Just After Midnight: Historical Romance (11 page)

“Tell her to wait, Queen; I’ll be right down.” Alex’s voice broke into Megan’s thoughts.

She heard the door close behind Queen but didn’t turn around, continuing to stare at the wall. Alex came up behind her, placing his hands lightly onto her shoulders.

“Who is she?” Megan asked softly.

“A friend. I’ve told you that before.”

“And what do you tell her about me, Alex? Am I your friend, too? How many friends like us do you have in Dawson City?”

Alex turned her to face him, his fingers tightening on her shoulders. “That’s uncalled for, Megan. What’s between us and what’s between Geraldine and me are two very different things.”

“Are they really?” Megan frowned at a sudden thought. “What exactly is between us, Alex?”

He made an impatient sound and swung away from her. “I can’t discuss this with you now. If Geraldine came here looking for me, it must be important. I’ll come back once I’ve found out what she wants.”

Megan continued to stare at him, trying to decide if he told the truth. Alex departed without another word or glance, and she was left feeling she didn’t know him at all.

But that wasn’t the thought frightening her so deeply. After the way she had reacted to his kisses, his touch, she knew herself even less.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Geraldine stood just inside the front door of the saloon, looking as though she would bolt back to Paradise Alley at any second. Alex took her arm to lead her outside.

“I’m sorry I had to come here, baby boy. I know you aren’t supposed to be seen with me, but I heard something today I thought you should know.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Alex soothed as they walked down the street arm in arm. “What did you hear?”

“One of the girls came by. She remembers meeting your sister once before she died.”

Alex frowned. “I thought all the girls here now came after Joanna died.”

“Mostly they did. But this one was here for maybe a week. She’d been told not to tell you anything.”

“By whom?”

“Now I can’t tell you that. Can’t tell you who the girl is either. She’d scared to death as it is. But she felt bad lying to you and she knew we were friends, so she came to me.”

Alex sighed in exasperation. He’d had a feeling something was being hidden from him when he was asking questions. “What did she say?”

“She said your sister had a friend named Willie Shore. Not a customer, mind you. Just a friend. No one ever saw the guy, but Joanna talked about him a lot. Right fond of him she was.”

“Willie Shore,” Alex muttered. “Great.” He should be happy to find another link between Brian Daily and his sister. Instead, his heart sank.

“Do you know him?” Geraldine asked.

“I’ve heard of him.”

Her face brightened. “Then maybe this will help.”

“Maybe. The only problem is a lot of people talk about Willie, but no one seems to have seen him. He’s been quite busy for a man who never showed his face in town.”

They reached Geraldine’s shack and she turned to face him. “I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for. I just hope you don’t get in trouble with the Mounties or Meggie O’Day because I came to find you.”

He looked at her sharply. “Megan has nothing to say about it. As for the Mounties, they may not approve of us consorting—” He made a face at the word. “—with the women here, but we’re friends and I choose my own friends without the benefit of anyone’s opinion. I appreciate your bringing me the information.”

“Any time.” Geraldine opened her door and immediately a flash of yellow fur bounded through to run headlong into Alex’s boots. Brainless landed in a tangle of feet, legs, and ears on the ground, and Alex couldn’t help but laugh.

“I wonder sometimes if he has bad eyes,” Geraldine remarked as she gathered the pup to her ample chest. “He runs into walls and chairs all day long.”

“I can take him somewhere else if he’s too much trouble.”

“Not on your life. We understand each other, Brainless and me.”

Alex left Geraldine cuddling the dog and made his way back to his barracks. He spent the rest of the night trying to figure out the connection between Willie, Brian, and Joanna and wondering what course of action he should follow next.

Megan paced the room in her tightly laced dress, not even bothering to change after working all night. She was too angry to sleep.

How dare he kiss her that way, make her feel things that were so wonderful and new, then walk out with another woman—and just the type of woman he berated her for being?

She paused and bent to yank off her high-heeled shoes. With a flick of her wrist she sent them sailing across the room to hit with a satisfying thump against the wall. Damon jumped up from the bed to growl menacingly at the shoes.

