Cloudcastle

by Nan Ryan

  Then Kane Covington had arrived.

  "God damn that thieving southern bastard," Lord Blackmore said furiously, tearing off his luxurious robe. "He is not going to take my gold! I'll see him in hell first!"

  A knock on his bedroom door caused him to whirl about and shout sharply, "What is it?"

  "Your coach, sir," called William politely. "It is ready."

  Lord Blackmore rapidly composed himself "Thank you, William. I'll be ready in fifteen minutes." He rolled his eyes disgustedly. If there was anything he detested, it was primitive celebrations like El Dorado Day.

  At Cloud West, Natalie brushed her long red-gold hair before the mirror and realized she was not looking forward to El Dorado Day as she had in years past.

  The reason? Kane Covington.

  His mere presence at the celebration would spoil the day for her just as his presence around the mountain shattered the peace of Cloud West. When the wind was out of the south, she could hear the ringing of his ax and the loud thumping sound of tall lodgepole pines crashing to the ground. On one occasion she had heard his low, clear voice belting out a bawdy drinking song and her blood had boiled.

  The man was going to be her neighbor!

  And he would be in town today, lolling insolently about, spoiling her pleasure. How would he behave? She had not seen him since she'd behaved so impulsively—and crudely—that morning at his cabin site. It was almost impossible now to believe she had actually reached out and… and…

  Natalie smiled at her reflection. It was amusing, albeit unforgivable. The shocked expression in those blue, blue eyes, the immediately wilting of his—

  Natalie's smile broadened to a pleased grin. Then she began to giggle foolishly. Her slender shoulders shook with her merriment, and dizzily she threw herself on top of her bed. She rolled from side to side, laughing, holding her sides, reliving with glee the moment on the mountain. What a joy it had been to so completely get the best of him!

  Finally she calmed down a little and her smile faded as she wiped her eyes. The man brought out the very worst in her, no doubt about it. With him she had done things she had never before considered, to him she had whispered words she had never before uttered, for him she had been the willing wanton.

  And because of him she was having sleepless nights. The bastard had taken the three things that meant the most to her: her husband, her land, and her… her…

  Natalie bounded off the bed. To hell with Kane Covington. She was going to put on her prettiest winter frock, her finest slippers, her most expensive bonnet, and she was going to ride down to Cloudcastle in a gleaming black carnage with the Blackmore coat-of-arms crest emblazoned on its door. And seated beside her, on the supple ebony leather, would be the handsome blond nobleman who loved her. Together they would enjoy the daylong festivities and she would pay no attention to how Kane Covington spent his time. Perhaps, if she was very lucky, he would be angry enough over their last meeting to leave her completely alone.

  "Lord Blackmore's carriage is pulling in the drive," called Jane, the housekeeper.

  "Thank you, Jane." Natalie flew to the armoire and took down the new sky-blue dress of merino wool. She stepped into the lovely frock and nimbly buttoned the tiny covered buttons that ran up the middle of the bodice to the low, square neckline. Tight, long sleeves hugged her slender arms, and softly gathered skirts fell about her feet. Well aware that the summer-blue color enhanced her red-haired, ivory-skinned fairness, Natalie gave the low bodice of her dress an upward tug, reached for the velvet-trimmed bonnet and matching cape, and descended the sweeping staircase.

  Marge Baker's Silver Street boardinghouse was bustling with activity. Miners and cowboys were taking their baths, shaving, drinking, milling in and out of one another's rooms, and speculating on who would win the prize for the year's biggest golden nugget.

  As was his custom, Kane remained alone at the dining room table, while Marge and Belinda cleared the breakfast dishes and checked on blueberry pies bubbling in the big oven.

  "Kane," squealed Belinda, "I'm so excited, aren't you?" Kane smiled at her. "But then you don't know, you've never been to El Dorado Day before. Oh, it's just the most fun of anything."

  "Belinda, I'm not going."

  "Not go?" Marge Baker, hearing that, rushed out of the kitchen. "You can't mean that, Kane. Everyone celebrates El Dorado Day!"

  "It's such a warm, clear day," reasoned Kane, "I'm going to work on my cabin."

