The Sheriff (Historical Romance)

by Nan Ryan

  Nevertheless, Travis loaded a small cart with a saw, a hammer and nails, lumber and a newly purchased heavy wooden door. He’d do his duty and make sure she was safe until she left. He hitched the loaded cart to a strong-backed burro and led the struggling animal up to Kate’s place.

  Travis parked the donkey cart on the south side of the house. He went around to the front and knocked loudly on the door frame. No one answered. He supposed she was up at the mine with her Chinese helper. Travis unloaded the cart and went to work.

  He pried the ruined gold-plated hinges from the old frame and bolted in new ones. Then he hung the massive door and stood back to admire his handiwork. He tried the key in the lock and heard it click.

  Nodding to himself, he shoved the key into the pocket of his snug trousers and went back out to the cart to unload some short pieces of lumber. He began nailing boards over broken glass panes in windows of the room where she slept, as a temporary barrier to intruders.

  It was nearing three o’clock and the alpine sun was high and hot. Travis was soon perspiring.

  He shrugged out of his leather vest as well as his white shirt.

  Kate, panning for gold on that warm June afternoon, felt the hot sun beating down on her bare head, and scolded herself for forgetting her bonnet. Knowing her fair face would blister, she waded out of the stream and laid her batea on the bank.

  She decided to run down to the mansion, grab a bonnet and come back.

  She saw no need to put on her shoes or lower the skirts she had tied up around her thighs. Kate carefully picked her way down the mountainside and around the mansion to the overgrown front yard.

  When she reached the front gate, she saw him.

  Sheriff Travis McCloud.

  His back was to her, and he was unaware of her presence.

  At that moment he stripped off his white shirt and dropped it. Kate stood stock-still and stared, her lips parted, her heart racing. Feeling as if she were smothering, she watched the handsome, dark-haired lawman labor in the hot California sun, his smooth bronzed back gleaming with perspiration.

  He bent from the waist, picked up a hammer and began working on a broken windowpane. The muscles in his long right arm bunched and strained as he rhythmically swung the hammer. His shoulder blades slipped and slid beneath the smooth, glistening skin of his beautiful back.

  Her throat dry, Kate forgot that she was barefoot and that her skirts were tied up high around her legs. She was, for the moment, mesmerized by the sight of the tall, lean, half-naked sheriff. Aware that she should let him knew she was there, yet reluctant to do so, she guiltily lowered her eyes to the snug black trousers that clung to his slim hips and long legs.

  She wondered if all of his body was as bronzed and as magnificent as his bare shoulders and deeply clefted back.

  She shivered at the thought.

  Travis felt someone’s eyes on him.

  He lowered the hammer and slowly turned around. He immediately saw her framed in the open front gate.

  Kate did not make a sound.

  She couldn’t.

  She helplessly stared at the broad torso of this handsome man who possessed an almost animal-like masculinity. Kate had no doubt, as her eyes slipped down to where his belt was buckled just below his naval, that he was a highly virile male who’d had scores of conquests.

  Travis was as silent as Kate.

  He stood there with the hammer in his hand looking at her, appraising her, admiring her. Never had he seen a woman more desirable than this young, willowy, barefooted vision in gingham. Her wide-set blue eyes were locked on him, and in their depths was unmistakable attraction. Her glorious golden hair was blazing in the sun. Teasing glimpses of her soft, rounded breasts were revealed in her half-unbuttoned bodice. Her pale, shapely thighs, appealingly exposed by the bunched-up dress, were almost his undoing.

  Travis found himself longing to fall to his knees before her and kiss her exquisite thighs. The prospect made his belly tighten, but he quickly bit the inside of his cheek to regain his usual control.

  He dropped the hammer, picked up his vest and shirt, slung them over his shoulder and walked slowly toward her. Kate held her breath, wondering what he was going to do.

  She tensed and waited for him to reach her.

  When he did, he stood gazing unblinkingly at her, then lowered his hand.

  She anxiously looked down to see what he was doing. He slipped his fingers inside the pocket of his tight black trousers and produced a shiny brass key.

  “Lock the front door,” he said, holding it up before her face. His dark, liquid eyes smoldered, his lean jaw ridged. “To everyone.”