“Hush,” she snapped, sinking to the floor in a pool of satin. Seconds later, a cold wet nose pushed against her ear. She patted the massive head. “I’m sorry, boy. It’s not you I’m mad at. Go back to sleep. One of us should get some rest.”

Megan went to the window and gazed out at another bright, warm day. The perfect kind of weather to be outside. If she couldn’t sleep, maybe a visit to her father’s claim was in order. And she didn’t need any Mountie to take her.

Shortly thereafter, dressed in her riding habit, Megan instructed Damon to remain in her room. Though she would have liked to bring him along, he would spook her horse. She went downstairs to pack a lunch for her trip. When memories of her previous visit to the claim surfaced, she slipped a long, wicked-looking knife into the picnic basket.

She reached a nearby stable and rented a horse for the day. Within a few hours she would be at her father’s claim. If Alex Carson could no longer be bothered with her or her questions, she would just have to take care of them herself.

The day was spectacular, the warm breeze and deep-blue sky a startling contrast to the snow-covered ground. The last time she had made the trip, wildflowers had bloomed against the shimmer of the day’s heat.

Two hours later, Megan crested a hill. The cabin lay below, seemingly deserted. Remembering just how wrong she had been the last time she’d thought that, Megan approached with caution. After circling the area on the horse, she dismounted and walked toward the cabin. Stepping inside, she saw that the dwelling was as empty as she’d hoped.

Megan put her picnic basket on the table, then drifted around the room looking for something, anything, that might tell her if her father had lived here or who his mysterious partner might be. But if Brian Daily had once been in the small cabin, he had left nothing of himself for his daughter to discover. The place was as impersonal as a hotel room.

A flash of white on gray caught her eye, and she turned toward the fireplace. Crossing the room, she bent for a closer look. A charred piece of paper lay amidst the ashes and Megan frowned, wondering how Alex could have missed what looked to be a letter, or if someone had been in the cabin since her last visit.

The light inside was not conducive to reading, so she stepped outdoors and squinted at the nearly illegible scrawl on what was left of the letter.

Bria
she read between the burned edges.
Meet you at the base of Chilkoot Pa

The rest of the letter had been burned away, but the scrawled signature bore an unmistakable resemblance to the name
Willie
.

Megan frowned. Her father had died on the way to the base of Chilkoot Pass. Though no one could have predicted an avalanche would occur while he was descending, the letter gave her an odd chill. She’d just about had it with the mysterious Willie, too. When she found the man, she’d shake him until she had the answers she craved.

A shadow passed over the sun and an icy wind rustled the paper in her hands. Megan glanced up to see black clouds dancing across the sky, rumbling in the direction of Bonanza Creek. The wind whipped the tops of the trees surrounding the cabin until they slashed against each other with a hissing tune. Her horse whinnied and pranced with unease, tossing his head against the tether as he snorted at the coming storm.

As the first flakes of snow whistled past her cheek, Megan sighed. She would not make it back to Dawson City that night.

“Where is she?”

Queen raised her eyebrows, then lifted a huge— and surprisingly shapely—leg from a huge bathtub, pointing her toes toward the ceiling. Water dripped from her heel.

“Who might that be, Lieutenant?”

“You know damn well, who. Megan. She’s not in her room and no one’s seen her all day.”

“You think I know where she is? She’s my boss, not the other way around.”

Alex stifled the urge to shake the information out of Queen. Such a tactic would involve pulling her from the water, and that was a sight he wasn’t ready to see.

“Just tell me where she is and I’ll get out of your way.”

“Who said I wanted you out of my way? It’ll do wonders for my reputation to have it known Lieutenant ‘Ice-in-his-Veins’ Carson busted in here while I was in the tub. The longer you’re here, the better for me.”

Alex swore and slammed out of the room, the echo of Queen’s laughter following him down the stairs.

He had awoken that morning with the realization he hadn’t returned to talk with Megan as he’d promised. He could only imagine what she’d thought after he’d left with Geraldine and never come back.

He had stopped by the jail on the way to The Celebration and been greeted with the news that Ian McMurphy had spent his hours chopping on the pile and been set free. When he went to Ian’s place it was to be told the big man had left town for an indeterminate amount of time. The news did little to improve his mood.

