Wolf Shadow (32 page)

“Not now, McCloud.”

Chance swore. “I wasn’t cheating.”

“I’ll take your statement in a few minutes. Inside.”

Jaw clenched, Chance stepped into the cell. He flinched as
the door swung shut behind him, glared at Moss as the sheriff locked him up.

Sunderland pulled a couple of forms out of the top drawer of
his desk, picked up a pen, dipped it in the ink well in the corner. His lips
moved as he filled out the form.

“This is the fourth time I’ve had you in here in the last
month, Eli,” he remarked.

Moss grimaced, but said nothing.

“Gonna cost you ten days in the lockup this time and a
twenty dollar fine for being drunk and disorderly in public.”

Muttering an oath, Moss dropped down on the cot in the
corner and pulled his hat down over his eyes.

Chance gripped the bars in his hands, his eyes narrowed as
he watched the lawman.

Feeling his gaze, Sunderland looked up. “First offense, two
days and two dollars.”

“I’m leaving town tomorrow afternoon.”

“‘Fraid not.”

“Dammit, I’ve already bought my ticket.”

“I’ll have my deputy exchange it for you.”

Chance pressed his forehead against the bars. If he missed
the train tomorrow, he’d have to wait another week for the next one. Dammit!

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The next few days passed quickly. As a child, Teressa had
never really understood or appreciated what it meant to be rich, but the
benefits of being wealthy were soon evident.

She and her mother spent a day at the dressmaker’s, and the
following afternoon, Teressa had three fashionably new dresses that turned
heads wherever she went. New hats, new shoes, new gloves. She had only to
remark that she liked something, and it was hers. Painters were hired to
repaint her bedroom. She had a new suite of furniture, new carpets and lamps.

To her chagrin, she found she enjoyed being waited on. Marie
brought her hot cocoa and scones in the morning, lunch was anything she
desired, dinner was always an elaborate meal. Oftentimes, one or more of her
father’s business acquaintances joined them at the table.

The only thing Tessa didn’t like was the way people
sometimes looked at her. It seemed everyone she met knew she had been kidnapped
by the Lakota. Her father’s friends were too well-bred to question her about
it, but she could see the speculation in their eyes, knew they were wondering
what her life had been like among the Indians. There were always stories in the
newspapers about Indian attacks, about captives being abused and tortured,
about women who had been brutally raped. The women looked at her with pity; the
men looked at her and wondered.

Her days and evenings were never dull. She accompanied her
parents to the theater and the opera; girls who had been her friends when she
was a child came to visit. They were all grown up now, virtual strangers to
Teressa as she was to them. A few came to call and never returned. The rest
seemed willing to renew their acquaintance, especially Cynthia Witherspoon. Teressa
remembered Cynthia. As children, they had been best friends, spending the night
at each other’s homes, sharing secrets, playing house. They had taken piano
lessons together, sat side by side in church. Their old friendship was quickly
renewed. It was Cynthia who made the parties and the outings bearable.

Cynthia was the only one Teressa dared talk to about Wolf
Shadow. It was so good to have someone she could confide in, someone who didn’t
think she was awful for loving a half-breed.

“It sounds like he loves you, too, Tess,” Cynthia had said.
“And if he doesn’t come for you, then it’s his loss.” Cynthia had tossed her
hair over her shoulder in a gesture Teressa remembered from childhood. “Just
remember, there are lots of handsome men who would love to court you.”

But she didn’t want another man. She wanted Wolf Shadow. At
night, alone in her room, her thoughts always turned to him, to the kisses they
had shared, the night they had made love. He had been so tender; she had been
certain he loved her as much as she loved him.

Every night, she sent the same prayer toward Heaven. Please,
Wakan Tanka
, help him find the path that will lead him back to me.

And with the passage of each new day, she grew more
convinced that he wasn’t coming after her.

At first, she had made excuses for him—he’d had business to
take care of at the ranch, he had missed the train, he had lost his ticket, the
train had been delayed, held up, attacked by Indians. But as the days turned to
weeks, she forced herself to admit the truth. He wasn’t coming. They had shared
something wonderful, something beautiful, but it was over.

