Kate watched them absently to occupy her time, until she became aware that the fervent movements of both parties could only mean one thing. Then, when the man pushed his hand into the front of Sissy's dress and lifted her breast free, she stared only a second longer before averting her gaze. Such a thing was far too personal to be viewed by strangers, and she felt for Sissy that it should be happening under these circumstances at all.

"I see that I was grievously mistaken last evening," Phineas Drake said as he slid into a space beside Kate at the bar. "I erroneously mistook you for one of Mae's...friends." He caught her hand and lifted it as if to brush a kiss across her fingers. "My sincere apologies."

Carefully but firmly, Kate withdrew from his grasp. "You have nothing to apologize for, Mr. Drake. I am a friend of Mae's."

His expression darkened, and Kate caught a glimpse of his cold temper and flagrant disdain before his features smoothed into an unctuous smile. "I had hoped that you would do me the honor of your company, since you're in need of an escort. Seeing as you are a lady and there are some here who are, unfortunately, not gentlemen." He took her by the elbow in a light but commanding grip. "I have rooms just across the way. I'll have supper sent up. A fire will help dry your damp clothing."

"That's most kind, but I'm not here alone." When she tried to move away from him, he shifted subtly closer, his fingers tightening on her flesh. A shiver of alarm coursed down her spine and had her reaching into her bag for the comfort of her gun. She didn't seriously believe he would do anything to threaten her person in public, but the force of his repellent regard for her was nearly as frightening as a blow.

"Please, don't trouble yourself as to my welfare."

"I'm afraid you don't appreciate the gravity of your circumstances--"

"I assure you, sir--"

Jessie appeared beside them, her eyes as dark as the thunderclouds that raged overhead. "Kate? Is something wrong?" She took a moment to see that there was no fear in Kate's eyes, because if there had been, she would not have hesitated to make the man whose hand still held Kate's arm pay for his arrogance. As it was, she pushed the flap of her coat behind her back so it would not impair her reach for her gun.

"No, there's no problem," Kate said calmly, having seen Jessie's movement out of the corner of her eye. Under ordinary circumstances, Jessie was levelheaded, but tonight, after the emotional and physical stress of the last few days, Kate did not trust her lover to contain her temper. "Did you find us a wagon?"

Jessie's eyes were still on Drake. "Your attentions are not welcome here."

Drake's expression was calculating, and he made no move to let go of Kate. His muddy brown eyes slowly scanned Jessie's face, then flicked downward to her holstered revolver and back up again. He shifted his hips so his own gun was visible. "I'm afraid we've never been properly introduced. At the moment, the lady and I are having a private--"

"No, we're done," Kate said firmly, wrenching her arm from his grasp. "I appreciate your concern, Mr. Drake, but I'm quite all right."

She turned her back as much as the crowded space would allow and gripped Jessie's left hand to get her notice. She had to tug before Jessie looked away from Drake and met her eyes. "Let's go now."

"All right," Jessie said gently. She could hardly instigate a brawl with Kate so close, and as much as she wanted to strike out at Drake, or anyone who threatened what was hers, she knew she couldn't. Not tonight. "I've got a buckboard out back."

"Good." Kate didn't bother to say good night to Phineas Drake, but as she and Jessie made their way through the crowd toward the rear exit, she imagined she could feel his anger follow them. She didn't relax her hold on her bag until they were outside. Even the rain was a welcome comfort after the stifling heat and oppressive atmosphere inside.

Wordlessly, Jessie grasped her around the waist and helped her clamber up onto the board seat. Kate then took Jessie's hand to steady her as she scrambled up beside Kate. When Kate put her hand on Jessie's thigh, as she always did when they rode together, she felt the muscles tighten like ropes beneath her fingers. "It's all right, darling.

Nothing happened."

"The bastard put his hands on you. I wanted to kill him."

"I'm very glad you didn't, because he is hardly worth having the sheriff come after you and put you in jail." It was pitch black behind the saloon, and Kate leaned close and kissed Jessie's cheek. "We're getting soaked again."

Jessie shifted on the seat to face Kate, the reins held loosely in her gloved right hand. "What exactly do you have in your bag, Kate?"

"You're very observant, Jessie Forbes," Kate said with a rueful laugh.

"Well, I know it's not gold, but it's got to be something pretty close, the way you've been holding on to that since we left Doc Melbourne's.

And I saw you reach into it from clear across the room back there in the Nugget."

For a second, Kate considered trying to postpone the discussion, but she had no reason not to explain, and it was unfair to worry Jessie any further. She opened her bag and held it up so Jessie could see. "Mae gave it to me this afternoon."

Jessie reached in and extracted the Derringer. "Did she show you how to shoot it, too?"

"Not yet, but under the circumstances, I thought I was too close to miss."

"Lord, Kate," Jessie groaned. "You weren't really planning on shooting him, were you?"

"Weren't you?"

"Well, yes, but..." Jessie trailed off with a slow nod of her head.

She carefully replaced the gun and handed back the bag. "First thing tomorrow, we'll have a lesson."

v Mae unlocked her door and held it for Vance. "You go on ahead.

I'll just be a minute while I find someone to take care of the bath water." She handed Vance the soaked suit coat. "Hang this up to dry somewhere, too."

