Midnight Lover

by Barbara Bretton

  "Don't be so sure of it."

  "I have never been more sure of anything in my life."

  "You're fixin' for a fall, darlin', and when you do, I'm going to be waitin' to catch you."

  "Then I hope you are a patient man, Jesse Reardon, because I do not intend to fall."

  "Time'll tell, darlin'," he drawled, tossing aside the rocks that marked the entrance to the abandoned mine.

  "Then I pray you have plenty of time at your disposal, for the wait may prove tedious."

  "Don't you go worryin' about the wait," he said, cupping her elbow with his hand and leading her into the darkness, "'cause I don't think it's going to take that long at all."

  * * *

  The inside of the mine was blacker than a moonless night and Caroline was glad Jesse had insisted upon taking her hand in his as he led her deeper inside the shaft. He'd told her that the "...rats moved out six months before old man Rayburn did..." and the odd squeaks and scratches were nothing to worry about but she couldn't control the frantic beating of her heart as she followed him blindly past a ladderway made of wet-smelling timber.

  "Drummy," Reardon said, tapping at the wall to her left and eliciting a hollow sound. "Lots of loose rock. That's why you have to make your way careful-like around all the square set timber."

  Caroline had learned it was impossible to spend more than a day in Silver Spur before you heard the tales of rock slides and mine collapses that fueled the imaginations of the prospectors and gamblers who called the town home and she stopped dead in her tracks.

  "Are we in danger?" she asked, her voice as soft as she could manage.

  "Can't rightly say, this bein' the first time I set foot in here, but seems like they got some good cribbing to support the loose ground."

  "Dear God!" Her feet froze to the dirt floor of the passageway. "Do you mean to tell me you have no idea what to expect in here?"

  "Don't go getting yourself in a lather, Car-o-line. I'll get you out of here in the same condition I got you in here." He paused and she could just imagine the look on his face. "More or less."

  "I thought you were a miner," she protested, refusing to take another step forward.

  "I never claimed to be one. I did my share of hard rock minin' but it didn't take me long to learn it's better to own the mines than work 'em."

  "Is that how you made your money?" It wasn't at all the sort of question she would normally ask, but the darkness and the threat of danger made it easy to throw propriety to the wind.

  "That and a lot of other ways you don't want to hear about, Car-o-line."

  "Gambling doesn't shock me, Mr. Reardon. Aaron didn't earn his way through life being a ribbon clerk in a dry goods store. I know how it is with men of your ilk."

  His laugh sent delicious shivers up her spine. "There you go again, darlin', with that fancy Eastern talk. Speak plain and maybe one day you'll get yourself an answer."

  All of a sudden Caroline wasn't certain she wanted an answer. Somehow the notion that Jesse Reardon was a dangerous man had managed to again elude her but now that notion returned full-force. She must be mad to have allowed herself to be lured into a deserted mine with a man who would like nothing better than to see her disappear off the face of the earth so he could claim his ill-gotten gain. With Caroline out of the way, Reardon would be free to cast Abby and the girls out on their bustles and turn the Crazy Arrow into an annex of the Golden Dragon, were he so inclined.

  His grip on her hand tightened and in the next instant she found herself pulled so close to him that the heat from his body became her own and she knew that she was perilously close to a danger she was unprepared to fight.

  You won't make me surrender, Jesse Reardon, she vowed silently.

  She had spent the last twenty-three years of her life being the dutiful daughter of a man with the common sense of a housefly, a man who married and married and married again, squandering all of his money on a series of wives whose greatest pleasures lay in stripping Aaron's pockets bare. Her father's westward quest had been a last ditch attempt to rebuild his life, a last ditch effort to leave something behind for his only child besides a mountain of debt and a thousand broken promises.

  This mine and the Crazy Arrow were hers now, paid for by her father's blood and she would be rightfully damned to hell for all eternity if she let herself be swayed by the magic found in Jesse Reardon's hands or the sweet temptation in his midnight blue eyes. "Too scared to see what's up ahead?" His voice was no less commanding at a whisper than it was at a roar.

