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Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

San Francisco, CA -- 1867

Captain Noah Stewart took a deep breath, closed his eyes and stretched -- a long, slow stretch -- reaching -- to rid himself of the constant tension required to sail a tall ship in the South China Sea and across the Pacific. His hand automatically sought the nape of his neck, to work out the knot still there. "Good to be back."

His gaze drifted around his spacious apartment living room. Everything looked exactly as he'd left it. A temple bell from Siam rested quietly next to a graceful statue from Africa. A Golden Dragon beneath his feet curled contentedly, woven into the deep green rug. Treasures from around the world, marking the stops along the trade route, the mileposts of his life the last ten years. A small pile of mail, on the ivory inlaid chest in front of the window, caught his eye. "Probably too old to read. Mrs. Chan keeps everything."

He shook his head. His housekeeper was absolutely trustworthy. She wouldn't throw away as much as a newspaper in his absence. He slowly walked to the chest, brushed back the beaded curtain, and stared at his ship, lying at anchor in the harbor below. He nodded unconsciously. The Malabar was a fine-looking ship, even with her sails furled.

It had been a good trip. The hold was full of goods from China. The deals had gone well. The money was in the bank and the cargo would be transferred starting tomorrow. His attention wandered back to the mail. "Might as well see what I've missed."

He fingered the yellow envelope on top. "A telegram?"

His brows knitted in concentration as he ripped it open. "What...?" The words jumped from the page:

Sarah in Florence Idaho Territory with Henry: STOP

Father left to find her: STOP

Stop him: STOP

Mother: END

"Mother? What the devil...?" His hand flew to the pile, scattering the mail, searching for another letter -- anything from his mother -- that would make sense of the cryptic message.

"Aha!" He pulled an envelope from the bottom of the pile. A yellowed postmark showed its age. He tore it open, searching for a hint. "Hmm..."

His mother's words rang in his ears: "Your sister Sarah has gone away as well. She left with a very nice young man by the name of Henry Johnson. They didn't tell me where they were going, so I wouldn't have to lie to your father. You know how he is. I do hope they're happy, as I hope you are, Noah. I miss you, son.

Your loving mother,

Hannah Baxter Stewart"

Noah rubbed a tired hand across his forehead, staring at his mother's letter. This was old news. He scrummaged for the telegram envelope. How long had it been here? "Here it is."

He studied the postmark. It had taken his father more than two years to find Sarah, but he evidently had. He'd be furious with her for leaving with a man -- especially if they weren't married. And he'd drag her home to put a stop to such sinful behavior, if he didn't beat her to death, first. "To save her immortal soul." Noah sneered at the thought.

"I have to find her. We've run from him long enough -- both of us."

He did a quick mental calculation. It would take his father several months to cross the United States from Nova Scotia overland. His gaze rested on one of the old newspapers lying on the table. A picture of the latest steam engine, with an accompanying story filled the front columns.

He flipped the paper open. The route of the proposed transcontinental railroad stretched out before him, across California and the open territory to the east, with its eventual meeting point in the Utah territory and the Idaho territory to the north, marked out. The railroad was coming west out of Omaha at the same time. Horseback riding distances were getting shorter and shorter across the country.

With the new railroad out of San Francisco cutting further west every day, the Idaho territory was only weeks away.

"I can get there. I can beat the old man." Noah crumpled the telegram in his fist. Resting would have to wait. His first mate could unload the cargo and get the Malabar ready for their next trip. He had to go to Florence, in the Idaho Territory -- as soon as he figured out where the devil it was.

Chapter One

Florence, Idaho Territory -- August, 1867

Leonid Chaikov rubbed a clammy hand across his mouth and tugged on his great, gray beard. His cards wouldn't change, no matter how long he stared. He crushed them together and glanced around the tiny mountain shack. The bare studs of the interior offered no encouragement. The raw planks and barren cabin looked as bleak as his poker hand. He thumbed them open. No luck. Still the same stinkin' cards. "Two pair. Two lousy pair."

"Come on, Chaikov. I ain't got all day. You gonna see my hand or not?" The voice from across the table grated in his ears. Turning to face the voice, he stared into merciless, beady eyes, glinting across the table. How had he ever allowed himself to get into a card game with Hargrave and Armitage? Sun Lee would have his hide if he lost their mine to this card shark and his 'go-fer'. "Shut up, Hargrave. It's my mine I'm putting on the table."

The hint of a smile snaked across Hargrave's angular face. He leaned back, tipping his chair onto its back legs. "That it is, Chaikov, that it is. You take all the time you want, 'cause when we get done, it's all gonna be my mine."

Hargrave's face set into its ever-present sneer. He jerked upright. The chair hit the floor with a resounding thud. Chaikov jumped at the sound, then settled into his own rickety seat. An unintelligible grunt escaped his lips. The cards, made thick by too many sweaty fingers from too many poker games, refused to budge. He held them toward the flickering lamplight and shook his head. No matter what he did, all he could see was two pair, with a Jack kicker. A shudder shook the big man's frame -- a shudder out of place on this stifling August night. Oh well, he couldn't cover his marker in the pot now. It was all or nothing at this point.

He smoothed the precious paper lying on the table. Picking up the pencil stub beside him, he scrawled his name on the front, endorsing the deed. Caressing it gently between his fingers, he finally stretched out his hand and deposited the document atop the pile of coins in the table's center. He brushed the other document lying by the coins.

"I'll call. I'm puttin' the deed to the mine down. And I'll see your hand." Chaikov glared across the table, keeping his hand firmly on the two papers.

Hargrave's smile widened. "I'll be glad to show it to you. Read 'em and weep, Chaikov."

Hargrave stood up, spreading his cards on the worn tabletop. "Three pretty Queens lined up beside a pair of Jacks. A full house, Chaikov."

He leaned forward, pressing his palms on the table. Eye-to-eye, he hissed, "Show me better, if you got it."

Chaikov's shoulders sagged. He pulled his hand back and turned his cards face up. "You got me beat. My two pair won't take that."

His heart sank. He'd lost it -- lost the Golden Dragon Mine. Sun Lee would never forgive him -- and she was such a good daughter. Since her mother's death, she'd loaded dirt and worked with him like a trouper. What could he say to her? He buried his face in his hands.

A strangled sound, coming from the third player in this unholy card game, caught his attention. He glanced at Armitage, who'd been in at the beginning. Seeing Armitage's face, he looked back at the cards. "What's wrong with you, Rat Face? You look like you just seen a ghost."

"Oh, nothing, nothing at all!"

Hargrave threw Armitage a withering glance. "Nothing's wrong, Chaikov. You just lost a mine that's all. I'll be takin' my winnings."

Chaikov's huge arm stopped Hargrave's sweep of the table. "Just a minute." His hand shot out, scooping up Armitage's cards. "I want to see these."

Hargrave tried in vain to stop him. "You can't do that."

Chaikov held the third hand in his huge fist and shook it slowly in Hargrave's face. "I just did."

He spread the cards on the table between the other two hands. A pair of jacks peaked out of Armitage's hand. An icy chill settled over the three men. Chaikov stood, towering over the others. He glared at the winner. "It's your deck, Hargrave. Since when does a poker deck have five Jacks in it?"

"Ah, I..." Hargrave searched for words, his eyes murderous thunderclouds, threatening to drown Armitage for his mistake.

"Never mind." Chaikov reached for the pieces of paper. "I'll be takin' the deeds."

Hargrave swung toward him. "No!"

Chaikov's hand dropped to his gun. "Yes, I will."

He was too slow. As his hand touched holster leather, he felt the searing pain in his chest, an instant before he heard the crack of a derringer. It was the last sound he ever heard. He clutched at his chest, trying to stop the pain exploding inside, trying to cover the hole exposing his lung. He couldn't breathe. Darkness eroded his vision, leaving him only a glimpse of the deeds on the table. With a dying gasp, he lunged toward the shadow.

The two men watched the miner slump over the table, then slide to the floor, dragging the papers with him. The table tipped with his weight, hitting the floor with a resounding crash. Chairs and coins scattered over the cabin floor. Hargrave turned his full wrath on the hapless Armitage. "Stupid bastard. It's your fault I had to kill him."

"I'm sorry, boss. I didn't mean to give it away."

Hargrave picked the spent percussion cap from the derringer he always carried up his sleeve. Taking careful aim, he gave the tiny piece of brass a deliberate flick, bouncing it off Armitage's forehead. "Well, you can just get rid of the body, since you made such a mess of this. Now we'll have to make it look like he ran off, 'cause he lost the mine."

Hargrave pulled the deed from the miner's death grip. Smiling, his gaze dropped down the page, then stopped "What the...? Damnation!"

His fist closed on the paper, crunching it. Armitage looked up from his coin retrieving. "What's wrong now?"

Hargrave furiously smoothed the wrinkles out of the deed and laid the precious piece of paper on the pine board braced on the wall, serving as a counter top. He retrieved the pencil and filled in his own name as the receiver of the deed. "His daughter's name is on this deed, too. It's not a clear title."

Armitage chuckled. "Maybe you'll have to marry her. Then the mine would be yours."

Hargrave glared. "The last thing I need is a slanty-eyed wife, who runs around in buckskins and is sassier than an old mule."

Armitage moved out of arm's reach. "It wouldn't be for long. Just long enough to get her signature, to get the rest. She sure ain't gonna work that claim with you. You know that."

Hargrave considered the remark. "Well she'll either marry me or turn it over, or she'll be dead, just like her old man. That nugget he had assayed in Riggins last week was the richest one to ever come out of this field, and we're gonna have the rest."

Hargrave slammed his fist on the counter top. Armitage jumped. "What ever you say."

Hargrave shot him a disgusted glance. "Just get rid of that body. Bury it deep, away from the cabin. Don't want anybody to find it when Sun Lee decides to search for her old man. She's not gonna take our word he's gone. We'll let her look for him 'til she decides he's run out on her, just like that fella she used to run with."

