by Jill Gregory
“No.” The word froze Jesse in his tracks, but he threw Cal a stubborn glance.
Cal held up a hand for silence but otherwise ignored him. He fixed each of the younger children with a look that brooked no argument. “Go on inside now and see to setting the table for supper,” he ordered. “Will, you help your sisters. I have to talk to Jesse alone.”
One peek at his grim face, and they all hurried inside without a word of argument.
The afternoon was fading. The air had changed. There was a gusty chill, an edge, that swept down from the trees and the iron wall of mountains, a chill that hadn’t been there during the golden days of late summer. A hint of autumn, maybe, even of the winter to come. Of the beginning of a harsher season.
“Cal, I can help—” Jesse said, starting toward him, arms outstretched in frustration.
“You need to stay here and look after them.”
“But you said there was trouble in Cherryville; you said that even before you knew Melora was gone. You might need help, Cal. Let me help.” He stuck out his jaw. “I helped you before,” he reminded his brother proudly. “You know I did.”
Remembering Jesse’s courage and resourcefulness in breaking him out of jail, Cal wavered. He studied the boy before him, his gaze flicking over the long, lean limbs just beginning to shoot up toward manhood. Jesse could be of help; he could save Cal some time. While Cal hunted for Coyote Jack, Jesse could search for Melora and at the very least find out if she’d made it to the telegraph office.
“There’s one problem: We can’t leave Will and Lou and Cassie here alone.”
“Let’s take them over to the O’Malleys’.” Jesse’s eyes were bright as he practically hopped from one foot to the other. “Their farm runs along the trail between here and Cherryville. I don’t think Mrs. O’Malley would mind a few extra mouths to feed for one night. Deirdre said she always has plenty of food on the table.”
Cal frowned, considering this. Then a grudgingly admiring smile touched his lips. “You’ve got a real good head on your shoulders, Jesse. I’m going to take you up on your plan. Two of us can comb Cherryville a lot faster than one. But if you run into a bounty hunter named Coyote Jack, you steer clear of him, understand? Stay out of his way; then come and find me pronto.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain everything later. Round up the others while I hitch up the wagon. And don’t forget to bring your shotgun. Come on, Jesse, hurry,” Cal called over his shoulder as he dismounted and sprinted for the barn. “We’ve got to ride.”
Chapter 20
Pain crunched through Melora’s head like heavy boots through sand as she came slowly, dimly awake. Dark, eerie stillness surrounded her. But as her eyelids fluttered and a moan escaped her lips, dull forms took shape. The light grew, pulsed. Figures became defined.
Then she groaned softly as thin shafts of sunlight pierced her eyelids.
“Good, you’re awake.” The voice of her former fiancé came out in a low, satisfied rumble, but it struck her eardrums as ominously as thunder.
She opened her eyes fully and realized she was lying on a bed. Not just any bed, a big, sumptuously appointed four-poster bed appointed in red velvet and heaped with black fringed pillows of gold and red sateen.
Melora pushed herself up to sit dizzily, one hand to her aching head. Rafe Campbell lounged at the mantel, a drink in his hand, watching her. Another man, with long, greasy gray-black hair and a long, snoutish face, who wore buckskins, a black hat, and a sneer, sat sprawled upon a spindly gold-cushioned chair. It appeared to Melora that at any moment the delicate chair might splinter into pieces beneath his weight.
“You had me mighty worried, Melora.” Campbell studied her over the rim of his glass. “Coyote Jack hit you harder than he should have. You went down hard and didn’t wake up. But you’re going to be just fine, honey. Why don’t I pour you a brandy? A shot of this stuff will do you good.”
“Don’t bother,” she muttered as he set his glass down on the mantel, crossed to a small lacquer table bearing a crystal decanter and goblets, and poured the dark liquor for her. “I don’t want anything from you. Get—get away from me.”
“Now, Melora, is that a polite way to talk to your fiancé? I’m trying to take care of you, honey. Drink up.”
