Frank let Ginny into the bank and locked the door behind her after speaking to several customers who were waiting outside to do business with him. He smiled and asked if she was ready to begin the new job.
“Nervous, but ready,” she responded, then forced a return smile. This was her perfect opportunity to search for clues and to win his confidence, so she told herself to be alert. She mustn’t become distracted or reckless for an instant, something “Steve Carr” often had scolded her for doing during her training. She quickly dismissed her love from mind and observed her surroundings.
Four clerks stood behind a long U-shaped counter getting ready to open for business in twenty minutes. Frank whispered for her to notice that the workers had either no pockets or stitched-down ones in their trousers to prevent hiding places if they became tempted to steal a nugget or coin. The counter and floors were highly polished wood, but, as Frank whispered to her again, there were no chairs or sitting areas supplied to entice customers to remain inside the large room longer than necessary. He said she would grasp why when the bank became crowded and noisy soon.
In every corner there was a guard armed with a rifle at the ready to discourage or to defeat robberies. Most propped their buttocks on stools to keep from becoming overly fatigued or cramped during a long day of standing. She saw all the guards and clerks eye her for a moment. No doubt, she concluded, they also knew their boss had a “claim” on her.
Ginny looked at a large sign on one wall: The Frank Kinnon Bank. A clock was mounted on the opposite one. In the elbow of the waist-high counter was a shed-type case with scales for weighing gold dust, flakes, and nuggets, Frank said.
“It’s glassed on the customer’s side to keep wind from scattering gold dust on the scales when the door is opened and closed.« It also lets customers witness the handling of their property to prevent any problems. Want a peek inside the safe before it’s locked?”
“Yes. I’ve never been inside one before.”
Frank guided her around the counter and to the large metal “closet.” While blocking everyone’s view, his deft fingers twirled the combination dial on the heavy door. With brute strength, he pushed the door aside and motioned her into the small, dark area that held numerous shelves from floor to ceiling. Using a lamp, Frank adjusted it to give her a good view of the contents: bills, coins, pouches of gold in three forms, ingots of silver and gold, and samples of ore on trays.
“What do those mean?” she asked, pointing to names on some bags.
“Men either sell me their gold and silver or they store it here for a fee. Whenever they need some, they have the clerks weigh out the amount they want. They sign a paper inside the pouch telling when and how much they withdrew and how much is left. Storing it here keeps them from carrying around large amounts and risking being robbed. It also keeps some men from being tempted or tricked into spending it all in one night after they get drunk and lose their wits at the gambling tables.”
Ginny tried to read the names in a hurry to see if her father’s or Clay’s was among them and stalled for more time by saying, “That sounds very intelligent to me. What happens to a man’s gold if he dies?”
“If I hear about a misfortune, I date his pouch and hold it for one year for family or partners to claim. If no one does, it becomes mine. Those eight on that shelf are patiently waiting to jump into my pocket.”
Ginny’s heart fluttered as her gaze touched on her father’s name on a fat pouch. She wished she could peek inside to see what the date was but dared not show her interest to the man nearby. She was worried about finding it on that gloomy shelf, but Mathew Marston had been reported dead. She didn’t want to imagine that might be true or to think about Frank taking something that belonged to her if Matt was gone. “There’s a fortune here. Have you ever been robbed?”
“No. I keep four guards on duty day and night. It’s expensive, but it increases business because men know their earnings are safe with me.”
“What if something happened to you? How would they open the safe?” How, she mused, could she get her hands on her father’s property?
“I’m the only one here who knows the combination. If I died, the governor has the combination in his safe. It’s about time to open, so let’s get in the back where we work.” As he locked the enormous safe, Frank told her, “The clerks keep the banking records, but I check them every night for errors. You won’t have any tasks out here.”
On the back wall was a door into another section, over which a sign read: Frank Kinnon, Assay Office. He led her into a hallway and closed the door. “Nobody comes back here unless invited or by appointment.” He motioned to three doors as he explained, “That’s my assay room, my office, and where you’ll work. I make notes which you’ll write up in a report form twice: one copy for me and one for the customer. They’re kept in a file in my office and it’s always locked when I’m out. You’ll also copy letters for me because my script, as you’ll soon discover, is terrible. You’ll keep the office books: charges, payments, supplies, and so forth.”
Ginny followed him into the “laboratory,” a clean but cluttered room. She laughed, “I almost feel as if I’m in jail; every window and door has bars.”
Frank chuckled. “A man can’t be too careful when he’s responsible for so much wealth. It would shock you to know how much money and precious metals are in that safe. If anything happened to them, the men around here would lynch me in a second. I have to protect my business and reputation.”
“It appears you’re doing a good job with both.”
“Thank you, Anna. Please look around and ask all the questions you wish.”
Ginny glanced at cabinets that held supplies used in his trade. There were several long work tables. One had lines of metal weights and a scale. Another held a small crusher, a vise and hammer for sizing samples, many wooden trays to hold them, flux and burners and crucibles for tests, tongs for lifting hot objects, thick jars of nitric acid, and paper with ink and pen for recording results. “How does this process work?” she asked after he explained the use of each item, though many were obvious or were marked.
