Silver Nights With You (Love in the Sierras Book 1) (3 page)

All smiles vanished.

“Another hold up?” Ellie asked, her forehead gathering into creases.

“Was anyone hurt?” Morgan asked, and David nodded.

“Four killed including two of the robbers. We’ve got a man shot inside and a doctor with him. I was going to take them into Virginia City, but the doc said he needed to operate sooner. I know it’s only another mile on, but I thought it best to stop here in Gold Hill. I’m sorry, Ellie, but do you have a room to spare for the doctor?”

Ellie was short and stout, her skills as well-rounded as her hips. She had dark hair always bundled at the back of her neck and the natural set of her facial features was a scowl. As stern and straightforward as she was, she cared about everyone under her roof. She put a finger to her lips as she thought before slowly shaking her head.

“I’m full up, but you can bring him into the kitchen,” she said.

“They can take our room,” Val offered.

“We’ll sleep in the stables,” Morgan agreed. “It’s no trouble.”

Ellie nodded. “Bring him on in then.”

David looked to Val. “Can you help me carry him in? I don’t think the doc can manage. He’s a bit of an old-timer.”

Val followed David to the door of the coach while Morgan rounded the mule team and went to the other side. It was pockmarked, and the wooden framing of the windows was splintered. He thought it a wonder that no one else had been injured as he pulled the door open and offered his hand.

A petite, trembling palm fell into his and despite the warmth of the fading day, her fingers were cold. Her head was down as she leaned under the frame to exit, but Morgan was invited to a healthy view of her cleavage. Her dress was torn, and she used her other hand to cover the spill of her breasts, but the efforts of her palm were wasted on the chest she was endowed with.

Once she cleared the steps and stood upright, she raised her face. Morgan swallowed hard against the solid lump that leapt into his throat, and he swirled the cigar back and forth between his teeth. Her hat was misshapen, clinging desperately to the loosened coif beneath it. Several thick light-brown chunks of wavy hair spilled down to her waist. Greenish-brown eyes, large and almond-shaped, dominated her face with intelligence and alertness. Her eyebrows were dark arches, her cheeks flushed and crisscrossed with shallow slash marks, and despite her disheveled state, Morgan thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon.

Standing there holding her hand, he felt tongue-tied for the first time. Her features were bold and vulnerable, strong yet delicate. Her fingers trembled, but her eyes were keen as they swept her surroundings. It wasn’t until he saw a drop of blood trickle from a cut on her cheek that he blinked back his sudden dimwittedness and noticed the blood on her sleeve and underneath her chin. When their eyes met her chin lifted, her lips pursed and her forehead wrinkled.

“May I have my hand back, sir?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, hastily releasing her. “I didn't realize you’re injured.”

“I’m fine,” she countered coolly as she looked past him and around the multitude of faces. “It’s just scratches, Mister?”

“Kelly,” he answered. “Morgan Kelly.”

“Mr. Kelly, would you mind fetching the lady of this house for me?” she asked, both hands now covering her chest.

“Of course, Miss?”

“Cameron. I’m hoping she’ll be able to offer something to preserve at least a little bit of my dignity.”

His eyes fell to her chest again before he pulled them quickly back up to her face, but she had seen the shift of his gaze and sent him a reproachful look as she spread her fingers to cover more flesh. In spite of her anger, or perhaps because of it, a blush formed on her cheeks and he scolded himself inwardly.

“Here,” he said, untying a filthy handkerchief from around his neck. Her eyes narrowed, and her nose scrunched against its smell.

“No, thank you,” she muttered, backing up a step.

Morgan looked at the fabric and laughed. “I suppose it’s not much better. It is pretty dirty, but rest assured it’s dirt borne of a hard day’s work.”

Her smile was wan, and never reached her eyes. “The lady of the house?”

“Of course. I’ll get her now.”

Lila shuddered and turned away from the man who was so full of grime and dust that his skin, bushy beard and full head of hair looked rinsed in gray. The smell of his filth and cigar was a strong antagonist to her newly-sensitive stomach. Once the adrenaline left her body she felt light-headed and shaky and held a very unsteady grip on her midsection. It felt good to be standing, though, and she wandered away a few steps to stretch her legs.

Night was a good hour off, but the mountains west were tall enough to hide the sun and dust everything in the light blue shade of evening. She could feel the crooked lean of her hat and reached up to examine the state of her coif. It was unsalvageable, so rather than tamper with it she pulled the pins free and let her hair fall. The headpiece tumbled into her hands, and she winced at the flattened bits before slapping it against her open palm.

“Miss Cameron?” Morgan called, and she turned.

“Ellie is the lady you’re looking for, and she’ll be along shortly. She’s showing the doctor to a room.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Please, call me Morgan,” he offered with a smile that she could see vaguely through a cloud of cigar smoke and beard.

“Thank you, Morgan.”

She coughed as the smoke encompassed her face. Exhaustion and nausea swept down on her like a heavy weight as he stood so near, and she placed a hand on her stomach as she swayed. She shut her eyes, and he grabbed her arm to steady her.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” His voice was full of concern.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, opening her eyes. “Just over-taxed from the events of the day.”

