The Sheriff (Historical Romance) (3 page)

A bath and a bed.

Soon Kate, fresh from her hot, relaxing bath, climbed into that soft, clean bed and smiled.

She fell asleep at sundown.

A
t sundown Fortune came alive.

Thirsty miners hit the town’s many saloons the minute they laid down their picks and shovels. Tired and dirty, the men swarmed into the bars, eager for their first bracing shot of rotgut whiskey.

In Fortune’s most favored saloon, the Golden Nugget, the long polished bar, faro wheels and poker tables filled up as the sun slipped fully behind the western mountain peaks. Loud piano music resounded up and down the busy streets as the shrill feminine laughter of painted women in gaudy gowns mingled with the voices of lusty miners.

The man who single-handedly saw to it that trouble stayed away from his town was presently at the Golden Nugget.

But he wasn’t downstairs.

Sheriff Travis McCloud was enjoying a hot bath in a plush upstairs suite at the soft hands of Miss Valentina Knight, the Golden Nugget’s beautiful songbird owner and Travis’s favorite female companion.

With his clothes neatly draped across a blue brocade-covered chaise longue, and his black hat hooked on the newel of a high-backed rocker, the six-foot-three-inch Travis sat in a suds-filled tub with his knees and torso sticking up out of the steaming water.

Feeling relaxed and enjoying himself, he smoked a fine Cuban cigar and drank Kentucky bourbon from a lead crystal glass, while the prettiest woman in Fortune gently scrubbed his broad shoulders with a soft-bristled, long-handled brush.

“Feel good, Marshal?” Valentina asked as she drew the brush back and forth over his gleaming back.

“Mmm,” he replied lazily, his eyes half-closed, his even white teeth clamped firmly on his lit cigar.

Valentina smiled, pleased. She loved giving this big handsome sheriff a soapy, sensuous bath. She loved even more the moment when he stepped out of the tub, allowed her to dry him off, and then spent the next hour in her soft bed while she cuddled in his strong arms.

Those fleeting golden moments were as much of Travis McCloud as she would ever have.

So she made the most of his visits.

Valentina Knight was a clever woman. She knew that she couldn’t hem Travis in, so she never tried. She
realized that the reason she, and she alone, was allowed to entertain the handsome marshal was because she was convenient and made no demands on him.

Valentina Knight was a beautiful, porcelain-skinned Creole who had come out West from her New Orleans home to seek her fortune. She had wisely surmised that the goldfields of California offered an opportunity to make lots of money without ever going near a mine. There were, she had read, literally thousands of men pouring into the many mining camps springing up across the Sierra Nevadas. They were willing to part with their precious gold dust for a drink and a smile from a pretty woman.

Valentina had guessed correctly.

In this male-dominated world with very few women and little semblance of customary society, she had become very wealthy during the four years she had owned the Nugget.

She was a respected citizen of Fortune who turned heads wherever she went, but it was more than her raven hair and magnolia skin that made her so desirable. Her generosity, charm and wit secured her position as the object of affection to Fortune’s many menfolk.

When she came downstairs to sing for the miners, they immediately fell silent. They gazed worshipfully at the sweet-voiced vision in the stunning gowns that accentuated her voluptuous figure, in the diamonds that sparkled at her throat and ears.

It was a whispered, well-known secret that in her plush upstairs suite, she drank—from fragile stemmed glasses—vintage French champagne delivered by Wells Fargo. And fresh cut flowers, that rarest of all luxuries, were delivered daily.

The lovely Creole had a French maid, a must for the most prosperous of the frontier madams. Gigi responded to the summons of the richly brocaded bell-pulls, then prudently disappeared when her mistress was entertaining the town sheriff.

When Valentina went out, she rode behind matched blacks in a Brewster carriage imported across the Isthmus of Panama at great expense. Sable muff, scarf and lap robe kept her warm on exhilarating winter rides. Gloves, straw hat and silk parasol protected her porcelain skin on summer jaunts.

Valentina Knight had everything.

Except the man she loved.

Travis McCloud.

The lawman’s heart would never belong to her even though hers belonged to him. Valentina never so much as batted a flirtatious eyelash at any other man, nor would she allow another to make to love to her.

Now, as she rinsed the soap off of the most magnificent male chest she’d ever laid eyes on, Valentina shivered with sweet anticipation of the lovemaking ahead.

“We have two whole hours before I must go downstairs to sing,” she said as Travis gently moved
her hand away and rose to his feet, water sluicing down his body.

Valentina picked up a large white towel and began blotting moisture from his clean, wet flesh. “Promise you’ll spend those two hours right here with me?”

“You talked me into it, darlin’,” said Travis with a smile.

He motioned for her to back away, and stepped out of the tub. Valentina rose to her feet before him. He took the towel from her and finished drying off. She stayed where she was as Travis dropped the damp towel, turned and padded across the patterned Persian carpet to the bed. He stretched out on his back atop the satin sheet and laid his dark head on an abundance of soft feather pillows resting against the ornately carved headboard.

