Gold Fever
by
Author unknown

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First published in Great Britain 1999 Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited, Eton
House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR AnnZavala 1991 ISBN 0263
81840 3 Set in Times Roman 10'/2 on II pt.  04991191360 Printed and bound in
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Chapter One

Sonora, California, 1849 1.1.

Chalsie, there's a pack train coming in, and it's stopped right outside
Jordan's place," Juanita, the bartender, said as she lifted the calico
curtain and ducked inside the tiny three-sided room that served as her boss's
bedroom, workroom and office.  The braying of the mules from the pack train
almost drowned out the sounds of the bustling gold mine camp of Sonora.

Juanita sighed in exasperation as she looked at Chalcedony.  She was wearing
that damned pink dress again.  She knew that her boss had all kinds of gold
coming in from the various Kent enterprises scattered around town, so why did
she insist on wearing the one dress that made her hair look like carrot curls
and every freckle on her face stand out against her tan.

Chalcie didn't look good, Juanita decided.  Her eyes were dark with fatigue
brought on by trying to devise more ways to bring in more gold, and she
wondered if Chalcie could be satisfied with less than owning every thing in
town.

"Why do you do this to yourself?"  Juanita demanded.

 "The only person in all of Sonora who could challenge you is Jordan de Chat
ain, and even he isn't as rich or as smart as you.  Why don't you concentrate
on find inga proper husband for yourself?"

Chalcedony Kent closed the green leather ledger that recorded the day's
business.  She ignored Juanita's comments.  Her friend might think she was
ready for romance and marriage, but Chalcie knew better; she'd rather
concentrate on business than love.

"A pack train stopping at Jordan's?  Lucky him, at least he's got someone
reliable to send down to Stock ton to bring whiskey and flour for the bars,"
Chalcie said.  She was still furious with her father.  The man simply had no
head for business!  The latest wrong decision he'd made had been to send
Houlihan down to Stock ton for supplies.

"I'll bet Houlihan has already drunk up every cent that we gave him, and he's
probably sold the mules, too.  And here we are, with winter not that far
away.  All that money and we're not going to see a pound of flour out of it!"

"Your father doesn't have the best sense in choosing men, does he?"

Juanita sympathized.

"He has never in his whole life chosen a partner or a worker who was worth
anything," Chalcie answered truthfully.  About the only way her father could
have made matters worse would have been to choose Jordan de Chat ain as his
partner and then let the man undercut every thing that Chalcie had worked
for.  She was glad her father had never thought of Jordan as a potential
partner, because it would have spelled the end of the Kent enterprises.

Jordan would stop at nothing to bring the men into the Dry Gulch Saloon.

He had wooed away her best cook to make the oyster stew that he served every
night.  He'd brought in fancy drapes and a gilt-edged mirror, and installed a
long mahogany bar.  Some of the miners even said there were pictures in the
back room that no lady should know about, much less ever see.  All of it was
de Chat ain's handiwork and all of it had cut into her profits.

 Chalcie didn't hold with fancy frills in the bar.  She was willing to serve
fresh bread and rolls-and to make certain that the saloon's packed dirt
floors were swept once a day.  The girls who worked in the C.  K.  Saloon
were pretty and the drinks weren't cut too much.  She figured that men came
to a bar to drink, not to be served good food or look at a gold-wrapped
mirror.  Being poor had left its mark on her way of doing business.  Chalcie
was too cautious to throw money away on something that might not pay back the
investment.

Still she worried.  What was de Chat ain up to now?  Damn the man!  It would
have been so much easier to fight him if she didn't find him both
interesting and attractive.  No one would ever have guessed that she saw him
as anything other than an enemy.  There had been times, though, when no one
was watching, that she had stood in the shadows and stared at him.

She watched him as he moved down the street, lithe, darkly handsome, wearing
his fine clothes.

Chalcie had never told anyone--even Juanita--about her weakness for Mr. de
Chat ain, for it could have been used against her.  Instead, she focused on
business, and the business at the moment was the news about the pack train.

' "The mules were being led down the alleyway between the Dry Gulch and Brad
McClatchy's land, and I thought you'd like to take a look, just in case,"
Juanita said.  She didn't want Chalcedony to be taken by surprise if Jordan
was planning something new to draw in a crowd to the Dry Gulch.

Chalcie looked at Juanita in tacit agreement.

"I'll go set things up in the bar so we're ready for the first miners coming
back from the dig gin's, and then I'll join you out back.  You keep an eye on
Jordan and see what surprises he's got in store for us," Juanita said as they
left the small room.

Chalcie nodded, already concentrating on the sound of the clink and rattle
and bray of the pack train as the animals  were led behind the Dry Gulch
Saloon.  She swore silently as she watched the burros plod through the dust.

She was furious with the man.  Why couldn't he just take his profits and be
content with them?  She wanted to hit something.  Instead, she gathered the
material from her skirt into her fists, making creases in her work-worn pink
calico dress.  It wasn't fair that Jordan got his supplies in while she was
still waiting for her own.  If her father hadn't trusted Houlihan, every
thing would have been fine, but the man James Kent had chosen to go to Stock
ton was a drunken no-good thief.

She forced herself to relax.  She could think better when she wasn't working
in a blind fury.  Her hands released the hated pink calico, the color her
father had picked that made her red hair look like overripe vegetables.  His
sense of color was as bad as his sense of friendship.

Chalcedony decided that she'd just have to go back there and find out for
herself what Jordan de Chat ain was planning this time--so she could plan
retaliation.

"I've got a surprise for you, Mr. de Chat ain.  This time I'm going to fight
back.  You're not going to bring in another gilt mirror or mahogany bar or
more pretty ladies to ruin my business...."  As Chalcie rounded the corner
she thumped nose first into Jordan de Chat ain's firmly muscled chest.

"Ouch--oh, damn it!"  Chalcie swore, tears springing to her eyes.  She
wavered as the pain made every thing else disappear.  She couldn't see, she
couldn't think, she couldn't even talk as the blood began to spurt from her
nose.

"What the hell...?"  Jordan's voice boomed in surprise as he was hit full in
the chest by Chalcie.  Instinctively he reached out to grab her before she
could fall.

Chalcie swayed against his hands.  She could already feel the bruising and
swelling that was starting underneath her eyes and in the soft tissue of her
nose.  She wiped at her eyes, trying to see Jordan, and suddenly began to
lose her balance again.

 "Hey, watch out!"  Jordan tightened his hand around her waist, very much
aware that her skin was warm beneath the thin calico.  She didn't look very
pretty at the moment, but he was very aware that underneath the faded dress
there was a wonderfully filled-out woman's body.  Besides, he'd always had a
real weakness for pretty blue eyes and golden- red hair.  If she hadn't been
his most serious competition, he might have made an effort to court her long
ago.  At the moment, the blood from her nose tended to make him bypass his
usual enjoyment of the compact and very interesting female form for concerns
about her welfare.

Chalcie was aware through the pain that Jordan de Chat ain was holding her
close against his chest and that he was just as warm and strong as she had
ever thought he would be.  She tried to ask him to let her go, but she
couldn't quite force the words out.  Instead she snuffled.  She also tried to
squirm out of his grasp, even though she couldn't see clearly.

"Stop flailing around.  You're still not steady on your feet, and if I let you
go, you'd fall right there in that mass of mule dung," Jordan chided.

He wasn't in any hurry to put her down.  He'd never had Chalcedony Kent at
his mercy before, and he was rather enjoying the feeling.

Jordan moved away a few feet from the offending pile of manure and gently set
Chalcie back on the ground.  He bent forward to examine the damage, still
steadying her with his hand on her arm.

"I'm sorry, really, I am."  He shook his head in pity.

"It looks pretty bad.  One black eye for certain.  Maybe both."

He touched her lightly on the nose, assessing the damage.  "I never intended
to hurt you.  If I'd known you were going to come charging around the corner,
I wouldn't have been standing there.  I've never liked being run over by
women, anyway."

The pain finally began to subside, and Chalcie's temper was rising.  She felt
stupid for having run into him, and she felt even more ridiculous for liking
the feel of his hands  around her waist and his fingers on her face when he
checked her bruised nose.

"What were you doing blocking my way?  How dare you just stand there and fill
up the whole passageway!"  Chalcie shot back.  She knew she was being
ridiculous, she should have rounded the corner more slowly, but she couldn't
help herself.  Her nose hurt, the whole front of her only dress was sticky
with blood, and it was all because Jordan had such a hard chest.

Jordan just smiled, making Chalcie even more furious.

"Bock, bring me a towel dipped in water," Jordan ordered one of the men who
had been standing behind him when Chalcie ran into his chest.

"But" -- "Do it now," Jordan growled.

Buck was back almost immediately with the towel.

"Here, let's get some of the blood cleaned off."  Jordan reached out with the
edge of the towel and cleaned Chalcie's face.

"I really am sorry," Jordan apologized again as he folded the towel and
handed it back to Buck.  He looked at the swelling beneath her eyes again and
frowned.  If it had happened to any other woman, he would have invited her to
come inside and rest in his office behind the bar.  He could have given her
the best brandy the house could offer as a painkiller, and a free dinner
whipped up by Chalcie'sex-cook.  Unfortunately, he didn't think Chalcie would
look kindly on the invitation.

Chalcie drew a deep breath, trying to steady herself.  If she hadn't been
blinded by the pain of her poor bashed nose, she'd never have allowed Jordan
de Chat ain to touch her, no matter how gentle he was.  He was her enemy, not
a man who was courting her.  And her own personal attraction to him wasn't
even worth thinking about.  She didn't have time for such nonsense.

"I'm fine, thank you," Chalcie said stiffly.  She pushed his hand away.

"I

can manage now.  "

 The film of tears had cleared and she could finally see Jordan.  She wished
for the hundredth time that he wasn't quite so good-loo king.  And hard, she
added.  His chest was hard as a rock.  It was obvious from her brief but very
close encounter that there wasn't an ounce of fat on his six-foot plus frame.
As usual, his dark hair looked slightly mussed, as if he'd just done some
hard physical work.  His black eyes gleamed with amusement, and there was the
barest beginning of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

In fact, it looked like he was about to start laughing at her.

"Since you came running back here in such an all-fired hurry, let me guess
what you're doing.  It probably has something to do with what the pack mules
are carrying, right?"  Jordan asked.  He was glad to change the subject.  He
was also delighted at finding Chalcie in a hurry to snoop around the pack
train.  That meant she was worried about what he'd do next to draw business
away from her establishment.

Jordan whipped a bright red silk kerchief from the pocket of the work shirt
that he had changed into and brushed off the dust from a cedar stump that had
been left when the two saloons and the storage shacks were being built.
Jordan offered the stump to her as if it were the finest chair in a proper
parlor.

"Here, have a seat where you can watch every single bundle and box that is
unloaded.  But you're going to get mighty tired of counting barrels of flour
and kegs of whiskey."

His black eyes gleamed with devilish delight at be in gable to poke fun at
his chief rival.  He enjoyed making Chalcie squirm.  Part of the pleasure
came from trying to break through her prickly exterior to find out if there
was any sense of fun lurking underneath the toughness.  Long ago he had
decided that her seriousness was the reason she didn't make the profits that
she could have with her businesses.  She didn't have a playful bone in her
body, and for that he blamed that no-good father of hers, James Kent.

 However, that family trouble wasn't any of his business, and he intended to
keep it that way, even if she was one of the more intriguing and attractive
women in the gold country.

"Please, spend all day out here if you want.  I'll even supply you with a
parasol if you need one, to protect your delicate skin."  He stopped for a
moment and smiled tenderly at her.

"Did you know, with your poor battered nose, black eye and hair down in
braids, you look like an urchin who's had a rough day!"

"I look like your worst enemy, that's who I look like," Chalcie said through
gritted teeth.  He had no right to taunt her about be in gas brown as a
heathen and so freckled that her own grandmother wouldn't recognize her.  She
didn't have the time or the energy to bother with protecting herself from the
California sun.  Chalcie pulled herself up to her full height, which was
still barely level with Jordan's impressive shoulders, and glared at him, her
blue eyes blazing.  She was angry enough that her usually generous lips had
thinned to a straight line.

"And I'm not interested in your old pack train.  I was going out to take
inventory," Chalcie stated.

"I didn't even know you were back here."

Jordan smiled at her.  It was obvious he didn't believe her.

Chalcie continued.

"You can bring in whatever you want and I don't care.

It doesn't bother me at all.  " She brushed past him and pulled out the keys
for her storeroom from the pocket of her dress.  Chalcie leaned over, pulling
the heavy brass lock toward her, checking to make certain that no one had
been trying to break into the storehouse and help themselves.

"Damn," Jordan said, the smile still evident in his voice as he watched the
play of material across her rounded bottom.

"What did you say?"  Chalcie whirled to face him again.

"Nothing, sorry, I didn't say a thing," Jordan said, raising his hands.  He'd
never have been fool enough to admit that the outline of Chalcie's body
beneath the worn cotton dress was delectable.  She'd have attacked him on the
spot.  Jordan had no doubt that there was a small gun or a very sharp knife
concealed somewhere in that dress, and he knew Chalcie would think nothing of
using it on him.  Indeed, if she could blast him into the next world, he had
no doubt that she would be quite satisfied with the results.  She would be
able to buy all of Sonora without the challenge of Jordan de Chat ain to stop
her avaricious real estate raids.

But Jordan knew something Chalcie didn't.  He knew that no matter how long
she waited, she wouldn't see the three small boxes that had already been
unloaded, nor would she meet the lady who was going to bring in crowds to the
bar later that evening, after she had a chance to set up her new and
wonderful music box contraption inside the Dry Gulch Saloon.

"Chalcie, are things all right back here?  What about the inventory..."

Juanita stopped in mid-sentence and stared at her friend.  Chalcie was a
mess.  Her eyes were swollen and her nose was bruised.

"Oh, my God," Juanita whispered.  She whipped around, ready to beat Jordan to
a pulp.

Jordan raised his hands and retreated.

"It isn't as bad as it looks.  I didn't do anything, honestly.  She ran into
me."  Jordan was embarrassed by the look Juanita shot him.  "You know me,
Juanita.  You know I'd never deliberately hurt a woman!"  He looked at
Juanita's black eyes and the expression on her small brown face and hoped
that she knew him well enough to know he was telling the truth.

Chalcie waved away Juanita's concern.

"Don't even bother to ask," Chalcie sighed.

"Let's get into the storeroom and take inventory, since my supplies seem to
be caught somewhere between Stock ton and Sonora."

She ignored the smile of triumph that spread slowly across Jordan's handsome
face.  He knew perfectly well that she was going to be staying close by, in
her shed, and  watching every thing that was being unloaded off the pack
train.  The man was impossible!

Two hours later Chalcie and Juanita knew every barrel, bottle and bag in
their own storeroom and almost as much about what went into Jordan's storage
area.  They had counted and sorted and cleaned and spied.  Chalcie had
cobwebs stuck in her hair, and Juanita had ripped her skirt on a nail that
had been left by the men who put the shed together.

"Chalcie, this is crazy."  Juanita finally flung herself down on one of the
barrels and fanned her face.  Dust motes danced in the sunshine that streamed
through the door of the shack.  Inside the wooden walls, the temperature had
soared to over a hundred, and Juanita was ready to give up.  Her brown face
was streaked with perspiration.

"All we've seen come off those mules is flour and sugar and whiskey, and
about a hundred tins of oysters for their stew.  There isn't anything else
there!"

"Yes there is.  I know there is.  He's planning something to cut into our
business!"  Chalcie insisted.

"Well, if he is, there isn't anything you can do about it."

"I have to fight.  I'm not letting him just walk away with the money.  Look
what happened when I sat back and ignored him while he built the fourth wall
for his bar, so that he was using real doors instead of a calico curtain.
And then he took my cook, and now the Dry Gulch Saloon serves oyster stew and
I have to make do with what that Chinese guy can make.

This time I'm going to beat him at his own game.  "

"How?"  Juanita challenged her.

"I'll think of something, and it won't include spending money on fripperies,
either," Chalcie said.

The last two words were punctuated by the sound of some kind of music that
neither of them had ever heard before from next door.

 Chalcie slammed her hand against the wall of the shed, making it rock
forward almost to the point of collapse.

"There, you see, he's up to something and we got back here too late to find
out what it was.  Damn, if I'd only been faster on my feet, I might have been
able to counterattack tonight and spoil his surprise."

Chalcie wiped her hands on her skirt and blew wisps of hair out of her face.
She might have lost this round, but she hadn't lost the battle.

Someday, somehow, she was going to get the edge on Jordan de Chat ain, and
when she did, she'd wipe him out.

The strange music kept up during the afternoon and into the evening.  By the
time the miners started to drift back in from their digs, everyone knew that
Jordan was concocting something big in the Dry Gulch Saloon, and the
speculation had reached a fever pitch around the street.

Finally, almost at midnight, the first reports came in, and Chalcie and
Juanita watched in disbelief as the men surged out of their bar and toward
the Dry Gulch Saloon.

"He's got an Egyptian lady doing some kind of dance with veils and a music
box."

"He's charg inga pinch of gold to go in and look at her."

"Whatever it is, I'll pay it..."

"Is she going to stay here, do you think?  Is she married?"

The questions swirled around Chalcie.

"And I hear that today he actually got a cat for himself.  Paid a hundred
dollars for it and another hundred to have it brought to Sonora.  He's
keeping it at home.  Said he needed an office cat to watch over his books."

Chalcie could have dismissed the threat of the dancer and the new music.

She could always counter that by bringing in a new singer or two, imported
straight from the halls in San Francisco.  One way or another, the men would
come back to the C.  K.  Saloon.  But the cat was another thing entirely.

Chalcie had never thought she would leave her grand mother's home in Boston
by any other means than marriage.  Then, one day when she was ten years old,
her father had suddenly reappeared on the doorstep and announced that he
wanted to take Chalcie out for a ride in the park.  Her grandparents had been
reluctant but had finally agreed.  It was the last time that Chalcie had seen
either her grandparents or the kittens that she had rescued that spring.

Chalcie's grandmother had surprised her by accepting the kittens and even
going so far as to provide a special milk and showing her how to feed the
babies with a cloth that they could suck on.  The orange fluffs had grown
into two beautiful cats, one with fur that closely matched Chalcie's own hair
in color.

Chalcie could talk of nothing else but her cats when she ran down the steps
to her father's waiting carriage.  James Kent had lied, though.  He and
Chalcie had never returned to the house.  They had headed out of Boston,
running to Texas, where her father was certain that his in-laws would never
find him or his daughter.

Kent, the adventurer, had stolen Chalcie, never realizing that she would have
gladly stayed with her grandmother.  Now, ten years later, Chalcie felt the
unbearable pain of the loss again.

"Chalcie, what's wrong?"

Juanita saw the dead white of Chalcie's skin, even under the tan.  Her friend
was barely breathing.  She had her hands clasped in front of her as if she
were trying to hold on to something invisible.

"Did your nose suddenly start hurting?  I didn't expect it to cause you any
trouble tonight" -- "No, nothing like that."  Chalcie couldn't tell her
friend about the memories that had been reawakened or she'd start crying.
And this was no time for tears.

"If you can handle the crowds, I think I'll go but for a walk."

She had to see the cat.  Chalcie knew that she was being foolish.  She knew
that if she was caught, her reputation  would be in tatters.  But the
longing was so intense that she could think of nothing else.

Besides, there wasn't any reason for Jordan ever to know.  Chalcie changed
into a green shirt and dark cotton trousers.  A heavy pair of miner's boots
and a scarf around her neck completed the disguise that she needed.  A dark
brown leather hat made her red hair disappear, and she was ready for the
foray into the enemy camp.

Jordan's bar was still filled with men, though the crowd had thinned
considerably from the early evening rush.  Chalcie watched through the open
doors and windows until she caught sight of Jordan.  He was in the middle of
the crowd and it didn't look as if he was go inganywhere soon.

She would be safe.

Chalcie worked her way through the throng of miners toward the edge of town.
She'd seen Jordan's house from a distance but had never been invited inside.
She knew, however, that it was the grandest house in the year-old settlement
at Sonora.  It actually had two rooms and a porch and a stove for heating and
cooking.

"That's the difference between Jordan and me," Chalcie muttered.

"He invests in things, and I invest in land.  I can live in a room that only
has a calico wall, because I know that I've still got the gold in my pocket
instead of invested in fir and cedar that will burn in the next fire."

Jordan, of course, also didn't have a father like James Kent to contend with,
she thought.

The house was dark and silent as Chalcie approached it.  She stepped up on
the back porch and heard the washbasin rattle.  From inside there was a
slight sound and a soft "meow."

If the cat hadn't meowed, Chalcie thought later, she never would have gone
into the house.  She would have realized that she was crazy and turned around
and gone back home.

Instead, she opened the door and hurried inside.  She found a candle in the
box hanging on the wall beside the  door and lighted it with a match.  Then
she looked for the cat.

The animal wasn't in sight, and she searched through the kitchen and into a
combination bedroom and office.  The green ledgers from all of Jordan's
businesses were laid neatly to one side of the pine-plank desk.  On the other
side, there were papers, letters and what seemed to be several plans for
future expansion.  She studiously avoided loo king at them.  She wasn't here
to snoop; she was here to look at the cat.

"Meow."

Chalcie jumped and looked down, almost at her feet.  A small orange-and-white
female rubbed against the rough canvas of her pants.  She stared straight up
at Chalcie and then meowed again.

Chalcie bent down and touched the soft fur.  She rubbed the area behind the
cat's ears and was rewarded by a trembling purr.

She was unaware of anything else in the room.  The sound of the men in town
quieted, the smell from the cedars outside and the dust that rose in the air
faded.  Nothing mattered but the feel of the cat beneath her hands and the
memories that came flooding back.  If only she knew for certain what had
happened after her father had stolen her away that Sunday afternoon.

Had her grandparents searched for her and then given up, never knowing where
she had gone?

She couldn't count the times she had tried to write a letter to her
grandmother, only to have her father discover it and rip the pages into tiny
pieces.  She finally managed to send a letter secretly.  She had waited for
months, hoping that her grandmother would write and she would know, finally,
what had transpired in Boston after all these years.  But there had been no
answer, at least not one she ever received.

Tears began to run down her face, but she was oblivious to them.  That was
the way that Jordan found her ten  minutes later, sitting on the log that
served as a stool in front of his desk.  The glorious fall of red hair had
worked its way loose from beneath the hat, and her body was outlined
underneath the shirt as she held the cat, stroking it softly.

"May I guess that you've looked through enough of my books to know just how
my finances are set up and what profits I've been enjoying?  Or were you more
interested in my plans for the next few months?"  Jordan's voice cut through
her memories and shocked Chalcie back into the present.

Chalcie screamed and dropped the cat, which promptly scuttled underneath the
bed.  Chalcie's heart was in her mouth, and she almost fainted from the
fright.  Suddenly her nose began to throb again, and she had the awful
feeling that another nosebleed was going to start from the sheer shock of
hearing Jordan's voice.

She stood up, her hands to her face in utter mortification.  She had never
intended to be caught like this!

"I didn't look, I wouldn't... I didn't come here to snoop" -- she started to
explain, but he cut her off angrily.

"I've known for a long time that you resented my money-making proficiency.

I knew that you were jealous of the ways I manage to bring the business into
the Dry Gulch and out of the C.  K.  " but I never thought that you were the
kind of person who would stoop to breaking into my office."

"But I wouldn't" -- "Yes, you would.  I didn't invite you here, did

I?  "

Chalcie looked down at her feet.  What could she say?  "No," she answered,
her voice low and miserable.

"And you did come into this house when I wasn't here, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And you came only to snoop around and inspect my books, didn't you?

Because there isn't another reason in  the world that you should be here.  "
Jordan put his hands on his hips, challenging her with his irrefutable logic.

Breaking and entering--he'd never thought she would do such a thing.  She'd
always seemed to have such high business standards.  Cutthroat, but still
reputable.

"I came to see the cat."

Jordan almost missed what she had said, he was so angry.  He was taking a
pause for breath when she made the simple statement.

"You what?"  He stared at her and could see that, as unlikely as it seemed,
she was telling the truth.  Her blue eyes looked huge in the dim candlelight,
and her expression was so woebegone that if he hadn't been furious with her,
he would have taken her in his arms and comforted her.

She looked so much like a forlorn waif that it made him actually feel her
pain.

Chalcie looked away from him.  She didn't want to see the pity or the anger
in his eyes.

"I missed what I left behind in Boston."

Her explanation had a disturbing ring of truth to it.  He might not like
Chalcie very much, but he had a soft spot for unhappy women and she
definitely seemed to qualify.

"Boston?"  Jordan's tone was softening.  He felt the anger melting away,
replaced by a feeling of both concern and unwanted interest in this woman.

He reached out and took her hand in his.

Chalcie turned her head away.  She was so ashamed.  She knew that her face
was red with embarrassment, and she hated the way that he touched her.  He
was gentle, treating her like a lady instead of his worst enemy.  His touch
was warm, his expression kindhearted, and she wanted to throw herself against
his chest and sob for things lost long ago.

"I'm sorry.  I didn't intend that you even know that I came to your house
tonight," Chalcie said, trying to be dignified.

"If you had asked me, I would have invited you to my house and let you sit
with the cat as long as you wished.

 I'm not an ogre, Chalcie.  I am merely a man who happens to be in
competition with you.  " Jordan's voice was deep and deceptively mild.

' "I couldn't... I didn't even think..."  How was she going to explain that
the only plan that had come to mind was to break into his house?

"I never would have broken in to look at your plans or your books."

"I think I believe you.  I hope that you're telling the truth, because I've
never thought of you as the kind of person who would do anything
dishonorable.  But you do seem to grow claws and fangs when you're around me,
and I've always wondered why.  Do you hate me because I've bought up land and
opened businesses that are in competition with yours, or is there some other
reason?"

"Isn't that enough?  You are dangerous to me."

"Perhaps," Jordan said.  Dangerous, but not in the way she was thinking.  He
wanted to touch her again.  She was softer than he had expected, and the
memory of the feel of her body against his this morning hadn't faded.

Despite her men's clothing, he could see the woman's softness in her face,
and the fullness of her breasts.  He took a deep breath, stilling the
response of his body.  It was out of the question to think of her this way.

' "What happened when you left Boston?"  Jordan sensed that if he could break
down this barrier, he might understand a little more about her.  He didn't
want to use a weakness against her, he just wanted to know her better.

"What did you leave behind?"

"Memories," Chalcie said simply.

"So many people here are running away from their memories, but I have only
memories to look back on.  So many things were lost...."

Jordan leaned forward, anxious for her to continue.

"Then you had a real home?  Somehow, everyone who comes loo king for gold
seems to be a drifter.  Even the women have no place to go home to.  Was it
like that for you?"  Jordan probed.  He often wondered what a young girl and
her father were doing out here in this godforsaken  place, when she should
have been settled somewhere, married and making babies.

"Once I had a home, yes.  But it's been ten years, and I don't even know if
it's still there.  I don't even know if those who were important to me are
still alive...."  Chalcie's voice trailed off.  She felt strange, as if all
the barriers that she had been so carefully building up had been broken down.
It was ,a dangerous feeling, especially with Jordan de Chat ain.

' "I have nightmares sometimes about being stolen away.  I never had a chance
to say goodbye, and I hear my grandmother crying."

"And you don't even know what happened to your family?"  Jordan's voice was
gentle now.  So that was it.  Her father had stolen her away and she had
never gone home again.  A sudden flash of understanding hit him.  No wonder
she was desperate to own every thing in Sonora.  She hadn't understood yet
that it would never replace what had been taken from her.

"I'm sorry," he said.  Now he knew a little of her secret and he wished that
he'd kept his questions to himself.  He wanted to pull her close to him and
to make the nightmares leave her forever.

Chalcie pushed back the old images.

"What about you?  You must have come from a family and brothers and sisters
and all of that.  If you hadn't, you wouldn't have built a house like this.
You needed a home, too, didn't you?"  Chalcie guessed shrewdly.  She'd never
really thought of Jordan as havinga past.  He'd just been her business
competitor.  She hadn't been curious before.  Besides, in the gold country,
curiosity could be dangerous.

' "I did have a home, a very nice, two-story wooden house in the middle of
farm country.  But my story isn't nearly as inter estin gas yours.  I was just
the second son of a farmer, and I knew that there wasn't enough land to be
split between Jonathan and myself.  So I left."

"Were you angry about it?"  she asked curiously.

 Jordan shook his head.

"There wasn't anything to be angry about.  Dad gave me a couple of gold
coins, because it was all he had.  Jonathan told me he'd split the land if he
had the choice, and he meant it.  But I wasn't interested in be inga farmer.
Too many hours spent mucking out the barn, and too much work for every hour
of the day.  Watching fancy ladies and raking in gold is more interesting

"And you do that very well," Chalcie said, some of her spirit beginning to
reassert itself.

"Indeed I do, when I'm not plagued by a red-haired competitor.  Then I spend
my time watching her instead."

Chalcie blushed and then laughed as the cat finally came out of hiding and
jumped into her lap.

"Do you miss your family?"  she asked.

"Is there someone special waiting for you to come home again?"

"No one.  I'll make my own way here, and someday I'll have a wife and family.
But not yet.  Not quite yet," Jordan said.

"The first thing I've acquired in the family department has already netted me
a break-in," he teased gently.

"It was almost worth it, even being caught."  Chalcie smiled.

He hesitated and then offered,

"If you want to come back to visit with the cat, please let me know.  You're
welcome anytime."

"Thank you.  But right now I think I'd better be leaving."

"May I walk you back to the C.K.?  It wouldn't be right for me to let you go
back alone in the dark," Jordan said, indicating another door to the alley.

Chalcie was tempted to say no, but she was still feeling fragile.  She could
use a strong male hand on her arm for a few moments.

Jordan led her down the steps and onto the main road until they came to her
small room at the back of the saloon.  He gazed down at her and seemed almost
to think of kissing her, until he drew back at the last moment.

 Chalcie didn't notice when two miners stopped and gawked at the two of them
and then began whispering.

Within an hour everyone in Sonora knew that Jordan and Chalcie had been out
together.  Within two hours, the miners had Chalcie and Jordan almost married
and the C.  K.  and Dry Gulch consolidated into the biggest and best saloon
this side of San Francisco.  By morning, Chalcie's father had heard about the
budding romance and was ready to take steps to keep his little girl safe from
Jordan de Chat ain.

Chapter Two Q^^s^Q i <-(~^ Chalcie, wake up!  "

Someone was pounding on the rough boards that served to separate Chalcie's
sleeping quarters from the bar.

"Go away," Chalcie moaned.  She'd only been in bed for a few minutes, she was
certain.  It had been too hot in the gold rush town even to think about
sleeping until the night was nearly half-finished.  Even her hair, bound up
in tight braids to keep it off her neck, felt hot, as if the burnished red of
her hair had transmuted itself into sultry summer heat.

"Right now, daughter," James Kent ordered.

"Come on, girl, and give us some of that fine whiskey.  I know you have it
hidden in the trunk!"  He thumped his fist against the rough wooden siding
that served for the three solid walls of Chalcedony's bedroom.  The fourth
wall of red calico swayed with the onslaught.

Chalcie swore bitterly under her breath as she struggled to sit up.  It was
the middle of the night, and her father wanted better whiskey than was served
from the bar?  Well, he wasn't going to get it from her!

"I'm sleeping.  Go away," Chalcie yelled again.  She hoped it worked.  Most
of the time she could count on her father giving up after a few nasty
complaints about insolent daughters.

 "I want to drink a toast with my new partner, and I'm going to use the good
stuff, not the rotgut you have in those barrels out back."

"Oh, God," Chalcie moaned.

"Please, not another partner."

Her stomach suddenly hurt.  She'd lived through enough of her father's
partners to know that he never picked winners.  Her father seemed to attract
people who recognized and played on his weaknesses.  Over the years she had
been starved, shot at and run out of town because of his partners.  Even
though Houlihan wasn't a partner, he was typical of the men that her father
chose for important jobs like buying supplies in Stock ton and bringing them
back to Sonora.  Losers, every one of them.

"Damn, just when every thing was beginning to go well."  Chalcie made a fist
and struck at the blanket that served as a mattress on her bed.  For the
first time since her father had stolen her from her grandparents' house in
Boston, Chalcedony had felt safe.  They had enough money to live on and they
had stayed in one place for more than six months.  Everything would be fine
if her father didn't bring in someone who would mess things up and take half
the profits.

"Now!"  her father yelled.

Chalcie sighed.  She stood up and opened her one small trunk.  The flat
yellow bottle of good whiskey was nestled against the pretty rosebud pink
paper that lined the trunk.

Another partner and more trouble.

Chalcie and James Kent had come to the gold country with nothing.  They'd
stayed in San Francisco long enough to collect a few essential items they
would need to find gold in the hills and then had set out for Sonora.  For
the first time, James Kent had sworn that he'd strike out without a partner,
and to Chalcie's surprise, he had actually done it.  For the first time,
instead of disaster, her father had brought them wealth.  They had traveled
down out of the mountains and back to San Francisco once, laden with gold 
that her father had found.  They had been giddy with joy and surprise.

After ten years, James Kent had found something he could do.  He could witch
gold from the ground.

Chalcie took the whiskey bottle out of the trunk and wished that she had had
the foresight to go to Johnny Long and ask for some kind of potion to put in
the whiskey to make her father forget all his crazy notions like need inga
partner.  Johnny Long had a reputation for making up herb potions that could
cure the grippe, banish unspeakable diseases and make men forget their
wildest dreams.  But the whiskey was nothing but whiskey, and she'd refused
to answer her father as long as she dared.

Her father knocked again perfunctorily and then strode into the room, a fine
figure of a man.  As usual, he was wearing his black frock coat and the white
ruffled shirt that he had decided gave him a distinguished appearance.  After
all, he was a gold witch, a man who could find gold wherever he looked.  He
was better than the miners in their dusty pants made from the sails of ships
marooned in San Francisco harbor.  James Kent was special and he intended to
remind them of it.  His dark red hair was pomaded and carefully combed to
make certain no one suspected it was thinning on the top.  But even he
couldn't hide the frosting of white hair on his heavy eyebrows or the lines
on his face and around his eyes from years in the sun.

"It's about time, daughter.  Now, I want you to meet Pete Ames."  Her father
pulled the curtain open further and gestured for the man waiting outside to
enter.

"Chalcie, this is Pete Ames, and he's my new partner."

Pete Ames stepped into the room and bowed with a long sweeping motion.

"Pleased to meet you, Chalcie.  I've heard so much about you these last few
days."

Pete Ames's voice was cultured and smooth.  His face was handsome and
well-defined.  His pale blond hair was an artful tumble of curls, and he was
obviously quite the dandy with his black coat and blue vest and fine gold 
watch.  No one carried a watch out here--time didn't have much meaning to the
miners.

Chalcie looked at him and frowned.  Why did he make her want to back away
from him?  He was good-loo king, but there was something about the man that
made her teeth itch.

"Pete is brand-new to town, and he's never even been out to a dig.  I figured
on taking him with me for the next week.  When we come back, I'll see about
him taking over the books and other business that you've been handling."  Her
father said it blandly, as if he didn't expect any argument at all from
Chalcie.

"Pete's an attorney, and since things are getting city like around here, I
figured that the only way to protect myself from grabbers was to make certain
that the law was on my side."

Pete Ames stood there, a half smile on his handsome face, while her father
explained the new relationship.  It was obvious that he didn't expect any
trouble from Chalcie.  After all, she was just a girl.

Chalcie watched Pete Ames.  For all his slickness and congeniality, the man
reminded her of a snake.  The eyes were the same as those of the rattlers
that came out to soak up the heat from the rocks at night--cold and black and
hard.  Ames could move his mouth in a smile, but it never touched the rest of
his face.

Ames smiled modestly as he listened to Kent extolling his virtues to Chalcie.
He watched every move that Chalcie made.

When her father stopped, Ames stepped into the silence.

"I can help.  I know what the people in San Francisco are doing, and that's
where most of the real legal troubles happen, not out here.  So I'd be a
perfect partner to keep your father safe.  He's protected here and in San
Francisco.  Just what a man like him needs."

Chalcie almost snorted.

"Ah, do I see a doubt in your pretty green eyes?"

 "They're not green," Chalcie snapped.

"And you see a lot more than doubt."

James Kent poured two full tumblers of whiskey and handed one to Pete.

"To our partnership, may it be long and fruitful," he intoned, and then drank
down the libation in one long gulp.  He ignored Chalcie.  He had long ago
decided that there were some fights he couldn't win with his daughter, so he
tried to stay clear of her when she had that look in her eyes.  Pete was his
partner and if she didn't like it, she could leave.

"We'll talk about this in the morning, when you're sober," Chalcie said
frostily.  Her father wasn't going to get away with this.  He needed to be
reminded that she--and no one else--was his partner.

"I'm sober now," her father said, raising his voice in exasperation.  He
poured more of the whiskey into his glass.

"No, you are not, and I'm not going to try and talk sense to you while you're
in this condition.  Go up to the room above the bakery and sleep it off and
then come back," Chalcie ordered.

"Partner, indeed.  We'll see about that."

"We will not.  What makes you think you have anything to say about it?"  her
father challenged her belligerently.

Chalcie drew a deep breath.  This was the last straw.  She'd bailed him out
so many times she'd lost count.  Each problem had been caused in some way by
a partner, and now he was questioning her right to say anything?

James Kent saw the set of her chin and the fire in her eyes and decided to
stop her before she could erupt in another tirade about his behavior.  He
jutted his head forward, glaring at Chalcedony.

"Not even a whisper from you, Chalcie.  You don't know the rumors that are go
inga round town tonight.  People are talking about you and Jordan de Chat ain,
my worst enemy.  At least Pete Ames is my friend."

Her father turned to leave, but Pete Ames stayed behind for a moment.

"Watch out.  Chalcedony.  I think you'll find I have ways  of making things
happen.  Don't fight too hard, or you might not like what happens."

Chalcie looked over at her father, hoping that he had heard the words, but
the man wasn't listening to anything that Pete said.  He was nursing his
grudge against her.

"Don't you try and threaten me," Chalcie snapped.

"It's not a threat.  It's the truth," Pete said, and smiled his reptilian
smile again.

The calico fell before Chalcie could answer him.

Chalcie felt sick, and it wasn't just the heat.  She walked over to the rough
pine bed and sat down, because she was certain that her legs weren't steady
enough to hold her.  She couldn't sleep.  She'd seen the face of her nemesis
and it frightened her.  She couldn't wipe Pete Ames's superior smile and cold
blue eyes out of her mind.

Pete Ames was going to destroy her.  He had been measuring her, thinking of
how he was going to make certain that she wasn't a threat to him.  He already
had her father flummoxed, but he knew that she wouldn't be so easy to
deceive.  She would have to be careful of this man or he could take every
thing she'd worked for.  Indeed, she would have preferred to see her father
become partners with Jordan de Chat ain; at least he was a known quantity.

The air was stifling with the late summer heat, and finally Chalcie gave up
on the idea of going back to sleep.  If only she could turn off the turmoil
in her mind, she might be able to rest.

"How could I have been so stupid?"  she berated herself, recalling her
father's mention of the rumors about her and Jordan.  She hadn't been
thinking clearly.  For the first time in ten years she'd allowed her emotions
to rule instead of her brains and look where it had landed her.

The damage to her reputation might already have been done.

Chalcie pulled back the calico curtain and tied it so that some fresh air
could enter the room.  What resources did she have at hand to make certain
that she and her father  wouldn't be skinned alive while Pete Ames walked
away with every thing?

Maybe she was overreacting.  Maybe there was nothing to worry about.  But
long experience told her that the best fight was won with the.  most
preparation.  She was going to be prepared for this one, even if it never
happened.

' "If I were lay inga wager, though, I'd give ten to one that Pete and I will
come to blows about what my father can and cannot sign away to him,"

Chalcie muttered.

"So the best thing I can do is find out what I can hold on to and what my
father can give away."

Chalcie took down the ledger from the rough shelf that had been nailed on the
wall and lighted another tin can lamp.

Normally the numbers show inga profit would have lulled her, soothed her with
promises that she would never be poor again.  This time, however, all she
could see were the hours and days and months of sweating and working that
could be ruined in an instant by her father.

Then she dug further, loo king back at what she had thought was a reasonable
and prudent way of preserving their money.  Her father had brought the gold
in, and Chalcie had invested it.  First one lot and then the second, and
then a bar and a bakery to serve the miners.  Her holdings had increased.
They'd never had a lot of ready money around, because just as soon as Chalcie
accumulated a few hundred dollars, she invested it into land, buildings or
supplies.  Not only did their holdings increase, but managing the money that
way served another purpose--it kept James Kent's hands off the gold.  He
couldn't gamble it away, he couldn't drink it away, he couldn't touch it.

Or at least that was what Chalcie had thought until she had time to sit down
and actually read through the documents and look over the books.

"I have nothing," Chalcie said, stunned by the realization.

"If my father decides to give it all away, I'll be a pauper again."  She
stared at the wall, seeing the image of  her future security fading.
Everything that she had worked for was in her father's name.  There wasn't
even a piece of land, a pouch of gold, or a keg of whiskey in her name.  The
Kent fortunes weren't hers, they were James Kent's, and he had no intention
of sharing with the person who had made the fortune for him.

Chalcie put the ledger away and began to pace the tiny space.  Three steps
one way and three steps the other, not enough to release any of her pent-up
frustration.

"I have to get out of here."

Chalcie stepped out into the darkness.  She touched the rough wood as she
worked her way around to the back of the building, where she could sit on the
stump that Jordan had offered her the day before.  If she just sat quietly,
in the early morning darkness, she could try to think through her choices.

"Choices--ha!  As if I had any," she muttered.  Of course she couldn't ignore
the fact that she should have insisted that at least half of the property be
placed in her name.  Instead of allowing James Kent to forget what he owed
her, she should have reminded him every single day of his debt to her.

She did have one choice that would shock her father.  She could run away from
home and go live with the Mi wok Indians who were native to the area.

She could find a place to sleep near Estelle's fire, and she knew enough
about living off the land from her own experience and the Indians tutoring
that she wouldn't starve.

Chalcie smiled.  Her father would never expect her just to leave him in favor
of living with Estelle and the Indians.  The idea had a certain charm to it.

"Owl Damn it," she swore as she touched the wall and drove a splinter from
the wooden siding into her fingertip.  She sucked at her finger as she
continued down the alleyway.  She found the stump and sat down, wishing that
the newly washed pink calico gave her more protection against the stub ends
left by the saw.  She stared up at the stars and  tried to blank out the
sounds of the miners as she concentrated on her various problems.

She had been sitting for almost an hour, trying to find a way to make her
father stop his destructive plans, when she heard the sound of boots
crunching in the dirt and rock- filled area behind Jordan's Dry Gulch Saloon.
It was obvious that the men didn't think anyone else was in the area,
because they weren't making any particular effort to be quiet as they moved
around the building.  One man carried a tin can candle that gave out almost
no light.  They lurched against the side of the building, using it to prop
themselves up as they tried to find the back of the saloon.

' "Over here, Jedidiah, this is the place.  And just about here ought to wipe
him out...."  One miner hiccuped.  He could barely make himself understood,
he was so drunk.  "See, it'll go right up and over the top and no one will
have a chance, least of all Mr. Smart Ass Himself de Chat ain."

"Yeah, telling us we were cheating at the table.  We don't need to cheat,
we're the best in the business," the other man said, slurring his words.

"What'll we use to start it with?"

The other man was silent for a few seconds as he looked around him with
drink-blurred eyes.

"What's wrong with one of these candles and a few of those pieces of wood
left over from the buildings?"  he asked belligerently.

"You get the wood.  I'll clear a space so that it'll take off good and fast
and hot."

The man named Jedidiah knelt down and began to move rocks and other debris
from the back of the building.  He moved with the exaggerated slowness of a
drunk.  He reached around him and took great handfuls of tall dry weeds, and
soon he had a pile gathered at the base of the tar paper and wood building.

"Anyone comes back here, shoot 'em," the second miner said.

"No one's going to stop us this time."

 Chalcie was too stunned to move.  At first she had thought they were just
harmless drunks.  But these men were serious about start inga fire.

She watched in horror as they moved around the clearing.  What was she going
to do?  If she moved, they'd grab her, knock her unconscious and leave her
for dead.  She might wake up and then again she might not, depending on how
the fire burned.  Or they might just shoot her.  She could have eased to the
right and up the side of the bar, but she was mortally afraid of attracting
their attention.  If they saw the flash of movement, she'd be dead.

"I can't just sit here... I've got to think of a way out of this...."  If
Jordan's place burned, the whole town could go up in flames.

The second miner lurched and cursed and then began to pick up the shavings of
wood and small sticks and branches that had been left from the construction
months ago.  They were brittle and dry, snap pin gas he gathered them.

"Good, good, now a few more pieces, but bigger.  We've got to give this a
good start."

"I'll drag that limb over--there are dead leaves at the top.  Ought to go
like a firecracker!"

"Whoosh, it's gonna go whoosh!"  Jedidiah cackled, throwing his arms upward.

Chalcie closed her eyes, offering up a quick prayer that whatever she did, it
would be enough.  She tensed, ready to jump and run, when she heard the sound
of a can being tossed into the pile.  Time had just run out.

"Damn you!"  she screamed as she saw the flames begin to lick at the base of
the building.

The men turned on her, their faces clearly outlined in the rising flames.

"Shoot her!"  Jedidiah yelled.

"Damn!  What's she doing there?"

The men stared at her, too stunned to shoot.

"I don't know what she's doing, but let's get the hell away from here."

 The men ran, stumbling and cursing each other, trying to get away from
Chalcie.  She heard their boots thudding down the dusty street.

"Fire!  Help someone--fire!"  she screamed, breaking the terrible paralysis
that had held her as she stared at the two men.

There was a crackle as the flames began to spread from the dry weeds, which
crumpled and disappeared, to the tinder dry wood.

"Fire!  Fire!"  No one was responding.  No one could hear her over the fights
and yelling and all the other noise of the town.

"Damn you, oh, damn you all to hell!"  Chalcie sobbed as she ran toward the
fire.  She had to stop it before it really took hold of the wood, or the town
was doomed.  She reached into the flames trying to pull the burning embers
apart and break the flames that were hissing against the back of the pine
slats.

"I can't do it," she cried as the flames licked up her fingers.  Her shirt
was already smoldering, and she knew she fought a losing battle.  She looked
around frantically for something, anything she could smother the fire with.
But there wasn't a tarp or a piece of blanket or anything else close by.

She picked up a discarded piece of board and began to beat at the base of the
fire.

"Fire!  God, can't anyone hear me?  Fire!"  Chalcie screamed again and again,
but there was no answer.

The flames were winning.  If they managed to climb the heavy branch that the
men had placed against the wall, she knew that it would be all over.

Throwing down the board, she grabbed the limb and tried to heave it out of
the way, but it was too heavy for her.

Sweat was pouring down her, soaking her, and she didn't want to feel the
prickling that meant her hands had been burned.

Then, in the flickering of the fire, she saw salvation.  Jordan rounded
the corner of the saloon, closely followed by a contingent of the men from
the bar, all of them ready to help.  She heard a mutter from one of the men,
a horrible idea that quickly spread to the other men.

"Chalcie started the fire.  She was back here and she started the trouble."

Jordan heard it, but didn't waste any time on questions.  "Quick, get the
water from the barrels!"

Against the rough wooden frame of the bar there were two huge barrels of
water that Jordan kept on hand for wash up and other bar duties.  There would
be water in them.  Water would stop the fire.

Chalcie ran to the barrels, grabbing the pail that sat to one side of the
containers.  Jordan was right beside her, his face sweating in the heat,
which was made even more intense by the fire.

She reached up and pulled the drum toward her and heard the sickening sound
of just a few inches of water sloshing in the bottom.  Jordan's hands closed
over hers as they pulled the container toward the fire.

"Please, it's not enough," she whimpered.  It might slow the fire down, but
it wouldn't stop it.

She tilted the barrel, straining under the heavy water- soaked wood, and
reached as far as she could into the interior to fill the bucket.

"Move, we'll get it!"  She was pushed aside, and the men hoisted the barrel
on their shoulders and threw the water on the flames that were licking
greedily at the wood.

There was a hissing and she saw the flames begin to recede, but they didn't
die.  It wasn't enough.  The building was charring and smouldering.

There was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she realized that
within a few seconds the fire would turn into a conflagration.

"Get more men, get buckets, we've got to stop this now!"  Jordan ordered.

Chalcie seized the edge of the second drum and almost wept in relief as she
felt the heaviness of the water inside.

 "Jordan, this one has more water!"

Jordan was instantly beside her, plunging his hand into the lukewarm wetness.

"It'll have to do."

"Give me containers.  Take this pail.  We've got enough water here!"  she
yelled, and a man responded by grabbing the pail from her hands.  But no one
had anything more to use as a scoop, and she found herself pushed aside again
as the men seized the filled barrel and pulled it directly toward the fire.
Chalcie gripped one of the edges and pulled.  The muscles in her arms ached
with the effort, and she knew that come morning--if there was a morning for
the town--she wouldn't be able to move.  Her fingers clenched around the
rusted iron belt that held the cask together, and she pulled the barrel
closer to the fire.  The heavy container bucked and gritted against the
rocks, digginga path in the dirt.

The flames were higher now.  The building was going to go.  There wasn't any
more time to get the barrel into position or think about the niceties of
rationing the water to pailfuls at a time.  It would require the whole cask
to put this out, if they were lucky; she didn't want to think about what
would happen if they weren't.

Chalcie helped tip the keg, pushing with all her might, and let the water
gush out in a huge wave that rushed over the fire and up the wall, quenching
the flames completely.  The force of the water and the weight of the barrel
managed to dislodge the heavy limb and break the contact with the tar paper
roof.  A gout of steam reached upward, almost obscuring the building.

A ragged cheer went up from the men.  The fire was out.

Chalcie slumped over the barrel and let the sobs of relief and terror wash
over her just as the water had washed over the flames.  She had done it.

She had helped stop the fire, even though she hadn't been able to stop the
men from starting it.

"What the hell happened?"

"How did it start?"

 "You think Chalcie did it, to wipe Jordan out of business?"

"Yeah, that new dancer really cut into her profits, and if she couldn't get
the gold, maybe she didn't want anyone to have it."  The voices were getting
rougher, angrier.  There was a dangerous murmur from the crowd as the men
began to believe what they were saying, even though there was no evidence
that it was the truth.

Slowly Chalcie registered what the men were saying.  The shock and numbness
began to wear off and anger washed over her.  She'd been fighting the fire
before they ever came on the scene, and they thought she'd started it?  How
could they?  Chalcie waited for Jordan to come to her rescue, to tell the men
that she could never do such a thing.  The words didn't come.

"Chalcie?"  Jordan leaned over her and placed a hand on her shoulder.  To
Chalcie, it felt like the hand of doom.  What would she do if he thought she
was capable of such a thing?

"What happened?"  he asked in a grave tone.

Chalcie wiped her eyes with her filthy hands and stood up to face her
accusers.  She looked at Jordan, hoping that his face would be friendly, but
his expression was wary and watchful.  That hurt more than anything.

How could he think, even for a moment, that she was capable of destroying
Sonora out of a fit of jealousy?

"I was sitting out here, just trying to think through a problem, when two men
sneaked around to the back of the saloon.  They were men you accused of
cheating, Jordan.  I guess they were in the bar earlier this evening."

She looked at him, hoping to see a glimmer of recognition in his eyes.

Surely he would remember such a thing, wouldn't he?

She could see the expression on his face, the closed look that he had, and
she knew with a sinking heart that he didn't believe her.  He didn't remember
the two men who had actually started the fire.  He thought she was guilty.

 "Okay, men, let's go back into the bar.  There's nothing more happening out
here.  We're all safe."  Whether Chalcie was guilty or innocent, Jordan knew
that if he didn't act quickly, the men were liable to do something they would
regret later.  There'd never been a woman strung up in the gold country, but
in the heat of anger and passions, it could happen.  He didn't want that to
happen to Chalcie because a few hotheads went out of control.

"I'll look for these guys, just in case she's telling the truth," Brad
McClatchy said.

Chalcie heard the jeering from the back of the crowd.  They didn't want to
believe her.  They wanted trouble.

"Thank you.  Brad," Chalcie said.  She lifted her head and started to walk
through the crowd.  Suddenly Jordan was at her right side, taking her arm,
giving her the protection she needed to walk through unharmed.  Chalcie
looked up at him and saw that his expression hadn't changed.  He might not
believe her, but he did feel some responsibility for her safety.

Chalcie felt tears begin to betray her.  She hurt, she was tired, it had been
a rotten day, and every bone in her body ached.  But she wouldn't cry in
front of him; she refused to let him see that weakness.  If he didn't know
that she'd done him a favor by saving him from the fire, she certainly wasn't
going to tell him.  There wasn't any love lost between them, anyway.

