The Sheriff (Historical Romance)

by Nan Ryan

  “So you do have a brother?” Travis interrupted. “Where is he now, Kate?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I no longer consider him a brother.”

  “What happened?”

  “Once the family fortune was gone, Gregory left, giving no thought to the welfare of my uncle Nelson and me. We never heard from him again.” She fell silent.

  “Go on,” Travis urged.

  Kate picked up the story, telling of how she had inherited the run-down mansion and the Cavalry Blue from her great-aunt Arielle VanNam Colfax on the very day her dear uncle passed away. Her uncle had managed to save a little cash, bless him, and she had used it to come to California.

  “And the once great VanNam fortune?” Travis asked when she had finished the story.

  “Flowers.” Kate’s voice was expressionless.

  “Of course.” A smile lit Travis’s face. “The tulip craze.”

  “Worse yet,” Kate said.

  “Poppies?” He was frowning now. “The opium trade?”

  “Heavens no!” She laughed at such an absurd idea. “We’d still be rich were that the case.” She sighed then and said, “The VanNams made and lost a great fortune in Dutch hyacinth bulbs.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Travis said.

  “Don’t be. Everything has worked out for the best. If the fortune hadn’t been lost, I would never have come to California.” She raised herself up onto an elbow and said, “And now I’ve found the gold.”

  “You’re wealthy again.”

  “Yes, but that’s not enough. I want it all.”

  “All?”

  “I want you,” she said, and placed two fingers on his sensuous lips. “I want your heart.”

  Travis grinned. “Baby, if you can find it, you can have it.”

  Thirty-Nine

  The lovers remained awake far into the night.

  With each passing hour they explored each other fully, both physically and mentally. It was not just Travis’s bare brown body that Kate so eagerly examined. She was intent on learning what went on in his keen mind, as well.

  It was the same with Travis. Not satisfied to simply explore every silky inch of Kate’s pale, naked form, he urged her to tell him her deepest secrets, to never hide her feelings from him.

  Neither had shared their innermost thoughts with anyone else before. It was a brand-new world for the determined, independent Kate and the dauntless, stoic Travis.

  In the short time she’d been in his care, Kate had learned about passion from the patient, experienced Virginian. And Travis, who knew all about passion, had learned about love from the sweet, guileless Bostonian.

  She was, he happily realized, nothing like the worldly thirty-one-year-old divorcée who had played him for a fool a decade ago. To this kind, caring young beauty he could entrust his heart with no fear of her breaking it. She was not that kind of woman.

  As if she had read his thoughts, a sleepy Kate said softly, “Don’t be afraid to love me, Travis.”

  “I won’t be.”

  After a pause, she asked, “Should I be jealous of Roxanne?”

  “No. I was a boy then, sweetheart. I’m not now.”

  “Should I be jealous of any other woman or women who—”

  “I love you, Kate VanNam. You and nobody else.”

  “That’s the right answer, Sheriff.”

  At seven the next morning Travis slipped out of bed while Kate slept on. He built a fire in the grate, washed up, shaved, dressed and came to the bed to kiss her goodbye.

  “What are you doing up?” she asked with a yawn.

  “I work here, remember.”

  “Mmm. So you’ll be just inside in the jail?”

  “Yes. If I have to leave for any length of time, I’ll let you know. Now go back to sleep, honey. I’ll check on you later this morning.”

  “Okay,” she said, her eyes closing. Then all at once she lunged up, a frown on her face, the covers falling to her waist. “Where’s Cal? Is he outside in the cold? He’ll freeze to death!”

  Travis laughed. “Relax! He’s in the jail, remember? I put him in there the minute I got home yesterday afternoon. And I fed him the leftover steak last night, after you fell asleep. Want me to bring him in here?”

  “No, not really,” she said, wanting only to go back to sleep. “You’ll look after him?”

  Travis grinned. “You know I will.”

  Kate smiled. “And you’ll look after me?”

  “For the rest of my life, sweetheart.”

  With a steaming-hot cup of coffee in his hand, Travis went into the jail. He looked about for Cal and saw the big calico stretched out, sound asleep, on a cot in one of the empty cells. Travis didn’t disturb him.

