Читать книгу In Search Of Dreams - Ginna Gray - Страница 10

Kate Mahoney pushed her shopping cart through the aisles of Hendricks Grocery with single-minded purpose: to get her shopping done as quickly as possible and make her escape.

Luckily, today the only other customers in the store were Gert Krueger and Jonell Abbott; although, that was bad enough.

If Gert had her way, Kate and her brother would be rotting behind bars. Jonell wasn’t quite so obvious, or so vocal, but her animosity was just as strong. Both women shot her withering glares whenever she passed them in the aisles.

Otto Hendricks’s mouth thinned when Kate pushed her cart up to the checkout stand and started unloading her groceries. Neither he nor his wife, Shirley, spoke, nor did Kate. Keeping her expression blank, she transferred her purchases onto the counter while Otto rang them up on the ornate, old cash register. Like everything else in Gold Fever, the machine was a relic.

Shirley bagged Kate’s groceries, her face pinched up like a prune. When her husband finished ringing up the items he curtly announced the total, and without a word Kate counted out the required amount in cash and loaded the sacks into her cart.

Neither Otto nor Shirley offered to help, nor did they wish her goodbye when she turned to leave. As Kate opened the door and pushed her cart out onto the sidewalk, she heard an indignant huff and Gert’s querulous, “I swear, I don’t know how that woman has the nerve to show her face in this town.”

“I know,” Shirley agreed. “It makes my blood boil to have to wait on her. You ask me—”

The door swung shut, cutting off the venomous tirade. Kate paused to draw in a deep breath of cool mountain air, then zipped up her windbreaker and turned toward home.

She walked purposefully with her head high and her gaze focused straight ahead, pretending not to notice the stares that followed her or how people she had known most of her life stepped aside to avoid any sort of physical contact with her. A few doors down the street, Donny Bowman stepped from his family’s bakery and headed in her direction. He had given Kate her first kiss, had taken her to the senior prom and afterward had declared his undying love for her, but when he looked up and spotted her, his face hardened. Kate’s chin came up another notch, and she met his cold stare with unapologetic directness. It was Donny who finally broke eye contact and looked away.

The corners of Kate’s mouth curved ever so slightly. Good. Let him glare and grumble, she thought. He won’t see me cringe or hang my head and slink away like a whipped dog.

Thankfully, Gold Fever was a small place, only about eight blocks square. Main Avenue was a spur off Highway 550, about a half mile away, and the only paved street in town. The others were dirt and gravel.

In minutes Kate reached the north end of town where the paving ended. With a sigh of relief, she started up the sloping dirt road. The grocery cart bumped and rattled over rocks and potholes as she pulled it along behind her.

Kate hated going into town, and put off doing so until she had no choice. Even during the height of tourist season she kept to herself as much as possible, venturing down into town merely to buy supplies and pick up her mail at the post office.

The cart was heavy, and soon her arm began to ache. She could have made it easy on herself and driven the SUV into town, but she enjoyed walking and getting out in the fresh air. Winter was just around the corner, and once it arrived she wouldn’t be able to walk to town.

Climbing the gentle slope, she looked around at the soaring peaks and smiled. How she loved it here. As a six-year-old, the first time she and her family had driven over the last pass and started down the winding road into this high mountain valley, she had been enchanted. In twenty-three years that feeling had never left her.

A gust of wind sent a chill through Kate and tugged a blond curl loose from her French braid. She shivered and pushed the dancing tendril away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. During the past couple of weeks, storms had powdered the tops of the mountains with fresh snow. Even in summer, snow capped the jagged peaks, but now the white mantle was growing longer, sagging unevenly like a cheap petticoat, edging downward a little more with each weather front that came through. Soon the town would be buried under a blanket of snow and ice, and Gold Fever’s few souls would hunker down before their fires for the long winter, venturing out only when absolutely necessary.

Kate’s gaze followed the switchback path of the road upward to the house sitting majestically about five hundred feet up the base slope of Smithson Mountain, overlooking the town. She picked up her pace, impatient suddenly to get back inside the protection of its walls. The huge rose-granite house was now known as the Alpine Rose Bed-and-Breakfast, but to Kate it would always be her place of refuge, her home.

The last guests had checked out yesterday, and though most of the tourists who rented rooms from her were nice people, Kate had been happy to see them go. She was looking forward to the respite from the seven-day-a-week work schedule of running a bed-and-breakfast, as well as to her annual period of solitude.

