Chapter 1

Deputy United States Marshal Custis Long was enjoying a splendid Sunday afternoon in downtown Denver when a carriage careened wildly around the corner of Colfax Avenue and nearly ran him over as he was crossing the street. In the fraction of a second before he had to dive into a horse trough in order to save himself, Longarm saw that the carriage was a runaway and that an older man was lying slumped across the lap of a terrified and quite beautiful young woman. Longarm scrambled out of the horse trough with water cascading off his clothes. He ran to the nearest hitching post, untied a tall buckskin and threw himself into the saddle. He wasn’t a cowboy, but Longarm was no slouch when it came to riding fast horses, and he soon had the buckskin racing down Colfax after the carriage.

As he drew abreast of a fine pair of sorrels that were running wild-eyed and terrified through Denver’s downtown, he glanced at the woman, who seemed to be frozen in fear. Longarm saw that the reins had been dropped and that there was little the woman could do but pray and hope that the carriage did not roll and crush her to death.

“Hang on!” he shouted, urging his horse past the carriage in the hope of being able to grab the bit of one of the horses and drag it to a standstill.

But just as he was about to reach out and try to take control, the carriage whipped back and forth before slamming sideways against a heavy freight wagon, which caused the back wheels to disintegrate. The carriage’s axle made a terrible shriek as it skidded across cobblestones and then smashed into a hitching post, tossing the young woman through the air. Longarm barely escaped being hit by the out-of-control carriage, which then struck an elm tree and was torn almost in half. Miraculously, the matched pair of runaway horses continued racing down Colfax dragging only a few pieces of splintered wood.

Longarm managed to rein the buckskin to a sliding stop and then he threw himself out of the saddle and hit the ground running.

When he reached the young woman she was semiconscious and bleeding from a number of scrapes, but there did not appear to be any heavy loss of blood. The older man that had been with her in the carriage was lying halfway under the sidewalk like a broken, discarded rag doll. Two men were already at his side trying to revive him, but Longarm had a feeling the older man had been dead even before the crash.

“Miss!” Longarm shouted, making a quick assessment of her condition.

Her most serious bleeding seemed to come from the chest area, and Longarm hoped that she had not had her rib cage crushed and her lungs fatally punctured. He tore open her bodice and saw that she had been impaled in her right breast by a thick sliver of wood. Longarm pulled it out and used his clean handkerchief to staunch the flow as he cradled her head in his lap. “Miss, can you hear me?”

The young woman shook herself and her blue eyes focused on Longarm’s anxious face for a moment before she struggled to get to her feet. “What . . .”

“You’ve been in an awful accident. Don’t move yet. Just try and relax and stay still until we can get a doctor to look you over.”

The young woman looked down at her chest and her eyes widened with fear and then embarrassment. She pushed his hand off her large right breast and the blood immediately welled out of the splinter hole. The wound must have hurt very much, and she clamped her own hand back over it and his now blood-soaked handkerchief.

“My father . . . is he . . . dead?” she whispered.

Longarm glanced back over his shoulder and saw the two men rise up from the body and shake their heads. He turned to the anxious young woman. “I’m afraid that he is.”

A sob escaped her lips and tears rolled down her cheeks. “Father had a very bad heart. It had failed him several times these past few years and I was able to help him, but this time . . . everything went terribly wrong.”

“I’m sorry, but it was your father’s time . . . not yours.”

She looked down at her bare chest and lifted the handkerchief for a moment. “Then I’m not dying?”

“No,” he said, holding up the splinter. “Look. This is the bloody splinter that I removed from your breast. It was thick but not very long and it came out cleanly. I’m sure that as soon as a doctor gets here they’ll take you to a hospital and you’ll do just fine.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, trying to pull up the top of her dress in a gesture of modesty. “I saw you try to grab the horse’s bit and attempt to drag him to a stop. But when our carriage struck something . . . well . . . I can’t remember anything after that moment.”

“Do you have pain inside your head . . . or in your spine?”

She touched her head, then shifted her weight just a bit. “No. I don’t think so. But I’m not feeling very well and I’m devastated to learn that I’ve lost my father.”

