This Fierce Splendor

1

June 12, 1870

Hell’s Bluff, Arizona Territory

“Rein in! This is a holdup!”

As the deep-voiced command had been preceded by four gunshots, one of which skimmed the brim of his hat, Ben Travis decided it behooved him to obey… and fast. He glanced with longing at the shotgun beside him in the boot of the stagecoach, then reluctantly pulled up the horses just short of the lone bandit standing square in the center of the road ahead.

A thrill of panic darted through Elspeth MacGregor, and her hand unconsciously tightened on the black grosgrain reticule she carried. She mustn’t be forced to give up the little money she possessed. If Dominic Delaney wasn’t still at Hell’s Bluff, where her father had last made contact with him, she would have to search for him. Heaven only knew how long it would take and how much it would cost to find him.

“Do not be frightened, mademoiselle.”

Those slightly accented words were the first the plump young man across from Elspeth had spoken since the stage had left Tucson. Her fellow passenger had appeared to be dozing continuously since their early morning departure, and Elspeth had felt relieved to be ignored by him and left to her own thoughts. Now, however, the man’s dark eyes were blazing with excitement.

“I’ve read about these desperadoes,” he said, “and they have a certain code. The would never tamper with the virtue of a respectable lady such as yourself. They want only our money.”

Only! Elspeth came close to laughing aloud. Women as plain as she seldom had problems with would-be ravishers, so she hadn’t a fear on that score. But she did fear being robbed; she had to have money on which to live until she could find Dominic Delaney. She had a little gold secreted in her trunk, but most of her remaining funds were in the reticule she was clutching so desperately. “Do you have a weapon?” she asked her plump companion. “We could try to overpower them. We cannot just let them rob us.”

He blinked. The woman facing him was small, quite fragile-looking really, and her voice was sweetly melodious despite its urgent tone. The mere suggestion from her of trying to overpower even the weakest of men seemed ludicrous to him. Deciding fear was robbing her of good sense, he said soothingly, “I do not think it would be wise to challenge these fellows. They’re probably very dangerous.” He shrugged his shoulders and the fine biscuit-colored broadcloth of his fashionable coat scarcely rippled. “Naturally,” he said forcefully, “if you weren’t present, I would confront these outlaws.”

“Naturally,” she echoed dryly. He appeared to be accepting this robbery with equanimity, even a certain amount of pleasure. Judging by the beautifully crafted leather boots and expensive clothes of this calm individual, she suspected he could easily afford to lose the money he carried with him. She could not. “Do you have a pistol?” she asked.

He looked slightly affronted. “Of course I have a pistol. A very fine derringer.”

“May I borrow it?”

He blinked again. “Do you know how to fire a pistol?”

“I haven’t the slightest notion how to do so, but at least I can threaten those bandits with it.” She straightened briskly and held out her small, gloved hand. “Please.”

Clearly astonished at what she wished to do, he blustered, “I do not think-”

His sentence was interrupted by a string of curses shouted by the driver of the stage.

Elspeth frowned. She’d overheard her father and his students using some of the milder oaths on occasion, but many of the curses the driver spouted now were utterly incomprehensible to her. She cocked her head, listening carefully as the man called Ben Travis went on.

“I could have blown you to kingdom come with my shotgun, you young jackass. It would have served you right.”

“Now, Ben, where’s your sense of humor? My horse threw a shoe and I needed a ride into town.”

The deep voice of the bandit, no longer low and ominous but jocular, confounded Elspeth for a moment.

“You’re always telling us what a boring run it is from Tucson to Hell’s Bluff, Ben, so I decided to liven things up a little for you.”

“By holding up the stage?” Ben Travis’s voice dripped sarcasm. “What do you think your granddad will have to say about this?”

“How else could I get you to stop? You always go flat out the last few miles into Hell’s Bluff. I had to find a way to get your attention.”

Elspeth’s tension ebbed. Apparently there was no threat here after all. That young man had played some sort of bizarre practical joke.

“My attention?” the driver thundered before loosing a fresh string of curses that mingled with the younger man’s rich laughter. “You’ve got feet,” Ben said. “You could have walked to town, you know.”

“When did you ever know a cowboy who would walk when he could ride? Even this rattlebone coach of yours is better than walking.”