Besides, she needed time to get the place winterized before the snows came in earnest. She had already begun spreading a thick layer of compost and mulch around the bases of the rose bushes that surrounded the house. There were also storm windows to hang, outdoor faucets to insulate, porch furniture to store in the garage.

When she was done with those chores she had to lay in a larger supply of food and art supplies and stock up on books and needlework projects and jigsaw puzzles—things to keep her occupied during the next five months.

Kate rattled around all alone in the big house in the winter, but she didn’t mind. Though she had not been born an introvert, out of necessity she had developed into one over the past four years. Now she had become accustomed to the winter solitude and looked forward to sleeping late and having only herself to please. Most of all, she looked forward to having her home to herself once again.

Kate had barely reached the house and put away her groceries and was passing through the foyer when she heard a vehicle coming up the road. She stepped outside onto the porch and shaded her eyes with her hand, wondering who it could possibly be. Other than Zach, who was in Arizona, and an occasional delivery or repair person, the only people who came to her door were tourists, and the season was over.

Probably just someone who was lost, she thought as the green Jeep Cherokee climbed toward her. Often a motorist got confused and took the spur road instead of following the highway north. Most quickly realized their mistake and backtracked, but a few ended up on the dirt road from town that led to her doorstep.

Kate crossed the porch to wait at the top of the steps. The Jeep came to a halt at the end of the walkway and a tall, dark-haired man climbed out.

“May I help you?” she inquired politely.

“I sure hope so.” He grinned at her over the top of the vehicle. Taking his time, he paused by the Jeep, hands planted on his hips, and drank in the spectacular panorama of snow-capped mountains all around and the picturesque Victorian town nestled in the valley below. When he’d looked his fill, he skirted the vehicle and started up the brick walkway, shaking his head. “Man, that’s some view.”

“Yes, isn’t it.”

Watching the man approach, Kate experienced an odd flutter in the pit of her stomach. With his dark good looks and lean build, the man exuded a potent masculine aura that was palpable even from a distance.

That sexy, loose-limbed saunter alone was enough to raise the coldest woman’s blood pressure. Oh, yes, he was a good-looking devil, she thought as he came to a halt at the foot of the porch steps. His features were strong and beautifully formed, chiseled just enough to save him from being pretty. No doubt he left a trail of palpitating female hearts in his wake wherever he went.

Judging from the way her own was thumping, Kate realized ruefully that she was no more immune than the rest of her sisters. Either that, or she’d been alone far too long.

The man placed one foot on the bottom step, and the faded denim jeans stretched taut over well-defined muscles. Bracing his hand on his thigh, he flashed her a disarming smile. “This is the Alpine Rose Bed-and-Breakfast, I hope?”

“Yes, it is. May I help you with something?”

“I need a place to stay.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid as of yesterday, the Alpine Rose is closed for the winter.”

“You’re kidding. I had no idea you weren’t open year-round.”

“There wouldn’t be much point. Tourists love this area during the other seasons, but since we don’t have a ski resort nearby, our harsh winters tend to keep them away.”

The man sighed and looked out over the town again. Then he turned back to her with a persuasive smile. It was pure practiced charm, Kate knew, but that didn’t stop her heart from giving a little kick when he turned those vivid blue eyes on her.

“Could I perhaps persuade you to make an exception for me?”

“I’m sorry—”

“No, wait. Before you say no, hear me out. I’m not looking for a room for just a night or two. I’d like to book a stay for at least six months.”

“Six months? Oh, I’m sorry, Mr.…”

“Conway. J. T. Conway.”

“Mr. Conway, I’m not running a boarding house. This is a first-class bed and breakfast. The people who stay here usually do so for only a few days.”

“I know, but what’s my alternative? The Miners’ Lodge? I stopped in there and had a look before coming here. No, thanks.”

Kate stared at him. He had her there. She wouldn’t wish that place on anyone. The Miners’ Lodge had been a brothel in the nineteenth century, and other than to change the sheets, she doubted the current owners had done anything to improve the cubbyhole rooms. They ran a pool hall and restaurant and bar in the downstairs. Occasionally they rented out one of the upstairs rooms—mostly to the young crowd who typically stayed in youth hostels. Those who sought elegance, comfort and good food came to the Alpine Rose.

