Nevada Dawn

Book 11: Panorama of the Old West

by Georgina Gentry

Genres: Historical Fiction; Sagas; Historical Romance

Synopsis

A dangerous renegade. . . A beautiful debutante. . . And a passion that knows no bounds! The notorious outlaw called Nevada didn't ride for gold. . . he rode for vengeance. But this night he'd found a treasure beyond compare: Her name was Cherish. Swept up into Nevada's strong arms, carried through the darkness into a wild land, she felt her body stirring against the bare chest of her virile captor. As he held her close and stroked her softly, he made a ransom demand that left Cherish trembling: one night in his bed and he'd return her to her bridegroom. Yet if she surrendered her innocence in a single ravishing encounter, could she forget this desperado's kisses, come the dawn? Or would she burn for his loving caresses now and forevermore? Acclaim for bestselling author Georgina Gentry. . . "Strongly crafted characters. . . Sizzling sexuality—what more can a reader yearn for?" — Rendezvous "Nobody does it like [Georgina Gentry] does!" — Barbra Critiques

Release date: May 16, 2014

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 448

Sample

One May night, 1887

If he couldn’t have the rich white man’s daughter, once again he’d steal his gold.

On a rise overlooking the railroad tracks in the lonely Nevada night, he sat his pinto stallion surrounded by his war party.

The moonlight shone on his lithe, half-naked frame, the war paint on his massive bare chest and handsome face. From his Paiute chief father, he had inherited his size and strength, but it was his beautiful Cheyenne-Spanish mother who had given him his fiery, passionate nature.

His Medicine Hat stallion snorted and stamped its hooves, moving under him, impatient to run with the night wind. Its natural coloring, with spots on its head and chest thought magic by many tribes, was painted as garishly as its rider, with red handprints and other coup marks. The brave patted the stallion’s neck and watched the far horizon. He took a deep breath of the scent of cactus and sagebrush, listened to the sounds borne on the wind. To the east, he heard the echo of the coming train, its whistle lonely as a coyote singing. “It comes now,” he grunted in a mixture of Paiute and border Spanish to his men. They nodded, confident in his leadership.

The moonlight reflected off the mountains in the distance, the metal tracks gleaming below them like two silver ribbons. White men and a Mexican rode with him also. To the old gringo, he said in English, “Ben, is the track blocked, the wood ready?”

The old Southerner took out his harmonica, played an off-key tune as he nodded. “Charlie’ll set the blaze when he sees the signal. That Trans-Western will have plenty of time to stop when it comes ’round the bend.”

“It is good.” He intended to steal the train’s gold, but he didn’t want to hurt the innocent. “It is the fifth month, it means luck.”

To the Paiute, five was a magic number. Perhaps this raid would be special. In the distance, the sound of the laboring engine drifted faintly to where they waited on the rise overlooking the track. The Nevada night brought the scent of smoke from the iron horse to mingle with the slight fragrance of desert flowers.

A cloud drifted across the moon. He looked up at the wispy, almost scarlet shadow. Blood on the moon foretells bad luck, he thought with a shiver, and almost crossed himself. Old habits died hard. Once he had lived as a white man, but that had been years ago, before . . .

He could not think about her now; he would enjoy his revenge, think of the gold and how it would feed the desperate braves who rode with him. Even though they feared robbing the Iron Horse would bring them bad medicine, greedy government policies and corrupt Indian agents had brought desperation to these remnants of his father’s people. Over the rise to the east, the train chugged like a long black snake. Its headlight gleamed through the darkness like one yellow eye as it crawled across the desolate stretch.

“Now?” Mex asked in Spanish.

The big warrior nodded, reached for an arrow, and said a silent little prayer. Whether he prayed to the white man’s God or the primitive gods of his father’s people, he couldn’t be sure. He hoped luck rode with them tonight.

The Mexican outlaw struck a match even as the warrior put the arrow to his bow. For just a moment his rippling muscles tensed as he pulled the string taut and thought how much better he was with a pearl-handled forty-five. Still, the wood felt natural to his big hands. Mex lit the cloth-wrapped arrowhead and the warrior pulled and let go, sending the flaming beacon in a powerful arc across the desert sky to alert Charlie Whitley waiting in the brush on the other side of the tracks. Even as the train rounded the bend in the distance, the tinder-dry wood piled on the tracks roared into flame.

