"...has a potent emotional dimension to it, as well as its fair share of high-adventure, heart-tickling humor and feel-good moments...spiked with a heady degree of sexual tension...a wonderfully plotted and wonderfully characterized romance that will delight readers with its simple beauty."
HeartStrings Reviews
Cheryl Jeffries

Wyoming Territory 1872

“There’s a gentleman wants to see you, Angel.” The bar-tender glared toward the back of the casino. “I put him in your office.”

Angel was surprised. Sam rarely disapproved of anyone. “Who is it?”

“Said his name was Goff.”

“Never heard of him. What does he want?”

“I don’t know. Said he’d only talk to the owner of The Green Garter.” Sam eyes narrowed. “Want me to throw him out?”

Angel raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think I should find out what he wants first?”

“Maybe. I ain’t so sure I’d want to know.”

Angel could hardly wait to meet this Mr. Goff and see for herself what had ruffled the taciturn Sam’s feathers. “Don’t worry, Sam. If he needs to be bounced out of here, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Can’t wait,” Sam muttered.

“By the way, Sam,” Angel said as she headed toward the back, “will you tell Peg I want to see her when Mr. Goff leaves?”

“Why, she done something wrong?”

“Nothing for you to worry about. Just send her in.”

Angel walked into her office without waiting to hear the protest she knew was coming. She smiled to herself as she closed the door behind her. Sam protected the women who lived and worked at The Green Garter as if they were his own daughters.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Goff,” she said pleasantly to the man sitting in front of her desk. “What can I do for you?”

He jumped to his feet. “There’s been some kind of mis-take. I’m here on business, not pleasure. However,” he said, giving her an appreciative once over, “after I’ve talked to your boss, I’m sure you and I could think of some way to while away the afternoon that we’d both enjoy.”

“I doubt it.” Angel calmly walked around her desk and sat on the only other chair in the room. “My bartender said you wanted to see the owner of The Green Garter and that’s me.”

“But you’re a woman!”

“How very perceptive of you to notice,” Angel said. “At the risk of repeating myself, what can I do for you?”

He sat down uncertainly. “I’ve never done business with a woman before.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Very true.” He steepled his fingers and gazed at her. “I want to buy this place.”

“The Green Garter is not for sale.”

Mr. Goff smiled confidently. “You haven’t heard my offer yet.”

“That’s also true. However, I doubt it would change my mind.”

“Not even for ten thousand dollars?”

Angel blinked. “I must admit, that’s a very attractive of-fer. Nevertheless...”

“Naturally, that includes all the equipment and stock,” he continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “As well as the girls.”

“The girls?”

“Of course. You have one of the nicest stables I’ve ever seen. That’s one of the things that impressed me about this place.”

“My girls are not for sale either,” Angel said coldly. “In case you missed it, President Lincoln abolished slavery nine years ago.”

“Oh come now, we both know they sell themselves for a living. I suppose next you’ll be telling me you don’t take a percentage of their earnings.”

Angel stood up. “I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time, Mr. Goff. The Green Garter is not for sale.”

“Don’t be so hasty. You’re not likely to get as good an of-fer from anyone else.”

“It wouldn’t matter if I got a better offer. The fact re-mains; this place is not for sale. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some rather pressing business to attend to.”

Mr. Goff rose reluctantly. “All right, but at least give my offer some thought.”

“I will,” she said, walking him to the door. “But it won’t make any difference.”

“You might change your mind.”

“If I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

He smiled. “Good. I’ll be at the Sherlock Hotel for the next couple of days. I’m sure you’ll reconsider.”

“When hell freezes over,” she murmured as he walked away.

“Since he’s walking out of here in one piece, I guess the offer he made you wasn’t what it sounded like,” said a deep voice from the shadows.

Angel whirled and peered into the dark hallway outside her office. “Ox?”

“Who else?” he asked, sauntering out into the light. “How’s my favorite redhead?”

“I ought to box your ears,” she said. “You scared me half to death. How did you get in here anyway?”

“Sam let me in the back door so I could put your supplies in the store room.” He grinned. “I got your new roulette wheel.”

Angel’s eyes lit up. “You did? Where is it?”

“It’s out in the freight wagon. Found it in Omaha.”

“No wonder you have the reputation for being the best freighter around. I didn’t figure there was one within a thou-sand miles.”

“At Bruford Freight Lines, we do everything we can to please our customers,” Ox said. “I suppose you want to see it?”

“What do you think?”

