by Jeanne Rose
"Take a couple of days," Anderson said. "Get yourself a room at one of the hotels. We'll pick up the tab. I understand a man needs a little rest and recreation before starting on an assignment like this one. Just don't take too long and keep me informed."
Sam saluted and left the Major's office, taking his horses to a nearby stable the moment he struck sunlight.
Impulse drew him to the Blue Sky Palace. Though his men had frequented the place when he'd been stationed at Fort Marcy, he'd never stepped foot in the hotel/casino himself. But he remembered well-enough who owned it. Or who had.
Not everything could be the same as it had been six years before. He certainly wasn't.
Saddle bags over one shoulder, satchel in one hand, heliograph case in the other, Sam crossed through the placita and negotiated the hotel entrance with difficulty. Exhausted from his week's ride without enough sleep, he was happy to secure a place to unload his belongings and a bed on which to rest his weary bones.
Before trying to sleep, however, he dug out the half-empty bottle he'd carefully wrapped in a shirt and stored at the top of a saddle bag. He caught a glimpse of himself in the round mirror set over the chest and for a moment was startled. Anyone who knew him would have thought a stranger occupied his room. The harsh-featured, scarred man with greasy stringy hair surely couldn't be him.
Chasing away the chill that shot through him with a long slug of whiskey, Sam excused his poor upkeep to the harshness of travel. He just needed sleep and a bath was all. Nothing he could do about the scar, but the rest was a matter of catching up, which he would do in short order.
The potent liquor fast warmed his gut and relaxed him. He hesitated before taking another slug.
He wasn't a drunk, Sam told himself.
He merely needed enough whiskey to help him sleep. To help him forget for a while.
But the bottle was empty before he shut down.
AND WHEN HE AWOKE, the first thing that niggled at him was the craving for another drink. He needed something to chase the cobwebs from his muzzy mind. Right away. And his stomach was so empty it echoed. The room was dark until he lit a lantern. He must have slept for hours. Music and the sound of muffled voices reached up to him through the floorboards and enticed him to hurry. He could use some lively company.
Pouring water from the pitcher on the chest into its matching bowl, he splashed his face, ran damp hands back through his hair. That would do for now. He ought to shave, to change into clean clothes, and he would do so. Later. When he had the energy.
When his insides stopped shaking so bad he had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from rattling.
He traded his room for the common areas downstairs that were nearly full. On a stage situated so customers both from the bar area and the casino could see, three young women in brilliantly colored satin costumes and matching plumed feathers in their hair danced to a tune plucked from an old piano.
The first drink helped. The second steadied him enough to order dinner, posole -- a pork stew made with hominy – and fresh tortillas.
"Haven't seen you around," the bartender who'd introduced himself as Jack Smith commented.
"First time here. To the Blue Sky, that is. Been in Santa Fe before."
"And you came back," the silver-haired man said as the music ended and the dancers left the stage, "so you must like it. Meaning to stay?"
Sam shrugged. "Depends."
"On what?"
Noting a dark-haired dancer in red satin coming their way, imagining for a moment that hers was the face that haunted his better dreams, Sam honestly said, "A woman."
"We don't run The Gentlemen's Club any more," Smith told him. "But you can go over to Burro Alley and find whatever you're looking for."
Sam hoped to God he wouldn't find Louisa there. And he hadn't found her here, either. Meeting the pretty young woman's hazel eyes, he experienced both a pang of regret and profound relief. He didn't know what the hell he was doing here in Santa Fe. Whether she was married or not, he wouldn't want Louisa to see him looking like he did now anyway.
The dancer was looking, and she didn't seem at all put off like the woman carrying the basket had earlier.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
"Sure, caballero." Flicking her eyes over the scar that was a souvenir of the Apache wars, she turned to Smith. "Tequila, straight."
When her drink came, Sam refilled his glass and made a toast. "To the prettiest woman I've seen in a long time." He touched his glass to hers.
