“If Lucky could see you now,” Blue breathed appreciatively, “he would think he’d died and gone to heaven.”
Gently, she smoothed her hands down the creamy soft doeskin clinging to her gentle curves. “I wouldn’t go that far, but it is a pretty dress, isn’t it?”
“It’s almost as pretty as you are.”
“Thank you.” Stevie was equally awed by Blue’s beauty. The lantern in the hallway illumined her picture-perfect profile. Seeing Blue as she was now, so gentle, so hesitant, so unsure of herself, her large eyes softened by grief, Stevie could well imagine that her brother had loved her with every beat of his heart. Stevie was warmed by the knowledge. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she had a sister. Mutely, she crossed the room and hugged Blue.
“I’m sorry” was all Stevie said.
“You don’t hate me?” Blue asked needlessly.
Stevie laughed. “You goose. Of course I don’t hate you.” She stepped back and fidgeted with the fringe hanging from her sleeves. Both girls were embarrassed by the emotion hovering in the room. “Jeff loved you. That’s good enough for me.” She smiled sweetly. “Will you tell me about it? About the two of you.”
Blue returned her smile. “I would be happy to. But first, young lady, you have a dance to attend.”
Stevie’s smile widened. With the promise that they would talk long into the night, she left the boardinghouse, each step taking her closer to the dancing torches and lighthearted music she saw and heard in the distance. Closer to the man she thought of every waking moment of the day, the man who haunted her dreams, the man who was her reason to awaken in the morning light.
Heath was standing beside the makeshift refreshment table that held nonalcoholic punch, ginger cakes and all manner of aromatic confections. Watching for Stevie, he conversed absently with Pat Garrett, a fellow lawman who was passing through town. Pat and Heath had known each other since Heath and Jay came west, following the war. Pat was a former buffalo hunter, Heath knew, one of the few men who had killed the great beasts that he respected.
“Looks to me like the hardcases have decided to find their amusement elsewhere tonight. Those who are still conscious.”
Absently, he nodded agreement to Pat’s statement, all the while searching for a glimpse of Stevie. When Sandy and Pilar had arrived earlier, he had been sorely disappointed that Stevie wasn’t with them. Since then, he had waited for her with all the patience of a new father awaiting the arrival of his firstborn child. The waiting was making him uncharacteristically nervous and fidgety.
It didn’t escape Pat’s keen eye. “You expecting trouble?” was his lazy question.
There was a moment of silence before Heath swung his gaze back to Pat. “Hmmm?”
“I asked if you were expecting trouble.” Pat tried to hide his amusement. He knew Heath’s reputation as a lawman. The man was fearless when it came to pursuing outlaws. Fact was, Heath had become somewhat of a legend, known far and wide for riding into danger with hardly a second thought to his own safety . . . and returning unscathed, brigands in tow. The only thing that could unsettle him like this had to be a woman. Pat would bet his tin star on it.
Heath read Pat’s thoughts as if he’d spoken them aloud. He chuckled at himself and relaxed slightly. “No. I’m not expecting trouble. Not tonight.”
Pat scrutinized the good citizens of Adobe Wells with a professional eye. “Not from this bunch.”
Heath hadn’t really noticed the people milling around him until now. They were a laughing, gay, sober bunch. Families: husbands, wives, teenagers, toddlers, babies. And they appeared to be having the time of their lives. “Well, I’ll be. With the exception of Mrs. Manchez’s boarders, all I’ve seen since I’ve been in town were Judge Jack’s gunhands and a few drunks.”
“That’s the way it is when trouble comes to town. Most of the law-abiding folks stay away.” Pat spoke from experience.
The atmosphere altered slightly then. The crowd grew hushed; the musicians ceased playing. The stillness was broken only by the crackling fire.
From their vantage point Heath and Pat couldn’t see what everyone was staring at. But when the partygoers parted, they revealed the single most glorious sight either man had ever beheld.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Pat exclaimed appreciatively. Now he understood the source of Heath’s impatience.