Between his powerful thighs, the leader felt the mustang stallion snort and stamp its hooves. “Easy, Sky Climber,” he said, patting the spotted neck. Sired by the greatest wild mustang stud of the Sierra Nevada mountains, the beautiful horse was always eager and impatient to run.

He felt his own heart beat faster as he shifted his tall frame, feeling the cool desert wind like a kiss on his almost naked body. The moonlight reflected off the ring on his hand. A white man’s ring. The memories came flooding back and they hurt even now, after all these years. He pushed the troubling thoughts away and concentrated on the train moving along the gleaming rails. The engineer had not yet seen the burning barricade, but when he topped the next rise, he would have to throw on his brakes.

Jack Whitley cursed, the sweat gleaming on his white face. “I hope they got an express car full of gold so we can make one last haul and quit! ”

The warrior didn’t answer as he watched the train. He expected to be killed eventually and he accepted it; wasn’t even sure he cared anymore. He didn’t rob Trans-Western Railroad for the money; his needs were simple. Yet he got some satisfaction in knowing the starving Paiutes who followed him could use the salt, flour, and warm blankets the gold could buy.

His heart beating faster at the coming danger, he signaled his men. With the braves yelping their war chants, the little band galloped down off the rise toward the train so they could be there when it reached the flaming barricade and screeched to a stop.

Inside the Blassingames’ ornate private railroad car, Cherish stood modeling the lavish white wedding gown for half a dozen awestruck friends. “Well, what do you think? Will Pierce like it?”

The elegant young ladies paused in their ohhs and aahs. “Like it?” Hetty gushed. “Why, Cherish Blassingame, it is absolutely the most beautiful dress anyone ever had. I’ll bet Frances Cleveland didn’t have such a lovely dress!”

“She didn’t,” Cherish said. “Don’t you remember Daddy and I were invited to the reception last year when the President married his ward?”

“Oh, you get invited to things we only dream of,” Agnes said. The other girls nodded and giggled in agreement.

“Well, maybe a back East shopping trip for my trousseau wasn’t such a bad idea after all.” She surveyed herself critically in the mirror at the end of the swaying car and readjusted the imported lace veil on her blond curls. She felt almost guilty that she didn’t look forward to this wedding with as much excitement as her friends. “Are all of you happy with your bridesmaid’s dresses?”

“Oh, yes!” the pretty, well-bred ladies chimed in. “Taking a shopping trip in your father’s private car was a lot more fun than just staying in California and having seamstresses make our gowns.”

Cherish shrugged and stared at her reflection critically. “After all, Daddy does own the railroad, and it was his suggestion that I bring you along.”

The railcar swayed lightly and the whistle blew. Only a few more hours, she thought, and the train will be arriving in Sacramento. Daddy and Pierce would be at the station to meet them early in the morning. This would certainly be the biggest wedding California ever saw, but then the public would expect the president of Trans-Western Railroad to host a lavish celebration when his only child married.

Hetty wrinkled her freckled nose and sighed. “Is it true you’ll be going to England on your honeymoon?”

“Of course.” Cherish studied the satin bodice in the mirror. “It’s Victoria’s Golden Jubilee and Daddy has promised to present us to the queen.”

She didn’t want to take Daddy along en her honeymoon, but Pierce didn’t seem to mind. And after all, she thought guiltily, her birth had cost Amos Blassingame his beautiful young wife. He often reminded Cherish of that.

Plump Gladys reached for a bonbon. “So are you and your handsome groom going to live on his family’s ranch?”

She would like that, but Pierce Randolph was ambitious and Daddy had promised to put his power and influence behind him. “Daddy’s asked us to live with him, and after all, the house is so big and empty.” As she began unbuttoning the tiny buttons at her throat she wondered if Pierce’s rogue brother would show up for the wedding. No one really knew where he was. “You know there’s some talk of Pierce running for office.”

“As well as he’s doing in business, he’s probably looking for new worlds to conquer,” Hetty said with a trace of envy and plopped down in a chair. “He’s such a catch, Cherish!”

