Chapter 1
Thirsty Gulch, California, 1851.
“And this time keep out!”
The gritty voice and loud squeak of hinges startled Hope Benett from her anxious pacing. Quietly, she stole to the end of the narrow alley. Peeking around the corner, she was just in time to see the body of a man thrown head first into the dirt.
The swinging doors banged shut as the drunk slurred a curse and staggered to his feet. Brushing the dirt from stained, threadbare trousers, he lurched forward, wobbling down the street with a lopsided gait. By mere inches, he missed falling into one of the holes an overly eager prospector had dug in the center of the street.
Hope checked the man’s build against the sketchy description firmly embedded in her memory, then immediately dismissed him to resume her pacing. Her booted feet crunched over the gravel as she stalked to the end of the alley, sandwiched between the Brass Button Tavern and the general store. At the back of the alley, she turned to retrace her path. Barely two steps had been taken when she felt the weight of a hand settle on her shoulder. Another wrapped around her mouth as she opened it to scream.
Air whooshed from her lungs as she was brought up hard against a firm male chest. Without a second thought Hope closed her teeth on the fleshy palm. The taste of dirt and leather was strong on her tongue as a grunt of pain whistled in her ear. It was a small victory she took no time to savor as she raised her foot and slammed the sharp edge of her heel into her attacker’s shin.
Hope staggered at the suddenness of her release, but recovered fast. In one lithe motion, she regained her balance and slipped her hand inside the pocket of her dress, her trembling fingers searching for the ivory-handled revolver. The loose folds of her cloak billowed around her ankles as she withdrew the weapon and whirled on her attacker. Her thumb twitched over the cold metal hammer and she squinted into the shadows, receiving her first good look at her assailant.
“Luke!” she gasped, her voice a confused mixture of fear, anger and relief. She lowered the gun to her side, glowering at the pouting countenance of her brother. He was eying her cautiously as he sucked the blood from his palm. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, her husky voice thick with a southern drawl that refused to fade. “You near scared me half to death.”
The full lower lip trembled as he turned his attention to rubbing his aching shin. His forehead was baby-smooth, his dark brows raised high with surprise. Like a young boy, no hint of menace marred his sulking expression. Of course, there wouldn’t be. While his body dwelled well into the realm of maturity, Luke’s mind was no more advanced than that of a child of eight. “I wanted to surprise you,” he said finally, his lower lip still thrust in a pout. Though his voice was deep and masculine, his tone was sweetly innocent.
“Well, you succeeded.” Slowly, she raised the gun, the Colt dangling from her index finger for Luke to see. His brown eyes widened in fright, as though Hope had just waved one of the water snakes he feared so much under his nose. “You succeeded just fine. Don’t you see what almost happened?” Her cheeks reddened with anger at the thought. “You snuck up behind me and I didn’t even know it was you. How was I supposed to know you weren’t a murderer, a robber, or—” she gulped, thrusting back the thought, “or worse?” Her jaw hardened at her brother’s look of confusion. “Don’t you see? I could have hurt you, Luke. I could have shot you dead.”
Luke frowned, his wounded gaze wavering between the gun and his sister. “You woulda killed me dead?” he asked, his eyes shimmering with the threat of tears. “Why, Hope? I thought you loved me. You said you love me.”
Inside the saloon, a piano began pounding out a pitifully off-key version of “Hometown Girls.” The squeaky notes grated on Hope’s already frazzled nerves as she glowered at her brother.
“I do love you, you big lug.” Her brother’s look of wounded indignation quickly melted into one of delight. The sight frustrated Hope. Luke’s boyish mind refused to let him grasp the magnitude of the trick he had just played. Somehow, she had to make him understand. Tucking a stray wisp of chestnut hair beneath the hood of her cloak, she hardened her features and slipped the gun back in her pocket. “Lucas William Bennett, you’re my brother and I love you dearly,” she continued, her voice harsh and scolding as she watched his grin broaden, “but you can’t go around sneaking up on people like that. It just isn’t right. Now I want you to promise me you won’t ever do anything like that again. Luke?” She sighed impatiently, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her toe. “Luuu-uuke!”
“All right.” The pout was back, but the familiar shimmer of mischief had returned to his eyes. His big feet shuffled in the dirt as he clasped his hands behind his back. “I promise,” he agreed with grudging obedience.
“Good,” she said, ignoring the hint of a grin that still tugged at her brother’s lips. “Now, tell me what you found out. Is he in the saloon or not?”
Luke nodded eagerly, the shaggy ends of his hair brushing the collar of his chambray shirt. The dark strands, lighter than his sister’s, glistened in the pale glow of moonlight. “Yup. He’s in there all right. But I don’t think you wanna find him.”
“And why not?” she snapped, still vexed. “That is what I came here for, isn’t it?” At her brother’s wounded look, Hope softened her tone of her voice. “I’m sorry, Luke, I didn’t mean to yell. Just tell me, did you see him? Is he playing cards? What table is he at?” Slowly, her gaze narrowed on her brother. “Lucas William, is that whisky I’m smelling on your breath? And cheap perfume clinging to your shirt? Luu-uuke?”