She gave him a sloe-eyed expression and a sultry half-smile. "Here's to your seeing more of me."
Downing the whiskey, Sam wondered how literally she meant that. Before he could ask, the bartender set his food before him. Sam dug into the fragrant, spicy stew. Only when the bowl was half empty did he attempt to make conversation with the dark-haired woman who was waiting patiently.
"You were doing some mighty fancy dancing up there."
"I didn't think you were watching."
"I saw enough."
Enough to know she was entertaining. And pretty. And eager to get to know him better, though why, he couldn't say. He'd seen that look in dozens of eyes before, though not in a long time. Not for nearly a year. The Gentlemen's Club might have been shut down but he didn't have to hear it from her lips to know she was available.
"What's your name?" he asked, pouring another drink and indicating the bartender should do the same for her.
"Nina Chavez. And yours?"
"Captain Sam Strong."
"Strong, huh?" His name barely more than a murmur, she moved closer and slid a hand up his forearm. "I like strong men," she said with a throaty laugh.
"What else do you like?"
Her smile was wanton. "Take me someplace private and I'll show you."
Unable to remember the last time he'd had a woman, Sam wasted no time. He downed his drink, threw money on the bar and took the bottle.
"Hey, what about your food?" the bartender asked, indicating the half-eaten stew.
Sam indicated the money. "That'll cover it. Right now, I'm hungry for other things."
Activities that would make him forget some unpleasant deeds that haunted him...and that would take his mind off the pleasant ones, too.
As he started to leave the bar, he realized another woman was watching him, as well. A middle-aged redhead who wore a low cut emerald green dress and a puzzled expression. She was wandering around the casino, talking to customers, but her gaze kept straying back to the bar...and him. Or maybe it was the dancer.
"Who's that woman?" he asked.
"Belle Janks, the owner."
For a moment, Sam's heart raced. Louisa's mother? He hesitated, his gaze flicking over the place. No Louisa.
"She keeps looking this way. Maybe she doesn't approve of the company you keep."
"Now, that's none of her business," Nina said, pressing closer to his side and urging him toward the door to the hotel lobby. "Belle's a little strange anyhow. She's been okay with me, but I've seen her lose her temper...well, some say she's not quite right in the head."
Drinking straight from the bottle, Sam forced Belle Janks from his mind and concentrated on Nina, who'd prompted thoughts of Belle's daughter.
If he didn't look too hard, he might be able to imagine he was making love to Louisa.
CHAPTER THREE
"MAKE LOVE TO ME, Sam," she pleaded, her fingers caressing his neck and shoulders with a strength akin to that of desperation. Her heat burned through the material separating them.
"Are you certain?"
"No," she whispered, following that with, "As sure as I've ever been about anything."
Her confusion touched him. He looked down into her sun-kissed face, into the dark eyes all warm when they met his. Wild eyes. Like her. She was the most spirited, most exciting female he'd ever met. And she wanted him.
Too staid for his own good, he hesitated. But only for a moment, for how could he resist the vibrant woman who begged to be tak
en.
On the floor of the cave that felt as cozy as any bed he'd ever known, he helped her remove her clothing, one garment at a time, lovingly kissing each new area of flesh revealed to him. Yes, lovingly. For love rather than mere lust drove him. She made him forget caution and convention, especially when she touched him. Boldly. Intimately. Drawing from him a response that went beyond the physical.
THE HAND stroking him drew forth a tentative response that roused him from sleep.
Sam opened his eyes and in confusion focused on a naked dark-haired beauty who was not Louisa. Dawn filtered through the curtained windows, revealing her, perched above him, doing her best to seduce him with her hands, her breasts, her lips...but rather than growing harder with her increased efforts, he went flaccid.
Nina frowned down at him. "For a moment, I thought I could renew your interest in me."
Renew. Did that mean they'd engaged in the act? He couldn't remember much more than her name and the way they'd met, and his body certainly wasn't telling. Trying to force the issue, he was rewarded with a pounding head. He groaned and squinched his eyes against the pain.