  "I fear nothing, Mr. Reardon," she said, once again the imperious Caroline Bennett of Boston, Mass. "Lead the way."

  Reardon's laughter curled itself inside her ear and she comforted herself with the fact that the darkness hid the trembling of her lower lip as they moved deeper into the abandoned mine.

  Chapter 10

  Caroline and Reardon were quiet on the way back into town and she didn't dare wonder what he was thinking about. Her own thoughts were an odd jumble of unnerving sensations that made it difficult to push the memory of his touch from her mind and concentrate on how to claim all that was rightfully hers.

  Once she'd overcome her initial fear, Caroline had found the darkness of the mine to be strangely seductive. The quiet so deep it throbbed in her ears; the velvet blackness; the heat and strength of his hand wrapped around hers. So far from town, alone with a man a wiser woman would have fled from in an instant. And—fool that she was—Caroline Bennett could only sit and wonder why he hadn't seen fit to kiss her.

  Dear Lord, how difficult it was to concentrate when she was pressed up close against him in the saddle, her hips fitted shamefully tight against his body as they were repeatedly thrown together as Diablo galloped toward Silver Spur.

  He wasn't a man accustomed to being thwarted; she had only to look at the way he carried himself like some Roman gladiator of old to know he rarely lost once he set his mind to something. How on earth was she going to hang onto her inheritance when a man like Jesse Reardon was bound and determined to strip her of all she owned?

  That brief glimpse into his past as they rode toward the mine had been like an open door swinging shut before she could step inside. She tried to envision the strong and virile Jesse Reardon as a Pennsylvania farm boy, alone and scared, but no image came to mind save that of her own younger self, crying herself to sleep in endless hotel rooms while her father gambled away her future.

  Up ahead, the town rose up from the wilderness in all its decadent glory, a crazy-quilt of rococo buildings with red brick facades and fancy grille work and enough gilt and gunfire to please even the most jaded of cowboys. She found herself smiling at Old Tom as he clung to his mule and spouted Bible quotes. How far she'd come in a few short weeks that the sight of that lawless town inspired a feeling of relief inside her breast.

  Truth to tell, anything would be preferable to the intensity of emotion she'd experienced alone in the darkness with Jesse Reardon. Had it not been for the ominous tumble of rocks from somewhere deep in the mine, she feared she might have found herself at the mercy of a man who had none at all. Reardon had blamed the slide on the crazy prospector she'd heard about who'd been apparently had been causing all manner of odd happenings near Silver Spur, but she knew otherwise. Blessed Providence had seen fit to rescue her and she would be forever grateful for the intercession.

  Reardon slowed Diablo down to an easy gait once they reached the outer limits of town and Caroline found herself shifting uncomfortably as they moved passed some extremely curious residents of Silver Spur.

  "Pay no mind," Reardon said, chuckling at one unseemly comment from a Bible-toting matron. "Been so long since Granny Larson's had a man's arms around her she probably forgot what it feels like."

  Caroline said nothing; she merely kept her chin high and her eyes straight ahead in an attempt to maintain both her dignity and her balance.

  Reardon yanked hard on the reins and Diablo stopped smack in front of the Crazy Arrow. "
Don't know what we accomplished, but at least you got to see where the Rayburn mine is."

  "The Bennett mine," she corrected, meeting his eyes. "The property belongs to me and it's high time it was so named."

  "You seem to have a real problem with understandin' the way things are around here, Car-o-line." Reardon was so close that she could see each whisker on his strong jaw. "Your daddy lost the mine, fair and square. If you want to call it by its rightful name, it's the Reardon mine." He grinned, teeth flashing brilliant white in the mid-afternoon sunshine. "Got kind of a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

  Caroline knew he was baiting her but, unfortunately, she was helpless to do anything but rise to it. "You may call the mine by any name you wish, Mr. Reardon, but the fact remains that it belongs to me."

  "Don't see what a filly like you can do with a tapped-out mine."

  Oh, I'm wise to you, Jesse Reardon! Pretending he didn't know about the plans for a railroad...

  She presented him with her best smile. "I would assume I can do exactly what you would do with the mine."