  Under his spell, swaying toward him, Kate said, “Even to you, Marshal?”

  His eyes dilated. “Especially to me, Kate.”

  “If you say so,” she breathlessly replied. She was tempted to reach out and spread one hand across the sculptured muscles of his chest. She resisted.

  “I say so.” Then he took her by surprise when, continuing to look directly into her eyes, he slowly reached out and yanked on her skirts, causing them to come untied and fall down around her ankles.

  “Oh, my Lord!” she lamented, mortified. “I had forgotten about my skirts being—”

  “Don’t forget again.”

  Twelve

  On a blistering hot afternoon in early June, a month after Kate’s arrival, a mysterious stranger appeared in Fortune, California.

  The tall, slim, fair-haired Winn DeLaney, looking neat as a bandbox despite the withering summertime heat, swung down from the steamer’s gangway, looked around, smiled and headed directly to the Bonanza Hotel, nodding politely to anyone he encountered.

  He was good-looking, well groomed and wore smartly tailored clothes. A pair of golden spurs flashed on his freshly polished black boots. Winn DeLaney was aware that he looked nothing like the rough-hewn denizens who inhabited this mountain mining community.

  Suppressing his amusement at the speculation his presence in Fortune was sure to stir, DeLaney crossed the street and walked into the three-story brick Bonanza Hotel.

  “Your most elegant suite,” he informed the short, squat man behind the marble counter, and reached for the guest register.

  Signing his name with a flourish that called attention to his artistic hands, he placed the pen back in the ink well and looked up at the curious desk clerk.

  “You ain’t from around these parts, are you…” Dwayne, the day clerk, glanced down at the signed register “…Mr. Winn Delaney.”

  “No. I’m from San Francisco.”

  “Just in off the steamer? What brings you up here to Fortune? By the looks of your hands, you’re not aimin’ to work the mines.” Dwayne grinned.

  “Hardly,” Winn DeLaney said with a good-natured laugh, but volunteered no further information. “If you’ll kindly have my bags brought up…” He accepted the key to the top floor corner suite, number 312.

  “Certainly, sir. Right away.”

  Delaney nodded, turned and headed for the stairs. He stopped, slowly pivoted and said in casual command, “I’ll be requiring a hot bath drawn at seven sharp, followed by dinner in my suite at eight. Beefsteak rare, potatoes, salad and a bottle of your finest champagne. May I count on it?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Delaney,” said Dwayne, bobbing his head, obviously pleased that such an illustrious guest, a man so wealthy he wore spurs of gold, had chosen the Bonanza.

  Upstairs, Winn Delaney looked around the suite, walked directly into the bedroom and crossed to the front windows. He glanced across the street at McNeil’s Barbershop. On one side of the shop was the Brass Rail Saloon. On the other side the Bloody Bucket. He closed the heavy curtains and shrugged out of the finely tailored frock coat.

  He did not venture out of his hotel room that evening. He luxuriated in the hot tub, then, clad only in a black silk dressing gown, enjoyed his evening meal. When he’d finished dinner, he dropped the robe, picked up the bottle and crossed to the bed.


  He poured himself another glass of the bubbly and stretched out atop the soft feather mattress. He leaned back against the stacked pillows and sipped the champagne. A sly smile soon stretched along his lips. A tingle of building excitement surged through his body.

  The heat of the summer night and the potency of the chilled champagne made his face flush and his chest and long arms perspire.

  Winn ran a hand over his damp torso and down his flat belly. He sighed with a mixture of satisfaction and exhaustion. Half-tipsy, he finished the bottle of champagne, blew out the lamp, and fell asleep.

  By the next day everyone in Fortune had heard that a handsome, wealthy gentleman from San Francisco was in town and staying at the Bonanza Hotel in its most expensive suite.

  Sheriff Travis McCloud heard about Winn DeLaney and idly wondered what he was doing in Fortune. He didn’t really care one way or the other why a rich, cultured gentleman was in town. Winn DeLaney was hardly the type to cause mischief in Fortune.