As they stopped in front of her room, Jordan finally spoke.  His voice was
rough with anger.

"I don't understand this, Chalcie.  I don't know what happened, but I do know
that earlier this evening I was feeling sorry for you.  I heard some of the
men gossiping and I actually flattened some guy when he suggested that there
was something going on between us.  I cared about your good name.  Is this
the thanks I get?"

Chalcie gasped at the unfairness of his attack.

"I never did, and I never would do, such a thing.  Those men will  be found,
and then won't you and the others have something to be sorry for!"

She pulled the curtain off the hook, shutting it in his face.  She had never
been so hurt in her life.

Chalcie threw herself, fully dressed, down on the bed.  It was only a few
hours to sunrise, and suddenly she couldn't even move.  She was bone weary,
emotionally drained and too exhausted even to be angry with Jordan.

Although she knew she should be bathing her hands in tea, she was too tired.
If her palms blistered and burned and she couldn't work for a few days, it
served her father right.

She just didn't care anymore.

Chapter Three Q^^s^Q L--halcie pushed aside the last tendrils of her
nightmares and opened her eyes.  She looked around at the familiar room.
From her low, rough wooden bed, she could see underneath the bottom of the
calico curtain and directly into the street filled with miners and burros.
The pack animals and the miners were about equally laden, carrying pans,
ropes and the ubiquitous chamois bags waiting to be filled with gold.

There was a smell of singed wood in the air, and it brought back memories of
the night before in a terrible rush.  The fire.  Jordan believing the men
when they said she could have actually started it herself.  Her father and
his new partner.  All of it jumbled together into one painful lump that made
her groan as she thought about the day ahead.  She still had to get up,
though.  She had work to do and she'd have to ignore the looks and the
remarks meant to hurt her.  They'd forget the absurd idea that she'd started
the fire soon enough.

Chalcie began to push herself up and then screamed as the pain lanced through
her.  She fell back against the blanket, sob bin gas she tried to move her
hands, and realized they were so burned that she couldn't bear to flex them
or touch them.  She held them up to look at the burns and saw that they
weren't as bad as they might have been.  From the  pain she had expected to
see blackened skin and blisters covering her whole hand.  Instead, there were
two long burns across the palms of her hands and on her left wrist.  The
flesh had blistered and the skin was raised in ugly red spots with some of
them turning to white.

"Well, maybe it's a little too late for the tea treatment," Chalcie said,
this time moving more carefully as she stood up.  She tried her hands again
and found that, once she was expecting the pain, she could actually move the
fingers all right, and if she bandaged the palms of her hands, she might be
able to carry on at least some of her work.

She'd go and find out whether her father had actually taken Ames prospecting.
Then she'd face the men of the town and lay to rest those awful rumors.  She
didn't know how she was going to do it, but she had to make them see that she
would never have stooped to that kind of treachery.

Chalcie brushed her hair and managed to confine the recalcitrant red curls
into some semblance of order.  She hoped that her father hadn't really set
out to find the mother lode with Pete Ames, but then she never knew what to
expect from James Kent.

Finally, she gave up on her hair and concentrated on cleansing her raw skin.
Washing her face and arms made her realize that burns and water weren't a
pleasant combination, but she persisted just long enough to remove the
smudges left by the smoke.

The heavy curtain was low enough that she had some privacy, but not much.

She longed for a real bath, with lots of water and plenty of soap.  She knew
already that only a real bath was going to get rid of the singed scent that
lingered around her.  And cold water might make her hands ache, but she knew
it would probably do some good to her reddened skin.

' "Chalcie, you up yet?"  Ted banged on one of the rough- cut logs that
served to brace the walls.  The pine planks shook alarmingly.  The long
low-slung building had been constructed in two days and had none of the solid
bracing  that could have been found in a building expected to last more than
one or two seasons.  Ted knocked again before Chalcie had a chance to answer.

"All right, wait a minute... I'm coming;" Chalcie painfully wound the piece,
of twine that she used to tie her hair back and looped it around the thick
red mass.  It would serve to keep her neck cool, and that was all she cared
about.  She slipped into the same dress, happy that it had been made without
buttons.

Chalcie pulled back the curtain and stepped out into the daylight.  It was
marginally cooler outside.

"Your father said to tell you he'll be back in a week's time.  He and Pete
Ames left at first light," Ted stated flatly.

"Bread's on," he continued, "and rising over at the bakery.  I'm heading out
for the hills and don't expect me to be back for a week or so.  Damon said
he'd come in to do the kneading tomorrow, but you'd better keep an eye on
him.  Damon's not one that I'd trust with doing more than throwing in the
flour, yeast and water and calling it done.  Men won't buy hardtack, and
that's what he'd serve them."

He shifted uneasily.

"I just wanted to tell you that I know you didn't start the fire.  I think I
know who the men are that you saw, and some of the miners are trying to track
them down this morning."

"Thank you, Ted," Chalcie said, grateful for the words of comfort.  At least
some people knew her well enough to realize she would never start a fire that
could have devastated the whole town.

Chalcie knew she could have spent time fretting about what had happened, but
there wasn't any use in doing so.  She still had the business to run.

"Okay, the bread's on.  What about the beer?  Has anyone sampled that one keg
we've got going in the back of the room?  The last batch was a little too
powerful.  Too much sugar, I guess."

"I checked it last night.  Drank a little.  It needs to be  moved to another
cask, and then it's ready to serve.  We've only had one explosion.  I'm still
on the lookout for someone who really knows how to make beer," Ted added.
"And a baker who is better than Damon, too."

"Good luck," Chalcie said.

"They'll all be out loo king for gold, same as you."

Ted had the grace to look ashamed of running out on his job.

"Yes, but I can't help but try.  You be inga woman and all, and having to run
the bakery, you don't have the urge to get out there and find gold.  It's
easy for you to stay in town.  At least I let you know I was going to leave."

"I know, and I appreciate it, not to mention your confidence in my
innocence," Chalcie said.  She wished that Jordan had shown the same kind of
faith in her.  But he hadn't, and she had the feeling that even if they
caught the men, Jordan would rather die and go to hell before he'd admit that
he might have been wrong.

Just like most men, she decided.

"I'll be going then, if you can handle it," Ted said.  He bobbed his head in
a brief bow and left her, walking up toward the mines.

Chalcie turned away toward the store and the bakery.  She sighed, thinking of
the work ahead of her the next week.  She'd have been happy to double Ted's
wages just to keep him in the bakery, but she hadn't even tried.

Once the gold fever hit, there was no way to keep a man out of the fields.

At least he was conscientious enough to tell her he was leaving.  More than
once her workers had left without so much as a wave of the hand.

She trudged down the hills toward the bakery and store, which were perched on
the edge of the creek that served most of the town's needs for water.

She had bought the land hoping that the creek would serve for the bakery and
store, but the water quality had deteriorated so fast that she had taken to
having carts of water brought in for any food preparation.  Even then she
wasn't certain that it was clean.  There were other miners above her source.
Still, anything  was better than the turbulent water from the winter creek,
or the almost mud like trickle that the creek had become this summer.

She was so busy thinking about the bread, the trouble with her father and
that.  awful partner of his that she almost didn't see Brad McClatchy as he
hurried toward her.  She had just about reached the conclusion that nothing
more terrible could possibly happen to her, when Brad caught up with her.

What more could the man want?  He'd already eaten, slept and dressed at her
expense, all because she wanted a piece of land that he owned.  She wasn't
ready to give him too much more.

"Chalcie, wait for me, please."  Brad McClatchy puffed up behind her, his
skinny face red with the exertion.  The sweat was coursing down from his
forehead, even though the day was barely started.  The real heat wouldn't hit
for several more hours.  As usual, Brad looked half on the verge of dying
from exertion.

Chalcie had never understood why Brad had come to the California hills.  He
was tiny, well under five feet, and he was frail.  He should have been at
home some place, allowing the women in his family to look after him.

Instead, he had been trying to scratch out a living in the gold country and
barely succeeding.  The only thing that Brad had managed to do right was take
a claim on a piece of land that turned out to be right in the middle of
Sonora, on the busiest street.  There were saloons on both sides of Brad's
lot, and everyone in Sonora had to pass in front of it at least twice a day.
It was a prime piece of land and Chalcedony wanted it.  She had placed a bid
six months ago and even paid a fee to Brad for letting her keep the right to
buy for the next year.  He had been living off that money for the last six
months.  Best of all, her father knew nothing of the deal.

"How can I help you.  Brad?"  Chalcie said pleasantly.  She had already
changed her mind about not advancing any more money and decided that if he
wanted more money to  keep the land open, he could have it.  That land might
be the one item that she was able to keep back from her father if he and Pete
Ames began to split up the Kent holdings.  The lot between de Chat ain's Dry
Gulch Saloon and her own C.  K.  Saloon was worth almost anything Brad wanted
to ask for it.

"They found the men--you know, that Jedidiah and his friend?  They were
trying to sneak out of town at first dawn, but they were so drunk they slept
too late, and they were spotted as they tried to hike out the back way.  The
men have them chained to the front porch of the Dry Gulch."  Brad panted and
then fanned himself as he stopped under the shade of one of the big valley
oak trees that stood almost in the middle of the street.

' "They found them?"  Chalcie felt her spirits lift.  At least someone had
believed her.  Someone had to have remembered the two cheating miners in the
Dry Gulch.  She smiled grimly.  Now Jordan would have to realize that he
should have trusted her.

Brad tried to catch his breath, and Chalcie could hear a < painful wheeze
that seemed to originate deep in his lungs and rattle until he finally
finished exhaling.  It was not a pleasant sound.

"Thank you for telling me.  I just wish you hadn't hurried.  I worry when you
can't catch your breath," Chalcie said.

"I needed to talk to you about something else, too, though the men were the
most important."  He stopped and gasped a few more times.

"I have to go home.  I can't breathe here," he said, laboring to get every
word out.

"I

came to California thinking I could live here.  But it's just getting worse.
" Every time Brad exhaled, he moaned slightly.

"I have to sell that land now.  I need the money to go home."

Chalcie closed her eyes.  She had coveted that land since Brad bought it but
she still didn't have enough to buy it outright.  She had hoped he was only
going to tell her that  he needed a little more money and that he'd
appreciated the times he'd been allowed to come into the boardinghouse or the
bakery and take what he needed without paying.  Chalcie hadn't expected him
to say that he needed the money and was ready, to leave Sonora forever.

"I'd be glad to stake you to some more money, if that's what you need.  I can
buy a little more time for you," Chalcie offered, trying to see if he could
be dissuaded from returning to the States right now.

If he insisted on cash today, or even this month, she knew she wouldn't be
able to meet his price.  She'd already revised, juggled and swore over the
books last night.  She'd tried every thing she could to think of a way to
salvage some resources from the partnership that her father was forming with
Pete Ames.  But every thing was tied up.  Even though it had been a good
summer, every pinch of gold they had taken in had gone to buy goods down in
Stock ton, or even in San Francisco.  She had poured more and more money into
land and supplies to keep the money out of her father's hands.

Expenses were high, and even though prices were higher, the Kents were rich
in land, buildings and businesses--but not ready cash.

Brad was shaking his head ruefully.

"Thanks for the offer.  You've helped me a lot these last few months.  But I
don't want to stay here anymore.  I want to go home."

"How soon?"  she asked faintly.

"How soon do I go home?"

"No, how soon do you need the money?"

"Within the next week.  I want to get out of here and down to San Francisco.
They say there'll be a ship leaving to go back to the States.  I want to be
on it."

"You need two thousand dollars in gold by the end of the week?"  Chalcie was
hoping he'd say no, it was only a joke.  But from the looks of him, he wasn't
joking.

"That's right," Brad wheezed.  Even though he stood in the shade, his thin
face was still red from the exertion of  trying to breathe.

"If you can't buy it, I understand.  I have another person who is
interested," Brad admitted hesitantly.

He could see the shock that his announcement had given Chalcedony.  He would
have let her have all the time she needed, if he had been able to.

But for months there hadn't been a ship that came into the San Francisco
harbor and left again.  No captain could keep men on board once they heard
about the gold that was to be found in the hills and streams of California.
Sofar, every ship that had sailed into the harbor had been left to rot until
it either sank or was converted into a floating whorehouse, saloon or jail.
But the May bird was rumored to have a good chance of leaving San
Francisco--the captain had chosen his men all from his own relatives!

Chalcie bit her lip.  She didn't have two thousand in cash.  She had only
enough gold on hand to send someone down to Stock ton for more supplies for
the store and the saloon.  That was eight hundred dollars and the driver's
fee.  Not enough by half to pay Brad what he was asking for the land.

There wasn't any way she could possibly get her hands on that amount of cash.

"Who is the other buyer?"  Chalcie had one shred of hope left--maybe she
could work out a deal with the other buyer.  He'd put up the cash and then
she would have a chance to redeem it from him for the price plus twenty
percent.  She was certain she'd have access to that much gold when her father
returned from his time in the mountains.  Twenty percent profit for a few
weeks' use of the money would not be a bad deal for most men.  Surely there
wasn't a man in all of Sonora who would turn down that deal.  Hope began to
light her eyes again.

"The other buyer is Jordan de Chat ain."

Chalcie sighed as the hope died.  Yes, there was one man who would refuse to
sell, even for a hundred percent profit.  Jordan de Chat ain.  He'd been
lusting after that very piece of property for months.  She had heard from
several very  reliable sources that he had said he would buy it if he ever
got the chance.  She knew that she'd never manage to pry Jordan's paws off it
once he gained the claim.

"Damn," she muttered faintly, low enough so that Brad couldn't hear her
through his wheezing.

She had to think of something.  She could feel the land slipping through her
grasp.  Her only chance to save something outside of the partnership with
Ames, and the richest woman in Sonora wasn't going to be able to buy a lot
for only two thousand dollars.

Brad watched the play of emotions on her face.  He was sorry for her, but he
had to leave, and if she couldn't pay, Jordan could.

"Think about it.  I'm not leaving until Sunday night.  That's a whole week
away, and I'll hold it until Sunday afternoon."

"Thanks, Brad," Chalcie said.  She hurried on down toward the bakery.

She stared down at the ground as she walked, wishing that she could find a
fist-size piece of gold in the well-worn pathway.  That would solve all of
her problems.  Unfortunately, she knew that she wasn't a gold witch like her
father.  If she found a nugget that size, sure as hell someone else would
come whooping and hollering back up the trail, loo king for the gold they'd
dropped.  That was the way her luck was running.  Neither gold nor luck came
easily to her.

Chalcie pushed the idea of gold from her mind.  There were too many other
things to be done for her to daydream about something she couldn't have.

The bread was still waiting to be baked.  She needed to make out a supplies
list to be sent to Stock ton with her pack train.  She had to make certain
that the new batch of whiskey that had just been brought in was good.

There was no easy way out of the dilemma handed to her by her father.  All
morning long, as she baked the bread that had been left kneaded and rising,
then sold it to the miners, she turned the problem over in her mind.

 After the last loaf of bread had been sold and the ovens were cooling,
Chalcie finally took time to walk outside into the shimmering heat of the day.

She could smell the heavy cedar scent that surrounded the town.  The sky was
relentlessly blue, and, in the hazy distance, the mountains danced as the
heat waves rose from the rifts and valleys.  The stream had dried to a
trickle.  She needed another three barrels of water before the next morning's
baking and more for the cleanup of the bar when the last miner finally went
outside to sleep off his excesses.  She'd have to ask Juanita to keep her
eyes open for someone who looked as if he could use a few pinches of gold in
payment for hauling water.

She wondered if Jordan had filled up his own barrels yet, since they'd been
dumped to douse the fire.  And what was he thinking, she wondered, now that
the men who had really started the fire were chained to his front rail.  Was
he regretting his hasty judgment of her?

She sighed.  He'd have to deal with his problems.  She had her own, and one
of them was getting the barrels filled.  It wasn't difficult to fill the
containers at the stream that flowed with clear sweet water up the hill about
a mile and a half from town, but most miners weren't interested in any job
other than mining.

Chalcie and Juanita constantly watched for someone who had spent their last
gold and didn't even have enough for a meal--those were the men who would
take on the job and fill the barrels.  Of course there was another
possibility.  The young Mexican miner, Eduardo.  He was always hang inga round
Juanita like a puppy.

Chalcie had watched the way that he looked at Juanita when she was working,
and it was obvious that he was dreaming dreams of love and romance.  She
wondered if her friend had even noticed Eduardo.  Juanita didn't react to men
the way the rest of the women in Sonora did.  She kept to herself, talked to
men as necessary to keep them in line, but she never allowed anyone to become
personal with  her.  Some of the men, she knew, called Juanita the Mexican
ice maiden.

Juanita could stand a little romance in her life, Chalcie thought, and
Eduardo would have been a fine man to have a romance with.  Eduardo was
different.  Shy, likable, soft- spoken and never drunk.  She'd have to talk
to Juanita about the man, maybe even give the two of them a push so that
they'd be together at.  least for a while.

Chalcie put the thought aside.  If no one else needed money from filling the
barrels, she knew that Eduardo would do the favor gladly, just for the chance
to impress Juanita.

Her hands ached from the burns and the abuse that she had given them this
morning.  She had dropped two loaves of bread because she hadn't anticipated
the searing pain that lanced through her when she touched anything warm.  She
hadn't been able to clean the bakery after the baking; the blistered skin
hurt too badly to be immersed again in water.  She shivered as she tried to
stretch her abused hands.

"Heat's getting to you?"

Chalcie tensed, her back rigid.  That was the last voice in the world she
wanted to hear.

Jordan de Chat ain!

She turned toward him, wishing she could close her eyes and disappear.

"Are you all right?"  Jordan's voice carried a note of concern.  He reached
for her and then drew back his hand.  After last night she would have every
reason to punch him just as solidly as she could, and he had no doubt that
she swung a powerful left hook when provoked.

Chalcedony opened her eyes.

"I'm fine," she said tiredly.

Jordan looked down at the ground and kicked the toe of his shiny black boot
in the dust.  He scuffed for a few seconds and then looked at Chalcie.

It was obvious from his expression that he was uncomfortable.

Chalcie didn't care how he felt.  She was sick and tired  of men, all men,
and this man in particular.

"Mr.  de Chat ain, I've had a miserable twenty-four hours.  My hands hurt, my
head aches and I'd appreciate it if you'd just go away.  I don't want to hear
about the fire and I don't want to hear about Brad's lot that's for sale.  Go
buy your damned lot from McClatchy and crow over what you've won and leave me
alone."  Chalcie wasn't in the mood to listen to him.

"Actually, I didn't follow you out here to talk about land."  Jordan looked
for all the world like a small boy caught steal inga pie off the windowsill.
His hands beat a nervous tattoo on his thighs, and he couldn't seem to get a
full sentence out.

Chalcie turned to stalk away.  Jordan reached out, catching her by the elbow
and breaking all the rules of etiquette, to bring her back to him.

His touch burned, and it wasn't just the heat of the day.

"Get your hands off me," Chalcie ground out.  Touch her, would he?

"If my hands didn't hurt so much, I'd lay you flat on the ground for that,
and don't you ever think I couldn't do it!"  She refused to acknowledge that
she liked to have him close to her and that her heart beat faster when he was
near.

Jordan caught her hands and turned them over, wincing at the sight of the
burned flesh across the palms.  He ran a finger gently along the side of the
burns, flinch in gas the rough flesh pulled under his grasp.

He already felt miserable, this just made it worse.  How could he have been
such a fool?  He knew her better than that.  They'd been business rivals for
a year, and in all that time he'd never seen her do or say anything that
hadn't been the very model of propriety--except when she broke into his
house.  And last night he had lost his temper in the heat of the moment--he
hated himself for it now.

"God, I'm so sorry," he said, loo king down at her hands.

"What for?  You didn't burn me."  She shrugged.

 "No, but you got those burns saving my place from going up in flames."

There, it was out.  He'd said it.

Jordan couldn't even begin to put into words how he had felt when those men
were dragged in, still blinking and half-asleep.  They'd been convinced to
tell the truth and had confessed to starting the fire to get even with him.

Jordan tried again.

"I know I can't call back what I said or thought last night, but I'd like to
apologize."  From the look on Chalcie's face, she wasn't going to be
receptive to his words.  Her chin stuck out and her mouth was set in a
stubborn, uncompromising line.  He faltered and then lapsed into an
embarrassed silence.  He didn't seem to be making his point too well.

Chalcie looked at Jordan steadily.  Let him sweat, she thought.  It served
him right.  Let him think about how he had treated her.  Maybe next time he'd
keep that temper in check and ask a few questions first.

Jordan looked away, into the kitchen of the bakery, and suddenly he saw a way
to make his apology more tangible.

"I'd like to send over some men to help you clean up the bakery and take care
of anything else that you need done," he offered, loo king at the pans that
were piled high, still unwashed from the morning bread.

Chalcie shook her head.

Jordan's fragile hold on his temper snapped.  He was trying to do the right
thing for her, and she was refusing him even that small solace.

"Chalcie, don't be such a pigheaded fool," Jordan said.  "You know it's my
fault that you're burned and you need the help.  At least let me make amends."

"And you're going to make me feel better by calling me pigheaded?  Why, I
can't believe that such a compliment came out of your mouth!"

Jordan took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair in exasperation.

What was it about this woman that seemed to drive him to distraction?  That
red hair and those blue  eyes, and the way she held her own--Chalcie was
unlike any other woman he'd ever met.  Of course he'd never betrayed even the
slightest weakness where she was concerned.  Chalcie would have simply taken
the weakness and used it against him.

"Then stop fighting me when I try and help.  I don't have a whole lot of
patience, as you might have gathered," Jordan said.

"Most men don't.  Most men just do whatever they want and then leave it to
the women to pick up the pieces," Chalcie replied tartly, thinking that both
Jordan and her father had the same approach to women and life in general:
"I'll have the men over here in a few minutes."  Jordan looked at her, still
trying to figure out the effect that she had on him.

Chalcie thought about refusing him, and then she looked in the back door of
the bakery and wilted.  All those pans, and her hands ached like fury.

She couldn't wash up, she couldn't set the sponge or knead the bread.  She
needed help and if Jordan was willing to offer it after having been such a
fool, well, who was she to tell him no?

"Fine, I accept your offer of help."

Jordan relaxed a bit and simply smiled at her.

"Now, don't you forget, if you need anything else, anything at all, you just
ask me.  I can't promise that I'll be able to deliver, but I'll give it the
best shot I can."

He lifted his hat in a mock salute, placed it on his head again, turned and
walked away from Chalcie.  His stride was jaunty, as if he'd just come out
the victor in a battle.

Chalcie stared after him and didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Chapter Four (2$a7ps^ LAalcie had never really noticed before that the two
blankets that served as her mattress did nothing to cushion the boards that
were the base of her bed.  She turned again, hoping to find a place where her
hipbone didn't connect with an unyielding surface.  Tonight of all nights,
when she just wanted to sleep, she couldn't make her thoughts behave.
Jordan, her father, gold, land, Pete Ames, fire and sheer desperation all
churned through her mind.  She was so exhausted she could do nothing but
stare into the darkness.

Chalcie sat up and rubbed another ounce of ointment into her skin.  She had
received a package from Jordan de Chat ain contain inga sweet-smelling
unguent.  The package was red and marked with Chinese lettering, so it was a
fair bet that it had come from Johnny Tong's shop.  The cream had already
taken most of the sting out of the palms of her hands.  Already she could see
that the blisters were drying up, and the skin was more supple.

One of these days, Chalcie thought sleepily, she was going to have to meet
Johnny Long.  The man was famous from one end of the gold country to the
other as a purveyor of powders, potions and curative herbs.

Chalcie thought it was a shame that Johnny couldn't whip up something that
would make her life easier.  Some thing to take away the worry.
Something--the thought popped unbidden into her head--to make Jordan de Chat
ain notice her as a woman.

"Now that's ridiculous," Chalcie muttered, realizing just how tired she must
have been to think such thoughts.

There wasn't a nostrum in Tong's pharmacopoeia that would make Brad accept
partial payment from her when he could get the whole amount, cash in hand,
from Jordan de Chat ain.  There weren't any herbs that would cause her father
to think of her as a partner.  And certainly there wouldn't be anything she
could buy from Mr. Long that could make Jordan de Chat ain find her
attractive!

"I've got about the same chance of making Jordan de Chat ain do what I ask as
I have of digging straight down and finding the mother lode under my bed!"
Chalcie muttered.

Finally, she drifted off to sleep.  Her last thoughts were of Jordan de Chat
ain, and those thoughts continued in her dreams.

In the dream, she was dressed in a fine outfit, all pink and white and clean.
The dress was a confection of lace and ruffles, and she wore fine, delicate
black leather shoes.  She was clean, fresh from a bath and shampoo that had
lasted for hours.  She looked good and she smelled good and even her hair was
under control instead of being pulled back into an untidy mop.

Chalcie stepped daintily through the street, careful not to let her dress get
soiled before she saw the man she was to marry.  She stopped in front of
Jordan's house.

Jordan was waiting for her.  He put out his hand and welcomed her to his home.

"Are you happy with the bargain?"  he asked her.  His handsome face was
somber.  There were no smiles and laughter, no gentle teasing this time.

"I am happy," Chalcie answered simply.

"Then you will become my wife in exchange for the deed to the land?"

Jordan asked, still not smiling.  His dark  hair glowed in the reflected
light of the moon, and his eyes were black as night.  He reached for her and
she stepped forward into his embrace.

As he touched her, she shuddered at the physical impact of his hand against
her-arm.  If this was fire, she burned for him.  She wanted to touch him and
the clothes were getting in the way.  She could feel his body against hers,
but there were buttons and a vest and pants with even more buttons, and she
was stopped almost before she could start.

Jordan kissed her, and she responded with tenderness, her lips soft against
his.  Her fingers pulled at the back of his vest and beneath it, against the
fine cotton of his shirt.  Somewhere under all that cloth, she was certain,
there was a real man of flesh and blood.  All she had to do was find him.
Jordan was driving her mad with the pressure of his lips and the softness of
his hands on her neck and her back.

Didn't he want her undressed?  Didn't he burn with fire to feel flesh against
flesh?  She wanted to touch him and taste him, make passionate love to him.
She hated the dress that constrained her and she knew that this wild desire,
the craving she felt, had gone far beyond a simple bargain.

The thrill had nothing to do with auctioning herself off to the highest
bidder to retain rights to a piece of land.  Jordan had, somehow, broken
through her reserve and her distrust.

Chalcie wanted him.  She hungered for him and she would have him.  Her
fingers fought against the shirt, and then, finally, mercifully, it was free.
She began to work on the buttons of the pants, her hands between them,
feeling every inch of his body.  He wanted her, she knew he did, she could
feel it, and the heat rose and rose, and she was smothering with desire.
Chalcie awoke and sat upright in bed.  She was sweating from the heat.  She
had the blanket clutched in her hand, her fingers trying to make holes
through the worn material.  She looked down and blushed.  She let the blanket
drop, aware of the pain that rubbing the burned skin had caused.

 The pain brought her thumping back to the reality of her own bed in her own
room.

That dream--she had been trying to unbutton Jordan de Chat ain's pants!  The
very thought made her giddy with disbelief.

How could her mind have tricked her?  She didn't love him, she didn't lust
after him, she didn't even like him!

Marry Jordan de Chat ain?

Of all the men she had ever known, he was the last person she would think of
marrying.  It would never happen, no matter how handsome he was.  That
slightly provocative smile had been turned to his advantage with women too
many times for her to fall for the same sweet talk.  He might be able to
sweep other ladies away, but not her.  She wasn't vulnerable to his
charms--particularly since he was unreasonable, nasty-tempered and greedy
when he dealt with her!

Since it was obvious that she wasn't ever going to commit matrimony with
Jordan, she knew there had to be a hidden message in the vision.  Her mind
had been trying to tell her something other than that she should marry Jordan
de Chat ain--but what was it?

She had learned to count on dreams as a source of some of her best ideas, if
she could only unravel them and she was certain that this dream hadn't been a
message to make men's pants without buttons so lovemaking would be easier.
There was another idea buried in it that she could use.  She knew it was
there, itching to be found.  She twisted and turned the puzzle until she hit
on what seemed to be the right combination.

The secret was in the idea of auctioning herself off to the highest bidder.
Jordan had already shown that he could be gentle with her, and she couldn't
believe that his kindness had been nothing more than that.  He had mentioned
something about hittinga man who had dared to say something about their
supposed relationship, so that meant he cared for her, didn't it?  And he had
been so kind to her  when he had discovered her in his house.  Maybe he
really did like her but just didn't want to show it.

She had been very much aware of the way Jordan had looked at her, the way he
had touched her when they were together.  Even if it had been only to help
soothe her battered nose, he had been gentle with her.  Could it be that he
wasn't quite as immune to her charms as he pretended to be?

Perhaps the dream had been trying to tell her she might be able to lead
Jordan on.  She could tell him she was willing to allow him to court her.

She could even talk about marriage.  Then, once she had gained his
confidence, she could kiss him.  At that point she was certain she could
convince him to buy the land and then let her buy it from him, or loan her
the money to buy it and she could repay him.

After all, hadn't he said he would help her if he could?  Well then, he'd
hardly be able to refuse an offer that would net him a marriageable woman and
release him from the feeling that he'd been unfair to her.

She didn't actually have to marry him or even become engaged to him.  One
evening would suffice.  But Mr. de Chat ain wouldn't know that.  He'd think
that she was genuinely attracted to him.  When she had her land, he would be
no worse off than he was right now, since he didn't care a fig about her, and
she'd be a little richer and a lot safer.

What she was planning wasn't exactly fair, and her conscience would pain her,
but it wouldn't be so painful that she couldn't live with it.  She'd have the
land to soothe her.  She chose to ignore the passions that had surfaced in
the dream.  After all, that had been nighttime fantasy, this was daytime
reality.

Chalcie smiled in the darkness.  She wouldn't be able to have the
pink-and-white dress or the fine shoes of her dreams.  Still, given a little
time, she and Juanita could come up with a respectably pretty dress.  It
would be enough to bring Jordan to her side.

 She managed to fall asleep again, dreaming about the way she was going to
^ck Jordan de Chat ain.

The next morning ^he broached the idea to Juanita, explaining in painful
detail why and how she intended to catch Jordan de Chat ai" long enough to win
the land.

"So you see, Juanita, I n^d help borrow inga dress or converting something I
already have into a dress that will sweep Mr. de Chat ain off his feet."

Juanita sat back in the rocking chair and stared at Chalcie.  She had
listened intently to what Chalcie was saying, her dark face frown in gas she
followed the plan.

"I think you are a fool to try," Juanita stated.

"What?  How can you say such a thing?  Don't you understand, I have to sa^e
that land...."

Juanita held up her hand to stop Chalcie.

"I understand and I also think that Ames is kin to pond slime.  But I don't
think that Jordan de ^hatain is going to be nearly as easy to ensnare as you
thin^-" Chalcie's full lips tNnned in a grimace.  She didn't want to hear all
the reasons why Juanita didn't think it would work; she just wanted Juanita
to make her presentable.

Juanita saw her friend'sexpression and sighed.  She stood up and motioned for
Chalcie to join her.  Juanita's pretty, heart-shaped face was a study in
conflicting emotions.  She didn't like what ChaK16 was going to do, but she
hated to turn down a challenge And the idea of turning this sun- baked hoyden
into a ^al ^dy by artifices such as a beautiful dress and stylish hair
intrigued her.

Juanita thought about her own Miguel and the beautiful lace dress she had wofl
at their wedding.  She still cherished it and wished that Ch^cie could have
the kind of love that | Juanita had already experienced.  But it wouldn't
happen, | at least not with Jord3" de Chat ain.  Juanita put aside the" ,
thoughts of Miguel.  S^ had to think of Chalcie, not of the I man she missed
so much that her heart broke every time a she said his name.

sds was to be a widow the rest of her| life no matter what Ijduardo said.

He could come to court |  her and drink one v*Uskey and make it last all
night, just to look at her, but st had been hurt once.  Death had taken her
perfect mate andlslhe wasn't going to try to love another man.

Ah, but Eduardo.

Juanita refused to flunk of him, either.  She had work to do in transforming
(3nalcie into the beauty she was underneath the tough extel-or.  A bath, a
nice dress and brushed hair might actually (isake her look like a lady.

"All right, since you're determined to do this thing, show me what you 1'ave
in the trunk.  We'll see what can be worked out."

The trunk, howevcir, held no treasures.  Chalcie had her one hated pink
cottOl dress that she was wearing, and one old cotton work dregs that should
have been cut up for rags long ago.  She had a fine velvet dress for trips
into San Francisco, but the thftught of wearing the heavy garment in the heat
and dust of Sonora summer was ludicrous.  The only other clothes she
possessed were a fancy white cotton bodice with lace and ribbon and a
flounced underskirt of the same material.

"And you have ii< 0thing else?  Npthing at all that we could use to make ^
dress?"  Juanita demanded in horror.  She had never guessc d that her boss,
the woman who was responsible for the fent fortunes, might not have a whole
wardrobe of beautiftil things tucked away in her tiny bedroom.

Chalcie shrugged helplessly.

"I guess I could try and borrow something..."

"What do you h^I've in the store?  Tell me, do you not have at least one bolt
of cloth in that place?"  Juanita's dark brown eyes were lit "with fire.  She
wasn't going to give up on this.

"Nothing," Chakue said.  Well, not exactly nothing, but she couldn't imagine
wear inga dress made of the heavy red flannel that she have for sale.

 She managed to fall asleep again, dreaming about the way she was going to
trick Jordan de Chat ain.

The next morning she broached the idea to Juanita, explaining in painful
detail why and how she intended to catch Jordan de Chat ain long enough to
win the land.

"So you see, Juanita, I need help borrow inga dress or converting something I
already have into a dress that will sweep Mr. de Chat ain off his feet."

Juanita sat back in the rocking chair and stared at Chalcie.  She had
listened intently to what Chalcie was saying, her dark face frown in gas she
followed the plan.

"I think you are a fool to try," Juanita stated.

"What?  How can you say such a thing?  Don't you understand, I have to save
that land...."

Juanita held up her hand to stop Chalcie.

"I understand and I also think that Ames is kin to pond slime.  But I don't
think that Jordan de Chat ain is going to be nearly as easy to ensnare as you
think."

Chalcie's full lips thinned in a grimace.  She didn't want to hear all the
reasons why Juanita didn't think it would work; she just wanted Juanita to
make her presentable.

Juanita saw her friend'sexpression and sighed.  She stood up and motioned for
Chalcie to join her.  Juanita's pretty, heart-shaped face was a study in
conflicting emotions.  She didn't like what Chalcie was going to do, but she
hated to turn down a challenge.  And the idea of turning this sunbaked hoyden
into a real lady by artifices such as a beautiful dress and stylish hair
intrigued her.

Juanita thought about her own Miguel and the beautiful lace dress she had
worn at their wedding.  She still cherished it and wished that Chalcie could
have the kind of love that Juanita had already experienced.  But it wouldn't
happen, at least not with Jordan de Chat ain.  Juanita put aside the thoughts
of Miguel.  She had to think of Chalcie, not of the man she missed so much
that her heart broke every time she said his name.  She was to be a widow the
rest of her life, no matter what Eduardo said.  He could come to court  her
and drink one whiskey and make it last all night, just to look at her, but
she had been hurt once.  Death had taken her perfect mate and she wasn't
going to try to love another man.

Ah, but Eduardo.  Juanita refused to think of him, either.  She had work to
do in transforming Chalcie into the beauty she was underneath the tough
exterior.

A bath, a nice dress and brushed hair might actually make her look like a
lady.

"All right, since you're determined to do this thing, show me what you have
in the trunk.  We'll see what can be worked out."

The trunk, however, held no treasures.  Chalcie had her one hated pink cotton
dress that she was wearing, and one old cotton work dress that should have
been cut up for rags long ago.  She had a fine velvet dress for trips into
San Francisco, but the thought of wearing the heavy garment in the heat and
dust of a Sonora summer was ludicrous.  The only other clothes she possessed
were a fancy white cotton bodice with lace and ribbon and a flounced
underskirt of the same material.

"And you have nothing else?  Npthing at all that we could use to make a
dress?"  Juanita demanded in horror.  She had never guessed that her boss,
the woman who was responsible for the Kent fortunes, might not have a whole
wardrobe of beautiful things tucked away in her tiny bedroom.

Chalcie shrugged helplessly.

"I guess I could try and borrow something...."

"What do you have in the store?  Tell me, do you not have at least one bolt
of cloth in that place?"  Juanita's dark brown eyes were lit with fire.  She
wasn't going to give up on this.

"Nothing," Chalcie said.  Well, not exactly nothing, but she couldn't imagine
wear inga dress made of the heavy red flannel that she did have for sale.

 "Let me think..."  Juanita said, putting her hand to her mouth.

"I could borrow something," Chalcie suggested again, though she didn't know
from whom she might borrow.  The only woman who was near her size was
Juanita, and she was certain Juanita had no more clothes than she did.

' "From whom?"  Juanita asked sharply.

Chalcie shrugged, beginning to lose hope.

Then she thought of the traveling salesman who'd passed through town in the
spring.  He had brought with him an astounding variety of useless objects.
Someone in San Francisco had told him that the men in the gold country were
desperate enough to buy anything with their newfound wealth, and he had
believed them.  He had for sale fancy Spanish combs, cast-iron tea kettles
and a vest of silk and velvet.  The men had laughed at him, passing over his
goods for those of the next drummer who had followed on his heels with good
solid boots and sturdy gloves among his wares.  The first drummer had moved
on, leaving his worthless fripperies, as well as a pile of fine linen
tablecloths, for Chalcie to sell if she could.  He had told her he would be
back sometime during the year and she could give him whatever she felt was
fair if she sold any of the goods.

"Would white linen do?"  Chalcie asked.

"Certainly, if there was any available in this godforsaken country.  But
there isn't.  Where are you going to find something like that here?"  Juanita
asked.

"Follow me!"  Chalcie led the way out into the street and down to the store.

She barely noticed when Eduardo, the young man who was smitten with Juanita,
called out a greeting.  Juanita, however, waved shyly and was excruciatingly
aware of Eduardo's eyes on her as she hurried behind Chalcie.

Inside it was cool and dim, a wonderful contrast to the heat outside.

Chalcie reached beneath the counter and picked up the linen cloths.  Both
Chalcie and Juanita examined the designs that had been hand stitched around
the  borders.  There were leaves and roses, tiny daisies and whole sheaves
of irises on the various tablecloths.  Some of them sported delicate lace
cutouts and others fine-colored thread and stuffed designs that made them
stand out in relief against the plain linen.

"Here, this is the one we'll use for the top.  It'll be cut plain, with a
square neck and long sleeves, but with an opening up the whole of the sleeve
so you won't die of the heat."  Juanita pulled out a cream-colored tablecloth
that was embroidered with delicate white baby roses.  The embroidery had been
done in the barest, most delicate shade of rose, and Juanita knew that the
color would make Chalcie bloom.  She could see how to cut the cloth to use
the most of the borders.  When she finished with the sewing and fitting, the
dress would be the talk of the town.  And with Chalcie's tanned complexion
and red hair brushed and burnished and curled, she would be stunningly
beautiful.  Despite her misgivings, Juanita was beginning to get excited
about the whole idea.

"Let's use this one for the bottom.  Look at this border, all dark brown
embroidered and cut lace!  No one will be able to say it isn't the prettiest
dress they've ever seen," Chalcie crowed.  She could see it now.

Jordan de Chat ain would never have a chance!  He'd see her in the dress, all
clean and sweet smelling, and he'd be more than happy to give her anything
she wanted.

The next two days were spent in a marathon sewing bee.  Chalcie hadn't worked
so hard since she turned out all those uniforms to save her father's hide
from the Mexican army.  Her hands ached and burned, and she sometimes had to
stop short and cry with the pain of holding the needle.

But she kept on in spite of it.  She had only three days to make her idea
work.  She had to convince Jordan that courting her was a good idea, get the
assignment of the land and have the papers signed in the next three days.

When it was finished, she'd be safe, no matter what her father did when he
came down from the mountains.

 "I wish you'd think about what you're doing," Juanita fretted.

"I don't want you to get hurt.  He's been known.  to break a few hearts.
Besides, you're not exactly being fair with him."

"I'm not doing this because I think I'm going to fall in love with him.

I'm just going to .  use .  him.  " Chalcie thought carefully about the words.

"Watch out," Juanita tried again to caution her.

"I don't think he'd ever let anyone use him in his life.  I'd hate to see you
get hurt," she said again, though she hated to belabor the point.

Chalcie didn't want to argue.  Nothing was going to deter her from her plan.
Besides, Juanita didn't know anything about Jordan's offer to help her.

Instead, they talked about Juanita and what her life had been like back in
Jalisco, when she and Miguel were courting.

"It was so different, so beautiful.  The romance could be felt in the very
air.  At home, we never met each other except in a group and with adults
always present.  Our courting took place at dances, with stolen kisses."

Juanita's hands stopped stitching for a moment as the repressed memories
flooded back.  It hurt, but she wanted so much to talk about Miguel that she
would brave the pain.

"The men dressed in white and the women wore their fanciest embroidered
blouses and skirts and rebozos."  She stopped for a moment, trying to think
of the American word, and then remembered.

"Rebozos are shawls, some of them very intricate and beautiful.  If you are
rich, they are woven with gold in the cloth.  I had nothing so fancy, only a
white one that I had embroidered with red, orange and blue flowers and lovely
leaves...."  She had left it behind when she came to California with Miguel.
There had been no place in the small satchels they had carried when they set
out for the gold fields.  She hoped that one of her sisters was using the
rebozo to entice her own man into proposing marriage.

 "The dances?"  Chalcie prodded her.  She was fascinated by the life that
Juanita had lived before coming to Sonora.

' "The most popular dance was the hat dance, because at the end, the men
would take off their hats and put them to the side of their face" hiding them
from onlookers.  The women would dance in close, and there would be time for
one stolen kiss.  " Her eyes misted with tears.  How sweet those kisses had
been.  She would have given anything for another touch of Miguel's lips to
hers.

"It sounds wonderful," Chalcie sighed.

"So romantic, and nothing at all like what I'm trying to do with Jordan."

"No, nothing at all the same," Juanita said, and picked up the needle again.
Chalcie had to want love and romance first, and there had never been any
indication to Juanita that Chalcie craved romance nearly as much as she
wanted riches and land.  She stitched down the seam and started another one.
There was so much sewing to finish and very little time to accomplish every
thing that had to be done.

Juanita would have liked to talk to Chalcie about Eduardo, but she was too
shy to reveal her thoughts on the man.  Still, she couldn't get him out of
her mind.  He was a kind, gentle man, even good-loo king, but he frightened
her.  She had no wish to fall in love again, yet it seemed to be happening in
spite of herself.  He was careful with his gold, didn't waste it on drink--or
on the women in town.  She liked him, but she didn't love him.

She was certain of that.

Chalcie and Juanita took turns sewing and tending the bar until late into the
night.  Finally Chalcie made the last stitch on the skirt.  She broke the
thread and stored the needle carefully away in her trunk.  She swept her hand
over the cool cream of the linen, marveling at the beautiful dress that the
tablecloths had made.  When the drummer came back she would have to give him
double his price for having left her the means to entice Jordan de Chat ain
into her little trap.

The next day Chalcie and Juanita trudged up the hill to the small lake that
had been formed in one of the ground  depressions and been widened by
several of the men for use in their mining.  Chalcie paid five dollars in
gold for the privilege of takin ga bath in the pool.  Juanita stood guard with
a rifle, and Chalcie bathed while still wear in gall her clothes.  By the time
she had finished, she had lathered and soaped and splashed enough that she
was chilled through and felt marvelously clean.  She wrapped a blanket around
her to shield her body from the stares of the men.

Once in her room she stripped and put on the lacy bodice and underskirt.

' "Let me fix your hair now, before you dress any further.  Otherwise, it's
going to dry into a mass of curls that we'll never get untangled."  Juanita
made Chalcie sit on the edge of the bed while she plied the silver brush and
comb.  She used several of her own pins for Chalcedony's hair and bent and
twisted the rebellious red mass into a glowing crown of curls.  It would be
fine if Chalcie remembered to move like a lady and not a rambunctious mule,
she thought.

"Now, the dress..."

Chalcie obediently stood and picked up the white linen confection that
awaited her.  It wasn't at all the pink lace and frills that she had so loved
in the dream, but it was still beautiful.

She pulled the skirt over her hips, preferring to fight with the underskirt
rather than have her hair messed by the material catching and tearing out the
curls.  She fastened the skirt at the waist with silken ties that had also
been contained in the peddler's pack.  The skirt fitted beautifully,
extending just to the top of her old work boots, the flounce with the dark
brown embroidery loo kin gas if it had never been anything else except the
elegant skirt.

Next the blouse.  Chalcie put it on and then looked up at Juanita in alarm.

"Don't you think this is just a little bit too low?"  she asked, tugging at
the neckline as if she could somehow adjust it up to her neck instead of the
spot where Jordan  might be able to see something of the tops of her
breasts.  She hadn't meant to be quite so exposed.

"Stop pulling at it!"  Juanita slapped her hands away.  "You're going to rip
the stitches loose, and it looks just fine the way it is.  Now, turn around
and let me fasten the back and the cuffs."

They were both proud of the buttons they had found.  One of the miners had
discarded a dress shirt that he had no use for, and Chalcie and Juanita had
pounced on the piece of cloth, stripping the buttons from it before the miner
could object.  Chalcie was especially glad to have the ivory buttons, since
she had been prepared to carve her own small fastenings from a piece of
manzanita bush.  The dark red would have looked fine, but the real buttons
were better.

Juanita stood back and then frowned.

"Is something wrong?  Did we cut it wrong?"  Chalcie saw the expression on
Juanita's face and panicked.  She didn't need anything to go wrong at the
last minute.

"It's the boots.  I'm sorry, Chalcie, but we've got to find something else
for you to wear.  You just can't go out in an elegant gown with your hair up
in curls and wearing dirty, heavy old mining boots.  It just won't do."

Chalcie looked down at her feet and almost cried.  She had forgotten that she
was wearing the boots.  They went on her feet first thing in the morning and
came off last thing at night, and she never even gave them a thought.  The
boots protected her feet from gashes and bruises and that was all she
expected them to do.  They had never had pretensions of being the sleek black
leather fancy shoes of her dream.  They were also the only footwear she owned.

Silently Chalcie turned around and let Juanita unfasten the dress.  It fitted
and she looked good, but they had finally run into the one thing she couldn't
change.  She could do nothing about her shoes, and the idea of going to Jordan
barefoot or with heavy boots on didn't even deserve to be thought about.

Chalcie put on her now dry pink cotton dress and let  Juanita remove the
pins from her hair.  It fell to her shoulders, a magnificent fall of golden
red.

"Well, we tried," Chalcie said helplessly.

She spent the afternoon in the store, thinking about shoes.  By the end of
the day she was near tears from frustration.

"Please?"  a small voice called her from the back of the store.  Chalcie
whipped around, startled at the sound.

"Please, could you help?"  A very old Chinese gentleman stood at the back
door, resting heavily on the black carved cane that he held.  He dared not
come to the front of the store--Chinese were not even allowed in this part of
town, but he needed one ingredient for his potions and he had heard from
several people that only Chalcie was likely to carry it.

Chalcie motioned for him to come into the store.  The old man hesitated and
then sidled in, obviously uncomfortable in the white man's store.

"Please, do you have red pepper spices?  Hot?  Perhaps your Juanita would
have them?"  He looked at her hopefully.  His hand shook on the cane, and it
was obvious from the paleness of his face that he was frightened at his own
boldness in coming to see Chalcie.

"Red pepper?  Yes, I have some.  But it's dried and on a string--is that what
you want?"  Chalcie asked uncertainly.  She reached to one side of the
counter, where the peppers had been languishing since she bought them two
months ago.  No one except Juanita had been interested in the spice once they
had tasted the fiery fruits.  One bite was enough to ensure tears, swear
inga nd a general rebellion among miners, so the cooks had stayed away from
the little red bundles and substituted milder spices for the meals that were
cooked in boardinghouses and over heated coals outside.

That left Chalcie with the red peppers, and Juanita couldn't eat the whole
five-foot length of them.

"Oh, that is perfect," the man said softly.  He caressed the peppers, sniffed
them and even took a small bite to see  that they were what he was seeking.
He rolled the bite around in his mouth, obviously savoring the oils that had
threatened to burn the miners' throats.  Not even a tear appeared in his eyes.
It was obvious that he was used to such things and Chalcie regarded him in
admiration and a little awe.  She had never been able to stand more than the
smell of the chilies.

Then it struck her--this was Johnny LongI That was why he needed the chilies.
He could use them in his special potions that were to cure or calm, or
induce love.  He wasn't about to waste them on cooking!

"Mr.  Long?"

The man looked at her in surprise.  Few of the Americans knew his name.

"Yes?"

"Mr.  Long, look."  Chalcie held out her hands, palm up, so he could see the
burns that were healing faster than she had thought possible.

"Ah, you are the one with the burn."  Mr. Long bowed gently to her.  He had a
faint smile?  as if he were glad to see that the medication had worked as he
had expected it would.

"Yes, I'm the one with the burn, and thank you for the cream.  If I hadn't had
it, I would have sat in a corner and cried with the pain."

Mr.  Long looked at her thoughtfully and then shook his head.

"No, you would not cry.  You would fight through the pain, and it would make
you weak and sick.  Don't always be fighting, child.  One of these days
you'll give up the fight and you'll come to me for herbs to bring on love and
I will help you," Mr. Long said gently.

Chalcie's eyes widened.  She had never heard anything so silly in her life.

She didn't always fight.  and what would he know about it, anyway?  And a
love potion?  No, that was for the women who worked in the second-story
fandango parlors, not for Chalcedony Kent.

 "Here, take these," Chalcie said, shoving the peppers into Mr. Tong's
hands.  She looked down, trying to avoid his curious stare.  She realized as
she stared at his feet that Mr. Long was wearing the answer to all her
problems.  His feet were encased in slippers of black, with just a bit of
gold embroidery on the toes.  They were delicate compared to the heavy boots
worn by the miners and Chalcie.  She had never seen anything like them.  She
would pay almost anything for those shoes; they would be perfect with her
dress.

"How much, please?"  Mr. Long held up the string of peppers.

"One pair of shoes," Chalcie answered quickly.

Mr.  Long began to lay the peppers back on the table regretfully.  He had not
expected this woman to make fun of him after his burn cream had worked so well
for her.  But by now he was beginning to know that the white people would go
to almost any lengths to make a Chinese man feel uncomfortable.

He should have anticipated that Chalcie would be the, same way.

"So sorry to have bothered you."  He turned and started out the back door.

"But I thought you wanted them?"  Chalcie was bewildered.

"I do.  But not at the price of havinga joke made at me."

"No, please, you don't understand," Chalcie said.

"I wasn't making fun of you.  I really want a pair of shoes like the ones you
are wearing, unless you feel that the price is too high...."  She forced the
last words out.

She had no idea what such a pair of shoes cost, but if they were terribly
expensive, she'd have to do without them.

' "You truly want these as payment?"  Mr. Long stared at her, his wrinkled
old face a study in perplexity.  He was still trying to fathom the
inscrutable white woman's mind.  What would a woman like Chalcie do with a
pair of men's  shoes?

"These are not too expensive.  Probably peppers are worth more."

"I don't care.  I want a pair just like those, if possible.  I'll even take
the ones that you're wearing."  Chalcie was getting desperate.

"Please, take a piece of paper and draw around your foot.  I will endeavor to
have a pair of shoes that will be comfortable for you before the evening is
over.  New shoes, not used ones," Mr. Long said.

"I will send boy with shoes, and you may give him the peppers."

"Take the peppers.  I trust you.  But please, send the shoes as fast as you
can.  I need them!"

Chalcie found a piece of paper, removed one of her heavy boots and drew
around her right foot, bending awkwardly to reach behind her heel.  She handed
the man the outline and the chilies and sent up a fervent prayer that he
would actually keep his promise.

As soon as he left, she closed the door of the shop and ran to the bar.

She pulled Juanita aside and told her of the shoes that were to be delivered.

"Once the shoes are here, I can go find Mr. de Chat ain and make him the
offer.  Isn't it wonderful?  It has to be an omen.  Everything is working out
even when I had no right to expect it," Chalcie crowed.

She'd have the land before the next day was over, she was certain.

Chapter Five Q^r^s^Q All right, I have it set up with French Jeannie and
Cross Leg Sadie,"

Juanita said as she hurried into the back of the bar to take over again from
Chalcie.