  "You got yourself a crew and the money to start blasting?"

  "Well, not at the moment but—"

  "You ain't ever going to have that kind of money or the know-how to make it work. Better for both of us if you admit it now and get on with what you're suited for."

  Her voice grew dangerously low. "Which is?"

  His midnight blue eyes glittered. "'Fraid you'll slap my face if I told you."

  "That insulting, is it?"

  "That excitin'," he said. "Especially for an old maid."

  Jade's talk of the railroad disappeared before Caroline's fury. "There is nothing you can say or do that I could possibly find exciting, Mr. Reardon, and I forbid you to use that pejorative term in my presence from this time on."

  His brows drew together in a puzzled frown. "When the hell you goin' to talk English, gal? I don't know what all you're jawing about."

  "Old maid," she said, her words clipped and harsh. "Spinster, catalog woman, rope dragger or any other terrible name you've made up to tarnish womankind."

  "You got yourself a respectable temper, Car-o-line. No wonder you're not marr—"

  She waved her index finger in front of his face. "Don't, Mr. Reardon," she warned. "Err on the side of caution just once in your life."

  "I don't cotton to bein' told to shut up."

  "And I don't 'cotton' to being called an old maid."

  "I'd call that a Mexican standoff."

  "Now who isn't speaking English, Mr. Reardon?"

  "You're a real pretty gal when you smile like that, Caroline. Should do it more often."

  "I'll have plenty of time for smiling when you admit the Crazy Arrow and the mine belong to me."

  "Pretty and stubborn as hell."

  "Must I remind you that I hold the deed?"

  "Deeds have a way of disappearing."

  "Are you threatening me?"

  "Let's call it a friendly warning. This town don't put much store in names scratched on paper."

  She arched a brow. "And may I ask what this town does put much store in, Mr. Reardon?"

  "A man's word." Again that devastating grin. "Somethin' you wouldn't be able to do much about, Car-o-line."

  "A woman's word is also a force to be reckoned with," she said coolly. "Had I won our bet, you can rest assured you would have received the fifty dollars in gold the next morning. It is not in a woman's nature to go back on her promises."

  "What the hell are you talkin' about?"

  "Our bet," she repeated, unable to keep the note of excitement from her voice. "It is quite obvious I did not take the next stage out, thereby fulfilling the terms of our wager."

  "You got shot. Acts of God don't figure in a bet."

  "How like a man to search for an easy way out."

  "You want fifty dollars so bad, all you gotta do is ask for it."

  She thought of Mr. Muldoon at the First Free Man's Bank and laughed hollowly. "That is not always the easiest way, Mr. Reardon. Gambling seems to pose less of a risk."

  "I warned you this was a tough town for a woman."

  "And your warning was well-taken. Now I'm warning you that I am here to stay and I expect you to make good on your bet."

  His voice was a menacing growl that raised gooseflesh on her arms. "What if I decide to take what's mine, bet be damned?"

  She refused to let him see that he frightened her. "Then perhaps the circuit judge should be the one to decide the matter."

  "Judges don't worry themselves about friendly wagers."

  "It appears to me wagers cease to be friendly when one of the wagerers fails to pay his debts." She sighed deeply. "What a shame you put so little value upon your word, Mr. Reardon. It causes me to question the value of your other statements, as well."

  "Don't go tryin' none of that Eastern fancy talk on me, Car-o-line. It's been done by better'n you and found wantin'. Sooner or later, you'll have to admit the Arrow and the mine belong to me. May as well do it now and save yourself a lotta time and heartache."

  "How fascinating," she drawled, "for I was about to say the same thing to you. Perhaps we should save our arguments for the circuit judge."

  "Nearly two weeks until he comes ridin' into town and two weeks can seem like a real long time when a body ain't welcome. Think you'll last that long?"

  "Oh, I'll last, Mr. Reardon. The question is: will you?"

  With that she took a deep breath and slid from the saddle to the ground. He reached into the leather pouch dangling from the pommel and extracted a pile of coins loosely wrapped in a white handkerchief.

