“Why?”
“My guess? He wanted people burning alive to focus the whole town’s attention here while he dealt with you, Bret, and Aggie. Thank God construction here is as shoddy as it is. Mick was able to break a hole in the wall and they all got out. Still, if Pat hadn’t been there when Aggie arrived, Parmelee’s plan would have worked. Pat was the one who sent a rider up to check on you. When he knocked at the door, Parmelee pulled a pistol and shot at him. Fortunately he missed, but before we could get up the hill, he was gone.”
“I guess I owe Pat my life.”
“There are worse men to owe it to. But that said, how much was outstanding on Aggie’s loan?”
“I’ll write off what she owed me. But she’s still a little more than two thousand in the hole to Pat.” Sarah shifted, her gut curdling at the sight and smell. But for a miracle of the wind, the whole block might have burned—and after that, the rest of Central City, built as it was of a mismatch of closely packed timber and frame buildings.
“Then I assume I needn’t ask if you need assistance, Mrs. Anderson?”
She glanced at him, reading those dangerous and dark eyes. “George, I would never take assistance from you. Even if it meant starving in the street.”
“Hard words, Sarah.”
She answered him with a bitter laugh. “Oh, stop it. You know exactly what kind of man you are. In a nickel melodrama you’d be the villain seeking to ravish the innocent virgin, but in real life, you’re just waiting to shoot the hero dead when he arrives at the last moment to save the girl. With you, it’s about taking it all no matter what the cost.”
“You sound oddly rational when you say that.”
Sarah shrugged. “I’m smart enough to do business with you, George. But only when the terms are spelled out. I’d never, in any way, seek to interfere in your dealings.”
He chuckled to himself. “By God, you are a remarkable woman.”
“Am I? All I can feel is grief and emptiness. Nothing’s left. I poured all of myself into Bret. All of my dreams into our future. I thought life had beaten all the love and trust out of me. But as soon as I found real happiness, that filthy beast…” She swallowed hard, fists knotted as the rage pulsed through her.
“Want some revenge?”
“Nothing would make me happier than to spit in his face the moment before I put a bullet through his brain.” She paused, considered her words, then said, “And afterward, I’ll cut his cock and balls off and stomp them in the mud.”
George shot her a sidelong glance. “Even harder words … from a lady.”
“I’m no lady, George. That’s for women who don’t hate life. Who don’t hate themselves.” She gave him a hard glare.
“I’ve learned that Parmelee owns a parlor house in Denver. A couple of weeks back, all of his girls vanished. His professor disappeared with the house take. Word is that Parmelee owes Francis Heatley money. Heatley holds the title. Pat has known Heatley for years. With a word, Heatley might call the loan.”
Sarah considered. “George, I’m going to cover Aggie’s debt to Pat. That’s the least I can do.” She gestured toward the ruins. “This is all my fault. Well, mine and Bret’s.”
“I could loan you the money.”
“I told you. I’ll conduct a fair transaction with you, but that’s all. And I don’t have anything to sell.”
His hard black eyes fixed on hers. “Of course you do. Five hundred dollars a night. Four nights. That’s two thousand dollars, Mrs. Anderson. Just about what Parmelee owes Francis Heatley. And I can think of no more salacious revenge.”
She actually laughed. “Are you out of your mind, George? I just buried my husband.”
“One thousand a night.”
She stared at him, almost uncomprehending. “Men in this camp work for two to three dollars a day. Even the best engineers only get ten. Even as a joke that’s—”
“One thousand dollars. Two nights.”
Her heart skipped. “Dear God, you’re serious.”
“I am.”
“For Pete’s sake, George, why?”
His smile thinned under those deadly eyes. “Did you know that in all the time I knew him, Bret never looked twice at another woman? One night I asked him if he were made of wood. He told me, ‘Nothing compares with what’s waiting for me at home.’ I’ve always wondered what it would be like to share your bed. We call you the goddess, you know.”
Sarah blinked, shaking her head. “You’d bed me, knowing all the time that I despised you? That while you were on me, I’d be dreaming of Bret?”
“I’ve never offered a woman a thousand dollars a night. I’m not sure anyone has.”
She struggled to understand. A thousand dollars a night?
What would Bret say?
“Don’t be a fool, Sarah. Two thousand dollars is one hell of a salve for any woman’s conscience.”
And it wasn’t like she was guarding anything men hadn’t used before.
As if Nichols could see her struggling, he said, “Call it a fair business transaction. Straight service for fee. Do that, and I’ll hand you Parmelee.”
Parmelee? Hers? That easily?
“I’m like cracked glass, George. Even if I decided to do this, there’s no telling but I might break down into a sobbing wreck right in the middle.”
Twitches of amusement formed at the corners of his mouth.
“You won’t. You will give me full measure because, first and foremost, you’re a businesswoman.”
85
June 16, 1867
“Not a word, Doc. It’s like he dropped off the face of the earth. Not even so much as a rumor. And you know your brother. If he’s around, people do talk.” Those were Big Ed’s last words as Doc walked out of the Cricket Club after stitching up two of the burlesque girls who’d gotten into a fight. Their weapons of choice had been broken bottles.
He stepped out onto Blake Street, finding the day warm as the morning sun rose
