Nevada Nights (15 page)

The old man held the pages of the diary to his heart, and tears again threatened to spill.

Cameron stood. "I think you’ve been through enough for one day. I’ll leave you now to rest. But I’ll come back tomorrow."

He held out his arms. She went to him.

"Elizabeth’s daughter. Cameron, my granddaughter."

She kissed him. "Good night—Grandfather."

At the doorway, she turned and blew him a kiss.

Quenton walked with her to the porch. "You’ve just made him the happiest man in the world. How do you feel about all you’ve learned?"

Cameron linked her arm through his. "It’s such a relief to know who I am, who my mother was. I’m glad you’re my uncle, Quenton. I’ve already grown to like you while you painted my portrait. Now, I know I’m going to love you."

She kissed his cheek, then mounted her horse. "I’d like to come by tomorrow."

"And every tomorrow, Cameron. Our home is yours."

She waved and turned her horse away. Before heading toward the house that loomed on the distant hill, she had a brief pilgrimage to make.

*  *  *

Cameron stepped into the crumbling cottage and looked around her. Now at last she understood why, right from the start, she had been drawn to this place. She had been conceived here, born here. There had been so much love here.

Now she knew why her father had left her this land and any buildings on it. This property formed the border between McCormick and Lampton lands. Had he hoped she would be able to succeed where he and Elizabeth had failed? Was she capable of uniting the families? As a descendant of both the McCormicks and Lamptons, she was the only one with even a slim chance.

A narrow beam of moonlight drifted through the broken window. She stepped into the pool of light and stared up at the stars.

"I hope you’re together," she whispered. "You loved against all the odds. Your love will survive in me. Rest now. You’ve earned your peace."

The scent of roses lay heavy on the night air. Cameron mounted and rode slowly. As they descended, horse and rider were silhouetted against the moonlit hillside.

Striding across her room, Cameron threw open the bedroom window, allowing a blast of hot, dry, Nevada air to billow the curtains and ripple across the rumpled covers of the bed.

Cameron dressed quickly, eager for the day. She had decided to pick some roses at the cottage and take them to her grandfather.

Grandfather. She savored the word. A short time ago she had been all alone in the world. Now she had met her father, though briefly, and had discovered through the diary her beautiful mother. There was a half-sister, who was gradually becoming her friend. And now, wonder of wonders, a grandfather and an uncle.

Giving her hair a quick brush, she surveyed her reflection in the dressing mirror. She still couldn’t see the woman Quenton had seen as he painted her. The fresh-faced girl staring back at her, her tousle of fiery curls at odds with the pristine white muslin gown, seemed far remote from the haughty beauty on the canvas.

She descended the stairs lightly, intent on eating a quick morning meal before she rode to the cottage.

She entered the dining room, then stopped in mid-stride. Her eyes rounded in shock. Seated at the table between Alex and Jarret was Colt.

"What are you doing here?"

His steely gaze lifted. Colt gave her an impersonal glance before continuing with his meal.

Alex shot her an angry look before saying, "This man is our guest. Keep a civil tongue, little sister."

She hesitated at the table, debating whether or not to stay.

Alex’s lips quirked in an imitation of a smile, remembering suddenly why she hated Colt. His gaze swept her insolently. "Cameron, you dress like a nun. Is this what they taught you in that convent? You have a woman’s body." He shot the others a meaningful look before adding, "We’ve all seen it, so why try to hide it? Why not display it?"

She felt the sting of humiliation begin to burn her cheeks. He enjoyed making her uncomfortable. She was reminded once again that Alex loved to make her squirm.

Jarret was staring pointedly at her. His eyes seemed vacant, but his lips widened into a smile.

"I think Cameron has a beautiful body, Alex."

His ignorance was almost as painful to bear as Alex’s insolence. She whirled and would have rushed from the room but for the grip of Jarret’s hand holding her. She realized that both brothers were putting on a show of their strength for Colt’s benefit. "Sit."

At Alex’s command, Jarret pushed her into the chair and motioned to a servant to bring her meal.

