“Fine.” He stood confused in the hallway. “Who are you?”

  “Tweedie Witt. I work with Kathryn. I’ve never been in such a lovely—”

  “Where is Kathryn?” He noticed things missing from the room.

  “Across the street at the newspaper office. Carl Rudger and Patrick Flynt moved her things this morning.”

  “Did they?” Annoyed, Matthias headed across the street. He didn’t bother to knock, and she only gave him a cursory glance.

  “I haven’t time to argue. I’m trying to get another issue out.”

  Matthias strove for patience. “As I recall, we were going to discuss when you might move over here and when you’d go to press again.”

  She barely looked up from whatever she was writing. “I’m a free woman. It’s not your decision. But now that Axel is in town, I’ll be safe in my own home.”

  “You think so? Is Axel moving in with you?”

  Her head snapped up at that. “Of course not. And to be clear, I wasn’t living with you either.”

  “You were under my roof!”

  “A guest in your hotel. Or so you said.” She sniffed. “I’m much safer here.”

  He almost wished he hadn’t hired Axel Borgeson. “You really should stay at the hotel a while longer.”

  “Be reasonable, Matthias. My things are all here now. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.” She gave him a guileless smile. “You know everyone will want to read about our new sheriff.”

  Morgan Sanders was less a worry now than Axel Borgeson. “Fine. Write the news and print it, but you’re not moving out just yet.”

  “Axel said he’d keep an eye out for me.”

  Oh, Matthias could bet on that. He didn’t like the feeling he got every time Kathryn said the man’s name. “I’m sure Axel would like nothing better, but I hired him to clean up the town, not focus on one harebrained woman!”

  Kathryn put her pencil down and folded her hands on the desk. “Yes, I know. And you know I can’t afford a room in your hotel, and you’ve given me your best. Think of it from a business standpoint. It’s not good for your best room to be occupied by a nonpaying guest.”

  “Why don’t you let me worry about my own business?”

  “Just as soon as you let me get back to mine!” She picked up her pencil. “Now, please go away and let me concentrate.”

  Matthias knew he had no other choice.

  The next issue of the Voice was printed front and back, with two advertisements, Flynt’s and Rudger’s, along with a church announcement that a Christmas Eve service would be held at ten in the evening, a Christmas service the following morning. Matthias had heard Kathryn still attended services, despite the public dressing down. He’d been surprised, but relieved. The newspaper was hawked up and down and around town by Janet and John Mercer’s two sons, James and Joseph. The family had fallen on hard times since the closing of the Jackrabbit Mine. Kathryn paid the boys a penny for each newspaper they sold, and they each earned a dollar before noon. A good day’s wage in the Madera Mine.

  Matthias bought one of the first copies. The headline read NEW SHERIFF IN TOWN. He’d figured as much. The article was full of Axel’s admirable escapades. He might have been a spy during the war, but he clearly had nothing to hide now. His training, his experience, his dedication to upholding the law, which included getting shot once, with details on when, how, and why. Kathryn had done a thorough job. Her article was better reading than a dime novel. She even included the comforting fact that Borgeson could hit a bull’s-eye three hundred feet away every time with his Winchester rifle, and all in the space of a few seconds.

  How did she know that?

  When Matthias asked, she said Axel had rented a carriage and taken her outside town to demonstrate. Borgeson had seemed a quiet man, but Kathryn had sure managed to loosen his tongue. But then, she’d managed to get secrets out of him, too. Others seemed to be falling under her spell as well—Flynt, Rudgers, and who could forget good old Morgan Sanders, more than ten years older and clearly entering his rut. Kathryn didn’t want to get married. So she said. Not that it would change Sanders’s mind. Not that it had changed his own.

  Kathryn had City’s charm and quick mind. She also had his penchant for disturbing the peace. Things seemed to be going smoothly right now, but Matthias knew it wouldn’t be long before she was neck-deep in trouble again.

