All the Women in Pearl - Emily Ryan-Davis.pdf - Elloras Cave MM - bugnme5

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

All the Women in Pearl

ISBN 9781419923814

Edited by Mary Moran

Cover art by Syneca

Electronic book Publication August 2009

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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales

is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

A LL THE W OMEN IN P EARL

Emily Ryan-Davis

Chapter One

Colorado Territory

Spring 1869

“Pretty, isn’t she?”

C.C. Carver’s dainty wrist flexed as she snapped open her fan. The bit of flower-

painted silk did little to hide the pale swell of her breasts, which rose and fell with every

shallow breath she drew. A cloud of smoke wreathed her head and shoulders, likely

stinking up the black wig that covered the dark blonde braids she’d worn the last time

John Raincrow saw her.

The question didn’t bear answering, but the cowboy beside him kept talking. “She’s

been here the last four nights, her, the other woman, three men. They show up together

and leave together. Three times out of four with more winnings than the house.”

“This’ll be their last night, then.” John called for another drink.

While he watched, C.C. bit her pink-painted bottom lip and leaned forward to place

her bet at the faro table. Her lashes were lowered, giving the impression she was

absorbed in the game, but John noticed the way she stole glances at the men standing to

either side of her. Either she was a cheat or…

He checked the eight pairs of feet spaced around the table. The toes of her slippers

curled as if her feet were bunched inside her shoes.

Or she was scared as a rabbit and searching for a bolt-hole.

Her gloved fingers trembled slightly as she pushed an errant black corkscrew

behind her ear.

Scared.

While the dealer turned cards, John watched her reflection in the mirror behind the

bar and considered his feelings one by one.

All the Women in Pearl

Irritation.

He was halfway to his destination, the patch of land waiting for him outside

Trinidad, where he finally meant to build something of his own. The letter he’d

received from his old friend’s widow gave him a deadline of thirty days and he’d

already used most of them saying his farewells to Pearl. He had to show up and stake

his claim, however, or the parcel would be lost to the courts. Turning around wasn’t

part of his plan. C.C. Carver wasn’t part of his plan. Not anymore.

Obligation.

But there she stood, flanked by a pair of men who were most definitely not

brothers, hopefully were not lovers, and likely were not friends. The other woman at

the table might have been a friend, but she simpered and batted her lashes and allowed

a smirking man’s hand on her ass while she stretched to choose her square.

Resignation.

In the absence of Ethan, who was wrapped in his new wife’s arms, and James,

who’d gone Christ knew where, John had a responsibility. He might’ve said his

farewells but he hadn’t walked away from his ties. The Carvers were friends. Family. In

Pearl, before they scattered and took their own paths, they had each other. In Pearl, C.C.

Carver would have had a brother. Family friends and neighbors who would at least

treat her with the same regard a brother would.

In Pueblo, all she had was him.

Lust.

And he hadn’t felt brotherly toward her in years. Young man desire for a young

lady…that was a soft emotion. He’d known those gentle feelings eleven years ago,

before C.C.’s mama left her boys to the West and spirited her girl to Europe. Before he

devoted four years of his life to the Union’s cause. That soft desire had faded

eventually, crawled away to a corner and made room for harder feelings.

The cowboy kept talking, recounting the game play-by-play while John considered

the return of desire and weighed it against more tangible wants.

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