He made a sweeping motion toward the back door with his hand. “After you.”

“Hold on a second.” Angel ducked back inside her office and grabbed her coat. Her heart was still pounding as she walked by Ox a few moments later, but it had more to do with Ox Bruford himself than the fright he’d given her. Those gorgeous green eyes and that tall, broad-shouldered body of his always made her feel like a giddy debutante, a silly girl in the throes of her first love. One look at that heart-stopping grin, and she’d catch herself daydreaming about running her hands through his thick brown hair and tracing the hard line of his jaw with her fingers. Luckily, he had no idea of the effect he had on her. The last thing she needed was for him to dis-cover her weakness. “I suppose this is going to cost me a small fortune,” she grumbled to hide the vulnerability he made her feel.

“Actually, I got it secondhand. Even with the cost to ship it to Rock Springs by rail, it was less than you budgeted for.” He followed her outside. “Of course, it’s going to cost you ex-tra for bringing it up the mountain in the dead of winter like this.”

Angel glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“How about an apple pie to go with supper?”

Angel stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Now where am I going to get apples in South Pass City this time of year?”

“I just happen to have a dozen right here.” Ox reached under the tarpaulin that covered his load and pulled out a flour sack. “A widow down in Green River gave me some of her winter’s store out of undying gratitude.”

Angel cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t think I want to know what you did to deserve them.”

“A trifling service,” Ox said, waving his hand.

“I’ll bet.” Angel had no doubt the widow didn’t consider the matter trifling. All that masculine appeal was pretty hard to resist, especially when it came with a heart as big as Wyo-ming Territory. Angel found it in her to feel a little sorry for the widow. “All right,” she said, picking up the sack of apples, “I’ll bake you a pie. I take it you’re planning on staying the night?”

“Of course. Since you’re the only customer who gives me room and board for bringing in supplies, I have to take advan-tage of it when I can.”

Angel gave an unladylike snort. “I figured it would be a lot cheaper than paying those exorbitant rates you charge. But the way you eat, I’m not sure I got the better end of the bar-gain.”

Ox’s eyes twinkled. “Sorry, it’s too late to change now. A deal’s a deal. Anyway, this should make you feel better about it,” he said, throwing back the tarp. “Madam, your new rou-lette wheel.”

“Oh, Ox!” she cried, “It’s mahogany, how beautiful.”

“Story is, it came off a riverboat, one of those floating pal-aces.”

Angel ran her hands reverently over the polished wood, delighting in the rich red hue. “You know, I might have to bake you an extra pie to take with you for this. It’s far nicer than I hoped for.”

“Who’s that unsavory looking character across the street?” Ox asked suddenly. “I don’t like the way he keeps staring at you.”

Angel glanced up and followed his gaze across the street. “Oh, that’s just Jim Dugan,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“I don’t think he’s one of your admirers,” Ox said, spit-ting a stream of tobacco juice into the street. “In fact, he looks distinctly unfriendly.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised.” Angel frowned. “He got a little too rough with one of the girls last night. I had to ask him to leave.”

“He looks angrier than that.”

“I suppose it could have something to do with the way I got my point across,” Angel admitted. “He was as ornery as an old boar grizzly, refusing to go, making a nuisance of himself. He made the mistake of grabbing me.”

“Where was Sam?”

“Downstairs at the bar where he belongs. It didn’t matter. A well-placed knee took care of the problem.”

Ox winced. “Ouch. That’s hardly the way to endear yourself to your customers.”

“I can do without customers like Jim Dugan, thank you.” She pushed herself away from the wagon. “And I have better things to do than stand here chit chatting about him all day. Do you have other deliveries to make in South Pass City?”

“Nope. You’re the last, and all I have left of yours is the roulette wheel. Where do you want me to put it?”

“Right where the old one was. I’ll send Sam out to give you a hand.”

“We’ll have it set up and working by supper time.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’m looking forward to that pie.”

“You’ve earned it,” Angel said over her shoulder. She stopped in surprise just inside the back door. A young woman stood against the wall, looking as though she wanted to fade into the woodwork. “Good heavens, Peg, what’s wrong?”

“Sam said you wanted to see me.”

“I do, but it’s nothing to be afraid of. My plans just changed so I don’t have time to meet with you right now, though. How about you dropping by my office right after clos-ing tonight?”

“I guess so.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Peg. Don’t look like that. I promise, you have nothing to worry about. Now cheer up!”

Peg gave her a fleeting smile. “All right.”