Heath’s mouth fell open at the vision before him. He was physically unable to move. It was as if roots had grown from the bottom of his boots, anchoring him firmly to the patch of grass beneath his feet.
Stevie seemed to be suffering similarly. The bonfire at her back, she stood with her head held high, arms straight at her sides, not moving a single rigid muscle.
To Heath, she looked like a gilded Indian princess in her wedding finery. Her ethereal beauty mesmerized him. As always, he was struck by her uncommon radiance, body and spirit. She was an enigma exuding purity and passion, serenity and seduction, calling forth love and lust. He had never known a woman like her, and as always he renewed the vow to make her his . . . forever.
Raising her chin fractionally higher, she met his eyes.
When he read the insecurity in their ebony depths, his heart stirred in his chest. Nothing could have kept him from her side. Quickly, he closed the distance separating them. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “You’re the most exquisite creature I’ve ever seen.”
She bowed her head shyly, releasing a shimmering curtain of platinum silk. It hid her oval-shaped face from his view.
Unaware that they were being watched by everyone in attendance, Heath stepped closer to her. Smoothly, he slid his hand through the hair veiling her face, cupped her jaw, and lifted her head until her eyes met his once again. “What’s this? Don’t tell me my courageous Indian princess has turned shy on me?”
For once, she was speechless. The intensity of Heath’s love for her was written clearly on his face. It was frightening and thrilling all at once.
“Always said she were a galldern perty Injun,” old Mr. Mac observed loudly in a voice tinged with awe.
The unexpected compliment broke the tension surrounding Heath and Stevie. He chuckled and she blushed.
“My thoughts exactly,” he tossed to the half-deaf old codger.
“What’d he say?” Mr. Mac shouted to his bemused son-in-law. The men standing around them laughed and teased the old man mercilessly.
Taking Stevie’s arm, Heath led her to the dance area. The plethora of frontier musicians struck up a rousing tune. But the sweetest music being played was the love song passing from Stevie’s heart to Heath’s and back again. They danced time and again, falling more in love with each moment that passed.
To Stevie’s surprise, Heath wasn’t the only man who wanted to dance with her. Many of the white men she had kept at arm’s length—assuming they would disdain her Indian heritage—tapped Heath’s shoulder boldly, nonverbally asking if they might have a moment of her time. His reluctance to release her each time pleased her more than their fawning attention.
She was also pleased by the reaction of the women of Adobe Wells. Most of the prim and proper matrons who had looked askance at her before were almost civil tonight. She couldn’t imagine why they had changed their behavior toward her. Perhaps it was because they sensed a change in her, a change brought about by the love of a good man.
An hour later Heath stood just beyond the circle of dancers, watching Stevie whirl about in Pat Garrett’s arms. Jealousy threatened to choke him as he watched her throw her head back on her slender shoulders and laugh at something Pat said. When her hair brushed Pat’s tanned hand as it rested possessively on the small of her back, Heath clenched his jaw.
But he didn’t interfere. It was important for Stevie to realize she could be accepted into white society, that she had in fact been accepted by most of the townspeople without her knowledge, that it had been her choice to remain isolated on the ranch and not their intention to shun her.
However, when Pat instinctively pulled her closer, so close her breasts brushed the leather fringe on his vest, Heath bolted. His long strides eating up the ground in a blur, he was standing behind Pat in mere seconds. He breathed deeply before tapping Pat on the shoulder more forcefully than he ought.
The only thing that calmed his jealous rage was the brilliant smile Stevie turned on him as she moved willingly into his arms. “That’s it,” he whispered fervently against her ear. “No more dance partners for you.”
She tilted her head back and raised a brow, clearly amused, obviously delighted.
Heath smiled down into her face. “Except me, of course.”
She moved her hand from his shoulder and brushed the hair off his forehead lightly. “Of course.”
They were unaware that they had stopped dancing. Standing in the midst of the whirling, circling throng, they might have been a boulder in the center of a white water rapid. But they were oblivious of all else save the fire, the passion, the raw desire embracing them from roots to arch.