Armitage nodded. "We can keep an eye on her. If she works the claim, we'll know it. She may lead us to where he found the nugget."

Hargrave folded the deed carefully and tucked it into his frock coat pocket. He retrieved the second paper and tucked it away as well. "And if she doesn't come around soon enough, she may just have an 'accident', like some other people have up here."

At that, both men laughed, remembering other miners who had mysteriously disappeared in this rugged community, where law and order made only an occasional appearance.

"Go on. Get him buried. I got to get back to town. I can ride by moonlight. I'll wait 'til tomorrow to find Sun Lee to tell her about her old man takin' off after our card game."

Hargrave glanced over his shoulder. "And give me back my money, when you get it all picked up!"

The rat-faced man froze, mid-coin snatch. "Sure thing, boss, sure thing." He set the handful of money on the counter beside the rest of the coins he'd retrieved from their hiding places in the floor's cracks.

Hargrave scooped up the money, looked at Armitage, and put a few of the coins back on the counter. "You see that body's buried before morning."

Armitage nodded and watched Hargrave stomp out of the cabin into the darkness, to where the horses were tethered. The sound of the horse picking its way up the mountainside echoed in the stillness of the night. Armitage remained motionless, listening until the sound was entirely gone. Satisfied they were at last alone, he snatched up the money and turned to the lifeless miner lying on the floor.

His voice echoed in the bare cabin. "Well, Chaikov, it's just you and me now."

He nudged the body with the toe of his raggedy boot. "I got to bury you, you big ugly cuss. You're twice my size. You owe me, Chaikov."

Armitage looked the body over. Stuffing his fists into his pockets he continued to address the corpse. "Digging your grave ought to be worth them boots you got on. No sense lettin' 'em rot in the ground. You ain't gonna need 'em."

Armitage struggled, finally pulling the boots from the dead man's feet. Kicking off his own worn ones, he slipped his feet into the miner's decoratively studded boots. "Well, they're a mite big, but they'll shrink, if I wade in the stream going back. I'm obliged, Chaikov. I'll dig you a nice grave."

Armitage stared at the still form. He snapped his fingers. "A real nice grave, Chaikov." He knelt beside the body, patting its chest, carefully avoiding the bloody, gaping hole. A nervous laugh escaped his lips. His fingers wound around the watch chain. "Here we go. Yep, Chaikov, this here pocket watch of yours will be worth a real nice grave."

The silver timepiece fit nicely in his shirt pocket. "I never had a pocket watch, Chaikov. I'll take real good care of yours -- and your boots, too."

He glanced toward the cabin door. "Well, might as well get on with this. Come on, Chaikov, you're gonna have to go into the ground."

He slipped his arms underneath the inert form. Grunting and groaning, he pulled and tugged until the body started to slide. The miner's bare feet bumped and dragged against the rough-hewn planks, pulling splinters from the ragged surface. Ignoring the bloody trail, Armitage dragged the lifeless form across the room and out into the moonlit night, into the thick timber surrounding the cabin. The sorrowful wail of a lonesome timber wolf kept them company.

***

Sun Lee brushed a stray wisp out of her eyes. Shifting, setting her feet square, she grabbed the wheelbarrow handles and lifted with all her strength, tipping the load of dirt and rock into the shaker box. A huge dust cloud swirled around her.

"A-A-choo!"

She dropped the cart. Rubbing her nose against the back of her sleeve, she surveyed the results of her effort. A pile of earth, ready for washing, sat in the shaker, just below the first sluice gate.

"Mmmmm..." She gingerly stretched her back, rubbing the tender spot. Moving dirt all day was a chore when there were two of them. Doing it by herself was almost impossible. She shaded her eyes against the sun's noon glare and squinted, staring toward the trail. Where had he gone? He'd promised he would be back today. He'd promised he wouldn't go into Riggins for his Friday night drink. Sun Lee dropped her head. Her father's promises were just so many empty words. She'd probably have to go down, to get him out of jail again. He liked booze entirely too much to be a good miner any more.

She stiffened and tossed her head, swinging her thick, black hair back out of her way. But she could be a good miner, whether he was here or not. She could lift the dirt, shake the shakers and run the sluices as well as any man, better than most. Jaw set, she opened the gate, allowing the water to flow down the long series of sorting screens.

Satisfied at the gurgling flow, she shoved the lever in the rhythmic motion required to make the box spill its precious contents through the screened bottom into the rushing water. She watched the last of the dirt fall. It took so much longer to shovel and haul the dirt than it did to run it down the sluice box. She carefully turned over each rock left on the big screen. One more big nugget, just one -- like her father had found -- would prove she'd found the right spot. Tossing them out, one by one, she shook her head. No big ones. Oh well, maybe in the next one. She trudged downhill to the next, smaller screened box. A glint caught her eye. Sucking in a breath, she snatched up a clod, breaking it apart. Her eyes widened, then narrowed as she took a second look at the tantalizing find. "Fool's gold."

Her words echoed in the stillness. She tossed the sparkling bit of rock to the ground. She'd been here long enough to recognize iron pyrite when she saw it. She was no tenderfoot. The clatter of another rock, skittering along the trail, demanded her attention. Glancing up, she regarded the rider headed her way. That wasn't Dan, her father's mule. A tiny gasp escaped her lips.

"Hargrave." The name slipped between her clenched teeth. A chill slithered down her spine. She moved quickly to the end of the sluice box, to where her horse grazed, ground tethered. She yanked her shotgun from its saddle scabbard, pulled the hammers back and cradled it in the crook of her arm. The last thing she needed was to have to deal with this snake. Trouble and death followed him everywhere. What could he want? He never worked hard enough to be interested in mining. Putting her horse at her back, she waited. Hargrave pulled his mount to a stop and touched his hat in greeting.

"Howdy, Sun Lee. Been a while since I seen you." She nodded. He started to dismount, then stopped as the muzzle of Sun Lee's shotgun swung his way. "Easy, easy. This here's a social call."

"Oh? I never knew you to be the sociable kind, Hargrave."

"Well, I can be. We need to talk." He stared at the blue-eyed beauty behind the double barrels, pointed generally at him. If she weren't so cantankerous, a man could get used to her. 'Course he'd have to beat the spunk out of her. She was entirely too good with that gun for his taste. Her old man had let her get out of hand. Women had no business being that independent.

But still, with that dark hair hanging down her back in one long braid, a lithe, shapely body, at least from what he'd seen outlined by the buckskins she wore, and those big, blue eyes -- even though they were almond-shaped -- she was pretty. No -- beautiful -- for around here. Women, pretty or ugly, were few and far between in Florence. In the local saloon, Sadie was 'way' past her prime. The ride to Riggins for a night's pleasure was getting longer and longer. He might have to think again about claiming Sun Lee -- along with the mine.

Sun Lee squirmed, uncomfortable with his stare. "What do we need to talk about, Hargrave?"

"Why, we're partners, now, that's what."

Her grip on the gun tightened. What had her father done? "What are you talking about?"

"I won your father's share of this here mine in a card game last night."

Sun Lee recoiled from the words, bumping against the stallion behind her. "I don't believe you. My father would never turn loose of the Golden Dragon -- not willingly."

"Well, he did. He signed it over to me, legal-like. See?" He pulled the paper out of his coat. "You can see where he signed on the deed."

Sun Lee strained to see the signature, recognizing her father's oversized scrawl, even at this distance. "I guess that is his mark."

Hargrave nodded. "I know that doesn't count for your share of the mine, Sun Lee. That's why I said, we're going to be partners."

An icy fear coiled in the pit of her stomach. Could this be true? Could her father really have given up his share of the Golden Dragon to this worthless scum? Everyone in Florence was afraid of him. People who disagreed with him either turned up dead or just disappeared. The thought sunk deep, filling her with a nameless dread. "Where is my father?"

"Well now, I don't rightly know."

Sun Lee raised the gun muzzle to point directly at Hargrave's midsection.

"I don't know, I tell you." Hargrave shifted nervously in his saddle. "He felt real bad last night. After he lost, I mean. He had a few more drinks with me and Armitage, then headed out to his mule. Said he couldn't face you after losing his share of the Golden Dragon. He knew you'd be mad."

Sun Lee nodded. Mad didn't even come close to what she felt. "So what are your plans?"

He laughed a cold, expectant laugh and tucked the deed safely in his pocket. "Me? Why I'm going down to Riggins, to register my new claim, of course. I just wanted you to know about your new partner."

She could stand it no longer. "You can just forget it, Hargrave. You'll never get one ounce of dust out of this claim. I still don't believe you. I want to hear it from my father's lips."

The laughter stopped. Hargrave's smile disappeared and a grim, evil glare took its place. "Well you'd better believe me, missy. Your old man's gone. You and your granny and your chink friends ain't gonna run this place without him, no sir. When I get back, this mine is going to belong to me. And you will too, if I take a notion."

Sun Lee shuddered. "Over my dead body!"

Hargrave stared down. A chill filled the hot August day. "That could be arranged. Don't push me, Sun Lee. I'm going to have the claim, with or without you."

Sun Lee shivered. All the warmth had just disappeared from the sun's rays. She bit her lip, then clenched her teeth to stop any errant quiver of fear. Taking a deep breath, she shouldered the shotgun, centering Hargrave squarely in her sights. "What makes you think I'll let you ride out of here? I may just shoot you when you leave, like some vermin on the road."

The quiet hung between them. Her hands, rock steady, hid the fear snaking up her spine, coiling around her heart. Seconds as long as weeks dragged by. Hargrave finally shook his head. "No, you won't. You're not that kind, Sun Lee. You may be ornery, but you got scruples. You wouldn't shoot a man in the back."

He wheeled his horse and headed down the trail, shouting over his shoulder. "But remember, Sun Lee, scruples never kept anybody alive and a lead ball ain't the only way to die."

Through the gun sight, she watched him go, until the trail turned down and around the steep mountainside. The click, click, click of steel horseshoes against granite faded into the distance. Satisfied he'd really left, she carefully uncocked the hammers and slipped the heavy weapon back into its scabbard.