"So, it’s going to be one of those mornings, is it, Alex?"

He raised one dark eyebrow. "I would enjoy sparring with you some other time. But right now I have more important things to talk about." He turned his attention to Colt, but his words were aimed at Cameron. "In this house, we keep everyone in line." His brooding gaze raked the young woman seated across the table. Then, as if dismissing her, he said, "We have an empty bedroom upstairs." With the barest hint of a leer, his glance flicked over Cameron, before he added, "The last occupant of the room doesn’t have a need for it anymore."

She caught her breath. Her father’s room. What was going on here?

"Of course, we’ll want something in return."

Colt sipped his coffee. "Such as?"

Alex grinned at Jarret. "We’ll talk about it later—in private."

Cameron scraped back her chair. All three men turned to stare at her.

"You will excuse me," she hissed through gritted teeth. "I’ve lost my appetite."

She hurried from the house and saddled her horse. She needed to get away from this place.

As she headed toward the cottage, her mind was in a whirl. Why had Colt deserted the Lamptons? And why was he moving into the McCormick house? The reply sprang unbidden to her mind. Her heart lodged in her throat. To be nearer to Nina, of course.

At the cottage she picked the roses until her arms were laden with the scarlet blooms. Then she mounted and headed toward the Lampton house. Burying her face in the fragrance, she felt the sudden sting of tears. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. She would not cry over Colt. He wasn’t worth her tears. Besides, she had known from the beginning that they were not meant to be. He was a gambler and a gunfighter. His kind drifted from one boom town to another, seeking new adventures. He would have toyed with her affection and then left her, more alone than ever, and brokenhearted in the bargain. Nina had better beware. She was risking a great deal. If Alex were to find out what Colt was really up to, there would be an explosion of revenge.

At the Lampton house, she dismounted and hurried inside.

Rose stopped her before she could enter her grandfather’s room. Laying a hand on her arm, she whispered, "Old Mr. Lampton’s been growing weaker through the night. I don’t think he’ll linger long."

No! her mind protested. It couldn’t happen to her again. First her father. Now her grandfather. He wouldn’t die. She wouldn’t let him.

Cameron crossed the room and stood looking down at the figure in the bed.

"Look what I’ve brought you, Grandfather."

She saw the eyelids flutter, then open slightly. A weak smile curved his lips.

"They’re roses from the cottage, where Elizabeth is buried. I thought they might help bring her closer to you."

The voice, when he spoke, was not the voice she remembered. It was barely a croak. "I feel close to her now, Cameron. Very close. Soon I’ll be with her again."

At his words, her heart plummeted.

His lids fluttered down. She watched him in silence for long moments. Then, convinced he was in a deep sleep, she motioned for Rose to take the flowers.

"Where is Quenton?"

Rose wiped a tear that trickled from the corner of her eye. "He’s gone for the doctor. But it won’t do any good. The old man is ready to die now. He told us that the only thing that had kept him going was his belief that Elizabeth would return one day. Now he wants to go to her."

For over an hour Cameron sat by his bedside watching the faint rise and fall of his chest. He didn’t stir.

Again and again she found her gaze riveted on the two portraits at the foot of the bed. How alike they were.

Elizabeth had been driven to ride across these very hills at breakneck speed, defying the fates. On one such ride she had met the man who would forever change her life. The similarities between their two lives were startling. They were so alike. And yet, Cameron prayed, so different. Elizabeth threw caution aside and gave in to the passion that tugged at her. Yet, for their brief moments of happiness, both Elizabeth and John had come to an unhappy end. The only good thing that came of their love was their child. Cameron knew that she would have to break the pattern of their lives. She must never allow herself to be alone again with Colt. She must see that the passion that ruled John and Elizabeth would hold no power over her.

She allowed herself to study the old man’s sleeping form. With her eyes, she traced the contours of his face, the hollows of his cheeks, the firm chin, the finely chiseled lips. Flesh of my flesh. Bone of my bone.