Stevie’s world consisted of Heath. At this moment she existed for him alone. She loved him as she had never loved another. And she wanted him more than the next breath she drew. She didn’t care what the morrow would bring. For tonight, she wanted him. It was as simple as that.
Reading the staggering need in her eyes and feeling the same ravenous desire, Heath took her trembling hand in his and led her into the night. As soon as they were cloaked in darkness, he leaned her against a tree and covered her body and mouth with his own.
Forty-one
While Heath and Stevie were lost in a world of their own, the governor, accompanied by three august personages and a host of armed men on horseback, pulled up to the courthouse.
Governor Ned Casson and the famous cattle king John Chisum emerged from the first carriage.
Judson Smyth, Alexander McSween, and J. H. Tunstall alighted the second carriage. Judson went to Rachel and dropped a cold peck on her cheek. Then, turning to the judge, he introduced his guests.
Even Judge Jack was impressed and intimated by coming face-to-face with three of New Mexico’s most powerful citizens. Compared to Chisum, McSween, and Tunstall, the judge, the governor, and Smyth were of little consequence. The label living legends came to mind.
In for a penny, in for a pound, Jack chanted silently. Smiling to hide his uneasiness, he stepped forward to greet the men who would happily skin him alive for what he planned to do to them.
He started slightly when still another carriage entered town, carrying three men, led by John Carrington of Santa Fe. Carrington, the judge remembered, was Governor Casson’s administrative assistant.
“Judge Jack.” Carrington used his official voice. “Allow me to introduce Theodore Howard and Victor Patton, attorneys for the San Francisco and New York Mining and Commercial Company.”
“Welcome to Adobe Wells. All of you.” Jack spoke to everyone assembled at once. “Mrs. Smyth has made the necessary arrangements for your comfort. She has prepared a place in my chambers where we can meet privately before attending a little dance the town is giving in your honor.”
“We’ll talk, then leave,” Chisum stated flatly.
To a man, they nodded agreement.
Jack was nonplussed but careful to appear calm. “Certainly. Governor Casson, you and your party will want to meet with Mr. Shackelford alone first, I’m certain.”
Casson nodded.
Judge Jack eyed the men warily. “I’ll be waiting in the courtroom.”
Rachel led the gentlemen to the judge’s chambers. She’d had the plain pine furnishings removed and replaced by a large mahogany table surrounded by deep leather chairs. She had personally selected and arranged cut-glass ashtrays and delicate crystal glasses and silver pitchers of water for the convenience of the participants. They took no notice whatever of her careful preparations.
A bit nervous now, she waited until they were all seated, then left the room, closing the door firmly behind her. She raised a questioning brow at Jack, who sat in his official chair. He shrugged negligently.
Trying to appear as nonchalant as he, she said, “It’ll all be over soon. Then we’ll be rich beyond our wildest dreams.”
“We leave tonight” was all he said.
In a few minutes Judson Smyth opened the door.
“Judge, I believe we’re ready to do business.”
With false bravado Judge Jack sauntered into his chambers and took the remaining seat. He quickly perused the men. He couldn’t read their expressions.
Governor Casson was the appointed spokesman. “We’re prepared to offer you two million dollars for your interest in the mine.”
It took conscious effort not to sigh relief as Jack inclined his head graciously.
Money changed hands, and less than twenty minutes later the governor and his party left for Santa Fe. Rachel remained behind to aid Judge Jack in tying up loose ends.
With all the fanfare of purchasing a glass of lemonade, Chisum, Tunstall, and McSween, the major shareholders in the San Francisco and New York Mining and Commercial Company, believed they had just acquired the greatest diamond mine on the North American continent.
And Judge Jack was two million dollars richer. He should have felt unparalleled elation. Instead, he knew a fear that was almost paralyzing in its intensity. If those men ever found him—after they discovered the swindle—they would make his life hell on earth. He would beg for death before they finished with him. Of that, he was certain.