"Sadie's going to see that de Chat ain is outside the fandango parlor when
the moon rises over the top of the mountains."

Juanita watched Chalcie's hands tremble as she poured the whiskey into the
glasses.  She wasn't the least bit sympathetic with Chalcie's last-minute
nerves.  She shouldn't have been trying to cheat Jordan by promising
something that she had no intention of delivering.

"Sadie won't promise that he'll stay out there long, but she's told him that
there is someone who wants to meet him."

Juanita took the filled glasses from Chalcie and set them before the miners.
She smiled briefly at Eduardo but didn't offer him another drink.

Juanita knew he would stay with the one glass of whiskey, sipping it and
staring at her for the rest of the night.

' "That gives us about an hour to get you ready.  And look at your hair,
you've let it get tangled again," Juanita said, gazing at what used to be a
perfect fall of red curls.

"Couldn't help it.  I had cleaning up at the store to do," Chalcie said.

"I

figured that as long as I had to wait around for the shoes, I'd better make
use of the time.  "

 "Couldn't you have taken care of the books?  At least then your hair
wouldn't look like a mouse's nest.  You actually ought to take another bath,
and now there isn't time!"  Juanita frowned at Chalcie.

"Don't fret.  I'll wash off and every thing, even my hair, will be fine.  The
shoes are beautiful.  I don't know how Johnny Long knew what I needed them
for, but he sent dark brown shoes, almost exactly the shade of the embroidery
on the dress.  They have just a little gold on them, but they are perfect for
tonight."

"Luck, that's what it is.  I've never seen such a run of luck, not even at
the gambling tables.  Maybe you are right.  Maybe you were meant to go meet
Jordan de Chat ain tonight," Juanita said.

"Now go on home and I'll meet you there in a couple of minutes."

Chalcie grabbed one of the tin can lights on her way out and walked the
length of the building.  She lifted the calico curtain and stepped inside.

The skirt and blouse were just where she had left them, with the small brown
cloth shoes resting on the trunk beside the skirt.  She stripped and then
pulled on the skirt and tied the waist.  Her fingers were awkward, but the
burn didn't pull quite as badly after she applied more unguent.  She sat on
the side of the bed to slip on the shoes, which were soft, with a thin sole
of some pliant padded material.  They were comfortable and light, and her
toes felt cool in them.  She stepped around the room and her feet almost
begged her to dance.  She took a few steps and almost collided with Juanita
as she lifted the curtain.

"My, don't you look fine," she said, laughing.  Chalcie's hair was still a
mess and her face was pink with excitement.  There was a gleam in her eyes
that certainly hadn't been put there by romance, Juanita knew.  Even in the
lovely skirt, Chalcie still looked like the untamed hellion she really was.

"Put on the top and I'll fasten it for you, and we'll work on your hair,"

Juanita said briskly.

 They were done well within the hour allotted, and this time when Chalcie
stood in front of Juanita, the effect was almost breathtaking.  The curls
were softer and there were wisps of red hair that strayed around her face and
her neck despite Juanita's best efforts.  The blouse was still crisp, but
this time Chalcie was comfortable with the neckline and the way the arms
opened almost to the shoulder in a teasing dance of cloth and flesh.

The brown Chinese slippers were perfect, just as Chalcie had said.

If Jordan didn't succumb to this vision, he would have to be the most
hard-hearted, unromantic soul in the entire West.

Juanita ducked outside and looked at the mountains.  There, just above the
ridge, the moon was appearing.  It was time for Chalcie to go meet Jordan.

For a moment Juanita almost forgot that it was greed, not romance, that was
causing this beautiful young woman to go out in the middle of the night to
meet a man.

"What a shame," she murmured, then lifted the curtain even further so Chalcie
could step out onto the six boards that served as the sidewalk and front
porch of her quarters.

"Good luck," Juanita said.

"I could wish you the same.  I'm only going to Mr. de Chat ain for money.  At
least you could meet with Eduardo for love... it's not a bad thing, you
know," Chalcie said.

"Love isn't a part of my life now.  He's very nice, but" -- "I know, he's not
your Miguel.  But oh, Juanita, no one is ever going to be your Miguel.  Give
the man a chance."

"Maybe later," Juanita replied reluctantly.  And here she'd thought that
Chalcie hadn't even seen Eduardo.  "Now hurry up, it's getting late."  She
motioned for Chalcie to stop procrastinatinga nd get on with her plan.

Juanita hurried back toward the bar at the C.  K.  Saloon.  She had no words
of wisdom that Chalcie hadn't already heard and ignored.

Chalcie knew exactly where she would be meeting Jordan, but as she
approached the back of his fandango parlor, she didn't see anyone waiting for
her.  As she walked toward the darkness at the back of the building, her
pulse began to race with excitement and just a little worry.  But she was
only doing what Jordan had suggested when he apologized for accusing her of
setting the fire.

Jordan had told her to tell him if there was anything he could do for her.

Well, here was his chance to live up to his word.  She needed that land and
he could help her get it.  She slowed and then almost stopped.  She knew he
had meant what he said, but had he meant to give away land?  She didn't think
so.  Besides, she wasn't being honorable herself.  She would only be offering
him something she had no intention of delivering--herself.  The little lie
would help both of them.  Jordan would be free of his obligation to her after
his tirade about the fire, and Chalcie would have her land in her own name.

Chalcie ignored the fact that the deceit made her conscience prickle.

Jordan stood in the shadows and watched as Chalcie picked her way carefully
between the rocks and bits of debris that cluttered the area behind the
saloons and fandango parlors.  He had been struck first by the thought of how
beautiful she looked, far more beautiful than he would ever have guessed the
half-wild, rapacious Chalcie that he knew could ever have been.  Even the
glimpse he'd had of the woman beneath the man's clothing when she had come to
see the cat hadn't hinted at this beauty.  He was also intrigued by the fact
that she was the person who wanted to meet him.

In the hours since French Jeannie had told him there was someone who wanted
to see him behind the fandango parlor to talk to him, he had wondered who it
was.  He had even taken his knife and slipped it into his waistband, ready to
be thrown at an instant's notice.  He had thought about who could want to
talk to him and who wanted revenge.  Never, in his wildest imaginings, had he
come up with  Chalcie.  She had no reason to seek him out.  In fact, since
the confrontation several days ago, he hadn't expected her to be interested
in seeing him ever again.

He still felt bad about the way he'd attacked her for something she didn't
do, but he'd tried to make amends for that.  Surely she couldn't still be
angry with him for that trouble?  He touched the knife.  He hoped she wasn't
still angry with him.

Chalcie had walked steadily toward him, and he had inched back into the
shadows to study her before he acknowledged her presence.  She looked more
beautiful than he had ever seen her, and he could only shake his head in
wonderment.  Those eyes haunted him as he remembered the pain and despair he
had seen in them the night he had found her in his house.  There was
something about her mouth that made him want to kiss her to see if she tasted
as sweet as she looked.  He was immediately aware of a slight tighten in gas
he remembered just how fine she had felt when he caught her after she ran
head-on into his chest; she had been warm and soft.  There had been a magic
there that he didn't even want to think about.  Becoming interested in
Chalcedony Kent could only lead to trouble.

What the hell am I thinking?  he chastised himself.  He didn't even like her.
The only reason he'd offered his help if she ever needed it was because he
knew he'd acted rashly when he'd foolishly accused her of any wrongdoing.

The same question came back as he looked at her.  What could the woman want?

Chalcie hesitated and looked around.  She still didn't see Jordan.  She bit
her lip, wondering if she should peek into the parlor, or just turn around
and go back home.  The moon was well beyond the mountain now, and, if Jordan
didn't appear within a very few minutes, she was going to head back to her
own place.  A lone woman, however well known, wasn't really safe on the
streets of Sonora at this time of night.  She knew, too, that in her new
dress and fancy hairdo, she didn't look like the Chalcie Kent every one
knew, and that in itself could place her in danger if a drunken miner
happened to spy her and take a liking to her feminine form.

Finally, his curiosity got the better of him, and Jordan stepped forward.

"Hello, Chalcie.  Are you loo king for me?"

Jordan's voice and sudden appearance not more than three feet in front of her
startled Chalcie so much she jumped and almost fell as her ankle connected
with part of a broken barrel.

Jordan moved swiftly, catching her before she could fall and ruin her dress.
His arms closed around her, and, for a breathless second they were as close
as they had been in her dream.  Jordan held her just one moment longer than
necessary.  She was just as soft and sweet as he remembered.

"Catching you seems to be something of a habit, doesn't it?  At least this
time there won't be any blood."  Jordan began to respond to the soft body in
his arms and cursed underneath his breath.  He didn't need this complication
in his life!

Chalcie looked up at him, wide-eyed.  She could feel his breath against her
cheek, and she was acutely aware of his lips just inches from her own.  The
images of the dream came back to her, her eyes widening even further.  She
sighed involuntarily and then stepped back, freeing herself from his embrace.
That damned dream was making her think like a woman instead of a person with
negotiations on her mind.  Unbuttoning his pants, indeed!  She was there on
business, not romance.  And she didn't even like the man, she reminded
herself.

"Yes, I was loo king for you," Chalcie said, aware that her voice was softer
than normal.  Then she couldn't think of another thing to say.  Was she
supposed to remind him of his promise?  Why hadn't she worked this out?

she berated herself.  Why hadn't she practiced the speech she  would give,
so she wouldn't be tongue-tied when she came face-to-face with him?

This wasn't going to work!

"Well?  Here I am.  I was told you wanted to talk to me."  Jordan was loo king
at her.  His face was solemn but there was a glint in his dark eyes that
might have signaled the start of laughter.

Chalcie couldn't stand being laughed at, particularly by a man like Jordan de
Chat ain.

"I wanted to see you and..."  Chalcie couldn't force herself to go on.  Her
hands pleated the side of her dress, permanently creasing the folds of cream
linen.  Her mind refused to work, and her heart was beating so hard that she
couldn't have heard anything Jordan had to say, anyway.

Jordan waited.  He looked again at her face and then let his eyes stray just
a bit downward, to the gentle swell of her breasts.  If he hadn't known
better, he would have thought she might be trying to catch his eye.

Chalcie Kent, however, had never exhibited the least interest in any of the
men in the camp as far as he knew.  Until a few nights ago, Chalcie had never
been linked romantically with anyone.  The miners' rumors about a romance
with him had been dreamed up out of nothing more substantial than fairy dust
and wishes.  Chalcie wasn't interested in anything other than building the
Kent empire.

So if the beautiful white dress and the fetchingly arranged hair and the soft
voice were all for his benefit, he knew that it had to be about business, not
romance.

Suddenly he understood, and cursed himself for be inga fool before.  The only
business they might have in common was the land that was now up for grabs
because Brad McClatchy wanted to sell and go back home.  She'd even mentioned
it when they met outside the bakery.

Jordan felt a slight twinge of regret when he finally figured out what
Chalcie was doing.  It might have been fun, he thought, if she had been
interested in seeing him socially Wouldn't their courting have given the town
something to talk about!

Jordan nodded.

"I think I know what this is all about.  We both have an interest in the land
that Brad offered to you."

Chalcie sighed in relief.  At least he was helping her by giving her the
opening she needed.

She nodded.

"I need to ask a favor of you."

Jordan raised one eyebrow.  He stared at her, momentarily distracted by the
sight of her; she was magnificent.  He wanted to reach out and touch her
hair, then taste her lips.  He wanted, in a word, to make love to her.

Jordan shook his head to clear it.  He'd been stand inga round the whiskey
barrel too long and the fumes were obviously addling his brain.  He couldn't
allow himself to be fascinated by the face and the hair and the low-cut gown,
which gave him just a glimpse of her firm white breasts.  He had to remember
that he was dealing with Chalcie Kent, not one of the tarts in the fandango
parlors.  She could be dangerous, they could not.  And she wanted to ask a
favor of him.

"Tell me what you want."  He couldn't imagine why she had even come to talk
to him about it.  She had first choice, and all she had to do was bring in a
paltry two thousand dollars of gold and the land was hers.  She didn't need
him to help with that.  And once she had acquired the land, she certainly
wouldn't be dealing with him as anything other than an adversary when she
built whatever it was she'd decided was needed in the gold town.

So far she had done just fine without his help.

Chalcie took a deep breath.

' "I need to have you purchase the land for me and then let me buy it back
from you in two weeks' time, at twenty percent interest," Chalcie said, her
voice still soft and almost romantic.

Jordan stared at her, hardly able to believe his ears.  She wanted him to buy
the land and then sell it back to her?

 The very land that they'd both been coveting for almost a year?  She had to
be crazy!

"Not a chance," Jordan said firmly.

"When I offered my help, it didn't include cutting my own throat.  I need
that piece of land just as much as you do."

Oh, no you don't, Chalcie thought bitterly.  Jordan de Chat ain didn't have a
father who was intent on ruining any chance of his financial stability.

He had no idea what was at stake for her.

"Please, I need that land!"

"So do I.  What gave you the idea that I'd buy it for you and then hand it
over for twenty percent profit?  If I just hold on to the land for a year, I
can probably sell it at one hundred percent profit and not have to deal with
you."  Jordan could have kicked himself the instant the words were out of his
mouth.  He hadn't meant to insult her.

Chalcie gasped.

"So that's the way you're going to help me when I need it."  Chalcie was
contemptuous.  She'd known all along that Jordan was a liar.  He didn't mean
it when he offered his assistance, especially if giving it would cost him
money.

"That wasn't what I meant," Jordan hastened to assure her.

"Certainly it was.  You don't want to help me, and that's all I really need
to know.  But think for just a moment about what I'm offering.  I'll give you
thirty percent if you'll help me buy Brad McClatchy's land.  It can even be
in your name until I pay off the debt."

That way she would be absolutely certain that her father wouldn't know
anything at all about the investment.  The land would be in Jordan's name,
not her own, until after Ames took what he wanted and left.

Jordan shook his head again, and there wasn't a trace of a smile on his
handsome face.

"Not even for fifty percent interest in two weeks.  If you cannot buy the
land, then I have plans for it."

Chalcie stood there in an agony of indecision.  Should  she go ahead with
the second part of her plan or just walk away?  She had been such a fool to
believe that he had meant it when he'd offered help to her.

But if this didn't work, every thing she ever valued in the world--the
comfort and the safety of her own home, the solid satisfaction of knowing
there would be a meal to eat at the end of the day and fresh bread in the
morning, even if she did have to bake it herself--would be taken away from
her.  She was certain Pete Ames would ruin every thing she'd worked so hard
for.  She had to go through with the second part of the plan.

"Was there something else?"  Jordan was all business.

Maybe it wasn't such a good plan, after all.  Chalcie was almost ready to
turn and walk away from him, until she thought about Pete Ames and her father
and the chance that she could be broke and hungry within a few months if she
didn't do something to protect herself.

"I could offer you something more valuable than mere money for the chance to
buy back the property," Chalcie said, her voice so soft that Jordan almost
didn't hear her.  Desperation prodded her into action.

"What?"

' "I could give you something that most men would fight for the chance to
have," Chalcie said.  There, she had brought it out in the open.  She wasn't
going to leave until she had given it her best try.

"And what would that be?"  Jordan was smiling now, and his dark eyes glinted
with amusement.  Chalcie wasn't the type to give anything valuable away.
What did she think she could offer him that he would not find worthless?

"Chalcie, I already have saloons, I have fandango parlors and property.  I
own part interest in producing mines.  What more is there besides the land
that we both want?"

Chalcie looked at him.  She had to say it now or she would lose her nerve.

"I could offer you a chance to court me," Chalcie said.

 Jordan stared at her, and then, to Chalcie's amazement, he bit his lips as
if he were actually trying not to laugh.

"Court you?"

"Yes, court me.  I'd even be willing to consider--after a proper amount of
time--uh ... marriage."  Chalcie's voice was cracking.

"Marriage?"  Jordan sounded as if he were strangling on the word.

Chalcie began to think he was not quite as bright as she had thought.  ' "You
know what I mean, courting, the same way that men do back in the States when
they find a proper, respectable lady that they're attracted to."  Chalcie was
beginning to lose patience with this man.  Was he hard of hearing or just a
little dense on the subject of women?

"Of course, if you've been around the girls in the parlors too long, you
might have forgotten what keeping company with a decent woman means,"

Chalcie challenged him.

Jordan laughed then and shook his head.

"No, I haven't forgotten what keeping company is all about.  But, Chalcie,
love and romance haven't had much impact on my life in Sonora, either."

He thought for just a moment about giving in and allowing Chalcie to have the
land, free and clear, for a chance to take her as his wife.

But he didn't need a wife, particularly not Chalcedony Kent, who would bring
him nothing but trouble.  He shuddered to think that if he courted and
married her, he'd then be related to James Kent; nothing in the world could
convince him that marriage, even to a woman like Chalcie, would be worth such
trouble.  No matter how alluring she was, they were simply incompatible.
Firmly he pushed aside the thought of how good she had felt when he held her.

Chalcie was beginning to get a little nervous.  This wasn't the way he was
supposed to react.  She decided to offer her company to him again, in case he
hadn't quite heard her the first time.

 "For the chance to buy back that land, with no one knowing the transaction
has taken place, I'm willing to offer you the opportunity to court me.  I've
never allowed anyone else that privilege, though quite a few have asked, as
you can imagine."  She tried not to sound self-satisfied and failed.

"I'm certain they have, and I admire their choice, but I'm not interested at
the moment," Jordan said, and there it was, a slight smile at the edges of
his mouth.  He was laughing at her!

Chalcie's eyes opened wide, staring at him.

"You don't want to keep company?"  Her voice sounded like a small child's in
the darkness.

"But I thought..."  She stopped.  There was nothing to be said.  She had
totally misread the way he had looked at her, the way he had touched her.
She'd been deluded by her own need to acquire that land and a few fairy tales
she had tried to force herself into believing could come true.  He wasn't
even interested in her.

She was going to die of shame!

Jordan almost regretted his words.  Chalcie was quite a woman.  She was
luscious, she tempted him, and she had the ability to touch him in a way no
other woman ever had.  Still, it wasn't enough to make him forget that she
was rapacious and tough and that the only reason she wanted to allow him to
court her was for the land.  Not love, not affection, not even physical
attraction.  Just money.  He'd never paid for love before and he wasn't about
to start now, no matter how enticing the prize package was.

Now he had to find a way to allow her to walk away without feeling she had
been shamed.

"Chalcie, you are beautiful and desirable and all the things that any man
would want.  But I don't need a betrothed or a wife right now.  I need that
land, and if I'm able to buy it, I will."

"Please..."  Chalcie was reduced to begging.

"Please, I need the land, too."

"Then buy it with gold, or sell one of your other properties But don't try
and buy it with yourself.  You're worth much more than a strip of land
between our bars."

Chalcie's eyes were stinging with unshed tears of furious anger.

He had promised!  She had saved his damned buildinga nd every thing else,
maybe even the town, and he had promised her that he would do what he could
if she ever asked for help.  Well, she'd begged him to help her now, and he
refused!

The humiliation struck deep and hard.  He was turning her down.  She couldn't
believe it; he was going to buy the land and ignore her offer.

"Right now, I'm worth exactly that strip of land.  And if you don't want me,
then I shall have to find some other way of stopping you," she threatened in
desperation.

"You cannot do it without gold.  If you have that gold, you still have until
Sunday afternoon to deliver it to Brad McClatchy.  Otherwise, Chalcie, the
land is mine."

Chalcie turned away blindly.  The anger and bitterness were so deep that they
burned in her gut as she walked away from him and away from the only chance
she would ever have to save herself.

Chapter Six Q^y^s^Q Juanita, free drinks for everyone!  " Chalcie said as
she strode into the C.K.  bar.

Juanita looked up and stared at Chalcie.  Her face was absolutely white
underneath her tan, and her eyes glittered.  If Juanita hadn't known better,
she would have said that Chalcie looked like a woman with a high fever.

"What did you say?"  she asked in disbelief.  Chalcie had never given away
anything in her life, and here she was, giving away free drinks.

"I said on the house for everyone," Chalcie announced again, and the words
were almost drowned out by the roar of approval from the miners.  The men
were laughing, clapp inga nd stamping in delight.  An undertone swept through
the room as the men noticed Chalcedony.  Most of them had never seen her
dressed in anything other than her pink calico dress.  They knew she was an
attractive woman, but most of them hadn't realized just how beautiful she
really was.  In the embroidered dress with the low neckline, there was no
mistaking the fact that Chalcie was easily the most magnificent woman in
Sonora.  More than one man's eyes strayed to the revealing bodice and the
glorious red crown of hair, and at least twenty men resolved to ask her to
marry them, just as soon as they had the chance.

 Eduardo leaned close to Juanita and whispered something, and Juanita nodded.

"You're right, there might be trouble.  Free drinks and a beautiful woman can
spell a real bad night," Juanita said as she gratefully accepted Eduardo's
help.

' "I will protect Chalcie from harm, if necessary, but I am anxious to make
certain that you are safe, Juanita," Eduardo said quietly.

Juanita smiled briefly, happy to accept the assistance under any terms.  She
didn't need anyone to guard her, she had done just fine since Miguel died,
but the men still might get rough and she didn't want to face them alone.

"Perhaps after this evening is over, we will be able to spend a few minutes
together?"  Eduardo asked.

Juanita nodded shyly.  Perhaps they could be alone together, after all.

The bartender saw the expressions on the men's faces and realized that if
Chalcie presented herself like this more often, she could easily out draw the
woman with the veils and that ridiculous music box.  Already more men were
crowding into the saloon as word of the free drinks and Chalcie's
transformation swept through the street.

"Belly up to the bar, men, here we go!"  Juanita sang out.  She set up rows
of shot glasses and hurried along the bar pouring, emptying bottles and
pouring again.  There was no way to make certain that no one was cheated out
of the free drink; she just kept pouring until the bar's bottles and kegs
were exhausted.  Within an hour there were only a few miners left in Jordan's
bar, and a near riot had developed outside the C.  K.  Saloon.

A smaller, though more unpleasant, scene threatened to get out of hand when
the supplies started to dwindle.

' "What the hell are those two Mexicans doing back there, anyway?  If
Juanita's saving the best stuff for her darkie friends, let's go out back and
get into the storage ourselves."  Blackie Hardesty's voice rose above the
general roar of the crowd.  There was an abortive move toward the  back of
the bar.  Eduardo stepped forward, and suddenly there was a knife at Blackie
Hardesty's throat, just barely pricking the surface.

"Mr.  Hardesty, you will not say such a thing again to Juanita.  You will not
insult her."  His voice was very low and very quiet.

"She is serving what the owner wishes, and you will thank Juanita and Miss
Kent for their generosity.  And if you say another word, I will slit your
throat from ear to ear...."

Another man attempted to grab Eduardo, but one of the other miners caught his
arm just in time to prevent the knife from sticking Blackie Hardesty.

Blackie glared murderously at Eduardo and then signaled his men to back off.
They'd get the damned Mexicans later.  Damned dark skins were always stealing
the best of every thing, from the best mines to the best women.

Juanita saw what was happening, and her hand was already on the gun that was
always hidden underneath the rough counter.  Slowly she released the gun's
wooden stock as the men went back to drinking and Eduardo rejoined her behind
the counter.

Juanita waited for Chalcie to call a halt to the largess, but she waited in
vain.  Chalcie downed first one glass of whiskey and then another, and
Juanita could see from the flush that finally dispelled the pallor that
Chalcie was going to feel very bad in the morning.

"That's it, men, we're all out.  Come back tomorrow when we've had time to
set up more bottles," Juanita finally said.  The miners grumbled, fought and
cursed as they tried to get out of the crowd.  Eduardo moved in, helping the
women close down the bar.

It was another hour before the C.  K.  was completely silent.

"Juanita, give me another one," Chalcie said, burping softly.

"I will not.  What is wrong with you, drinking like that, and you, a girl who
has never tasted the hard stuff in her  life?"  Juanita grabbed Chalcie's
shoulders and shook her.  Chalcie's hair tumbled down around her face and
neck, and she wobbled under Juanita's assault.

"Eduardo, I will speak to you later.  Chalcie and I have some business, I
believe," Juanita said.

Eduardo started to protest, then shrugged.  As long as Juanita would come to
him later he could be happy.  It was the first time after all these months
that she had even indicated that she noticed him.  All in good time, he
thought happily.  All in good time.

"Well?"

"Well what?"  Chalcie demanded angrily.

"What did you expect from me?  That I'd come back in and say that we made the
business deal of the century?

That Jordan would help me?  That he would live up to what he offered me when
I saved his damn place from burning down?  Well he didn't, and there's no way
I can win!  "

Chalcie grabbed a tin can candle from the bar and marched toward the door,
only wavering slightly as she aimed for the street.

Juanita watched in satisfaction, thinking it would do Chalcie some good to
get into her room, strip off the fancy clothes and sleep off her
disappointment.

Chalcie had other ideas, and Juanita watched in horror as she veered toward
Jordan's Dry Gulch Saloon.

"Chalcie, no, come back here!"  Juanita yelled, and ran after her boss,
hiking up her skirts and leaping over the boxes that had been moved to the
side of the build in gas she emptied all the liquor out of storage.  She
reached Chalcie just as she was about to burst through the door and
confront Jordan on his own ground.  Juanita grabbed Chalcie's arms and hauled
her back, dumping her unceremoniously against the side wall.

"What do you think you're doing?  He doesn't want to talk to you, and I can't
say that I blame him."  Juanita had tried very hard not to judge her friend,
but it was becoming more difficult by the minute.  Chalcie had thrown herself
at  Jordan not out of lust or love but out of greed, and he had reacted the
same way any normal man would.  He had left her flat.

"You did this all yourself, Chalcie.  You wouldn't listen to me.  You had to
have your way, didn't you?"  Juanita accused as she herded Chalcie into her
makeshift bedroom.

Chalcie stripped off the beautiful dress and drew on the hated pink calico.
From the bed, Juanita heard the sobs begin and knew there was nothing she
could do to help.  Once Chalcie had sobered up, they could plan their next
attack on whatever it was that was making Chalcie so unhappy.

Chalcie cried until there were no more tears left and the burning in her
stomach had changed to a deep, painful ache.  Even the whiskey couldn't blot
out the despair she felt.  Jordan had been just like her father when every
thing was said and done.  He lied and he cheated and he took her for granted.

She fell heavily asleep while still plotting revenge.

The morning was no better.  Chalcie had to deal with a terrible headache and
the worst taste she had ever encountered in her mouth.  It far outranked the
bitter flavor of tansy that she had been subjected to in Mexico.  If this was
what whiskey did, she wasn't going to touch the stuff again.

"Even drunk, I struck one blow for myself, though," she consoled herself
soddenly.  That little hinge of free drinks had probably cost her father a
week's profits.

She didn't care.  It wasn't her money.  She was through worrying.  And she
had disrupted Jordan's profits at the same time.  Not bad for half a night's
work!

"The hell with you all," she snuffled as she stared into the early morning
light.  She knew she should have risen with the sun.  There was work to be
done, but she couldn't think of a reason to abide by her usual schedule.

Who cared, anyway?  Not her father, that was certain.

"Why should I work?  There's nothing in it for me," Chalcie said
belligerently.

"I'd rather be off in the mountains, anyway, and that's where I'm going.  A
few days won't make any difference to anyone."

She stood up, then sank slowly back to the bed as waves of the liquor-induced
headache washed over her.  She opened the chest and found the pants and shirt
she had worn when she went to Jordan's house the night she met his cat.  She
was going to run away from home, that was what she was going to do.  She
laced up her heavy work boots.  She tried to ignore the fine brown shoes that
Mr. Long had provided for her one night of romance and adventure.  If that
was romance and adventure, she decided, the rest of the world could have it,
because she was going to live as a boring spinster for the rest of her life.

Chalcie grabbed her small container of salve for her burns , jammed her hat
on her head and went out to the storage shed.

"So there you are, Chalcie.  I don't know what's happened, but there isn't
any bread for the miners, and the store isn't opened.  Do you know..."

Juanita's voice slid to a halt as she looked at the ravaged features of her
boss.  Whiskey was bad for a woman; it made the flesh sag and the eyes red.
But this was something far worse than plain whiskey.  Chalcie looked as if
everyone on earth had betrayed her.

"There isn't going to be any bread.  Tell them all to go home," Chalcie said
shortly.  She didn't want to talk to Juanita.  She didn't want to talk to
anyone.  She unfastened the lock and reached into the storage room to extract
two tins of crackers, six tins of fine oysters and a large bag of jerky that
had been bought from the Chinese earlier in the year.  She could have managed
in the mountains without the supplies, but at the moment, the idea of
roughing it more than necessary wasn't very appealing.

"Chalcie, they depend on you for the bread," Juanita tried again.

"That's too bad.  Give them baking lessons," Chalcie  said.  She stuffed the
supplies into a bag, shouldered the load and started down the street.

"But where are you going?"

"Up to the mountains."

"When will you be back?"  Juanita couldn't believe this was happening.

Chalcie, the one who was always working, was leaving every thing?

"I'll be back when you see me.  And in the meantime, cut the price of every
thing--drinks, food, women, gambling--by half," Chalcie said without loo king
back.

Juanita was so stunned she couldn't say a word.

Chalcie stopped, turned around and stared at her friend.  "Did you hear me?"

"I did, but I can't believe that you mean it."

' "Yes, Juanita, I want you to cut the price of every thing by exactly half,"
Chalcie said again.

' "But it'll drive you out of business.  You've got to charge enough to cover
the cost of supplies at least."

"Why?"

"Because you'll lose money and go out of business if you don't," Juanita
maintained.  She was beginning to feel as if she were talking to a
changeling.  Sometime in the night someone had sneaked into Chalcie's room
and left a perfect replica of the woman that she knew, but the person doing
the changing had neglected to copy the most important part of Chalcie--her
brain and wit.

"We might go broke, mightn't we?  When my father gets back, tell him to go
ahead and send for the supplies.  Let him and his precious Pete Ames take
over.  He can figure out how he's going to keep the places running, because
I'm not going to do it," Chalcie said bitterly.

"And if I come back and find that we've been driven out of business and taken
Jordan de Chat ain with us, then so much the better.  With every thing we
have going for half price, he's going to have an interesting time trying to
keep his place open and stocked with customers, isn't he?"

 Chalcie turned back and headed off down the road, ignoring Juanita's pleas
for her to come back.

Chalcie stayed up in the mountains for two weeks.  She used every survival
technique she'd learned from Estelle, one of the Indians in Sonora who had
been willing to share her expertise with Chalcie once they became friends.

She ate well and slept more than she had in years, and she sorted out her
feelings about men, her life and her future.  By the end of the two weeks,
she had decided that men had no part in her life and that she was going to
devote herself to building her own fortunes, rather than those of her
father's.  She was going to strike out on her own.

Chalcie finally decided it was time to return to Sonora.  She walked to the
edge of town and looked down the street.  It was stifling, and after her time
in the wilds, she was acutely aware of the smell of man and garbage.

She had been gone only fourteen days, yet it felt like years.

She walked down the main street, nodding to the men as they passed by her.

She had walked almost all the way down the street to the C.  K.  Saloon, when
she heard a hated, dreaded, familiar voice from behind her.

"Chalcedony Kent, stop right there!"  Jordan boomed at her.  Several of the
men on the street halted and looked around curiously, hoping they'd get a
show that would break up the monotony of the camp life.  Anything that
happened between Chalcie and Jordan was bound to be like a free fireworks
show.

Chalcie turned slowly and stiffened her back.

"Did you call me?"  she asked coolly.

"You're damned right I did!  Where have you been?  I've been after Juanita
every day to tell me what was going on.  You cut the prices and run down your
stock until there's nothing left.  No one sees hide nor hair of you for days,
and then, last night, I looked into your room, and your bed hasn't been slept
in.  What the hell is going on?  I was worried...."  Jordan shoved his hands
in his pockets as if he'd  just become aware of what he'd said.  He had been
worried about her, his worst competition, when he should have been dancing in
the street in celebration of the imminent demise of the Kent bar and bakery.

' "You looked in my -room?  You actually picked up the curtain and looked
into my own private room?"  Chalcie demanded furiously.  How dare the man!

"I" -- Jordan stepped back involuntarily as she raged at him.

"Don't you give me any excuses.  What the hell ever gave you the idea you
have any right to know where I've been or what I've done?  I'm not your
property, I'm not even your friend.  Don't you ever think that you have any
rights whatsoever where I am concerned, do you understand me?"  Chalcie was
yelling and she didn't care who heard her.

"I'm sorry," Jordan said.  It seemed as if he were always apologizing to her,
and all he'd wanted to do was make certain she hadn't done something foolish
like go out and drown herself after he turned down her offer.

"What did you think I'd done, gone into a decline and killed myself?"

Chalcie challenged him.

The look on his face gave her the answer.

"You pompous, self-satisfied ass!  You aren't worth dying over.  You aren't
even worth crying over!  I went up to the woods and had myself a nice
comfortable rest, away from everyone in this scurvy town including you and my
father.  Now, get out of my way and let me get back to the bar,"

Chalcie ordered him.

She tried to repress the small leap her heart had given when she discovered
he had been worried about her.  He was nothing to her and she was nothing
except an irritant to him.

"A woman alone, in the woods?  You could have been killed and no one would
ever have found you!"  Jordan was astounded at the idea that Chalcie would go
off on her own.  He'd heard James Kent come roaring back into town after 
his fruitless search for the mother lode, demanding to see Chalcie and
irritated because she wasn't immediately available.  But Jordan hadn't
realized that Chalcie had actually left town on her own.

"If you will excuse me?"  She turned her back on him and began to walk away,
satisfied that she had come to the right decision.  She was going to leave
all this behind her and strike out on her own.

"Chalcie..."  Jordan called her, and she hesitated-but didn't turn around.

He was going to regret this.  He knew he was, but he couldn't help saying it,
just in case.

"If you need anything, please ask me."

Chalcie's back stiffened even more, if that was possible, and she slowly
turned toward Jordan de Chat ain.

"What did you say?"  she said, her tone so angry the sound of her voice
vibrated in the street like the high- pitched whine of a rattlesnake.

Jordan shifted uncomfortably but stood his ground.

"I asked you to ask me if you need help."

"That's what I thought you said," Chalcie snarled.

"I have humiliated myself once, Mr. de Chat ain.  I will never do so again.
And as for your offer of help, it isn't worth the breath of air you've used
to say it.

Don't give empty promises and don't lie to me.  Because one of these days,
Mr. de Chat ain, those promises that you've made and broken are going to come
back and haunt you.  "

Chapter Seven Q^rys^Q Almost seven weeks.  Chalcie couldn't believe that it
had been so long since she had returned from her pilgrimage to the hills.
The distant mountains were rumbling with the thunder of approaching storms,
and a cold wind swept down from the hills, bringing with it the scent of
lightninga nd rain.  All this time and her father still hadn't come to his
senses.

Pete Ames had done exactly what Chalcie had predicted.  He'd already started
to sell off every thing they had accumulated.  When she'd tried to talk to
her father about it, he'd dismissed her without listening.

"He says the gold is going to peter out, and we'd better be ready to move
on," had been her father'sexplanation, and there was nothing she could do to
change his mind.

Chalcie was forced to watch helplessly as the whole empire that she had built
was broken apart under Pete Ames's leadership.  She walked slowly away from
the building that had held the bakery, heading back to her room in the
gathering darkness.  The bakery had been sold and soon she knew that the
boardinghouse would go and then something else, all of it part of a secret
arrangement, with Pete Ames as the only beneficiary of the sales.

"Chalcie, could I see you for a moment?"  Jordan stepped out from the
deepening shadows as she walked back toward the bar.

 Chalcie stopped dead in the street, her hand moving automatically to the
knife she kept tucked into her waistband in a thin leather sheath.

"Whoa, nothing dangerous, I promise you," Jordan said as he saw the movement.
He held up his hand to show that he wasn't threatening her.

Not a danger?  Chalcie thought angrily.  Of course he was a danger.  He lied,
he cheated and still he tried to make it seem as if he had done the only fair
thing possible when he refused to sell her the land.  And she was supposed to
trust him when he popped out of nowhere in the dark?

"What do you want?"  she asked suspiciously.

Jordan didn't answer immediately.  Instead he fell into step beside her,
walking with her for all the world as if he were her friend.  She looked up
at his dark handsome face and guileless eyes and wasn't the least bit
impressed.  It didn't matter how nicely he dressed or how fancy he tied his
silk scarf or how sweet he talked to her, he wasn't her friend.  He was as
fake as the marked cards that he carried in the right front pocket of his
vest to prove he could spot cheaters when no one else could.  He proclaimed
himself free of deceit, and then he cheated her out of land.  In other words,
she thought, he lied.

"You've closed the bakery?"  Jordan asked conversationally.  He needed
something to break the ice, and the bakery was the most likely topic.

"I just sold all the flour we had to Will Seaton.  He's starting his own
bakery.  I don't know if he's buying the bakery building, too, but I suppose
someone is.  Pete Ames thinks it would be a good idea," Chalcie said
bitterly.  She tried not to let anyone know how she felt about the way Pete
Ames had come in and disrupted her life, but that wasn't easy to do when she
felt sick to her stomach every time she thought about the man.

Imagine, selling land instead of holding on to it!  It was insane.  Land was
stability and permanence.  Land was something to be retained at all costs.

 "I'm not surprised that you've been driven to closing down the bakery.

You've also stopped managing every thing else for your father, haven't you?  "

Jordan asked.  There was an edge to his voice that Chalcie hadn't heard
before.

"I know that things have changed in the past few months and your father is
doing some strange things.  As a matter of fact, it's your father I want to
talk to you about."

"I don't talk about my father with strangers."

Jordan gritted his teeth in exasperation.  He was go ingagainst all his
instincts.  He should have left her alone.  He should have ignored all the
things that he was hearing in the bar about her father.  He should have
simply refused to give in to an unreasoning desire to protect her.  It was a
foolish thing to do, because she was nothing to him.  Yet for the first time
in his life, he found himself respond in gas if he were actually in love with
this woman.  He wanted to make her life simple and pleasant.  And to
accomplish that, he had to talk to her about some unpleasant facts.

"Chalcie, your father is doing something that is completely irresponsible."

Jordan had finally realized what his part in this whole tragedy was.  And
since he had been the one to misjudge the situation, he had to at least try
to reach her and warn her about the newest danger from her father's actions.

"Chalcie, please..."

"Why should I listen to you?"

"Because I feel responsible for what has happened to you over the last few
weeks."  Jordan had a hard time saying that.  He hated feeling obligated to
people, especially when it came to women.  Yet he would have taken physical
responsibility for her now, if she offered herself to him as she had before.
But he had the awful feeling that she wouldn't ever give him a chance to
reverse that first stupid decision on his part.

"Don't bother.  It isn't your business."

"Damn it, yes it is," Jordan swore in front of her, he was so irritated.

 Chalcie stared at him coldly.

He looked at her again and saw the sweet innocence behind all the toughness,
and inwardly cursed himself and her father for making her life so hard.  If
only he'd listened when he had the chance, but no, he was too swollen with
pride, too happy to be able to finally best Chalcie in the buying of the lot.
He'd thought it was her fault that she didn't have enough cash on hand.
He'd never realized the complications of handling the business when James
Kent could step in and ruin every thing.  Just as Kent had set up the real
ruination of Chalcie's life now.

"You wouldn't have come to me and offered yourself in exchange for land if
you hadn't had a very good reason.  There hasn't been too much love lost
between us, and I should have understood that there was more behind your
request than simple ownership of that damned piece of McClatchy's property."

Chalcie still didn't answer.  Jordan shifted uncomfortably under her steady
gaze.  The blue eyes never wavered, the mobile, eminently kissable mouth
didn't smile.  Her face might have been carved from tanned marble as she
listened to him.

Finally she sighed.

"That no longer is your concern, since you have bought Brad McClatchy's land
and have already started construction of another building."  She stopped and
looked at him critically, wondering just how deceitful he really was.

' "However, it has occurred to me that it is unusual for a man like Will
Seaton to have the money to buy a bakery, yet he does not seem to suffer from
lack of funds."  She was watching Jordan, loo king for a sign that her guess
was right.

"It is possible, therefore, that you are continuing your depredations on the
Kent land and have set him up to buy the bakery for you."

Jordan was shaking his head ruefully.

"I wish I was as sneaky as you seem to think I am.  But no, Chalcie, I'm not
buying the bakery through Will Sea ton.  My only concern now is what your
father has cooked up for you."

Chalcie started to turn and walk away.  What was happening in her world was
no business of his.  For weeks she had been planning her escape from her
father and Pete Ames.  She was going to strike out on her own.  She was
saving the ten percent commission that she charged the men for storing their
gold in her safe at the store.  It wasn't much, but it would be enough to
help her get started somewhere as a bar girl or a seamstress or a cook.
There had been another gold strike up above Murphys, and it was far enough
from Sonora that she might go over to the new digs and start her life again.
A new name, new background, and Chalcedony Kent would disappear forever.

"I'm not going to let you walk away without telling you about what your
father is doing."

"So tell me," Chalcie said in exasperation.  He could have said whatever he
wanted and been done with it, instead of standing here in the middle of the
street stammering like a schoolboy.

"You have one minute before I walk away.  I don't like you, and I'm not
interested in standing out here talking to you instead of getting on with
some useful activity."  She denied the excitement that his nearness caused.
She wasn't going to have anything more to do with men, she reminded herself.

"Fair enough.  Your father has written a new will.  It's been drafted by Pete
Ames, and he's showing it all over town and bragging about what he's done to
whip you into shape as a real lady."  Jordan's voice was scornful as he said
the last words.

Chalcie could barely breathe.

What was he talking about?  Her father would never do anything that would put
her in jeopardy.

The thought crept in.

Pete Ames would do it and be happy to ruin her without ever giving her a
chance to defend herself.

"What do you mean?"  Chalcie whispered.

 "He's showing off a new will that has terms that are a disgrace."

"Why would it be a disgrace?"

Jordan didn't know how to tell her what her father had been saying.  It was
so private that he hadn't believed James Kent would talk about it in public,
yet he had.

' "Your father is convinced that the only way to turn you into a real
gentlewoman is to find a way to marry you off.  He's going to auction you off
to the highest bidder.  And if he dies before that happens, he's written a
will..."  Jordan didn't want to continue.  He saw the expression on Chalcie's
face and it tore him apart.  He wanted to make the hurt go away, but he knew
there wasn't a blessed thing he could do to shield her from her father's
actions.

"What are the terms?"

Jordan ran a finger under his collar.  This was harder than he had imagined
it would be.  He had thought that he would find her, tell her, then be on his
way, his duty done and his conscience assuaged.  He hadn't thought that she
would look so terribly small and so devastated.  He could see the pain in her
face, and it hurt him.  He didn't care that she was his enemy; no man had the
right to give her this much agony.

He reached out to touch her arm, and she jerked away from him angrily.

"I don't need your pity, just your information.  Tell me," she demanded.

"He has written the will so that you have only two choices when he dies.

If you are not married already, you have one week to marry the man you love.
If you are married by the end of that week, the Kent fortunes are given to
your husband.  " Jordan hesitated again.

"Go on," Chalcie said.  Her eyes were huge and underneath the tan she had
gone white with the shock of his words.

"What is the second choice?"

"You have one year to marry Pete Ames and he will then take control of your
father's estate.  If you do not  marry, you are to gain nothing from your
father's fortune.  You will be left a pauper and half will go to Pete Ames,
half to the miners' fund."

Chalcie closed her eyes.  She swayed for a moment and then sank to the
ground, oblivious to the dust and red dirt.  Her legs simply wouldn't hold
her another instant.  She heard a roaring in her head, and she leaned
forward, her forehead against her knees.

"No," she whispered raggedly.

"No, he can't do this to me."

Jordan knelt beside her.  He didn't care that his black trousers were fast
becoming black and red from the dust that was being ground into the cloth.

He heard the pitiful whisper, and it tore at him.  By some strange alchemy,
he had come to feel responsible for her.  He cared about her.

Jordan had stood there in the bar and heard the men plotting to woo Chalcie
and get their hands on the fortune, and he knew that he had contributed to
her trouble.  If she had only had something of her own, she could have fought
back.  But Chalcie had no land and no funds in her own name, and her father
knew the absolute power that he had over her life.  It hadn't bothered James
Kent one bit to hold his daughter up as a piece of meat to be bid on.  If a
man could win her heart, then he won the prize of money.  And if no one won
the prize, then Pete Ames took it all.

Jordan put his arms around Chalcie, and for once she didn't move away from
his embrace.  He reached under her chin to lift her face, and his hand was
wet with tears.

"I'm sorry," Jordan said, his voice low.

"I knew it would hurt you, but it would hurt more to have someone just blurt
it out in front of a whole crowd, wouldn't it?"

Chalcie nodded reluctantly.

Jordan looked down at her woebegone expression.  His heart went out to
Chalcie.  Slowly he leaned forward and cupped her face with his hands.  He
drew her close and kissed her.  Her lips were just as soft as he had imagined
they would be, and her exhalation of breath was sweet.

 There was magic in the kiss, and promises he had never felt before.

Chalcie leaned forward, feeling the warmth of another human's hands on her,
his lips on hers.  It was a solace, a healing, something she had never
experienced before.  And then she felt the fire that began to grow as
Jordan's lips lingered on her own.  The warmth spread down her, touching her
breasts and making her feel limp with cravings for more of his lovemaking.

Jordan put his arms around Chalcie and stood up, lifting her with him.  He
held her close and marveled at the lithe form that was hidden underneath the
old pink dress that she wore.  He kissed her cheek and tasted the saltiness
of her tears, and then began to nuzzle her neck as he let her drift slowly
downward until her feet reached the ground and his hands were on her breasts.

"No..."  Chalcie moaned.

"No, what are you doing?"

Jordan had kissed her.  Jordan had actually put his hands on her body, and
she had allowed it!

Jordan, her enemy, was trying to make love to her.  She froze in his arms,
and her mouth was no longer soft under his.

"Chalcie?"  he asked dazedly, trying to recover his bearings.  He'd been
shaken by her sweetness more than he could admit.

"No, Mr. de Chat ain, you will not win me and my father's lands with a kiss,"
Chalcie said furiously.

"What?"

"Stop playing the game.  I'm not for sale to you or to anyone else.  Don't
you think I see what you're doing?  Tell me the bad news and then be kind and
considerate, and, before you know it, I'll marry you and you'll own every
thing in Sonora and I'll still have nothing.  Well, it's not going to work."

Jordan let his arms drop, still dazed by the change in her.  He had kissed
her first out of sympathy, and then out of  need, but the thought of
seducing her for the Kent fortunes had never entered his mind.

' "You little witch, I never would try and get your money through marriage.
I don't care about the money ... I just wanted to warn you, and I felt sorry
for you," he lashed back at her.

"Don't bother.  I can take care of myself," Chalcie said.  But her body said
another thin gas he released her.  She had never felt more alone in her life.

Jordan turned on his heel and began to walk away from her.  He had gone
nearly a hundred feet when he almost collided with Juanita.

"Jordan, have you seen Chalcie?"  Juanita was out of breath and her usually
neat hair was in complete disarray.

"She's back there," Jordan said, indicating the direction with a short
movement of his head.  He wasn't going to waste any energy on her.

"What's wrong?"  he asked.

"Something terrible--I think some of the fandango girls are dying,"

Juanita said.

"We've got to get help and Doc Blake is so damn drunk he can't even see to
look at a patient!"

"What's happening with the women?"  Chalcie forced herself to respond to the
urgency in Juanita's voice.

"They're throwing up, and Ellen and Rosie can't even move.  Belly pains, cold
and clammy, and they say that they can't see anything even when they open
their eyes.  I'm not certain that they can hear me when I talk to them.  I
don't know what to do!"

Chalcie didn't hesitate.  She knew Johnny Long was the only person who could
help.

She was glad to have her heavy boots on as she traversed the trails that
served the miners and the laborers who traveled to and from Chinese Camp each
day.  She was even happier when the moon sailed out from behind the clouds
and lit her way with its pale light.  At least it kept her from blundering
into a sleepy rattlesnake lying on the warm  rocks or into the path of
someone who had had too much to drink.

Throwing up, stomach pains, can't see.  All the symptoms sounded like the
sickness that had stalked the crew and passengers on the ship bound for San
Francisco.  Chalcie and her father had managed to avoid the plague by
buying food on shore when they stopped and never eating anything that was
served to the other passengers.

She could hear the sounds of Chinese Camp ahead of her, the strange singsong
tones of a different language.  The scents were unfamiliar, slightly exotic,
and she stopped for a moment, afraid to go into the area where, as far as she
knew, no white woman had ever been before.

"I have to go," she said, then laughed aloud.  Her father had her well
trained.  It had never occurred to her to tell Juanita to go and get Pete
Ames and send him to Chinese Camp.  No, she'd automatically taken over in the
crisis.  What would her father and Pete do when she took off for Murphys and
they didn't have reliable little Chalcie to do the dirty work?

She stepped into the main area of the Camp, loo king for something, anything,
that would give her an idea where Johnny Long might be found.

There were huge vats of water steaming in front of one house and a series of
smaller containers filled with delicious food in front of another hovel.  The
men looked at her and chattered, calling to one another as she walked by them.

' "Johnny Long?"  she asked first one, and then the other, as she walked.

"Please, Johnny Long?"

None of them understood her.  They shook their heads and smiled and looked
down at the ground so they didn't have to meet her eyes.  No one knew where
he was to be found.

' "Does anyone know where Johnny Long is?"  she called, hoping that by
raising her voice she might get some response.

 "Missy, you wanted to see me?"  Suddenly Mr. Long was beside her, leaning
on his fancy cane.

"You are not wearing the fine shoes?"

Chalcie looked down at her feet and shook her head.

"You want another.  pair?"

' "No, I need your help--please, some of the women are very sick."  Chalcie
recounted the symptoms.

"They need your help.  I'm certain you have herbs and spices and such that
can stop all this."

Mr.  Long nodded sagely.

"Bad oysters.  Others have had the same thing.  I believe I can help.  Let me
gather a few things and we will go."

Mr.  Long left her on the street for a few moments and returned with a bag of
herbs and spices.  The delicate, gingery scent floated upward, melding with
the other smells of the camp.

"Hurry," Chalcie said as she took off almost at a run.  Mr. Long plodded
along behind her, his gait deceptively fast for a man encumbered with a cane
and obviously arthritic.

As they made their way through town, they ignored the miners who passed and
gawked at them.  Even in a rough, lawless town such as Sonora it was
considered improper for a white to be seen fraternizing with a Chinese.

Chalcie couldn't think of anything but getting back to the bar and helping
the women.  She didn't notice when first one and then another miner ran ahead
of them.

Chalcie hurried up the back stairs toward the second story of the bar, where
the women worked.  She reached the top stair and swung open the plank door,
when she heard a muffled curse and the sound of a fist hitting human flesh.

"This'll teach you ever to come here.  We don't like Chinese in our town."

Chalcie turned around and saw Mr. Long being held at bay by two men.  One man
grabbed Mr. Long, and the other began to beat the old man in the stomach.

 "Stop it!"  Chalcie screamed.  She flew down the stairs.  She had to stop
them.

"Stop it, do you hear!  I brought him to help the women!"  She balled her
hand into a fist and smashed the man holding Mr. Long.  He rocked with the
blow and jumped backward, cursing.

Chalcie recognized the voice through the darkness.  "Blackie Hardesty, what
the hell are you doing here?  You're supposed to be my friend," Chalcie
gasped as she saw the man in the moonlight.  She shook her hand to ease the
pain of the blow.

"You bitch, don't you ever hit me again or I'll leave you as buzzard bait.

No one, not even a woman, can do that!  Now get out of here and leave us
alone!  " Hardesty snarled.

He tried to reach past Chalcie, and she swung at him again, connecting with
his nose.

"Damn you, I'll kill you for that."  he screamed.  He swung at her.  She came
up low and inside and cracked his jaw with her fist.  She heard his teeth
clack together as she landed the blow.

"I said leave him alone!"  Chalcie growled, her teeth clenched.

"Chalcie, get the hell out of here.  I know what I'm doing."

Chalcie's head snapped up and she stared at the second man.  Pete Ames?  Why
would he try to stop Mr. Long from helping?

' "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Just seeing to my own interests," Ames said smoothly.

"Well, your interests had better be the same as mine.  And right now we need
Mr. Long.  Call off Blackie Hardesty and get out of here.  We need him for
the girls.  They're sick."  Chalcie kept Blackie Hardesty at bay, dancing
back and forth in front of him so he couldn't swing at her.  She was glad that
he was a lumbering man, slow in body as well as mind.

 Pete Ames was another matter.  She couldn't distract him the way she had
Hardesty.