“That’s much better.” Angel glanced at the gold watch pinned to the bodice of her green taffeta dress. “Would you mind getting a bath ready for Ox? He always likes to take one as soon as he gets in off the trail.”

“I’d be glad to, but don’t you usually do that?”

“Yes. However, today I have something more pressing to attend to.” She smiled and held up the sack of apples. “I have a pie to bake.”

* * * *
It was well after midnight when Peg nervously entered Angel’s office. “M...my last customer just left,” she said.

“Good. Have a seat,” Angel said, closing the door. “Ru-mor has it you and young Fenwick are thinking about getting married.”

Peg, who had just settled gingerly on the edge of the chair, jumped to her feet in alarm. “Billy pays for my time, just the same as everyone else.”

“Relax, Peg. Nobody’s accusing you of anything.” Angel put her hand on the other woman’s shoulder and gently pushed her down onto the chair again before walking around behind the desk. “Do you plan on marrying him?”

“He’s asked me.” Peg glanced miserably down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “But we’d have to start over somewhere else, and that takes money.”

“If money weren’t a problem, would you marry him?”

“Quicker than a cat could lick its ear.”

“Good.” Angel opened her safe and pulled out a small leather pouch. “I went to the bank this afternoon and made a withdrawal for you.”

Peg gave her a blank look. “I don’t have any money in the bank.”

“On the contrary, you had seven hundred dollars,” Angel said with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind gold dust.”

“Seven hundred dollars!” Peg’s eyes widened in astonish-ment. “But where...”

“This is my cut of your earnings; I’ve been keeping track since the night you started.” Angel pushed the pouch across the desk. “I make my money off the casino, not what the brothel brings in. You and the others are the drawing cards here, but I don’t figure I have any right to the money you make. Other than a little I take out each month for food and expenses, it’s all here.”

“I-I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just take it and start your new life as Mrs. Fenwick. I do ask that you keep this to yourself, though. Don’t tell Billy until you’re well away from South Pass City. Sam doesn’t even know.”

“But why?”

“I have a reputation as a hard-nosed business woman to protect. No one is going to believe it if they find out I do this for my girls.” Angel smiled as she rose to her feet and walked around the desk to the door. “Unless my eyes deceived me, your young man was waiting for you at the bar.”

“Oh, Miss Angel,” Peg cried. With tears running down her face, she hugged the other woman. “Thank you with all my heart.”

You’re welcome,” Angel said, hugging her back. “And good luck to both of you.”

Angel walked back to her desk, pulled out a small ledger, and smiled as she wrote Paid In Full across the column marked Peg. She’d helped almost twenty women over the years, giving them a chance at a normal life.

Six had been working at her first casino and she hadn’t known what to do with them. If she’d closed down the brothel, they would have had no place to go, but the thought of making money from prostitution was repugnant. That’s when she’d come up with the idea of ‘freedom money’. When there was enough to give them a new start, or an opportunity like Peg’s arose, Angel presented what she’d put aside for them with no strings attached.

“Here’s today’s receipts,” Sam said, walking in and slap-ping the papers on the desk. “I’m closing down the casino for the night.”

Angel raised an eyebrow. “From the look on your face, I take it you’re not too happy with me.”

“Peg and Billy Fenwick just went upstairs to collect her things.” Sam glared at Angel. “I think she said she was leaving, but she was crying too hard to be sure.”

“We’ve had this conversation before, Sam. What happens between the girls and me is none of your business.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I have to approve.”

Angel winced as he slammed the door behind him. She’d probably get the cold shoulder for a few days until he calmed down. Sam’s soft heart was one of the things she loved most about him.

Three quarters of an hour later, Angel filed her paper-work away. She stood and stretched wearily before blowing out the lamp. Darkness greeted her as she opened her office door and stepped out into the hallway. Sam must really be an-gry. He always left a light burning on the bar so she could find her way upstairs.

Suddenly, a hand covered her mouth while another jerked her arms behind her and dragged her into the storeroom. A rope snaked around her body and legs, completely immobiliz-ing her.

“Watch those knees of hers,” said a voice out of the dark-ness. “She’s got a kick like a damn mule.”

“Don’t worry, Jim, I got her all right and tight,” replied another voice.

The door slammed. “There, she can scream her head off and nobody will hear her. All the whores sleep on the other side of the building. Nothin’ above us here but the cribs.”

A match flared in the darkness and Angel saw the man’s features for the first time. Her mouth went dry. Jim Dugan.