Valentina shivered deliciously.

If ever there was a sight that was pleasing to her, it was that of the lean lawman lying naked on her bed. The darkness of his skin against the whiteness of the sheets never failed to delight her senses. His fierce masculine power, unclothed and unprotected, was for the moment hers and hers alone.

Valentina began to sway seductively toward the bed. A subtle but purposeful movement of her shoulders made the shimmering satin lapels of her long, ice blue robe part, revealing to her naked lover tempting glimpses of her full breasts. She raised a hand,
took the diamond pins from her hair and allowed her dark, lustrous locks to spill down around her shoulders.

She laid the pins on the marble-topped night table, then leaned over and gave the sheriff’s tight belly a wet, warm kiss.

Travis sucked in his breath. His hand came down to clasp a handful of her hair and gently pull her head up. “Get in bed, baby,” he gently commanded, and she obeyed.

Valentina didn’t take off her tightly sashed robe, but left it on as she stretched out beside Travis and snuggled close against his bare torso. He kissed her, then urged her over onto her back. He moved atop her, supporting his weight on stiffened arms.

The satin of Valentina’s robe lay between them. For a time they left it there, a sensuous slippery barrier to the pleasure of penetration.

Travis found it incredibly erotic to feel the summoning heat of Valentina’s feminine softness just out of reach beneath the fabric. For Valentina it was tremendously exciting to feel the insistent power of his masculine hardness thwarted by the sleek obstruction of satin.

It was a thrilling game.

But short-lived.

Soon he levered himself up, reached between them and swept the robe out of his way. Valentina eagerly parted her legs and sighed in approval as he slid
into her. She raised her knees, gripped his ribs and clung to him as they made leisurely, lusty love.

But just at the instant of climax, a gunshot rang out.

Valentina’s eyes flew open and she blinked in stunned surprise. “You got me, Sheriff!” she proclaimed, and pretended to fall over dead. Then she laughed throatily and teased, “Any ammunition left in that…?”

“Afraid not,” said Travis, and laughed with her.

Then, with a quick kiss, he pulled out, fell over onto his back, took a couple of deep, quick breaths, and got out of bed.

“No,” she protested, raising up on an elbow, “don’t go, Travis.”

“I have to, Val,” he said, pulling on his trousers. “Somebody’s firing a weapon downstairs. I’m the sheriff, remember? Hired to keep the peace.”

K
ate awoke at dawn feeling rested and ready to start her new life. She hummed happily as she donned a simple blue-and-white gingham dress and brushed her blond hair. Optimistic, tingling with excitement, she left the hotel with map in hand. She was eager to explore the town, but first she wanted to locate her newly inherited property and inspect the house her aunt had left her. She planned to return to the hotel for her belongings later and then move in. She was sure there would be no reason to stay another night in the hotel. She would spend it in her own home.

Kate passed—two doors down from the hotel—the offices of Dr. Milton Ledet, the kindly white-haired physician she had met on the steamer ride to Fortune. She dashed past his office windows in case he was inside. She had no time to visit this morning.

Kate walked to the very end of the sidewalk and soon left Fortune behind. Her breathing grew short from the altitude, and her legs quickly grew weak, but she climbed an ill-defined lane up through the towering green conifers and white-trunked aspens, swatting low, leafy limbs out of her way.

When she’d gone no more than a half mile, Kate stepped out into a broad, lush clearing and saw a large white house looming in the distance.

She had, she knew, located the real estate she now owned.

Set amid the tall sheltering pines, the property bordered a breathtakingly beautiful deep turquoise lake no more than a hundred yards from the front door of the house. The lake was fed by a clear, crystalline stream flowing out of the mountains on the north side of the estate. Swift waters poured down from the melting Sierra snowpack. Kate could hear the crystal water gurgling and splashing over the rocks.

With her lips parted in awe at the spectacular scenery surrounding her, Kate skirted the grassy banks of the placid turquoise lake and headed toward the house. When she stood directly before the large, two-story structure, she clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

Before even going inside she could see that the once splendid Victorian mansion was uninhabitable.

Kate despaired. Like it or not, she would
have
to live in this badly neglected house. She had no choice.
If she were to have enough money to hire men to work her mine, she could ill afford to live at the hotel, even for a brief period of time.

Kate exhaled heavily and made her way across the weed choked grounds to the mansion’s broad front steps. The second step was missing. Kate grimaced, lifted her skirts and cautiously stepped over the gaping hole.

She crossed the broad veranda and paused at the entrance. There was no front door. It had been removed from its hinges and carried away. Kate shook her head and went inside.

