Lover's Gold (24 page)

“Just a minute,” she heard herself saying. She knew she was being a fool, but was somehow unable to stop herself. Reaching into her reticule, she pulled out the wad of bills Ren had left as well as the small amount she’d been able to save so far. She always carried it with her, unsure where else it would be safe. But she’d learned a lesson in Cheyenne and watched her bag carefully. “Mr. Marley, if there’s anyone who can find gold in those mountains it’s you.”

“Elaina,” Chase interceded, “this is an everyday occurrence here. Think what you’re doing.”

She placed her fingers over his lips. “I know what I’m doing.” She turned back to the short, disheveled prospector. “Take this and good luck. Give Peter and Benjamin a hug for me.”

“We’ll never forget you for this, Miss McAllister, never.” His eyes misted, and he looked away.

She squeezed his arm and turned to leave with Chase.

“Wait a minute!” he called out. “Where will I find you to give you your share?”

She felt the tug of a smile. “I’m living above Hoffman’s General Mercantile—or you can catch my show at the Black Garter six nights a week. Good luck, Richard.” She caught his stunned expression as she turned to walk away.

Ren strode into the Golden Saddle Saloon and ordered a beer. Maybe the alcohol would numb his senses and settle his stomach. He took several long, slow draws, then set the mug back on the bar. He had hours to wait before the train arrived.

Another long draw and he glanced at the man beside him, a tall, barrel-chested miner with too-large ears. He wore clean coveralls, and his large hands were callused from years of hard work.

Ren cursed his luck. It was the man he’d seen coming from Elaina’s room.

“Excuse me,” the man said, trying to be friendly. “Didn’t I see you over to the Black Garter last night?”

“Yeah, you saw me,” Ren snapped. Thoughts of the big man lying in Elaina’s warm arms nearly blinded him.

“Name’s Willie Jenkins.” The man stuck out a meaty hand.

“Look, Jenkins, I’ve got nothing against you personally. It’s just that Elaina McAll . . . Miss Starr is a friend of mine, and it’s damn hard for me to stand here and drink with a man who spent time in her bed.”

The meaty hand grabbed the front of Ren’s shirt, the huge hairy knuckles turning white with rage. “What did you say about Miss Starr?”

“Get your hands off me, mister,” Ren warned, his temper barely under control.

Jenkins released his grip, but stood his ground. Taller than Ren and outweighing him by thirty or forty pounds, the big man glowered down at him.

“Miss Lainey’s one of the finest ladies I know. She’s kind and decent—and ain’t no man in Central City spent time in her bed, least of all me.”

Ren eyed the big man warily. “There’s no call to lie, Mr. Jenkins. I saw you leave her room last night.”

Jenkins stiffened again and looked as though he might hit Ren just for drill. “I don’t lie, Mr. Whoever-you-are, and if I didn’t think you had some reason for mentioning Miss Lainey, I’d knock you through that wall. I went to see Miss Starr last night because I wanted to ask a favor. She and my gal, Delsey, is friends, and I knew Delsey would listen to Miss Lainey. I want Delsey to marry me. Miss Lainey was gonna put in a good word for me.”

“But the money—”

“That was Delsey’s money. Miss Lainey was just givin’ it back to her for me.”

Ren slumped against the bar, lowering his head into his hands. With a long, ragged breath, he closed his eyes, seeing again the scene at the café, the hurt and angry expression on Elaina’s face. Then he straightened. “I owe you an apology, Mr. Jenkins. I hope you’ll accept it.” He extended a hand.

Jenkins shook it, grinning broadly. “Call me Willie, Mr.—”

“Daniels. Ren Daniels.”

Willie eyed the red handprint still glowing on Ren’s cheek. “Don’t suppose that mark on yer face come from our mutual friend, by any chance?”

Ren glanced away. “I wish she’d hit me harder.” He smiled slightly as he thought of the slap, then touched the side of his face. “But she does pack a helluva wallop.” Willie shook his head, then took a long pull on his beer. “Miss Lainey’s got the day off. She’s movin’ outta the saloon today, gettin’ her own place above Hoffman’s General Mercantile. I probably shouldn’t be tellin’ you this, but there’s somethin’ in yer eyes tells me you care. I don’t think you want anything to happen to her any more’n I do.” He drew himself up to his full height. “And if’n you do cause her any trouble, you’ll be answerin’ to me. Do I make myself clear?”