A huge sigh escaped her lips. She leaned forward burying her face against the big horse's withers. "Oh, Samson. What's he done to us, now?"

Samson nuzzled her shoulder. She reached up, scratching his chin. "You'll be here, won't you big guy? You're the only male critter around here I can depend on."

Leaning against him again, she fought the hot tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Crying never solved anything. She had to find out the truth, whatever that was. And the truth was wherever her father had spent last night. It certainly wasn't here.

"Come on, boy." Wrapping her hand around the reins, she led him to the sluice box. Hopping on its edge, she pulled him into position and easily jumped into the saddle, her buckskin split-skirt allowing her to ride astride.

"Let's go big boy. Let's go home. Maybe Grandmother has heard something."

She let the sure-footed animal pick his own way up the trail toward Florence. Hargrave's words haunted her. What if he really did expect her to marry him? Or just turn over her share of the mine -- for nothing? He certainly wouldn't offer to buy it; that was obvious. The thought of calling him "husband" or sharing a house, or worse, a bed with him, made her skin crawl.

Who knew how many people he'd already killed or had ordered killed? Florence had no law, no marshal. "Might made right" in Florence and that was usually Hargrave.

She had to find her father...or...what was left of him. Otherwise, she could never argue with Hargrave. But she would fight him, with her dying breath if need be. "He won't take it away from me. I won't let him!"

***

The desk clerk spun the hotel guest book around, squinting at the tight signature. "How long will you be staying in Florence, Mr.--ah--Captain Stewart?"

"Till I'm ready to leave."

The clerk nodded, clearing his throat, stretching his neck to relieve the sudden tension. "Well, yes, sir, I mean...I -- ah -- didn't mean to pry."

Noah Stewart stared at the forlorn little man. "Then don't. That gold piece should cover things for a spell."

"No, sir. I mean -- yes, sir, for at least a week." The shaken clerk fumbled in the desk drawer, finally pulling out a room key. "Your room's the first one down the hall, to your right."

Noah took the key and nodded again, then shouldered his sea bag with one effortless swing, picked up his rifle and headed down the hall.

The clerk stared after him. "What's a sailor doing in Florence?" No answer came to him. Gold strikes pulled people from everywhere, but this sailor looked out of his element. No pan, no mining equipment, nothing. Didn't look like he needed money either, not from the gold piece he'd flipped on the counter to pay for the room. He shook his head and reread the entry.

Captain Noah Stewart, San Francisco, California.

He was a long way from home, if any of what he wrote was true. You never knew around here. The sharp slam of the door and the click of the lock told him Captain Stewart had found his room.

***

Noah caught a glimpse of himself in the shiny tin mirror above the washstand. He almost smiled at the ferocious-looking creature staring out at him. "You are a fright. Even if you find Sarah, she'll never recognize you. Her brother never looked like this."

His thick black beard covered nearly half his face and his equally thick hair was slicked back at the nape of his neck into the protective quirt all sailors wore, to protect themselves against sword strikes. One gold earring, his "burying" ring peaked out through the mane of hair.

He ran his hand around the back of his neck, massaging the taut tendons and scratching the itch under the heavily oiled knot. "Got to get this cut."

He massaged the bristles of his heavy beard. "Too hot for all this fur. It'll grow back before we sail again."

Tossing his bag into the corner, he stepped to the window. Even from this side of the building, he could see most of the main street of the tiny mining town. A saloon, a barbershop and public bathhouse lined one side of the road. A mercantile, two mining company offices, an assayer's office and the hotel -- such as it was -- sat on the other side of the dusty, boardwalk-lined street.

The largest building by far was the combination barn and livery stable at the far end of town. It was an imposing, two-story structure, with a sturdy corral to one side. The folks here took good care of their livestock. He shrugged. His own horse, bought at the rail line's end from a miner down on his luck, was safely boarded there for the time being. Not much else in this town. A far cry from the ports of call he was used to. New York, London, Canton. What a god-forsaken place -- this Florence. Six hundred miles from San Francisco and more than 2,500 miles from home.

Home. Nova Scotia -- that tiny peninsula in the North Atlantic. The one he'd left so long ago. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window frame, his mother's words from the telegram echoing in his ears.

"Stop him."

He silently cursed his preacher-father and the strict Puritan heritage that allowed the old man to drive his only daughter from their home, then chase her across 2,500 miles of wilderness to bring her back.

Noah raised his head, nestling his chin on his fist, staring into the nearly empty side-street. Sarah had always been willful, as spunky as any girl could be. A smile forced its way through Noah's heavy beard. "Sarah."

She had adored her older brother and he lovingly excused her every transgression. But their father couldn't. His strict bible teachings couldn't contain Sarah either.

"I should have been there." Noah slammed a fist against the wood. "I could have stopped him." Facing down his father would have been a task, but he was at last big enough; he could have. He could have kept Sarah at home, safe with her young man, if that's where she wanted to be.

Instead, she'd run off with the man she loved, on a wagon train to this unheard-of place. He fished a small journal out of his sea bag and eased himself onto the bed, making sure the fragile-looking brass frame would hold his weight. He flipped the book open to the entry he'd copied from the freight company's log. Thank heavens freight companies kept track of travelers going both directions. Sarah and Henry had traveled with a wagon train bound for San Francisco.

"Mr. & Mrs. Henry Johnson. Departure: Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Destination: Florence, Idaho Territory." Well, at least they were passing for married. Maybe they were. That would please his mother and perhaps mollify his father. Maybe, if he got lucky they would still be here. He lay back, staring at the ceiling. Were they still here? Had he made it in time? Had his father arrived yet? Could they face the old man down, together?

He ran his hand across his eyes and let the sounds of the street lull him to rest. He'd deal with that later. He had to find her first.

Chapter Two

The chirping of the crickets and night frogs worked its way into Noah's consciousness. He blinked, glancing toward the window. "Dark!"

He'd slept the entire afternoon. Pangs of hunger assailed him. When had he eaten last? From the gnawing ache in his gut, too long ago. He moved gingerly, stretching the kinks out of his back. This spindly bed was nowhere near as comfortable as his sleeping hammock on the Malabar, his Malabar. The image of the tall ship, waiting for him, brought a momentary peace to his soul. He belonged on the ocean, not cooped up in this tiny room, with no water in sight. Rising, he grabbed his oiled wool sweater and pea coat from his sea bag. Mountain nights could get cold, he knew that much. Hesitating, he reached in again and pulled out a small derringer. Carefully loading it, he slipped it in his coat pocket. On the third reach, he retrieved his money pouch and hung it around his neck, after dropping a few more coins in his pocket. He considered and then buckled on his side holster and pistol. "Might come in handy."

Looking into the bag, he shook his head. The saber would be too much out of place here. He felt vaguely unbalanced without its ever-present weight hanging at his side. He pulled the bag shut and shoved it back into the corner. He shifted his leg; his boot knife was in place. Satisfied, he strode from the room, locking the door carefully. The clerk was still behind the desk.

"Clerk, is there a place a man could get a meal around here?"

The clerk's head bobbed up and down, as if on a spring. "Oh, yes. The woman at the bathhouse cooks. If you'd like something, just go over there, and tell her you'd like a bath and a meal. She'll fix you, right up. Oh, and the name's Miller, sir."

"Much obliged...Miller." Noah headed out the door into the night air. The sultry August day had turned into a chilly mountain evening. Darkness settled in on him. First things first. The barkeep at the saloon would know everyone in a town this small. He'd find out if the Johnsons were still here. Then he'd get a bath and a good meal. He'd see them after he'd cleaned up. He scratched his chin. "Beard has got to go."

The walk to the saloon took seconds. He gave the swinging door a push. All eyes turned to inspect the newest entry into the bar. Noah's gaze swept the room, seeing everything, acknowledging nothing. A few miners, a couple of broken down card sharks, a piano player, a scraggly whore, and the barkeep. Not much happening in Florence.

His footfalls echoed in the emptiness. As if on cue, the piano player turned and began to tap out "Beautiful Dreamer". The others turned back to their cards and drinks.

The barkeep nodded and tipped up an empty glass. "What'll you have, sailor?"

A smile slipped across Noah's face. Good thing he wasn't trying to hide. He obviously didn't look like a miner. "Rum."

The barkeep nodded. "I should've known. Light or dark?"

"Dark".

Wrapping his hand around the neck of the bottle, the barkeep poured a double shot glass full. "You sailors like your rum stout, surely you do."

Noah nodded and tossed down the drink. "Fill it again."

He tossed a coin onto the bar. Pocketing the shiny piece, the barkeep complied. "What brings you out here? You're a long way from the ocean."

"I'm looking for someone. How long have you been here, barkeep?"

The barkeep studied the cracks in the bar top, avoiding Noah's riveting gaze. "I've been here since we built the saloon, a few years ago. People been coming and going all that time."

Noah nodded. "Ever hear of a woman named Johnson -- Sarah Johnson?"

The barkeep looked up, his face taking on an ashen pale. "Well now, seems to me I did."

Another voice echoed over Noah's shoulder. "You don't want to find her, honey. She ain't gonna do you no good."

Noah turned to find the whore at his side. She gave him her most seductive smile. "My name's Sadie. I'll do you a lot more good than she will. Why don't you buy me a drink? I know everything about everybody in this town."

Sadie slid her hand along Noah's arm. Her fingers started the trip down the side of his leg. He grabbed her hand, not even trying to disguise his disgust at her approach. "No thanks, Sadie. I have business with Sarah."

"I doubt it," she snapped, turning away, returning to her position at the end of the bar.

"What's she mean?" Noah's gaze drilled into the barkeep. "Isn't my sister still here?"

The barkeep's hollow laugh filled the room "Your sister? Oh yeah, she's still here. Her and her husband, both."

Noah sucked in a breath. "Where can I find them?"

The barkeep hesitated. "Just go back out that door and take a right to the end of town. Then keep going 'til you see the tombstones. That'll be the cemetery. They're there all right. They're both dead."

