A Game of Chance (Sagebrush Brides Book 1)

Book 1: Sagebrush Brides

by Alexa Aston

Genres: Westerns; Historical Romance; Western Romance; western historical romance; American West; western romance; 1800s; American Historical Romance; gamblers; Sagebrush Bridges; Alexa Aston

Synopsis

Twins literally separated at birth put into motion a gripping tale involving danger, deception, and love . . .

Gambler Jed Stone journeys to California to track down Simon Morgan, the man responsible for his best friend’s death. Arrested for robbery and murder upon arrival, Jed is shocked to see his face on a wanted poster. He escapes before his hanging, unaware that the man guilty of those crimes is the twin brother he never knew existed. In a case of mistaken identity, Jed acquires the most famous whorehouse in San Francisco in a rigged card game his twin is meant to win.

Lily Frontiere takes over running Lucky Lil’s from her dying mother, the house madam who shielded her daughter by sending Lily away to boarding school. Lily’s intelligence and astonishing resemblance to her mother help in the successful charade, but she’s entered a world she knows little about. She clashes with the handsome stranger who turns up with the deed to Lucky Lil’s in hand, yet she is attracted to the charming risk taker.

Jed asks Madam Lil to stay on as he learns the business and is fooled by Lily’s performance until he stumbles upon the real Madam Lil and learns the truth behind Lily’s deception. His admiration for Lily blossoms into love.

But Simon Morgan seeks both Lily’s hand and ownership of Lucky Lil’s—and he will go to any means to possess both. Will Jed foil his nemesis while bringing his outlaw brother to justice and win Lily’s love?

Release date: October 12, 2021

Publisher: Oliver Heber Books

Print pages: 301

Sample

PROLOGUE

New York—1845

 

The whispers sounded like screams echoing in her head. All Cara Lee’s senses had magnified over the last twenty hours while she labored to bring forth the baby. She weakly gripped the cheap coverlet in her fists, willing the pain to go far away.

“The blood loss is great, sir. If you had only called me earlier, I might have—”

“Just leave. Give me a few minutes... with my wife.”

Gordon’s voice. Full of anguish. Oh, he was good.

The midwife walked reluctantly to the door. “Five minutes only, sir. The babe will soon be here. Please—”

“Yes, yes.” He eased the woman out the door and leaned against it, his long frame graceful as he removed a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his brow.

What had she seen in him?

Cara Lee wished she could reverse time, return to being the naïve schoolgirl she’d been before she listened to his flattery and lies. He was so handsome on the stage. She’d almost taken leave of her senses when he actually spoke to her after the performance.

Suddenly, another pain gripped her belly. She gave out a low, guttural howl.

“My God, Cara Lee. You sound like a wolf in the wild.”

Gordon pulled up the lone rickety chair, fixing the crease in his trousers before turning his attention to her.

“The midwife says you’re dying. Something about losing too much blood. Don’t worry about the baby. I’ll take him to Max.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “What if it’s a girl?” She wouldn’t have been bold enough to cross him before. Funny, how dying changed everything.

Her husband shrugged. “I suppose a girl will do. Either way, I’ll get my money.”

So, it was true. He’d married her for reasons other than love. She’d been tempted to go to Maximilian Fisher but was too ashamed of what he might say to her. And by marrying a penniless actor, her Boston Brahmin parents disowned their foolish only child. Her father’s word had always stood stronger than the law. If she’d appeared at her childhood home seeking assistance, the door would have been shut in her face. Not slammed in the heat of the moment, but quietly closed in cold admonition, locking her out from a much-needed refuge.

She had nowhere to turn in these last minutes. Not a friend left in the world. No one would mourn for her. Especially her cruel spouse.

Gordon removed his money clip. He placed a few bills on the bed, soaked in her sweat and water and blood.

“That’s enough to satisfy the midwife. Sorry I don’t have enough for your funeral, love.”

Cara Lee bit back the scream and held it in her throat. The contraction ended. She refused to give him another reason to belittle her.

To her surprise, Gordon pecked her on the cheek. He reeked of cheap perfume and another woman. He’d left her alone soon after her labor pains began, locked in this dismal bedroom, only returning an hour before with the midwife. Not that she could have gone anywhere with the crippling pains, or that she knew anyone in this city of strangers.

“Try to hurry up, dear. I’ve got an appointment, and I’ll still need to take the baby to a wet nurse that I’ve found. She’ll care for it a few weeks before I present it to Max. I’ll share with him how you passed in childbirth while I was on stage in Boston, and that I buried you there.” He chuckled. “You know, Reverend Monty could do your funeral.”

Cara Lee remembered the jovial man who had married them. He had smiled broadly at her throughout the brief ceremony.

“That would be nice,” she murmured, as she floated away. The odd feeling of euphoria was short-lived as she gasped, torn apart once again. She was past tears now. She only wished she were past the never-ending pain.

“No, come to think of it, he’s in Chicago. Doing King Lear, if I’m not mistaken.”

She tried to focus on what her husband said, but he didn’t make any sense.

Gordon beamed at her. “You didn’t really think we were married, pet? I thought you realized long ago Monty was a fellow thespian.”

The banging on the door interrupted him. “Please, sir. Let me back in.”

