Authors: One Night's Desire
Kiera leapt from the bed and began a frantic search of the room for her clothing.
Ev rose and put a hand on her shoulder as he reached for his pants. “You’ve got plenty of time to find your clothes. I won’t let them take you anywhere.”
“I don’t see how you can stop them. Colonel Brackett’s already gone back to Fort Sanders, and you’re only one man. Ev, I know these people — they make Big Si look like a temperamental child. Duval and her cohorts would kill you in front of witnesses without blinking, then get me or some innocent accused and convicted of the deed.” She found her chemise and slipped it on over her head.
“You don’t know for certain that it’s Duval or anyone associated with her who’s waiting downstairs. It could be your sister.” He pulled his pants on and started to button them.
“I don’t plan on finding out. I want the San Francisco business settled, but not now. Not until I have legal representation, can control the situation, and can draw Duval’s fangs. Edith couldn’t have gotten here so quickly from San Francisco; could she?”
“Then wait here and let me find out exactly what’s going on. If it’s as bad as you think, I’ll send Muh’Weda up the back stairs to get you out.”
Unintelligible shouting came from somewhere outside the room. The pounding resumed, and the doorknob rattled.
“I should leave now.”
“Trust me.”
The door banged open. “Get your hands off her!”
Two pairs of wide eyes turned to stare at the auburn haired virago standing in the doorway.
“Edith!”
“Edith?” Ev asked. Kiera flew from his grasp into her sister’s arms.
“Oh, Kiera. I was so worried that we wouldn’t get here in time.”
“How did you find me? How did you know I was in trouble? Where’s Mae? Grandfather? Who’s he?”
Ev followed Kiera’s glance to the very tall, broad, blonde man standing behind the woman Ev figured was Edith Alden. Behind him, Ev could see Boyd, Muh’Weda, and the worried landlord lingering in the hallway.
Drawing herself up, Edith suddenly became a dignified matron. “Kiera, this is my husband, Dutch Trahern. Dutch, my sister Kiera Boudicca Alden.
The man followed his wife into the room. “Miss Alden, I’m mighty pleased to meet you. Edith has told me a lot, and … ” he eyed Ev suspiciously. “I believe we can help resolve things so you can go home to Boston.”
Kiera smiled. “Call me Kiera, please. As for resolving anything, I’m not so sure.” She cast a glance at Ev — who was beginning to feel a bit like a bug under a glass. “Why don’t you and Edith go to the café down the street — Boyd can show you the way — and order breakfast. Ev and I will join you in a few minutes.”
Edith narrowed a chilly gaze on Ev. “Are you sure you want to stay with this man?”
“I’m certain.” The love in her voice soothed Ev’s nerves a little. Finding him in bed — or the next thing to it — with Kiera wasn’t exactly the best way to impress a prospective sister-in-law.
“Very well, but if you aren’t at the café within fifteen minutes, we’ll come looking for you.”
• • •
“Madame Duval’s returning to New Orleans?” Kiera was amazed at the tale Edith told of how she went to San Francisco to find Kiera then found a peck of trouble and a husband instead.
Edith nodded and swallowed some coffee. “We’re also certain that all charges against you will be dropped, since Madame Duval left a signed document clearing you of any involvement in the murder of that man.”
Kiera’s eyes went wide. “You mean she confessed? Why did the authorities allow her to leave?”
“She didn’t exactly confess, but she made clear that you are not the blonde woman the authorities are seeking.”
Kiera sat back on her bench, leaning against Ev. His arm circled her shoulders. “Well that’s one less complication we need to worry about.”
Edith and Dutch looked from Kiera to Ev and back.
“Are there other complications?” asked Edith. “We need to leave for Boston with all possible speed. Grandfather is gravely ill — in a coma — due to a carriage accident. Mae and I were searching his desk for money to pay the doctor and I came across information about you being in San Francisco. He’d hired Pinkertons to follow you and never told us. What Mae doesn’t know is that I found a copy of his will. He’s leaving his entire estate to the Boston Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals unless one of us has a child in the next two years.”
“That’s absurd, and horrifying, and just like Grandfather.”
