by Jillian Hart
"Do you think we can both fit in that small bed?" His wicked grin didn't fool her.
"Maybe if we cuddle really close."
"Let's find out." The air was so cold even in the cabin, his breath came out in great clouds. But his kiss was hot against her mouth and soon she was warm everywhere.
He turned down the lantern's wick so only a faint light brushed across the bed. He scooped her up in his arms and laid her across the mattress. He took off her shoes and tickled her toes. Laughing, he fell across her.
When his mouth found hers, Garnet's giggling was replaced by a throaty moan. She surrendered to him completely, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around his neck. Sweet minutes passed while he kissed her. Already she was breathing fast and hard, knowing what was to come. His hand explored the sensitive skin of her neck, tracing a line from chin to collar. Then his lips followed, trailing delightful kisses down her throat.
"How do I get inside this dress?" he whispered.
"The buttons." She twisted away from him to reveal the small gray pearls marching up her back.
"I'm in the shadows. I can't see them."
"Then you'll have to go by feel," she teased.
The small bed was cramped. He jabbed her in the ribs accidentally with his elbow, then kissed the spot to make it better. She felt butterfly tugs at her buttons and desire curling around her spine. Cool air breezed across her back as the dress fell loose about her shoulders.
She rolled over and watched his gaze fall to her chemise-covered breasts.
"There's more clothing," he observed.
All she wanted was his hands and his mouth on her breasts. "Help me out of my chemise."
His hands fumbled with the wide muslin straps at her shoulders. The garment came away, exposing her red winter underwear. He groaned, then helped her remove that article of clothing, only to discover more.
"How many layers are you wearing?" he demanded, staring at her muslin-covered corset.
"You look completely shocked. Surely you've seen a simple corset before."
"Not in all my memory," he admitted, staring at the stiff, awkward garment that more closely resembled armor than underclothes. He didn't see the need to explain he'd never undressed Amelia, who was not happy to perform her wifely duties and, well, he just lacked experience with such mechanical-looking clothing. "How do I get it off? Do I need a wrench or a saw blade?"
She leaned on her side. "Try untying the laces."
"I think we ought to start a new rule." He pressed a moist kiss between her shoulder blades.
"What rule?"
"You are not allowed to wear these unbreachable undergarments." He tugged on the laces and they gave. "I need easier access."
Laughing, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in the clean scent of his half-unbuttoned shirt. He smelled deliciously male, like freshly sawed wood, winter air and horses. She breathed in, memorizing his scent. She couldn't get enough, touch enough, remember enough. Winter would end, like her stay here, and she wanted to tuck each precious moment into her heart to warm the cold, lonely evenings in Willow Hollow.
Her bared breasts, freed from the unending layers of clothing, firmed in the cool brush of the night air. Wind rustled overhead, and Wyatt ran his fingers along the outside curve of one breast.
Everywhere he touched her, she burned. The more he touched her, the more she wanted him. She ran her hands across his chest, down his abdomen and lower. Desire coiled tight in her belly. How she wanted him, how she craved the feel of him pumping and pulsing inside her.
Finally he moved between her thighs and sheathed his hot length inside her. She wrapped her body around his and gave herself up to the heat and the passion. It was more than physical joining, more than two individual people, greater than anything she had ever known. Her release crashed over her, rippling in great breathless waves.
When they were spent, Wyatt spooned his body around hers and tucked the muslin sheets and heavy wool blankets around them. Her head fit beneath his chin and his hand lay between her breasts, right over her heart.
Sleep came slowly, but it was the sweetest slumber she had ever known.
Chapter Fourteen
Garnet had never felt so invigorated. Perhaps it was the frosted morning air that greeted her, rousing her blood. Or perhaps it was this land itself, rugged and vital. But as she heated her wash water on the stove, she knew there was another reason.
The passionate night spent in Wyatt's arms.
She heard his hammer outside, ringing with each precise stroke. After her morning's work, she had agreed to join him up on the roof. He would need help laying the boards and sealing them with pitch. Tomorrow they could nail on the shingles. Already she could see how pleasant this cabin would be, just the two of them cuddling close through the long winter.