“Oh, all right.” Her lover—her great deceiver—opened the door and ushered the stout woman in. “Shall I wait in the hall?” he asked pleasantly.

The midwife came to the bed and lifted the covers. “The head! My God, the baby’s coming out. Push, missus, push. Push for your life!”

Cara Lee gritted her teeth and bore down hard. A great relief washed over her. She closed her eyes, unwilling to see the man who had meant everything to her and who now betrayed her in her greatest hour of need.

“There, little one, there you go.”

Cara Lee heard a slap and a hearty cry. She opened her eyes and saw her baby. Love burst from her.

“It’s a boy, missus. Hale and hearty. Even got a nice head of hair on him.”

Rustlings and soft noises were all Cara Lee heard as she faded in and out. Then in her exhaustion, she sat up.

“He’s mine,” she spit out, glaring at Gordon Fisher. “You can’t take him.”

“Oh, I can and I will, dear girl. This child is the meal ticket to my trust fund. You didn’t think Max would loosen his grip and leave all his money to a worthless actor now, did you?”

He took the baby, now clean and wrapped in his mother’s ivory shawl. He spoke in low tones to the midwife before turning back to her. “This child will prove I’m respectable. I thank you for all you did, my dear.”

Gordon retreated from the room. She let out an anguished cry.

“Well, I never...” The midwife shook her head. “Let’s see if I can make you comfortable, dearie.”

Cara Lee began to moan as the woman fussed over her. She was having trouble breathing again, just like before. A great weight pressed upon her.

“The worst is over now, missus. Let me just deal with the afterbirth. Maybe I can staunch the bleeding.”

As the midwife lifted the sheet again, she gasped. “Oh, no. Oh, my lord.”

Cara Lee broke out in a cold sweat. The pain was back again, this time even worse. Her body, her spirit, her faith in her husband. All had been broken. How much more could she bear?

The midwife clucked loudly. “Another one’s coming, child. You’ll have to be strong a little bit longer.”

She sat up again. The burning urge to push herself to her limit had returned. It was stronger than the first time. She bit her lip hard and willed the baby to exit the birth canal. The burden eased from her, and the midwife cut the cord as before.

“It’s another boy. Spittin’ image of the other tyke.”

Cara Lee smiled weakly at the newborn. The room began to grow dark. She reached out to touch her child. “I love you, sweet boy,” she croaked.

The baby gurgled happily.

“You mustn’t call him back. Don’t ever let...” Her voice trailed off.

A wet cloth glided across her forehead. What I wouldn’t give for a sip of cool water.

A few minutes later the midwife pulled the stained bedsheet over the woman’s head. She stared blankly at the wide-eyed baby in her arms.

“Lord Almighty. I never even knew your mama’s name.”

 

CHAPTER 1

California—1870

 

The sheriff dragged in another drunk and threw him into the overcrowded jail cell. “Just one more to add to the smell, fellas.”

He cackled as he hooked the key onto the ring hanging on the wall. He lumbered over to his chair and sat, throwing booted feet up on the desk. In under a minute, snores began.

Jed shook his head in disgust, wondering how this beer-bellied swine ever got elected to office.

He raised his hands above his head in a bored stretch. He had no room to move them anywhere else. The small cell was a temporary home to nine other men, ranging from their early twenties to a balding dentist that had to be over seventy. Most had committed petty crimes. Two were horse thieves and would hang with him.

Jed had landed in this jail for robbery and murder. The Landrey gang had held up two trains in Nebraska and another three in Texas. They’d shot a conductor trying to disarm one of the robbers. Killed an elderly passenger refusing to part with his gold pocket watch. Gutted a third they caught sneaking off one of the trains.

Hanging Hal, Stockton’s local judge, was getting married for the fourth time today. He’d promised his betrothed there’d be no killing on her wedding day.

Jed had until noon tomorrow to live.

Trouble was, he didn’t belong to the Landrey gang. The sheriff arrested him eight days ago in a saloon as he tried to find a pick-up card game. He protested his innocence while being escorted to the nearby jail. Once there, the sheriff thrust a flyer into his hands. One look at it silenced him.

Jed had stared at his picture on the wanted poster. Below the image were the name Cal Hart and a description of his crimes. He’d spent most of the past eight days trying to understand the fact that he had a double wandering around.

And he would hang for Cal Hart’s crime spree.

His trial consisted of little more than the charges being read. Hanging Hal decided that Jed would ‘hang from the neck until declared dead by an attending physician.’ With the way the judge thundered the phrase, he knew with certainty that Hal had delivered it often over the years.

He closed weary eyes, tired of staring at the peeling paint. He wondered idly if Louis had been partner to such despair in his last hours, as he awaited the hangman’s noose for a murder he didn’t commit.

The thought of his closest friend brought a bittersweet smile to his lips. Louis, the amiable drunk, told him over and over again, “I see big things for you, Jed Stone.”

Big things, indeed.

Jed regretted growing the heavy beard that itched unmercifully. It made him start every time he caught his image in a mirror, thinking a stranger glared back at him. His plan had been to alter his appearance enough so that Simon Morgan wouldn’t recognize him. Revenge was a risky venture. Jed wanted to catch the older gambler unaware.