“Rattlebone! This is the finest coach that ever came out of Concord, and only a half-weaned, bowlegged cowpuncher wouldn’t be able to appreciate her.”

“Sorry, Ben.” There was still an undercurrent of laughter to the man’s voice as he apologized. “Can I have a ride to town in the finest coach that ever came out of Concord?”

“Hell, no!” There was a pause, and then another curse. “I guess if I leave you out here, you’re loco enough to try the same fool trick on one of the ore wagons. But I don’t want you up here with me. Tie your horse to the baggage rack in back and get in the coach, where I don’t have to look at you.”

“Thanks, Ben.”

“And you behave yourself with the paying customers. We’ve got a lady passenger today.”

“A lady going to Hell’s Bluff?” The deep voice was chuckling as it came nearer. “You sure your eyesight isn’t going bad, Ben? There are ladies and then there are…” He trailed off as he opened the door of the coach and caught sight of Elspeth. He quickly doffed his hat. “How do you do, ma’am. Sorry for the commotion. I hope I didn’t frighten you.”

Elspeth stared in surprise. Why, he was only a boy. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen in spite of the hardened muscular body that made him appear older. The afternoon sunlight danced over his chestnut-colored hair, revealing its red highlights, and his dark-brown eyes were still sparkling with remembered laughter. No, not remembered, but present once again as he smiled easily at her. He was so alive. She was used to being around boys his age, but she had never seen a young man quite like this one. “How do you do?” she asked faintly, thinking that if his chin had been less firm, the slight depression in its center might have been termed a dimple.

“Not so well. My horse threw a shoe on the way back to my ranch.” He climbed into the coach and settled his long slim body in the seat across from her and beside the portly man in the biscuit-colored coat. He stretched his denim-clad legs out in front of him. “Which means I’ll have to take him to the blacksmith in Hell’s Bluff and not get back to Killara until tomorrow.” He made a face. “My grandfather is going to skin me alive.”

She found herself smiling sympathetically at him. She had an idea most people found themselves smiling when confronting this young man. “I’m sure he’ll understand that it’s not your fault.”

“Permit me to introduce myself.” The plump man sitting next to him was gazing in fascination at the auburn-haired cowboy. “I am Count Andre Marzonoff, heir to estates in Vlados and recently arrived from St. Petersburg. I am delighted to meet you.”

The cowboy gazed at him blankly for a moment. “Well, howdy,” he said, and Elspeth was sure his eyes were twinkling. “I’m Patrick Delaney, heir apparent of Killara, but since I share that honor with a sister, a cousin, and five uncles you may think it tends to lessen my importance a trifle.”

Elspeth stiffened. Delaney. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Now here, so near to Hell’s Bluff.

Andre Marzonoff nodded. “I, too, have an older cousin who holds the purse strings. Perhaps we have other things in common.”

“Perhaps.” Patrick Delaney’s glance drifted from Marzonoff to Elspeth. “And what kingdom do you rule, Princess-?”

“I am Miss Elspeth MacGregor.”

Patrick Delaney tilted his head as if listening to pleasant music. “You’re Scottish, aren’t you? I ran into a fellow in a saloon in Tucson who sounded like you.” He grinned. “Well, not exactly like you. Your soft little burr is like harp chords and he sounded like a stomped-on bagpipe.”

She smiled. “I’m from Edinburgh, Mr. Delaney, and I’m afraid I’m heiress to very little. My father was a professor of antiquities at the university and scholars rarely acquire more than the wealth of knowledge.” She hesitated. “I wonder if you could be related-” She stopped speaking as the coach lurched into motion, pressing her back against the leather seat. She heard another round of curses from the driver that were mild in comparison to the ones previously heaped on Patrick Delaney’s head. Evidently the man couldn’t open his mouth without an obscenity issuing from it.

“He doesn’t mean any disrespect,” Patrick said quietly, his gaze on her face. “He’s just not accustomed to having to watch his language. I’m afraid you’re going to find we’re all guilty in that respect. We don’t get many ladies in Hell’s Bluff.”

“I’m not offended, just a bit surprised.” She looked searchingly at Patrick Delaney’s face. “I wonder if you know a man I’m going to Hell’s Bluff to see, Dominic Delaney.”