She continued to undo the tiny buttons, not answering, but no one seemed to notice. They were giggling and chattering among themselves. What more could a bride want? Nothing, she supposed; certainly any of her friends, as rich and privileged as they all were, would be delighted to change places with her as she walked down that aisle less than a month from now.

Her musings were interrupted by the long shriek of the whistle as if the engineer were attempting to scare a cow off the tracks. “What on earth—?”

She never finished. The brakes screamed as the whistle blasted a warning. The swaying train hurtled forward even though she felt the engineer applying the brakes. The girls around her shrieked and fell as they scurried in confusion.

Cherish grabbed for the back of a plush scarlet chair, but it didn’t halt her tumble. For a long moment, everyone clung to whatever they could grab while the brakes protested, furniture overturned and glass crashed to the floor. Cherish could only imagine the sparks flying in the darkness as the engineer put steel against steel, fighting to stop the train.

Daddy would certainly fire an engineer over this, Cherish thought, sprawled on the floor in her wedding dress, her veil slightly askew. No doubt the man had been drinking or had fallen asleep.

Even as the train slid to a halt and protesting steel was abruptly silenced and replaced with the hiss of blowing steam, Cherish heard a faint sound, almost like thunder. “Is anyone hurt?” She stumbled to her feet, surveyed her dress that was by now falling off her bare shoulders.

“Oh, Cherish,” Hetty gasped, staring at the dress, “there’s a smudge on the skirt and I think a tiny tear in the lace. Some employee’s head will roll over this! Your father will be so mad—”

“Hush!” Cherish held up her hand for silence. “Do you hear anything?”

“Sounds like pounding drums,” Gladys answered.

Cherish paused, stared out at the cool, clear night. They were in an isolated stretch of the hostile terrain, probably not much help around if hitting a buffalo or a wild mustang had caused the engine to derail. “Alma,” she gestured to her plump black maid, “go find the conductor and see what the problem is, how long we’ll be here.”

“Yes’um. Is you hurt, Miss Cherish?”

Cherish shook her head, waved her away. “Fiddlesticks, no. The dress may have a few smudges, that’s all.”

“That’s an expensive dress, Miss Cherish. You papa gonna be powerful upset.”

But not with me, Cherish thought, he was only upset with those who didn’t do exactly as he wanted. She had learned that long ago. “Go see how long we’re going to be stuck here and if we can get help.”

The maid disappeared into the next car even as a slow thunder built outside.

Agnes put her round face against the window. “Oh, there’s help coming already. I see horses and riders.”

“The cavalry!” Her friends cried and crowded to the windows, “Oh, what an adventure we’ll have to tell when we get home.”

“Cavalry?” Cherish asked with puzzlement, “why would there be cavalry—?”

“Well, riders, anyway,” Agnes pouted as if her word was being questioned, “they’re just as plain as day riding toward us.”

Cherish lifted her full skirts and ran to the window, ignoring the dress now falling off her shoulders. How like Daddy to send the army to escort them the last few miles. It was the sort of grand gesture he would make. They didn’t really need an escort, this route hadn’t been plagued by bandits like some other routes had. She peered out at the riders reining up around the stalled train. The moon lit the scene clearly now. A strangely marked pinto stallion gleamed in the light as it galloped up to the coach. It was ridden by a big, half-naked man, his dark features smeared with scarlet paint.

She blinked. No, her eyes must be playing tricks. She looked again, backed away from the window, hand to her mouth. “Indians! Our train’s been waylaid by Indians!”

Immediately the little group of privileged ladies set up a hysterical shriek.

“Hush now!” Cherish commanded. “We’ll all hide and they’ll never know we’re here. They’re probably after the gold shipment or weapons; things like that, and—”

The door was kicked open even as her friends scattered, squealing in terror. Cherish stood frozen, clutching her dress to her bosom as the big savage and his war party strode into the car, gaping in surprise at what they’d found.

She was going to be raped in her snowy white wedding gown, Cherish thought with dismay. Maybe she’d be lucky if he only raped her; he and his savages might kill and scalp them all! The silly girls screamed, but the leader only looked around as if disappointed to find the private car full of swooning ladies. Just who had he expected to find in the railroad president’s private car?