  Three days after arriving in Fortune, Winn DeLaney, dressed for the warm summer weather in smartly creased buff trousers and a freshly laundered white shirt, sat in the lobby of the Bonanza Hotel reading a yellowing copy of the San Francisco Chronicle. When he finished the paper, he carefully refolded it and laid it aside.

  He was bored and restless.

  And then he saw her.

  Through the tall front windows of the hotel, he spotted a pretty young woman with gleaming golden hair rapidly approaching. DeLaney rose to his feet and crossed the lobby to the open front doors. He stepped out onto the sidewalk and collided with the young woman, startling her.

  “A thousand pardons, miss.” He politely apologized, and gently clasped her upper arms to steady her. “I’m so terribly sorry. Are you hurt? Have I injured you?”

  “No. No, I’m fine, really,” Kate assured him, waving a hand in the air.

  Winn DeLaney flashed her a warm smile. He looked into her dazzling blue eyes and said, “Allow me to introduce myself.” He stepped back and clicked his heels together. “Winn DeLaney, at your service, miss.”

  “Mr. DeLaney,” Kate acknowledged, taking notice of his striking good looks and impeccably tailored clothes.

  “And I’m addressing…?” said DeLaney.

  “Kate,” she told him. “Kate VanNam. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve errands to run.”

  She stepped past him, but he quickly turned and followed. “I find myself at loose ends this morning. May I be of help with your errands, Miss VanNam?”

  “You’re kind, but I need no help.”

  Undeterred, Winn DeLaney fell into step beside Kate, explaining that he had recently arrived in Fortune and therefore knew no one.

  “It’s quite bleak being alone in a new place, don’t you agree?”

  Kate could sympathize on that score. She, too, had often been lonely since arriving in Fortune. But she had no intention of sharing that information with this fair, handsome stranger.

  “I’m sure you’ll soon have friends,” she said, wondering why he had come to Fortune if he knew no one.

  “Would I be out of line to say I hope you’ll be my first friend?” Kate gave no reply, so he pressed on. “Miss VanNam, may I call on you one evening? Take you to one of the hotels for dinner? Or perhaps to the opera?”

  “No, thank you, Mr. DeLaney,” Kate said. “Now, I really am in a hurry, so good day to you, sir.”

  Sheriff Travis McCloud was getting a haircut in McNeil’s Barbershop directly across the street from the Bonanza Hotel when he spotted Kate VanNam charging down the wooden sidewalk. Travis was staring at her when a tall blond man stepped out of the hotel and bumped squarely into her.

  “Hold it a minute, Mac,” Travis said to the barber.

  Clippers in hand, Cotton McNeil stopped trimming Travis’s raven locks and looked up to see what had captured the sheriff’s attention.

  “Ah, that there’s the wealthy San Francisco gentleman that wears them fancy golden spurs.” Cotton laughed then. “I don’t see no horse, so why’s he wearing spurs?”

  “DeLaney?” Travis asked. “That fellow is DeLaney?”

  “That’s him, all right. Since he arrived, I’ve seen him sitting in that hotel lobby hour upon hour. It’s like he was waiting for somebody,” Cotton said thoughtfully. “But who could it be?”

  Travis’s dark eyes narrowed. He watched as the slim blond man spoke to Kate, smiled at her and then walked along beside her until she stopped abruptly, shook her head dismissively and left him staring after her.

  Cotton McNeil, watching the exchange between Kate and Winn Delaney, chuckled and said, “Looks to me like the pretty Miss VanNam has caught the eye of this wealthy DeLaney. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if next thing we know, he’s courting her. Would you, Travis?”

  “Finish my haircut, Mac. I’ve got to take ‘Monte’ Jim downriver to the Committee of Vigilance in Quartzville to stand judgment for claim jumping.”

  Thirteen

  Winn DeLaney possessed a gambler’s instinct and a seducer’s charm. He would need both in his unflagging pursuit of Kate VanNam. And he was, from the moment he’d bumped into her, a patient, persistent suitor.

  “I’ll never give up, Miss VanNam,” he warned her each time they met. “If it takes a week, a month or a year, the day will come when you will say yes to me.” He grinned when he added, “And you’ll be glad you did.”

