Wolf Shadow (33 page)

Damn.

He glanced around the saloon, only then noticing that the
place seemed to cater only to wealthy, well-dressed men clad in expensive city
suits. There was no sawdust on the floor, no women in evidence, no paintings
behind the bar of voluptuous females riddled with bullet holes from rowdy
cowboys.

He was sipping his brew when two men moved up to stand
beside him. They nodded at him politely before ordering drinks.

Without meaning to, Chance couldn’t help overhearing their
conversation.

“Martha said it’s going to be quite a blowout,” the first
man said. “Buffet supper, dancing, cake and champagne.”

“I don’t mind that, Dupre, but a fancy costume ball?” The
second man shook his head. “The wife is all aflutter but I don’t much cotton to
the idea of parading around in some ridiculous outfit.”

“I’d parade around naked for a chance to meet Bryant’s
daughter. Have you seen her? She’s a beauty.”

The second man snorted. “That’s fine for you. You don’t have
a wife and three kids.”

Dupre laughed. “She could change all that, if she’ll have
me.”

“I don’t imagine old man Bryant is all that anxious to marry
her off. After all, they’ve only just got her back.”

“So, will I see you tomorrow, Hamilton?”

Hamilton sighed heavily. “Likely you will. The wife’s talked
about nothing else for days.”

Chance drained his glass and left the saloon. A costume ball
at the Bryants’ tomorrow night. He grinned into the gathering darkness as he
headed for the hotel. As always, Lady Luck was smiling on him.

* * * * *

Music from the second floor wafted upward as Teressa
smoothed a hand over her skirt. Didn’t her mother ever get tired of parties?
Surely her mother could find something more productive to do with her time.
Sometimes Teressa felt guilty for the indolent life she was living. With the
Lakota, there had been little time to lay about. There had been wood and water
to collect, food to prepare, clothes to make or mend, hides to tan, meat to
butcher and dry. So many tasks, all of them necessary for survival. Here, life
seemed to be nothing but a never-ending round of shopping and visiting, dining
and dancing.

She took a last look in the mirror, then, with a sigh, she
left her bedroom and walked down the hallway to the stairway that led to the
second floor ballroom. She had been opposed to a costume ball at first but now,
dressed in a elaborate gown with her hair tucked up inside a wig and hiding
behind a jeweled mask that covered most of her face, she found herself looking
forward to it. She doubted if anyone would recognize her and she found the idea
freeing somehow.

The ballroom was already crowded. A king danced by with a
unicorn, a queen waltzed by on the arm of a friar, a courtesan laughed behind
her fan at something a knave had said, a bear danced with a fairy queen, a
clown partnered a red-haired angel.

The air was filled with music and laughter. People crowded
around the buffet table, or sat at the small round tables scattered around the
edge of the dance floor.

The next hour passed in a blur as she danced with one
partner after another. She was pleased that no one guessed her identity. As the
evening wore on, she became aware that someone was watching her, someone
wearing the guise of a Musketeer. Whether she was at the buffet table, being
twirled around the floor, or sipping a glass of champagne, she had only to turn
her head to find him nearby. It was disturbing and yet somehow exciting at the
same time.

It was near midnight when she slipped out onto the veranda
for a bit of air. She heard no sound and yet she knew that the man who had been
watching her was standing behind her.

Pulse racing, she slowly turned to face him. A large hat
with a curling brim and a feather sat atop his head at a rakish angle. There
was a sword at his side, boots upon his feet.

He took a step toward her. “May I have this dance?”

His voice was little more than a whisper but she recognized
it instantly. “Wolf! What are you doing here?”

“What do you think?” He held out his hand. “Dance with me?”

Feeling as though she was in a dream, she moved into his
arms, let him guide her in the steps of a waltz. He held her far closer than
was proper but she didn’t care. It felt so good to be in his embrace, to know
that he was there. Happiness bubbled up inside her. He had come for her! He did
care.

The music ended but he didn’t release her. She looked up at
him as he drew her closer, felt her heart beat increase as he removed his mask
and then hers and placed them on the railing.

He whispered her name and then he lowered his head and
claimed her lips with his own.