"Shut up, Chalcie.  We don't need anything from any damned Chink," Pete said,
and lunged toward Mr. Long again.  Somehow Mr. Tong wasn't in the same place
that he had been a second before, and Pete stumbled and went to his knees.
The old man brought his cane down over Ames's neck.  The force of the blow
shattered the cane, but it didn't stop Pete Ames.

"Now we'll see who is smarter, old man," Pete growled, and shook his head to
clear it as he stood up.  Then he lunged again, and this time his larger size
and youth gave him the edge.  Mr. Long went down under the assault, his
arthritic knees making it impossible for him to move out of Ames's way fast
enough.

"Damn you, you idiot!"  Chalcie screamed at Ames.  Where was her father when
she needed him?  He should be there, watching how his wonderful partner
looked out for their interests.  Instead, Ames was keeping the only man who
could help the girls away from them.  She was distracted for just a moment
and Blackie Hardesty came toward her, slamming her to the wall.  She felt his
bulk against her, his body hot and stink in gas he forced her to give in to
his superior weight.  She was effectively taken out of the fight.

In one awful second, she knew then that Mr. Long was going to be murdered.

Suddenly Pete Ames was sprawled in the dust, his eyes closed and blood
trickling from his mouth.  Blackie Hardesty squawked as he was swung around
and punched twice, once in the belly and then an upper cut on the chin, the
second of the night.  He collapsed, out cold, on top of his boss.  One man
stood above them, wiping his hand on his pants.  Jordan de Chat ain stepped
over the bodies.

"Did he hurt you?"  Jordan gathered Chalcie in his arms, his face white in
the moonlight.

"I heard something and stepped out back and saw these men..."  He gestured to
ward the two, who were just beginning to move against the assault.

"Luckily, Ben was right behind me or I might not have been able to save you."

"Thank you," Chalcie said.

"Mr.  long?"  She looked around, afraid that she would see him beside the
other men, crumpled in an unconscious heap.

' "Everything is fine.  Thank you, Mr. de Chat ain, for the help."  Mr. Long
leaned down and gathered the-remnants of his stick and shook his head.  '
"This old friend has been with me a long time.  At least he died in an
honorable battle."

He picked up the bag of herbs he had been carrying from his shop.

"May I go up and see your women?"  He was composed, cool, as if nothing had
ever happened.

"Upstairs," Chalcie croaked.  She knew that Juanita didn't approve of
drinking, but she definitely deserved one after tonight.  She was past
shaking.

Jordan let Chalcie move away from him.

She looked at him, her face cold and indifferent.

"I guess we're even now.  I've saved you from a fire, and you've saved me
from something even worse.  Let's call it even and stay out of each other's
way, all right?"

"I'm not going to make any promises, Chalcie," Jordan said, letting his hands
drop.  The feel of her body was imprinted on him, the taste of her lips was
still sweet on his mouth.  No, he'd make no promises.

Chapter Eight Q^y^s^Q (^halcie fought against the nightmare, crying out as
she tried to force her father to give in.

"You can't do this to me... I'm the reason you have money," she was saying,
trying to make her father focus on her instead of fading in and out of the
shadows.

"It was me, don't you understand?  It was my idea to make money...."  She had
to win.  She had to tell him he was wrong to treat her like this.  Her hand
struck out, hitting something soft.

"The women, the women will die and we won't have anything left!"

"Ouch, damn it, hold her hands," someone whispered.  "She clips me on the
chin again and I'm going to rattle her brain a good one.  Damn it, her fists
really pack a wallop."

"We've got to get her away from here under her own power.  Sure as hell,
someone will see her if we try and take her out slung over my shoulders."

There were other mutters and the hiss of a rope as it was unslung from a
belt.  They were ready for her.

Chalcie shook her head.  Her mind tried to play with the sounds, to make them
less real.  She was so tired, all she wanted to do was sleep, but the voices
called her back to consciousness.

"Make certain she doesn't get away.  I don't want any  racinga round in the
dark.  There's too much at stake," Ames said.

"She's not go inganywhere."

"Okay, wake her up."

Ames shook her shoulder.

"Chalcie, your father needs you."

A male voice, rough and slurred, dragged her from her nightmare of trying to
convince her father that she was his rightful heir.

She moaned.  She wanted to sleep, not to wake up.  Her body cried out for
rest.  She didn't want to have another crisis.  "Damn you, woman, get up now!"

Hands shook her shoulders, whipping her head back and forth as a second voice
chimed in.

Chalcie was dragged back to consciousness.

"What's wrong, what time is it?"  She could barely talk.  There was no light
in the room.  Far away she could hear the screams and gunshots that
punctuated the night.

"Your father's been shot.  We're supposed to take you down to Doc Blake's."

Chalcie shook her head and tried to close her eyes again.  This was just a
continuation of the nightmare.  There hadn't been any shooting, and her
father was fine.  She was probably dreaming it because she was so angry at
him for tearing apart her lovingly created empire.  She'd have to tell him
about the dream.  He'd laugh at it, once he got over being offended that she
could dare dream him dead.

"Come on, Chalcie."

She knew that voice, and it had no place in her dreams.  What was Pete Ames
doing in her room?

"I think your father is dead."

Gradually the words began to sink in, and she awoke enough to wonder why a
nightmare had the feeling of reality to it.  She rubbed at-her eyes.

"You're lying.  My father can't be dead.  He's down have-  inga drink."
Chalcie shook her head, trying to make sense of what she was hearing.

Her father couldn't be dead.  She hadn't had a chance to talk to him about
his will.  Even her father couldn't be that unfair!  He wouldn't dare leave
her to fight it out with Pete Ames for control of the fortune.

Reality, however, pushed her relentlessly into consciousness.  These people
weren't joking and this was real life, not a nightmare.

"No, it's not possible."  She sat up and brushed the hands away from her.

"Why would he be dead?"

"A fight with someone," Ames told her.

"We don't know who.  All we heard were the shots.  When we ran out of the
bar, there he was lying out in the dusty street like he was asleep, but there
was a bullet hole clean through his forehead."  Ames obviously enjoyed
telling the story to Chalcie.

With shaking hands she moved to the lamp and lighted it.  The darkness crept
back to the corners, and she could see that the two men with her were Pete
Ames and her father's no-good hired hand, Houlihan.

For a moment she dismissed the news that they brought her.  Of course they
were wrong.  Her father would come tramping in during the early morning hours
and they would have a good laugh about Ames and Houlihan trying to play a
joke on her.

Then she realized--Houlihan!  He had returned from Stock ton, and ahead of
the storm, even if only by a few hours.

' "Houlihan, what the hell are you doing here?  When did you get back?"  She
focused desperately on the men, trying to blot out what they had been saying
about her father.  It was a miracle; the man her father had sent down to buy
supplies in Stock ton was finally back, hopefully with all the supplies
they'd need to get through the winter.

Ames scowled at her.

"When he came into town doesn't  matter.  We were sent to bring you back to
Doc Blake's.  It's a good thing you're still dressed."

She looked down at herself and was mildly surprised to find that she had gone
to bed without removing her dress.  She knew she couldn't postpone facing
reality any longer.  Without loo king to see if they were following her, she
opened the calico curtain and started down the road toward Doc Blake's.

She was numb.  Her father was dead?  Then that brought the will into force,
and she didn't even really know what the legal document said.  The will--if
her father had bragged all over town about writing and signing the will, then
everyone would know about it.  Not a chance in the world of simply ignoring
it, canceling all the sales and stepping back into managing the businesses
and carrying on as usual.

What was she going to do?  She couldn't marry Ames.  The man was slimy, a
liar and a cheat who would run every thing into the ground in a matter of
months.

What was it Jordan had said?  She had one week to find someone else to marry
her?  A sneaking thought about Jordan de Chat ain crept into her head and
she promptly dismissed it.  He wasn't even a possibility.  Still, she was
angry enough with her father, even dead, that she thought about the revenge
of marrying his worst enemy.

She'd go to Doc Blake's, make arrangements for the body to be taken care of,
she thought numbly, and then she'd have to think about what her life would be
like without her father.  She had walked several yards beyond the light when
she heard a rushing sound behind her.  Turning, she saw only a black shape.

Ames reached out and grabbed her, whirling her around.

"Get her now!"  he ordered urgently.  His hands bit into her arms.

' "What... ?"  She started to cry, but was cut off as a blow came crashing
down on her head.  It took only a moment to truss her with the sack over her
head and a cord around  her hands.  She was caught and thrown over the back
of a horse and lashed in place.  Chalcie moaned and was enveloped in a
blackness that threatened to suffocate her.  There was no air.  The world
faded to darkness.  She didn't even feel the movement of the horse as they
started the long trek up the mountainside.

"See, what did I tell you?  Nothing to it.  She stays out of circulation for
a week and she'll have to marry me.  So I'll still get every thing Kent ever
had.  Stupid old man, giving his wealth to a stranger instead of his own
family," Ames said in satisfaction.  His delighted grin couldn't be seen in
the dark, but his words were framed with gloating satisfaction.

Ames rode another horse, and Houlihan followed with a mule laden with a
week's worth of supplies.

Neither Houlihan nor Ames noticed the Indian woman who watched the procession
head out of Sonora and north toward the summer mining camps.

Estelle kept mostly to herself.  The only white people she had ever talked to
were Chalcie and Jordan, and that was only because both of them had taken the
time to learn a rudimentary form of Mi wok so they could communicate with the
Indians in the area.  Estelle saw clearly that Chalcie was being abducted,
but she didn't know what to do about it.  Who could she tell?  And what if
she was wrong?  What if this was one of the more bizarre white man's customs?

Estelle faded into the background again, fingering the thick wool blanket
that she used as protection against the biting wind.  She should do
something, but what?

Chalcedony was oblivious to every thing.  The jolting of the horse did not
awaken her as they bumped up the trail toward the mountains.  The lashings of
rawhide and hemp cut into her wrists, but she didn't respond to the pain.

Ames kept an eye on the hostage, and as the miles upward were covered without
any sign of life from Chalcedony, he scowled, worried, and finally called a
halt to re move the sack from her head and check that she still had a pulse.

"Damn you, Houlihan, you didn't have to hit her so hard.  I want her to live
to enjoy being married to me," Ames said, and for the first time an evil grin
slashed across his handsome face.

"Didn't hit her that hard.  She's just playing," Houlihan said sourly.

Ames ignored the man.  Houlihan would be dead before the end of the week, if
he had anything to say about it.

Chalcedony finally awakened as Ames was taking her off the horse.  She felt
as if every inch of her body had been beaten.  Her head ached, her stomach
hurt, and her legs were too rubbery even to make the attempt to stand.  She
couldn't think, either.  The blow to the head had made every thing seem fuzzy
and disconnected.  She could remember something about her father and a
warning from Jordan, but nothing else.

Chalcie moaned and struggled feebly against the restraints.  She fought to
make her eyes open and finally focused on the rough cabin in front of her.

It looked like a summer camp that someone had abandoned.  The plank door was
secured against the depredations of the bears and raccoons in the area, and
one hole had been cut in the side wall to serve as a window when it was
un bearded.

Ames pulled out a wicked-loo king knife and cut through the leather thongs
that held the door closed.  He didn't want to waste time untying the knots.

"Throw her in there on the bed," he instructed Houlihan.  "She's not likely
to fight too much with that knot on her head."  Houlihan complied, tossing
her down on the filthy wooden cot that stood in the corner.

Chalcedony coughed as the dust rose from the mildewed and moth-eaten bear
pelt.  She gagged and almost retched at the smell from the cabin.  She tried
to sit up, but the pain in her head blinded her, making her see stars and
then nothing.

 Chalcie drifted in and out of consciousness for several days.  Her dreams
were violent, someone forcinga scalding liquid down her throat, then liquor.
She had fought against the ministration, wanting to avoid the pain.

Finally she could retreat no more.

Pete Ames caught the movement in the bed and stood up.

"So, you're back with us.  For a while we thought we'd lost you.  Bad luck
if_we had.  The miners tend to be touchy about murder inga lady.  I'm real
glad, honey, to see that you have survival potential."  Ames's voice was
chillingly calm.

' "If you died right away, so soon after your father, someone might begin to
wonder what happened to the Kent family.  We'd hate to have them asking
questions, Houlihan and I would."

"Murder," Chalcie said faintly.  Suddenly every thing fell into place.  She
remembered what had happened.  Pete Ames had killed her father and kidnapped
her, all with the intent of taking every cent of the Kent fortune for himself.

The bastard!  she thought.  The unmitigated gold-plated son-of-a-bitch; he
would not get away with this.  Silently she vowed that he would pay for both
crimes.  With any luck, he would be hanging from a tree in Sonora before the
month was out.  She knew the miners.  They'd put up with Ames and Houlihan
killing someone--that happened occasionally.  But the miners would not be
tolerant of someone who sought to bedevil one of the few honest and upright
women in the gold camp.

Ames would hang for kidnapping her, if not for her father's death.  She would
make certain of that.  But to avenge the murder, she had to survive.

No one else would ever care enough to ask questions about what must look like
a random shooting.

Damn the man anyway.  She wouldn't even be there to see her father buried.

It was clear that Ames intended to keep her up in the mountains for the full
week.  He didn't want her to find anyone else to marry.  Did he honestly
think she would rather marry him than go without a penny of the  Kent money?
If he believed that, he had no idea how repulsive he was to her.

How had he done it?  she wondered hazily.  She knew most of the gossip around
town, and word had it that Ames was a good shot, for a lawyer.  How had Ames
managed to kill her father?  Her father was one of the most cautious men
alive.  He was overbearing, loud and prone to rash decisions, but he always
covered his back and was careful around men with guns.

Perhaps it had been up close, where a small pistol could have done the
damage.  Or had Ames been waiting, out of sight, lurking with a rifle at his
shoulder, ready for the time her father stumbled out of some bar?

She would never know.

She faded out of consciousness again.

It was another full day before the pain and disorientation from the crack on
her head finally diminished and she was able to plan.

First, she thought, she had to escape; second, she had to marry someone else;
and third, she had to see Ames punished.  Already she was thinking of various
ways she could make a getaway from the cabin and leave both Ames and Houlihan
incapacitated.

Ames and Houlihan were still asleep when she opened her eyes again and looked
around her.  She had been dreaming of escaping and she had been convinced
that once she saw the clearing in the daylight, she would be able to see the
path that would lead her back to Sonora.

The mountains, however, were subtly different.  The cabin was high, far
beyond the last scraggly trees, and the air was crisp and cold, foreshadowing
the snow that could fall at any time.  There was no smoke in the air.  That
meant they were at someone's summer shack, far away from other miners and
claim jumpers.  Even a hint of smoke would have given her hope--it would have
meant another miner nearby who could help her.  She wished unreasonably that
Jordan was close.  He'd help her get out of this mess.  He would have cared.

 Chalcie was still scanning the horizon for some familiar landmark that
would lead her back to Sonora, when she felt Ames's hand on her back in an
intimate touch.

"We'll be staying here for a while, darling, just enough time to get
acquainted,"

He moved his hand in a lazy circle, caressing her skin underneath the bodice,
despite Chalcie flinching away from him.  The message was clear.

She -was in his hands.  He could do anything he_ wanted with her.

Jordan--it hadn't felt that way with Jordan.  When he'd touched her, there
was warmth and gentleness.  She had leaned into him, feeling his body, and
she had wanted his kisses and caresses to last.  The sensation was nothing at
all like the one Pete caused.  When Pete touched her, she wanted to throw up.

She moved away from him.  She would outsmart him.  Ames would make a mistake
sometime, and then she'd be given a chance to run away.

"Get up and fix us a meal, and then you can do something about this cabin.

I'm going out to see if there are any rabbits around for meat," Ames said
when Chalcie was finally able to walk under her own power again.

"I'm not your slave, and I will not cook and clean for you.  Do your own
dirty work," Chalcie told him.

Ames walked over to her, slapped her hard on the side of the face and grabbed
her by the hair when she started to fall from the force of the blow.

Chalcie fought to keep from crying.  She wasn't going to give him the
satisfaction of knowing that he'd hurt her.

"Now, let's try that again.  I'd hate like hell to have you unconscious on
that bed for another couple of days, but if that's the way you want it,
that's the way it'll be."  Ames's voice was quiet and smooth and filled with
menace.

"I can keep you here past the seven days, remember.  You've already been here
five days."

Chalcie was stubborn, but she wasn't stupid.  She needed to be able to
escape, and if Ames kept hitting her, she'd  never have enough of her wits
about her to come up with a way to disable the men and leave the cabin.

Sullenly she nodded and Ames laughed in satisfaction.  He had won.

"Next time you'll know to do whatever I want."

After she washed herself as best she could, Chalcie set about cleaning the
cabin, and as she did, she concentrated on planning her escape.  She knew
that she was running close to the edge of the week that her father had given
her to marry someone else.  She would have to escape that afternoon or risk
missing the deadline.

She heard only one shot in the hills that afternoon and contented herself
with thinking that Ames had seen game once and had missed.  She had heard all
about his reputation as a fairly good shot and she didn't believe it.

Of course, part of her reluctance to believe his marksmanship rested on her
half-formed plans to try to run away from him.  She wasn't partial to the
thought of receivinga blast in the middle of her back when she was a mile
downhill and almost safely away from the bastard.

"Here's a rabbit.  Do something with it."  Ames came back later that
afternoon and threw the bloody carcass at her.

Chalcie's lips tightened as she looked at the poor thing.  So he was a good
marksman.  Well, she'd just have to find a way to make it so that he couldn't
shoot at her, then, wouldn't she?  She skinned the animal and used the last
of the onions and several potatoes to begin the stew.  There would be almost
nothing to cook for another meal the next day.

A glimmer of an idea came to her.  It wasn't the first time that she'd had to
rely on the land for her food; even during her two weeks in the mountains,
she had foraged for some of her grub.  She would wager that she knew more
about the wild plants around the mountains than these men ever would.  And
that might give her the chance to escape that she needed.  She had noticed
something down below the  camp, at the tree line.  It was something that the
men would have ignored, but it might be her key to freedom.

She could see Ames watching her, and she was vividly conscious of every
movement that would remind him she was a woman.  He had made no move toward
her yet, other than a few caresses, but she knew she wouldn't be able to
count on that kind of restraint for too much longer.  His eyes following the
curve of her breasts and thighs told her that.

He shook his head in reproof.

"Stop glaring at me.  You don't have to like me, just as long as we do
finally marry and I get to keep every little gold flake of the Kent fortunes.
With your help, of course."

Chalcie stared at him, her gaze level.  How many other men and women had been
taken in by that sweet exterior, the wide smile and the guileless blue eyes?
Underneath it all was something as desperate and dangerous as a rattlesnake.
He didn't know it, but he was dead.  She'd dealt with snakes before.

"You just don't want me to walk away from it all, because if I don't marry
you, you'll never be able to collect every thing.  If I leave, only half of
it comes to you and the other half goes to the miners.  You'd never give up
that much money willingly, would you?"  Chalcie's tone was jeering.

"Glad to see you understand my reasoning.  So don't try anything rash, and
we'll both come out of this adventure ahead of the game," Ames said, his
voice soft.

"Remember, I can always bend you to my wishes."  He smiled.

"It wouldn't be the first time a woman was forced to accept a man."

Chalcie shuddered.

"I have to go down there and gather some greens for the stew," she said,
almost tripping in her haste to get away from him.

He didn't seem to be watching her too closely as she began to make her way
down the hillside toward the herbs that she wanted to gather for supper, but
there was always  an air of tenseness around him, so she couldn't be
certain.  From the looks of him, he seemed to be casually picking his
fingernails with a wicked-loo king knife.  But looks could be deceiving.  She
wished she could remember if there had been any stories about his prowess
with a knife.  Did she dare make a break for it?

She bent down to pick some of the plants that looked like wild onions and
miner's lettuce.  She rubbed the leaves on the tall green plant and smiled.

There was no onion scent about them, and that was exactly what she wanted.

Gently she extracted the innocent-loo king white globes from the earth.

Now she needed several other herbs to make the stew more palatable.

"I've got to go down a little farther.  There's something down there we can
eat," Chalcie called back to Ames.

She wished she had on her pants and heavy boots as she tried to maneuver down
the hillside.  The red mud and rocks were slick with the rains that had been
falling for the past few weeks.  Chalcie knew that if she took an accidental
tumble, she might end up with a knife sticking out of her back just because
Ames was nervous.  She breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the first of
the trees.  Even stunted, the gnarled tree was taller than she was and had a
cushiony softness around the base where the needles had fallen for hundreds
of years.  She bent down to loosen the dry white and-brown caps that grew
around the base of the thin, stunted trunk, exulting as she looked at them.
She didn't have any way to test the mushrooms as Estelle had taught her, but
she was almost certain she knew what they were.  She stood up and wavered to
one side.  She was weak and still nauseated from the blow to the head.  But
she had to keep on.  If she failed now, she might be tied to this lunatic for
the rest of her life.

"That's enough, darling," Ames said, straightening lazily.  He hefted the
knife by the blade, delicately balancing it, ready to throw.

"I don't think you'd like this sticking out of your back just because you
happened to go a little  too far into the undergrowth.  I'd hate to panic
and think I couldn't catch my little gold mine."

Ames's boyish face was alight with amusement.  He thought it was all a grand
joke.  He'd always wanted to be rich without working for it.  This was his
chance and nothing, not even Chalcie, was going to stop him.  The very fact
that he would bring her down from the mountain, safe and secure, would
satisfy everyone of his good intentions.  They would all understand-that he
had simply taken steps to assure that he received what was actually his under
the terms of the will.  Not only was every thing fair in love and war, he
thought, it was also fair in greed.

Chalcie looked at him as she would a slug in the middle of her garden.

' "Did my father know about you?  How did you manage to make him ignore this
side of you?"  Chalcie climbed back up the hill and confronted the man.  She
was genuinely puzzled.  Her father had never been known for be inga wonderful
judge of character, but Ames was too slimy for even her father to have been
taken in for long.

"Why, darling, as you'll soon find out, I'm a charming young man, serious and
truly interested in every thing about you.  I tricked your father, no reason
I can't trick you."

He flicked the blade between them, a silent warning.  "Besides, he wanted you
to be safe, and I promised to give him his heart's wish.  It's so easy to
take advantage of people!"

He laughed again, and the sound pealed out through the clear mountain air.

Chalcie ignored him, though her hands were white around the potherbs she had
gathered.

"Maybe I should introduce you to the delights of married life.  I'm sure that
Houlihan wouldn't mind sleeping outside.  And I do need some relaxation.
Guarding you is so tedious."

Ames laughed as she moved away from him.

He was talking about bedding her?  She'd rather die.  She  looked up as the
first snowflakes of the first storm of winter began to fall.  She'd rather
freeze to death on a mad dash down the hill than stay around and let Ames
have his way with her.  She had never been a woman to just sit back and let
things happen to her.  She wasn't about to fold under the pressure and let
Ames do whatever he wanted now!

"All right, if you don't like the idea of being introduced to lovemaking,
then get busy and put something edible together," Ames growled.

Chalcie smiled.  So her plan was going to have a chance after all.

Slowly she went over to the fire and added more fuel.  She cut up the new
herbs and added them to the already simmering stew.  They may think they had
won this round, but they didn't know that Chalcie Kent didn't give up.

She kept her back to the men, hoping they would interpret this as a sign of
her submission.  What she really wanted to do was to make certain they didn't
see what she was up to.

She mixed biscuits from the last of the flour, saving just a bit to thicken
the stew.  It was already beginning to smell good.  She slid the part of
saleratus biscuits to the edge of the fire to cook, watching carefully as
they began to rise.  The smell of the bread almost covered Houlihan's stink.

"At least she can cook," she heard Houlihan say sotto voce to Ames.  He was
answered by an inarticulate snarl.

Chalcie shivered.  If she ever had to face Ames again, she knew that he'd do
every thing in his power to make her pay for what she was planning to do to
him.  She knew he had not been joking when he said he would murder her, and
she had no illusions about his intelligence.  He was smart enough to make
murder look like an accident.

Please, please, let me be right.  she prayed silently.  She was almost
certain she had chosen the right plants; but if she had guessed wrong, her
life was going to be short, ugly and come to a fast and brutal end.  She
broke a few more pieces of the mushroom into the stew.  It was better to
over dose than to have the men recover and take vengeance on her.

Chalcie shivered at the thought.  Humiliation, beatings, years of living with
a man who would hurt her daily--that would be the retribution Ames would give
her.  She couldn't stand living like that.  She had to do this right the
first time.

No matter what else happened, no matter what risks she took, she had to make
a break for it.  Maybe her father had been lucky.  At least he'd only had to
suffer for a moment before he died.  He had set the stage for years of
suffering if she gave in and married Ames.  She knew she should have been
mourning her father, but she was still too angry.  How dare he put her in
such a position--marry or start with nothing to her name but the clothes that
she wore?  He must have hated her to have done this to her.

She looked at the boiling stew and hoped that she had gathered enough of
every thing.  She didn't have much to go on, only what Estelle had taught her
and the tales brought in by other miners about men who had almost starved to
death, then had died from having eaten the wrong thing.  This was her one
chance to escape.  If she missed, Ames and Houlihan would be on their guard.

Swiftly she gathered the plates and bowls that needed to be scrubbed clean in
preparation for the next meal.  Those dishes, the herbs and the black iron
pot would be her salvation.  Excitement began to bubble as she realized that
her plan just might work.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"  Ames demanded as she took the
dishes out to the small stream that ran down the mountain.  She noticed that
he had his knife out and he looked just a little bit twitchy-fingered with
the blade as he talked to her.

"I'm going to clean this mess up, then I'll start serving the stew,"

Chalcie challenged him.  She wasn't going to let him know with even a trace
of a flinch that he frightened her almost beyond reason.

 "Stay where I can watch you.  Looks like you'll turn out to be a good wife
after all, for as long as you last."

One hour later she set the bowls of stew before Houlihan and Ames.

"Eat it in good health," Chalcie said, and smiled at them sweetly.

"Your temper won't win you anything, Chalcie.  Never mind, just another day
and I'll have a chance to beat it out of you."

"Aren't you eating?"  Houlihan noticed that she hadn't served herself yet.

He had the vague feeling that he shouldn't trust her, but the rich smell of
the stew dulled his worries.  The thick slices of onion and other herbs made
his mouth water.

Chalcie smiled as she looked down at the sparse dinner she had served
herself.  They would never know what killed them.  She knew she'd have to eat
something, but she could only hope that it would be just enough to make her
sick, not to kill her.

"I'm eating.  I'm not going to let you win because I starved myself to
death," Chalcie said as she sat opposite them.

She took three biscuits from the stained black pan and added them to the
spoonful of stew she had taken.  She didn't dare sit down with nothing at all
on her plate.

"That's not enough," Ames said flatly.

"It's enough for me.  You've bashed me on the head, you've kept me leashed
like a dog and threatened me... do you expect me to eat like a trencherman?"
Chalcie asked.

Ames looked at her shrewdly but finally subsided.  Overcome with hunger and
the promise of a nourishing meal, he began to eat his stew.  Chalcie didn't
dare let her eyes stay on the food; it might warn him of what was going to
happen.  But every bite registered with her.

They never noticed that all she ate were the biscuits.  She couldn't avoid
the stew completely, the biscuits had been  soaked in the gravy, but she
tried her best not to eat more than a spoonful of the deadly brew.

Ames didn't taste anything wrong.  He consumed the whole bowl and ordered her
to get him more.

Chalcie served him silently but with an inner feeling of elation.  It was
going to work!

Chalcie cleared away the dishes as the men relaxed.  Then she waited, leaning
back against the bed and watching as they both began to fall asleep.

Within an hour Ames was trying desperately to focus his eyes.  He looked
around the room and saw that both Chalcie and Houlihan were sound asleep.

"Damn you, I've never been so tired in my life.  Can't seem to keep my eyes
open."

He knew something was amiss but didn't know what.  Chalcie heard him and
tried desperately to keep from smiling in triumph.  She kept her eyes closed
and her face calm.

He reached out for something to use to pull himself up, and the chair that he
grabbed creaked and splintered under his weight.  He almost fell on Chalcie
as he tried to shake her to wake her up.

"Help me, you bitch, I'm sick...."  He leaned heavily against the rough
wooden walls.

Chalcie pretended to wake from a deep sleep.  She stretched and yawned.

"What's wrong?"  she asked curiously.  Inwardly she was exultant.  It was
working!

"Sick, stomach hurts, and I see two of every thing.  I thought you poisoned
us... but you ate, too.  It has to be cholera...."  Ames looked up at her.

His eyes were feverish and his face red.  His blond hair was matted with
perspiration and his brilliant blue eyes were dulled.  He was a thoroughly
ill man.

"Cholera...!  can't do anything about that," Chalcie said, and moved away
from him.

"You have to take me to Sonora.  I'll die without help."  Ames was pleading
now.  He fell to the floor, his face  pressed against the blessedly cool
dirt.  The sweat poured down his face.

He tried to raise a hand to wipe it away, but he didn't have the strength.

"Water, please."  His voice was a croak of despair.  Suddenly he looked his
age, every bit of the thirty-five years that had been given over to
debauchery, lechery and thievery.

"I'll bring you water, but I can't take you to Sonora."

She gave him a drink of water and then backed away as he spilled it on the
floor.  She couldn't risk having him catch her now.

"The horse, the horse will take you to Sonora for help..."  Ames pleaded.

Within a few moments he was totally unconscious.

Chalcie felt for his pulse.  It was racing and thready.  She began to edge
toward the door.

Ames opened his eyes one last time as he started to cough.  His face began to
turn blue as he fought for breath.

He fell back against the hard pallet, panting, loo king at her with the
confusion of a man who has lost touch with reality.  His eyes closed softly.
There was one long last sigh.

Houlihan had never regained consciousness, and now Ames was gone.  She didn't
wait to check his pulse.  She simply ran out of the cabin and toward the
paddock where the horses were kept.  She could ride Ames's mare, she was
sure.  There wasn't time even to slip a bridle over the horse's head.

At any moment she expected to be caught in the back with a blast from a gun.

"This is it, horse, our only chance," Chalcie said as she used one of the
logs of the fence to boost herself into position on the mare's back.

It was already dark and she knew she had less than twenty-four hours to find
a man or lose every thing.

Chapter Nine Q^y^s^Q v^halcie grabbed the horse's mane.  She was glad for
the months that she had ridden bareback down in Texas.  She was at home with
the rough bristle of the horse's hide against her legs.

"Come on, pretty girl, let's get away from those bastards," she said as she
urged the mare to a trot.  She ducked as the first low branches of the scrub
pine swept over them.  All she wanted was to put as many miles between
herself and the cabin as possible.  She hadn't really expected that the
dried-out browned mushrooms would do their job.

She had done it.  She had managed to outwit both Ames and Houlihan.  It had
been her brains and cunning against their brawn and she had managed to defeat
them.  The thought gave her a warm feeling.  She could take care of herself,
she was certain.  She could walk away from Sonora and every thing that was
there and still be able to survive.

She may not have to walk away from every thing.  Chalcie thought suddenly.
If her father had meant to give all the holdings to Pete Ames and he was
dead, then she still might have control of the land, buildings and mines.
Unless, of course, the miners' fund challenged her and took every thing
itself, leaving her with nothing.

She could still outwit the will by getting back before the week was over and
marrying someone.  Who could she find  who would promise to give her back
the Kent fortunes after they married?

Chalcie racked her brains as she rode downward.  There was not one man among
the thousand in Sonora that she could trust to live up to an agreement made
before marriage.

"I'll think of something," Chalcie promised herself, but at the moment, the
terror of the day, coupled with the taste of stew that she had eaten, was
making her dizzy and so tired that she would gladly have fallen off the horse
and slept for a year underneath the limbs of the evergreens.

She didn't even know which way they should be heading.  She had jumped on the
horse and headed downward, not really caring about anything except leaving
Ames and Houlihan behind.  She knew she could survive if she got lost.  She
could build herself a shelter and find something to eat, but she would rather
make it to Sonora and find a husband before her father's will had a chance to
come into effect.

What was it Ames had said.  give the mare her head and she would find her way
home?  Chalcedony leaned forward and knotted the long strands of mane in her
hand.  She hoped the mare knew the direction.  She didn't even have a hint
about where Sonora was.  She would have felt a lot better about heading down
the hill if she'd been able to see some smoke on the horizon or some other
sign of civilization.  She knew all too well that more than one poor soul had
starved to death or died of exposure up in the hills when they became
disoriented or just plain lost.

"Come on, honey, the faster we get there, the faster we'll both be able to
rest."

Oh God, she was so tired.  Every bone in her body ached, every muscle
screamed in protest.  If there had been a way to hole up until morning she
would have done it.  But there was no time.  It was getting colder and colder
on the mountain, and the storms that had swept over the hills and then
retreated began to swirl down again on the dark mountainsides.

 And Jordan--what would Jordan think of what had happened to her?

"No!"  Chalcie said, startling the mare with the sound of her voice.

"No, I'm not going to talk to Jordan.  There's no reason to.  He wouldn't
care whether I disappeared off the face of the earth.  In fact, he'd probably
be glad to have me gone."  Chalcie leaned closer to the mare's ears to
confide,

"But did you know, he has the nicest eyes, and I thought he was very gentle
with me when he cleaned up all the blood.  Oh, mare, I bled all over him, and
he didn't even yell when he saw what I did to his shirt!"

Of course he had made up for not yelling about the shirt by the way he had
carried on when she put out the fire.

"His kiss was sweet.  I wished it could have lasted longer," Chalcie said.

The mare twitched her ears.

"I don't suppose that it meant anything to him.  I know it didn't mean
anything to me."

It didn't make sense.  Jordan was still her enemy.  Men in general seemed to
be taking great care to see that she was unable to look on them as friends.
Even her own father had ultimately been her enemy, too.

Her father.  Now he was dead and she'd never have a chance to resolve all the
differences they'd had.

"We had our fights, and I thought he was a fool for taking in Ames, but, oh
God, I would have done anything possible to get him out of the man's clutches
if lihad thought it would end this way.  My father dead, murdered, and all by
a partner!"

Strange that her father had always had these troubles, and in the end, his
quest for the perfect partner had killed him and taken away her chance to
have both wealth and a normal life.

Chalcie's heart ached, though, to think that her father could have treated
her in such a callous manner.  Had he never even thought of her feelings when
such a will was read in public?  For someone who wanted her to be treated
like a fine lady, he had done every thing he could to make  certain that she
was so shamed that she could never show her face in polite society again.

And now Ames.  Even the thought of him made her sick.  She felt light-headed
and slightly unreal.  Even the tiny bit of the mushroom stew that she had
eaten was affecting her equilibrium.

She twined her hand more thoroughly in the horse's mane and urged the mare on
with gentle words and occasional pats to her neck.  Surprisingly, they worked
well together.  There was a curious tensing in the animal's muscles when she
came to an obstruction.  Chalcie soon learned to read the mare's movements
and to duck and hide her face against the horse's mane to escape the worst of
the brush and the tree branches.  Flattened against her back, Chalcie and the
horse were able to negotiate the thickening maze of pines and cedars.

Chalcie shivered.  She could feel the effects of the poisoned stew she had
been forced to eat.  Her vision was beginning to blur, and her mouth felt
funny.  There was a dry sensation inside, as if she'd stuffed her cheeks with
cotton.  Her lips were prickling and then became numb as the poison began to
work its way through her system.

"Oh God, please don't let me have eaten enough to make me go unconscious.

I'll never make it down the hill, and they'll find me under some damn tree,
frozen stiff, if anyone even notices that I'm gone," she said miserably.  Her
body might be eaten by the cougars or coyotes before spring had a chance to
uncover her.

Her head ached and her stomach hurt.  She wasn't certain how much was caused
by the stew and how much from shock.  She still wasn't sure that she and the
horse would ever reach civilization, but even if she died of exposure, she'd
have the satisfaction of having outsmarted Ames and Houlihan.

"I've got to make it.  I'm not going to just give up and die on the side of
this mountain," she said again, but reality was already beginning to blur
around the edges.  Was that  a figure down in the brush or a tree?  Where
were the wolves that she heard howling?  She didn't know there were wolves in
the area.  she'd have to tell people when she got back home.  Or could it be
the coyotes already on her trail, waiting for fresh warm meat to make their
evening meal?  She slumped forward against the mare.

The clouds had settled around the mountaintops.  The gray and black blended,
giving an eerie ghost like appearance to the landscape.  As she descended
even farther below the timberline.  Chalcedony began to chill as snowflakes
sifted over her.  She should have taken the smelly old bearskin, she thought
dazedly.  At least that would have given her some protection.

But she had wanted to get away.

In the distance it seemed she could hear gunshots and the sounds of voices.
In her half world of snow and dreams, she thought Ames and Houlihan were
after her.  She hadn't killed them, she had only slowed them down.

The dreams became brighter and more vivid as she slipped in and out of
consciousness.  She could feel the horse's warmth against her front, and
wished she could find a comfortable way to lie against the animal without
falling off.  She awakened several times just as she was about to slide off
into the darkness.

Aeons later, she felt the snow whip against her face.

"I smell smoke, don't you?"  she whispered to the mare.  Wherever the horse
was headed as she stepped through the brambles and trees, she was working
toward home and food.  Chalcie could almost smell the sharp aroma of boiled
coffee in the air.

"Dreaming again..."  she mumbled as she heard a whistle and a voice in the
darkness.  The mare turned and stumbled slightly.  It was just enough to
break Chalcie's hold, and she finally let go, landing in a heap in the snow.
It felt so warm, so comforting.  Soft, she could sleep there forever.

She knew what was happening, but she couldn't make herself get up.  It was
too much effort to move a muscle and push herself up and back onto the horse.
Even the thought  of Ames and Houlihan after her couldn't cause enough of a
burst of energy to keep her going.

She didn't awaken when a gloved hand shook her roughly, nor did she hear the
soft steady stream of curses from the man's lips.

"I'll be damned if I'm going to let you die of exposure.  Come on, wake up
and fight."

Jordan hauled her out of the snow, slapping at her face and rubbing her hands
to give her warmth.  The thin cotton dress was slick with snow and stuck to
her skin.  If he tore it off, great patches of her skin would be removed,
too.  Time--there wasn't enough time.  Gently he laid her on the wool-and-fur
blanket he had set out for his own bed that night.  He hoped it would be warm
enough.  He had been hunting through the hills since the day after Estelle
had seen Chalcie kidnapped.  He and Juanita had searched everywhere near
Sonora, desperate to find Chalcie before Ames harmed her.

It was only reasonable that Ames had kidnapped Chalcie in order to gain the
inheritance.  Jordan thought about Ames, and a white-hot fire coursed through
him.  If he'd done this to Chalcie, he was going to die for it!

It was only in the last day that he had finally remembered the old cabin that
Houlihan used to talk about, and the thought had occurred to him that Chalcie
might be a prisoner there.

But he hadn't been prepared to find a half-frozen Chalcie on the trail.

"Oh, God, what am I going to do?"  he breathed as he looked down at Chalcie.
He had seen men like this, the unlucky ones who had stayed out too long on
their claim and had finally come in, only to die.  Gangrene could eat away at
the frozen fingers and dead white skin.

There was only one thing he could do.

"Now don't get any ideas, Chalcie.  This isn't meant to be anything other
than a way to save your life.  It's not that I want you in my bed, but I
can't stand to see Ames win,  and he will do exactly that if you die.
Chalcie, can you hear me?"

Jordan reached down and touched the discolored area around her lips.  It was
bloody and bruised and he wondered what could have left those marks on her
face.  He looked again and saw the imprint of a fist in the bruises.

Ames had beaten her, then.  He was surprised by the flash of blinding fury
that shook him and then subsided.  He could take it out on Ames's hide later.
Right now he had other things to worry about.

There was a flicker of life in Chalcie's body, but it was fading fast.  She
needed warmth, and lots of it.  They were eight hours from town, and it was
too dark to travel.  It had been sheer blind luck that he'd heard the horse
tracking downhill, and even more luck that she had answered to his shrill
whistle and the rattle of a nose bag full of oats.  And now that he had found
Chalcie, he wasn't sure he could save her.

Chalcie shivered convulsively.  She turned instinctively toward Jordan,
seeking his warmth.  She hurt.  Her head ached and she couldn't shake the
feeling that she was too far back in a cave to find her way out and see light
again.  She heard a voice and knew that it was a friend, but there was no
face or name to go with the identification.

Jordan felt her body quaking as he held her.  There was only one thing that
he might be able to do to save her.  He had known it from the moment the
woman had slid off the horse and into the snow in front of him.  She'd hate
him when she woke up, if she ever did, but there was no helping that.

Hell, she hated him anyway.  She was so convinced that all he ever wanted out
of her was the prime street property or the Kent fortunes that she'd never
given him a chance to prove otherwise.

"Well, damned either way," he muttered, and began to strip the clothing from
Chalcie's body.  Even those few minutes in the blanket had warmed the cloth
enough to break the icy grip on her skin.  The flesh underneath the  cotton
and canvas was still pink and wet.  There was a cold rough patch on her leg
that had turned hard and white, and two of her toes looked bad.

Considering what she had just survived, she was lucky if those were the only
ill effects she suffered.  He had to undress her and then warm her with his
own body heat.  Otherwise she would die.  And he knew with a horrible
certainty that if she lived and found out he'd taken her to bed, naked, flesh
to flesh, she'd hate him for having compromised her.

If he didn't stop putting off the inevitable, she was going to die.

Jordan tipped the hot coffee he had been drinking onto his handkerchief and
laid it across the white patch on her leg.  The cloth cooled almost instantly
in the frigid air, but the residual heat might save at least some of the skin.

Jordan finished the bed he'd started to make for himself.  He'd laid the pine
boughs into a mattress of sorts and covered the sharp prickles with an old
piece of canvas that reached across the boughs and over a jutting branch to
make a shelter.  He had a wool blanket lined with soft wolves' fur that he
had bought years back and still used when he traveled in the cold.  He knew
from past expeditions that it would keep him warm and comfortable in the
snow.  He pulled the canvas even tighter, breaking the chill of the wind.

Jordan kept up a steady running conversation to take his mind off the naked
woman stretched out in front of him.  He looked at her and was a little
embarrassed by the tightening that he felt.  She was in need of warmth, not
lovemaking.

Memories played tricks with him, though, forcing him to remember how
beautiful she'd been the night that she'd come to him in her fancy dress and
Chinese shoes and her hair like a golden-red crown around her head.  He had
been so tempted to take her up on the offer of allowing her to buy the land
in return for the chance to court her.  But he'd never had to buy or barter
for his women and he wasn't  about to try.  Besides, he'd always thought
that eventually she would come back to him of her own accord, and they could
start over if she really wanted him to court her.  He hadn't thought the
whole thing through or he would have known that she would, have gone to hell
and back before she would have let him near her again.  When he'd laughed at
her, he'd never realized that he was trampling her heart and making her hate
him.  He couldn't count the number of times he'd berated himself for be ingan
insensitive oaf.  He'd watched her walk down the streets, talk to other
people and keep an icy, sullen indifference toward him.  There was no way to
mend the damage that had been done.  If only he hadn't turned her down.

If only he hadn't made her think that when he kissed her it had been because
he wanted to be first in line to marry her for the estate.

Somehow, when it came to Chalcie, it seemed as if the only thing he thought
was,

"If only I hadn't..."

He'd never be able to make it up to her.

"Unless you'll count saving your life as some kind of atonement," Jordan said
quietly.

"Hang on, Chalcie, it's almost done."

Jordan began to strip off his own clothes with methodical precision.  The
coat first, still warm from his body heat, to cover her up.  Then his two
shirts and the flannel-lined trousers, and finally he was down to the
Indian-style lace-up boots that he preferred for wilderness riding.

Chalcie's eyes fluttered open.  She felt almost warm, and there was a curious
silky feeling under her back, almost as if she were lying on something soft
and wonderful, instead of jolting down the hillside on the back of a horse.
She focused on the figure above her and smiled.  It was a dream of course.
She had fallen off the horse and died and the coyotes had a meal of her.  And
now there was an angel there to welcome her to heaven, and he was naked.
Very naked and very masculine, and he looked like Jordan.  She liked angels
who looked like Jordan.  They would be friendly and warm and they'd smile at
her.  She opened her  eyes wider in mild surprise.  She'd never dreamed that
angels came fully equipped and wearing Indian boots.

She raised her arms to him and then closed her eyes as she felt his wonderful
warmth invade every inch of her body.

"God a'mighty, you're cold," Jordan swore softly as he slid under the pile of
clothes and lay against her.  He pulled the blanket of fur around her, making
certain that she was protected from the wind and the lash of the sleet and
snow.  He was glad for its ample dimensions, remembering only now that the
man he'd bought it from had said it was for two people.

"Let me hold you, Chalcie.  I'll keep you safe and warm," he whispered as he
pulled her close, giving her the warmth and rest that she craved.

He shouldn't be doing this, but there wasn't anything else he could do to
keep her alive.

"I hope you understand..."  he said as he snuggled close to her.  In the
distance he could hear the howl of the coyotes and the dull thud of the snow
falling from the trees and hitting the ground.

He lay awake, listening and thinking.

What had she just gone through?  From the look of the bruises around her
mouth, she'd been beaten.  He had run his hand over her hair a little while
ago and found places on her scalp where the hair had been almost torn from
the roots.  There was matted blood all over the back of her head.  He had had
a good look at her body, and there didn't seem to be any other apparent
bruises, but that didn't mean that she hadn't been mistreated.

Damn those men to eternity.  If they were alive, he'd form a posse and the
men would skin them and then stake them out and let them freeze to death.

No one treated women like that, particularly not in the gold country.

Women were precious, rare, to be cared for above all others.

Someday she'd have to talk about what had happened to  her.  But not now.
Right now he was going to cradle her and pretend that she was his, and that
she had forgiven him for his refusal to court her.

Gingerly he held her in his arms, feeling the length of her body against his.
It was utterly innocent, and he had never been so aroused in his life.  What
was it about this woman that could make him react like this?  He had never
felt this way before, even with the most exciting of women in the fandango
parlors.  Had she witched him the same way that her father witched gold out
of the ground?

He shook his head at his fantasies.

He moved even closer to her and was rewarded by a soft sigh of contentment
from Chalcie.

Chapter Ten ^7y^S^ ) When Jordan awoke the next morning, his first confused
impression was that he had been dreaming.  He was at home in his own bed, and
he'd been fantasizing about Chalcie.  The feel of the skin like silk against
his and the prod of Chalcie's firm breasts against his chest quickly
dispelled that impression.  Quietly he checked her respiration rate and felt
the steady beating of her heart against the palm of his hand.  He had a
fleeting urge to yell in exultation.  Chalcie was alive, she was breathing
normally, and she was warm!

He'd done what he set out to do.  He'd saved her life and he'd managed to
keep his animal lusts under control.  He could take her back to Sonora and
she could get on with running the Kent fortunes, if that was what she wanted.
Someone would marry her and she'd inherit it all, if she managed to make
some kind of pact with the miners before the vows were said for return of all
her property.

Jordan shifted slightly and was suddenly, embarrassingly aware that his body
was having quite another response to Chalcie.  A rush of passion had made him
rise to the point, ready to make love to her on a moment's notice.  Her skin
was soft and warm, her hair smelled of smoke and fresh air, and her breasts
teased against his chest.

"Damn," he groaned.  His body was betraying him.  It wasn't fair.  He could
have any woman he wanted in the  fandango parlors, and with no strings
attached.  They were women who understood that a night in bed with them
didn't mean that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with them.  They
understood him and his needs.

Chalcie was different.  She'd expect something from him if he bedded her, and
he didn't need complications in his life.  But there she was, a real
complication, and his body wanted to take advantage of her.

There was only one way out of the mess, and that was to get up and dress and
head back to Sonora as soon as possible.

Once he was dressed, he'd wake Chalcie up.  He didn't want to startle her.

She had been through enough danger and excitement.  But the sooner they were
on the trail back to Sonora, the better.  He was as aware of the time
limitation that her father had imposed on her legacy as she was.

Then, as he moved to withdraw from the warmth of the fur-lined blanket, he
felt her stretch and she awakened.

"Where am I?  Did I make it to heaven?"  Chalcie murmured as she heard
Jordan's voice.  She tried to open her eyes and look around her to see what
heaven was like.  She managed to pry one eye open, but her vision was still
blurred and unfocused.  But the man who lay with his body against her
certainly looked like Jordan de Chat ain.  Why was she hearing his voice and
seeing his face in front of her?  Shouldn't she have been seeing someone more
dignified and upright in heaven?  She felt him push against her and realized
that there might be people more dignified in heaven, but few of them would be
more upright.

She even remembered every moment of that ridiculous dream.  Angels that
looked like Jordan de Chat ain--a naked Jordan de Chat ain!  How could a man
that she hated have had such am impact on her?  She shouldn't have been
dreaming about him instead of a real angel.

Chalcie tried to force her eyes open again.  She felt so comfortable, and
there were none of the rancid sweaty smells of the cabin that she had
awakened to for the past  six days.  If she could just look around, she
could find out where she was.

Strange that she'd be warm, when the last thing she remembered was falling
off the horse into the snowbank.  And that dream!  If she opened her eyes,
she could see if the dream had been so silly after all.  But every thing
still had a quality of sleep about it.  Nothing, not even the feel of a man's
body against hers, was real yet.  It couldn't be Ames who was holding her,
she comforted herself.  Ames was dead from the mushroom poison.  He'd never
have been able to escape from the cabin and come after her.  It wasn't really
a man's body; it probably had something to do with dying and going to heaven,
where it was snug and smelled of man and wood smoke and fresh snow.

For now, though, she could indulge in the fantasy that she was safe in
Jordan's arms.

Safe?  Jordan?  The two words should never even be put together in the same
sentence!

Slowly she managed to bring both eyes into focus at the same time, opening
first her right eye and then finally her left.  She looked upward, staring
directly into his deep black eyes.  Until that very moment it had all been a
dream, something that had no reality except in the fog-enshrouded recesses of
her brain.

This, however, was not a dream.

Jordan!  Like a million nerve endings firing, she felt him, all of him, in
his upright masculine glory.  Her breasts tightened at the touch of his chest
hair.  She felt his manhood pressing against her legs, urging her to open
them and give herself to him.

Oh my God, she thought, stunned.  How could she have come to this?  She had
just escaped Ames and Houlihan and had ended up in another man's bed?

Chalcie moaned softly as her whole body ached in a spasm of sheer desire.

She had never known what it was like to lie with a man and enjoy it.  She had
never even thought of such a thing.

 The only thing she knew for certain about making love was that the women in
the parlors made a great deal of money by their actions, and that most
"proper" women thought that marital duties were dirty.  Could this wonderful
wanting have been what they meant?  And if so, how stupid of them to hate it!

She tried to think about the humiliation of Jordan's laughter the day she had
offered herself to him, but even that was met with a certain apathy.

Too much had happened in the last few days for her to be angered over such a
silly thing.

For the first time she realized just what she had done, against all odds--she
had survived.

She had beaten Ames and left him for dead.  The amanita spared no one once
the mushrooms had been eaten in the quantities that Houlihan and Ames had
consumed.  She had ridden down the mountain and had survived the snowstorm.

She had not frozen to death, even though she knew instinctively that Jordan
had made her survive the freezing weather by pressing his naked skin against
her.  The very thought of his actions heated her body and her blood.  She
remembered other stories about men in wartime who had wanted nothing more
than to make love after they'd faced death.  She felt like those men.  She
wanted to hold Jordan and have him caress her.  She wanted Jordan.  She had
never wanted anything more in her life than she wanted to make love to Jordan
right then and there.

Slowly, almost unconsciously, she began to move her hips, rotating against
his body.  It felt so good, so right.  She was aware of every thing.
Jordan's throbbing response to her movement, the way her breasts were tight
and ready to be touched, the urgency of her need to have him make love to her
all swept her away with desperate need.

Jordan was content to hold Chalcie in his arms until she started to move her
hips.  She was innocent and seductive, vibrant with unfulfilled passion and
dangerous as all hell.

There was a moment when Jordan allowed himself to  respond to her.  He could
have been swept away with the rising passions and later pleaded that he
hadn't really been awake.  He wanted her.  There was fire and promise in her
that could have brought him to an answering fever.

"No, Chalcie, it would be all wrong," he said aloud, firmly.  No matter that
he had thought about just this scene when he'd watched her going about her
daily routine in Sonora.  No matter that he'd wished a thousand times over
that he could have recalled his cruel laugh and his taunting words when he
told her he didn't want a wife.  Then he had refused to help her with the
land and had fallen even further in his own estimation.  He didn't need to
add seducing her to the list of terrible things he'd done to Chalcie Kent.
He wasn't going to take advantage of her until she knew exactly what she was
doing.

Turning away from her was the most difficult thing he had ever done.  Only
the shock of the icy snow-laden wind on his bare bottom made it possible to
think clearly.  He had saved her, but that didn't mean she owed him her
maidenhood out of gratefulness.