  He went on into the front office and stood looking out the windows as he drank his black coffee. The snow had stopped falling. At this early hour the streets were still deserted. The town had not yet stirred to life.

  Travis circled his desk, sat down and leaned back in his chair. He glanced across the street at the Bonanza Hotel, automatically focusing on the third floor suite of Winn DeLaney. Travis clenched his jaw. He was still afraid Delaney would sneak out of town before Jiggs could bring in Kelton and Spears.

  While Travis sat at his desk, a bright alpine sun rose, and with it the temperature. By nine o’clock the snow had begun to melt and the town to bustle. Miners with their axes were heading to their diggings. Merchants were wheeling out carts to display their wares. The ping of a blacksmith’s hammer rang out from his shop past the livery stable.

  Across the street at the Bonanza Hotel, a light came on in the third floor corner suite.

  And Travis’s dark eyes narrowed.

  Winn DeLaney got out of bed, drew on his black silk robe and crossed to the front windows. He raised a shade and peered curiously out. The storm had passed. The sun was shining brightly, the snow quickly melting.

  Winn looked across the street to the city jail. He scowled when he saw Sheriff McCloud seated behind his desk. For a man who the Committee of Vigilance paid to get out on the streets and keep the peace, McCloud sure spent a lot of time sitting behind his desk, doing nothing.

  Winn irritably yanked the shade down and turned away.

  “Is it still snowing?” asked the voluptuous dark-haired woman in his bed.

  “No. The sun’s out, the snow’s melting.”

  Melisande sat up, pushed her hair back from her eyes. “So we could get out if we wanted to? Winn, let’s go. Let’s leave right now while we still have the chance.”

  “We’re not leaving,” he said, pacing restlessly back and forth. “How many times do I have to say it? We are not going without the gold!”

  Melisande threw back the covers and rose from the bed. Hands on her hips, she said, “Damn you, Winn! It is too dangerous. We are going to get caught if we stay. Any minute that posse could ride back into town and—”

  “Doesn’t matter if they do. They’ll come back empty-handed and that will be the end of it. Spears and Kelton will get lost in some other primitive mining camp and no longer pose a threat.” He paused, took a deep breath and said, “Then as soon as the girl is feeling better and is back home in her mansion, I’ll go up and successfully seduce her.”

  “Oh, really?” Melisande snorted derisively. “That woman’s been shut up over there with that handsome lawman for the past five days. I’ll wager eight to five she’s already been ‘successfully seduced.’”

  “Kate VanNam is a naive, well-bred young lady who would never—”

  “Wouldn’t she? She’s a woman first and Mc-Cloud’s one magnetic male.” Melisande lifted bare shoulders and hugged herself. “He exudes potent sexuality from every pore, so I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if—”

  “Will you kindly shut up and let me think!”

  Well before noon most of the snow had melted. Only a few traces remained on the shady sides of buildings. The town was humming with life. Travis had ventured out a half-dozen times, stopping in
here and there, saying good-morning, checking on people, keeping the peace with his presence. But he never went far enough away that he couldn’t keep an eye on the jail’s front entrance.

  Until a sudden occurrence demanded his attention. He’d been back inside only long enough to take off his coat when an upset man in a bartender’s apron came running in, calling his name. “Sheriff Mc-Cloud! Sheriff McCloud! Come quick! Spanish Rose and Bad Bertha are going at it again down at Tillie’s. Rose is pulling Bertha’s hair and Bertha’s threatening to slit Rose’s throat.”

  “Be right there,” Travis said, already rising from his chair. Not bothering to grab his coat, he was to the door when he caught sight of the stick-thin, toothless H. Q. Blankenship coming across the street. Travis called out to the old sourdough.

  “What do you need, Sheriff?” Blankenship hurried over.

  “I’m deputizing you, H.Q.,” he said, and pinned his silver star to the man’s narrow chest. Travis took a weapon from his gun belt and handed it, butt first, to the surprised man. “Take this loaded Colt and stand guard here in the jail. Anybody tries to get back there to Miss VanNam, stop them.”

  “Yes, sir, Marshal,” said the flattered H.Q., his pale eyes brightening with excitement. “I’m not to let anyone visit her?”