The beard and a new haircut more than accomplished the mission. He now looked much older and doubted Morgan would know him, especially since their last encounter took place over a year ago. Once Simon took off from New Orleans, Jed spent months trying to find someone else to exonerate Louis in Sherry’s death. In the end, Louis was executed. Jed swore revenge. He made his way toward San Francisco, knowing Morgan would eventually turn up there. The city was a mecca to every gambler on the continent, and Morgan bragged on many occasions how he owned the city and had his best luck at its gaming tables.

Now he’d arrived in California, close enough to taste success—but the same fate awaited him as it had Louis. Jed would die as his friend had, for another man’s crimes, all because he grew a beard. He looked exactly like Cal Hart, the culprit on the wanted poster.

If only he’d stopped at a mustache.

The noise startled him from his reverie. An angry buzz grew closer. The prisoners sat up expectantly.

The door slammed open. A malevolent mob moved into the space. The sheriff, awakened, ambled to his feet.

“Now, come on, folks. No sense in getting all riled up. Just turn around and head back home.”

“They’re after him,” Tommy Bransford whispered in Jed’s ear, motioning across the cell.

Jed looked at the man brought in last night. He hadn’t uttered a word since being dropped into this hellhole.

“Man was having carnal relations with his twelve-year-old daughter,” the convicted horse thief murmured to Jed. “Town’s pretty worked up over it. The girl’s with child.”

Jed’s eyes widened at the information. The group of angry citizens inched closer to the sheriff, surrounding him in a semi-circle. Tension charged the atmosphere.

“We want him, Bill. Give him to us peaceful.”

Jed watched the sheriff’s eyes and knew when the lawman reached his decision.

“I won’t do it, Ezekiel.” The sheriff pulled his gun from its holster and slapped it onto the desk’s surface. It was followed by his badge and a pair of handcuffs.

“Call me Pilate if you will. I’m washing my hands of this whole mess. Won’t be responsible for what happens.”

He hitched up his pants and walked toward the door. The crowd parted for him to take his leave.

“You can find me in the saloon if you need me.” He chuckled. “Probably have the place all to myself. Bet there won’t even be a line outside Amanda Kaye’s door.”

Jed watched in amazement as the sheriff strolled out nonchalantly as if heading to attend a Sunday church picnic.

The air filled again with the current of hate. The mob’s energy returned. A man near the rear stepped forward, a burning torch in his hand.

“Let’s burn ‘im alive, Zeke.”

A rousing cheer went up. Ezekiel held up a hand.

“What about the other boys? Shouldn’t judge them.”

“Who cares?” a voice called. “They’s all criminals. They deserve to die.”

“Even the harmless drunks?” Ezekiel asked. He pointed to the far right. “I know that one is Lenny the barkeep’s cousin. I don’t think anyone wants Lenny mad at us.”

“Then let the drunks go.” A large, muscular man stepped forth, a knotted rope in his hands. “We’ll just string up the others, one at a time.” He coiled the rope around his hands and pulled it taut.

Jed took a calming breath. He’d been in worse situations before. The war saw to that. He’d learned to stay focused and always keep thinking. Too many men acted from their gut without playing out a scene first.

Jed knew what he would have to do.

The rabble pressed closer. The man with the torch shoved his way to the front as others began to press and nudge up to the bars.

Ezekiel took the ring of keys from the wall and slipped one into the lock. As he turned it, the crowd anxiously surged forward. Someone knocked the torch from the hand of its holder. It hit the man along his pants leg as it fell to the ground. The trousers caught fire.

Screaming, the man clutched the bars in front of him. The instant smell of charring flesh permeated the room. Shouts for a blanket were lost as the mob rushed to help.

Jed forced the cell bars back, springing from his prison. The other prisoners followed behind him. As fists flew, the kerosene lantern went out. He crouched low and moved along the floor toward the desk. He felt its leg and rose up, skimming his palms alongside the surface.

He grabbed the items on the desktop the sheriff left behind. In the general confusion and darkness, he rushed in the direction of the door. He found the knob and turned it, squeezing through a narrow slit.

Darkness closed around him. Night had fallen a couple of hours before. Jed hustled down the main street, keeping close to the buildings for cover. He pocketed the cuffs and slipped the pistol in at the small of his back. The badge he pinned on his chest.

He saw a lantern in the distance. If memory served correctly, it was near the livery. He was in need of a horse. He couldn’t outrun the mob on foot. Sooner or later, someone would realize he’d escaped.

He prayed Rascal was there, but would take any mount.

Jed vaulted the fence silently. The corral was empty. He made his way to the barn door and opened it noiselessly. The sweet smell of hay and horseflesh greeted him.

“Rascal?”

A nickering response told him to steer to the right. He located the top of the first stall door, and by touch moved along the inside of the barn.

“Rascal?”

A loud snort echoed near his ear.

“Well, excuse me, boy, but I was detained.” He slipped into his horse’s stall and rubbed the animal’s alert ears with affection.

“We need to shake the dust of this sorry place from our feet.”

He found Rascal’s blanket and saddle. Jed had experience slipping out of darkened towns so tacking Rascal up took only a minute.

He stroked the horse’s blaze. “Let’s go, fella.”

