Prologue
In a candlelit hotel room on San Francisco’s rowdy Barbary Coast, a handsome man lay on his back upon the bed.
He was naked.
So was the woman astride him.
The pair were making hot, eager love.
They had been at each other from the minute they rushed into the room, locked the door and hurriedly began stripping off their clothes.
Now the lusty pair moved together in a frenzied mating. The voluptuous woman’s heavy breasts bounced and swayed with her rapid movements. She gripped the man’s ribs and murmured his name repeatedly.
A blue officer’s campaign cap bobbed atop the woman’s head. A captain’s uniform was draped over a bedpost.
And atop the bureau, a pair of golden spurs gleamed on freshly polished black boots.
In minutes, the pair climaxed.
Immediately after the loving, the man anxiously asked, “Did he die?”
“Yes,” the woman replied breathlessly, doffing the campaign hat and brushing back her long dark hair to reveal a blue trinity tattoo on the side of her neck.
He nodded. “Did you get the assay?”
“Yes, I did,” she confirmed.
“Did the doctor or nurse see you?”
“No one saw me,” she assured and leaned down to kiss his doubts away. On the Embarcadero below, drunken miners shouted and fired their guns in the air.
One
Boston, Massachusetts
March 1855
A cold winter afternoon, in a sparsely furnished room in Boston’s South End, twenty-two-year-old Kate VanNam read to her elderly, hard-of-hearing uncle. Nelson VanNam was a gentle, caring, life-long bachelor, who had raised Kate and her older brother, Gregory, after their parents had perished in a fire at sea a dozen years earlier.
For a short time, he had been a successful and prosperous businessman who had provided well for his niece and nephew. But in 1849, an unexpected reversal of fortune had changed all that. The once prominent VanNams had fallen on hard times. The grand Chestnut Street mansion in Beacon Hill had been lost, along with the VanNam fortune.
When the fortune disappeared, so did Gregory VanNam. The senior VanNam was now in failing health and eternally grateful to his sweet-natured niece for selflessly tending him.
On this bitter January day, the two sat as close to the fire in the grate as was safe, blankets draped over their knees. As Kate read to her uncle—shouted, actually—she heard a loud knock on the door.
Kate lowered her well-worn copy of the Dickens novel Oliver Twist, and gave her uncle a questioning look. He shrugged his thin shoulders. Kate laid the book aside.
“I’ll see who it is. Stay right where you are,” she said to her uncle.
Nelson nodded.
Kate opened the door. A uniformed messenger stood shivering on the steps. He handed her a sealed envelope on which only her name was written in neat script. She started to speak, but the youth who delivered the message had already turned and left.
Puzzled, Kate closed the door and returned to the fire and her uncle. She held out the envelope to him.
Squinting, he read what was written. “It’s addressed to you, my dear. Open it.”
Kate tore open the end of the sealed envelope and slipped out the folded velum paper. After reading the brief message quickly, she explained to her uncle that it was a summons for her to come to the law offices of J. J. Clement, the attorney who, like his father before him, had always represented the VanNam family.
“Why on earth would Clement want to see me?” Kate mused aloud, as she handed the message to her uncle.
“I have no idea, child,” he stated, reading the missive. “But I’m sure it can wait. No need for you to…”
He stopped speaking, shook his white head and began to smile. The curious Kate was already reaching for her heavy woolen cape hanging on the coat tree beside the front door.
Swirling it around her slender shoulders, she said, “It’s time for your afternoon nap, Uncle Nelson. While you rest I’ll walk to the law offices and see what this is all about.” She smiled at him as she buttoned the cape beneath her chin and drew the hood up over her gleaming golden hair. “I will be back within the hour, the mystery solved.”
Nelson VanNam knew it would do no good to argue that it was far too cold for Kate to be walking to the attorney’s office. His pretty niece, while as kind and caring as a ministering angel, was also a decisive, strong-willed young woman who discharged duties and met challenges with an immediacy that was admirable, if at times somewhat annoying.
The old man smiled fondly as Kate waved goodbye and stepped out into the cold. He sighed, folded his hands in his blanketed lap and gazed into the fire, recalling the first night the ten-year-old Kate had spent in his home.
“No, Uncle Nelson.” She had set him straight when he’d offered to leave her door ajar at bedtime. “Please close it. I do not fear the dark, sir.”
Nelson VanNam was warmed by the memory. He had learned in the years since that the dauntless Kate was not afraid of much.
His smile abruptly fled. He was afraid for her. What, he wondered worriedly, would become of his dear sweet Kate once he was gone?
Teeth chattering, shoulders hunched, Kate briskly walked the eight blocks to the law offices of J. J. Clement. Hurrying across the narrow cobblestone street, she dashed up the steps of the two-story redbrick building and entered the wide central corridor.
Sweeping the hood off her head and smoothing her hair, she knocked politely before entering the attorney’s private chambers. A warming fire blazed in a large hearth.
“Why, there you are already, Miss VanNam,” said J. J. Clement, rising from his chair. “I had no idea you’d come in this afternoon. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to one of two straight-backed chairs pulled up before his desk.
Kate frowned as she sat down. “Your message summoned me, Mr. Clement, did it not?”
The