Now, she stood in front of the full-length mirror in her
newly remodeled bedroom and studied her reflection. Today was her eighteenth
birthday and her parents were having a dinner party to celebrate, even though
Teressa didn’t feel like celebrating.

If only Wolf Shadow were there with her. What would he think
if he could see her now? Her dress was a muted shade of mauve with a square
neck, long fitted sleeves and a full skirt over a modest bustle. She wore
matching slippers on her feet. Her hair was arranged atop her head, with a few
curls left loose to fall over her shoulders. A slender gold chain circled her
throat.

Marie knocked at the door. “Your mother wishes you to join
them downstairs,
mademoiselle
. The guests are beginning to arrive.”

“Thank you, Marie. I’ll be right down.”

With one last look at her reflection, Teressa picked up her
fan and left her room. No doubt her mother had invited dozens of eligible men.
She could have told her parents they were wasting their time. She had met
countless young men since she arrived in San Francisco. None of them interested
her in the least. They were handsome. They were charming. They were polite and
rich and amusing. But they weren’t Wolf Shadow.

Fixing a smile on her face, she made her way down the
stairs. She was the guest of honor, after all.

* * * * *

Chance paced the floor of his cell, his frustration rising
with every passing moment. He glanced at the clock again. Two more hours and he’d
be free.

Dammit. He hated being locked up. Hated small, enclosed
spaces. Hated the man snoring in the next cell. Damn Eli Moss!

Chance pivoted on his heel as Sunderland opened the cell
door.

“Go on, get out of here,” the sheriff said, handing him his
Colt. “Your pacing is driving me crazy.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Muttering a heartfelt
“obliged”, Chance grabbed his holster from end of the cot, shoved his Colt into
the leather, and left the jail.

Outside, he strapped on his gunbelt, then took a deep
breath. No more saloons, no more poker. He wasn’t going to miss that damn train
again. No sir! He was gonna hole up in his room until it was time to leave
town.

Two days later, Chance led Smoke up the ramp and into the
stock car, made sure the mare had feed and water, and then climbed into the
passenger car. He walked through several cars until he found one that wasn’t
too crowded. Locating an empty seat, he tossed his saddlebags on the overhead
rack and sat down next to the window. Not long ago, it had taken six months to
cross the country; now a man could go from New York City to San Francisco in
six days.

Leaning back, he pulled his hat down low, stretched his legs
out in front of him, and closed his eyes.

Twenty minutes later, amid a long piercing whistle, the
grinding of wheels, and a spurt of steam, the train was in motion.

Chance pushed his hat back and glanced out the window. He
had never been on a train before and as the engine picked up speed, he found it
rather exhilarating in spite of the noise and an occasional cinder that blew in
one of the open windows.

As they left the town behind, there was nothing but miles of
grassland as far as the eye could see. Now and then he spied a stand of tall
timber. Rivers cut narrow swaths of blue through an ocean of grass.

As the train moved deeper into the plains, he spotted a few
head of buffalo and a short while later, he saw a dozen warriors. He’d heard of
whites shooting both buffalo and Indians from fast moving trains and he noticed
that the warriors were careful to stay out of rifle range of the iron horse.

Tugging his hat down again, he closed his eyes. “San
Francisco, here I come,” he muttered.

* * * * *

The trip was unremarkable. Chance spent a good part of it
just staring out the window, watching the scenery flash by. Once, the land had
belonged to the Sioux and the Cheyenne, the Comanche and the Arapaho. Now, more
and more of it was being fenced off. Houses and barns sprouted across the
landscape like mushrooms. Sheets flapped on clotheslines. Windmills raised
their arms toward the sky. Small towns that owed their very existence to the
iron horse lined the tracks.