“Mr. Conway, I’m doing you a favor by refusing. The elevation of the town is just over nine thousand feet. Our winters are brutal. We get snowed in for days at a time. Trust me, you would hate it.”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully and glanced down at the town. “Does anyone live in Gold Fever during the winter months?”

“Yes. There are about three hundred year-round residents.

“Do you stay through the winter?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m sure I can manage.”

“Mr. Con—”

“You don’t understand, Miss, uh…?”

“Kate Mahoney. I own the Alpine Rose.”

“Well, Miss Mahoney, solitude is exactly what I’m looking for. It won’t bother me a bit to be snowed in. You see, I’m writing a novel set in this area during the gold rush, and I really need to stay here to conduct my research and get the feel of the place.”

“I see. Nevertheless—”

“If you’re worried that I’ll be a lot of trouble, don’t. Most of the time I’ll be in my room writing, or down in town doing research and interviewing the old-timers around here. This is a big house. You won’t even know I’m here. I promise.”

Oh, she’d know he was there, all right, Kate thought. No woman under the age of ninety could fail to be aware of the presence of a man like J.T. Conway under her roof. Her feminine radar would pick him up even if she put him on the third floor in the old servants’ quarters.

Instinct told her that the smart thing would be to refuse his request. The man unsettled her, although she wasn’t sure why. It was more than merely his looks; she’d had good-looking men stay in her home before. But there was something about J. T. Conway…

She had every right to refuse. She needed a rest from looking after guests, and she was looking forward to a period of solitude and self-indulgence. When she had the house to herself she could take long bubble baths and sleep late and run around in sweats and socks and never put on makeup. Shoot, she could run around bare-beamed and buck naked, if she wanted to.

Still, she could use the money. A house as old as this one was constantly in need of repair. And, as he said, it was a big place. How much trouble could one man be?

Sensing that she was weakening, he quickly took advantage. “Look, we can agree on a monthly rate and I’ll pay you the six months rent in advance. It’s yours regardless of whether or not I stay the full six months. How does that sound?”

Six months rent up-front? Kate made a quick calculation in her head, and temptation tugged at her. A few of the rooms could use fresh paint and wallpaper. By next spring the carriage house would need repainting and there were several other repairs she needed to tackle to keep the place in top condition.

She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know,” she said uncertainly.

“And of course I’ll pay extra for the additional meals.”

He named a generous figure, and Kate flashed him an annoyed look. Darn it. He wasn’t playing fair.

“Oh, and if you have any concern about being alone in the house with me for months, you really don’t have to worry. Not that I don’t find you attractive, mind you,” he added with a flirtatious wink. “I do. But I assure you I’ve never forced my attentions on a woman.”

I’ll bet, Kate thought. Men like J. T. Conway didn’t have to. Just the opposite. He probably had to beat women off with a club.

Actually, she hadn’t given a thought to that aspect until he mentioned it. Kate was accustomed to having strangers in her home. However, never anyone for a long period of time.

Kate wasn’t concerned for her safety. She had no illusions about her looks. She knew that she had a delicate sort of beauty that some found appealing, but she was hardly the type to drive a man wild with lust. Of course, some of the men who had stayed at the B&B had made passes at her, but she put a stop to that soon enough. With the married ones, a threat to tell their wives usually did the trick.

What bothered Kate was the gossip J.T. was sure to hear in town. Most of her guests didn’t stay long enough to learn about the scandal or hear the accusations against her and her brother. But if Mr. Conway was going to be around for months, talking to the locals and digging through the town’s old newspaper files, he was certain to find out about the crime.

How would he react? she wondered. With scorn? Or avarice? It was usually one of the two.

J. T. Conway’s opinion of her didn’t matter one way or the other, but she didn’t care for the idea of being cooped up all winter with someone who thought she was a criminal.

“I can give you references if you’d like,” J.T. pressed when she continued to hesitate. “My pastor back in Houston, a retired police detective and former girlfriends. You can call them, ask them anything you want.”

Kate arched one eyebrow. “Former girlfriends? Are you sure you want to risk that?”

His devilish grin flashed again. “I’m on friendly terms with all my ex’s. If you want to call them I’ll be happy to turn over my little black book to you.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Kate gave him a level look. “I have a sturdy lock on my door, Mr. Conway. I also have a pistol, and I’m an excellent markswoman.”