Her eyelids fluttered down and she leaned into him, hungry
for the feel of his body pressed against hers, eager for his kisses, desperate
for his touch. His fingers splayed over her back, drawing her closer still,
letting her feel the evidence of his desire.

His tongue slid over her lower lip, dipped inside to slide
over the silky softness within.

Heat flared deep within her, sizzling along her nerve
endings until she was quivering with need. Her moan was swallowed by his
kisses.

“Is there some place where we can be alone?” he asked, his
voice husky.

“Not here. Not tonight.”

“Where?” He feathered kisses over her eyelids, her cheeks,
the sensitive place behind her ear. “When?”

“Tomorrow. I’m…” It was hard to think, hard to speak, with
him kissing her so intimately. “I’m supposed to visit…an acquaintance.”

“Go on.” He pressed a kiss to her breast.

Heat spiraled through her. “Wait for me…at the bottom of…oh,
Wolf.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, afraid her legs would no longer
support her.

“The bottom of what?”

“The hill. I’ll be in the…the carriage…follow me…to her
house.”

He kissed her again, then moved away at the sound of voices.

Teressa stared up at him.

“We’re no longer alone,” he said quietly.

“Oh!” She pressed her hands to her heated cheeks, then
quickly replaced her mask.

Chance slipped his mask over his face as well. “What time
tomorrow?”

“Two o’clock.”

“I’ll be there,” he promised.

Taking a deep breath, she returned to the ballroom.

Chapter Thirty

Teressa slept late the next morning. Dressing quickly, she
hurried down to breakfast to find her parents already seated at the table.

“Good morning, Mama,” she said, kissing her mother on the
cheek. “Papa.” She kissed the top of his head, then took her place at the
table. “Isn’t it a lovely day?”

Her father looked at her over the top of his newspaper. “You
seem unusually cheerful this morning,” he remarked. “Can this mean you’re
finally beginning to like it here?”

“I like it here very much,” she replied. Who wouldn’t like
San Francisco? Even though she longed to be back with the Lakota, she had to
admit that San Francisco was an exciting place to live. It was, after all, the
tenth largest city in the United States, with an abundance of things to see and
do. There were plush hotels, fancy restaurants, parks, churches, synagogues,
schools, and libraries. She smiled inwardly, thinking that the city was even
more exciting, now that Wolf was here.

Her parents exchanged glances. “I see,” her father said. He
looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. “Does this have something to do with
the dance last night?”

Before Teressa could answer, Mrs. Rochefort entered the
room, bringing Teressa a cup of hot chocolate. Chocolate was one thing Teressa
couldn’t seem to get enough of.

Teressa smiled at the cook. “Good morning, Mrs. Rochefort,”
she said. “I’m not very hungry today. Could you please bring me some buttered
toast and a glass of orange juice?”

“Right away, miss.”

Rosalia waited until the cook left the room before leaning
forward, her gaze intent upon Teressa’s face. “Did one of the young men at the
ball catch your eye?”

Teressa’s smile widened. “Yes. One did.”

“Well,” her father asked rather gruffly, “might we know his
name?”

“Not right now, Papa.”

“And just why not? I know all the young men who were present
last evening. They were all invited in hopes you would find one to your liking.
If one pleased you, I should very much like to know who it was.”

“All in good time,” Teressa said. She placed her napkin in
her lap as the cook set a plate in front of her. “Thank you, Mrs. Rochefort.”

“Will there be anything else, Miss?”

“Not right now.”

With a nod, the cook left the room.

“I do not like this secrecy, Tessa,” her mother said
sternly.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I’ll tell you soon, both of you, I
promise.” She spread some strawberry marmalade on a triangle of toast and took
a bite, then sipped her juice.

Her parents looked at each other, disapproval evident in
their expressions, but they said no more about it.

Teressa looked up as the clock chimed the hour. Eleven-thirty.
Two and a half hours until she saw him again. Just thinking about it made her
stomach flutter with excitement and she pushed her plate away, too nervous to
eat.