As he removed his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and put on an apron to protect his clothes, he said, “Pull up that stool and I’ll give you a lesson while I do this sample. Kelly’s coming by later today for his answer.”
Ginny realized he was absorbed by his task or he would have fetched the stool for her. She sat close to the table as Frank Kinnon worked and talked to observe this man her father mistrusted and feared.
“I use chemicals and heating techniques to determine how much precious metal or mineral is in a sample. Most are scattered throughout. Flux helps melt it into what’s called a button. It separates into slag, which is tossed out, and a button of mostly lead and hopefully something valuable. The button is melted to get out the impurities and to leave a dore bead, usually gold or silver, or a combination of both. I weigh the bead and record the figure. Next comes nitric acid bath to remove any silver. This is one of the trickiest and most dangerous steps; acid can burn worse than any flame. I weigh the gold I recover and subtract that amount from the first figure to determine how much, if any, silver is there. Take a look: gold with no silver tracings. Nuggets men find in streams don’t need assaying; their value is obvious and their payment is easy to determine by weight. Mining gold is different; if it’s embedded in rock, it has to be freed by pick and smelting.”
“Fascinating,” she murmured.
“No tests are necessary if a prospector brings in fool’s gold. A trained eye can spot pyrite instantly, but it’s tricked many an innocent man. It’s sometimes used to dupe ignorant buyers into thinking they’re getting a valuable claim.”
Ginny looked at the samples of pyrite and gold Frank showed her. “You said silver was harder and more expensive to mine. How is it done?”
“Ore has to be crushed, calcined, washed, smelted, and cast into bullion. Stop me if I confuse you. Calcine is to convert ore into calx by roasting it in a way that it’s exposed to air and oxidizing. Silver is a pure metal, but it’s embedded in or with other materials, such as gold, quartz, lead, or copper. Most prospectors overlook it because of its color; they discard gray or blackish or bluish rocks without realizing what they’ve found. It requires lots of men, work, equipment, and money to extract it. A company needs furnaces and vats for removing roasted ore, then laborers to cut and haul wood and feed fires. They need smelters and crushers, and diggers and haulers. They require a water supply and trained men to cast silver into bricks. It takes guards for the diggings, company, and transport, plus drivers and wagons and teams. Silver mining is big business, Anna.”
That explanation helped her to grasp her father’s problems better. “My goodness, it sounds like it. Is that why you didn’t get involved in it?”
“I haven’t found a promising silver mine to invest in, only gold.”
“You said you have books I can study?”
“Yes, over there on that shelf. Take what you want.”
“I think it would be best if I familiarize myself with all of this since I’ll be working here and living in this area. You’re smart and skilled and I’m very impressed. It’s going to be interesting and fun working here with you.”
“It’s good to know your surroundings. If you have any questions or problems, come to me. I won’t mind being interrupted by you.”
“Thank you, Frank. Oh, my,” she said, and feigned a look of dismay. “Shouldn’t I call you Mr. Kinnon at work?”
“No need. We’ll see few people back here.”
“What do you want me to do first today? Do I have a routine to follow?”
Frank related her tasks and schedule, then showed her to her office. “If you need anything, call me. I’ll be back here or out front.”
Ginny sat down, smiled, and watched him leave. She read over the notes she was supposed to copy neatly into a ledger and glanced at the reports she was to write out afterward. It was going to be a busy day. Before she began her first task, she wondered if Frank had requested information about her from any sources back South. He hadn’t mentioned the half-true, half-false story she had told him about herself last week. If he suspected her of wrongdoing with the Klan or of coming here to seek a rich husband, it didn’t show or didn’t matter to him.
At least, she realized, there wouldn’t be a pregnancy complicating her life, as her monthly flow began this morning. Yet she wanted to have Stone’s children and, every time he touched her, the last thing that came to mind was worry over getting pregnant. Probably she was lucky his seed wasn’t growing inside her as he might be lost to her forever. Three weeks ago today she had left Dallas. If he had returned home as promised and been told the truth, there had been enough time for him to reach Colorado City, if he wanted to come after her. Perhaps he didn’t and never would. She ordered herself not to think about Stone Chapman right now as it-evoked too many doubts, fears, and pains.
Ginny closed her eyes and envisioned the bulging leather pouch in the safe with her father’s name attached. She could use that money to search for Matt; rather, to pay a detective to ferret out the truth. She was trapped in a bind: she couldn’t get answers without asking questions, but she couldn’t ask questions without exposing herself.
Soon, she promised, she would find a way to get at the truth.
All of Thursday, Ginny knew something was afoot. Frank Kinnon smiled, whistled, grinned, and hummed continuously. He dropped in for little chats. He adored her from head to foot with his eyes. He invited her to join him tomorrow for “a special dinner.”