  “Alice Hester or Chang Li, nobody else,” Travis said, and was gone.

  Winn DeLaney had finished a late breakfast in the Bonanza dining room. He was entering the lobby, where he liked to sit and keep watch on the city jail, just as Sheriff McCloud came hurrying on the heels of an excited little man in a white bartender’s apron.

  Winn quickly crossed to the hotel’s front windows and watched as the coatless sheriff trotted down the sidewalk toward the southern end of town.

  He smiled. This would be, he decided, the opportune time to visit his wounded sweetheart. There’d be nobody there to keep him away from Kate. He’d get the chance to explain that the big, bullying sheriff was responsible for him not visiting sooner. He had wanted to come to her at once, to comfort and care for her. He had worried himself sick over her.

  Winn exited the hotel. He looked far down the street, where a group of men, shouting and whistling, had gathered outside Tillie’s bordello. He stared unblinking as the sheriff waded into the mob, pushed men out of the way and disappeared inside.

  Barely able to hide his glee, Winn strolled as casually as possible to the hotel’s entryway. He stepped outside and looked across the street to the jail. And he promptly frowned. A woman was going in the front door. Damn it to hell! No doubt it was that widowed bakery owner, the chirpy, cheerful Alice Hester. What a nuisance. But she was a good friend of Kate’s. No telling how long Mrs. Hester would stay. Winn muttered an oath and went back inside.

  “Good Morning, H.Q.”

  “Morning, Miss Knight,” he said, his eyes round with surprise when he looked up to see who was coming in the door. “What brings you out at this early hour?”

  Valentina smiled and held up a fancy oval box covered in shimmering gold paper and tied with a purple ribbon. “The wounded patient, of course. How is Miss VanNam today?”

  “I don’t rightly know,” H.Q. said, and shook his head. “I’m not allowed back there. And, I’m sorry to say, you’re not either, Miss Knight.”

  “No? Why on earth not?”

  “Sheriff McCloud deputized me,” H.Q. said proudly, sticking out his bony chest. “Made me vow I’d not let anyone in to see her, saving that little Chinaman what works for her and Mrs. Hester from the bakery.”

  Valentina laughed gaily, waved a gloved hand in the air and said, “I’m certain the sheriff didn’t mean me.”

  “Alls I know is Travis said ‘keep everybody out ’cept Chang Li and Mrs. Hester.’”

  “Be reasonable, H.Q. I’ve come as a good neighbor and have brought the poor dear a box of chocolates to brighten her spirits. Now, stay where you are and keep an eye out for mischief makers.”

  With the worried little man frowning after her, Valentina went on into the back of the jail. All the cells were empty. Not a single prisoner inhabited the place, only a big calico cat dozing peacefully on a bunk.

  Valentina walked down the corridor between the cells. She stopped before the closed door leading into Travis’s private quarters, drew a deep breath and knocked.

  “Just a minute,” Kate called out, and frantically looked about for her discarded nightshirt. She spotted it across the room, draped over a chair. She bounded out of bed, dashed over and grabbed up the garment. She yanked it over her head, winced in pain from the quick jerky movement, stuck her arms through the sleeves and went back to the bed.

  “Who is it?” she called. “Alice, is that you? Chang Li?”

  Valentina opened the door and stepped inside. Kate’s eyes widened when she saw the handsome, dark-haired woman who was splendidly attired in a Cossack-style hat, with an ermine wrap slung across a black tunic and black stockings.

  Closing the door, Valentina said, “You don’t know me, Miss VanNam. I’m Valentina Knight.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Knight,” Kate replied with a genuine smile.

  “Is it?” Valentina asked, venturing closer. “I think it only fair to tell you that I own and operate the Golden Nugget saloon. I sing there every night. It is not the kind of place young ladies like you…So if you don’t want to associate with my kind, I’ll turn around and leave.”

  “No, no, please, take off your wrap and sit down. You’re very welcome here, Miss Knight.”

  Valentina smiled then and approached the bed. “In that case, I brought you some Belgian chocolates and I’d bet anything that you have a sweet tooth.”

  “You’ve found me out,” Kate said with a laugh. “Thank you so much for coming to visit, Valentina. Please, do sit down. Let’s get acquainted.”