An ice-cold knot coiled in Noah's gut. "No! Not like this." He was supposed to find her, not her grave. Anger suffused him, nearly choking him. His hand shot out, encircling the barkeep's throat. "Are you sure? I don't take jokes lightly."

The barkeep struggled to answer, trying mightily to breathe. Noah regained his composure and consciously relaxed his grip. It wasn't this man's fault.

The barkeep gasped. "Yes, I'm sure. If you're interested, you might talk to Sun Lee Chaikov. The way I heard it, Sun Lee was with your sister when she died."

"And where might I find her?"

"At the other end of town, on China Road. She lives down there with her old man and grandmother." The barkeep coughed, clearing his throat to relieve the pain from Noah's iron grip.

Noah dropped another gold piece on the counter. "Much obliged. If I need any more information, I'll be back."

He turned, retracing his steps into the cool night air. He gulped down huge breaths to clear his head, to help control the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Sarah couldn't be dead; not Sarah.

The news sent his head reeling. He'd never considered the possibility he wouldn't find her alive. He had to know. Long strides carried him down to the livery stable. He pounded on the tack room door. The stable boy, roused from sleep, stared at him.

"Come on. Get my saddle."

"But, it's after dark."

"The moon is bright tonight. Can I get to the cemetery from here?

The boy rubbed his eyes. "Well yes, sir. It's just outside of town, back in the trees. But -- It'll be there in the morning, sir."

Noah's patience snapped. "Get my things. I have to go now."

The lad stumbled to obey. Noah swung up into the saddle as the boy buckled the bridle strap. Yanking his horse around, he thundered down the road in the silvery moonlight, heedless of the dangers that might lie in the darkness. Supper could wait. He had to see for himself.

Just as the barkeep had said, the headstones, or more rightly headboards, were clearly visible in the moonlight, a neat line leading into a grove on the outskirts of town. Noah slowed, and then stopped. He dismounted, staring at the precise line of matching boards. The wrenching feeling in his gut swelled, squeezing his lungs. He could barely draw a breath. Sarah was here, somewhere. He dropped the reins to the ground, rooting his horse to the spot.

Carefully he worked his way through the boards, squinting at each one in the moonlight, struggling to read the inscriptions carved in the wood, some blackened with soot, some not.

At last his fingers traced an "S" then an A". He stepped back. The name popped out, just visible in the moonlight. "Sarah Johnson."

Shaking, but not from the cold, he looked to the left. There on the next board was "Henry Johnson". Her husband. Noah closed his eyes. Sara had loved Henry enough to leave her comfortable home in Halifax for this. To die in this wilderness, just to be with him. Noah shook his head. He'd never loved anyone enough to be willing to do that. His only love had been the sea, the only mistress in his life for the last ten years.

Slowly he walked back to his horse. He leaned against the well-worn saddle leather. Images of the past assailed his mind. Images of his father, a riding crop in one hand, a bible in the other. His hand found the flask in the saddlebag. He pulled the cork and took a long swig. Sarah's grave beckoned. Like a zombie he turned, stumbling back to the pine board with her name inscribed.

Dropping to his knees, he bowed his head. "Sarah, forgive me," he whispered. "I know I promised to come back. I should have come sooner." Old, old scars on his back tingled anew. He could see his father's arm descend. He could feel the sting, the bite of the crop, for disobeying his father and trying to cover for Sarah, as though it were yesterday.

"Honor thy father, boy." Whack! "That's what the good book says!" Whack!

He hadn't been big enough, then. His father had been too strong -- a giant of a man -- a strict disciplinarian-turned-preacher, with all the hellfire and conviction of the newly saved and converted running in his veins. He couldn't win against the old man. They never agreed on anything.

And so he'd run -- away to the sea -- to grow to challenge the old man. Sarah had helped him run. Her last words echoed in his ears. "Go, Noah. Come back when you're grown. We'll be all right."

"And I promised to come back," he whispered to the night wind. "But I took too long. You couldn't wait." Had his father taken a whip to her too? He would never know.

Another horrible thought edged into his consciousness. Was he too late -- again? Was this his father's doing? He clapped his hand over his mouth. Beads of cold sweat popped out on his aching forehead. "Dear God, No!"

Surely a man couldn't murder his own daughter and son-in-law, not even his zealot father. His gut churned. Where was the old man? He tipped the bottle to his lips. Another drink, then another. The rum slid down, deceptive and smooth. He leaned against the marker, careful not to smear the soot-lined letters.

"I'm sorry, Sarah. Sorry I wasn't here when you needed me." His words echoed into the mountain emptiness. It was too late. He was always too late. He couldn't stop the old man from beating him and he couldn't stop him from driving Sarah to this. "What kind of man am I?"

He drained another gulp from the flask. "A sorry excuse for a brother, that's what kind. One who isn't around when he's needed." All his exploits and all the money from the ship weren't worth Sarah's life.

A board to the right, a tiny one, just visible in the moonlight, caught his eye. It had only one name -- "Baby".

Seeing that name on the rough-hewn board did what all the battles and gory scenes at sea and all the beatings at home could not. His stomach threatened to empty. His chest muscles seized, clamping down around his lungs and heart. He couldn't even cry out in pain, the pain of remorse and guilt. "Surely not."

Surely the old man couldn't have killed a child as well. What could he tell his mother? How could he go home without them? Mother would want the details. How had Sarah died?

"Talk to Sun Lee Chaikov. She was with Sarah when she died." The words slid out unbidden. "I'll find the Chaikov woman. I have to know what happened."

Clutching the half-empty bottle, he stared out into the darkness, mumbling the strange-sounding name.

***

Noah ground a knuckle into his temple. Each jarring step of the horse's careful plodding ricocheted straight to that most tender spot. Drinking himself cockeyed and spending the night propped up on Sarah's tombstone was not the brightest thing he'd ever done. The short distance back to the livery stable seemed miles long. Thank heaven the horse seemed to know where to find breakfast.

The big bay stopped by the hitching rack. Gingerly, Noah swung down from the saddle, trying to maintain a still, level position of his head. No sense making things worse.

A shriek pierced the morning air and drilled into his ragged consciousness. Turning, he tried to focus, tried to find the source of the offending sound. The sight before him snapped him fully alert. A tiny boy happily toddled into the main street, directly into the path of a wagon, whose driver was frantically trying to slow the oncoming horses.

Noah gritted his teeth. "Gotta get there." Two long strides and a rolling dive took him into the street. His long arms snagged the child as the momentum of the lunge took them both up and out of harms way, to the other side of the dirt road. He strained to steady himself as the wagon thundered past. His stomach churned and his head throbbed from the effort. He kept his eyes tight shut, to keep out the dizziness threatening to drop him to his knees. The child in his arms was not amused.

"DOWN!" The boy screamed and wriggled, his tiny shoes beating an incessant rhythm on Noah's now aching rib cage. "Way to go, mate. Kid doesn't even know you saved his hide."

A soft, velvety voice slid its way into Noah's aching head.

"Thank you! I don't know how you did that."

He opened one eye just a crack. Beautiful, sky-blue almond shaped eyes looked up at him, out of a stunning oval face, surrounded by thick mahogany- colored hair. The other eye popped open and the pain in his ribcage faded. A woman? A pretty woman? Out here? She held up her arms expectantly.

"He got away from Grandmother." The toddler finally smiled. "Mama!"

The wriggling began anew. Noah lowered the bouncing bundle into her waiting arms. She planted a kiss on the child's cheek. "Shh! Don't be naughty. The nice man just saved your life. Say 'Thank You'."

The little one turned, shaking his tousled head, frowning. He finally wrinkled his nose and waved a hand. "Ta-a- Tu-u-!"

Noah laughed in spite of his aching head. "Tattoo?"

A silvery laugh followed the path the silky voice had carved into his brain. "That's as close as he gets to 'thank you'. He's not quite two. I have to thank you again, Mr...?"

"Stewart. Captain Noah Stewart, ma'am." He tried to nod, but it hurt too much.

The blue eyes caught his flinch. "Are you all right, Captain?"

"Yes, ma'am. I just don't do roll outs much anymore." He pressed his lips together in a tight line. No sense telling the world he had a hangover. "I didn't catch your name, ma'am."

She caught the tiny fingers patting her cheek and pulled them to her lips, planting a delicate kiss on their tips. The little boy giggled in delight.

A sharp stab of remorse shot through Noah. Had Sarah played with her baby like that? He'd never expected babies in this wilderness, especially babies with mothers as pretty as this woman. She finally glanced his way again. He couldn't help but be drawn into the depths of those startling blue eyes.

"Chaikov. Sunshine Lenova Chaikov. Most people call me Sun Lee. Except for Grandmother, here. She calls me 'Sunshine'."

She nodded toward the tiny gray-haired woman at her side, who was chattering in Chinese a mile a minute, trying to collect the small boy.

"Grandmother, meet Captain Noah Stewart. Captain Stewart, my grandmother, Mrs. Ma Bei Ling." The old woman nodded slightly. "He saved Daniel's life."

Bei Ling took in the tall sailor in a single glance then lowered her eyes, deferentially. "We are in your debt, Captain. Little one is much quicker than I."

Noah shook his head carefully. "No, Grandmother, no debt. I'm glad I could help."

She would not be put off. "You will at least honor us with your presence at dinner? You're a visitor. A GOOD meal would please you -- yes?"

Noah forced himself to smile. A sudden pang reminded him he'd missed last night's food. "I'd love a home-cooked meal. When?"

"Tonight. You come." She waved a hand toward one of the town crossroads. "Fourth cabin, down that road. At dusk."

He allowed the barest of nods. "I'll be there. If you'll excuse me, I have to see to my horse." He headed back to the stable. He had to get rid of the pounding in his head.

Sun Lee stared after him, watching his easy, rolling gait. It gave him away. Of course the pea coat and watch cap were equally distinctive. He walked like the sailors she remembered on the docks of San Francisco. Even riding a horse in these mountains hadn't taken the sea out of the sailor. Gratitude welled inside her. No one else had made a move to save Daniel. She shivered, not allowing the image of Daniel, under the wagon wheels, to form in her mind. This tall, rangy stranger had kept that from happening.