Anxiety nibbled at her as she feared he was going to propose. Whatever would she do and say if he offered marriage? She couldn’t marry him just to extract clues. If he was that serious, dealing with him might become difficult. She hadn’t expected her target to fall in love with her. Desire her; perhaps and hopefully. Love her; that was trouble. Propose; that was incredible. He could be her father’s mur—No, Ginny, don’t think such horrible thoughts. You need more time to glean clues but Frank might not allow either one. Better come up with an alternate plan.
Shortly before quitting time, Ginny was putting away the letters and reports in Frank’s office that she’d done while he finished work in the assay room. She noticed a file marked MM. She glanced into the hallway and heard the man humming, obviously still busy working. Quickly she snatched out the file and read two papers inside. The same notes and figures in her father’s last letter were recorded there, with the conclusion: high grade silver ore, 80 to 90 percent pure. Mathew Marston’s name wasn’t listed nor was a location of the strike, but she was certain this file was about her father. It was dated last June, a year ago. Yet her father’s pouch of gold or silver was still in the safe so a year, according to Frank’s rule, hadn’t passed since its deposit. Her father’s last letter to her had been dated July of ‘66 after Clay’s death and his departure to seek investors: almost a year had passed. Would such a task require that long? And why no word from him since then? Unless he feared the wrong person might be watching her and might get their hands on any enlightening missives…
Ginny heard Frank coming down the hall, and panicked a moment. Thinking fast, she tossed the two files and other papers to the floor. She muttered to herself, “Look what you’ve done, Anna.” She knelt to retrieve them.
“What’s wrong?” Frank asked from the doorway.
Ginny looked up and sent him a wry smile. “I was pulling out the Maples file and another one came along with it. I dropped everything trying to replace it without putting down the stack. I’m sorry, but nothing looks damaged. I’ll have this mess straightened up shortly. Two pages don’t have names, so I don’t know where they go.”
Frank came over and knelt to assist her. He took the two papers and slipped them into the file marked MM. He chuckled and said, “That’s one claim I’d like to invest in, but nobody knows where it’s located. It could be anywhere in the Rocky Mountains or even in another state.”
“What do you mean, Frank? Why does it only have initials?”
Frank squatted and looked at her. “Sometimes prospectors and miners don’t trust local assayers or want news of their findings to leak out prematurely, so they carry their samples a long distance to have them tested. In this case, I understand why. I don’t know where that sample was taken from, but it’s one of the richest grades of silver I’ve seen.”
Ginny watched him stare at his hands, then ball his fists until his knuckles whitened, that bittersweet vision seemed to bring a greedy and frustrated look to his face. Frank stood and helped her to her feet. He stuffed the file back into place, right where the name Marston would go.
“If there’s as much silver and gold embedded in the area as the ore they brought me implies, it’ll be one of the biggest and best strikes ever made. That’s how I know nobody’s found it; there has been no big headline in newspapers across the country and it’s been a year. They would have been wealthy and famous men. It’s worth millions, almost pure. Lot of gold, too. It came out easy, so little refining will be required. I’d surely like to invest in whoever’s company finds this strike. It even tempts me to go searching for it myself.”
“I don’t understand, Frank. It’s already been found. You’ve tested the sample. Do you know the men? Have you seen them in town?”
“I knew both of them, but they were murdered last summer, probably by common thieves. No claim was ever filed at the local land office by Mathew Marston and Clayton Cassidy. The location of the silver remains unknown to this day.”
Ginny was relieved she was able to control any outward reaction to his disclosures. He was relaxed and he trusted her, yet she must make sure to sound only curious. “Surely someone else will find it one day. There are so many men working the mountains that it can’t remain a secret forever.”
“But remember what I told you—silver is often overlooked by ignorant and inexperienced men. Matt and Clay recognized it from working a mine.”
“It’s a shame they were killed; it could have meant plenty of jobs and more progress in Colorado. What happened?”
“Their bodies were found in a burned cabin. Undertaker said both were shot first. Their mules and gear outside were used to identify them.”
“Perhaps whoever attacked them forced them to reveal where the strike was located before they were murdered.”
“That couldn’t have happened, Anna, or it’d be big news by now.”
“What if this villain staked a land claim and he’s biding his time before mining it until the time he won’t fall under suspicion by the law?”
“I thought of that. I tried to help solve the crimes by checking to see who registered claims here. But there’s been nothing suspicious to date.”
Ginny didn’t dare remind him he’d said the strike could be anywhere and ask him if he’d checked with other land offices, such as the one in Denver. “I suppose you’re right: it may never be found or not for a long time; their killers, too. A crime like that must be too old to solve even for a detective.”
“I actually hired one to see if he could backtrack on them, but it was futile. I even thought for a while that somebody else may have been in the cabin and one of them escaped. That couldn’t be true because nobody’s seen or heard from either man and Marston has a gold pouch in the safe that he wouldn’t leave behind.”
Ginny gave a sympathetic sigh. “What a shame, to die just before you become rich. Did they have families? Does anyone here try to reach kin following accidents and deaths?”
