He took another drag on the cigarette.

  "Care to join me inside?” She twisted a fat sausage curl around her index finger.

  "Nope."

  Hips swaying, she moved forward, touching a hand to his chest. She fiddled with one of the buttons on his shirt. “You sure? I can make it worth your while."

  "Truth is, sweetheart,” he said, catching her hand before it could venture below his gun belt, “I'm broke."

  The sides of her mouth turned down in a pout.

  "But if you help me out, I might just be able to find me a little cash."

  She smiled a bit. “How?"

  "Have you seen a man in there, about yea high"—he held up a hand to show Scott's approximate height—"with a black-and-silver beard?"

  "Ugly as a boar hog's behind?” she asked.

  "Real ugly."

  "Yeah, I think I saw him with Penny."

  "He still in there?"

  "If he's with Penny, he is. What do you want with him?"

  "He owes me some money,” Lucas lied easily. He put an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “You see, if I can get my money back from him, then I just might be able to spend an hour or so upstairs with you."

  "Oh, goody.” She grinned. The curls piled atop her head shook precariously as she bounced up and down.

  He didn't let himself think for one minute that she was excited about getting him into bed. She wanted his cash, and that was all there was to it.

  "There a back entrance to this place?” he asked, knowing there had to be if she'd been able to sneak up behind him. “I don't like to call a man a debtor in front of other men."

  She grabbed his arm and tugged him through the alley to a small, worn door hanging from loose hinges. She led him up a set of squeaky back stairs. A long hallway stretched before them, rows of doors on either side.

  "This is Penny's room,” she whispered when they got to the fifth door on the right.

  He fit his ear to the wooden portal. From the moans and groans echoing inside, he decided the room was most definitely still occupied.

  "Come on,” the girl urged, pulling on his arm.

  He shook her off, wanting to stay and wait for Scott to finish his business and come out so he could finish his.

  "Come on,” she said again. “There's another way in."

  Lucas gave up and followed. She led him farther down the hall, around one corner, then another, until they seemed to be almost back where they'd started.

  "Not everybody knows about this room,” she said, her hand turning on the knob. “But sometimes we bring customers in here when they, you know ... want to watch."

  It took a minute for Lucas's eyes to adjust to the darkness of the tiny space. A long chaise lounge took up the center of the room. Thick, heavy draperies covered one whole wall. “What is this?” he asked.

  Her fingers curled around the cord to the curtains. She pulled, and the deep cherry-red pieces of material slowly began to part. “It's the viewing room,” she told him, smiling.

  A huge window appeared before his eyes, and the stunning sight before him drove him back a step. His legs hit the edge of the chaise. He dropped to its soft cushion with a plop.

  "How did this get here?” he asked, as though it might have dropped from the sky.

  "Sally had it put in. She saw one like it when she worked in Reno and said it would be a big success here. We don't tell everybody about it, though, or they'd all want to use it. And this is the only one we've got. Penny gets the room next to it ‘cause she gets the most customers. And she'll do things the rest of us won't."

  Lucas could see that. From each bedpost hung sets of thick iron shackles. Several quirts and whips of various sizes lay scattered about the room. And he didn't even want to know what she did with the horse harness sitting in the corner.

  Her activities with Silas Scott, however, seemed fairly tame, though from the grunts and groans they emitted, one would think they were building a barn or doing some other strenuous work. With her back to him, legs straddling his hips, she rode him with an ease born from years of experience.

  The blonde sauntered forward, stroking Lucas's shoulder and chest. “Do you like to watch?” she asked in a low, husky voice. She didn't wait for him to answer. Her fingers drifted down his torso, across his hard thigh. “You can pay me later,” she offered. “I don't mind."

  The sounds inside Penny's room crescendoed, reaching an ear-splitting peak. Then all was silent. Lucas pushed the blonde away and reached for his Peacemaker, moving to the door he'd noticed as soon as he set foot in this secret room.