Now Megan had disappeared. His initial fury was fast being replaced by unease. The only thing keeping him from calling in the rest of the force in the Yukon was the fact that Damon rested comfortably on Megan’s bed. He knew no one could have taken her from her room by force with the wolf on guard. So, wherever she had gone, she had gone there on her own. But what had happened once she left The Celebration was anyone’s guess.

“Lieutenant?”

Alex’s head came up sharply at the sound of his name. Zechariah, Megan’s aging bartender, beckoned with a gnarled finger.

“Be you looking for Meggie?”

“Have you seen her?”

“Not since this mornin’. She tripped out of here early with a picnic basket on her arm. I figured she had a date, so I didn’t say nothin’. But since I figured she had a date with you, and you’re here . . .” He shrugged. “Didn’t want to get you riled up, Lieutenant.”

“Which way did she go?”

Zechariah went to the door and jerked his thumb toward a large barn in the distance. “To the stables. Thought you two might be meetin’ in the hills, if you know what I mean.” He winked. “Anyway, she rode out toward Bonanza Creek.”

Alex sighed as his gaze took in the rapidly darkening sky. He could only hope she’d made it to the cabin safely. Still, he’d have to go after her. With a freak snowstorm, there was no telling how long she could be trapped in the cabin, if she had been lucky enough to make it there at all.

“Get the kitchen to pack as much food as a horse can carry, as well as blankets, bandages, and brandy I’ll be back as soon as I get my horse.”

“Do you think Meggie’s okay, Lieutenant?” Zechariah’s lined face creased even more with worry.

“That’s what I mean to find out.”

The whinny of a horse woke Megan from a sound sleep. She blinked, uncertain where she was for a moment, but a second whinny had her sitting upright at the table where she’d dozed off. Her heart pounded as her fingers searched out the knife she carried in her skirt. Who was outside?

A thump in the lean-to was followed by the low-voiced tones of a man. Megan’s fingers clenched the knife, panic lodged deep in her chest. When the door swung inward, she jumped to her feet and moved behind the cookstove. Unfortunately, her hiding place obscured her view of the door.

She waited for a glimpse of the intruder. Seconds later, a cloaked figure came into view. Megan slipped around the stove, knife at the ready as she crept forward. She was almost close enough to place the knife at his throat and demand an accounting for his presence in her cabin, had even raised her hand to do just that, when the figure whirled, grabbed her wrist, and twisted. Her cry of pain mingled with the clatter of the knife hitting the floor.

“Is that any way to greet your savior, Megan?” Alex Carson asked, jerking her against him.

The breath left her body as he pressed her to the hard, muscled length of him. She felt the cold dampness of the snow on his clothes reaching toward her skin through the cloth of her riding habit.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to get you, though it looks like we’ll be stuck here now.”

Megan’s gaze flicked to the open door. Snow fell in a constant stream onto drifts the height of a horse. Closing her eyes for a moment, she sighed. Now she was truly in trouble—snowbound with the only man who had ever made her feel like a woman. The thought brought her eyes open with a snap, and she realized Alex still held her against him. She pushed away and after a moment’s hesitation he allowed her to go.

“How did you find me?”  She retreated to the relative safety of the fireplace.

“Zechariah saw you go to the stables and you told the owner where you were going. If you meant for this to be a secret, you went about it all wrong.”

Her earlier fear swelled within her. “You think anyone followed me?”

“Not in this storm. I barely got here.”

“How did you?”

A bit of snow melted and ran down his cheek. He gave it an impatient swipe. “Finding stranded citizens is my job, ma’am.”

“I’m not stranded.”

“Yes,” He shrugged free of his wet cloak and spread it over a chair near the fire. “You are.”

When he turned back to her, Megan’s breath caught in her throat. She had often wondered what he would look like without the uniform of the mounted police. Now she knew—and she was in even deeper trouble than she had imagined. His blue flannel shirt covered him adequately enough, except for the V of flesh revealed through the three buttons unfastened at the top. There Megan could see smooth, bronzed skin covered with a light dusting of auburn hair. The flannel was worn and soft looking and stretched tightly across the expanse of his chest and arms. His denim pants were also worn, just enough to mold around his strong thighs and buttocks.