The boy’s indolent position didn’t change, but Elspeth had the impression that he had suddenly become alert. He crossed his legs at the ankles, his gaze on the dusty toe of his boot. “Everyone in Hell’s Bluff knows Dominic.”

“You have the same surname. Are you perhaps related?”

“Dominic Delaney.” Andre Marzonoff’s eyes were wide with surprise and excitement. “The gunslinger? He’s in Hell’s Bluff right now?”

“Dominic is no gunslinger.” Patrick enunciated each word carefully. “However, on occasion he’s been known to have permanently removed a few gentlemen, who have displeased him. I happen to know one of the things that displeases him most is to be called a gunslinger.”

The underlying menace in Patrick’s voice seemed to make little impression on the Russian. “I will be discreet. Will you be so kind as to give me an introduction?” he asked with enthusiasm.

Elspeth stared at him in amazement. How very curious. The count had just been told Dominic Delaney had actually killed a number of unfortunates and yet he was behaving as if the man were a god from Olympus. She shifted her gaze back to Patrick Delaney.

He was studying her with the same, cold analytical keenness she had seen on her father’s face a thousand times when he was studying a hieroglyphic-or lecturing her on one of her faults. Patrick Delaney no longer looked like a boy but seemed suddenly fully mature and vaguely threatening. “And do you need an introduction, too, Miss MacGregor?” he asked softly.

She moistened her lower lip with her tongue. For a fleeting moment she was swept back to the past. She was a child standing before her father’s desk, crushed and bewildered, flooded with that familiar unreasoning miserable sense of guilt. “Yes,” she stammered. “I mean no. I mean…”

Patrick felt as guilty as if he had kicked a puppy. The woman had appeared so cool and assured, but now he saw she wasn’t a woman at all. She was little more than a girl, just a few years older than he and his twin sister Brianne, and a hell of a lot less confident. She was peering at him from behind the thick lenses of her spectacles as if he were a wild animal suddenly let loose in the coach.

She must have taken him off guard with the question about his uncle or he wouldn’t have been so damn suspicious. He, as well as the rest of the family, had become accustomed to protecting Dominic over the years, but he realized that Elspeth MacGregor could pose no possible threat to him. No one in his wildest imaginings could mistake her for a Delilah hired by one of Dominic’s enemies.

She wasn’t even pretty, though the flush now coloring her cheeks made her look more attractive than he had first thought possible. Her features were regular enough, her nose small and straight, her lips pink and well-shaped. It was the lack of expression and vitality that robbed her face of real interest. She was as pale and controlled as the statue of the Madonna in Manuela’s chapel at the ranch. He thought her eyes must be a shade of brown, but it was difficult to be sure, as they were masked by the round thick lenses of those damned spectacles. Her hair was light brown also and pulled severely away from her face and bundled into a bun on top of her head. That silky black high-collared gown she was wearing was too loose to reveal much of her tiny, fine-boned figure, but he had an idea it was as uninspiring and lackluster as her face. No, definitely, no Delilah. And certainly not one of Dominic’s women. Dominic had no taste for respectable women these days, much to Gran-da’s despair. It was clear Elspeth MacGregor was not only respectable, she was vulnerable.

He forced himself to relax and smiled gently. “Dominic is my uncle and I’ll be very glad to introduce you, if you’re not acquainted with him. May I ask your business with him?”

He was being kind to her. Patronizing and indulgent and very kind. Elspeth could feel the tears of frustration and self-disgust sting her eyes. She had meant to be so adult and coolly businesslike, but at the first hint of intimidation she had reacted with a regrettable lack of composure. Patrick Delaney was only a boy and nothing in the least like her father. What could have triggered the memory that had caused her assurance to melt like ice in the sunshine?

She would not behave like the helpless nonentity her father had thought her. This was a new life, a new Elspeth MacGregor. She drew a deep, steadying breath and lifted her chin. “I would appreciate your help, Mr. Delaney. I have a business proposal to make to your uncle and he’s a stranger to me. I’m sure he’ll remember my father, however.”

“Hell’s Bluff isn’t the kind of town that can offer a lady any of the amenities. Your father would have done better to come himself.”

Elspeth lowered her eyes to the reticule on her lap. “My father died four months ago.”

