He knew it was rude to stare at the woman but seemed unable to look away.
Belle nodded and turned back to the kitchen. Casey continued to stare at her, stunned to note that she was limping. Though slight, her limp was nevertheless noticeable … and surprising. Men rarely were attracted to whores with deformities. Most madams would consider a lame whore a disability and bad for business. Either he had the wrong woman, Casey thought, or McAllister had lied about his daughter-in-law’s profession. Casey didn’t like being deceived. Unfortunately it was too late for second thoughts. He had already taken his bonus from McAllister and wired it to Simon Levy. Casey might not like McAllister, but he had agreed to do a job and he’d never reneged on an assignment in his entire career as a Pinkerton detective.
Belle peeked out the kitchen door at the handsome stranger while the beans were heating, gnawing her lower lip with even white teeth as she considered his strong chin and rugged features. He was handsome, no doubt about it. Those were the men she trusted least. Yet she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. Shiny dark hair brushed the nape of his neck, and though she hadn’t noted the color of his eyes, she knew they would be unusual. He was big; she could see his muscles rippling beneath his clothing. The man didn’t look like a miner. Dressed in crisp canvas trousers, plaid shirt and leather vest, wearing leather boots that were scuffed but of good quality, his attire was too new to mark him as a miner.
Belle noted that the man wore one gun at his hip, a Colt single-action pistol. What Belle didn’t know was that Casey carried an Underhammer “bootleg” percussion pistol beneath his vest. The gun was of small caliber but practical for personal protection when one wanted to carry concealed weapons.
A few minutes later Belle returned with a plate of beans and a cup of coffee, which she sat down before Casey. “I haven’t seen you around before, mister. Going to try your hand at mining?”
Casey shoved his hat back on his head and smiled at Belle. “The name’s Walker, Casey Walker. I’m just passing through. What kind of hotel is the Cary House?”
“The best, Mr. Walker. It was built after the Ruffles Hotel burned in 1856. Expensive, too. If it’s too steep for you I can recommend another.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. How long have you been serving meals in Placerville, Mrs. Henderson?” Casey asked as he dug into his beans.
“Long enough.”
“Is your husband a miner?”
“I’m a widow,” Belle said crisply.
“Any children?” He tried to make the question sound casual.
Warning bells went off in Belle’s head. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business, Mr. Walker. That’s two bits for the beans and coffee.”
“Sorry,” Casey mumbled as he dug in his pocket for change. She’s as skittish as a colt, he thought as he watched her limp away into the kitchen. Not that he could blame her. If Isabelle Henderson was indeed Belle Parker, she had good reason to be wary. She had to know that T.J. McAllister was breathing down her neck.
Gulping down the last of his coffee, Casey decided to get a hotel room and plan how to proceed with the young widow. Besides himself, the only customer left in the eatery was the man who had been sucking on a cup of coffee when he’d entered the establishment. From the corner of his eye Casey saw the man stumble to his feet and lurch toward the kitchen. Casey thought it rather odd but, then nothing about this assignment seemed normal.
Casey paused as he ambled toward the front door, wondering if Belle, or Isabelle, as she called herself, was plying her trade in the kitchen. It certainly seemed to prove that McAllister had been right about her being a whore. He was actually relieved. Knowing that McAllister was right made his job easier to swallow. He continued on his way. His hand was on the doorknob when a strangled cry stopped him in his tracks.
He whirled on his heel, listening, trying to decide if what he’d heard were cries of passion and he should mind his own business. Then it came again, only this time the cries sounded desperate and frightened and were followed by a crash of dishes. Raw instinct set his long legs into motion as he hurried toward the kitchen. He stopped abruptly in the open doorway and stared in consternation at the couple grappling on the kitchen table.
The woman had been shoved onto the table, which had been hastily cleared of dishes. Her skirts had been shoved up to her waist as the huge miner tried to mount her. The woman’s small fists flailed at the miner but were as ineffectual as gnat stings against the burly man nearly three times her size.