His eyes adjusted to the unlit barn. He quietly led the gelding from the stall. They crossed the pen and he eased open the gate. Once through, he swung into Rascal’s saddle.

“We need to fly like the devil,” he told the bay.

Rascal responded to the slight touch of his boots. Jed raced west down the dirt street of Stockton, determined to find Cal Hart before the law found him again.

 

CHAPTER 2

 

Jed surveyed the lighted house from across the street. Two men wove drunkenly up the stairs leading to the front porch, both laughing loudly. They paused and knocked. A moment later, the door opened. Music wafted out into the night air as they entered.

It was near ten. Jed desperately needed a few hours sleep. He’d constantly looked over his shoulder to make sure no one followed him from Stockton. After three days of hard riding in all kinds of circles, he hoped he’d shaken off anyone on his trail. He figured the only person who would receive less sympathy than an accused murderer would be an escaped murderer, regardless of whether he proclaimed his innocence or not.

The night air caressed his face. He’d taken time yesterday to rid himself of the cumbersome beard. The image reflected in the still pool he’d used as a mirror showed a very different man from both the clean-shaven and bearded Jed Stone. He was still amazed how a mustache and a change in his hair’s part and length made such a difference. He doubted even Elmira, who’d been at his birth, would know him at this point.

San Francisco had been his eventual destination. He’d just hastened his arrival here. He knew next to nothing about the place, other than it flourished during the Gold Rush of Forty-Nine. Now the tenth largest city in the country, it was famous for gambling fever. Miners and entrepreneurs who overran the place twenty years ago brought that element of thrill with them. Fortunes were won and lost here on the turn of a single card.

It was his kind of place.

Louis had been the one to mention Lucky Lil’s. He said it was a smaller house on Kearney Street, one with pretty girls of all races and any game of chance imaginable. Jed had nowhere else to go. He might as well start at Lil’s.

He hitched Rascal to a post across the street and gave him a pat. “You should be full. That hay wasn’t two hours ago. Let me grab some shut-eye and then we’ll figure out our next move.”

Jed crossed the street and strolled up the walkway. Louis said Lil’s serviced all kinds. After his long, dusty ride, he prayed they’d still welcome him. Of course, a whorehouse was a whorehouse, and he did have money to spend. At least, he had what he hid in his boots before that ornery sheriff arrested him and pocketed his money clip.

If he ever found Simon Morgan, he’d have a whole lot more. Jed intended to get back every dime Morgan took from him and then some.

A tall Indian answered his knock. His smooth skin was a deep brown, the color of fine leather. He could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty years of age.

“Welcome to Lucky Lil’s.”

The Indian ushered him inside, where the piano player tinkled the ivories with Camptown Races. The thick carpet was a bit worn, as was the wallpaper, but Jed recognized it as Aubusson. A quick glance told him the furniture was Italian and of good quality. It had seen better days, but he supposed Lil’s did business year-round.

He glanced up at the crystal chandelier in the hallway, polished to perfection.

“Might I recommend a certain girl to you, or are you here for a game of chance?”

The low voice came from his left. Jed turned to see a raven-haired woman with hard eyes staring up at him. She was pretty in a garish way. Heavy make-up made it impossible to discern her age. Her eyes, rimmed with thick, black eyeliner, glittered like amber. Bright red lipstick and rouge made her pale skin even paler.

“I’m Lil. What can I do for you?”

“A friend recommended the place. I’d like a woman and a room for the night.”

The madam frowned at him. “I can provide the first easily but you’ll have to be out by three. House policy.”

He snorted in amazement. “You’re joking.”

Lil glared daggers in return. “I never joke about business, ma cherie.”

She gestured to the Indian who’d received him. He stepped immediately to her side.

“Find Gertie.”

The man nodded and headed up the staircase.

“You’ll like Gertie. Actually, she’ll like you. She has a thing for men with intense blue eyes.” Lil sized him up. “She also likes them tall. A little cleaner than you but I’ll send up hot water. I’m sure you’d like to freshen up after a long ride. You have just arrived in town?”

Jed fought the chill that raced through him. Lil was one wise cookie. “Hot water would be much appreciated.”

A petite blonde flew down the stairs, holding her red skirts high to show off trim ankles and more than a little of her calves. She stopped directly in front of him. “Ooh, Lil, he’s a looker, even with the grime.” She slipped her arm possessively through his. “Come on, sugar. We can think of all kinds of things to do between now and three.”

Gertie guided him up the steps. As they moved higher, Jed surveyed the open room off to the right, seeing gaming tables. Suddenly, he froze.

“What’s wrong, sugar? Someone walk over your grave?” Gertie giggled girlishly, a sound that seemed out of place for her line of work.

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

They turned left and went down a long hallway peppered with many doors. Gertie paused at a door third from the end.

“Go on in and get comfortable. I’ll see to that hot water.” She gave his cheek a pat and winked seductively.

He entered the room and let out a sigh.

Simon Morgan was here, in San Francisco, right at Lucky Lil’s. Jed wished he could deal with his nemesis tonight but he was bone tired. Besides, he would need all his wits about him when they did meet. He also didn’t want Simon to know how little cash he had at the moment. Before he could embark upon any scheme, he needed to up his stakes considerably. Still, he’d been on a lucky streak before he’d hit Stockton. He knew it hadn’t tapped out yet.