So that was the reason for all that overpowering black. “My sympathy. There was no one else who could make the trip?”

She shook her head. “I’m alone now.” She lifted her eyes and met his gaze. “And even if I weren’t alone, I would have come anyway. In case you hadn’t noticed, women are becoming very capable of handling their own affairs. In fact, I understand in your territory of Wyoming they have already won the vote. I don’t need anyone to shelter and protect me, Mr. Delaney.”

No more than a newborn calf in a snowstorm, Patrick thought while he carefully kept his expression from revealing that judgment. “I can see you’re very capable, but perhaps you’ll let me escort you to the hotel and get you settled, if that wouldn’t compromise your principles too drastically.” His lips twitched in spite of his attempt at solemnity. “I promise I won’t tell the ladies in Wyoming.”

He was laughing at her. She should have been annoyed but somehow she found that impossible. There was something in his manner that was so genuinely sunny and caring, she found herself smiling again. “I believe I’d be willing to risk their disapproval, but I’d prefer to see your uncle immediately. I may be able to conclude my business with him this afternoon. Is he staying at the hotel?”

“Well, not exactly.” Patrick had a sudden vision of the last glimpse he’d had of Dominic when he’d stuck his head in Rina’s room this morning to say good-bye. Rina had evidently decided to be generous; there had been a golden-haired beauty on one side of Dom in the big double bed, Rina herself on the other side. The thought of this little owl named Elspeth invading that scene of bacchanalian debauchery might be amusing, but he doubted Dom would think so. “It would be better if I brought Dom to you. He moves around a lot and has an interest in one or two claims out of town.”

Elspeth frowned. “If that’s the only way I can see him. Claims? You mean gold mines?” She had known Hell’s Bluff was a boom town, one of those fabulous places that had sprung into being when gold had been discovered. It was rather like Athena springing full grown from Zeus’s head, she thought. She should have guessed that Dominic Delaney was still here because of the gold being found in these parts. She experienced a swift rush of dismay. She had nothing to offer him but the potential for great wealth. What if he were already a wealthy man? “He owns gold mines?”

Patrick shook his head. “He grubstaked a couple of miners for a percentage of their claims, but they haven’t brought in more than a few sacks of dust yet.” He shrugged. “There’s plenty of gold here in the Santa Catalinas all right. It’s probably only a question of time until Dom’s miners make a strike.”

Elspeth released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She still had something with which to bargain, then. “We’ve heard of your famous gold rushes at home. Hell’s Bluff must be a very interesting town. Do you have one of these claims, too, Mr. Delaney?”

He made a face. “I have all I can do on Killara. My gran-da keeps us all too busy to go prospecting.”

“Except your uncle Dominic?”

“I heard he shot two men in Carson City,” Andre Marzonoff broke in. “He faced them in the street and they both emptied their guns while he walked toward them. He didn’t fire a shot until he was within range and then gunned them both down. Is it true he’s being hunted by the Texas Rangers?”

Elspeth had almost forgotten the Russian was in the coach. Now she saw he had been drinking in Patrick Delaney’s words with an avid thirst that was faintly repulsive.

It was clearly repulsive to Patrick Delaney as well. “No, Dom’s not wanted by the law any longer. He was given a full pardon by the governor five months ago.” He lowered his voice to a dangerous softness. “And questions regarding a man’s past aren’t encouraged out here, Marzonoff. If you want to stay healthy, you’d better observe our primitive customs.”

For a moment Marzonoff actually appeared indignant. Then he smiled ingratiatingly. “I meant no offence. I admire you westerners very much. You bear a resemblance to the Cossacks of my own country. My cousin, Nicholas, is related on his mother’s side to Igor Dabol, the most powerful tribal leader in the steppes.”

“How interesting,” Delaney said politely. “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of him.” He looked down and Elspeth noted a gleam of pure mischief in his hastily averted eyes. “We Delaneys have a few well-known relatives ourselves. Have you ever heard of the James brothers? Jesse and Frank?”

Marzonoff’s eyes widened. “Jesse James?”

“Cousins,” Delaney said. “On my mother’s side, of course.” He was scrupulously keeping his gaze from Marzonoff’s rapt face. “And then there’s old Joaquin Murrietta. You might say he’s the patriarch of the California branch of the Delaney clan. Of course, I guess Uncle Bill is probably more famous.”