The last statement was a blatant lie. Not only did she not own a hand gun, she’d never touched one in her life. The only weapon she’d ever fired was her father’s old shotgun.

That he remained on friendly terms with his ex-lovers said a lot about his character, but it didn’t hurt for him to believe she could and would defend herself if the need arose.

J.T. did not seem in the least intimidated. He tried to put on a serious face, but laughter twinkled in his eyes, and his mouth twitched suspiciously. “I’ll keep that in mind. So, Miss Mahoney, does this mean you’ll let me stay?”

Kate met his pleading gaze for several seconds. Finally she sighed. “Very well. You can stay.”

Yes! J.T. thought, fighting down the urge to let out a whoop. He was in! First step accomplished.

“Great. You won’t regret it.”

Her dry look told him she wasn’t convinced of that, but she merely turned back to the door. “If you’d like to get your things we’ll go in.”

“Sure thing.” He hurried out to his Jeep and returned moments later carrying a large bag over his shoulder and a case containing his laptop and followed her inside.

“Very nice,” he said, looking around at the impressive entry hall.

“Thank you. The house was built by Elijah Smithson between 1880 and 1883. He was the first prospector in the valley to find gold. As it turned out, his claim was not only the first, it was the richest strike ever made here. Throughout the town’s history, the Shamrock Mine was the largest and most profitable in the valley. Two-thirds of the local miners worked there.”

Amusement tugged at J.T.’s mouth. She sounded like a tour guide. No doubt the spiel was one she gave to all her paying guests. Kate Mahoney was the epitome of the cool, efficient innkeeper—polite and informative, but businesslike. He had a hunch it was a persona she assumed to keep a distance between herself and her guests.

Nice try, honey, he thought with a cynical twist to his mouth. But it’s not going to work with me. Before the winter is over you and I are going to become well acquainted.

“I’m surprised he stayed in such a remote place after striking it rich,” he said to Kate. “Especially if Gold Fever was like most rough-and-ready mining towns of that era.”

“Oh, Mr. Smithson built a mansion in Denver, too, like the other gold tycoons, but he liked to keep a close watch on the mine operation. Personally, I think he also enjoyed being a big fish in a small pond. This house served as a constant reminder to all the locals of his status.”

“Mmm, you’re probably right,” J.T. agreed, arching his neck back to look at the enormous, domed, etched-glass skylight that spilled prisms of light into the foyer. “Why else would he build a place like this and perch it up here where he could look down on everyone else?”

“Yes, I agree. Now if you’ll come with me, I’ll give you a quick tour of the downstairs so you’ll know your way around.”

She led the way down the wide central hallway toward the back of the house. An appreciative smile curved J.T.’s mouth as he watched her thick braid swing against her back and the enticing sway of her gently rounded hips.

As they passed them, Kate gestured toward the two sets of double doors on either side of the hall. “On the left is the guest parlor, on the right the family parlor. Next on the left is the dining room, and across the hall from it is the library. Feel free to use them anytime you like.

“You may even find some valuable research material for your novel in the library. My father was a mining engineer and the superintendent of the Shamrock Mine for years. He was also something of a history buff. All I ask is that you return any books that you use when you’re done.”

“Fair enough. And, thanks. I’ll take you up on that offer.”

A little past the center of the house the hallway came to a T at the base of the massive stairway. Kate gestured to the short hallway on the left. “This leads to the butler’s pantry, downstairs powder room and the servants’ back stairs, but I would prefer that you not use those as they’re narrow and steep. I rather not risk a guest taking a fall.”

“Old Elijah didn’t waste money on niceties for the hired help, huh?” J.T. said with a crooked smile.

“No. Although, I don’t suppose he was any worse than any other wealthy person of that era. In those days there were definite distinctions between the classes. Now, if you’ll follow me, Mr. Conway, we’ll go to my office and get you checked in.”

“The first door is the entrance to the kitchen,” she said in her brisk, tour guide voice as they made their way down the right hallway. “That door at the end of the hall opens to the porte cochere. When it’s snowing you may want to pull your vehicle under there and enter through that way. Here we are.” She opened the last door on the left and led the way inside a comfortable-size room. “This used to be the housekeeper’s room, but I use it as my office now. Please, have a seat, Mr. Conway.”

The formality of registering and paying six months rent in advance took only a few minutes. When they were done, Kate led the way back down the hall to the stairs.