“Aw, come on, Belle, be nice to me,” the miner cajoled. “I got plenty of gold dust in my poke to pay ya for a little tumble. It ain’t like ya ain’t done it before. Ya got a son to prove it. I’ll bet ya weren’t even married, let alone a widow. Come on, Belle, open yer legs.”
“Get off of me, Pike Dinks, you drunken oaf, unless you want Wan Yo to come after you!”
Dinks laughed gleefully. “That old Chinaman couldn’t hurt a flea.”
“You’ll find willing women in any one of the numerous saloons in town.”
Dinks gave Belle a sloppy kiss, shoved his knee between her legs and his hands inside her bodice. “Ain’t enough whores to go around. I want you.”
When Casey saw where the miner’s hands were he flew into a rage. He couldn’t recall when he felt so protective toward a woman, especially one who had been a whore before her marriage and was probably used to being mauled. Hell, maybe she liked it. But he didn’t. It stuck in his craw to see her abused by a drunken, foul-mouthed miner. Upon further consideration, Casey decided she didn’t look at all like she enjoyed being roughed up.
Belle shoved against Dinks with all her might, feeling like a bird trapped beneath his considerable bulk. She should have known better than to turn her back on Dinks. This wasn’t the first time the miner had tried to assault her. She could smell booze on his breath and hadn’t realized when he’d come in for lunch that he was drunk. When she felt his knee between her legs and his hands fumbling inside her bodice, she clamped her teeth down hard on his shoulder.
Dinks cried out, shaking himself free. “Ya little bitch! You’ll pay for that.” His fist flew backward, but before he could bring it forward he went sailing through the air. He landed on the floor at Casey’s feet.
“Pick on someone your own size,” Casey said, baring his teeth in a feral smile. His eyes were luminous with anger and his face was the twisted visage from hell.
Dinks blinked up at him. “I don’t wanna fight with you, mister.”
“I can see that. You prefer to abuse women too weak to fight back. You’re scum, Dinks. Get out of here and don’t come back. Mrs. Henderson doesn’t need your business.” The air thickened with his anger. “And if you ever, I repeat, ever lay hands on this woman again, you’re a dead man. Do I make myself clear?”
Dinks scooted backward toward the door, staring at Casey in abject fear. He wasn’t a slouch when it came to defending himself, but he sensed something dangerously lethal in this man. Something about his eyes hinted of ruthlessness and a willingness to carry out his threats.
“I’m going, mister, don’t get your dander up,” Dinks said as he staggered to his feet and slunk out the door.
Belle hoisted herself from the table, still trembling from her encounter with Dinks but in full control now. She couldn’t afford to show fear. She didn’t know this stranger, and for all she knew he was of the same ilk as Dinks. Just because he had sent Dinks fleeing didn’t mean he wouldn’t launch an attack of his own once he had dealt with the miner.
During her years with Naomi, Belle had seen men of all sizes, shapes, and sexual persuasions. She had learned that good men were few and far between. Her own father, though he had loved her, had easily succumbed to the lure of wine, women, and cards. Tom had been the only good man she had ever known, and he was gone.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Henderson?”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Walker. I’m grateful for your intervention. Pike Dink
s has been pestering me ever since he came to town. The only times he’s actually assaulted me, though, was when he was too drunk to know what he was doing.”
Casey went still. “You mean this isn’t the first time?”
Belle gave an inelegant shrug. “No, nor is he the first man to think he could take liberties.”
“What in the hell is a defenseless woman doing in a rough gold camp with no one to protect her? Didn’t I hear Dinks say you had a son? You must be crazy to stay here amid so much violence.” Casey couldn’t imagine why he was being so protective of a woman he hardly knew.
Belle’s stubborn little chin lifted and her brown eyes darkened with anger. Casey thought her magnificent. He saw now that her hair wasn’t really a true brown but a rich sable, so shiny it nearly blinded him. Except for her lameness her body was perfect. Slim and sinuous, she was also round where it counted, with a hint of long, supple legs hidden beneath her skirts.
“You’re quick to find fault with someone you hardly know,” Belle tossed back at him. “I’ve been in Placerville over a year and have managed quite nicely, thank you.”