"You shouldn't drink so much," she said, rolling over to her side of the bed and pulling the sheet up to cover her breasts. "Liquor makes a man less of a man."
"Had a lot on my mind." And now he was hung over again. Muzzy and disoriented.
"Obviously not me."
"My fault, not yours. I apologize. Any whiskey left?"
"You drank nearly the whole bottle last night before we even got to your room," Nina told him. "I poured the rest out the window for your own good. You probably feel like hell this morning, huh?"
His head sure did, not to mention his mouth which tasted foul. "And I deserve to."
He'd been drinking too much off and on for months, but this time he'd gone beyond reason. He didn't even remember climbing into bed with Nina.
The dance hall girl sighed and asked, "So what's her name?"
"Who says it's a woman?"
"Experience."
Maybe being in Santa Fe and thinking about Louisa had been the catalyst if not the cause. He admitted, "My hell goes a lot deeper than a lost love."
"We all got problems, caballero." Her hazel eyes connected with the scar and she frowned. "Guess you're right – yours does go deeper than most. You want to talk about it?"
He never talked about it. Not with anyone. "Why would you want to hear? What's in it for you?"
"Cynical, too." Though she didn't sound offended. "Maybe I like you."
"You don't know me."
"What if I'm just plain lonely."
Which sounded like the truth, though he couldn't feature a woman who looked like her being alone for long. "You could have had any man in that bar last night. Why me?"
"'Cause you looked like you needed company more than most."
Pity? Sam hated the thought. Had he sunk so low that a woman would sleep with him because she felt sorry for him?
"I don't know whether to thank you or kick you out of my room," he grumbled.
"At least that's honest." Nina rose, allowing the sheet to slip from her voluptuous body. "But don't exert yourself. I can take a hint."
Sam grabbed her wrist and avoided staring at the breasts that practically swung in his face. "Let me apologize again. I don't usually act like an ass."
She smiled. "Don't worry about it."
"You won't get in any trouble because of me, will you?"
"With Belle?" She shrugged, freed herself and pulled on a lacy, beribboned camisole. "Considering how she used to make her living, the one thing Belle Janks doesn't do is judge anyone else's morals."
An odd sort of exhilaration sweeping through him at the prospect of getting information about the young woman he'd once loved, Sam played dumb. "I'm sure I remember her being at the Blue Sky last time I was in Santa Fe. That was, oh, about six years ago."
"Belle was only half owner back then," Nina volunteered, now slipping into her red satin costume. "And she ran The Gentleman's Club, as well."
Sam propped himself up on his elbows. "Right, and she had a daughter...what was her name?"
Nina's brows shot up. "Louisa?"
Too casually, he said, "I suppose she helps her mother run the place."
"You suppose wrong."
Her denial hit him hard. "Married, huh?"
Nina laughed. "Committed to one man? Not hardly. That girl's a hellion and a heartbreaker." Her expression knowing, she laced up the front of her bodice. "She acts like she's some virgin goddess."
Not hardly...at least not the virgin reference...though he believed the hellion/heartbreaker part. Not that Sam was about to share any of that information with Nina.
"You seem awfully interested in Louisa Janks. I'm thinking I should be jealous."
Now that Nina was fully dressed and Sam's head had cleared a tad, he was more appreciative of her assets. "You don't need to be jealous of any woman."
As it seemed he had no need to be jealous of any man.
"I WANNA HORSE, too!" three year old Amelia Jones insisted from her perch on the split rail fence. A protective Frances stood behind her.
"You're too little," a pint-sized Phillip stated with the authority of an older brother. "You gotta wait till you're five like me." To Louisa, he whispered, "She's jealous."
She bit back a smile lest the boy feel she was laughing at him. "You could tell her you'll let her ride Spangles." An Appaloosa gelding Louisa had picked out for him because of the horse's gentle nature.
"But he's s'posed to be mine!" Phillip insisted.