  16

  EVERYTHING BACK IN HER SNUG LITTLE HOUSE, Kathryn should have felt content. She and Tweedie spent Christmas Eve helping Ronya and Charlotte serve meals to a stream of hungry, lonely men far from home and family. Some had left wives behind, hoping to get rich quick and bring them out West by train. Now, they couldn’t afford to buy a train ticket home, let alone bring family out to join them. Kathryn overheard talk of riding the rails east.

  She empathized. She was homesick, too. Back in Boston, the weeks before Christmas and through New Year’s had been frenetic. There had scarcely been an evening when she hadn’t been attending some soiree, ball, or musical program, many of which were held right at the Hyland-Pershing mansion. Her grandfather, Charles Hyland, had been known to open the estate for lavish holiday parties, and Lawrence Pershing continued the tradition, Kathryn’s mother artfully making all arrangements: string quartets, pianists, soloists, chamber orchestra with soprano. The season had been the most exciting time of the year. Guests filled the grand hall and conservatory. Kathryn had loved those evenings. She’d also loved attending the Old South Church’s Christmas cantatas. Once, after she overheard the judge speaking derisively of Irish Catholics, she had snuck off the grounds and ridden a streetcar to the Cathedral of the Holy Cross just to experience a high Christmas Mass. When he found out, the judge barred her from all festivities for the rest of the season. A crushing blow, but one her mother had overcome with charm and manipulation. Her mother had often saved her from the judge’s edicts. Until the last one.

  Work at Ronya’s done, the men off to find solace elsewhere, the women sat in the warm kitchen. Ronya offered Kathryn another of her special coffee elixirs. Kathryn laughed and said, though sorely tempted, now that she knew what was in it, she must decline. Henry came to sit a while with Charlotte in the dining room near the potbellied stove. Ronya looked weary and ready to retire. Kathryn gave her an embroidered handkerchief.

  Her friend’s eyes filled. “Well, now I’m sorry I have nothing for you.”

  “How many meals have I had here?”

  “And worked for each one.”

  “Who made sure I didn’t lose my toes to frostbite?”

  “Who got you drunk?”

  Kathryn hugged her. “Hush, now. You are my true friend, and I love you dearly.” She turned to Tweedie. “We’d best be leaving so she can rest.” Tweedie asked if Kathryn would mind if she spent the night upstairs with Charlotte and Ina Bea. Kathryn understood and tried not to feel left out. The women had been close friends long before she came to town.

  Her little house felt cold and lonely. Kathryn built the fire in her stove and reread the letter from her mother, the only one she’d received since leaving Boston. Kathryn had wept the first time she read it.

  My dearest Kathryn,

  I apologize for not writing before this, and only sending money for the feather fans, which are very popular with my friends. Your letters describing the town left me with considerable misgivings, but Lawrence recommended time rather than sympathy. I believe he was correct. You now seem settled in your new life. You are finding your own way, which Lawrence said you would. I know how you trust in God to protect and guide you. And I share that faith.

  I am well. You need not worry. Lawrence insists that I remain confined until the baby arrives, and then spend a few months resting. He is very solicitous, anticipating my every need. I do miss going out, but friends come to call. Dr. Evans comes every few days. Lawrence insists, and he remains when the doctor is with me. I feel very pampered, though there are times when I could do with less attention.

  Ronya Vanderstrom sounds like a true friend and a woman of extraordinary character. Have Charlotte Arnett and Henry Call married yet? Perhaps you will find someone who suits your nature, for I find it unbearable to think of you spending your whole life alone.

  Send more fans when you have them. I have not told your stepfather that I have become a saleslady. He would not approve, but it is for a good cause.

  Please send me an issue of the Voice. Consider it my small rebellion, as we both know very well what Lawrence would think of such a venture for a woman. That is not to say I disagree with the decision he made on my behalf or that you should even consider coming back to Boston. I believe you are where God has placed you. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, my darling, and He will lead you into the path He has laid out for your life.