One of the men moved toward the girls as if to grab them, but the tall warrior snapped an order in a language she didn’t understand and he retreated, looking angry.

Abruptly, his dark gaze swept over Cherish. His eyes widened for a long moment as if he could not quite believe what he saw; a white girl in an elegant wedding dress cowering before him. Cherish glared back at him with more spirit than she felt. He hesitated a split second, then strode toward her.

“Don’t touch me!” She retreated against the wall, feeling foolish and terrified. Of course she couldn’t expect him to understand, but her defiant tone seemed to make him hesitate. For only a moment, he stood looking down at her, his face a grim frown, his features disguised by the scarlet and ocher paint.

“Please . . . ” She felt almost faint with terror. “Please, let us go. I’m on my way home to be married. Soldiers will come after you if you hurt us!”

He hesitated, almost smiled; or was it only a grimace?

Maybe he spoke some English. She drew herself up to her full height, although she was petite. “My daddy is a heap big chief. Leave now while you can!”

He muttered something, it might have been a curse, before he reached out, jerked the veil from her blond hair, threw it to one side.

He was going to rape her here before everyone, Cherish thought in a frightened daze, grabbing for her dress as the white satin slid off her bare shoulders. She glared back at him. Before she realized what he intended, he grasped her naked shoulders, looking down into her brown eyes.

She felt anger, outrage and panic at the heat of his hands on her skin. Even Pierce had never touched her so intimately.

Tearing a ribbon from her dress, the brave twisted her hands behind her back and tied them. Now she stood helplessly looking up at him, the wedding dress sliding down her arms, revealing the swell of her bosom under her lace chemise. “What—what are you going to do?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he picked her up, light as a plaything, held her in his arms a long moment. Bare pale flesh touched dark skin. “Stop! You can’t do this! Do you know who I am? Let me go or you’ll regret it when my father calls Wells Fargo, the whole War Department, and the governor!”

The brave ignored her mixed threats and pleas, held her even tighter. She could feel his heart beating against her naked breast.

“How dare you?” she fumed, now too angry at the damage to her dress to be fearful and cautious. “This is a Worth original, do you hear? It cost a fortune!”

He didn’t answer and she was certain he didn’t understand a word she said. A slight smile crossed his lean face as he swung her up and threw her across his shoulder like a sack of grain. She felt the hot power of his muscular shoulder beneath her soft, half-naked form.

Oh, the indignity of it all! Her long hair hung in a tangle and with her hands tied behind her back, her full breasts were in danger of falling completely out of the torn satin dress that dragged the floor. He wheeled and started out of the railcar. She craned her neck to look back in horror at her cowering, silent friends. Even her maid stared in openmouthed disbelief that anyone would have the effrontery to touch the only child of one of the richest, most powerful men on the West Coast.

He was abducting her! For a moment, Cherish couldn’t believe that fact, and then the cool night air touched her as he went to the open door, paused. Now fear and fury overcame her. “How dare you! Put me down, put me down this instant! You can’t do this; do you know who my daddy is?”

However, her captor paid her protests not the slightest heed as he carried her from the train slung across his shoulder. She looked back in desperate appeal to her friends and train crew. “Help me! Someone do something!”

They were all helpless, she realized. The few guards had been disarmed and stood with their hands high. As her captor carried her out into the night, she saw the wide-eyed conductor’s shock, the faces of her friends pressed against the window staring out. Cherish had never felt such terror and such fury. How dare they come into her private car without being invited? How dare this savage put his hands on her so familiarly? She felt the heat of his broad back through the thin white satin covering her breasts and the power of his arm across her legs.

The long train of her snowy wedding dress trailed in the dust as he strode toward his horse. Daddy would see him hang for this! He’d have the army combing the countryside. She twisted her head, saw men coming with the express box. Why, they were robbing Daddy’s train like common outlaws. She’d never thought about Indians robbing a train before. Matter of fact, in her sheltered young life, she’d hardly thought about Indians at all.

If only she could make them understand how influential and important Daddy was, what the dire consequences would be, they might reconsider and let her go. “Put me down! Put me down, do you hear me? My daddy is president of this railroad and I’m about to be married! You’ll be hunted down like dogs if you dare touch me!”