  Kate was flattered by the attention of such a handsome, sophisticated gentleman. And impressed with his determination. But time after time she continued to decline his invitations.

  Until at last DeLaney persuasively argued away all of her objections and she agreed to have dinner with him at the Bonanza Hotel.

  Kate looked forward to the evening. She felt sure Winn DeLaney would be entertaining company, and even more inviting was the prospect of enjoying a hot, delicious meal. She had heard that the finest food to be had in Fortune was served in the Bonanza dining room.

  Now, as the hour rapidly approached for the agreed upon engagement, Kate stood before a cracked mirror that she had leaned against the wall in the downstairs drawing room. For this evening’s momentous occasion, Kate donned the last good dress she owned, one she had not worn since arriving in Fortune.

  She carefully drew on the pale blue silk gown with its low-cut neckline, tight waist and billowing skirts. Hands behind her, she struggled to get the garment closed down the back, hoping she didn’t miss any of the tiny buttons.

  Beneath the dress she wore her fullest lace-trimmed petticoat, and wished that she had some hoops to make her skirts stand fully out as was the fashion of the day. But she had brought neither whalebone corset nor hoops with her. She couldn’t cinch in her waist or expand her skirts as she would have liked. Kate fretted over her appearance. She was sure a cultured gentleman like Winn DeLaney was accustomed to courting only rich ladies who wore the latest of fashions.

  Kate sighed. Then she bent forward before the mirror and frowned. Too much of her bare bosom was showing above the gown’s low-cut bodice. She yanked at the fabric, determined to modestly cover herself. Satisfied at last that there was not too much flesh showing, she stopped fussing over the dress and turned her attention to her hair.

  She effortlessly swept her long golden locks atop her head and secured them with an oyster shell clasp. She again studied herself in the cracked mirror, pinched her cheeks and bit her lips. Then she turned around.

  “So…how do I look, Cal?” she asked the overweight calico cat. The furry male feline lay sprawled on the rose velvet sofa-bed, stretching his paws out. The cat’s reply to her question was a wide yawn and the closing of his golden eyes. Kate laughed and shook her head. “You’re a big help.”

  She came over and scratched Cal’s head until he purred deep in his throat. Then Kate blew out the coal oil lamp and said to the dozing cat, “Don’t let anyone near the place while I’m gone.”

  She crossed to the front window and saw Winn DeLaney come into the yard. Righ
t on time. She picked up her reticule and walked out of the room and out of the house. She closed the heavy front door, put the key in the lock, turned it and silently, grudgingly, thanked the town sheriff for making her home more secure.

  She walked out onto the porch to meet Winn, unwilling to let him come inside the ruined mansion. Slightly nervous, she stood and watched him approach. He was elegantly dressed in an expensively tailored brown linen frock coat and matching trousers. His starched shirt was snowy white and his cravat was of shimmering bronze silk. His handsome face was smoothly shaved and his pale hair neatly brushed back from his temples.

  “Miss VanNam, how lovely you look this evening,” he said, resting one foot on the bottom step.

  “Thank you, Mr. DeLaney.”

  “Winn,” he said, “please, call me Winn.”

  Kate nodded. “And you may call me Kate, Winn.”

  “Kate,” he repeated. “Lovely Kate.”

  Dinner was delightful.

  Just as she’d supposed, Winn DeLaney was good company. He was courteous, intelligent and sophisticated. And just as she’d heard, the food at the Bonanza was superb. Closely observing his companion, DeLaney took note of Kate’s ravenous appetite and smiled, amused.

  Kate looked up, caught his indulgent smile and flushed, embarrassed. She lifted her damask napkin, patted her mouth and said, “You must excuse me, Winn. The truth is that since arriving in Fortune, this is the very first time I’ve eaten a meal in a restaurant or hotel. The food is so delicious, I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible glutton of myself.”

  He laughed approvingly and his gray eyes were warm when he replied, “My dear, I love to see a woman with a healthy appetite.” He leaned up to the table. “Now tell me what you’d like for dessert?”

  Kate was dying for a slice of hot apple pie, but felt she should decline. “Nothing for me, thanks. I couldn’t possibly eat another bite,” she said.