Inside the room, Vance shook out the dripping coat and draped it over the back of a chair. Then she knelt by the small hearth and stacked several logs. She found matches in the inside pocket of her vest that were miraculously still dry and started the fire. She turned at the sound of the door opening. A young man in pants several inches too short and a voluminous shirt that must have belonged to an older brother bustled in carrying two steaming pails of water. He did not look in her direction, and she suspected that he thought her one of Mae's customers. The thought made her smile bitterly as she considered that in many ways she was like some of the lonely, dispossessed people who found comfort in the arms of a tender woman. She turned her back to the room, ignoring the continued activity behind her, and watched the struggling flames flicker and finally catch. She would not come to Mae offering nothing but a broken spirit. It was enough that she allowed Mae to comfort her with her words and gentle touches. Those she imagined Mae gave willingly and often, because that's the kind of woman she was. As hard as Mae's life had been, her heart remained generous and kind.

"What are you thinking about so hard, Vance?" Mae had been watching Vance, who'd stood with her arm braced against the mantle, head down, staring into the fire, for more than a minute. The story that was written across Vance's stark features was easy to read, even if Mae couldn't discern each of the details. Loneliness was common enough out here--hell, anywhere--but the terrible sadness that radiated from Vance's still form made Mae's heart ache.

"You, actually," Vance said quietly. She faced Mae and rested her shoulder against the side of the fireplace.

"I was hoping that thinking of me might make you look a little happier," Mae said as she approached.

Vance braced herself for a touch, because the slightest contact from Mae tended to unbalance her. "I was thinking how extraordinary you are."

Blushing, Mae halted abruptly an arm's length from Vance. "I'm used to people...men...saying I'm beautiful, but I--"

"You are beautiful."

Mae waved a hand impatiently. "Stop that talk so I can finish my thought."

Vance grinned and settled with her back fully against the wall, her legs crossed at the ankles, her hand in her pocket. "Go ahead."

Now it wasn't Vance's words that drove every thought from her mind, but the sight of her all long and lean and her dark hair still dripping wet. Despite that, her face revealed just a touch of arrogance that Mae found quite appealing. "The water's going to get cold."

Vance said nothing, but it was suddenly very hard to breathe as Mae reached for the laces on her bodice. "Mae--"

"Don't talk," Mae whispered as she loosed the ties. The dress slid from her shoulders to reveal the thin lace chemise that barely covered her nipples. "Just watch."

"I can't, not without dying." The dress fell to the floor. She wore silk and little else below. Vance turned her head away. "The most I've ever done is kiss a woman. And then, I was young and I was...it was before."

The pain in Vance's voice was so raw Mae shuddered. She would never willingly do anything to put that sound there, so she slipped behind the dressing screen and quickly removed the rest of her clothes.

She pulled on her China blue robe, and when she emerged, found Vance struggling to put on the still wet coat. "Put that down," Mae said as she walked over to Vance. "Now hold still."

"No," Vance said sharply as Mae reached for the buttons on her vest. She grasped Mae's wrist to stop her. "Please. No."

Mae looked up into Vance's eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to put you into the tub, which is what I should've thought of doing to begin with. You're the one who went through hell in that room back there, not me. You're the one who stood out in the rain. You're the one who's shaking with cold."

"It's not all the cold," Vance whispered.

Tenderly, Mae touched Vance's face. "I know. I didn't realize you'd be scared. I'm sorry."

Vance closed her eyes, but kept hold of Mae's hand, preventing Mae from undressing her any further. "Maybe we can just...sit together by the fire."

"And waste all that hot water? At least one of us is getting a bath before we do anything else." Carefully, Mae shook off Vance's hand and finished unbuttoning her vest. Then she started on her shirt. "I think you should be first." When she finished opening all the shirt buttons she waited to remove the garment. "Open your eyes. I want you to see that there's nothing about you that bothers me."

"Why are you doing this?" Vance whispered.

"Because I like looking at you." Shorter by two inches--and without her shoes, even more--Mae raised up on her tiptoes and glanced another kiss over Vance's mouth. "Because I like touching you." She took Vance's face in both hands and kissed her with intent. Slowly, she moved her lips on Vance's, accustoming herself to the taste and texture of her. She played her tongue lightly just inside Vance's mouth, enjoying the slick smooth heat and the barest whisper of Vance's tongue meeting hers. When she drew away, she knew she'd only skimmed the surface of passions buried so deep it might take a lifetime to search them out.

"Because you make things come alive inside of me that I thought had died and disappeared forever."

"What things?" Vance rasped. "Pity? I don't want you taking care of--"

Mae pressed her fingers to Vance's lips. "You'd best stop before you say something that's really going to get me riled. Maybe back East people pity someone like you, someone who paid the price for doing what she felt was right. Out here, we respect it." She moved her hand beneath Vance's chin, her fingers stroking her neck. "Now I'm going to take your shirt off and see what's been done to you. And if it makes me cry, it's not because I pity you. It's because I can't undo the hurt that you've suffered."

"You already have." Vance jerked her head away, grabbed Mae around the waist, and dragged Mae against her body. And then she took her mouth with all the fury of those long months of pain and loneliness.

Yearning and need and desire tangled in the crush of lips and teeth and tongue. She could feel Mae's naked body beneath the silk, could feel the heat--the life--in her, and she desperately grasped for it like a drowning man clutched at rocks in a rushing river. "Oh, Mae," she moaned. "Mae."