“Cassidy had no family. Marston has a daughter in England, but nobody knew how to reach her or even knew her name. And she could be married and have a different one by now. They stayed here after being Galvanized Yanks for years in the state. Seemed like good men to me.”
“How awful for a person’s father to be dead and not know it.”
“I wish I could learn more about her. If Matt sent her any news or maps, I could handle a mining company for her. We’d both be rich.”
Ginny feigned an interested look. “Did you try hard to locate her?”
“Yes, but without a name or town, it was impossible. I checked with the Army, but they didn’t have any records revealing anything about her. If I could just come up with the right clues, I’d be first in line to take over the claim from a criminal I’d exposed.”
“You said one of them might still be alive. Why would he disappear?”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Nor can I. It would be nice to own a mine of such value. This has given me an idea. You could start another business, Frank: let men register their identities and prospecting locations or claims with you; then, when or if something happened to them, their families could be notified about inheritances. They could carry papers telling whoever found them to contact you for a small reward for their help. You could charge a fee and I could handle the records.”
“That might be an excellent idea. I’ll think about it this weekend.”
She turned and finished her filing. She didn’t actually expect him to act on her idea; she had used it to help dupe him.
A clerk knocked on the door and said, “We’re closed, sir. You ready to check up?”
“Coming in a moment. You go home and rest, Anna. And don’t forget about our special dinner tomorrow night.”
She smiled and assured him she wouldn’t.
Ginny finished her bath and returned to her room. She had eaten with Hattie and two other boarders, as the others were out for the evening. She was ready to turn in for the night, because she was emotionally and physically fatigued from her labors and discoveries today. She dreaded facing Frank tomorrow as she suspected what he had in store for her later that night. She locked her sitting-area door and entered the other room. She barely suppressed a scream as her gaze noticed the man half lying on her bed with his booted feet on the floor.
Ginny gaped at him as questions filled her head and spilled forth, “Stone, how did you get in here? Did anyone see you? How did you find me? Surely you didn’t ask around to locate me?”
He sat up, exhaled, and looked at her. Light-brown hair tumbled over her shoulders and drifted to her waist. Hazel eyes were wide with astonishment and suspense. Her lips had remained parted after their rush of words. One hand gripped the edges of a night robe to keep it closed; the other held bathing needs with a damp drying cloth thrown over her forearm. Shu, she was beautiful and tempting with little—yet in another way, a vast—distance between them. He finally managed to speak. “Hello, Ginny Marston.”
She stared at him and tried to ascertain his mood. The fact he hadn’t leapt upon her and attacked her with harsh words or blows told her he had himself under rigid control. Her gaze took in the image of irresistible manhood. He wasn’t an illusion, this man she loved clad in all black and with a short beard as if in disguise. Yet, neither had he leapt from the bed and taken her into his arms as she’d hoped when they next met. It was hard not to rush to him. At last, he was here. “Your father told you everything?”
Stone scooted to the end of the bed and propped one elbow on the wooden footboard. He placed his unshaven chin on the backs of curled fingers and drilled his gaze into hers. Before he answered, he wondered why she remained frozen in the doorway instead of hurrying to his aching arms. “Him and your letter. So, I finally meet the real woman. You aren’t Charles Avery’s daughter and you aren’t Bennett Chapman’s daughter. You’ve had a lot of fathers along your route to here. Have you found yours?”
“No. I was told just today that he and his-partner were murdered last year, but I know—I hope—that isn’t true.”
“What is true, Ginny?”
She walked to the bed and sat down near him. After he shifted to face her, she confessed everything to the man she loved and prayed he felt the same about her and believed her. “I know Father wasn’t in that cabin, but I don’t know where he is now or if the killer got to him later. If he’s still alive, I can’t understand why he hasn’t contacted me. I’m sure Frank Kinnon’s involved and I’m slowly gleaning clues from him.”
“It sounds as if you’re as good at deceptions and investigations as I am.” He saw her wince as if he’d insulted her or struck her a physical blow. “Don’t fret, I didn’t ask about Virginia Marston, because Father told me about your dangerous predicament. I arrived this morning and I’ve watched the bank most of the day after I saw you enter at lunch and not come out again. I followed you here and waited until it was safe to sneak inside. I would have come sooner but we had trouble with rustlers at the ranch.” He explained his meaning. “You might be pleased to learn Father and I have made peace and my parents are getting married as soon as I return home.”
I return, not we? “That’s wonderful news. I’m happy for them and for you. Please congratulate them for me. How soon are you leaving?”
He was baffled by her reaction of sadness and anguish to a mention of departure that should delight her and her father if they wanted him out of the way. If only he knew what she knew about the matter tormenting him. He dreaded to ask out of fear she might lie to him again, even if only out of mistrust or caution. He must wait and see how much she revealed.
Both felt the strain within themselves and the other. Each wanted to reach out but waited for the other one to do it first.
“I haven’t decided. What you did to me and my family was wrong, Ginny, but I understand your motives. I want to thank you for giving Father a little of Johanna and for halting your ruse before it lasted too long.” He witnessed a look of surprise and relief; then, sadness dulled her eyes again.