The warm tingling in her cheeks hinted at a spark more than gratitude. Surprised, she shook her head, to clear the unexpected feeling of attraction to this interesting-looking man. She concentrated instead on the pair beside her.

"Now you've done it, Grandmother. We really didn't need to invite a total stranger to supper."

The old woman's eyes sparkled. "Daniel's worth a dinner. Besides, he's a nice man."

Sun Lee's shoulders sagged. "How can you tell that? We just met him."

"He risked his life for a baby he did not know. He minds his manners when speaking to old women. And you like him."

"Grandmother! What are you talking about?"

"You're staring at him. And your cheeks are all pink."

Sun Lee's hand flew to her face. "They are not. I'm just flushed because of the excitement!"

Grandmother unsuccessfully suppressed a giggle. "I'm sure he noticed you, too. You're very pretty, Sunshine."

"Oh, stop it. You'd match me up with anybody that's breathing. Don't even think about it. Sailors are not dependable. They're never home."

"Your father was a sailor."

"Exactly!"

Grandmother smiled, shrugged and turned away, cooing to the toddler in her arms.

Sun Lee stole another look toward the corral across the street. He was still there, moving very slowly. Maybe he had been hurt. An unfamiliar tug pulled inside and her heart did its own little dance. He was nice looking, or at least she thought so, but who knew what he hid under that massive beard and the knot of hair at his neck. All the sailors she'd ever seen, including her father, had worn their hair that way at sea, but it certainly looked uncomfortable.

And of course, he had that earring. One big gold hoop. Just like her father, when he'd gone to sea. His burial money, he'd said, in case he died away from home. It was totally out of place in the Idaho mountains. And from the looks of his horse and saddle, this man had more than enough money to bury him.

But something about him nagged at her. Something almost foreboding. "Noah. Noah Stewart." Why did that name sound familiar? Her brow furrowed. She caught a breath. "Sarah!" Sun Lee whirled on her heel and dashed off. She had to get home.

***

Noah eased himself into the steaming hot water. Deciding his head was more important at the moment, he flopped his feet out and over the end of the tub, sliding down until his head rested on the rim. Someday somebody would make a bathtub long enough for a tall man, and he'd buy the first one, for sure. And it would be in his own house, not in his apartment, and certainly not in a local bathhouse like this, where he had to pay by the bucket for hot water.

He took a deep breath, allowing the steam to rise in his nostrils. Picking up the rough washcloth, he soaked it in the water, then draped in over his head. Maybe he should just die to feel better. Drinking to excess had never been his style, now he remembered why. Hangovers were miserable. The throbbing began to ease.

What luck. He'd wanted to find Sun Lee Chaikov. Well, that had been easy enough. A hundred questions formed and disappeared in his mind. Questions that would just have to wait until supper. Hopefully she would be able to tell him something about Sarah. Something that would make it easier to tell their mother about her death. He took a deep breath, allowing himself to relax, to sink even deeper into the comforting water.

"What's the matter, hon'? You got a headache?"

At the sound of the female voice, Noah jerked up, snatching the cloth off his head and down into the water, covering what little of himself the cloth would hide. His feet splashed back into the tub. Summoning as much dignity as he could muster, he turned, glaring in the general direction of the voice. A rotund woman with a towel over her shoulder and a pair of wicked-looking scissors in her hand stood in the doorway.

"Oh, don't you worry, sailor. You ain't got nuthin' in that tub I ain't seen a million times. And you don't interest me at all. I run a business here, and that business is bathin' and hair cuttin' -- nothin' else -- except maybe a meal or two for payin' customers."

"That so?" Noah growled, still clutching the cloth to the most private parts of his anatomy.

"That's so. You want your hair cut while you're in the tub, or out?"

"Out!" Noah nearly yelled the reply. Lying naked in the tub while having a strange woman hover over him with a pair of scissors was more than he cared to imagine. Just wasn't up to it.

She smiled easily, the smile of a woman who'd spent many years in the company of men in this compromising position. "Suit yourself. Want some more hot water?"

Noah hesitated. She laughed again. "Ain't you the shy one? Don't worry. I'll have Jesse bring you another bucket of hot water. He won't notice you, either, I promise."

She turned and disappeared as quickly as she'd come. Satisfied she was gone, Noah slid back down into the tub. It had been a long time since he'd been around a woman, any woman, especially one staring into his bathtub. He closed his eyes, resting his head on the rim again.

The pretty face of the Chaikov woman floated in front of him. Now, if it had been her at the door -- that might have been different. That voice could wrap around a man's soul, make him feel good all over.

"Stop it." He pressed a fist to his aching forehead, chiding himself at the thought. "The woman has a man somewhere. She didn't get that baby by herself."

The thought of Sun Lee making babies was enough to send another jolt through his body, coiling underneath that teeny tiny cloth in the tub. "You have been at sea too long!"

He'd have to put that pretty face and silky voice out of his mind. He'd probably meet her husband at supper. He needed information from Sun Lee Chaikov, nothing more.

***

Sun Lee shoved the drawer shut. "Are you sure Sarah's bible is in your chest?"

Grandmother's voice echoed from the other room. "I'm sure. Bottom drawer. Back left corner. Under my cheongsam."

Dropping to her knees, Sun Lee tugged open the lacquered chest's lower drawer. She ran her hands down, through the garments, gently probing underneath Grandmother's silky top. Her fingers curled around a leather-bound volume and pulled it into the open. "Here it is!"

Pushing the drawer in, she leaned against the chest, flipping the book open to its intricately decorated center pages. She scanned the heading "My Family" and caught a breath at the entry marked "Brother." Her finger traced the words. "Noah Elijah Stewart. Born -- 1839. Went to sea -- 1857."

"It can't be a coincidence. It has to be him." A cold, gnawing fear enveloped her. Pushing to her feet, she carried the well-worn bible into the cabin's front living space.

Grandmother stood in front of the big cook stove, stirring a simmering pot, watching Daniel play at her feet. "What have you found, Sunshine?"

Sun Lee plopped down on the bench, setting the open book on the long plank table. "Oh, Grandmother, I was afraid of this. That sea captain -- who saved Daniel -- he's Sarah's brother, I'm just sure of it."

Grandmother wiped her hands on the towel tied around her waist, then turned to face Sun Lee. "Afraid? If he is who you say, he is the uncle. Wang-danian will have family again."

Daniel tugged at Sun Lee's shirttail, insisting on being noticed. "Mama, up."

She scooped him into her arms, holding him tight against her chest, feeling the pounding of her heart against his slim body. "Don't you see, Grandmother? Noah's come to find Sarah, just like she said he would. He'll want to take Daniel away from us!"

The image of Sarah's face, contorted in pain, swam inside her head. Sarah's last words echoed. "Noah will come, Sun Lee. I know it. He'll take care of Daniel."

Sun Lee buried her face in the toddler's mass of curly hair. Losing him would be more than she could bear. Her own hopes for children had died when Ivan had left. His coming with them to Idaho had been a mistake. Ivan had hated the mountains and hated mining. The love he professed for her wasn't strong enough to overcome his longing for the sea and the bigotry they'd endured because of her "half-breed" status. Here, far away from San Francisco, very few people wanted to associate with a half-Russian, half-Chinese woman or her intended husband. The wedding she and her mother had so carefully planned never took place. He'd skedaddled with one of her father's best horses. Father had shrugged it off. "Don't worry, child. He wasn't worth your tears."

But it had hurt, hurt deep. She'd made up her mind to never trust another man. At least, not one with sea foam in his veins. Losing her heart to a sailor once had been enough and no one on the frontier seemed willing to look at a Chinese- Russian-American girl. Prejudice ran deep on all sides.

Daniel's patience ran out. "Down."

She laughed, shifting her hold, bouncing him gently on her knee. He giggled with delight. "Mama would have loved him, Grandmother."

Sun Lee's eyes clouded with tears at the thought of her dear mother. As if losing Ivan had not been enough, losing Mama had almost destroyed them all. Her father had been devastated, drowning his sorrow in alcohol, searching for solace at the bottom of a bottle. He'd never really recovered. The mine, their home, nothing seemed important after the flu took her that terrible winter. "It's too bad she didn't see Daniel."

The old woman nodded. "Your mother would have enjoyed the boy, yes -- as she enjoyed you, Sunshine. And only he could bring a smile to your father's unhappy face. It's too bad."

Sun Lee nodded. And now her father was gone -- to who knew where. Daniel filled the aching emptiness within her. How could she part with the loving bundle of energy who called her 'mama'? He was all they had left and she was the only mother he'd ever remember.

Grandmother's hand rested on her shoulder. "Wang-danian should be with his family. We've taken good care of him for Sarah 'til now."

Sun Lee clenched her teeth, Grandmother's words tearing a ragged hole in her heart. "No. I'm not going to tell him. He can just think Daniel is mine!"

Grandmother pulled back, staring hard at Sun Lee. "Granddaughter! You've been taught to be truthful. You will not lie to the one who saved Wang-danian's life."

Sun Lee tipped her chin defiantly. "I don't have to lie. He doesn't know about Daniel. Sarah never wrote home about him, you know that."

Grandmother shook her head. "You must tell him. Sarah would expect you to. Isn't it in her book? Isn't the uncle Wang-danian's guardian?"

"Yes, it is, Grandmother. But how can we just let Daniel go? We don't know anything about Noah. Sarah hadn't seen him in ten years. He could be as mean as her father by now. He might take Daniel back there."

Sun Lee shuddered. Sarah had shared enough stories of her childhood to convince Sun Lee that in Halifax, with Sarah's rigid, strict father, would be the worst place in the world for the rambunctious toddler in her arms. Daniel squirmed, tired of the knee ride. She put him down and watched him toddle around the table, to Grandmother's side.