The leader didn’t indicate that he heard her. Perhaps he doesn’t speak any English, she thought. Maybe if she screamed loud enough, there might be some soldiers in the area who would hear her. At least it was worth a try; all the Indians could do was kill her and it looked as if she was headed for a fate worse than death anyway. Cherish shuddered as he walked toward his horse. She didn’t even want to think about it. She began to scream.

He promptly tore off a bit of the hem of her dress.

“My dress!” Now she really was upset.

Was that just the slightest hint of a smile on his lips? She got out one more scream and with the next, he stuffed the torn bit of white satin in her mouth. She was terrified, she was angry, she was stifled.

Cherish struggled to pull her hands free, but only succeeded in causing her unbuttoned dress to slide further down her bare shoulders. How ironic, to be raped and murdered in the symbol of her innocence when Pierce had waited all these years to take her virginity. For just a moment as she looked up at the savage, their gazes locked, and there was something about him . . . no, of course not. Perhaps he looked somewhat like one of Daddy’s Mexican stable boys. Yes, that had to be it.

Maybe the soldiers would come riding after them if there were any in the area and she’d be rescued. Wouldn’t it be a grand adventure to recount to her bored rich friends? Cherish tried to concentrate on that thought to keep from giving way to hysteria as the big brave lifted her to his saddle, climbed up behind her. What a beautiful, strangely marked horse, she thought in a daze. No doubt besides being a robber, he was also a horse thief.

Now the leader signaled his men and they rode out, scattering like dry leaves in all directions. Cherish twisted her head to look back over her shoulder at the train. Against the lighted windows of her elegant car, Hetty pressed her freckled nose and Agnes’s round, plump face stared out at her.

This couldn’t be happening; no one would dare abduct the daughter of the president of Trans-Western Railroad, they’d all be afraid of her father’s money and power. This simple savage probably had never even heard of Amos Blassingame. Had he merely lusted after her? She had seen the intense look of his dark eyes when he stared into hers. Or had he understood enough English to realize from her shrieks that he had inadvertently captured a rich prize worth more than the strongbox in the express car? Maybe they intended to hold her for ransom. In that case, at least they wouldn’t kill her. As for the other thing . . . Cherish shuddered. She wouldn’t think about that just now.

The fiery stallion surged beneath her as it ran. Its master held the reins in one hand and clasped Cherish with the other. The gold ring on his hand gleamed in the moonlight. What white man had he scalped and murdered to get that?

His strength pulled her against his bare chest and his hand felt warm on her waist up under her breast. When he leaned forward, she felt his breath warm on her naked shoulder. She had a sudden vision of herself staked out in the torn remnants of her wedding gown while this war party took turns raping her. Daddy and Pierce always protected her from every inconvenience, every discomfort, but now she might be in a spot where money and power weren’t going to do her any good.

Perhaps she could bargain with the savage leader. How much were her life and her virginity worth in gold? If she got raped but escaped with her life, would it change Pierce Randolph’s feelings about her? Of course not! Pierce loved her. Wouldn’t his first thought be to get his beloved returned safely without caring whether some savage chieftain had lain with his bride?

They galloped through the night. Could this be real? Any minute now, she would wake up back in her own bed in her own railcar, surrounded by servants, or maybe in Daddy’s Sacramento mansion, safe, sound, rich and protected. Somehow, she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe this kidnapping was her fault. If she’d kept her mouth shut, maybe the savages would have stolen a few things from the train and ridden away. She abruptly felt guilty. Daddy often made her feel that way when she didn’t do exactly as she was told. Yes, maybe it was her own fault the Indians had singled her out to kidnap.

The leader cradled her close against his muscular, almost naked body as they rode. The big hands seemed to burn into her waist and when she moved, her breast brushed against his knuckles. Maybe he wasn’t aware of it. Then she felt the outline of his prominent maleness through the skimpy loincloth he wore. Her face burned as she realized he was as keenly aware of her body as she was of his.