When he was ready, he would meet up with Simon Morgan—on his terms.

Gertie returned with hot water in two tin buckets, easily maneuvering them for a woman, though she sloshed water everywhere in the process. “Let me help you clean up. What’s your name, sugar?”

“Bret.” He rarely used his real name, like many of the gamblers he knew, since they often danced along the edge of the law. Jed doubted he would respond to it if a passerby called out to him.

“Well, Bret, you and me are going to have a fine time. I just feel it in my bones.” She unbuttoned his shirt as she spoke and slipped a hand inside. As she stroked his chest, she looked into his eyes.

“My, you have the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, just like a clear pond. I ain’t never seen eyes so pretty on a man.”

She pulled his shirt away from his shoulders and leaned closer. “Let’s get this off, sugar. I think you’ll cool off a spell if we do.”

He let Gertie fuss over him. It was a luxury he’d done without, growing up. Elmira wasn’t much of a toucher, despite being a midwife. Jed never saw her deliver a baby, but he was hard-pressed to think of her as nurturing.

Soon he was fairly clean, although he worked up a nice sweat sporting with Gertie. She was easy to please and now lay cuddled against his side. He’d never been able to sleep with a woman in his bed, though, and he needed rest desperately.

“Gertie?”

“Hmm?”

He kneaded her shoulder gently. “Do you think you could leave and let me get some sleep?”

The girl’s mouth turned into an instant pout. “Didn’t I please you, Bret?” She took his hand and entwined her fingers with his. “I was just getting started, sugar. Surely, you don’t want to stop now?”

He gave her a smile, the one that he knew melted most women to their core. He reserved it for when he wanted something badly enough. He seldom had to use it.

“You were grand, honey. I just need to get rested up, is all.” He gave her a sensual look. Lowering his voice a notch, he said, “I won’t be able to if you stay right beside me.”

Her eyelashes fluttered prettily. “I won’t cause you a bit of trouble.”

He grinned at her. “I’d say ‘Trouble’ is your middle name.” He kissed her, a slow, deep kiss, one that would please any woman. “I just have to get some shut-eye.”

“As long as you’re out by three.”

Jed sat up. “What is this obsession with three? That Lil woman gave me heck for questioning her about it.”

Gertie’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, you don’t want to get on Lil’s bad side, Bret. Her rule’s hard and fast. She’s had it nigh on twenty years, ever since she came here from France and set up business back during the Rush.”

He brushed a soft kiss along her jaw. “I bet we can break it just this once.”

Her mouth set quicker than concrete. “No. Lil’s good to her girls. It took me three years to work my way in here. I ain’t going to give her a reason to kick me out. Not even for the bluest eyes west of the Rockies.”

Jed knew only one thing would change Gertie’s mind. He reached for his trousers and removed a ten dollar gold piece. He placed it in her palm and wrapped her fingers around it.

“Just bunk in with a friend for a few hours. If I can sleep until five, I’ll be outta here. Maybe there’s a back staircase I could slip down?”

Gertie opened her hand to stare at the money. He saw her toss the argument back and forth in her mind. When she made a fist with the piece inside, he knew he’d won.

After all, he was a gambler.

“Promise you’ll be quieter than a dead mouse?”

Jed crossed his heart. “On my honor as a former Union soldier.”

She left the bed and slipped on a wrapper. She opened the door a crack before motioning to him. He pulled on his trousers and moved to her.

“Poke your head out and look left,” she instructed. “And do it quickly.”

He did so, spying a heavy door at the end of the dimly lit hall. He leaned back into the room. “Outside door?”

Gertie nodded. “It’s a separate staircase that goes down into the back yard. There’s a hen house and a small barn. Lil is sweet about us always having fresh milk and butter. Says it’s good for our complexions.”

She stared at him anxiously. “You can’t tell anyone about this. Don’t go bragging or nothing after you leave.”

He gave her a solemn look. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, Gertie. I may want to see you again.”

She beamed at him, pleased at his words. “Then I’ll be two doors down, toward the staircase. Same side of the hall. That’s if you need me. You will be out by five?”

He nodded. She left the room and he returned to the bed. Too tired to remove his pants again, he sank back onto the feather pillow and a dreamless sleep.

***

Jed awoke to the prickling. It had always been a warning sign. He went to the window. In the faint light he consulted his pocket watch. Quarter to five. Time to go.

In less than a minute, he slipped into his boots and shirt. His hat sat back in the Stockton jail. Fortunately, he had the grace of a jungle cat. He doubted anyone would hear him leave. If the three o’clock rule was as sacred as he’d been led to believe, he assumed all the whores and help would have bedded down a good hour ago. They’d all be in a deep sleep.

He cracked open the door. No sounds stirred from the hall or below. He eased open the door and looked out.

Holy Moses! A woman. Coming down the darkened hallway.

Jed ducked back inside the doorframe. Before he closed the door, a loud banging sounded downstairs.

 

CHAPTER 3

 

The knock startled her—but not half as much as the man who grabbed her. He snaked his left arm around her waist. His right hand covered her mouth.