“I can have the doctor look you over.”

“My father has more important wounds to tend just now.” Her voice was tight enough that each word snapped.

“Can I get you anything? Some water or whiskey?”

She averted her face, but his concern only brought him nearer. That closeness was her undoing. Dizziness whirled up from her toes and set the butterflies in her stomach fluttering in a frenzy. She shut her eyes again, fighting back a thick wave of nausea. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as she bent forward at the waist. Her legs went weak beneath her, and Morgan dropped his cigar and caught her. A woeful groan escaped her lips as he cradled her.

“What is it?” he asked, his face creased with worry.

She searched for a polite way to say it, but the threat of vomiting was so strong that she spoke the truth.

“It’s you,” she croaked.

“Me?”

“The smell of you is sickening. Please, put me down.”

Morgan flinched and stared down at her for a brief pause before his eyes widened. He shook his head, baffled, as he lowered her onto a large tree stump and backed away. Looking down at his hands, he seemed to realize how filthy he was. She read the humiliation in his eyes as he backed away again.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I will leave you to your comfort. Ellie will see to you soon.”

He left, and Lila cringed at how she had sounded. It was necessary, though. The vice on her stomach relaxed with his departure. She turned her body into the breeze and let it wash over her. The muscles of her back knotted, and her neck felt stiff. A night spent in the boarding house would be most welcome. She had no desire to climb back into the coach and jostle on into the night. A good bath and bed was what she wanted. 

She studied the little hamlet. Hills and mountains covered in sagebrush squatted in each direction with the road and town carving a route in between them like a narrow canyon with sandy walls. She could see the wooden engineering near the mouths of the mines puncturing the mountainsides. Yards of scaffolding formed a bridge that worked its way back down to the ground level behind a row of saloons and shops. The spires of a church shot up behind the brick buildings. The hillside behind the boarding house was full of ash-barked cottonwood trees, their branches bowing and stretching toward the earth, straining their lime green leaves to brush the rooftop of the three-story house. If her mind wasn’t set on the beauty of city life, she might actually consider the place enchanting in a wild and raw way.

The establishment was made of white-washed wood and had a porch that wrapped entirely around it. There were a dozen steps between the road and the door and six windows visible from the front. Two chimneys shot into the air and were already thick with curling smoke. A warm light pulsed from the windows, but Lila knew that somewhere in that welcoming house her father was elbow-deep in a poor man’s blood.
Her coach companions ambled around, talking and taking fresh water offered by a young woman. She eyed Morgan Kelly near the side of the house, removing his shirt and dunking his bulk into a water barrel. He stood upright and water streamed down his back. She couldn’t help admiring the etched lines of hard muscles. Very strong, she thought. He clutched a small bar of soap and began a vicious scrub, and she chuckled, knowing that he had taken her words to heart.

The breeze cooled with the descent of the sun, and she closed her eyes as it swirled around her. Sleep tugged at her body, and she began to bend and sway like the tree branches overhead. She snapped upright as David reappeared from the house. Her lips spread in a wide smile as he trotted down the steps beside Ellie. She joined them, and he introduced her to the proprietress. When Ellie saw her scanty state of dress, she removed her shawl and draped it around Lila’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” Lila said. “I was hoping you would be able to help me with that.”

“It’s no trouble, darlin’.”

“I’m going to have to take these people into Virginia City,” David said. “There’s no room for them here, but there ought to be plenty of accommodation up the road. Do you know how long your father is going to be, Miss Cameron?”

“I have no idea,” she admitted. “He is very thorough.”

“A fine quality in a doctor,” Ellie chimed. “He can take as long as he likes, but the trouble is where to put you when he’s done. The Kelly boys have already given up their room for the gent who was shot and your father, but I don’t have any extra beds.”

Lila pursed her lips. “I know my father. He won’t want to leave that man’s side until he’s sure he’ll be all right. I expect him to stay awake and by his side all night. I suppose I could do the same.”

“No offense, darlin’, but you look as though you’re having a hard time staying upright as it is.”

“I’ll tell you what,” David said. “You will stay in my room tonight, and I’ll bunk out back with the Kellys.”

Lila’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. I couldn’t put you out of your comfort. Not after what you’ve done for us.”

“It’s no trouble,” he replied. “The Kellys are a good lot. It will be a pleasant evening. I insist.”   

She hesitated. “Well…if you’re absolutely certain it’s no trouble…”

“Absolutely certain. Follow me, then. I’ll show you to your room.”

“And I’ll draw a nice hot bath for you,” Ellie added. “It works wonders on the body and spirit.”

“Thank you,” she said, overwhelmed by the amount of kindness in this little enclave.

David showed her to his room, gathered a few things, and left to take the coach into Virginia City. His room was on the third floor, and from its window she could see the road and the purple sunset staining the clouds. She leaned onto the sill and watched the coach roll out of sight while she smiled dreamily at its driver. The memory of him leaping from his horse onto the runaway coach swooped down on her like a childhood fantasy and she giggled, remembering his lips on the back of her hand.