Casey gave a sarcastic snort. “It didn’t look to me as if you were managing. If I hadn’t been handy Dinks would have raped you.” His eyes narrowed and the searching look he gave her was almost insulting. “Unless I interrupted something I had no business interrupting. Are you in the habit of providing services to your customers after hours?”
Before she had time to consider the consequences, she lashed his cheek with the flat of her hand. “How dare you!”
Casey’s jaw clenched. He supposed he deserved that. But something inside him had snapped at the thought of Belle selling herself to crude miners. He stepped closer, grasping her shoulders and bringing her hard against him. He was so startled by how good she felt pressed against him that he immediately pushed her away.
Belle tried to remain calm, frozen in place by the mesmerizing power of his strangely beautiful, mossy green eyes. Every part of him where she was briefly pressed against him had been hard and unyielding. Intuition told her that Casey Walker could be utterly ruthless. He was so honed and lethal, so swift and sure of himself, that it frightened her.
“I’ll forgive you this time,” Casey growled. “I had no call to say what I did.” The urge to pull her against him again was so strong he had to consciously restrain himself. What in the hell had gotten into him? he chided himself. He wasn’t about to stoop to the level of the crude miner who had tried to force himself on her. He was a professional, for godsake, and if he didn’t act like one soon he was going to lose this job and be forced to return the bonus, which he no longer had.
“I find it difficult to believe you’ve managed on your own thus far. How many times have you had to defend yourself against men like Dinks?”
Belle flushed and stared at her hands. She’d had to defend herself plenty of times. “I’ve survived.”
“What you need is a bodyguard.”
Belle sent Casey a startled glance. That’s exactly what she needed. Not for herself, but for Tommy. If T.J. McAllister ever found them he’d take away her son for sure. And the law would let him. All T.J. had to do was reveal her background and she’d lose Tommy to a detestable man who had disowned his own son and ignored Tommy until he realized the boy was the last living heir. It would be comforting to know Tommy would be well provided for, but it was not worth losing her son to his grandfather.
Belle eyed him with distrust. “I don’t need a bodyguard, Mr. Walker.”
Casey gave her a look that suggested he believed otherwise. He could think of no better way to learn everything there was to know about Belle Parker than signing on as her bodyguard. If he was to talk her into giving up her son to her father-in-law, he needed to earn her trust.
“Why not, Mrs. Henderson? You could use a bodyguard and I need a job.”
Belle eyed him in silent contemplation. It was true Wan Yo, the faithful Chinese servant Naomi had sent along with her to protect her son, was getting on in years, and that McAllister was probably spending a fortune trying to locate her and Tommy. For all she knew, T.J.’s men were already hot on her trail. And Casey Walker looked like a man capable of giving Tommy the kind of protection he needed. But could she trust him?
“I don’t need a bodyguard,” she repeated.
“I think you do.”
Belle considered his words and seemed to come to a decision. “I can’t pay much. I don’t need a guard for myself, it’s for Tommy.”
“Tommy?”
“My son.”
“Why does your son need a bodyguard?”
“There are circumstances you can’t imagine.”
“Tell me so I’ll know what I’m up against.”
“All you have to do is keep a sharp lookout for strangers lurking about my establishment. You’ll soon recognize my regular customers. Anyone else requires attention. I can pay you ten dollars a week and all your meals.”
Casey nearly laughed aloud. If he told her the amount of money McAllister was paying him to find her she’d be appalled. “My hotel room will cost nearly that much.”
“You can sleep in the spare room off the kitchen. Wan Yo used to sleep there, but he moved into the house to be nearer to Tommy.”
“Wan Yo?”
“Wan Yo takes care of Tommy while I’m working. I’ve known him forever.”
“Do you have any other employees? Running this diner is a lot of work for one woman.” She wasn’t a slouch when it came to work, Casey thought as he admired the cleanliness and order of the kitchen.
“That’s all I’ll tell you until we come to an agreement.”
He stared at her, then nodded his head. “Very well, I accept your terms. Tell me everything I need to know.”