“Is that all you came to tell me, that you won’t seek revenge?”
“No, I wanted to tell you, for one thing, I’m glad you aren’t Johanna.”
When he didn’t say more, she probed, “Why?”
“Because she and I, as you discovered, were blood kin. It knifed me badly to learn I had made love with my sister and knew I had to hurt her again.”
Be bold and brave, Ginny, or you’ll never extract the truth, whatever it might be. “Did you say those cruel and painful things to me that night only to discourage me, or did you truly mean them? Were you only trying to halt things between us because you thought our relationship was wrong and had no future, or were you trying to convince me of your genuine disinterest? Was it just physical attraction for you, Stone, nothing more? Do you still want to discard me now that you know I’m not your sister or Anna Avery? Did my two deceptions destroy all respect and affection you had for me? Did they destroy any hope or chance of us building a future together?”
Stone gazed at the daughter of the man who had murdered his best friend, a man he’d sworn to kill. That was an impending task she might or might not know about, one that would affect the “chance” she was questioning. Clay’s message had told him that Matt was acting strange. “I don’t think I kan trust him ennymore,” he had written Stone. “He’s balking on filing our klaim. He says we have to keep it a sekret. I’ve had krazy akseedents with only Matt around. He’s been my friend and partner but I’m skared to trust him. If ennything happens to me, my share of the klaim is yours. Here’s the map and paper saying so. You know I don’t have no family and yore my best friend. You saved my life more than once. If Matt balks, force it out of him. It’s worth a fortune, Stone. That’s what the assayer told us. If you kan kome help me with him, pleze hurry.”
Stone felt there must be valid reasons for Clay distrusting Matt after the two men had been together for years as Galvanized Yankees and prospectors. With Clay dead and the land in the Marston name, Matt believed he owned it all. He had learned that Matt had registered the claim in Denver under Ginny’s initials. He knew the strike’s location, so he didn’t need Matt or Ginny to lead him there. It wasn’t the wealth that he wanted; he wanted Clay’s killer exposed and punished. This thing with Kinnon, he reasoned from experience, was a smokescreen like Indians sometimes used to conceal or protect their retreats across prairieland. If Matt wasn’t guilty, he would have gone to the law; he would have helped them find and punish the killer of his friend and partner. Yet, even if there was a slim possibility Matt was innocent, Matt’d let the murderer go free just to keep the strike for himself. Perhaps he was off searching for investors as Ginny had said and he’d show up one day and plead ignorance of Clay’s death and his own alleged one. Those were points he’d investigate soon.
Had Matt mentioned Stone in his letters to Ginny? Was duping him her real reason for impersonating his sister? Did she know about his lethal quest and inheritance? Those questions plagued him. If he asked them, would she be honest? His father had told him how she had escaped Fort Smith and his reach; she was cunning and brave. She’d come here alone and was doing fine by herself. His mother had urged him to—
“Stone, why did you really come here? A letter could have said all you have.” Ginny was worried over his lengthy silence and impenetrable stare. “Does it take this long to decide how you feel? Was what I did so terrible that you can’t understand it or forgive me?”
The Special Agent was skilled at tracking, outwitting, and exposing criminals. He was experienced at confronting troubles head-on with speed and accuracy and without fear. Somehow those traits deserted him tonight in Ginny’s presence. She looked innocent and vulnerable, honest and tormented. “A letter can’t look you in the eye when it talks. But even face-toface, you can’t always tell if someone is being honest with you; we’ve both proven that.”
“Except for the false claims I made about my identity, I was myself with you,” Ginny assured him. “I don’t think the same is true of Steve Carr and Stone Chapman; you two are much alike yet greatly different. You’re the stranger in this room.” She didn’t stop to think it might be the short beard that made him look different, mysterious and almost intimidating. “Even if you can’t forgive me and don’t want a personal relationship with me now or ever, please let me hire you to help find my father.” I have to keep you here until you realize the truth. You love me and want me, you stubborn creature. I need time to prove it to you.
“You want me to help you look for Mathew Marston? Why?”
Ginny misunderstood why he stressed the “me.” “You’re a skilled tracker and agent. I don’t know how or where to search for him. I know to work on Frank Kinnon, but he’s getting too—It’s just so hard and scary working alone on a dangerous and enamored man. Do you despise me too much to help me? I’ll pay whatever I can.” Stay and work with me, Stone. Give us time together to get past this strain between us.
Ignoring the evocative deception he had in mind, he admitted the truth. “I don’t hate you, Ginny. I haven’t stopped wanting you for a moment since the day we met in Georgia. Things have been crazy and it takes getting used to. I have to deal with all these changes and deceits. But they weren’t all your fault. I did my share of lying and tricking and provoking you to do more than you wanted to do. At the ranch when I thought you were my sister, I was tormented and stunned. I had to turn you against me, and I had to leave there fast. I made love to you on the trail because I wanted you and needed you. You, Ginny, not just your body. Shu, woman, don’t you realize how you get to me? I’ve never wanted or needed anything more than you, not even for my father to acknowledge me as his son. When I learned the truth about your two ruses, yes, I was angry. And I was disappointed, hurt, and confused. I’m sure you’ve felt the same way many times with me. I didn’t come here to punish you or toss you aside. I came because you were mine and I want you to be mine again… Why are you crying?” he asked as he moved closer and brushed away the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I was so afraid I’d lost you, more afraid than I’ve ever been in my life. I love you, Stone. I’ve tried not to press you because you’re so…”
“Skittish as a horse near a branding iron?”