Ren smiled, glad Elaina had someone like Willie to look out for her. “Very clear, my friend. Very clear.” He turned back to the bar. “Barkeep, bring my friend here and me another beer.” He might as well make himself comfortable. He had plenty of time. The train would be leaving without him.

Chapter 17

“W
ELL,
I
GUESS
that just about does it.” Chase Cameron rolled his shirtsleeves back down and buttoned the cuffs.

“It’s wonderful, Chase. I couldn’t be more pleased if it were the President’s suite at the Palace Hotel.” She flashed him an appreciative smile, surveying with wonder the tiny rooms above the store that Chase had transformed into a homey retreat.

One comer of his mouth tilted up. “I don’t see how two rooms furnished with hooked rugs, old oak furniture, and a couple of overstuffed chairs could ever equal the Palace,” he teased, “but if you like it, that’s all that counts.” Lovingly, she ran her hand over the smooth grain of the small oak table in front of the settee, fingering the delicate white lace doily on top. Several of the girls had given her gifts as she left the saloon, each wishing her well. Their longing for the respectability she represented was unmistakable, but the women had long ago given up hope of living any other sort of life.

Delsey had given her the doily, along with several embroidered pillowcases and a set of sheets for the iron bed in the other room. She said they’d been meant for her hope chest. Elaina had taken the opportunity to mention Willie’s proposal, giving Delsey gentle reassurances that Willie’s love would overcome any obstacles that might stand in the way of their happiness. Though she hadn’t persuaded Delsey to marry Willie, she’d made a start in the right direction.

“It’s the first home of my own I’ve ever had,” Elaina told Chase, with a look of gratitude. The look he returned spoke of far more than friendship.

“It hardly does you justice.” He stepped closer, turning her face with his hand. Before she could stop him, he covered her lips in a gentle kiss.

Elaina broke away. “I’m sorry, Chase. I don’t think I can handle this right now.”

“You don’t have to,” he said. “Take your time, Elaina. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

She nodded, wondering if she would ever be ready for Chase Cameron—or any other man, for that matter.

“Thank you, Chase. Now if you don’t mind, I’m awfully tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Of course.” He drew her hand to his lips. “Enjoy your evening.” Picking up his fawn-colored hat, he settled it over his curly blond hair and headed for the door, closing it softly behind him.

Elaina sighed and sank down on the settee. Chase Cameron was a handsome man. Dashing, courteous, a man of some means. Why was it his kiss sparked none of the excitement one look from Ren could stir? She knew Chase was holding himself in check, disguising the hunger he felt for her behind a kiss of compassion.

In truth, Chase wanted the same thing from her Ren Daniels had taken. Though she’d given herself to Ren, she felt no desire for Chase and probably never would. Even his loan of a few odd pieces of furniture made her uneasy. She knew what it felt like to be indebted to a man she didn’t love.

Hoping to refresh herself, Elaina poured water from the pitcher on the bureau in the bedroom into the basin and washed her face. Two boys from the saloon had done most of the work of moving her in, but she still felt bone-tired. She knew it was partly the strain of seeing Ren in the café. For a moment after she slapped him, she’d regretted it. Now she wished she could hit him again. How could she have been so wrong about him?

It doesn’t matter, she told herself firmly. He’s gone by now, and you’ll never see him again. The thought constricted her throat and brought the hot sting of tears. Damn it all, why did just thinking about him always make her cry?

After washing and drying her face, she returned to her tiny parlor. There were still a few personal items to be unpacked and placed in drawers. Now that she’d given Richard Marley her savings, she would be here longer than she’d expected, so she decided to make herself comfortable.

A knock at the door interrupted her. Wondering who it could be, she opened the door a crack and found Oscar Whittington, one of the boys who’d helped her move in, standing at the top of the stairs. A big strapping youth of seventeen with a wide mouth and curly brown hair, Oscar was a bully and a braggart, but a good worker. Chase used him whenever he needed someone with a brawny back.

“May I come in, Miss Starr? I think I left my pocketknife here.”

Elaina opened the door. “I haven’t seen it, Oscar. Are you sure?” He brushed past her with a smile, then pushed the door closed from the inside, leaning his heavy frame nonchalantly against it.

“Only thing I left up here is the prettiest gal west of Denver.”