Luke scratched the top of his head as he contemplated his sister. “I’m not telling,” he replied peevishly, drawing circles in the dirt with the toe of his boot. “You already yelled at me once for funnin’, and I don’t wanna get yelled at again.”
“I did not yell!” she yelled. Hope's mouth snapped shut as she struggled to get a firmer grip on her emotions. When she spoke again, her voice was laced with only the barest trace of annoyance. “I didn’t yell,” she repeated calmly, “I scolded. There’s a difference.” Luke opened his mouth to inquire just what that difference was, but Hope rushed on before he could sidetrack her again. “Just tell me what you found out. And be quick about it, we don’t have all night.”
“I already told you.”
“You told me he’s in there,” she corrected, pointing a finger at his massive chest. “You didn’t tell m
e where.”
“Geez, Hope. I don’t know where.”
Hope nibbled her lower lip as the music inside stumbled, stalled, then the song started anew. She asked with sorely strained patience, “Did you see him, Luke? Where was he sitting?”
Luke scowled. “He wasn’t sitting nowhere. I just heard some fellas talking about a gunman named Frazier. They said he rented a room yesterday.”
“Did they say which room? What number?”
“No.”
She wasn’t surprised. For Luke to have gotten Drake Frazier’s room number would be better luck than she had a right to hope for.
“All right,” Hope sighed, turning on her heel and resuming the pacing that her brother’s sudden appearance had interrupted. “At least we know where he is. That’s a start. Tell me,” she said over her shoulder as she neared the front of the alley, “these men didn’t say whether or not Frazier was in his room now, did they?”
“No,” he replied, following close on his sister’s heels. “But I saw a whole bunch of guys that fit his description.”
She spared her brother a reprimanding glare. Luke bowed his head, chastised into silence. He wasn’t supposed to go into the saloon at all. That wasn’t part of the plan and he knew it. Still, considering his expression, and that he had found out which of the stone-fronted buildings this Frazier character was staying in, had helped their cause. She could hardly yell at him for it.
Stopping at the front of the alley, Hope peeked around the corner. The boardwalk was empty. Horrible music, coupled with the mumble of male voices, drifted out of the saloon’s swinging double doors. An occasional giggle, distinctly feminine, floated through the cool night air. It was the only evidence that the saloon’s occupants were not all male.
“The description Pa and Old Joe gave us wasn’t very good,” she said suddenly, speaking more to herself than to Luke. Tall, darkish hair, brawny build, with a gun always strapped to his thigh. That was all she had to go on and it told her next to nothing. A description so sketchy it could easily fit more than half of the money-hungry prospectors who continued to pour into Thirsty Gulch in droves.
She fixed her brother with a scowl. “How do they know what he looks like, anyway? Didn’t the guy just get into town yesterday?”
“Old Joe said he met him once,” he shrugged, digging his hands in the pocket of his baggy trousers. “I think he said in San Francisco, back when they called in Yerba Buena.”
Hope groaned and stalked back down the alley. “Good God, Luke, that was almost three years ago. What if he doesn’t hire himself out anymore?”
Like followed his sister, kicking a rock with the side of his foot. “Old Joe says guys like that never change—they just die.”
“Well this one didn’t.”
“I don’t want you to go in there, Hope,” Luke said suddenly. Reaching out a restraining hand, he wrapped his thick fingers around his sister’s arm as she tried to move past him. He wrinkled his nose as though he’d just smelled a skunk. “There’s bad men in there. Bad men. Drinking, playing cards, swearing up a storm. It ain’t no place for my sister to be.” Hope opened her mouth to argue, but Luke plunged on. “Let me go in and talk to this Frazier guy. You stay out here where it’s safe.”
Hope’s gaze scanned the alley, and it was all she could do not to laugh out loud. “Here? Luke, it isn’t any safer out here than it is in there, believe me. Besides, Pa sent me to talk to Frazier for a reason.” She hesitated, meeting her brother’s confused gaze. How could she explain the situation in terms Luke could understand? Bluntly, she decided. Eloquent, flowery speech had no place with Luke Bennett. “I was chosen because I’m a woman, Luke,” she said finally, her tone very calm and matter-of-fact. “And since I happen to be one of the few decent ones around here, Pa and Old Joe figured Mr. Frazier would be more likely to listen to a woman than to you. Do you understand that?”
“Being a girl don’t make no difference,” he argued glumly. “All you gotta do is tell me what they told you to say. I may not be as smart as you, but I got a good memory. I can remember what to say, and I can say it just as good as you can.”
“I know you could.” A soft smile tugged at her lips as she reached up and caressed her brother’s stubbly cheek. “But I promised Pa I’d talk to him, and a Bennett never goes back on his word. Now, let go of my arm so I can go inside and get this business over with.”
Luke hesitated. “I don’t know,” he sighed, shaking his head.
“Luke, I’ll be fine,” she assured him as she pulled from his slackened grasp.
“But what about the bad men, Hope? What if they hurt you?”