Melora’s head throbbed so badly she could scarcely focus her eyes without white light dancing before her. She wanted to hurl the brandy right into Rafe Campbell’s smug, handsome face, the same face she’d once held dear and now hated, but instead she clenched her fingers tightly around the stern of the goblet and forced herself to take a sip. Then another.
This wasn’t the time to let her anger control her. There were two of them, and one of her, and she was too weak and dizzy to beat either one of them to the door. With fear clenching inside her, she knew this was one of those moments Pop had often discussed with her, a time to use her head instead of her temper.
Cal’s life might be at stake. And hers too.
“Better?” Campbell inquired, taking the glass from her at last.
“Why should you care?” she replied in a low tone, and sank back against the pillows. The brandy had run down her throat like perfumed fire, warming and soothing her, helping clear her head. Now that she’d had a moment to observe her surroundings she realized that she was in a large, opulent, overly furnished room. Everything about it, from the gold-flocked wallpaper to the ruby carpeting and the heavy red drapes swathing the windows, seemed more suffocating than elegant. She’d never seen anything like the overstuffed black and red velvet settee or the huge gilded mirrors and gold-framed paintings of half-naked women that covered the walls. And a sinuous heavy floral scent, a perfume that was as cloying and exotic as the paintings themselves, pervaded the room.
“Where am I?”
“One of my favorite places.” Campbell set her glass down and retrieved his own. He downed the rest of his brandy in one smooth gulp before continuing. “The Peacock Brothel, my dear. Handsome—isn’t it?—if a shade gaudy. But it does set a certain mood.”
The man in the chair guffawed, and Melora’s glance swerved toward him uneasily.
“The owner of this establishment is a particular friend of mine and has let us use one of her own private rooms. We’re on the second floor, in the back, where we won’t be disturbed. You see, honey, I want us to have a chance for a very private, serious, uninterrupted chat.”
“Then what’s he doing here?” Melora jerked her chin at the other man. “Do you think you need protection from me, Campbell?”
She saw him stiffen at her sneering tone and the mocking insinuation. His sharply chiseled face flushed a mottled shade of red that nearly matched the carpet. Oh, so I’ve pricked your pride, she thought with satisfaction. Good.
Yet the fine hairs at the back of her neck quivered at the glacial expression that shot into his eyes.
Melora swallowed, her fingers curling upon the red velvet bed covering. It was difficult to believe that this was the same man who had wooed her with sophistication and elegant restraint at the town dance and had spoken with such commanding eloquence at the cattlemen’s association meetings.
It now seemed that a veneer had been stripped away. She saw so clearly beneath the handsome features, the deep, vivid eyes, the assured authority with which he spoke and moved. All was revealed to her now, mirrored in those eyes, naked in his face.
His greed, his cunning, his ruthlessness.
She tasted hot, pure fear, metallic and tingly on her tongue. And rage, a building, flowing rage, when she thought of all the grief and pain this man had caused Cal—and Jesse and Will and Lou and Cassie.
He’d taken their brother from them. And their name, their family honor.
And he’d almost taken the Weeping Willow from her and Jinx.
“Did you ever love me?” she heard herself asking, her voice low with anger she was struggling to control.
“Of course, Melora.” He shook his head scornfully, as if amazed she cou
ld even ask such a question. “I still love you. I’ll always love you. And you’re the first woman I’ve ever said that to, believe it or not.”
“I don’t believe it. I don’t believe anything you say.”
“That’s too bad. Because now I have another score to settle with Cal Holden. He’s turned you against me.”
“No, you’ve done that all by yourself.”
“Either way, it looks like it’s up to me to change things back. To win your trust again, to calm your fears. Melora, how can I prove to you that what I’ve done, what I’m doing, I’m doing for us? For you and me—and our future.”
“You want my ranch.”
Something shimmered beneath the glassy surface of his eyes. “I won’t deny it. I do. But I want you along with it. Just as much. Maybe even more,” he added softly, wonderingly.
Suddenly he moved toward her, quick and catlike. Even as Melora flinched backward against the fringed pillows, her arms flying up as if to ward him off, he sat down on the edge of the bed and grasped her by the shoulders.