Contented with those romantic daydreams, Garnet gathered up the lye, her brush, her towels, and her bucket and headed outside. She had been up early cleaning what she could of the cabin. Now, all she had to do was her weekly outhouse cleaning, and then she could start on the laundry. Sweet Katy would soon be arriving to help out.
Snow had just started to fall in crisp, delicate flakes that stuck to her eyelashes and clung faithfully to the frozen ground. Wyatt was high up on the ladder, replacing a cracked board. He waved down to her, a smile bright on his cold-reddened face. "More cleaning?"
"Just getting the chores done. When you see Katy coming from town, let me know. I'll put on some water to boil. She's going to be helping me with the business."
"Where are you headed with that bucket of lye water? You'd better leave my stable alone."
"Really, clean a stable? Who ever heard of such a thing?" She tightened her hold on her scrub brush. "I am going to clean the privy."
"The outhouse?" He tipped his head back and laughed. "Really, Garnet, you've gone too far."
"I'm sure you've never cleaned one," she retorted, not at all surprised. "If you scrub it clean and add lye weekly, then it stays fresh-smelling and pleasant."
"Think of you to find a way to make the outhouse smell good." Wyatt laughed harder.
Well, who wouldn't clean a privy? Garnet flung open the outhouse door and lowered the bucket to the floor. She dunked her brush into the steaming lye water, knelt before the board seat and scrubbed with all her strength. The wooden bench wobbled, loosening more with each brush stroke.
How handy. She could slip the entire flat board off its wooden supports and take it outside. Then she could really get down on her knees and get the thing clean. There would be no awkward bending and no twisting to get into those dark corners.
Garnet set down her brush and began to tug. Finally it came loose, and she tipped the seat sideways to slip it out through the door.
But a shape in the shadows drew her back. Vermin? Stifling a scream, she picked up her brush. Then she realized the shadows between the boards didn't move.
What on earth? She leaned closer. Why, those lumps were little bags. She brushed one with her finger. She felt the rough edges beneath the burlap. She grabbed one sack and tugged the drawstrings open.
Yes, it was gold. By her estimation, the nuggets looked to be the same size as the one Wyatt had given her that day at the creek. And there were five sacks of them!
"Garnet?" Wyatt's voice. "I can see someone coming from town. I think it's Katy."
She couldn't speak. She could only stare at the sack in her hand, heavy and bulky, as Wyatt approached.
"Damn." His curse sounded like regret. "You found my stash of gold."
"This is what the thief was looking for," she choked. "You might have told me you hadn't lost your gold."
"I'm not certain that is what he wanted." Wyatt laid a hand on her shoulder.
"What else could he want? You have a fortune hidden away in the privy, of all places."
"It's not all my gold."
His confession startled her. She looked up at him, trying to measure the troubled shadows in h
is eyes. He lifted the burlap sack from her hands.
"Much of this was my brother's gold. This was his claim. He was killed in a violent struggle this past summer. From what I could tell someone tortured him trying to make him reveal where he hid his gold."
"And he never told?"
"Never."
Her hands trembled. Her knees felt weak. The safe winter world she'd dreamed of sharing with Wyatt faded. "Will the same thing happen to you?"
What would she do without him? The thought of losing him tore through her heart. She watched him replace the bag of gold with the others. Grim and silent, he nailed the board seat into place.
It occurred to her then that he'd lied. About his claim, about his gold. She could understand it; he didn't want anyone to know. What happened to his brother could happen to them. He wanted to protect her.
But he had told her so little about himself, about his past and his life. Were there other lies? What other secrets was he withholding?
Suddenly the future she'd envisioned didn't seem as certain or as bright.
"Is that why you left your respectable job? Because you were grieving over your brother's death?"
"Yes, it is."
"You inherited his claim."
"When he died, he no longer owned the deed. Someone took it from him before or after he died."
"How did you know where he hid the gold?"