  Always my love, your mother

  Restless, emotional, Kathryn couldn’t sleep with guitars, squeeze-boxes, stomping feet, and laughing next door. Saloons and another dance hall down the street would be alive with music and patrons. She found herself tapping her foot. She’d always loved to dance. Beck’s Saloon was undoubtedly packed, as usual. Brady would be busy at the bar, Ivan keeping his eye out for trouble, Matthias overseeing the gaming tables. Thinking about him made Kathryn’s pulse quicken. Remembering his kisses made her wish for another. Well, that would never do!

  She picked up Homer’s Odyssey but, after reading the same page three times, put it down again. She went to the front window and peered out. Matthias had come outside and was looking across the street. Kathryn let go of the curtain hastily, heart pounding. She felt hot with embarrassment, wondering if he’d seen her looking out her new window, looking for him. She pressed cold hands to warm cheeks.

  Time passed. He didn’t come. Had she hoped he would? Fully awake, she started another letter to her mother. She couldn’t tell her distressing details, such as Reverend Thacker’s blistering public reprimand. Nor could she mention going to South Bridge to overhear plans to commit murder, or Morgan Sanders storming into her front office. Giving up, she put her writing tools away.

  She was ready to turn down the lamp and go back to bed when someone tapped on her door. Axel often stopped by on his rounds just to check on her, but never this late. She cracked the door to tell him she was fine and faced Matthias on the stoop. Her emotions fluttered like a flock of surging swifts—pleasure, pain, fear that this was the one man who could undo her the same way Connor Walsh had undone her mother. She’d been in a tumble all evening, and seeing him was simply too much. She burst into tears. Mortified, she tried to shut the door.

  Matthias pushed his way in. “What’s wrong now?”

  “Nothing!” She wanted to say, It’s Christmas Eve, you dolt, and I’m alone. Worse, he was the one man who made her weak in the knees. “Just go away!” Was there anything worse than having him see her cry like a baby? When she heard him close the door, she thought he’d left, and cried harder. Then he touched her shoulder, and she jumped. “Why are you still here?” She sounded as vulnerable as she felt, and was frustrated she had so little control.

  “I came over because I thought this might be a hard night for you.” He spoke softly, his voice roughened. “Your first Christmas away from home.”

  She dashed tears away and lifted her chin. “I can manage on my own.”

  “I see how well you’re managing.” He moved closer, a sympathetic smile curving his mouth. “A pity I don’t have Ronya’s coffee elixir recipe.” When she gave a soft laugh, he sat on the edge of her desk. “I could go back and get us a bottle of brandy . . .”

  She knew he was teasing, trying to lighten her mood. “You are a rogue.”

  “Reformed.” Something in his tone made her skin tingle. He held out a handkerchief. She took it and thanked him. “Brady is taking over.”

  “Taking what over?” She shuffled papers, nervous, heart pounding, breath catching. She hoped he wouldn’t notice.

  “The saloon.” He watched her closely. “I’m giving him the same deal Langnor gave me. Half ownership and pay for the rest over time.”

  Kathryn stopped what she was doing and stared at him. “But why?”

  “Why?” He looked surprised. “I thought you’d be pleased to hear the news. It might even be worth an article in the Voice.” His expression and tone hardened slightly. “Not as lengthy as Axel warranted, of course, being your hero of the moment and all.”

  What did Axel have to do with any of this? She tossed the papers on the desk. “Isn’t the saloon what keeps the money flowing into your pockets?” she asked with sarcasm.

  Matthias frowned. “And money matters to you?”

  “No, but I thought it mattered uppermost to you.”

  He stood and moved around the desk. She sucked in a soft breath and backed up.

  “I have all the money I need safely tucked away in a bank in Sacramento and some invested here. The new mercantile opens in a week.”

  “That’s yours?”

  “Part owner. There’s time for all things, and a time to move on.”

  That announcement dropped like a stone into her stomach. She felt the tears coming again. “You were just elected mayor!” She wanted to rage and weep at the same time. “You can’t leave town now!”

  His eyes glowed as they moved over her face. “Oh, I’m not leaving.”