Her parents made small talk as they lingered over breakfast.
Teressa listened quietly, her thoughts on her coming meeting with Wolf Shadow. She
shook her head. She would have to call him Chance here in the city, she
thought, though he would always be Wolf Shadow as far as she was concerned.

“Teressa?”

She looked up, aware that her mother had said something to
her.

“I’m sorry, Mama, I wasn’t listening. What did you say?”

“I asked if you are going to visit Cynthia today?” her
mother asked.

“Yes. We’re going shopping. I’m to be there at two.”

“I’ll have Mason bring the carriage around,” her father said,
rising. “I’ll see you both at dinner.”

He paused beside Teressa’s chair and squeezed her shoulder.
“Have a good day, my dear.”

“Thank you, Papa.”

Teressa rose from the table while her father kissed her
mother goodbye. She didn’t want to be left alone with Rosalia, not now.

Edward leaned down and kissed his wife’s cheek. “I may be
late.”

“We will wait dinner for you, Eduardo.”

“I’ll walk you to the door, Papa,” Teressa said, and linking
her arm with his, they left the room.

She bid her father goodbye, then hurried up to her room and
closed the door.

Only two hours to get ready! Whatever would she wear?

* * * * *

Chance spent the early part of the afternoon satisfying his
curiosity about the Barbary Coast. He had been warned by the clerk at the hotel
to avoid the place at night, when the jay-hawkers, short-card sharps, rounders,
pickpockets, prostitutes and their assistants were out and about, but he
figured he’d be safe enough during the day.

Strolling through the area bounded by Montgomery, Stockton,
Washington and Broadway streets, one hand resting lightly on the butt of his
gun, Chance got a glimpse of what the area was like after dark. Here and there,
frowsy, overblown women stared at him from their seats just inside open
doorways, a blatant invitation in their eyes. Chance had been warned to avoid
these “dead-falls” as they were called, places where the bar was stocked with
drugged whiskey. Beyond the open doorways, tawdry red and white curtains hung
over arched doorways leading into backrooms he had no desire to see.

He passed Chinese “coolies”, carrying bamboo poles balanced
on their shoulders at every turn. He saw a number of Chinese women, as well,
and couldn’t help staring at their odd clothing—loose blue or black cotton
trousers and straight-cut sacques of broadcloth, satin, or cotton. The
wealthier ones wore fancy satin slippers and gold or silver bracelets.

He watched a couple of small black-skinned men with straight
black hair and sharp black eyes carrying huge baskets on their heads. He had never
seen black men before and he stared at them curiously, and grinned when they
stared back. Equally curious, perhaps?

It seemed every other building was a saloon, none of which
seemed to be doing any business in the light of day. He glanced at the names as
he passed by. “The Roaring Gimlet”, “ “The Bull’s Run”, “The Cock of the Walk”,
the “Star of the Union”, and his favorite, “Every Man is Welcome”.

The only life in the area seemed to come from a Chinese
gambling house where loud music drifted out the door. He saw several rows of
Chinese men sitting on long, low benches in a basement, all of them busily
engaged in rolling cigars. The sign over the doorway proclaimed they were
“choice brands of Havana and Domestic cigars”.

Chance shook his head as he left the area. He’d been in some
tough towns—Dodge, Kansas City, Hays, Deadwood—but the Barbary Coast beat them
all.

Swinging onto Smoke’s back, he left the Coast behind. It was
one-thirty, and he didn’t want to be late.

* * * * *

Teressa sat close to the carriage window, her heart
pounding. Would he be there? She leaned out the window as they reached the
bottom of the hill. Was he here? She felt the first stirrings of disappointment
when she didn’t see him, and then he rode out of the shadows between two buildings,
a tall handsome man astride a big bay mare.

As he left the alley, she saw that he was wearing a pair of
brown whipcord trousers, new boots, and a dark green shirt. A black hat was
pulled low on his forehead, his holster was strapped around his lean waist. He
looked dark and dangerous and more handsome than ever.

Teressa smiled and settled back in the seat as Chance fell
in behind the carriage. Soon, she thought, soon she would be in his arms again.

A short time later the carriage drew up in front of Cynthia
Witherspoon’s house. Teressa alighted as soon as Mason opened the door and
lowered the step.