“Nobody in the cribs this time of night,” he said, touching the match to a lantern wick. “Everyone’s done their screwin’ and gone home.” He leered at Angel. “Everybody but us, honey. Don’t reckon we need one of them fancy beds, though. The floor will work just fine for the likes of you.” Dugan ran a dirty finger around the neckline of her dress. “Can’t hardly wait to see all that pretty white skin.”

Angel gathered every drop of saliva she could and spit in his face. “Pig!”

“Why you little...”

The hard slap snapped her head back against the wall and blinding pain burst in her head. There was a loud crash and a roar echoed through the room. At first, Angel thought it was from the agony in her head. Then the hands holding her jerked away and Ox’s face, contorted with rage, swam into view.

Angel slid down the wall into a heap on the floor, unable to focus on the fight. By the time her vision cleared, Dugan lay unconscious on the floor and Ox was involved in a fistfight with the other man. As she watched, Ox began to get the up-per hand. With one final punch, he smashed his fist into the other man’s face.

As Ox’s adversary crumpled, Angel suddenly caught movement out of the corner of her eye. “Look out, Ox!” she yelled. “Dugan’s got a knife.”

Ox turned just in time to deflect the murderous lunge aimed at his back. The knife flashed upward, slicing his cheek. One blow from the big fist sent Dugan crashing to the floor, just as Sam appeared at the door with his shotgun.

“What the hell?”

“Go get the sheriff, Sam,” Ox said, stumbling across the room to where Angel was trying to get up. “This scum at-tacked Angel.”

“Oh, Ox,” she cried, as he unwound the rope from her body.

“It’s all right, Angel, they can’t hurt you now.” Ox kicked the rope away and swept her up in his arms. She sobbed against his shoulder as he carried her across the hall to her of-fice, where he sat down with her still cradled against him, rocking back and forth, whispering soft words of encourage-ment until she stopped crying.

For the first time in her life, Angel felt safe in a man’s arms. Yet she knew it was an illusion. Any man, even a well-intentioned one like Ox, would try to dominate her if he had the chance. It was just the way they were.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sitting up and wiping her eyes. “I’ve never cried like that before.”

“You’ve probably never been attacked like that either.”

“No, I... Ox, your cheek!” Angel stared in horror at the blood dripping down his face.

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s a knife cut and needs to be at-tended to.” She squirmed off his lap. “My bandages are in the kitchen. I’ll doctor it there.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet.

In the kitchen, she filled a bowl from the kettle on the back of the stove. “Here, sit down. I hope you don’t need stitches. Doc Caldwell is out of town, and I’m not very good with a needle.”

“You sure know how to make a man relax,” he said sarcas-tically as she sponged the blood away.

“I never professed to be a nurse.” Angel bit her lip as she washed away the last of the blood. Instead of the clean slice she’d been hoping for, she saw a jagged puncture wound, the most dangerous kind of all. She had to prevent infection at all cost. “Looks like he just nicked you. What were you doing down here anyway?”

“I heard some news I thought might interest you.”

“Really? Open that bottle of whiskey for me, would you?”

“Sure. Is it so bad you need a drink?”

“Don’t be silly. I’m out of iodine and I need something to clean the cut. Now what was this important news?”

“I was talking to some of the hard-rock miners. They’re planning on pulling up stakes and leaving. Jesus Christ, An-gel!” The air whistled through his clenched teeth as she poured whiskey on his cheek. “That hurt worse than when he cut me! What are you trying to do?”

“You saved my life. I’m just returning the favor.” She re-sisted the urge to hold his hand and pillow his good cheek against her shoulder until the pain faded. “Be glad I was out of iodine.”

“It’s a good thing I didn’t dive out in front of a run-away buggy to save you. I wouldn’t have lived through your grati-tude.”

“What did the miners tell you that was so all fired impor-tant?”

“The mines are shutting down.”

“What? The assays say there’s gold ore all over this moun-tain.”

“Right, but it’s too expensive to process. There’s no profit in it.”

Angel frowned. “Then South Pass City will be a ghost town before long.”

“Looks that way.”

“Sheriff Lucien is rounding up Dugan and his friend,” Sam said from the kitchen door. “Are you all right, Miss Angel?”

“Thanks to Ox, I am.” Angel poured Ox a glass of whis-key. “Sam, first thing tomorrow I want you to go to the Sher-lock Hotel and tell Mr. Goff I want to see him.”

“What for?”

She calmly put the cork back in the whiskey bottle. “Hell just froze over.”