“Bill?” Marzonoff was almost stammering with excitement.

“Bill Hickok. However, there are those who say he’s more infamous than famous. But not to his face. Uncle Bill is very careful of his good name.”

“Wild Bill Hickok,” the Russian repeated dazedly.

“And the Daltons and the Youngers are second cousins on my…” Delaney trailed off and Elspeth saw his shoulders begin to shake, though his expression was still bland. She was forced to smother a laugh herself.

Patrick Delaney’s voice was a little choked as he continued. “I think I’ll take a little snooze. All that walking has made me plumb weary.” He put on his stetson and tipped it over his eyes, ignoring Marzonoff’s obvious disappointment. “I’m afraid I’m not as rough and tough as my kinfolk.”

Elspeth didn’t know about his toughness but she was sure the young rascal could far outpace his “relatives” in sheer deviltry.

She settled back on the seat, shifting her gaze between the two young men opposite her. They were a strange blend of contrasts and similarities. The plump Russian was the older, she judged, close to her own age of twenty-two years. His fine city clothing should have given him the advantage of inner confidence over the auburn-haired cowboy, but such was not the case. Patrick’s tight denim trousers were shabby, his brown shirt and tan suede vest dusty, and his black stetson was sun-faded in spots. Yet his wide shoulders and narrow hips, the careless grace of his strong body, gave his attire an elegance Andre Marzonoff could never hope to bring to his clothing. Patrick’s speech was puzzling. His words sounded as educated and cultured as any of her father’s students, and yet they were flavored by a lazy and quite unusual drawl. This young Delaney was something of an enigma, she thought.

She glanced out the window. The Santa Catalina mountains were very beautiful but as stark and rugged as the rest of this wild country. How different they were from the mist-shrouded mountains of her native land. She shifted restlessly, suddenly tired of the scenery. She felt as if she had traveled years instead of weeks since she had left Edinburgh. She was growing terribly impatient now that she was so close to her objective. Her gaze returned to Patrick Delaney, and a tiny smile lifted the corners of her lips. She closed her own eyes and tried to relax.

The young cowboy was a complete scoundrel. Her father would have disapproved of both his attitude and his background, yet she was delighted to have his assistance when she arrived in Hell’s Bluff. Her smile brodened. Yes, she was perfectly delighted.

Dominic Delaney moved with utmost care down the carpeted stairs. His head felt as if it were being struck by the sharp point of a miner’s pick with every step. He stiffened the muscles of his neck as well as his entire upper body in an attempt to keep that blasted hammer at bay.

Red. Damn, why did Rina have to have such a fondness for red? Why didn’t she listen when he pointed out to her that a whorehouse didn’t necessarily have to look like a whorehouse. The flowered paper on the walls of the foyer was garish and rolled before his eyes as if he were seasick.

The front door opened and he flinched as slanted rays of afternoon sunlight hit him squarely in the eyes. He squinted against the glare and recognized the tall, familiar silhouette framed in the doorway. It didn’t improve his temper. “Shut the goddamn door,” he said in a growl as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Are you trying to blind me?”

“Sorry.” Patrick’s voice was cheerful as he entered the foyer and closed the door. “You look like hell. You ought to stick to singles if you don’t have the stamina for Rina’s little games. You’re not as young as you used to be, you know.”

“I’m young enough to take on a runny-nosed kid who doesn’t know better than to smart off to a man in my condition.” Dominic turned away and walked slowly down the corridor toward the kitchen. “And it wasn’t Rina or her games, as you call them. It was the whiskey. Lord, I’ve got to get a cup of coffee. What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were going back to Killara.” He turned his head too quickly and cursed softly as pain stabbed his temples and behind his eyes. He gave Patrick a sour look. “Don’t think you’re going to stay in Hell’s Bluff. A Saturday-night spree now and then is all right, but whorehouses and saloons are no good for a man in the long haul.”

Patrick’s lips quirked. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble to furnish me with proof of the wages of sin.”

“You go back to Killara tomorrow,” Dominic said flatly.