He felt a rush of excitement as San Francisco came into
view. Though he had never been there before, he had heard a lot about the town
from a California cowboy who had done some work on the ranch one summer.
According to the cowboy, the city by the bay had drawn people from many
different countries and from all walks of life. Teachers and hucksters, bankers
and whores, artists and whiskey peddlers, business men and con men, miners and
millionaires, all had come to the coast looking to start a new life.

Disembarking from the train, Chance collected his horse and
his luggage. He saddled Smoke, tied his gear behind the cantle, and swung into
the saddle.

The streets were crowded with men, many wearing the clothes
of their native lands. He heard men speaking in Italian and French and in
languages he couldn’t begin to recognize.

The people of San Francisco were nothing if not inventive. He
had heard that, in some places, two different companies managed to conduct
business in the same building simply by switching workers and signs.

From what he saw, it looked like the Chinese had dug in
their heels and intended to stay. They resided in a mysterious, noisy section
of town that was brightly decorated with calligraphy, brilliantly colored
ribbons, and shops crammed with exotic foods, Oriental paraphernalia, and
countless laundries, as well as half a dozen pharmacies, a Chinese theater, and
several restaurants which were frequented by many non-Asian citizens.

Chance had been told that most of the Negro population lived
west of Montgomery Street, and that the majority of the men worked as laborers,
mechanics, waiters, porters, barbers, and businessmen.

Then there was the infamous Barbary Coast, a place Chance
had often heard of but had no intention of visiting. It was said that any man
fool enough to walk near the waterfront risked being shanghaied. More than one
man had ventured into a bawdy house for a few hours of pleasure and woke in the
hold of a ship bound for the Orient.

Women were a minority in ‘Friso. Young men, eager to seek
their fortunes, made up the bulk of the population. Still, like females
everywhere, the women had managed to make their presence and their influence
known. One of the first things they had done was see that gambling on Sunday
was outlawed. But that was only one day of the week. Men with money in their
pockets and time on their hands were eager for any diversion they could find.
Horse races, cockfights, and bullfights were popular, along with drinking and
whoring.

Like any big city, there was an area where the wealthy lived
and entertained. Chance had no trouble finding the affluent section of town, or
finding out which of the houses belonged to Edward Bryant and his family.

As he had suspected, the Bryants lived in one of the biggest
houses on one of the biggest lots in the city.

Reining Smoke to a halt in front of the fence that
surrounded the property, Chance stared up at the place that could only be
called a mansion. Damn, he’d known the Bryants had money, but he had never
expected anything like this.

He watched the house for half an hour or so, but no one came
out and no went in. He was debating the wisdom of riding up to the front door
and demanding to see Teressa when a closed carriage approached the gate. A
liveried driver halted the team. He looked down his nose at Chance, jumped
lightly to the ground and opened the gate. Regaining his seat, he picked up the
reins and clucked to the horses and the carriage moved forward. When it was
inside the gate, the driver halted the carriage, hopped down, and closed the
gate with a flourish.

Chance stared after the conveyance as it rolled up the long
winding drive. He was pretty sure his presence would not be welcome here. If he
decided to call on Teressa, would common courtesy dictate that the Bryants make
him welcome, or would Edward have him thrown out on his ear?

Perhaps, before he approached the Bryants, he needed to find
a way to speak to Teressa alone and find out if her feelings for him had
changed.

He glanced up at the house again. He would never be able to
offer her anything like this. Now that she was home again, now that she’d had a
taste of the high life, she might not be so anxious to leave.

With that in mind, he reined Smoke around and rode down the
hill. He had some hard thinking to do.

After settling the mare in a livery barn, Chance got a room
at the nearest hotel and dropped off his luggage. Too restless to sit still, he
left the hotel and made his way to the saloon across the street.

Crossing the polished hardwood, he made his way to the bar,
ordered a beer from a florid-faced man wearing a crisp white apron, then
contemplated his reflection in the mirror behind the counter. How would he ever
manage to get Teressa alone? He could send her a note asking her to meet him,
but odds were that her mother would intercept the message. He could wait
outside the gate, but he was pretty sure well-bred young ladies didn’t leave
home unchaperoned.