Chalcie looked up at him, her eyes beginning to blur with tears.  He looked
so fine and beautiful standing there naked, just like her dream last night.
She wanted him more than anything she had ever wanted in her life, and he
refused to make love to her.

Jordan saw the look and for a moment his resolve wavered.  She wanted it.

What could be the harm in giving in?

"Because she'd hate you," he answered himself regretfully.  He reached down
and pulled his pants and shirt from the far blanket, where they'd been
tangled around them as they slept.

"Chalcie, I'm sorry... believe me, more sorry than you'll ever know.  But I
can't do that to you.  Not now.  Not here," Jordan said.  Taking a deep
breath, he ignored her sad blue eyes and her distress.

"Hurry up and dress while I feed the horses and clean up.  We have to get
back to Sonora."

Chalcie stared at him, confusion and hurt transparent on  her face.
Silently she sat up, using what she could grab of the blanket to cover
herself.

Jordan looked at her and almost sat back down on the fur.  Just one movement
and he could tumble her into his arms.  Her red hair fell in a splendid
tangle of curls around her face and shoulders.  Her eyes were dark with pain,
and he longed to see her generous mouth smile just once as she had smiled up
at him when they were cuddled close together.  The blanket parted for a
moment, reveal inga flash of breasts that made Jordan gasp with the sudden
desperate need for release.  He couldn't ever remember want inga woman so
much and still denying himself the pleasure of her body.

Chalcie turned away from him.

Damn it, she'd made a fool of herself again.  He had wanted her, she knew he
had.  He'd been just as excited as she was, and then he'd moved away from
her.  She'd offered herself to him and he'd turned her down, just like the
first time.  Only this time she hadn't been dressed in a fancy linen dress.
She'd been naked and warm and wanton, and he still turned his back on her.

Chalcie was mortified that he still didn't want her.  Of course she should
have known, she silently berated herself.  He never had liked her.  She
didn't know why he had been riding up the trail, but it certainly had had
nothing to do with her.  And if it did, it was only because he'd come
searching for her to win a chance to marry her and get the land and
businesses for free.  He knew as well as she did that if she didn't marry in
the next twenty-four hours, she would have to walk away from it all and start
over.

She could go back to Boston, to the life that her father had stolen her from.
She'd have to work her way east; there would be no free passage back to her
grandmother's house.  And once she arrived she knew that she would have to
live through hell until she managed to find a way to fit back into polite
society.

An involuntary sob rose in her throat.  Go back to Boston?  She would never
manage to fit into the whalebone rigid beliefs of her grandmother and
grandfather.  Better to find someone to marry and be done with it.  When
Jordan had rescued her last night, she had dreamed--wished--that Jordan would
be the man to take pity on her and marry her.  Jordan would have control of
the land.  That was what he wanted most.  That way, even if it was a marriage
in name only, she could have continued to live in California.

"It's not fair," she whispered as she looked out over the gleaming new snow
that coated the mountains.  They were blue, almost black with the distance,
and a haze shimmered around the mountain peaks.  From far off she could hear
the scream of a hawk on the wing, flying free.  She could marry Jordan, if
he'd have her, but she'd never have what she wanted most--the approval of her
father and a husband who really loved her.

Her father had taken away any chance she would ever have of being free, and
there wasn't a man in all of Sonora who would look at her as anything other
than a way to instant riches.

Jordan lingered over rolling up the blankets, wondering at his own
motivation.  He'd never refused a willing, attractive woman before.  He
reached for the smaller blanket and threw it at Chalcie.  She was standing to
one side, trying not to shiver as the wind cut through her thin cotton dress.
Jordan had the uncomfortable feeling that if he hadn't remembered that she
needed something to keep her warm, she would have mounted the mare and ridden
back to town with nothing between her and the storm but the calico.

' "Wear that blanket.  I'm not going to have my lifesaving skills questioned
by letting you freeze on the ride back," Jordan said shortly.

Chalcie nodded and wrapped the blanket around her.  She was so cold that she
could gladly have ridden wrapped in the fur one, but she wasn't about to ask
for that kind of favor from Jordan.  She didn't want to give him yet another
reason to turn her down.

 Jordan led the way down the mountain.  He was careful not to look at
Chalcedony.  He could see the hurt and anger in her eyes, but he had no
intention of trying to make things better.

He was uncomfortably aware of the physical attraction between the two of
them.  He had only to think about her breasts against his chest and that slow
movement against his manhood to be instantly, throbbingly erect.  He wanted
her physically, but that wasn't enough to base a lifelong relationship on.
She was a spitfire, ready to fight for anything and every thing she felt she
deserved.  He'd never thought of marriage as a battleground, but it would be
with her unless she allowed him to love her and she returned his love.

"Love?"  He frowned and tasted the word as he said it quietly.

He had no idea why the word had popped into his mind, but it certainly didn't
bear any relationship to what he felt for Chalcedony Kent.  Lust maybe, but
not love.  He'd get her back to Sonora and drop her off, and she would be on
her own after that.

But the word rang in his mind--love.  Could it possibly be true?  The strange
thing was, he wanted more than her luscious body.  He realized, wonderingly,
that he wanted to hold her and soothe away all the troubles that had filled
her life.  He wanted to make her feel secure and happy.  If he did all of
that for her, then she would love him in return, wouldn't she?

But what if she never learned to love him?

Jordan shrugged his shoulders.  It was all a dream, anyway.  He had rescued
her and kept her alive and nothing more was going to happen between them.

Chalcedony watched the silent figure in front of her.  She was achingly aware
of the way he sat on the horse, of the way he handled the reins.

Those hands had touched her this morning and their awakening force had been
more than she had ever dreamed possible.  Men had touched her before, 
mostly in jest when she worked in the bar.  But nothing, not even the furtive
kisses she had stolen with several of the younger men in town, had caused her
body to react with such fierce need.

"Settle down," she told herself firmly.  He didn't want her, he'd made that
much clear; She would simply have to find another man and marry him.

Surely she could manage to find one love-starved miner in a town of several
hundred who would be willing to marry her and give her back control of her
own holdings.

"Chalcedony?"

Jordan stopped the horses as they topped the rise.

"Yes, Jordan?"  She waited hopefully.

' "I just wanted to tell you that I didn't confide in anyone except Juanita
about going after you.  In fact, no one except me knows for certain that you
were kidnapped.  There were rumors, but most of the men didn't think much
about your disappearing for a while.  After all, you did it a couple of
months ago.  And then, with your father just murdered-- well, they thought
you were sequestered after your father's death... in mourning, you know."

Chalcedony looked at him blankly.

"No, I don't know," she said, wondering what this was all about.

Jordan slapped the reins against his hand in exasperation.  She couldn't be
that naive!

"Chalcie, if you'd been taken against your will, then they'd also think you
might have been..."  His voice trailed off and a blush mounted underneath his
tan.  Maybe he should have talked to her about what had happened on the
mountain with Ames and Houlihan.  But he had been so wrapped up in his
thoughts about her desires and his need that he hadn't even bothered to make
certain that Chalcedony had not, indeed, been raped.

Oh God, if they'd done that to her, he'd kill them.  The thought cut through
him like an icy knife.

"Chalcie, they didn't?"

 Chalcie blushed.  They did nothing.  I cleaned the cabin and cooked their
meal and Ames talked about marrying me and then murdering me.  I don't think
he wanted to sully his reputation by actually.  bedding me.  " She could
barely get the words out.  She turned her face away from Jordan, ashamed even
to be talking about such things with a man.  Suddenly it dawned on Chalcedony
what Jordan had been hinting about.  The men in the camp would have the same
questions about her.

"You mean the men will think I've been raped?  Used by those foul excuses for
men?"  She shuddered.

Jordan shrugged uncomfortably.

"Don't you think someone is going to put it together when they see me riding
in on Ames's mare?"  she asked acidly.  It didn't matter what the truth was,
she knew what the men would believe.  Jordan was right.  All the careful
plans she had made about getting married to the first man who would give her
back the Kent holdings were collapsing.  She might be able to find a man who
would accept her as a wife, but it would be difficult.  The double standard
of what the miners expected of women was just as crazy in California as it
was anywhere else.

The only men who would have her now might be the ones who wanted the fortune
and nothing else.  No one would want her for herself, for the woman she was
and for the wife she could be.  They'd think of her as a sullied woman.  And
they would never give her back the Kent fortune.  They'd think the money and
land were only fair payment for taking in a woman who had been defiled.

"I'll take the horse, and you walk from the edge of town.  Can you manage
that?"  Jordan had it all planned.  There wouldn't be even the smallest hint
of impropriety.

"Of course I can," she answered.  Chalcedony gritted her teeth against the
anger and despair that surged through her.

"Tell me, what made you come after me, if you didn't want me...?"  To her
shame, Chalcie heard her voice break at the end of the question.

 Jordan sighed.  He'd been waiting for the question and hoping that she
wouldn't ask it.

"I heard your father boasting about that will, and all I could think about
was the trouble it was going to cause you.  I had already warned you.  I
figured that I'd done my duty by telling you about the will, since it was
damn clear that your father wasn't about to tell you the terms he'd set up.
Then someone came running into the saloon yelling about James Kent being
shot."  Jordan wished he could think of some way to soften the words, but
there weren't any delicate and genteel ways to talk about her father being
gunned down in the middle of the street.

"I couldn't figure out why Ames would shoot him, so I started asking
questions.  There were men there who'd heard a fight brewing between your
father and Ames.  Seems there were several men just itching to let your
father know about Ames's reputation back in San Francisco.  The man had quite
a history of coming in, bleeding people of every thing and then moving on to
the next victim.  He'd figured on playing your father the same way.  I don't
know what made the difference, why they were willing to step forward now
instead of coming forward earlier, but the will naming Ames as the person to
get every thing seemed to have something to do with it.

You're pretty well liked and the men thought it was a shame what your father
was doing to you.  "

Jordan slowed the horses as they turned downhill again.  For the first time,
they could see the smoke from the town rising in the wind.

"They convinced my father that Ames was out to cheat him?"

"Evidently they convinced your father that Ames was trying some kind of
slippery deal.  When it dawned on your father what he had almost done to you,
he started making noise about ripping up the will and starting over again,
fresh."

Chalcie closed her eyes.  The huge knot of grief and anger that she had felt
inside since she heard about the will and  her father's death slowly eased.
So that was how it had happened.  Her father hadn't abandoned her, then.  He
had finally thought about the impact of his actions on her.

"Obviously, Ames wasn't about to allow your father to rip up the will.  It
was his passport to the Kent fortune, just in case he couldn't get it away
from the old man while he was still alive.  So he shot him."

Chalcie shuddered to hear the words from someone else.  If she had ever had
any qualms about poisoning Ames, they were resolved with that sentence.

She was glad that she had at least partially avenged her father's murder.

She would have liked it better, though, if the men had suffered more before
they died.  It had been too easy on them after all the suffering they had
inflicted on her family.

She focused on Jordan's last words about the will being ripped up.

Chalcie brightened.

"Then I'm safe.  I don't have to worry about the will?"

Jordan cleared his throat, wishing he didn't have to tell her the truth.

"No, that's not quite right.  Your father didn't have a chance to nullify the
will.  It's still written in black and white, and the paper is being kept at
Mary's saloon.  You are still bound by the terms of it."

"Then I'd better get busy, hadn't I?"  Chalcie said tightly.  She had some
work ahead of her before the clock struck twelve tonight.  She wasn't going
to marry Ames, because he was dead, and she wasn't going to walk away and
build another life unless she was forced to.  That left her with the job of
find inga husband who wanted her and not just her money.

It was late afternoon when they finally turned toward the muddy main street
of Sonora.  Chalcedony dismounted and gave the reins of Ames's mare to
Jordan.  She threw the blanket over the saddle.  Without loo king back, she
started slogging across the street.  She shivered from the cold and fright,
wishing desperately that she could be back in the fur blanket, with Jordan's
body pressed against hers.

 She didn't see Jordan reaching out involuntarily to hold her back, to bring
her back to him so he could ask her to marry him.  She saw nothing but the
dismal road ahead and the prospect of hunting for someone who might be able
to learn to love her.

' "Well, he did it, then.  He managed to save you," Juanita greeted her as
she walked into the smoky warmth of the bar.  One quick look told her that
the girl was dead on her feet and probably suffering from shock.  She knew
that Jordan had intended to allow Chalcedony to walk back into town on her
own to try to silence rumors about where she had been.

When he had said that he was going out to try to find her at Houlihan's
cabin, they had discussed what he should do to ensure that the men in the
town never knew for certain whether she'd been alone with Ames and Houlihan
or had simply gone off to mourn her father in private.

What Jordan didn't know was that in the past day the rumors had been
whispered and then shouted--James Kent had been murdered and Chalcedony had
ridden away with his murderers.

The miners would judge the men who had compromised her harshly, but
Chalcedony's reputation was also in tatters.  She was soiled goods now, the
kind of woman that no decent man would want to marry unless he had an eye
only for her gold.

Juanita grabbed Chalcedony's arm and pulled her through the curtain and
around to her own room.

"Did Jordan say he'd marry you?"  she asked.  There was no time for
preliminaries.  All the men knew that this was the last day of the week, and
there wasn't a marriageable male in sight for the girl.

Chalcedony shook her head miserably.  They'd talked about what the men would
think, but he hadn't offered marriage and she hadn't expected it.

"My God, he's got to know what the men will say now  that you're back in
town.... There' , the only man who would be ^ " ^J starched-shirt priss pots
out there etc^| fallen woman now.  Didn't he Wa*"6^!

Juanita was furious with the m^ V0* "I way he looked at Chalcie, and ;( st
seen it.  Yet he'd sent her back (g w?  without even offering Chalcie tl) "
with him.  P Yes, Chalcie thought, he'd \vg exactly her.  Most likely it had
be'16 that she could explain to Juanita a "It doesn't matter," Chalcie i,
tried but he didn't manage to carry I'm still pure, if that's what you'^
Juanita snorted.

"Men are fu^ ^ you down because you might hay' I were twelve and you couldn't
do | they'll marry a woman from thefgj batting an eye and make her inig,
they'll never forgive you the idea^ have been used before by a man jf| a good
woman.  And that leaves ^i will marry you--the ones who want the money."

' "Well, if it's not going to be myself and it's not a man who was the
hell does that leave?"

"Jordan."

"I'd rather die," Chalcie said.

Juanita ignored her.

"I know ri he is going to make you a good hi to be a wonderful wife for him."
him to see it our way.  "

"I will not!  I wouldn't be al last man on earth," Chalcie expl" she wanted
to cry.

 She didn't see Jordan reaching out involuntarily to hold her back, to bring
her back to him so he could ask her to marry him.  She saw nothing but the
dismal road ahead and the prospect of hunting for someone who might be able
to learn to love her.

' "Well, he did it, then.  He managed to save you," Juanita greeted her as
she walked into the smoky warmth of the bar.  One quick look told her that
the girl was dead on her feet and probably suffering from shock.  She knew
that Jordan had intended to allow Chalcedony to walk back into town on her
own to try to silence rumors about where she had been.

When he had said that he was going out to try to find her at Houlihan's
cabin, they had discussed what he should do to ensure that the men in the
town never knew for certain whether she'd been alone with Ames and Houlihan
or had simply gone off to mourn her father in private.

What Jordan didn't know was that in the past day the rumors had been
whispered and then shouted--James Kent had been murdered and Chalcedony had
ridden away with his murderers.

The miners would judge the men who had compromised her harshly, but
Chalcedony's reputation was also in tatters.  She was soiled goods now, the
kind of woman that no decent man would want to marry unless he had an eye
only for her gold.

Juanita grabbed Chalcedony's arm and pulled her through the curtain and
around to her own room.

"Did Jordan say he'd marry you?"  she asked.  There was no time for
preliminaries.  All the men knew that this was the last day of the week, and
there wasn't a marriageable male in sight for the girl.

Chalcedony shook her head miserably.  They'd talked about what the men would
think, but he hadn't offered marriage and she hadn't expected it.

"My God, he's got to know what the men will say now  that you're back in
town.... There's been talk already.  He's the only man who would be able to
face down those starched-shirt priss pots out there.

They all think you're a fallen woman now.  Didn't he want you?  "

Juanita was furious with the man.  Stupid she'd seen the way he looked at
Chalcie, and it was love if she'd ever seen it.  Yet he'd sent her back to
face the men of Sonora without even offering Chalcie the possibility of
marriage with him.

Yes, Chalcie thought, he'd wanted something, but not exactly her.  Most
likely it had been a passing lust.  Nothing that she could explain to Juanita.

"It doesn't matter," Chalcie began.

"Besides, Ames tried but he didn't manage to carry through what he wanted.
I'm still pure, if that's what you're concerned about."

Juanita snorted.

"Men are funny that way.  They'll turn you down because you might have been
raped when you were twelve and you couldn't do anything about it.  Then
they'll marry a woman from the fandango parlor without batting an eye and
make her into an honest woman.  But they'll never forgive you the idea that
you might, just might have been used before by a man if you're supposed to be
a good woman.  And that leaves us with the only men who will marry you the
ones who don't care about you but want the money."

"Well, if it's not going to be a man who wants me for myself, and it's not a
man who wants just the money, who the hell does that leave?"

"Jordan."

"I'd rather die," Chalcie said.

Juanita ignored her.

"I know that man and I know that he is going to make you a good husband, and
you're going to be a wonderful wife for him.  We just have to convince him to
see it our way."

"I will not!  I wouldn't be a wife to him if he was the last man on earth,"

Chalcie exploded.  Her head ached and she wanted to cry.

 "Well, he might as well be the last man, for all the chance you'll have of
marrying before your father's deadline.  Don't fight me, girl, I know what
I'm doing.  Get changed into the linen dress.  It'll serve as a wedding
dress."

Chalcie shook her head violently.

"I'm not marrying Jordan and I'm certainly not going to go see anyone wear
inga dress that I was wearing when I asked for help and was turned down flat."

Juanita sighed.  Chalcie was right.  She couldn't go back to Jordan wearing
the same dress, and there wasn't time to make another one.

"Your velvet!  That'll be perfect.  It's cold enough now, and the blue with
your red hair will make you look like a real bride instead of a woman
desperate to save herself."

Chalcie shook her head.

"Give it up, Juanita.  I'm not going to get married.  I'm not going to stay
here and run the Kent properties.  It's all going to go to the miners, and
I'm going to move on."

"But what will you do?  How can it possibly be better to walk away from it
all instead of giving Jordan a chance to do right by you?"

"Why should he?"  Chalcie asked bitterly.

"He had a chance to make love to me if he'd wanted to..."  Her hand flew to
her mouth.  She hadn't meant to tell Juanita about that!

Juanita smiled slowly.  There, that was what she needed.  She didn't know
what kind of game Jordan was playing, but if he'd almost made love to
Chalcie, that meant there was some hope.  It might not be love, but lust
wouldn't hurt a bit.

"We'll just give him another chance, now won't we?"  Juanita wasn't going to
let Chalcie leave.  She was the best boss a woman had ever had and she was a
friend.  A friend was hard to come by in the gold country and she didn't even
want to think of Sonora without her.  And to make  certain that Chalcie
stayed, she had to get her married off to Jordan before midnight.

Chalcie needed a bath and then she needed a new dress.

Quickly Juanita enlisted the aid of the other women in the bar.  The
brand-new copper tub that served as a bath if the men were willing to pay an
ounce of gold for it was brought to Chalcie's room.  Steaming water from the
stove was poured in.

"Now, slide down in that and soak, and I'll be right back," Juanita ordered.

Chalcie followed the orders.  She was too tired and depressed even to begin
to object.  The heated water lapped gently over her, soothing the cold ache
that had ridden with her since that morning.  She picked up the soap and
towel Juanita had left.  Sweet-smelling lather brought her further back into
the world of the living.  She soaked for a few minutes and then she rinsed
herself one last time.  She was numb and exhausted and too damned tired to
fight.  Let Juanita have her way.  She'd soon discover that Jordan wanted no
part of her and the fine Kent fortune.

When the water finally began to cool.  Chalcedony climbed out and wrapped
herself in the old cotton blanket Juanita had left on the rocking chair.

The tears that had been threatening all day began to seep out.  She was so
tired she couldn't move another foot, and she didn't care whether she managed
to marry anyone or not.  It was already completely dark outside, and she knew
that there were only a few more hours.  She didn't care.  She couldn't face
the men; she couldn't ask any of them to marry her.  It was simply too much.
She'd go to Murphys to the new find or she'd go back to Boston and leave the
whole damn state to the miners.

"Here, put this on."  Juanita threw a bundle of cloth at Chalcie.

"What?"  Chalcie caught the bundle and shook out the dress of fine light
cream satin with handmade lace edging.

 She looked from the dress to Juanita, and the woman's dark eyes glanced
away guiltily.

"Juanita, I can't--this was your wedding dress!"  Chalcedony said.  She knew
what the dress meant to Juanita.  Her friend never even wore light colors
anymore.  When she fancied herself up for a night at the bar, she wore deep
reds and greens, good colors to brighten a miner's day.  The rich velvets
complemented her dark skin and black hair.  But she never wore white satin.

"But it's yours," Chalcie said in confusion.

"I'll never wear it again.  I don't want to be married, Chalcie.  You know
that.  No one could ever be as good as my sainted Miguel.  But this dress is
perfect for you tonight.  You need it."

"Don't forget Eduardo, Juanita.  You're going to need this for him.  I do
have the velvet."

"Yes, you do.  But for the wedding, no matter what you think about it, you
need a dress with romance, something to make you feel beautiful.  This dress
can do that.  Look at the lace, feel the satin.  Think of it against your
skin and with your red hair.  Jordan will never be able to resist you."

Chalcie didn't point out that he had already resisted her several times and
she was probably setting herself up for another rejection.

Juanita knew what Chalcie was thinking.  But it would work this time.  It had
to.  Chalcie would make a beautiful romantic bride and it was Juanita's
firmly held belief that if the marriage started off with romance, it would
endure with love.

Chalcedony looked down at the dress.  It deserved to be worn by a woman who
was going to the altar happily, secure in the knowledge that she would be
cherished.  She knew that no matter what happened, that wouldn't be true for
her.  Necessity, desperation and greed--those would stand up for her at the
marriage, like silent men of dishonor behind her.

"Put it on, we don't have much time."

 Chalcedony donned the dress.  Juanita pulled her hair back into a sleek
chignon that gleamed dull red in the lamplight.  Her natural color was so
pink that she didn't need an artful touch of wet red flannel to make her look
perfect.

"It won't make any.  difference, you know.  Jordan won't marry me and there's
no one else," Chalcie said sadly.

"Trust me," Juanita said again.  Her face was a grim mask.

"Where are we going?"  She really didn't care, but obviously Juanita had
something planned.

"To Jordan's house," Juanita answered.

Chalcedony looked at her in horror.  Hadn't Juanita heard a thing she'd said
in the last few hours?  Asking Jordan to marry her was impossible.

Juanita saw her expression and shook her head "Not a word.  I'll deal with
that man once we get there," she said.

Chalcedony didn't have the heart or the strength to object.

The trek through the town was undertaken in silence, using the back road
where no one would see her.  Chalcie had pulled on the long flannel-and-wool
coat that she had bought in San Francisco.  It concealed most of the wedding
dress.  Juanita was ready to knock on the front door, when there was a sound
from inside the house.

It looked, Chalcie thought miserably, like a home that needed a woman in it
who was loved.  It already had a man and a cat and a stove to keep warm.

All it needed was a happy wife.  But that wasn't going to be her, that was
certain.

Jordan opened the door and stepped out onto the thick slab of red rock that
served as his front porch.  He had changed into clean clothes.  With his hair
tousled from the water and freshly shaved, he was the epitome of a good-
loo king man.

Unbidden, the thought of him pressed against her naked body came to Chalcie's
mind.  She shivered at the recollection.  Oh, how she had wanted him!

 He had turned her down.

Chalcie pivoted and started back down the path.  She wasn't going to do this.
The last ember of rebellion flared.

"I told you no, and I meant no.  I don't need him and he doesn't need me,"

Chalcie declared as she tried to push past her friend.

"You need him.  I agree that he doesn't need you, but he has a compassionate
heart.  He will see that you are well treated."

"Excuse me, ladies, might I say something?"

Both Chalcie and Juanita turned to stare at Jordan.  They were stunned to see
him grinning like a fool.

"Oh, good, I have your attention," he said.

He stepped down toward them, still smiling.  He reached out and took
Chalcie's hand in his own, and the shock of her skin against his made him
even more certain that he was right.  If they'd given him a few more minutes,
he'd have met them at the saloon instead of making Chalcie trek all this way
to his cabin.  He pulled her closer to him and felt her reluctance as she
tried to resist him.

Jordan noticed the shiver as she stared at him.  It reminded him of a small
bird about to be eaten alive.  There was an expression of blank pain on her
face that made him wince.  He knew that she felt she'd been forced to come to
him, when all he really wanted was for her to marry him and be happy.

She wouldn't believe that he had been on his way down to the saloon to tell
her that she had to marry him because he couldn't stand the thought of her
married to anyone else.

Unbidden, another set of scenes flashed through his mind.  Chalcie in the
furs, moving against him.  Chalcie naked and pink as he looked down on her.

Chalcie as his wife, and the chance to give in to the almost unbearable need
to make love to her.

He knew that she didn't love him now.  But there was always the chance that
she might fall in love with him.  If she would only become his wife, then
he'd have her all to  himself.  He couldn't stop thinking about the way
she'd felt against him.

It hadn't been the same as simple lust; it had been something more, something
richer and more passionate.

He'd hoped that she would come to him with a smile, with the memory of the
way their bodies had melded together.  Then he could share every thing with
her, his body and his soul.

Finally, here she was, standing in front of him, and he felt a rush of
delight when he looked at her.  Then he saw her expression again and the joy
left him as completely as if it had never been.

Chalcie had come loo king like a woman being led to the gallows.  She was
expecting him to hurt her again.

Had he been so cruel to her?  The answer, irrefutably, was yes.

He ached for the pain she must be feeling now.  All that valiant fighting,
all the brave words, and here she was, reduced to accept inga husband so she
could keep what was rightfully hers to begin with.  He'd been informed almost
as soon as he'd stabled his horse that Chalcedony Kent was no longer a woman
of good repute.  Her chances for a decent marriage had gone to zero.

Juanita opened her mouth, but he silenced her with a gesture.

"No, Chalcie, you don't need to try and leave me again," he said, his voice
low and soothing.

"I only wanted to come home and change into better clothes before I came back
to claim my prize."

"Your prize?"  Chalcie asked, her eyes wide.

' "My prize.  I rescued you, I kept you alive, I slept with you.  That means
that I won a chance to make you my wife.  Please give me a chance at winning
your heart."

Chalcie almost fainted.  Surely he couldn't mean this!

"You want to marry me?"  she asked faintly.

"I want to marry you and have you as my wife and finally be able to make love
to you," Jordan said simply.

 Chalcie stood there and listened to the words, and as she listened, she
began to feel her emotions beginning to thaw.  Was it possible that he really
did care for her?  Had she misjudged him?  She had been certain that he was
only concerned with the money she would bring to the marriage.  But when he
talked about making love to her--or was it only lust?

She couldn't have every thing.  She'd settle for what she could get.  The
chance to be married to Jordan de Chat ain was enough.  Perhaps, if she was
lucky, he'd fall in love with her later.

His heart ached for the pain she had endured, and he wanted to protect her.
He would kiss that look from her eyes and taste her sweet mouth, and they'd
start again, fresh.  It would be a good marriage.  He could make it good.  It
would take time before she realized that he could really love her.  Jordan
gently removed the coat to reveal the wedding dress.  He marveled at her skin
and the color in her cheeks.  His body was playing tricks on him again as he
thought about loosening her hair and lifting the dress over her head.

He hadn't even noticed that, in the space of the morning to the evening, he
had gone from being certain that he could never love her to glad acceptance
that he was going to have a chance to show her just how much he could love
her.

Jordan leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips, shocking her with a
sudden desire that made her sway against him.

' "Chalcedony, will you marry me?"

Chapter Eleven Q^y^s^Q v^halcie leaned her forehead against the wall and
closed her eyes in desperation.

"Forget it, Juanita, I can't go out there.  I'd rather work my way back to
Boston than force Jordan into marrying me."

"That wasn't what I saw when he asked you to marry him.  I saw a man who
looked at you as if he were being presented with the crown jewels."

"How apt.  That's the truth, isn't it?  It's the money, not me," Chalcie said.

Juanita threw up her hands in exasperation.  Chalcie was determined to take
every thing she said the wrong way.

"I want to marry for love, even if I live like a poor woman for the rest of
my life," Chalcie said desperately.

"Stop saying stupid things.  You don't want to be poor again and we both know
it.  You sure as hell don't want to go back to Boston.  Jordan's not such a
bad person to be marrying.  He'll do right by you," Juanita said, ignoring
the wild look on Chalcie's face.

"I can't.  It's like stage fright.  I'm play inga part and I know that I'm
not going to be any good in it."

Chalcie didn't add that she knew that tonight she'd have to give the most
convincing performance of her life when she vowed to take Jordan as her
husband.  She looked out  at the blur of faces that spilled out beyond the
bar and into the street.

From her vantage point between the buildings in the alleyway, she could see
that every miner in Sonora was in attendance, ready for the evening's
entertainment.  The bar had been cleared and polished.  The red calico
curtains at the front and one side had been pulled up out of the way so that
the sea of miners could watch the marriage of Chalcedony Kent and Jordan de
Chat ain.  The men hungered for excitement, and here it was,
delivered--romance and all-- to their doorstep.  No one had ever expected the
two enemies to wed, particularly now that Chalcedony was a soiled woman, fit
only for the fandango parlors.

"Jordan's set it up so that there'll never be any question about your
marriage.  He's taking care of you, Chalcie.  You'd better thank him for
that.  Otherwise you'd be broke at one minute after midnight.  So shut up and
get out there and get married," Juanita said in exasperation.

Chalcedony stood in the dark passage between her saloon and Jordan's fandango
parlor.  She couldn't face that crowd, no matter what she stood to lose.  She
had thought the marriage would be fast, simple and fake.  It hadn't occurred
to her that the miners would make a festival of the evening.

"You have to be properly married within the next ten minutes, and
furthermore, you'd better have all the witnesses you can find to make certain
the world knows you were married before the stroke of twelve.  Now get on
down there and wait for your groom.  He'll be along shortly."

Juanita gave her a firm shove across the narrow unlit alley that led to the
saloon.

Chalcedony stumbled several steps, and then, deciding that anything was
better than standing frozen with fear in the darkness, she walked toward the
bar.

She was almost even with the office at the back of the fandango parlor when
she heard voices, one Jordan's familiar deep baritone, the other of a
stranger.

"Let me get it sorted out, Tourelle.  I've got to get married first.  I told
you, I'll know how much I can afford to sell in a few days.  I've got to
decide how I'm going to divide every thing up."

Chalcedony's heart stopped in shock and then thudded painfully back to life.
She would have fainted if she had been the fainting kind.

So her worst fears were to be realized.  The marriage would take place and
she would be stripped of every thing she had ever worked for.  Divide every
thing?  Even- her own property was going to be taken from her?

Chalcie's hands closed convulsively.  How could she win against someone like
Jordan?

Damn you.  Father, I hope you rot in hell for this, she thought.  Her father
had stolen more than he would ever realize.  Not only would she lose the
businesses, but she would never know love the way other women would.  She
would have nothing but dreams for the rest of her life.  She didn't care that
her father had tried to undo his foolishness--he hadn't succeeded, and it had
ruined her life.

"No," she whispered as she stared at the bar twenty feet away from her.

She saw her prized wall clock ticking away the seconds.

She knew she had to marry him, but that didn't make the action any easier.

Jordan approached from behind her.  He caught her hand in his, a grip that,
while not painful, was unbreakable.

"It's time.  I know you're frightened, but trust me.  It will be all right,"

he said, trying to soothe her.

The sound of his voice promising to break up the Kent fortune was too clear
for her to believe him.

Jordan pulled her into the lighted area at the back of the saloon, and the
miners began to cheer as they saw the pair advancing toward the bar.  The
preacher smiled as they neared him.

Jordan's stride did not falter as Chalcie held back, reluctant to see her
fate so thoroughly sealed.  If she had been  able to break away, she would
have made a wild dash out the door as her nerve broke.

But there's nothing to go to, she thought miserably.  It was this marriage or
nothing.  She had to go through with it.

"That's the way, Jordan.  Start out showing her who's the boss!"  Blackie
Hardesty called out.

"Give it to her, Jordan.  She needs a firm hand..."  Henry Stollen chimed in.

"And a firm..."

Blessedly the last comment was drowned out by the rising roar of approval
from the crowd.

Chalcie's face was scarlet with embarrassment and anger.  Her carefully
coiffed hair, pinned and braided into a crown of deep red, was in danger of
falling down around her shoulders.  She was terrified that she'd put a foot
through the fragile lace of Juanita's dress.  The crowd surged around her,
and if she hadn't been protected by Jordan's arm, she would have been knocked
to the ground.

Some of the miners stepped in, trying to push the crowd back so the marriage
could take place.

"Brother de Chat ain, I humbly suggest that we get on with this.  We don't
have time for the fancy stuff."  Reverend Jamiston leaned toward the couple.

The shouting died down and the bar was quiet.  There was the sound of
hundreds of feet shuffling as the men craned for a better view, and somewhere
near the back someone was still whistlinga wedding tune.  The crowd waited
intensely to see if the two antagonists could beat the deadline.

"Chalcie, do you take Jordan de Chat ain for your husband, for now and
forever?"

Chalcie looked up at Jordan, and his hand tightened again around her wrist.
There was no escape.

"I do."

Short, sweet and to the point.  Jordan's hand dropped  away from her arm,
and suddenly she felt bereft.  At least it had been contact.

' "Jordan, do you take Chalcedony Kent as your wife?"

' "I do" rang out as the clock began to strike the first note of twelve
midnight.

Jordan leaned down and kissed Chalcie, touching her lips as he had longed to
do since waking up and finding her naked warmth pressed against him.

She tasted sweet, and for just a moment, a passing second, he allowed himself
to think that life with her could be equally sweet, if she'd just give him a
chance to show her that they might fall in love after all.

Chalcie broke the kiss.  She looked down at her hand still bare of a ring,
and turned away from him blindly.  It was done.  No matter how much she liked
the kiss, she didn't have to pretend that it was anything more than a public
show carefully planned and calculated by Jordan to prove to everyone that she
was indeed his bride.

She wished that it was different.  She wished that this marriage was real.

But she had heard Jordan planning to break up the Kent fortune.  He wasn't
going to have her as a real wife.  Instead, he was going to strip her bare of
her money and move on to other women.  She knew that he'd never bed her.  He
had already made that abundantly clear this morning.  He could have had her,
ready and willing, and he'd turned her down.  Twice was enough for any woman.
She'd never come to him again, wanting to be taken in his arms.  He'd have
her money but he would never have her heart.

There was a roar of approval as the kiss ended, and the miners began to
applaud and stamp their feet as the couple separated.  The men were as
excited as if it were their own romantic wedding they were celebrating.

"Drinks on the house!"  Juanita bustled up to the bar and began to set up the
glasses.  Paul, the mining camp's only fiddler, began to play a rousing dance
tune to start the festivities.

 "One dance and we're off to bed," Jordan said, and there was another roar
of approval as he led Chalcie out to the small patch of floor that the men
cleared.

They fitted together, Chalcie thought as he put his arms around her.  She let
herself drift into a dream in which he loved her and she would live with him
happily forever and that this was her wedding dance, which she would remember
as they grew old together.  His arms touched the right places, his warmth
against her made her almost faint with desire for more.

She was aware of the slight pressure of her breasts against his chest and was
wickedly delighted to hear him gasp as if breathing were difficult for him,
too.

They moved slowly together, a decorous dance with his arms holding her like a
fragile wildflower.  It was all show, designed to make certain that no one
had any funny ideas about the contract not being fulfilled.

To the miners they looked like the perfect couple.  He was tall and darkly
handsome, she was beautiful in the only wedding dress for a hundred miles
around.  Juanita wasn't the only one in the bar wiping away a surreptitious
tear as the couple spun slowly to the strains of the violin.  Eduardo stood
beside her and put his arm around her shoulder.

"Maybe we will be next, if you'll have me," he said quietly.

Juanita nodded, knowing that she might finally have to put the memory of
Miguel to rest and think about Eduardo as a life companion.  The very thought
frightened her to death.

"We're off," Jordan announced jovially as the dance ended.  He drew Chalcie
against him, holding her firmly around the waist in case she had any ideas
about bolting.

"No, Jordan, you're on, if you're doing it right!"  one of the miners yelled
as they left the saloon.

Jordan saluted them and walked into the darkness toward his house.

Neither of them broke the silence as they negotiated the treacherous path.

Chalcie was desperately trying to make  sure that she didn't ruin Juanita's
dress, and Jordan was trying to help her keep her balance in the mire left by
the snowstorm.

"Jordan, when you're tired of Miss Fancy Pants, I'll still be here."  One of
the whores from the fandango parlor leaned out the window, her breasts
hobbling beneath the thin cotton chemise that did nothing to cover her more
than adequate attributes.

"If you want to work another night for me, Suzette, you'd better never insult
my wife again," Jordan said, his voice pitched so that it would carry clearly
to the second story.

Suzette looked down at her boss, her face a study of confusion and anger.

"I'm sorry, Chalcie, the women tend to get carried away sometimes."

"I'm not surprised that you've done what almost every man here does,"

Chalcie said slowly.  She didn't add that the thought of him in bed with
another woman made her stomach churn.  From the sounds of it, Jordan had
bedded almost every woman in Sonora.

An idea was beginning to take shape.  She didn't want Jordan to think that
she intended to be his wife in anything but name.  They'd acted as if every
thing were going to be just fine that night, a normal night for any newlywed.
But she'd be damned if she was actually going to let this man in her bed.
She wasn't really married.  Marriage for convenience didn't count.  Someday
she'd have more, and that would be the time for loving.  But until then, she
would stay a virgin.

"I think this calls for a celebration.  I know you're not happy about the way
things have gone, but we should try and make the best of it, don't you
think?"  Jordan soothed her as he opened the door and led her into his little
house.

She looked at the pine-plank table and gasped.  Her trunk had been set to one
side of the room, and her rocking chair had been placed beside the chair that
Jordan would sit in  when he was home.  The light gleamed against the oiled
wood.  It was a silent message to her from Juanita.  This was her home now,
this was where she belonged, not back in the small room on the other side of
the bar.

Jordan took her silence as acquiescence to the idea of celebrating.  He
produced two beautifully wrought crystal glasses.  He filled the goblets with
the best wine, and the wonderful scent of grapes and sunshine filled the room.

"To a long and profitable marriage for both of us," Jordan said, and
clinked his glass against hers for the toast.

Chalcie sipped the wine numbly.  His voice came back to haunt her.

"I'll sort it out and divide the holdings later...."  Wasn't that what he'd
said?

Taking it all away from her, not even leaving her pride unbroken.

Now, she had to say something now.

"Don't get your hopes up about the marriage be inganything more than a
convenience, Jordan," Chalcie said.

Jordan looked at her, his eyes narrowed.

"And what does that mean, Chalcie?"  He looked devastatingly handsome in his
dark coat and brilliantly white shirt.  It set off his dark eyes, eyes that
had a look in them that made Chalcie uncomfortable.

She fidgeted under his steady gaze.  It was now or never.

"You'd better not be thinking of sharing my bed," Chalcie said firmly.

She crossed her fingers, hoping that she had the fortitude to carry out her
plan.

Jordan stared at her.  Not a muscle on his face twitched, and his gaze never
wavered.

"And why is that, wife?"  he said softly.

Chalcie had never known that a soft voice could sound so menacing.  She took
a deep breath to steady herself.  She had courage enough to carry this off.
She had to have, or she'd have lost every thing, including her virginity, to
a cruel joke of fate and her father's will.

"I have no intention of sleeping with you."

"And why not?"  Jordan's voice trailed off as he saw the set of Chalcie's
chin.  Stubborn was the only word for  it.  He had a sinking feeling that
the sweetness of the kiss had been a lie, after all.  She had no intention of
treating him as anything other than a convenience.

How stupid of him, he berated himself silently.  He had hoped against hope
that Chalcie would actually see that he had some affection for her.  He
wasn't after her money, he had simply been trying to help her out and, in
turn, perhaps gain another chance to press his suit for her affections.  As
her husband, he should have had at least a chance to win her over.

"Where are my books?"

"In the bedroom."

Chalcie stood up and so did Jordan.

"I can go in the bedroom by myself, you know," Chalcie said tightly.

"No, you can't.  I'll not have you sneaking out the window and taking off
into the night.  I've had enough trouble with you to last me a couple of
centuries," Jordan answered.

Chalcie walked toward the bedroom, her spine straight with anger.  He didn't
trust her.  The bloody fool thought she'd run away from him.  As if she'd do
that.  She didn't acknowledge that the thought had most certainly crossed her
mind.

She marched into the room and saw the books laid out on the desk.  She
grabbed the book Dr. Guillaine had given her two years ago.  She and her
father had come down with fevers while they were crawling across the Central
American jungles, trying to get to the Pacific and a ship headed for
California.  Her father had been vomiting what looked like black coffee
grounds and was burning with fever when she found Dr. Guillaine.

The presence of the French physician in the rude muddy village had saved
Kent's life.  Once the crisis had passed, Chalcie had begun to pester the
doctor with questions about medicine, about what would work as a febrifuge
and as an emetic, which plants were deadly and which could cure  fevers.
She had suddenly realized that she needed to know every thing she could learn
about medicine.  If the rumors she had heard were true, she was going to a
place where they would be fifty or a hundred miles from the nearest
settlement and doctor.

Guillaine, impressed with her interest, had given her one of his precious
medical books to take with her.  A compendium of cures and treatments, it had
stood her in good stead innumerable times in the last year and a half.

It was about to help her out of a tight situation yet again.

Flipping open the book, she pointed to the index.

"There, that's why you're not about to touch me," she said.

Jordan took the book, frowning

"What has this to do with me?"

"Look at it, you fool."  Chalcie's temper was beginning to boil.

Jordan took a deep breath and his jaw tightened as he tried to restrain his
anger.

"May I suggest that you don't address me like that again?"  Jordan said
quietly.

"I detest physical violence, particularly toward a woman, but if you persist
in be inga bitch, I'm going to turn you over my knee and take steps to curb
that tongue of yours.  I don't like being called a fool, especially by my
wife."  He stated the request mildly, but there was an underpinning of steel
in the words.

Jordan turned back to the book and began to reread the index, frowning in
puzzlement.  He had no idea where this woman had managed to put her hands on
such a book, but she should have been ashamed of herself to acknowledge that
she had seen the words in it, much less understood any of it.

Medical indeed.  Jordan could feel his cheeks growing red with embarrassment
at what was contained in the pages.

He continued to read the list, and his frown of puzzlement grew deeper.

' "What is this supposed to mean?"

 Chalcie removed the book from his hands and closed it gently.

"If you noticed, almost three-quarters of the book was devoted to the
discussion of various venereal diseases and how to control and cure them.

Now, the cures are still under discussion, but the diseases are not.  And
here you are, a fine muscled specimen of a man, with whores ready to soothe
your every ache, as I'm sure they've done in the past.  " Chalcie's voice
almost dripped with venom.

"And?"  Jordan didn't like the direction the discussion was headed.  He'd
expected to have her warming his bed by now.

"And I have no intention of allowing you to infect me.  I'm not going to die
of a venereal disease or be rendered sterile so I cannot have children
because you've been infected while having your fun with those women in your
bawdy houses."

Jordan looked at her in amazement.

"Well, I'll be damned.  You think I'm infected?"

Chalcie nodded smugly.  She ignored the thundercloud darkening his face.

Jordan had never been so insulted in his life.  She mistrusted him that much
to think that he'd come to her bed with the pox?  He was offended to the very
depths of his being.  He knew women, true, but they were clean and wholesome
women, not the poxed ones who ran at the edges of the town.  He'd never had
so much as a complaint to take to the doctor.  If he hadn't been a gentleman,
he would have instructed her on the spot about how a woman checked a man for
diseases.  He knew enough about the whore's trade to know how they checked
for such things.

And she sure as hell hadn't been too worried about that in the morning when
she lay in the fur blanket and rubbed herself against his manhood.

No, she hadn't been objecting then to fulfill inga woman's role in the
marriage bed!

"I'm not willing to find out.  You'll not come to my bed until you can prove
that you're free from infection."  Chalcie smiled triumphantly.  She had
him now.  She was in charge again.

God, don't tempt me, Jordan thought silently.  Given any encouragement at
all, he would have loosened his britches and showed her exactly what to look
for and where, and prove to her once and for all that he was clean.

He was so angry that he had to get away from her before he did something no
gentleman ever did with a lady.  Prove it indeed!  Did she know what she was
asking, or had all that description in the medical book' been only so many
words to her?

Jordan stalked over to the window and looked out at the deep velvet night.

In the distance he could hear the miners still shouting and carrying on about
the marriage.  Little did they know what hand fate had dealt him tonight.

"Chalcie, have you ever thought that maybe you don't want to make love to me
because you're afraid that you can't please a man?"  he asked softly.

He heard Chalcie's gasp, and if there had been any way to call back the cruel
words, he would have.

"What do you mean, I can't make love?"

' "I mean that maybe your father was right.  He said that he wanted for you
to be married, because you needed to learn to be a wife and mother.  He saw
that you were the consummate businessman, better than anyone in Sonora, he
said.  But you are tough.  You've learned to defeat any weaknesses, and in
doing so, you've stopped be inga woman.  And he was wondering if you were
capable of be inga wife and mother and of being in love."

"I am capable," Chalcie said, stung by the criticism.

Jordan shook his head slowly.

"Not from what I've seen," he said.

"It's gold and land that bring out the passion in you, not love."

Jordan's voice was taunting her.  He had hit at a weak spot.  A worry that
had come back to haunt her now and again when she looked at men and saw only
competitors, never suitors or lovers.

But it was different with Jordan.  She had felt the heat  between them.  She
had known that he wanted her and she wanted him.  She had even offered
herself to him earlier, and all he had done was turn her down.

"I can love if I want to."

"Prove it.  You concentrate on business because you don't have any of the
womanly feelings left anymore.  They've been lost along the way and you'll
never try to find them again on your own.  Oh, your father did a good job on
you, leaving you a wonderful, creative businesswoman who hasn't any
understanding at all of love," Jordan accused.

"No...!"  Her voice trailed off into a hiccuping cry.

He was dashing her hopes.  Did he really believe what he was saying?  Oh God,
what if it was true.

It was a marriage that was doomed.  Better if she had left every thing and
gone off to Murphys or Boston and buried herself in the life of a spinster.
She wanted to run from the house and keep running until she had buried
herself in the ice and snow and let the numbness take her.

Why had Jordan rescued her?  Why hadn't he allowed her to die on that
mountainside?  That would have been the more compassionate way to deal with
her.  Then she wouldn't have to live with the absolute knowledge that she was
worth nothing by herself, that the only reason Jordan had married her was for
the Kent holdings.  He didn't even think that she could love him, and what
would a marriage be without love?

"Oh, God..."  she whimpered again.  All she wanted was the chance to be
happy, and now it had been taken from her.  Jordan had every thing and she
had nothing, not even the hope of love from her husband.

Jordan spun around and was shocked by the look on her face.  Her eyes were
wide, her mouth looked as if that sweet smile would never reappear, and
traces of tears had begun to wash her face.  Even the fierce red of her hair
seemed wilted and subdued.

The ache between them was growing into a chasm that  would never be healed.
They'd beaten each other with words until all the "I'm sorries" in the world
wouldn't wash out the pain that they'd dealt each other.

"Chalcie, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean that...."  He reached out for her, trying
to make amends.  She'd hurt his pride, but nothing compared to what he'd done
to her.

"Don't touch me," Chalcie said, her voice dead.

"Not now, not ever.  You don't want to have a wife like me.  You'll have a
chance later to have the kind of woman you want.  But leave me alone."

"Chalcie, please.  I said I was sorry.  I apologize."

Chalcie straightened and stared at Jordan.  He must never suspect that she
had thought she might be in love with him.  That all she had wanted was time
to become used to the idea of being married.  Jordan had hurt her far more
deeply than he would ever realize.  And she must never lie to herself again
about be in gable to love.

"I'll be your wife in name, and I'll sleep here on the rug in the parlor, and
you can pretend to your men friends that it really is a marriage.  I'll even
cook for you, damn your black heart.  But I'll never grace your bed as long
as you live.  Go back to your whores, Jordan de Chat ain, because I don't
want you."

Chapter Twelve Q^y^s^Q (^halcie made a bed for herself in front of the
fireplace.  First the two blankets that had been on her own bed, and then the
fur-lined one that had covered Jordan and her on the mountains.  She unrolled
the pelt and buried her face in the softness.  The smell of snow and smoke
still clung to the fur and another" almost indefinable scent that reminded
her of Jordan.

Her heart contracted.  This was not the marriage she had wanted for herself.
Whatever chance she'd had of being happy in her marriage had been snatched
from her, first by her father, then by Ames, and now again by Jordan's
ambitions for her money.

"Damn and double damn," Chalcie swore.

"I never should have given in and married.  I should just have walked away."

"Chalcie?"  Jordan was standing at the bedroom door.  He had taken off his
shirt and boots.  He was clad only in his pants, and they were tight enough
for her to see that there was at least one thing that Jordan wanted from her.

He looked magnificent.  His body was beautiful, and the light dusting of
black hair made her want to touch him, excite him, make him want her the same
way that she wanted him.  The firelight made him a study in shadow and 
light, and her eyes were inevitably drawn back to his tight black pants and
the very clear outline of his manhood.

Chalcie looked up at him, and he moved swiftly toward her.

"Please don't cry.  We've said terrible things to each other, but it isn't
right for you to cry on your wedding night.  Please, forgive me and come join
me in our marriage bed."  Jordan knelt beside her and rubbed a thumb over her
cheek.

"Give me time.  I can teach you whatever it is that's been missing from your
life.  Just give me a chance."

Chalcie shook her head.  She knew why Jordan had come to her.  He wanted to
make certain that she was truly his, so the money would be his, too.

Didn't he understand yet?  He didn't have to act like the loving husband.

The Kent holdings were his now.  He didn't have to try to secure his position
by making love to her.

"Then you won't forgive me?"  Jordan's voice was hollow.

Chalcie turned her face away from him.

"No, you won't.  At least not yet."  Jordan sighed.

"Then I suppose the only thing I can do is give you the wedding present that
has been lying on my bed for the past few hours and hope that eventually you
will come to trust me enough to allow me to make you my real wife," Jordan
said regretfully.

Chalcie stared up at him in surprise and confusion.  Her wedding present?

But how could he have found anything to give her when he'd only known a few
hours ago that they would be married?  And she had nothing for him!  It
pained her deepest, most proper Boston heart that she had nothing to give her
new husband.

"Here.  She's been waiting for you," Jordan said as he returned from the
bedroom.  He was carry inga small orange-and-white ball of fur.  Two golden
eyes opened and stared at Chalcie as Jordan carried the cat toward her.

"Oh, Jordan..."  Chalcie was truly touched.  He was giving her his cat, the
one that looked so much like Ginger.

 She felt the tears start to roll down her face again as she reached up and
took the unresisting kitten into her arms.  The cat never stopped purring.

"I had hoped that we would share her.  She could be the beginning of a real
family for us.  Then later we'd have the children and kittens and..."

Jordan stopped suddenly.  He was saying more than he'd ever intended.  He had
never told anyone about his dreams for his own life as he grew older.

There wasn't a man he knew well enough to tell his wishes and dreams to.

He sometimes thought that of all the men in the gold country, he was the only
one who sometimes hurt from want inga settled home and family.  He had lied
when he told Chalcie that it didn't bother him to leave the farm back in
Texas.  He hadn't wanted the land, but he'd wanted the family.  Even then,
there was no special woman, no special place for him, so he'd moved on,
loo king for his dreams.  The money had come easily, the family had not.

He had built his home in Sonora, knowing that this was the last place he
would run to.  He would find his wife and his family here and be content with
what California offered him.  And now, by a strange quirk of fate, he was
tied to a woman who might never be the wife and companion that he craved.

Chalcie blushed and then hugged the cat closer.  He was talking about
children as if he thought she'd be able to become something more than a
person who saw only gold and land as the reason for living.  Could he really
feel that way?

"No, not yet..."  she whispered.  She didn't trust him yet.  In time,
perhaps, but right now she hadn't healed from the words that had been spoken.
Now they could share the cat, and perhaps in time they would come to trust
each other, and then they would share other things, too.