  The woman nodded, took off her gloves, hat and wrap, tossed them all across the foot of the bed. She then took the offered chair. She looked curiously around and mused aloud, “I’ve never been in this room and…” She caught herself and said no more. “You feeling better? I trust the sheriff is taking good care of you.”

  “Yes, he is,” Kate said, hoping her face was not red. “How fortunate for me that Chang Li thought to bring me here to the marshal, since Doc Ledet was out of town.”

  “Indeed. It was quick thinking on Chang Li’s part,” said Valentina.

  The two women, carefully examining one another, at first made stilted small talk. But in no time, they were becoming comfortable with each other. They exchanged stories about their respective homes. Kate talked about her life back in Boston, very different from the one she now lived in Fortune. Valentina spoke fondly of her New Orleans home. Said she missed the charming old city as well as the mild, semitropical climate.

  “I’ve stayed too long,” she announced after twenty minutes. “I’ll tire you.”

  “No, not at all,” Kate assured her. “I feel fine. Really.”

  Valentina got to her feet. She picked up her discarded hat, wrap and gloves. “Nevertheless, I must go now.”

  “Come back real soon,” Kate said.

  Valentina laid a hand on Kate’s shoulder and patted gently. “You’re a wise and very kind young lady, Kate. No wonder…” Again her words trailed away. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Thank you for coming. And for the chocolates.” Kate knew, after only this brief, cordial visit, that Valentina Knight was in love with Travis. She felt a surge of compassion for the other woman. “Does he know?” she softly asked.

  Valentina knew exactly what she meant. She gave no reply, just shook her head, turned and walked away. When she reached the door, Kate said her name. Valentina turned to look at her.

  Kate said, “If it’s any consolation, I’ll take good care of him, I promise.”

  “You’d better,” she warned with a smile. “If you don’t, you’ll answer to me.” She quickly turned away before Kate could see the shimmer of tears that sprang to her eyes.

&n
bsp; Forty

  “Out of the way, Sacramento Slim,” Sheriff Mc-Cloud ordered the tall, slender man with a slashing zigzag scar across his forehead. “Move it,” he said to Two Fingers Johnson and Rattlesnake Jack.

  Travis pushed his way through the whooping crowd and into Tillie’s two-story establishment. In the receiving parlor a couple of furious women were standing toe to toe, gouging and biting and cursing each other.

  The pretty young spitfire, Spanish Rose, was viciously pulling Bad Bertha’s long, dyed-red hair. Bad Bertha was squealing like a stuck pig and desperately trying to get to the jewel-handled dagger she kept in the satin garter that encircled her fleshy thigh. Both women were bleeding from scratches to their faces, bosoms and arms.

  “Ladies, ladies,” Travis said, and rushed into the fray.

  He stepped up behind the red-haired Bad Bertha, wrapped a long arm around her thickening waist and held on for dear life as he reached down and deliberately relieved her of the dagger. He handed the weapon over his shoulder to an anxious Tillie, whose major concern was for the parlor’s fine imported furniture. The fighting women had already smashed a pair of priceless porcelain vases and turned a cherrywood table into a worthless pile of splinters.

  Bad Bertha, the angered redhead, shoved a sharp elbow into Travis’s chest and tried to shake him off. He hung on, despite the pain. Spanish Rose pressed her advantage, yanking her opponent’s hair forcefully and pulling her down. Bad Bertha slammed against the square-carved piano, her shoulder striking the ivory keys, her knees hitting the carpet. She dragged Travis down with her and then fell over backward atop him.

  Summoning all his strength, Travis squirmed out from under her and went after Spanish Rose. Rose spat and cursed and threatened to kill him. Travis yanked her up, tossed her, kicking and screaming, over his shoulder, and almost made it out of the room.

  But not quite.

  Bad Bertha quickly recovered, charged and knocked both Travis and Rose to the floor in the arched doorway leading into the corridor. Bertha screamed like a panther and jumped right on top of the downed pair. Most of the crowd outside had shoved their way in, determined not to miss the fun. Cheers and whistles and applause reigned and bets were taken on who the winner of the three-way brawl would be.