Lily struggled as he snapped her back close against him. Through her thin silk wrapper she felt hard chest. Her hands, locked onto his forearm, touched tension coiled tightly around muscle.

She heard Ben hollering, “Hold your horses.”

Instinctively, her gut told her the visitors below would be looking for this man.

He whispered the same into her ear, his mustache tickling as he asked, “Can you buy me some time?”

She nodded, not sure if she would or not. The stranger dropped his hand from her mouth but still kept her next to him.

It surprised her when she said, “Follow me.”

Reluctantly, Jed let her go. She had a freshness about her. The scent of strawberries. He wondered why she was in a place like this, with her silk wrapper and sweet curves.

She moved quickly to the room on the end, the one by the back stairs. He heard the front door being opened below. Muffled voices caused his prickling to ignite like wildfire.

Hot on her heels, he followed her into the darkened chamber. In the faint light he made out a bed and a shape within it. Maybe others had broken the sacred curfew.

The room had an odd smell, almost medicinal in nature which his mind didn’t have time to process. He felt along the furniture. Must be a bureau from its shape and length.

The girl opened a wardrobe door. He heard the swish of clothes being pushed aside, then a spring popping.

“Get in,” she whispered. “It has a false front. It may be a while. Be patient.”

Jed climbed in on blind faith. He willed his muscles to keep from moving when he heard noise at the door.

“Miz Lil. Men lookin’ for someone.”

The house madam’s deep voice answered. Jed bit the inside of his mouth. This must be her room. The girl who brought him here had grit. Lil herself must’ve been the shape he saw in the bed. He wondered if old Lil knew who graced her wardrobe.

“I’m not my usual beautiful self, gentlemen. Sorry I can’t receive you now.”

He imagined she barely opened her door, not wanting her visitors to see her rumpled from sleep. Even whores liked to look good for men.

Jed heard the sneer in their voices as they spoke. He strained to remember if any of the muffled voices sounded familiar and thought he recognized the Stockton sheriff’s.

“We’re looking for a man, ma’am.”

Lil chuckled low. “Aren’t we all?”

“We tracked him here. Found his horse hitched across from your place. He’s about two inches over six feet. One-eighty or one-ninety. Dark blond hair and a beard. There’s a reward for his sorry hide.”

“Sounds like a lot of men who come here,” the madam purred. “Maybe you can help jog my memory, boys.”

He listened at the long pause. He assumed someone was pulling out money and counting it into Miz Lil’s greedy little hand. He hoped he’d go higher than thirty pieces of silver but he wasn’t counting on it.

“Yes, he was with me, gentlemen. Left here shortly before three. You know my famous rule.”

Jed heard the nonchalance in her voice. “I don’t know or care where he went. Wish I would’ve known about the reward. I would’ve turned in his sorry hide. Especially since he wasn’t much in bed.”

Laughter echoed. The tightening in his chest loosened a bit. So, she wasn’t going to tip her hand. But did she have to save his hide at the expense of his reputation?

He shook his head. He’d choose being alive with a reputation in shreds any day. It was better than accompanying the voices he heard to God knew where.

Their conversation grew dim. Jed relaxed further until he heard Lil bark out, “Go back to bed! Catch up on your beauty sleep, mes amis. I’ll expect smiling faces and no dark circles come the morrow. Vite! Vite!”

Silence reigned for a good half-hour. Jed grew tired on his feet, being used to conducting most of his business seated at a gaming table. Little air circulated in the small space. At least he hadn’t buttoned his shirt before. That gave him some small relief.

Before he realized it, his hiding place was revealed. The shape of a woman stood before him in the growing light. She wore the same low-cut gown from the previous evening, her make-up caked on. He wondered if she slept in it.

In an angry whisper she hissed, “May I have the name of the only fool who ever broke my rule?”

“Maybe I’m the only fool who’s ever been caught.” He stepped from the wardrobe, causing her to back up.

“If I’d been gone five minutes earlier like I planned, you would’ve never known I hung around.”

The madam shrugged, a Gallic gesture he recognized from his time with Louis. It could mean many things.

“You can’t go now. They might be watching despite what I said.” She walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside. “Although they said a man with a beard,” she mused.

Jed stretched his arms over his head. The bedchamber seemed large as a barn after his cramped sojourn.

“Miz Lil?”

She turned and studied him thoroughly. He swallowed. It couldn’t hurt to ask.

“I’m running a bit low on cash now. I was wondering if you might want to split that money they gave you.”

The look she gave him would ice hell over and the Seven Seas, to boot. Miz Lil was one tough customer. He doubted she serviced anyone nowadays. He wondered if she’d been any good at it in younger times. Despite her lush figure, he didn’t picture her tenderly cooing over any man.

“Go back to Gertie’s room. I’ll deal with her later.”

Jed remembered the fear the girl had at being kicked out of Madam Lil’s establishment. She’d risked her neck for him. He wouldn’t abandon her.

“You can’t blame Gertie for what happened.”

Lil’s smoky voice dropped. “I can, and I will. She knows the consequences of breaking my rules.”

Jed stepped close to the madam. “I threatened her, ma’am. Slapped her around. Told her I’d do worse if she didn’t leave me to get a couple hours of shut-eye.”

Lil laughed harshly. “You don’t strike me as the type who’d swat a fly.”