“How old was he?” Longarm asked, just trying to make conversation until a doctor was summoned and could get to their side.

“My father was sixty-eight.”

“And your mother?”

“She died many years ago.”

“A husband . . . children that need to know . . .”

“My husband was accidentally shot in Cheyenne last winter and we didn’t have time to have any children.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Longarm said. “What about any brothers or sisters that live here in Denver that we can get in touch with?”

“I’m an only child. My father is all that I have . . . or had.” She shook her head and bit her lower lip to keep from sobbing. “Father and I only came to Denver this spring. He bought a downtown hotel and I helped him manage it. We were both starting over fresh but because of his failing heart he knew he was living on borrowed time.”

“Don’t you have anyone here that needs to know what happened?”

“I’ve an uncle,” she said. “His name is John Holt and he owns . . .”

“The Frontier Hotel,” Longarm said. “I know and like Mr. Holt. He was once the mayor of Denver.”

“Yes. And that’s where we’re staying. But John is now in his mid-eighties and I don’t want to give him a fright. He also has heart trouble and this news might kill him.” The woman grabbed Longarm and in a pleading voice, she said, “Don’t tell him what happened this morning! I’ll do that, but I’ll need a little time first.”

“Of course. What is your name?”

“Lillian . . . but everyone calls me Lilly. Lilly St. Clair.”

“My name is Custis Long. I’m a United States deputy marshal and I work at the Federal Building just up the street.”

“You’re very brave to have tried to reach out and stop my horses.”

“I probably would have fallen out of the saddle and gotten run over by the carriage if it hadn’t struck something and flipped,” he said with a smile.

“I don’t believe that,” she told him.

Just then a doctor in his fifties with a well-worn medical kit arrived. “Move aside,” he ordered brusquely, almost knocking Longarm over with his whiskey-reeking breath. “I need to examine this young woman!”

The moment Longarm moved aside, the doctor tore Lilly’s dress down to her waist, exposing both of her breasts to the gathering crowd so that the men among them leered, openmouthed.

“Doctor,” Longarm said, angered by the man’s insensitivity, “I pulled a splinter from her right breast and it wasn’t in deep. You don’t have to do this right out here in the street.”

“Don’t tell me what I do need to do or not do!”

Longarm had seen a lot of fine doctors in his time and a few had even saved his life. He’d also had to suffer the incompetence of plenty of “tooth pullers” and quacks that had little or no formal medical training. And most important, Longarm could immediately spot a competent and professional doctor from a bad one.

He reached down, grabbed the quack by the collar, and shoved him away. “I’ll take Miss St. Clair straight to the hospital,” he announced loud enough to be heard by everyone. “And all the rest of you folks, go on about your business. You’ve had your eyeful and now you need to get moving!”

“So who the hell are you to tell a doctor to stay away from that young woman!” a big man demanded.

Longarm reached into his vest pocket and showed everyone his federal officer’s badge. “I’m taking charge here and I’m telling you all to leave right now.”

The crowd that had gathered numbered at least two dozen. They slowly dispersed, most of them walking quickly over to stare at Lilly’s dead father. Longarm shook his head in pure disgust. Some people were just morbid, he guessed.

“Can I try to stand?” Lilly whispered.

“If you don’t think that it will hurt you, then give it a try. I’ll help.”

Longarm wrapped a powerful arm around Lilly and eased her to her feet. For a moment, she almost fell and then she gathered herself and took a faltering step, holding the top of her dress closed with one hand. “I want to go to my father’s side,” she said.

Longarm understood completely. He led her some twenty feet to ease her down at her father’s side.

“I wish he could know that I wasn’t hurt too badly in the crash,” Lilly said, trying to hold back tears. “Father was driving when his heart suddenly failed and would have blamed himself for what happened to us next.”

“I’m sure that he knows that you are going to be just fine,” Longarm offered, because he couldn’t think of anything more comforting to tell the grieving woman.

Lilly knelt and gently touched her father’s cheek. “He had a bad heart all of his life . . . but that didn’t stop him from being a great man. He built a fortune buying properties with no help from anyone. He was also the most decent and finest man I ever knew.”