She ran her thumb lightly over the spot as she gazed around his room. It was clean and orderly. As her eyes landed on a small razor and comb on the washstand, she detected the faint scent of aftershave. Against her sense of propriety, she went to the wardrobe and opened the door, smiling to find a collection of high-quality articles of clothing. The smell of clean shirts and soft coats enticed her, and she ran her fingers over the thick sleeve of a dress coat, thinking back on the many parties she'd enjoyed back home with gentlemen in coats like this. She threw her arm around the elbow as if his flesh filled the garment and made wide smiles in greeting at imaginary faces.

“Good evening,” she said aloud to the make-believe crowd. “Yes, I am here with David Gardner.”

She pinched her eyes shut and chuckled as she shook her head. What a silly thought. Tomorrow would find her back on the road to California, and David would be fixed forever in her mind as the gallant Adonis who embodied everything she valued in a man. He was courageous, cultured, unselfish, and handsome. She brushed a few specks of lint from the sleeve and let it drop back into the closet. A knock at the door made her jump, and she hastily closed the wardrobe door.

“Yes?”

“Your bath is waiting,” Ellie called. “Please let me know if you need anything.”

Lila’s eyes darted to the blood on her sleeve, and panic rushed through her. She had no clothes. She ran to the door and threw it open in time to stop Ellie from descending the stairs.

“Wait! I…um…could you please tell me where my father is?”

Ellie led the way to the second floor, and Lila knocked softly so as not to startle his hands. When he called her in, he was sitting in a chair beside the bed. His sleeves were rolled past his elbows, and his bared forearms crossed over his chest. The gray of his hair looked a shade whiter, and the wide stretch of his mustache buried his upper lip. The patient was sleeping, his shirt replaced with thick strips of bandaging wound around his torso. A small splotch of blood was seeping through it. Lila placed a hand on her father’s shoulder. He covered it with his and looked up at her face.

“Have a seat here, Lila,” he said quietly, pulling another chair in front of him. “Let’s see to those lacerations.”

“Don’t worry about it, Papa,” she whispered as she sat. “They’re small and manageable.”

“So, you’re the doctor now, eh?” he smirked, which she only knew because the sides of his mustache twitched upward. His hands were soft and gentle as they cradled her face. He tilted her chin back and forth, applying slight pressure near the cuts. She stared down into his eyes, an aged and dull blue, and felt a rare awareness of how old he really was.

When her parents married he had been over fifty and her mother only twenty. His first wife gave him three children who were all older than his second wife. Lila rarely saw her siblings, and she barely knew them. They disapproved of their father’s marriage to someone so young, but Argyle was surprised to fall in love again after the death of his first wife. He never expected to marry again, or sire another child at such a late age.

When Lynn died and the country began dividing politically, Argyle felt the urge to go west. He wanted his daughter away from the pain and desolation of the war he knew was coming, and he had no desire to spend the last years of his life watching young boys die and lose limbs beneath rude army tents. The west was a land of opportunity, and he wanted her to experience that freedom, wanted to experience it himself. Besides, Lynn’s death was too difficult to bear in the home she built.

“Hold still, now,” he soothed as he retrieved a pair of sharp metal tongs from his bag. “Got a few bits of wood stuck in there.”

He sat on the edge of his chair and tilted her face toward the light. She shut her eyes as the instrument pierced her flesh. A tiny pinch and a mild burn accompanied each extraction. When he finished, he took a wad of linen and poured some whiskey over it, touching it to each stripe on her cheek. The alcohol tingled beneath her skin.

“Will it scar?” she asked, feeling vain doing so. Argyle laughed softly.

“No. I do not even need to stitch them. They should heal nicely. If you’re unsure, however, rub some aloe oil on them once the skin has sealed, but not before. That should help.”

“Thanks, Pa.” She looked around the tiny room and saw the second bed against the wall. “At least there is a place for you to sleep since I know you will be in here all night.”

“You can take it. I will stay up for observation.”

“Papa,” she pleaded. “Please get some rest. You’re looking tired. The pace of the journey is wearing on you. Mr. Gardner has given up his room for me. It will do you no good to stay up all night when there’s a perfectly good bed to sleep in.”

“You know, for someone who was never going to speak to me again you sure show a wealth of concern for my well-being.”

She leveled a stare at him. “You know I never follow through with my threats of silence.”

He chuckled. “No, you don’t. I am never that lucky.” His laughter grew as she swatted his shoulder. “I always told your mother that if it weren’t for my meeting her, and her loving me back, I’d think I had no luck at all.”

In the sad silence that followed, her lips quivered against an onslaught of tears. “It’s gone, Papa,” she cried. “The photograph of mother. It was in the valise.”

Argyle cleared his throat as he frowned. He reached out and pulled her to him. “I’m sorry, Lila. So very sorry.”

The weight of guilt in his words was far more intense than the loss of a photograph would warrant. It told her what she’d already come to know. He blamed himself for Lynn’s death. He’d saved hundreds of lives, but not the one that mattered most to him, the one that mattered most to her. Any time he saw Lila’s grief, he’d skewer himself anew. So, she sniffled one last time and did what she’d forced herself to do for the last two months; she drew her emotions inward, willed her eyes to dry and stretched her lips into an empty smile.