  "… and I'll wear my dress with the green stripes and the green velvet hair ribbon you bought me," Belinda continued, describing her outfit for the big day. "And I'll eat potato salad and ham and… oh, Kane, you just have to come, please."

  Kane pushed back his chair and rose. "Belinda, I honestly have too much to do."

  She was at his side in an instant. "Work all day and come to the dance tonight."

  "Maybe." He smiled and touched her shiny hair. "You have a wonderful time. 'Bye, Marge," he called.

  She appeared in the doorway. "You won't have anything to eat if you don't come to the celebration. You know I'm not serving any meals here today."

  "I'll manage," Kane said as he departed.

  At the livery stables where his stallion, Satan, was boarded, there were already dozens of horses filling the stalls and tied up at the hitchrail outside. Kane saddled the bay and led him out of the building even as buggies, carts, wagons, and saddle ponies clogged the streets. His alert eyes did not fail to notice the finest of all coaches among the throng, a gleaming black carnage adorned by a gold crest.

  Kane swung lithely up into the saddle. He urged his mount into a canter, leaving the town behind, and thought about the woman he knew was riding inside the impressive black carriage. The fierce anger he had felt following her outrageous humiliation of him had long since departed. And though he would never in a million years have let her know, he rather admired her earthy defiance. Never had a woman so thoroughly—and literally—deflated him.

  While he was sure no real lady would behave as she had, and that the bold temptress would certainly benefit from a good, sound speaking to her beautiful, bare backside, he had to admit he was more intrigued by her than ever. And more determined to get even.

  At the outskirts of Cloudcastle, Kane abruptly pulled up on Satan. The big horse halted at once, turning smoothly when his master reined him about in a half circle. Kane crossed his hands atop the horn and sat looking back at town, an evil grin playing at his lips.

  Perhaps he should forgo work on his cabin for one day. Go back and join in the festivities. Return and make his presence known first thing so that Judge Vallance would realize there could be no avoiding him. Kane pondered the delightful possibility, idly patting Satan's sleek neck.

  No.

  He'd not go back to town. It would be far more unsettling for Her Honor to search for him throughout the day, afraid each time she looked up she might see him in the crowd. When finally she dropped her guard, certain he was not coming . .

  Kane's sky-blue eyes danced with mischief. He stood in the saddle, threw back his dark head, and laughed. Just when the deceitful beauty least expected it, there he'd be. Smiling at her. Threatening her.

  Laughing still, Kane lowered himself back into the saddle, wheeled his mount, and galloped away. He found himself looking forward to the celebration with as much enthusiasm as any resident of Cloudcastle.

  Lightly gripping Ashlin's right arm, Natalie smiled and nodded and told herself she most certainly was not looking about for a dark, hard face with eyes as blue as the new dress she wore.

  The wooden sidewalks were spilling over with people and everywhere laughter and goodwill abounded as Main Street was roped off and contests and games commenced. Natalie hardly expected Kane Covington to join in the planned activities. He was far too cynical to be a good sport.

  Ashlin, however, was not. Shrugging out of his fine gray jacket, he laughingly rolled up his shirtsleeves and picked up the heavy ball peen hammer. He raised it high over his
blond head and brought it down with all his strength, trying unsuccessfully to break apart, with one crushing blow, a huge, solid boulder.

  Laughing harder than anyone when he failed, he shook his head and urged another contestant forward for a turn at the rock, stepping back to watch with the others. Natalie's attention drifted from the man straining to put great power behind his blow. Nonchalantly she studied the sea of male faces be-fore her.

  Kane Covington's hard, handsome face was not among them.

  By noon all the participants had worked up hearty appetites and plates were piled high with smoked ham, golden-fried rainbow trout, roast beef, and so many different vegetables they all ran together. Women stood behind long, linen-draped tables dishing up the beets, string beans, cauliflower, stewed celery, and potato salad.

  Standing behind the long food table next to Natalie, Carol Thompson confided in a whisper, "I'm so disappointed."

  Natalie smiled up at a bearded miner as she handed him a heaping plate, and accepted his thanks. Then she turned to her friend and questioned, "Why? The weather is perfect, we've more food this year than ever before, and a bigger crowd."