Longarm felt a deep sense of sadness wishing he could have said the same thing about his own late father, who now lay buried in the dark, loamy soil of West Virginia. “My father died when I was young. I wish I’d have known him as long as you knew your father.”

Lilly nodded. “Father wanted to show me the West. He had been out here several times and loved it. He believed that it was the future . . . but now there is no future for him.”

“Would you like me to help you?” Longarm asked.

“Yes, please.”

Longarm quickly gave instructions that Lilly’s father be taken to the finest funeral parlor in town adding, “Tell them that this man is to be given the best that they have to offer and that his daughter will be getting in touch with them for the details of the funeral.”

The men nodded.

“Now,” Longarm said, “we need you to go see a doctor.”

“I’m not sure that is necessary,” Lilly replied. “I’m feeling better and nothing seems to be broken.”

“All the same,” Longarm persisted, “it would be a very good idea.”

“Will you come with me?”

“Of course.”

Lilly smiled gratefully. “I’ve ruined your Sunday plans and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t give it a thought,” he told her. “I really didn’t have any plans for today. I was just going to get some exercise, relax, and enjoy this fine weather we are having.”

She managed a smile. “You’re a gentleman.”

“Sometimes,” he said, giving her a wink.

Lilly, despite her pain and the sorrow she was feeling for the loss of her father, squeezed his hand and said, “Unless you are married, after I get checked over at the hospital, let’s find a place to eat and talk.”

He brushed some debris out of her ash-blond hair and then straightened her collar. “You’re a trooper.”

“And that’s a compliment?”

“Oh, yes. Very much so.”

Lilly took his arm and Longarm walked her slowly up Colfax Avenue toward the nearest hospital. She limped and was badly banged up and scraped in many places, but she held her head high and possessed the air of a true lady. Longarm was impressed and his own chin lifted as he escorted her down the cobblestone street.

“Do you live nearby?” she asked.

“Not far.”

“I live at my uncle’s Frontier Hotel. My father and I took the top rooms, which are large and give us a fine view of this bustling city.”

“I’ll bet that the view is impressive. Denver is growing faster than weeds in the spring.”

“My father and I were looking to buy more properties,” Lilly explained. “We think that Denver has a very bright future.”

“I’d agree with that.”

“And what is in your future, Marshal Custis Long?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I kind of like to take each day as it comes, Lilly. It’s been my experience that, if you put too much thought into what you want to happen . . . it usually doesn’t.”

“Oh, really?”

“That’s just the way I think.”

“You sound like a man who lives for the day.”

“I do.”

“And I’ve ruined this one for you,” she said sadly.

“Lilly, I wouldn’t trade places with anyone in Denver today.”

She looked up at him with surprise and tears in her blue eyes. “That’s about the nicest thing I’ve ever heard from a man I didn’t know at all well.”

“Well,” he told her. “Once you’re feeling better, we can change that.”

“My knowing you well?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, but I’m going to need a little time to mourn the passing of my father. He knew that he could die at any moment and over a year ago the doctors told him that he should get his business in order . . . which he did. Father left everything to me and I’m going to try and use my inheritance well.”

“You mean to make more money.”

“That, of course, but also to help others less fortunate than myself. There are so many poor people living in the cities. So many children that are hungry and barely clothed.”

Longarm nodded with agreement. “There are hundreds just right here in Denver, Lilly.” He gave her a wry smile. “Are you intending to become Denver’s patron saint?”

“Why not?” she asked. “Less than thirty minutes ago I could have easily died in that wreck. Maybe I was put here for a good purpose.”

“Maybe you were at that,” he said.

“And your purpose is?”

“To be the best federal lawman I can be and just to live every day as if it were my last.”

Lilly suddenly decided to change the subject. She smoothed her hair and touched a scrape on her cheekbone. “I must look like a real fright.”

“Not really. Even mussed up you’re one of the most beautiful women in Denver.”

“You are a gentleman!” she said.

“When I’m with a lady I always aim to please.”

Their eyes met and the corner of Lilly’s mouth turned upward in a smile. “Yes, I can easily believe that.”

Longarm started to say more, but being as Lilly St. Clair thought him a complete gentleman, he chose to hold his silence.