“If he’s in a coma, what’s the hurry in returning?” asked Ev.
“Edith left Boston at the end of June. It’s nearly August,” responded Dutch. “Some patients remain in comas for years, and some die quickly. No one knows if Carlton Alden will die or wake up.”
“I want to get back to Boston before either event can happen. We need to have that will changed, and the best chance of doing that is while Grandfather is alive but unable to oppose us. However, our only hope of success is to have all three of us present and united in the effort.”
“I understand the urgency now, but there is a small problem,” Kiera looked at Ev.
He saw a plea for understanding in her expression; a plea that had him worried she’d refuse his proposal. He wanted her to be his wife, but whatever her decision, he’d support her. He squeezed her shoulder and nodded.
She smiled. “Ev’s asked me to marry him, and I’ve accepted.”
Edith’s mouth thinned. “You can’t just go marrying the first stranger you meet. Dying or not, Grandfather will never change his will if we both defy his choices for us.”
Dutch laughed. “Didn’t realize I was a gesture of defiance.”
Edith cast him a fulminating glance. “You know better. However, I won’t have that old man … ”
Ev saw that Kiera would have intervened before Edith’s temper lit off, but Trahern enveloped the elder sister in a tight embrace and kissed her to silence.
Edith’ face was bright red when Dutch finally released her.
“Ev isn’t exactly a stranger, and I don’t need Grandfather’s money.”
“You don’t?”
“No, she doesn’t,” interjected Ev. “She happens to own a sizable chunk of Wyoming Territory, a chunk that sits smack on top of a gold field.”
“You own a gold mine?”
“No mine yet, just placer gold, but enough to settle my sisters there in comfort and security and restore the town that a fire in Smoke Valley destroyed.”
Edith laughed out loud. “That’s hilarious. Wait until Mae finds out? You will come with us to Boston, won’t you?”
“We’d be happy to, as soon as Ev can get someone to take over his marshal’s duties here.” She looked at Ev, who nodded agreement.
“That’s wonderful. However, as for moving to this Smoke Valley of yours,” Dutch cleared his throat and looked at Edith. “We’ve got ties to San Francisco, Edith. We can’t just up and move to Wyoming.”
She studied him. “We can work that out later. Right now we have to arrange a wedding.”
“It’s already arranged.”
All eyes turned on Ev.
He looked at Kiera. “Just in case you said yes when I proposed, I had Muh’Weda ride to Fort Sanders and bring the Colonel back here to perform the ceremony this morning.”
Kiera kissed him. “I do love you, Evrett Quinn. Let’s go get married.”
Author of historical, contemporary, and erotic romances, Rue Allyn fell in love with happily ever after the day she heard her first story. She is deliriously married to her sweetheart of many years and loves to hear from readers about their favorite books and real life adventures. Learn more about Rue at
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Oakland Point, California, July 1870
Weaving her way through the crowds thronging the Oakland Long Wharf railway terminal, Edith Marietta Alden of the Boston Aldens finally attracted the attention of a lanky Chinese man with a large wooden pushcart. By means of hand gestures and a few carefully enunciated words she indicated he should transfer her sturdy, metal-bound trunk from the baggage car to his trolley. While she waited she studied her surroundings and tried not to gawk. She remained optimistic about finding her middle sister despite what she saw. San Francisco was not the Golden Gateway her guidebook claimed, but it was exiting.
Ash from the puffing engines coated the depot walls. Bells clanged, porters and railway officials yelled a confusing mix of questions and instructions in a variety of languages. At the top of their lungs vendors cried their wares: souvenirs, foodstuffs, parasols, flowers, even slippers for the comfort of travelers. An amalgam of scents — meat, herbs, burning coal, and unwashed bodies — nauseated any traveler inexperienced enough to inhale deeply. Edith quickly learned to take shallow breaths. She knew every city had its seamier elements, but she would not let masses of people, dirt, and unending cacophony crush the hope she’d nurtured over the long journey from Boston.
“Is all bags, Missee?” The porter looked at the claim check then at Edith.