He grabbed her, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. His face was inches from hers as he revealed, “I did a lot worse in the war. Those things stay with you. Don’t push me, Lil. I’m not as affable as I look.”

He broke his hold and backed off. He didn’t catch any fear in her eyes. He only saw admiration.

“Go back to bed,” she ordered. “And get cleaned up before you see me. The staff eats around four. I’ll expect you after that in the upstairs parlor.”

Jed understood the dismissal and retreated back down the hall. The bed called invitingly to him. He slipped out of his boots and crawled onto it face down. He snuggled up with the pillow, the tension dropping from his body in waves.

As he drifted away, he wondered what happened to the girl who hid him. What troubled him more, though, was why a woman twenty years his senior had him feeling so randy.

 

CHAPTER 4

 

Lily sipped from the Waterford tumbler on her dressing table. The brandy slid down her throat and settled in her stomach, spreading its magic glow. She twirled the crystal glass in her hand, watching the amber liquid slosh lazily.

She set down the drink and reached for her cigarette, taking a long drag and exhaling. She would never acquire a taste for tobacco but her mother was known for smoking. That and years of hard drinking helped create the low, musical voice which purred like a cat for men.

She wondered what her schoolmates would say if they could see her now. They wouldn’t be half as shocked by the smoking and drinking as they would if they heard about her attendance at this morning’s suffragette meeting at Dashaway Hall. The convention drew women from all backgrounds, but not the Boston blue-bloods and other East coast socially prominent girls from her boarding school. They would be appalled by her presence at such a gathering.

Lily loved every minute of it.

She’d read from an early age, thanks to her nanny. She’d been lucky to have the time with Sarah Hall. A proper Englishwoman whose husband had been caught up in Gold Fever, Sarah eventually joined him in California, only to learn he’d been shot dead over a disputed claim. With little money and no connections, Sarah wound up at Lucky Lil’s, desperate to do anything.

Even the unthinkable.

Fortunately, Lilian Frontiere recognized Sarah’s intellectual talents, and put her to work as nanny to her only child. Sarah exposed Lily to literature and art and gave her an appreciation for the city of San Francisco.

When Sarah passed on from an unexpected heart attack, Lily was desolate. Her mother decided at thirteen it was time her daughter spread her wings and so she’d been sent to school back East just before the war broke out. The next several years, she’d been safely ensconced in a female academy. Despite her background being so different from the other students, she thrived.

“Lily?”

She sprang from her chair and went to the bed.

“Maman? How do you feel?”

She fussed over Lilian, straightening her pillows, brushing her raven hair, giving her lukewarm tea. She didn’t have much success with the latter. Lilian ate or drank very little nowadays, saying most things upset her stomach.

“I have things to tell you, Lily.” Her mother sighed. “I have made a mess.”

Lily clucked her tongue. “No worrying. We’ll deal with it, Maman. I have gone through the books. I will fix things, even if I am rather put out with you.”

Lilian’s eyebrows raised. “Oui?”

“Oh, Maman, you spent far too much on our trip to Europe and all those fancy clothes. I’m sure my education cost a fortune, too. Why did you do it? I would have been content to stay in San Francisco and be with you.”

“You worry too much, ma cherie.” Her mother stroked Lily’s cheek gently. “I wanted you to see Paris. To show you the places of my youth. I needed you to see your roots, Lily. Feel the spirit of the people. Taste remarkable wines and melt at desserts that only those in Paris can create.”

She sniffed. “Well, I saw a lot more than my roots. Look where that trip got me.”

Lilian sighed. “Not all men are Pierre, ma petite.”

Her mouth tightened more than the Mona Lisa’s at the mention of Pierre’s name. “At least I found I don’t need any man—except as a client.”

She removed the tray holding the tea from the bed and placed it on the floor. “The gaming is going well. Simon Morgan had a good run last night, but he draws in a crowd willing to risk more, so we came out fine.”

“Did he bother you?”

Lily kept her face a mask. “Simon always irritates me. You know that.”

“You are being evasive, ma douce.” Lilian winced, her face screwing up tightly.

“I’ll get the belladonna.”

She went to the dressing table. Placing several drops into a tall glass, she poured water over it.

“Drink this,” she told her mother.

 Lilian fought to get down the contents. Lily was grateful that belladonna was so readily available. Many of the girls at Lucky Lil’s took it for the pain they suffered from being laced so tightly into their corsets. It had been the one thing that offered her mother any sort of relief in recent weeks.

“Before I fall asleep, we must talk, Lily.”

She took her mother’s hand in hers. It was cold to the touch. She rubbed it and held it close to her face.

“Nothing is that important. Wait until tomorrow.”

“We are running out of tomorrows. There can be no more putting it off.” Her mother stared into her eyes. “I’ve been gambling.”

She dropped her mother’s hand. “Gambling?”

Lilian Frontiere had two cardinal rules. One was that all guests were escorted off the premises by three each night. It had set up exclusivity to Lucky Lil’s. Men came in droves to their house. Lily remembered in the early days how they had to turn men away, only accepting those who brought a letter of introduction from a previous, steady customer.

The second rule had been no gambling. Ever. From the house madam at the top down to the lowest kitchen maid, Lilian Frontiere demanded that gambling not touch their lives.