“Don’t ruin this for us, Melora. Help me, be my partner, a true, loving partner, and I’ll make you a queen. Marry me, follow me, and together we’ll have everything we ever dreamed of: wealth beyond counting, power, influence, a life of dazzling luxury such as you can’t possibly imagine.”
Melora placed her hands on his and shoved them off her shoulders. Though her head still hurt from the blow she’d sustained, it was much clearer now. She was no longer dizzy, and the anger singing through her blood sharpened her mind.
“I can’t possibly imagine why I ever wanted to marry you. You disgust me.”
Campbell drew back his arm to backhand her, then scowled and dropped it again. “You’re trying my patience, Melora. But I’ll make a deal with you. You tell me where I can find Cal Holden, and then you and I will take our time straightening out all these loose ends between us.”
Melora spoke between clenched teeth. “I have no idea where Cal Holden can be found, and I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”
“You’ll tell me all right.” Campbell grasped her face in his hand, his fingers cruelly pinching her skin. Melora bit back a yelp of pain, but as she tried to wrench his hand from her face, he grabbed her wrist and twisted it.
Her gasp of pain brought a smile to his lips. “You want me to let you go?” he asked quietly.
“Yes!”
He twisted her wrist harder. Melora felt tears sting her eyes. “Sure, honey.” Campbell went on slowly, watching the moisture form at the corners of her eyes. “You’re the one making this hard on yourself. Tell me what I want to know, and I won’t lay another finger on you—until you ask me to, that is.” He gave her a smug, harsh smile.
“I don’t know!”
The other man, the one who must have hit her from behind in the alley, came to his feet. He didn’t look like the type to sit still for long in one place, and now he shambled toward the door, shaking his shaggy head. “It’s getting dark, boss. Why don’t I just amble through town again and ask some more questions? Maybe I’ll stumble into our boy, or someone will give me a handle on where to find him.”
“No, I have something else for you to do right now. Something more effective.” Campbell released Melora suddenly and got up from the bed. She rubbed her wrist, biting back a moan as he paced to the window, stared out a moment, then turned back toward her. The dying rosy sunlight bathed his face with an eerie glow as he gave her a cold, knowing smile.
“Melora, honey, I know how much you miss your little sister. And I’ll wager you’re worried about her. How’d you like to see her?”
See Jinx? Melora’s mind raced dazedly. What was he talking about?
“What do you mean?” she asked, her fingers tracing the bruise that was already forming on her skin.
“She’s here in Cherryville. Right here in town. I brought her here myself.”
In one leap Melora surged off the bed. Ignoring the sharp pain that immediately rushed through her temples, she dived at him and grabbed his arm. “You bastard, where is she? Tell me where she is!”
“Sure, honey.” Campbell spoke soothingly, his other arm sliding around her waist, yanking her close. He clenched her to him like a bulldog grinding his jaws around a bone, and Melora, recognizing that she was trapped, felt a sickening panic rise within her. She’d made a terrible mistake in coming this close to him without a weapon in her grasp.
“Just as soon as you tell me where I can find Cal Holden, I’ll bring you to your sweet little crippled sister.”
The red and gold room blurred and tilted as she was engulfed by waves of fury, hot, lashing waves that threatened to drown her.
“I don’t believe you,” she cried. “You’ve lied about everything else. How do I know you’re not lying about Jinx, too?”
Now Rafe Campbell loosened his grip and turned his head slightly to glance at the bounty hunter, who’d paused near the door.
“You know where to find the little girl, Coyote Jack. Bring us a note from Miss Jinx Deane. A note addressed to her sister. And one of the boots from her dainty little feet; she doesn’t need them for walking anyway,” he added with a malicious smirk.
Melora drew her hand back and slapped him as hard as she could. Campbell backhanded her then, sending her spinning against the wall.
“I’ll be back, boss—in less time than it takes to pee in a barrel.” The bounty hunter shuffled out the door, slamming it behind him.
Campbell studied Melora as she lay dazed and weeping upon the rich ruby carpet. He sighed and combed his fingers through his hair.