“If you’re so convinced Hell’s Bluff is the road to destruction, why don’t you come with me to Killara?” Patrick met Dominic’s gaze. The laughter had vanished from his face. “Come home, Dom. Why do you think Gran-da doesn’t give me hell for coming up here so often? He wants word of you. More, he wants you to come home, where you belong.”

Dominic averted his eyes and felt an ache somewhere within him that had nothing to do with his overindulgence of the previous night. Belonged. How long had it been since he’d belonged anywhere as he once had belonged at Killara? There had been times during the last nine years when he’d missed his home with a ferocity that had been sheer torture. “Someday.”

“When, Dom?” Patrick asked softly. “You’re not on the run any longer. You love Killara. Maybe more than anyone but Gran-da. Times aren’t good now. Killara needs you.”

Dom flinched as if he’d been struck. “And whose fault is it that times aren’t good? For God’s sake, I’ve practically destroyed Killara. Do you want me to come back and finish the job? You know damn well why I can’t come back to the ranch. Now drop it, Patrick.”

“Dom, I-” Patrick broke off and slowly shook his head. “You’re wrong. You’re a Delaney. You know we protect our own.” He paused. “Gran-da just wants you home.”

Dominic’s lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. “And what if protecting me ends with Cort or Sean or you dead or shot up? Will he want me then?”

“Yes,” Patrick said. “I think you know that, Dom.”

Yes, he knew his father wouldn’t count the cost when it came to any member of his family. It made the situation all the more painful. “Well, I’m not about to let any of you pay that kind of a price. I’ve cost Killara too much.” He violently pushed open the door to the kitchen.

Li Tong turned away from the stove with a wide smile as they came into the room, took one look at Dominic’s face, and nodded shrewdly. “Coffee,” he said with certainty, and hurried toward the cupboard, his pigtail bouncing. “Sit down, Mr. Delaney. I get.”

Dominic dropped into the wooden chair at the large round table covered in blue-checked gingham. He gave Patrick a sardonic glance. “Tell Da I’m doing fine. Who could ask for anything more? I make a decent living playing poker at the Nugget. I can sleep all day and spend most of the night pleasing myself.”

Li Tong placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of Dominic and looked inquiringly at Patrick. When Patrick shook his head he moved silently across the large room toward the large woodburning stove.

Dominic deliberately changed the subject. “Speaking of pleasure, how did you like Dulcie?”

“Very talented,” Patrick said, his thoughts still far away from the playful redhaired strumpet who had shared his bed the night before. Then his frown disappeared as he grinned at Dominic. “Maybe you ought to try her. You wouldn’t need exotic variations to revive your flagging manhood if you concentrated on quality instead of quantity.”

“Flagging manhood!” Dominic took a sip of coffee before he turned his gaze to Patrick with the faintest flicker of a smile. “When you get a little older, my lad, you’ll find a true man has to challenge himself on occasion.” He grimaced. “And last night was definitely a challenge.”

“Were the ladies satisfied?”

“I don’t remember.” Dominic rubbed his temple. “But I think I was. And I’m sure Rina will let me know when she wakes up if she wasn’t.”

Patrick chuckled. “I agree. Rina’s not shy about voicing her displeasure.” Not that Patrick could recall a time when Dominic had had a problem pleasing Rina Bradshaw. The madam seemed more than happy to have Dominic’s company in and out of bed as often as possible. Patrick rocked the chair onto its rear legs and pushed his stetson to the back of his head. “Maybe you’re right. Could be this isn’t such a bad life after all.”

Dominic took another sip of coffee and looked straight ahead. “Don’t even think about it. You’re going back to Killara first thing tomorrow morning.”

Patrick raised a quizzical brow. “Oh, am I, Uncle Dominic, sir? And just what would you say if I decided to stay and join you in a life of decadence?”

“I’d knock you on your ass, tie you on your horse, and send you packing to Killara. Then I’d tell everyone in Hell’s Bluff if they allowed you in a saloon, a whorehouse, or even in the general store, they’d have to face me.” He smiled with a gentleness that was more menacing than anger. “Would you care to call my bluff, Patrick?”

Patrick gave a low whistle and shook his head. “Not at the moment. It would be a waste of time, as I have every intention of going home tomorrow. In fact, I would have been home tonight if my horse hadn’t thrown a shoe about five miles out of town.”

“You could have told me.”