A fierce protectiveness welled up inside her. She loved this tough old man. She wanted him to live long enough to know that. Live, she willed him. Live, for my sake, and for your own.

*  *  *

Unable to bear the inactivity any longer, Cameron walked from the house and pulled herself into the saddle. She needed to ride fast and free, to sort out the conflicting thoughts that crowded her mind. She needed to break loose from the spell of this place and these people, who were so much a part of her.

It was early evening when Cameron turned her mount over to a stable hand and walked to the house. She saw the curtain flutter and knew that Miriam watched her return.

She felt a stab of guilt. So much had happened lately, and she hadn’t had time to share it with Miriam. Maybe tonight they would find some quiet time to talk.

Miriam rolled her chair forward as Cameron entered. On her face was an eager, expectant look.

"Cameron." In her excitement, her voice was higher than usual. "Something new has happened." She grasped Cameron’s hands, and lowered her voice. "We have a boarder. His name is Colt."

"Yes, I know," Cameron said dryly. "I heard Alex and Jarret discussing the arrangement with him this morning. It seems they’ve given him our father’s room."

Miriam brightened. "You’ve seen him?"

Cameron nodded.

"He looks ..." Miriam groped for the proper words. "Dashing, mysterious. And a bit frightening, I think."

"More than a little frightening, Miriam. I don’t know what he’s up to, but I don’t intend to trust him."

Miriam’s eyes were bright with anticipation. "I heard them talking in Father’s old study. But I couldn’t get there soon enough to overhear anything. They left before I could roll my chair close enough to eavesdrop."

Cameron dropped to her knees and covered Miriam’s hand with hers. "Miriam, promise me you won’t do anything foolish. If they were to catch you spying, there’s no telling what they might do. Promise me you’ll stay far away from them."

Miriam’s chin rose defiantly. In that brief moment there was a flash of recognition. For an instant, she looked like her father. "You aren’t the only McCormick with spunk, Cameron. I told you. I intend to be your ears. Trust me. I’ll be careful."

Both women looked up suddenly as Alex stood in the doorway.

"What are you two whispering about?"

"It’s none of your business, Alex." Miriam’s voice shattered the silence.

If Cameron was surprised at Miriam’s boldness, she didn’t show it.

Alex’s mouth dropped. At his sides, his fists clenched.

"Ti," he bellowed.

When the young man hurried down the hall, Alex shouted, "Bring Miriam into the dining room now." Glowering at the two women, he added, "Unless, of course, you’ve lost your appetite since you had a taste of Cameron’s courage." His voice lowered ominously. "Just be careful you don’t bite off too big a chunk, little sister. You could choke on it."

*  *  *

Dinner was a strained affair. Alex sat at the head of the long table with Nina at his right. Beside her sat young Alexander. Across from them sat Miriam and Ti. Cameron was seated at the far end of the table, with Jarret on her left and Colt on her right. Often during the meal Cameron found herself silently studying Nina and Colt, as she unconsciously sought to catch them casting some sort of mysterious eye signals. They seemed oblivious to each other.

Alex glowered at Cameron. "Where do you go all day? No matter when I look for you, you always seem to be out."

"I was riding over my land."

"Your land." His lips thinned. "You’d better beware of
your
land, little nun. There are a lot of deserted mines around here. You’re liable to find yourself at the bottom of one."

"Is that a threat, Alex?"

He shrugged. "Call it a warning. There are plenty of dangers out there."

She clamped her mouth shut on the retort that sprang to her lips. All the dangers weren’t out there. Some were right here at the table.

"Are we going to the saloon tonight, Alex?" Jarret’s voice sounded pleading.

"Why not?" Alex seemed in an unusually expansive mood. "I think we should celebrate our new partnership."

Cameron’s head came up sharply. She studied the three men. "Partnership?"

Alex ignored her question. "Maybe we can lure some suckers into a card game. What do you say, Colt?"

The gunfighter smiled and said, in a low, easy drawl, "Sounds fine to me."

"Good." Alex grinned at Jarret.

Cameron felt a sudden chill grip her heart.