“You’re too damned beautiful for your own good,” he said softly. He gave his head a regretful shake. “It’s made you spoiled, headstrong. You need a bit of taming, my sweet Melora, but don’t you worry, I’m just the man to do it. When this is all over, we’ll begin again in San Francisco. That was my plan all along, to take you to San Francisco. I wanted to sell the Weeping Willow and the Diamond X, to take the money and set up the most magnificent gaming establishment San Francisco has ever seen. As my wife you’ll preside over everything. You’ll have gowns from Paris, jewels from the far corners of the earth. The finest champagnes to drink, and the best carriages and mansions that money can buy.”
He walked toward her, slowly, deliberately, as she ceased crying and lifted her head to stare at him. “I’ve amassed a small fortune already through careful investments and some shrewd wheeling and dealing. You’d be amazed how quickly a man can grow rich in the West, Melora, if he knows what he’s doing.”
He ignored the choked cry that came from her and continued without pause. “And the sale of our two ranches, Melora—to a most eager buyer, who has already made a generous offer—will be all that is needed to set up the place I have in mind. A place that will make this Peacock Brothel look like a two-bit tent, a hovel, a place that will make Rawhide’s biggest saloon look like nothing more than a barn. My place will have elegance, class. We’ll attract all the best people, the wealthiest, most powerful and important people. And you will be the queen of San Francisco within six months, I guarantee you.”
Melora staggered up from the floor and hobbled toward the bed. Her lip was cut, her cheek bruised, but her eyes blazed with pure, hot hatred.
“If you’ve hurt my sister, I’ll kill you,” she whispered.
“Of course I haven’t hurt her. I’ve invested too much time finding out about hospitals for her. And while the doctors back East are examining her and treating her and making her well, you and I will be establishing ourselves on the Coast.”
“You’re loco if you think I’m going anywhere with you.”
He watched her crawl onto the bed, dazed and battered. He went to the decanter and poured her another drink. “You’re the one who’s loco, Melora,” he said gently. “You’re loco if you think I’m going to release you before I’ve tired of you. I won’t. Come hell or high water, I won’t. And to judge from the way I feel about you and the effect you have on m
e, that day won’t come for a very long time.”
Chapter 21
As amethyst sunset ribboned the sky above the Black Hills, two riders bent low over the manes of their horses, streaking toward the town of Cherryville.
Cal and Jesse Holden shared the same determined expressions, and both rode with practiced ease and grace. Tension crackled through them at the knowledge of what lay before them. Both knew that the time was drawing near to avenge their oldest brother’s death and that they had one chance to see their family honor restored.
They couldn’t fail in this dual mission they were embarking on. If somehow they both were killed, their younger siblings would be orphaned and might be separated, sent to live far and wide, subject to poverty and the whims of others.
The responsibility for the children weighed on both their minds.
Cal knew that Melora’s life might be at stake too. And that if she came to harm, it would be his fault.
Urgency whipped through him. The fear he felt on her behalf made a muscle pulse in his jaw, made him clench Rascal’s reins with hands that were unaccustomedly sweaty.
Melora wouldn’t be in this mess if not for him. He’d brought her into danger. He had to get her out.
The fact that he loved her had nothing to do with it and everything to do with it. She was his responsibility now, just as Will and Lou and Cassie and Jesse were. But more than that, far more than that, she was his heart, his life.
One thing had become clear to him when he’d returned to the farm and learned she was gone: He loved her and wanted her and meant to win her. He wasn’t much good at courting women, hadn’t ever had much practice or much luck, but hell and damnation, he would learn.
He’d give her time, let her sort out her feelings, but one way or another, he would find a chance to show her how he felt. Wooing women might not be his specialty, but he’d learned to shoot quicker than lightning could strike a tree, to ride like hell with his guns blazing in both hands and a knife clenched between his teeth, how to lasso cattle, how to beat nine men out of ten at poker without breaking a sweat, and how to soothe and tame the wildest mustangs on earth. He could learn how to woo Melora Deane.