  She fidgeted under his perusal. “Well, that’s good news because you have a lot of work to do around here.” She moved toward the sofa, then changed her mind. The door to her back room was open. She should have closed it. The front office suddenly felt too small for two people, even though she and Tweedie and Scribe worked together almost every day.

  “I’m already making progress,” he drawled.

  She wished he would look at something other than her. “Such as?”

  “You’ll see. I didn’t come over here to be interviewed.” His mouth tipped. “What’s making you so nervous, Kathryn?”

  “You are, if you must know.”

  “Why?”

  There was that question again, spoken in a low, taunting tone, as if he already knew the answer, even if she didn’t. “You should go.”

  “I think we should get married.”

  Her mouth opened and closed like a banked fish. “What?” She felt a rush of emotions totally inappropriate for the decision she had made about remaining single for the rest of her life. She reminded herself of what a woman lost when she let a man put a ring on her finger. “No!”

  “What would it take to get you to say yes?” He moved closer. “Give me a list.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  He looked deadly serious. “A house?”

  Feeling a bubble of panic, Kathryn inched back. “I have a house.” When he touched her arm lightly, she faltered. Pressed and agitated, she talked fast in self-defense. “All right! You want a list?” She’d give him one he could never get through. “Collect and get the garbage out of town. We need a municipal water system. And streets easily crossed in fall and winter without mud and potholes big enough to swallow a horse and rider! A schoolhouse. A town hall for meetings and cultural events so people can hear music other than banjos, guitars, castanets, and squeeze-boxes!” What else? He kept moving closer, and she couldn’t back up farther without falling on the sofa.

  Matthias stood right in front of her, near enough that she could feel the warmth and smell the delicious musk scent of his body. “And if I do all that, you’ll marry me.”

  It wasn’t a question. She swallowed convulsively. “I’ll think about it.” She shouldn’t sound so meek at a moment like this!

  “Oh, no, your ladyship. You’ll do more than think about it. You’ll do it.”

  She couldn’t breathe properly. “Matthias . . .” Her voice sounded raspy, uncertain, not at all like herself.

  Matthias pulled her into his arms and kissed her. For half a second, she pushed against him and then found herself melting. “Consider it a deal.” He looked at her, a glow of triumph in his eyes.

  She panicked. “Wait just a minute.”

  “Everything on your list is for the town. What do you want from me?” Mesmerized by his eyes, so dark and penetrating, she couldn’t think. Embarrassed, she felt tears coming again. When Matthias stepped back, she looked up at him, confused and hurt. Had he been making fun of her? “Sit down before you faint.” He took her by the arm and sat her on the sofa. She sank, her stays keeping her from drawing a full breath. She noticed he was breathing heavily, too. What was his problem?

  Muttering under his breath, Matthias snarled. “What sort of fool came up with a corset?”

  “I don’t know. But he must have hated women.”

  Matthias’s laugh broke the tension. “You want me to cut the cords that bind you, darlin’?”

  “Reformed, my foot.”

  He grinned. “Then I’d better get out of here before I forget I’m a gentleman and you’re a lady.” He stood and went to the door. “Lock it, in case I change my mind.” He closed it firmly behind him.

  Kathryn crossed the room quickly and bolted it. She heard Matthias laugh on the other side. “Sweet dreams, Kathryn.”

  Leaning her forehead and palms against the door, she closed her eyes. Her mother had said something about passion clouding the mind and love not being enough. Kathryn understood now. She had loved the feel and taste of Matthias’s mouth. She had loved the feel of his hands on her, his body pressed hard against her.

  But she couldn’t marry Matthias Beck or anyone else. Sara, her mother’s maid, lost all rights to the property she had brought into her marriage. Her drunken, abusive husband had willed it to a friend, leaving her destitute. What of Abbie Aday, who wasn’t given so much as a penny to spend on herself after working twelve-hour days six days a week for a husband who sat at leisure in the back room, and spent evenings at the bar or playing faro? What of Ronya and Charlotte and Tweedie, all women who came west because their husbands had gold fever? Not all widows fared even as well as they had. Many ended up working in fandango halls, saloons, and brothels.