Shrugging off the terrible foreboding, he and Rachel headed for his chambers. Henry Sims passed them in the hallway.
He flashed the judge a look Rachel couldn’t define. She laughed uneasily and congratulated Judge Jack on a job well done.
Once inside his room, he patted two large leather cases full of money where they rested on the floor beside the valises holding his clothes.
In a few minutes they would leave for Delgado’s, where they would catch the morning stage to Kansas City. There, they planned to catch the train to St. Louis, then travel to Cincinnati, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and finally New York. It would be several weeks before their fraud would be discovered, and by then they would have new identities, disappearing among the masses of the big city. They hoped.
Suddenly, there was an explosion along Main Street. “Stay here,” Jack ordered Rachel as he ran from the room.
After the judge’s hasty exit, Judson Smyth entered through the rear door.
Rachel surged to her feet. “I thought he’d never leave.”
Judson looked toward the door as if Judge Jack would burst back in at any moment. “Quick, let’s get the money and get out of here.”
Rachel grabbed her husband around the neck and squealed, “We’ve done it. While he untangles that mess you set up outside, we’ll rob the stupid son of a bitch. We’ll be on the night stage to Kansas City before he knows were gone.”
“Hush. Someone might hear.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “You worry too much, Judson.”
He didn’t think so. Hurriedly, he grabbed the leather money bags and rushed for the door. He had already placed a small travel bag for each of them in the small carriage waiting in the alley behind the courthouse. When they arrived at the carriage, he automatically opened the door for his wife.
“Going somewhere?” a familiar voice growled from behind them.
They turned and saw Judge Jack holding a gun on them. A deadly smile stretched across his face.
“I’m disappointed in you, my dear.” He spoke to Rachel but was watching Judson for sudden moves. “You surely didn’t think I would allow you to get away with my money, did you?”
Rachel spat a string of oaths that would embarrass a sailor. She reached into her pocket, withdrew a Remington Vest Pocket
.22, and with the quickness of a rattlesnake shot Jack in the chest. The judge’s gun fell from his hand as he crumpled to the ground.
“Rachel, you killed him. You promise
d there wouldn’t be any killing.”
“You’re damn right I killed him,” she snarled at Judson.
“What do you think he planned to do to us?” She regarded first her husband, then Judge Jack, with utter disgust. “I hope he bums in hell. Now, put the money in the carriage. Or you’re next.” She pointed her weapon in his direction for emphasis.
Head down, Judson did as he was told.
Before they could board, Carlos Garcia ran out the door of the courthouse. His gun was drawn, but Rachel ducked behind the carriage door and shot him through the heart.
“You killed him. How could you kill him?” Judson groaned as his wife shoved him into the carriage ahead of her.
She pulled the door shut behind her. “I killed my own father, two prison guards in Arkansas, and others I don’t even remember.”
Leaving both bodies where they lay, the harsh woman and her white-faced husband headed toward Delgado’s.
Heath and Stevie heard the shots from the portal, where they stood clenched in a passionate embrace.
“Señor.” Donn Pedro spoke from the front yard. “Henry Sims said to tell you he’s waiting.”
So this is it, Heath thought. He had known since his first night in Adobe Wells that he and Sims would square off against each other. Actually, he was surprised Sims had waited this long to force a gunfight.
Stevie followed Heath’s train of thought and stiffened in his arms. “I’m going with you.”
He knew there was little use telling her to stay behind. She turned, facing town, only to be restrained by his tightening embrace.
Her eyes blazed. “Don’t dare say I can’t go, Heath Turner. You need my help. He won’t be alone, you know.”
Stevie was a good gunhand for a woman, better than most men, Heath acknowledged. But she was no match for Henry Sims and Bear Jacobson. Besides, she was unarmed. He had been close enough to her tonight to know. Cupping her chin in his hand, he stared deep into her eyes, so deep he touched her soul. “You’re my heart,” he whispered. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”
“It’s not your decision to make. I do as I please. Or have you forgotten that?”
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