More than his golden brown hair and hazel eyes reminded Louisa of Frances. He also had a dose of her friend's stubbornness...as well as her good heart. And pretty little Amelia not only looked like Chaco with her black hair and gray eyes, there were times when she could be nearly as tough.
Meeting Frances's gaze over the heads of her children, Louisa whispered to Phillip, "Spangles still will be all yours even if you are nice and make your little sister happy."
"Oh, bother!" He kicked a booted toe into the loose earth and raised a cloud of dust. Then he tromped over to Amelia. "Promise not to cry, an' I'll let you ride Spangles next week."
"Now!" Amelia insisted, her eyes already filled with tears.
Phillip made a frustrated little-boy sound. "Tomorrow, then. Spangles is my horse and I get to ride him today for as long as I want!" But when his sister's lower lip quivered, he caved in. "Well, maybe later."
Amelia's smile was bright enough to light up the sky. And it came so quickly...as if she'd purposely been playing on her brother's feelings. Louisa wondered if Phillip realized it, too, when he gave his sister a suspicious look. Nevertheless, he allowed her victory graciously.
He returned to Louisa, who had been teaching both children to ride since before they could walk. "Can I try my horse now?"
"I'll hold the reins while you mount."
Phillip hated her giving him a boost – "like a baby" he called it – so she'd had a couple of the hands drag an old chunk of tree trunk into one corner of the corral. And while Spangles wasn't particularly big at fifteen hands, he was huge for a five year old. The boy climbed first on top of the log, then onto the gelding's back. Taking the reins, grinning, he placed his feet in the stirrups that had been specially altered to fit him.
"Look at me, Mama!"
"You are absolutely perfect for each other!" Frances called.
Phillip did make a perfect little cowpoke with his chaps and hat, Louisa thought with amusement. "Walk Spangles around the corral a couple of times to get a feel for him."
Louisa never took her eyes off the boy as she joined his mother. Not that she had to worry. Both children were naturals around horses and not at all scared when something unexpected happened. As a matter of fact, she thought Amelia particularly enjoyed the pranks some horses tried to play on them.
"Phillip is so excited," Frances said. "He hasn't talked about anything but getting his own horse f
or weeks since before his birthday. I hope he takes his responsibilities seriously."
Phillip would be expected to groom and feed Spangles, chores he had only done on occasion previously.
"I'm sure he will. He's a fine boy."
A quick pang tore through Louisa, especially when she noted how Amelia leaned back into Frances and pressed her little forehead into her mother's cheek. And a very pregnant Luz was coming to join them, Raul, her oldest, half-clinging to her hand, trying to make her race faster than her condition allowed. Adolpho and his wife were expecting their fourth child.
"We came to watch," an out-of-breath Luz said.
Though the day was mild and her dark brown hair was plaited and pinned up off her long neck, perspiration dotted the Mexican woman's golden skin. She was getting very close to her delivery day but refused to modify her activities if she could help it.
"Good job!" Louisa called out to Phillip. "Walk Spangles across the corral and then circle in the other direction."
Raul, only a few months younger than the other boy, scrambled up the rail fence and sat near Amelia. "I can ride better than that!" he bragged.
"Can not!" Amelia protested.
"Your brother rides like an Anglo."
"Does not!" The little girl indignantly defended her brother. "He rides almost as good as Papa!"
Raul snorted and Amelia reached over to punch his arm.
"Hey!"
"Amelia!" Frances protested. "You are not to hit anyone. How many times have I told you that?"
Louisa smothered a laugh when the little girl gave her mother a stubborn look and refused to answer.
"You hurt Raul and he'll be afraid to play with you anymore," Luz warned.
The indignant expression on her son's face was comical. But before he could protest, Amelia said, "Sorry, Raul."
He gave her a grudging, "Yeah, sure."
"Will you play with me now?" she asked, her smile winsome.
"Thought you wanted to watch Phillip."
"Uh-uh. Boring."
Raul was already climbing down. "We can play poker like Louisa taught me and Phillip."