She’d see the arrogant savage hanged for this. No man had ever dared be so familiar, not even Pierce. In fact, she’d only been kissed twice, the second time a prim kiss by her fiance, after she had finally been worn down by both Daddy and Pierce into accepting his proposal.

The horses’ hooves seemed to drum like thunder as they galloped away into the desolate hills. Come morning, the governor would have a thousand soldiers, Wells Fargo, and lawmen searching for her. By then, it might be too late. Cherish shuddered at the thought. He won’t dare harm me, she reminded herself, because of who she was. The Randolphs were rich and important, too, and Pierce would leave no stone unturned to bring this savage to justice.

She tried to concentrate on her indignation to control her fear. Her mouth tasted so dry from the gag, she was choking. She would concentrate on her anger, not her fear. She’d probably have a difficult time getting a new original Worth gown in time for her wedding. If she could get this scrap of cloth out of her mouth, she’d give him a piece of her mind for shredding the imported satin.

Cherish felt the heat of his hand holding her tightly against his swollen manhood. Think of something else; anything except that it felt like a big, iron bar against her body. There was nothing she could do but let him cradle her face against his bare chest. He smelled of horses, smoke, and sun. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it certainly was different from the fine cologne Pierce wore.

She was cold in the night air, and try as she might, she couldn’t stop herself from trembling. Immediately, he pulled her even closer against his big, warm body. At least maybe he didn’t intend to share her with the others. Would it be any better to only be raped by one warrior? Then she remembered the way he had glared at her as if he hated her and she knew better than to expect mercy.

How far had they come? There was no way to tell and she didn’t know the country anyway. It might take hours before the crew could clear the tracks or send someone down the line where they might find a telegraph. Her heart sank as she realized these savages might have cut the telegraph wires and damaged the track to delay pursuit for hours. By then, the war party would be swallowed up by this fierce, wild country. Cherish could disappear without a trace, never to be seen again. The wind picked up and she realized that it was blowing their tracks behind them, losing them in the shifting sands.

Besides, the way the Indians had scattered in different directions, the posse could go off in a dozen diverse ways and maybe never track them up into the hills where they were heading. She thought of being out here at this man’s mercy for countless years if the ransom didn’t come. Would he use her as a slave of his passion? She was only vaguely aware of what it was that men and women did in bed together. The girls at Miss Priddy’s Female Academy in Boston sometimes giggled about it, but having been raised by dour servants, Cherish was quite innocent.

She was so very, very tired and there was nothing she could do but let him mold her small frame against his big one as they rode. With her hands tied behind her and the dress half off, when he held her against his naked chest, she felt her bare breast touch his rippling dark skin. It seemed to burn like fire against her nipple and there was nothing she could do about it. Trussed and mute, if he wanted to put his hands all over her, fondle her breasts, touch her in the most intimate manner, she’d be helpless to stop him.

Now, however, he seemed to be concentrating on his riding. As weary and as frightened as she was, Cherish found herself dozing off as they galloped through the night. Periodically, she would come awake with a start to find herself cradled against that wide, muscular chest. She must stay awake, she reminded herself, try to remember some landmarks. Maybe she could escape when no one was looking. Then all she would have to do was find the posse that would be combing the whole state of Nevada looking for her. It gave her hope and she concentrated on it, even though she saw nothing but a blur of starlit sky and dim mountains.

After what must have been hours, they rode up a narrow trail near a river, through a rocky pass and into a valley. By now she was only vaguely aware of landmarks. She knew there were Indian lodges, camp fires, dogs barking, shadowy people and horses neighing. He reined in.

The leader gave orders in a language she didn’t understand. A woman called out to him in Spanish, laughing and teasing, but a bit angry. At least there were other women here. Could she expect help from them? Maybe if she offered a bribe.. . .

The warrior slid from his big stallion, reached up to grab her. His hands almost encircled her waist; she felt the heat of them through the bedraggled wedding dress as he lifted her to the ground. When she looked up at him, he was looking at her breasts, almost bare now. With her hands tied behind her, Cherish was helpless to do anything to protect her modesty.

A handsome older warrior with gray streaks in his hair took the horse, led it away. Her captor lifted her with no more thought than if he’d been handling a bundle of old clothes, threw her across his broad shoulder again. She felt her lo. . .