"Thank you," Chalcie said.

"I wish I had something to give you that was as precious."

Chalcie didn't see Jordan open his mouth and then close it.  If she didn't
see that giving him her love would mean  infinitely more to him, then she
would have to discover it on her own.  He wasn't going to give her any hints.

"If you change your mind about sleeping with me, I wouldn't mind a bit,"

Jordan said pointedly.

Chalcie didn't lift her eyes from the cat.  She wanted to go with Jordan.

God, how she wanted to sleep with him on her wedding night.  But not until
she could trust him.  Not until she knew that he loved her and not her money.

"I can't, Jordan.  Not now."  She said it softly, but he still heard every
word loud and clear.

Chalcie lay awake for hours, aching with desires that raged within her.

She wanted to get up and go into that bed and be with her husband.  She
wanted to make love to him, to kiss him everywhere she could reach, to touch
him and explore places she had never investigated before on his body.  She
wanted all of it and knew that once she had it she would be fulfilled.  But
she didn't dare go to him.  He had said she didn't know how to love.  She was
terrified of finding out that he was right.

Instead, she snuggled with the cat and finally, in the early morning hours,
managed to drift off into a nightmare-filled sleep.

By the time she awoke, Jordan's bed was empty and cold.  She had promised
herself that she would only look in the room, then straighten what needed to
be straightened, Instead she lay on the bed and closed her eyes, fantasizing
about the man who had slept there.  Jordan found her there when he returned
home, still asleep, with a smile on her lips.

It's a start, he thought wryly.  At least he had a chance.

It took Chalcedony days to recover from her ordeal on the mountain.  She
huddled in front of the fire in the main room and stared at the leaping
flames.  She managed to prepare meals for Jordan but was barely able to choke
down enough to sustain herself.  Chalcie and Jordan talked, but  their
conversation was stilted and formal, not at all what they really wanted to
say to each other.

Chalcie longed to tell Jordan that she kept seeing the faces of the men she
had killed, and every thing she cooked had the taste of wild onions and the
dark bitter mushrooms.  If she could have confided in him, it might have
eased some of the pain and confusion that she felt.  She wanted to tell him
that she would like a chance to make the marriage work, but every time she
thought about talking with Jordan, her well-developed sense of
self-preservation took over.  She had spent long years learning not to trust
men, and it wasn't going to be possible to change that training overnight.

Jordan wanted to tell her that he hadn't even done an inventory of the Kent
holdings.  They were hers, he had decided.  The only way he'd ever manage to
make Chalcie trust him would be to convince her that he wasn't interested in
her holdings.

Neither of them confided in the other.

Chalcie wept herself to sleep night after night.  Jordan would come to the
doorway and listen to her sobs and know that there wasn't any way that he
could comfort her, at least not yet.

"Juanita, you've got to help me.  It's been two weeks and I still haven't
managed to get so much as a kiss from her.  I'm not repulsive, am I?"  Jordan
cornered Juanita in the back of the bar duringa slack time.  He knew that
Chalcie was her best friend, and he hoped that she could talk some sense
into his^ wife.

"I'll see what I can do," Juanita promised.

"I'll go visit her again this afternoon.  I already visited before to tell
her that no one was watching the books and that we needed to send down for
supplies again, even if the roads are almost impassable.  Damn that Houlihan
anyway.  I know the pack train came in, but no one seems to know what he did
with  the goods that he brought.  They've got to be around somewhere, but I
can't find them."

"No use trying to send down for more supplies.  No one can get through right
now.  I'll share what I have on hand at the Dry Gulch for both saloons."

Chalcie sat in the rocking chair, held the cat and brooded.  She stared out
the window at the mines, gashes in the earth that looked as painful as the
ache in her heart.  Juanita had sent word that she'd be coming to the house
again that afternoon.  The first time Juanita had come was to demand some
kind of direction for the C.  K.  Saloon and fandango parlor.  This time, she
was almost sure, Juanita was going to give her another lecture on be inga
good wife.

"So I'll let her lecture, and maybe she can give me a hint on how I can make
Jordan fall in love with me instead of falling in love with my money... his
money," Chalcie hastily corrected herself.

She let Juanita in and hugged her friend.  She hadn't realized until that
very moment just how much she had missed the daily banter with Juanita.

Juanita didn't waste any time getting to the heart of the matter.

"Why aren't things going better between you and Jordan ?  He's out every
night until all hours, and I see him around town with those fancy ladies of
his.  That's not the way it should be with a brand-new couple, Chalcie,"

Juanita said reprovingly.  She wasn't really speaking the truth, but maybe
she could make Chalcie jealous enough to jolt her out of this strange apathy.

"He didn't marry me with the intention of making me either his bride or his
business partner.  He wanted the Kent holdings and now he's got them,"

Chalcie said bitterly.  "Don't you think that if there was a chance of a
romance, I would know?  But he doesn't even like me...."  Chalcie's voice
wobbled with the last statement.

"The money, always the money.  How do you know that's all he wanted?  Have
you discussed this with him?  Is  that something he said to you

"Chalcie, I don't want you interfering in the business and I don't intend to
try and make this a real marriage'?"

Juanita waited for Chalcie's answer.  She intended to confront her if she
tried to lie about what Jordan had said to her.

"No, that isn't what he said," Chalcie admitted.

"Good.  Since he hasn't said any of that, why are you pushing him away?"

"I'm not."

"Liar.  If you weren't, he'd have bedded you by now, and that bundle of fur
and blankets on the chest tells me that you're still sleeping on the floor."

"He doesn't want me.  I know he doesn't."

"Is that a fact?  Is this a conclusion that you arrived' at before or after
you accused him of being infected, for God's sake!  It's a wonder he didn't
throw you out of the house for saying such a thing.  And then you sit there
and cry as if he'd wounded you to the quick by ignoring you.  Woman, he's
going to ignore you until you apologize and start to act like a loving wife."

Juanita shook her head in exasperation.

"Don't you know how lucky you are?

You may not have control over the Kent holdings, but you're not out on your
ass in the snow, hustling to try and stay alive.  At least you have a man who
could care for you.  Jordan is a good man, the right man for you.

He's already made it clear that you cannot control him, and that's more than
your father ever did.  "

"I don't try and control men, I just try and control my own life.  There's
quite a difference," Chalcedony answered stubbornly.

"And a bolt of lightning is going to come down from the heavens and fry you
to a crisp for that lie."

Chalcie glared at her friend.  Juanita didn't know what she was talking
about.  He came home, ate what was on the table and went into his bedroom and
office, closing the door behind him.  He rustled papers and slammed books, so
she  knew he was in there, but they had a minimum of contact.  He made no
demands or advances toward her, nor showed any interest in her.  It was like
living in a state of siege.

Even though Juanita was her best friend, Chalcie couldn't bring herself to
tell her about the hurtful things Jordan had said to her.  More than
anything, Chalcie was afraid that Juanita would say that Jordan was right.

She was glad, in a way, that he continued to ignore her.  It saved her from
her own treacherously changeable emotions.  If he had softened and come to
her, she might have ignored what he'd said about her shortcomings.  She was
desperate for a touch, a kind word, something that would tell her that she
was an acceptable woman, a woman who was capable of responding to a man.

"Juanita, I need to know something...."  Chalcie's voice faltered.

"Well?"  Juanita stared at her.  Chalcie had suddenly gone pale, and her eyes
were dark with sadness.  Maybe, Juanita thought, she was finally going to
discover what was bothering Chalcie.

' "What do the women in the fandango parlors do to make the men love them?

I mean, is there a trick that I've never seen or learned because I've only
been around my father all this time?  "

"What do you mean?"  Juanita was trying to understand, but sometimes she was
convinced that Chalcie spoke Greek instead of English.

"I mean, I'd like to have a chance at a real marriage, and as long as Jordan
can't see anything interesting about me, I'm not going to ever be a real
wife."

Juanita looked Chalcie up and down and almost laughed.  She was standing
there, all curves and curls, and she thought that Jordan was only after her
money?  Lord, how many times did she have to tell this girl that Jordan was
crazy about her?  The whole town knew it, why didn't Chalcie?

"Don't be an idiot.  Give him a chance and he'll love  you just fine.  There
isn't any other secret except trusting him not to hurt you and, in turn,
being careful that you don't hurt his feelings, either," Juanita said briskly.

"And stop thinking so damned much about your money instead of your husband.
If you're wondering whether he loves you or your money, give yourself a
little credit for being beautiful.  Show him that this enchanting creature
who is his wife is interested in him.

Greet Jordan with a kiss, and let him guide you from there.  It's time,
Chalcie, or you're going to lose him.  "

"How can I lose him if I never had him?"  Chalcie asked bitterly.  She
appreciated Juanita's bracing words, but she didn't believe her friend.

' "How will you ever know whether he loves you or not if you don't give him a
chance?"  Juanita argued.  She stood up and slapped her hand against her
skirt.  She wished there was some way to convince Chalcie that Jordan was
basically an honorable and decent man, and that he could love her for herself
instead of the Kent fortunes.  But until Chalcie gave him a chance to prove
his love, there was little Juanita could do to help the marriage, which was
foundering before it even had a chance to set sail.

"Mark my words, Chalcie, he is in love with you now.  But if you continue to
distrust him, the love is going to fade and you'll never be able to regain
it."

Chalcie wasn't certain that she trusted Juanita's assessment of her trouble
with Jordan, but she was willing to give her friend's advice a try.

Chalcie was ready to greet Jordan with a show of affection that evening.

She had fixed her hair with a blue ribbon and had rolled up the blankets and
put them behind the chest, hoping he would notice that they weren't in their
accustomed place and read her intentions into that gesture.

Chalcie waited.  She could hear the sounds of the camp but not the sounds of
her husband returning.  Gradually her hopes, which had bloomed like flowers
in the snow, withered and faded.  She had rejected him too often.  He wasn't
going to come home.

Finally, when she had nodded off and awakened with a start at least three
times, she gave up and unrolled the blankets so she could sleep comfortably.
Taffy, as Chalcie had named the cat, mewed and moved close to her.

"I'll try again tomorrow, and the next day, too," Chalcie said drowsily as
she stroked the cat.

"However long it takes, Taffy, I'm going to show Jordan that we can be happy
together."

Neither Chalcie nor the cat awoke when Jordan finally came in after having
walked through most of Sonora to cool down the passions that still raged
through him.  If Chalcie didn't begin to accept him as a husband, he swore he
was going to burst from sheer frustration.  He looked down at her and shook
his head regretfully.  He wouldn't force her, not yet.

Jordan's fondest hopes almost seemed to be coming true the next morning.

Chalcie got up and cooked him a special breakfast.

It was a change for Chalcie, too.  The first sign was that the apple pancakes
she made for Jordan's breakfast didn't taste of wild onion, just flour and
brown sugar and cinnamon.  She even noticed that the snow outside was blowing
mightily and handed Jordan his heavy rawhide hat before he walked out the
door.  He didn't acknowledge her gesture, but he looked at her thoughtfully
before he slammed the door behind him.

"You could have said thank-you, you bastard," Chalcie yelled at the shut door
when she judged he was far enough away from the house that he couldn't hear
her.

"Thank you," Jordan answered promptly from outside on the porch.

Chalcie's face burned with mortification.  She had been certain he'd left!

"Damn and double damn," she fumed as she cleaned up the kitchen, slamming the
tin dishes into the tub and pouring boiling water over them.  She washed the
pan and hacked at the last of a hunk of beef that Jordan had brought the day
before.  With carrots and potatoes it would make a good stew.  But she still
couldn't stomach the idea of adding onions and mushrooms to the mix, no
matter how good it would have tasted.  As she cooked, she talked to herself.

Juanita was right.  It was time to stop pitying herself.  She had to get on
with her life.  She could give the marriage a chance, if Jordan cooperated.

At least she could find out if she really was crippled by what had happened
to her in the past ten years.  She would know for certain if her father was
right and she was incapable of love.

Incapable of love--the words rang like the knell of doom.  If it was true,
what would she do?

"The best I could hope for would be to help him with the businesses.  At
least then my talents wouldn't go to waste.  Maybe that would be enough."

It wouldn't make up for her own dreams, which would be shattered.  The times
she had said that if she was lucky enough to find the right man, she'd have a
better marriage than her father and mother.  She'd be a good wife, she'd make
her man happy.  She'd even help him with his business and use the talents
that she had to give him even higher profits.

She placed the stew at the back of the small stove, adding plenty of water to
boil down into a rich gravy by evening, and finished cleaning the section of
the room that served as a kitchen.  It was still early, plenty of time to
take a bath and wash her hair.  An hour later she was clean and warm and
bored to tears.

This was the life of a lady that her father had wished for her?  She missed
the hustle of the town, the sounds of the bar and the ebb and flow of the
camp life.  She missed Crazy Mac's drunken midnight bagpipe serenades when he
felt homesickness and melancholy creeping over him.  She even missed worrying
about money and finding new ways to outwit Jordan.

 She had to find something to keep herself occupied.  Irresistibly, her mind
turned to Jordan's papers.

Somewhere in that bedroom lay answers to all the questions she had ever asked
about Jordan.  His history, his background, every thing that a wife should
know about her husband.  His real worth, his land holdings, even how much he
spent on liquor should all be in there, in his papers.  She knew she
shouldn't be tempted, but one of her worst traits, her father had always told
her, was her curiosity.  Curiosity and boredom together were deadly.

"I won't do it," Chalcie said aloud, pushing away the idea of snooping.

"I'll write a letter to my grandmother, instead.  She ought to know that my
father died and that I am still alive."

Chalcie took out paper and pen and began to put down the first words she had
addressed to her grandparents in years.  They might not want to hear from
her, but at least she had to make the attempt.  This time her father wasn't
around to take the letter and rip it up, as he had during the first few years
they had been on the road.  He had told her that her grandparents didn't care
about her and that they'd be glad she was gone.

Leave them alone, they'll only hurt you, he'd said, and she had believed him.
Lately, though, a great many things that her father had told her were coming
into question.

"If it's true, I'll never write again.  But I'd so like to know what happened
to them after I left.  And of course I'd like to know about my cats...."
Chalcie sighed.

The letter was signed and sealed, ready to be sent back east with someone who
would deliver it to the proper address for an ounce of gold paid in advance.
Any answer would come by the same route, if her grandparents were still alive
and still cared to answer a letter from her.

Writing the letter, however, did not completely exorcise the curiosity that
she had about Jordan.

"It's perfectly legal now, isn't it?"  she whispered, smiling for the first
time in a long while.

"A wife should know about her husband."

She advanced on the bedroom, hesitating just a moment before opening the
door.  She ignored the pricking of her conscience and the certainty that
Juanita would tell her she was be inga fool.  She.  was going to do what he
had accused her of doing months ago.  She was going to snoop into his
business affairs.

"Fool or not, I'm not going to give up without a fight," Chalcedony said.

"It is my marriage, after all.  And it stands to reason that the more I can
discover about Jordan and his business, the more chance our marriage will
have of surviving.  If the only thing I'm good for is business, then at least
we can be partners."

The paperwork for Jordan's various enterprises was in plain view on the
pine-plank table that served as both drawers and desk.  Wooden packing crates
had been used to support both ends of the plank and his clothes were neatly
folded in the crates.  Any other woman would have been delighted to have such
a man for a husband, Chalcie thought belligerently.  It irritated her that
she couldn't find fault with him even there.  If he was so perfect, why
didn't he love her?

She pulled up the stool and opened the first of the marbleized green ledgers.
Within half an hour, she had a rough idea of what Jordan owned and owed in
Sonora.  He was better off than she had expected, but even with her cursory
examination of the books, she was amazed at the mistakes and carelessness
that he showed in the running of the various enterprises.

For instance, there was the Mountain Jack mine that he owned with that man
Tourelle.  At the first of the year, before Tourelle came on the scene, the
mine had been producing high-grade ore at a good steady pace.  Then, a month
after Tourelle bought in, the production gradually began to drop.  Couldn't
Jordan tell that the mine was being raped by Tourelle, his supposed business
partner?  She wasn't sure  how Tourelle managed it, but she was certain that
a goodly number of the miners who worked for the Mountain Jack mine were high
grading it.

Hundreds of dollars a day were being lost as the men walked off with the ore
stuffed in their pockets, in their shirts and the packs that they carried in
and out of the pit.  The mine was as rich as ever, but the men were
consistently producing at least a hundred to two hundred pounds of high-grade
ore a day less than they had a year before.

Chalcedony shook her head in wonder.  Her own father had fallen into the same
trap, working with men who were liars and cheats.  One of his partners had
murdered her father and forced her into a loveless marriage.  And now.

God help her, her own husband was saddled with a cheating partner.

Tourelle was the same kind of slime that Ames had been.

She was busily planning how to get Jordan out of Tour- elle's clutches before
she realized that she had intended to use the information against Jordan, not
for him' "It's just that I can't stand to see bad management," she said,
excusing herself, and turned back to the books, only to slam her palm down on
the pages again in frustration.

How could any grown, sane man spend as much as he did to keep a saloon going?
He had a captive audience, he didn't have to play to them the way he had.
Lord, the cost on the mirror alone would have kept her in whiskey for two
months.  What an extravagance!  If she was his partner, she'd make certain
that those crazy impulses to spend were kept to a minimum.

Then there was the matter of a sudden drop in the supplies on hand.  Almost
as if half of every thing had suddenly been stolen from him.  Bad management
again!

"This man needs me more than I ever knew.  I could have wiped him out six
months ago and he'd never have known what hit him!"

"You could have wiped me out?  Why didn't you?"

 Jordan's silky voice jarred her from the numbers that danced before her
eyes.

' "Jordan, I..."  Chalcie tried to think of something to say.  She was
trapped!

Chapter Thirteen q^vs^q I'm waiting.  And by the way, don't try and explain
away the fact that you were snooping around the books to find out what you
could about the operations.  I wondered how long it would take you to get
back into acting like the consummate businesswoman that you really are.  "
His words were obviously not meant as a compliment.

Chalcie flinched, and Jordan was instantly sorry that he had spoken without
thinking.

"You wanted to know why I didn't wipe you out?"  Chalcie decided to tell him
the truth.

"Because I didn't know you were such an idiot.  If I had read these books
before now, you'd never have stood a chance against me."

"Good thing you didn't have access, then.  Think of it, Chalcedony.  You
might have ended up married to a poor man.  And by the way, if you try and
take action against me now, you're damaging yourself as much as me.  Like it
or now, we are married."

"I wouldn't..."  Chalcie choked out.  She stopped.  He was right.  If she
hurt him, she could eventually end up hurting herself.

"I was just reading, that's all.  I was going to help..."  She stopped,
realizing how lame that would sound to Jordan .  He had no reason to trust
her.

"It's just that you aren't  making the most of what you've got.  You need a
good manager, just like my father did."

Jordan closed his eyes and muttered something underneath his breath.  Trust
her?  Accept help from the woman who had nearly bankrupted him by cutting the
price of every thing from whiskey to bread in her attempt to retaliate
against her father and him?  He knew what kind of help she would give him and
he didn't need it!

He wished he could trust her, but she had never shown any sign that she
forgave him for their enforced marriage.  He had thought then that what had
started as desperation on Chalcie's part would blossom into love.  But he was
starting to think that his accusation had been true--Chalcie had lost the
ability to love.  Dealing with her was like dealing with a nasty-tempered
rattlesnake.  Furthermore, he had no doubt that she could be just as deadly.

"But I was trying to help you with the businesses!"  Chalcedony protested
again.

"You're being high graded and cheated at every turn, and you don't even know
it."

She stopped abruptly.  Damn it, she hadn't meant to tell him.

"What do you know about it?  You've never set foot inside the places I run!"
Jordan roared, stung that she had happened on what he had suspected for
months.

"I can read books, and your operation isn't all that much different from my
father's mines.  There are ways to stop the losses, if you'd trust me.

Except that I don't know your mine or your brothels or anything else.  "

Jordan slammed the bundle that he was carrying down on the bed and advanced
on her.

"There are going to be some changes around here!"  he said, his voice deadly
soft.

Chalcie leaned backward, her eyes wide.

"What kind of changes?"

"Stand up," Jordan ordered, not even bothering to answer her.

"Stand up?"  Chalcie asked faintly.

"Do it!"  His voice was getting louder.

 Chalcie almost tumbled over the stump as she hurried to comply.

Jordan grabbed her to keep her from falling, and then, before she knew what
he was doing, he whipped the old woolen shawl off her shoulders.

"What are you doing ... no, stop, you can't..."  Chalcie beat at his hands as
she felt the old pink calico beginning to rip under his determined assault.

"I can and I will.  You are my wife, after all," Jordan said, his teeth
clenched.  He'd had enough from this woman.  He didn't even know why he had
bothered to buy these damn dresses.  All he remembered was that he had wanted
her to look beautiful, like the other women of the town.  He had wanted her
to show off her fine figure and glorious hair and enjoy be inga woman.  It
had been altogether too long since she'd looked as beautiful as she had that
night when she came to offer herself to him, and he wanted that vision back.
The pink calico dress had to go.

The cotton finally ripped and the dress parted down the front, leaving the
sleeves hanging from Chalcie's arms while the bodice gaped, showing her
pretty chemise and underskirt, which she was wearing for warmth beneath the
old cotton dress.

"Ah, at last!"  Jordan crowed.  He grabbed the skirt of the dress and ripped
it away, leaving Chalcie standing in her underclothing in front of him.

"What are you going to do?"  Chalcie asked, her voice quaking with fear.

Jordan leaned down and scooped up the remains of the dress.  He strode out of
the room, and Chalcie followed him to the bedroom door and stared in
amazement as he threw the calico into the fire and watched in satisfaction as
it was eaten by the flames.

"What?"  She couldn't even think of a way to ask him what the hell he was
doing with her dress.

"Never, ever, as long as you are my wife, do I want to  see you wearing that
hideous shade of pink again," Jordan announced.

Chalcie began to smile.

"Then what exactly do you expect me to wear?  You've burned my one work
dress, and all I have left is a fine.  velvet that won't suit for the rain
and mud and snow here."  He might be reduced to watching her parade around in
her chemise and underskirt if he wasn't careful.  And she hoped that if that
was the case, her "natural charms" would work through his defenses that much
faster.  He couldn't be totally immune to her, could he?

"There are dresses on the bed.  Navy and dark red woolens for everyday work
and going into town.  One fine cream cashmere that will finally show everyone
what a beauty you are... the same color of the dress that you made when you
came to me that night..."  Jordan stopped for a moment, still thinking of the
way she'd looked and what a fool he'd been not to sweep her off her feet and
tell her he'd marry her right then.  God, she'd looked beautiful!

"And another two skirts and coats so that you'll never be cold again.  Do you
think I haven't seen the way you've huddled up to the fire with that damned
pink dress and the old shawl?  My wife should never have to endure that kind
of hardship.  Your father might have treated you that way, but I will not!"

Chalcie simply couldn't think of a thing to say.

"I hope you like them.  I had them made up by one of the women.  Juanita knew
what size you were...."  Jordan was beginning to run out of steam.

Suddenly ripping her dress off and burning it didn't seem like such a good
idea now that he'd had time to think about it.  What if she cherished that
damned pink mess she'd been wearing?  She'd never forgive him for burning it.

Chalcie saw the look on his face and almost laughed.  He'd given her two
wonderful gifts.  First, of course, were the clothes, but second, and far
more precious, was the knowledge that at least he was noticing her and what
she 192 Gold be ver was wearing.  And she couldn't think of a better end for
that damned dress.

"I'll go change right now."

"And put on your shoes.  We're going out," Jordan said, relaxing once he saw
the smile on Chalcie's face.  He'd done something right!

"Why?"  Chalcie asked.

"Because I said so, and because if you don't have those shoes on in two
minutes, I'll drag you out of here without them.  And by the way, it's cold
out.  I suggest that you wear one of the wanner dresses and the cape that's
at the bottom of the packet.  It should keep you warm.  We'll be out for a
while."

Chalcie started to object and then looked closely at Jordan .  He could
and he would.

Jordan nodded at the dawning comprehension on Chalcedony's face.  He walked
over to the stove and poured himself a cup of strong black coffee, watching
as she scurried around trying to put on her shoes and fix her hair so she was
presentable to the outside world.  He smiled inwardly.  At least she was
taking him seriously.

A small thrill of pleasure shot through him unexpectedly as Chalcie stepped
out of the bedroom.  She had brushed her hair, tying it back with a red
ribbon, and had chosen the dark blue woolen dress that had been sewn with an
extra full skirt and a touch of embroidery from Juanita herself around the
neckline.  She looked beautiful.

Chalcie pirouetted in front of him, showing off the dress.  She had never had
anything half so fine since her father had stolen her.  The new things almost
made up for what she had lost during that crossing of the isthmus with her
father.  And to think they had been given to her by her husband.

"Thank you, it's wonderful," Chalcie said, and without thinking, she rushed
over to Jordan and kissed him full on the mouth.  She tasted the coffee on
his lips and felt the  sudden awareness between them that had been hidden
all these weeks.

"Not now," Jordan said softly, though he reached for her as if he wanted to
pull her back into the circle of his arms.

"We have work to do."

Chalcie's smile faded.  Work to do.  He didn't want her.  Suddenly she felt
foolish for having kissed him.  Obviously he didn't want that kind of
physical contact yet.

"Ready?"  He put the coffee cup on the back of the stove beside the tin of
stew.

Chalcedony nodded.

"Would you like to tell me where we're going?"

"You were loo king at my books, I figure it's about time you saw the real
thing.  We're going to look at the de Chat ain holdings.  Once we've made
those rounds, we'll stop by the bar and you can get a report on the Kent
business from Juanita."

Jordan ignored the look of confusion and the slight flicker of hope on
Chalcie's face.  He led her out of the house and onto the main path through
the town.

"Hey, good to see you, Chalcie.  We were wondering when we'd have the
pleasure of your smile again.  Married life agrees with you."

The comments rang out from all sides.  For the miners the romance had all the
trappings of a roaring good drama that could have been on the stage.

Instead it was set in the middle of Sonora and peopled with players they
knew.  Many a sideways glance said volumes about what the men thought the two
of them had been doing while Chalcie had stayed hidden.

Jordan surprised her by playing to the crowd.  His arm around her waist felt
warm and comfortable.  His gallant help in negotiating the treacherously
slippery path made her feel cosseted and warm.  Given half a chance, she
could even have believed that they cared for each other.

Almost instinctively, she withdrew from his grasp.  She felt confused.  She
found herself longing for his love, but  the very thought of depending on
him for support and comfort frightened her.

Jordan felt her shrink away and cursed to himself.  He had almost thought for
a moment that she was warming to him.  When he spoke again, he was all
business.

"I'd take you out to the Mountain Jack mine that Tour- elle and I own but the
road's impassable.  This last snow shut things down tight.  We've left two
men up there guarding the work that was under way, but it won't be open again
until sometime in May."

Chalcedony nodded.  Her own mine had shut down a week earlier, at the first
snow.  She didn't approve of the miners who stayed and worked until the last
possible minute.  The chances of dying from the cold or an accident by
miserable conditions were too great to be risked.

"As you noticed, profits are down at the Mountain Jack but holding steady at
the Hatcher.  The man who partners the Mountain Jack with me wants to buy
into the Hatcher.  Guy by the name of Tourelle.  Know anything about him?"

"Tourelle?  Not a thing, except that he's robbing you blind," Chalcedony said.

Jordan smiled down at her, loo king for all the world like someone who was
actually interested in her and her opinions.

"Once we're home, you can tell me what you've deduced about the way Tourelle
operates.  I'd like to know if we come up with the same answers."

' "If you knew he was stealing, why did you promise to sell off some of the
Kent holdings the night of the wedding?"  Chalcie challenged him.  She had
never forgotten the whispered conversation.

"Sell off the Kent holdings?"  Jordan was amazed.

"I never said any such thing.  I told him to wait until the wedding was over,
and then we'd sit down and split the profits from the partnership, and I'd
take control of my portion of the mines.  I figured that being married was
about all the partnership I wanted at the moment."

Jordan looked at her sideways, surprised at the shock on  her face.  Had she
really thought he was selling her down the river?  No wonder she hadn't
trusted him!  A flicker of hope was being fanned into the beginnings of a
bonfire.  If he could make her realize that he wanted her as a wife and that
he was willing to give her back every thing that was hers, maybe then he
could have a chance at fulfilling his own dreams of a family.

Five hours later.  Chalcedony walked into her own bar, threw herself into one
of the two good chairs and refused to move.  She had seen more than she ever
wanted to of the various de Chat ain establishments in Sonora.  She had also
watched every woman in town make eyes toward her husband.

"Jordan, nice to have you back."  "Jordan, will you be visiting tonight?"

"We've got a game for you, Jordan...."  It had made her boil with anger as
the ladies strutted their all-too-obvious wares for him.

It hurt to know that she wasn't the only one to find him dangerously
fascinating.  She was bitterly aware that once again she had almost allowed a
simple physical lust to cloud her senses.  She couldn't let down her guard or
she would give up every thing to this man.

"That's it, Jordan, not another step, no matter what I haven't seen today,"
she announced tiredly.

"Good, because we're through.  At least until the mines open up again,"

Jordan agreed.

"Now, what do you think of what I've accumulated over the last year?"

Chalcie looked at him and then closed her eyes.  She had a choice.  Either
she could make the first attempt to bring him into her life as an equal
partner, or she could lie and try to use what she had found out today against
him.  If someone had asked her what her decision might have been fifteen days
ago, she would have said she would use the information against him.  Now,
knowing that he trusted her, she wanted more than anything else to be a part
of his life, both within the business and within the marriage.

' "I think that we're equally matched.  With the Kent land  and businesses,
no one will ever be able to match your wealth," Chalcie said.

"I don't think you've understood, Chalcie, I don't want" -- Juanita
interrupted him as she hurried up, her face in a worried frown.

"Jordan, we're running really low on the whiskey again--any chance that
you've got some squirreled away in one of the storehouses?"

Chalcie almost choked when she heard the request.  Why on earth should Jordan
be supplying whiskey to the C.  K.

"Talk to one of my men.  You know that anything I have I'll split with you.

But we're getting damned low.  It's worrying me.  The men will do fine with
whiskey and beans, but leave them without the whiskey to warm up and only
beans to fill their stomachs and we could have a riot on our hands.  "

Chalcie tried to interrupt and ask what the hell they were talking about, but
neither of them was paying much attention to her.

Jordan continued.

"I'd give anything to find those supplies that Houlihan stashed.  It'd see
both of us through with no trouble at all.  At the moment, I'm down to less
than ten barrels of flour, and we've used up twenty from the stores.  Same
with the beans.  It might even be that we have to close down the C.K.
temporarily if we run out of stuff."

Chalcie finally interrupted them.

"What the hell do you both mean?  And what is this about closing down the
C.K.?"

"Huh?"  Jordan finally paid attention to her.

"You heard me.  What is this about whiskey and why would you close down the
C.K.?  Shouldn't you at least ask me whether I want the place shut down?"

Jordan looked at Juanita, and then suddenly it dawned on both of them.

They had worked out their own way of dealing with the supplies shortage while
Chalcie recovered  from the kidnapping and the forced marriage.  They hadn't
thought to include her in any of their decisions.

"Ah, Chalcie, I think there's a few things we have to talk about," Jordan
said uncomfortably.

"Oh, don't go sounding like you've got anything to apologize for," Juanita
interrupted him.

"All you did was step in and give us supplies when we needed them.  Splitting
things fifty-fifty down the middle, he's managed to keep both the C.K.  and
the Dry Gulch open from what he had on hand."

Chalcie's eyes were wide.  So that was the reason all of the goods on hand
listed in Jordan's books had suddenly been depleted.  Jordan had been taking
care of both bars.  She was at once grateful and furious.

"Why didn't you tell me?"  she demanded.

"Because you weren't in any condition to listen."

Chalcie couldn't argue with that.

"But now we're running low on every thing?"

"It's bad.  And there isn't a chance in hell of getting another pack train
through the roads right now.  We're on our own until things open up again in
the spring," Jordan said.

"So that means something will have to be shut down and it'll be the

C.  K.

that goes, not the Dry Gulch?  "

"Unless we find that stuff of yours.  If we find it, we'll be able to keep
every thing open.

"It will be a mighty profitable year then.  We won't be scraping the bottom
like we are now.

"Chalcie, what do you think?  We've only got enough supplies left for about a
week.  Do we close down the C.K.  now or wait?"

"Why ask me?  Do what you want, it's yours now anyway," Chalcie said bitterly.

"No, Chalcie, that isn't the way it is, and I'm not going to let you get the
wrong ideas about what's going on.  You're a part of this, so join in, all
right?"

 Chalcie stared at him, utterly shocked.  Join in?  He was treating her as
if he wanted to listen to her ideas.

"Juanita, how about some tea for Chalcie and somethinga bit stronger for me.
Then give Chalcie all the details about what's been going on with her
property since our marriage," Jordan ordered.  He wanted to make certain
Chalcie knew that she was still the person in charge of the business.  It had
never been his intention to make her step aside so he could steal every thing
from her.

Juanita poured Chalcie a cup of the hot manzanilla tea that she kept on the
back of the barrel stove.  For Jordan she took out a bottle of the best
brandy, straight from France, and poured him a generous libation.

"Mostly it's been a battle to keep things open.  If it hadn't been for
Jordan, C.K.  would have closed down two weeks ago.  Everything depends on
finding those supplies," Juanita said, sighing.

"We've looked everywhere for them but never managed to find them.  It's
getting worse.  Even Eduardo is out searching for that hidden cache.  It's
cost inga fortune to keep every thing open.  I think Jordan is right.  Close
down something until we've got more stock.  Maybe the C.K.  could reopen
after the roads become passable again."

"And after you've repaid me one way or another, in cash or in trade.  I
prefer trade, of course!"  Jordan leered at her, trying to make a joke.  He
already knew which way he'd prefer to be repaid.  He just wasn't certain he
could convince Chalcie that sharing his bed was a good idea.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you don't lose any money on the deal,"

Chalcie said frostily.

Juanita looked inquiringly at Jordan, and he shrugged his shoulders.

"Let's go home and talk about that."

Leaving most of the brandy untouched, he helped Chalcie to her feet.

Chalcie ignored him all the way home, and Jordan was  seething with
frustration by the time they closed the front door behind them.

"It's no use, Chalcie, I'm going to make you talk to me.  There are things
that have to be discussed."

Jordan settled himself in the log chair that had been carved from a huge
stump and padded with old blankets.

"There is nothing to discuss.  You have every right to do what you want with
the C.K.  and anything else that my father had.  I'm not going to stop you."

"Is that what's bothering you?"  He was ridiculously happy to know that she
wasn't angry about his remark about paying him back for the supplies.

Chalcie nodded.

"I thought that you'd want to take over my bar and every thing else now,
since you're already sharing supplies.  It's only fair.

My father did will it to you, you know.  "

"He did will it to me, but that doesn't mean I'm going to rip it away from
you."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't need the bar or the land or anything else," Jordan burst out
in frustration.

"Certainly you do.  Wasn't it the Kent property that finally convinced you to
marry me?"

Jordan wondered how she could be so mistaken.

"No, it was not."

Chalcie narrowed her eyes and studied him.  Maybe he was telling the truth,
and then again, maybe he wasn't.  Could he mean that he really thought she
was attractive?  Was he actually saying that she might mean something to him?
Or was this just a way of telling her that not only didn't he want her land,
which was unthinkable, but that he didn't want her as a wife, either.  Was
she losing him then before she'd ever had a chance to try and be a real wife
to him?

An intense pain shot through her at the drought.  Her hand went to her
breast, covering her heart as if she could protect it when it was already
wounded.

 Jordan saw her wince and reached out involuntarily toward her, then
withdrew his hand as she flinched.  She didn't want to be touched, that much
was obvious.

"I'll do what I'm best capable of.  I'll help you with the businesses,"

Chalcie said stiffly.  She was going to give up on this other silliness.

She was good for business, not pleasure.  She wasn't capable of either loving
or being loved.

Jordan closed his eyes briefly.  He had stood above her yesterday morning as
she slept, staring at her.  She had looked fragile and pink, beautiful and
vulnerable.  He would have given her every ounce of his fortune to be able to
slide into the rug beside her and make love to her.

"Chalcie, I want more than that from you...."

"I'll do what I can, Jordan.  Give me time."

"And if it doesn't work?  You're going to leave?  You are that certain that
the marriage will never work?  Why?  What have I ever done to make you feel
that way?  I told you that if you'd give me a chance we could make this work.
Yet every time I try, something goes wrong.  I'm sorry that I can't say the
right things all the time, or that I can't read your mind and find out what
it is that you want from me.  Damn it, it's simple.  I want a wife, a woman
in my bed, a mother for my children.  Can't you at least give me that?"
Jordan stood up and began to pace the room angrily.  She already wanted to
make certain that she didn't walk away broke?  He could end the farce of a
marriage right here and now, give her every thing back and be done with it.

"I don't know how!"  Chalcie said softly, but Jordan didn't register the
words.  He was too wrapped up in his own frustration and anger at the
situation.  Moodily, without loo king at her again, he left the house.  There
would be better company at the Dry Gulch.

He almost opened his mouth to tell her that she didn't even have to stay the
night if this was what he got for being so damned eager to include her in his
life.  This was what he got when he decided that he'd give one last, valiant
try  at making the marriage succeed.  She slapped him down again!

Jordan was ready to walk out and not come back.  He'd done every thing in his
power to show her that he wanted to make her his wife.  He'd damn near come
right out and told her that he thought he was falling in love with her.  He'd
bought those dresses when he saw that she was cold.  He'd promised to give
her back every last bit of her inheritance.  And she still couldn't even tell
him that she loved him?

The hell with it.

Chapter Fourteen Q^y^s^Q v-/halcie couldn't believe that Jordan had managed
to elude her every wile for so long.  Jordan hadn't even approached her with
so much as a remark that could be considered suggestive.  He was polite,
kind, considerate, and he was driving her mad!  Chalcie stared moodily into
her cup of tea, wishing that she had learned to read leaves somewhere in her
travels.

Maybe the swirls in the bottom of the cup would have been more successful in
guiding her life than she had been.  She had the disquieting feeling that
something was lurking in the future.  She wished that she had an idea about
whether it was something she would like or heartily dislike.  Tea leaves
would have been adequate, but find inga fortune-teller would have been even
better.

She took another sip of tea and frowned.  There was plenty to worry about.

Tourelle was still robbing Jordan blind.  They were literally scraping the
bottom of every barrel they had.  Food was running out.  Weather or not,
passable roads or not, they might still have to send down a pack train to
bring in the bare essentials that would allow them j to survive the winter, l
At least the C.  K.  was still open.  Jordan had been more than fair.  When
he'd realized how upset Chalcie was about \ the possibility of closing the
bar, he'd tried to keep it running, even if the Dry Gulch suffered.  Jordan
had shared ,  equally every thing he had in storage for all the shops and
bars, but it wasn't enough.

Jordan.  Even the uncertainty of business wouldn't have been so terrible if
her own body hadn't conspired against her.  She could concentrate on the
books for hours each day, but when Jordan came home, she was aware with every
fiber in her being that he was a physically attractive male.  In plain
language, she lusted after him.  Never, in all her years, had she desired a
man as much as she desired Jordan.  Her body ached with wanting him to touch
her, but he never seemed to look at her.

She had tried to let him know that she was interested in him, but he seemed
to be oblivious to the mounting tension.  There were times when she
considered attacking him, ripping the clothes off his body just as he had
done to her, but for a different reason, and showing him exactly what she
wanted.  She'd never found the nerve to do it, though.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Juanita threw open the kitchen door and
hurried in, bringing the smell of snow and a frigid blast of air with her.

"Close the door, quick," Chalcie ordered, shivering.

"Bother the door.  My Eduardo's done something wonderful!  It couldn't have
happened at a better time.  Come on, I've got something to show you,"

Juanita said.  Her normally dusky cheeks glowed red from the cold, and her
black eyes shone with delight.

"What did you find?  An extra bottle of whiskey so that we don't have to take
away from the Dry Gulch to keep the C.K.  going?"

"Better than that!  Grab a shawl and come with me.  I want to show you the
hidden treasure that's just been dug up."

Chalcie's mouth dropped open and then she whooped in delight.

"Eduardo finally found the lost supplies--that's it, isn't it?"  She hardly
dared to hope.  It would be such a blessed relief to be able to tell the
miners that the rations  had been found and the store could sell them
whatever they needed.

"Come on and I'll show you!"  Juanita hurried back out the door.

Chalcie hitched up her heavy woolen dress and followed Juanita out into the
gloom.  Struggling through snowdrifts and climbing over felled logs made it
difficult to walk, but she didn't care.  The sheer physical exercise woke her
up, shaking off the worry about Jordan's true intentions to her.  The
deepening shadows of late afternoon darkened the hills almost to black, and
the clouds creeping over the mountaintops promised even more snow for the
night.

"He did indeed find it.  Oh, Chalcie, we needed those supplies so much.  You
should have heard the men complaining the last few nights.  Some of them were
wanting biscuits and even candy, and of course there's none to he had.
Fights are breaking out, tempers are short.... This will cause the greatest
celebration here since your marriage..."  Juanita stopped short.

She hadn't meant to say that.

The marriage that had started with such high hopes had all but fizzled.

The light had gone out of Chalcie's eyes and Jordan was prowling the town
like a wounded bear, ready for a fight with anyone who wanted to risk it.

Juanita almost wished that she had let Chalcie go to Murphys or Boston rather
than endure the kind of pain that the marriage had produced.

She put the thought aside as they approached the mound of snow that was being
excavated by two men from the bar.

"You can barely see the shack, the snow's so deep.  We'd searched everywhere
else, and finally Eduardo sat down and tried to retrace Houlihan's steps when
he brought the supplies from Stock ton.  There wasn't too much time between
bringing the mule train in and kidnapping you.

Eduardo talked to several other men, and they remember that Houlihan had just
walked through town and then to the stables and looked around.  Toward the
back there are  a couple of sheds that no one knew anything about.  He
bashed a lock and opened the door and there it was, all the stuff you've been
loo king for!  "

It was obvious that Juanita was almost bursting with pride for Eduardo's
superior intellect.  She gestured toward the dilapidated building with the
tin can lantern that she carried.

"We knew that skunk Houlihan didn't have the brains or the time to hide
several thousand dollars' worth of food before he and Ames came after you.

They would have been too busy trying to plan your father's murder, but it
took Eduardo to figure it all out.  "

Chalcie shivered at the words.  So much had happened in the past few months,
and most of it had been bad.  About the only bit of good news concerned
Eduardo and Juanita.

"When are you going to get married, Juanita?  Eduardo is perfect for you."

"Oh, no--no marriage.  I wouldn't do that.  Besides, I'm not in love,"

Juanita protested hastily, but Chalcie could see the blush that rose in her
cheeks.

Juanita was anxious to change the subject.  She picked up the shovel that
leaned against the side of the shanty and scraped away the snow that had
drifted in front of the haphazardly nailed slats that served as a door.  She
set the lantern down on a ledge inside the door and stepped aside so that
Chalcie could see the bounty that had been recovered.

Chalcie stood in the flare of the light and looked around her.  Her supplies.
her flour and sugar and coffee and other comestibles.  How things had
changed since her father had sent Houlihan off to brin gall this back from
Stock ton.  If only she could turn time back!  But then she wouldn't be
married to Jordan--the thought made her heart ache.

She leaned over and lifted one of the bags that had been jumbled as they were
thrown in the door to the room.

"Mice or rats got to the flour, but not so bad we can't use it," Chalcie
observed, poking her fingers into the holes that had allowed the white flour
to sift out onto the dirt  floor.  There was a scuttling noise and a brown
tail vanished behind one of the sacks.

"Taffy'd have a great time in here, wouldn't she?"

"As if you'd let her out of the house long enough even to learn to mouse.

You're spoiling that cat the same way you should be spoiling Jordan,"

Juanita said sharply.

"No I'm not.  He has no complaints."  Chalcie tried to shrug off Juanita's
observations.  She poked around the sacks and paper-wrapped chunks of dried
meats.

Juanita shook her head sadly.  No, things were not as they should have been
in that marriage, but there was precious little that she could do about it.

"Raccoons have been at the lard and bacon.  What they couldn't pry loose,
they bit through," Chalcie said as she explored further.

"The whiskey is all right.  There's no way the animals could get into the
casks," Juanita said as she lifted the light higher so they could see to the
back of the musty shed.  A quick inventory showed that they had the tinned
oysters she had requested, plenty of tinned peaches and oranges and sacks of
dried beans, cornmeal and wheat.  The sugar and salt were hard as rocks but
could still be used for cooking once the teeth marks had been shaved off.

Chalcedony breathed a sigh of relief.  They had been low on sugar for weeks,
and the men's unvaried diet of whiskey and beans was wearing thin.

At least now they'd have a few luxury items to sell to the men who hadn't
spent all their gold on good times and wild women.

"Look, apples, crates of them.  That'll carry the men through until we can
find the greens to flesh out their diet," Juanita said.  She pried up a loose
slat and looked at the green and red fruits that were nestled in sawdust.
She had been in Sonora almost twenty months and remembered with brutal
clarity the ravages of a poor diet.  More men had died from lack of fresh
fruits and vegetables than in all the accidents of the year.  In the spring
they had been reduced to  eating miner's lettuce and had been humbly
grateful for the bitter bits of green.

Chalcie was already planning the feast for the evening.  There should be a
celebration in honor of the found supplies.  Not only would she and Jordan
eat well, so would the men in the mining town.

"Get some of the men over here and we'll start moving it all to the more
secure sheds out back.  And ask Hope to be ready to whip up some of her
oyster cakes to be sold this evening.  And for the men who can't afford that
treat, I'll make corn meal fritters.  I need something to do this evening,
anyway."

Chalcedony issued the orders as they closed the door and headed back down
toward the store and saloon.

"Someone will have to find Jordan and tell him to open the locks on the Dry
Gulch's storage shack.  He's going to be happy!"

"He'd be happier if you started treating him like a husband."  Juanita
insisted on turning the conversation back to the state of Chalcie's marriage.

"I don't want to talk about it," Chalcie said sharply.  She was trying, for
God's sake.  Couldn't Juanita just leave it be?

Juanita stopped in the middle of the street, her hands on her hips.

"Tell me, when was the last time you kissed him?"

"That isn't what I'm talking about."

"It's what I'm talking about!"

Chalcie blushed and fiddled with her dress.

"If you must know, he hasn't so much as asked to hold my hand.  About the
only indication I've had that he thinks of me as a woman is the commission he
gave to Lucy to make me new dresses, and I know you helped him with that.
Otherwise he really doesn't notice me."

"And you wish he'd notice?"

Chalcie was silent.

"Yes, you definitely wish he'd notice."  Juanita sighed as she watched
Chalcie trying to form an answer.

"Well,  so do I, Chalcedony, because you deserve a good marriage.  But
you're going to have to work at it, just like he is.  Both of you are
stubborn as jackasses..."  Her voice trailed off as she looked down the
street and saw two men and a woman approaching.

Her hand tightened around the tin can that served as a candle holder.  Of all
the times for Jordan to show up, this was the worst one, especially with that
woman.  Another few minutes and she might have pried some information out of
Chalcie on the real state of affairs in the marriage.

In the past few weeks she had given Jordan every chance to confide in her,
and he had ignored all her attempts to draw him into a conversation.  He
hadn't been inclined to tell her anything since he first asked for her help.
Every time she'd tried to pin him down on what was happening between him and
his wife, he had shrugged off her questions.

"Oh, damn," she muttered, and looked around for a way, any way, off the main
street.

Chalcie, however, had already seen her husband.  The greeting died on her
lips as she stared at Jordan and Willy Hill is, the barman, and the woman who
was accompanying them both down the middle of the main street.

"Chalcie, Juanita, what a surprise!  The news around town is that you've
found the missing supplies.  I didn't expect you to be out loo king them over
quite so soon."

Jordan didn't seem the least bit disturbed by the fact that another woman was
hanging on to his arm as if she belonged there.

"I guess you can tell me all about it when you get home, Chalcie.  And I need
to ask about several entries from the past week for the store."

He looked down at the woman by his side and smiled warmly at her.  He patted
her hand, which was firmly attached to his sleeve.

"Jane, this is my wife.  Chalcedony, and Juanita, manager of the C.  K.
Saloon.  I'm sure you both know Jane, she's been singing at the Nuggett
Saloon.  She wanted to  talk to Willy and me about the possibility of
changing over to my place."

Jane smiled at Chalcie as her hand lazily inscribed circles on Jordan's coat
sleeve.  It was a particularly intimate gesture that was meant to challenge
Chalcie.  Jane was telling her as clearly as if the words had been spoken
that she meant to make Jordan her own.

"I'm sure she'd fit right in at the saloon.  She seems to be at home in that
type of atmosphere."  Chalcie smiled maliciously.  That would put the hussy
in her place.  Chalcie knew what the woman's game was, and she wasn't
playing.  Besides, Jane should know that fancy ladies rarely became respected
wives, and Jane definitely qualified as a fancy lady.  Her bust was pushed up
so far that she risked catching the grippe when she walked in the cold air,
and her hair had seen more than one bottle of peroxide to bring it to that
straw like color.

"Thanks, Chalcie, we think Jane will fit right in at the Dry Gulch, too.

She should start tonight," Willy said, grinning.  He was clearly infatuated
with the woman.

"We're going to give your place a run for your money."

Jordan smiled at Chalcie and raised his hat as if they were no more than
acquaintances.  There was nothing in his demeanor to indicate that they were
man and wife.  He strolled on with Willy and Jane, leaving Chalcie gasping in
anger.

"That two-faced, lying, hypocritical, nasty excuse for a man, I'll split him
end from end if it's the last thing I ever do!"  Chalcie hissed.

"I'll tell you, she isn't thinking of the time she's going to spend singing
to the men.  That woman's got something else in her sights!"  She stormed
away, swear in gas she went.

"That trollop thinks she can get her claws into him, is that it?  I've seen
that look before.  She should know better than to try and hook Jordan.  He's
not going to leave me..."

Chalcie faltered in mid-sentence as a horrible thought took away her breath.
It wasn't possible, was it?  She  wanted Jordan to love her.  She had done
every thing that she could think of to make him love her, and now he was
walking around with another woman.

"Now you see what I've been trying to tell you," Juanita said quietly.

"Now I see what?  That my husband has found someone new?"  she asked
bitterly, the pain raw in her voice.

"He doesn't need me anymore.  He's got the money.  Isn't that what I've been
telling you, ever since he married me?  All he wanted was the Kent money, not
the Kent wife."

"No, that isn't true.  You can't mean that," Juanita said angrily.

"Lady, you'd better let him know, one way or another, that you care for him,
or he's going to find warmth and loving somewhere else.  Look back down the
street and you'll see that there's even a woman ready and waiting for him."

"I'll try one more time," Chalcie said.

But how?  It seemed that every time they were together they just argued.

Jordan was right.  She didn't know how to be soft and tempting for a man.

She was beginning to wonder whether she had actually seen that flash of
desire in his eyes when they were together on the mountain.  She had looked
up at him when they were lying beneath the fur, skin to skin, and his obvious
desire was poking her somewhere in the region of her belly button.  Of course
that had been on the mountain, and she had just been rescued.  Maybe it
hadn't been lust at all but merely a sympathetic reaction to her nearness.
Maybe any woman would have caused that to happen.

The thought filled her with sadness.  She did so want to be special to
someone.  She could talk to Jordan, maybe even ask him to tell her what he
really felt for her.  He might say that he fancied her.  Her spirits lifted
at the very thought.

"No," she said, and her voice carried all the pain she had ever felt when she
thought of Jordan, the man who had  been at once her enemy and her husband.
She couldn't stand to have the hope form and then be crushed.

But if Juanita was right, if it were true that he might want her.  Oh, if it
were true, she might still have a chance to be a loving wife and mother.  She
had never thought she could long so for such ordinary things until all hope
of them had been taken from her.

Juanita saw Chalcie softening and decided to strike again, to make her point.

"Chalcie, you'd better do something soon.  Jordan has been seen around town
with a different woman on his arm every night."

"Every night?"  Chalcie blanched.  So tonight wasn't an exception.

"The rumors are getting louder and uglier.  Aren't you interested in fighting
back?"

"Oh, indeed I am interested in fighting back.  Now that I've seen what I'm up
against, I even think I can win," Chalcie said as she parted company with
Juanita.

Jordan didn't know what was going to hit him when he came home tonight,
Chalcie thought grimly.  Jordan had never seen her in full temper tantrum.

It would be quite a shock, Chalcie thought.  Never again was Jordan de Chat
ain going to go walking around town with another woman's hand on his arm!  He
was her husband, and she wasn't going to share him with anyone else until she
knew for certain that he didn't want her as his wife.