  "Here." He tossed the bundle down to her. "Fifty dollars, more or less. Don't go tellin' nobody I ain't a man of my word."

  "Better late than never, Mr. Reardon." Her mind raced with excitement she dared not let him see. "Perhaps next time you'll consider your bets more wisely."

  Head held high, she strolled regally into the Crazy Arrow Saloon and never once did she acknowledge that Jesse Reardon's language could cause a marble statue to blush.

  * * *

  Jade hid deep in the mine until the echo of Diablo's hooves faded. Only then did she dare slip out the back entrance that let out behind the hill where she'd left her trap and two white horses.

  Quickly she stripped off the scratchy woolen duster and oversized wide-brimmed hat that her accomplice wore when he was playing the crazy prospector and hid them once again behind the outcropping of rocks and brush that cleverly concealed the mine opening from view. She hadn't needed the disguise for Jesse and that gal from Boston had been right easy to spook. All it had taken was a few loose rocks clattering to the ground to send them racing out of the dark tunnel as if Lucifer himself were on their tails.

  She owed Old Tom a bigger cut off the next haul for telling her Jesse was headed out to show the mine to Aaron's daughter. If they'd continued just a few more yards they damn might have stumbled past the barrier and come upon the stash of gold bullion that was going to set her and Jesse up like Mexican royalty not too long from now.

  Just a couple more stagecoaches on their way to San Francisco and she'd be sitting pretty on top of enough money to keep them in clover until their hair was as silver as the ore that had put Silver Spur on the map. Another stage was due to go through tomorrow morning and she and her accomplices would be waiting.

  If everything went as planned, by year's end she'd be able to leave Silver Spur far behind. She'd come too far to stop when she was this close. All the hot nights she'd spent sweating beneath the hands of the white man, the intense poverty of her childhood, the brutality—finally she would beat them at their own game.

  She sighed and unpinned her heavy black hair which had been jammed under the hat. The dark strands fell around her shoulders and down her back and she prayed for a breeze to move the blistering air. The waistband of her emerald green dress was soaked with sweat and she wished she were back at the Golden Dragon, naked and cool in her huge marble tub
with Jesse stretched out and waiting on her red satin sheets.

  Only Jesse was different.

  Only Jesse eased her body and soothed her soul.

  Soon, she thought as she climbed into her carriage. Soon it would be just her and Jesse with no more little misses from Boston to cause her heartache.

  Not that this blond haired gal was any competition—hellfire, if the gal had anything going for her, Jesse would've used the darkness of the mine to full advantage. Jade's body burned just thinking about the things he could have done to make that gal's blue eyes open wide with surprise. As it was, little Miss Caroline Bennett had been as pure coming out of the mine as she'd been going in and Jade had to laugh that for all her high-falutin' ways, that Boston gal wasn't woman enough to tempt a man like Jesse Reardon.

  In a way that notion was as good as gold to Jade.

  * * *

  "And this is a fine how-do-you-do!" Abby exclaimed the moment Caroline came through the door of the Crazy Arrow, clutching the handkerchief filled with coins. "Here we sit worryin' ourselves to tears wonderin' where you be and you come ridin' up, fine as you please, in the arms of the Devil himself, lookin' too happy for my liking!"

  "Oh, hush up, Abby," Caroline snapped as the door closed behind her, "before I send you across the street to work at the Golden Dragon."

  "And I'd be thinkin' that's a fine idea." Abby's hazel eyes fairly snapped with outrage. "I been hearin' tales that she be payin' better than what I been used to, what with the beds there not even slept in."

  Caroline was framing a suitably caustic response when she caught the sounds of crying coming from the parlour. "What on earth is going on?"

  "You'd be knowin' if you were here where you're supposed to be." She narrowed her eyes at Caroline. "And what is that you're holdin'?"

  "None of your business." Quickly she stashed the pouch of coins into the top drawer of the desk in the hallway.

  "I don't hold with all these secrets."

  "I am not in need of a nineteen year old mother, Abigail O'Brien, and I'll thank you to keep your comments to yourself. Now tell me what the uproar is all about and save your lecture for another time."