The mansion had been ransacked. Most of the furniture had been carted off; only a few odd pieces remained. A French gilt chair with a broken leg lay on its side before a magnificent black marble fireplace. A gigantic crystal chandelier that had been carelessly pried from the ceiling was on the floor, its fragile prisms shattered. There were blank spaces on the faded, silk-covered walls where massive mirrors and oil paintings had undoubtedly hung. Remnants of an elegant silk shade dangled from an open window.

Kate quickly realized that more than half of the solid wooden doors had been carried away. Most of the windows had been broken.

Kate climbed the stairs to the second floor. She jumped, startled, when she stepped into the spacious master suite and a bird flew in through an open window.

“Shoo! Fly away!” she shouted, chasing the winged intruder, flapping her skirts to scare it. “It’s bad luck to have a bird fly into one’s house. Get out, get out!”

The bird circled the room, then sailed away.

Kate shuddered with the dawning knowledge that the bird might not be the only creature that had the run of the place. No doubt there were black bears and sleek bobcats and all manner of dangerous animals roaming these rugged mountains. How would she stop them from taking up residence in the mansion? And how on earth could she survive the coming winter with no windows and doors to shut out the cold?

Kate shook her head again as she slowly went back down the grand staircase, whose steps sported only remnants of the fine carpet that had once covered them.

Kate had been in Fortune for less than twenty-four hours when Sheriff Travis McCloud heard about her arrival. His deputy, Jiggs Gillespie, had been the first to mention it. Dr. Ledet, the second. The newcomer quickly became the topic of conversation all over town as word spread that the young woman from Boston who had inherited the old Colfax mansion and the abandoned Cavalry Blue Mine intended to make Fortune her home.

They were all certain she was in for a big disappointment. There was no gold in the Cavalry Blue. Travis knew that. Everyone knew that. Which meant,
mercifully, she wouldn’t be staying long in Fortune. That suited Travis fine. The sooner she gave up and left, the better.

But that could take awhile. Gold fever was a sickness from which it was hard to recover. She might stay weeks, even months in the vain search of a treasure that did not exist.

Travis ground his teeth at the possibility. He hoped to hell she was homely. Protecting a young, single woman from a townful of lonely, lusty miners would be anything but easy.

Kate returned to the Eldorado, collected her belongings, paid her bill and trudged back to the ruined mansion. She deposited her things in the drawing room at the very front of the mansion. She looked around, sighed, then turned away. She’d see to making the room livable later.

First things first.

By noon she was back in town to visit the Federal Land Office. When she stepped down into the street, she encountered a dirty, drunken man weaving dizzily toward her. Kate shook her finger in his face and warned him off, threatening him within an inch of his life. The drunk anxiously backed away.

Chin raised, Kate stepped past him and into the land office. Deed in hand, she introduced herself and handed the document to the balding clerk. He studied
it for only a minute. Then he looked up and shook his head pityingly.

“Miss VanNam, I’m sorry you’ve traveled all this way for nothing.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re wasting your time,” he informed her. “All the placer gold is gone from the stream on your property. Has been for years now.”

“Placer gold?” she repeated, having no idea what he meant.

“Placer. The pebbles containing particles of gold that wash down the stream from the mountains. It’s all long since been panned and sold. There is no more.”

“No, of course not,” she said. “I knew that. But the mine…”

“Miss VanNam, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the Cavalry Blue has been abandoned for years. All boarded up. And with good reason. There has never been a single speck of gold brought out of that mine.”

Kate said calmly, “I know.”

“You do?” He frowned and scratched his gleaming pate.

“Yes. I came up on the steamer from Golden Quest with Dr. Milton Ledet. He mentioned that the Cavalry Blue has never produced any gold.”

The man nodded.

Shoulders squared, Kate continued, “I informed the good doctor and now I’ll tell you. The gold obviously remains inside. I will bring it out.”

Travis got his first glimpse of Kate VanNam at noontime.

He was alone in the front office of the city jail, doing nothing. Leaning back in his chair, booted feet propped up on his desk, hands folded behind his head. He yawned and exhaled slowly, enjoying the peace and quiet that came all too infrequently in this wild mining community.

He looked out the window at nothing in particular and his eyes immediately widened.

He spotted her sunlit hair, shining as brightly as the gold she sought.

Kate VanNam.

He knew it was her.

Travis swore under his breath. He was instantly reminded of another golden-haired Jezebel whose memory was still vivid after all these years.

Travis scowled as Kate encountered the weaving, drunken Zeke Daniels, but his frown quickly turned into a grudging smile when the delicate young woman shook a finger in Zeke’s liquor-veined face and rebuked him.

Zeke backed away as if he had encountered a bobcat.

As the sheriff studied the woman, he noted that her gleaming golden hair was not her only attribute. She was tall and appealingly slender. Her lithe, willowy body was draped in a girlish blue-and-white
gingham dress with flounces and bows that made her look all too young and innocent. Her fine-boned face was exquisite, her ivory skin flawless. She was very pretty, very feminine, very desirable. She did not belong in Fortune, California.