  His companion opened her mouth to speak, but Lucas shushed her with a finger to his own lips. He turned the knob, opening the door inch by agonizingly slow inch, praying the hinges would remain silent long enough for him to get the drop on Scott.

  "Thanks, darlin',” Scott said, reaching for his pants.

  "My pleasure,” Penny returned, sliding toward the headboard. She tossed her mane of fiery red hair over one shoulder. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of Lucas and gasped.

  "Glad you two are feeling so amicable,” he said, stepping from the shadow of the secret doorway. “Maybe you won't mind standing up for me, Scott. Nice and easy,” he said, motioning with the barrel of his gun. “Keep your hands where I can see them."

  "I hope you said your prayers, McCain,” Scott sneered. “Because I'm going to send you to your Maker."

  "Not if I send you to Him first."

  "Look, fellas,” Penny said, standing at the end of the bed completely naked. “I don't know what all you've got against each other, but keep me out of it.” Lowering one arm, she grabbed the corner of a sheet, dragging it up to cover her nudity. “I've already been paid, so I'll just leave you two alone to work out your differences."

  Lucas let her sidle her way to the door. She opened it and started out, only to stick her head back in. “Hey, mister,” she said to him, “try not to get too much blood on them sheets. Laundry day ain't till Monday.” With that, she closed the door behind her.

  Lucas stared at Silas, taking in every wrinkle and roll of his old, abused body. For the first time since his quest for vengeance had begun, he wondered what could have happened to turn Scott into such a blackhearted, coldblooded killer. Surely he had started out like any other child, innocent and pure.

  "Go ahead and pull the trigger, McCain."

  "Don't rush me,” Lucas said. “I've been waiting for this a hell of a long time. I intend to make it last."

  The sounds of running feet began below them, climbing until they reached the second floor.

  "I wouldn't wait too long, if I was you,” Scott warned.

  Lucas's finger tightened on the trigger, but he didn't shoot.

  In the second of his hesitation, chaos erupted. The door burst open. A crowd of people flooded the room, Penny jostling about in the mass. Scott struck out, slapping Lucas's gun arm with the trousers in his hand. He dove for the window, grabbing the holster on the bedside table on his way out.

  Lucas raced for the window, reaching it in time to see Scott struggling into his pants as he ran down the alley. “God damn it!” he swore, pounding the sill with his fist.

  "What the hell's going on in here?” the hulk of a man at the front of the crowd demanded.

  Lucas took one look at him and knew he'd rather take his chances flying out the window than fighting this Goliath. “Just a friendly chat,” he answered.

  The giant took a step forward.

  Lucas holstered his weapon, at the same time preparing to jump. With a smile and a pleasant good-night, he flung himself out the window.

  Lucas followed Scott's trail for seven hours. By the time the sun appeared on the horizon, he was so tired and so disillusioned, he could hardly see straight. Dismounting, he ran his hands through his hair in frustration, then dropped to the ground in a heap of exhaustion. He was never going to find Scott. He was never going to avenge Annie and Chad's murders. He was never going to be at peace. The only time he'd ever even glimpsed tranquillity was when he'd been with Megan.

  That knowledge couldn't have winded him more than a horse's hind kick to the gut.

  Megan had been right. She'd told him that someday he'd realize revenge wasn't the answer. One day, she said, he'd discover that he no longer hated as much, no longer wanted to dedicate his life to finding and killing a man.

  He could hear her speaking of roses in winter as though she were there with him, whispering the words in his ear. In winter, snow and ice cover them, sometimes so brutally that you think nothing could possibly live for months under those conditions. Then spring comes, and the snow melts. And before you know it, tiny rosebuds appear. It seems like a miracle—until you realize that all they really needed was a little sunshine to melt the ice. It's like a never-ending promise from God. A promise of roses to bloom every spring. The ice will melt someday, Lucas. All you have to do is let a little sunshine into your heart.

