Midnight Lover Read Online Free PDF

herself. "Fancy ladies all painted and rouged, drunken cowboys—what on earth would you be thinkin' of, Miss Caroline?"
    Caroline jumped back off the bed and hurried over to the battered Saratoga trunk. "I don't know what I'm thinking of, Abby," she said as she flung the lid open. "All I know is there has to be something more for me than what I have now." Maybe somewhere new and raw she'd be able to rise above her circumstances and not always be at the mercy of the whimsical charity of others.
    Abby circled the trunk as if it contained live rattlesnakes. "What did going west get your poor father, God rest his soul? Dead, that's what, Miss. Dead and buried in his grave and nothing left behind for his daughter. It's evil out there, Miss Caroline, and I won't have you going—"
    Caroline's shriek stopped Abby cold. "My God, Abby! Look!" She waived a creased piece of paper in the air! "He owned it! He really owned it!" While a Harvard law school graduate might have winced at that scrawled and crossed-out document, to Caroline it was as beautiful as the Magna Carta and as valuable as the Constitution.
    Abby peered over Caroline's shoulder as she stared at her ticket out. There was no doubt about it: the Crazy Arrow Saloon, a three-floor dwelling on the south side of Main Street belonged to one Aaron Edward Bennett, free and clear.
    And, as the only living issue of Aaron Edward Bennett, Caroline Bennett was now the new owner.
    "Don't you see, Abby?" she said, grabbing the young woman and dancing around the room. "This is my inheritance! I'll go to Silver Spur and—"
    Abby stopped short and Caroline tumbled into the chaise longue by the window. "You won't be goin' nowhere, Miss Caroline. You may own the Crazy Arrow but it won't be makin' a difference."
    "Saloons are big business in the west. Why, all I'll have to do is hire a good bartender and I'll be rolling in money. We can even—"
    "And how do you get there, Miss Caroline?"
    What on earth was the matter with Abigail tonight? She seemed to see problems at every turn. "Same as Aaron did, I suppose. Take the train to St. Louis then the stagecoach west."
    "And how would you be payin' for the stagecoach, miss?"
    "Why, with—" Caroline stopped. "Do you think I could pawn my hairbrush?" she asked wryly. "Maybe that could get us as far as new York City."
    "'Twas a good idea you had," Abby said, obviously relieved now that the danger was past, "but it just wasn't God's will."
    Caroline reached into the trunk and pulled out a fountain pen and a silk tie. "Don't go telling me about God's will, Abby. Is it God's will that I shrivel up and die in Boston?" She got on her knees and thrust her hand into the farthest corner of the trunk. "I cannot believe God wants me to spend my life as Mrs. Thomas Wentworth Addison II."
    Once again Abby's slender fingers flew as she made the sign of the cross. "You should be payin' more heed to what you say, miss. God has a way of lettin' us know when we've gone too far."
    "Yes," Caroline grunted as she tried to extract a heavy velvet drawstring pouch. "He sends fire and earthquakes and pestilence." The pouch had the most irregular feel to it, almost as if it contained enough coins to feed a family of eight for a year. But what a ridiculous thought! Aaron was always one step ahead of the bill collector.
    "Blasphemous," Abby said. "I know it be your sorrow talkin', Miss Caroline, but—"
    Abby went on but Caroline was no longer listening. The velvet pouch rested in her lap. One glance inside had told her everything she needed to know.
    "Abby," she interrupted, "short of a divine visit, what would it take to convince you that I should go to Silver Spur?"
    "I don't know," Abby said, looking highly suspicious.
    Caroline did her best to keep a straight face. "What would you say if I found enough money to take me to Nevada and back five times over? Would that convince you?"
    "If ever you find that much money, miss, you let me know and I'll be packin' your bags so