God, not another one, Elaina thought with a sigh. “Oscar, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you’d better leave.” She reached for the door, but he stepped in front of her.

“You ain’t bein’ very friendly, Miss Starr.”

“And you aren’t acting like a gentleman. In fact, you’re acting very much like a spoiled little boy.”

Grabbing her wrist, Oscar pulled her against his chest. “I’m no boy, Miss Starr. I’m as good as any other man in this town, maybe better. You’d see that if you’d just give me a chance.”

Furious at his audacity, Elaina jerked away. “Get out of here, Oscar. Get out before I tell Chase what you’ve been up to.”

“Please, Miss Starr, couldn’t we at least talk about it?” He ran his thick fingers along her cheek, and for the first time Elaina felt a tiny prickle of alarm. Oscar might be a boy, but he was a very
big
boy.

“Oscar—” Another knock at the door stopped her in midsentence. Ignoring Oscar, who had set his jaw in a possessive manner, she reached for the door.

She felt his hand on her shoulder. “Go ahead and open it, but get rid of ’em. You and me got some talkin’ to do.” Biting back an angry retort, she turned the knob and opened the heavy wooden door. The last person she would have expected stood in the frame.

She’d rehearsed a dozen clever phrases just in case she ever saw him again, but not a single one came to mind. Instead, she just stared at the compelling lines of his face. “Hello, Elaina,” he said. “We need to talk.”

“Just like that. ‘Hello, Elaina, we need to talk’?”

“Yes. Exactly like that.” He pushed open the door, and though she could have used his assistance with the brawny youth, she slammed it against him. Ren blocked it with his boot and stepped inside.

“Need some help, Miss Starr?” Oscar asked.

“I see you have company,” Ren said.

Knowing what he thought of her, she found the words more than she could bear. She would deal with Oscar Whittington somehow—without any help from Ren! “Yes,” she told him, with a saucy toss of her head. “I’m with a customer. A girl’s got to earn a living somehow. Now, would you mind leaving?”

Ren smiled, but the smile never touched his eyes. He looked at the brawny youth, feet spread in the middle of the room. He didn’t know what Elaina’s game was, but he would play along, at least for a while.

“Whatever you say, Miss Starr.” Ren tipped his hat and backed out the door, closing it softly behind him.

Elaina heard his steps receding, and her fury threatened to swallow her whole.
How little he must think of me. How easy it is for him to believe the worst
. She’d almost forgotten Oscar Whittington when she felt his arms close around her waist and draw her back against his chest.

“I knew you liked me, Miss Starr. I could tell by the way you been so nice to me and all.” He nibbled her neck, careful to keep her arms pinned, then turned her to face him.

All the fury she felt toward Ren, all the anger she was feeling against men in general, Elaina unleashed on Oscar Whittington, lashing out with her slender fists, pummeling his chest, and kicking his shins. If she’d had a gun, she probably would have shot him.

From where Ren stood in the shadows at the bottom of the stairs he could see Elaina clearly through the window. He could see the brawny youth manhandling her—and her wild struggles to ward the young man off. Whatever the boy was doing up there, it was clear to Ren that he was obviously not invited. He cursed Elaina’s pride in not asking for his help. It would serve her right if he let the boy maul her a little before he went back in. Then he thought of the youth’s hands on Elaina’s full breasts and put the idea quickly to rest. Taking the stairs two at a time, he turned the knob and kicked the door open.

Oscar had Elaina pinned against his chest, his head buried in her hair. He held both wrists so easily her efforts to resist him were nearly nonexistent. Drugged with the feel of her, he looked up to see the tall man who had come earlier, his face a mask of quiet rage, standing once more in the room. Oscar released Elaina so abruptly, she lost her balance and nearly toppled to the floor.

Watching Ren’s purposeful approach as if he weren’t quite sure he was real, Oscar never saw the punch that landed on his jaw or the left-right combination that doubled him over. Ren grabbed him by the back of the neck and the seat of his pants and ran him headlong out the door. The crash of his massive body thundering down the stairs, then the groan that followed his landing brought Elaina to the door, a trembling hand to her throat.

Ren walked up beside her. “Don’t worry, he’ll be all right. He’s too damn big to hurt.” His legs outstretched in front of him, Oscar sat at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing his jaw. With a wary glance at Ren, he shook his head, stood up, and stumbled off into the darkness.