Grief lined Wyatt's rugged face. "When we were boys, our father hid his savings from our mother in the outhouse. She spent every dime she got her hands on, so he hid it. It just seemed a logical place for Ben to hide his treasure, and I was right. When I came here, I found the gold. The gold he was murdered for." His gaze strayed to the road. "We'll talk later, when Katy is gone."
"Wyatt, I–"
"Later." Wyatt pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Her chest cracked, thinking of all he'd lost. Her love for him grew all the more, so big and bright and beautiful it took up all the room in her heart.
* * *
Wyatt headed for town as soon as the women were busy at their laundry. Garnet, her hair tied back with only a single blue ribbon and kneeling over a washboard, lifted a sudsy hand to wave him good-bye. Katy was busy changing the rinse water.
Garnet had offered a partnership to a prostitute and it surprised him, but what shocked him more was that she hadn't lost her temper when she'd discovered the gold. He'd hurt her, he knew. The nuggets hidden beneath the outhouse seat were only the tip of the lies he'd let her believe. How could he protect her from them? He could not live with the thought of hurting her.
Troubled, he arrived in town with too much on his mind. When he'd asked the judge for time off to solve his brother's murder, the job had seemed uncomplicated. Blend in. Find out everything he could about the fifty or so men who lived and prospected here. Narrow down the suspects. Arrest the killer. Until Garnet waltzed into his life.
"Wyatt," the saloon owner greeted from the road.
"Gus." Wyatt ripped his hat.
"Did you hear about Samuels?"
Samuels was the gunsmith. "No, why? I talked to him a few days ago."
"He's dead. Elmer Minks found him the next morning, shot once through the chest."
Just like Ben. "Was it a robbery?"
"Didn't look like it. Must have owed somebody money, that's what we're all figuring, anyway."
Except Wyatt had asked Samuels about the Winchester rifle, the one owned by the man who shot Garnet. Samuels had agreed to help him by checking through his records and making a list of men who had purchased or had repaired the same make of rifle.
Wyatt was sorry Samuels was dead. Because he had asked for Samuels's help. Well, that was another murder the killer would hang for, once he found him. And find him, Wyatt would. Now he was certain the man he sought was the same one who had shot Garnet that long ago night.
* * *
Wyatt shook the flap to Elmer Minks's tent. "I gotta talk to you, Minks." Then he looked inside. The place was empty. Only a wood pallet and the stove was left behind.
A neighboring tent's flap slung open. "Minks went to pick up his laundry from Miss Garnet."
It looked like he didn't intend to come back. He'd meant to pick up more tarpaper from Carson's store and try to get another look at Carson, but Wyatt ran down the street. He hoped he could make it in time.
* * *
Wyatt rounded the back corner of the cabin and heard Garnet's voice. "Mr. Minks, I can't possibly charge you the entire fee."
"But I–"
"Nonsense." She pressed a small gold nugget back into the miner's hand. "Those shirts were not ironed. It would go against my conscience to charge you so much."
"Yer mighty kind, Miss Garnet. You too, Miss Katy."
Wyatt puffed to a stop before the group. "Minks, I've got to talk to you."
The man's eyes widened. "I–I–" he stammered.
"Wyatt, don't terrify the poor man. He's just come to get his laundry. He's leaving town."
"I know." Wyatt nodded toward the road. "Minks, you had better come with me."
The man looked helplessly at the women, then shuffled out into the yard.
"Tell me what you saw when you found Samuels."
Minks blanched. "I didn't do it. Some folks started blamin' me right away. But I ain't never hurt no one all my life. I ain't a violent man."
"I never said you were. Maybe the man who killed the gunsmith did it to keep him quiet. I think it's the same man who killed Ben."
"Ben was a mighty fine fella. Gave me a big fifty-dollar gold nugget one night when I got in over my head gamblin'. He saved my life, he did. I gave up poker after that. All thanks to him."
"I'm glad to know that." Wyatt's heart ached. Ben had been a good man; he didn't deserve having his life cut short. All Wyatt could do for his brother now was bring his killer to justice. "Did you see anything unusual in that shop? Something that would help?"