She scarcely heard him over the din but shook her head and gestured to the two cases resting on the platform at her feet. “No, no. These two carpet bags as well.”
“Good. I get.” The man bent forward and lifted the bags.
As he straightened she saw his eyes go wide. He tossed the cases at something behind her then, pushing his cart before him, ran toward the depot’s main entrance.
“Wait,” she shouted. But the porter raced away.
People in the man’s path leapt aside.
Edith didn’t pause to retrieve her bags. Without the letters and money contained in the trunk she had nothing to guide her search for Kiera or help her sister fight the charge of murder leveled against her. Edith lifted her hem, dashing off after the cart and its precious burden.
The porter passed the end of the train. Empty track lay on both sides of the platform with the main terminal just beyond.
“Stop that man,” yelled a voice from behind.
She ran faster, but hampered by her skirts, she didn’t add much speed. In her peripheral vision she saw two men in business suits pass her and pelt after the fleeing porter.
With the men three steps in front of her the porter, still running, reversed his direction and shoved the cart at his pursuers then continued his escape.
The shorter business man dodged the hand-trolley and increased his pursuit.
The pushcart picked up speed.
Mesmerized by the wooden behemoth bearing down on her, Edith slowed.
A blow from her left knocked her from her feet and sent her flying toward the edge of the platform. The force pushed her hat into her face.
Breathless, she lay on the hard surface. Her head spun, and her bones ached. A weight smashed her torso and heated her body. Needle sharp prickles fired every nerve ending.
The cart rolled across the out-flung skirt of her navy serge traveling dress, passed inches from her head then crashed onto the tracks.
The pressure on her chest eased slightly, but the heat remained. She coughed, trying to breathe.
The sound of footsteps fading in the distance indicated someone continued pursuing the porter.
“I’m sorry,” said a hard male voice.
Warm breath scented with mint and chocolate passed her ear. She shoved her hat backward leaving her thick veil the only barrier between her nose and a pristine white shirt that smelled of starch and man. The weight lifted completely. She stared at the suit trousers and dusty black shoes before her until a large, calloused but clean hand blocked her view.
Gripping the hand, she allowed the man to help her up. She adjusted her hat and veil, inhaled several short breaths then straightened her skirts.
“Are you all right?”
Edith lifted her gaze. She received a jumbled impression of strength, long legs, narrow hips, wide shoulders, a tumble of wheat blond hair, serious blue eyes under reddish eyebrows, and a generous mouth. He was smiling, though she couldn’t imagine what he might have to smile about.
Unaccountably, she smiled back at him.
“Are you all right?” he repeated. His voice, no longer hard, played along her nerves. The fiery, sharp tingles she thought the result of air-deprived lungs now centered in her core. Again she found herself breathless.
A concerned frown chased the smile from his face. “You’re still overcome. Here, sit down while I retrieve your luggage.” He grasped her elbow and led her to a bench. Then he shed his suit coat. Draping it beside her, he leapt down onto the rails.
Even beneath his linen shirt, she could see the easy play of muscles as he lifted her trunk onto the platform. She lowered her gaze, trying to behave like the lady she was raised to be.
Several workers arrived, and the man helped clear the wreckage from the tracks before placing her luggage beside the bench.
Not even breathing hard from his exertions, he stood before her and extended his hand. Nonplused Edith stared at the hand before taking it in her own. In Boston a man would never presume to shake hands with a woman unless she first offered hers. But this was San Francisco, the Wild West. No doubt different manners applied here. Perhaps here, she could be free as she never could in Boston.
“Dutch Trahern at your service, Miss … ?”
How awkward. No one was supposed to know she was in San Francisco. A female member of a family as wealthy as hers would never travel unaccompanied or deliberately seek out a bordello Madam. However, rescuing Kiera required drastic action. Back home Mae would explain Edith’s absence with the story that she was visiting relatives in Maine. She didn’t want to give the man her name. But he’d saved her from serious harm, perhaps even death. He didn’t deserve the lie she felt compelled to tell. Her face flushed as she swallowed against guilt. “Mrs. Ebenezer Smithfeld.”