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pungent
scent of pine. She hurried across the platform for a better view of
the town. She saw wide, dusty streets lined with wood-fronted and
adobe buildings, many of them saloons. Garishly painted signs
proclaimed names like the LUCKY DOG, GOLD DUST, and STAR DIAMOND
SALOON, the latter boasting of dancing girls and faro. Denver was
larger than she’d expected; rougher, too. Not at all like staid,
pretty, proper St. Louis. The streets were teeming with wagons,
horses, pigs, and people going about their business, and the faint
odor of manure in the air mingled strangely with the clear pine
scent drifting down from the mountains rising beyond the town.
Brown-faced, sunbonneted women in gingham dresses and men wearing
guns and Stetsons filled the streets. Tumbleweed blew down the
alleys, children skirmished in front of Dade’s General Store. She
heard the neigh of horses, the clomp of a hundred pairs of boots on
boardwalk, and the blare of tinny piano music and drunken shouts
emanating from the Gold Dust Saloon, directly across from the
depot.
    “What an ugly, squalid,
dreadful
place.” Katharine Tobias shuddered. “Edward, I thought you said
Denver was a civilized town.”
    “It is, my dear, compared to most on the
frontier.” Uncle Edward mopped his brow with a handkerchief, and
peered up and down the street. “It seems Breen’s man is late coming
to meet us. Well, let’s gather up the baggage and hope he arrives
by the time we’ve assembled it all.”
    Juliana held back as her aunt and cousin
followed him into the baggage room. It would take some time to sort
through the piles of trunks, crates, and boxes being unloaded from
the train, and all she needed was a moment or two.
    Quick as a wink, she slipped past a knot of
travelers about to descend the platform steps, hurried down to the
street, and then dashed toward the Gold Dust Saloon. It was the
nearest one and the largest, from what she had seen. Her heart was
pounding, for she couldn’t help feeling the very real possibility
that she might encounter her brothers within those swinging doors.
Of course, that was highly unlikely, but now that she was out West,
it
could
happen.
    She was just about to enter the saloon when
suddenly gunshots roared from inside. The sound burst through
Juliana’s ears, stunning her. Someone screamed, windowpanes
rattled, and on the street all about her, people ducked for cover.
Juliana, one hand upon the door, froze with terror.
    For a moment, time seemed to stand still. She
was trembling all over, yet she was dimly aware of the rough town
behind her. She was aware of the April wind caressing her cheek,
aware of the unnatural silence that had followed those first
thundering shots. She was torn between an urge to flee, and an
almost overwhelming desire to burst inside and see what had
happened. But her legs wouldn’t move.
    Then, before she could do anything, the
saloon doors swung wide and a man charged out, colliding full force
with Juliana. She was knocked sideways into the wall by the most
stunningly handsome man she’d ever seen.
    He was young, seemed to be in his late
twenties, and very tall. Ink-black hair touched his shirt collar;
steel-blue eyes stared out from a rough, sun-bronzed face. He
looked as strong as Goliath, Juliana thought in a daze. She caught
a fascinating glimpse of curly black chest hair beneath the collar
of his shirt and something in the pit of her stomach squeezed
tight. The snug black trousers he wore tucked into his boots
emphasized rather than disguised a body that was lean and superbly
fit, splendid with muscles. His physique bespoke power, but his
expression bespoke danger. Dragging her gaze from that dark mat of
chest hair to his face, Juliana nearly gasped. She had never seen
anyone as handsome, and at the same time deadly-looking, in her
life.
    Danger emanated from him like heat from a
stove. Beneath the black Stetson he wore the look of a man who had
never once been tethered by the softening