“There is an elevator. It was put in years ago, and it’s pokey, but if you’d prefer to use it we can.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind the stairs.”

At the base, the stairway was at least ten feet wide, with massive, hand-carved newel posts and spindles. Six steps up, at a wide landing, the stairs split and turned at ninety-degree angles, one flight going right, the other left.

Kate took the flight of stairs to the right, continuing her spiel as they climbed, but J.T. listened with only half an ear. He was too busy studying the stained-glass mural that made up the outer wall of the next landing.

It depicted a woman in eighteenth-century dress strolling through a garden, carrying a basket full of freshly cut flowers. J.T. darted a quick look over his shoulder and spotted a companion stained-glass mural on the opposite landing of a gentleman astride a white horse. Light streamed in through both windows, bathing the entire stairwell in shafts of rainbow hues that created an almost surreal atmosphere.

To have the enormous pieces commissioned, then hauled up to this remote mountain town by horse and wagon must have cost old Elijah a mint, J.T. mused in awe, craning his neck for one last look as he followed Kate up the next section of stairs.

“Excluding the servants’ quarters on the third floor, the house has ten bedrooms. I rent eight of them to guests.”

Which leaves one available for your brother whenever he decides to drop in, J.T. thought.

“Originally there were fourteen bedrooms on this floor, but four had to be sacrificed when the house was remodeled around 1910 to add bathrooms.”

“Fourteen bedrooms, huh. That’s a lot, even for a millionaire.”

“Not really. The Smithsons had a large family. There were already three children when the house was built and eight more were born after they moved in.”

Kate stopped outside a door at the end of the hall. “Since you’re the only guest, you may have your choice of rooms, but I think this one will best suit your needs.” Opening the door, she led the way inside.

“As you can see, being a corner room, it is quite large, and there’s a desk in the alcove that you may use. There’s also a private bathroom right through that door. The fixtures are antique but you’ll find the plumbing is sound.”

“I’m sure it’ll do fine.”

Kate stayed just inside the door as J.T. strolled to the center of the room. He looked around, impressed with the room’s size and immaculate condition. Even though heavy emerald-green velvet draped the four tall windows on the two outer walls, plenty of light streamed in through the lace panels that covered the panes.

The cabbage-rose wallpaper and the rose-patterned rug covering most of the oak floor were not to J.T.’s taste, but they were in keeping with the Victorian structure. So was the massive antique furniture. It was all right, he supposed, but not something he’d choose for himself.

Then the bed caught his eye, and he instantly revised his opinion. The thing was magnificent. The mahogany headboard stood at least eight feet tall and the footboard three and a half or four. Both were intricately carved. The mattress looked bigger than the king-size bed he’d just put into storage and was almost as high as his waist. For someone Kate’s size the small set of wooden steps beside the bed would be a necessity.

“Wow. Now that’s what I call a bed.”

“It belonged to Mr. Smithson,” Kate explained. “He was a big man. I believe he had it custom-made. It does have a new mattress, though. I’m sure you’ll find it comfortable.”

“No wonder he had eleven children.” J.T. sent Kate a flirtatious glance and winked. “A bed like that would inspire any man.”

To his amusement, the talk of beds seemed to make her uncomfortable. Color bloomed in her cheeks, though she held her head high and pretended to be unaffected.

“The closet is small, I’m afraid. They were added at the same time as the bathrooms, but between it and the armoire, I think you’ll have adequate space for your clothes.”

“I’m sure they’ll do fine.” He watched her fidget and struggle to cover her discomfort. Well, well, well. So Ms. Kate Mahoney was uncomfortable with the subject of sex, was she? Now that was a puzzle worth looking into.

He judged her to be in her late twenties. Most women her age were experienced and worldly and would have barely noticed the mild innuendo.

“Good. Then I’ll leave you to get settled.” She started to leave, then turned back. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Conway—”

“Please, call me J.T. We’re going to be sharing this house for the next six months, so I think we can dispense with formality, don’t you?” he said, giving her a coaxing smile.

An appalled look flashed over her face before she could control it. Obviously, the lady would prefer to keep a safe distance between them. The question was, why?

J.T. watched her frantically grope for a reason to refuse the suggestion and saw the instant when she realized there was nothing she could say without sounding like a stiff-necked prig. “Very well. If you insist.”