Patrick grinned. “And missed the chance of goading dangerous Dominic Delaney? You have things too much your own way here, Dom. You need someone around to whittle you down a peg.”

Dominic suddenly smiled with engaging warmth. “You do a pretty good job. I’m lucky you aren’t around all the time, or I’d be whittled down to the size of a toothpick.” He finished his coffee. “Well, as long as you’re here you might as well enjoy the fruits of corruption for a little longer. Do you want to come over to the Nugget with me and see if we can get up a game?”

“Maybe later. I thought we’d go over to the hotel for a meal.” Patrick paused. “There’s someone there I want you to meet. She arrived on the stage this afternoon.”

“She?” Dominic smiled faintly. “Dulcie couldn’t have been as good as you say if you had to go out and find another ladyfriend so soon.”

“It’s nothing like that. You’re the reason she’s come to Hell’s Bluff. She said she had a business proposition for you.”

“Maybe Rina has been telling the world about my skills,” Dominic drawled. “Do you think she wants to hire me as her fancy man?”

Patrick frowned. “I’m not joking. She’s not like that, Dom. She’s kind of…” He shrugged. “She’s a lady.”

“Evidently one who has impressed you considerably.” Dom was studying him speculatively. “Pretty?”

“Good Lord, no.” Patrick shook his head. “She looks like the schoolteacher we had living at the ranch after Rising Star came. Spectacles and prim and proper as they come. She said you knew her father, Professor Edmund MacGregor.

“Christ, I thought I’d shaken off that little bastard.”

“You did. The lady said he had departed this world for a better place. Who was he?”

“A very persistent and unpleasant gentleman with the hide of an armadillo and the narrowmindness of a preacher’s virgin daughter.”

“Some of them aren’t all that narrowminded,” Patrick protested. “I ran into one last year in Tucson who was neither a-”

“What does she want with me?”

Patrick shook his head. “You’ll have to ask her.”

“The hell I will.” Dominic leaned back in his chair and rubbed his cheek. He could feel a slight stubble, but he wasn’t about to shave. At the moment he couldn’t stand the thought of anything harsher than a feather against his skin. “Tell her I’m too busy to take on any new business ventures and put her on the stage back to Tucson tomorrow morning.”

“See her, Dom. She’s come clear across an ocean and an entire continent. Why don’t you let her tell you what she wants?”

Dominic reached into his shirt pocket for the makings and began to roll a cigarette. “I have a good idea what she wants.”

Patrick’s brown eyes glinted with curiosity. “What?”

Dominic ran his tongue over the thin paper and reached for matches. “The same thing her father wanted. What everyone in Hell’s Bluff wants. One good strike that will make them king of the hill.”

“Elspeth MacGregor is no prospector.”

“We’ll see.” Dominic lit the cigarette and drew deeply. “Or, rather, you’ll see. I have no intention of talking to the lady.”

“I wish you would, Dom.” Patrick’s brow furrowed. “It wouldn’t hurt to be polite to her. She’s sort of…”

“Sort of what?”

Patrick hesitated. “I think she’s a little owl who believes she’s an eagle.”

Dominic burst out laughing. The hardness and cynicism disappeared from his face, and for an instant, he looked as young as Patrick. “God, how poetic. Rising Star couldn’t have put it better.”

Patrick looked a little sheepish. “Well, it fits anyway. A little owl won’t be any trouble for you to shake off. See her, Dom.”

Dominic’s expression had softened miraculously as he gazed with affection at his nephew. “If you’re wrong about your little owl, you’re going to wish you’d never come back to Hell’s Bluff today even if it meant crawling to Killara on your hands and knees. You say she’s over at the hotel?”

Patrick nodded. “She said she’d wait in the parlor.”

Dominic pushed back the chair, shuddering as the legs screeched on the floor. “I’ll go upstairs and get my hat.”

He paused at the door to glance back over his shoulder. “How is Rising Star?”

Patrick’s expression became shuttered. “Fine. She’s in her seventh month now. She’s very happy about the baby.” He looked down at the tablecloth and began to trace one of the blue squares with his index finger. “It shows. She kind of… glows.”

“That’s nice.” Dominic started to say something but changed his mind. What the hell could he say that would do any good? he asked himself. Abruptly, he turned away. “I’ll be right down.”