Chapter Fifteen Q^zr^s^Q G/halcie had worked herself up to a fine temper
when Jordan finally made an appearance.  She was sick and tired of trying
to make him notice her and then being ignored.  She wasn't going to settle
for being only a business partner any longer.  Either he'd take her as his
wife or he was going to set her loose tonight!

"Don't you come through that door expecting me to have dinner ready for you,
or anything else for that matter!"  Chalcie had been lying in wait for
Jordan.  He opened the door and ducked fast as she threw the loaf of fresh
bread at him.  The bread flew past him and landed, steaming, in the snowbank
outside the house.

"Hey, what did I do?"  Jordan asked, throwing up his hands to fend off any
further attacks.

Chalcie couldn't believe that he'd even find it necessary to ask what he'd
done to her.

"What did you do?  You stood there, in front of everyone in Sonora, flaunting
your fancy woman at me, and you ask me what you did?"

Jordan shook his head ruefully.

"But it wasn't like that.  Jane is going to be a singer at the Dry Gulch."

"I don't care what she's going to be.  You had no right to look like you were
courting her, with her hand on your arm and makinga fuss over her.

You should have had at least enough sense of propriety to come over to me and
act  like you knew me as something more than a casual acquaintance.  "

Jordan had to fight the little smile he felt tugging at the corners of his
mouth.  Was it possible Chalcie could actually be a little jealous?

Chalcie stared at him.  Her hands clenched into fists.  She was going to wipe
that grin off his face.  So he thought it was funny, shaming her in front of
all of Sonora.  She could just imagine what the men were saying now as they
drank their whiskey and talked about what was happening in the town.  She
could even mimic the censorious voices of the miners.

"Oh, yes, did you hear?  Chalcie wasn't woman enough to hold Jordan.  He's
already got another woman warning his bed."  Yes, she knew what they were
saying, and Jordan had no right to smile about it, either.

Chalcie stared up at him, her hands balled at her sides.  She would have
loved to smack that smug look right off his face.  She lifted her chin and
stared at him.

"You know what you've done to me, don't you?"

Jordan looked at her uneasily.  He'd known Chalcie was a spitfire, but this
was go inga little far.  He really hadn't meant a thing when he'd let Jane
take his arm.  Jane was just the kind of woman who did things like that.

Suddenly, he truly felt the dawn of hope.  Chalcie's reaction was so extreme.
Maybe this was indeed the first tentative sign that she had come to care
about him.

'"Chalcie, I didn't mean to harm you," he said quietly.

Chalcie shook her head.  She had to fight the temptation to pound on his
chest, to make him hurt physically the same way she ached emotionally.

"Jordan, tell me, what do you think the men have said about the marriage
between the two of us?"

Jordan was surprised by the question.  He had thought this was between
Chalcie and him and concerned no one else in town.

"Not much.  Mostly the men have said that they were a little jealous that I
managed to take the most eligible  woman in town.  They think you're
beautiful, and somehow it doesn't seem fair to them that I managed to marry
you when I'm already one of the richest men in town.  They'd rather have had
you choose one of the poor miners for your husband."  He didn't add that with
her rosy cheeks and her golden-red hair glinting in the firelight, she was
easily the most beautiful woman in all of California, and he'd fight to the
death anyone who challenged his right to have her as his wife.

"That's not what the men are saying, at least not where Juanita can hear
them," Chalcie said bitterly.

"What's she heard?"  Jordan was genuinely startled.

"They want to know how long the farce is going to keep up.  It's a matter of
open speculation about how long this marriage will last."

' "What does it matter what the men around town think?  It's not important,
is it?"

There was real pain in Chalcie's voice.

"How could you, Jordan?  How could you hold me up to ridicule like that?"

"But I didn't" -- Jordan started to say.

Chalcie waved away his explanation.

"Don't tell me that you didn't say anything.  It's all out there on the
street-- " Jordan and Chalcie don't even sleep in the same bed.  " I don't
dare show my face outside now, especially after tonight."

"Tonight wasn't anything terrible, Chalcie, believe me!  Jane doesn't mean
anything."  He stopped short of telling her that he had been glad when she
saw him with Jane.  Somehow, he didn't think that would help his own cause at
the moment.

"Not terrible?  You with another woman, and not even caring when you meet up
with your wife?  It's bad enough that the men in town know that I was
kidnapped and in their minds, at least, raped.  It's worse that they know I
had to come to you and beg you to take me in marriage.  But now they're all
certain that the marriage isn't going to work, because you've got another
woman and you're bed ding her within two months of your marriage."
Chalcie's voice was racked with misery, but she refused to cry in front of
this man.  He'd hurt her, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of
letting him know just how deep the anguish went.

"Look what you did.  You meet me on the street, and I'm nothing more than an
acquaintance to you.  You don't remove the woman's arm from your sleeve, you
do not come over and take my hand.  You do nothing that would indicate that
we have anything but the most formal of relationships.

"But then, a formal relationship is all you really want, isn't it?

Business and good home cooking!  " There, Chalcie had said it.  He could deny
it all he wanted, but the wishes and hopes that she'd been building up from
the looks and the words that passed between them were nothing but lies.

He might think that he could shame her in this way and still have her around
the house, but she was sick to death of having her father, Houlihan, Ames and
now her own husband think that she was a commodity to be used and then
discarded when it was convenient.  She wanted to be loved for all of her--for
her brain, for her smile, for her sense of humor, for her body.  She was so
tired of everyone from her father to Jordan deciding that she wasn't worth
anything.

Maybe the only way to break the cycle was to go as far away from Sonora as
possible.  If she left Jordan and the mining camp behind she might be able to
find a man who wanted her for herself.

"Chalcie, I don't want any kind of business partnership.  I want a real
marriage, just like everyone else.  I tried to tell you that months ago, but
somehow you never believed me," Jordan tried again.

"Don't lie, Mr. de Chat ain.  You've made it very clear what you want from
this marriage.  You want to use my business sense as if we were business
partners so that you can become even more rich.  But as for making me a real
 wife in any sense of the word, that's not part of the game, is it?"  she
said bitterly.

"You said that I wasn't capable of loving, even my father said so.  And it
seems you were right.  I guess that I have no idea what love is, but it has
nothing to do with the way we are with each other."

She wiped away one miserable tear.

"Good God, think of it!"  she cried.

"My own father thought I was so undesirable that he had to attach a fortune
to my getting married.  And now, even after I have a husband, I'm not good
enough at be inga woman to keep him."

Chalcie grabbed her shawl from the nail by the kitchen door, and before
Jordan could react, she had vanished into the fast-falling snow.

"The hell with you!  I'd rather leave forever than spend another night on
your damned cold floor!"  Her voice floated back to him, borne on the wind
that whipped the snowflakes over her tracks.

"Chalcie, come back!"  Jordan shouted, but there was no answer.

Jordan collapsed onto the stump that served as a chair for the table and
buried his head in his hands.

How had it gone so far wrong?  Didn't she know that he loved her, that he
wanted her?

"No, I guess she doesn't."

The realization came slowly.  He'd spent two months being kind and courteous
and courting her from a distance, thinking she needed time to come to terms
with being his wife.  Instead, she'd misunderstood every thing he'd done.

"I should have made love to her on the mountain, and then there'd be none of
this idiotic sleeping on the floor.  She'd have been warming my bed instead
of holding on to a cat in the middle of the night."  He slammed his hand down
on the table.

"Not any more, Chalcie.  You come back here, and we're sharing my bed!"

The four walls echoed with the empty threat.  He could say it all he wanted
now that she'd left him.

Chapter Sixteen Q^y^s^Q

' "T

I'll run away and he'll never find me again," Chalcie said as she strode away
into the darkness.  The tears that she finally allowed to wash down her face
made steam rise from her cheeks, then froze to little flecks of white around
her chin.  She wiped angrily at the evidence of her weakness.  A man wouldn't
cry, would he?  No, he'd decide what to do about the problems that were
plaguing him, and then he'd take action to solve those problems.  She could
be just as strong as any man she'd ever known.

"I'll leave, that's the simplest and cleanest way around it," Chalcie said as
she stomped toward the C.  K.  Saloon.  She'd tell Juanita she was leaving
and then she'd strike out on her own.  She hated to try to survive in the
winter, but there wasn't any help for it.

Chalcie made it to the three-walled room that had served as her retreat for
so many months.  She sat for a while in the darkness on the wooden bed that
she had slept on for more than a year.  It' was cold and lonely.  Not even
the sounds of the bar fights and the laughter of the men lightened the
atmosphere.  She wouldn't miss it at all, she decided.  She would go away,
change her name, and no one need ever hear of her again.

She imagined for a moment starting again, where no one  knew about her
father's will, about her marriage, and now about the failure of her marriage.

Instead of a vision of light and happiness, she was surprised to discover
that the future looked lifeless and barren without Jordan.  No one would know
her, and she would be totally alone.  Jordan and Juanita would be gone.
She'd never know whether Juanita and Eduardo managed to become man and wife.
Jordan would eventually marry someone else who would make him happy.

Chalcie bit back a sob- She didn't want him to marry someone else.  She
wanted him to love her.

Then, through the other sounds, she heard Jordan calling her.  He walked
right in front of her room, and she sank back into the shadows, praying that
he wouldn't find her so soon.  She wasn't ready to talk to him quite yet.
His voice faded as he walked to the end of the building and then doubled back
to go into the bar.  Even through the sounds of the miners in the bar, she
could hear his voice.

At least he was loo king for her, she thought in satisfaction.  If he'd stayed
in the house and eaten his meal and sat in front of the fire, she'd never
even have considered going back to him.  But Jordan cared enough to go out on
a foul night and search for her.

Maybe things weren't as black between them as she thought.

If she came home again.  the thought cut into him so deeply that he groaned
with the pain.  She had to come back, didn't she?  Where else could she go?

He knew where she could go.  She could leave Sonora and trek cross-country.

She could stay in the woods, and never be found, or she could go up to one of
the miners' cabins and have shelter and what food she could carry with her or
trap.  She was capable of just walking away from every thing that had been
her father's, and leaving him behind.  If she wanted, she could disappear so
thoroughly that  he would never find her.  She had threatened to leave the
night of their wedding.  Now she actually had.

If she came back, things were going to be different.  First, they'd be man
and wife in and out of bed.  Before the week was out, she was either going to
be sharing his bed and be a proper wife, or he was going to have, the
marriage annulled.  He wasn't going to live like this any longer.  He
couldn't stand the pain.

In fact, that was what he had planned to have happen this evening.  He had
waited two months for an order from San Francisco to be filled and hadn't had
any hope of seeing it until the spring thaw.  The roads weren't completely
impassable, and this morn inga man had ridden in and delivered the small
packet to him in return for two ounces of gold for his trouble.

Slowly Jordan extracted the small yellow packet that he had been guarding so
carefully.  He'd planned to give it to Chalcie after they ate dinner.  He had
meant to show her just how much he thought of the marriage, and of her, with
the present.

Now she was gone, and he didn't know if she was coming back.  He slipped the
envelope back into his pocket.  Sometime later he'd have a chance to give it
to her.

Jordan clapped his hat back on his head and started out into the storm.  He
had to search for her.  Maybe if he tried to explain again, she'd understand.

"And maybe if I just pick her up, take her home and bounce her on the bed,
we'll have all our troubles ironed out!"

Jordan began his search in the C.  K.  Saloon, but Juanita shrugged and shook
her head when he asked if she'd seen Chalcie in the past hour.

"We had a fight," Jordan explained simply.

"Haven't seen her, but you might look in her old room," Juanita suggested.

"I'm using it for storage, but the wooden bed's still set up in case someone
is willing to pay for a night out of the snow and rain."

 Jordan took the candle and lifted the calico curtain, marveling how a room
could have seemed so alive with Chalcie in it but so dead with her gone.

He could tell the instant he stepped inside that she wasn't there, but he saw
that several of the cans out of one case had been taken, and two cracker tins
out of another container were gone.  His heart suddenly ached with a pain so
bad that he wondered if he was having an attack.  Had Chalcie run away from
him?  He hoped against hope that Juanita had taken the goods for use in the
bar.  He'd hate to think that his first idea about Chalcie running away
forever was right.

He went up and down the paths behind the various buildings in Sonora.  There
was no answer.

"Damn it, woman, you could freeze to death outside on a night like this.

You have to come home.  We can still work it out," he called into the wind.

He was terrified that Chalcie was gone from his life.  He'd made a complete
circuit of the town and come back to the starting point behind the C.  K.

bar, and there hadn't been so much as a footstep that he could have followed
to find her.

He had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if someone had kicked
him and then decided that reaching in and knotting up his muscles wasn't a
bad idea, either.  His heart still hurt and he felt like sitting down in the
middle of the snow and bawling like a kid.  And all because of Chalcie.

He beat his fists against the wood of one of the buildings.

"How the hell did I know it would end like this?  I only wanted a real wife,
not some shadowy business partner who just happened to live in the same house
with me!"  He was bewildered and angry.

Finally he gave up the search.  Jordan walked slowly back to the house.  He
ate a solitary meal and washed his dish.  As the dawn struggled through the
steadily falling snow, he sat in the rocking chair and held Taffy, happy for
the comfort that the small furry body gave him.  Taffy didn't  seem to care
that her back was wet with a steady rain of tears.

Chalcie would have to come back.  She'd never leave Taffy behind.  She'd come
back eventually.

Jordan pulled the tiny yellow paper sack out of his pocket again and looked
at it sadly.  He had had such plans for a fine romantic evening.  He knew
that she could have read all his love into the small present.  It was meant
to show her that the marriage was a good one, and that he wanted a chance to
make her truly his wife.  Instead, he still had the present, but he didn't
have Chalcie.

Jordan dumped the cat off his lap and stood up.  Chalcie wasn't coming back
anytime soon, that much was obvious.  He walked over to the table, bent like
an old man with tiredness and despair.  He took a piece of lead and slowly
wrote the only message that he could think of on the yellow paper sack.

"To Chalcie, with my love.  I'm sorry."

Jordan left the tiny paper bag in the middle of the table where she couldn't
possibly miss it if she returned, then he walked back out the door and toward
the Dry Gulch Saloon.  It was time, he thought, for a warm bottle of whiskey
and another trek through town loo king for any sign of Chalcie.

Chalcie made her Way to the shed and opened it up.  There was barely room for
her to walk inside.  She shivered.  It was colder inside than out, and she
heard the scurrying of mice in the back.

"Go away, mice," she said.  She was too tired and too mixed-up to contend
with any kind of rodents.  For the first time since she left the house, she
sat down and thought about what she had considered giving up.

"Chalcie, please come home..."  Jordan's voice startled her.  It sounded as
if he were right outside the shed, and if she hadn't known better, she would
have sworn that he was standing there talking to her, certain that she was
inside the shed and listening to him.

"Please..."  he said, and his voice faded so she couldn't hear the rest of
the words.

Chalcie listened intently, but only silence followed.  She didn't have the
courage to go back outside and see if it was really Jordan.  Probably it had
just been her imagination.  But somehow, obscurely, she felt comforted.

Perhaps it was a message.  Perhaps there was still hope for her and Jordan.

She pulled several of the blankets down from where they had been stored
before being taken to the shop, and made herself a bed.  She was shivering
with, the cold as she moved around the shed.  She lighted one candle lamp,
certain that it wouldn't be seen from the outside, and she foraged for a tin
of the chocolate wafers that she knew were hidden in the bottom of one of the
cartons.  She'd been saving them, hoping to find someone who would pay the
outrageous price she'd have to demand for the luxuries.

"I deserve a few luxuries myself, now don't I?"  Chalcie said as she opened
the tin and ate the first of the rich, wonderfully flavored biscuits.

Halfway through the tin, she'd decided that she definitely wasn't going to
leave town and start her life anew someplace else.

"I've started over too many times.  I'm not going to do it again unless
there's no other answer to my problems," she said emphatically, glad to get
that much of her life settled.

Three-fourths of the way through the tin, she'd decided that she was going to
face Jordan down and make him talk about their marriage and what they could
do about it to make it a real marriage.  She was going to force him to
acknowledge that she was desirable as a real wife instead of just a business
partner.  Jordan de Chat ain was going to desire her if she had to parade
around in front of him naked and wearing bells and cheap perfume.

By the time she had finished the tin of biscuits, she had a stomachache and
had decided that Jordan didn't stand a chance once she started on him.

And to make absolutely certain of that, she was going to wait until first
light, and  then she was going to go into Chinese Camp for something that
would assure that she was successful in luring Jordan to her bed.

Once her errand was finished, she was going to go home, cook something
wonderful, sleep the rest of the day, and then she was going to seduce him.
This time he wasn't going to stand out in the snow telling her that he
couldn't make love to her.  They were married, and she wanted every thing
that a normal wife would want from her husband.

Chalcie was still asleep when the camp began to come to life.  It was at a
slower pace than the summer mornings.  Some of the miners who had claims
close enough to town were still working in the freezing weather.  Most of the
miners weren't so lucky, and they spent the winter trying to build houses
that would stand up to the rains and wind and snow.  Because of their
efforts, Sonora had already begun to look more like a real town instead of
the mass of shanties and tents that lined most of the valley.

It was the sound of hammers one block over that woke Chalcie.  She moved and
her stomach growled a protest and sent a stabbing pain just under her
breastbone.

"As long as I live, I'm never going to eat another piece of chocolate,"

Chalcie muttered.  Her mouth tasted foul, and she could only guess what she
looked like.  There wasn't time, though, to go home and fix herself up.

Besides, she wasn't ready quite yet to face Jordan.  She had one more errand
to take care of, and then she could start her war against his defenses.

Chalcie braided her hair, straightened her new wool dress and pulled the
shawl close around her before she opened the door of the shed.

She peered around cautiously, but there was no one in sight.  The snow had
stopped falling, but the day was still overcast and sullen.

Chalcie set out for Chinese Camp, picking her way even more carefully than
usual, because even the rough soles of her camp boots slipped on the hidden
rocks.  Snow was  beautiful but treacherous.  It was a toss-up which was
worse to live in, the eternal heat and dust of summer or the cold and
slippery wet of winter.  Someday, she was certain, California would be
pacified and citified and cleaned up, but at the moment each season brought
its own little adventures.  Chalcie could smell the camp from several blocks
away.

As usual, the main component of the distinctive odor was that of food, and
even though her stomach was still in open rebellion, she wished that she had
the chance to taste a few of the dishes that were being prepared for the
lucky miners.  In some ways the Chinese were better able to adapt to the
harsh conditions of the mining camp, and the way they cooked was one of them.
She'd tasted some of the fried lichen, something she hadn't even thought was
edible, that one of the Chinese had shared with her, and it had been
delectable.  She couldn't think of even one white miner who would have
thought of cooking lichen, and as a result they ended up eating the same
beans and bread day after day.  Chalcie stopped for a moment, then proceeded
down the winding path.

She hadn't gone all the way to Johnny Tong's store the last time she ventured
into the camp.  She hoped it would be easy to find him.

"Johnny Tong's place?"  she inquired of the first man that she met, expecting
him to ignore her or to shrug as if he didn't know.  She was pleasantly
surprised when he nodded and pointed toward the next street.

' "Last shop, edge of camp," he said in highly accented English.

Chalcie thanked him and hurried down the street, ignoring the stares of the
Chinese as she passed.  The snow had started to fall again and the shawl
wasn't warm enough.  She walked as fast as she dared, even though the exotic
sights and smells of the camp tempted her to linger and explore.

She was too cold to enjoy anything new.

Johnny's building was one of the few real buildings in the camp.  Most of the
structures were even more primitive  than the ones that made up Sonora.
This building had three sides and she could see a plume of smoke coming out
the top, showing her that Johnny had at least the comfort of heat in his
business.

Chalcie stepped inside and was assailed by the strange and powerful scents of
the shop.  First she noticed that it was wanner inside than in the snow.

Most of the places in Sonora only gave respite from the wind and rain or
snow.  They weren't made to hold in heat.

Johnny Tong's, however, was warmed by a series of small braziers set around
the shop.  On one of the heaters a huge pot of water simmered gently.
Chalcie sniffed the scented air.  She could identify ginger and licorice, and
something else more subtly pungent than she had ever dreamed of before.
There were two men in the store, and both of them turned to stare in surprise
at the white woman.  Then, without another word, they placed their purchases
on the plank counter and left the shop, leaving Johnny Long behind to wait on
her.

Mr.  Long nodded in recognition, bowing slightly toward Chalcie.

"Now you visit my shop as I came to yours.  I am honored," he said quietly.

Mr.  Long picked up the simmering kettle of water and poured some tea into a
cup.  He handed it to Chalcie, who accepted gratefully.

"Something to warm you, so you do not chill."

"Thank you, this is wonderful!"  Chalcie said as she wrapped her hands around
the cup and sniffed the delicious aroma of flowers and the slightly bitter
smell of black tea.

"It will be good for your stomachache, too," Mr. Long said.

Chalcie looked at him in disbelief.  How could he have known?

"Your face shows every sign of that pain.  I merely observe," he said,
answering her unspoken question.

Mr.  Long was silent for a moment, giving Chalcie a chance to look around and
become accustomed to the  strangeness of a shop that most white people, male
or female, would never have even seen.  He knew that something desperately
important must have driven her to come to him.  He could wait until she felt
that she could tell him what it was.

"I don't know what to say," Chalcie said finally.  She didn't even know what
to ask for now that she was actually standing in front of Mr. Long.

What could she say--pardon me, I need a potion to make my husband so
interested in me that he wants to bed me?

Chalcie wrinkled her nose.  She didn't want to do this.  It had been a stupid
idea.  Mr. Long couldn't help her.  She drained the cup of tea and made an
abortive move toward leaving, then stopped.

The truth was, she needed every bit of help she could get, and the women back
in the fandango parlors had told her that Johnny was the best.  They'd helped
each other before, and maybe he could make another miracle for her now.

"I need a potion," Chalcie said, and to her horror her voice broke right in
the middle.  She coughed and tried again.

"I need something to make my husband..."  She flamed scarlet and stopped in
mid-sentence.  There simply wasn't any way that she was going to be able to
explain her need delicately.

"Ah--you want something to make him more of a man, is that it?"  Johnny Long
was smilin gas if there were a secret joke that he knew about and wasn't
going to share with Chalcie.

Chalcie nodded dumbly.  Even if she got the wrong herbs, she wasn't going to
be any more explicit.  She'd just have to hope that whatever he gave her
would work.

"Wait, please," Mr. Long said.  He turned to the wall of small drawers behind
him and began to open first one and then the other.  Some of the herbs and
spices he sniffed and rejected.  Others he took just a pinch of and brought
over to the heavy mortar and pestle, where he proceeded to grind  them into
powder.  The aroma of something sweet and pungent rose from the marble
container as he worked with the herbs.

Mr.  Long tasted a tiny pinch of the mix, frowned and added more powdered
ginger and a touch of something that looked like crystallized flowers.

Finally he was satisfied, and he poured the mix into a piece of clean white
tissue paper.  He twirled the ends closed with one expert twist and tied it
off with red yarn.

"Here, this will do.  It may be used in tea or in food.  However you use it,
it will work."  He smiled again and bowed.

Chalcie took out her purse and began to open the packet of gold that she
carried for emergencies.

"No, no payment.  We are friends.  This I do for you and for Jordan," Mr.
Long said, waving the gold aside.

"Please let me pay," she insisted.

"No, no pay!"  Mr. Long said again.

"Then thank you, Mr. Long," Chalcie said as she left the shop.  Someday, she
hoped, she'd be able to return the favor.

Behind her she heard a burst of Chinese as the other men reentered the shop
that she had just left.

Chalcie made it almost back to the main street in Sonora before she bumped
into Juanita.

"Chalcie, where the hell have you been?  You've led Jordan on a merry chase,
and he's going to be mad as hell when you walk in that door!"

"No, he won't," Chalcie said smugly.

"You didn't see him last night.  He was certain that you'd left him forever.
Lett inga man suffer for a while is one thing, scaring him half to death is
another.  I'd never dare do that with my Eduardo--he wouldn't stand for it,"
Juanita scolded her friend.

Chalcie smiled.  She'd noticed the slip of the tongue, even if Juanita
hadn't.  Her Eduardo, indeed.

 "Wait and see," she said.

"I think I have every thing planned, and tonight should be very interesting!"

Chalcie turned away from the saloon and headed back toward her home.  There
was a lot of work to do before Jordan came back.  She muttered a swift prayer
that he hadn't slept late and stayed home.  It would ruin all her plans if he
had.  Besides, she was still shaky enough that she needed more time to think
and plan ahead for the confrontation.  She knew that sometime during the
kneading of the bread or scrubbing of the stove, she'd find the perfect way
to lead him into her bed and every thing would be resolved.

The house was lonely and quiet when she opened the door.  Taffy yawned and
then jumped down from the table where she had been resting.  She was carrying
something in her teeth, but Chalcie was too tired to hunt her down and see
what the cat had stolen.

The fire was almost out, and she spent half an hour building it back up until
the flames were hot enough to warm water and she could fix herself a bracing
cup of tea.  She needed something to help her wake up.  Then she'd start
cooking.  The tea wasn't as good as the one that Johnny Long had served, but
she made do by add inga little more sugar than normal.  If she came out of
this all right, she'd have to go back to Tong's and buy a whole carton of tea
to brew for Jordan.

Chalcie had planned out the whole menu for the night, includinga couple of
stiff shots of whiskey or whatever else she needed to give her the courage to
go through with her seduction.  She shivered when she looked over in the
corner where the blankets should have been.  It had been swept clean, and she
knew then that Jordan never intended for her to sleep on the floor again.
She hoped that it meant he wanted her in his bed instead.

But what if he meant he didn't even want her in the house?

"I won't think about that."

 Chalcie pared the apples for sweet dumplings and thought about Jordan.

She looked for a moment at the green ledgers that she could see through the
open door to the bedroom.  She dismissed them from her mind.  She wasn't
thinking about business, she was thinking about making her marriage work.

Right now she wanted to make Jordan realize that she was desirable, ready for
love and interested in having him behave as a real husband should behave.  It
had taken a night alone for her to realize that no matter what her father had
said, she was a complete woman.  She knew what her own body and emotions were
telling her.  She was ready for her husband to love her with the same kind of
passion that she loved him.  It was time to make him realize that he had a
wife at home and that she needed some attention!

As she worked, she cataloged his good points.  He was handsome.  Every woman
in Sonora knew that.  The black hair, the dark eyes and slow smile, the deep
voice--it was a package that was hard to resist.

"And not too many women have resisted it, from Jane on down," Chalcie
muttered.  She didn't blame him exactly, but he'd have to stop his roaming
ways once they'd worked out the finer points of this marriage.  She wasn't
about to have a husband out on the town while she stayed home and did the
ledgers.

The thought of his kisses warmed her, and she let herself float in the
exciting daydream of what would have happened if he hadn't turned away from
her while they were on the mountain.  She was brought back to reality with a
thump when she pared part of her finger instead of the apple.

She dumped the fruit into the pan and slid it onto the stove.  She stirred
slowly as the mixture simmered until the apples were coated with a golden
sauce.  She opened the packet from Johnny Long and sniffed again to make
certain that whatever the white paper contained would meld with the flavor of
the apples and make it truly an apple dumpling  to remember.  The exotic
spices tickled her nose as she sniffed, and then, mutter inga prayer, she
dumped the whole thing into the apples.  She crossed her fingers and prayed
that Johnny Long knew what he was doing.

Several minutes later, the heady perfume of the mixture filled the room.

She took a small spoon and tasted the apples, and closed her eyes in sheer
delight at the delicate, rich, wonderful taste.  Even if the stuff didn't do
its job, it had made the best-flavored apples she had ever had the pleasure
of eating.

"Just a little more sugar," she said critically, dumping in a few more lumps
and stirring.  She sampled the apples again and nodded.

"Just right."

For the main part of the meal, Chalcie constructed a fine meat pie, adding
just a bit of the chili that she had saved from the bunch that Johnny Long
had purchased.  If it could burn Jordan's mouth a little, maybe it would start
a fire in other parts of his body.  Johnny Long wasn't the only person around
who could try to work miracles with herbs.

She swayed against the edge of the table as she thought of what she was
planning.  She wanted Jordan so much that she could have burst with the need.
By the time the apple dumplings were cooked and cooling, with a crust of
sugar lacing the brown pastry, she was fairly itching to put her plan into
action.  She had spent almost all day working in the kitchen, preparing for
his homecoming.  She was tired and anxious and more than a little frightened.
It was the first time she'd ever tried such a thing, and she couldn't help
feeling more than a little like one of the tarts in the second-story fandango
parlors.

If she did try to make a life with Jordan, how was she going to tell him that
she wanted to change the relationship?  There didn't seem to be any way other
than admitting that she had made a mistake.

What if he turned her down?  She didn't think she could take the humiliation
of having him announce that he wasn't interested in making love to her.  She
scrubbed at the table,  removing every trace of flour and more than a few
pine splinters in the process as she fought with her heart's desire to trust
and love Jordan and her fear of rejection.

She washed, using warmed water from the kettle, and brushed her hair until it
shone like the fire itself.  The mirror showed her that the cooking and
cleaning had put a bloom in her cheeks.  She needed no help from any
artificial color.  She smudged a bit of charcoal around her eyes to make them
look dark and mysterious, as she had seen the Gypsies in Texas do.

She dabbed vanilla every place she could think of, so that she smelled like a
giant cookie.  She donned the new dress that had been made by Suzette, and
she was ready for him.

Chalcie waited.  The hours stretched on, and she began to wonder nervously if
Jordan would ever come back to the house.  A horrible thought occurred to
her.  He didn't know she was back what if he had gone out on the trail,
loo king for her?  He could be in danger!

"Five more minutes and then I'm going loo king for him," Chalcie decided.

"I can't stand the suspense."  She picked up a cloth and began polishing the
table for the twentieth time.

Her hands were sweating, and she was certain that by now she'd rubbed her
eyes so often that she'd smudged the charcoal and made herself look as if
she'd been smacked by someone.  The apple dumplings were getting cold, the
meat pies were going to congeal, and she was near tears.

"Everything is going to be ruined before I even have a chance!"  she wailed,
just as Jordan opened the door and stepped into the kitchen.

Chapter Seventeen Q^^s^Q jordan looked at Chalcie, his face thundercloud
dark with anger.  His black hair was tousled and wet from the snow, and it
was obvious that somewhere along the way he'd lost his hat.  His coat was
drenched, and even his boots were soaked.  He shivered just once as he
glowered at Chalcie.

"Where the hell have you been?"  he asked; His teeth were clenched with anger
as he stood and dripped on the floor.

"I came home this morning...."  Chalcie said, faltering.  She hadn't expected
him to be angry.  At least not this angry.  She watched as another shiver
rolled through him.  The poor man was going to catch his death if he didn't
strip and wrap himself in a blanket.

"Get out of those clothes right now.  We'll talk about last night after
you've been dried off and warmed through," she ordered him.

"I'll bring in the tin tub from outside and get you into a hot bath."

Jordan just stared at her as if he hadn't heard a word that she said.

"You stayed out all night.  God knows where, and then you come prancing back
into this house and expect me to just forget that anything happened?

It doesn't work that way, Chalcie.  " He sneezed once.

"You put me through hell last night and most of today!"

 Chalcie nodded.

"I know, and I'm sorry.  But please, go strip out of those clothes.  I
promise you, I won't run away again.  You can yell at me--or whatever else it
is you want to do--after you're warm and dry, all right?"

She opened the door to reach for the tub, but Jordan grabbed her around the
waist and pulled her back inside.

"I don't give a damn about the cold, and I don't care if I do catch the
grippe.  There are things that have to be worked out between us, Chalcie.

I'm not ever going to spend another night like last night.  "

Jordan gave her one last withering look and clumped off to the bedroom.

Chalcie sighed in relief.  She sprang into action, filling the pans to heat
the water for the bath.

Poor Jordan.  And she thought she had spent a bad night out in the shed.

From the looks of Jordan, he'd slogged his way through streams and snow to
find her.  She was sorry for him, but it also gave her a warm glow to know
that he'd cared enough about her to search all night.

Chalcie stepped outside to get the huge washtub and bring it in.  She set the
heavy tin tub down on the floor and began to fill it with steaming water.
She was careful to mix just the right amount of cool and warm so he neither
overheated nor chilled again.

She wished that she'd saved a few of the herbs from the packet Johnny Long
had given her to put in the bath, but she wasn't certain that external
application would have done as well as having him eat the potion.  She heard
his heavy wet coat hit the floor with a soggy thump.  Next, another two bangs
as he let his boots drop, and finally the unmistakable jingle of the pants
and shirt with the metal buttons.

She heard him walking in the bedroom and looked up just in time to see him
appear in the doorway, stark naked.  Chalcie's eyes widened, and she backed
up one step.

Jordan stood in the doorway for a moment and stared levelly at her, daring
her to say anything.

 "Oh my..."  Chalcie said faintly.  It was the best she could do under the
circumstances.  He was magnificent.  No wonder women like Jane swooned after
him.

"I intend to be able to walk around my own house dressed or undressed as the
fancy strikes me and without any interference from you.  We are married now,
and I think you need to give a little more thought to my own wishes rather
than your prudish sensibilities.  I'm tired of bowing to what you want, do
you understand that?"  Jordan challenged her to say anything at all about his
appearance.  In truth, he was terrified that she'd turn around and run for
the door, and he'd lose precious time getting dressed again.

But he had to do something to shock her into seeing him as a man and a
husband instead of an enemy.

He began to smile as he looked at Chalcie's face and realized that she
definitely didn't see him as an enemy any longer.  Her eyes were riveted
somewhere between his belly button and his thighs.

"I understand," she managed to choke out.  She gestured helplessly at the
steaming washtub.  She tried to talk, but nothing would come out.  She was
too interested in what she was seeing to be able to coordinate her vocal
chords and make sense of what she needed to communicate to Jordan.

Finally, however, she managed to tell him that the bath was ready and
afterward they could eat dinner.

She watched in fascination as he walked over to the tub and slid down into
the water.  When he walked, every part of him swayed.  She'd never seen a man
naked long enough before to know that every part moved.  Her fingers itched
to reach out and touch him and explore, tweak and taste what had been
forbidden for so long.  She almost cried when the water covered the most
interesting exhibition she'd seen in a long time.

"Stop staring and help me with my back, will you?  There's no way I can twist
my arms around to clean it," Jordan said.  His voice was a soft purr, deep
and throaty as a lion's.

 Chalcie smiled.  She moved closer to him and picked up the old rag and the
piece of soap that she had placed on the floor beside the tub.  This might be
her first chance to actually seduce him.  She wasn't sure just how a woman
went about making certain a man was interested in her, but she intended to
give it her most careful attention.  First, she knew, she'd have to get close
enough to him to touch him.  When they were touching each other on the
mountain, he certainly had exhibited every sign of being more than a little
interested in her.  She needed to make him have that same kind of reaction
now, so her plan could work.

Chalcie moved closer to the tub.

"Actually, if you want, I'll wash you all over.  After all, we are man and
wife, aren't we?"  she asked sweetly.

Jordan turned and stared at her, and she almost burst out laughing at the
look of absolute shock on his face.

"You aren't going to panic because I said that I'd help you, are you?"

Chalcie dipped the towel into the water and slowly began to rub the piece of
soap over the cloth, makinga thick lather.

He watched her movements with fascination.

"No..."  Jordan said,

"I'm not going to panic."

"Good."  Chalcie reached over the edge of the tub and began to massage his
chest gently with the towel.  She noticed that his nipples crinkled as she
touched him, and he exhaled softly, as if he'd been holding his breath in
anticipation of what she was about to do to him.

She washed his chest, taking special care to make certain that she ran the
wet towel over his stomach.  The gentlest touch, the most delicate tracing of
her fingers across his skin, and she watched as his muscles tightened with
anticipation.

Her hand slipped lower in the water, and he moved back until his skin scraped
against the rough sides of the tub.  He couldn't believe she was going to
continue in the direction that her hand was taking her.  Was she so innocent
that she didn't know what she was doing?

 Chalcie pulled the cloth out of the water and rinsed it before she rubbed
it with soap again.  She had seen him pull away from her and was
disappointed.  Didn't he want her to touch him there?  She thought all men
liked that, and she was trying to please him.

"Put your head forward and I'll wash your hair and rinse with some more hot
water.  I don't want you to get any more chilled than you already are,"

Chalcie said.

Obediently he leaned forward and she worked her fingers through his hair,
massaging his scalp with quick easy movements.  A rinse with more water, and
he began to relax again.  He was certain she hadn't really meant to do what
she threatened.  She poured the last of the water over his back and picked up
the cloth which she had placed over the side of the tub.

Without warning she reached downward, into the water, and began to wash the
area below his belly button.  He stared at her in shocked amazement.  He
hadn't expected this.  Not at all!

Chalcie looked down and smothered a laugh.  Maybe Johnny Tong's potion wasn't
going to be necessary after all.  She could already see the reaction that
she'd anticipated taking place.

She stared for a moment.  He was big, larger than she'd remembered.  For a
moment she wondered if there was enough water in the bath to keep him covered
and warm if he continued to grow.

Chalcie knew that she should have been embarrassed and shy, but this was her
husband and she was in a battle to make him consider her as a real woman, not
a little girl who needed to be pushed aside when he wanted to play adult
games.

She let her fingers move lower, encircling the shaft and rubbing the towel
along the length of him.  Jordan moaned and pushed upward slightly.

"Damn, woman, you'd better watch what you're doing or there's going to be
hell to pay."

 "Hell to pay?  In what way?"  Chalcie purred as she ran the cloth over
every inch of him, using the rough texture to bring out the most exquisite
sensations.

Jordan grabbed her hand.

"That's enough.  If you do anything else, I'm going to embarrass myself and
you, too," he said harshly.  Jordan stood up, the water cascading off him as
he reached for the old blanket that she had placed on the kitchen stump chair.

He was even more magnificent that she had thought, Chalcie realized.  She
almost moaned as he covered himself up.  She had expected him to become
excited--that was the reason she'd carried on the way she had with the cloth.
But she hadn't expected to become so bothered herself.  Her legs were
wobbly, and she was acutely conscious of every inch of her own skin.

She wanted to be touched herself.  She wanted to feel that wonderfully male
body against her own.

"We didn't wash your back..."  she said as he marched over to the chair that
had been padded with blankets and settled down in comfort.

"I don't think we need to go any further," Jordan said.  Underneath the
blanket, she could still see the telltale protuberance that meant he had
responded to her just as she had planned.

She served him a plate of food and then brought her own plate over and sat
beside him.  Taffy meowed at their feet, and both of them shared bits from
the meat pie with the cat.

Jordan finished the meat and gravy and leaned back.

"I don't think I could eat another bite," he said lazily.

"Maybe we could save whatever else you have for tomorrow morning.  After
being out all night and freezing my butt all day, I'm ready for bed."

Chalcie stared at him, stricken.  He had to eat at least a little of the
apple dumpling.  She didn't know how Johnny Tong's herbs and spices worked,
but she was almost certain that sitting overnight wouldn't enhance their
efficacy.

 "Just a little of the dumpling?"  she enticed him, spooning the rich golden
symp over the fruit and sweet crust.

Jordan protested again and then tasted the concoction.  He bit into the apple
slices and savored the sauce.  His teeth crunched into the crisp crust and he
sighed over the spices.

"This is the best dumpling I've ever tasted.  Your fortune shouldn't come
from runninga bar--you should be cooking meals for a select few clients.

I'd be the first one to pay you for this kind of food," Jordan said as he ate
the rest of the dumpling.

Chalcie watched in amazement as he held out the plate for another one, and
obviously was contemplatinga third.

"No, that's enough," he said regretfully.

"But I am glad that you didn't freeze to death in the storm last night or I'd
never have known such pleasure."

Chalcie nodded.  She wasn't thinking of the pleasure that he had from eating.
She was waiting for the herbal remedy to make its effects known.

Why hadn't she thought to ask how long it would be before he felt the urgings
caused by the herbs and spices.  Once he did, she had an idea that both of
them would share a little pleasure.

Chalcie picked up the plates and set them into the small wash pan that had
been heating with water on top of the stove.

"Why don't you take a bath as long as the water is in and it's still a little
warm.  I wasn't so dirty that you can't use it again, you know,"

Jordan said.  His eyes were hooded and his voice was low and sensual.

"I..."  Chalcie tried to think of a good reason why she shouldn't take a
bath.  She loved baths.  She loved being in the water.  More than that, if
the herbs and spices began to work on Jordan and he suddenly became lustful
and rampant, she would like to think that her body was fresh and sweet enough
for him to enjoy.

The very thought made her feel faint with desire.

"Go ahead, into the bedroom, and I'll take a bath, then," Chalcie said.

 Jordan cocked an eyebrow at her and smiled.

"You mean you're going to take it alone?  No, dear wife, it doesn't work that
way.  You bathed me, now I have a chance to return the favor."

Chalcie blushed.  She could feel the red rising in her face.  She had been
certain that nothing could disturb her, but he'd managed with just those few
words.

Jordan rose and let the blanket slip from around him.  "The potion's
working'."  was Chalcie's immediate thought as she looked at his naked
splendor.

"Turn around," he ordered.  It took him only a few seconds to undo the
buttons that had taken Chalcie ten minutes to fasten.  She felt each one
loosen and the dress begin to slide off her shoulders.  His hands were hot on
her skin, removing the sleeves and tugging at the cloth around her breasts.

"Here" -- He turned her around again, and his hands were on her bare breasts,
his thumbs running over her nipples.  He pulled the dress the rest of the way
down, then the petticoat that she had put on.  Within a few seconds she was
standing naked in front of him.  She should have been shy, she should have
been shocked, but instead she was proud.  She liked the way that Jordan
stared at her, his dark eyes sparklin gas he looked at her body.

She had been worried that he would find her repulsive.  She wasn't tall and
slender and blond like so many of the fancy ladies who had come to the mines.
She was short and buxom and even had a few muscles here and there that came
with lifting and bending and moving heavy crates and boxes.

"You're beautiful," Jordan said.  He moved even closer, and suddenly there
was no room between them.  She could feel him, all of him, and the shock of
his body against hers was almost enough to make her faint with lust.  She
noticed that there didn't seem to be a safe place to put her hands while he
held her.  She finally let them rest on his waist.

' "Darling, if you want me, you have to touch me.  Some one once said that
lovers' hands should never be idle, and I believe that he or she was probably
right."  He began to rub his hands over her lightly, and every place that he
touched flamed with newfound nerve endings that made her want him even more.

"Into the bath, now, and I'll help."  He picked her up with no effort at all
and lowered her into the water.  It was still warm, and she was dizzy with
excitement and desire.  He picked up the cloth and ran it over the soap, then
began to wash her back slowly, in even circles.

"We'll do your back first, since my own didn't get scrubbed.  I'd hate for you
to come out of the bath only half-clean, the way I did," Jordan said.

She relaxed against the movement of the cloth.

"I was going to wash your back.  You're the one who jumped up out of the bath
saying that I'd be sorry if we did anything more," Chalcie reminded him
wickedly.

Jordan didn't answer, but suddenly his hands were on her breasts, and the
cloth was rubbing her in places that she hadn't thought had any feelings at
all.  She sat up in the bath, and water splashed out, wetting Jordan's legs.

' "Watch what you get wet, Chalcie.  What would happen if something melted?"

Chalcie looked over the edge of the tub, assured herself that every thing was
still properly placed and excited and looked back up at him.

"It's not melting.  Are you certain it isn't like a sponge that grows when
water is added?"

Jordan didn't answer, but this time his hands went lower, across her stomach
muscles and then between her legs.

Chalcie gasped and closed her legs convulsively, trapping Jordan's hands
where she had never thought to let a man touch her.

' "You can hold me there if you want, Chalcie, or we can finish cleaning you
and take ourselves off to bed.  Either way, I'm going to enjoy it,"

Jordan said lazily.

Slowly Chalcie opened her legs and, blushing, allowed  him access to every
bit of aching, tingling flesh.  He washed for a few moments and then withdrew
his hand.

She felt like crying, the feeling of loss was so great.

"Now, out of there and off to bed," Jordan said.  He pulled her up and walked
across the room to pick up the blanket that he had shed.

He wrapped it around himself first and then reached out and enfolded Chalcie.
They were bare skin to bare skin, wet to dry, cool to warm.

Chalcie felt him pushing against her and she wanted to open up to him right
then and there, standing in the middle of the kitchen.

"Jordan, maybe we'd better go into the bedroom," she mumbled, more interested
in kissing him on the nipple again to see the funny way that it crinkled when
she did.  She'd wanted him long enough, now she was going to have him.  She
didn't care if it was Johnny Tong's potion that finally broke through
Jordan's reserve and made him want to make love to her.  She was past caring
about anything except having him make her his real wife.

Jordan took the blanket and rubbed her to dry her off-- and found even more
places to touch her than he had in the bath.  She didn't think it was
possible to become more aroused until he rubbed against her, drying not only
with the blanket but with his body.

"I think it's time," he said, and picked her up in his arms to carry her to
the bed.

"Off, cat," he ordered Taffy as he maneuvered Chalcie through the doorway and
placed her gently on the fur blanket, which he had already spread on the bed.

Taffy glowered at him and then stalked off the bed.  She was used to being
included in every thing.  It was obvious that she didn't understand why she
couldn't take part in this particular family meeting.

"On the fur?"  Chalcie asked, surprised.

"Yes, in memory of the time I should have and didn't," Jordan answered.

He lay down beside her and reached over to touch her  breasts again.  She
was breathing rapidly, and what he had thought at first was a blush seemed to
be a permanent color to her face.  Gently he took her hand and placed it on
himself.

Chalcie rolled over and buried her face in his chest, but she didn't loosen
her grip on the newfound plaything.

"Now, explore to your heart's content," Jordan said.

"I want you to be comfortable with me, because we're going to be married a
long time, and I like making love.  It would be terrible if you didn't share
the same passions."

Chalcie nodded but still couldn't bring herself to look at him.  Instead, she
contented herself with exploring the whole area with her fingers.  She felt
the tension building between them, and the need to hold him closer grew more
and more insistent.

"Jordan... what do I do now?"  Chalcie asked.  Her face flamed red, but she
had to find out what was next.  She had a good idea, she wasn't completely
without knowledge, but she'd never done it herself.

"Let me guide you," Jordan said.  Gently he placed her on her back, kissing
her breasts again as he did so.  He licked her softly, and she responded with
a moan of sheer enjoyment.

Jordan caressed her stomach, then continued downward until he touched her
legs.  She opened to him, letting him tease her as he readied her to accept
him.

Chalcie could feel his manhood against her, and she delighted in moving
herself against him.  This was what she wanted, this was what she had dreamed
about and fought for.  Jordan was hers.

Jordan felt her heat and knew that she was ready for him.  There was no false
modesty, nothing that couldn't be shared between them.

"This might hurt.  I'll go slow," he said softly as he lowered himself and
began to press inward to make her his own.

"Hurry..."  Chalcie gasped.  She had wanted this for so  long that she
didn't think she could wait another instant to find out what it was like to
have Jordan make love to her.

The first sensation was one of fullness instead of pain, and then she surged
ahead, leading him.  It was exquisite torture as she felt herself rising to
meet him, delighting in every inch of their bodies as they melded together.

As they moved in unison, Chalcie thought she couldn't stand the pleasure
anymore, it was too much for one human being to encompass.  She almost
fainted from the ecstasy.  For the first time, she understood that Juanita
hadn't been joking when she said it was so wonderful that it felt as if there
were fireworks lighting every bit of her body.

She exploded with pleasure.  Never had she thought it could be like this.

She led him toward the final bliss until they both sighed with satisfaction.

Jordan lay back against the pillows and smiled down at her.

"And that, my beauty, is what making love is all about," he said.  He ran his
hand over her body again, reveling in the softness of her skin and the slight
sheen of sweat that completion had left on her breasts.

All his, he thought.  All his and no one would ever take her away from him.

Chalcie smiled and let her hand trail down to the area between his legs.

It wasn't that she wanted to make love again right away; she simply wanted to
assure herself that he wasn't ashamed of anything that she had done with him.

Jordan smiled and then closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

Chalcie grinned in satisfaction.  She had done it.  She had managed to seduce
him and now he was truly hers.  She'd make the best of the marriage, but at
least she had a marriage to make the best of.  Though she was certain that
her father would never have expected things to turn out this way, he had done
her the best possible turn he could have by forcing her to marry Jordan.

She nuzzled against his shoulder, and he awoke, half startled, to stare at
her.  For a moment he'd thought it was a dream.

He caught her left hand and looked down at the bare fingers, then frowned.

"Didn't you like the present?"  he asked, and his voice was like that of a
child who has given something that hasn't been accepted.

Chalcie looked at him, perplexed.  She was tired and sated.  She didn't know
what he was talking about, unless he didn't realize that she loved the
present of loving that he'd given her.

Jordan saw her expression and pulled himself up in bed to a sitting position.

' "What did you do with the small yellow packet that was on the table?"

"There wasn't anything on the table.  I'm certain, because I scrubbed it and
then mixed all the ingredients for dinner right there."  She was beginning to
feel warm and excited again.  He'd left her a present?

Jordan frowned.

"Was there anything on the table that it might have been swept into?"

Chalcie thought.  The table had been bare except for a candle lamp and Taffy.

"Taffy!"  Chalcie exclaimed.

"When I came in, she was on the table and I shooed her off.  I think she was
carrying something yellow in her mouth, but I didn't take the time to look
for it.  There were other things on my mind," she said, blushing.

"I'll look in her favorite sleeping place."

Chalcie was gone for a few moments before she started to scream.

"Jordan, come here, come quick, look!"

"Is it the ring?  Is something wrong?"

Jordan bolted out of the bed and ran into the outer room, stopping short as
he looked at the cat on the soft blanket that served to make his chair cozy
and comfortable.  Taffy was asleep on the most comfortable chair in the house.

Chalcie scratched Taffy on top of the head, and as the  cat leaned forward,
she disturbed the old blankets that cushioned the chair.  The small yellow
envelope that had been hiding in a crack of the chair fell to the floor at
Chalcie's feet.

Jordan swooped down and tried to take the envelope before Chalcie could reach
it.  Chalcie's hand closed over the envelope and she turned it over to read
the inscription.

She looked up at Jordan and smiled.

"I love you, too, and there's nothing more to be forgiven.  We're starting
over.

"Now, can I open this?  I love presents!"  She ripped the little envelope
open and there, in her hand, lay the ring.

"Oh, Jordan..."

"It's a wedding ring.  I felt awful bad about not having one to give you the
night we were married, and then things didn't go right...."  He was staring
down at the floor, almost afraid to meet her eyes.

"Do you like it?"

He had commissioned it especially for Chalcie.  The body of the ring was made
with gold from his own mine.  The roses that had been carved around the stone
were to symbolize her sweetness, and the ruby was for the fire that made her
so special to him.

"It's beautiful.  I've always been partial to rubies ... but how did you
know?"  Chalcie asked.  She was certain they'd never talked about gemstones.

At least not that she could remember.

"I decided to get something that would match your hair--and your temper.

Every time it flashes, down through the years, it'll remind everyone to watch
out for that disposition of yours!  "

Chalcie looked up at him and then put her hands on her hips and cocked her
head to one side.

"And what do you mean by that remark, Mr. de Chat ain?

Are you telling me that I'm not sweet and pliant and even-tempered?  "

"Even-tempered, yes.  Always angry, kind of like a flash fire!"

"Those are fighting words!"  She advanced on him and  began to run her hand
over his chest again.  She'd show him fire, but of a kind that he had never
seen before.  The first time had been fine, but the second and from now on.
oh, the grand times they would have!  Then, abruptly, she stopped.

"Something wrong?"

' "Yes.  I want you to put this on my finger.  I need to feel really,
properly married," Chalcie said.  She handed him the ring and he obliged,
slipping the golden circle on her finger.

Chalcie leaned forward to kiss him again, but he drew back.  Disappointed,
she stared at him, wondering if she'd done something wrong.

' "I almost forgot, with the rush of things.  A letter came in for you today.
I brought it home."

Chalcie gasped.  A letter?  There was only one possible reason for receivinga
letter.

Jordan handed her the thin paper packet and she looked at it, tracing her
name and the address that had been given.  She was almost afraid to open it.
What if her grandparents never wanted to hear from her again?  What if they
were both dead and this was from someone else?

"Aren't you going to open it?"  Jordan asked.

Chalcie nodded and reached for her knife to slit the paper.

Our dearest granddaughter, We cannot tell you how happy we are to finally
have word that you are alive and well and safe.  We have tried for years to
find you but always seemed to reach the place that you had just been.  Our
lives have been very lonely without you, but we rejoice in your marriage and
hope and pray that you will be able to come back to Boston one day soon to
see us and your cats.  Your grandfather and I await your next letter with
great delight and hope.