Grandmother patted the curly head, then aimed a stern glance at Sun Lee. "You must tell him before he leaves here tonight."

Grandmother walked back to the stove, Daniel following close behind. The conversation was finished.

***

Sun Lee brushed back the beaded curtain and stepped out of the bedroom. "Well, is this better?"

A slow twirl gave her grandmother a complete view of her dinner outfit. Grandmother arched a critical eyebrow. "Much. Skirts look nice on you."

"Hmmm." Sun Lee picked at an errant bit of fringe on the bottom of her leather tunic. They had spent a very long time fringing and trimming this top and split-skirt. She had intended to be married in it. She clenched her teeth, refusing to let any tears form. No sense not wearing the outfit. It was one of the best ones she had, and grandmother insisted on dressing in their best for this evening.

"I don't know why you want me to look so nice for this sailor. You know how they are, Grandmother. Always running off when you need them, just like Ivan." A funny little skip in her heart hinted that this sailor might not be just like Ivan.

Grandmother shook her head and frowned. ""No, they're not. It's a puzzle. Your father is still gone. His trips aren't usually this long."

"Hmm." Sun Lee nodded. Grandmother didn't need to know about Hargrave just yet. Hopefully Father would show up before Hargrave reappeared. A knock interrupted. "I guess our company's here."

"Well, don't just stand there, Sunshine. Let him in." Grandmother disappeared behind the bedroom's beaded curtain.

Chapter Three

Sun Lee glanced down, gave her tawny skirt a quick brush and opened the door. "Good eve..."

Open-mouthed, she stared at the man in the doorway. Gone was the bushy beard and oily, slicked-back hair. In its place were gentle waves, black as coal, just touching his shirt collar, almost hiding that damned earring.

One wayward lock curled around his chiseled jaw line, pointing the way to a deep dimple in his cheek, visible even without a smile. "Just like Daniel's."

The thought popped in and out of her mind. Staring was so rude, yet she couldn't stop. That tiny heart skip earlier turned into a full-fledged tap dance in her chest. Sarah had never mentioned that her brother was so-o-o handsome.

"Hello. Sun Lee, right?" He smiled a slow, easy smile.

She swallowed hard, willing her voice to come to her rescue. "Right. Forgive me. You just look different, from this morning. Please, come in."

He stepped over the threshold. "Amazing what a bath and a haircut and a shave can do for a man."

Sun Lee could feel the heat flash in her face. "Oh, I didn't mean..."

He waved a hand. "It's all right. I know what I looked like. Couldn't stand myself. It's a wonder I didn't scare you to death."

He took in the cabin in a glance. A warm, snug home -- good sized. A strong man had built this. The big stone fireplace at the far end spoke of many backbreaking trips, hauling rock around this mountain. The chairs and table were well built of logs from this slope. Someone knew their way around a hammer and saw. Someone he hadn't met yet.

But the room was rugged and the rug in its center conflicted with all its surroundings. A magnificent rug, Chinese red, with a huge golden dragon, reclining in its center, lush and expensive, obviously brought from the Far East. One matching the green rug in his own living room. Two cultures co-existed here. The tinkle of beads caught his attention. "Ah Mrs. Ling."

Grandmother stood in front of the curtain, dressed in her best cheongsam and carefully pressed black pants. She nodded. "Captain Stewart. You honor our house with your presence."

"It is I who am honored, Ma Tai Tai. You bring back a fond memory of China. I haven't see such beauty since I left."

The merest hint of a blush crossed Bei Ling's face. "You know my language, Captain? I haven't been called 'Honored Grandmother' in Chinese in some time."

She aimed a meaningful glance in Sun Lee's direction. "My granddaughter insists on English."

Sun Lee glanced at the floor refusing to rise to Bei Ling's bait. A smile slid across Noah's face. What delightful women. "Oh yes. I know your language. Some things are more beautifully said in Chinese."

The blush on Bei Ling's face deepened. She waved a hand toward the fireplace. "Please, sit down. I will have supper on the table shortly."

Sun Lee regained her composure. "Let me help, Grandmother."

Bei Ling shook her head. "Shoo. Talk to our guest."

Sun Lee turned, following Noah to the chairs near the big stone wall. She watched him settle into her father's chair. He almost filled it. His fingers curled around its arms, measuring their girth. She curled up in her mother's chair. Feeling his gaze on her, knowing the questions he must have, she looked up.

"Yes, that's a big chair. It's my father's. This is my parent's cabin. He made all the furniture -- for us, when we came here five years ago."

Daniel toddled up to Noah. "Ride!"

Noah shot Sun Lee a bewildered glance. "Ride?"

She smiled. "He wants you to bounce him on your foot." Noah shook his head, still not understanding. She laughed. "I'll show you. Come here, Daniel."

The little one frowned, then headed toward Sun Lee's swinging leg. She expertly slipped her foot between the toddler's knees, bouncing him up off the floor. Giggles filled the room.

Noah watched, fascinated. "Kid has all the luck."

The thought of Sun Lee's delicate foot sliding between his knees sent a shiver of lust up his spine. The chair suddenly seemed too small to hold him. He shifted carefully, to ease the pressures building, trying not to draw attention to his reaction to the innocent scene. "What the devil?"

Pretty women didn't usually get to him that easily. He cleared his throat. "Five years ago?"

"Yes. My family came here, then. My father is away on business right now. We expect him back any day." How she wished that last statement were true. The last thing she wanted was for him to get the idea they were here alone, possibly defenseless.

She looked deeply into his eyes and decided that they probably didn't have anything to fear. His steady gaze conveyed strength and kindness, not hate and greed, like Hargrave.

"And your mother?" Noah's voice, smooth and steady, washed over her.

"My mother died three years ago -- during the winter. It was very hard on all of us." Sun Lee dropped her gaze. It was hard to talk about her mother, even now. She considered her next remark. Daniel had his own ideas. "DOWN!"

At once the bouncing bundle turned into a squirming monster.

Noah laughed. "He gets right to the point, doesn't he?"

Sun Lee smiled, holding Daniel's hands until he balanced on both feet. "Oh, yes. He doesn't say too many words yet, but he uses the ones he does know very well."

Daniel turned, frowning at Noah again, staring intently. Noah returned the stare, smiling in spite of himself. "Hello, little fella."

Sun Lee watched, surprised at the tenderness in Noah's tone. Daniel gave a small nod and toddled to Noah's side, still staring intently. He raised his arms. "Up."

Sun Lee sat back with a start. "My! You're quite privileged. He doesn't do that with many people."

"He really wants me to hold him?" Noah hesitated. Holding children was not one of his many talents.

Daniel's frown deepened. "UP!"

Sun Lee laughed. "I'd say so."

Noah reached down gingerly, trying to remember how Sun Lee had held the child. Scrunching Daniel onto his lap, he exchanged stares with the boy.

"Well, you're up. Now what?"

A huge grin flashed and Daniel's hand shot out, closing around Noah's earring. "Mine!"

"YE-OW!"

Noah grabbed Daniel's wrist, trying with one hand to disengage determined fingers that were threatening to rip the gold hoop out of his ear, while trying to keep the squirming child on his lap with the other.

Sun Lee leaped up. "Daniel, NO!"

Between them, they separated the determined boy from the earring. Sun Lee held him tight as she returned to her chair. Big tears rimmed his deep brown eyes. "M-I-I-N-E!"

His chubby hand motioned toward his lost prize.

Sun Lee shook her head. "I'm sorry, Captain. I had no idea what he was after."

She held the youngster securely on her lap. Tears began to slide down Daniel's cheek and his lower lip threatened to pout clear down to his chest. Noah rubbed the side of his ear, watching the tears fall. The scene wrapped around his heart. He'd always been a sucker for tears. He twisted the gold hoop between his fingers, popping open the hidden clasp, removing it from its resting place in his tender earlobe.

He caught Sun Lee's gaze. "Put him down."

Sun Lee stared and frowned, but finally complied. Noah clicked the hoop shut and held it out, twisting it for Daniel to see. "Yours, huh? You think so?"

A radiant smile danced across the tear-stained face. With a quick glance to Sun Lee, he headed back across the floor, hand outstretched. "Mine!"

Sun Lee shook her head. "You don't have to do that. He doesn't need a reward for being naughty."

Noah laughed, swooping up the delighted child, who by this time had the prized golden ring between both hands. "He's not naughty, just curious."

Daniel snuggled contentedly, suddenly chomping down on the earring.

"He's still cutting teeth -- the very back ones." Sun Lee offered. "He'll probably ruin your earring."

Noah smiled. "I have enough to bury me without it. He seems to think it makes a good teething ring." They both cringed as Daniel's teeth ground against the soft metal. "I'd think that would hurt."

Sun Lee frowned again. "That may not be such a good idea. It almost goes completely in his mouth. He might swallow it."

Noah stared intently at the youngster stuffing the earring into his mouth, trying to get the hard metal to the back, to reach his swollen gum. He shifted, holding Daniel tight, and drew out a coil of rawhide thong from his pocket. "This should do the trick."

Sun Lee watched, fascinated. Noah managed to tie one end of the thong onto the hoop. Then he tied the other end around Daniel's wrist. "There. If he swallows it, he can pull it right back out."

Sun Lee shook her head. "Do you always carry rope in your pockets?"

Noah nodded. "Actually, yes. Ships always have things coming loose that need to be secured."

A burbling sound escaped from around the earring. Blowing spit bubbles, Daniel leaned back against Noah's chest. Noah looked down on the curly head, shifting, cuddling him carefully. A most unusual peace filled him. How could it possibly feel so right to hold this stranger's child? And where was his father? Obviously Sun Lee wasn't ready to fill in that tiny detail.

Sun Lee held her breath. Her chest ached from the pressure building. Daniel seemed perfectly at ease with the captain. And Noah held him with a gentleness she would never have believed possible. He didn't seem at all like his father, the rigid disciplinarian Sarah had described. Perhaps he could be trusted with Daniel, if...

"AHEM."