“I still haven’t decided a bodyguard is necessary, but I will tell you that Sanchez and his wife Dolores help me in the kitchen.” She grew silent for a moment, then said, “On second thought, hiring someone I know nothing about isn’t such a good idea.” She must be out of her mind to consider giving her trust so easily. She wasn’t going to let anyone get close enough to her and Tommy to hurt them. “I know nothing about you. You could be a murderer, or rapist, or any number of things. I have Wan Yo, and I can protect my son better than anyone.”
“Mama! Mama! A bad man hurt Wan Yo. Hurry, hurry!”
A small boy bounced into the room, clutched Belle’s hand and pulled her out the door.
Completely forgetting Casey, Belle rushed out after Tommy. “What happened?”
Checking the position of his gun and removing the flap holding it in place, Casey followed.
Words tumbled out of the boy’s mouth in a rush. “Wan Yo and I were walking to the store when a bad man started calling him names and pulling on his pigtail. I tried to help but the bad man pushed me hard and I fell on the ground. Wan Yo tried to help me but the bad man knocked him down and kicked his leg. Now Wan Yo can’t get up.”
Casey saw a crowd gathered around a small figure crumpled in the dirt. He sprinted ahead and saw a frail old Chinese man, wearing baggy black pajamas, writhing in pain on the ground. Was this the man Belle depended on for protection? Wan Yo was so slight of build Casey suspected a good wind would blow him away. His face had turned gray beneath his fragile yellow skin and his leg was bent at an unnatural angle.
“Who did this?” Belle cried, dropping to her knees beside the old man. It frightened her to think that Tommy could have been hurt as well.
“Bad man, Missy Belle, a bad, bad man. He no like Wan Yo’s pigtail. Want to cut it off. No can do.”
“Where is the man now, Wan Yo?” This was from Casey, who had joined Belle and Tommy at Wan Yo’s side.
“Gone,” Wan Yo wailed, “but Wan Yo not forget face. He tell Wan Yo Chinaman not welcome in Placerville. He tell Wan Yo to go to Chinese Camp with his own kind.”
“Don’t worry, Wan Yo, I’ll take care of you,” Belle crooned as she took off her apron and placed it under his h
ead. The man was as dear to her as her own flesh and blood. He had become indispensable to her since the day she and Tommy had fled from her father-in-law. “Someone go for the doctor,” she called out to anyone who would listen.
“I’ll go.” A man broke off from the crowd and headed toward the doctor’s office.
“What were you saying about not needing a bodyguard, Mrs. Henderson?” Casey asked as he watched Belle fuss over the old man. “I’d say you were in desperate need of someone to watch over you and your son. Since I’m not interested in mining, I may as well make myself useful to you.”
As much as Belle wanted to deny it, she couldn’t. Wan Yo couldn’t provide protection laid up with a broken leg, and God only knew what other injuries he’d sustained.
“Very well, Mr. Walker, you’re hired. I just hope I don’t live to regret my hasty decision.”
Chapter 2
Doctor Lincoln arrived a few minutes later. A cursory examination confirmed that Wan Yo’s leg was broken, along with three ribs. The rest of his injuries were minor.
“I’ll send someone with a stretcher,” the doctor said. “Can’t have that leg jarred any more than necessary. You want to have him brought to my office, Mrs. Henderson?”
“No, I’ll take him home,” Belle said. “He’ll be more comfortable there, if that’s all right with you, doctor.”
“I’ll go back to the office then and gather up what I need to set Wan Yo’s leg. Keep him quiet until the stretcher arrives.”
“Does this kind of thing happen often?” Casey asked after the doctor had hurried away.
“People here don’t like Chinamen.”
Belle didn’t say what she was really thinking. She feared someone had tried to kidnap her son and Wan Yo was injured in the scuffle. Had T.J. found them? Oh God, she hoped not. She didn’t want to move again. She thought she’d be safe in Placerville after a year had passed with no problems—except minor ones with men like Dinks. Would she and Tommy be safe from T.J.’s long arm anywhere in California?