  "Kane Covington is not here," stated Carol emphatically.

  "Oh?" Natalie acted surprised. "I hadn't noticed."

  "Well, then you're the only female present who hasn't."

  Cakes and pies were paraded out and placed at the table's end. There were chocolate and white layer cakes, puddings and pies, and fresh fruits.

  Belinda Baker leaned across the table to hand Ashlin Blackmore a slice of rich pumpkin pie. He smiled warmly at her.

  "Belinda, how pretty you look." His tone was pleasant and friendly. Through his mind flashed the vivid recollection of the past Thursday at his mansion. As soon as Belinda had entered the upstairs corridor, he had guided her into the drawing room and had taken her there on the floor, jerking off only her drawers and unbuttoning his trousers. His blood raced as he recalled that his old carnage driver had almost caught them in the act. While they'd grunted and bucked upon the Aubusson carpet, fully clothed, William, after leaving the mansion, had returned unexpectedly. Fortunately the old servant had the good breeding to knock softly on the closed drawing room doors to announce that he had returned for a broken vase in need of repair. The vase was in the drawing room.

  While the beautiful Belinda panted beneath him, Ashlin had called out hurriedly, "Never mind, William, I'll take care of it," and resumed at once the lusty coupling.

  Now looking at Belinda, Ashlin fleetingly entertained the notion of finding an excuse to spirit her away to the confines of his parked carnage. He could think of nothing more titillating than to have a go at the beautiful girl while the child's mother and his own fiancée, as well as the rest of Cloudcastle, stood not a stones throw away.

  Rapidly remembering all that he had to lose, Ashlin dismissed the fanciful notion. He would just have to wait until Thursday.

  Marge Baker, standing beside her daughter, looked up at the blond nobleman with awe. What a kind, thoughtful man Lord Blackmore was. What a lucky young woman Judge Vallance was. Marge's attention left Lord Blackmore. Joe South stood before her, a shy, embarrassed grin on his scrubbed face. Marge flashed him a warm smile, filled his plate, and told him he should have Kane' bring him along for supper at the boardinghouse some night soon.

  After the midday feast, activities lulled for a time as the ladies cleared away the uneaten foods and the men smoked their cigars and home-rolled cigarettes and visited. Natalie quietly worked while her eyes wandered restlessly over the crowd.

  Kane Covington was nowhere to be found.

  Soon the emptied street was filled once again as the afternoon activities began. Contests and games were enjoyed not only by the men but by the women and children as well. No one was left out; everyone eagerly joined in the fun.

  Belinda Baker won the prettiest girl contest. Zeke Bradshaw, a weathered, bewhiskered prospector, the ugliest man. Nathan Park, six foot four, three hundred pounds, and a father of seven, took the title of the strongest man after much shouting and flexing and lifting. Natalie smilingly placed a painted-gold crown atop the curly brown head Nathan lowered for her.

  And finally, the most important event of all—the prize for the largest single gold nugget brought down from the hills—went to Bobby Clayborne, a skinny fourteen-year-old boy. Bobby's prize was a shiny golden double eagle.

  And then it was time for supper. The noontime crowd had swelled as new faces appeared at the bountiful tables. Natalie scanned the long queues of men; the tall, dark southerner was not in line. Natalie's smile became more sure, her manner more relaxed. Finally she could enjoy herself At last she could stop looking about for Kane Covington.

  After another heavy, filling meal, Natalie expressed the need to "walk off her food." Ashlin demurred, saying he was far too full to move. "Come on." Carol Thompson heard the exchange and stepped forward. "I'll walk with you."

  "Good," responded Natalie. "Where's Esther? I haven't seen her since the sack races. Does she want to go with us?" She nodded to Ashlin and sauntered away.

  "Esther took the boys to the buggy for a nap before the dance. Let's go."

  Away from busy, crowd-filled Main, the streets of Cloud-castle were deserted. The two young women ambled lazily along the wooden sidewalks in the waning autumn sunshine. Neither spoke. Full, a little tried, and pensive, they enjoyed the brief respite from the boisterous celebration.