Exhaling, Sun Lee glanced toward the other end of the big room. Bei Ling stood behind the table brimming with food.

"Food is hot." Grandmother clapped her hands. "Wang-da-nian. Come. Eat!" The boy squirmed away from Noah and toddled across the floor, rolling as he walked, in a miniature sailor's gait, waving his new prize for Grandmother to see. Noah laughed. "He looks like he's already spent his life on the deck of a schooner."

Sun Lee's voice crackled across the room. "He's never going to be anywhere near the ocean, if I can help it."

Noah drew back at the outburst. "You don't like sailors?"

She bit the edge of her lip. "My father was a sailor. I grew up around sailors. They were always gone when you really needed them."

The chill in her voice cooled the room. Noah shrugged back his shoulders. She didn't like sailors. One strike against him and he hadn't even started.

Grandmother's voice cut through the air. "Come. Food will get cold."

Noah followed Sun Lee to the table. Again the combination of cultures spoke to him. A large platter of fish sat beside a huge, steaming bowl of rice and each plate had both flatware and chopsticks. They could obviously "choose their weapons" to attack the food. Grandmother was already seated on one long plank, with Daniel snuggled in beside her.

Looked like he and Sun Lee would have to share the bench. Noah caught Grandmother's eye, glanced down at "his" bench, then back to her. She smiled artlessly. "Have you fed a toddler, lately?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Then you two will have to sit over there."

"Hmm." He smiled. Ma Bei Ling was a sharp one. But, sitting next to this pretty woman sounded like a really good idea. Bei Ling evidently approved, even if Sun Lee didn't like sailors.

He glanced at the platter in the center of the table. Perfectly sized fish, complete with heads, tails and silvery shiny eyes stared up at him. "Trout? Where did you get trout, Ma Tai Tai? I haven't had a good fish dinner since I left San Francisco."

Grandmother beamed. "I catch. Stream near by -- full of fish."

Noah shook his head. Of course, there had to be water somewhere. He'd seen the placer mines on the way up. Placer mines needed lots of running water, usually from streams. And streams had fish in them.

Sun Lee picked up the platter. "Well, then. Help yourself. Grandmother is a wonderful cook. Much better than I am."

Noah nodded, sliding one of the trout onto his plate. "You wouldn't have to cook to be good."

The heat rose swiftly up his neck. Too bad he'd had all that beard cut off. It would have covered the damned blush climbing above his collar. Gritting his teeth he studied his trout. "Get a grip, mate. You just met her."

Sun Lee noted the pink tinge, turning to crimson, around his throat. Whatever had she said to cause such a reaction? Who could figure men out?

Expertly wielding the chopsticks, Noah popped a morsel of the trout in his mouth. "Mmmm. Delicious, Ma Tai Tai."

Sun Lee watched her grandmother graciously accept the praise. It had been a long time since anyone had paid either of them a compliment. This man seemed to be a gentleman, something rare among the seamen she'd grown up with. And he'd spent enough time in the Far East to master chopsticks, something Ivan had never been able to do. She studied his face, wondering. What had his life been like?

"How long have you been at sea, Captain? You seem young to have your own ship, compared to my father."

"Was your father a captain?"

"He was never the captain of a ship, but he was a first mate, when he left the sea to come here to the gold fields."

"I left home very young. I signed on to a whaling ship in Halifax. The captain took me under his wing. His own son had been recently killed in a whaling accident."

Sun Lee cringed. "That's too bad."

"I sailed with him for several years. We did very well. The captain bought another ship, a trading ship. For the last few years, I've sailed the trading ship as its captain."

He nodded to Bei Ling. "I've visited your home country twice. It's a fascinating place. I picked up rugs like yours and brought them back to England and America. They're in great demand."

Grandmother nodded. "The golden dragon is a powerful sign of good fortune. We named the mine after it."

"Sailing's been good to me. I finally bought the trading ship from the old captain. It's all mine now."

Sun Lee's shoulders sagged ever so slightly. His heart belonged to the sea, sure and certain. Just like all the others. The little flame flickering in her heart sputtered and died. No sense thinking about him. He'd be out of here in no time. And he wasn't about to take care of a two-year old on that boat. No, he didn't need to know about Daniel at all.

Noah cleared his throat, unable to put off the questions in his mind any longer. "I have a confession to make. I had more than one reason for coming here tonight."

Sun Lee shivered. "Oh?"

He nodded. "Yes. I've been told you knew my sister, Sarah Johnson. When I returned to San Francisco this last time, I had a letter from my mother, asking me to find her. She'd left home with a young man and Mother was concerned about her, out here in the wilderness."

He stopped, took a deep breath and then continued. "I found her last night. I obviously can't convince her to return to Halifax. I spent the night in the graveyard. That's why I looked so bad this morning."

Sun Lee nodded, unwilling to interrupt him.

"I was told that you might be able to tell me something about her death, Sun Lee. That you were with her when she died? Perhaps there's something I can say to my mother that will comfort her?"

Sun Lee bit her lip. His face mirrored true grief. How could she not tell him about Daniel? His mother would certainly be comforted by her grandson.

Grandmother filled the void. "Sunshine's father shared part of his claim with Sarah and her husband. We had more than we could work and protect. They were good people. They mined gold just down river from us. They were doing well. There should be gold in the assayer's office safe, and at the bank in Riggins, if you can prove you're related to them."

Noah stared. "If they were doing that well, what happened? Why are they both dead?"

Sun Lee spoke up. "We really don't know. Father and I went up to the mine one morning and they were both there, shot. Henry was already dead, and Sarah was dying. I did hold her till she died. There was nothing I could do."

Sun Lee choked back the tears. Sarah had been a good friend. One of the few. She glanced at her grandmother and sighed. "But it wasn't just them, Noah. Sarah had a baby."

"I know."

Sun Lee's head snapped up. "You know?"

"Yes. I saw its grave last night, too."

Sun Lee's next words froze in her throat. He thought Sarah's baby was dead. She didn't have to tell him anything more. Sun Lee felt her grandmother's gaze burning a hole in her chest. She met that searing gaze with a determined one of her own. The clatter of hooves outside their door interrupted the moment.

"Sun Lee! Sun Lee, gal! Get yourself out here!"

Noah stared. "Who is that?"

Sun Lee stiffened. "Hargrave! You both just sit still. I'll take care of this and be right back."

She crossed the cabin floor, yanked open the door and stepped outside.

Noah looked at Bei Ling. Her intense glare, filled with hate, surprised him.

"Rotten slime." She hissed the words. "Where he rides, death follows. Very bad man."

Noah scratched his chin. "I'll just take a look."

Grandmother raised an eyebrow and nodded. Noah stood up, adjusted his pistol holster and walked quietly to the cabin door.

***

Sun Lee stood on the porch, fists clenched, glaring at the rider in front of her. "What do you want, Hargrave?"

Hargrave leaned back in the saddle, the sneer on his face curling into a lop- sided try at a smile. "Just wanted to let you know I was back. Got my deed all registered. Your father shown up yet?"

Sun Lee bit the edge of her lip, not wanting to confirm her father's absence.

Hargrave laughed that cold, nasty laugh. "I told you he was gone. You better get yourself ready. I think I'll just marry you real soon. That way the mine will be all in the family."

"I told you before, Hargrave. I'm not marrying anybody, least of all a low-down snake like you. You stay away from me and the mine!"

Hargrave's face turned cold as stone. "And what are you going to do if I don't? You got no one big enough to stop me, gal. I generally get what I want, one way or another."

Sun Lee shook in anger, wishing she had grabbed her shotgun on the way out. "You try to come near me again and I will blow a hole in you. No scruples will get in the way this time."

Hargrave shifted in his saddle. "Maybe I ought to come in and teach you a thing or two about being nice to your partner, right now, gal."

"The lady asked you to leave."

Hargrave's head snapped toward the door. Sun Lee spun around at the sound of Noah's strong, even voice. He stood easy in the doorway, leaning on Sun Lee's shotgun, his pistol loose in its holster at his side.

Hargrave stared. "Who the hell are you?"

"A friend of the family." Noah swung the shotgun up into his arm. "And you don't seem to have an in-vite for this evening."

Hargrave looked back to Sun Lee. "You sure don't waste any time, gal. But this man ain't gonna do you no good. I'm gonna have that mine and you one way or another."

Noah cleared his throat. "You were told to leave. And I'll be taking it real personal, if anything happens to anyone in this household. Understand?"

Hargrave's sneer reappeared. He glanced from Sun Lee to Noah. "Oh, I understand. So, I'm warning you. People who stand in my way don't last long around here. You ought to keep on driftin' right out of town, and stay out of things that ain't your business."

Noah took a step out. "I just made it my business."

"We'll see." Hargrave yanked the reins, wheeled his horse, and headed toward town.

Sun Lee exhaled a huge sigh. Noah reached out, touching her shoulder gently. "Come back in. He won't be back tonight."

The tenderness of his touch flowed through her like a healing river. What would she have done if he hadn't been here? She shuddered and nodded, re- entering the cabin.

Grandmother sat in the rocking chair, rhythmically patting Daniel, who was drifting off to sleep. Sun Lee dropped into her mother's chair and Noah sat again in the big chair by the fireplace.

Bei Ling turned to Sun Lee. "Will you tell me now? What has happened to your father?"

Sun Lee fought back the tears. "I really don't know, Grandmother. I'm so afraid he's not coming back."

"Why would he not come back?"

"Hargrave came to the mine three days ago. Told me he had won Father's share of the Golden Dragon in a poker game. He said he was going to Riggins to register his half of the claim and that he'd be back. Said he'd decided to marry me so he'd have all the mine."

Noah's jaw clenched. "What did you say?"

"I told him it would be over my dead body. That I wasn't having anything to do with scum like him and I didn't believe his story."

Noah relaxed his grip on the chair arm. "What then?"

"He said Father had taken off; said Father couldn't face coming home and that we'd never see him again."

Bei Ling's jaw set. "Your father wouldn't leave. He's not a coward."