“It’s a disease,” she’d drilled into her daughter and her staff many times. “It only brings heartache in the end.”

 That’s why this new information startled her. Of course, it would explain where such vast amounts of money had gone with nothing to show for it.

“Why?”

Lilian shrugged. “Why? Why not? How does anything like that ever start? I ran a little short one month. It’s expensive to run a proper house. The payoffs to the police. The fees for licensing. All the salaries.”

Lily mentally ticked off just how many salaries. The domestics that kept Lucky Lil’s sparkling clean. A large cook staff that fed the girls before business began and set up the lavish buffets for which the house was known. The bouncers, rarely needed, but always evident in case trouble broke out. Raymond, their long-time piano player, and the nightly string quartet that played during his breaks.

Thank goodness they didn’t pay the girls themselves a salary. Lilian simply split fifty-fifty with them, taking the girls’ wages from what they collected from their clients.

“I thought I knew enough after all these years. I can spot a cheater at any given table.” A fat tear slid down her mother’s cheek. Suddenly she seemed old to Lily. “I was wrong.”

Lilian shifted, grimacing again. “I had a short run of very good luck but I had caught the fever by then. I couldn’t stop. When the bad streak hit, I thought just one more toss of the dice would begin another good run.

“It didn’t.”

She worded her question carefully. “How much are we in for, Maman?”

Lilian shook her head sorrowfully. “I confess I put the house up at the bank. It is mortgaged to the hilt.”

“When does the first payment come due?”

“At the end of February.”

“Next month,” echoed Lily.

“I don’t know what to do.” Lilian’s words began to slur. The belladonna was taking affect. She watched her mother drift into sleep as her own anger bubbled up and threatened to spill over.

She went and sat down at the dressing table again, her thoughts returning to Simon Morgan. If she were dressed as herself, he would’ve pawed at her again last night. She knew Morgan wanted her—and Lucky Lil’s.

Did he know the bank now held the deed?

She rearranged the jars in front of her. She was furious at her mother, frustrated by what she’d learned. She finally calmed herself, and skillfully smoothed on the layers of cosmetics as she thought how Simon would pounce on them like a wolf among tender sheep. What could she do to prevent that? Ideas flitted through her mind.

None of them held the answers she longed for.

When she completed her work, she stared at the image in the mirror.

She was Lilian Frontiere.

At first when Lil’s health began to fail, she took off the occasional night. Lily noticed a subtle shift in attitude at those times. From the clients. From the girls themselves. People had a tendency to slack off without her mother’s constant presence to keep them in line.

Respect came to Lil through her hard work and determination. Lily realized she couldn’t step in and command a room the way her mother did.

Instead, she became Madam Lil.

They had always been the same size. That was a blessing. Though Lily never had dressed provocatively as Lilian did, she filled out the clothes as well as her mother. She covered her cinnamon-colored hair with an expensively-made wig. With the right touches of make-up and the raven-black hair, she was a dead ringer for Madam Lil.

Lily enjoyed the challenge of her charade. She had excelled in dramatic arts, winning the lead in many school productions. Many of her mannerisms were already similar to Lil’s. Her impersonation was the challenge of a lifetime.

She had pulled it off. Of course, Ben and her mother knew but she had the others fooled. Her gestures, her pitch, her stance—they all had become Lil’s. The staff thought Lily was staying with a friend on and off. Her infrequent appearances received little notice. Her mother had never allowed her to partake of life in the whorehouse.

She knew the other girls, many younger than she, thought her aloof and intellectual. Lily did enjoy chatting with the kitchen staff. She had spent many good times there, gossiping while the bread rose and fruit was sliced and diced. Other things she picked up after many years of observing, blending into the background, making herself as oblivious as possible.

The act gave meaning to her life. She had longed to go on stage when she finished school, but Lilian strictly forbade it. Her dream had been to go to the university, but females weren’t allowed to do so by the State of California. At times, she even wished to settle down and raise a family.

But where would a girl like her meet a decent gentleman? In the next bedroom? Or shooting craps at the tables downstairs?

Suddenly, she remembered the feel of the man against her. His muscled chest. The strong arms that had encircled her.

“He was totally fooled,” she said aloud.

The notion pleased her. She had also liked how he took up for Gertie. Most men wouldn’t have given the whore a thought. This one actually lied about beating Gertie, simply to convince her to keep the tart on. She royally chewed Gertie’s ears afterwards. But she gave the girl one more chance. Simply because the man had seemed so... nice. And he had a smile like an angel.

A soft tap sounded at the door. Ben entered with her dinner tray.

“How’s Miss Lil?”

“About the same,” she told the Cherokee. He’d always been in her life. She didn’t know his connection with Lilian, but he was one of her mother’s closest friends.

“Go ahead and eat. I’ll sit with you and then with her a spell.”

Lily daintily bit into the baked chicken. She glanced across the room at her sleeping mother. Feelings of love washed over her.

She had to forgive her mother for her indiscretions. They all occurred for Lily’s own benefit. However misguided, Lilian loved her only child very much. Now Lily had to find a way to make money–and fast. If she didn’t, the only home she’d known would soon belong to another.

She wondered if the stranger down the hall could help.