His broad smile warmed her very soul. It was enticing and devilish and tugged at the corners of his wide mouth until it parted his lips and exposed even, white teeth. His dark eyes glowed with emotions that matched her own. She was no longer tired or afraid; her senses were alive and alert. He was utterly arresting, and she was susceptible to his charms. “I’m so glad you’re here. I want you so much. It’s been too long since you’ve held me and kissed me. Lordy, how I’ve missed you. Can you forgive me?”
For almost anything. He pressed kisses to her brow, nose, and lips. As his mouth left hers, he murmured, “Surely you know you’re the only woman for me.” His bearded chin gingerly moved aside the robe so his tongue could taste the clean flesh of her shoulder and neck.
“You’re the only man for me, Stone.” Ginny’s arms tightened around him as she sought surcease for a yearning deeper and stronger at that moment than her physical desire for him. Her heart was so full of love, joy, and relief that she feared it might burst. Her body soon blazed with fiery passion. She wanted all of him. She lacked the strength and wits to deny what they both craved, a union of bodies despite any consequences. She surrendered to his intoxicating kisses and stirring caresses.
Stone longed to reveal everything within his heart and mind, but he couldn’t until he confronted Matt and held the entire truth within his grasp. His hold on her was too new and fragile to risk breaking with a stunning confession about their mutual target. Maybe she was right and there was another villain to blame for Clay’s death. If so, they would unmask him together. If Matt was innocent, it would be rash to expose his speculations and create new problems between them.
As Ginny kissed and caressed him and changed his line of thought, it seemed to Stone as if she entreated his touch and response as proof of his feelings and claims, as a way of evoking reassurance from him. It was true, she was the only woman who could have reached him and saved him from the destructive ravages of the past. His hands peeled the robe off her body to reveal creamy skin that beckoned his lips and mouth. With expertise and enraptured by her, he stormed her bared flesh with deft hands and captivating lips as he explored her curvy regions and flat planes.
Ginny hugged him possessively because she believed he was yielding his all to her. She unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, then trailed fingers over his iron-muscled body. She yearned to make tender and passionate love to him. Nature and her entire being demanded she respond to the urgent messages passing between and within them. She gave free rein to those emotions and unleashed every inhibition.
Stone was enthralled by her urgency and his own. His head seemed as if it was spinning in a whirlwind. He parted them to hurriedly remove his boots and pants; as his weapons and hat were hanging over a chair nearby. He turned back to her to find her naked and her hand extended in a sweet invitation. Her hazel eyes beckoned. His fingers buried in her hair as his hand pressed her head closer to his to seal their mouths in a breathstealing kiss. His embrace tightened and he refused to release her for a long time. His needs and kisses became urgent and demanding but he tried not to rush and to be gentle. He groaned in rapidly mounting desire. “I said you were a dangerous distraction and irresistible temptation; I was right.”
“So are you, my love.” Though smoldering with hot desire, she was dreamily aware of each kiss and caress, each sensation. She felt his hunger for her in his touch, heard it in his tone, and read it in those dark eyes that enslaved her.
Stone realized her desire was as tangible and evocative as a physical caress. Weeks of starvation for her ignited his body to a flaming torch, fires that licked precariously at his resolve to take her with leisure. His molten body covered hers and shared its seething heat. He was almost afraid to caress and kiss her lest his control be vanquished and he succumb to its coaxing to take her with swiftness.
He leaned over and tantalized her taut breasts with his lips while his hands drifted downward to stimulate her womanly center with love and tenderness. When his mouth returned to hers, their kiss fused into a savage and feverish bond. Their need so great, he eased between her thighs and slid himself within her, then halted to master his wavering control. Never had he taken a woman who enticed his manhood to seek bliss the moment he entered her body. She ensnared him with a speed and ease that nearly hurled him beyond reason and willpower. She smelled fresh as spring air and was as hot as the sultriest summer day.
Ginny’s hands traveled from Stone’s sable hair to his bronzed torso. His body was beautiful, strong, and stimulating. She arched to meet his hips each time he withdrew and entered her again. Her body responded to his instinctively, but what instinct didn’t supply, he did. She writhed as his lips, hands, and movements worked magic upon her. She tried to relax, to give him full mastery over the situation, and to abandon her will to his; she couldn’t stay still, not with him assailing her wits and body. The sensations he created were wonderful and intense. She tingled. She flamed. She wanted every instant of this union.