"Well, it was pert near thrashed. Someone dumped nearly everything on the floor."
"Tell me about the gunsmith's body."
"Burns. Like from a cigar. All over him." Minks choked.
Just like Ben's body. No doubt the killer was the same man. "Here's a few gold nuggets. The stage is still running south, even with the snow. Get as far away as you can."
"Will do."
Wyatt watched the miner scurry off, his rucksack slung over his shoulder. His suspects had been narrowed down to just two men. Two men in town who both used Winchester rifles, smoked cigars, and had the motive and opportunity to commit the murders.
By this time tomorrow, he would have Ben's killer.
* * *
Golda's feet felt heavy with every step closer to that awful Mr. Tanner's cabin. Even the wind blew against her, as if holding her back. Her stomach turned over at the thought of meeting her sister face-to-face after the things she'd said in the minister's parlor.
She saw Mr. Tanner saying good-bye to a prospector she recognized as neighboring her and Lance's tent. She wanted to avoid Mr. Tanner. Taking a sharp turn off the road, she headed around the side of the cabin. It looked different with the corner posts for the additional room and the new roof. It looked like paradise next to the filthy, cold tent Lance had forced her to live in.
"Golda!" Garnet's voice drew her up short. She wasn't prepared to see her sister looking so young, so beautiful.
That couldn't be Garnet. The wind ruffled her dark hair, tied at her nape and left to shiver down her back in a lustrous ebony ponytail. A beautiful dress hugged her slim form, and the tentative smile looked relaxed, even though it was troubled.
"Hi, Garnet," she managed, looking hard at the ground.
"This is Katy from town. I've offered her partnership in my cleaning business, since I needed help. I have too many clients for one person to handle." Garnet sounded nervous, but her voice was warm and gentle, not sharp, although echoes of hurt from the night in Virginia City remained. "I'm glad you stopped by. I have a wedding gift for
you and Lance."
Golda followed her sister up the steps into the cabin and noticed the gold chain around her neck and the locket dangling between her breasts. A beautiful, expensive gold locket.
"Mr. Tanner must truly be fond of you." She choked the words out. "I'm sorry for the mean things I said."
Garnet pressed her lips together, tears pooling in her eyes. "It's forgotten. Here. I hope you like this."
Golda took the gift, wrapped loosely in brown paper. Inside were folds and folds of delicate lace.
"For your first home, when you and Lance save up enough money." Garnet sounded kind, not judgmental. "I'm sorry I ruined your wedding the way I did. I was wrong."
Hot, painful tears burned Golda's eyes. "I shouldn't have gotten married. Lance talks big, but he's lazy. He doesn't have long before the creek freezes up solid, and he spent all the money he had just getting us married. What am I going to do?"
"You're his wife, now, Golda. I can't tell you what to do anymore." Tender, those words.
"Our tent is always muddy and cold, and it isn't even paid off."
"Maybe I can offer you a job." Garnet lifted the coffeepot from the stove and poured four tin cups to the brim. "You wouldn't be a partner, since I offered that to Katy and she was here first."
"I understand."
Garnet set a half-eaten box of chocolates on the table, then dropped one in each cup. "I think we could arrange to have you and Lance rent Mr. Carson's cabin, but I would expect you to work hard. Both Katy and I do."
Shame bloomed in Golda's chest. "I know Garnet. I'm responsible for myself now. If I don't do a good day's work, you can fire me just like any employee."
"I'm glad you came back, Golda." Garnet smiled, and in that smile shone a lifetime of love. "Let's take these outside to Wyatt and Katy. That wind out there is cold."
* * *
"Are you going to tell me what you said to scare Mr. Minks out of town?" Garnet asked as she slid a sawed board across the rafters.
"No." He pulled the board toward him. He looked good. Too good. Handsome and capable and stronger than any man she had ever known. The breeze tousled his dark hair. The strong, unforgiving line of his steel jaw softened with his smile. "If it were any of your business, I would have told you."