  The ice will melt someday. All you have to do is let a little sunshine into your heart.

  Lucas wondered if Megan realized just how strong her love really was. As brilliant as the sun, shining day and night. Warm enough to melt the icy shield of hatred guarding his heart.

  He got to his feet, dusted off the back of his pants, and reached for the reins. “Well, Worthy, old boy, what do you say?"

  The gelding shook his head, pawing the ground.

  "Me, too,” Lucas agreed. “Let's go home."

  "Full house."

  "Son of a bitch!” Thompson threw his cards down on the table. “How'd you get so good at poker?” he asked.

  "Practice,” she answered.

  "Does your brother know you gamble?"

  She shot him a bright smile. “Who do you think taught me?"

  "Deal me out,” he said. “I've played cards with your brother, and if he taught you, there's no way I'm going to risk my whole paycheck. Travis, if you know what's good for you, you'll quit, too."

  "She's just a gal,” the deputy said, scratching his scalp beneath the rim of his sweaty Stetson.

  Marshal Thompson gave a hoot of laughter as he got up to stretch his legs. “Don't say I didn't warn ya. You want some coffee, Meg?"

  "Sure. You staying in, Deputy?"

  "Yep. I ain't lettin’ no girl beat me at cards."

  Another guffaw reached their ears from across the room, where Thompson was pouring coffee.

  Megan dealt out five cards to Travis, five to herself, then waited for him to trade. She traded two of her own, and the betting began.

  The kitty had reached almost fifty dollars before Travis called. “Three of a kind,” he said, proudly displaying his hand.

  She started to spread her cards on the desk. “That's better than—"

  Travis let out a loud whoop and began gathering his winnings before Megan could finish her sentence.

  "You win, boy?” the marshal asked.

  "Sure did."

  "Wait a minute,” Megan said. “What I started to say was that three of a kind is better than you've gotten so far.” She tapped her cards. “But it still doesn't beat a flush."

  "Son of a bitch,” Travis swore, shoving the money toward her.

  "Watch your mouth in front of the lady,” Marshal Thompson warned, forgetting he'd used the same curse only moments earlier.

  "What's all the racket in here?” a deep male voice boomed.

  "Caleb!” Megan leapt up from her seat, running into her brother's arms.

  "Are you corrupting my sister, Marshal?"

  "It was her idea to play poker for cash."

  "Who won?"

  "I did,” she answered happily.

  "Thatta girl,” Caleb said. “Mind if I talk to my sister alone, Marshal?"

  Thompson waved to the cell. “Be my guest."

  With Caleb's arm around her waist, they entered the small space and sat down on the cot.

  "This isn't very comfortable, is it?” he asked, hitting the straw mat.

  "It's better than sleeping on the ground,” she said, knowing from experience.

  His deep blue eyes met hers. “Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine."

  "Honestly? If you need anything, if anyone's bothering you. I'll..."

  "Caleb, I'm fine. Marshal Thompson has been very accommodating. He only locks me in the cell when he and Travis are both gone. Rebecca brought plenty for me to read the last time she stopped by. She even gave me some embroidery.” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “As if I could ever be bored enough to sew. And you visit at least once a day. What more could I need?"

  "Freedom would be nice."

  "I'll have that just as soon as the lawyer you hired gets here from New York City."

  "It's going to take more than just his presence to get you out of this mess."

  "I know, but it's a start. Marshal Thompson already told you that if Union Pacific wasn't putting up such a fuss about keeping me locked up, he'd have let you bail me out days ago."

  "Instead you're sitting here like some kind of criminal."

  "They think I am a criminal,” she reminded him. “Please, let's not go through this again. I don't like it any more than you do, but there's nothing else we can do right now. What really bothers me is that I'm stuck here while the Express is about to go under."

  "I took care of that."

  "Caleb, what did you do?” she asked anxiously.

  "I transferred five thousand dollars to your account."

  "What?"