Urged onward by his insistent desire, Stone increased his pace and deepened his kisses. She was holding nothing back from him and that filled him with happiness.
Ginny felt her body quiver with suspense. Only Stone could quench this thirst for appeasement. “I want you and need you, my love.”
“And you shall have me.” He carried them to the peak of pleasure where she stiffened a moment and moaned in ecstasy. Her grip on him tightened and she pressed herself closer to him. He swept her over the precipice and beyond…
Blissfully sated, they didn’t break or release their hold on each other. They snuggled together as their bodies quieted and glowed in passion’s aftermath. They felt peaceful, warm, and happy.
Ginny nestled her cheek to his chest. With eyes closed, she sighed dreamily. She felt his fingers wander through her mussed hair and over her damp flesh. She smiled when he placed light kisses over her face. She felt safe, tranquil, and fulfilled in his arms.
Stone relaxed. Beyond any doubt, he loved her. He had taken other females but never made love to them; he knew the difference now. Ginny was totally satisfying in all ways. That was the secret to happiness and contentment: love. He rolled to his side and gazed at her. “Tell me everything about you again. I want to know every detail about my Ginny Marston.”
It was nearing midnight when she finished relating her history from birth to this moment. “The last thing to tell you about Frank Kinnon is that I think he’s going to propose to me tomorrow night. How can I discourage or stall him without breaking my hold over him?”
Stone knew he had to stay out of Kinnon’s sight and remain unshaven to conceal his presence from a man who could recognize and expose him. If she was right, Kinnon or someone else could be guilty rather than Matt. If that proved to be true, it would be wonderful because he wouldn’t have to hurt Ginny or risk losing her. “I don’t want him touching you or kissing-you, woman. I feel jealousy firing in me already. You saw your father’s pouch in the safe and those reports in the file. What else could you learn from him? He won’t confess he murdered two men. If you ask questions, he’ll get suspicious. It’s time to quit that job and stop taking chances.”
“If I quit or suddenly change my behavior, he will get suspicious.”
“Change your behavior? Have you been enticing him?”
Ginny toyed with his beard. “Not exactly. It wasn’t necessary.”
“I can believe that. You stole my heart and eye the first time we met.”
She nibbled on his hairy chin. “Good, and I’ll never return them.”
“Back to Kinnon. You go to work as usual tomorrow but don’t do anything to arouse his curiosity. I’ll figure out what to do about him while you’re gone. You may need to see him for dinner, let him propose, then ask for time off from work to consider his offer. That’ll give us the opportunity to think this out. I don’t like it, but it might be the only path open to us for now.”
“Sounds clever to me. I’m sure it will work… Where will you stay?” she abruptly changed the subject.
“Are you asking me to leave?” he jested, nipping at her lips.
“It would expose us if you’re found here with me. Besides, this is dangerous. Babies can come from wild sport like this.”
He cupped her face between his hands and locked their gazes. “Doesn’t matter at this point, Ginny love, if you’ll marry me soon.”
Her eyes widened and her lips parted. “You’re asking me to
Stone chuckled, then kissed her forehead. “You look shocked that I love you and want to marry you. I thought both were obvious by now.”
“I am and I’m not,” she said amidst hugs and kisses.
Stone chuckled again. “I take your reaction to mean yes.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she murmured in a happy rush. “Those are the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard. I love you, Stone Chapman.”
“I love you, too, Ginny. We have to make sure nothing comes between us again to separate us.” The moment that caution left his lips he wanted to cringe in dread of what he must do.
Her fingers teased his dark beard. “What could possibly go wrong, my roguish lawman? We love each other and have been honest with each other.”
“Set a wedding date fast while I’m being brave,” he pretended to tease.
“We should wait until after we locate Father.”
I need to rope you quick, woman. “Why? We can get hitched as soon as possible. I don’t want any children of mine born like I was.”
He seemed afraid of losing her, which touched her deeply. “You won’t lose me, Stone, so don’t worry about hurrying me to the preacher. I’m wearing your brand on my heart and body ‘ already. I want my father there.”
“It doesn’t bother you I’m a…”
“You aren’t a bastard. Your father has claimed you. You have his name.”
“That wasn’t what I was going to say. Have you forgotten I’m part Indian, part Apache? Our children will carry Indian blood.”
“I love you, Stone, every part of you. Nothing changes my feelings.”
“You don’t know much about me, woman.”
“Then tell me everything, just like I told you.”
“You know how I was born and what my father’s denial did to me, and maybe some of that damage was my fault because I reacted so badly to the situation.” He reminded her of how he’d been adopted and had discovered Ben was his father through overhearing a quarrel with Stella. “As far back as I can remember, I was told to call my mother Aunt Nan to keep people from gossiping about her, from calling her an Indian whore. Her name, Nandile, means Sunflower; she was an Apache chiefs daughter.”
“You’re the grandson of a chief? What a marvelous thing to tell our children and grandchildren. Be proud of that heritage, Stone.”