  Turning off Main, they strolled down Denver, passing shut-down businesses, the assay office, the creamery, and the dentist's office. Only saloons remained open and they appeared empty. Everyone in the city of Cloudcastle was down on Main.

  A block ahead of the two young women stood the Mother Lode Saloon. All was quiet within. Outside, one lone man hunkered against the front wall. He was tilted back in his chair, black hat pulled low over his eyes. The upper part of his lean body was in the shade and his long legs were stretched out in the sunlight.

  Natalie's head began to pound. It was him. She knew it was. The lounging sprawl. The hat pulled low. The wide shoulders. The long legs. The loner was Kane Covington.

  "Carol." She put out her hand to stop the other woman. "We've walked far enough. Let's turn back now and—"

  "Will you stop it. We haven't been gone five minutes." Carol continued walking.

  "But. . but. . "

  "What is wrong with you?" Carol wanted to know.

  "Shhh," cautioned Natalie. "He'll hear you."

  "Who'll hear me?" Carol looked again at the man in front of the Mother Lode. "Who do you think..." Her eyes grew wide. She grabbed Natalie's hand. "My Lord, that's him. That's Kane Covington."

  "I know, let's turn around."

  "Not on your life," stated an eager Carol Thompson. "Come on."

  Natalie was trapped. If she made too much of a fuss, Carol would wonder about her anxiety. She fell back into step beside her friend.

  Just when the two young women drew up even with Kane, he shifted his weight, slowly forcing the front chair legs down to the porch. With catlike grace he rose before them, pushed back his hat, and said in that flat, drawling Mississippi accent, " 'Evening, ladies. Enjoying the celebration?"

  His blue eyes were on Carol's smiling face. He was purposely ignoring Natalie. She knew he was. He'd not so much as glanced at her. That was just fine with her.

  "We'll enjoy it a great deal more if you promise to come to the dance tonight," Carol said saucily, and brazenly laid a hand upon Kane's white shirtfront.

  "That's flattering, Mrs. Thompson." Kane's hand covered Carol's. "I hadn't planned to attend." He moved her hand away and his eyes came at last to Natalie. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt an electricity so intense, so sudden, she was fearful Carol would sense it.

  "Call me Carol and please change your mind," Carol replied as Natalie drew a labored breath that directed Kane's steady blue gaze to the low, square bodice of her merino wool dress. She saw a brief flicker of fire leap into his eye
s and her breasts swelled against the soft fabric even as gooseflesh prickled her ivory shoulders and bosom. Kane's attention swung back to Carol.

  "Carol," he drawled lazily, "perhaps I will change my mind." He smiled down at Carol, but Natalie knew the message was meant for her. He would be at the dance, and that knowledge filled her with dread.

  "Promise us," cajoled Carol as Kane pulled the brim of his black hat back down over his eyes and stepped down off the wooden sidewalk, blue eyes squinting in the dying sun.

  "There goes a man," Carol sighed as both women watched Kane make his unhurried way to the opposite side of the street and disappear around the corner.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Savoring a moment alone, Natalie stood on the upper landing of the crowded two-story Hotel Eureka ballroom. Below her, flushed, joyful dancers swayed and turned beneath blazing brass-and-crystal chandeliers. The dance had been in progress for well over an hour.

  He wasn't coming.

  If he were, he would have arrived. And if he had arrived, she would surely have seen him. Natalie expelled a grateful sigh of relief and let her sweeping glance once more encompass the cavernous ballroom.

  At the room's east end, on a raised marble dais, a small, loud orchestra played a rousing rendition of "Buffalo Gal, Won't You Come Out Tonight," while dozens of pairs of nimble feet lifted from, then touched once more, the shining marble dance floor. Carol Thompson's blond curls shook as she spun about in the arms of a flashy faro dealer from Gaiety's Gaming Hall.

  Esther Jones and her husband were on the floor, smiling at each other as newlyweds might. Belinda Baker danced with a clumsy twelve-year-old boy, the pair laughing as they stepped on each other's toes. Next to them, Ashlin guided the plump Marge Baker about, towering over her, bending to listen attentively when she spoke.