"I know, Grandmother. I didn't say anything to you. I thought maybe he was in Riggins sleeping off a drunk. But, he should have come back by now. I'll have to go down to Riggins myself. He may have gotten himself locked up again."

Sun Lee pressed a weary hand to her forehead. She'd made the trip many times since her mother's death. Her father had spent far too many nights in the Riggins jail since then. But the marshal usually sent him home, unless he'd damaged something or someone during one of his "bouts".

Noah scratched his chin. "Maybe we both ought to go. That's a long ride alone."

Sun Lee looked up, meeting Noah's concerned gaze. "You don't have to. I've done it before. Alone."

"I'll bet you didn't have 'ol'-what's-his-name' to contend with then."

Sun Lee smiled in spite of herself. "You're right. I didn't." The thought of the captain accompanying her sent surprisingly warm shivers zinging through her. It would be a way to get to know him a little better. "All right. You may want to check on the registration of Sarah's claim. If you can prove who you are to the marshal, you can get a release for Sarah's gold that's in the bank."

Noah nodded. That would be reason enough to go with her. The thought of her alone on the trail with that "scum" lurking about made him shudder in disgust. "He's never going to get his hands on her if I can help it."

Bei Ling stood up. "Wang-danian sleeps. And so should you both if you're going to go tomorrow. Morning comes early."

Noah stood up. "You're right, Ma Tai Tai. I've been here long enough tonight."

A pang of regret hit Sun Lee's heart. The evening had been surprisingly pleasant. "Shall I meet you at the livery stable?"

Noah nodded, but Bei Ling's voice cut them short. "The Captain should eat here. You will need a good breakfast for the ride."

He laughed aloud. "I'll never turn down one of your meals, Ma Tai Tai. I'll be here at sun-up."

Bei Ling smiled, nodded her head and slipped into her bedroom with the sleeping Daniel. He turned to Sun Lee. "Is she always like that?"

Sun Lee nodded. "She usually has the final say about most things. You don't have to come."

His warm smile filled the room. "I was serious. I'm sure breakfast here will be much better than anywhere else."

Sun Lee took a deep breath. His engaging manner and artless charm would overwhelm her resolve to stay away from him, if she weren't careful. They walked slowly to the door. Noah opened the heavy oak door and stepped out. "Be sure to lock up tight tonight. You don't need any surprise visitors."

Sun Lee nodded. "Thank you, again. I appreciate your help. Hargrave can get nasty, I know. And he has friends everywhere. Are you sure about this, Captain?"

He smiled and slid his hand under her chin, tipping her face up to gaze into those beautiful eyes. Touching her perfect chin sent heat surging again through his veins. There was no way that good-for-nothing he'd just met was ever going to get anywhere near her. If she needed a protector, it was going to be him.

"I'm very sure. And my name's Noah, all right? 'Captain' is way too formal. Since I'm a 'friend of the family', we'd be on a first name basis."

She blinked, not wanting to break the moment. "Of course...Noah. Thank you, for caring about strangers."

They heard the latch slide as Grandmother closed the shutters on the front window. He nodded, running his knuckles down the delicate edge of her jaw. "You better go in. I'll see you in the morning."

Sun Lee nodded and stepped back inside. Noah waited until he heard the bar drop, securing the heavy door. Staring into the gathering darkness, he ran his knuckles along his now beardless, itching chin. Hadn't been such a good idea to cut that beard after all. The itching was getting worse. Fresh cut skin itched worse than a heavy beard. But the difference between his own rugged jaw and Sun Lee's delicate face jarred him. Hers had seemed smooth as china silk; his seemed raw and ragged in comparison. She seemed so out of place here, her delicate beauty in stark opposition to this wild and lawless land. He clenched his teeth as Hargrave's words echoed in his head. That cur had no business being on the same street as Sun Lee, much less married to her against her will. He shook his head, surprised at his reaction.

Saving damsels in distress really wasn't his line of work, but this one...this damsel was different. She wasn't convinced she needed saving. She was more than willing to handle things on her own. But she needed help, whether she knew it or not. He rubbed his hand across his mouth. Who was this Hargrave? He needed answers -- now. Raucous sounds from the saloon drifted on the night breeze. The slightest of smiles curled his lip. Sadie's cocksure remarks from the night before echoed in his ears. The answers would be there. Sadie would know all about Hargrave. He stepped off the porch and headed toward the laughter.

***

Sun Lee leaned back against the door, eyes closed. Her fingers traced the path his knuckles had drawn along her cheek. He might as well have used a branding iron. She gritted her teeth against the powerful feelings surging deep in her gut. "I can't. I won't let this happen. I won't care about another sailor. I won't be left again."

Grandmother's voice penetrated her fog. "He likes you Sun Lee, I told you."

Sun Lee's eyes snapped open. "He's a sailor, Grandmother. Just like Ivan. He'll be gone as soon as he collects Sarah's gold. He won't give up the sea for me; you know that as well as I do. And I'm not going to tell him about Daniel, either. He thinks Sarah's baby is dead. A trading ship is no place for a child."

Bei Ling frowned. "Others know about Daniel. He will hear."

"He won't have much of a chance to talk to anyone before tomorrow. We'll see how our trip to Riggins goes."

Bei Ling shook her head and headed into the bedroom. Sun Lee sighed and followed. Sun-up would come far too soon.

***

Noah hesitated outside the saloon's swinging doors. A smoky haze filled the room. The usual rag-tag bunch of miners bellied up to the bar, drowning their sorrows in whatever the barkeep would sell them, swapping tales of "trace -- good trace in these rocks", fondling pieces of granite and shaking their fists at one another. A few more had scraped together enough money to start a poker game. He continued his scan, then stopped. He could see Sadie, alone at the end of the bar, tossing down a shot of amber-colored liquid. "We'll just see what Sadie knows about Hargrave."

Pushing open the swinging door, he stepped inside.

The barkeep looked up at the gritchy sound of the weathered door hinges. "Well, Captain Stewart. Come in. Thought we might see you again."

Noah looked up with a start at the use of his name. The barkeep smiled. "Nobody stays a stranger for long in Florence, Captain. Miller, the hotel clerk, was in earlier -- told us all about you. Says you're from San Francisco."

Noah frowned. "Miller's got a big mouth."

"He don't mean no harm, Captain. Most strangers come in draggin' a mule and a pick and a gold-washin' pan. You're somebody different."

"Hmmm." Noah nodded, heading for the bar. The poker players exchanged glances. One finally spoke up. "Play some poker, Captain?"

"We could use some new money in this game."

"Sure. Want to join us?

He nodded to the men at the table. "Next time, boys. Got some business to take care of right now."

The barkeep set out a bottle of rum and a glass. "What can I do for you tonight, Captain? You find your sister?"

Noah's jaw tightened. "Yeah. I found her."

The barkeep hesitated, pouring Noah a shot. "Sorry about that. Life's tough up here. Bad things happen."

Noah lifted the glass. "So I found out. I've got lots of questions. I'm still lookin' for some answers."

Sadie's voiced sounded next to his elbow. "Maybe you'll want to talk to me now, Captain."

Noah consciously held back the shiver of disgust coursing through his body. He stared straight ahead. "You're right, Sadie. Maybe it is time I talked to you." Forcing his most gentlemanly smile, he turned to face her. "What are you drinking?"

Sadie smiled and cocked her head as coquettishly as she could muster. "Why, I'd just take a little glass of the rum, Captain."

He nodded. "Barkeep, another glass -- for the lady."

The barkeep snorted. "Didn't see no lady walk in here, Captain. You've had too much already."

"Shut up, Harold!" Sadie's eyes snapped as she glared at the barkeep. Squaring her shoulders, she forced a smile Noah's direction. "You just wrap your hand around that bottle, grab your glass and come with me, honey. I'll have all the answers for every little question you might have."

Sadie snatched up the drink Harold had just poured. She headed toward the back of the saloon and the dismal row of doors. The card players couldn't stand it. "Hell, Captain. You better stay with us. We'll give you a better deal than Sadie will."

"And Joe's better lookin'!"

Sadie's eyes flashed. "You all just better keep still. It'll be a might long winter otherwise!"

"Aw Sadie, don't get mad."

"We was just funnin!" Joe shivered. Noah suppressed a smile. For these men, a winter without any female company was too bleak a prospect to contemplate. He'd seen winters like that himself.

Sadie tossed her head, glaring their direction. "Humph! We'll just see."

Noah picked up his drink and the fresh bottle of rum. He threw her a glance. "You coming with me or making chit chat with them?"

Sadie nearly jumped to his side. "I'm with you, Captain. Second room from the right."

Noah nodded. They covered the final distance to the room in a few steps. Out of the corner of his eye, Noah caught the motion of another door opening as Sadie turned the key in her lock.

***

Eli stepped back into Hargrave's saloon office, pulling the door shut. "Hey boss, we got company."

Hargrave looked up from his desk. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Looks like that stranger you been fussing about -- that sailor Miller said checked into the hotel -- just walked into Sadie's room."

Hargrave snorted. "I thought he had better taste. Sun Lee's a hell of a lot prettier than Sadie. And a whole lot younger."

Eli shrugged. "Well, that's where he is right now."

Hargrave stood up, crushing out the last of his cigar. "Well, now. That works out just fine."

"You want me to roust him out, boss?"

Hargrave shook his head. "No, no. No reason to disturb a payin' customer. And we don't need to mess up the saloon. I think it's time for me to head home for the day."

A nasty sneer slithered across his lips. "After I'm gone, you get back out there. Pick out a couple of miners who owe me money. Tell em' it'll be worth their while to convince the Captain he needs to leave Florence -- now."

Eli grinned. "That won't be hard. Nearly everybody owes you money, boss."

Hargrave plopped on his hat. "Just let 'em know, the more damage they do, the more they'll get paid. Outside the saloon, of course. Don't want any witnesses."

Eli scratched his chin. "Sure thing. Good night, boss."

"Good night, Eli." Hargrave opened the private outside door to his office and stepped out into the night air.

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