Grandma and Grandpa  Chalcie held the letter close and this time she let the
tears flow.

"I'm sorry, Chalcie, I thought it would be good news," Jordan said.  He
reached out to hold her and she went willingly to him.

"It's not bad news.  On the contrary, I have every thing I could ever want.

Having Taffy and you and the ring and the letter is more than I ever dared
hope for.  "

"I'm only second on that list?"

"Work harder," Chalcie said, "and with a little more practice at night, I'm
certain you could move into first place very soon!"

Chapter Eighteen Q^y^s^Q ilLduardo walked slowly through the night toward
the C.  K.  " when he saw two men standing in the deepening dusk at the edge
of Chinese Camp.  His attention was drawn to the men because they were
skulking around, actin gas if they didn't want anyone to notice that they
were in the area.

"Now, what do you suppose those men are doing there on a cold night like
this?"  he said aloud as he hugged the shadows and advanced on them.  The
sounds of Sonora faded, and the distinctly different sounds of the camp
became more clear as he followed the rocky trail.  He pulled his coat up
around his ears to keep the cold wind from cutting through to the bone.

"Watch it," one of the men said when he was only twenty feet from them.

They grabbed the small candle they had been using and doused it, sliding into
the darkness and eluding Eduardo.

When Eduardo reached the rocks, there was no sign of the men.  He had,
however, had a chance to get a good look at them.

But it couldn't be.  Pete Ames was dead, wasn't he?  Eduardo thought back to
what Juanita had told him about Chalcie's escape the day before she married
Jordan.  She had left Pete Ames for dead.

 He leaned against the rocks and waited for another sound that would tell
him where the men had disappeared.  He wanted to have a chance to talk to
this blond stranger.

Eduardo shook his head.  It wasn't a nightmare; he was too damned cold to be
asleep.  The obvious explanation was that the man simply looked like Ames.
And he hadn't had all that good a look at the man, anyway, with the darkness
and the feeble light of the candle.  Still, he had been talking to Tourelle;
Eduardo was certain of that, even in the candlelight.  And Tourelle had a
reputation for be inga man who didn't care how he won, just as long as he did
win.

Tourelle and Ames?  A nasty combination, if it was true.

A chill ran down Eduardo's spine.  If Pete Ames was back, Juanita and Chalcie
could both be in danger.  Better to warn them both and have it be a false
alarm than to wait and endanger his beloved Juanita and her friend.

"Are you certain?"  she asked him.  Eduardo nodded.  He knew trouble when he
saw it, and he'd seen blond, tall and blue-eyed trouble at the edge of town,
talking to Jordan's partner, Tourelle.

"Take over the bar," Juanita ordered.  She flung the towel at him that she
had been using to wipe the glasses and ran through the cold darkness toward
Chalcie's house.

She had seen Jordan about ten minutes before as he surveyed the bar and then
ducked out.  He'd had the look of a satisfied Cheshire cat about him.

Things were obviously going better at home.  But Jordan had said something
about having to check something at the Dry Gulch, and that meant that Chalcie
was home alone!

What if Pete Ames found out where Chalcie was living?  He could reach the
house long before Juanita, and Chalcie could be dead before she even knew she
was in danger.  Juanita couldn't imagine what she'd do if she found Chalcie
wounded or dead .  her best friend gone?  No, she couldn't even think about
it!  As she ran through the night, the images grew worse, more fearsome, more
terrible.  By the time she reached the house, she was almost sob bing in
terror.

Juanita turned onto the small path leading to the house and saw Chalcie at
the stove, cooking something for Jordan's dinner.  She was safe for the
moment.

"Juanita, what on earth are you doing here?  I thought you'd be busy at the
bar," Chalcie said as she opened the door to her friend's insistent knocking.

Juanita was gasping for air, and she almost ripped the door off the hinges as
she threw it shut and dropped the heavy bar in place.

"It's Ames and Tourelle.  I can't be certain that Eduardo is right, but if he
is, you could be in danger.  I think Ames has come back to harm you and
Jordan."

"Ames?  But he's dead..."  Chalcie said, her stomach sinking.  He was dead,
wasn't he?  He would have come back before this, wouldn't he?

"I hope he's dead and decomposed somewhere on that mountain, where you left
him.  But what if Eduardo is right?"  Juanita announced as she removed her
long cloak.  She was sweating from panic and exertion, and the room was warm.

"Keep the door shut.  Close the window shutters.  Do anything you can to stay
safe until I can find Jordan and send him home."

"We'll both feel like fools if we're wrong," Chalcie said, biting her lip.

"It could just have been someone who looks like Pete Ames talking to
Tourelle, couldn't it?"

"Yes, it could have been.  I thought of that myself.  But why would they have
been trying to keep anyone else from seeing them together?  That doesn't make
sense."  Juanita began to pace the small room.  She was too frustrated to
stay still any longer.

"It does make sense if they're planning something."

She paused in front of Chalcie.

"Tell me, have there been any strange things happening around here lately?

 Maybe some sounds that didn't fit in, or maybe you've found a lock loose
when you knew you'd closed it?  Anything that could give us a clue about what
these men are planning, if they're out to get you and Jordan.  "

"Nothing at all.  And, Juanita, I don't think there was ever a chance that
Ames would survive after eating those mushrooms.  People die from them all
the time.  Look at what happened to Bobby Cox just a week ago.  He ate one of
the mushrooms, and even Doc Blake couldn't do anything except watch him die.
There's no reason that Ames wouldn't have just sunk deeper and deeper into
sleep until it was all over."

"Tell me again exactly what happened on that mountain, because one of us has
made a mistake, and if Ames is alive, he's dangerous."

Juanita stopped pacing and sat down.  She picked up the cup of tea and took a
sip of the slightly bitter drink.  She didn't particularly like tea, but she
hoped it would settle her stomach after the fright Eduardo had given her with
his news.

"I've told you before.  I left Pete Ames dead in a mountain cabin.  He was
unconscious and slipping toward death when I took his mare and ran for my
life.  I've seen how that poison works before, and this time was no
different," Chalcie said.

"I know how woozy the stew made me feel after I had only a few bites of it.
It would have been impossible for either of those men to eat all the stew,
become unconscious and then recover.

Amanita poisoning doesn't work that way.  Besides, why wouldn't Ames have
come back and made trouble earlier?  "

"Maybe he didn't want to face being strung up for your father's murder,"

Juanita said, reminding Chalcie that Ames wouldn't be welcomed with open arms
to the mining camp.

"The men might not have been all that fond of your father, but they liked him
more than they liked Pete Ames.

 Some memories here are pretty good, and even today Pete Ames couldn't walk
in here and hope to leave Sonora a free man.  "

Chalcie nodded.

"But he could hope to come back and try some underhanded trick if he still
wanted to get even with me."

"Yes, and that's why I'm warning you.  Watch your step for a few weeks, until
we're certain there's nothing to the sighting.  I'll tell Jordan to come
right home."

"Don't worry him..."  Chalcie began.

"He's your husband, he needs to worry," Juanita said.

Chalcie smiled for the first time since the conversation had started.

"Look what he gave me last night."

She held out her finger so that Juanita could inspect the carved roses and
hearts and the fine ruby displayed in the middle of the center gold rose.

"I almost didn't get the ring.  Taffy had stolen the envelope and buried it
in the chair, and Jordan thought I'd refused his gift."  She stopped and
blushed.  She hadn't refused any of his gifts.

Juanita was glad that Chalcie could think for a few moments about something
other than Pete Ames and the threat that he posed toward her.

' "If it was such a wonderful night, why did you look like you were going to
cry when I came in here?"

"I wasn't," Chalcie started to say, then she looked down at her hands and her
voice faded away.

"Well, I guess I was," she said so quietly that Juanita could barely hear her.

Chalcie sniffed.  She wasn't going to cry.  She wasn't going to tell Juanita
about what she'd done.  It would all work out.

She set about closing the heavy shutters that Jordan had on the inside of
each window.  He also had another set of iron shutters for the outside of the
windows, but she wasn't going to tempt fate and the possibility of running
into Pete Ames by venturing outside.

 "All right, what's going on?"  Juanita sighed.  She knew Chalcie.
Eventually she'd tell her.

Chalcie shook her head and rubbed at her eyes.

"I went to Chinese Camp yesterday morning."

"That's no crime.  At least you didn't see Ames and Tourelle.  That could
have been dangerous.  And I knew you'd gone, remember.  Did you get what you
wanted from Johnny Long?"

"It's not a crime, but, Juanita, I used the love potion on him last night in
the apple dumplings, and then, right after that, he made love to me,"

Chalcie said miserably.

"And wasn't that what you wanted?"  Juanita was genuinely mystified.

"Yes..."  Chalcie's answer was drawn out.

' "Then what on earth is the difficulty?"  Juanita was beginning to lose
patience with Chalcie.

' "Because if he made love to me because of that damned potion, he doesn't
really love me.  I can't live with that now.  What will I do when it wears
off?  He could leave me."  Chalcie gulped.

"He could leave me even if he loves me.  He'd think I tricked him, and he'll
abandon me if he ever finds out that I went to Johnny Long and picked up that
little packet and used it on him."

Juanita sat back and sighed.

"If he finds out, then you'll have a problem.

But why don't you wait and see what happens?  Johnny Tong's potions are
usually reliable.  With any luck it won't stop working until he's really
fallen in love with you," Juanita said, trying to comfort her friend.

Chalcie laughed bitterly at Juanita's suggestion.

"Chalcie, you have to look on the bright side," Juanita said firmly.

"Do the best you can to keep him always by your side.  Women can do that, you
know.  Please him in bed and make certain that the business doesn't go broke.
With all that to keep you busy, you shouldn't have much  time to worry.
And by the time you have a chance to worry, Jordan will either be gone or
he'll be in love with you."

"I'm being silly worrying about that potion?"  Chalcie asked, her voice still
wavering.

Juanita nodded.

"The herbs and spices did just what you wanted them to do.  They broke down
that barrier that's been growing every day between you and Jordan.  And you
don't seem to have suffered from the effects of your first night."

Even with her eyes puffy from crying, Chalcie still had a glow about her that
came from be inga loved and loving woman.

"Why worry?  You've got what you wanted and it's the best for both of you.

Don't borrow trouble--it will come of its own accord.  "

Chalcie nodded.  She wiped her eyes and tried valiantly to smile.

"You're right.  I have to worry about whatever or whoever Eduardo saw out
there at the edge of town."

Juanita nodded and stood up.

"I'm going to get back to the bar.  I'll tell Jordan about Ames when he comes
in.  But, Chalcie, until he gets home, please keep the door locked, and make
certain that you have something near at hand to protect you, all right?  I
could always send Eduardo over to stay with you, if you wanted...."

Chalcie laughed.

"No, I'll be fine.  Don't worry."

She closed the door behind Juanita.  Potions and Pete Ames.  Resolutely she
put both of them out of her mind as she started to give the little house a
final straightening up.  She'd talk with Jordan tonight about Ames and
Tourelle.  Until then, she wouldn't worry.  She dropped the heavy wooden
latch in place and pulled in the latch string.  She would just keep busy
until Jordan came home.  There was no point in worrying.

"There is no reason to overreact to something that probably never even
happened," Chalcie said.  It wasn't that she  didn't believe Eduardo had
seen something, but she didn't think he'd seen Ames and Tourelle together.

She had almost finished cleaning when a thump rocked the door, followed by a
moan, tapering off to silence.

"What the hell was-that?"

Chalcedony dusted her hands off on her apron and walked a few steps toward
the heavy pine door.  She was shaking with sudden fear.  The memory of
Juanita's warning came back to her clearly.  She picked up the thin meat
knife that she had used to bore holes in the chunk of venison she was cooking
for the evening meal.  She wasn't going to open the door without some sort of
protection.

"Help me..."  the moan came again.

Chalcedony bit her lower lip.  It could be dangerous.  What if this was a
decoy, something designed to lure her to the door?  What if Pete Ames had
come back to town and was lying in wait to attack her if she answered the
summons?

She hesitated in front of the door, afraid to open it and afraid to leave it
closed in case someone really did need her help.

What if it was someone hurt?  What if Jordan was on the other side of that
door?  Her breath caught at the very idea of something happening to Jordan.

It could be Jordan and she'd never know if she didn't open the door.

"I'm coming," she said, and removed the wooden latch.  Chalcie screamed as
she was hit by the dead weight of the man who crashed through the door and
sprawled on the floor.  Blood dripped in a heavy dark stream, and she stared
in horror at his ragged wounds.

"Get Jordan," the man whispered, and closed his eyes.

Chalcie stared into the darkness.  She couldn't see anything, but she had the
gut feeling that someone else was out there, watching.

She closed and bolted the door and pulled the man over  beside the stove.
The least she could do for him was keep him warm.  She turned his wounded
face toward her and grimaced.  She couldn't even tell who it was at the
moment.

"Please," the man whispered again.  Chalcie closed her eyes.  If there was
someone waiting outside for her, she would be dead the instant she stepped
off the porch.  If she stayed in the house where she was safe, the man would
surely die.

Chalcie hesitated only a moment.  She had to chance it.  She could fetch
Jordan from the bar and send someone for the doctor at the same time.  If she
stayed with the man, she'd never be able to save him.  She was a good nurse,
but not good enough to stop this kind of bleeding.

"I'll be right back.  I'll bring Jordan," she assured the man, and was
rewarded with a slight nod of his head.  Pausing only to spread the fur
blanket over him, she ran out the door toward the bar.

As she ran, Chalcie imagined that she heard footsteps behind her, and she
braced for the blow that would come, knocking her again into that soundless
black pit where she had been when Ames had kidnapped her.

Nothing happened, though she was certain she could still hear something in
the snow behind her.  Her right leg began to cramp as she raced through the
snow.  She stumbled once, and then again, and she knew that if she went down,
she wouldn't have a chance to get up again.  Someone was following her.
Someone who had already almost killed a man.

"Please, not now, just don't cramp now," she pleaded with her leg.  She was
in agony.  It felt as if the muscle were tearing with every step, but she
still ran.  Where was Jordan?  If Juanita had talked to him, why wasn't he
hurrying home to take care of her?

She ran up the street and paused in front of the bar, loo king for him.

The C.  K.  was the typical nighttime brawl of men drinking and women trying
to entice them to spend their money on a romp upstairs.  Chalcedony pulled
back the calico and looked in, hoping she would find Jordan immediately.

"Hey, little lady..."  One of the men started to proposition her, but the
words died on his lips when he realized who she was.

"Find Jordan right now.  If he isn't here, look at the Dry Gulch.  I need him
at home!"

She looked around.

"And you" -- She grabbed another man, who was making his way toward the bar.

"You fetch the doctor and tell him to come to Jordan's house immediately."

The men didn't even pause to ask questions.  They heard the urgency in her
voice.

"Chalcie, why are you here?"  Juanita rushed up to her friend.

"I need to find Jordan.  Trouble at home," she said.  She didn't dare tell
Juanita more in front of the men.  She'd understand that it had something to
do with Tourelle and Ames.

"He just came back in about thirty seconds ago.  JordanI " Juanita roared
at the top of her voice.  Instantly the whole bar fell silent.  When Juanita
yelled, she had the power to command instant attention.

"Jordan, if you're here, answer right now!"

"Here!"  Jordan's voice floated over the crowd, and the men began to part as
he pushed through them to reach Chalcie.

"Come on, I'll explain on the way.  We've got to get home," Chalcie said.

She spun and ran, not even waiting to see if Jordan was following her.

"Tell me what happened," Jordan demanded as he raced along behind her.

Chalcie was panting, but she managed to tell him the bare bones of what had
happened.

 "A tall, heavy, brown-haired man fell in the door and proceeded to bleed on
my nice clean floor," Chalcie answered tartly as she stopped for a moment to
catch her breath.

"I sent someone for the doctor, but I'm not sure the man will be alive when
we get back to the house.  He was that bad."

Jordan grabbed her arm and pulled her along.

"Damn it, what did he look like?"

"Like most of his face had been shot away.  He's big, and about twenty-five,
but I can't even guess any more than that," Chalcie said, struggling to keep
up with him as he ran.

"No name?"

"Not that he could tell me," Chalcie said.

Jordan sprinted for the door and wrenched it open.  He skidded to a stop in
front of the man.

Chalcie saw him sway slightly as he looked at the man's gouged face.

Jordan's complexion was suddenly chalky white and he swallowed several times
convulsively.

"Jimmy?  What the hell happened?"  Jordan reached down and touched the man's
shoulder.

From somewhere deep inside himself.  Jimmy summoned enough strength to open
his eyes.

"Tourelle..."  Jimmy croaked, and closed his eyes.

"Tourelle?  Tourelle did this to you?"  Jordan's voice was low and urgent.

"Damn it, man, he's my partner, why would he do this?"

"Watch out.  Tourelle and Ames.  He jumped the claim..  taking every thin gas
his own..  you're being robbed by high grading anyway..."  Jimmy was gasping
between each fragment of information.

"What's going on?  What the hell happened to this man?  Looks like a bear got
him."  The doctor that Chalcie had sent for stomped into the room, bringing
with him the smell of the fresh storm brewing.

 "Looks like he was shot at close range with a shotgun to me," Chalcie said.
She had already set out the rags that the doctor would need to clean the
wound.  She had some strips of cloth browning in the pan at the back of the
heater.  If the man survived, the sterilized cloth could be used for packing
the wound.  The whiskey, good for clean in gas well as a painkiller, was
ready for both the doctor and the patient.

The doctor winced.  It was one of the worst gunshot wounds he'd seen, outside
of the time Larry Tomlinson tripped over his own rifle.  Larry had died, and
it didn't look all too good for this poor sod's survival, either.  .

"Hell, can't hurt to give it a try," the doctor said.

"Don't ... hurts too much.  I don't care, just let me sleep... get
Tourelle..."  Jimmy said.  He didn't even open his eyes one last time before
he died.

Chalcie turned away from the sight, blindly burying her face against Jordan's
chest.  She shook with shock and had to fight the urge to start screaming and
never stop.  She wasn't equipped to handle a man dying in the middle of her
kitchen.

"Jordan, want the body taken out to the shed?"  the men asked.

She felt Jordan nod and heard the grunt in gas the men lifted Jimmy and
carried him out into the snow.

Jordan held Chalcie, his warmth comforting her as it had on the mountain,
until she stopped shaking.

"Chalcie, I've got to go.  I'm sorry about this.  I'd rather stay and take
care of you.  Hell, I'd rather stay here and make love to you all night, but
I can't."  He whispered the last, a special warm message only for her ears.

"I can't allow Tourelle to get away with this murder.  He's got to be
stopped."

"What do you mean?  You're not going after him, are you?"  Chalcie held on to
Jordan's coat, her fingers refusing  to let go.

"You can't leave me alone.  Jimmy says that Tourelle is working with Ames,
and if it's true, he's going to be after you and me, too."

"You left Ames dead on the mountain.  Jimmy was hallucinating about that.

No, Chalcie, this is between Tourelle and me.  He won't try to hurt you.  "

"Send someone else," Chalcie pleaded, abandoning all pretense of being brave.

"I can't send anyone else to stop Tourelle.  Besides, I think I'm going to
enjoy gunning down the bastard.  I liked Jimmy and he didn't deserve to die
like this.  Jimmy would have liked to die in bed with a woman, enjoying
himself.  Not bleeding to death on a kitchen floor."

Gently Jordan loosened Chalcie's hands.  He wished with all his heart that he
could have stayed with her.  The scent of her hair and the softness of her
body against his caused an instant physical reaction.

"I'll send someone back to take care of you.  I won't leave you by yourself.
Just wait for Tom from the Dry Gulch to come, and don't unlock the door to
anyone else except Eduardo or Juanita."

"Stay here and take care of me.  Jordan, the pass isn't open to the mine.

You know that.  And even if it has started to thaw, it's so treacherous that
you'll be killed.  Please, Jordan, stay here.  I couldn't bear it if
something happened to you!  " Chalcie pleaded with him.

"You don't know how I'd like to stay.  But I can't," Jordan said.

"I think you'll be safe.  If Ames really is around, he wouldn't dare try
anything in town.  There are too many other people around."

"So you're going to go where the danger is?  You're deliberately going to
face Tourelle at the mine?  You're crazy!"  Chalcie was arguing with all her
heart.  She didn't want to become a widow after only one night of love.

That would have been too cruel.

 "I'm sorry, Chalcie.  I've got to get up to that mine and find out what's
going on.  First I'll take care of Tourelle, then I'll be back.... Wait for
me, please?"  There was a note of pleading in his voice as he kissed her once
lightly on the lips.

"Forever."

Her hands reached out to catch him back to her, to keep him at her side,
where he belonged.  She caught nothing but empty air.

Chalcie stood in the kitchen and felt the sensation of his lips on hers, and
the fading warmth.

Chapter Nineteen Q^zrys^Q Chalcie stared into the darkness.  She could still
hear the fading sound of the horse's hooves as Jordan left her.

It was a mistake for Jordan to try to go up to the mine.  It was dark and
slippery on the trail and he was go inga lone.  If something happened, she'd
never know until it was too late to help.

Damn him anyway.  Why was he worrying her like this?  Jimmy was already dead.
It wasn't as if hurrying off to the mine were going to change that fact.
And if Tourelle and his men were really up there, holding fort on the mine,
Jordan was still going to have to come back down the trail, hire men to go up
with him and mount an assault later.

Fighting Tourelle now was sheer folly!

Chalcie stood staring into the darkness and thought of all the things she
should have said to try to discourage Jordan.  It was too late now to do
anything, but she still thought Jordan was wrong even to attempt to go up to
the mine.  She knew it deep in her bones, but there had been nothing
specific, no real reason that she could have argued with him to stay in
Sonora.  It was just a gut feeling that he was in danger.

"Chalcie, what happened?  I left as soon as I could... The men said something
about a doctor?"  Juanita rushed up to the front door, arriving just before
Chalcie locked it.

 "You've missed all the excitement," Chalcie said as she led the way into
the kitchen.  She stepped carefully around the pool of blood; it made her
sick to look at it.

"Good Lord, what happened?"  Juanita flinched as she saw the gore.

"One of the men that Jordan left at his mine came here to die.  He had half
his face shot off, and the only thing he could say was something about
Tourelle and the mine being taken over."  Chalcie gripped the back of the
chair with her hands so tightly that her knuckles were white.

"So naturally, Jordan had to go racing out of here heading toward the mine,
where he's certain that he will have a showdown with Tourelle."  Chalcie's
voice betrayed the anger and despair that she felt.

"He's going up to the mine?  Does he know about Ames?  What if it's all a
trap?  What if they're trying to separate you two and then they're going to
attack?"

Chalcie stared at Juanita.  It was suddenly so clear, the things that she
hadn't been able to tell Jordan because she hadn't had time to think them
through and put all her feelings and reactions into carefully reasoned
statements.

"You don't think that Ames and Tourelle could have planned an ambush, do
you?"  she whispered.  Of course Ames and Tourelle could have been working
together all this time.  First they steal what they can from Jordan, and then
they kill him in an ambush somewhere on the way to the mine.  Once they were
positive that he was dead, and thus no danger to them, the two men would
double back into town.

Ames and Tourelle's dirty work wouldn't be finished with Jordan's death.

They'd come back for her.  Ames would still be out for revenge, she knew.

The two men would expect her to be unprotected and probably blind to her own
danger.  They'd think it would be easy to murder her just as they had killed
Jordan.

"But why all the skulking around?  What's it going to get them?  Jimmy didn't
have any money of his own, and  Tourelle must know that Jordan won't just
stand by and let him steal a whole mine."  Juanita was pacing now, trying to
follow the twisted logic of the men.

"Oh, I understand it just fine," Chalcie said bitterly.

"It was probably Ames's idea all along."  It would be just the kind of plan
that Ames would be capable of making, if he had managed to survive that
poisoning.

"If he is alive, he's the type of man who would never rest until he had
revenge," she went on.

"And the way he'd take revenge would be to find a way to end up with the Kent
fortune, no matter how he accomplished it."

"I still don't understand.  What does that have to do with Ames and Tourelle
working together?"

"Don't you see?  Tourelle is Jordan's partner, and if both Jordan and I die,
then Tourelle would take all the assets, wouldn't he?  We have no other
heirs, no one else to inherit from us.  It's happened before a partner dies,
the other one takes every thing."

"Why would Tourelle share with Ames?"

"Either Ames thought of the plan, or Tourelle doesn't really intend to share
and thinks he can kill Ames off after he'sextracted all the help he can from
the man.  If that's what Tourelle is thinking, I feel sorry for him, because
Ames will shoot him in the back before Tourelle even knows he has a gun.
That's the kind of man Ames is."

Chalcie stopped dead in her tracks and blanched.  She swayed and had to grab
Juanita's arm for support.

"Oh, my God..."  Chalcie whispered.

' "What is it?"  Juanita held her friend steady.

"Juanita, I need help, and fast.  If we are right, then we have to catch
Jordan before he leaves town.  Tourelle and Ames won't go back up to the
mine.  They'll lie in wait somewhere along the road and Jordan will never
even know he's walking into a trap."

Chalcie's heart was thumping hard enough to make her chest ache with the
pounding.  Sheer ten-or surged through her.  She didn't have time to warn
Jordan.  He had too much  of a lead for her to catch up with him and warn
him before he walked into a hail of bullets!

"Please God, keep him at the Dry Gulch for just a few minutes."  If only Tom
wasn't at the bar, and Jordan had to cast around for someone else to send to
make certain she was safe at home.  It would give her the few extra seconds
that she needed to warn him of the impending ambush.

Chalcie even knew where Ames and Tourelle would almost certainly attack.

Chinese Camp.  The rocks where Eduardo had seen the men meeting and then
couldn't find a trace of them.  Tourelle and Ames would have the ambush set
up there, she was almost positive.  Sonora was settled, but not so settled
that there weren't places to hide even at the edge of town where the men
would never have been found.  Hide and lie in wait for someone to come riding
along, right into deadly crossfire.

It was a trap and Jordan was riding into the middle of it.

"I'm going to try and catch him.  It's my only hope."

Chalcie grabbed the extra rifle and checked that it was loaded.  She seized
her sheathed knife and pushed it into her pocket.  It wasn't much, but it was
better than going into the battle totally unarmed.  She flung her coat around
her shoulders and raced outside.

"Juanita, go for help.  Chinese Camp, that's where the trouble will be!"

she yelled at her friend, who was still standing in the middle of the
kitchen, trying to think what she could do to help her friend.  Juanita took
off at a dead run toward the bar, while Chalcie headed for the corral.

"Come on, mare, come over here and I'll give you a wonderful carrot when we
get back," she pleaded with the horse.  There wasn't time to play around with
the saddle or bridle.  It would have to be bareback or nothing.  With any
luck she'd keep her seat even over the treacherous terrain that lay between
her and the camp.

The mare, sensing Chalcie's panic, came trotting over,  and Chalcie jumped
up on the mounting block that Jordan had placed at the gate for her.  The
horse stood still as Chalcie mounted.  She leaned over, grasped the mane and
unlocked the corral gate.

"Come on, girl, we're in a real fight, and there's no time to lose," she said
as she urged the horse toward Chinese Camp.  She almost lost her balance as
she pulled herself back up and tried to juggle the rifle and still keep her
grip on the horse's hair.  Somewhere in the distance she heard shots, and she
began to whimper.

"Please, not Jordan," she prayed.  The tears were freezing on her cheeks and
she didn't even dare lift her hand to rub them off.  She might slip off the
horse, or worse, she might lose the rifle and, with it, any chance to stop
the men before they shot Jordan.

How much time did she have?  One minute?  Thirty seconds to catch up with
Jordan and help him?  What if there wasn't enough time to do anything to stop
them?

"No, I won't think of that," Chalcie said stubbornly.

Still, she couldn't wipe the worry from her mind.  What if she was too late?
A horrible image of Jordan sprawled on the cold rocks, his face blown away as
Jimmy's had been, flashed in front of her eyes and she moaned.  If Ames and
Tourelle harmed Jordan, she'd hunt them down to the ends of the earth.  They
wouldn't have to come searching for her, they'd have to run to keep away from
her vengeance.

Chalcie raced through town, shouting inquiries to anyone she passed hoping
that Jordan was still in Sonora.

No one had seen him.

Chalcie leaned forward, trying to spot the rocks that led to Chinese Camp.

It was too dark to see much, and the horse had slowed to a crawl because the
snow and ice were so treacherous.  She could hear what sounded like horse's
hooves ahead of her, but she didn't even dare hope that it was Jordan.  And
where were the other people?  Surely Juanita should have had time to get some
of the men out of the bar and onto the trail.  Why couldn't she hear them?

She looked upward and prayed for a break in the clouds and moonlight to show
her what was ahead of her.  As if in answer to the words, the clouds parted
and the moonlight, frail and fragile though it was, lighted the way for her.

The road began to rise, and the rocks that formed the small pass between
Sonora and the Chinese camp closed on either side of her.

She strained to see' something, anything that would give her a clue about how
close she was to Jordan.  Then, finally, a movement.  There, ahead of her,
she could see something, but not on the trail itself.  It was something on
the highest point of the rocks, where the trail led into a narrow ravine and
then out again into the camp.

Chalcie saw the slight movement again, and the figures came into focus.

Two men were on the top of the highest rocks.  Chalcie stared at them.  The
shock hit her with a physical force.  Both men were holding rifles, and they
were pointing downward, right toward her.

No, one was aimed toward her, and the other was leveled at a point ahead of
her.  At Jordan.

Suddenly Jordan rounded a small turn in the road, and she could see him.

She saw the men shift, moving the sights of their rifles, and she knew that
she could save Jordan or she could save herself.

With only the rifle, she would never be able to shoot twice and kill both of
the men.  There was only one chance of making the men forget Jordan and
drawing the fire to herself so he had a chance to survive the deadly ambush.
She had to draw both of them, make them fire on her and forget, for even a
second, to watch for Jordan.  She knew Jordan; he'd hear shots and would dive
for cover.  He'd be safe, and suddenly the only thing in her life that was
important was for Jordan to live.

Chalcie let the mare move slowly forward, pretending  that she hadn't seen
the men on the rocks above her.  Her fingers tightened on the metal trigger
of the gun, and she prayed that the shooting skill that she had learned from
the Mexicans would still be fine enough to let her kill a man without having
time to really aim.

The men shifted their stance, and she could see them tensing, obviously
waiting until the perfect moment to loose their volley of shots.  She and
Jordan were about to die.

Chalcie leaned back, holding on to the mane with one hand and gripping the
rifle with her other.  She had only one chance, one shot, one moment left to
live and to save Jordan before she was blasted by the men above her.

Chalcie threw her head back in defiance and screamed.  It was a high
ululating challenge, primitive and barbaric.  It rode over the rocks,
rebounded from the highest points and filled the small valley that she was
riding in.  The wind swept it upward, and there was a startling, growling cry
answered by a coyote, and then by a mountain lion who had been prowling the
area.  Together, Chalcie and the animals' voices melded as she challenged
Tourelle and Ames.

Tourelle and Ames jumped and spun, trying to find the source of the unearthly
keening that surrounded them, bouncing off the walls and echoing back against
them.  It was like nothing they had ever heard before or ever wanted to hear
again.

Then, in one swift movement, she brought the rifle up to her shoulder, let
loose of the horse's mane so she could use her other hand to steady the gun,
and shot upward.  It worked as it had worked hundreds of times in the hot
Mexican desert.  One man took the blast squarely, flying back from the rock.
She could see the other man on top of the rocks raising his rifle again,
pointing toward her, and she braced for the shock of the blast that would
kill her.  There was no time and no place to run.

Her shriek died in the wind, and the second man tightened his finger on the
trigger.  Though it was barely a second since she had fired, every increment
of time stretched  and lengthened.  Abruptly the man twitched and slapped at
his back.  The rifle flew upward, and he pitched forward, landing on the
rocks and sliding down the face until he tumbled into a heap almost at
Jordan's feet.  A small avalanche of rubble followed him down to the base of
the rock.

Jordan stared at the man.  He was still shaking from the cry that had cut
through the ravine, and then the blast from an unseen rider behind him that
had cut down a man he hadn't even seen.  He wasn't dumb, he knew an ambush
when he saw one, but he still hadn't put all the pieces together.

Who was above him?  And who the hell was the second man who had landed almost
at his feet?

Jordan jumped down from the horse and advanced on the figure, his rifle at
the ready.  He prodded the man with the cold metal.  There was no response.

The man was dead, though Jordan couldn't see a single wound on his body that
would account for the fact that he had ceased to breathe.

Chalcie sat still for a moment and then, belatedly realizing that she was
still alive, she grabbed the mare's mane again and urged her horse forward.
The only shot fired had been her own.  That meant that Jordan was still
alive, didn't it?  The earlier shots didn't mean anything, did they?

"Please, Jordan, be alive!"  Chalcie whispered as she urged the mare the last
fifty feet to the bend in the trail.

Jordan heard the horse behind him and turned, his rifle at the ready, as
Chalcie rounded the curve.  She could see him tense, his finger on the
trigger, then relax as he realized who had been following him.

"Chalcie, what the hell is going on?"  Jordan ran toward her.  Chalcie let
herself slide off the mare and into his arms.

"It was a trap," she said, burying her face in his chest and taking deep
breaths of his scent to assure herself that he was indeed alive and holding
her.

"It was a trap, and I didn't realize it until Juanita and I talked after
you'd left.  I knew what Tourelle was doing.  He was going to kill you."

Jordan nodded and pulled her even closer to him.

"It  was a pretty good plan.  He almost carried it off, and me with it."

Chalcie shuddered.

"Then I thought, if Tourelle and Ames are actually partners, then Ames would
win after all, if both of us were dead.  Tourelle would get every thing you
owned, because he was your partner, and he'd split it with Ames."

"So you came to rescue me," Jordan said quietly.  Now he understood the eerie
scream that had flooded the rocks and crevices.  She had seen the men and had
drawn the fire toward herself to save him.  It was her shot that had killed
whoever was up there on the rock.  Any doubts he had ever had about Chalcie
and her love for him were quietly put to rest.

"Chalcie, do me the honor of stay in gas my wife for the rest of my life,
will you?"  Jordan said as he smoothed her hair and kissed her again.

Chalcie smiled.

"Why?"

"Because I'd hate to have you for an enemy, that's why.  You are one of the
most dangerous women I've ever had the privilege of meeting.  I'd hate to
have you mad at me-- I'm not certain I'd survive!"

"Never angry with you..."  Chalcie said dreamily, and then, realizing what
she was saying, she laughed.

"Well, maybe angry, but not enough to do anything terrible."

Jordan groaned.

"I'll try and stay in your good graces.  Crack shot, handy woman with
poisons, even if the mushrooms didn't do the job completely, and a good
businesswoman besides?  These remaining years could be downright exciting!"

"Jordan, I only shot one man.  Where is the other one, and why did he just
fall down without ever trying to pull the trigger?  He had me in his sights,
I know he did."  Chalcie finally regained her senses enough to think beyond
the wonderfully warm feeling of Jordan holding her close.

"He's over there."  Jordan pointed to the bundle of clothing at the horse's
feet.

 Chalcie took a step toward him and then jumped back and squeaked in
surprise as another man stepped from the shadows.

"No, miss, do not worry.  I am not one of those who wanted to kill you."

Mr.  Long stepped forward and leaned toward the prone body.  He used his cane
to move the dead man so that his face could be seen.

Chalcie fought for composure as she saw the hated handsome face of Pete Ames.

"Is he dead?"  he whispered.

Mr.  Long nodded.  He balanced himself on his cane and reached toward the
man's back.  Chalcie could see nothing but what looked like a piece of straw
sticking to Ames's shirt.

"He is dead.  No man survives this," Mr. Long said, displaying the straw.

"A poisoned dart?"

Mr.  Long nodded.

"I had heard the men planning.  I knew what they were going to do."  He
looked at them sagely.

"Most white men I would ignore.

They can kill each other if they want.  But they are not going to kill the
lady with the pretty brown slippers and my friend Jordan.  "

"How did you know what they were going to do, though?"  Chalcie asked.

Mr.  Long made a face.

"They talked in front of me.  They think no Chinese can understand them when
they plan things.  They drink my tea and plot against my friends.  I had to
stop them."  Then he turned directly toward Chalcie and bowed.

"You have a fine warrior's cry.  Even I was frightened."

He turned and walked away into the darkness, taking the poison dart with him.

"Chalcie, Jordan, where are you?  Is everyone all right?  We heard shots!"

Juanita and Eduardo, closely followed by several other miners, rushed up the
rock-strewn path.

"We're here.  Everything is all right.  Ames and Tourelle are dead," Jordan
called out.

 "I like that!  Two men dead and he says it's all right," Juanita said,
shivering.

' "Would you rather it be both of us dead and Ames hoist inga whiskey in our
memory?"  Jordan challenged Juanita.

"No, and you know it.  Now let's get on home.  It's been a hell of a night.

Chalcie needs some comforting.  " Juanita turned and started back down the
path.  The two men who were dead could stay there until morning.  The miners
would hear about the shoot-out and the bodies, and they'd appoint a squad to
come out and clean up the remains.

Chalcie sagged against Jordan.

It was too much.  She was going to go home and go to sleep and then, sometime
tomorrow, she would confess her secret and Jordan could decide whether he
wanted to stay with her or not.

Chapter Twenty Q^y^s^Q <_halcie woke and stared into the darkness.  She and
Jordan lay like two spoons, the warmth from one replenishing the warmth of
the other.  She could feel his breath on the nape of her neck, and his hand
pulled her close, holding her possessively around her waist so she couldn't
slip away from him in the middle of the night.  She could feel every inch of
him, and she took joy in his every breath.  Ames and Tourelle were dead,
instead of her beloved Jordan.

Today she would have to tell him.  Today she might be back in her little room
by the C.  K.  Saloon.  Even with l Ames and Tourelle dead, she might still
finish her day with| out a man in love with her or a penny to her name.
Chalcie ^ reached out and pulled Taffy toward her.

She arose before Jordan and slipped out into the kitchen.  She grabbed the
dark red woolen dress from the clothes that she had set aside to be washed
when there was a clear day.  She couldn't stand to dress in the same clothes
that she had been wearing the night before.  Within an hour she had the fire
go inga nd water heating for tea and for the porridge she had discovered, to
her horror, Jordan actually liked to eat every morning.

She heated a second container of water and set about scrubbing the floor
where the blood had dried overnight.  She had been so tired and so terrified
when she came home  after the encounter with Ames and Tourelle that she
hadn't had the strength even to think about cleaning away the blood.

She had cooked the porridge and was on her hands and knees, scrubbing, when
she heard a knock at the door.

Chalcie sat back on her heels and looked at the door.  Should she answer it?
The thought of yet another terror lurking there almost made her ignore the
sound.

"Chalcie, I know you're awake.  I saw the light, even if you haven't opened
the blinds.  Come on, let me in."  Juanita's voice came through the door,
breathless and happy.

Chalcie sighed in relief.  No more terrors, just Juanita.  She threw the door
open and embraced her friend.

"You have no idea how glad I am to see you.  Come in and you can watch while
I scrub the floor.  Would you like some tea?"

Chalcie drew her into the warmth.  She closed the door into the bedroom,
hoping that Jordan could sleep for a while longer.  He should be able to
rest, he had a clean conscience.  Not like herself.

When Chalcie turned around, she got her first good look at Juanita.  Her
friend was glowing with happiness.

"Tell me what's happened," Chalcie said, and poured them both cups of tea.

"Eduardo asked me to marry him last night--well, this morning, after we
closed the bar for a few hours."

"You are going to marry him, aren't you?"  So that accounted for Juanita's
eyes and the high color in her cheeks.  It was obvious that after expecting
to stay alone for the rest of her life, she had been taken by surprise at the
joy of falling in love with another man.

"Of course I am.  But..."  The light faded gradually from Juanita's face.

She turned the cup in her hands.  She couldn't bring herself to look at
Chalcie.  She'd think her a fool for having any doubts about the match.

"What is it?"  Chalcie prodded her friend into confiding.  If Juanita had
come this early in the morning to tell her the  news, then it was obvious
that she was glad to have Eduardo as her intended.  But it was equally
obvious that something was troubling her.

Juanita sighed.

"I love Eduardo.  It's not the same kind of love I had for Miguel.  Nothing
could ever approach that marriage.  He was the perfect husband, and I cannot
tell you the times I've wished that I had been allowed to die when he died."

"I know," Chalcie said quietly.  She had seen Juanita cry over the wedding
dress.  She had heard her friend's repeated denials of ever becoming involved
again with a man.  She knew that for Juanita to fall in love with Eduardo had
to be both frightening and exhilarating.

There had to be another problem, though.  It had caused the light to leave
her friend's eyes and her smile to fade.  Chalcie couldn't stand to see that
happen when there was no reason for it.

"Do you feel that you're being unfaithful to Miguel by falling in love with
Eduardo?"  There, it was out.  If Juanita had not consciously thought about
it, this would force her to confront the issue.

Juanita looked up, startled.

"How did you know?"  she whispered.

"Because I know you.  I know the kind of loyalty that you have for your
friends.  No one else in the whole of California would have sat beside me and
stitched an entire dress if they hadn't been both a good friend and loyal,
even though you were certain I was wrong."

"But am I wrong to marry Eduardo?"

"No, you are not wrong.  Juanita, who are you going to damage by living with
this man and loving him?"

Juanita shrugged.

"No one?"

"That's right.  No one.  Not Miguel, because awful as it is, and cruel as it
may be to say this, he is dead.  You're alive, Juanita.  You have the same
kind of needs that I do.  We're both women who were content to be independent
of  men."  Chalcie laughed.

"And look where that independence got both of us--involved with men, after
all."

"But I don't want to forget Miguel!"

"Has Eduardo told you never to mention Miguel's name in his presence?  Has he
told you that you should not think about the time that you were married to
Miguel?"

Juanita shook her head.

"No.  He just said that if I wanted to talk, he'd listen.  I think what
Eduardo was really worried about was having to measure up to what Miguel was.
He said that competing with a dead saint was going to be very difficult."

Chalcie set her cup of tea down and cocked her head, studying her friend.

"Do you know, I think you'd better be very careful, then."

"Why?"

"Because if you're not careful, you'll drive Eduardo away with the
comparisons.  Look, Juanita, Miguel was a wonderful man.  But the time that
he knew you and the life that you lived have passed.  You have a chance to
build new love and new memories with Eduardo.  Don't make him feel that he is
somehow less than Miguel.  They're different.  They aren't in competition
with each other."

Juanita smiled and the light was back in her eyes.  "You're right, as usual.
Thank you, Chalcie.  Now, will you and Jordan be able to stand up for us at a
wedding?  We're going to have a real fiesta."

"When is the wedding?"  Chalcie grinned, glad to have negotiated the rocky
road of givinga friend advice.  More often than not, she knew, that was when
most friendships foundered.

"In one week.  And I think this time I'll make myself another dress.  I'm not
going to wear the old dreams when I have new ones.  Would you like to help me
sew it?"  Juanita challenged Chalcie, knowing how much she disliked sewing.

 "I'll help.  Just give me the pretty part instead of the straight seams,
all right?"  Chalcie bargained.

"I'll take half the straight ones and half the fancywork, and you can do the
same.  But I'm still a better woman for fancywork than you are."

"Agreed.  But it'll still be half and half, right?"

Juanita nodded happily.

They chatted for a few more minutes, and Juanita left to sleep a few hours
before the miners descended again.

"Did I hear voices out here?"  Jordan opened the door and stood in the
doorway stark naked.

"Yes you did, and I suggest that if you hear voices, you'd better slip into
something before you come out to greet our visitors like that,"

Chalcie said tartly.

"Already criticizing, are we, love?  My, it was a short honeymoon, wasn't
it?"  Jordan said.  He covered the space between them in two long steps and
grabbed her, hugging her close to him.  He kissed her slowly, and Chalcie
could feel the fire igniting between them.  Jordan was obviously and
instantly ready to make love to her.

"Randy old goat!  I've never seen a man who was so enthusiastic..."  Chalcie
said, playfully trying to pull away from him.

"And how many other men have you known like this?"  Jordan scowled at her
with mock anger.

"How many men have held you like this and given you pleasure?"  He thrust
against her, heedless of the heavy woolen skirt.

"No others.  You're quite enough, thank you," Chalcie said.

"Good," Jordan replied softly, and began to unbutton her dress.

"You need more dresses, ones that are easier to get into.  From now on, I
want my woman dressed in the most beautiful clothes that I can buy."

He pulled off the dress, revealing her creamy flesh.  He touched her breasts
with his tongue and then kissed her, working his way up her neck until their
mouths met and they tasted each other again.

 "Jordan, wait.  I have something to tell you," Chalcie said desperately.

She couldn't let him continue to think that every thing was fine between
them, when she thought that it was most likely that he'd throw her out of the
house the instant he knew what she'd done.

But, oh, one more time of bliss in his bed.  Just one more time wouldn't hurt.

"It can wait," Jordan said firmly.  He was too busy unbuttoning her trousers
and touching her in places where no one else had ever dared venture, and she
was too hot to make him stop.  What had happened with the fire that suddenly
she was panting with the warmth that filled the room?

"Wait..."  Jordan pulled himself away from her, breathing raggedly as he
surveyed the prize that he was about to plunder again.

He strode into the bedroom and returned with the fur blanket.

"What's this?"  Chalcie asked, still panting.  She stretched like a cat and
beckoned him to come to her again, to let their skins meet like silk and
sand, rough and smooth against each other.

"I've wanted a repeat performance of making love to you on this fur, on the
ground.  It stirs up memories."

"And wooden floors will be better than the pine boughs?"  She tantalized him,
touching him with her fingertips and withdrawing just at the time he moved
close, making him groan with anticipation.

"If it isn't just as good, then we'll go back up on the mountains, as soon as
it isn't so damned cold, and try it with the pine boughs," Jordan answered.
He picked her up and lay down on the fur with her.

If the first time had been wonderful, this time was the best.  Together they
reached a shattering climax and then relaxed in an embrace.

"Now, what was it you said about having to talk to me?"  Jordan said
afterward, tracing Chalcie's sweat-laced breast with his fingertips.

 Chalcie shivered.

"Are you cold?"  Jordan asked with concern.

"No..."  Chalcie said.  She wasn't cold.  She was frightened.  If that was
the last time she'd hold him close, she'd die.  She couldn't face the idea of
life without Jordan, but once he knew.  "All right, Chalcie.  Tell me the
mystery.  You've just gone dead white and your eyes lost their laughter, and
I'm not going to have you worrying over something that perhaps I can help
with," Jordan said quietly.

Chalcie sat up and wrapped herself in one end of the fur blanket.  She
couldn't stand to have him loo king at her naked, revealing every thing, when
he might throw her out in a few seconds.

"A few days ago--when we'd gone for months without touching and I didn't
think you even knew I was alive..."  Chalcie gulped and tried to find the
courage to continue.

"Yes?"  Jordan was eyeing her, and she thought she detected the beginnings of
a smile.

"No, it's not funny!"

"I didn't say it was funny," Jordan said, raising his hands defensively.

"Then don't laugh at me.  This is awful, Jordan."

"Nothing that the woman I love has done is awful," Jordan said again.  He
reached for her but she drew away.

"This is.  I went to Johnny Long."  There, it was out.

' "Were you sick?  Is there something wrong?"  Jordan sat up, instantly
solicitous.

"No, there's nothing wrong.  At least nothing wrong with me.  But with
you..."  Chalcie just couldn't go on.

"With me?  You went to Mr. Long about me?"  His eyebrows were drawing
together and somehow it looked as if he'd lost at least a little bit of his
sense of humor.

Chalcie nodded miserably.

"Why?"  Jordan barked.

Chalcie's shoulders slumped.

"Because I wanted you to love me.  I couldn't stand living in the same house
with you  and not even having you touch me.  I thought that if you loved me,
every thing would be all right, no matter how that love happened."

Jordan watched her, and the glint was back in his eye.

"Don't you understand?"  Chalcie burst out.

"I went to Johnny Long and he gave me something to make you love me.  You
don't really care about me, you never did, not until you ate those damned
apple dumplings.  And now you'll hate me..."  Chalcie broke down and cried.

Jordan shouted with laughter.  He lay back in the fur and rolled back and
forth in glee.  He guffawed so hard that he had to wipe tears from his eyes.
He held his stomach as he roared.

Chalcie looked at him in alarm.  Had he suddenly gone mad?  No man should
have reacted to the idea that his wife had snared him through a love potion
by laughing at her.  He should have been angry at her.  He should have
ordered her out of the house for cheating him.  And he was laughing?

She began to edge away, wondering if dousing him with cold water would bring
him back to sanity.

"Jordan?"  she asked tentatively.

Jordan raised his hands and then laughed again.  He couldn't even say a word.
He was still convulsed at some private joke.

"What is it?"  Chalcie asked again.

This time Jordan managed to bring himself under control enough to speak.

"You took it seriously," he said, and his laughter pealed through the house
again.

"Took it seriously?  Don't you understand?  It was one of Mr. Tong's special
potions guaranteed to make you love me.  And it worked, Jordan.  You hadn't
even touched me before that night, and then suddenly you were making love to
me."  Not only was Chalcie frightened by his reaction, but she was beginning
to be a little bit irritated at him.  It wasn't any laughing matter.

"All those months..."  Jordan bit his lip, trying not to make her more angry
by laughing again.

 Chalcie looked sharply at him.

"Why doesn't this bother you?  Most men would be furious!"

Jordan took a deep breath and sat up slowly.  He still hurt from laughing so
hard at Chalcie's confession.

"I'm not mad, because I knew all about it.  I thought you knew it was... kind
of a joke."

"Joke?"  Chalcie's voice was beginning to rise now, but not from any sense,
of humor.  A joke?

"Yeah.  Johnny Long knew exactly who you were.  He knew about our marriage,
of course.  When you came in asking for something that would make me be more,
shall we say, receptive to your feminine wiles, he realized that our marriage
wasn't all it should have been.  Johnny is one smart man, as you may have
noticed."

Chalcie frowned.  Yes, he was smart.  Maybe just a little too smart.

"I

still don't quite understand the joke, Jordan.  " Her voice was frosty.  ' "
He did give me some herbs to use in the cooking.  He said that it would work
on you.  He promised results.  "

"I'll bet he did."  Jordan started to laugh again, then bit it off.  Chalcie
was gritting her teeth, and that didn't look like the sign of a woman who was
enjoying herself.

' "Mr.  Long caught me later that morning as I was coming out of the bar.

He told me what he had done, and that he had given you some spices to use on
me to make me more virile.  He and I are friends, and he has watched us
together.  "

"Yes?"  Chalcie said.

' "Well, he knew that I desired you, and he surmised that what was needed was
something to make you think I wanted you, and the only prodding that I would
need with such a beautiful woman was to make.  certain I knew that you'd been
set up with the spices."  Jordan began to laugh again.

"You should have seen your face when I said I didn't want the apple dumplings.

You looked like you were going to cry!  "

"You mean you knew all the time that I'd tried to use  a love potion on you?
You knew that Mr. Long sent that whatever it was home with me?"

"It was ginger and ginseng.  Ginseng is what the Chinese use to promote
virility, so it wasn't totally useless.  But yes, I knew."

Chalcie was ready to scream.

"You let me suffer, thinking that you were only staying with me because of
that damned mix of ginger and ginseng instead of loving me for myself?"

Jordan smiled and cocked his head to one side, studying her.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did let you suffer.  You'd made me keep my hands
off you when I wanted nothing more than to come out here and ravish you.  You
made it very clear that it was a marriage of convenience.  You didn't even
want me in the same room with you.  When Long told me what you'd been in
asking for, I wasn't about to let such a wonderful opportunity go past me."

Chalcie looked at him, her eyes huge and tragic.

"But did you ever love me?  I thought the potion would make you love me, even
if it was a false love."

Jordan reached over and grabbed her.  He pulled the fur blanket from in front
of her, and within seconds they were sprawled side by side on the floor.

"I think I've always loved you.  It just took a while to realize it."

"Are you sure it wasn't my father's wealth that enticed you?"  Chalcie wasn't
absolutely certain of him yet.

"Your father's wealth?  Hell, woman, you know I have three times what he had.
And incidentally, if you still think I want the Kent holdings, please
disabuse yourself of that notion.  You can have every thing you ever owned in
your own name.  I don't want it.  In fact I told you that months ago.

The only thing I want is your love.  "

Chalcie smiled up at him, and the impish humor shone in her eyes.

"Would you mind terribly, then, if we changed things just a little?  I think
we need to concentrate on the  marriage.  And to do that, we need it to be
our land, our bars and, to the end, our own true love."  Jordan kissed her.

"Our own true love, forever."