  "I figure that ought to keep you in business for a while. Even if you don't have much coming in, you'll have money in the bank to keep the Express open. At least until we clear your name and you can run things yourself."

  She threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Caleb, you're the most wonderful brother in the world."

  "You won't think so if I can't get you out of jail."

  "I'll always think so,” she promised. “If it weren't for you, the Adams Express would have gone out of business already."

  "'Scuse me. I don't mean to rush you, Caleb, but Travis and I need to go on rounds pretty soon. You know how Friday nights are around here,” the marshal said. “If it weren't so rowdy, I wouldn't even worry about it."

  "That's all right, Marshal. I was about to leave anyway.” He hugged Megan close. “I'll see you first thing in the morning."

  "Tell Rebecca and the children I said hello."

  "You're sure you're all right?"

  "I'm sure."

  He gave her one last squeeze before leaving the jail-house.

  "I'm gonna have to lock the door,” Thompson said, fitting the big skeleton key in the cell door. “You have everything you need for the night?"

  "I think so."

  "If it gets too noisy, pull that blanket over the window. And you have the other blanket for privacy,” he said, pointing to the heavy quilt he and Travis had hung earlier in the week. All she had to do was stretch it over the rope and her cell was closed off from the rest of the building.

  "I'll stop back later to see how you're doing."

  "Thank you,” she said as he moved away from the door. “Good night."

  She settled down on the corner of the cot and picked up one of the books Rebecca had given her. After only three pages, she realized she didn't have a clue as to what she'd just read. Her mind was on other things. One other thing, to be precise. She couldn't help but wonder where Lucas was, what he was doing, if he was all right.

  So much for washing your hands of him, she thought. With a sigh, she picked up the sewing supplies Rebecca had sent. What better way to keep her mind off Lucas than embroidery? After all, she could hardly concentrate on him if she was jabbing herself with a needle every other stitch.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  "Psst."

  Megan rolled to her side, away from the noise that threatened to rouse her from her deep, comfortable sleep.

  "Psst."

  She waved a hand in front of her face, thinking an annoying little insect had gotten through the blanket covering the cell window.

  "Wake up,” she heard.

  That was definitely not an insect. Annoying, yes. Insect, no. At least she had never met a mosquito that could talk. She threw off the covers, standing on the cot to tear the blanket from the window. Through the bars she saw only the shadow of a face. But she would have known that voice anywhere.

  "Lucas! Oh, God, Lucas.” She thrust her hands through the bars, ready to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him into oblivion.

  Then she remembered that he was the reason she was behind bars to begin with. She curled her fingers around the cold metal instead. She might have missed him like the blue blazes, but he had only been gone a week. A week wasn't nearly enough time to forgive him for not believing in her.

  "What are you doing here?” she asked, forcing herself to remain calm and keep her voice steady.

  "I came back."

  "Obviously,” she said, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing how much it pleased her.

  "I'm going to get you out of there,” he said. “Is anyone standing guard?"

  "Yes, the marshal, but—"

  "Stay put. And keep away from the window."

  "But—"

  "Shh. Don't make a sound. I don't want them to get suspicious. Now stand back."

  She retreated a step, watching as his form moved away from the window. Then she turned and pulled aside the quilt divider, walking out of the open cell. She tiptoed past the marshal dozing at his desk and out into the dark of night. Rounding the corner of the building, she saw Lucas tying one end of a rope to his saddlehorn. The other end was already secured to the bars of her cell window.

  "Need some help?” she asked.

  "No. You just keep quiet and stay away from the window."

  She shrugged and backed up a few feet. If he wanted to tear the jail apart, so be it.

  He lifted a foot to the stirrup. And then, so fast he almost fell, he spun around to face her.

  "What are you doing out here?” he asked in a harsh whisper, his eyes as wide as saucers.

  "I came out to see if you needed any help."

  "But you're ... But they ... But you...” He swallowed and tried again. “You're supposed to be locked up.