“As I was about to say, meals are served in the dining room. Breakfast is at eight, lunch at one and dinner at seven.”

“Okay. But if I don’t show up, go ahead without me. When I’m working and it’s going well, I don’t stop for anything.”

“But, you have to eat.…”

“Don’t worry about me. Just stick whatever you’ve prepared in the fridge and I’ll zap it in the microwave later.”

Kate looked horrified by the suggestion. He watched her struggle with the idea, but finally she nodded. “Very well,” she said, making no attempt to hide her disapproval. “If that’s what you wish.”

She turned again to leave, but he stopped her.

“Actually, I don’t like to be disturbed at anytime when I’m working. So if the sign is out,” he said, pointing to the small needlepoint Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the inside doorknob, “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t knock on my door except in case of an emergency.”

“I clean the room every morning. How am I supposed to do that if I can’t get inside?”

“Don’t worry about it. I sure won’t. You can muck out when I come up for air.”

“Mr. Con—” One of J.T.’s eyebrows shot skyward, and she grimaced. “That is…J.T., the Alpine Rose has built a reputation on excellent service, good food and spotless accommodations. Guests don’t “zap” their own food nor are rooms allowed to get into a state where they require ‘mucking out.”’

“Don’t worry, your reputation is safe. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

She didn’t look pleased, but after a moment she sighed. “Very well, if you insist. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

When she had gone, J.T. stared at the closed door, his expression thoughtful. Kate Mahoney was not at all what he had expected.

His mouth twisted ruefully the instant the thought ran through his mind. He wasn’t supposed to “expect” anything. He was a reporter. He was supposed to approach an investigative assignment unbiased, with no preconceived ideas or opinions. True, he wasn’t there to get a story, but he wanted to apply the same fairness.

The trouble was he was finding it wasn’t quite so easy to hold to that ethical standard when the matter was personal.

J.T. sighed and raked his hand through his hair. No matter how hard he’d tried to keep an open mind, the implication in that Internet message kept eating at him. Just the idea that a brother of his might be involved in something illegal colored his thinking—not only about Zach Mahoney, but Zach’s adopted sister, as well.

Because of that message, J.T. had been prepared to meet someone more hard edged and worldly, not a soft, fragile-looking beauty like Kate.

She wasn’t his type, of course. He preferred feisty, vibrant women with vivacious personalities—women like his new sister-in-law, Maude Ann. Looking into Kate Mahoney’s calm gray eyes was like gazing into the cool depths of a mountain lake. With her blond hair and pale coloring, she reminded him of the delicate angel his mother used to put on top of their Christmas tree every year—exquisite to look at, but untouchable.

Yet there was something about her that played havoc with his libido. The instant he’d gotten a good look at her, he’d felt as though he’d received a sharp blow to the gut.

Strangely, her quiet reserve intrigued him. She didn’t appear to be shy, exactly. She hadn’t seemed in the least timorous or skittish. A wry smile twitched his mouth. That is, not until he’d made that crack about the bed. She’d been calm and businesslike, her gaze direct and unflinching. No, he had a feeling her reserve had more to do with wariness than timidity.

The question was, what was the cause? Guilt? An innately suspicious nature? Or past mistreatment?

J.T. gazed at the bed once again. He pictured Kate lying there, those solemn gray eyes glowing with warmth, that tender mouth parted in a temptress’s smile, her long hair an unbound tangle around her face.

The tidy French braid that hung down her back was as thick as his wrist and the color of ripe wheat. The whole time he’d talked to her his fingers had itched to unwind that plait, run his fingers through the silky strands, see that glorious mane spread out on his pillow like liquid gold.

He shook his head. “Don’t be a fool, Conway,” he cautioned himself. “The lady may look like an angel, but for all you know she could be a crook, so don’t go getting any amorous ideas.”

J.T. wandered over to one of the windows and pulled back a lace panel. The sun had already dropped behind the mountains, casting long purple shadows over the town below. Here and there lights were beginning to flicker on.

Gold Fever, with its false-front buildings and fancy Victorian architecture, looked quaint and picturesque, like a scene on a Christmas card—idyllic, peaceful, free from troubles and the normal human failings and vices.

But J.T. had learned that things were seldom as they seemed, that people—even the best of them—harbored dark secrets. He also knew that, human nature being what it was, there was always someone anxious to talk about them.