“Father was captured by her tribe to exchange for arms and supplies to fight the white man. But Ben proved himself a great warrior and friend, so they gave him his freedom. When he left their camp, he took her with him. She’s been his lover for almost thirty years. Ben always said they couldn’t marry because people hated and mistrusted Indians, especially the feared Apaches, so it might ruin him. I always said I didn’t understand and called him a coward and weakling, but I suppose I see his point now. Love and desire can make people do crazy things; you’ve taught me that much. I loved you and wanted you, but I was too scared to tell you. Maybe the same was true with Father; he feared the repercussions. Since leaving home, I’ve witnessed the hostilities between the two sides. When you’re the one involved in a nasty situation, you can be blind to reality.”
“That’s true, my love, but that’s how we learn and grow. We’re all human, so we have flaws and weaknesses. Sometimes we think problems are bigger than they are, and sometimes we make them larger so we’ll have an excuse to ignore them … How did you get your name? It’s so unusual.”
“Mother named me Stone Thrower after my grandfather when he was a child. Ben kept the first part of it when he adopted me at age ten. I loved and trusted him and I believed until recently that he had betrayed me; I believed he used my mother and misused Stella, bad as she was, and she was bad, Ginny. I stayed at the ranch for years trying to punish him, but it only hurt both of us. I ran away at sixteen to find myself. I spent time with my mother’s people and was taught many warrior skills. But a half-breed didn’t fit in there, and I didn’t like raiding. I wandered into the white man’s world and did odd jobs but didn’t seem to fit anywhere. I was confronted by the problems he’d tried to explain to me and Mother.” He related many of the troubles he’d had in his early years as a result of being part Indian.
“I even worked as a Texas Ranger for three years. But things got too hot with the Apaches and I couldn’t bring myself to help kill my mother’s people or push them onto some filthy and barren reservation. When the war started, I saw it as an escape from my problems, another chance to use and hone my skills. But I was captured by Union soldiers in April of ’63. I shouldn’t have joined the war; it wasn’t part of my world. But I was looking for something, something I didn’t understand, not until I met you, Ginny Marston.” He kissed her, then smiled. “I was trying to save a man’s life when I was taken prisoner. After months of torture and captivity, I was asked if I wanted to become a Galvanized Yankee and serve my sentence in the Army out West. In July, I was on my way to a new life.”
Ginny brightened. “My father was, too. He was captured at Stones River at Murfreesboro in early ‘63. He served at forts in and near here. He stayed after the war and did prospecting. He didn’t want to return to Green Oaks and intrude on his family’s new life; they all believed he was long dead and that didn’t seem fair. Where did you go? What did you do?”
“They guessed I was a half-breed, so they figured they could use me to help out with Indian problems. I worked as an interpreter, scout, guide, guard, and plenty of other things that I mentioned that night in camp. When the war ended, I did much the same things, but for pay then. I agreed to help the Yanks because I wanted to be free, to stay on the move, to learn all I could for survival, and to get away from such cruelties. Two years ago, I met Warren Turner from the Justice Department. He was impressed by some of my missions and asked me to become a Special Agent. The work is exciting and stimulating. I thrived on the danger, challenges, and victory. I craved and needed the importance and respect I received from my successes. I liked having white men forced to depend on a half-breed for their lives and safety, forced to follow one’s orders. Warren and I became friends; he’s my superior. I’ve sent him a letter of resignation. I plan to return to the ranch and live there, if that suits you, Ginny. You will be my wife soon. We’ll inherit it one day.”
“What about my father and the silver strike?”
Stone hoped wealth wasn’t that important to her; he didn’t think it was. “He can run it if he’s still alive. If not, you can form a company to do it. You said you know where the strike is, and the land is registered in your name so nobody can steal it from you.”
“There’s one point that needs handling if Father’s gone: his partner. If Clayton Cassidy has family somewhere, part of the strike is theirs. Father said he had no relatives, but I’d like to make sure of that.”
That moved Stone deeply and convinced him she was being honest. “If they’re distant, why would they deserve it? You’ll need investors, but all of this can be discussed and decided another time. It’s late and you need sleep, woman. I’ll sneak out, bed down someplace, and see you tomorrow night after your evening with Kinnon.”
“I dread that, but it might help us learn something.”
“Just don’t go too far to dupe him.”
“I won’t, so don’t worry. If there’s one thing I’ve learned since leaving England, it’s how dangerous and dark midnight secrets can be.”
Stone prayed his remaining secret wouldn’t be long or damaging, and he would confess it soon. To do it now might evoke suspicions. She needed him and, if she learned the truth about him, she might turn against him and find herself in danger. It was possible Matt had her duped and was deserting and betraying her as he was doing to the rest of his family in Georgia. When she discovered the truth about her father, he needed to be at her side. “I love you, Ginny. Whatever happens, you have me.”
She cuddled against him. “I love you, Stone Chapman. I can hardly wait for this to be over so we can begin our new life together in Texas.”
“I’ll work hard to make sure it’s very soon.”
“Nothing can ever come between us again,” she murmured as she kissed him, unaware that terrible “nothing” would appear within hours.